Guardian: Book Two, Feather Book Series

by Abra Ebner

  Another rumble cracked across the sky, shearing down to earth right in front of me as I jumped backward, also changing into a raven before my feet hit the ground. I banked back and around the now smoldering crater and caught up with Sam as he too fanned his wings and took flight, now ignoring the fact that flying made his body twice his original size, marking him as an obvious target and sparing Margriete and I.

  He shielded Margriete below him as I pumped my wings harder than I ever had in order to keep up, the rain pounding hard across my feathers and filtering from my tail, making it hard to navigate the air. Another crack lit up the sky, hitting the ground beside us as the bolt split, the smaller half igniting across the sky in slow motion, nicking the tip of Sam’s wing as I heard him cry out in pain, his body jolting down to earth where he cut through the muddy desert ground, leaving a deep trench about fifteen feet long.

  The last rumble filtered into the distance, the clouds now somehow content with the injury it had inflicted and twisting east and away from us as whiter clouds suddenly filled the skies. I landed on the wet ground right next to Sam as he lay on his side, half grunting from the pain and half laughing. I quickly changed and placed one hand on his smoldering wing, inspecting the spot where the bolt had hit him.

  Sam shook his head as Margriete trotted toward us, mud layered in thick clumps to the fur on her feet. She shook the rain off her as she changed, her spine arching up into a standing position.

  “Sam,” she gasped, falling to her knees as she placed her hand on his wing, pushing me out of the way.

  I couldn’t help but deny the way she had reacted to the situation, as though Sam had suddenly meant much more to her than she had previously revealed.

  “Sam, does it hurt? Will it be ok?” Margriete tried to heal his wound, but in this world it was no use.

  Sam smirked and sat forward. “Oh stop mothering me, I’m fine. It’s nothing more than a battle wound.” He grabbed Margriete’s hand and pulled it away from his wing, his fingers laced around her wrist as though it were a twig.

  They stared at each other for a brief moment before Margriete thrust her arm out of Sam’s grasp, grumbling and falling back onto her butt.

  A sharp exhale rushed from my lungs as I realized what had just happened. Looking away, I hid the smile that was growing on my face despite the somewhat stressful situation. Margriete actually cared for Sam, cared for him in a way I could tell she didn’t know how to react to. When I looked back, Margriete was rubbing her wrist as Sam tended to his feathers, tucking his wings back into his back and standing, the tension now thicker than the clouds that had began to shroud us in their swirl back around the vortex.

  “I think we should get going,” I pressed. The wind picked up then, just as it had before.

  Margriete looked to the sky and adjusted the pack on her back, turning with an abrupt grumble and walking forward with one arrogant step. Sam looked at me and shrugged, winking as he gave me a partial smile. He had heard everything I had thought about the situation, right down to the thoughts in Margriete’s head as well.

  We walked forward then, both struggling to keep up with Margriete. The storm was still a ways off, but up ahead I could just make out the edge of what seemed a cliff, the desert floor ending in an abrupt drop-off. As we came closer, it almost seemed as though the world suddenly ended, and all that was beyond this point was swirling clouds and a sea of misty air. Margriete halted just inches from the edge, craning her head and looking both ways. She grabbed the book from her back, her face still painfully twisted as she tried to make sense of the earlier incident.

  Distracted, it took her a while to get the book open and flip through the pages, the wind also creating an annoying obstacle. Sam walked right up behind her, looking over her shoulder and reading along, antagonizing Margriete even further. She took one angry step left, twisting away from Sam and talking to herself, her finger pressed hard against the glowing paper of the book, causing the gold lettering to sear off the page in her flustered attempt to read.

  Sam gave me another wink and I tapped my foot, narrowing my eyes at him. I looked overhead at the impeding clouds, now only minutes from where we stood. I crossed my arms against my chest and inched closer to the edge, looking over as I felt the vertigo of the cliff as it dove down through the misty clouds and into nothingness, the world still black and white, emphasized by only the subtle light escaping from the sky. Below, the misty fog sat still like a giant pool of cotton, the wind unable to reach it as the cliffs shielded it from this landscape.

