The Guardian (The Gifted Book 1) (5 page)

8
College

Daen stood in the tall grasses, the same place he’d stood over two years prior, thinking about the day he had arrived in this world and why he was here. He stood in the field, hoping that somehow he would be shown a sign or be sent a message guiding him in his purpose, but like every other day, nothing happened. He felt disappointment press on his shoulders. After all this time, he was no closer to fulfilling his duty, to helping her, whoever she was, than he had been on the day he arrived.

Feelings of frustration and anger pulsed through him. Who was this person, this woman he was to help? He still wasn't convinced it wasn't Raisal
, but given she'd been missing for more than thirty years, the probability was quite low. So who was it? How was he to find her? Was she even here in this world? These were the questions that had plagued him each day since his arrival in this world.

The support of
the Young family had saved his life. The moon shadows teased him, giving him a glimpse into his world but never welcoming him home. Since the night he had stood and watched the birds on the water, he'd tried to enter various moon shadows, hoping to pass back through to his world, but it was as if his world wasn't there.

Daen stood and watched the sun slowly set on yet another day without any progress. He turned to face the home he'd been offered that first day. It must have been the Libraim's way of providing him the support he would need. Why else would it send him here if Raisal wasn't his goal?

Of course, he was assuming the Libraim sent him. He couldn’t imagine any other way to explain how he’d arrived in this world. He missed his connection to the Libraim, to the energy of Luxatra.

As he stood looking at his temporary home, the words from Raisal's journal ran through his thoughts.
He thought about the life she made in this home, the family she left behind. Where was she?

The screen door slammed and Daen snapped back to his current reality. Randell crossed the yard towards him, sword in hand and a grin on his face. "Are you ready to practice?" Randell
looked more like a man than a boy who'd just had his sixteenth birthday. His face had a boyish look but his physique was more in line with an eighteen-year-old athlete.

"Your practice begins with speaking in Aduraun." Daen tried to sound stern, just as his mentor had been with him
, but he was quite fond of the boy and struggled not to smile at his endless excitement.

Randell switched to Aduraun. "Yes
, Sir. Sorry. Would you like me to get your sword?"

"Yes. Please."

Randell turned and ran into the house, quickly returning with one of the swords Daen had carried with him when he arrived. The sword Randell would be using this day had been commissioned a few months ago and delivered the night before.

Before Randell used it, Daen wanted to test the sword's balance. "Please place my sword on the ground and hand me yours."

Randell complied, curious as to why Daen wanted the sword.

Daen removed the sword from its scabbard and inspected it. He took it through the dance and then into faster, more violent moves. When he was done, he held it out on two fingers. The sword was steady, balanced. The weight
and the length each exceeded what Randell would normally need at this time, but he would grow into it, much like Daen had grown into his first sword. He sheathed it and handed it back to Randell. "It is a fine sword."

Daen
had known it would be. Ander had taken him and Randell to the blacksmith who would make the sword under Daen's supervision. They'd spent a few days with the blacksmith, going over the techniques that would produce a strong but light sword. After that, the blacksmith had mailed pictures at regular intervals as the sword was produced. Daen had been pleased with what he saw.

Daen continued, "We will test its strength once your armor arrives. Until then, we
will warm up and drill."

Caille had found a place that made thick leather protective gear
that Randell could wear while he learned. It was due to arrive any day, making it difficult for Randell to focus on anything else.

Pam stepped out onto the porch and yelled, "Please be careful!"

Daen bowed slightly and Randell yelled back, "We will!"

After their warm
-up, they began by reviewing the previous lessons. This was their routine. After each review, Daen added a new move or a new combination of existing moves. To test Randell's concentration, Daen continued the practice of asking him questions in English and requiring Randell to answer in Aduraun, providing them both with the practice they needed. Then he would make it harder and ask Randell questions in Aduraun.

Randell and Daen practiced for about an hour before Pam called them in for dinner.

~~~

Daen wiped
off his sword and sheathed it before starting towards the house. He took one step and was met with a surge of power that pulsed through his body. The shock of the sensation sent him to his knees.

"Daen! Are you al
l right?" Randell knelt next to him, his hand lightly touching his shoulder, unsure whether he should help his mentor.

Daen staggered to his feet, ignoring Randell, his eyes scanning his surrounding
s, looking for the source of the sensation that had just rippled through his body. "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what? What just happened?" Randell studied Daen's movements, the expression on his face, and the color of his aura, the glow of light that emanated from his body. The intensity of Daen's colors
—that's what Daen called them—changed based on his emotions. Apparently not everyone's colors did this. Right now, the green glow glittered with specks of light blue, something Randell had never seen before. Within a moment, the blue was gone and Daen stood quiet, deep in thought.

"I haven't felt that in ... since I first arrived. I shouldn't have been able to feel it. It's not my gift. I felt it before
only because I passed into this world."

Randell was concerned. "What? What did you feel?"

"The presence of the Libraim; it was here and now it's gone."

In the two years Daen had spent with the Youngs, Randell had learned a lot about Daen's world. For instance, he had learned that the Libraim
was the core of the Luxatran's existence, that it sustained life and maintained balance in their world. And he had learned that Daen was a guardian of the Libraim, responsible for recording and protecting the histories of his world and the Libraim itself.

Pam yelled through the screen door
, "Are you going to join us?"

"Just a minute
, Mom," Randell turned to Daen. "Are you okay? Do you want to stay out here?"

Daen shook his head. "No, it's passed."

They had started walking towards the house when Randell asked, "Do you think it's a sign? That this woman you're supposed to help—that maybe she’s nearby?"

"I hope so."

