At last, an update! :D

Chapter Four: Fearful Symmetry

"Are you thinking about going?"

Carlai's voice startles me from my slump on the rocks. In my momentary lapse of security, I felt my fingers lose their grip around my stick. Or, as I should have called it, my catalyst. The reason that I had thus far decided against referring to it by its grandiose title was that I wasn't sure I believed anything Maughlin had said. The man's hair was white as a ghost, and his wrinkles reminiscent of the fossilised cracks in ancient volcanoes. Was I to assume that he was a reliable account? Even though Carlai had practically confirmed what he had said, I was doubtful.

Was I living in a world full of lunatics? Would I wake up cold in some dank and rusty asylum cell?

Time was most certain to tell, but also least likely to make sense. That's the problem with telling a story chronologically - sometimes you lose the point.

On the subject of time, a rather large amount of it had since passed following Carlai's question. Now, she patiently batted her eyelids like the gentle closing of a flower petal, and asked again.

"No," I reported. "I don't think so."

She smiled apologetically at me. "I'm sorry that the answers you're looking for aren't more accessible..."

"Yeah," I muttered, stooping down for my stick. "If you'd told me 24 hours ago that my answers would revolve around a clump of wood, I think I would've laughed."

"It says something about you as a person," Carlai implored. "Before you lost your memory, I mean. You were a magician; a sorcerer! Perhaps you were a humble outlaw, using your magic to help the wounded and sickly."

I nodded meekly. "But I could just as easily have been the murderous thief who slaughtered the master sorcerer and took his stick."

Carlai stifled a sweet chuckle. "Catalyst," she corrects.

I smiled, pleased to find some company amongst the monotony of my new life. "Carlai," I began slowly. "I've told you about me - as much as I remember, at least. Can I ask about you?"

Carlai brushed her silky brown hair over her shoulder, and looked at her feet with the same kind of interest commonly associated with gross mutation. "Oh... you don't want to hear about that boring stuff-"

"No!" I interrupted. "You've been so kind to me, but you're still just a stranger. I want to know about you. I promise."

A few moments pass. All the while, I feel like a gawky teenager, watching the colour dilate in Carlai's eyes as she struggles with my proposal. Eventually, it is clear that I have emerged triumphant from her internal battle. Fluttering her eyelids - as though the thought of self-reflection had exposed a chink in her armour - Carlai took a seat opposite me, carefully guiding her white linen gown over the jagged pillars of rock.

"Well, there isn't much to tell," she said quietly, her legs kicking through the air. "I was born right here in Majula, actually. Right over there."

Her slender hands gestured to one of the ramshackle huts, now little more than a dilapidated outhouse. The wooden panels were peeling back like gaping wounds, the windows were smashed open as though hit by a fist, and the straw matting on the roof was covered in an icky green mould.

I couldn't believe it. Carlai had been born in this place? That was not meant as an insult to the little town, as for the most part it emanated a raw natural beauty, particularly when one looked across the coastline. I just found it hard to associate my newfound friend with the rot of that revolting shack.

"My father was a laddersmith," Carlai continued, aware of my distracted eyes but suddenly insistent upon finishing her story. "Gilligan. But he died when I was just a little girl."

Immediately, I feel awful, even if I had nothing to do with it. "Sorry."

She smiled, and I feel the contents of my gut turn to acid. "That's alright. I barely remember him. As for my mother... I never even knew her. I was raised by the whole town. Maughlin, that old blacksmith - bless him, I think 'is name was Lenigrast - and Saulden. I was their golden girl; they never kept me from their sights. I suppose... they still don't."

She chuckled, but I note a slight sadness in he tones. I can imagine how being confined to one place for her whole life could have connected her to it in unexpected and emotional ways, but I couldn't imagine myself feeling the same way about the Gutter. That is, if I had lived there all my life.

"I told you it was boring," she concluded with a dismissive flick of her head.

"Not really," I reply. "At least you remember your past."

I felt her hand touch my own, and heat rises to my face like steam in a geyser. When I look over at her she is just smiling - and yet, her mouth tells a thousand tales; words of comfort, stories to warm the soul. I am left with the lasting impression that Carlai had far, far more to her than she would say.

I think she would have said something, if it were not for the intrusion of a concussively-loud ringing from up the hills. I recognised the unique sound as the pealing of a bell, which I found strange considering that in my current state of memory I had never even heard of a bell, let alone listened to one chiming. Nonetheless, the atmosphere immediately changed. Carlai's toasty-warm expression was dampened, and her eyes cloud with panic.

She whispered, her mouth protruding like a fish as she enunciated the single word: "Griffin."

There was yet another title of which I had not been acquainted. Griffin. It had the soft connotations of a fantastical creation, but was sufficiently shrouded by mystery that I had little idea of what to expect.

Unfortunately, within the next hour, all that would change.

