Guardian

by P B Hughes

  “What if we aren’t strong enough?” said Gregory. “What if we arrive and can’t stop them? Then what? The man from my dream warned me, you know; he told me that I’m going to ‘die like the rest.’ His prophecy will come true and it’ll be all your fault.”

  “Man from your dream?” Nera asked.

  “Jelani knows. I told him on the rooftop the night before we left the Imperial City.”

  “Oh,” said Nera. “So now we’re trusting dreams, are we?”

  “I don’t care if you believe me or not. I know that dream meant something—something big. So the answer is no; I won’t do it. I won’t put myself through that kind of danger and won’t put Martha through it, either. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

  “You can’t speak for me,” said Martha suddenly.

  Gregory felt his heart sink at the sound of her voice. Not you too, he wanted to say. “Martha,” he said, “I just don’t think you—”

  “Don’t think what?” Martha interrupted. “Don’t think I’m strong enough? Well then…you don’t know me very well.” She stared at Gregory with such intensity it made him want to look away. “I saw my parents murdered in front of me.” Her voice cracked and she paused. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Those men and goblins had no compassion—no goodness in them. If Vut’Al Choshek comes back, they’ll join him—and all of Orsidia will crawl with evil men just like them. I can’t bear the thought of another little girl being forced to watch the killing of her parents. There will be enough orphans in Orsidia by the end of this war. And if the summoning can be stopped—if there’s even a chance—then we have to do it. We have to, Gregory.”

  Gregory stared at her. He knew the story of her parents from Mordecai, but she had never spoken of it as long as he had known her. And then he thought of his own mother. She had been murdered by Irachnian rebels, and he had held her as she lay dying in the snow that terrible night. But Martha didn’t know his story. He had never told her—or anyone—what had really happened.

  And then he wanted to tell them. He was afraid of watching Martha die, just like he had watched his mother. But he couldn’t bear to let the thought escape from him. It was too painful to put into words.

  “Martha,” he said. “Martha I…” he stared down at his feet. “You probably think I’m a coward. But I’m just trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” she said. “I can protect myself! I have powers, too. And what will we do if someone falls? Many people can wound and kill; few people can heal. I’ll not abandon the world when it needs me most.”

  Gregory stared deeply into her eyes. He felt ashamed that even Martha, that timid girl who never spoke as a child, was even braver than him. A vision flashed in his mind—of Martha being attacked by Cythes and goblins. He couldn’t bear the idea of not being there to protect her. She didn’t want his help, but she would have it nonetheless.

  “All right,” he said softly. “All right, I’ll go. But if things don’t go as planned, then we run. I’ll not let this be a suicide mission.”

  “Agreed,” said Nera. “We need to get as much information as we can from Chief Korophant. Once we know what the ritual entails, we can make a plan. Now, let’s get some sleep. Night’s on its way and it wouldn’t do to fall asleep on our giant bats, now would it?”

  Gregory nodded, feeling only slightly better. Perhaps, while they were all flying toward the danger, the rest of them would realize their mistake and turn back. Or maybe, just maybe, they would actually stop the ritual and keep Vut’Al Choshek imprisoned.

  But the positive thoughts that stirred in his mind evaporated when he laid down in the darkness to sleep. He felt the pull of his golden circlet with its shimmering black jewel. Quietly, he unfastened the top of his pack. By now, it had become second nature to reach in, take it out, and stare at it in the darkness. He took hold of it. Immediately, he wanted to run again. The treasure was his freedom. He could escape forever, and he would. He didn’t want to be the Guardian of the world any longer.

  And then two red eyes appeared to him in the darkness, staring down at him from the ceiling.

  It was his guardian. He felt oddly unafraid by the creature’s presence, as if he were expecting it to appear.

  “What are you?” Gregory said. At the sound of his own voice he started, afraid he would wake the others.

  “Do not fear,” replied a heavy, rumbling voice. “Only you can see me.”

