Battle with the Garuda Bird [Nov Short Story!] 11/30/2022

Hey peeps!

Here is the short story for November! A battle between two of the first god-arcanists. Hope you all enjoy!

Shami

Balastar the Hunter

The garuda bird was one of the most fearsome creatures in all existence.

Its lair had been set high atop a mountain. The beast’s magic had twisted the weather around the peak, creating intense heat within a raging storm. Tornadoes and strange conditions had made it difficult to approach. Out of all the god-creatures, it had been deemed “impossible” to get into its lair.

But that bastard, Uther, had somehow managed it.

He never told a soul his methods. Uther had just traveled up the mountain alone, braving the paradoxical storms, and had somehow ventured into the cave of the garuda bird. When he had returned, Uther had joined the pantheon of god-arcanists—but he had been badly burned. Most god-arcanists healed themselves within moments, but Uther’s burns never left him.

The flame scars marked half his face, his left arm, and his left leg. It was as if he had been half-dipped into the sun for just a moment. Uther never spoke about the moment he received the burns, and he maimed the people who tried to mock him for it.

The fools deserved it.

But regardless…

No one had been prepared for the sheer devastation of the garuda bird. Uther’s might and magic eclipsed even the wildest of legends.

The garuda bird had no weakness.

Unlike the typhon beast, who couldn’t fly, the garuda bird never grew wary of the skies. It flew with the grace and power of eagles.

Unlike the abyssal kraken, who was bound to the waters, the garuda bird was capable of swimming the deepest of depths and emerging from the waves like a fish unleashed.

Unlike the endless undead, who regrew its body no matter how many injuries it took, the garuda bird never needed to regrow anything because its regeneration healed all injuries within an instant.

The beast was a mix of man and sky raptor.

The garuda bird had golden wings large enough to shade a city. His body, emerald in complexion, had the physique of a seasoned warrior, arms included. The garuda’s bird head was that of an eagle, his beak a deep crimson, cast from blood, or so Uther stated.

No sane man would ever fight the garuda bird and its god-arcanist, but I was no longer a sane man.

I was Balastar, the Hunter, the god-arcanist bonded with Fenrir, the fenris wolf. And while I might have lost my sanity to the blight of the sky, I was no fool. If I wanted to defeat the garuda bird, I would have to level the playing field.

Fenrir was a killer—a god-creature of unparalleled magic, capable of bringing death down upon many. But he couldn’t fly, nor could he survive the waters, or heal himself faster than most other god-creatures.

Sol—the garuda bird—was a mighty opponent. The best strategy would be never to fight at all, but Uther had made a terrible mistake. He had arrogantly developed his armageddon aura. Uther and Sol were determined to rid the world of the blighted sky, but they knew not what they were doing.

Ridding the world of magic would make us weaker.

We needed to salvage what we could of this disaster. As god-arcanists, we needed to make the world better.

And since a god-arcanist can not go back on their decision once they’ve picked a path for their aura, Uther’s time as a god-arcanist was drawing to an end. I would kill them, and tip the scales of balance back toward creation, rather than destruction.

“The time is almost upon us,”Fenrir said, his words a mix of winter and worry.

My fenris wolf stood tall, nearly twenty feet at the shoulder. Rime coated his black fur, giving him a frosted appearance, no matter the temperature. When he breathed, mist escaped his razor fangs, chilling the air around us.

I placed a hand on Fenrir.

My magic—our magic—had long deadened me to the decay and death that ice brought. I was immune to frostbite, and all that implied.

But the garuda bird wasn’t.

“The blight of the sky will join us,” Fenrir stated. “But the bird’s aura may render it inert.”

“The soul forge knows magic.” I glanced around our constructed battlefield. “And if the beast said that today we would see the blight, then we will.”

The blight of the sky was nothing more than corrupted magic falling from the heavens. A curse upon us all. The red crystals would slam into the ground and kick up dirt and debris so thick, it would blot out the sun.

Perfect.

For the last month, I had constructed the battlefield where I would fight the garuda bird. It would be the overgrown turkey’s graveyard.

