02 Eternity - Guardian

by Laury Falter

  “On the contrary, I recommend you maintain your usual routine,” said Mr. Hamilton. “Any change from your typical behavior will only draw attention to yourself. I will keep your name out of the news.”

  I smiled my thanks and returned to flipping through the pages, scanning the articles. My eyes couldn’t seem to be drawn away from Eran’s likeness in each of the depictions. His handsome features never diminished or changed. Looking at him made me wonder where he was at that very moment and I felt a pang deep in my chest at his absence.

  I gave no attention to Campion up until now but then I noticed that his stance had relaxed. He stood straight, a proud expression on his face. It looked like he wanted to throw his arms around Ms. Beedinwigg.

  “Campion?” I asked baffled.

  As if I’d given him a cue, he drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding out proudly, as he took two long steps to cover the distance between himself and Ms. Beedinwigg. “I’ve wanted to meet you…your family…since I witnessed your family in battle. Fantastic fighters…”

  “Thank you,” said Ms. Beedinwigg demurely.

  I felt my mouth fall open. “Campion, you know about them?”

  He turned to me, as if his grin were plastered on. “From afar…Only from afar until now.”

  Watching him admire Ms. Beedinwigg, I knew I couldn’t have gotten a better testimonial than Campion’s reaction.

  Still, I was curious about their motivations and I wanted reassurance that their faith and dedication wouldn’t lapse. “What’s in this for you?”

  “A sensible question,” said Mr. Hamilton with a single shoulder shrug. “Some people volunteer for Greenpeace…Some build houses for Habitat for Humanity…We eliminate Fallen Ones.”

  “It is our act of service to humanity,” added Ms. Beedinwigg, “and we’ve been performing the service since before you were born. You can trust us, Maggie.”

  In case her declaration weren’t enough, Mr. Hamilton hinted, “Ms. Beedinwigg was, in fact, present in the training of your parents.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “You knew my parents?”

  She flipped the pages of the photo album until it landed on a collection of old photographs and then she pointed to one in the middle. Standing between my mother and father was Ms. Beedinwigg in her early teens. They were smiling, with arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, squinting against the sun.

  I released my breath then, not knowing I’d still been holding it.

  “I’ve never met them you know…On the day of my birth, we all died. I was the only one to be revived.”

  “We know,” Ms. Beedinwigg confirmed gently. “They were two of the best messengers I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting.” She laughed quietly through her nose, recalling them during a moment of nostalgia.

  “So you know they have the ability too…”

  “It’s why we trained them, Maggie.”

  “Of course…Of course,” I muttered, still dumbfounded at all that I had learned. “I tried to find my parents, to locate them on the other side, but I saw in the scrolls…the scrolls that record each soul’s history of their lifetimes on earth…”

  “In the Hall of Records,” Ms. Beedinwigg offered.

  “Yes…I learned that they died exactly where I was told and yet they aren’t there…They never returned to the other side.”

  Ms. Beedinwigg and Mr. Hamilton glanced at each other and I could actually feel the tension rise in the room.

  “Maggie…” replied Ms. Beedinwigg. She seemed to be searching for the words to explain her thoughts. Whatever they were it was clear by her apprehension that they weren’t good. “Messengers are different. When they die at the hands of a Fallen One…they perish. They suffer the ultimate fate…eternal death.”

  It took a few seconds for me to absorb what she was telling me. “They don’t return to the afterlife like everyone else?”

  “No…they don’t,” she said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “We thought you knew.”

  I shook my head. “All I knew was that they died protecting me. They died…” I repeated and then began to piece the puzzle together. “And I died with them…at the hands of the same Fallen One…on the same night…in the same place…and yet I am here.” My eyes met hers, demanding, questioning the truth to her statements.

  It was Campion, however, that stepped forward to answer. “No Fallen One has ever taken your life, Magdalene…in any of your lifetimes,” he countered. “Whenever they came close enough to reaching that goal… Eran followed a protocol, one that you mutually established. He would initiate the end of your life…to protect you from eternal death.”

  I released my breath in a rush then, the realization hitting with such power it felt as if someone had knocked the air out of me. When I inhaled, it was raspy and inefficient.

  “I understand now…why Eran is so serious about his responsibilities as my guardian…why he preserves his guilt when he is unable to protect me. I can’t imagine the pain he’s endured having to…do what he’s done…How unfair to him.” As the realization continued, I felt anger, deep and driven, well up in me. I had to actively contain it. “My parents died protecting me…Eran has had to endure the anguish of causing me pain…Everyone near me is in danger by the Fallen Ones. How do I end this?” By this point, I was so determined that my question came out as a demand and remained that way when I insisted, “Tell me how to end it.”

  “It is the same with Fallen Ones,” Mr. Hamilton revealed. “They suffer eternal death when they die at the hands of a messenger.”

  “It’s why we wish to train you,” Ms. Beedinwigg added earnestly.

  I suddenly felt focused, determined. “We’re wasting time. When can we begin?” I asked.

  Smiles immediately rose up on the faces of Mr. Hamilton and Ms. Beedinwigg but it was she who said, “Follow me.”

