Guardian Fall Chapter 2

Chapter 2
Call of the Guardians

         Bran ate his own words, during the penalty. Throughout the entire week, Bran couldn't get the singeing taste of Salamander Berries out of his tongue. No matter how much water he drank, he could still feel embers prance on his tongue. For that reason, Bran wasn't able to speak properly, as he often had to stick his tongue out like a lizard.

         Fortunately, he didn't have to suffer alone. Ramah and Hiram weren't successful either, so they had to take the penalty as well. Upon tasting the berries, they splashed their faces in water until Marcus and Hiram had to force them breathe.

         The tiger incident, however, had mixed feelings. On one hand, they did believe that a tiger had attacked Bran, once they saw the scratch on his arm. They bore no ill will against him for leaving a bit earlier than what was agreed.

         On the other hand, they couldn't quite grasp how he escaped. When Bran told them that the tiger just noticed something else, they couldn't quite believe it. Rather than pondering about it any further, they just accepted the fact that Bran had escaped through a miracle. Bran himself dubbed it as a miracle, because he couldn't find an explanation for what had just happened.
         
         One morning, out in the fields, Bran practiced swordplay with Amon, his uncle. The two faced each other with rattan sticks. Bran carried two, while his uncle kept one.

         Amon was a large man with the body like a buffalo, both large and powerful. His figure made him suitable for all kinds of heavy labor. He had a prickly mustache and eyebrows that looked like hairy caterpillar. Various tattoos covered his arms and chest, along with a few scars.

         "Are you ready for another?" Amon asked.

         "Yes," Bran nodded, as he twirled his sticks.

         "Then come," Amon commanded, waving his weapon.

         Planting one foot down, Bran launched himself and aimed for his uncle's right leg. The blow was easily blocked by his uncle, while he remained like a tree. Taking no chance, Bran swung his other stick and targeted the left shoulder. Unfortunately, the blow wasn't successful either, as his uncle easily caught the strike, as if it were piece of rope.

         Blocking both the attacks, Amon retaliated. Using his own stick, he forced Bran's hand to the side and attacked. Seeing this move, Bran quickly blocked, but stepped back.

         The spar continued with Bran and Amon exchanging and blocking strikes. It came to an end after both hand launched twenty swings. Seeing a clear opening, Amon swung his stick and landed a blow against Bran's leg. Pain jolted in his leg, forcing Bran to suddenly kneel.

         "My win again," Amon said, as he patted his stick on his shoulder. "You're fast, almost as fast as me, but you lack strength. Most of your blows are too light and are too easy to block, even with hand. You need to build power."

         "I'll keep that in mind," Bran said, as he used the sticks to get back on his feet. "Let's have another round."

         "Why don't we take a break?" Amon said. "We've been practicing all morning, which isn't like you. Usually, you would be lying on some tree with fruit, or telling children stories at the river. Why the sudden interest to train for battle?"

         "I just thought I'd stretch my legs a little," Bran said, hopping on his better foot.

         Amon stared blankly at his nephew and observed his ears. They were blushing red, an indicator that he wasn't being honest. Swallowing, Amon thought of a name.

         "Marcus said something to you, didn't he?" Amon asked.

         Bran froze for a second and then sighed. "Fine, he did," Bran grimaced. "He lectured me a few days ago about how I need to make preparation before aiming to be a Guardian."

         "Wise council," Amon agreed as he brushed his mustache. "However, I am quite surprised. Marcus has said these things before, so why are you suddenly taking this one more seriously?"

         "I have reasons," Bran answered, as he held up his rattan sticks. "Anyway uncle, let's continue training."

         Amon looked at his nephew and saw fire burn in his eyes. This was the first time, in a long time he had seen his nephew behave like this. Smiling, he lifted his rattan stick and this advanced.

         Both uncle and nephew sparred with one another the entire morning. While they exchanged blows, Amon barked a series of statements at his nephew's ear.

         "Don't just concentrate on one blow, think of where your next attack may be!"

         "Stop trying to hit the same area, it's getting predictable!"

         "Your blows are too soft!"

         "What do you think you're doing? Stop making unnecessary movement!"

         "Good, you're focusing!"

         By the time they had decided to conclude the session, Bran was lying on the dirt, covered with bruises and drenched in sweat. Every muscle in his body cried out. Simply holding the rattan sticks proved taxing for him. Bran panted and wheezed for air, as if he had been holding his breath underwater for minutes.