Fenrir and I created a mound of dirt and bodies. This land—the High Heuva Valley—had once been a peaceful valley. But once the blight started, nations fought for territory with arable land. The blight made it impossible to farm in certain locations…

More than ten thousand soldiers had died in the High Heuva Valley, fighting over who had the right to till the soil. Their bones made up the foundation of my gigantic mound.

The hill of dirt stood at least fifty feet tall at the top. It was a small mountain. Broken weapons decorated the base and the top—ripped flags, shattered swords, twisted lances, and the shields of warriors long gone. Hundreds of lanterns hung from broken spears, each lit and ready, even though the sun still shone overhead.

The grass of the valley had died over a year ago, leaving the once fertile area a wasteland.

Luvi, the world serpent arcanist, could’ve rearranged this whole area. He could’ve built me a mound—perhaps a bigger mountain—or even crafted the valley into something beautiful again. But he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

The blight of the sky was getting worse. Every day, Luvi and his serpent, Jörmungandr, attempted to repair the land. It was futile. Everyone knew. But that didn’t stop Luvi. Nothing stopped that man.

Ha!

I smiled to myself.

Luvi often said I was unreasonable and stubborn, but he was ten times worse. He always wanted to help—to save, to inform. He was against me killing the garuda bird.

Luvi didn’t want me to take Uther’s life.

But there was no other path for us now. This was the only way. I would do what Luvi could not. I would kill Uther, end the blight, and save us all. And I’d do it by myself, if I had to.

A screech lanced through the sky.

The king of birds would soon be upon us.

Fenrir’s icy fur stood on end. He stepped around me, his claws digging into the dirt with each step. His eyes glowed a deep red, and his two tails swished back and forth. Hooks and chains kept his tails attached, and they rattled as they moved—a warning similar to a snake’s.

“Father!”

The cries of the young boy would chill even the most hardened of soldiers, so long as they still had a soul. The many years of war, and of the blight, had rotted mine down, though. How else was I supposed to get Uther and Sol to my battlefield? I needed a lure. A reasonfor Uther to show himself to me—far from his followers, knights, and cities.

No dragon arcanists would help him here.

Not when I threatened the life of his firstborn son. If anyone else showed themselves on this battlefield, Uther’s son would be the first to die.

Luvi would’ve been upset with my tactics. The man was a strategist, but he held himself to higher standards than most. It was a weakness of his that I didn’t share. I’d win all my fights, but someday, Luvi would die to his own virtuous folly.

Uther’s son couldn’t move. I had shackled him to the ground, held down by broken weapons I had frosted in place. The boy shivered as he fought against his restraints. He was only eight years old? Maybe younger. Uther and I had never been close. While I had heard the news of the man’s family, I felt nothing for him.

I already had twenty-three children—after the tenth, the magic of new life had grown dull, especially when it was news from others.

Another screech pierced the air, this one louder than the last.

“Father!” the boy screamed again, his voice bogged down in sobs.

I wouldn’t hurt the boy. So long as his father fought me one-on-one to the death. And if I won, I’d set the boy free, even if it meant an eventual assassination attempt on my life in the future.

The child must’ve recognized the cry of his father’s eldrin. He grew more frantic and upset, twisting his body under the restraints. I kept my attention on the horizon. The sun set beyond the mountains, staining the sky with orange and red.

The silhouette of the garuda bird was easy to spot, even with the poor lighting. Uther and Sol were closing in on us, and the heat of battle coursed through me.

I grabbed Fenrir’s fur and climbed onto his back. I had only a dagger for a melee weapon, but I carried a longbow for most situations. My armor was the finest half-plate a man could have, crafted from the sturdiest of steel.

“He has arrived,” Fenrir growled.

The garuda bird soared to the valley and landed on the wasteland battlefield with a powerful and intimidating slam. The half-bird, half-man monster stood just as tall as Fenrir, a good twenty feet. His wings spread outward as the eagle-headed beast screeched a third time, filling the valley with its rage.

Uther rode on the back of his beast, holding onto the feathery mane of Sol, just on the creature’s shoulder, staring over the battlefield. Normally, Uther was the largest man in the room. An indomitable mountain given flesh and muscle. But atop his eldrin, his incredible size mattered little. He seemed tiny, but I didn’t allow that to falsely bolster my confidence.

