Gaelin swore to himself for perhaps the fiftieth time as he sat alone in his cell, thread and needle held between bloodied fingers. The fight against the three amazons did not end without him receiving one more gash on his left arm. After managing to outfight all of the other three, asked the nearest guard where the infirmary was. He wasn’t surprised at all to learn that there was no infirmary. Rather, they handed him a small kit and told him to head back to his cell to tend to himself. The kit contained a needle, thread, scissors, a vial of liquid they claimed was effective at cleaning cuts, and a balm to help keep the wounds sealed. Fortunately this wasn’t Gaelin’s first time patching up wounds with thread and needle, and so he got to work on himself. All the same, it was not an enjoyable time, and the cleansing fluid burned something fierce. Still, he reminded himself that he should be grateful that he walked away with so little to show for it. His opponents had been dealt much worse before they yielded to him. He hoped that they were alright.

Finishing the stitching on his arm, Gaelin cut the thread, then washed the blood from his fingers before applying some of the balm on the wound. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure standing in the doorway of his opened cell.

“If you’re here looking for pleasure, I’m a little tired at the moment.” he told them without looking up. “You’ll have to find someone else to throw you out of their cell.”

A throat cleared. “I um . . . thought that you would want to eat after such an arduous battle.”

The voice was young, and very familiar. Looking up from his arm, Gaelin saw the face of the sixteen winters old Titan that he had faced on his first fight. She looked much the same as she had when he had fought her, unsurprising since it had been little more than a month ago. Though she wore a collar much more fitting this time, forcing her to remain at her human height, which would have put her eyes at level with Gaelin’s chin. When they had fought, she had worn a collar that allowed her to stand inches taller than him. Her smaller form only seemed to emphasize just how young she was. She held a ceramic bowl in her hands, no doubt willed with mashed oats and barley, a fitting prison breakfast.

He grunted. “Nefferel, was it?”

She nodded. “I see that you remember me.”

“I see you’re still alive.” he replied. “I’m glad. You showed promise.”

Turning back to his arm, he began applying more balm. “You can leave the bowl next to me, and I’ll get to it when I’m done.”

Walking into his cell, she placed the bowl on the bed next to him, and then stepped back.

“Thanks,” he said, not looking up. As he continued to dress his wound, he noticed that she had made no move to leave. After a minute, he looked back at her, to find her watching him intently. She looked away almost immediately.

“I watched your fight.” she began. “I have never before seen one warrior fight three of such skill and emerge victorious. It was very well done.”

“Thank you,” he replied slowly.

“However I . . .” she hesitated.

Gaelin quirked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Searching for the right way to give words to her thoughts, Nefferel changed her approach. “Your style is very strange to me. I have never seen one fight as you do. Yet it is effective, and you are clearly a master of it.”

“Uh . . . thanks, I guess.” he said.

“However, I have observed in some of your fights that you have had the opportunity to kill your opponents, and yet you did not.” she explained.

“I told you, we had a good fight. I was hoping we’d have another chance so I could see if you’d improved.” Gaelin told her, wiping the balm from his fingers. He washed his hands, and then turned his attention to the cut on his leg, untying the shirt sleeve that had held it closed during the fight.

“What of the others? The ones who greatly angered you?” Nefferel asked. “The ones who spoke of torturing your own kind?”

“You’ll notice I didn’t exactly let them off with a slap on the wrist,” he countered.

“But you did not slay them.” she pressed. “Were I faced with an opponent who bragged of killing a citizen of my home, I would have gladly fed their blood to the battlegrounds.”

“Fascinating.” Gaelin groaned through clenched teeth as he washed the cut with that burning fluid.

The room fell silent for a minute, save for the sound of Gaelin’s handiwork on his injury. At last, Nefferel spoke up again.

“I was very grateful that you chose to spare my life. Since that time, I have practiced what you had taught me, and it has carried me through fights that I would not have otherwise have survived.”

“You’re welcome.” he answered, paying more attention to his sewing. “I’ll send you the bill later.”

“I have also asked many of the other prisoners what a Guardian is.” the young Titan continued. “They had many stories to share with me. Some seemed very far fetched. Others . . . others I had hoped were far fetched.”

He grunted. “And your point?”

Nefferel folded her arms as she pondered the man in front of her. “Is it not your sworn duty to kill Titans?”

Gaelin let slip a small chuckle. “Is that what you think the Guardians are for?”

“That is what I have been told.” she replied.

