The All-World

How did it come to this? It was all that Mirovin could keep asking himself as he and his fellow rangers had witnessed nothing but chaos. Shear calamity was unleashed as meteors flew down on their world as they witnessed the Cratering of the All-World from Astear’s skies. Not just meteors, but monsters too? Strange reports had been coming in of unforeseen creatures. Black holes large as the sun, seen from the skies, supposedly leaking out legions of unspecified ilk.

Mirovin could only take all of this in as his subordinate ranger Linford only asked, “Where to now, Captain?” in a state of disbelief that surprisingly addled with calmness. Mirovin had no answer immediately ready. Cratering’s were still occurring, albeit lesser than earlier, at a dangerous rate that could still wipe them from existence. “We can’t say here,” Mirovin replied, “Send word to the other rangers to return to Freeland. We cannot stay in Arimarh while our own keep potentially burns.”

True enough, Mirovin thought to himself. Their work was already done here anyways. The border dispute that Prince Ruslan brought up with Korsava yet again had been resolved. If King Victor had not returned from the cratering All-World however, all would be lost. What’s left of this continent will surely fall into decay. He prayed to whoever he could that Freeland was at least not in a similar state. He had to get his rangers back, and this boy. The boy he had received from the strange cloaked woman who said his parents were now dead from the devastation. She did not look to be from this world, Astear. Xartar, perhaps? And there looked to be armor beneath her cloak with a –

“What route do you suggest, Mirovin?” Linford asked as continued to tell him, “The condition of the roads is no longer safe,” among other things. Mirovin recognized this as he pointed with his towards the woods. Through Caterin Forrest. “Part of the forest still burns Captain.”

“It’s a smoldering fire at this point, Linford,” Mirovin replied, “As the All-World falls, its direction of destruction may yet pull away from us. The eastern woods still look to be intact.”

“Prayers to the Diviners it doesn’t fall.”

“It is because of the Diviners that we are in this mess.”

He cut Linford a sharp look for a heartbeat as he looked back to the rest of his company and the boy, who he learned was called Arlo as the lady bid him farewell. Boy, this was as an infant. He nonetheless mounted his horse to announce, “Company, we ride west to Freeland with all haste. Our work here is done, we must make safe our own homes. We ride through Caterin, and we ride hard.”

Mirovin strapped a spare satchel to his chest as he instructed one his men to hand him Arlo so he could insert him into the pouch as they took off. Galloping through Caterin Forrest had to be the safest bet, at least, as safe as there was for a fool’s hope. Fleeing seemed to be the only hope that everyone else had.

The wind blew against them hard as they ran through and around the brush of the forest’s charred western end. The mysterious lady who possessed the child must have come through here based upon her direction of travel. How did she come out unscathed? It seemed as if the forest was hurt by something more than just a meteor, for he observed large crater that looked much unlike the rest. Was this dark magic?

The thoughts were swirling in the back of his head as he was interrupted by Linford shouting, “Take cover!”

And before Mirovin could register the warning, he saw what appeared to be a large rock, bathed in fire, coming down towards their direction in the forest. The rock crashed fifty feet north of them as the impact from its devastation knocked him and most of his company off their horses, sending the rangers tumbling. Mirovin’s tumbling was abruptly cut short as his head hit a branch and ceased to see all light. The satchel fell from him as it rolled down, with Arlo in it, towards a steep river bank.

*

“Who are you, child?” a voice asked as it gazed upon a crater many a way off looking towards Arlo. A child, crying among a half smoldering forest, likely thrown from one of the flaming boulders. It could not just be left here. “I am Ethery, Dragoness of the Majestic Mountains,” was all she said as the dragon emerged from the shadows of night before continuing, “Do not be alarmed young one. Though I cannot actually talk, we dragons can speak with you through our minds.” She saw this did nothing for reassurance as the baby continued to cry. Crying from being in such a terrible place as this. The eastern front the mesmerizing Caterin Forrest was all but fire now, a ruin of craters.

Ethery recalled that humans were not born with their wisdom until later in their years of growth. A pity, she thought for the humans, to not be so wise until the ends of their life. This child, if even she could even call it that, was not at all aware of the slightest thing around it, other than the sense that its parents were not there for it. She looked around, scanning the area for signs of any other survivors, but there none to be seen. No bodies that lay anywhere in the forest, nor scent of human. But the smoke here had abruptly blocked out her senses. She did however, smell a male on him.

Was the male and anyone else she smelled on him dead? In these circumstances, she had to surmise that they indeed were. She had business elsewhere though, in the southern valleys. The rest of her kin were surely on their way now if they had not arrived already. But the boy. Should she leave him?

