Messenger (Guardian Trilogy Prequel 1) (11 page)

Again the squish of my footsteps dominated the jungle. I tried to quiet them but the more I ran the louder I got, as if they were forcing me into flight. But I refused to give in to their game.

The path ended as I came to a skidding halt at the edge of steep plummet. Directly in front of me stood a rock face, chiseled to become an amphitheater made of stone. It was draping with vines so thick I had a difficult time distinguishing it. While wondering if I’d met the end of the course and whether I should call out, the jungle suddenly came alive. Slithering down the walls and around the branches, hundreds of vines made their way over undergrowth and rock, aiming directly for me.

They had tested me on every level. Earth, water, fire, and now they would do so in the air, because there was no other place for me to go but up.

I snapped my shoulders forward, expanding my wings outward, and launched myself toward the sky. Below me, from behind the trees, streams of water, burst of flame, sharpened arrows, and moving vines came at me. They trailed me into the sky, becoming a single stream of blended elements.

This is where they want me, I thought, in the sky. So it’s not where I should be.

Unlike my predecessors who tried the course before me, I didn’t flee for the clearing. I circled the amphitheatre once, drawing my attackers into a single line behind me, and drove down toward the stone stage.

Hitting the ground with enough energy to shake rocks loose from the wall of the stage, I ignored the pain to focus on what was overhead. It was coming, fast.

Wait, I warned myself, wait.

My heart pounded harder as I prepared for the collision.

Wait…

With inches to spare, I stepped aside and the stream slammed into the rock, splintering ice, ashes, splinters, and bark in a spray around me. Leaving nothing more than a mist and the echo of its explosion, I stood in the center of a palpable kaleidoscope of color.

I remained still for a few seconds, awaiting anything more they had created to send at me. When nothing came I lifted into the sky and flew leisurely back to the clearing.

As I settled onto the solid dirt floor, Daniel and Jacob’s expressions were made of pure shock. And they weren’t the only ones.

“Would you care,” Stoyan said soaring into my view and settling before me, “to elucidate your methods for survival?”

Others approached, nodding and muttering encouragement.

I waited for approval from Daniel and Jacob, which was conceded to by Daniel with a hopeless wave of his hand and Jacob’s scowling shrug.

“I’m guessing that Fallen Ones attack in a staggered pattern, which grows more treacherous with each attempt, because that is how the course has been set up. And, because they don’t know what unique defenses we bring with us to earth, they will try various ways to maim or kill us, which is why the course uses multiple types of attacks.” I stopped and considered the best possible way to sum it up. “In short, be prepared for
anything
.”

I was then yanked backwards in a sudden pull toward the other side. I had only enough time for a sweeping evaluation of the faces gawking at me before I landed in my body back on earth. Of them, only one stood out as different. Hermina. She was smiling with amused respect.

CHAPTER TEN: CATALYST

T
HE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED WERE QUIET,
broken only by exchanges with those who passed our farm. They mentioned two topics exclusively. First, a scandal had surfaced about a fight between a Messenger, of which there was more than one it seemed, and three new arrivals who went by the name Kohler. Gradually, that information faded in favor of discussing the insurrections growing more common to the west.

While the Kohlers didn’t return, seemingly having faded away as quickly as the gossip about our altercation with them, Eran reappeared every night thereafter. When he did, being unwelcomed by me didn’t seem to be of the utmost importance to him.

The very next night after our altercation with the Kohlers he stole up behind me in the dark, once again, with yet another warning. “I thought I suggested you break from your nightly message deliveries for a while.”

“Did you advise that?” I replied offhandedly, continuing down the road.

He frowned. “You know I did, Friedricha, when I left you at the path to your door last night.”

“Hmmm.”

His frown deepened at my response.

“And how is it you always seem to know when I’m leaving?”

He grimaced, knowing he’d been caught watching for me. “Let’s just say I’m as observant of your home at night as you are of mine during the day.”

I had to hold back an embarrassed frown at his counter-argument.

To hide my discomfort I asked, only half in amusement, “Still think those unsavory characters are lurking?”

“I know they are, Friedricha,” he replied flatly. “And don’t be fooled by the Kohlers’ disappearance. They remain a threat.”

The tightness in his voice made me ask, “Why would you think the Kohlers are still in the area?”

It was his abrupt, brash reply that drove home his reasoning for continuing to escort me. “Because they want you dead.”

Our conversation was stifled then and we walked in awkward silence over the rolling hills.

“These people need me,” I confessed, finally addressing why I refused to stay home. “Or more specifically they need their messages delivered. I’m willing to risk my life for that…for them.”

He shook his head, which I deciphered as his rejection over the significance of my work and caused me to launch into explaining it.

“You may have never witnessed the pain of loss when someone has passed. You may have never lost someone yourself who you loved so deeply it hurt. But when it does happen, you don’t want that connection to end. You want it to be there when you wake up the day after, and the day after that and the day after that. In some people that desire is as strong as the need for air. So when there is a chance to keep that connection going, to heal old differences, or simply to ask the questions you never got around to asking, you take that opportunity. And when you do, it fills you with peace.” I turned pointedly to him. “It isn’t death that hurts those who are left behind. It is the loss of connection with the person they loved.”

Eran nodded thoughtfully before speaking. “I have seen, many times, the pain in someone when they’ve learned that their loved one has died. The pain of what they go through is not lost to me.” I noticed how he did not mention that
he
had lost someone he had loved and wondered if that were ever the case.