“That’s how I’d expect your kind to see it” he said ruefully. “Always searching out a fight instead of enjoying the happiness of peace.” He shook his head. “The Pillars of Morning and Twilight were there to protect our people from attacks. The Guardians were formed to protect the Pillars. My job is to be a protector.”

She tilted her head. “And so this means that you cannot kill?”

“If I’m protecting someone, then it’s looked on as a Guardian’s duty to kill in defense of the innocent and the defenseless.” he explained. “Out in that arena, there’s no one for me to protect. So there’s no reason for anyone to die.”

“Are you not allowed to protect yourself?” she asked.

Gaelin sighed. “I’m not here to protect myself from anything. I’m here to wait until someone kills me.”

Nefferel looked upon the bloodied man, understanding dawning on her. “You wish to die . . .”

“Don’t have much desire to keep living.” he agreed. “Suppose that’s more or less the same thing.”

“Why?”

He snorted. “I’m not that old, but I’ve traveled a bit. Seen a lot. Too much, actually. Done a bit.”

“Why?” she asked again. “What have you seen or done that haunts you so?”

“Why do you even care?” he asked in return.

She blushed, though Gaelin was too preoccupied with his cut to notice. “You are not like the humans I have seen back home at Oalam. You are different. I wish to know why. Also, your teaching has kept me alive. I feel indebted to you, in a way . . .”

The swordsman paused what he was doing to look up, and chuckle to himself. Nefferel quirked an eyebrow.

“Have I said something amusing?”

“No, no.” he assured her. “You just remind me of someone.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Gaelin was silent for a long moment as he gazed down at the floor. The far off look in his eyes bespoke of all of the years he was looking back through in his mind. A different place, a different time. Yet in his mind, the sights, sounds, and smells were burned permanently into his memory, such that he could will himself back to this place on a whim.

“My village was attacked by Titans, almost ten years ago.” he said at last.

*************************************************************************************

Gaelin ran head first through the crowd of fleeing refugees, bolting straight for the village, which was now in the midst of burning to the ground. In the distance up ahead, one could glimpse the moving shapes of the giant women, treading through the village without a care in the world. Two figures, dwarfing the miniscule homes, lay splayed on the ground, motionless. Two Titans laid dead, slain by the hand of a mortal man. The remaining three, however, still walked about at full size, searching the wreckage for the man who had felled their comrades. They crashed about, kicking over piles of rubble, leaving no stone unturned. All the while, the fire continued to engulf the remaining buildings.

Gaelin dove straight through the rising black smoke, ignoring the sharp increase in heat all around him. He ran through the streets he had committed into his memory, the streets of his home, trying desperately to reach the area where he had seen the Titan drop that house.

“Father!” he screamed, not caring if the Titans heard him or not. “Father!”

He traversed every avenue, vaulting over rubble, and ducking for cover whenever a Titan stepped too close. The smoke was thickening far above his head, obstructing the Titan’s overhead view of the landscape. It was now considerably more difficult to find their target, as well as the voice that had begun calling out from nowhere. The young man ran on, sweat pouring into his eyes, a small relief to sooth the burn from the smoke in the air. He continued to cry out, hoping his father would appear before him, unarmed, sword in hand. Together, they would drive these Sun-forsaken monsters from their land. Then the village would rebuild itself, and they could continue to live in peace as they had before. Under the protection of, not one, but two Guardians.

“Father!” Gaelin yelled again.

The young man turned a corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. Before him, halfway down the street, lay the shattered remains of a common house. Lying in the grass in front of it, his father’s sword.

“NO!”

Sprinting over to the pile of wood and mortar, he began shifting through boards and stones, trying desperately to clear away the carnage, to locate his father’s body. He could still be alive! He had to be! The village needed their protector!

And Gaelin needed his father.

He dug through the wreckage, ignoring the smoke and flames that had already begun eating away at the massive pile of kindling. Just a little more . . .

“The shouts came from somewhere over here.” came a woman’s voice

“If not for this accursed smoke, we would have had a much easier time finding the creature at our full size.” answered another. “I do not want to risk the chance that my new pet my yet allude my grasp while I am at this height. Or attack me.”

Gaelin’s head jerked around at the approaching voices.

“These are humans we are speaking of,” scoffed the first woman. “Do you believe that we face the threat of warriors? They know nothing of combat. I would wager on your ability to take him barehanded if he were to attack.”

The smoke had grown thicker still, making it difficult to discern what was more than thirty feet in front of him. But there was no mistaking what he had heard. Those were not the voices of fleeing and panicked villagers. They were the voices of the Titans that, only moments before, had been laughing over the desolation of his home. His people!