*

The air was foul as Mirovin arose from the wreckage of the forest. He looked all around him, scanning the area, the fires, the craters. One world, the All-World, bleeds into Astear threatening its own destruction. Its own ruin. He witnessed some of his men rise slowly, where others appeared to lie still forever. “How many dead?” was all he could ask his lieutenant, Linford. Upon the whispers of another fellow ranger being passed to Linford, he turned to Mirovin only to reply, “Eleven, Mirovin.”

Half. More than half of his company gone from the endless hail of stone and fire. And the craters that surely erased their bodies from existence if it did not grind them into the earth. His men did not deserve this, they deserved to be back in Freeland.

Mirovin’s eyes quickly flickered back around the forest. The child, Arlo. In his charge one moment and gone within hours. “Where is the boy?” he steadfastly asked everyone around him for any sign, any hope. His mean, with terror still filling their eyes, were silent. Dead too likely. Mirovin spotted his horse not 40 feet away from his left. Still standing despite the powerful gust of impact that came from the falling world. No mare was ever the more loyal than Ciron.

“Commander,” shouted one of the rangers, “Over here!” he ran even further from the left. The boy had gone in the opposite direction. In the eternal seconds he felt in his walk, he clung to hope, even muttered a quick prayer to the Diviners. All felt in vain when he looked upon an empty satchel. Nothing, no site of the child either, no crying. Nothing but – “Dragon tracks,” Mirovin stated in observance, “A dragon came through here.”

“Would it have killed or eaten the child?” one of his men asked. Mirovin felt the soil, studied the tracks and surveyed its path. The satchel was laid directly in front of the foot of the tracks. The dragon certainly happened upon the child…and perhaps took Arlo with her. But the craters throughout the forest left no clear path of where they had gone.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Doumar,” he replied, “If you paid more attention to our scholars’ teachings, you would remember that dragons do not eat humans, nor do they terrorize them. Besides, I know which dragon this is.”

Doumar just shrugged and looked aside as Linford asked “How?”

“The overstretching of the hooklike talons makes the footprint larger than appearance. The tail end also left deep-set prints into the earth with long lines indicating spikes on the tail. Traces of mineral dust also litter the tracks. There is only one dragon who matches that description of our texts. Ethery, Dragoness of the Majestic Mountains.”

Retreat. The dragons had been in retreat for some days or weeks now. Though speculated to be a migration, he knew now that this was a retreat. For dragons are the wisest creatures that walk Astear. The closest thing to a god, one of the Freeland scholars described to him once. But malicious they were not. Reclusive however, they were.

Mirovin stood back up to look around his men who were likely guessing what he was trying to suggest. To first state, “The satchel lay here at the foot of the dragon. There is no trace, no cry coming from the boy in this forest. I believe the dragon took the boy. And we will find him, to ask the dragon she return him.”

His rangers looked around in silence, shattered to the bone with fear and pain. Had they not already suffered enough? These men had, and so had the child, a helpless boy orphaned to the Freeland Rangers. Orphaned to them…by a mysterious woman. No orphan, no child, deserved such chaos. Uncertain of what to do next Doumar asked, “Where would we even go commander? The dragon could likely be far away to anywhere we could –”

A crackle of steps was heard which forced all rangers to attention, still mustering enough strength to draw their swords in the blink of an eye. A croak, like a warning to stand down, a short but stout figure emerged from the brush and surrounding smoke. A creature, covered in mossy hair dressed in bark. “Well, well,” Mirovin mired as he lowered his weapons, “the Seers of Caterin still live I see. Glad to know you are still standing. I am Mirovin of Freeland, a captain of the rangers.”

“Mirovin of Freeland,” the Seer replied, “your name is known to us. I am Creet.”

The Seer gave a light bow of the head that Mirovin returned. Humbled that the creature knew him, he supposed the day he saved one of them from being skinned by bandits was why. Mirovin was surprised Creet had even bothered venturing toward them, for Seers were not known for their evasion of men.

They only stood there for a time, unsure of how to ask, uncertain of why Creet had come. Until he spoke, “You seek a child who left with a dragon. I have seen where they have gone.” Mirovin tensed as he anticipated to hear more from Creet who continued, “The dragons of the northern mountains are fleeing. The winds of the forest show us a migration away from the continent’s kingdoms, and into the Wayward West.”

