The Word Guardians: and the Twisting Tales

by Lawrence Yarham

  His point made, he interrupted his own reverie. He detached his finger and turned back to Y’in.

  “I need your eyes, so to speak,” crowed Orfeo. “So, I can build my army and see what those Word Guardians are up to.”

  “It will do you no good,” replied Y’in. “You do not realise what you are doing to the realms.”

  Orfeo laughed. “Do tell me,” he said. “I love to hear the stories from those begging to save themselves.”

  “I am not begging. There’s no point. You will not listen. As much as these mirrors give you sight, you are blind to everything.”

  Orfeo smiled wryly and nodded to the two men. They started to usher Y’in to one of the mirrors further along the hall. It was currently black.

  “By capturing Custodians, stories are not able to play out as they should do,” Y’in stated.

  “Yes, and?” replied Orfeo dismissively. “Why would I care?”

  “Indeed,” agreed Y’in. “You do not. You have been warned.”

  “I’ve been warned?” Orfeo shot back. “Of what? What could you possibly do to me?”

  “Indeed,” repeated Y’in.

  “On the contrary,” replied Orfeo, “You and others like you will ensure my success!”

  “You may come to regret that thinking,” replied Y’in calmly, stepping into the mirror. He turned and stared at Orfeo. The mirror’s surface flowed over his features and then they gradually undulated back and forth until they settled into a silvery flat surface.

  Orfeo rubbed his hands in satisfaction and went over to the new mirror. Like a child with a toy, he lifted his finger to touch the surface. There was a spark that leapt from the mirror and he withdrew his finger quickly. Then he slammed his hand on the mirror’s surface, the sound echoing all around the castle chamber.

  “Show me,” he commanded, lifting his finger again to touch the mirror.

  The mirror occupied by Y’in rippled in response and started to play a scene.

  He watched people drinking and eating in a medieval tavern. A knight sat alone at a long table, others looking on nervously waiting for the hero to head off on his quest. He saw a battle, happening outside a great walled city, the local troops defending a large gate and then he followed a steamer boat, travelling lazily down the river Nile. He breathed out slowly, frustrated. None of these scenes showed him what he was wanting to see. His new toy was not giving him what he sought.

  He detached his finger and turned to look at the waiting men.

  “Find me more Custodians!” he barked.

  They nodded, turned, and created a new doorway. Then they stepped through.

  A doorway opened above a railway platform, and two people tumbled onto it. They rolled apart and stood up, taking stock of each other. Both were tired and exhausted.

  “You’re crazy!” shouted Raelinn.

  “I did what I had to,” said Detective Wheeler, getting to his feet. “To save my son.” He shook his head in disbelief. There it was again, but stronger this time. He knew they’d done this before. Many times.

  “Yeah, well. You’re going to…” Raelinn also shook her head and stopped. “We’ve been here before?”

  “Yes,” replied Wheeler. “You remember.”

  Raelinn just looked at him, blankly. She didn’t move, which was the important thing. Wheeler wondered if they had broken the loop.

  “We always fight here,” he started. “Then we board the train. Then most of the time the train goes off the edge of a cliff. Other times, you jump off, and I grab you. But we always end up back here. Same place, same story, just more injuries.” He wiped his hand across his eyebrow and looked at his hand. There was blood there. His temple throbbed.

  “We’ve been doing this a long time,” he said. “But I think if we work together, we might be able to find a way out.”

  “You idiot!” she shouted. “There is no way out. This is the Void!” She gestured to the empty platform around them. “This is what it does! It plays out. Over and over!”

  “No,” Wheeler said. “I don’t believe that.”

  “That’s just naïve optimism!” shot back Raelinn. She opened her palm. Wheeler realised there was a danger of them slipping back into the repeating storyline.

  “Others must have been banished here too!” He stepped towards her. “Why haven’t we seen them? Look around!”

  Raelinn relaxed her arms. She eyed him suspiciously, but she also glanced around cautiously.

  “There has to be a way out!” he added. “We just have to work together to stop the story resetting and find it.”

  “You brought me here,” Raelinn sneered, pacing sideways. “Why would I work with you?”

  “Not this again,” Wheeler sighed. “I was saving my son. Or hoping to.”

  “Yeah, well. You’re going to pay for that!”

  “No, wait,” shouted Wheeler, knowing that he had uttered those lines tens of times. He knew the story was grabbing their conscious minds again. He could feel it there, flashing suggestions of events into his mind’s eye. He could sense them. They were sticky. He had to be so conscious to keep it at bay, otherwise they would launch back into the same loop.

  “Pay attention to your thoughts,” he said calmly. “You have to concentrate so that the storyline does not restart.”

  “Why would I do that? Raelinn shouted. “I’m leaving on that train!” She opened her hand and the luggage cart dissolved into tiny suitcases, which she directed at Wheeler. He saw it coming and felt that he should throw up a shield, but then decided to do something different. He pushed his hand sideways and the cases slowed. He calmly walked between them, looking at a puzzled Raelinn.

  “Please,” he said, opening his hand in an ‘after you’ gesture. “If we’re going to get on that train, can we just sit and talk?”

