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The Return of the Defenders

Rise of the Night

By Josephine WinterPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 22 min read
1

It was getting late. Though the sky displayed a myriad of colour, with the growing shadows came a sense of foreboding. A nervous hush fell upon the forest, the only movement coming from the wind blowing through the leaves, and the day-dwellers scurrying for sanctuary. It had been this way for as long as Gaeryll could remember.

He glanced up from his book to watch the fiery display, the familiar sense of dread in his stomach warning him he had stayed too late. Again. peering over his shoulder at the empty room, he debated spending yet another night amongst the tomes of knowledge. How many would that make? Six? Seven?

His chair scraped against the wood flooring as he got to his feet, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. “Maybe I should just move in,” he joked.

Gathering up the books he’d been perusing, he began the arduous process of putting them all away. When he had only two left, the doors to the library burst open, startling him so that the books toppled to the floor. He turned to the intruder, only now realizing how dark it had gotten.

“Gaeryll? You’re in here, right?”

“Geez, Tylligrith, you nearly scared my heart into leaving my body,” Gaeryll said with a relieved sigh.

As he bent down to pick up the dropped books, the lights flared on, allowing him to check for any damage to the spines. Thankfully, there wasn’t any.

“Reading in the dark isn’t good for your eyes,” Tylligrith told him. “Or were you planning on staying the night here?”

Gaeryll cast a sidelong look at his friend. “I was contemplating it.”

Tyligrith smirked and took one of the books from Gaeryll’s hands. He was a full head and shoulders taller than Gaeryll, broader too, and handsome. Not only was he the brawn between the two of them, but he had intelligence to match. Being the son of an inventor meant he had grown up tinkering and creating.

It wasn’t that Gaeryll was ugly. He was fair enough, but next to Tylligrith, he enjoyed anonymity.

“Have you been here all day?”

“All week, more like,” Gaeryll replied, returning the book he held to its place. “You know that.”

Tylligrith nodded. “I do. Which is why I’m assuming you haven’t heard.” He opened the book he held and casually flipped through the pages.

After a pause, Gaeryll rolled his eyes. “Well, are you going to tell me?”

Appearing to ignore the question, Tylligrith casually closed the book and searched out the place where it belonged. When he had made an end of that task, he turned to Gaeryll with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “There’s been a rumour going around. Everyone is talking about it.”

“That’s usually how rumours work.”

Tylligrith nodded his agreement as though he had been the one to state that obvious fact. “Anyway, they’re saying the Defenders have returned.”

Gaeryll blanked at such a bizarre statement. “What?”

“Well, to be more precise, they’re saying that a Defender has returned. A few people have reported seeing one patrolling about. The news has got everyone’s hopes up. I thought maybe you and I could go put the rumours to rest.” He glanced at Gaeryll meaningfully.

“And how do you figure we could do that?”

Tylligrith broke into a broad grin. “We go and find this so-called Defender, of course!”

“Of course,” Gaeryll murmured. “And why do you want to go find it? I thought you were of the mind that we don’t need any Defenders.”

“We don’t. That’s why we need to go find whatever it is everyone is seeing to show them they’re all just delusional.”

“How fun,” Gaeryll drawled sarcastically. “I’m sure everyone would greatly appreciate that.”

“Oh, come on, Gaer. We’re the only heroes we Fae need.”

He arched an eyebrow at his heroic-looking friend. “Speak for yourself. I’m just as happy to lock myself in the library where it’s safe. There’s no way I’ll be joining you in your crusade to battle the Night.”

Tylligrith laughed and clapped Gaeryll heavily on the back so the slighter man nearly fell forward into the bookshelf. “Don’t be so modest. You’re not a coward like some of those others I could mention. Come on, just come with me. You need the fresh air anyway.”

Sighing, Gaeryll met his friend’s pleading gaze. “Oh, fine. Just stop making that face. I’ll go with you to find the Defender.”

“So-called Defender,” Tylligrith corrected with an overly excited grin

“Right. That.”

