Messenger (Guardian Trilogy Prequel 1)

by Laury Falter

  Jerod and Dante stared back blankly. They did this because they understood our roles better than me. Guardians were doing what they were designated to do…committing themselves, their own wellbeing to the protection of their wards through whatever offensive measures were necessary. Messengers, on the other hand, were trained in defense, capable only of defending themselves, not guardians.

  I, however, didn’t accept my role. I never had. I wasn’t a ward, and I never would be.

  I shoved past them. They let me go this time because I wasn’t moving in the direction of the fighting. They had fulfilled their allegiance to the bond between the messengers. They had kept me from killing myself. That was all Jerod or Dante deemed as their responsibility, and it had been met.

  But they were wrong. Soon the Fallen Ones would find an opening and the guardian’s shield would yield, and then they would need to stand up and fight.

  I glanced overhead at the multitude of Fallen Ones hovering above the single layer of guardians. The only way we would win this battle would be by the numbers.

  I marched into the nearest tent where a multitude of messengers remained asleep, incapacitated in their state. I had been one of the first pulled back to earth, and if I didn’t wake the others we would all perish before they ever woke again.

  How many were left? I asked myself.

  Recalling the clearing before I’d been brought back was unsettling.

  Nearly all, I thought. Nearly all…

  The first messenger I came to was Alban. Stopping at the side of his bed, I pulled back my hand and sent it tearing across his face.

  The slap jerked his head across the bed but his eyelids remained closed.

  It’s the beard, I thought. It has too much cushion. Try someone else.

  I stepped to the next one.

  It was Hermina, and I cringed.

  Raising my hand overhead, I reminded myself it was for her own good and released my palm across her face.

  Her head too rolled to the side and she did not wake.

  Beginning to breathe heavily, I went to another messenger and did the same, only to receive an identical result.

  No… The word whimpered through my mind. They can’t all stay asleep. There has to be something I can do to bring them back…

  I went down the row, slapping, pulling, tugging, and when I got to the end I heaved for the air which panic and exertion had sapped from me.

  Bracing myself, I turned around to face the rows of beds.

  All bodies lay motionless.

  And I screamed.

  It tore up through my throat burning its way out until tears sprang from my eyes. And yet even that did no good.

  Dante and Jerod appeared at the entrance a second later, fearful and inquisitive looks on their faces. When I saw them, something erupted in me.

  Defiance.

  Denial.

  Resolve.

  My appendages burst through my skin to swell behind me as I leaned forward. A single pump by them sent me over the first few beds, my feathers just missing the heads of those sleeping below me. Another thrust and I soared through the tent, over Dante and Jerod’s ducked bodies, and out the entrance.

  There were more tents, more Messengers to try and wake, but something told me that it would be futile. Instead, I went up.

  My sword was already free and pointed at a Fallen One. When my tip met his neck and he slumped forward, I knew that metal or deep punctures had been his weakness. I pulled it out and sent it into another.

  Then I felt the cold slice of metal against my own skin. My head fell just in time to see the first drops of blood begin to tint the tunic’s cloth at my waist.

  The pain at the back of my neck spiked.

  “Magdalene!” Eran shouted, partly angry and partly horrified at seeing me injured. “Get back!”

  There was no time to address him. The Fallen Ones were becoming more riled every passing second.

  I shoved my sword through the guardian shield and it plunged into a stomach. I shifted to my right and sent it into an eye. I moved again and sent it into an open mouth in the midst of a scream.

  By then, my wound was hot and stinging. I placed a hand on it, where it slipped from the loss of my blood.

  “Get back, Magdalene!”

  Once again, it was Eran’s voice over the commotion, and again I ignored it.

  I wouldn’t do as he commanded. They needed every bit of help they could get. Mindful of his constant glances, I stabbed more Fallen Ones as I made my way around the circle, overhead and down again toward the ground. Some of our enemies fell, others reacted with annoyance.