  Raelinn watched the suitcases moving slowly in the air, then she glanced at Wheeler and reluctantly turned and boarded the train. They sat down in one of the carriages.

  Yas said goodbye to Sam at the corner of the street that her family’s house was on. She walked home playing through a number of different openings for the conversation she wanted to have with her mom. She became more nervous with every step she took closer to the front door.

  She turned the key in the lock, opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Hi Mom,” she called out. “Hi Dad.”

  “Hi hun,” called her mom from the kitchen.

  Yas went in, put her bag down in the hallway and hung up her jacket. Then she went through to the kitchen.

  “How was your first day?” her mom asked, looking up from her tablet.

  “It was good, thanks,” said Yas, looking around. Something was cooking on the stove top. “Is Dad home?”

  “Not yet, love,” her mom replied. She pointed at an envelope on the table. “This arrived for you today.”

  “Oh, okay,” replied Yas, absent mindedly. She felt like she just needed to make a start of the conversation.

  “Listen, Mom,” she started, sitting down. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  Her mom pushed the envelope across to her.

  “It’s probably one of your scholarship applications,” her mom said, urging Yas to open it. “Looks like it’s from the police department.”

  “Oh?” said Yas, surprised. It was the least likely of the ones she’d applied for to hear back from. She picked it up and opened it, pulling out a letter from inside with a card attached. She read it, then looked at the card, puzzled.

  “What does it say?” asked her mom, after waiting for what she’d gauged was enough time to read it.

  “It’s an invitation,” said Yas, confused, “to a dinner that the Police Commissioner is hosting in a week’s time. I’ve been awarded something, and the dinner is to present it.”

  “Does it say how much you’ve been awarded?” pressed her mom, “for the scholarship?”

  Yas was puzzled. “It doesn’t say.” She scanned the letter again. “I don’t
think it’s the scholarship. It mentions a young person’s bravery award?”

  “You sure?” asked her mom, skeptically. “I wonder what it relates to?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything other than the Battle for the Peacekeepers,” she said, wondering. “But who here would know about that?”

  “Do you think it’s something that Sam’s dad has put you forward for?” asked her mom.

  “But why would he?” replied Yas. “The Word Guardians are undercover, even within the police. You think he’d risk bringing them out into the open?”

  “No, I agree,” replied her mom, her curiosity piquing. “I wonder where this has come from then? Is there a name on it?”

  “No,” replied Yas, flipping the letter over in her hand. “Just this RSVP card.”

  “Hmm, may I?” asked her mom, holding out her hand to take it from Yas.

  Yas and her mom read it together.

  “That’s really strange,” Yas said. “I wonder what’s behind this?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know,” replied her mom. “I guess there’s only one way to find out?”

  “You think I should go? What if it’s a trap of some sort?”

  Her mom looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.

  “Well, we’ve been in traps before and lived to tell the tale,” she winked at Yas, remembering the one laid by the Controllers at the mansion. “Besides, it says you can bring guests.”

  “What about Sam?” asked Yas, instinctively. “Do you think I should …?”

  “Oh, that’s a good point,” interrupted her mom. “Maybe he also has an invite. That would be intriguing. Why don’t you ask him?”

  Yas started to text Sam but was interrupted by her dad arriving home from work. As he made his way into the kitchen, Yas became aware of a prickly energy. Her dad seemed annoyed, irritated, somehow. He leaned over to give her mom a kiss and then reached over to hug Yas. A mild buzzing sound started in her ears, then faded as he stood up again. Yas felt weird, as if the room had shifted somehow. It reminded her a little of the first time she’d opened a doorway into a realm and everything around her in the real world had become spongy, fluid like.

  “Are you okay, Dad?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He sighed, slightly irritated. “I’ve just been at work all day.”

  “Okay,” Yas replied. She knew her dad had been stressed recently, but this was different somehow. She wasn’t sure why.

  “This invitation arrived today,” said her mom, offering up the letter for her dad to see.

  “Invitation?” her dad said, scanning the letter. “You’re being recognised for bravery? Was this something at the bookstore, with Ms. McVale?”

  “I’m not sure,” Yas replied, eyeing him curiously. “I didn’t think it was anything special.” She looked at her mom quizzically.

  While he continued to read the letter, Yas silently mouthed to her mom. “What did you tell him?”

  “What have you heard, dear?” her mom asked her dad, understanding what Yas was asking.

  “What you told me, of course,” her dad said, a little testily. “That there had been a robbery at the bookstore, that McVale had been seriously wounded and that Yas and her friends had managed to distract the thieves and call 911.” He stared at Yas’s mom, questioningly.

  “Of course,” she replied, smiling.

  Yas looked at her, puzzled.

  He put the letter down on the table. “Anyway, I’ll just go and get changed. Well done, Yas.” He headed along the hallway and upstairs.

  Yas waited until he was out of earshot.

  “Is that what you told him?” she asked quietly.

  “No, not at all,” whispered her mom. “To tell you the truth, I’m getting worried about him. He’s been acting a little strange recently.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Yas, worried. “Is he ill or something?”