The Griffin first announced its entrance with an enormous gust of wind. A veritable tornado that whipped through the centre of Majula, ripping grass from its roots and smashing the various neatly-stacked pots and vases into pieces. At this point, I couldn't see the monster, but I felt its eyes boring into me. It had one of those auras where you didn't even have to be close to it to feel strong compulsions of terror. I noticed how my whole body went rigid, every muscle in my body like a grain of sand, and my arms hanging limply at my sides as though I were a scarecrow. My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid that blood may come gushing from my earholes.

And then, there was the screech. A guttural, primal roar. The call of a hunter. The sound curdled my blood. I knew that the animal it belonged to had to be gigantic. Just the thought of catching a glimpse was enough to freeze up my whole body in terror.

By now, Maughlin had hobbled feebly out of his shack. The mask of horror that he wore upon his face was indistinguishable from Carlai's. Pure fear writhed and shook inside his pupils, turning them into a void of black.

"What are we supposed to do?" he wailed. "Aldane has gone! We are defenceless!"

Carlai looks mortified but tries to reassure her adopted father. "We fought it off before, and we can do it again!"

She did not have the conviction to keep herself from trembling, but her bravery was admirable nonetheless. I lacked in her courage completely, and it was all I could do at that point not to fall upon my knees and weep.

A huge shadow flittered across the skyline. I saw an enormous pair of bat-like wings stretch out against the clouds, followed by another ear-piercing shriek. Moments later, the creature dived onto the ground, carried on a spear of sunlight. Upon impact, the ground shook heavily and dust flew into the air, cemented by small rocks and blades of dead grass. The griffin folded its wings, and I got my first glimpse.

It must have been about twelve feet long, and eight metres in height. All estimates made at the time were hugely inaccurate, so bewitched by the sheer mass of the creature as I was. If you were, like me, unaware a Griffin is a hybrid of lion and eagle, and although I felt a much greater sense of the big cat in the monster before me, the creature's eyes struck me as the watchful windows of an aerial predator. They were huge round ovals, soaked in golden hue and speckled with glimmers of red. Every movement, however slight, the creature observed in full detail. I couldn't so much as twitch - not that it mattered anyway, since I found most of my body in the grip of a terrifying paralysis. That isn't to imply that the Griffin's pupils were its most terrifying feature, but they stick out in my mind more because they were the first aspect that I noticed. Soon enough, I glanced downwards, noticing the curved scimitar-of-a-beak that sat aloft upon its face. The Griffin's whole body was shielded by a layered armour of autumnal-brown feathers, and it's head was punctuated with a plume of orange and crimson tufts. Whilst it's torso was built heavily, almost like a ferocious steed, my attention was drawn more closely to its feet, upon which a plethora of talons, each the approximate size of a broadsword, lay in wait.

Of one thing I was absolutely certain. This Griffin was proud. Whether it was the royal-red plume, the pristine feathers or it's upright, regal posture, it exuded prestige.

After making certain that we had all seen it in all of its glory, the Griffin threw back its head and roared. Tears were whipped to the corners of my eyes by the velocity. There were no doubts in my mind. This creature had but one goal - to kill.

Only through sheer will did I resist whiting out on the spot.

Instinctively, I had seized my Phoenix Parma and was now clutching by its handle so hard that the blood was draining from my fingers. The tiny shield would not protect me from the Griffin's raking claws but I felt just that tiny bit safer holding it nonetheless.

The Griffin started to pace around, almost as though admiring its surroundings. I could not tear my eyes from it.

I heard Carlai shuffle next to me, but I barely registered the presence. She was talking to me in a hushed whisper but I could not remove my attention from the monster ahead of me; my eyes remain locked upon the gleaming bronze feathers and sharp, crooked beak.

And then she slapped me. Not in a soft, passive way, but in an aggressive, vicious manner. When I looked around for the source of the pain in my left cheek I am astounded to see her in its place - the most gentle creature I knew in this world, and now she was barely recognisable as such. She had thrown on a thick set of chainmail over her torso, and in her hands was a medium-sized rapier that seemed to shimmer yellow in the light if one squinted hard and for long enough.

I am about to speak, but she cut me off, slicing my tongue out with the rapier. "We have to fight now, Ellis," she says. "If you don't, then we are all going to die. Do you understand?"

Despite my initial shock of the coarseness of her words, I force a nod. She smiled, but not in her ordinary, soft way. This is the grin of a battle, and it seems to sharpen her whole face as though it were a weapon to swing around in combat.

"Use this," she says, dropping a short-sword into my outstretched palms. The blade was an acceptable weight, and as I took it into my right hand I realised that I could hold it out straight. The words alaxe en onair were emblazoned upon the steel.

Carlai noticed my glance. "It means 'strike in the heart'," she told me, her eyes bright like a blaze. "It's ancient Fenito."

Fenito? Again, I felt it. A sense of deep familiarity.

But there was no time for exposition now. With Maughlin now by our side and armed with his Monastery Scimitar, we began to charge towards the beast.

