Guardian Fall Chapter 6

Chapter 6
Wiyana's Mansion

         A thin ray of light entered the room. Bran slowly opened his eyes, only to close them again. Twisting his body, he fixed himself in a position that he felt more comfortable in. Just as he was about to snore, last night's incident bolted into his mind.

         Springing his head off the pillow, Bran checked his surroundings. The room was large, almost large enough to be considered two rooms. Grey wood constructed the floor, walls and ceiling. A few blue crystals hung out of the ceiling, glowing and giving light. Decorated on the walls were mats of colorful and complex patterns.

         Bran soon spotted a window. It was a bit bright outside, but the sky was a peculiar color. Perhaps his mind was still drowsy, causing him to see things

         As Bran tried to sit up, he felt a sharp pain in abdomen. Removing the blanket, he found a few bandages wrapped around him. Dried blood stained from within. Bran instantly remembered Wiyana stabbing him. So it wasn't a dream. Bran also noticed that he was wearing a different loincloth.

         Standing from the mat he had slept on, Bran approached the window and looked outside. His jaw dropped to the floor the moment his eyes gazed out the window.
         
         Shades of lavender painted the sky, while emerald colored the land. Balete trees grew throughout the land with bark like charcoal and viridian leaves. Golden flowers blossomed on the branches, their petals shined like stars. These trees grew nearly as tall as mountains. However, what amazed Bran the most were few islands that floated.

         Where was he? What was this place? Questions rambled in Bran's head for answers, like a stomach grumbling for food. Fueled with the need for answers, Bran took to the door and left the room.

         Stepping out, he found himself in a hallway, which spanned a few houses long. Doors were scattered across the hall, some being no less than a few feet from one another.

         Through sheer curiosity, Bran peeked into one of the rooms. His jaw instantly dropped to the floor, when he gazed inside. The room was large enough to be a small house, without any walls to divide the rooms. Shelves stood around the room, like trees of a forest. Seated on the shelves were parchments of paper and wood.

         His heart raced to see this great bounty of writing. The Datu and elders of the village kept similar parchments, but only a handful - which contained the village laws and traditional decrees. While the writings weren't that interesting, there was always a story behind them.

         Never before had Bran seen this much. Before he could realize it, Bran found his hands slowly reaching out for one of the parchments. This was no time to be dilly-dallying, but curiosity controlled him. Biting his lip, Bran began to slowly open the parchment. Symbols and words slowly appeared before his eyes, like the sun rising in the horizon.

         "Hey, what are you doing here?!" a voice barked.

         A tall man stood by the door. Around his neck was an iron collar, while shackles were wrapped around his wrists.

         "You're not allowed to be here!" the man continued. "Wait a minute... aren't you-?"

         Before he could finish, Bran dropped the parchment and dashed towards the door. The man extended his arms to the side for a catch. Just as his arm was about to reel in a captive, Bran ducked down and escaped like a slippery eel. As soon as he exited the room, he dashed towards the first direction he faced.

         "Stop!" the man ordered, as he gave chase. "The boy is awake and is running around! Someone catch him!"

         Speeding aimlessly through what felt like an endless set of halls, Bran passed through several rooms and escaped a number of people. All of them wore the same collar and shackles, as if they were prisoners. Bran could have easily gotten out free, if he knew where he was. Unfortunately, this was completely new territory and the wound in his chest was beginning to open.

         In a single moment of error, he lost his balance and tumbled over. A number of men swarmed around him and pinned him down to the floor. Bran kicked and squirmed, only to fail.

         "You're not that strong, are you?" one of his captors asked, as he pressed Bran down with practically no effort. "Just give it up, boy. You're going to start bleeding again."

         "Who are you?! Where am I?!" Bran yelled.

         "You'll find out soon enough," the man said, as he helped Bran on his feet.

         The man took Bran away, while the others dispersed to different rooms. Before long, Bran was brought to one of the many rooms. The room was large enough to be a house, without any walls to divide the areas. Windows, tall enough to be doors, stood on the walls, letting rays of light to shine inside.

         Seated at the center of the room was a long table, with a frame of neatly carved floral designs and patterns. About a dozen purple cushions rested around the table.

         The man brought seated Bran on one of the cushions. "Wait here," he commanded, before leaving Bran by himself.

         Bran sat quietly, wondering where exactly he was. This place was like nothing he had ever seen before. There were so many rooms and the ceiling looked high enough to house an entire tree. Not even the Datu's house was this big.

