The New Guard (Crossroads Book 1)

by Matthew M. Johns

  *

  The wind was picking up and, though the evening was still a few hours away, the sky was growing increasingly darker. The smell of hot rain was pungent and dominating, though, as of yet, not a drop had fallen. A loud crack of thunder pierced the air before it dissipated into a long, low rumble. Rebekah was becoming increasingly worried; usually at the first sign of a storm the children would come running home. Why hadn’t they today? She stumbled over some roots, caught herself on a tree trunk, and stopped to catch her breath. As she looked ahead through the woods she instinctively placed a hand on her belly. The baby moved, reassuring her he was still there. It was then that she realized that she could no longer see David’s lantern light or hear him or the Beagle. She wondered once more what was going on. Where was everybody? Rebekah suddenly felt a flutter on the branch next to her hand. She looked up and saw a little owl perched on the branch. Rebekah and the Owl stared at each other for a few moments; then the Owl flew off and landed on a low branch a few trees away. Again, the two stared at each other before the Owl flew back, landing near her once more.

  How curious, she thought, and just as the Owl flew off again an urge to follow it came upon her. A war of thoughts and worries swam through her head. She imagined the children lost, hurt, frightened. She pictured herself stranded in the woods during the coming violent storm. She thought of David and how strangely he was acting. Rebekah also felt the pull to follow this strange creature. Each time she looked at the Owl or thought about it, her other thoughts became less potent and began to recede. She took a step toward the Owl. The strange thoughts of the day fell further to the back of her mind, and Rebekah set off after the strange bird as it hopped from tree to tree, leading her deeper into the woods, which she didn’t realize, were now not the ones surrounding her house.

  *

  The children were still fairly close to their home, in the woods they knew so well, yet which had become so frightening. They were still surrounded by the cloaked and hooded horsemen and the children huddled together, the oldest doing their best to protect the youngest. Eight of the nine horsemen were watching the children, while the ninth one was looking all around.

  “I cannot sense the gateway,” the horseman spoke in a deep baritone voice.

  Across from him another rider spoke. “Be still, Caliban; our allies will reopen it momentarily.” This rider spoke with a calm authority in a hushed tone.

  “I only count eleven. Where is the twelfth?” The raspy voice issued from another of the horsemen.

  Without prompting, one of the riders and a hound left the circle while the other eight remained.

  Seconds stretched slowly into minutes. Silas was the sixth child of David and Rebekah Koen and often felt he had something to prove. He was lean, some would say scrawny, though all the running, climbing, and various other activities he threw himself into was giving him the shadow of muscle tone. The boy was impatient with most things, even hygiene, which was one of the reasons his sandy hair was buzzed close to his scalp. Therefore, the situation began to wear on Silas’ nerves. After several minutes, he inched back into the center of the circle of his siblings, knelt down, and took a rock in his hand. He wiggled back to the edge of the group and stood, giving himself plenty of room. With one small flick of his wrist he flung the rock at one of the horsemen, hitting him in the arm.

  Instantly, the struck rider drew his sword from within the shadows of his cloak. Deborah, Mel, Nic, and Eve pushed the circle tighter together. Silas inserted himself with his older siblings, yet stood defiantly a step closer to the horsemen. Mel looked over at his younger brother and shot him a reproving look. Silas shot him a look back and stood his ground.

  Mel was the second oldest child and had looked a lot like Silas when he was younger, though his hair was darker; since Mel was fastidious about showering since puberty, he was allowed to grow it longer. He had grown in stature over the past few years. He’d been playing football in high school, and now ready to go into his junior year, the training was showing on his body. He wasn’t bulky like his brother Nic, though his shoulders had finally popped out, taking away the scrawny look he’d sported for so long. The similarities between Mel and Silas were starting to become fewer and fewer. As they did, Silas seemed to be trying to move away from emulating his older brother and find the opposite niche. Thus, Mel wasn’t surprised his “toe the line” look didn’t receive any acknowledgement, save a scornful look.