Sighing through his nose, he pressed his lips together in a frown, and I sensed he wasn’t reacting the way he wanted. I knew I was correct when he began again with an edgy, impatient tone. “I’m not in disagreement with you, Friedricha. I’m amazed.”

“Amazed?” I hadn’t expected that to come from him.

“I thought you delivered your messages in the way you do out of impertinence or some sort of ignorance to the real danger that exists out here. I was wrong. You do it with blind servitude and an unreserved sacrifice to your own safety.”

Taken aback by his unsolicited praise, I uttered quietly, “I appreciate that you acknowledged it.”

He nodded, respectfully, and I realized that he was in awe of me, this seasoned warrior. Even if he couldn’t recall who he was before he came here, I knew, and despite our combative relationship, the fact that I earned a bit of his admiration was antagonizing and exhilarating. I wanted to dislike Eran but I couldn’t. I was beginning to respect him and I wanted him to respect me.

“It’s insightful of you, seeing my reasoning for continuing on despite the threats.”

“Yes, I’ve been told that I’m mature beyond my years,” he replied bluntly.

I saw an opportunity to learn if he was an Alterum or reborn and took it. “You do express yourself intelligently. It’s almost as if you’ve been alive for centuries.”

He didn’t flinch at my hint to his past. In fact, he used it to his advantage. “Yes, and I would say the same for you.”

I had to force back an amused smile. If he had fallen, he didn’t give up that information easily.

Of course, his next statement could have been uttered whether he recalled his past or not, because he would have said it regardless.

“But that does not,” he grumbled, “excuse you for delivering your messages alone.”

My head fell forward in indignation until I was staring at the small pebbles that had found their way onto the road. “I’m used to being alone, Thomas,” I countered, flatly.

That again caught him off guard and he paused before awkwardly divulging, “Yes, I’ve seen that.” He exhaled loudly before declaring, “I’m here now, whether you like it or not.”

I strode beside him, appreciating the sound of his feet pressing against the gravel as he walked. It was comforting, not for the sake of protection but companionship, and I realized that I did like that he was with me, more than I wanted to.

From that night on we developed a routine. A few hours after dark, I would leave, he would find me on the road and we would spend the night together, delivering messages and returning home in the morning to work the farm until night came again. Conversations were combative while I perpetually tried to convince him that he wasn’t needed, but he ignored it by talking mostly about himself. I learned about his family, how he had a talent with metal, and how he’d like to build a cabin in the woods. He avoided questions about his past, about where he had been and what he had done, shrewdly dodging them by asking about me. He wanted to know about my childhood, delved into my favorite memories, and asked if I wanted to do anything else besides deliver messages. I told him no.

What I didn’t know was that my love for helping others would become a problem and end up placing my family in danger. The reality of what I had done only sunk in when I opened the door to my home several early mornings later and found my family missing.

They should have been lying in bed, catching the last bit of sleep until the sun had begun to lighten the sky. Instead, I found only dying embers in the hearth and empty beds.

I marched to the fire and stoked it. The flames stirred. I tossed a log on them. The hearth ignited. I turned and found the devastation.

A chair was overturned.

A drape was torn.

A smear of blood ran across the floor.

“No,” I heard myself utter.

The next words to run through my head were from Eran.

And don’t be fooled by the Kohlers’ disappearance. They remain a threat.

“No…,” I moaned.

I felt sick, and dizzy, and weak.

Then I was on my knees, heaving for air.

They could have fled
, I reasoned.
They could have ran and hid. They could come back.

But a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach told me something else had happened, and there was only one way to confirm it.

So I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath, and fought to calm my mind. Several minutes later I awoke in the Hall of Records. Before my eyes were open, I planted my feet on the ground. From there, I didn’t bother with them.

I expanded my appendages with a jerk and sprang into the air, heading for the scroll that listed the lives of those who died where I had just left. The wind whistled in my ears at my speed and those I passed became a blur as I raced down the length of the hall. I didn’t even notice someone was beside me until he spoke.

“Now, now my darling Magdalene,” Jerod called out, pumping his appendages smoothly and with far more grace than me. “Why the scuttle?”

“I don’t have time, Jerod.”

“No time to tell a dear friend what’s happening?”

I sighed in irritation but it didn’t make him give in. It never did. “I think I’ve just led my enemies to kill my family.”

His head jolted back in shock and, as was typical after he’d learned all he’d needed, he fell away, muttering, “Well then…”

Next, I found Hermina at my side. “Magdalene, can we help?”

“I’m not sure.”

She remained silently with me until I’d pulled the scroll from its pocket.

Then there it was on the scroll before me. My mother’s name and the date of her death, which passed only a few hours ago on earth, were written in bold script.

A sob escaped me and my shoulders caved in.

I found Hermina’s hand on one of them in comfort but didn’t have the will to address her.

How could I look at the messenger who had told me to use my ability for good only to have ended up making it the cause of my family’s demise?

I closed my eyes in pain just as my head began to shake back and forth in shame.

“Magdalene?” Hermina prompted. “Are you all right?”

“No,” I said and opened my eyes.

Finding what little energy I had left, I swiped my finger across that name and waited.

Gradually, Hermina disappeared. The hall disappeared. Jerod and his unnerved staring from afar disappeared.