Under normal circumstances, finding the way back would have been incredibly difficult. However, with an inhuman perception like Diago had now gained, his foot was sure. It took some time to climb back up the long, winding tunnel, pained as they both were. The time was well spent by Diago. He practiced using the Helm over and over. He couldn’t get over how incredible the feeling was to feel almost absolute awareness. There wasn’t much to be aware of in the tunnel, but what there was to be understood felt perfectly clear to Diago.
Eventually, they found themselves back in the main cavern. The first thing that they both became aware of was the light that now poured from the entrance they came in from.
The boulder had been moved.
Diago and Aylah looked at one another.
Diago nodded, “trouble”
Aylah grunted and took herself off Diago’s shoulder, trying to stand on her own. Diago watched with concern as she straightened herself. She groaned as she readied her bow. Diago couldn’t help but feel a twisted comfort that Aylah felt the same pain that he had felt after that jynx race. Recalling that moment felt odd to Diago. To think it had only been a handful of days since then.
Aylah finished steadying herself, “Let’s just get this over with”
Diago sighed, “Just think, tonight we can actually get some sleep”
Even as he said it, he felt the words were untrue. Aylah didn’t seem to take the comfort to heart either, but she gave a partial smile at the attempt. Together, they made their way back up through where they had come. Again, they saw the miner’s body lying there, covered in tiny white insects. Aylah couldn’t help but wonder if he had suffered the same circumstances as her. Only she knew she would likely recover from her injuries.
As they got closer to the entrance, the dim blue light of the Tarrin stone was being overcome by the blinding warm light of the sun. The climb up the path was far more arduous than the climb down, especially in their state. When they reach the threshold, by unspoken agreement and great fatigue, they wasted no time in crossing the threshold, wishing to merely face whatever it is they must and, as Aylah said, get this over with.
“Welcome back! I hope you had a lovely time!” A voice cackled with a sinister vibrato.
The sight was sickening and horrifying, even for Aylah and Diago who had just faced down an almost otherworldly demon from the bowels of the earth. First, there was Finch who stood there with that same giddy grin shining through his white, wispy beard. Only now, his eyes shone with a bright green hue, and from them a steady stream of sickly green smoke poured. Beside him, to Aylah and Diago’s horror, Thatch kelt, shoulders drooped from bearing under an invisible weight. His eyes were sunken and his skin was pale. He groaned as though in pain, though no injuries revealed themselves on his person.
Behind the two of them towered a great fur-clad figure. Its muscles rippled as it shifted its weight in reaction to Diago and Aylah’s appearance. Its lack of features unnerved Diago, but the light that shone in its hollow eyes and the smoke that dripped from the sockets made it clear;
This was the real body of the Firstborn of the Slain.
His slow, meticulous motion made his mass all the more intimidating, like he was a viper poised to strike. At first, Diago felt a rise of fear penetrate his psyche and begin to swell, but then he saw Saama.
She lay at the base of the Demon tree, one of her membranous appendages twisted at an awkward angle. She did not move, but Diago could see the faint rise and fall in her chest. She was alive. Though relieved, Diago’s fear quickly turned to a furious anger. He turned his eyes back to the ominous pair and allowed his rage to swell.
Finch smiled, watching Diago begin to shake with fury, “I am impressed you made it past the Earth Siren. Few could. Would have been more impressive if you had made it out unscathed,” Finch sneered at their injuries, both seen and unseen. Then his chipper grin turned to a venomous glare and his voice became more strained and raspy, “Now, If you don’t want your friends to end up like that stupid beast over there. I suggest you give me the Helm.”
Finch took his chipped sword and raised it over Thatch’s head. Aylah’s grip tightened on her bow. Diago’s fingers twitched toward his Kurigan. The Firstborn did not move an inch. Instead, he attempted to place an unyielding mental pressure on the two enemies before him. His malice turned to frustration when he saw the Helm on Diago’s head. The Helm would not allow a mental attack to befall its wearer. This did not hinder The Firstborn’s confidence, it just meant he would have to take his prize off of Diago’s limp corpse after he beat the life from him.
The stare down unfolded as the warm Tunaan wind rustled the black leaves of the Demon Tree overhead. A gust of wind shook a small branch free and it dropped between the opposing forces.
Quick as sight, Aylah loosed an arrow toward the sword in Finch’s hand and he was forced to jump back to evade it. The Firstborn sprang forward directly toward Diago, who wore the Helm. Aylah grabbed her dagger from her boot as Finch rushed her. Diago griped his Kurigan and instinctively threw it at the Firstborn. This was a mistake. The Firstborn raised his hand and allowed the knifepoint to pierce into his palm. He then gripped the cord and yanked it from Diago’s hand. He then ripped the cord in two. The lumbering beast continued his stride toward his weaponless target. Aylah was exchanging blows with Finch, unable to come to Diago’s aid.