  Gregory looked over his shoulder to the left and right. His friends did not stir. He stared back into the eyes. “What do you want with me?”

  Though there was no face, Gregory could tell the eyes looked amused, as if the invisible mouth behind them was smiling. “To help you escape.”

  “But why?” Gregory asked. “Why have you been helping us?”

  “Not them,” the voice responded coolly. “You. For you have helped me.”

  “I helped you? How on earth have I done that?”

  “You set me free. You are my vessel. I am your Protector.”

  “When I…When I took the crown? So you’re my curse?”

  “A Curse to some. A Blessing to others. For I am true power.”

  Gregory felt it. He knew it wasn’t a curse like Jelani had said; he knew the creature was keeping him safe.

  “Who are you?” said Gregory

  The voice laughed and the eyes slid away from him. “I am the Lurker. The Spirit of Living Shadow. Flesh-Ripper, Blood-Drinker, Bone-Biter. The Power of the Dark One.”

  Though Gregory knew he should be frightened, he did not feel it. In fact, he felt emboldened—as if he now had no reason to fear anything—for he had the might of the Dark One standing with him. Vut’Al Choshek couldn’t touch him, not with this creature at his side.

  “Quite the resume,” said Gregory. “I take it you want something from me.”

  “To flee. To fuse with your soul and grow inside you.”

  “But how can I run away? The goblins will take notice and the others will follow me.”

  “I will help you. All you must do is run.”

  And then, the eyes shrank and disappeared altogether.

  Gregory’s eyelids slid open.

  It was a dream. But somehow, he knew that the dream was real. He took hold of his pack and stood. The room was dark, but there was pale light falling in from the tunnel. Carefully, he headed toward the doorway. He was a Guardian no more.

  ◆◆◆

  Jelani watched the silhouette of Gregory stand from one barely opened eye. He had suspected something was amiss. Not only was the boy acting out of character, he seemed to have a constant obsession with the contents of his pack. In the past, Jelani had woken several times in the night to a feeling of dread pulsating through him. Each time he would open his eyes, and there was Gregory, arm inside his pack caressing something. Jelani wasn’t sure what it was. For all he knew, it might have been a memento from Gregory’s family—something comforting. So he left him alone. But whatever doubts he had had before, they were now dispelled, for his greatest fear had been confirmed.

  While Gregory had been sleeping, Jelani checked inside his pack to see what was of such great interest to the boy. As he lifted the flap to the pouch he felt a tinge of guilt. Jelani, he told himself, you should trust your friends. They have earned at least that much.

  But Gregory had been acting so strange; so dark. It was as if he was not the same person. The brave, helpful, witty friend he had come to trust seemed to have vanished, replaced with an entirely new boy—a distrustful coward, constantly afraid his skin might be cut or his comfort compromised. So, despite his qualms with spying on a friend, Jelani knew he had to either confirm or quell his growing mistrust. When it was clear Gregory had fallen asleep, he carefully lifted the flap of his pouch and began to rifle through. It wasn’t long before he found it.

  A golden circlet.

  Anger rumbled inside of Jelani at the sight. Gregory had deceived them all, stealing what was never his! What a
fool he had been to trust him! But then he felt a small sense of relief. The Gregory who had been with them lately was not Gregory at all. He was some bedeviled version of the boy with all his faults at the forefront. Perhaps it was merely a moment of weakness that caused him to stumble.

  It was then that Jelani decided to confront Gregory before they set out—to give him the opportunity to come clean. If there was one thing Jelani’s mother had taught him, it was that everyone deserved at least the chance to repent from their wrongdoings before they were punished.

  And so, when Gregory rose in the dark to steal away, Jelani knew the time had come sooner than he’d wished. Silently, he rose to follow him.