With a growing apprehension coiling within and around his stomach, Gaeryll made sure the lights were turned off and the door to the library firmly shut before following Tylligtrith out into the dark. His wings ached only slightly from disuse, and more-so from extended periods of accidental cramped positions. Stretching them felt good, so he supposed he owed Tylligrith a thanks for that much. Aside from the small pleasure of feeling the wind on his face, he was already regretting his choice to come along on this escapade.

They had gotten further from their Fae settlement and safety than Gaeryll preferred when Tyligrith came to an abrupt halt.

“What is it?” Gaeryll asked in a breathy whisper.

“Did you hear that?”

Gaeryll paused to survey the dark. There was a strange sound coming from somewhere to their left. Holding his breath in fright, he listened to the eerie grunts, wishing desperately to be anywhere but there. Then he frowned. “Wait a second. Doesn’t that voice sound familiar to you?”

“I was thinking the same thing. Come on, Gaer. Let’s go see what trouble she’s got herself in this time.”

They followed the noise until they found the source. What they saw didn’t surprise them at all.

“That doesn’t look comfortable,” Tylligrith spoke up, an amused expression on his chiseled face.

The girl caught in the spider’s web looked up at their approach and grinned broadly. It was a goofy expression, but incredibly endearing. “Tyll! Gaer!” she greeted brightly. “How nice to see you. Have I ever told you how striking you both look upside down?”

Gaeryll met her grin with one of his own, her carefree nature putting him slightly more at ease. “Symraen, what are you doing this time?”

“Spider silk,” she said innocently. “For the blanket I’m making.”

“I thought it might be that.” Gaeryll glanced over the hopeless trap Symraen had gotten herself caught in. “Would you like a hand?”

She beamed at him. “Much appreciated. I knew I could count on you.”

“What would you have done if we hadn’t come by, Sym?” Tylligrith asked, tugging at the sticky threads. “What if the Night had gotten to you first?”

Before Symraen could answer, a loud whoosh made all of them freeze in fright.

“W-what was that?” Symraen quivered, still suspended in the web.

“I don’t know,” Tylligrith said, watching the darkness around them.

Gaeryll felt his throat constrict with fear. It made his next words difficult to say. “We should hurry,” was the squeaked plea.

Tylligrith nodded, keeping one eye on their surroundings as they worked to free Symraen.

“Look out!” Symraen shouted, her frightened gaze glued upward.

The spider’s web snapped, and Gaeryll caught Symran as Tylligrith spun to act as a shield to whatever was coming for them.

None of them were expecting to see the creature that landed neatly on the branch to stare at them curiously. It was larger than any of them had imagined, though they all had grown up hearing the tales. Drawings and paintings could only prepare them so much. As it was, they returned the intelligent gaze with much less intelligent expressions of their own.

The creature leaned forward, taking a single step closer, revealing its dangerously taloned feet. “Well?” the creature said in a haughty tone. “Aren’t you going to thank me? Or do you prefer standing there gaping in awe?” The feathers around the creature’s neck and chest puffed out. “Not that I can blame you.”

Gaeryll forced his head to turn so he could look at Tylligrith. “Tyll?” His voice came out in an embarrassing rasp.

“They’re real,” Symraen breathed.

“It’s a she,” Tylligrith said with a slight frown. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Why are you surprised?” Gaeryll asked, his voice sill pitched higher than he would have liked. “In the stories, the females were always the fiercer.”

“The Defenders are real,” Symraen repeated.

“I know that,” Tylligrith snapped at Gaeryll. “I was merely making an observation.”

Gaeryll swallowed, trying his hardest to simultaneously control his trembling. “Do you suppose she’s here to help us?”

“You know what I think about that.”

The Defender took another step forward so that she towered over them. She was covered in glossy feathers of indiscernible colour in the dark, though all the drawings depicted them as being creamy gold. Besides the sword-like talons, she also possessed a rather terrifying beak that looked as though it could snap any of them in half, including Tylligrith. That was a frightening thought.