         Fiddling on his knees, Bran twisted around and scanned the room. Hanging above the door was a large golden plate with a hibiscus printed on the surface. Around the room were a few wooden podiums with porcelain vases. Curious, Bran stood up and approached the podiums.

         Bran looked closely at the vases, examining its smooth surface and colorful designs. He stared so close that his eyes and breath were practically touching the ornament. Bran lifted his finger and got ready to touch it. However, before he got a chance, he heard the doors open. Like a child in trouble, he rushed back to the cushion and sat back down.

         Seven women entered the room. Four carried a single tray of food, the second carried a jug and the third carried some plates and utensils. A mouth-watering scent drifted from the tray and into Bran's nostrils. Taking a deep whiff of the scent, Bran heard his stomach growl, reminding him that he hadn't eaten a thing yet.

         They set the food and utensils on the table. Lay before Bran was some rice, a plate of fish, strips of pork and some fruits.

         The last person to enter the room was Wiyana. She was dressed in blue robes and accessories made of shells and beads. Although not as gaudy, her attire was still a sight that made eyes turn directly over to her. It was like looking at peacock that had decided to change the color of its feathers.

         "Good morning, boy," Wiyana greeted, as she sat down beside him. "I trust you slept well?"

         "Um, yes," Bran nodded. "Err... where am I?"

         "Why, you are in my home, the Twilight Mansion," Wiyana said.

         "Your home?" Bran repeated. "So then that means... I'm in..."

         "Yes, you are in Dalaket, the world of the Dalaketnon," Wiyana said.

         Bran's heart nearly skipped a beat, when he heard this. He knew that he was taken to some strange place, but he never expected to be taken to a different realm. Just how far was he from his village? Was he asleep for days, or even months? Was he taken across the ocean, or above the stars? More questions began to jolt his mind.

         "Well now, what are we waiting for?" Wiyana said. "Let's eat."

         Wiyana started by serving herself some rice and fish. Bran took some rice and pork, but didn't start eating just yet. Only until he saw Wiyana swallow her first morsel, did he actually start eating. Taking a bite of the ham, Bran found his tongue asking for more. The taste was so delicious that he nearly forgot to chew.

         Despite the food being delicious, he still felt a little uncomfortable. Glimpsing around the room, he found the six women standing quietly nearby.

         "So, these are your slaves?" Bran whispered.

         "Slave is such a cruel word," Wiyana replied. "We Dalaketnon prefer to simply call them servants. They make requests and this is how they repay it."

         "What?" Bran said, his head bobbing up. "You provide requests to humans?!"

         Before speaking, Wiyana swallowed down some rice and fish. "Let me guess, you believe that we Dalaketnon trick humans into slavery," she said.

         "Well...," Bran scratched his head, wondering how to politely respond. She wasn't wrong, however. It WAS what was told to him.

         "Allow me to educate you a little, about the true relationship between humans and Dalaketnon," Wiyana said with a calm tone. "First of all, humans are very fragile creatures full of weakness and insecurities. Humans can do so much, yet do so little when they need to act the most."

         Bran looked down, recalling what had happened to his parents. They had both succumbed to an illness, which plagued the land. The Guardians eventually made a cure for the sickness, but by the time it was complete, many had died, including his parents.

         "We Dalaketnon answer the requests of humans, as long as they provide us with a certain period of services," she continued. "Their time here depends solely on what they ask for us."

         "If that's true, then why are there stories about you tricking humans into slaves?" Bran asked.

         "Humans are also rather sensitive creatures," Wiyana answered. "Rather than telling the truth, they would make up this tale about them being tricked into slavery, keeping others cautious of us."

         "Err... if you don't mind me asking," said Bran, as he glanced over the servants, "What did these women request?"

         Wiyana turned around and pointed at the first servant. "Marie asked me to make her the most beautiful in her village. She has already served two years and will return in a few months," she said, pointing to the next servant. "Lara is to stay here for five more years, because she wanted her brother to be cured of a very rare sickness."

         Wiyana then pointed to the third. "Bernice will be here for forty years, because she asked me to save her village and kill the raiders who attacked her village," she said, shifting to the remaining three. "As for Sera, Grace and Rea, they requested to stay here forever."

         "What, why?!" Bran exclaimed.

         "The three of them were slaves who were mistreated by their masters," Wiyana explained. "I offered to simply help them escape, which I did. After they served a year with me, they wished to stay here forever."