  A large drop hit my forehead and I looked away from the crevasse and back toward Margriete. Her eyebrows looked more relaxed and I could tell she had found something helpful as she seemed to weigh the information on the page with that of our surroundings.

  “There should be a ladder somewhere here,” a drop of fat rain hit the page she was reading and she shut the book.

  I looked over the edge, “Where?”

  Sam approached the cliff, now squinting and craning his head as well.

  The wind was really beginning to pick up, threatening to push us over the edge as I continued to search.

  “There!” Sam yelled over a heavy gust and I looked in the direction he was pointing.

  Squinting even harder as the sand began to swirl over the edge, I saw something jut from the cliff. It tangled downward and I struggled to discern how Sam had even seen it to begin with. The clouds clapped in the distance, sending chills down my spine. Margriete motioned us toward the ladder, picking up our pace as we hurried to reach it before the storm. Sam spread his wings and flew out over the edge, his injured wing struggling, but holding as he spiraled around and downward, inspecting what he had seen.

  He flew back up toward us, yelling across the distance, “It seems safe!”

  Margriete didn’t hesitate as she put one hand on the rough wood that seemed to grow from the earth, and as I looked closer, that’s exactly what it did. She threw herself over the edge as the large root ladder groaned and twisted under her weight, but still strong enough to hold. I placed one hand on the twisting root, looking skyward once more before ducking below the surface of the cliff, the wind ceasing almost instantly.

  Rain began to fall in heavy bands, but as we descended, we were safe from the storm, now shielded close to the edge. Sam continued to spiral downward and as we became engulfed by the misty fog, the world was suddenly silent and Sam was no more than a blurred figure beside us.

  THE LAKE

  “Sam!” My voice echoed but I was unable to see just what it echoed from. “Sam, are you still there?”

  I heard a deep throaty laugh as the fog beside us swirled and Sam flew closer to the ladder, “Still here.”

  I looked down at Margriete, wondering if she was as tired of climbing as I. It had been at least an hour since we descended below the ridge of the desert floor and I wondered if this ever had an end, or if we’d end up in China. The rooted ladder was bound to the mountain, still creaking under our weight as it grew downward and out of our view.

  Margriete looked up at me, her face taxed and tired. The light was slowly growing dim and I knew it meant that the night was coming. I didn’t want to be stuck on the ladder in the darkness, though with the thick clouds, it already seemed as though we were.

  I tried to think if I had ever seen fog quite so thick, and my mind helplessly wandered back to Seattle on a crisp fall morning. The fog would often settle between the buildings, creating a sort of blanket that had felt so comforting as though choking out all the greed and hate of the city, leaving nothing but silence. It was then that I realized that we must be close to water, for what else could create such a dense fog, trapped here by the overhead storms and swirling clouds.

  I heard Sam yell from somewhere below us and I snapped out of my mind and listened again as he repeated himself.

  “Not that much farther, I think I see the ground,” he yelled.

  I snorted, “See? How can you see anything?”

&n
bsp; Margriete allowed herself a chuckle but it was instantly thwarted as she abruptly dropped through the bottom of the fog and everything came clear.

  I paused and looked around, the fog floating just above me now as I descended another few rungs. The thick cloud was suspended like dry ice, as though something invisible had been holding it there. I looked down past Margriete, seeing the ground only a few feet below her. In my excitement to get off the ladder, I pushed away from the wall and jumped over her, hitting the ground with surprising softness as sand gave below my feet.

  I ruefully rubbed my sore shoulders, holding my arms at my sides as the blood ran to my fingers, tingling with such discomfort, I found myself shaking my hands to relieve the pain. The fog continued to linger and it felt as though I were in a house with a low ceiling, my claustrophobia setting in. Sam’s tussled hair was nearly touching the clouds, but as we stood there, they lifted slightly, readjusting themselves after our assured agitation inside it.

