Aegyir Rises (Guardians of The Realm Book 1)

by Amanda Fleet

  Should I wear what Finn had called my ‘sod off and leave me alone’ make-up or go bare-faced? Finn knew me bare-faced, but I really, really needed everyone to sod off and leave me alone, so I stained my lips dark purple and lined my eyes heavily with black, filled my ears with studs and put my nose-ring in. I could be bare-faced when I joined him and anyway, he’d always seen through the war-paint and would understand why I needed it today of all days.

  I tipped my wallet, keys, lip-balm and all the other junk I carried around with me into the only bag I had that I could also stash a dagger in. My phone was almost dead and I tossed it to one side. There was no one I wanted to call and no one I wanted to hear from. Lastly, I took two of the daggers out of the pouch and slid one into each of my boots so that at least two of them were to hand. I put the other in my bag and prayed I would have a chance to retrieve it and secrete it about me before I had to face Aegyir.

  I was due to meet Paul at a cafe about quarter of an hour’s walk away. It was now almost eight. I made myself a strong black coffee and some toast. All the Pop Tarts had been binned when I’d come back from the hospital and I both craved them and was glad they were gone. The bread had green flecks in it but I picked them out. There was no other food in the house.

  What should I do with my sketchbooks? Would anyone look at them? Should I give them to Paul? He was the only one who would want them. I packed them into a bag and stuck a note on the front. Eleven words. Dear Paul, These are for you. I’m sorry. I love you. It barely covered what I wanted to say but it would have to do. I could write a better one if I made it back from meeting Aegyir.

  I could put off leaving no longer and took a last look around the house before shrugging my leather jacket on and slinging my bag over my shoulder.

  “Chin up,” said Finn as I passed him in the hall. “I’ll be right with you.”

  ***

  Paul was already there when I arrived, sitting towards the back of the room with a pot of tea and a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. I waited for him to look up, my tongue poked into my cheek. A grin crept across his face the moment he saw me and he scrambled up to hug me hard.

  “Reagan! My darling Reagan.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Dad? Not Paul? Progress?”

  I smiled shyly. He was as close to a father figure as I would ever have, but I’d called him Paul since I found out I was adopted. Stupid, pointless rebellion.

  I squeezed him and pulled free. The cafe was bright and cheerful, with red and white gingham checked tablecloths and real flowers in small vases on the tables. The early morning sun streamed in through large, plate-glass windows. I craved black and darkness. As I sat, I caught the eye of the waitress and ordered a glass of water. Paul’s face was full of concern. He reached across the table and held my hand.

  “I am so, so sorry about Finn.”

  I swatted his words away with my hand. “Yeah. Everyone is. Don’t make me cry. I’ll smudge my mascara. Tell me about you.”

  As he filled me in on what had been happening since we last saw each other, I felt a lead weight forming in my chest. Was I wrong to be planning my exit? Was it horribly selfish? People might understand, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t hurt them or that they would forgive me.

  Paul ground to a halt. “You still with me?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Difficult day ahead.”

  “I know. Sure you don’t want to come back with me? Get a break?”

  “Maybe. Ask me again after the funeral.”

  “Sure.”

  I finished my water and glanced at the clock. “We have to go.”

  It was the last place on earth I had ever wanted to be.

  ***

  It was unbearable. Alison asked me to sit in the front pew with her, and Paul slid in next to me and held my hand. In the middle of the nave, only a few feet away was the coffin. I couldn’t look at it. Finn was inside. I couldn’t let my brain even start to think that.

  Rory Cullen wasn’t there. He wouldn’t even come to his son’s funeral.

  I squeezed Alison’s hand, but actually, it was me who was the wreck. She seemed stoic and past the grief in some ways, though I knew she couldn’t be. She squeezed my hand back and smiled wanly. I stole a glance around the church, my eyes skipping past the coffin and avoiding the picture of Finn projected on to a screen at the front. Seeing that would have finished me off. The church was packed and there was a low, steady murmur filling the space. Billy and all the staff from the gym were a few pews back and I nodded to them. There were old school friends, clients of the gym, people from the pub. Helen.