  Then the first Fallen One broke through.

  He wrenched passed Lorencio, who had been preventing it from happening despite a broken arm and a broken appendage, and into the circle.

  Catching the movement from the corner of my eye, I spun around.

  What I saw next took seconds before it was over and left me speechless.

  Below the Fallen One who breached the shield was a massive gathering of messengers. Having revived, they were looking up at the Fallen One hovering overhead with bewildered expressions.

  Lorencio attempted to go after the one who invaded our area but was forced to hold back the others attempting to break the shield. Seeing this, we inside knew one fact with absolute clarity.

  It would be up to us to stop this one.

  Jerod and Dante, the two who had refused to assist earlier, grasped that concept first. Finally casting their fears aside, they hollered and pumped their fists into the air. From behind them, their appendages snapped to their fullest extension and they charged the Fallen One in defense of the rest. Every messenger responded to this sight, snapping their wings outward and leaping into the air, all aiming for the same Fallen One. We met him in a cohesive group, where he was devoured by a twisting ball of limbs and wings.

  I was in the midst of the struggle when Eran’s voice bellowed, “”Messengers!”

  At first, I thought he was warning us away, trying to convince us that his guardians would handle the Fallen One. It wasn’t until the shield overhead and around us suddenly collapsed inward that I comprehended that it had been a command.

  The guardians swept down toward us, directly into the melee. As if they’d never lost sight of their wards, they caught their messenger’s hand and drew them to the ground. As I watched this take place, Eran appeared through the throng, his wings bending and coiling until he had woven through the Messengers to meet me.

  My heart stuttered at his sight.

  He came for me with a vengeance, determination frozen in his handsome face, muscles flexed, and eyes locked stubbornly on me.

  He didn’t say a word as his hand latched around my wrist and we spun down to the growing group of messengers and guardians on the ground. Once we landed, he roared another command.

  “Converge!”

  At that point, I knew Eran had planned for this attack. He was giving instructions as each phase was met, and the next one was to bring everyone together to form an unbreakable defense at the ground level. The challenge was getting everyone together again. We were scattered, some several feet from the rest of us.

  As the Fallen Ones descended, screaming as they came for us, I braced myself. Lifting my sword into the air, I felt the pressure of one land against it, and suddenly I was on the ground with the Fallen One on top of me.

  He seemed as stunned as me until he realized his position. Then he leered at me, opened his mouth, and bared his teeth. As he did, I fought to free my sword, which was pressed to the dirt by his weight. And then the Fallen One’s mouth came down.

  I stiffened, preparing for my fate to be mauled until my body could no longer support this spirit and I was cast away to eternal death. This was it. This was the Fallen One who would win the bounty.

  As his mouth drew closer, something moved behind him and the Fallen One’s head was wrenched upward. His mouth fell open from the strain and a hand suddenly appeared in front
of it. In that hand was a fiery stick, which quickly vanished inside the Fallen One’s mouth only to pierce through to the other side.

  The Fallen One writhed maniacally, jerking with such force that he rolled to the side, freeing me. I was then staring into Eran’s face, his eyes incensed, his lips pinched with concern.

  While he could use his ability to determine that I was free of injury, I sped up the process and vocalized it. “I’m fine,” I said, already drawing up my sword.

  He nodded once, sharply, and turned toward another Fallen One coming at us.

  I pivoted to face the rest, ready for the next one, but what I found instead left me awestruck. Every movement was a blur. Bodies writhed and collapsed in their struggle to dominate their opponent. Appendages were used as pivots across the ground and tools to suffocate. Hands and feet were being used to subdue and incapacitate their opponent.

  As Fallen Ones came at me, Eran intervened always managing to defend me while fighting the one attacking him. He was inspiring, awesome in his technique and power.