  She led us out of the library, towards the back of the house and down a long hallway, stopping abruptly in the middle of it to place her hand on the wall and push. The wall spun on a pivot so that part of the hidden door swung out into the hallway. The other half opened to reveal a staircase winding down to another concealed level.

  “A hideaway,” Ms. Beedinwigg explained. “Watch your step. The ground is saturated so, despite our efforts, water seepage makes the stairs a bit risky.”

  She wasn’t understating that warning. All of us were saved at least once by a firm grip to the railing as we descended almost two stories underground.

  When we’d reached the bottom, she flicked a set of switches and the room was illuminated.

  “This was a hideaway?” I asked. “It looks like an entire town could fit down here.”

  “We’ve expanded it some,” she replied indifferently, moving into the room.

  I followed, slowly, astonished at what I was seeing.

  The room was vast, built in sections with each seeming to be dedicated to one purpose of study whether it were agility, endurance, reflex, or skill. I couldn’t count the number of contraptions, pulleys and levers, platforms, and sandbags, all designed to create the optimal training ground.

  “When were you able to build this?” I asked, still in awe. “I mean…you’ve only been in town for a week…”

  “She is attentive,” Mr. Hamilton pointed out.

  “I told you…” Ms. Beedinwigg gave him a look of satisfaction.

  I realized then while Ms. Beedinwigg had been posing as my teacher, she’d also been evaluating me and relaying her assessments back to Mr. Hamilton. I had never been one to care what others said about me, yet I was left wondering what had been relayed. From their brief discussion it seemed to be positive.

  “In answer to your question, we completed it last night,” Mr. Hamilton replied proudly. “Just before I sent Alfred to deliver your invitation. You may have noticed the new shrubbery around the house? It was meant to hide the construction damage.”

  “Interesting…You didn’t waste any time…” Campion observed.
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  “We don’t have time to waste,” said Ms. Beedinwigg, her tension not going unnoticed. “Now, I’d like you to train every night. Is that possible?”

  “Absolutely. What do I learn tonight?” I started into the room.

  “Starting tomorrow,” she said. Noticing that I began to protest, she cut me off. “When you’re no longer angry. Anger is a disruption in training. We need you calm and alert.”

  “We do, however,” said Mr. Hamilton, “have an assignment. We’d like you to go back and review each of your lifetimes.”

  I felt my forehead crease in confusion. “I’d be very impressed with myself if I could do that…”

  “You can,” said Ms. Beedinwigg undaunted. “When you move your finger across the scroll over the name of the person you wish to locate on the other side, you are immediately transported to them, correct?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  “Try doing the same thing over the scroll imprinted with your names. It will take you through that lifetime, specifically to each key point in it.”

  Again, I was taken aback. “That works? How-How do you know that?”

  Ms. Beedinwigg laughed as if I’d made a ridiculous understatement. “My family recorded everything…which we will begin sharing with you when you return tomorrow evening.”

  She headed back towards the stairs but I had to inform her of something first and this was as good a time as any.

  “You should know that Marco, his security team, and several students and faculty at our school are Fallen Ones.”

  She looked back, appearing unflappable. “I already do. They are the reason for the hasty invitation to tonight’s dinner.”

  My respect for Ms. Beedinwigg immediately doubled.

  By the time we reached the foyer, I knew what I would be doing tonight. To keep my mind off Eran’s dangerous pursuits, tonight I would test her theory and visit one of my past lives.

  CHAPTER NINE: Muehlhausen, Germany

  We arrived home to find the windows dark. It was late and we both knew without having to say it that our housemates had gone to sleep.

  Campion followed me up the stairs, alert and responsive to the sounds inside the house. A moment later, I heard my French doors open and Campion step on to the balcony, as he did most nights while guarding me.

  “Enjoy your assignment.” Campion’s voice came through the dark as I slipped into my bed.

  My mind was racing from all that I’d learned tonight so getting on with my assignment might take some time, I realized.

  “Campion? I’m having a tough time sleeping. Would you mind?”

  He turned to face me and no sooner did I finish my sentence did sleep overtake me.

  The Hall of Records was just as quiet as when I’d last visited it, but I was not alone. One other person floated several stories above me, reviewing a scroll, his admiral blue robe flowing around his ankles. I left him to his reading.

  My scroll was in the B section, under Billings, Montana, as scrolls were stored by last place of death.

  I had to climb several stories to reach it but in the afterlife this wasn’t difficult. It lay neatly curled in its tube, opening only when I withdrew it and allowed it to unravel.

  I spoke my name aloud and the scroll slipped through my fingers until my name landed between my thumbs. Giddiness overcame me then. It felt as if all my internal organs were springing up and down. Calm down, I told myself. This could be just as unpleasant as it is exciting. If Ms. Beedinwigg was even correct…

  With that in mind, I reviewed the list of my past lifetimes. I figured the beginning was as good a place as any to start and took my right index finger to move it across the words:

  Previously Friedricha Schaffhausen – Died Muehlhausen, Germany June, 5, 1525

  This time the hall did not disintegrate and fall away. I was not carried above other people’s heavens or versions of their afterlife.