And now they had come to claim him as their slave.

Taking up his father’s sword, Gaelin charged forward into the curtain of billowing smoke, following the beacon of their conversation. Their voices grew louder, and he could vaguely make out the shapes of two figures, standing at human height. So they thought that they could take him barehanded, could they?

Once he judged the distance to be close enough, Gaelin stepped into Whirlpool in the Pond. He spun his back foot, the left one, to the right, the rest of his body following it’s rotation, as he swung his sword once. The Titans, their appearance obscured by the smog, were unaware that an attacker was upon them, until it was too late. Gaelin completed his spin, swinging his sword about once in follow through. The Titan on the right had almost no time to react as the blade passed cleanly through her bone and flesh, finding no resistance as it separated her head from her neck. The body fell forward, allowing the Titan on the left to turn and completely see the figure before her, who had just sent her friend to the void of death. He was on her in an instant, and only her trained instincts allowed her the ability to draw her sword in time to save herself. Metal clashed against metal, as Gaelin instantly stepped into the next form. He wasted no time in pressing his attack. Any second of hesitation would only give her the time to grow to her full size. He had to keep her too busy to focus on changing. This was no problem for him, as his rage fueled every muscle in his body to fight on without pause. Strike after strike rained down on the diminutive Titan. Though the Titan forged steel was clearly inferior to the mage-wrought metal of the legendary blade, it held up well enough to hold together. The same could not be said of the Titan’s defensive form. Unprepared for a sword fight with a human, and taken back by his incredible skill, the warrior found herself retreating step by step from her vengeful opponent.

At last, he saw his opening. Throwing his blade against her own in a head on clash, Gaelin pushed down on hers. Using momentum and strength, the young swordsman arched both weapons in a circle, repeating the loop once, twice, then three times. On the fourth pass, Gaelin stepping inside his opponent’s guard, and plunged his blade forward through her chest, piercing what he hoped to be her heart. The Titan froze in place, a look of utter disbelief appeared among her features, before deathly convulsions twisted the expression into one of deep horror at what awaited her now. The body dropped to the ground, and moved no more.

Gaelin stood there bathed in blood and ash, inhaling the tainted air as the effort of fighting had claimed him of energy. He had mere moments to recover, as a gigantic foot descended from above, aiming towards the spot where he stood. Reacting on pure instinct, Gaelin dive rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the oncoming attack from the final Titan, the one who remained at her full height.

“Pathetic insect.” rumbled the voice from above. “Remain where I can see you.”

Though the nearby fires illuminated the scenery on the ground, the smoke and ash continued to hinder her sight. Leaving Gaelin as a blurred image, running about the hazy village at her feet. She lifted the other foot, and tried again, aiming for the obscured outline of the little human. Gaelin dive rolled again, coming up on his feet, not far from where her foot had landed. His father had told him about fighting Titans at full size, describing his own past battles with lone warriors or catchers. Gaelin himself had never before faced a full sized Titan, or any Titan before this night. But that did not stop him from realizing what it was that he needed to do.

He needed to cut her down to size, and move.

So, when the Titan brought her right foot down again to crush him, Gaelin ran for her left one. Approaching trunk like leg, he continued sprinting, gaining as much momentum as he could. When he reached her ankle, a second later, he took two bounding steps up her leg, using the winding straps of her sandals as foot holds, until he had reached as high as her calf muscle. Using the strength of his legs, developed from years of running and climbing in the forest, he pushed off from her leg, narrowly avoiding her brushing hand, and sent himself sailing back towards her right leg. With sword held high, he brought it down in a tremendous slash, letting loose a roar of defiance, cutting neatly through the thick skin and muscle of her right calf.

The unbreakable metal sliced through her without once stopping or becoming stuck, and Gaelin continued to fall through the air, until he landed roughly on the ground, his body tumbling and rolling away from her. The cry of pain and surprise that rose from the ash coated village could be heard for a mile around by all of the fleeing humans. The Titan dropped to one knee as her tendons and muscles within her lower leg had been severed. Her pain switched over quickly to anger, as she turned around and spotted the prostrate form of Gaelin, lying not far from her. Reaching out with her hand, she attempted to swat him into a pulp. The young warrior, still lying on the ground, rolled his body away with speed born of adrenalin. He rolled until he felt the impact of her hand against the ground where he had formerly been lying. Rolling up to his feet, Gaelin stood in a low crouching stance, sword held out in his right arm, his left hand placed on the ground to steady him.