Mirovin felt his heart sink to his stomach. He could not ride there, not because of the distance, no the distance was not far. But because he did not have enough men to charge into the deep, ungoverned west of tribes and beasts. It was suicide. All felt lost, then Creet spoke again, “You may still have time. You may not be able to make it by horseback, but we have a way get you there faster.”

Whatever Creet meant, Mirovin knew he had to go. To be offered any aid by the stewarding sage folk of was a privilege to be grateful for. More grateful considering the cratering of Astear happening all around them. Linford then stepped forward to ask, “We?”

*

Keep steady now. Ethery realized that the thoughts being shared were not just for the child gently clutched in her talons, but herself too. The skies were lit with greater flames that were exhaled from the strongest of her kin, even hers. Nearly a thousand lifetimes of men lived, and she had never seen such destruction and decay that felled Astear. Not ever. She had to stop. Noticing that some of the deeper, northern territories of the kingdom of Branglin were safer from the projectiles. Scarcely safer, but she saw why.

The tree of Astear, in the heart of Branglin’s lands stood high below and unmolested. Older than the dawn of men, of dragons, it stood tall. Stood tall as if it were diverting all death that came at them from above. Ethery immediately dove down, eager to find a place to settle for a moment. For the question still lingered: what would she do with the child? He had no place among a dragon’s den, but he had no place to be left alone either. No, she would not leave him here, but he, this boy Arlo, would not be coming with her either. She need time. Time to survey the lands, where a village or a kingdom that was not in ruins could take a poor child that needed nurturing from its own kind. Ethery was only able to survey her surroundings for few moments after landing when powerfully dark rays had appeared before her, displaying the ugliest creatures she had ever laid eyes on.

Foul beings, luminescent of a surging darkness. They walked like men, yet they were gangly abominations cloaked in darkness. Even the grass and plants seemed to wither in their presence. Ethery observed what lay before her, fifty hunched over darklings armed to the teeth, eyes that looked hollow despite their fixation on her, and a tall and skinny figure with a long, curved blade. Their leader no doubt.

Ethery stood her ground and roared ferociously at them all. Nothing. No cowering, no wavering, just words from the cruel looking leader who only said, “Give us the child, winged rat.”

Ethery held her gaze to the darkling. No fear, no emotion either. Whatever this creature was spawned of, or whatever it was before, was truly evil. A band of darkness that looked as if it were only built to conquer and kill. Yet they did not charger her, they only wanted the child. “And what is he to you?”

“The child is of no concern to thee. Relinquish thee unto us, and thy life will be spared to flee.”

Spare her? She was Ethery, Dragoness of the Majestic Mountains, not some mindless, cowering snake. If they threatened her, so be it. In countless millennia of life, she had no regrets stain her conscience. She would not do so today. She would not leave an innocent child to the devices of these foul and repugnant dwellers of darkness.

“Perhaps we should make this easier to understand,” she said as the asserted strength of her telepathic statement made some of them wain, “Leave me and the child be, and then you have my permission to flee.”

Though some of these foul creatures remained stunned, their leader did not yield. Instead, he stepped forward, his – its? – hand extended out, darkness engulfing it until the dark cloud popped to reveal a weapon. A double-ended scythe – a sudlice. Eyes growing with darkness, he stepped forward.

Ethery snarled. She stepped back, silently reciting the Dragoness’ incantation of sealing to engulf Arlo in a protective shield at the foot of the Tree of Astear. No creature, as ancient or evil, will be able to crack her shield. At least not easily, she assured herself. Since when was she a guardian for men?

Her long, spear-like talons digging into the earth, Ethery stood her ground. A dragon did not care for the affairs of men, but with the falling and cratering of their All-World careening into Astear, no man, woman, nor child deserved such an end.

Her focus remains alert from the darkling’s advance. “Foul dragon,” he started, “You know not who you interfere with. Our master will get what he was promised.” Master? If something this truly horrific had a master, Ethery could only imagine. Moments of fear in Ethery’s life have been limited, but this fear felt fresh. But her fear would not become this child’s fear. The detestable creature continued, “You are deluded, guarding what is ours. You will have no escape. Thy life is deemed forfeit. Let thy wings be cut. Let the scales of thou fated be claimed by the Reaper King of the Black Star Legion, Gehrimon.”

A reaper. Ancient tales swore they did not exist. But Ethery was looking right at one as it leaped after her, full force in the air with its scythe. She sprung forward to Gehrimon, charging to slam her head, six times the size of his body, into his. But it was not all damage to him, for she felt a gash that knocked her back a step as she sent him flying. A cut, a rather nasty one. His scythe could pierce her scales. None of the continents in all of Astear possessed such blades. Ethery hopped back to the tree. Keep yourself between this otherworldly demon and the boy, was all she told herself over and over.

