The Word Guardians: and the Battle for the Peacekeepers

by Lawrence Yarham

  “I don’t know,” replied McVale. “We need to find out.”

  “Okay,” replied Yas nervously. She was not at all keen to continue to move towards the crowd.

  They followed at a safe distance. Others had joined the melee from sideroads and alleys swelling the numbers even further.

  From their vantage point, it was a little difficult for Yas and McVale to make out what was happening at the back of the crowd. Items were being thrown and individuals were dodging around and climbing over debris. They could hear shouting and screams of people along with crashes and bangs.

  “There,” McVale said at last, pointing ahead to the large building that had just come into view. “The museum! Oh my!” Then McVale ran across a large paved courtyard and up steps to the front of the building.

  “What happened?” Yas called out. She quickly glanced up the street to assure herself that the riot was still moving away from them. Then she ran over to join McVale near the front of the building.

  The museum had either been affected by the transformation, or the rioters had caused significant damage. Both seemed a stretch for Yas. Of the eight majestic columns at the front of the building, two were cracked and broken, still held in place but only just. Behind them, the main doors were broken, the right hand door was open, the left had been pulled off its hinges, with smashed stonework surrounding it. Up above the building there was smoke coming from the roof, and the smell of fire hung in the air.

  “How?” voiced Yas. “Why?”

  “I think someone else was looking for the same thing that we are,” replied McVale.

  “The Custodians?” asked Yas.

  “Yes,” replied McVale as she made her way up the steps and between the columns.

  Yas followed. “Why would they do this?”

  “Ink can be used to create a great many things in realms,” McVale explained. “Not all of it for the greater good.” She paused as she looked through the doorway and then stepped inside. “Intention can create a great many weapons here.” McVale’s words echoed. Yas followed her inside.

  The museum was vast. The walls were at least two stories in height and the entrance hall had windows at both the ground and first floor levels. The decorated ceiling above them was beautiful, despite the damage. In front of them were the damaged remains of several exhibits, together with broken display cases. Pedestals were on their side together with the smashed remains of the statue or bust they had been supporting. Wooden items lay broken and smouldering or burning.

  McVale walked between items, pausing and touching them reverently, shaking her head. Then she looked up and headed purposefully to her right. She marched through huge wooden doors and into a large library room. Yas joined her, marvelling at the number of books on tall floor to ceiling shelves. She had never seen so large a collection of books all in one place. Sadly, here too, some of the shelves were damaged with books strewn on the floor. Part of the room was untouched. McVale paced around this area, looking concerned. The ceiling had blown out, furniture was scattered and broken and the carpet was still smouldering.

  “What happened?” asked Yas, also stepping around the debris. She was at a loss to explain what had caused this level of destruction.

  “I believe the riot was a distraction,” McVale replied, continuing around the room. “Perhaps they weren’t able to get what they wanted from the Custodians and did this,” she gestured around her, “in frustration.”

  “What did they want?” asked Yas, still not understanding the need to damage the knowledge and works of art.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone else wanted to prevent others...” she paused for a moment looking at Yas, “...us may be... from talking with the Custodians.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Yas. “Did someone else know we were coming?”

  McVale stopped. Thoughtfully, she ran her fingers over a book on a table. Then, she looked up at Yas.

  “Did you tell anyone about the Custodians?”

  Yas was a little taken aback. “No,” she replied defensively. “My parents would never have understood anyway. And everyone would think I was crazy.”

  “Hmm,” McVale replied, still studying her. Then she reached a decision and walked back towards her.

  “The Custodian that was here, has gone.” she said.

  “How do you know?”

  “They would have made themselves known to us by now, if they were here.”

  “What if they felt it was not safe to... you know... appear?”

  “No,” McVale disagreed, looking around the room. “Perhaps others are watching.”

  She turned and headed back into the main hall of the museum.

  “Who?” called Yas from behind her. She followed McVale back out into the main hall and immediately stopped and froze. She spotted what McVale had not seen.

  There, on the other side of the foyer, stood a werewolf. It was occupied for now, licking water from a broken pipe in the wall, but Yas wondered how long it would be before it noticed them.

  “Ms. McVale,” she whispered as loudly as she dared.

  McVale turned and looked at Yas, then in the direction that Yas was pointing. McVale also froze, like the proverbial deer in headlights. She tried to retrace her steps, comically slow, back to where Yas was. It seemed to offer the best cover for them right now.

  Time slowed. The sounds in the room around them became very noticeable. There was the slurping of the wolf over the other side, remaining fires crackling and a slight wind whistling through the newly opened gaps in the building. They both stared at the wolf.