  I turned away, furious. She’d hated Finn. How dare she come?

  My hands shook, making the order of service tremble in my hands. Paul dipped his head.

  “You okay?”

  “Helen’s here.”

  Paul swivelled around to look and then turned back. “Maybe she came to support you.”

  “Maybe she should have tried that when I lived at home.”

  Paul slid his arm around me. “Ignore her. Don’t let her rile you.”

  I nodded, staring at the order of service. On the front was the picture of Finn we’d chosen and my heart lurched and tears burned my eyes. I blinked hard, tipping my chin up and breathing deeply.

  I didn’t remember much of the service. I recalled stumbling over the first verse of the first hymn, but after that I was crying too much to sing. Alison indicated when I was supposed to go up and read my eulogy, but I’d never written it and was empty-handed. I inched past Paul and up to the lectern, where tears streamed down my face and splashed on to the wood. I swallowed hard and looked up.

  “Finn Cullen was my best friend,” I managed before breaking down again. “He was from the moment we met, nine years ago.” I took another breath. “I told him the other day that he was perfect. He was. I loved him with all my heart. And I miss him so much.”

  I scuttled back to the pew and buried my head in my hands. Alison drew me against her and Paul slid his arm around me from the other side.

  Most of the rest of the service was a bit of a blur. There were more hymns and some readings from the bible but I couldn’t remember what any of them were. After what felt like eternity, but yet nowhere near enough time, Finn’s coffin was being carried out of the church, ready to be buried, and Alison and I stood at the door while a never-ending ribbon of people shook our hands and murmured words that couldn’t bring him back and gave no comfort. Eventually, we were in the churchyard, clustered around a hole while the man I loved was lowered into the ground in a wooden box and Father O’Keefe said more prayers. The freshly dug earth smelled of leaf mould and dirt. It was a scent I will never forget.

  Finally, the service was over, but I couldn’t leave. Everyone else was going to a nearby hotel where refreshments were being served but my feet were rooted to the turf. Paul and Alison urged me but I shook my head and told them I’d see them in there in a bit. I needed some time with Finn. Helen came over.

  “You couldn’t stand Finn,” I hissed. “Why are you here? Hypocrite!”

  “I’m here for you,” she said softly and I glared at her.

  “Too little, too late.”

  Tears welled up and she blinked, spilling them down her cheeks. A client from the gym stood next to us and put her arm around her shoulders. Like Helen needed any comfort over Finn’s death.

  “Come on. Come away,” she murmured quietly to Helen. “Let Reagan have a few minutes.”

  She led her away and I was left staring at handfuls of dirt on a wooden box with some loose flowers scattered over the top, my world in tatters.

  I sat down, my arms wrapped around my knees, my toes pointing towards the edge of his grave.

  “Dad’s asked me to go back with him. I said to ask me again after…” I stopped and wiped my face. “When he asked, I thought I could, but… I can’t. I can’t go on Finn. There’s nothing. Nothing. I don’t want to be here without you.”

  If ever th
ere was a time when I needed him there with me, comforting me, this was it, but I was all alone. I talked and talked as if he was with me, reliving all the great times we’d had as well as some of the fights. Then I put my head on my knees and wanted the earth to eat me.

  I became aware of someone crouching next to me.

  “Oh, now you come, Finn. Great timing.”

  “Aeron? We have a deal.”

  My head snapped up. Not Finn. Aegyir, still looking like Rick. I clenched my teeth, furious.

  “How dare you come here.”

  He smiled. “We have a deal.”

  I wanted to punch him.

  He offered me a hand up. I eschewed it. It was everything I could do not to spit at him.

  “I have to go to the hotel. People will expect me. Then I’ll go to the rock face.”

  “You said you needed to bury your dead. He is buried. We have a deal.”

  I cast around me. I’d been out here so long that everyone else had gone to the hotel ages ago. The thought of all the tea and sympathy that would be there decided me. No one who mattered would be offended.