  Chapter 34

  As Gregory walked through the narrow tunnels, he found them empty. There was not a goblin in sight. The sound of his boots echoed eerily against the stone floors, ricocheting down the hall until it disappeared into the darkness. Whenever he turned a corner, he expected to find a group of goblins huddled together, yammering or fighting or doing something brutish. Perhaps they had all gone to sleep, he thought, exhausted from revelry. But he decided that it did not matter what the goblins were doing. If he did see a goblin, he’d just ignore it. And if one tried to stop him, he’d intimidate it. And if that didn’t work, he’d knock it over or burn it and keep on moving. Just look calm, he told himself. Act like you know what you’re doing, and no one will try to stop you. But no goblins appeared.

  “Put it on,” the voice murmured in his ear.

  Gregory halted. For so long he had wanted to wear the circlet, and now he could. He set his pack down and rifled through it until he found his prize. For a moment, he hesitated. It felt as if putting the circlet on his head would change him forever.

  Be a man for once, you fool, he scolded himself, staring into the black jewel. You deserve this. From now on, you are your own king!

  Determined, he placed the circlet around his head. A perfect fit. Immediately, he felt better. All of his fear was gone. It was almost laughable. He had no idea why he was so frightened in the first place. Now he had his protector, and now he had his crown. Nothing would bother him ever again.

  “Run,” the voice whispered in the darkness.

  Gregory glanced over his shoulder, his bravado disappearing. There was nothing there. He began to walk, casting nervous glances behind him.

  “RUN,” said the voice again, much louder.

  Gregory began to jog, a feeling of panic growing inside of him. Something was following him—he knew it—something that would surely kill him. All the feelings of fear that had been growing inside him released at once. And then he heard the pounding of drums.

  Boom, boom, boom.

  He jumped into a dead sprint. His vision blurred, and the rush of air filled his ears. His heart slammed inside of his chest as if determined to break free. He had to get out of the tunnels—to just reach the exit. Then he would be safe.

  He heard the sound of footsteps behind him, running to keep pace. He could not tell what it was, but he knew it meant him harm. Perhaps it was another shaman, or an ogre, or something worse. And so he ran as he had never run before—his lungs burning, sweat pouring over his body. And then he saw it—a crack of pale light just a few meters ahead of him. It was the front door to the cavern.

  Just a few more steps!

  The door was open just wide enough for him to squeeze through. He gasped as he met the frigid night air. The moon cast the whole world in its glow. He could see for miles from where he stood—the whole world lay before him, but for some reason, he felt a strong pull to the west. All he had to do was keep running and—

  His feet fell out from under him, as if the very earth beneath him had shifted. He landed on the ground with a thud, rolling and inhaling dirt as he tumbled. He came to a stop, but the world around him kept spinning. He clutched his head and reached for his staff. Slowly, everything returned to focus. He stared back at the spot of ground that seemed to have betrayed him. Sure enough, a rectangle of earth jutted up from the dirt unnaturally. And then he saw him—standing at the cave entrance was Jelani, his staff aglow.

  Gregory cleared his throat. “Don’t try to stop me, Jelani,” he said. “I’m leaving. The rest of you can go to your deaths, but I won’t do it.”

  “Nice crown,” said Jelani. “From where did you steal it?”

  Gingerly, Gregory touched his brow. The cool gold felt good against his skin. “Fine,” he said, lowering his arm. “I don’t care if you know; I took it from the pile of treasure. My wages for risking my life for the Empire.”

  Jelani shook his head in disbelief. “I saw the circlet inside of your pack earlier tonight. I should have taken it then, but I wanted to give you a chance to confess. What a fool I am!”

  Gregory blinked up at him. He spit dirt out from his mouth and stood. A strange madness began to swell inside of him. It was not simply anger he felt. It was rage—a rage so intense he felt as if he might explode. He went through my things?

  But he held his fury inside. Jelani had always been a good friend, he reminisced. If Jelani would just let him go, things did not have to turn violent.

  “And so,” said Gregory, his voice rising, “you went behind my back. Well, you couldn’t take my royal crown because it’s mine! I deserve it. I’ve given so much of my life to the Empire. And what has it given me in return? Death! They killed my mother and now they want to kill me. I’ll not let them, Jelani. I’ll not let them.”

