Guardian of the North

by Maggie K West

  And I would find my friends. No matter what it took.

  I moved steadily through the forest, the smoke thinning the further I walked. Tendrils of cold, gray mist drifted down my arms. Light was creeping over the horizon, filtering through the trees. There wasn’t anything burnt over here. The filtered sunlight instead fell on golden leaves, making the ground look as if it was still on fire.

  Then I saw something ahead, fallen on the undergrowth. I quickened my pace, hobbling up to a large oak. I bent down and shook Bancroft’s sword belt free from the leaves. It was torn and singed, the buckle loose.

  Suddenly a branch snapped in the trees. I whipped around, staring through the haze. A shadow, the Dark Archer, flitted between the trees ... and was gone. I could still feel her watching me. I swallowed my fear and drew Nick’s sword. “Who are you?” I shouted. My voice was hoarse. “Why are you following us?” I waited what seemed eons for an answer, though it was probably only a minute. I wasn’t sure what to do next.

  Then a black-gloved hand gripped the tree trunk in front of me, and the Dark Archer stepped out. Thick smoke drifted between us. Dark, piercing eyes shone beneath a hood. Her deep green cloak swirled across the dry ground.

  I took a step forward. The Dark Archer raised her longbow and drew it back with the faint creak of the string on wood, then held it motionless. I edged away. The tip of her arrow shone in the morning light. The black feathers of the fletching rippled. I was frozen, my sword half-raised, staring through the smoke that grew by the moment at this Dark Archer who stood, unmoving.

  Then the smoke swirled black, and the archer was gone.

  I blinked, lowering Nick’s sword. I couldn’t remember when I had drawn it. The smoke cleared. I gasped, staring up through the trees at a scene I hadn’t known was there.

  Tower turrets rose high above the branches, the sharp pinnacles stabbing into the golden sky. How far had I come? I glanced down at Bancroft’s sword belt in my hand as a terrible feeling sank over me.

  CHAPTER 16

  I fell back in the tree line, breathing hard and fast. The red and black Ealdra flag fluttered over the battlements. I could see guards standing on the wall, scanning the forest below. Some were pointing off to the curling pillars of smoke behind me, rising from the smoldering trees leftover from the forest fire.

  Nick, Natanian, Bancroft, and Perry were in this castle. Somewhere, in those halls and chambers swarming with Ealdra, my abducted friends were being held captive. If Daniel’s reaction to seeing Nick indicated how the rest of the Ealdra would treat him ... there was no way they would let him escape. Or let me break him out. Maybe this power of ours was a curse, as the Sorcerer who made the Golden Arrow intended.

  The gates swung open with a creak that carried all the way down the slope. I backed further into the tree line, into the shadows, landing on a stone and causing my injured leg to throb. I bit my lip, stifling a cry, then peeked out around a tree trunk. A group of Ealdra soldiers marched out the gate, talking loudly. I caught only a few words, but one of them was Nick.

  I carefully moved around the tree trunk, looking up at the battlements, and shivered. The castle was massive. If I could even get in, how would I ever find Nick and the others? I knew Fort Calmier, I’d grown up there. But this was totally different. This was Ealdra.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The group of soldiers was gone. I looked back, trying to find any way I could possibly get inside. High on the wall, someone had propped their spear against the battlements. An idea started to come to me. I was fast.... If my leg would cooperate, I just might be able to make it.

  I raised my hand and closed my eyes, sinking back into my body, driving down the pain searing through my leg, focusing on nothing but my breath and the feeling of the cold energy twisting in my chest. I felt the chill rise, tingling outward to my fingertips. I opened my eyes, concentrating on the spear. Cold wind rustled through the leaves above me. The spear shifted slightly. I took a deep breath, letting the world fall away. This was much heavier than any stick I had moved during my training with Bancroft. But I had to do it. I had to move that stupid spear.

  I took another deep breath, pushing away any bit of fear still festering inside me. I forgot about the soldiers on the path behind me. I forgot about the sharp battlements towering above me. I forgot about my friends and Perry likely imprisoned in those walls. I breathed out.