  I was yanked, much the same way I returned to earth each morning, as if I were on the end of a rubber band and that band had been pulled taut and released.

  Then I was cold and hungry and my back felt as if it were lying on a bed of nails. I had no control over any of this and certainly not over my physical body. Yet, I could hear the wails coming from my mouth, rattling my eardrums, and the feeling of absolute despair.

  It took me a moment to comprehend that I was encapsulated inside the body of a toddler, left in the middle of a barren field. Rain clouds gathered overhead and the wind howled through the tall grass, bitingly crossing my skin. Tears began falling down my face, which I tried to suppress, unsuccessfully.

  “Here! Over here!” a voice cried out. Though the words were in German, I understood them as clear as if they’d been in English.

  The crunching of the dry grass stopped suddenly and I opened my eyes to find a woman kneeling over me. A man appeared next to her, pulling his hat down against the wind. My immediate reaction was one of calm reassurance. Somehow, I knew these faces. An intuition deep inside me confirmed that I had chosen them as my parents before I had fallen.

  “Who could have left this poor thing out here in the cold?” she asked, her hand over her chest in astonishment.

  “I’ll carry her,” the man stated, picking me up and supporting me against him.

  I was yanked yet again, pulling me down a tunnel, away from the man and woman. When it stopped, the field was gone. It was night and I was sneaking out the door of a small house, glancing back at the face of the man and woman I’d just seen as they slept in front of the hearth. They were older now with sprouts of gray hairs and wrinkles. I found myself inundated with love for them and for the other girls and boys sleeping around the fire. Vaguely, it registered in me that this was my family.

  Why am I running away? I desperately wondered. Stay, I tried to tell myself. Stay…

  My thoughts and desires did nothing to stop my body from moving out into the night and drawing the hood over my head against the chill in the air.

  The gravel crunched beneath my feet and then quieted when I met the dirt road leading to a city illuminated in the distance.

  “Stop,” a voice commanded. Despite the German translation, it was a voice I knew, one that I would know anywhere, even in another lifetime.

  My body turned to find Eran moving swiftly towards me. I felt a swell of fear and I knew that this body – my body in this lifetime – did not recognize Eran.

  My hand reached inside the edge of my cloak to firmly grip the handle of my sword and my arm withdrew it just as Eran reached me.

  I watched, helpless, as this body of mine fought feverishly against him, advancing on him as I would my worst enemy. He met my attacks with equal grace, thankfully, his sword connecting with mine using the same force and vigor.

  Then he slipped, a puddle of mud causing his foot to twist beneath him, and my weapon came dangerously close to his neck.

  He jolted back, swung around in to a crouch, and attacked.

  My back hit a tree and Eran’s hands came around my own, squeezing until my sword fell. Using his free hand, he shoved back the hood of my cloak.

  The surprise washing across his face was evident.

  “You’re-You’re a girl,” he said in German, though I still understood him.

  I noticed then, the intrigued excitement building in my body, the burning sensation coursing through my torso. Apparently, I had an instant attraction to him, even then, at our very first meeting.

  “I thought,” he backed away, releasing my hands, and laughing to himself. “I thought you were a boy up to no good.” He evaluated me from afar. “But…you are certainly no boy.”

  “No,” my voice declared in German. “I am not.” I pulled my cloak tighter around me. “What were you doing attacking me? I could have killed you, you know.”

  Eran broke in to laughter, the force of it causing him to bend over and brace himself against his knees. “I strongly disagree.”

  “I truly don’t care,” I retorted, heading back
into the road.

  He followed, coming up beside me as if I’d invited him on a stroll. I hadn’t and as a result I felt myself being torn. Part of me wanted to send him away and part of me wanted him to walk just a little closer. “What are you doing out this late at night? A girl like you shouldn’t be alone.”

  I chuckled confidently. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Hmm, yes…yes…I could see that…” he muttered and yet continued to walk with me in silence for a few paces. “Just in case…” He leaned forward so that he came into my view. “I’m going to escort you.”

  “I don’t need an escort.”

  “May I walk with you then? You might find me to be of some assistance…”

  I felt a mixture of annoyance and thrill but didn’t show either in my response. “Do as you wish.”

  “Thank you,” he replied in mock appreciation. “So…where are we going?”

  “To deliver messages,” I replied hastily. I could feel in myself that the rush of words was meant to cloak the fact that I actually enjoyed him coming along but didn’t want him to know it.

  I sensed him staring at me. “It’s settled then…you’ll deliver your messages and I’ll guard you along the way. And I won’t even charge you for acting as your guardian.”

  My response was a haughty snicker.

  I never heard his reply. The yank returned and I was shot into another part of my life.

  Makeshift tents surrounded us now. Hundreds of them, I guessed, as a mist obscured the entirety of them. We stood beneath a section of contorted, dead trees, watching over the camp as the sun rose on the horizon.

  Eran was facing me, inches away. “Why are you smiling?” he asked tenderly in German.

  I found that my cheeks were lifted and giggled quietly so that the camp didn’t wake. “I didn’t know I was…”

  “You enjoy my company, don’t you?” He didn’t seem to notice he was being conceited.

  I snickered, mockingly. “That…is arrogant of you.”