         Amon, on the other hand, was able to remain standing. He did stink of perspiration and heat, but he was still on his feet, as if he were ready to go for a few more rounds.

         "For someone who hasn't doesn't often practice, you did quite well," Amon complimented as he looked at his hands, the only parts of his body that appeared touched.

         "My body is in so much pain, right now," Bran complained.

         "The path you wish to take is full of difficulty," Amon mentioned. "You shouldn't let this amount of pain hinder you, if you wish to become a Guardian."

         "I'll keep that in mind," Bran noted.

         "Let's go home now," Amon said, as he looked down at his nephew. "I've still got work in the fields."

         "You go on ahead, uncle," said Bran, as he turned around to face the sun. "I'd like to stay here for a while."

         "As you wish," Amon replied, leaving Bran to himself.

         Lying on the grass, Bran soaked up rays of sunlight. The tiger incident stuck to his mind like rice. Miracles don't happen often and Bran wasn't willing to depend on either luck or miracles to survive. If he were to be a Guardian, he needed to be able to stand firmly on his own two feet.

         As he lay down, Bran felt a cool breeze brush past his face. Closing his eyes, Bran took a deep breath and sighed. Bran felt all the ache and pain float off his body, as he relaxed his muscles. Letting time pass, Bran remained still, feeling the warmth of the sun, the flow of the wind and softness of the grass that he lay upon.

         After another deep breath, Bran opened his eyes, to meet another face staring right down at him. As if he were struck by a bolt of lightning, Bran sprung off the ground and sat back up.

         Standing before Bran was a young woman. Her eyes reflected like small sapphires, while her skin had radiated like gold. Her raven hair was held back with a mahogany comb. She was decorated with wooden bracelets and a necklace of colorful beads and shells. She was dressed in a blue shirt and white skirt with various bronze designs.

         This wasn't just any young woman of the village, it was Alvina. One gaze from her made Bran's face burn red and his heart pounded like a beating drum. His hands clenched and trembled, while his eyes rolled to one side, unable to look right at her. He began sweating a flash flood, as his cheeks pressed.

         Alvina was the daughter of a famous warrior in the village. Many young men had fallen head over heels for her, Bran was no exception. There were many times Bran wanted to talk to her, but could never find the courage to directly approach her.

         He did get to talk to her every now and then, but only through short exchanges. Marcus had often tried getting Bran to say something to her, but not even his closest friend was able to convince him to utter a few words to her.

         "A-Alvina, what are you doing here?" stuttered, as he looked away.

         "Your uncle told me to check on you," Alvina answered, as she pulled out a basket. "You seem quite bruised from your practice."

         "N-not really," Bran continued to stutter, still unable to make eye-contact.

         From her basket, Alvina took out a small jar of ointment and a set of leaves. Dabbing some of the ointment on a leaf, Alvina took Bran's hand and applied some on his knuckles. Bran gritted his teeth and cringed, as he started feeling a bit of ache.

         "Does it hurt?" Alvina asked.

         "No, not at all," Bran twitched, blinking an eye. "You don't really have to do all this."

         "Hush now," Alvina said, as she began to apply ointment at the rest of his body. "Even if you don't think it hurts, you should still treat it."

         "O-okay," Bran replied, easily giving up.

         Alvina continued to rub the ointment around Bran's body. She gently stroked the leaf from his knuckles and then smoothly slid it up to his shoulders. She pressed and massaged certain spots around his body, easing whatever tension writhed around him. Bran couldn't help, but tingle as he felt her close to him. He even got a chance to sniff a lock of her hair. She was wearing a flowery perfume. His brain melted and his face continued to redden.
         
         "I'm surprised you weren't with at the river, telling stories to the children today," Alvina suddenly mentioned, as she rubbed Bran's back.

         "You know about that?" Bran asked, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

         "The entire village knows about it," Alvina answered. "Some of the villagers find it a little strange to see a person of your age telling stories to children."

         "Oh," was all Bran could say, his expression sinking.

         "However, I think that it's quite nice of you," Alvina remarked. "Most of the young men wouldn't even want to spend time with children, feeling that they're too busy or too old to spend time with them. However, you don't mind giving all of your time to them."

         "I suppose not," Bran nodded. "I guess it's because children are a bit more appreciative with what I tell them."