  Lightning flashed, pulling the brothers’ attentions away from each other and back to the situation at hand. The flash of light also glinted off the drawn sword, revealing the horseman’s face. Though the grotesquely scarred and burnt face was startling to the children, the older ones still held their ground. The rider dismounted, moving fluidly from horse to ground. The horseman beside him reached down, placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, and spoke a single word in his deep gravelly voice: “Hold.”

  A long roll of thunder followed this command. As the thunder dissipated, the children heard the distinct sound of a low growl. Looking down, the children saw the form of the Beagle standing amidst them. His hackles were raised as was his upper lip, exposing his sharp canine teeth. None of the horsemen heeded the dog, thus revealing that they, like the children, did not know his true nature. The children, though, became relieved at the return of their faithful companion. However, their relief gave way to confusion when they heard the familiar sound of their father’s voice.

  “Men pledged to sin, lost of Heaven, poisoned of Hell, withdraw from here and tread no more on the soil of Earth.”

  Though the children recognized the voice of their father, they had never heard it dripping with such scorn or ringing with such power. The hooded horseman with his sword drawn called out into the darkness outside their lantern light where their father must have been.

  “Never, King of the Here Between; your words are hollow in this wooded hall.” The horseman’s voice was raspy and full of long hissing ‘s’es. Contempt filled each word as he spat them out of his lipless mouth. “You cannot bear the sword in this world, and therefore pose no threat to us whose blades can be drawn and bring burning, painful, and disfiguring death.”

  “Poisoned souls, you all are to heed my words; do not doubt what God can make possible in this or any world.” There was an almost mocking tone in their father’s voice and a distinct ring of metal being drawn against metal. “Do not underestimate God or those He chooses to watch over the sheep He will make into lions.”

  At these words, the Beagle shot away from the children and attacked the nearest hounds, bringing them down with strength not evident in his small stature and with a speed not capable of an earthly dog. At the sight of the death of their hounds, the horsemen began shouting, fear pouring out from their every utterance.

  Action exploded around the children. Before they could truly comprehend what was going on around them, David was amongst them with a bright sword in his hands. The dismounted rider grabbed hold of his mount and tried to swing back up into the saddle. Before he could fully mount, however, his horse was cut out from under him. Then their father’s gleaming blade swung at the fallen rider. The swing opened a large gash in the hooded figure's arm. The man screamed in intense pain, dropped his sword, and collapsed, holding the smoldering wound. Without missing a beat, David dodged to the left and drove the tip of his blade into the thigh of the rider who had earlier commanded him. At his scream, the horse reared and threw its rider to the ground. Meanwhile, the Beagle had taken down two more hounds, and the remaining horsemen and hounds began quickly widening the circle they had created around the children.

  David signaled all the children to follow him through the gap he and the Beagle had created in the circle. Mindlessly, and in shock, the children obeyed and moved quickly toward their father. Once the children were safely behind David and the Beagle, David spoke once more.

  “Repent, for the power of God is absolute and the end He will triumph. Repent and be forgiven.”

  T
he nearest horseman spat at David, and the two hounds beside him charged. David moved his sword swiftly and beheaded one, while the Beagle charged the other and clamped his jaw around its throat. A quick and powerful whip of his head ended the struggle and the Beagle disengaged. At a horse call, the remaining riders retreated, gathering the two wounded horsemen as they fled.

  Once they were sure the riders were retreating, David and the Beagle turned to the children. David sheathed his sword and man and dog went to the children to inspect them. None of the children had been physically hurt during the altercation, but David could see their nerves and courage were frayed and in need of some bolstering. However, time was not something David had enough of anymore. As if in acknowledgement of this fact, a hot rain began to fall.

  “If we head north we’ll come to a safe place for the night. After that, we’ll have to make our way. . .” David was unsure how to tell his children what was happening and began searching for the words. Before he could think, though, he was interrupted by Mary.