  Looking away from the cliff wall, I saw that the sand extended about fifty feet before it gently sloped into a body of water. There were no waves that lapped against the shore and I was amazed by the silence, finding myself so used to the roaring life of this world.

  Approaching the water’s edge, I looked down into it, seeing my de-saturated reflection look back at me through the glassy surface.

  “Perfect,” Margriete came up beside me, a look of satisfaction on her face.

  “Perfect?” I gave her a sour look, pressing my forehead together, “We’re stranded.”

  Margriete looked at me with disdain, “Have I lead you astray yet? Elle, you’ve got to trust me, just wait.” She plopped down on the sand, crossing her ankles before her and propping her elbows on her knees.

  “We’re just going to wait?” I looked down at her, my body irritated and anxious to move forward.

  Margriete nodded and tapped the sand beside me as Sam walked down the beach, assessing the situation.

  I plopped down next her, finding myself defeated. A heavy exhale drained the life from my body as I melted into the soft sand. Despite my need to go on, I could not deny the fact that I needed a rest.

  A few minutes passed before I looked back at Margriete, her eyes closed and her mouth frozen in a half smile. “What are you thinking about?” I broke the silence, my voice carrying over the water.

  Margriete slowly opened her eyes, her long silver hair perfectly layered against her back. “I was thinking about Matthew, and when we were happy.”

  I looked down into my lap, tracing my finger through the sand and making a circle. Edgar’s ring dangled downward like a pendulum, swinging out toward the water as though begging me forward toward its rightful owner. “You really did love him once, didn’t you?”

  She nodded, tears welling in her eyes but I could tell she forced them back out of pride. “I feel cheated, as though I was always set up to fail, always meant to end up alone.”

  I nodded, remembering what it had been like to be alone. “I can’t imagine what that’s like, knowing you have no future in love.” I expected her to cry, but instead she smirked.

  “But then if I am bound to be alone, as others are, then we aren’t so alone anymore.” I saw her glance down the beach toward Sam before she turned back to me, “Do you ever think you’d learn to love someone else, if Edgar were gone?”

  I shrugged, giving the question a lot of thought, as I had already. “I think that over time, I would learn to love again.” I tilted my head, “Especially for you because you now know who your true love was, a monster and a murderer.”

  Pain flashed across her eyes. “It’s true, knowing what Matthew had become made it easier for me to forget him. After all, he had discarded me in his greed, left me to die. I would have never done that to him and it makes me wonder why we were soul-mates at all. I always figured we shared the same desires, the same morals.” She sighed and pressed her brow together, “I could never take an innocent soul as he had so carelessly.”

  Sam was walking back to us now, a smile on his face. He had heard our conversation, but it was no secret. It wasn’t like Margriete and I had been discreet about it.

  “I feel as though I could love again.” She searched my eyes, “It’s surprising how thrilling it is, to have that feeling light up my soul.”

  I laughed, “So you do like Sam. I knew it.”

  The corners of her mouth pressed into her cheeks and her eyes glittered, “He is pretty handsome.”

  I let out a loud hoot, my voice echoing off the water, the sound magnifying on its way back toward us, “Grietly! That’s gross!”

  “What?” she put her hands in the air and pulled her shoulders up to her ears, “Well he is! And he’s funny. It’s hard for me to keep from smiling every time he opens his mouth.”

  I shook my head and leaned back onto my hands, “I can’t believe it.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Sam loomed over us, his mouth painfully twisted.

  “Oh shut up Sam,” I snorted. Though he knew exactly what Margriete and I were talking about, it was fun to pretend he hadn’t, as though it was our little secret.

  It was getting dark now, and all that lit up the air was the subtle reflections of the calm water. There was something about this place that was eerily calm, as though it was the center of your own mind, where nothing lives but silent thoughts. I ran my fingers through the warm sand, feeling how it massaged my skin and calmed my soul.