She lowered her head, so her eyes were at their level. Those orbs of swirling darkness narrowed in suspicion. “What are you blathering about?” she demanded in a dangerous hush. “I already did help you, and you have yet to thank me.”

The three Fae stared at her blankly.

“Forgive us,” Gaeryll said slowly, “but when did you help us?”

She turned her offended gaze on him. “Just a few moments ago when I freed the girl.”

“Oh!” Symraen gasped, her eyes suddenly sparkling in admiration. “You cut the threads! That’s why you flew over like that.”

The Defender stood back up, puffing out her feathers once again. “You finally understand, then.”

“We didn’t need a Defender’s help,” Tylligrith said. “We could have gotten her out ourselves.”

The Defender looked at him contemplatively.

Gaeryll cast a glare at Tylligrith. Making the Defender angry might be the last thing they ever did. He would prefer not to be eaten by a creature he had always admired and dreamt of.

“Defender? What are you going on about this time?”

The question was so unexpected, Gaeryll forgot all about being afraid. “You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Defenders,” he began in a scholarly tone. “They lived here a long time ago, fighting against the Night as great warriors. Unfortunately, they disappeared, and no one knows why. You’re the first to return in over two hundred years. They protected us Fae.”

“We don’t need any Defenders,” Tylligrith put in stubbornly.

“Why did you leave?” Symraen asked at the same time. “And why did you only come back now?”

“They’re just a bunch of selfish cowards who abandoned us and left us to a massacre. Do you even know how many died after your kind left?”

“Have you returned to protect us again? I always knew the Defenders hadn’t abandoned us. I’m sure there must be a logical explanation. Surely you can enlighten us,” Symraen was saying.

The two continued to speak over one another as Gaeryll intoned the histories, oblivious to the fact that he was being ignored.

“ENOUGH!” the Defender shouted, clearly annoyed.

The three fell into immediate stunned silence.

“I have no knowledge of these Defender-whatsits that you keep going on about. Whatever you think I am, or whatever you’ve been misled to believe I’m here for, forget it. I’m only here because this is where my wings brought me. You got that?”

Symraen opened her mouth.

“Forget it!” the not-Defender snapped in irritation. “I’m not here to save you or give reason for something I had and have nothing to do with. If you mention even one more thing about it, I’ll eat you!”

Symraen closed her mouth faster than one could blink.

Gaeryll wanted to inquire further, he had so many questions swirling through his brain, but he bit his tongue to keep it silent.

“What will you do now?” Tylligrith asked fearlessly.

The not-Defender eyed him before giving answer. “Hunt,” she said simply.

“Hunt what?” Tylligrith pressed.

“Food. Do you want to join me?”

Gaeryll glanced at Symraen who matched his confusion. “We should probably head back,” he determined. “It’s not safe. The Night. . ..” He wasn’t sure what to say beyond that. “We should get back,” he finished awkwardly.

The not-Defender shrugged. “Suit yourselves. If you ever feel like having some fun, I’ll be around. And if you ever find yourself trapped in another spider’s web,” here she paused to wink at Symraen, “just call out for me. The name’s Ewryn.”

With that said, she leapt off the branch and became one with the dark.

“Not a Defender,” Tylligrith snorted derisively.

“We should go back to where it’s safe,” Gaeryll repeated.

Symraen nodded her agreement.

Disappointed, the three of them flew as quickly and quietly as they could to their settlement. For Gaeryll, safety meant the library, and the others decided to stay with him instead of returning to their homes.

“I tried to warn everyone,” Tylligrith snarled as he grabbed blankets from a back closet. “The Defenders don’t care about us.”

“I don’t think she knew what we were talking about,” Gaeryll mused.

“Hah!” Tylligrith laughed. “She just said that to mock us.”

“I’m serious. She seemed genuinely confused.”