The reaper still gathering its composure, Ethery did what she knew would settle this rotten affair quickly. She breathed in all the air she could, filling her belly until could not be contained by the fire anymore. She let her fire reign down upon them mercilessly. Fire so merciless she felt like she could melt the mountains from where she came. But in the midst of the flames settling and smoldering down, Ethery, did not believe what she saw: every single last reaper still standing before her. Unaffected, unscathed.

But if fire would melt them, her tail of spikes would split them. Split them wide open, she said to herself as she let her bestial instincts take over to swipe her tail over half of the reapers that lay before her. In an instant, at least twenty had to have gone down. Some of them had not stood back up, and yet some did. Another swipe of the tail. Again, they fell, yet then again, they rose. What would it take with these abhorrent creatures?

In a desperate attempt for this boy, this boy she had no stake in, Ethery swiped with her claws at the reapers and took to the sky. To the sky, as she grabbed this boy Arlo, clutching him in her talons. She did not reach too high up when she saw the Reaper King before her, black wings spread out from his body. With a forceful wave from his hand so powerful, Ethery fell to what she feared her to be her doom, the child’s doom. She did not hear the crack of her fall as she registered the ringing pain that shot through her ears and the rest of her body. How? What creature possessed such power to do this? Ethery never thought she could face a being this powerful in her life. That a being immune to fire, capable of surviving her claws, could surely end her life tonight. Her life would end before she could be reunited with her kin in the Wayward West.

Looking around for as much as she could move her crown, Ethery surveyed the surroundings for Arlo. There he lay, safe by her and still encased in the charmed shield that saved his fall. She could not surmise why these abominations desired this child with such a terrible need. And if her life were to end this way, on this night, then she would do everything she could to protect this child on the path she chose to take.

She let out a grunt at the first attempt of movement. Nothing. Her body lay stiff, unable to overcome its aching. What kind of spell did that reaper hit her with?

The Reaper King then landed to his feet, his dark cloak shifting in the wind over his tall, slim figure. Nothing to make of his face other than the eyes glowing with the embers of bottomless darkness. That bottomless darkness began walking toward her. This was no way to go. Yet there was nowhere to go.

“We warned thee,” stated Gehrimon, breaking the silence that held Ethery in fear as the Reaper King walked over to pick up Arlo. “A foolish dragon, playing at savior. You save nothing, you only delay our creation – and quicken your death to no –”

Gehrimon was knocked back a step by attempting to touch the shield Arlo was encased in. Ethery flashed a grin with her deadly teeth. Thank the creators for what little magic we are blessed with. “It would seem you are not immune to everything, demon. Not to this dragon’s incantations.” Though she had spent most of her magic protecting herself from the sky fall, at least the last of what she had to offer could protect this boy.

“Then let the cleaving of thy head and scales end this.”

Any attempt Ethery made to squirm was useless. Her wings, her head, motionless. Her death, and then the child’s. Never in her life had she felt so defenseless. The Dragoness of the Majestic Mountains, the most feared of the Goldenback dragons, laid low by a soul reaper, a formless monster. Her help to this boy was in vain, wasted. She only delayed the time the boy had until what looked to be his inevitable death. Even despite this, she wanted to defend him to her last breath, and alas, she could not. She made peace with this as Gehrimon gripped his scythe and raised it high to the air, ready to release –

A powerful gush of wind coursed through the area around them all. Gehrimon knocked back, his band of reapers thrown aside as the smoldering flames she lay earlier rose in combustion with the dominant gust that empower them. The rise of the fires gave way to will herself from the hold the Reaper King had cast upon her. But she could not believe what she saw next: a Seer from Caterin Forest and several Freeland Rangers.

*

“Now men! To the child,” Mirovin commanded as they all ran off of the profoundly potent surge of the wind that rushed them here. He charged quickly with his company into what appeared to a battle between a dragon and a band of…demons? He quickly ran through one them with his sword and charged past another with his second. But he noticed the one he just pierced get up and run back towards him. His strike did not kill them. Creet’s powerful wind seemed to only slow them down too.

“What have we rushed into sir?” Linford asked as he and the other rangers looked around every angle they were surrounded on.

“Stand your ground rangers!” Mirovin knew chaos lurked, but this? This was more than he or even the Seer could anticipate. The Seer said the dragon would get slowed down and make a stop, but could anyone has foreseen such terror? Terror that Mirovin thought could only belong to old wives tales lurked right in front of him, with the promise of a terrible death. A terrible death that he had so stupidly ran towards.