         "Why?" Bran pressed on.

         "We no longer wish to be a part of that world," one servant answered. "Since we were children, we were sold, traded and used. We may still be in servitude in Dalaket, but we are treated far better here, than over there."

         A moment of silence fell upon them. Bran didn't wish to reply or say anything that would hurt them. Keeping his mouth shut, he scooped some rice and ate his breakfast.

         After a few more servings of rice, ham and some fruits, they were finished. Bran sat back and patted his stomach, while giving a deep sigh. It was quite a while, since he filled himself like a bottomless hole.

         As Bran relaxed, a servant entered the room.

         "Mistress, everything is prepared," the servant said.

         "Thank you," Wiyana said with a nod. The servant bowed and turned to leave. Wiyana then turned over to Bran. "Are you finished eating?"

         Bran answered with a nod.

         "Excellent," Wiyana said, as she wiped her mouth. "Now we can get your training underway."

         "Training?" Bran repeated, as he bobbed his head up.

         "Yes, your training," Wiyana nodded. "Don't you remember what I told you? I need you and your magic. However, at the moment, you can't even call upon it by yourself. For that reason, I'll cover the basics. But first, we need to get you prepared. Come with me."

         It was at that moment that Bran remembered what had transpired last night. Everything that was revealed to him came crashing back to his head. He was now under a Dalaketnon, who had the intent of challenging the land's heroes and queen.

         Although Bran knew that the Guardians had intent on killing him, because of his magic, he was still curious about a particular piece of information that he had not yet been made aware of. Why did Wiyana wish to fight the Guardians and the Hornet Queen? Just what was her purpose? Was it for domination, revenge? Such questions rambled in his mind, yet Bran found his tongue from spitting out such queries.

         Bran followed Wiyana around the mansion, passing through halls and rooms. Bran met a few servants along the way. All of them leered at him for a second, before quickly turning away, as if they were just minding their own business. Bran felt a few shivers from them.

         They arrived to one of the many rooms, where two servants were present. Compared to the others, this room appeared a bit different. The entire room was coated with marble plates and there weren't any windows. At the center of the room was a pool of steaming water. Seated near the pool were a few bottles and brushes. Bran stared at the pool and saw his face reflect clearly upon the surface.

         "What are we doing here?" Bran asked.

         "I don't really want you walking around my mansion all filthy," Wiyana said. "So you're going to have a bath first."

         "What?!" Bran exclaimed, as he turned to Wiyana, who was already stripping her clothes off.

         Upon seeing a bit more of her skin, Bran clenched his heart and turned away. His face burnt pink as his chest pounded like a drum.

         "What are you doing?!" Bran yelled.

         "I'm going to give you a bath," Wiyana said.

         "I can take a bath myself!" Bran retorted.

         "What are you so embarrassed about?" Wiyana asked, as she handed some of her clothes to one of the servants. "You humans don't even wear that much."

         "Yes, but you're a bit different..." Bran said, as he kept his face away.

         "What's this? I'm a bit different?" Wiyana asked. "Could it be that my beauty has piqued your interest? So much more than the girl you danced with?"

         "Of course not!" Bran yelled, looking back. Wiyana was now dressed with a loincloth and a loose shirt. All of her jewels were taken off.

         Bran scanned Wiyana, down from her slender legs, all the way to her head. Upon seeing Wiyana up close and with fewer clothes on, Bran came upon a sudden realization. This woman was astonishingly tall. In fact, she may have been a few inches taller than Marcus. Although Bran didn't say anything, he grumbled and snarled at the fact that he has to hold up his head, just to see her eyes.

         "Better?" Wiyana asked.

         "I suppose," Bran growled.

         "Good, now please step in the pool," Wiyana said.

         Giving a sigh, Bran dipped himself in the water. At first, he hesitated when he felt his toes singe in the water. Pouring himself in, Bran laid back and heaved out a heavy sigh, breathing out whatever stress ached his body.

         Opening one of the bottles, Wiyana splashed a greenish liquid over Bran's head. It carried a unique fragrance, which smelt like flowers.

         "What is this?" Bran asked.

         "It's a concoction of herbs, flowers and oil," Wiyana said. "Stay still and don't move too much."

         Taking a wooden comb, Wiyana began to clean Bran's hair and pluck out whatever dirt she could find snuggled in his head. The comb even pulled out a few six-legged critters that nested between the hairs.