  “Okay.”

  The route up to the rock face from the church meant we would walk right past the cottage. I prayed that I’d be able to go in and get the final dagger in place around my waist; I had no chance before then or once we were on the farm track.

  I turned to the grave. “See you soon, Munchkin.” I blew a kiss at him, before striding away towards the cottage.

  Aegyir kept pace with me. No one from the funeral saw me leave and I wondered briefly what Alison and Paul would be thinking about my absence. I hoped I would see them again to apologise for worrying them.

  As we crossed the town, I mentally rehearsed what needed to happen at the rock face. Would I get to the swords and the vessel okay? What was the best place to hide the daggers so that Aegyir wouldn’t see them?

  We turned on to the lane up to the cottage, Aegyir still resembling Rick as we passed my neighbours’ houses. I stopped as we reached mine and Finn’s.

  “I need to go inside for a moment.”

  “No.”

  Shit! I scrambled for a reason to go in, but in my stress, nothing helpful sprang to mind.

  “I need the bathroom,” I said eventually. “You can come in and wait if you need to. I’ll only be a moment.”

  “No.”

  I felt panic flutter in my chest. I had to get the dagger out of my bag and somewhere handy. I put my hand out to the door, ready to open it and Aegyir wrenched my arm back. I yelled out in pain.

  “I said, no.”

  He twisted my arm up my back and I bellowed for help. Aegyir’s response was to grip me tighter and try to force me to the gate at the end of the track.

  Polly shot out of her cottage. “Reagan?”

  “Call the police! He’s going to kill me! Don’t come any closer. Call the police!”

  She gawped for a second and then yanked her phone out of her back pocket. I didn’t see any more than that. Aegyir frog-marched me through the gate, my arm twisted so far up my back that I was bent over.

  Daggers handy or not, I was going to kill this fucking bastard.

  28

  “You killed him!” I wrenched myself free from his grip, staggering from the effort. “You fucking bastard! You killed him!”

  Aegyir felled me with a punch and I sprawled to the ground, seeing stars. Peering behind him I could see Polly still on the phone, her eyes wide as she watched us.

  “Indeed I did, Aeron.” Aegyir grabbed me by the back of my neck and hauled me to my feet.

  I squirmed to get free, only to be battered to the ground again and kicked so hard I was sure my ribs were broken. Breathing was excruciating. Memories of Stephen’s attack came flooding back to me. I was not going to let that happen to me again.

  “Now,” he said, bending down and speaking into my ear. “We have some unfinished business.”

  He dragged me up again and marched me towards the path that led to the rock face. I squirmed round to look back, in time to see Polly disappearing back into her cottage, still on the phone. Her door slammed. I hoped she was still calling the police and not just hiding.

  As soon as we were out of sight of the cottages, Aegyir stopped bothering to be Rick and morphed into Aegyir. I didn’t care. I was going to kill him, whatever he looked like.

  However much I kicked and wriggled, I was inexorably being dragged to the place where he had connected with Finn. I hoped the sword was still there and I could incapacitate Aegyir enough to use it and get to the daggers. To do any of that, I needed to get free though.

  Before long we were at the side of the large, rounded boulder and I was staring at the rock face, breathing like a landed fish. Aegyir moved so that his arm was around my neck, the crook of his elbow jamming into my throat, half suffocating me. My left arm was still wrenched up my back by his other arm. The two daggers in my boot were terrifyingly out of reach.

  “Here we are again, Aeron.” His voice was harsh and nasal. “Invite me in.”

  My vision was blacking, my brain filling with images of fighting and chaos. Something screamed at me to deny him. His hold on me tightened. “Invite me in.”

  “Where?” I croaked. “It’s just a rock!”

  He laughed unpleasantly. “We both know that is not true… Invite me in!”

  “Never.”

  His breathing rasped in my ear. “Would you rather die? Because believe me, Aeron, I would have great pleasure in killing you after what you did to me.”