  The spear crashed to the stone.

  The noise made me jump. An Ealdra soldier appeared over the battlements, picking up his fallen spear. Not good enough.

  Stay focused, Jack. I turned away and braced myself against a tree trunk, my leg twinging in pain. I closed my eyes, and this time, I let the pain and fear crash over me.

  They were probably dead. All of them. I was never going to see them again. I was going into this castle swarming with soldiers who wanted my power, who wanted me dead. I was going to die. They were about to find me.

  I was going to die.

  I raised my arms toward the canopy above me. A gale of wind blasted through the trees, catching the leaves and tearing them from their branches, twisting up through the air.

  I glanced back at the wall to see the soldier lean out over the battlements in confusion. Then he pulled back and called to the other guard.

  They were going to find me. They were going to kill me. I was never going to see my mom or my dad again. I was never going to see my Great-Aunt Isabel again. I was never going to see Kara, or Nick, or Natanian again.

  A tornado twisted in front of me, swirling mist rolling off my arms, wind tearing through the trees. The guards turned toward the wind whipping through the forest before me.

  “Who’s there?” the soldier shouted.

  This was it. I dropped my crutch and spun around the tree trunk, taking off toward the Ealdra castle. I bent low and ran, skirting the wall, toward a small door a few yards away. I yanked open the door and ducked inside.

  CHAPTER 17

  The courtyard was swarming with life. Carts carrying stacks of weapons rumbled past. In one corner, Rangerians sparred in front of a Master. I glanced down at my clothes, at my dirty jeans and sweatshirt, suddenly thankful I’d changed out of my Áccyn tunic. About half of the soldiers here—those who weren’t on duty today—were dressed about the same as me, though much less dirty. I hadn’t showered in several days and smelled strongly of smoke. If the smell and dirt didn’t give me away, there was one other thing that that would for sure.

  I was a Rangerian. That was dead obvious to any of these soldiers. There weren’t too many of us, so everyone knew who the Rangerians of the court were. I had seen that pretty clearly in Fort Calmier. Now here I was, fourteen years old, a brand new Rangerian with no control of his power, carrying a satchel with the notorious name Rowan Tyler stitched on the inside. I was covered in soot, with the smoke of the still-burning forest fire I must have come from rising high above the trees outside. I should have thought through this plan a bit more. I pressed against a wall, unsure of what to do next.

  A hand clamped down on my shoulder. I stiffened. A chill raced down my spine. I slowly turned around, looking up into the face of a very tall, very slim man. A wide smile spread across his face. The bell rang for the changing of the guards. I took a step back. Then the bell rang again. And again.

  The carts were quickly wheeled away into the castle, the people who weren’t armed flooding in after them as the sound of the warning bell pealed through the courtyard. The remaining soldiers drew their weapons and rushed toward the walls, toward me.

  Oops.

  “Hello, Jackson,” the man said in a silky voice that sent shivers racing out to my hands. My leg throbbed painfully. His fingers curled around the strap of the satchel and jerked if off my shoulder.

  I grabbed hold of it. “I think you’re mistaken, sir; that’s mine.” He ripped it away from me, that smile never leaving his face. “Oh, you don’t want that,” I laughed nervously. “I just found it, sir … in the forest. I was out gettin
g firewood for His Kingship and—”

  “Rowan Tyler,” he read, tracing the letters.

  “Who, sir?” I swallowed. Soldiers were rushing around me now. Reinforcements had come, sprinting up the stairs to the battlements. I’d lost my last chance. There was nowhere to run now. I could only stand here before this extremely tall creep of a man, my feet glued to the ground, my cold wind swirling around me, cursing the fact that I couldn’t bring it under control, as the clang of the warning bell echoed off the walls. Why hadn’t they arrested me yet?

  The man sneered. “Who are you?”

  “Oh, I’m … Jerry. Jerry Nicolas.” I cursed myself again. Nicolas? Really? I forced a grin, holding out my hand. “And you are…?”

  He stared at me with his unnerving smile, his long fingers folded around my great-grandfather’s satchel. “Who … are … you?” he repeated slowly, staring straight through my eyes. The wind swirling around me felt painfully obvious. But with that skinny head of his, he must have been a bit low in the brains department.

