The New Guard (Crossroads Book 1) (35 page)

The many
hands made light the work, and just as the sun was brightening the horizon
those that were leaving said their last farewells to those who would stay.
Hogan, Yero, Deborah, and Nic stood at the north entrance, watching the
departing Koens, Fleet of Foot, Zilda, and the Beagle. The mood of both groups
was tainted with fears and concerns which would not die away. The only two not
seemingly affected were Silas and Eve.

Silas
chose to walk the left flank and stayed to the edge of the road. His eyes were
continuously scanning the fields of very mature grains, as if expecting the
seeds to burst forth and attack. If any had bothered to look closely they would
have seen an eagerness in his vigilance and that his hand was constantly
itching at the sword hanging at his side.

Eve had
also taken a post; she was at rear guard. She kept looking back, not in longing
to see those who continued to watch, but rather searching for a face she had
not glimpsed since that night in the garden. A face she knew would not be
there. How unfair, she thought, as at last the north gate and the castle were
lost from sight.

*

It was
the second night, the second watch. The Beagle restlessly paced the perimeter
with Eve. The light of the camp was just visible to them. The Beagle stopped
abruptly and cocked its head in the direction of the camp. Within a few moments
Eve, who had also stopped, heard the crying.

“Is it
Mary or Dinah?” asked Eve.

“Dinah,”
the Beagle replied. “The escape from the Dark Riders down the goblin holes is
haunting her again.”

“She was
doing okay, though.”

The
Beagle shook its head. “In the safety of the castle, yes. Out here, the fears
grip her again.”

A sweet,
piercing melody reached their ears. The two warders listened for a moment as
the distinctive voice of Esther sang a simple, wordless lullaby to her troubled
sister. As she continued Eve could feel a calm washing over her. The Beagle
nudged her and started walking on.

“She’s
singing like that more and more often lately,” Eve remarked as she continued
walking with the Beagle. “Songs without words, or words I can’t quite
understand.”

“She
sings with the Spirit. The gift of tongues has amplified her natural gift.”

Eve did
not respond, but tried to shift her focus back to the surrounding woods. For
several more minutes the song went on. Then as they could hear her bringing it
to a close, a rustling in the trees above drew their attention. Just as Eve was
making out a shape in the boughs, the Beagle barked at her.

“Get back
to camp! Wake your father, everybody!”

She took
a step toward the camp. Before she could take another, the shape shot out of
the tree. It was not alone. Three dwarf-sized shadows shot from the tree. Two
of them headed for the camp. The other pounced on Eve. She felt the wind
knocked out of her. Claws raked her back. The Beagle leapt toward her, but an
inkiness detached itself from around the creature and lunged for the angel.

The mass
of shadow wrapped completely around the Beagle. Eve heard muffled growling
coming from the Beagle, though she couldn’t do anything to help as she was
struggling to get this winged thing off her back. A ray of light sliced through
the shadow form. A high pitched screech rang out, though not from the shadow.
As Eve fought to roll over and get a better angle at her attacker she realized
the noise had come from the camp. An ear splitting reply came from the creature
on her back and it lifted off of her.

Eve
rolled over and finally freed a dagger. She slashed desperately at the
departing creature, cut it on a leg, and was rewarded with another screech that
nearly busted her eardrum. The creature lashed out too and cut her hand. Then
the bat-thing moved out of range, heading for the camp.

Pain
racked Eve for a moment, and then she tried to stand. Another pulse of light
shot out from inside the shadowy mass covering the Beagle. This one nearly
split the shadow being in two. Within a moment the mass fell off the angel and
writhed on the ground. By this time, Eve had successfully gained her feet and
was about to help the Beagle when another cry came from the camp. Eve looked up
and saw three winged creatures holding onto a struggling body.

“Daddy!”
Esther’s voice pleaded desperately.

Eve
dropped into a crouch, a wave of panic threatening to take her down completely.
A moan escaped her lips as she stood again. The Beagle tore off to the camp,
baying. The bat-like creatures faltered. A wildly shot arrow flew through the
sky. Then the inky mass stirred and shot out at Eve. It gripped her hand. A
crazed howl rumbled in the night. There were shouts all around.

From the
trees came yet another form. It crashed into Eve. The shadow creature that was
on her cut hand was trying to burrow in. The other shape rolled her over,
pinned her arm, and ripped at the darkness, threatening to enter her. A grunt
and an unrecognizable word. Then a flash of light and her hand felt weightless.

Eve
looked over and saw the inky, shapeless creature thrashing around, pinned to
the ground with a glowing dagger.

“The
moonstone will hold the creature for but a few moments.”

The
voice. Eve struggled desperately to focus. When she did, Rothos was above her.

“Come, we
must flee.”

Rothos
grabbed her good hand and hefted her up. He quickly
drug
her into the trees. She started to run with him then suddenly pulled back,
halting their progress.

“My
family,” Eve cried urgently.

