Chapter 4. Guardians of the Forest.

  Dropping to a knee Clayton slid. What perfect timing too. Just in time to avoid the Slack-Jaws ground shaking smash. Keeping his momentum Clayton jumped to his feet. Piercing the settlement with a loud barbaric scream. He swung the sword with all his power. The sharp blade sliced completely through the large artery above the heel. Blood spewed like a geyser. The warm vermillion liquid spit with each short step the beast made in attempt to locate the boy.

  Roaring out in pain the Slack-Jaw turned. Spotting Clayton.

  He held the sword with two hands, awaiting the next move.

  Another bellowing roar, the Slack-Jaw brought a large fist down. One great fist after another beat the ground like an angry gorilla all in attempts to squash the boy.

  Clayton parry quickly. The boy danced with grace. He dodged each attack with the polished movement of a master. Swinging the blade as if it was and extension to his arm. Each reaching edge bit into the great arm before him. He twist. Roll. And spun. Each motion ending with a slash of elegance.

  Clayton ripped through many veins under the thick skin, blood spitting with each gash; before his sights went black. It was quiet, not even that eerie abrupt ringing of silence, just complete quietness.

  Clayton seen his father running towards him with a reaching hand. He could see his father’s mouth making words but heard nothing. Out there in the distance. Emerging from the tree line, Clayton could see movement. Silhouettes gain texture to their shape.

  Doing his absolute best he reached for his father.

  Sid watched as the Slack-Jaw beat down furiously at Clayton's lifeless body. smashing the surrounding ground.

  He reached out for his son. Screaming with agony. Sid hurried as fast as his legs could carry him. "Clay! Clayton run! Get up boy! Run!"

  The Slack-Jaw grabbed Clayton. It began to squeeze him tightly.

  Sid could hear his son’s bones breaking under pressure. He bent and reached for the sword, now muddy with blood. The handle was grainy with dirt—that was good otherwise it was still warm and slick with blood.

  "Put him down!" Sid cried out with a fierce growl, red eyes and face smeared from soot and tears. He let the sword take a deep bite in the top of the beast’s foot, before ripping it free with a hard twist.

  The Slack-Jaw let out a horrid howl of pain, looking down at Sid, who was staring back. It was a cold, beady-eyed stare of challenge.

  "I won’t say it twice!" Sid screamed, jabbing the blade quickly in and out from under a rather large toenail.

  The Slack-Jaw howled, reaching for big Sid quicker than he could parry. Grabbing that fat man by a leg the beast lifted Sid.

  He squirmed as much as he could, trying to attack the monstrous hand around his leg. The Slack-Jaw lifted that heavy man with ease bringing him nearly eye level and howled. Its breath was hot and moist, smelling of gangrene.

  Sid stopped and stared horrified, nearly dropping his sword. If it wasn’t for Clayton’s voice, he would have.

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  Big Sid looked at the ugly with a mean upside-down scowl, then he screamed madly contesting the beast. Sid’s fat shoulder flexed as every muscle in his back tightened swinging the broad sword. He swung that sword with everything he had. All his power. All his determination.

  All the guilt. It was all within that upside-down swing. The air slashed with the motion, before the tip started to rip into the softest flesh. Sid could only scream with contest while he sliced the large yellow eye wide and deep.

  A warm slimy goop spewed from the massive eyeball, spraying over Sid, the Slack-Jaw dropped Clayton, cupping its very leaky eye.

  Shadows loomed before the whistling grew and stopped with a thwap.

  Arrows rained from above. Many of these arrows found targets along the side of the large head. The beast dropped Sid in attempt to shield its face.

  Sid watched as three elves rode up on stout birds.

  The feathered mounts had a large body and strong neck. Powerful legs, and intimidating talons. The birds were coming into formation quickly. Sid watch while two elves sent a barrage of arrows, two or three with a single drawing of the bow. The elves wore odd armor looking to be made of palm leaves and tree barks. Their aim though was so true, it was incredible that every arrow found its mark.

  The elf who practiced its hand motions rather than the bow and arrow slowly stalked the monster. Fingers looking like roots, swayed before making a fist.

  As this happened a large vine or root emerged from the ground. The root squirmed and grew mirroring that of a mad tentacle, before wrapping around the Slack-Jaws legs with a squeezing coil. The next motion the elf made was a flat mid-chest wipe, before a sharp fist pump.

  As all of this happened Sid felt a rumble under the dirt, and a massive pillar of rock ripped from the ground. That massive spike found the soft spot under the chin of the Slack-Jaw’s slack jaw. The constricting vines pulsed with energy before yanking the beast over the erect pillar.

  Sid looked at what remained, grabbing his sword he looked at the elves angrily "Bring him back!"

  Sid roared still shaking with adrenaline, he used the sword like a cane to help him to his slow stand. Stout legs carried him to elves dismounting their birds.

  Sid was so blind with rage he didn’t even notice the chirp of a bell. It was a soft mental noise that was drowned in the craze of everything around him.

  "I've seen it" Sid said again, pointing to Clayton, wanting his son back, shuffling closer.

  "Bring him back!” Sid said through gritted teeth aggressively pushing the middle elf.

  One of the other elves swept the short legs of Sid, with a simple low swing of a lance.

  Hitting the ground with a hard oof. Cold iron found a spot in the fatty part of Sid’s neck. The elf’s hands seemed to meld with the handle of the lance. Mahogony colored skin with lifted markings, like that of tree bark.

  Lance pressing a cold dimple into Sid’s throat, the swell in his eyes began to overflow. Tip of the head digging deeper as Sid turned to look for his son. It was sharp but he didn’t care, he needed to see his boy. Laying out there in the mud silent and still, Sid could see his son.

  "Bring him back, he needs to know.” Sid whimpered in the dirt.

  The elves walked over to Claytons body, and wrapped him in rawhide, carefully and gently. The boy was violently mangled and deformed, with bone splinters bursting from multiple areas. His left arm barely attached, and his skull was unable to hold socket for his eyes.

  After tightly wrapping Clayton with the soft deerskin, it looked like two elves said a prayer, while the one came back to Sid. The elf gripped Sid’s shoulder gently, the man tremor softly in the mud, and looked up with wet eyes at the elf.

  With closed eyes the elf tipped its chin with respect, releasing the gentle grip of Sid’s shoulder.

  The elf walked toward the strong bird. The bird stepped to find balance, while the elf threw a leg over. Once upon his bird the elf then whistled. It was a lovely whistle, like the kind of whistle that drifts through the forest. The other two elves finished their prayer, walked over to Sid and gave the same head bow as the previous elf had.

  Natural guardians to the forest, tree elves would have scout parties travel from sister camp to sister camp, giving aid when needed. Sid and the others were lucky this small party had been passing through the areas. This settlement was not part of the elves’ trade, but they were a class that believed in peace.

  Before riding from the settlement, one of the elves stopped next to Sid, reaching into a satchel, slung around the bird’s strong neck. The elf removed a pouch. It was a soft leather pouch with a silver drawstring. The elf opened it just slightly and whistled inside, quickly pulling the strings tight. Then dropped it to Sid.

  “What is this?” Sid strain, peeking inside.