  “Gregory, you must calm yourself. You do not know what you are saying.”

  “Do not know?” Gregory laughed. “I do not know? No. For the first time in my life I finally know all too well. Oh, Jelani—you pathetic fool! They took you from your family when you were just a child and now you fight for them! Don’t let them trick you anymore. Run away with me. We can get out of here—we can go across the sea! I know there are other places in this world untainted by war and death.”

  Jelani’s eyes dropped. For a long while, he said nothing. “I do not fight for the Empire, Gregory,” Jelani finally said. “You are right—I owe them nothing. I fight for Nera. I fight for you. I fight for my people. If Vut’Al Choshek is summoned, do you think he will conquer the Empire and stop with Orsidia? No. He will not cease until the whole world is his. My people will burn. Your people will burn. And wherever you go, Gregory, he will find you. Make no mistake.”

  Gregory felt his fury diminish for a moment. Jelani’s words—most of what he was saying rang true. But then he remembered his protector. Now he had the power to fight against Vut’Al Choshek, should he come.

  “You don’t understand,” said Gregory. “I have a new power. You saw it back there—it helped me kill the shaman. It rescued us from the goblins back in the hangar. With it I can resist Vut’Al Choshek.”

  “That is a curse, Gregory,” said Jelani. “Whatever it has told you, it lies!”

  “No,” said Gregory, his fury rising once again. “It’s a blessing! It has given me power; everything I need to survive. The man from my dream—he told me I had a grand destiny to fulfill, remember? He told me that if I left the path the Empire has laid out for me, that I would become like a god. Don’t you see, Jelani? The shadow-monster—it fights for me. I have become more powerful than I ever thought possible. The shadow power, the creature, all of it is the grand destiny I’ve been searching for. Nothing can stand in my way now.” His eyes began to glow red-hot. “Not even you. Now go back, Jelani. Go back to the others and tell them what has happened. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Jelani spread his feet and readied his staff. “Is that a threat, Fire-Thrower? For if I must fight you, I will. But I have a warning of my own: if I have to, I will break every bone in your body to keep you from leaving.”

  Gregory sent a wave of energy pulsing through his staff, setting it aglow. “Then I’ll turn you to ashes.”

  Jelani sprang forward, every muscle in his body flexed, the ground rippling before him.

  The earth beneath Gregory�
�s feet rose like ocean waves and he stumbled to his knees. He took aim at his friend. A blast of fire roared out from the end of his staff, spraying wildly.

  Jelani pulled up short—a slab of earth shot up from the ground in front of him, shielding his body against the burning blitz.

  The earth stopped churning beneath Gregory; he seized his opportunity. He held the blast against the slab and struggled to his feet. Teeth gnashing, he trudged forward, his blaze swelling with each step. The flames engulfed the shield, licking over the edges until they reached Jelani.

  With an angry bellow, Jelani rolled out from behind the wall. He swept of his staff across the earth, ripping up a dozen fist-sized stones; they hovered for a split-second and then launched.

  Gregory pulled his staff back, but the stones were too fast. They slammed his chest, battered his legs and arms, and cracked against his skull. The pain was blinding, but Gregory’s fury gave him sight. He sidestepped the last of the volley and, with a mighty bang, a fireball exploded from his fist. The flaming projectile met its mark, and Jelani slid backward, clutching his chest.

  Jelani slammed the butt of his staff against the ground—a jagged pillar shot up. The boy thrust forth his palm and the pillar raced toward Gregory, ripping across the surface of the earth as if it were water. Again and again, Jelani slammed his staff, sending more and more pillars.

  Gregory tried to run, but the first pillar pressed in from his right, the second knocked against his shoulder, corralling him to the left. In a few seconds, Gregory was encircled by pointed towers, churning around him like hungry sharks.

  “Nowhere to run, Gregory!” Jelani cried. “Give up this fight.”