Gehrimon, still looking over the child across the way to the Tree of Astear muttered, “Slay them all.”

The end was nigh. The implosion of the All-World, the cratering of Astear, and the invasion of unforetold dark creatures. Their time had run out. All was truly lost. It was all that Mirovin could ponder to himself as his last thoughts until he saw a light from yonder the Tree of Astear.

The glimmer of the light however was not so faint that it did not cause the reapers to look away from the rangers. For they did. And what they beheld from it gave such terror to their faces because even more of this light rained down on them like thunder. Thunder that directly struck all of them dead while rendering the Reaper King motionless where stood.

Mirovin, Linford, and Ethery the Dragoness all heard a voice come forth “Not so good having a taste of your own medicine is it, Gehrimon?”

“You trespass my sworn duty, wretch? You know not what my master will do to you.”

“Oh, we know this master you play puppet for. We know this as much as how we will end you and send you back from whence you came.”

Mirovin witnessed the foul reaper king shouting back in dialect that he could understand. Though he could not understand it, he knew what was being said was evil enough to make his skin crawl.

“Your pleads have no affect here,” the mysterious stranger said as what looked like portals of light opened up before all the reapers. “Begone!”

*

Mirovin and his company still could not understand what had happened before them from beginning to end. His only instinct was to run straight to Arlo and pick him up. Not a scratch on him. Even despite the flight with a dragon, the terrible battle before them. He looked to the dragon and gave an unspoken nod. Thank you.

Ethery nodded back to Mirovin as she arose, attempting to shake off her wounds. “The boy it seems is in safe hands with you, rangers.” A bit of shock went around some of the rangers to hear the dragon speak. Well, not speak, but communicate her thoughts to them – a privilege Mirovin knew from history was not common for humans.

“Thank you for granting the honor of your thoughts, Dragoness,” Mirovin said, “and thank you for protecting this boy with your life.”

“Now go forth and protect him with yours. This land is not safe, and I fear the magic of the Tree of Astear will not rappel this area forever.”

Mirovin looked at Arlo in his arms, and the back to Ethery, further understanding one another. “Safe travels to the Wayward West then. The Freeland Rangers are forever in your debt, O Ethery, Dragoness of the Majestic Mountains.”

She hesitated for a moment, as if with despair. Despair that told him the Majestic Mountains were no longer hers to claim or rule with her king. But she then bowed her head to Mirovin and leaped upwards to the skies, to find a new home in the Wayward West with her kin.

Mirovin turned his eyes to the mysterious figure who had saved him. The stranger, keeping distance from them, was walking back to the tree. Mirovin handed the child to Mirovin and turned back around to call out, but the stranger was gone. His men were in shock with him, unsure of what they saw, or perhaps didn’t?

Nonetheless, the stranger was gone and Ethery was right: they could not stay here. They needed to get to safety. Mirovin turned to Creet and asked, “My fellow Creet, can you take us to the western edge of Caterin? We must ride for Freeland at once.”

*

Saddles packed and supplies tidied back up, Mirovin’s men made ready to mount their horses and ride back to Freeland. “Thank you again for all that you did, friend,” Mirovin affirmed, “An innocent child’s life would be forfeit if not for your help.”

“It seems it was not my help that saved your child,” Creet replied, “but that of a powerful stranger.”

There it was: a nagging feeling that tugged at Mirovin – one that made him recall the only limited glimpse he got.

“I know what it is that you ponder,” Creet said, “The woman who orphaned the child to you. You believe it was her who saved you this night.”

How did he – oh right, a Seer, Mirovin remembered. “Her cloak was identical to the strangers. Not just any cloak, one that is from another world. Xartar. A royal cloak at that too.”

“There is more to this child than you know, ranger,” Creet replied, “For if the child belongs to who I suspect him to, then your men and all of Astear are doomed. But it may be some time before that happens again.”

“What is you know?” Mirovin asked directly with demand.

“Find me again after some time,” Creet said again, “and I will tell you.”

Creet vanished in the wind before Mirovin’s very eyes. In quite the blink of an eye, he was gone also. But there was nothing Mirovin could do. Nothing except raise this boy to be trained with the rangers. A hard life it would be, but hard enough to make the boy ready for whatever vague danger Creet said would come for the boy he looked down upon. You will be safe with me Arlo, Mirovin’s eyes said to the boy before mounting his horse and urging his rangers to mount and ride for Freeland.