“Do you suppose she’ll be alright?” Symraen asked before Tylligrith could argue. “I mean, I agree with Gaeryll. I don’t think she knows anything about the Night. Even if she is a Defender, she’s all alone.”

“She’s not a Defender, Sym,” Tylligrith snarled. “She made that perfectly clear.”

“But maybe if she saw what makes the Night truly terrifying, she might change her mind about that.”

Tylligrith shook his head. “How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t need a Defender.”

“But you can’t fight the Night alone!” Symraen shouted pointedly. “You’re brave, Tyll. But you’re just one. Like it or not, we need more than one warrior if we want to finally be free from the Night. You, alone, aren’t enough.”

“I’m not alone,” Tylligrith huffed, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

“I hope you’re not counting us,” Gaeryll said, throwing a pillow at Tylligrith’s face for emphasis. “I may not be able to speak for Sym, but I know myself, and I’m not a warrior. I won’t be part of your delusion of grandeur.”

“What are you talking about, Gaer? You’re the smartest guy I know. Especially when it comes to the Defenders and the Night. You’ve read all the histories on both. You probably know more than anyone ever!”

Gaeryll frowned. “That’s a rather extreme over-exaggeration.”

“With your knowledge, we could fight back.”

“Your crazy is showing,” Symraen smirked, propping herself on her elbows as she lay on her makeshift bed.

Tylligrith glared at her.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Gaeryll said, curling up under the blanket he’d chosen. “You’re already dreaming anyway.”

He grunted at the pillow that whacked the side of his head, refusing to respond further to Tylligrith’s retaliation. It had been a long evening. All the fear had left him feeling exhausted, but it still took a while for sleep to claim him. When it did, he was forced awake again by the morning light streaming across his face what felt like seconds later.

“Oh. You’re awake.”

Opening his eyes, Gaeryll jumped at the sight of Symraen lying with her face nearly pressed against his. “Why do you do that?” he gasped, trying to calm his racing heart from the fright.

Symraen grinned unrepentantly. “Because you wake up so excitedly.”

“I wonder why,” he grumbled.

With a stretch, he glanced over at the empty bed where Tylligrith had been.

“He went to get us some food,” Symraen answered before he could even ask. She sat up as she spoke, then made a point of staring at him.

He flinched away from her. “I know that look,” he said, already regretting what he was about to ask. “What do you want?”

She beamed at him, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s go find Ewryn.”

The name registered blankly in his still-tired mind. “Who?”

“You know. Ewryn. The Defender.”

Memory came flooding back to him of the night before, and he grabbed his head at the prospect of a potential headache. “Oh.”

“We should go find her.”

“Why? She said she isn’t a Defender and didn’t want to hear anything more about it or she would eat us. I, for one, don’t feel like doubting her is worth the risk.” He sighed as her expression slowly deflated into disappointment. “What would we say anyway?”

“We. Should. Go. Find. Her,” she persisted.

“And say what?”

Symraen nodded thoughtfully to herself. “I see.”

“See what?” Sometimes, he didn’t fully comprehend Symraen. They’d been friends for years, but she had a tendency to be odd in ways that he just couldn’t follow.

“Oh, sorry,” Symraen apologized with a laugh. “I was just thinking that she told us her name, but we never gave her our names. So, maybe we should go introduce ourselves.”

“And then what? You’re plotting something. I know you are.”

She blinked at him innocently, an expression that was well practiced, and entirely fake. “What do you mean?”

He threw his pillow at her. “Just tell me already.”

“Alright, alright,” she sniggered. Before answering his question, her expression grew serious. She met his gaze and held it, all joking set aside. “We need to tell her about the Night. If she understands how dangerous it is, and what we’ve suffered because of it, maybe she’ll be willing to reconsider. Even if she isn’t a Defender, she would still be great to have around. Don’t you think?”

A part of him had feared she might suggest something just like this. “Tylligrith won’t agree.”

“He never agrees. But he knows that fighting the Night alone isn’t something he can do, even if he insists otherwise.”

