Guardians by Design - Land

Owl-tel

The following morning, Ermun would have slept through the Guardian’s departure if it wasn’t for the commotion caused by the raccoon shaking Dahj awake. Ermun watched lazily from a bed of wild flowers as the Guardians gathered their things and advanced further into the land of yellow rocks. The chilled morning air lightly mixed with the smell of pollen revitalized him, yet simultaneously discouraged him from leaving his bed of tall grasses and seasonal flowers. This bed was still nothing compared to a sturdy branch to hang from for the lazy sloth, however.

The rolling hill-side where he had camped for the night was littered with towering pine trees. Alders stood completely straight like rigid poles. Many were dead; snapped in half from heavy storms of the past. Their bark was lifeless and sun-bleached. Intermingling with their younger generations throughout the forest, they reminded Ermun that nothing in this land was truly immortal. Drifting just above the lowest branches of the canopy, he showed gratitude for leaves that had returned with the spring. The bountiful branches provided visual obscurity, should one of the Guardians begin checking over their shoulders.

Ermun’s limbs limply flopped in the breeze that assisted him in following the Guardians throughout the day. When he grew too close in proximity, he would allow his body to drop to the soft ground, painted a deep green in short, newly grown grass. The spreading plants were on their seasonal mission; to cover all bare, brown patches of soil, left barren following a brutal winter. His buff coat camouflaged rather agreeably with the yellowish-tan grasses that dominated the landscape.

Finally, Ermun laid eyes on the Guardian’s next destination; in the foreground of the jagged, snow-capped mountain range of the horizon stood a massive plateau. Forcefully jutting out of the land, a flat-topped cylindrical rock formation towered prominently, surrounded by flat plains hundreds of feet below. Ermun had no way of following the Guardians up the corkscrew path that ascended the plateau without revealing himself.

Finding yet another plant-based resting area, he chose to wait it out. Squeezing himself between a cushion of tall, moist grasses nestled between two fallen nurse logs, he cursed himself for finding such comfortable places to hide. Moss covered the trees, causing the saturated wood to feel cooler than the ambient temperate. Wisps of steam rising from distant geothermal features sent Ermun into a daze. All of his willpower was required to keep him from falling into yet another slumber. Should the Guardians finish their task on the summit and begin to descend sooner than expected, Ermun would need to be ready to follow.

Luckily, an eagle circling above the plateau caught his attention. Ermun found fowl to be earth’s most fascinating creatures to monitor – the altitudes they could achieve with such minimal effort gave him gleeful jealously. Wingspan wide, the eagle was able to circle the plateau from above countless times without exerting any energy.

Suddenly, the eagle’s rotational pattern was interrupted. No, not by prey. He didn’t dive. Paranoia chilled Ermun. He felt cold, then nauseous. The eagle was reacting to the presence of the Guardians. This wasn’t just a random winged predator; it was one of Maurlynn’s sentries.

Is he reporting back to Maurlynn? What if he attempts to take the appendage himself? Ermun wondered. No, raptors aren’t that stupid. Three out of the four Guardians were much larger than the eagle – they would be able to defend themselves with sheer size alone.

Did he leave to rally others? Had he been waiting here for them the whole time? Perhaps Ohmlur’s journey for the Guardians was too predictable by now. Maurlynn was ready for their arrival, with goons placed meticulously throughout their typical path.

Should he follow the eagle? Abandoning the monitoring mission may upset Ohmlur. However, the Designer may be pleased to learn the true location of Maurlynn’s hiding place. The breeze picked up – he had no other choice. The Guardian’s would be moving much slower on foot – he could catch up with them before they even make it to their next ‘unique geographical feature’.

Relaxing his muscles, Ermun allowed himself to be swept away in the wind. Keeping a safe distance from the eagle, he drifted through the predator’s wake. The eagle’s excellent vision forced him to stay low and far behind; should he be spotted, the sentry would refrain from reporting back to its master.

***

Hours passed as Ermun weaved over rocks and between trees. The journey was much more precarious for the sloth, lacking the privilege of flying at a high enough altitude to avoid all ground obstacles. His heart raced in an uncharacteristic manner as they approached a denser forest. Trees grew merely feet apart, forcing Ermun to quickly pull himself left, right, up, and down, all while maintaining eye contact on the eagle high above him.

The eagle disappeared into fog that shrouded the forest. Spring mornings achieved temperatures just warm enough to heat the cool air, but not hot enough to burn off the fog by noon. Ermun’s eyes desperately scanned the sky above to relocate the predatory bird, but the clouds were too dense. They over-casted and obscured the sky as the thickening fog moistened his fur with condensation.

