Ghost and Guardian: Part One: Lord

by Sanan Kolva

  “I’m not sorry I called you an idiot.” Cylin folded her arms across her chest. “And I’m not sorry that we dragged you back. But… thanks for the help with Pryor. It’s cold out here. Come inside.”

  Lucian slowly climbed to his feet. His eyes were bloodshot and his walk unsteady. Though she didn’t smell the reek of booze on him, Cylin asked the first thought to come to mind. “Are you drunk?”

  He snorted something like a laugh. “I wish. No. That can trigger an episode. I am, however, exhausted and dealing with a throbbing headache that refuses to go away.”

  It occurred to Cylin, belatedly, that Lucian’s magic had been drained to the dregs yesterday. Assuming the bracelet was new, Lucian must have used whatever little magic he’d recovered to make the jewelry, then come down here. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “I decided that might not be wise. Wasn’t sure where I’d be when I woke up.” Lucian followed her inside.

  “You’d be in Forest Town, at wherever you went to sleep. Or do you mean something else?” Cylin asked.

  Lucian dusted snow off his pants. “Physically, I’d be here. Mentally, who knows.”

  She eyed him. “So, are we testing whether ‘not enough sleep’ triggers an episode?”

  “It hasn’t yet, and I’ve put that to the test plenty of times.” Lucian flopped gracelessly into a chair.

  Cylin shook her head and poured him a mug of hot water from the kettle. “You want tea?”

  “I want my family and friends safe. I want a world that isn’t screwed up. I want to be able to do normal things without wondering what’s about to go catastrophically wrong.”

  “Well, all I can offer is tea. You want some or not?”

  “Sure. As long as it’s not lavender or chamomile.”

  Cylin studied her shelf. “Mint or juniper, then.” She chose mint and handed him the mug while the tea steeped. “If getting drunk can trigger an episode, why did you have that whiskey from the bandits’ truck?”

  “Because I have shitty risk assessment.” Lucian swirled his tea in the mug. “And because it felt like an appropriate ‘fuck you’ to them.”

  Cylin fixed a fresh mug of tea for herself and sat across from him in the cozy living room. A fire burned in the hearth. On the mantle over the fire, her trio of hearth gods gazed over the house, as they had the homes of her ancestors for generations. “Are you going to wait until spring?”

  “I don’t have much choice.” Lucian scowled into his mug, then sipped. “Quick refuses to consider setting out before then, and winter will be over before I’m fit to head back into the spirit realm.”

  “Now that’s an answer to inspire confidence,” Cylin muttered.

  “Chance needs my help!” Lucian leaned forward. “I might have been able to wake him, but I don’t know. I touched his mind, and it was in a very dark place. Someone has to pull him out of it, and I might be the only person still alive on this planet who can.”

  “How dark a place?” Cylin asked.

  “As dark of one as I am in during an episode.”

  She shuddered. “Does he have episodes too?”

  Lucian shook his head. “No, but he was the target of much of my mother’s wrath. He stood up to her, defied her, and fought her, and for that, she wanted to destroy him.”

  That single statement explained so much about Lucian’s reactions during his episode, and why telling him of Chance’s absence had been a relief to him rather than a source of distress. “If you’re the one who can bring him back, you’d better be damned careful, and at least try not to be completely careless.”

  Lucian waved a hand wearily. “Yeah, I heard it from Quick already.” He barked a hard laugh. “He told me he needs me alive, sane, and stable. I don’t think he liked me telling him that the only one of those I could promise with any confidence was ‘alive’.”

  Cylin stood and walked to the hearth. She picked up the middle god from the mantle—a squat figure with a benevolent expression, a knife in one hand, and a bundle of grain in the other. It’s a small house. It surely doesn’t need the watch of three gods. So you can watch over Lucian instead. She turned to Lucian and held the god to him. “I want you to have this. For protection. When... you leave.”

  Lucian blinked in surprise, staring at it. He took it from her hand. “Your hearth god?”

  I don’t even know what elves worship. Do they have gods? What if giving him a hearth god is an insult, or offends whatever power he follows? “I...” She fought the urge to snatch it back.

  “Cylin, this is precious to you. One of your family gods. Are you certain you want to give it to me?” Lucian asked. He handled the god with more respect than she expected.

  “I’m sure.” She put confidence into the words. “That is Ficgesh, a god of protection, and... I’d feel better knowing you had a little more protection, since I can’t go with you myself.”

  “Thank you, Cylin,” Lucian said quietly. “I’m honored.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe it will help... remind you of us here in Forest Town. And anyway, if I’m part of the family, that makes these your hearth gods too, so it’s only right that one of them go with you.” She bit back further words, knowing she would just babble.

  Lucian chuckled softly. “I’m surprised you aren’t demanding to come with me yourself.”

  “I would, if you hadn’t dumped half the responsibilities for Forest Town on my shoulders! And don’t say you haven’t; you know full well who people will look to while you’re gone. And since the other half of those duties will be on Devin and Doctor Kinnel, I’m not about to leave them scrambling to figure out the village defenses on top of everything else.”

  Lucian raised an eyebrow.

  She scowled at him. “It’s true and you know it.”

  “Of course I do. But I wasn’t sure whether you did, or whether that mattered.”

