Chapter 5 The First Protector
June-Ten years earlier
His feet hit the stone floor with such force, a burst of pain shot up his calf and into his thigh. He reached down and massaged his burning legs for a moment, rubbing out the pain until he felt normal again. He stood up straight and stretched, arching his back, hoping to get his aging bones to comply with his demands. He wasn’t young anymore, and he had a hard time reminding himself that he was not the fighter he used to be. He had lived his glory days and earned his rank the hard way. Battle was not a stranger to him, and he didn’t flinch anymore at the thought of conflict. In fact, he had a hard time not wishing for the enemy to attack, giving him an excuse for a fight. This was his burden to bear. He would live in battle every day if the choice was his to make. But the King’s will for peace far outweighed his own desire for battle, so he must find a way to be content without war. The King believed a time would come when there would never be need for battle. However, he found himself a little disappointed in the possibility. For now, he had been resolved to be glad for any chance to bring harm to the members of the Sepulchre, Armistoria’s enemy that threatened to harm his home and people. A frustrated smile spread across his lips, as he thought of the years that he had been hunting the Sepulchre’s leader, Asheron, and the countless battles that had given him his reputation but not the victory he had dreamed about for so long.
He stepped forward and felt the uneven stone floor, as the chill in the room worked its way through him. It was very dark here and he hadn’t thought to bring a light of any kind. He fumbled in his pockets, remembering the phone that had been given to him. The people of this world would think it was a cell phone, and it did function as a normal cell phone, but only he knew the power it possessed and the instructions for its use, which had been given to him as he left. He pulled out the phone and flipped it open. A stream of blue light came out and wrapped around the room, making it possible for him to see for the first time since he landed. He let his eyes adjust to the new light and saw that he was standing in a small circular room. The walls were a smooth, shiny black with specks of gold and silver, reminding him of the diamonds in the lady’s hair. On the circular walls were seven niches that were about five feet tall and two feet deep. They each held a shelf near the bottom, looking as though they were waiting for something to display. He walked over to the first niche, where something metallic was flashing and gleaming in the blue light. He held it up for a moment and studied the unfamiliar object. It was shaped like a horseshoe, but in the bottom of the “u” was a very skinny and short rod pointing to the top. He put it down, not sure what to make of it, and shrugged his shoulders. He had been warned about this room and knew not to mess with anything. He figured he’d be back when it was all said and done and could worry about it later. He turned to see the only entrance and exit was a large spiral staircase that appeared to be cut out of the stone wall behind him. Just as he was about to ascend the staircase, something caught his eye. On the wall, between the two niches closest to him, was an engraving. He walked over and ran his hands over the picture. It was a large shield with two swords crossed behind it. On the shield was a picture of a cup with a crest on it. The cup didn't seem that spectacular to him, as he had seen some magnificent cups in the King’s castle, but the crest was the same as on the city gates of his home, Armistoria. He walked over to the next niche and noticed another shield engraved into the wall. In fact, there was one between each niche, seven in all. All the shields had pictures of differing objects, each bearing the King’s crest. He sighed, knowing he was losing time, but fascinated with this room. He would have to make a point to come back sooner than he planned. He turned and started to ascend the staircase, the continued upward for quite a distance. When he reached the top, he came to a door made out of hard earth. He pushed on it, trying to pry open the edges that seemed to have been sealed for centuries. The door finally opened, revealing a small hill. He stepped out and pushed the door shut, amazed as it blended with the browning grass covering the large mound of earth. He turned around and saw that the hill opened out to an empty lot in the middle of what appeared to be a busy part of a major city. He ran through his debriefing and remembered he had been told the name of this place was Boston. He pulled a small envelope out of the modest pouch around his waist. He had a map to the train station and had instructions on how to get the right train, not fully understanding what a train really looked like, heading toward upstate New York. He had been in training for many months and was suddenly grateful for the tips and techniques on how to blend in with this world. His teachers had pulled many books from the library of histories and taught him how they dressed, talked, walked, ate, what their homes were like and anything else they could think of to help with the shock he was likely to undergo. He was the first person from Armistoria to make this journey and had been willing to be the test pilot. No one had ever dared to time travel, fearing the implications it had on their lives. But the King decreed the time of the prophecies had come, and for the room of transition to be put into use once more. He was told, by the King, the room had been used in the past, but it was so long ago that the history of it had been lost to his people. The King, being eternal, had lived the histories himself, but in his wisdom did not share the knowledge of time travel with the generations that followed. In fact, he had shared the knowledge of the room with Armistoria’s council members only one year ago. Tildon thought about being the first one through and chuckled at how much commotion was made over what now proved to be a simple journey. He figured the council wouldn’t believe him when he got back, not wanting the travel back into time to be such a simple matter after all their work and speculating. He sighed, knowing this mission was his chance to escape becoming stuck in one of the teaching compounds for new soldiers, as his fighting days were coming to an end. He shuddered at the thought of only being able to simulate a fight for the rest of his life. The thought of never being able to come face to face with his enemy frustrated him so much that he could feel the burn of anger on the back of his tongue. He pushed the thought aside, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good to get worked up.