         After the hair, she took the brush and started scrubbing his body, like a wooden surface. Bran often found himself twitching and biting his lip. At times the brush felt like the bristles of a porcupine scratching against his body, while at other times, it felt like soft fur tickling him.

         As Wiyana continued to wash him, Bran couldn't help, but keep his head low and his face hidden from the two servants present. They must have been quietly chortling at him. Bran felt like a child who was being taken care of by his mother.

         After a few more scrubs and dips, Bran was finally out of the water. To his relief, Wiyana didn't dress him herself. Leaving him a handful of clothes, Wiyana and the other servants waited outside.

         The clothes Bran was given were a little different, from what he was used to. Dressing himself, Bran found himself wearing a red shirt with a golden lining at the collar, a black sash around his waist and red pants with golden diamonds patterned at the side. These were clothes nobles often wore. It wasn't something that he expected to wear any time soon.

         Stepping out of the room, Bran showed his new look to Wiyana, who was already dressed in her attire.

         "A good fit," Wiyana noted, as she rubbed her chin. "Quite surprising, especially since these clothes were made over night. Regardless, we were fortunate to get the measurements correct. Now follow. We need to do one more thing, before I can actually start training you."

         As they went on their way, the two servants stepped into the room with mops, rugs and buckets.

         Before long, they arrived at another room. Similar to the first room that Bran had stumbled upon, this room was filled with shelves. However, rather than booked with parchments, wooden boxes occupied the shelves. Each box had a golden seal with writing so tiny, Bran needed to be an ant just to see the letters.

         "Just wait a moment," Wiyana said, as she walked to one of the shelves.

         Looking through the shelves, Wiyana inspected each box, while murmuring quietly to herself.

         "What to pick, what to pick," Wiyana said, as she looked through the boxes. "Let's see. How about we go with Fortuna? She could have some positive effects. No, relying on her may dent his abilities. Will Aero Song be fine?" Wiyana took one glance at Bran and then shook her head. "No, he doesn't look like a musical person. Eh, let's see who else we've got."

         Wiyana continued to check each box, while calling each one a name. After pushing several boxes, she finally took a grey one out of the shelf. Giving a gentle blow, a cloud of dust puffed off the cover, revealing its brown surface.

         "Best to start out with the most simple, don't you think?" Wiyana said, as she held out the box.

         "What are you talking about?" Bran asked.

         "This will be your tool, when learning how to use magic," Wiyana said. "It is called, Wreath Tooth. He's one of my first creations."

         "I'll be using a box to learn magic?" Bran replied.

         "Don't be stupid," Wiyana snapped.

         Tapping the seal, the box bounced out of Wiyana's hand. Twisting itself in the air, the box's body extended and elongated into a wooden staff with a head shaped like a crocodile. Scales and other designs were carved upon the wood. Before its end could touch the floor, Wiyana caught it. Pieces of gold were decorated under the eyes.

         "This staff is what you will be using," Wiyana said, as she held it out.

         "You're giving this to me?" Bran asked, reaching his hand out to receive the staff.

         "Of course not," Wiyana replied, pulling the staff back. "This is one of my many creations. I'm not just giving it away. I'm only going to lend it, until you make your own."

         Wiyana handed Bran her staff. Receiving it, Bran felt the surprising weight of the wooden instrument. Blades and metals were definitely heavier, but Bran felt something different from the staff. Unlike other inanimate pieces of wood, this one tingled on Bran's fingertips, as if a thousand tiny creatures marched from within.

         Bran was then brought to the next room. This one was longer; almost similar to the one he had eaten in. Nothing, but space and air occupied the room. Open windows allowed rays of light in, only to further stress how little Bran's presence affected the room. He felt like a blade of grass blown into a field of sand and dust.

         "Here is where you shall practice to learn magic," Wiyana said. "Now, tell me. What do you know about magic?"

         "It's amazing?" Bran answered with the first adjective that came to mind. "It is something only a few people can do?"

         "Correct," Wiyana pointed. "Only few people can learn magic. However, why is that so? To answer the question, let us first look at the beginning. Have you ever wondered to how plants, beasts and humans exist?"

         "Um..." Bran murmured, trying to figure out an objective answer.

         "Long ago, a great power was laid down upon this world," Wiyana continued. "It comes to us the moment we draw breath and leaves us the moment we draw our last. This source of power has many names, but we Dalaketnon call this source of power as Aether. Aether resides in all living things and flows freely all around us. The art of controlling Aether is what we call magic. Observe."

