Excerpt:
Copyright © Isabelle Santiago, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Drollerie Press
A Guardian is everything yet nothing, trained to understand humanity yet is apart from it, forced to feel emotions but not express them, living with the powers meant for gods in the flawed bodies of men.
Chapter 1:
A Mother’s Sacrifice
Wrinkled hands spotted with age lit the final candle on the floor, a wavering circle of flame in perfect order around the walls of the tiny, one-room bungalow, surrounding them like burning soldiers. “He must remain completely still. If he moves, it will disrupt the connection.”
“He understands the procedure, Tusoyah.” Najad reached up and clutched her son’s stiff shoulders. “Are you ready, Kieran?”
He looked back at her. His face, once innocent, looked weary. Dark circles shadowed his panicked eyes. “I don’t want to do this.”
Pity filled her heart to the brink. “It is the only way. You’re almost a man grown. This may be our final chance to make it stop.”
“But I’m afraid.”
“I am too,” she whispered into his ear, “but we must be brave.”
He nodded, though he wore his dread in every tight muscle of his body. He sat where he was directed, at the center of the room, within the holy circle inscribed on the floor, directly across from the old seer whose milky white eyes stared blank and sightless. As the old man knelt to study him, Kieran watched the floor. Quivering hands cupped his cheeks.
“Do not look away from me, boy. Though I may not see you with my physical eyes, the seeing eye uses yours as a window into your soul.”
Najad’s heart raced. Sudden worry turned her stomach in sickening circles. She’d chosen the blind Healer for that very reason. No one else would help her. Her gaze caught the thick, dark ink that marked her son’s wrists. She wondered if she’d made the right choice in bringing him here.
“Now, tell me of the wicked visions.”
“First, there is pain,” Kieran told him, his voice trembling. “Blinding, terrifying pain, followed by fear. Then there is nothing. Mind-numbing silence. That’s when they appear.”
“Who appears?”
“The travelers.” Kieran’s voice dropped to a dazed, monotonous timber. The candles in the room flickered. “They take my hand. They tell me they’re afraid.”
“Are you afraid?”
“I know I should be,” Kieran stared ahead, unblinking, “but I’m not. I tell them they have nothing to fear. That the journey is a short one.”
“The journey where?”
“Arezh.”
The Healer dropped his hands from Kieran’s face as though they burned, and scrambled to stand. “This one has the mark of darkness upon him!”
“Just calm down, Tusoyah.” Najad stepped toward them, afraid any sudden move could frighten the old man. “There is no need to panic.”
He pointed toward Kieran with his walking stick. His entire body trembled. “You dare bring a marked child into my home!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “To disgrace me with your disobedience?”
Kieran shook his head, back from the hypnotic state he’d been in. Large, wide eyes stared from her to the Healer in confusion.
“Come stand by me, Kieran,” she demanded. He stood without question. The minute he did, she shielded his body with her own. She knew what came after the initial panic. She’d been here many times before. “We shall leave and you shall never hear from us again, Tusoyah.” She led the way to the front door. “I apologize for the inconvenience I may have caused you.”
“Do you think you can hide him from The Beings? That They will not see you?”
“What I do with my son is none of your concern.”
“It is everyone’s concern!”
“As I said, Tusoyah,” she spoke through clenched teeth, “we shall leave, never to bother you again.”
“I cannot allow that!” The seer slipped around her with surprising agility. The air whistled as he slammed his walking stick against the door frame, barring their exit. “It is my obligation to report you to the House of Eukleides.”
She felt Kieran tense beside her and anger tightened her hands into fists. “You will let us pass, sir.”
The old man held his ground, though his hands shook. “I will not. And I will not continue to perpetuate your disobedience. It ends here. Tonight.”
Najad saw the set lock of his jaw, the manic look of fervor in his eyes. “Step back, Kieran.”
“Mierma, I…”
“I said step back.”
The seer pointed his walking stick at Kieran, ready to strike. “Do not move! I will use force if I must!”
“Easy old man.” Kieran held up his hands in peace. “I have no desire to harm you.”
“You dare point that at my child?”
“Keep your distance, woman.”
She lowered her voice. “We will leave and you will speak of this to no one. Or else.”