  I missed Edgar deeply, and despite our separation, I was certain I would never love anyone more than I loved him. He had not wronged me in my lifetime, nor had I felt he had any beliefs beyond my own. It still bothered me what Edgar Poe had said about the time when I was gone, that Edgar had tried to move on, but failed. I wanted to know whom it was he had tried to love, whom it was that sparked his interest enough for him to try to forget.

  The water lapped against the sand and I looked up, startled by the subtle sound that had previously been void from this world. Margriete perked up along with me, sitting forward as the water lapped again, this time harder.

  “It’s coming,” she whispered, motioning me to stand as she was.

  “What’s coming?” I whispered back, but she gave me no answer as I would find out soon enough.

  We stepped back from the water’s edge, the water now lapping like a summer’s night back on the shores of Puget Sound. I looked to Sam and Margriete, but their eyes were both fixed on the waves. It was then that something erupted from deep within, illuminating the water with a soft blue light, the only thing that had any color.

  The water pushed toward the beach as the thing approached, now disturbed by the movement. As it came close to breaking surface of the water I winced, finding the light now hard on my eyes. Stepping back once more, my heart began to beat faster, the object now just a few feet in front of us.

  It was still silent other than the waves on the shore, but as the light broke the surface, a loud cry filled the air, that of horses. Astonished, I covered my mouth, watching as three sets of giant wings now cut through the surface along the waters edge, the water violently splashing up toward the fog layer above us.

  The horses reared and crashed through the water, their bodies made of a glowing milky blue crystal, like that of the brush Edgar had given me. Their eyes were hollow, as though smoothed out by years of rushing water rolling over their skin. They trotted through the waves now, approaching the beach as their wings remained extended, assisting their advance, yet not quite flying.

  Tossing their heads, they gathered before us, their empty stairs watching us, waiting.

  “What do we do?” I whispered to Margriete under my breath.

  “Get the brush,” she hissed.

  I slowly reached behind me, unhooking the delicate brush from my belt and holding it in my grasp. It too was glowing now, and when the horses saw it, they let out another cry.

  Margriete nudged me forward, my feet sliding through the sand in my attempt to resist her. One
horse stepped forward, its hoof pawing at the sand, nudging me as its crystal nose felt cold against my skin. I lurched backward, watching as my gaze looked through the beast and into its soul where a large crystal heart beat in its chest.

  Margriete again pressed me forward, and as she did so, I thrust the brush toward the animal. The horse lowered its head, its wings retracting against its spine in rueful appreciation. I held the brush out in front of me as far as my reach would allow, inching forward as I placed it on the horse head, moving it in short small circles.

  The horse let out a small whinny and pushed forward, nudging me again, but this time with a playful toss of its head. Sam snorted, stepping forward and grabbing the brush from my hand as the horse before me nipped at him, angry that he had made me stop and pinning its ears.

  Sam gave it a warning glare before bravely approaching the horse to its left. With one fluid stroke, he brushed down the length of the horses flank below his wing. The horse delightedly danced in place as he did so, accepting him despite his rude demeanor.

  Sam then turned and tossed the brush to Margriete who caught it, her face stunned as she slowly approached the last horse. She ran the brush through the crystal mane, the horse’s hairs pinging against each other like bits of glass, filling the air with a soft music. The third horse had been much calmer than the other two, as though sensing Margriete’s unease and adjusting in such a way to make her feel comfortable.

  We took one step back, waiting for the Pegasus’ next move as we all stood on edge. All three horses watched us now, as though suddenly at our service, their eyes darting about. It was then that the first horse let out a satisfied snort, the sound like tunneled wind coming through a church organ.

  Margriete smiled. “And now,” the smile turned to a sly look of satisfaction that glowed in her eyes as the ethereal light from the horses reflected within them, “We ride.”

  CENTER OF THE WORLD