Life was good.
He held up the glass of whiskey to the light, admiring the lovely shades of the vintage. The bottle cost the same as a farmer would earn in a year, and he was already on his third glass. The book in his lap was a leather bound first edition that chronicled the life on an ancient known as Shadryn and on the open market would go for the same price as a small mansion. His silk shirt, his leather boots in silver inlay, his stylishly cut trousers, his lavishly etched swept hilt rapier, everything spoke of the money he spent with such a casual air. But he wasn't some brute with it, he had the taste that he could savour his extravagant trappings.
A psionic message whispered into his mind. "Tango protocol."
He issued a sigh. He longed for nothing more to sit and read all day and he considered ignoring it. Unfortunately, the money he spent, the clothes he wore, even the bed he slept in did not belong to him, but to his guardian, a gruff brute with no airs or graces to speak of but surprisingly wielded his business empire with the same delicate mastery he did a blade. Whilst Athan had no idea who his parents were, his guardian knew and constantly had him training to fight or running these stupid emergency drills making sure he had all twentysix protocols memorised should anything happen. He hated it but they must be tolerated until he found out who his parents were or at least got some financial independence. With a second sigh, he scooped up his rapier from beside his seat, ruffled his curly red locks with his hand and stood up.
The house lurched, and he instantly steadied himself against the chair.
It was about 11am, maybe he shouldn't have started on the whiskey so early. Or perhaps he should have had breakfast first he mused,as he strapped the rapier to his waist. He glimpsed his reflection in the mirror, and winked at the fine man who was staring back at him. His stylish curls resting above such piercing emerald eyes, the strong jawline and cheeky lopsided grin. under the shirt the slender lines of muscle showed - whilst he favoured artful laziness, his guardian still pushed him hard enough with rapier practice that he maintained a trim figure, a fact he'd appreciated more once he was old enough to start taking notice of women.
The house lurched again and faint crash echoed. A second psionic message reached him, hitting him like a sledgehammer. "MOVE!
His mouth suddenly went dry. It had to be some new type of drill his guardian was running. Some new test. That had to be it. Tango protocol was to go down the seond stairwell, through the office,across the grand hall to the waiting room then into a hidden passage under the table, through some tunnels that emerged by a little raft. He took off, taking the carpetted stairs as fast as he could without making any noise. As he entered the office he heard a commotion getting nearer, and he picked up his pace, pushing open the office door and gazing carefully about the great hall, and taking a step into it.
The entrance doors smashed open, and his brain struggled to interpret what he saw. Marilith. They were a six armed reptilian demon, master swordfighters in lifeand even greater in death. Even master swordsmen feared to face them, for they were truly formidable. Even with his natural skill and training with the rapier, he'd be hard pressed to survive over a minute in open combat with one.
His guardian was fighting four of them. And smoking a cigar.
"Get out of here you arrogant shit!" he bellowed, his five foot blade dancing an elderitch blur as he twisted and span through a dozen masterful parries before flicking a cut onto the jawbone of one of his foes, millimetres away from it's throat.
He got the message. Athan turned and ran, straight back through the office, turning left onto the servant entrance and speeding down the narrow corridor. The fourth door looked more solid than the others, and he pulled it open then locked himself inside. Gasping for breath, he paused and took in his surroundings. It was a cleaning closet. Brooms, dustpan and brushes, buckets, mops and other cleaning utensils he had no idea what purpose they served.He paused to consider what the hell was going on. Demons attacking. What. The. Fuck. Seriously, what? And his guardian, fighting them on his own like it was just another day in the office. Athan had read books were men had struggled to hold them off whilst others used banishing spells to get rid of one Marilith, whilst his guardian could fight four of them? He honestly looked like he was winning too, before he'd shouted abuse at Athan.
He'd got the message. Arrogant shit - exit compromised. Use emergency route. Don't wait for me.
He reached into the back of the alcove, pulling out a crystal, and it suddenly occured to him how ever time his guardian had barked a command he'd followed it to the letter. A voice said he should turn back, use the crystal once he'd got back to his guardian and they could escape safely together and he would thank him, owe him. He'd stop being so callous and distant, acknowledge him as his step son and not just his guardian and together they would take on the world.
And with a shake off his head, he rid himself of that fantasy and the last teenage impulses of a child. He was alone. He needed to act like a man. Uttered the words he had been taught, he activated the crystal jumped into the portal.
****
A chill breeze whispered the length of his arm. His fashionable boots sank into the soft mud as he started to look around, taking in the forest around him. In his hand, the ash of a burnt out crystal crumbled and fled upon the wind.
The spell hand been a randomised dimensional shift. The world he was abandoned in was completely different to his own and he couldn't even begin to comprehend it. He had seen forests of his own land in the training his guardian had given him, the lush, all consuming greenery of summer and bare, snow burdened limbs of winter. He had hunted wild boar for food and roasted its flesh over a fire to survive. But what he saw here was so alien in comparison. The leaves were a mixture of hues, the richness of gold to a deep red, and they seemed loose, dry, occasionally one would fall from the tree. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he picked a fallen leaf up, staring at the veins that seemed to run the length of it. He sniffed it experimentally, but couldn't detect anything that might be poisonous. Carefully, he touched it, only for it to crunch and crumble away from his caress.
Was this was tea leaves looked like in nature? The crumble did resemble the mix that he put in his tea at home, but he'd never wondered exactly where it originated. Did tea grow on these golden red trees?
His musing was interrupted by a light crunching noise of something approaching. With what little stealth he could muster, he leaned into a tree trunk, cautiously peering out to see what approached.
A creature, four legs. It was similar in shape to a horse, but far, far more slender. It appeared to be a far meaner beast with it's evil black eyes, and unlike the mean boars of home with their short nasty tusks, this beast grew them from the top of its skull, a pair of massive twisted morass of horn, similar to a tree's roots.
A stag, he thought he'd heard them referred to as. He knew nothing more of the horrific beast that lingered only metres away from him. Could he defeat it with a rapier? Did it have his scent? Would it hunt him mercilessly until he had him gored upon it's immense horns?He wished for the survival kit he'd always been given by his guardian on his trips, for the powerful crossbow he could defend himself at a distance with.
He just wished his guardian was here to protect him still.