  “No, I think it’s something to do with his work,” she explained, getting up from the table to check on dinner. “He just seems so irritated and stressed recently.”

  “What’s changed?” Yas asked.

  “I don’t know for sure,” her mom replied, stirring the pot on the stove. “Just that he’s been working late more and has also been heading out for evening meetings.”

  She paused, arriving at a decision. “Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe the firm is finally promoting him to a senior role after that business with grandpa.”

  “He wasn’t promoted because of Grandpa?”

  “Your dad suspected as much, but no-one would ever admit it. He thinks it was because grandpa was in the news too much and it brought unnecessary attention to our family, and in turn to the firm. It just seems strange, you know? Others were promoted ahead of him when he seemed to be the better candidate.”

  “Really?” remarked Yas. “I never knew.” She got up and walked over to the other side of the kitchen to help with the dinner preparations. She thought about what her dad had said.

  “What did you say to Dad, exactly, after the Battle for the Peacekeepers?”

  “Nothing really,” replied her mom, turning back to the stove. “We saw the news report about McVale having gone missing, and he mentioned he’d heard about a robbery. I just didn’t correct him. It seemed the best thing to do at the time.”

  “So, you didn’t tell him? About the realms and Grandpa?”

  Her Mom was a little evasive. “It’s just never been the right time, hun. Speaking of which,” as she reached into the cupboard for plates. “Dinner is ready. Can you call him down? Oh, and put that invitation somewhere safe.”

  Yas picked up the letter and walked out into the hallway. She heard her dad coming down the stairs. He had what looked like a work-related folder in his hand.

  “Dinner’s ready,” she said.

  He continued down the stairs, seemingly ignoring her, and then turned and went into the living room. There was a faint buzzing sound in her head again. She followed him.

  “Dad?” she asked.

  He looked up, stunned. “Yes?” he said a little tersely, as if she’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t be.

  She looked at him for a moment. He seemed to take a moment to solidify in front of her. Then he smiled slightly.

  “Mom said to tell you dinner’s ready.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Sure.” She turned and went over to her bag in the hallway. She slipped the letter inside and then curiosity got the better of her. She wondered what he needed to do that was so important. She peered around the corner into the room, staying out of sight as much as possible.

  Her dad stood there, with the folder open, reading something and muttering. It sounded like another language, Eastern European perhaps or possibly ancient. As he spoke, the buzzing sound arose in her head again. It made it harder to hear what he was saying. Then, he became aware that he was being watched.

  “What are you doing?” he said, a little sternly.

  “What’s that?” Yas asked, stepping into the room.

  “Just work related,” he tried to explain. Yas didn’t buy it.

  “It sounded like another language,” she said.

  “You were eavesdropping?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just putting away the invitation,” she said. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

  “That invitation,” her Dad said, changing the subject. “You need to be careful.”

  “Careful of what?” she replied. She wasn’t sure where this was going. It wasn’t the reaction she expected.

  “It’s putting this family back in the news again.”

  “In a good way though, right?” asked Yas.

  “It will drag up all that stuff about your grandpa and Akoni,” he added.

  “What?” said Yas, shocked “How?”

  “None of this bravery stuff from now on, hmm? I want you to be safe.”

  Yas became irrit
ated, but she felt she understood where he was coming from. He was concerned for her. “I’ll be as safe as I can be, Dad. I promise.”

  “Just keep your head down, Yas, that’s all.”

  “But what was I supposed to do, Dad? It was to do with Grandpa’s work. I didn’t have a choice. It found me!”

  “The robbery?” he asked, looking puzzled.

  “Yes, at the store,” said Yas, correcting herself, remembering the story line that he was familiar with.

  “It just creates too many questions.”

  “What questions?” asked Yas, her irritation rising again. “For whom?”

  They both paused, staring at each other. There were footsteps. Yas’s Mom must have heard the raised voices and joined them in the front room.

  “Is everything okay here?” she asked.

  “We have to tell him,” Yas implored.

  “Tell me what?” her dad asked.

  Her mom stayed silent, but her eyes screamed ‘no’. Yas had made up her mind, though. She was tired of still trying to preserve a lie with her dad, after having made a breakthrough with her mom where realms, magic and grandpa’s work was concerned.

  “Dad,” Yas started, cautiously stepping towards him. The buzzing arose in her head again and it made her feel dizzy for a moment. She stopped, putting her hand to her head.

  “Yas?” said her mom, seizing the moment to create a distraction. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” replied Yas, waving her mom off. She looked at her dad, puzzled.

  He just stared at her. He didn’t move.

  Yas looked back at her mom, as if to say ‘what’s up with him?’ Her mom seemed to be thinking the same thing.

  “Why don’t we talk over dinner?” she suggested, trying to usher them into the kitchen.

  Dad dropped the folder onto the chair next to him and they went into the kitchen. Thankfully, the buzzing faded.

  They sat down and ate. The conversation was lighthearted and awkward. Yas was irritated by it. She was aware that her mom was doing everything she could to avoid talking about the topic that Yas so wanted to, so she tried a different tack.