The Fallen Captain swung at Argyn, who ducked just enough for the blade to take off a tuft of his hair. he lunged at the alien and tackled it to the ground, quite a feat for someone three or four feet shorter than it. Argyn drew his pistol, Frequent Abuse, and went to take a shot as another Fallen picked him up off the Captain and threw him against a wall. The Dignitary pulled his hand cannon, Very Convincing, and shot the Fallen who had thrown Argyn is the side of the head. It fell with a sweet thud. The Dignitary ran over to Argyn who was gathering himself. They both turned around to face the Captain, getting back up and drawing a rifle of some sort. Argyn drew up his hands and said something in an incomprehensible tongue as blue flames and lightning shot from the air just inches in front of his hands. There was a loud crackle, a fizz, and there was nothing left of the Fallen Captain but his boots, a shifting pile of ash and his blades. The Dignitary looked at Argyn in astonishment, pure amazement. He straightened out and bowed.
“Why do you bow, Dignitary?”
The Dignitary remained in that position, “I bow, young Argyn, because we have finally our young Prophet.”
“I don’t know what I did, sir, It was not me who threw that power.”
“Oh, Argyn, but it was.”
He looked down to his hands which were glowing a bright blue and orange color, almost the the heat and energy had come directly from them.
“Please my son, will you give us guidance? Will you be our Prophet?”
Argyn looked up from the yet still bowing Dignitary to see a mess of people, battered up and hurt from the invasion. There were other dead Fallen in the hallway, I guess the other Guardians took care of them.
“I will be your Prophet. I will guide,” shouting to the crowd, “you all to a safer life, and I shall give my life to the City, and to the Traveler!”
There were cries, screams, and tears. There had not been a Prophet in over thirty years. The people needed more than just a City Council or even the Traveler resting in the sky, they needed a hero, and Argyn Founder was going to be that hero.
Argyn began to walk down the hall as people touched his armor and his hand and his head. He got down a bit further to where the wounded had been taken. He walked into the room, the news had not yet reached this part of the Infirmary. He looked around to tell these people more in need the hope he was ready to offer up. He opened his mouth to talk and saw Kiltross laying down with his arm laying in a chair next to his bed, oil and hydraulics leaking out onto the floor.
“Hello, Brother,” his voice sounded more machine than Argyn had ever heard it, “What happened to you, Kiltross?”
“The Fallen invaded the City. They got in with some of our ships, they must have captured some other Guardians. Not just the City, they set fire to several grass fields and other ruins and towns outside the City. They got to us, your seven Protectors and killed four of us, Trviana, Hindroo, Gradbar, and Fooren. Junioter was off duty, and myself and Uni were injured. He’s worse off, about as bad as your Father.”
“Rest now, Brother. Your Prophet is here.”
As he said that the volume on the television in the room increased enough for something to catch Argyn’s ear.
“-and in conclusion, we have lost one of the City’s best today in a blaze set by the Fallen who were able to infiltrate the City. The body of Captain Founder, aged Ninety-Four, was found in the ash remains of his home south of the City in -”
“NO!” Argyn ran out the room and began running faster than anyone in that hospital had ever seen someone run.
He came to the hangar and jumped into his Henry IV and blasted off. He came to something that startled him and made his stomach sink. A field of black and ask and fire and death. Over two dozen brahman and horses laid there dead in the scorched dirt. He came to what looked like a home, but it was no longer a home. He landed his ship in the small stretch of asphalt that he had fallen on and scraped his elbow on so many times as a boy. He jumped out of his ship and ran over to the creaking burnt remains of a cottage. Small, quaint, happy. Or not so much now. He ran in and found an empty chair, a chair that used to rest his hero, his personal Guardian – his father. He fell to the ground and wailed. He cried and balled and screamed horrible things. He swore to the Fallen, to the Cabal, to the Vex and the Hive. The swore to the City and the Traveler and the Dignitary and the Academy and Graduation Day. He wished he had been there to protect his paraplegic father. He felt something in his gut – he wanted revenge. He wanted to stomp out everything that had ever thought to touch Earth. All of it that might cause pain to those he cared about.
<This could have been avoided, Argyn>
“Do you think I do not realize that!” He screamed as spit shot from his mouth turning around and around violently on his knees, looking for who ever had just said those mean words of vindictive hurt. “Hello?” He wiped the tears from his face and stood up, seeing no one at all. Noting, in fact, but burnt earth.
<You may need to look higher if you wish to find me> Argyn looked up to the clouds. The Traveler was the only thing in the sky line, and even then it was over a hundred kilometers away – even from that far distance, Argyn could still feel the majesty of it’s power.
<That is correct>
“What do I do? What is there for me to do you you, all mighty Traveler!?”
<You have yet to speak with Ynivvre Likopt>
“The Forger? What can he do for me?”
<A great deal more than you know, Young Prophet. Go to him and give him the knowledge I have bestowed in you. He can help more than I can with that question. Give him what he needs to know and the answers will present themselves>
“Yes, Traveler. I Thank thee.”
Argyn Climbed into his ship and looked in the reflective glass to see his beard was miss trimmed, how had I not noticed that today? Father wouldn’t like it if I left it as is. He reached behind himself to grab his old clippers and took the excess off, then the sides, leaving nicely trimmed sideburns. He took the chin of it off, leaving a mustache. Perfect. He set it back behind his chair and started the engine. It rocketed off into the sky, heading towards the City.
Towards the Young Prophet’s answers.
So much for it being a safe city, huh? Pretty sad to have four of the seven Guardians killed so soon, and Argyn’s father of course. It’s still very interesting to have The Traveler be such an active participant in these stories. I can’t wait to see what happens next.