~~~

Three
more years had passed since Daen had felt any sign of home. His attempts to slip through the shadows continued to fail, forcing him to acclimate to living in this world. He was making good progress. He'd learned to drive after helping Randell and his father rebuild the engine in Ander's old truck, giving Randell something to drive.

He cooked, cleaned, did laundry ...
but oh how he missed his past life. At least he had the Youngs' hospitality, Randell's friendship and their practice sessions, and a home nestled close to nature. Yet, with time comes change.

Randell strolled into the kitchen
one day, waving the day's mail in his hand. "It came; the letter from the scholarship board." He'd been waiting to hear from the university he very much wanted to attend.

Pam put the last plate into the cupboard from the dishwasher. "What does it say?"

"I don't know." Randell stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the envelope. "I'm afraid to open it."

Daen laughed. "You're not afraid of being smacked with a sword but you're afraid of a letter." Randell's nervousness about the contents of the letter seemed contradictory to the young man he'd grown to be. Over the years, Randell had calmed
and become focused and very strong.

Randell looked up from the envelope. "It's not just any letter."

Daen countered, "You have three other letters already, all offering you admission and at least a partial scholarship."

"But this is the school I want to attend and it's too expensive without a scholarship." Randell sighed
, ripped open the envelope, and read. "Yes! I got it. Full tuition ... but no housing."
Oh well
, he thought, he had his savings and he could work part-time.

Daen congratulated Randell on getting in. "Do you need a roommate?"

Randell's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Yeah! Do you mean it? That would be great."

Daen nodded. "Count me in. I'll take odd jobs, the kind that don't require paperwork. That should help with living expenses."

Randell shook Daen's hand. "Thanks, man."

And so it began. Daen followed Randell to undergraduate and graduate school before returning home
, where Randell worked toward getting his PhD at the university near his parents' home. Over the years, Randell studied and took odd jobs such as substitute teaching, editorial work, and freelance writing assignments until landing the job of his dreams as a tenure-track English and literature professor just miles from home.

9
Sensations

Daen was shaken from his dreams. Eyes wide, he stared into the darkness of his room, seeking that which had awakened him. It had felt like he'd been hit head-on by an invisible force, as if someone or something had pounced on him while he slept, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He turned on the lamp next to his bed and studied the sparsely furnished room. Over the years, Daen
had resisted making this world his home. He lived each day as if it was the day he would return to his real home, collecting only those things he needed to survive in this world.

He listened intently for a sign that what he felt wasn't just a dream. For a couple weeks now, he'd been
awakened by the same sensation, and each time the force was stronger. As he listened, he could hear the sound of fingers on keys through the thin walls that separated his room from Randell's in their cheap garden apartment near campus.

Randell sat at
the desk in his bedroom, returning emails and grading papers, when he heard a light knock on his door. "Come in."

Daen entered and sat in the comfy reading chair that was pressed into the corner of Randell's room and draped with worn-but-still-clean clothes. "You're up late."

"So are you. I thought you went to bed. Don't you have to work early tomorrow?"

Daen had picked up quite a few skills over the years
, working as a day laborer, making enough to help out with the rent and other living expenses. Being a day laborer, he could skip a day or two and not have to make excuses to a boss. It also meant he could fly under the radar when it came to proving to the government that he wasn't illegal ... even though he was.

"I might skip tomorrow. I haven't been sleeping well over the past couple weeks." Daen ran his hand down his face and sighed. "But tonight ..."

Randell spun around in his desk chair to see Daen leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Why haven't you said anything? What's going on?"

"I've been waking in the middle of the night. It's like ... I'm being attacked or crushed. I can't explain it."

Randell leaned back in his chair. He hadn't seen his old friend this stressed in a long time, not since he'd first arrived in this world. "Is it like the sensation you felt that time in the yard..." Randell paused, thinking about the last time, "... wow, was it really over twenty years ago?"

Daen thought back to that day, when he had been brought to his knees two years after arriving in this world. "No. That day it felt familiar. This ... I can't recall feeling anything like it. If I were home, I would say someone was using a gift on me."