Of course, I never actually finished the assault. When I was about five metres away from the creature, my legs completely gave out, melting away like a stick of butter. I hit the grass and rolled, my heart pounding away at my chest. My shortsword sunk into the mud, and my parma was sent flying like a frisbee.

Carlai saw me go down but did not falter; she could not. Together, she ran in with Maughlin and swung her sword towards the Griffin.

I am not certain what happened next, but when I had the sufficient strength to roll onto my side and get a better look, I saw the monster rearing up on his hind legs, with its front legs and claws kicking out. Maughlin slashed at the Griffin's belly, but took a talon to the head and went down hard. I did not hear a scream, but all around his upper body there was a pool of crimson blood.

Carlai strafed around to the creature's side in its distraction, and landed a sharp blow in its thigh. Enraged, the Griffin extended its wings like a fist, and knocked Carlai flying down the hillside. I saw her body tumble for several moments, getting precariously close to the edge of the cliff and the sea below, but she stopped just short, her body rested at the foot of a forked tree.

Seeing my friend helplessly tumbling down the hill shook something up in me. I was on my feet before I even realised it. My shortsword in hand, I started to run towards her fallen form.

Just as I reached the decline, the Griffin burst onto the ground in front of me. Snarling, it opened its beak wide, and I saw a giant, pulsating ball of lightning shimmering at the back of its throat. Instinctively, I dived to the ground, but the Griffin anticipated the move. Without even blinking, it lowered its head towards the ground, and fired its lightning straight into me.

My whole body caught fire. From my head down to the lowest tip of my tail, there was searing agony. The pain was intense. I couldn't even focus on the Griffin. My vision was swimming with red dots, and when the lightning was finally relinquished, an inky blackness surrounded the corners.

I don't know how long I just lay there on the ground, smouldering. But I must have looked sufficiently-dead for the Griffin to decide that I was and take off into the air. All I could feel was the wind as it beat me across my face - the one part of my body that was not incinerated.

And then... Well, I suppose that must have been when Aldane and Reckan returned. I do not know for sure because I was already unconscious by that point.

They told me later that they had fended off the Griffin, but that it had survived and escaped. Griffins are - if I am to take them at their word - extremely territorial creatures, and this one had clearly decided that Majula was to be its new breeding ground. It would back for a third time - of that much I was assured.

As for the riders of Faraam, their search had not been fruitful. The fraction of Lordvessel they had sought was not to be found in the nearby forest. They would be staying the night in Majula, and leaving to the North in the morning.

I found out all of these things when I awoke on my back, on top of a straw bedding. I was inside the ramshackle house that Carlai had identified as her own. The pain that had encompassed almost my whole body was gone. And apparently, I had her to thank.

As it turns out, she was proficient in the art of miracles, quasi-sorceries that drew on your belief rather than your intelligence. They were mostly used for healing purposes, but in a combat situation it was possible for a cleric to summon lightning through their talismans. The rapier that Carlai used in battle was imbued with lightning, and benefitted greatly from her miracles.

Maughlin had sustained heavy damage, but would live. He was wrapped in a bedroll beside me, the white, spongy pillow stained with dark red. His eyes were closed, but he whistled through his teeth. I suppose that was him assuring us he was alive. It was, however, quite irritating.

"Just lie back," Carlai had whispered to me. Save for a few cuts across her cheek, her angelic features were unscathed by her encounter with the beast. She pressed a wet towel to my head, which practically sizzled against my fever-ravaged flesh. My eyes started to roll, and before I knew it the sun was streaming through the windows, and night had scurried back behind the clouds.

It was days before I could move. My body had taken severe damage, and needed a lot of rest to recover.

It was during these infuriatingly-still few days that I first met the Visitor.

It was dark. I cannot describe the formations of the sky above, or the earthy state of the ground below, because I was unable to see either. From my position in the bed, all I could see was that I could not see. The windows had been veiled by curtains, and so the dim light from the night outside was obscured.

Perhaps that is why I did not see him coming. But, no. That's not it. I didn't notice his arrival because he didn't arrive. Not in the conventional sense. I could be wrong - my memory could be shaky from that night - but I doubt it. The Visitor... it rose through the floorboards.

It was as though it were filled with helium. It's form, a large suit of plated armour, took shape as a gaseous black shroud before gradually becoming a more solid presence. The first detail that I really noticed was its striking red eyes. Although they appeared to be a pair, like one would expect from a normal human being, closer examination revealed that the visor was just one, unblinking eye. It seemed to track me, glinting with increasing brightness as it rose up through the ground.

When it had fully emerged from the ground, it drew a gigantic greatsword from a sheath upon its back. By now I had already screamed, and I could hear spurious footsteps on the ground outside, but this only seemed to encourage the shadowy knight.

Without pausing for breath, it raised the immeasurable sword above his head, and brought it down towards me.

To Be Continued...