The seer’s milky eyes grew wide with horror. “Keep back!”
“Let us pass!”
The old man raised his arms; his weapon perched above his head. She brought hands to her face to shield the blow.
Time stood still.
The candles flickered. Eerie silence filled the room.
Kieran howled.
“Don’t!” she called to him, hoping he could hear her past the surge of uncontrollable power. But it was too late.
His ebony irises grew until they formed a terrifying circle of endless darkness. “You will not harm her.” Like a hundred shouting voices he spoke.
Each candle blew out, one by one, until there was nothing but shadow.
Najad turned her face away. She covered her ears. It did nothing to shield her from the nightmare.
Wind shrilled against the narrow cave opening cutting through the silent night. Najad’s eyes snapped open. Kieran lay sound asleep, his head on her lap. Soft puffs of air cooled the wet fabric of her hava, still drenched from his earlier tears. It was strange to think the garment once symbolized her wealth, marked her beauty. Now, it mirrored her life, tattered and insignificant.
They had run, faster and further than ever before, though they had no place to go. It no longer had to do with hiding his identity. The old man’s words haunted her. The Code had been established for a reason. Bitterness coiled through Najad’s blood like acid. More than once she’d heard those words. She never wanted to hear them again, words that implied that the child she’d carried in her womb, the child she’d nurtured and fed and sung to, was not hers.
They knew nothing of her tearful pleas to the heavens, of her endless nights crying toward the stars. The Beings had given her what she asked for. A gift in the form of a raven haired child. Would They really give her a child only to have him ripped from her arms?
She mindlessly caressed her son’s thick hair, as her mind replayed the horrors of that evening, and the defeated look in her little boy’s eyes when the darkness faded. She glanced down at him, hardly able to believe that the boy on her lap, all pale ivory skin and thick, black hair could be a monster. A force of ancient, infinite power encapsulated in the small body of a child.
Tears blurred her vision. She mourned the loss of her son’s innocence. Cursed her stupidity for not having seen sooner how thoroughly his demons consumed him.
Even in sleep, Kieran was not peaceful. His brows were creased in troubled thought, his eyes pressed tightly shut. Every few minutes he moaned, pained by whatever awful visions haunted his sleep. How had she missed it? How had she not seen that every day the burden imposed on him since birth took another piece of his soul? She couldn’t imagine a life like that.
Over the shriek of the wind she heard distant footsteps, the clatter of harness and weapons, marching closer. Najad gripped Kieran tight, awaiting the inevitable. They came for him. Just as she had known they would. She closed her eyes and prayed one final time for The Beings to show their mercy. She imagined her son’s future, pictured the Temple she’d visited yearly as a child. He would be happy there, safe amidst the large stone pillars and marble walls. He would be well fed, clothed, given luxuries she could never afford. Most importantly, he would find comfort among others like himself. He could hone his power; perhaps have some measure of a normal existence.
Armored soldiers appeared in the entryway, spears pointed in her direction. “Up,” they shouted, “away from the boy!” Kieran stirred in her arms. She kept her fingers in his hair, whispered promises in his ears. They didn’t need Kieran jolted out of sleep only to find himself under attack.
“We said, up!” Two stepped closer, their weapons held tight in their hands. They wore armor as though it would save them from his wrath.
“Quiet,” she hushed, “You must not wake him.”
“You pretend to command us, madam?” the center soldier asked, his eyes narrowed.
“It is not a command, but a request meant to spare us all.” She held up Kieran’s small wrists, banded by the mark of The Beings.
They gasped. One soldier eased back.
“As long as he sleeps, there is no danger.”
“You lie,” the soldier said, fear written on his tight features.
“If you are aggressive, he will wake.” Najad held up her hands palms forward. “I am unarmed. You are free to do with me as you please. Only handle him gently and with care. He must be taken to the Temple at once. The House of Eukleides will decide his fate.” She bent down, gave the boy she carried on her lap a final kiss on the forehead. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered.
In a flash of motion, two soldiers lifted Kieran from the ground and carried him out of the cave. She watched until she couldn’t see him any longer. Tears fell like waterfalls on her face. She barely heard the soldier’s commands behind her. She moved, numb, in whatever direction he took her. None of it mattered now. Her fate was sealed.
