Minosha and the Fire Guardian

By: Minosha Posted on: April 20, 2009

You're born. You live for a while. Then you die. It's a rather simplistic way to look at life, I know. I would prefer to make the tale of my history a little more colourful. Wouldn't you? Of course you would. That's why, when you heard the rumours, you went to the crossroads north of the town of New Thera and waited. I went and waited. When the old crone appeared, as I was told she would, I followed her. That was the end of my life as I previously knew it.

I first heard about the trial of rebirth from a cousin. His name isn't important. He was a typical brute, thick-limbed and thick-headed. The longer you knocked on his head, the greater became the revelation that there was no one at home. But for all his strength, that old troll didn't have what it takes to be an adventurer. He's back on the farm stacking bales of hay, and I am standing naked before a beautiful woman of untold age and immeasurable wisdom.

I shall wear these robes, milady? As you wish.

Although purple is not my colour, it hardly seems appropriate to argue with someone possessed of such obvious power and influence. To think that the greatest adventurers of recent years must have stood here shivering in Ceylon's gentle breeze. Pasiphae has seen them all. With that thought in mind, I quickly dress.

Follow this road here? To the north? Very well.

With feigned bravery I set out to meet the man up the road. My mind is spinning with all I've experienced, the sights and sounds of a strange new world. If this replicate plane is anything like the first Ceylon, teaming with the world's first mortal beings, it must have been a wonder.

I meet Severian, the great orator and architect of the Empire; then Overlord Gruul, a champion of Nishnatoba and forefather of the race of trolls. I do as I am told, precisely and carefully. I know many mistakes will come, but now is too soon for failure. I have left my former self behind, burned into ash by the lavendar flame of Yggdrasil. The only way to go is forward.

I stand once again before the lovely Pasiphae.

I will collect the dragon orb as a token of my worthiness, milady.

My voice is unfaltering, but my heart pounds relentlessly against its cage of bone. I stride away on legs of rubber, trying to remember the words of the armoured giant, Gruul. Recover balance and strike again. Sip from the vial when the pain gets too great. Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

I round the bend sheepishly, lost in my thoughts. Before me on the path, smoldering with a faint orange glow, stands a tall figure. It is like nothing I've ever seen. Pain shoots through me as the fire guardian lands a glancing blow. Every shred of reason argues for a hasty retreat. I ignore the voice of my conscience and throw myself at the guardian, head first.

My head slams into the creature and I stagger back, stunned. Perhaps that was not the best idea. When my head stops throbbing, I'll make a mental note of it. I try to recover my balance as the fire guardian swings at me with a molten fist. I launch myself into the air and land a kick. During the momentary reprieve, I sip from the vial and feel a vibrant rush of well-being flood through my system. I thank the Creator for my rajamalan grace and ball up my fist. My punch collides with the guardian's chest and the being crumbles into ash.

There, on the smoking ground, lies the dragon orb. As my fingers close around it, I feel a surge of energy. The feeling of uncertainty leaves me, replaced by the excitement of such vast potential. I hold victory in my hands. What will I do with it?

Moments later, as the water of the pool closed over my head and the faces of my guides faded to memories, I smiled, eager to begin the writing of my life's own history.