Author's Note: The story might be a little squished up, but I had to fit it in three pages for an English project. Also, it might have a "too-good-to-be-true" finish, but I've always liked happy endings, so there.
The Gift of a Spirit
A boy rides a horse up a winding cliff-side path. A bird swoops past, wheeling about. The boy pauses, looking down as his horse jumps a small gap in the rocks. A seemingly dead girl wrapped in a dark cloak is tied to the saddle behind his back. In his village, the boy is known only as "The Wanderer". They reach their destination, a shrine, suspended on a pinnacle of stone. His steed walks across a long, impossibly high, arched bridge, and the door ponderously opens in front of them, closing when they have passed. The world has an emptiness about it, an oppressive silence, even though signs of life can clearly be seen everywhere.
The boy walks down a steeply spiralling staircase, past stone walls cracked with age, and through a small antechamber containing a clear pool of water. He enters the main chamber, past sixteen statues, each of otherworldly, gigantic beasts. Light falls through loft windows. They reach an altar at the centre of the room.
"Here it is, Agro. "
His horse stops and the boy slides off, lifting the girl onto the altar. She seems to be a sister, or a lover. He pulls the cloak off, which flutters to the ground, revealing a simple white dress. The boy looks at her tenderly for a while, his face filled with sadness.
Slowly, murky, sinister shadows filter into the room from an opening in the ceiling. The boy draws his sword with a metallic shing!, which glows with intense, brilliant light as he wields it. The apparitions fade away.
"Hmm? Thou art the one that possess the Ancient Sword?" The voice comes from a cluster of shadowy particles.
The boy speaks. "Are you Dormin? I was told that at this place at the end of the world, the Forbidden Lands, there…exists a being that can control the souls of the dead."
"Thou art correct. We are the one known as Dormin."
"She was killed, ambushed in the forests by a group of Alim raiders. Please, bring back her soul…"
"That maiden's soul?" Dormin laughs. "Souls, once lost, cannot be reclaimed. Is that not the law of mortals? With that sword, however - it may not be impossible…"
"Really?" they boy asks, a little more hopeful.
"That is, of course, if thou accomplishes that which we asketh," Dormin replies.
"What do I have to do?"
"Behold the idols that stand along these walls," Dormin announces grandly. "Thou art to destroy one of them. But those idols cannot be destroyed by the mere hands of a mortal." It sounds like a thousand different voices are speaking at once.
"Then what am I to do?" The boy sounds impatient.
Dormin answers. "In this land there exists colossi, that are the incarnations of those idols. If thou defeats one colossus – an idol shall fall."
"I understand."
Dormin sounds ominous. "But the price you pay may be heavy indeed."
"It doesn't matter."
"Very well…" Dormin pauses. "Raise thy sword by the light and head to the place where the sword's light gathers - there thou shalt find the colossi thou art to defeat."
The boy looks grateful. "Thank you."
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The boy and his horse trot up the stairs. At the top, he walks out onto a platform, poised above the chasm below. Puffs of white cloud race across the sky. He unsheathes his sword, and raises it above his head. The sun's light reflects off its surface and travels, a blinding beam, to a forested valley between two towering cliffs.
"Well, Agro. It loos like that's where we're going, doesn't it?"
With that, he gallops off.
The forest is a gloomy, tangled maze of intertwined foliage. Hooves are muffled on the damp undergrowth. A barely visible trail winds through the trees. Shafts of sunlight pierce the canopy in dancing patterns. Silhouettes flit through the trees.
"Looks horrible, doesn't it?" The horse neighs. "Shall we continue?"
The sun is dipping low above the horizon. Boy and horse climb through a beautiful, dark cave and emerge to see a giant plain spread out before them, grass waving gently in the breeze. The light from his sword shoots past a glittering lake, and to a sinister, rocky valley nestled in a mountain range.
They stop for the night beside the lake. The boy makes a fire, smoke meandering through the air, flickering shadows darting about the blaze.
"Agro?" The horse turns his head. "Do you really think we're doing the right thing? I mean, we're killing this beast, indifferent to us, for our own purposes."
The horse rests his head on his hooves, thoughtfully. The boy grins.
He relaxes near the flames, lulled into sleep by the soft crackling and warmth.
----------
At midday, he reaches the pass. Agro stumbles on the loose rocks. A sweeping rope and wood bridge spans the gap over a deep abyss, a river rushing through it below. After turning the corner through a small ravine, a breathtaking vista is laid out before him. And in the middle of it, is the Colossus.
A sparkling cascade of water tumbles down the cliffside, past green, gnarled vegetation hugging the slippery rocks. Trees stand in small groves on the barren desert below. A stone bridge arches out to a pillar of rock, freestanding next to the cliff-face. On it is what appears to be a harmless pile of rubble.