  I didn’t answer. I might have had no desire to live beyond that day, but I was determined to kill him in revenge for Finn before then. My legs felt as if they would give way beneath me but I forced myself to stand firm and spot any weak points in his hold on me. I ran several manoeuvres in my head, trying to figure out a way to get myself free. I needed time.

  “I’m a Guardian, Aegyir. You have neither the strength nor the authority to kill me.”

  I had no idea if that was true. I was cobbling it together from the bits I could remember from the book and what he’d said before. It caused Aegyir to pause though.

  “That is true. But that does not make you immortal.”

  I managed to turn so that I could see down the track. Stephen was lumbering his way up it. Aegyir might not be able to kill me, but Stephen would have no hesitation. If I was to stand any chance of ridding the world of Aegyir, I needed to get free and soon.

  I let all my weight drop as if I’d fainted. This increased the pressure on my windpipe as my body sagged against Aegyir’s arm but it also did the trick of taking him off balance, which was my main aim. Despite my height, once I was a dead weight, my centre of gravity was significantly lower, forcing Aegyir into a hunched position. I planted my feet, ready to drive upwards when I was ready. My right hand was now close enough to my boot for me to slip out the dagger I’d secreted there and I gripped the handle of it while I assessed the area.

  Stephen was about twenty metres away; the gorse bush with the swords and vessel about two big strides away.

  It was now or never.

  I drove my body upwards, smashing the back of my head into Aegyir’s face. He staggered and released his grip just enough for me to wrench myself free. I whirled on the spot and slammed the dagger into his right shoulder. A thin trickle of smoke began to emerge from the site. I sprinted to the gorse bush and reached in.

  The sword had gone.

  My breath stalled in my chest and I whirled on the spot. Aegyir smiled cruelly at me.

  “Is this what you seek?” He pointed towards the track.

  My heart plummeted as I saw Stephen brandishing the sword, a smug smile on his lips.

  While I stared at Stephen, my plans collapsing, Aegyir was on me, his arm snaking around my throat again, pinning me against his torso. I bent my left leg, bringing my ankle up, and grabbed the dagger in my boot, turning it in my hand so that the blade pointed backwards before driving it back and into Aegyir�
�s middle. He stumbled, another stream of smoke emerging from him, but his face still mocked me.

  “Two is not enough, Aeron. I will just replenish this lost vitality with someone else’s.”

  He stood before me, weakening. But not defeated. And not decapitated.

  My back was a couple of metres from the rock face; the gorse bush protected my left-hand side. The boulder lay to my right but there was an easy path around the back of it that Stephen was now taking and he had the sword.

  My brain rattled over the instructions in the book. I had thrust the two daggers into Aegyir in approximately the right places. The knife sticking out of his right shoulder was close enough. The one in his abdomen was in exactly the right place. However, I needed all three in before I could lop his head off.

  As fast as I could, I jammed my hand into my bag. I felt the dagger and grabbed the hilt.

  Stephen was advancing along the path behind the boulder and was about five metres away now. Aegyir had a sneer on his face, standing just clear of the area where I’d sprinkled the soil with Finn. This wasn’t going as I’d planned. I took a step back, moving closer to the rock face.

  “Traitor. You are not welcome.”

  The voices filled my head, snarling and full of venom.

  “You cannot defeat me on your own,” mocked Aegyir. “And I see no signs of any Guardians coming to help you. They will never accept you again. You do know that?”

  He stepped back on to the area where Finn and I had scattered the soil, almost as if taunting me. The voices from behind me grew louder. I moved forwards, hoping they would fade.

  They did. But I’d been forced closer to Stephen. He was now less than two metres away, waving the sword around – my sword – as if it were a plastic toy. Aegyir advanced. The gorse bush that had been my protection was now trapping me.

  I needed Aegyir close enough that I could stick another dagger in him and I needed my fucking sword back. I sucked in a breath. Aegyir wasn’t the threat; Stephen was. If I could just punch him hard enough, he would drop the sword.