Gaeryll sighed, knowing that Symraen was right. “Fine. But if we want her to know about the Night, just telling her may not be enough,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “She didn’t exactly listen last time.”

“Where are you going?”

He wandered down one of the book aisles, scanning the bindings for the title he was searching for. The books on the histories of the Night kept by the Fae were ones he’d read numerous times. Though the reality was terrifying, the knowledge of times past was fascinating. So, he knew exactly which book was needed and where to find it.

“I hope you’re both hungry!” Tylligrith exclaimed as he kicked open the doors.

“Tyll! Perfect timing,” Symraen greeted. “My stomach was just starting to berate me for not feeding it yet.”

“Where’s Gaer?”

“Looking for a book.”

“Why am I not surprised? Gaer! Come get something to eat. The books can wait.”

Gaeryll ignored the taunt. He’d found what he was looking for anyway. Flipping through the pages to make sure this was what they required, he made his way back to the others.

“Should we take it to go?” Symraen suggested.

“Go where?”

Gaeryll closed the book and looked up. He saw the tin Tylligrith was carrying and knew exactly what was in it. Just the thought of Auntie Kaerdyn’s baking made his mouth water. “If that’s what you want,” he said, his stomach pinching with desire for the delectable pastries.

“Great! Come on, you two!”

Tylligrith glanced at Gaeryll for an explanation. “Are you gonna tell me, or am I just following blindly?”

“Sym wants to go meet Ewryn,” Gaeryll answered honestly.

As expected, Tylligrith frowned, but said nothing.

Grabbing a pastry out of the tin, Gaeryll followed Symraen out into the open air. During the day, the forest had a calm tranquility about it. Quite the opposite from when the sun went down. It was almost enough to make one forget the horrors that occurred when darkness fell.

“Ewryn!” Symraen called as they flew away from the safety of the settlement.

Gaeryll refrained from calling, opting to stuff his face with breakfast instead. The book was tucked into his satchel, along with some blank paper and a writing kit, just in case. If Ewryn could tell them anything about what happened to the Defenders, he wanted to record it.

Tylligrith hadn’t said anything since they started flying.

“Ewryn!” Symraen’s voice carried through the trees, though she must have had food in her mouth for it sounded slightly muffled. “Let’s check over there,” she said, pointing.

They were just about to alter their course when a shadow crossed their path. Looking up, they came to a halt, watching as the majestic form of the not-Defender landed gracefully on the branch next to them. She was watching them with a keen interest. “That didn’t take you long to call. Are you in trouble already?”

In the daylight, Ewryn was much more impressive to look at, and slightly less terrifying. Gaeryll stared at her, recognizing each aspect of her form from the diagrams drawn up by the Fae of generations past. She was of a species known as owls, famed for their wisdom and strength. There had been several owl types mentioned in the writings, but those that had dawned the mantle of Defenders were the barn owls. He’d always wanted to meet one. Ewryn, however, was not what he’d been expecting.

“We’re not in trouble,” Tylligrith huffed, speaking for the first time since they left the library.

Ewryn flapped her wings, then settled into a rest position, her eyes drifting closed. “Is that so? Well, then I’ll just go back to sleeping. Goodnight.”

“It’s morning,” Symraen said.

“Exactly.”

“Wait,” Symraen cried, hurrying over to Ewryn. “We wanted to talk with you.”

Ewryn opened one eye to peer at the Fae. “We can talk when I wake up.”

“It’s reeeeaaaaally important,” Symraen pleaded.

“Then you’ll wait.”

Gaeryll took Symraen by the arm and pulled her back. “She was probably out hunting all night,” he told her, recalling that owls had been reported as nocturnal creatures. “Let’s let her rest. We can tell her about the Night when she wakes up.”

“But what are we supposed to do until then?”

“Perhaps you can start by explaining to me why you want to tell her about the Night,” Tylligrith put in.

Symraen sighed, and Gaeryll braced himself for what would come next.

