The Word Guardians: and the Battle for the Peacekeepers

by Lawrence Yarham

  “So, what is this stuff?” asked Sam, picking up a pin from the box.

  “That’s a pin that I was so obsessed with one day that my grandma relented and bought it for me. Then this...” she said, picking up a movie ticket stub, “...was the first movie I went to with them. By the way, Grandpa ate all my popcorn.” Sam smiled. “And this was a toy I won at a fairground when I was out with him for the day.” She felt sad for a moment. “That was sometime after grandma had passed, I think.”

  She smiled at Sam to try to lighten the mood.

  “Now I think about it,” she said. “I wonder if the place I bought the pin, or the fairground ride was here or in some other realm?”

  “If he never told you, how would you know?” agreed Sam. “I get it now, why you were never sure.”

  She nodded.

  “What’s this?” He pointed to a postcard laying at the bottom of the box.

  Yas picked it out and looked at it. “I don’t remember,” she said, turning it to look at the back.

  The postcard, if that’s what it was, had a design on one side of two flowers, in black on the white card, their stems intertwined. The flower heads were simple, forming the top corners of the design. At the bottom of the card was a phrase ‘ex libris Brantley’.

  “That’s weird,” she said. “I don’t ever remember getting this.”

  “Ex libris Brantley?” asked Sam. “Is that a place you’ve been to? Or your grandpa went to?”

  The most fleeting of glimpses of something popped into Yas’s mind. She didn’t have time to fully grasp it. There was a spark in front of them, in the bedroom.

  “Woah!” said Sam in excitement and a little trepidation.

  Yas tried to remember what had appeared in her mind again. It was the design of the flowers, she knew it, but it was out of place. She thought it might relate to a town, or a shop perhaps that her grandpa had taken her to.

  The image popped back into her mind as a carving on an upright column, and another spark popped in front of them, but no bigger. They looked at each other, excited by the possibility.

  “How are you doing that?” asked Sam. “My necklace is not getting hot. No book?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Yas honestly. “The design keeps popping into my head as a carving, on stone. Its white.” The spark popped again. “But other than that, I don’t know. What does ex libris mean?”

  Sam looked it up on his phone.

  “Oh,” he said, showing her the page on his screen. “It means ‘from the books of’. Its typically on bookplates.”

  “A bookplate?”

  “Yes, he said scrolling back up the page and showing her the text. “Labels inserted into books that indicate the ownership. Typically used by publishers.”

  “So, this is a bookplate design?”

  “Maybe?” said Sam.

  “I wonder if it relates to his publishing work then?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Sam. “How could we find out?”

  “Oh,” she slapped her hand to her head in disbelief. “Of course. My mom’s maiden name was Brantley. My grandpa’s name.”

  “Right,” said Sam. “So, I wonder why its here?”

  “Maybe I just picked it up one day? My grandpa used to say I was like a little magpie, collecting trinkets and keeping them forever. Maybe its just that?”

  An image played across Yas’s mind again and there was a larger pop in the air in front of them. It had the glowing edge of a doorway, was only a few centimetres high, but it stayed there.”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “What do you see?” he asked.

  “I see a fireplace surround,” said Yas, trying to keep the image in her mind’s eye. “That’s where I’ve seen the design before.”

  “What else?” encouraged Sam, watching the tiny portal in front of them.

  “Not much really. I see the upright of one side of a fireplace. The design is carved into it. Then at the top, I see a mantel and a clock above it. Then, I can’t see it, but I know there’s a fire burning below and its in a large room. I think I’ve been there, but I just can’t remember.”

  “So, is the name on the fireplace at all? Or anything that suggests its your grandpa’s?

  “No,” she replied. “Just the flowers.”

  “Can you see anything more of the room?”

  “I can’t,” she said. If I try to think about it too much, I feel like it will slip away. “I just see the fireplace.”

  “Give it a try,” urged Sam.

  She tried to picture the room the fireplace was sat in. While she could imagine possible settings, nothing really connected with what she was remembering. The doorway fizzled away.

  “Try again,” encouraged Sam. “Maybe more will come back to you.”

  “Okay,” said Yas uncertainly. She concentrated again. The doorway re-appeared, but no larger. Yas closed her eyes and tried to recall more but as soon as she started to add things into the room from her own imagination, the doorway disappeared again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling deflated. “I don’t know where it could be.”

  Sam remained upbeat though. “No. It’s a clue. We just need to try to work out how to get you to remember more. I think that will make the doorway larger.”

  “I wonder if my mom could tell me anything?”

  “Its worth a try, I guess?” suggested Sam.

  In the private library at the mansion, McVale came to. Light streamed in from large Georgian windows that she faced at the front of the house and the room was warm, thanks to the fireplace to her left on the side wall. Two large sofas occupied the floor space and there was an open book on one, together with a long coat and gloves neatly placed on top. A man she recognised was seated on the sofa, reading a book.