The Firstborn leaped after Diago. That was when Diago made use of the Helm. In an instant, the Helm took its true form and Diago’s senses expanded, his awareness became far-reaching. The pace of his mind became so rapid that everything seemed to move slowly. The arch of the Firstborn’s jump, the muscles that flexed and contracted in his massive body as it poised to smash Diago into the ground, the fight between Finch and Aylah, the gentle rise and fall of Saama’s weakened breath, Thatch stirring. All of this and more became crystal clear to Diago. Something else he became aware of was that his only weapon was currently lodged in the Firstborn’s palm, something that did not seem to bother the beast at all.
Seeing the precise place that The Firstborn would land, Diago dove forward into a roll. As he did, the Firstborn sailed over him and smashed into the ground behind. As soon as he landed, The Firstborn arched back with a great fist aimed at Diago. Only yet again, he found no mark other than the harsh Tunaan soil. Diago had rolled a second time to The Firstborn’s flank. This would have been a lovely time to end the fight, but Diago was forced to continue his game of cat and mouse for several blows. Suddenly, Diago became aware that his awareness was still spreading, he was becoming aware of minute details. Things like shifts in the sand and directions of the wind, insects crawling on branches, creaking in the trees and more began pouring into his head. The information was starting to overwhelm him and cause him to lose his bearings. When he was in the cave, there was not much to focus on, this was much different.
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His mind raced quicker and things slowed even more, but that mattered little as he found it impossible to focus. He began to panic. Amid the tumult, there came a calm and commanding voice that brought a steadiness to the torrent of input. “Breathe.”
Diago instinctively took a deep breath and straight away his mind began to stabilize.
“Good,” came the voice a second time.
To Diago, everything froze. The world had stopped. The Firstborn’s glare became still as Tarrin in the rock, this mist in his eyes holding its place just as firmly. The leaves ceased rustling. The wind no longer blew. All had come to a halt. None of this was his doing, nor did it feel like the normal function of the Helm that rested on his head.
In Diago’s vision, a pale wisp of smoke began to consolidate into the form of a man. The man was tall. His frame was lean and composed. His eyes shone with aged wisdom, seasoned by many joys and sorrows. He wore a white beard, but unlike Finch’s, his beard was well-maintained and only fell an inch or so below his chin. His long white hair fell over his broad shoulders. In his hands, he held a crooked cane that he leaned upon. His outfit was unassuming: a simple jerkin and a pair of brown breeches.
The ancient eyes looked at Diago with an almost paternal affection, before the man gently spoke, “My dear boy…you look just like your father.”
Diago was still frozen and yet he felt a chill spread from his heart to the tips of his fingers.
The old man smiled, “You do not know me, but your father was once my dearest friend. My name is Eeshak. I extend the same friendship to you his son, Diago. Biesaroch and rightful king of Eldaren”
Diago’s mind burned with confusion and dread, but he was forced to simply listen.
“Do not be afraid, I am here to help you. We have much to discuss. However, we must first deal with our fat friend here.” Eeshak’s eye twinkled and a smile crept to his face, “When I release you, you must duck without a second thought. From there, I trust you will find victory.”
Eeshak’s smile fell from his mouth but remained in his eyes, “Fight well Diago. We will speak again.”
Slowly, the world began to resume its pace and Diago was able to move. Following the advice of the Eeshak, Diago put all his effort into ducking to the ground. As soon as he did, a chipped sword sailed overhead and missed him by a hair’s breadth. It continued its course until it lodged itself in the upper right shoulder of the Firstborn. A deep moan resonated within the bowels of the beast and Finch cried out in agony. Diago managed to catch a glimpse of what was behind him. Aylah lay on the ground with a fresh trickle of blood lining her face. She was conscious, but in pain. Finch had landed a blow to her head and then, feeling victorious over the Onterrin, tossed his blade toward an unsuspecting Diago. His arrogance proved to be the chief flaw in his plans.
Diago, rushed for the Firstborn, praying to the Great One that Aylah still had enough fight in her not to lose against Finch. As he approached, The Firstborn swiped at him. Seeing the movement coming, Diago jumped as high as his feet would allow. He twisted in the air and thrust his hand down toward the fur on the beast's arm and gripped it tightly. He held fast and clamored his way to the sword in The Firstborn’s shoulder. He managed to dislodge it, but at the cost of the Firstborn’s claw scratching against Diago’s back, reopening the wound that was only partially healed. The scratch was not as deep as the original wound had been, but that did not keep it from aching terribly.