         Alvina gave a soft chuckle. "My younger brother talks quite a lot about you," she continued.

         "Your brother?" Bran asked.

         "Yes, his name is Cid," Alvina said.

         "Oh right, Curious Cid," Bran said, as he recalled one of the many children he spent time with. "He's the little chikiting who always asks interesting questions. He's got quite a head on his shoulders. There are times when I'm afraid that there may be a time when I won't be able to answer him."

         "Whenever we would sit down for dinner, he would always talk about you, your stories and about the Guardians," Alvina said. "You've influenced him quite a bit. There are times when he would even ask our father to teach him how to use a sword. Not a stick, mind you, but a real blade!"

         "Ah, I see," Bran sheepishly grinned. Bran had never asked to be trained in swordplay, when he was young. "Ouch!"

         "Oh, sorry," Alvina said, pulling her hands back.

         "Don't worry, it's not bad," Bran said, as he recoiled from the sudden sting.

         Alvina continued to treat Bran, making sure she didn't leave out a single spot. Eventually, Alvina removed her hands from Bran's back. "Well, that should do it," she said, as she began wiping her hands with some of the leaves.

         "Finished already?" Bran asked.

         "Yes," Alvina nodded, as she gathered her belongings and packed. "You're only feeling minor aches, so treating you isn't too difficult. However, I must say, for someone so thin, you're body is quite sturdy and rugged."

         "I suppose so," Bran blushed as he flexed his arms, a mound of muscle popped up.

         "So, shall we return to the village?" Alvina suggested.

         "Sure," Bran agreed.

         Slowly getting back on his feet, Bran strolled back to the village with Alvina at his side. Bran's heart couldn't stop beating the entire time. Taking one deep and quiet breath, Bran calmed his nerves and tried to enjoy this simple walk with her.

         As they drew closer to the village, Bran and Alvina noticed some sort of commotion. People stopped doing whatever they were doing and crowded at the village square. Children squeezed in from the rear, trying to get to the front for a better view of what was going on. Mumbles and whispers were heard from the villagers, but Bran couldn't understand a thing they were saying.

         Almost everyone was there, even Marcus, who stood behind the crowd of people. Marcus turned and quickly spotted both Bran and Alvina. Upon seeing them together, Marcus gave a grin that stretched from cheek to cheek.

         "Well, well, today must be one of the best days of your life," Marcus smiled.

         "Err... Marcus, what's going on?" Bran said, trying to avoid the statement.

         "Take a look," Marcus said, pointing over the crowd.

         Just as Bran was about to ask, Bran spotted a banner raised at the center of the crowd. It was a white banner with the sigil of yellow shield and two black swords crossed together. Upon seeing the banner, Bran's eyes popped wide open, as if they were ready to roll out of his sockets. His mind raced, asking a single question. Was it them?

         "First some time with Alvina and now a visit from them," Marcus commented. "Like I said, today must be one of the best days of your life.

         Struck with excitement, Bran split from Alvina and rushed through the crowd. Despite the aches around his body, he shoved through the mass of people, bumping and squeezing until he had tripped to the front.

         Standing before the crowd were three people. Two of which were warriors dressed in clothes of black and yellow. One was a lean man garbed in a navy robe and decorated with gold rings and necklaces.
         
         "Villagers, I am a messenger of Lady Maharlika, the Hornet Empress and your Queen!" the lean man called out, raising a medallion to prove his status. "I come with exciting news for you all!'

         The messenger gleamed at all the villagers, making sure that all eyes were on him. After a small cough, he cleared his throat and then continued with his message.

         "The time has come when the old must pass and the new must be sought!" the messenger announced. "After a month from today, members of the Guardians will come upon various villages across the land, seeking for new people to join their conclave!"

         Gasps and awe chattered amongst the villagers. This was especially vivid amongst the young men in the crowd. Bran was no exception to these excited folk.

         "All those who feel worthy of carrying the name and burden of the Guardians is encouraged to participate and prove themselves," the messenger said. "It matters not where your roots stem, as long as you have the potential and absolute loyalty to your kinsmen and your queen!"

         "However, those of you joining the qualification test must still remember that you will be meeting with the finest warriors of the land!" the messenger continued. "If you wish to truly join, you must show off your abilities. Do not hold back, do not hide anything! Any such act would be considered as an insult!"