Uther wore armor as fine as mine—but his was full plate metal. Only the strongest of men had the stamina to wear such heavy gear for any length of time. Uther practically lived in his armor. His garuda bird gave him unparalleled levels of strength and endurance.

Because of his might, and the power of his garuda bird, Uther was capable of throwing heavy weapons that most would never consider. His eldrin carried on its back a quiver of lances. They were sturdy, made of light metal alloy, and sharp along a great length of the tip. Uther had hurled them like javelins from the sky at his enemies, his magic carrying them through the winds.

Sol leaned forward, and Uther pointed to me with his free hand.

“Snake!” he billowed. “Your stubbornness has gone too far, Balastar. You would involve my son? You claim you’re humanity’s savior? Delusion is your only true companion. I will rid the world of you, and the blight of the sky.”

As if his words summoned the corrupted magic, the sky filled with dark clouds.

The clouds didn’t swoop in from lands far from here—they appeared in the sky, seemingly forming from nothing. They were the herald of the blighted sky. Soon, the clouds would fill with corrupted crystals, and then they would rain to the ground, destroying everything they touched.

I was ready.

The twilight vanished as the clouds gathered. The lanterns on the spears provided us with dim illumination. We stood in a sea of light, surrounded by mountains.

“You took your time planning this,” Uther said. He stood more than a hundred feet away, but his words reached me regardless. “You want us to fight in the middle of the blight? How poetic.”

Uther’s son sobbed. “Help!” He had run out of words, his throat sore from the hours of shouting he had done before.

Sol flapped his wings once, the lantern light flickering from the rush of wind. The bird stopped. He needed the light.

Terrible magic rumbled overhead, like thunder.

“The way to your son is over my grave,” I said to Uther, my voice carried by the ominous winds. “What’re you waiting for, Uther the Lancer? We won’t need to fight in the blight if you finish this quickly.”

His garuda bird shrieked like never before. His rage matched his arcanist’s.

Uther grabbed a lance from the bird’s quiver. Then Sol lunged forward. Even during the charge, Uther was steadfast and capable. He threw a lance, and with his wind manipulation, shot it straight for Fenrir’s chest.

My eldrin breathed ice through the air, slowing the strike. My wolf managed to move just in time—dodging the attack thanks to the frigid winds.

I evoked ice, destructive and terrible.

With a sweep of my hand, I washed the whole valley in winter, snuffing the lights. The darkness descended as quickly as I had imagined. Sol slammed into Fenrir, but his strike was hesitant. The creature was mostly blind in the darkness of the blighted storm.

“Curse you to the abyssal hells,” Uther growled.

My augmentation and magic gave me the senses of a wolf. The darkness harmed my vision, but not as much as it did with Sol and Uther. They thought the lights would help them, and I took them away.

Fenrir crunched his fangs on the right wing of the bird. The garuda flexed its human-like fingers and extended talons. With a brutal slash, the garuda bird sliced the face of my eldrin, going straight for Fenrir’s eyes.

The bird gouged out one, but his talons didn’t catch the other.

Fenrir leapt away, feathers and blood falling from his mouth.

Sol took to the sky. Just as I knew he would. With a few powerful beats of his wings, he was more than fifty feet in the air. The clouds rumbled again, warning him away. The clouds glowed a sinister red as crystals formed like rain within the dark skies.

Sol and Uther couldn’t fly too high. The corruption wouldn’t warp their bodies, but the falling crystals still cut like a thousand daggers. If they were in the sky, they would be vulnerable. So they came down, landing at the top of the mound I had prepared.

Fenrir and I had planned for this.

We ran up the hill and lunged for Sol. Fenrir locked his impressive fangs down on Sol’s human-like arm, tearing into the beast’s biceps. I evoked ice and snow, blasting Uther—and the wings of his bird—with as much magic as my body would allow.

God-arcanist magic wasn’t like others… I felt it rage through me and then leave my body with hateful purpose. I wanted Uther dead. And now my magic was willing that into existence.

Despite the darkness, the red clouds overhead gave Uther some light.

He threw one of his lances with such might that it slammed straight into my chest and burst out the other side. I fell from Fenrir and hit the ground, but I had no memory of the fall. My mind had blanked from sheer shock and awe.

When I managed to regain my ability to think, I was already standing. My body had known combat for decades. It knew what to do, even if my mind didn’t. I stumbled to my feet, my legs shaking.