The day passed about how Gaeryll expected. Symraen and Tylligrith argued about Ewryn, threatened to end their friendship, nearly did, apologized and made up, and ultimately came to an understanding. By the time all that was concluded, it was getting late into the afternoon.

Ewryn stirred.

Gaeryll watched with interest as she opened her wings only slightly, then lifted her head. Her gaze fell on him, and he found himself holding his breath.

“You’re still here?” Ewryn sighed in a sleepy tone. “I thought you’d give up and go home.”

“I told you,” Symraen said, coming to land on the branch in front of Ewryn. “What we have to tell you is important.”

“Is it about those Defenders you mentioned?”

Gaeryll watched Symraen’s face tighten for only a fraction of a second, then she smiled. He and Tylligrith had both fallen pray to that look, but he somehow doubted Ewryn would be moved.

“Won’t you at least hear us out? If you’re going to stay here, you should know about the Night. It’s dangerous, even for someone as great as you, and I would hate to see you get hurt.”

“Fine.”

Shocked, Gaeryll exchanged an equally amazed look with Tylligrith. Ewryn had given in a lot faster than either of them expected.

“Gaeryll,” Symraen called.

Taking his cue, Gaeryll pulled out the historical tome.

“By the way, my name is Symraen. And these are my friends, Gaeryll, and Tylligrith.”

Ewryn nodded, maintaining her focus on Gaeryll, and the large book he carried.

“The histories speak of a growing evil that began to linger in shadows and darkness,” Gaeryll began nervously. “It grew so powerful, that it became too dangerous for anyone to go out at night for fear that they would be consumed. No one knew how it came to be or where it appeared from, but they feared its presence. Eventually, its supremacy grew so that it became the Night itself.

“The bravest souls did their best to stand against this ominous threat. There was a time when even the Fae tried to fight, but they were too easily overpowered and dragged into the Night, never to be seen again.

“At the time, a group of mighty warriors arose, calling themselves the Defenders. They fought the Night. They even pushed it back. But then, they disappeared. When they did, the Night seized the moment of opportunity. The Fae were massacred, the forest painted red by their blood. Few survived, and those who did found ways to hide from the Night, dwelling in small settlements that could easily be protected by warding magic.”

Gaeryll could tell that Ewryn was curious, but not fully invested in the telling. Her lack of enthusiasm kept him from reciting the woeful tale in any great detail. Well, that and the fact that last time he’d been wholly ignored when doing so.

“Show her the pictures,” Symraen encouraged.

He nodded. “This is what the Night is capable of.”

Ewryn stared at the pictures Gaeryll held up for her to see.

“It’s horrific,” Symraen shuddered.

“Indeed,” Ewryn agreed. “But I didn’t see anything unusual last night. Are you sure this evil is still even around?”

“It’s out there,” Tylligrith answered. “Trust me. It probably remembers the war with the Defenders better than we do. You likely didn’t run into it because it was watching to see what you would do. Once it’s convinced that you’re not a threat, it’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of you.”

Gaeryll was impressed at that assessment. He had been thinking something similar.

“Hmm,” Ewryn mused. She didn’t seem convinced in the slightest. “Then what are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” Symraen asked.

“The Night. I’m not a Deender, as I mentioned earlier. And it looks like night has already fallen while we were talking. So, what are you going to do?”

Gaeryll glanced around at the darkened forest. A chill crept down his spine. It looked like it was moving. Maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. He blinked several times, squeezed his eyes shut, then looked again. The shadows looked very much alive. “Um, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he quavered.

“I see it,” Tylligrith snarled, planting himself in front of Symraen. “We need to get out of here.”

“How?” Symraen asked. “It’s everywhere.”

Following her gaze, Gaeryll realized she was right. They were surrounded. He felt his blood run cold at the realization they probably wouldn’t last until morning. This was going to be their last day.

AdventureExcerptFantasyShort Story
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About the Creator

Josephine Winter

Josephine Winter is author of the K-11-7-4 series, and creator of winterwrites.net.

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