The Thirteenth Watcher: Epilogues (Cont. II)

Thyrus adjusted his robe and glanced up at the night sky, the stars emerging slowly. He knew the Watchers were up there, all observing his every move. So much rested on his shoulders and he knew he had centuries to live on and deal with it.

“Knock knock?” Thyrus glanced over in time to see Samden emerge from the darkness.

“SAMDEN!” Thyrus jumped up and glanced over at Prorian who was still cleaning up. “Come in my dear boy! Come in! It’s been so long! What have you been up to! Tell me all about it! You know I’m going to talk your ear off, so you might as well get on with speaking when you can!” Thyrus pulled up a seat and sat down on the edge of table, listening intently.

Samden smiled, the years that had past allowing him to mature into a stronger, more attractive elf. “I was in the neighborhood, hunting a shadow creature who had escaped from Zeo and was coming to try and bring about a second opening of the Zeonic portals which were shut down due to influx of Krim-Na. He eluded me and travelled back to Zeo, where he was killed by Deira and Tuzel. They already are packing up everything and we’re setting off once more. Heading back to the sanctuary in our lovely forests.”

“So you’ve got to be off pretty quick,” Thyrus said with dismay.

“Yes, yes,” Samden said, kicking the sand. “You know, I miss your talking. You know you always fascinated me.”

“You’re the first, last, and only one who I do, Samden.”

Samden glanced up at the sky for a moment, then leaned in close to Thyrus, “You know, you could come with us? Roam about with us. Use your magic to protect the balance of Peace. It’s not illegal. I’ve been reading from the tablets left by the last servant of Magic and Peace. Both remained within the ruins together on my home plane. We could do the same, pass the time, go on adventures together. Heroes of might and magic, right? After all, as long as you don’t directly interfere with the ways of the servant of Nature and I with the servant of War, than we’re fine. The two of us can do whatever we please….”

Thyrus leaned in, excited, “Really? You think so?”

“Yeah….why not? It’d be great. We’d certainly could use your conversation. Little to talk about since we grew up together, and your plethora of books would give me plenty of spare-time reading. We have eons, ya know.”

Thyrus glanced up at the sky; he was willing to tempt fate. “All right! I’m coming! Let me just quick pack!”

Samden smiled as he watched the wizard disappear into his personal quarters–the man was so lonely all the time. It would be good to have him with. Together again, warriors and friends to the bitter end. Samden laughed and rose from his chair, new adventures were on the horizon: he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Nature:

The feralite stared down at the valley below, her eyes searching for the poachers whose images flooded her mind. Most people who had studied her breed of creatures had deemed them simple killers, not able to understand how well the minds of such creatures could work. She knew what had happened though no one had explained it to her. She was now the protector of all nature, which she was all right with, she supposed. Deep down she was disappointed that she couldn’t eat everything edible she came upon, but most of the nasty things she did have to deal with were quite tasty.

She moved slowly through the bracken and bush, her body sliding almost silently through the palms and leaves and bushes that obscured her sight and helped keep her prey protected. They wouldn’t last long, however. Her mind had long forgotten her old master and the adventures she had tried to avoid, for feralites were very practical, and she knew she’d never see her allies again. Had feralites feelings, she would have been sad, but their efficiency in killing, hunting, and surviving, had destroyed those long before.

The smell of the poachers filled her nose and she slowly came a halt, peering through the branches and bracken to see the two poachers drawing near a sacred Azibar, a bird that often times would sleep within a certain type of bush that its plumage matched. They were protected for their rarity and beauty, but there were always those who desired such things.

The two poachers glanced around the woods and, after not finding anything to stop them, they drew their blades and prepared to kill the bird, turning their backs on Kiki’s hiding position

There was a nasty snarl, and then a blue streak rocketed from behind the two and soon a tumult of joy, hunger, and anguish was heard as the Azibar broke free from its net and escaped into the sky.