As he looks, the entire pile makes a creaking, rumbling noise. It begins to rise, the giant having been resting on its back. Slamming its huge arm to the ground, it pushes itself up, towering above the boy. Its head wears a strangely blank expression, and tufts of fur grow from cracks in the stone of its face. Huge plates of stone armour, pouring dust and small chips from every movement, cover its body.
The boy swallows, and raises his sword. The iridescent light shines on a spot on top of the Colossus's head. The giant's footsteps create small craters in the ground.
"Well, Agro. Here it is. Let's go!"
The giant kneels back for a moment. It lifts its immense sword above its head, and brings it down much quicker than the boy anticipates. The boy is thrown off Agro and rolls to his feet, the ground reverberating, as the giant lifts his sword once again. Clouds of dust swirl from the impact. Beams of iridescent white shoot from the boy's sword, piercing the dust and gloom. The earth shakes.
The boy immediately rolls to his feet, jumps onto his horse and gallops away, riding in a wide circle around it, cloak streaming out behind him, blade held high. Agro's hooves thunder on the hard soil. The Colossus cumbersomely turns, its steps causing great echoes on the rocks. He fires an arrow at its head; it shakes in annoyance, and a spiderweb of hairline cracks appear on its face. The great sword comes down again, almost crushing him. Crevices form in the rock. The giant begins to groan for some reason. Then it becomes clear; its sword is stuck in the ground!
The boy sees his chance, and leaps onto the giant's sword, scrambling up it, his arms out wide to balance. With a huge jolt, the Colossus tears the embedded weapon free. The boy jumps and clings from some fur on the giant's arm. He almost is shaken off as the beast swings around wildly, trying to dislodge its rider.
The boy slowly makes his way up the monster, seeking precarious handholds
wherever possible, the Colossus trying to swat him with giant, crushing hands. Plates of armour slide off and shatter on the ground below. Then, the boy finds the head. The weak spot, outlined in white, is below him.
He raises his sword, gripping with his legs, and stabs it two handed deep into the gap in the chitinous armour. The Colossus roars. A fountain of blood spurts into the air.
Its eyes close. The sword clatters to the ground, and Agro dances out of the way. The body folds up, knees first, the boy holding on in the chaos of the defeat. Everything is coated in fine red mist. Then all is silent.
A black cloud eddies around the fallen giant's head, and whizzes towards the temple, far away. The boy, shaken, clambers wearily to his feet. The ground begins to rumble.
"Agro! The pillar! It's collapsing!"
The boy dives onto his horse, shaking off his dizziness, and they canter along the connecting bridge, the rock crumbling scant metres behind them, hooves pounding the earth. The boy leaps and soars out over nothingness, landing on the other side of the chasm. Agro, however, isn't so lucky.
The horse stumbles and rears, fear on his face. In a cloud of dirt and rock and the sound of thunder, he tumbles down to the pool below.
"Agro! No!"
The boy sits for a while on the waterfall's edge, unable to move in his grief.
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Two weeks later, the boy reaches the temple. He walks in, exhausted, and comes to the body of the girl. He hears a roar. The ground shakes. And one statue explodes, shattering into a million fragments, the alcove now empty.
He sees a white, semi-transparent hooded figure, with great translucent wings. The spirit holds a broadsword, leaning on the hilt. The boy sheaths his weapon.
"Dormin."
"Thou hadst performed thy task admirably. It is not the nature nor will of other spirits to interfere with the affairs of men, but you have shown great courage. I shall make an exception."
The incandescent, glowing being begins to chant over the girl's body. The air pulsates, waves of distortion rippling the air. Suddenly, the boy is thrown back by a shockwave of dazzling, shimmering energy. The girl coughs, and breathes in sharply.
The boy sprints to her side, and sweeps her up into a fierce embrace, tears running down his face.
"I am ever in your debt, Dormin." His voice shakes with relief.
The spirit laughs. "Nothing you could do in a thousand lifetimes would be worth anything to me. Besides, it amuses me to watch the folly of human life."
"Cynic."
"Ha! I like you, human. Maybe we shall meet again. Now go."
Boy and girl walk out of the shrine, holding hands. The boy hears a forlorn whinny. Agro, limping, caked in dirt and dried blood, staggers over the ridge, and sits contentedly. "Agro! I thought you died!"
The boy hugs the horse, renewing their bond of friendship. The girl watches, laughter dancing in her eyes.
At the top of the shrine, boy and girl stand silhouetted against the sun, Agro standing beside them, each enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company.
Behind them, the almost-there form of Dormin folds his arms and smiles.