Rothos
pulled on Eve, bringing her body close to his. For one maddening heartbeat she
believed they were about to share another kiss. Then he redirected her eyes to
the dagger barely visible from where they were. As the light ebbed away, the
dark creature ripped itself free and began to expand. For a moment it stopped,
but then Eve realized it was looking at her somehow.

“We have
to go! I can’t kill that thing!” Pleading rang in his voice.

There was
nothing left to say. Eve, still holding on to Rothos’ hand, ran off with him
deeper into the woods.

Silas was
up quickly; he had been finding no true rest in sleep. The commotion in the
camp was chaotic, but the piercing cries focused him. He drew the ebony blade
and stalked toward the sound. His mouth watered and the thought of killing his
enemy brought a pleasurable shock to his body. Two winged bat-like creatures
had one of the girls. They were gripping her arms, trying to take flight. A
third creature as tall as Zilda swooped down and grabbed his sister’s legs.
Silas ran forward. The blade seemed to swing of its own accord. Too late the
creatures were rising into the air. One was wounded, though, and a drop of
blood splashed the blade. Silas was rocked with waves of dark rapture. However,
he noticed that the bleeding creature is getting away.

“Daddy!”
Esther screamed, her voice imploring, her fear palpable.

Silas ran
after the creatures as they tried to flee. He reached a tree, half scrambled up
it, and launched at the bat fiends. He missed again. He let out a monstrous
howl as he hit the ground. The creatures were picking up height and speed.
Silas ran after them.

They were
all moving rapidly from camp. The Beagle was suddenly right beside him. It was
focused on the prey, Silas’ prey. Loathing and jealousy gripped the boy and
washed away reason. The blade swung out, intent on cutting the hound down. Then
a moment of confusion, recognition, the blade turned, the flat of it struck
hard against the angel/dog’s side. The Beagle hit hard against a tree, its side
throbbing with dark bone-deep pain.

The
Beagle tried to stand, but faltered. In its vision Silas was hardly visible as
he careened through the forest. Then a small light appeared beside the Beagle.
The second angel became larger, more solid, and picked up the Beagle. David
came running, but he was brought up short by the angel holding the Beagle.
David tried to dodge around the two, but found himself blocked again. Why was
this new angel blocking him from pursuing the bat creatures and his two
children? He tried once more. The angel lashed out and hit the Sword of Truth
from David’s hand.

A stern
face solidified on the angel’s visage. It handed the Beagle to David and
pointed back to the camp. There was a flash of light and the angel became a dot
of light that zigged and zagged after Silas and Esther. David took a step
forward; however, the Beagle had regained control of its body and jumped down
to confront him.

“You know
better than to take another step in that direction. The guardian will see to
them.”

David
stared daggers at the angel. He didn’t move.

“David,”
the Beagle said more softly, “the other children. There are angels watching
over those two.”

Wordlessly,
David retrieved the Sword of Truth and turned back to the camp. His heart ached
at the thought of not being able to help them. The fear and desperation in
Esther’s voice still pulsed in his ears. He looked back. There was something
wrong with Silas, though he couldn’t tell what.

The
Beagle and David reached the camp and found everybody up. He called them
together and looked each one over. Dinah was in hysterics, and several of the
other girls were in the grip of fear. Jeremiah looked frightened too: Mel
uncertain. Perhaps it was Mel’s face that made David feel the need to count
everybody. He searched the group and counted off.

Pain and
heartbreak spilled out with his words, “Where’s Eve?!”

…… to be continued

The
process of writing this book has been an enlightening one. I have come to understand,
above all, when you ask God to show you what He wants you to do, you should be
prepared for the unexpected and inspiring. I would like to take this moment to
thank the people God has put in my life to aid me.

To my
children, my wonderful boys, who put up with some laid aside plans due to days
of mad typing, I thank you and hope the story gives you some consolation.

To my
wife, thank you for challenging me and helping me by asking for clarifications
or calling me out on how people would really react. I know it isn’t exactly the
genre you read, so thank you for putting up with some strangeness I refused to
clarify in this book.

To my
editor and colleague, Beth Landfair, I appreciate all your grammatical
corrections including watching over my wayward and missing commas. I would like
to state here and now that any errors still present in the book are solely my
responsibility.

Finally,
to Abbie
Demmitt
, thank you for helping me find a
cover artist and being our go between. Thank you as well to Lyon Current for
the wonderful cover art. Thank you for helping this book truly come alive.

Matthew
M. Johns lives in Ohio where he found that his heart has resided for more years
than he has. He is in the process of raising two wonderful boys with his loving
wife. While still working full time he is trying hard to write his next novel
and apologizes for the abrupt ending of this one. He says it is not likely to
happen again.

About the Artist

Lyon
Current is a young artist; a free spirt headed to sunny California. She is
passionate about good music, seeing the beauty in life and love, and finding
happiness wherever she can. She hopes to live as unpredictably, insatiably, and
ambiguously as humanly possible.