He decided to fall.
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THE MYSTERIOUS MR. SPINES SONG
RECKONING
A blistering wind blew over the sea of yellow grass. Four shadows, dark against the brilliant blue horizon, cantered to a stop. Bones, the leader of the mechanical centaurs turned his face to the wind and inhaled. There was a slight whistle as the air filled the holes where his nostrils should have been. There was a pause. Then he pulled his hat lower, casting a shadow on his skeletal features.
“Macleod,” he hissed. The horseman turned, maneuvering the bottom half of his equine body to face his comrades. The other centaurs were no less horrifying than their leader. But there was no mistake as to who was in charge. They obeyed him, for his unique power enabled him to end any argument and lay to permanent rest any usurper.
Blades, the biggest of the other three centaurs, had the lower half of a plow horse and the upper body of a battle-scarred warrior. He was dressed in scarlet and wore a huge, pitted axe at his belt. “How far is he from here?” he demanded in a flat, electronic voice.
“Two nights, maybe three,” replied the skeleton.
“We have him now,” whispered the third horseman. Blight was dressed in rags, and very thin. Her eyes blazed with an unhealthy light and her filament hair whipped in the breeze like a tattered flag.
“None escape the Four,” agreed Bugs, the fourth centaur. He was lumpy and misshapen, his face a mass of twisted metal and rusted parts. His single, electronic eye surveyed the beautiful countryside and his mechanical brain clicked with possibilities. Pestilence and plague followed wherever he went and he delighted in the prospect of more beauty to ravage.
After a signal from the skeleton, the Four turned as one and set off behind their leader. The pounding of their iron hooves caused huge clouds of dust to billow after them as they thundered across the broad valley.
Edward Macleod had no idea what was coming. And even if he had, there wouldn’t have been much he could do to stop them. They were the Four. And since time began, they had never been defeated.
HEAVENLY WINGS
The icy wind stung Edward’s cheeks as he flew higher and higher. He was pushing himself, trying for an altitude he’d never attempted before. He glanced to his left and right, watching as his long, black wings pushed through the wind, forcing their way effortlessly through the powerful currents.
He felt strong. And this was a new feeling for him. Until recently he’d been nothing but a gangly, insecure fourteen-year-old with a terrible stutter. But now, as he soared above the clouds, gazing down on the green valley below, he felt like that part of him was long gone. It was no accident that he’d sprouted wings. He was a Guardian, a protector of mortals. And here in the Afterlife, he was at home.
The ground below was in miniature. He gazed down through the clouds and could see the peaks of tiny mountains. If he squinted, he could just make out a string of tepee-styled huts next to them. From this height, they looked like a row of thimbles.
Edward smiled. It was Cornelius’s Valley of the Blue Snails, a secret place that most of the Afterlife residents didn’t believe existed. But Edward had found it with the help of his father’s ring.
If only he was here and could see me now, Edward thought wistfully. His father, Melchior, would have been proud to see how accomplished at flying Edward had become. After all, his father had been an important Guardian once, long before the fall that had stripped him of everything, including his wings.
It had been a tremendous sacrifice. But Edward’s father had done it to be with Edward’s mother, a mortal, and had been willing to pay any price. And pay he did—making a deal with the Jackal to join his evil army in exchange for Edward’s mother’s hand. But all along, Edward’s father had a secret plan. When the time had come for him to fulfill his end of the contract and join the army, Edward’s father ran away with his wife and newborn son and hid, hoping to escape the Jackal’s notice.
But there was no way to outrun the Jackal’s Corruption. It was a disease used by the Jackal to convert fallen Guardians into warped, twisted creatures that served only him. The disease had transformed his father from his once handsome form into a shrunken, spiny creature. Worse, there was a hidden clause in the contract that resulted in Edward’s mother’s untimely death. Melchior should have known that trying to outsmart the Jackal had been foolish, but he’d been blinded by his love for Edward’s mother, and his arrogance had been his downfall.
And that was why, after he had unexpectedly sprouted wings at his boarding school in Portland, Oregon, Edward had found his way to the Afterlife. He’d learned that after his mother had died, she had become a prisoner in the Jackal’s Lair. And even though everyone here in the Woodbine told him that it was impossible, he was determined to rescue her from the Jackal’s clutches.
It was getting cold. Edward’s back ached from flying so high and he noticed little ice crystals shining on his ebony feathers. He knew that he’d reached his limit and wouldn’t be able to keep climbing much longer. Preparing himself for the long glide back down, and anticipating the wonderful feeling of riding the air currents, he turned his gray eyes away from the infinite heavens. Gliding was much less work than forcing himself against the wind.
As his long body drew a graceful arc in the air and turned downward, he spotted a glittering speck on the horizon. At this distance, he couldn’t tell if it was a bird or a Guardian.
Maybe it’s Tabitha!His Guardian friend flew better than anyone in the Woodbine. Wouldn’t she be impressed to see how high he was! Edward flapped toward the speck, eagerly anticipating the meeting.
As he drew closer, his powerful wings suddenly faltered.
Rolling, black clouds filled the sky behind the other flier, punctuated with intermittent flashes of lightning. Turbulence caused his wings to lose their lift. His stomach flip-flopped as he struggled to maintain his course.
But the approaching figure seemed undeterred by the storm. As it grew larger, Edward could tell that it was moving through the buffeting winds with greater ease than he was. He could see now that it wasn’t Tabitha. Whoever it was, was a much larger and more powerful being. For a moment, Edward thought that it must be Jemial, the huge Guardian warrior he’d met shortly after he’d arrived in the Woodbine.
But then a flash of lightning reflected off the shiny object the figure held. Edward gasped, realizing what it was. A chill deeper and more penetrating than the icy winds he’d been fighting filled his bones. Grasped in the powerful figure’s hand was a pair of long, bladed scissors, a weapon carried by the one person Edward dreaded more than any other. It was Whiplash Scruggs, the Jackal’s most fearsome commander. And Edward knew, with a terrible, sickening feeling, exactly why he was carrying the silver shears.
Edward tried to turn back. But the wind was howling all around him and the storm was closer than ever, making any maneuver difficult. He strained against the turbulent air, pushing himself as hard as he could against the forceful gale. His wings were battered by the heavy wind, slowing his progress to a painful crawl. His heart hammered in his chest. He had to get away!
He glanced behind him and saw, to his horror, that his bulky enemy was now directly behind him. He could see the man’s piggish features clearly now. Scruggs’s pointed teeth were bared in an animal snarl and his piercing, blue eyes bore into Edward’s own with hungry anticipation.
Suddenly, he felt a hand close around his ankle. Then the voice he dreaded more than any other shouted in a terribly familiar Kentucky accent, “You’re mine, Bridge Builder!”
1 Mi’kael has been universally recognized as the most powerful commander of the Guardian Forces.
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