  “But, Daddy, home is south of here. . . I think.” Her voice quieted as she looked around the darkened glade, the only light being cast by a fallen lantern left by one of the horsemen.

  David nodded his head and knelt to be eye to eye with his daughter. “Yes, Mary; our house is just south of here, but we can’t go back there now. What we need to do is get somewhere safe until the morning’s light can protect us.”

  “Will those bad men go to our house? What about Mommy?” This came from Dinah, who was still clutching tightly to Mary’s and Esther's hands.

  Before he answered, David looked to the Beagle who let out a small woof that could have almost been mistaken for a sneeze. At this, David nodded once more and turned back to the children. “Your mother and the baby will be safe. We mustn’t forget to trust in the Lord and know that He is guiding us even through this darkness.”

  At those words the Beagle ran over and fetched the still glowing lantern, and David took it in hand. The Beagle ran off once more and within a few moments brought David’s discarded lantern back. David lit it once more and handed it to Mel. “See, He is a ‘lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.’”

  “Psalm 119, verse 105,” Jeremiah whispered.

  David smiled and reached out to touch Jeremiah’s head, “Yes, exactly. Come, let’s go.”

  David took the lead and the children quickly followed. All the children’s hands were linked, and their eyes were locked onto the path their father was moving along. All of them except for Mel and Nic. Mel walked toward the rear of the group holding the lantern high, while Nic’s eyes never stopped scanning the surrounding forest. Behind them all, the Beagle walked; his eyes too were casting about the woods, searching for any dangers hidden within.

  None of the children, not even Nic, was aware when the trees stopped being the trees of their youth, the forest of their home. They did not see or understand the change in the woods, as new alien species of flora and fauna mixed with those specimens they knew so well. However, they were thankful there was not much rain and it quickly stopped, and after an hour of moving swiftly through the forest they came to a clearing. Fatigue and fear overrode confusion and hunger. The littlest ones were soon sleeping, snuggled tightly with each other and on top of the eldest. Most of the older children were trying to process what was happening and had happened when David started a fire. It was then that Nic noticed the fire pit which had been there waiting for them. Before he could form a question in his mind or with his mouth, David spoke.

  “Sleep,” was all he said. The word held such allure and command that almost instantly the rest of the children started to fall asleep. Silas was the last to nod off, but not before he saw his father sit down and begin to clean his sword.

  Chapter 2

  The Dark Riders (or Void Riders) and their horses could move around in the daylight, but their hounds could not. The riders still had enough humanity in them that sunlight was not a hindrance to their physical health. However, the dark powers given to them by the Void were weakened to the point of uselessness in the light of the sun. The same limitations hindered the horses’ ability to move at more than a slow plod. The horses the riders used were normal horses, but they were poisoned by the power of the Void, and prolonged exposure to the sun harried them. The hounds, however, were a completely different kind of creature. While on the outside they mostly resembled various types of hunting dogs, on the inside they were incarnations of the Void. Stripped of life, the Void was able to take hold of the hound’s flesh and move about, but only in the night and never in the full moon. Sunlight burned and poisoned the hounds, killing them if they lingered longer than a brief second in its rays. Even overcast days could weaken the hounds, making them no more harmful than newborn pups. The full moon was very much like an overcast day. All of this combined to make the daylight a Dark Rider’s enemy, for they drew upon the power of the Void and the Void cannot stand the Light of God.

  As the crepuscular light of dawn crept upon the world, Caliban, the second ranking Dark Rider dispatched to hold the children, fumed at the limitations imposed upon him. In addition, he cursed the Truth Wielder and his canine companion. Together they had slain six hounds, killed one horse, and cut two of his fellow Riders with the Sword of Truth. Both of the Riders, their former leader and the lackey they called the Serpent’s Tongue, had been so thoroughly cut that they had begun to regret the sins of their life and were near to asking forgiveness before Caliban had to kill them outright. Command and responsibility for this mission would now fall upon Caliban’s shoulders.