He pulled the map out of the pouch, studying it for just a moment. His stomach growled, reminding him of the money they had given him from the antique reserves. He reached in his pouched once more and clenched his hand over the strange green bills. He would need to start walking in search of food. He looked toward the street, watching the boxes that were moving at a rapid pace up and down a black strip of ground. These must be cars, he thought quickly. Now, what was the black surface called? Roads, he reminded himself, silently swearing at for forgetting such a simple fact so soon. He looked on the sidewalks, just slightly higher than the roads, and saw people walking hurriedly, colliding into each other as they pushed their way through the crowd. He studied the people for a moment to see if his training was adequate to make him not stand out in this suspicious world. He noticed that, as they passed, no one was talking to one another or even looking at each other. His teachers had been right. These people were very consumed with themselves and didn’t have the time for others. He was shocked at the sheer number of them, forcing himself to make a conscious effort to keep his mouth from falling open in awe. At home, everyone made an extra effort to greet a stranger in passing, and it was required to help them if they were in need. He smiled, thinking he might like the ways of these people better. He found himself annoyed at the formality of Armistoria and silently wished people there would ignore him on the trekking paths and let him go on his way. It was a nuisance, especially when he was off to battle, when he had to stop to greet each stranger who passed. Foolish, he thought, as the growl of his stomach pulled him away from his thoughts, forcing him to the reality of finding food.
Stepping onto the gray sidewalk, he went over the objectives of his mission, the importance of his charge. He had been given the very highest honor of bein
g the first protector of the children of the prophecies. The King had entrusted him with the duty of making sure they were safe. He sighed, not sure how he was going to be with six children. He had never had any of his own and his nieces and nephews only liked him because he was a war hero. He figured he would just have to improvise as he went along.
Looking up, he saw a woman approaching him. She was the first person who had looked directly at him, in this less-than-friendly new world, which made him question her approach. She was tall and dark skinned. She had long dark hair that was matted into what looked like messy ropes all over her head. She wore a black trench coat and tall black boots that were so tight; they emphasized the muscular build of her legs. Her eyes were just as black and danced as she moved with unusual gracefulness. She stood out from the rest of the people occupying this crowded space, making him immediately suspicious of her. Her face lit up in recognition as she met his eyes. Did he know her? He raced through memories of countless assignments, numerous missions and couldn’t recall where he could have met her. Besides, he was the first one through, right? She was walking toward him, which made him wary, and he readied himself for a possible assault.
“Hello, greetings to you.” She smiled, grabbing his shoulders and kissing him on each cheek.
He stiffened, wondering how she knew the greeting for strangers used in Armistoria.
“Hello, greetings to you too,” he responded. He continued the ritual of his people, “All is well with you?”
She smiled, clearly excited about his response. “All is well. All is well with you, my friend?”
“All is well,” he replied. “May I inquire your name, my lady?”
“Angelica,” she said, eyes dancing with intrigue.
“Angelica, it is my greatest honor to meet you. I am James Tildon.” He placed both of his hands over hers. Angelica smiled and led him to a small diner across the street. Tildon followed, figuring he could question this strange woman who knew the ways of his world. She must have something to do with his mission. How else would she know how to greet him? Tildon figured she was sent from the King. Tildon willingly followed this mysterious woman when he smelled something strangely delicious; he was anxious for something to eat and to begin this new chapter of his life.
Trunks of Ages: The Seven Seals Page 6