"So you've heard of a gift like this?"

"No. But in my world, it would be something the guardians would investigate. But I wouldn't be doing it alone."

Randell leaned forward. "That's right, you need a ... what did you call it before ... a tracker?" They'd had this conversation in the past, when Daen still thought Raisal was the woman he was supposed to help.

"Yeah, that's right. That's why this is so strange for me. I get short
, abrupt hits of ... power ... and then it's gone. I shouldn't feel someone else's gift, but then, I'm not really sensing it ... I guess. It's active; it's being applied to me ... sort of. Oh, I don't know. All I know is I'm exhausted and I can't tell where it's coming from."

"You say this happens
only at night?"

Daen nodded.

Randell thought about what was happening to his friend. "You're feeling a power hit that I can't feel. It's happening only at night. Maybe this is a sign. I think you're sensing a gift, but maybe you can feel it only in your subconscious, like when you're asleep?"

Daen considered Randell's theory. If this was about
the woman, and he could sense her only in his sleep, why did it just start after all these years? Why did it hit quickly and then fade? Then it came to him. "It's not me sensing a gift; it's her pushing it out. It's her subconscious. She's not in control, and she needs my help. That's it. I'm supposed to help someone—right? This must be it!"

"This is good news! Are you sure? It must mean she's near. Right? Do you think she's aware? Could this be happening while she sleeps?"

Daen nodded as if on autopilot while his mind tried to process what was happening to him and all the questions Randell was throwing out. "It's amazing how strong it is, given my gift is weaker in this world than it is when I'm home."

"How do we find her?"

Daen shrugged. "For all I know, she's been under our noses for years. I just have to believe that we'll meet ... when the time is right."

Randell turned and closed his laptop. "You know I'm here to help. Just tell me what you need me to do."

Daen thought about Randell's offer. He'd helped in the past, but at a price. He'd worn himself out trying to keep his gift turned on, so to speak, as he watched for auras that might indicate a Luxatran. Daen had insisted Randell stop; it wasn't worth his health. But Randell had been much younger then. Maybe now, given the sensations he was experiencing, Randell could help.

Randell watched Daen's face. He knew that face. "You have an idea."

"Do you think you can start looking again? Don't push it, but maybe focus a little more than usual on people. If what I'm feeling is a Luxatran, it's a strongly gifted Luxatran. I just hope it's her."

Randell didn't hesitate. "Of course. I'll keep a look out."

Daen stood, finally feeling relaxed enough to sleep, and left the room. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Good night."

"See you in the morning."

~~~

Rhea looked
with wide eyes at a very upset roommate as said roommate slowly stood after being tossed from the upper bunk.

"What is your problem!?" Julie rubbed her knee and checked her elbow. "You kicked my mattress so hard you knocked me from my bed!"

"I didn't ... I mean ... I don't remember ... I'm sorry." Rhea was uncovered; her blankets, along with the clothes and books that had been on the bed when she fell asleep studying, were on the other side of the room in tangled disarray on the floor.

"Your dreams are getting out of control." Julie sat on the edge of Rhea's bed and looked at her friend with concern, anger, and a little bit of fear. "What are you dreaming that freaks you out enough to throw things
—and now me?"

Rhea reclined on the only pillow left on the bed and draped her arm over her eyes, not wanting to face the fact that something was wrong. "I can't remember. I'm so sorry. Maybe it's the stress of exams. Just another week ... then the holiday break. I'm sure I'll be myself when we get back."

Julie bit her lower lip, hesitant to broach the next subject.

Rhea peeked out from under her arm when Julie didn't comment. "What? You've gotten quiet."

"Cassandra, at the other end of the hall, is losing her roommate. I think I'm going to move in with her next semester."

Rhea sat up. "What do you mean? I have a few bad nights and you're going to bail on me?"

"It hasn't been a few nights. It's been weeks, and it's getting worse. Who knows, maybe they won't have anyone to fill my space at such late notice. You might have the room to yourself."

Rhea knew Julie was doing what was best for her
, but that didn't protect the next person who would share Rhea's room. She needed to get a handle on what was bothering her, understand why she was lashing out in her sleep. After each dream, the only thing she could remember was feeling afraid, but tonight had been different. Tonight she had been terrified. "I understand. I'm just afraid for my next roommate if I don't get a handle on my ... whatever you call it."

"Issues?"

"Yes, issues." Rhea rolled her eyes, annoyed that her friend was right. What her friend didn't know was that she had more issues than she realized, issues she'd had all her life and couldn't share with anyone for fear of being medicated or, even worse, hospitalized for being mentally ill. "It'll work out. It has to."

Julie started to climb up into her bed again but stopped to rethink her decision. "In light of my recent trip to the floor, would you mind taking the top bunk until the end of the semester?"

"Sure." Feeling heavyhearted that she'd hurt her roommate and friend, Rhea switched beds.