  Watching the light of dawn break past the horizon, Caliban uttered yet another curse. This plan to capture the children as they were called over was falling completely apart. Their leader had been working with a minor demon. They had worked out when and where the fated children would be brought forth. The plan formed at that point had been to have the Dark Riders move in and secure the children. Once they were secure, the demon and his thralls would move in to help incapacitate the children and bring them to the Fallen One.

  Caliban had voiced his objection to no avail. Why would the Void Riders take the lead? Why not wait until dark when the powers of the Void were at their fullest? Why not kill the children outright? No, his leader would hear none of it. He bragged about how he could draw upon the power of the Void even in the waning light of day. Though he had proven true to his word, the effort had tasked all the Riders and the hounds.

  The Dark Riders were weakened; this was the first sign the plan was not going to work. They crossed over only to find eleven of the fated twelve. Then the Truth Wielder and the dog showed up. It was then that Caliban knew for certain the plan would fail.

  During the ensuing confrontation, Caliban’s leader did not address the Truth Wielder; instead, he let the Serpent’s Tongue do the talking. Caliban knew the spell to maintain a false night was straining his leader, for Caliban felt the strain of the spell in his very core. However, for his leader to let that fool speak was a mistake, and once the dog revealed itself an angelic host, Caliban knew enough to start pulling back. Caliban was not fast enough to save his leader and the Serpent’s Tongue from the Sword of Truth, a death sentence for any working in the service of the Void and the Fallen One.

  Caliban turned away for the brightening morning light and made his way back to the burrow the hounds had made. As he crawled in and pulled a large rock over the mouth of the tunnel he wondered, not for the first time, why the demon and his thralls had not been on the other side of the crossing when they had returned. In the darkness of night, Caliban would have an answer. He would also begin hunting down the fated children and killing them one by one.

  Chapter 3

  The cool morning air was not chased away by the slowly rising light of day. The large trees surrounding the clearing kept the bright rays from shining on the young sleepers who had taken refuge therein. Those very children were understandably exhausted after the night’s happenings and slept soundly well
into the late morning hours.

  Mel was the first awake, followed closely by Ruth. They were the early risers in the family. Mel had an enthusiasm for running in the morning coolness, whereas Ruth liked the silence of the morning unbroken by the various activities of her brothers and sisters. Slowly, they both took in their surroundings and then looked questioningly at each other. They were on the verge of asking each other if what they had experienced was some nightmare, when they smelled the burning pine and heard a harsh metal on metal scraping.

  Both children turned in unison to see their father and the Beagle sitting before a campfire. Their father was rubbing a whetting stone across the sword they had seen him wielding the night before. David’s strong brown hands worked the stone from hilt to tip in a smooth motion, as if with years of experience. The image was so strange, so alien to them that they sat dumbfounded until their father looked up.

  David had a powerful look about him even without the sword in his hands. He’d played football in high school and kept up his physical training long after. He was far more muscled than Mel or Nic, though Nic was close to matching him in stature and build. Though David’s father had been half-Caucasian, it was his Lakota ancestry and his mother’s mixed tribal ancestry that he resembled. His brown skin and eyes, dark hair, and other features all hailed his Native American ancestry. He had passed many of these features and skin tone onto his children, though they were lightened and mixed well with Rebekah’s genetic gifts from her long held Irish bloodline.

  David ran the whetting stone over the blade one more time without looking as he looked deep into their eyes and spoke. “It is called the Sword of Truth and it must always be kept sharp, for the truth it brings is meant to bite through the deception of the broken creation.”

  David stood, sheathed the sword into a scabbard he was wearing, then sat back down on the log near the fire. The children had not yet spoken and their father nodded at this. “There is much to take in and I don’t think we have the proper amount of time to take it in slowly. Come, there is cheese, warm bread, and cool water over at the spring. We should eat before we head out within the hour. The rest of you should get up as well.”