I stood halfway down the mound, dirt and blood covering most of my armor and clothing.

Normally, I would break the shaft of the lance and pull the small bit from my body. But Uther wielded metal lances for a reason. If I wanted it pull it out, I would have to dislodge the wholeweapon.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest twisted and tightened, and while I knew I was in pain, for some reason, I couldn’t feel it.

Fenrir kept his fangs in Sol’s arm. He shook his head, tearing the limb like a manic animal, practically ripping it from the garuda bird’s body. Sol slashed with the talons of his other hand, cutting at Fenrir’s head over and over, gouging flesh.

Uther leapt from the back of his creature and headed down the mound, another lance at the ready.

Crystals rained from the clouds.

Hundreds of them. Each red, each sparkling with corrupted power. The air grew sour and electric. The crystals hit the ground, exploding dirt and debris into the air, creating craters and devastation.

A few hit my mound, but that didn’t stop Uther. He used the light of the corrupted magic to guide his path. He rushed for me, his speed enhanced by his god-arcanist strength and powerful winds.

I blasted the mound with ice, covering myself and the dirt around us. Uther was awash in snow, hit by the most powerful parts of my evocation. My magic was so potent that most suffered frostbite within mere minutes unless they were immune to the cold.

Uther was not.

But even that didn’t stop him.

I half-laughed as the mountain of a man trudged through the ice and snow straight for my location. He was unstoppable. No amount of weather could harm this man. No amount of pain would deter him. It excited me, and reminded me that I was likely broken. Who laughed in a situation such as this? I couldn’t stop myself.

More crystals shattered the earth. Uther’s boy yelled out. I thought it would distract him, but I was mistaken. Uther lifted his lance and threw it. The weapon slammed through my gut, sending me tumbling down the mound, all the way to the base.

Again, my mind fought to keep itself in the game.

I was standing before I was comprehending what was happening.

These attacks would’ve killed mortal men. They would’ve killed most arcanists. They probably would’ve killed most god-arcanists, but they couldn’t kill me.

I grabbed the metal, and using the ice to attach my hand to the shaft, I slowly pulled out the first. Every inch of the weapon sliding through my body was a horrifying sensation that I hadn’t experienced before. It also made me laugh, but my chest was so twisted and agonized, that the noises I made were more akin to a hyena than a man.

I had picked destruction for my evocation, but I had picked creation for my manipulation.

I manipulated lifeforce.

One wolf was vulnerable, but no one took on an entire pack. The fenris wolf’s secret was its durability, and its ability to live through almost anything. Fenrir and I could manipulate life itself, spreading it among others of our “pack.” If I was wounded, I could draw lifeforce and magic from the others of my pack, giving us longevity far more substantial than anything should have the right to.

Once I had the first weapon free, I drew power and life from those that I had used my magic upon. Luvi, Astros…

I closed my eyes as I dragged the last spear from my gut. My organs stuck to the metal, the pain far worse than my chest, but the lifeforce of the pack…

It kept me alive.

My injuries healed, but only because I took the strength from others. Uther didn’t know that, though. No one did. It was a secret I would take with me to my grave. It made me the perfect hunter—the perfect wolf to carry out the hardest tasks of the pack.

Uther must’ve suspected I was dying. Or perhaps already dead. He wasn’t heading for me anymore. He was heading for his son.

My eldrin barked and growled, the ice of his magic covering everything. The mound—the whole High Heuva Valley—it was a winter wonderland. It looked as though we were atop the highest mountain in the world.

The crystals that rained from the clouds hurt both Fenrir and Sol. They slashed through their bodies—they were much too large to dodge. Each one gouged out flesh and left a splattering of blood across the snow. They were killing each other at a fearsome rate, and the crystal blight was just accelerating everything.

With my strength increasing, I ran for Uther. The calamity of the blight was everything I had hoped for. It was killing the garuda bird, preventing it from flying, and creating a rumble of thunder that blanketed the valley. Uther never heard me approach.

I grabbed a weapon from the dirt—one I had placed earlier—a sword that had been sundered into two pieces. The jagged and broken tip of the sword would make a fine puncturing weapon. I held it tight and rushed Uther just as he approached his son.