  “You’re such an idiot, Lucian.”

  “Already established,” he agreed easily.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “This is my home too. If all the competent people leave, who’s going to keep things running?”

  “They’d manage, one way or another, if they had to,” Lucian said. “I won’t demand that anyone stay against their wishes.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Did you not fucking hear me, Lucian? Forest Town is my home. I haven’t had one of those since my parents died when I was eight, and the village leaders sold off everything in their house, including me. I’m not staying here because anyone is going to make me do so. I’m staying because this is my home!”

  “I heard you,” he said quietly. “But I wanted to be sure I understood you.” He sipped his tea. “When I was younger, I spent so long looking for a place to call home that I realized I might not recognize it when I found it. What does home feel like to you, Cylin?”

  “A place to stop running. A place where I can just... be, without wondering who I owe debts to, who I need to watch my back around, or who’s going to sell me to the bone men.” She paused. “Wow, that sounds as eye-roll-worthy as some of the worst drivel I’ve heard in fireside tales. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Anyone who would mock you deserves to be punched in the face. And you have my unquestioning permission to deliver that punch to any who you think have earned it.” Lucian stood, hearth god cradled in the crook of one arm. “I know it’s going to be hard here while I’m gone, and I can’t prepare for every possibility. But I know Forest Town will be in good hands with you, Devin, and Doctor Kinnel.” He gave her a deep, oddly formal bow. “Welcome home, and... welcome to the fucking family.”

  Interlude 1: Awakening

  The ground shook with the force of a blast, and choking dust filled the air. Heat burst through the walls as the world erupted in flames. Chance staggered, trying to see, trying to breathe.

  Lucian yelled to him, and he followed that voice, running down a street choked with burning debris. He stumbled over something – a charred corpse. Ahmea helped him up, telling h
im through mind-speak that Quicksilver had gotten Eria to safety, and they had to follow. But smoke and fire filled the air, and he couldn’t see.

  Lucian called again from somewhere distant. He reached for that call.

  Maji appeared beside them. The tall, pale elf grabbed Chance’s arm in a firm grasp, telling him that they had to go. A new wave of attacks was imminent. Before he could protest, Maji teleported, carrying the three of them away from the rain of burning rubble. They landed in a narrow scrap of shelter. Chance coughed in the smoky air, one hand resting on Ahmea’s shoulder, and he shouted for Lucian.

  The world exploded as a blast shattered their shelter, flinging him into the air. He grasped for Ahmea, but his hand caught only the edge of her skirt. His magic was drained and exhausted. He couldn’t stop her when she smashed into a wall, her head cracking against the stone. She dropped limply to the ground. He screamed in helpless anguish as he felt her die.

  Bones broke as he crashed into a smoldering pile of rubble. He screamed again, then welcomed the darkness that promised the end of pain.

  Somewhere, despairing, Lucian called to him.

  The darkness spat Chance out once more. He cradled Ahmea in his arms, as if his magic could return her spirit to her broken body. Cold laughter echoed around him. Raising his head, horror and dread seized him. He sat on the polished marble floor of a throne room. Willow sat on her throne, gazing down on him with a cruel smile playing on her lips.

  “Ah, Chance, you poor thing,” she purred. “You’re all alone now. Ahmea can’t help you any longer. Such a pity. Your folly has killed your mate. Tsk. And after I warned you that you always hurt those you love. Now look what you’ve done.”

  Blood stained his hands. He frantically tried to wipe it away, but it clung to his skin. Willow smiled and rose, walking deliberately down the steps. He shrank back, clutching Ahmea against him.

  Willow laughed again. In her hand, she carried a jeweled collar. “You forgot your place, slave. You are mine, and your futile attempts to deny it only bring pain to anyone you have left.”

  He could only watch her and cower in fear. Once, he could have fought her, but now…

  Suddenly, he was no longer alone. Lucian, eyes burning with golden fire, stood beside him. Willow stopped, shocked by the intrusion.

  “You won’t touch him!” Lucian’s hand shot up, and Willow flew back to crash against the wall. She crumpled.

  Ignoring her, Lucian crouched. “Chance, come with me.”

  He looked down at Ahmea. “She’s gone, Lucian. Ahmea is dead. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t protect her.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Chance. But she wouldn’t want you to stay trapped here forever. Come back.”

  “What’s left, Lucian?” he asked in despair.

  Lucian just held out his hand. Even as he offered it, he began to fade from sight.

  He grabbed at Lucian’s outstretched hand. “No! Don’t leave!”

  “Come back, Chance.” Even the words were fading. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Lucian! Don’t leave me! Come back! Lucian!”

  Lucian was gone, but something remained. Something that called him away from the darkness. Trembling, he rose, and step by stumbling step, he followed.

  Afterword

  Ghost and Guardian Part Two: Vagabond, is coming in September 2021.

  About the Author

  In addition to Ghost and Guardian, Sanan Kolva is the author of the epic fantasy series The Chosen of the Spears and the steampunk fantasy series The Silverline Chronicles. Her short fiction appears in a number of anthologies. She also works as a technical editor for an engineering firm and is a native of Eastern Washington. To learn more, please visit her at https://sanankolva.com.

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