         "The Guardians have watched over us for many years! Now is the time to show that their battle for peace has brought great prosperity to the land. Provide them with your finest and show them what their efforts have brought about!"

         Like a choir that had rehearsed, several of the villagers raised their fists and cheered, while others applauded with high voices.

         Soon, the messenger and his subordinates left, while the crowd dispersed. Bran remained at the spot, staring with his jaw hanging. He wanted to say something, but nothing could he would say could properly describe what he was feeling inside. This was it. It was the moment that he had been waiting for, the chance that he had been anticipating. If he succeeded on impressing the representatives that day, then he would be one step closer to achieving his dream, becoming one of the Guardians.

         Passing through the dispersing crowd, Marcus and Alvina found Bran drooling over what was revealed to him. Marcus held out his hand and waved it in front of his best friend, only to receive a mindless gawk. Bran didn't even blink back.

         Marcus and Alvina looked to one another, wondering what to do. Marcus gave Bran one last look, before whacking him on the back of the head, as if he had just missed swatting a fly. Bran returned to his senses.

         "What was that for?!" he hissed, as he rubbed his head.

         "You're acting stupid again," Marcus replied with his arms crossed.

         "Kuya Bran!" a number of voices called.

         Children began gathering around them, all of them were the same tykes who listened to his stories at the river, every morning.

         "Cid, there you are!" Alvina exclaimed, as she caught her younger brother.

         "You heard the man, didn't you?" one of the children asked.

         "Does that mean you're going to try joining?" another asked.

         "Not try, Bran corrected. "I will be joining. Soon, all you little chikiting will be seeing the next Guardians of the kingdom, Datu Bran and Datu Marcus." Bran said this as he placed a hand on Marcus's shoulder.

         "Um, about that," Marcus said, scratching his cheek. "I actually have no intention of becoming a Guardian."

         A nerve snapped in Bran's head when these words entered his ears. Bran turned to his head to his best friend, as if he had just been backstabbed. Irked by his expression, Marcus started taking a few steps away. Then taking a deep breath through his nostrils, Bran gave a loud "WHAT?!"

         "Will you keep it down?!" Marcus hushed, as he looked around. Several eyes loomed towards their direction.

         "What do you mean you're not going to become a Guardian?" Bran screeched in a lower tone. "With your skills and abilities, you could easily make it to the top!"

         "This looks like a serious discussion between both of you, so I'll just leave you two," Alvina said, as she begun tugging her brother. The other children followed.

         "Listen, I know that becoming a Guardian is a great aspiration and that only a few people get this opportunity," Marcus said. "However, the title of Guardian isn't something that I want."

         "But, but... when we were kids... the stories...our parents...our elders!" Bran bumbled, barely able to complete a statement. "We played... talked... dreamed even!"

         "That's when we were children," Marcus said. "I understand that many young men still desire being Guardians, but my place is here."

         "Isn't there any way I could convince you?" Bran asked.

         "I've already made my decision," Marcus said. "Sorry Bran, but I'm not joining."

         "Well that's just great," Bran sneered, as he shoved Marcus back and started walking in circles. "Friends together since childhood and now here you go, saying that you won't join me. Some best friend you are, abandoning me like that."

         "Hey, I know you're annoyed, but...!"

         "Who am I supposed to rely on when I get into trouble?!" Bran interrupted.

         "What?" Marcus said.

         "I'm serious, if I ever start trouble, I won't have anyone to share half the blame and misery with!" said Bran, throwing a sharp grin at his best friend.

         Marcus squinted quietly at Bran's expression. Without warning, Marcus wrapped his arms around Bran's neck and began strangling him for a while, before tossing him on the ground.

         Marcus shook his finger and started to laugh. "You're an ass, do you know that?"

         "I guess I was a bit too convincing," Bran laughed back, as he coughed in mild pain.

         "Anyway, I know how badly you want to join the Guardians," Marcus said, as he picked up Bran and brought him back to his feet. "So, as your closest friend, I'll help you prepare for that day."

         "What are you going to do?" Bran asked.

         "What should I do?" Marcus gave his own grin.

         The smile on Marcus's face made Bran cringe. Shivers went down his body, when he looked right into Marcus's eyes. It was as if he were staring at a demon that had bought his soul for a few pieces of nuts. Whatever his best friend was planning, Bran knew that it wasn't going to be something that he would enjoy.