With the Titan much lower to the ground now, the smoke had begun to truly enter her eyes, all but blinding her to what was right in front of her. Seeing his opportunity, Gaelin charged straight at the wounded monster. Stepping once more into Whirlpool in the Pond as he neared the arm that was still steadying her against the ground, he spun, slicing through her wrist, and completely cutting her hand off. The roar of pain that followed was twice as powerful as that which had come before, and threatened to throw Gaelin from his feet through sheer force of it’s shockwave. But he never stopped moving, running between her crouched legs.

The Titan turned back around, holding the stump of her hand with her other hand, trying desperately to comprehend the pain that now burned from her missing appendage. She almost doubled over, crouching low to the ground, hugging her arm to her body for comfort.

Meanwhile, Gaelin bolted straight for the nearest house in front of him. Kicking down the door, he sprinted through the fire that had begun to engulf the lower section, heading straight for the stairs ahead. Taking them two at a time, he leapt from the staircase to find the entire upper level of the house had been torn away, leaving the second floor completely open. He continued sprinting, the Titan’s immense form directly in front of him, her head hanging low and breathing heavy. Gaelin ran across the floor until he had run out of ground, and leapt through the air. His body sailing just beneath the Titan’s head, he raised his sword up and snapped it forward, cleaving open her throat.

Gaelin’s body continued to fly forward, rapidly descending, until it crashed violently against the wall of the house opposite the one he had jumped from. He landed in a sprawled heap upon the grass, the sword tumbling from his fingers. To the left of him came the sound of a great crash, followed by gurgling breaths. With no strength left in his body to stand, Gaelin settled for turning his head. The helmet had fallen from the Titan’s head, and had landed not far from where he lay. Casting his eyes up, he gazed upon the form of the hideous beast that had lain waste to his very life.

She was perhaps fifteen winters of age.

The fear that contorted her face made her look much younger, and her shaking hand gripped her neck, blood seeping between her fingers. She gasped for air, making gurgling sounds in the process. She continued in vain to stop the bleeding and breath, until her body collapsed forward in a thunderous avalanche. Gaelin lied still, unable to shake away the image that had seared itself into his brain forever. The sight of her dying breath. Climbing quickly to his feet, he looked around at the other Titans, whose helmets had fallen free when he had killed them. They were all so . . . so young. So afraid. Because he had killed them.

With a cry of great pain, great, horrible pain, Gaelin ran from the village, leaving it to burn.

*************************************************************************************

“I ran until I collapse from exhaustion,” he narrated for his audience of one. “When I woke up the next day, I was alone. I spent the next year afterwards trying to find my mother and sister . . . Never quite did.”

Nefferel, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke up. “You blame yourself for their deaths.”

“I killed them.” he replied. “Who else’s fault is it?”

“Theirs.” she affirmed. “I have seen war only once, however I have an understanding of it. They chose to invade your home. They attacked and slaughtered your people, for fun. They burned your village to the ground. This was all their own choice. You rose up to defend it. You cannot blame yourself for taking the right course of action and striking them down.”

Gaelin sighed, seeming in that moment, much older. “I wish it were that simple.”

“Is it not?” she asked him. “They had killed your father.”

Taking a moment, Nefferel mulled over his story. “They had killed your father, and your mentor. They had burned your home to the ground. They had separated you from your mother and sister. And they had attempted to enslave or kill you, as well as everyone you had ever known.”

Wiping a single tear from her eye, the Titan looked again on the Guardian that sat before her. “Why did you spare my life in the arena? Why did you teach me all of those things so that I may continue to live? Why do you not hate us all?”

“I’ve tried.” the Guardian said in a very worn and tired voice. “I’ve tried to hate you all for a long time. In the end, what I really hate are your ideas. The idea that smaller people are somehow less than people in your eyes. Ideas that take innocent children and turn them into slave masters or murderers. Those girls wouldn’t have touched my village if they had really understood us. Thought of us as more than just animals to play with and kill. I don’t hate you. I hate what your people stand for.”

At once it became abundantly clear why Gaelin chose not to kill his opponents in the arena, and Nefferel was at a loss. Not knowing what else to say, she stood without a word, and departed from his cell. Before she had passed beyond his door, she turned back to look at him once more. Gaelin was no applying large doses of the burning cleansing fluid to the cut on his cheek. This time, he uttered no word of protest or pain as it washed over his wound, eventually mixing with the silent tears that fell from his eyes.