  “Give me my bag back,” I croaked, then grimaced. I was going for something a bit more threatening.

  His smile only spread wider. “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here. Does it have anything to do with that bell, I wonder?” He tipped his head, looking back at the bell tower, rising above the keep.

  I closed my hand around Nick’s sword in my sheath. So … that bell wasn’t for me? If it didn’t go off because I snuck in, what happened? Who triggered it?

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “Give me my bag back. Please. Sir. Lordship.” This time the words came out clearly, but I still wished they were a bit more threatening. I held out my hand, and the wind picked up. I quickly dropped my arm, rubbing my hands together, trying to keep the cold chill from escaping further.

  The man stared down at his hands, at the satchel. Then his eyes slowly moved up and fixed on me. Still, his smile never wavered.

  “Who are you, Wind Rangerian?” He said the words slowly, emphasizing every syllable. My stomach clenched. His smile widened. “There’s only one of you left.” He dropped his voice, and a strange, tingling hush fell around us. “You’re Jackson Laudius Marcrombie.”

  I gulped.

  The noises around us sounded muffled, distorted, to my ears. But his voice was clear as crystal: “You know I have orders to turn you over to the Hunters. They all do.” He gestured to the soldiers now pressed in around me.

  Suddenly, it dawned on me. These soldiers couldn’t hear a word we were saying. But how?

  Sorcery. It couldn’t be anything else.

  The sorcerer straightened up, and with my satchel still clasped firmly in his slim hand, he moved gracefully through the soldiers who parted before him without even a glance. I limped after him, wishing now I hadn’t thrown away my crutch. He still had my satchel. And he might be able to lead me to where the others were.

  The instant I stepped out of the line of soldiers, I reached for my sword hilt.

  The sorcerer raised his hand. “You may think them unaware. But any move against me, and these soldiers will turn on you.” His silky voice hung in the air. I released my sword hilt, my hands shaking. The rushing wind around me did nothing to ruffle his gelled-back hair, let alone pull the satchel from his grasp.

  He raised his hand to a tapestry hanging on the wall of the corridor as he drifted past. “It’s incredible what a single arrow can do.” The tapestry showed the Golden Arrow hanging from a wide oak tree against a sea of stars, moonlight glinting off the shining feathers.

  “Yeah, cool,” I muttered. He turned down a set of stairs, his feet in their tall boots stepping so smoothly he seemed to glide away. The foggy remnants of sorcery curled in tendrils around his feet. I glanced back at the tapestry. This couldn’t be … him… could it? He remembered the Golden Arrow, he mentioned the curse the Sorcerer had placed on it a thousand years ago…. I swallowed. This had to be him. I didn’t know how, but it had to be.

  The Sorcerer.

  With a capital S.

  I shoved the thought away and jumped down the stairs after him. I wasn’t going to leave my friends. If I kept playing along with this thousand-year-old Sorcerer, if he didn’t eat my face, he might lead me right to them. And I wasn’t going to lose Grandpa’s satchel. He hadn’t lost it in all his years as a Rangerian, and I wasn’t about to now.

  The staircase moved deeper and deeper into the castle, further and further underground, twisting through fog.

  CHAPTER 18

  The door slammed into the wall. Silence fell in the long hall, ringing around the pillars. He strode across the black tile, the intricate columns rising and curving around the ceiling above him, the sunlight streaming through the windows turning to darkness as he passed.

  “You had one job!” His voice resounded in the hall.

  Androuet dropped to his knees. The tall Hunter, once standing so strong, looked tiny, shriveling before this terrible force.

  “You had three chances.” His voice was dangerous. “Fort Calmier. His safe house. Last night in the woods!”

  “My Lord…” Androuet’s voice trembled.

  He tipped down through the air, darkness collecting around him. “He was a scared, wounded little rabbit, left all alone in the woods, AND YOU LET HIM GET AWAY!” He threw out his hand. One of the Hunters rose, struggling, off the ground. He clenched his fist, and the Hunter imploded into black fog. Thunder rolled outside.

