Messenger (Guardian Trilogy Prequel 1) (37 page)

No wind rushed by my ears or whipped my hair across my eyes, not in the void where I existed. It allowed me a full, unobstructed view of Eran’s fury. He was about to do something dangerous. I was certain of it. And there was nothing I could do to stop him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: PROVOCATION

E
RAN TORE THROUGH THE AIR WITH
a sense of vengeance, cutting the clouds like a knife and leaving them in turmoil in his wake. He covered a great distance in a short amount of time. I had never seen anyone move so quickly on earth or in the heavens. He was magnificent.

Being unable to ask him for his destination, I waited, wondering what he could be doing so suddenly and what it had to do with me. It made no sense. He wanted to be with me. I saw it and felt it equally as strong. Yet racing across the earth wasn’t going to bring me back.

It was dark when he landed. The stars shined down on him, illuminating his determined stance as he braced himself for the impact. The contact was powerful enough to send a vibration along the ground and up the walls on both sides of him to rattle the windows overhead.

He stood for a fleeting second in a narrow, cobblestone street. Solely lit by the stars and gas lamps hanging over the doorways, it was difficult to determine his location. I knew we were in the middle of a great city, far larger than the primitive walled cities from which we’d come. But that was all I could discern.

Eran marched two doors down and, without bothering to knock or call out his arrival, he kicked in the door. Two men emerged from side rooms, coming at him with knives. He deflected them effortlessly, unhinging the blades from their hands and slamming their heads together. They sunk to the ground and Eran stepped over them.

The noise alerted others who rushed from rooms in the rear. One was carrying daggers, which were promptly launched at him, and the other held a sword. Eran ducked at the flying blades before incapacitating the man with the sword through an elbow to the jaw. He then used that sword to fight the other man into a corner where Eran proceeded to punch him in the face.

He left the hallway and entered a room where he stopped directly in the center. Another man rushed into the room, frenzied, and met Eran’s fist before he could do any harm.

“
Stop!
” I screamed but my voice only dissipated in the vast emptiness in which I hovered. Nonetheless, I couldn’t contain it.
“Stop! Please Eran, stop!”

Slowly, he lowered his fist and tilted his ear to the ceiling, subtly perplexed by something. Whatever it was that caught his attention, it seemed to make him pause.

I finally looked around, realizing we were in a richly decorated house, the last place I’d imagine Eran would go to find trouble. Yet, he was there, stirring up a nest of it. The only positive from this situation was that Eran wasn’t permanently hurting the men. As he moved through them, he used various techniques to render them unconscious but they were still breathing.

“What are you doing, Eran?”
I moaned.

I was about to encourage him to leave when he unexpectedly dropped to a kneeling position to peel back the corner of a rug and expose a square cut in the floor. There was no handle, which would have alerted anyone walking over it that something was in fact beneath their feet, but this didn’t discourage Eran. He pressed his fist on the edge closest to him and the cut boards pivoted up, exposing the long, dark, horizontal tunnel below the house. A ladder was built into the side, but he didn’t bother with it.

Pushing himself to a standing position, he simply moved his left foot over the hole and had his right foot follow in its path. Eran disappeared from sight, having dropped into the black passageway, but a second later I was beside him as if we had a string attached between us.

Again, his body bowed to the pressure of his landing, his muscles curving to absorb the strain. He stood upright just as the axe came down on his shoulder.

I screamed, but no one heard.

When the metal edge was dislodged in preparation for another blow, blood gushed from the wound. Eran fell back against the wall and I thought he had been mortally injured. He surprised me, and his opponent, when he used his supported backing to launch a foot into the man’s stomach.

His opponent stumbled back, perplexed, before coming at him for another attempt.

This time Eran was ready.

As the blade flew in an arc toward him, he spun around and tucked the handle under his arm. Gripping the man’s weapon, he leaned into the man and crawled his feet up the wall to propel them both backwards. His attacker lost his balance, stumbled back again and slammed onto the floorboards, breaking several beneath his weighty body. I thought Eran would remove the weapon from the man but he didn’t bother with it. Instead, he brought his bent arm forward over his chest and jerked it back to connect his elbow with the man’s jaw. The man’s head flopped to the floor and didn’t lift again.

Eran rolled off and stood up, ready for another assault.

It came as he surveyed his surroundings. The room was small with barren walls and nothing more than a table and two chairs, one already occupied. Two more men were standing in the room, one of whom came at Eran with a curved blade. It whistled through the air as Eran ducked in time, taking only a few strands of hair with it. Its owner circled around and attempted to strike again, but Eran didn’t give him that option. Remaining in a crouched position, Eran skirted the man’s legs and he and his blade tipped backwards, hitting his head on the wall behind him. His eyes closed and didn’t reopen.

From the back of the room, behind the table, a pair of hands began a languid clap, filling the now silent room. Eran stood to his full height and faced them.

The offensive noise came from a man with small eyes, narrow lips, and thin hair receding at the forehead. He was small in every way except for the fearless gaze he settled on Eran.

His clapping ended just before he commented resignedly, “I see you’ve made it past my mortals. Good for nothing more than errands, they were.”

“Too weak to defend yourself, Dmitrei?” Eran asked, glaring. “Need mere men to supplement your lack of skill?”

Dmitrei grinned. “I notice your sense of humor hasn’t ebbed.”

“I’m not laughing,” Eran said.

“As I can see,” Dmitrei said tight lipped. “What can I do for you, Eran?”

Cavalierly, Eran strolled to the only other chair in the room where it was positioned on the opposite side of the table from Dmitrei. Taking a seat, he replied, “I thought I’d pay my friend a visit.”

Dmitrei didn’t react, keeping a steely glare on Eran.