  The lower part of McVale felt stuck. She tried to move but was unable to and she didn’t understand why. She checked herself. She felt as though she was standing, but also could feel that she was standing on something, a step or pedestal. She did not seem to be bound, but she also didn’t feel right. Her mind kept drifting off to other thoughts. She wondered what it would be like to be outside. That puzzled her. She moved her head to view the doorway at the end of the room. Her neck moved but it was incredibly resistant. She wondered if she’d pulled muscles or been bruised by the werewolf.

  “Ahh, Ms. McVale,” said Penn from his seat. He put his book down and turned to face her. “Back with us at last.”

  “Mmph humpf humm.” McVale tried to talk, but no words came out. It felt as though she were gagged somehow but there was no physical restriction around her mouth. Her neck though, felt warm, unusually warm and she didn’t understand why. She tried to raise her hands to feel and she couldn’t. The best she could manage was a lifting of her shoulders which, bizarrely, prompted thoughts of being outside and the smell of prey.

  She tried to say, ‘What have you done to me?’ but all that she actually heard was “Murffle mumphel mumph.”

  Penn looked at her and laughed. He stood up and came closer. She was almost her usual height, except that she knew she was standing on something so must have been shorter. She couldn’t understand why. Confusion whirled in her mind.

  Penn reached a finger out and stroked her behind the ear. One part of her said that it was delightful, but her normal mind wanted to tell him to get lost.

  “Mummph,” she tried to say, twisting her head from side to side.

  “Now then,” soothed Penn, stroking her head again.

  Damn, thought McVale with that part that was wondering about being outside. That felt good.

  “I’m genuinely sorry that I’ve had to do this to you,” Penn continued. “But it is necessary you see.” She heard his words and tried to listen, but also found herself wandering off to the daydream of outside. She pictured grassy banks and hedgerows. It seemed harder to stay present.

  “You should be fine as long as they find you soon,” he continued, moving around and behind her. Her neck was stiff, but she was able
to move and follow him. It seemed natural, even though a distant part of her realised that she could follow him much further than she should be able to. ‘Who needed to find her?’ she thought and tried to ask, but only heard a muffled hiss come out. She snapped at him in frustration.

  Penn stood back, then tapped the side of her head lightly in punishment. She saw the movement. It was hardly anything, yet her whole head hurt and spun. She tried to lift her arms to hit him but ended up just shuffling her shoulders again. Her arms felt tied back behind her.

  “Forgive me,” apologised Penn, insincerely, coming back around in front of her. “You are my guest and I’ve not even offered you a drink.”

  He picked up a wide glass from whatever she was standing on and offered it up to her. It was full, but she struggled to get a decent mouthful. The water dripped away as fast as she tried to drink it. She swallowed some more, and Penn stroked the top of her head while she did so. The part of her that she recognised said it was so wrong. She sipped up as much water as she could and then lifted her head and spat it at him. It was not as effective as she’d hoped. He laughed and wiped away the drops, then threw the remainder of the glass at her. She shook her head and realised that the water had run off her without even wetting her skin. She lifted her shoulders and shook herself dry.

  “You will be he perfect bait for this girl of yours and her companion. If they can free you, then they will be able to give us what we need. If not...” he paused for a moment, “then sadly you will forget yourself and stay as you are.”

  ‘Forget myself?’ part of her mind said. Then another part, more present, reminded her that its nice to be outside. The smell of the air, the trees. The sound of the wind and small creatures moving about. She looked out of the windows. She was in some form of daydream. Who was this tall creature that was keeping her here? Why was she inside?

  “You see, the girl is proving more and more important,” explained Penn. “It seems she knows more than we first thought about her grandfather’s work.” He took some steps away from her. “So, we just need to keep you here until she arrives and delivers the peacekeepers.”

  ‘Peacekeepers,’ thought McVale. What a funny name? Why use words anyway? It wasted so much time when there was so much to see, hear and smell.

  “So, I’m afraid I’ll need to leave you for now,” Penn continued, moving away and picking up his coat and gloves from the sofa. “But don’t worry,” he added. “The gargoyle and the lion will help you set the trap for these little mice.”

  ‘Mice,’ thought part of McVale’s mind. She looked around the room expectedly, but then sighed when there was no evidence of any. A bright shiny doorway opened off to her side and the tall creature disappeared through it. She shuffled her shoulders again and looked out of the window and far into the distance. Oh, to be outside.

  The howl of something already there drifted across her hearing and she focussed her eyes quickly to where it stood. There, far away, further than she would have credibly thought that she could see clearly, was a huge wolf, dropping back down onto all fours.

  The following lunchtime, Yas arrived at the school library before Sam. She found an empty table, sat down and started to eat.

  Her head was frazzled. The morning had been frustrating because she was continuing to try to figure out the significance of the clue they had discovered, while also trying to get to grips with new material in her least favourite class, Pre-Calculus.

  She had slept well but felt incredibly tired. She put that down to the activity and emotional roller-coaster of the last few days. She was also disappointed. Her mom had dismissed her requests for information, saying that she didn’t know anything, but Yas wasn’t so sure. She felt that her mom knew something but wasn’t prepared to say. Yas couldn’t press as she felt it would launch into an argument, but she remembered how her mom had glanced at her dad and flatly denied any knowledge. Why would she need to check with him to determine whether she knew something or not? She had hoped to talk to her mom without Dad present this morning, but she had the distinct impression he was staying around more to prevent it. Other than Sam, no-one seemed to be prepared to share anything they knew. It was frustrating.