  He crouched down in front of Androuet. The Hunters cowered behind their leader. “Do you remember who you are answering to? Do you remember who I am?”

  “Y-yes, My Lord.”

  “Do you?” His dark eyes flashed. “I am your greatest dreams and your darkest nightmares. I can make you a king or I can turn you to dust.”

  He straightened, “If you fail one more time, you will answer to me. I own you. You serve me. I can destroy you one piece at a time. I can tear away everything you have ever cared about. Or you can bring me a fourteen-year-old Rangerian.”

  Androuet looked up. “But, he’s strong.”

  “I know that!” he shouted. “Look at me!” He grabbed Androuet’s armor, lifting him off the ground. “Are you afraid of me, Androuet?” The Hunter nodded quickly. “You should be. I am the one who caused all of this. Look at me. I conquered death. Eight hundred years, and I am stronger than ever before. But what we are doing … if you fail, if you fail to raise the Gold King…” He pulled the Hunter close and said, “I am nothing compared to what he will do to you.” He let go.

  Androuet dropped to the ground and scrambled back.

  “Orin!” He shouted.

  The boy Rangerian stepped forward and dropped into a short bow, “My Lord.”

  “This is your last chance. I will not stay on the sidelines anymore, because, apparently, you and your Hunters cannot handle ONE LITTLE BOY.” Orin winced. “I will help you, but there is only so much I can do to make this work.” He raised his hand. Orin looked up, fear flickering in his eyes. “You understand that, don’t you?” Orin nodded. “I will take Jackson back to where all of this began. And you are going to be waiting for him.”

  Orin swallowed his fear. “Yes, My Lord.”

  He stepped back. Fog streamed off his shoulders, pooling at his feet.

  CHAPTER 19

  Over eight hundred years,” the man whispered, his voice echoing eerily off the walls as fog streamed off his shoulders, pooling at his feet. “Eight hundred years, Jackson. It’s been such a long time.” This man couldn’t possibly be the Sorcerer… could he? A weird chill prickled the back of my neck. “I remember that arrow, perfectly balanced, every angle sharp as glass, every facet reflecting the moonlight in a hundred rays.”

  “How bored were you to think up that little poem?” I muttered. There was no way he could be the Sorcerer.

  A thick fog coated the foot of the staircase. I froze. His fingers reached into his robes and pulled out a single, golden key. I stared down at the fog, at the dar
k corridor, at the golden key in his hand … and decided it didn’t matter who that satchel belonged to, I was not going down there. I would figure out a different way to get to my friends. I turned and started back up the steps, two at a time, limping hard on my injured leg. I heard the man turn around, felt his eyes on the back of my neck.

  “Jack?” A voice … Aunt Isabel’s voice in the corridor below. “Jack, is that you?”

  I swallowed. My throat felt twice as small as usual. My wind was whirling around me, ruffling my hair, whistling against the stone. I turned back around and slowly limped down the steps.

  The man had not stopped smiling.

  “Do something, please? Move? Frown?” I offered.

  I stopped at the foot of the stairs, staring down at the thick fog—the same kind of thick fog that cloaked Fort Calmier, hiding it from normal eyes. The same fog that lingered wherever there were traces of sorcery.

  “Jack?”

  We never should have left Aunt Isabel alone. I knew this was going to happen. I knew the Hunters were going to get to her. I swallowed again, painfully, and glanced up at the sorcerer. “All these eight hundred years and you haven’t found a gel that doesn’t turn your hair to concrete?” I taunted. He turned away, drifting ahead of me, his robe sweeping through the fog. He wouldn’t take the bait. “Okay, then.”

  Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I whipped around, staring into the darkness of the cell beside me. We were in the dungeons. There was nothing there. I must have imagined it. I took a deep breath, and kept walking.

  The sorcerer was gone.

  “That’s it; run away, coward,” I whispered, wishing I could do just that.

  “The Great Guardian of the North,” the sorcerer’s silky voice echoed through the corridor.

  I stared through the swirling fog and flickering torchlight, to no avail.