The texture of jagged bark caught Ermun’s attention out of his peripheral vision – it was too late to roll. He was headed straight for a large cedar tree. Before he could shout, his body split directly in half. Both sides weaved around the tree, rejoining on the other side. It was sensationless. He wouldn’t have noticed, had he not seen the wooden crags at the last second.

Still traveling quickly through the air, Ermun took a deep breath of surprise and relief. Just like the wind, he had passed directly around the solid object! I… didn’t know I could do that, he thought. An adrenaline-filled smile spread across his face.

Continuing his path, he headed directly towards a monolith. Without the slightest attempt to avoid the solid object, his body split into four parts upon meeting the face of the massive stone. Passing around both sides and directly over, he met himself on the other side of the boulder.

Ermun swore loudly through a cackling laugh. The rush of this newly-found capability almost completely distracted him from his target; the eagle. Returning his gaze to the sky, he spotted tail feathers. The eagle was still on the same path. Luckily, the raptor had dropped in elevation enough to be visible below the cloud cover – the sentry must be close to his destination. Ahead was a rough ridgeline sharply ascending from the south.

Atop the ridgeline, only accessible by air or to those willing to hike the steep grade was the jagged entrance of an ominous cave. Without hesitation, wingspan wide, the eagle glided in and disappeared.

This is it. There’s nowhere else he would go, and eagles never live in caves… Ermun thought. I can’t just follow… yet. I have no idea what could be residing in there. Without a breeze, I will have no way of escaping should I be caught.

***

The surrounding forest was still. Chattering robins were the only sound to break the silence the morning following the eagle’s disappearance into the cave. Ermun laid motionless, ears strained to detect any traffic through the threshold. Fighting the urge to sleep was his biggest struggle. He twiddled sticks and counted the species he spotted to suppresses the desire to do what his species did best. Should he fall asleep, he could miss the eagle’s departure on another mission. The predator may return to the Guardians – perhaps with others – to forcefully bring the Designer’s appendage back to Maurlynn.

This can’t be the only entrance… that would be foolish, he thought. There must be another way in… He was wasting time staying in place. Since gaining the ability of flight, he had established stronger relationships with the herbivores of the sky. Birds were a valuable ally; it may be beneficial to seek intel from local inhabitants.

The robins… perhaps they know something, he thought, scanning crowns of surrounding trees for the small birds calling for a mate. No… I doubt it. Never have been ones to be observative. Robins were a selfish species with a short attention span. They would not be a reliable source of information.

Then, unique blue sound waves trickled their way through the forest. A low hooting from the ridgeline above him – just east of the cave. Owls, however. Ermun narrowed in on the source of the hooting. He could see the sound waves coming from the largest pine tree that shrouded the cave entrance in its western-facing shadow. Ermun checked the cave entrance once more before catching a breeze.

With his muscles relaxed, his body became as light as a tumbleweed. Ripped from the bushes that concealed him, he took off like a shot with newly-found confidence – no longer needing to twist, turn, dip and dive – the elemental power of atmosphere did that for him. His body split into thousands of long, wispy strands as he soared above the forest floor on a direct route towards the cliff face.

Weaving over rocks, between trees and through shrubbery rustled branches and leaves. They separated his body into strands too thin to count. Moments before his body met the cliff face, his stomach lurched. He hadn’t attempted flying into a solid object.

His body splattered a negligible distance from the cold stone wall before shooting vertically in the form of a whirling gust. Quickly ascending, his body reformed into a solid frame moments before cresting a level ridgeline. Arriving at the base of the tree that hosted the owl, Ermun tightened every muscle in his body to stop in place.

The hooting was closer now; this time slightly more distressed. Had the owl seen him approaching? It didn’t matter now; this was his best chance at a reliable witness. Better than laying in a shrub for who-knows how much longer.

“Think you’re sneaky, hoo?” the owl called from a branch above.

Ermun felt a twinge.

“Your breeze-harnessing is improving, Ermun. But I wouldn’t say you’re quite undetectable… yet,” the owl mocked.

“Hah, well, hey there, friend! Didn’t see you there,” Ermun called back bashfully. His voice had a distinct rasp when strained to shout. The fact that the stranger knew his name was jarring, and he felt embarrassed to admit he did not immediately recognize the great grey owl.

“Uh huh…” the owl stated flatly, unconvinced as Ermun dug his claws into the rough bark of the tree to begin scaling. “You followed the eagle here, no?”

“Well, you’re… quite the… eh, detective,” Ermun grunted between heavily-labored breaths. Reaching the lowest branch of the pine tree, he met the owl. The branch shook lightly as Ermun added his weight. The owl bobbed through the disturbance, though his head remained at the same level.