“Has the smuggling of human heads been profitable of late?” Eran asked.

I couldn’t distinguish if he was mocking or serious. Dmitrei didn’t seem to care.

”Skulls, Eran.”

“Ahh.”

Dmitrei pursed his lips before admitting, “Since you removed my partner from the supply chain, it has been a bit challenging,”

“He removed himself, Dmitrei,” Eran replied casually.

Dmitrei nodded. “Seti always did think highly of his ability to take on guards…or guardians as it is now. He is missed though. No one could bring in a higher price for skulls, especially those of messengers.” He assessed Eran’s reaction, which didn’t reveal much, before continuing. “My coins have dwindled since your encounter. Is that what you came for? To ensure that human skulls are no longer on my inventory?”

“I know they’re not.”

Dmitrei began mindlessly tapping his fingers on the edge of his table, closely evaluating Eran. “I’ve always respected you,” he remarked. “You don’t play games. You are forthright, honest, and a good adversary. I wasn’t surprised to hear of your success up north against my associates.”

“And I,” Eran said, “was surprised not to find you participating.”

Dmitrei smiled mockingly. “I’m in the business of selling, not in the business of acquiring.”

Eran returned the sarcastic smile. “If you don’t defend your kind, Dmitrei, you may find that you have no one else to defend you.”

That seemed like a blatant taunt by Eran.

Dmitrei jerked forward, his bent elbows coming across the table, hissing a demand. “Tell me why you are here, Eran, or be gone with you.”

Eran smiled, unfazed.

“No?” Dmitrei tested the possibility for conflict.

Eventually, after no response from Eran and several long seconds of glaring on his part, Dmitrei slid back into his chair.

And I was left wondering just what Eran was doing.

Dmitrei’s eyes narrowed. There had been no bloodshed to this point other than from those wounds that Eran had inflicted and there had been no threats other than the veiled one Eran had just given. I was as mystified as Dmitrei.

“I’m curious, Eran, why you carry no weapons.”

I swept my gaze across Eran’s body and sure enough, he had no defense.

Eran grinned.

Dmitrei was suspicious then. “You’ve come here to pick a fight, haven’t you? But you carry nothing in defense,” he said, amused at the prospect.

“That’s correct.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Why?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“You have no ward to finish me off, so what could you possibly accomplish by engaging in a conflict?”

Eran remained silent.

“Unlike others of my kind,” Dmitrei said shrugging complacently, “I don’t find you formidable. I won’t flee.”

“That’s why I came to you.”

Eran had sought a Fallen One, a specific one, who didn’t fear him? But why?
I didn’t understand… and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Dmitrei was asking himself the same questions as he evaluated Eran. Then the reason came to him, swiftly, causing him to blink. His mouth fell open in astonishment before a perceptive smile curved his lips. “Magdalene has died.”

Eran showed no reaction. I attributed this to his centuries of training which enforced a stoic countenance in the face of Fallen Ones. Yet it may have been this very measure that confirmed it to Dmitrei.

“My kind will be pleased.”

“She’s not the only one who can harm you.”

“Is that a threat, Eran?”

“If it is, what will you do about it?”

Ignoring the question, Dmitrei rolled his jaw to the side and straight again, continuing to assess Eran. “How long ago did she pass?”

A coldness came over Eran, which Dmitrei saw.

“Recent,” Dmitrei replied. “And now you are here, without a weapon…”

He was singling out the purpose behind Eran’s visit. I could tell by the expressions on each of their faces. Dmitrei’s was expectant and Eran’s was alert.

“You two are known for arguing with each other. The legendary guardian and his ward who never followed his instructions…Your novel relationship has been recounted among my kind repeatedly. And yet I see it in you…You do miss her, that argumentative little bra-”

Dmitrei’s insult was never finished. It sent Eran soaring across the table where he collided with Dmitrei and forced him back against the wall.

Eran stood over him, his forearm restraining him as he growled a warning. “You will not speak another word about Magdalene, do you understand, Dmitrei?”

This was when Eran made clear the reason for his visit.

Eran cared deeply for me, so deeply that he wasn’t willing to live without me.

It came to Dmitrei and me simultaneously, but our reactions were categorically different. Dmitrei smiled and I was flooded with fear.

With Eran’s forearm pressed against his throat, Dmitrei’s voice was hoarse yet discernible. “You’ve come to die, haven’t you, Eran?”

“No,” I mumbled, confused yet trying and failing to move forward to stop him.

Eran’s reply was calm, calculated. “Yes, I have Dmitrei. Now that you know, the next question is…will you seize the opportunity?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: DENIAL

E
RAN’S HANDS FELL TO HIS SIDES
and he stood before Dmitrei unconcerned by what was to come.

Dmitrei stood motionless, evaluating him now for a different reason.

“You will find no contest from me,” Eran promised.

“NO!” I shouted, but it only seeped farther into the void where I now lived.

Eran seemed momentarily distracted but recovered.

“No contest? That is tempting.”

Eran’s hands came up to lift his palms to the sky. He was insisting that Dmitrei give in to the temptation but the Fallen One wasn’t moving.

Dmitrei sighed, apparently annoyed. “I’m going to tell you, Eran, that they won’t respect your plan to reunite with your ward.” He tipped his head farther up, where his nose pointed at the heavens. “Not up there.”

It seemed to be a bid to convince Eran to release him. If it was, it didn’t work.

“I’m curious,” Dmitrei continued, “why you didn’t let my men simply do you the favor.”

“Because you never would have allowed it. They would have restrained me, brought me to you, and we would be in the same situation we are in now. The only exception is that those men would have been conscious, intervened, and likely been hurt far worse than they are now.”