However, the pain was of little importance to Diago, because he now had a weapon.
He jumped free of The Firstborn’s shoulder, back flipping over another swipe, and using his new weapon to bear down on his enemy’s back. The sword cut deep and ran its way to the Firstborn’s hip. A just recompense. Diago rolled to the side as soon as he made contact with the ground. It was good that he had, because where he had been was soon crushed by an outraged fist.
Diago was now a few paces away from The Firstborn. Both took a moment to size one another up a second time before they approached for another bout.
Diago chanced a look toward Aylah’s scuffle. She had made it to her feet, but had lost her dagger and was now in a fist fight with Finch. The old man landed a blow to her back which caused her to miss a step and gave Finch the upper hand.
Diago tried not to let his worry for her distract him from his current struggle. He continued to stare down his opponent. As he did, Diago found greater confidence for this next exchange, now that he had a sword to use along with the Helm. The Firstborn found much less confidence, but his rage overpowered caution and not soon after they had taken their moment to reappraise one another did the hulking creature lunge at Diago, arm out stretched for the Helm on his brow.
Diago, breathed deeply, seeing the approaching enemy in slow motion. He waited for the right time. When the time arrived, he pivoted to the right, causing The Firstborn’s arm to miss him by only a little. Then, with all the strength he could muster, Diago swung the sword in his hand down upon the massive limb before him, severing it from the body of the beast.
The Firstborn recoiled in agony and Finch cried out as well, one of his arms going limp. This gave Aylah the overwhelming advantage and she was able to quickly subdue the old man.
Normal beings would flee or surrender in the loss of a limb, but The Firstborn of the Slain was far from normal. His rage boiled over and a rumble in the depths of the creature shook the ground. Green mist gushed from his empty eye sockets. Diago tried to keep steady, but he lost hold of the Helm and once again he felt the overwhelming influx of information and detail. He could not focus. Too late did he manage to steady his breathing and wrestle his thoughts. When he had finally come back to himself, The Firstborn had already closed the distance between them and had grasped Diago around the waist, pinning his arms to his side.
The Firstborn drew Diago so close that he started to cough from the mist that flowed like a wicked fountain from his vacant eyes.
For the first time, The Firstborn spoke to Diago directly in his mind, “Now, son of Eton, I will break every bone in your body and rip the helm off of your severed head”
The Firstborn began to tighten his grip. Diago gasped for breath. A crack in his chest told Diago that he had broken at least one rib. His vision tunneled and he began to faint, when suddenly the Firstborn dropped him. When he looked to see what had happened, he saw Thatch on the Firstborn’s back stabbing him over and over with the knife of Diago’s Kurigan that he had retrieved from their eyeless friend’s detached arm.
Aylah quickly joined as well. Finch lay motionless in the grass and Aylah’s dagger was not returned to her sure grip. She began swiping at the beasts legs. That same rumble from before, gurgled within The Firstborn, only now it was much weaker.
Diago managed to stand and he began to make his way over. The Firstborn laid hold of Thatch with his lone arm and tossed him to the ground. Using one of his thick legs he was able to kick Aylah to the side, but not without Aylah managing to cause one final blow to The Firstborn’s hamstring. The foe fell to one knee, only to see Diago rushing him with a chipped blade raised. He swiped at the boy from Tunaan, but only to find his only remaining arm removed from his body.
There The Firstborn knelt underneath the Demon Tree facing Diago, utterly defeated. The Helm retracted into a circlet again. He stared into the boy’s eye, now filled with rage and fatigue. Hate was all The Firstborn could feel, but in the midst of that there now grew a simmering, resentful respect. The Helm suited Diago as much as The Firstborn hated to admit it. However, he could not simply let the boy have it.
Diago stood over the haunting beast, the Helm’s power still in effect. Diago saw the flexing of muscle in the beast’s legs, saw the tilt in his neck, and knew he was about to try and stab Diago with one of his horns. Diago saw a faint blue line appear in his vision and somehow he knew that it was the Helm telling him the line his blade was to follow. Follow it he did.
The Firstborn lunged with a horn directed at Diago. Diago ducked, turned, swung upward, and severed the beast's head from its body.
Green mist poured out onto the ground. The whole body of The Firstborn began to fade into green mist. That was until it began to change. The mist started to swirl and consolidate. It changed color from green to a dreamy blue. Diago felt a familiar warmth and energy fill the space where he now stood. The mist consolidated further until it began to shape into the form of a young man.
It was a Fade.
The Fade did not speak. It looked at Diago with pain in it’s eyes, as well as gratitude. It bowed, then raised its head showing a warm smile and then the midst dissipated.
Thus was the end of The Firstborn of the Slain