The owl’s slanted eyes remained fixated on Ermun in a taunting manner; humored by the energy the sloth must exert just to match his altitude. Surrounding the owl’s face was a magnificent, flat mask of grey feathers. Rings of black ran through it, starting at a small yellow beak placed directly in the center. The rings passed through two golden eyes that broke the circular waves.

“I have to apologize,” Ermun admitted as he solidified his grip on the branch to suspend himself upside down. “I don’t seem to remember your name at the moment.” He didn’t remember the face, either. In fact, he was quite positive he had never met this specific bird. He had attended many Fowl-Councils. There were generally multiple representatives from every sky-species of the region. It was hard to keep track of every individual.

“I don’t blame you. We have never been formally introduced. You can call me Vamla, Ermun,” he replied. “I think I know why you’re here, and I may just be the one to talk to.” Vamla seemed quite confident in his replies – almost cocky. Ermun could see a small amount of adrenaline coursing through Vamla’s golden eyes, like he had been patiently awaiting this moment for quite some time.

“You know this area, I trust…” Ermun said. ’You can call me Vamla.’ This sounded like an alias. Owls were designed to be predatory, after all, and with his proximity to the perceived threshold of Maurlynn’s lair, Ermun was wary to immediately trust him.

“It is my home, Ermun. I know these woods quite well,” Vamla replied confidently. “You are looking for Maurlynn.”

Ermun’s naturally-tired eyes widened. This was either a door opening, or a sign to run. “You caught me…” he replied flatly.

“Well, you found her, and her feral lair,” Vamla boasted without hesitation. “Took you long enough. Don’t worry, we want the same things…”

“We do?”

“Of course. What she does in there… the experiments. The failed species. The brutal augmentations. The savage thirst for blood. I’m sure the resounding call for resistance throughout this forest has fallen on your ears recently, no?” Vamla raised an eyebrow. “I am all for vibrant diversity, but the teeth, the claws… they do not belong on this land. She needs to return to Ohmlur’s supervision. Whether it be voluntary or forcefully.”

“I see. So, you have seen her. Here?”

“Not her directly. But the species that pass in and out of that entrance – they are not cave-dwelling species… Like the eagle, for example. Such an array of predators does not typically co-exist in a dark tunnel. They are goons, heeding their master’s demands.”

“This is the only entrance, then?” Ermun asked, digesting the intel.

“No. Long ago, when the lake to the north at the base of this ridgeline was merely a pond, there was another entrance. That was before the beavers moved in and built their dam. Now that is the only entrance.”

“I see,” Ermun replied. “These… experiments. You have seen them?”

“Yes, of course. Many. Some successful – they are familiar species that now roam this land, seeking flesh. Others, however, you have never seen. The failures. Kicked out, cast aside. Sometimes dumped on the threshold of cave or the top of this hill… left to wither and die. The ones the carnivores don’t talk about.” Vamla grew more disgusted throughout his statement. Owls were a proud species that boasted their stunning physical appearance. To witness such gruesome creations must be appalling.

“The top of this hill?” Ermun asked, craning his neck past the girth of the tree he hung from for a better angle. “Is there anything… still up there?”

“Heh, for that, I do not have a definitive answer. I grew tired of witnessing the suffering, so I stopped going. At first, there was a sick sense of entertainment I reaped from watching creatures struggle to survive… Now it’s just sad.” Vamla hung his head in disappointment. “Are you really the only one on this mission? How do you expect to gain access by yourself? You’ll be slaughtered.”

“No, there are more.” Ermun was reserved with the vocabulary he chose to use. Should this be some kind of cover-up, he did not want to use the term ‘Guardian’, or ‘Designer’ in his statements. “Eventually, there will be a group of individuals. A bison, a ram, a moose, and a raccoon may venture here. They will look… different. Nearly unrecognizable from their original species. Dahj, the bison, should be leading. If you are here, still present in this forest… could you… share the information you have divulged to me, with him as well?” he stuttered awkwardly.

The owl shifted and ruffled his down. “Ha. Well, I’m not going anywhere, Ermun. I will keep two golden eyes out for him. Promise.” Should Vamla be able to contort his beak into a smile, Ermun suspected he would have, following his statement.

“Thank you, friend. I would like to investigate these ‘experiments’ before I return to Ohm… ome. Home. Before I return home.” Ermun bit his tongue, cursing himself for almost allowing too much information.

“May gusts be strong and precipitation low for you, Ermun. Good luck on your journey.” Vamla opened his wingspan to air his down. “And, send the Designer my best regards,” he said before winking one of his golden eyes and releasing the grip of his talons.