  She was also puzzled by her mom’s lecture about not skipping school today. It felt like an insult to them both. She’d only ever missed school through illness in the past, so she really didn’t understand where it was coming from. Her mom had warned them both not to go looking for his dad or McVale.

  “Leave it to the authorities,” her mom had insisted. “I don’t want to hear about you both getting into trouble.”

  Sam approached the table. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “It was Math last block. You?”

  “English,” he shrugged, sitting down and getting out his lunch. “I have an essay to write.”

  “I have Pre-Calc,” she moaned. “That’s my evening.”

  Sam nodded, starting to eat his lunch. They both looked into the distance, distracted by their own thoughts.

  “I mean,” Yas continued between mouthfuls, “My mom’s speech this morning, about not skipping school. I know its important, but I don’t get why she had to drill it into us?”

  “Maybe she thinks I’m a bad influence?” shrugged Sam, taking another bite of his sandwich.

  “No,” denied Yas quickly. “I’m sure she doesn’t.” Privately though, she found herself wondering how much truth there might be in that.

  “Look,” said Sam. “I get it. Maybe she’s worried because of what happened to Akoni?”

  Yas thought about that. “Yeah,” she said while chewing. “You’re probably right.”

  “Its just, we need to figure out this clue,” Sam continued. “If Vickers was right, we don’t know how much time is left to find my dad.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “And maybe McVale too?”

  They both stared at the table and ate.

  “Any more ideas?” asked Sam.

  “I still think my mom knows something,” she replied. She felt certain of that. “But we won’t be able to ask her until after school.”

  Sam nodded, while eating his sandwich.

  “What about you?” asked Yas. “Any ideas?”

  Sam shrugged.

  “Only that we need something to help find that fireplace. A picture maybe?”

  Something flashed in Yas’s mind. It went as soon as she realised that it had arrived. “Say that again.”

  “What?” replied Sam. “That we need a picture or something?”

  “Yes,” said Yas, holding up her finger to indicate that she needed a moment. She looked down at the table, off in thought, then looked back at him.

  “I’ve seen that fireplace in a picture!” she said, realisation dawning. “A photo. My grandpa, my mom, and I think me as a young child. Its that fireplace. I’m sure of it.”

  “Do you know where it is?” asked Sam.

  “Its in a box. In the garage, I think. I remember my mom and I going through some stuff last year and we found it.”

  “Sounds like finding that should be our next step then?” suggested Sam.

  “Yes,” she replied, smiling. “And even better, it gives me an excuse to try and find out what Mom is holding back.”

  The rest of the school day could not finish quickly enough for either of them. Sam and Yas raced home after school, part running and then walking when they were out of breath. They entered the house, Yas desperately wanting to find the photograph. She went into the garage, while Sam distracted her mom.

  It wasn’t very long before Yas returned to the kitchen, triumphant.

  “Mom,” she said, interrupting the conversation.

  “Yes, honey.”

  “You remember that fireplace I was asking about last night?”

  Her mom sighed. “Not that again. I told you, I don’t know where it could be.”

  “Do you remember this?” asked Yas, walking over to her and showing her the photograph.

 
Her mom took the photo and looked at it. She was surprised. “Oh my,” she said. “How in the world did you find this?”

  “It came to me today,” replied Yas. “I remembered seeing it when we were going through boxes last summer.”

  “Look at you,” swooned her mom, trying to distract her. “You must have been only three or four.” She showed the picture to Sam. He smiled approvingly.

  “Mom,” said Yas, seeing through the distraction. “Where was this taken?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” feigned her mom. “We must have been on vacation somewhere.”

  “Its in a realm, isn’t it?” pressed Yas.

  Her mom said nothing.

  “If we were on vacation, where’s Dad?” Yas pressed further. She felt as though she was on a roll now. “Why isn’t there another photo with him in it? This is the only one like this. Please Mom? It could be really important.”

  Her mom sighed and handed the photo back to Yas. For a moment, Yas felt as though the conversation was closed. Her mom got up from the table.

  “Mom, wait,” Yas pleaded.

  Yas closed her eyes and visualised what she could from the photo and the bookplate. She tried to imagine as much about the room around it as she could remember, even though she had last seen it long ago.

  A portal appeared in front of her. It was larger than last night, maybe a foot in height. It was still too small to open, but progress.

  Yas opened her eyes, looked at her mom resolutely, and then released the image from her mind’s eye.

  “Where did you learn to do that,” her mom asked, sounding resigned.

  Yas shrugged her shoulders. “Grandpa, I think. Although I’m not sure how I’m doing it.”

  Her mom reached for the photo again. There was sadness and fear in her eyes. She looked down at it, and sighed, remembering.

  “It was a long time before all the troubles. We used to visit this house in the country, in a realm. The private library there was important to your grandpa.” She held up her hands in defence. “I don’t know how to get there, though. I don’t even know if its still there.”

  “Its still there,” said Yas. “I think that’s why he left me the bookplate. He wanted us to find a way back to it.”