An honorable warrior wouldn’t have stabbed Uther in the back. But that wasn’t me. A hunter did whatever they needed to secure the kill. I stabbed the jagged blade into Uther, right where the plates of his armor connected. It was a spot in the shoulder region, just below the arm. The plate armor was loose there—to allow a man to move his arms—and I managed to ram the blade through the small opening, all the way to Uther’s flesh.

The man yelled, and I leapt away. I didn’t take the weapon. I left it. Instead, I grabbed a twisted spear from the mound, arming myself again.

Uther whirled around, his right arm barely able to move.

“You coward,” he growled.

“You chose this,” I said, unable to keep the exhilarated chuckle from my words. “You picked destruction when you developed your aura.You knew what we needed—you made this a fight!”

The red crystals streaked across the sky.

Uther took a deep breath, his body shaking.

“You’ll kill us all,” he managed to say, his voice strained. “If we rid the world of corruption… it’ll never return.”

“Curing one disease doesn’t cure them all,” I said as I stalked forward, ready to end this. My boots crunched through the snow. I coughed back dirt and debris as it wafted through the stormy air. “I told you. I told you. If you weren’t going to build with us, you were against us.”

“You’re a madman, Balastar.”

“I’m doing what I have to. You’re too weak to see it.”

“F-Father,” his son managed to say through chattering teeth.

When Uther glanced back, just to see his son one last time, I struck forward with my spear. I caught Uther in the neck—the only place I figured would kill him. With my powerful magic, fueled by my pack manipulation, I blasted him with more ice, coating his body, and his injury, in ice so harsh, it would strip skin from muscle.

Then I leapt away and did it again. I evoked as much as I could, as fast and as powerfully as I could. His son shivered and chattered his teeth. In a few minutes, the boy would die, too. I didn’t want that. Luvi wouldn’t stand for it.

As soon as I stopped, I exhaled rime and ran for the body. He was half-buried in snow, the dirt from the calamity clogging his lungs. He coughed and wheezed as I dragged his small body from the winter I had created. Then I used my augmentation to give him some resistance to the environment.

The boy kicked me. Then he tried to bite me.

What a little monster.

I chuckled as I held him away from my body. Did he have a death wish? I couldn’t fault his bravery, that was certain.

When red corrupted crystals came plummeting to the ground around us, I stepped in the way and shielded the boy from his inevitable death. The crystals cut my flesh, but they didn’t alter my magic or end my life. The boy was so small, he would surely die. And I made a promise to myself—if Uther ought me one-on-one, then I wouldn’t see harm come to his first-born child.

Once I was certain the boy was fine, another shriek pierced the air.

The garuda bird…

It spread its wings and collapsed into the snow.

When I turned my attention to Uther, I realized my snow had buried him. The frostbite had done the rest. The injury to his neck, the weapon in his back—he could heal faster than most, but he had no resistance to the deathly chill. And when he died, the garuda bird died as well, such was the fate of god-arcanists and their eldrin.

A moment later, Fenrir collapsed into the snow.

My body hurt.

I thought it was mortality, but then I realized I still had connection to my magic. Fenrir was injured, but our lifeforce manipulation would keep us alive. My eldrin had been torn to bits fighting the garuda bird. If I had been less of an arcanist, we surely would’ve died. If we had fought in the daylight—or in clear skies—we surely would’ve been defeated.

But those who pick their battlefields always have the advantage. And only fools squandered advantages.

When Uther and his bird died, so did their armageddon aura. As long as enough god-arcanists had a salvation aura… we would make it through this.

I took Uther’s son and dragged him through the snow. I’d bring him to safety, and then I’d hopefully never see him again.

“I’ll kill you!” the boy screamed through his rough and raspy throat. “I’ll kill you for what you’ve done!”

With half a smile across my bloodied face, I said, “I’ll never turn down a challenge from you, boy. You have my word—come get your revenge when you’re ready.”

And then I unceremoniously threw him out of the snow.

With a harsh turn, I went back for my eldrin. Once he was strong enough, we’d leave this valley and report to Luvi. He wouldn’t like the details, but I’d tell him regardless. My actions weren’t perfectly honorable, but they were my own. I was neither proud nor ashamed of them.

I just did what a hunter had to.