  I noticed, as we retreated to the center of camp, that guardians were still following Eran’s command, moving into a circle, expelling or killing the Fallen Ones in the middle. In the center of that circle stood massive barrels that had been placed in a group, ones I hadn’t seen earlier through the destruction of our camp. Each one was filled to the brim with specific objects. One held a mixture of steel blades, another was filled with water, another was on fire. Several others were beside them, which I couldn’t identify. Gradually, these barrels became the middle of our cluster and we came to understand their meaning.

  Hermina took advantage of them first. She had lost her weapon and, empty-handed, she spun around in search of another. Facing the barrels, she dove a hand into one and withdrew a dagger. But before she returned to the fight, she dipped it in the barrel of water. The first Fallen One to feel the edge of that blade screamed and sank to her knees, where she became lost in the frenzy. The blade wasn’t long enough and hadn’t landed in an area where it would incapacitate a Fallen One and yet…it had.

  Those of us who saw it knew the rationale for the barrels, and those who didn’t rapidly picked up on their purpose. The barrels were our weapons against the Fallen Ones. Our weapons. The messengers’ weapons, placed there for our use, to permanently end the lives of the Fallen Ones.

  Eran came into my view and I knew he had laid out this plan. And his strategy worked. Slowly, the Fallen Ones fell to piles across the dirt. As they did, our circle expanded again, defeating more of them, controlling the battle and its outcome.

  As light began to gather in the sky over the horizon, and our enemies’ numbers diminished, something astounding happened, something that had taken place only a handful of times before.

  The last of the Fallen Ones turned and fled.

  As they did, our cheers erupted. Howls and jeers followed them over the hills and into the shadows opposite the rising sun.

  Celebratory hugs and slaps on the back began as I bent at the waist to gather the little energy I had left.

  A head dipped down to check on me. “Are you all right?” Eran asked. The way he posed the question, I knew he had been observant of me since the battle began and didn’t expect me to have sustained any injuries beyond the cut to my waist.

  I ducked my head to that area and assessed it. “It’s just a scratch.”

  He hesitated, did his own assessment, and then nodded.

  Seeing him, dirtied, bloodied, but alive, I wanted to cry for a mixture of reasons…He was still breathing, looking back at me with radiance in his eyes. It was also the first time he and I had truly spoken since he had sent me away from the top of the hill.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  Staring at me, in a way that made me feel his eyes couldn’t possibly leave my face, he whispered softly, “I’m not sure what I would have done if you were…if you were taken from me.”

  His hands lifted to cup my cheeks, cradling me despite overstepping the bounds of guardian decorum, despite standing on the battlefield in the center of destruction, despite others witnessing his conduct. None of that seemed to matter to him.

  I expected him to say something, to follow that gesture with words. Yet what he felt was told entirely through his gaze.

  There was solidarity in it as if he were thinking, “No matter where I am, no matter what I am doing, if you need me, I will come. I will come.”

  The feeling of his hands on me sent a swarm of butterflies loose in my stomach and a rush of heat from my chest to my cheeks. His experienced fingers were firm but tender, holding me as if I were a delicate flower, as if he were torn between giving me freedom or protection. They pulsed slightly, in synch with the beating of his heart, which quickened when my eyes left his to take in the striking features of his taut, restrained face. Then they landed on his lips and his pulse quickened again.

  After all that we had been through, I wanted those lips on me. I wanted to taste his kiss.

  Yet I couldn’t. There was still the other girl who he pledged his affection to.

  I brought my hands to his fingers and slowly pulled him away. When they fell, I released them and swiftly his demeanor changed.

  He stepped back and dipped his head as he reined himself in.

  “Sir?” Ganzorig said, approaching us.

  Eran’s head shot up, but instead of fury I saw pain in him.

  “Sir,” Ganzorig prompted again, but Jerod interrupted as a Fallen One attempted to take hold of his foot.

  “Where,” Jerod said springing to the side, “do we put these things?”

  Ganzorig frowned at his ward, yanked him clear of danger, and asked, “What do we do with the prisoners, Sir?”