         Extending her hand, she began swaying and circling her arm, gathering the dust and air around her. The dust joined and pressed, until it formed a long shape. Finally, with a snap of her finger, the dust ignited into green flames.

         As the flames settled, a sword appeared and dropped on the floor with a loud clank. Bran looked down and stared at his reflection on the grey blade. It was a real blade of steel.

         "Incredible," Bran suddenly spoke.

         "Thank you," Wiyana said, bowing her head. "As you said earlier, only a few people can actually use magic and even fewer can perform feats, such as making solid objects out of air and dust. Even amongst the Dalaketnon, this isn't something that can be just done."

         "Then you're a master in using magic," Bran complimented.

         "I wouldn't go so far to say that," Wiyana blushed. "However, I will admit that my skills are quite higher than most Dalaketnon."

         "So, will you teach me how to make swords out of air and turn people into jade?" Bran asked.

         "Actually, such magic would be impossible for you," Wiyana answered. "However, you are capable of using magic, so unique that even I am incapable of performing it."

         "So what sort of magic am I capable of?" Bran asked.

         "You're magic is a rare type called Psychomancy," Wiyana answered. "It is a type of magic that causes one to go mad or insane."

         Bran fell silent, as his eye twitched. That was the infamous kind of magic that he was taken for? It felt like some sort of scam. As much as Bran didn't want to admit it, he was already capable of making people go crazy with antics alone.

         "That's it?" Bran said, disappointed.

         "Psychomancy is a very unique form of illusion magic," Wiyana said. "It affects the five senses, driving people to believe that something is actually happening to them. Scars on the body can be painful, but scars on the mind can just be as terrible."

         "If you can't use my kind of magic, then how will you be able to teach me?" Bran asked.

         "There are countless varieties of magic, which operate under specific principles and disciplines," Wiyana explained. "However, every starting point runs under a single set of skills. In other words, I will be teaching you the basic skills in magic. You will have to discover the more difficult tricks yourself. Now, let's begin. Take up Wreath Tooth and start concentrating."

         For the rest of the morning, Bran was barraged with a series of complicated instructions and concepts. Fortunately, she spoke in a slow and precise manner. Whenever Bran failed to understand, she would often rephrase her words, or use analogies to better explain.

         Bran was told to do a lot of breathing, meditating and imagining. Wiyana told him to control to control the Aether within his body and focus it into his arms. It felt like trying to guide a stain of oil through a rocking river.

         Wiyana made him take a number of different stances and corrected his grip, when holding the staff. She often placed her hand on his chest, to see if his breathing was steady and if his muscles were relaxed, which she often noted as rugged. Bran was reminded of how his uncle trained him, but there were a few differences.

         "Stay calm, don't rush things! We still have plenty of time!"

         "Keep your breathing like that. Imagine the rocking waves of the ocean. You have seen the ocean, right?"

         "Stop for a while and watch how I do it."

         Hours quickly passed and Bran had yet to do something amazing. However, he did notice that there was some, if not little, progress. Whenever he tried to pool the magic out of his body, he felt jitters from within his staff, like a ball of air trying to burst out.

         After the long session, they finally came to a pause. Bran pressed his head, trying to relieve his aching mind.

         "Here, have some of this," Wiyana said, handing over a small pinkish pebble.

         "What is it?" Bran asked.

         "It's candy," Wiyana answered, as she popped one into her mouth. "Try it."

         Placing the candy in his mouth. It tasted like a fruit, mixed with some sugar. Bran's cheeks puckered as a wiggly smile appeared on his face.

         "We'll be having lunch soon," Wiyana said. "Is there anything in particular that you would like to eat? I could prepare it, if you want."

         "No thanks," Bran said, shaking his head.

         "Well, I'm going off to rest for a while," Wiyana said. "You should as well. After lunch, we'll go straight back to training. You're free to visit any room in the mansion, except for the ones with locked doors. Those rooms are a bit personal for me."

         Bran glanced at Wiyana, as she quietly left him in the room. The question from earlier continued to linger in his mind. Just what exactly was she hoping to gain, by defeating the Guardians and the Hornet Queen? Bran recalled what he had just observed from her, during the morning. He also remembered what the servant had said, when he asked about their servitude.

         Perhaps this was all a ruse to confuse him and bring him into her fold? Perhaps, perhaps not. However, one thing Bran was certain of was that she wasn't a villain who simply wanted to dominate the world or cause destruction.