  Eran surveyed the bodies strewn around us. I did the same, hoping to avoid Eran’s eyes as we both came back around. He seemed just as dedicated to it as me, going so far as to shift his gaze the last second before ours would have met.

  Sadness blossomed inside me, which I tried to ignore by focusing on the task at hand.

  As a tribute to Daniel and Jacob’s training efforts, not a single messenger had fallen. They were soiled and exhausted and doctoring minor wounds, but not one had gone to their eternal death. However, outside our circle, in a circumference from where we stood, the bodies of Fallen Ones were numerous. And Jerod and Ganzorig were correct. Four of them were moving.

  “We should finish them off,” Alban muttered, stepping toward one with his spear raised.

  “Stop,” Eran demanded, and quickly all eyes turned to him. “They will be detained where we will learn all that we have wanted to know about them.”

  Jerod scoffed before countering, “Where could you possibly put them where they can’t do any more harm?”

  Eran’s eyes met mine.

  “You called these prisoners ‘things’, didn’t you?” he remarked, forebodingly.

  “Yes,” Jerod muttered, perplexed.

  “Then that’s how they will be treated.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: PRISON

  ERAN AND I WENT ALONE. AFTER he instructed the guardians on how to detain the live Fallen Ones and discard the dead, he met me at the barrels, from where I hadn’t moved.

  “We’re going to map the system of caves,” he stated in a way that made it clear I would be accompanying him.

  This astounded me. Despite my rejection of him and the almost palpable tension between us, he maintained a steadfast doggedness to follow his responsibility in watching over someone he considered his ward.

  I was amazed by his resolve.

  As he strode up our hill and past the blackened trees, I watched him move. He had fluidity to his gait that conveyed his strength and flexibility to respond rapidly, which he had used in his fight just minutes earlier. He seemed unencumbered by what had just passed…being surrounded by our enemies, being outnumbered, being responsible for so many lives. He conducted himself now as if none of it had taken place.

  He seemed resilient
to everything. But when I had loosened his hands from my face during our silent exchange with each other, I saw the hurt in him.

  No, Eran isn’t impenetrable, I realized.

  On the opposite side of the hill, he made a cursory survey of the area to ensure no eyes would see us take flight and extended his appendages. I did the same, meeting him in the air as we ascended.

  The remainder of our flight was completed in overwrought silence. Our appendages moved faster than usual, causing us to arrive at the mountain range within minutes. From there, I stopped assessing Eran’s quiet, reserved behavior and focused on our destination.

  When I had first seen it, while in pursuit of the Kohler twins, I hadn’t been given a good opportunity to assess it from the outside. I took the chance then and realized just how formidable it would be. Nestled in the valley of surrounding mountains, the entrance was obscure, nothing more than that small hole against the jagged rock stretching thousands of meters high. It was cut directly into the middle, far from the peak or the foot of the mountain, with no ledges other than its own to summon visitors or wildlife.

  We landed on the ledge outside the cave well before noon with the sun high overhead. Regardless, once we stepped inside the darkness swallowed us. As it did, we withdrew our swords and readied ourselves, neither of us needing to mention our concern over the Kohlers having fled to the cave.

  Making our way in, around a cluster of fallen boulders, Eran stopped and drew an arrow in the sand to mark the direction to the exit. We began to do this every few yards and at every turn, making our way to the cavern. Once there, we floated down to the bottom left cave and entered it together, once again marking arrows back to the cavern. It crossed over the original cave and we backtracked to the cavern to take the next tunnel. From there, we systematically entered and mapped each exit from the cave, every structural weakness, and every area where the prisoners could congregate, neither of us speaking a word to each other the entire duration of our work.

  By the end, we knew that while food and water would need to be hauled in, it was otherwise an efficient stronghold, providing a cavern for its inhabitants and narrow passageways to prevent surprise attacks.