  McVale was about two-thirds of the way back to Yas’s position when her shoe crunched on broken glass. Immediately the wolf looked up. It lolled its head to one side, regarding her suspiciously. Then, unnervingly for Yas and McVale, it growled gently.

  McVale raised her right hand and moved forwards. Yas wanted to tell her not to. It didn’t make sense. McVale continued though, trying to be friendly. “Now then...” she started as if she was talking to her favourite cat, “...what are you doing here?” Then in a different tone, she spoke to Yas.

  “If anything happens to me...”

  “What? Nothing is going to happen to you,” Yas answered uncertainly. “You’re going to be fine!”

  McVale watched the wolf intently, while taking small paces towards it. She held her hand out, her palm facing the creature. A blue magic ball started to form in front of her hand.

  “You must find the other Custodians,” McVale continued. “I think they are in danger.”

  “From what? And how am I supposed to find them? You’re coming with me, right?”

  McVale didn’t answer. She was focussed on the wolf and the growing magic word ball. Yas didn’t understand what McVale might be doing. Then she noticed ink moving up McVale from the debris on the floor. She figured that McVale was creating something that would neutralise the danger. Yas could see the ball forming. It seemed to contain strands of shining strings, like a wool ball. Perhaps it was a net or something to entrap the creature. McVale moved forwards to halve the distance to the wolf, then stopped. The two regarded each other for a moment, the ball still growing.

  Still by the door, Yas held out her palm also and tried to create a word ball. She asked for a means to defend against the wolf, and there too a ball started to grow. It was smaller than McVale’s, yet similar in structure. She looked at it and could see that instead of string, there were sentences of words flowing around. She wondered what purpose it served. She asked for it to grow larger, in preparation for whatever she might need.

  When McVale’s ball was about a foot in diameter, the wolf turned its attention to that. It snarled and then was distracted briefly by the main door. Perhaps the wind had caused one of the doors to move. McVale seized the moment, gave a sharp push of her hand to release the word ball, and ran towards the exit. Yas was struck by indecision. She didn’t know whether to follow or not. A large part of her sensed it wasn’t safe, so sh
e stayed where she was. She regretted not following though.

  Yas watched the word ball fly towards the creature. It expanded as it did so into a sparkling blue net. It was a good shot, but the wolf was prepared for it and swiped it aside with one paw. It wasn’t completely successful in getting rid of the word net, as it was sticky, and clung on to its fur. The wolf tried to pull it off with its teeth, but that threatened to stick its mouth too. Growling, it set off at a run on all fours, skidding at first on the stone floor and partly encumbered by the word net. As the wolf started to gain momentum, the word net splintered and broke. The creature chased after McVale.

  Yas could see that the wolf would catch McVale before she reached the doors. She knew she had to do something, even if she didn’t know how sensible that was. She ran forwards, throwing her ball, overarm style at the wolf. It hit the wolf’s hindquarters, but unlike McVale’s shot, hers shattered on impact. It created a fizzing display, like miniature fireworks, sending words in all shapes and colours flying around the wolf. The wolf slowed, confused by the light show that danced around it. Yas was pleased that she had bought McVale some time. Yas started to form another word ball to do the same but it didn’t form fast enough though. The light display finished, and the wolf accelerated off again.

  “Ms. McVale,” Yas cried out in desperation. McVale continued to run, but the wolf was closing quickly. Yas ran after them both but realised that the wolf would soon be too far away for her to do anything more. She was genuinely frightened for what would happen next.

  The werewolf reached McVale and in one fluid motion, rose onto its hind legs and scooped her up in its front paws.

  “Go back and get help,” shouted McVale as she struggled against the wolf's hold. McVale conjured another word ball and slapped it on the side of the wolf’s head. The wolf partially lost balance and crashed into one side of the doors.

  “Umpff”, said McVale involuntarily as the impact winded her. She slumped down for a moment over the wolf’s shoulder.

  Yas ran across the foyer and to the doors. The wolf was already down the steps and running towards the street. McVale continued to struggle in its grip, casting more magic. Unfortunately, she had little effect.

  “No!” cried out Yas as she followed. She could see the wolf moving away quickly. With its longer legs, there was no chance that she would catch it up. She sprinted as fast as she could, hoping that McVale would be able to free herself and that Yas would then be able to help. The wolf continued to move into the distance, and then it suddenly slowed, turned and disappeared behind a building.

  The street became silent. Then from behind her, she could hear the familiar sound of change. She glanced back quickly to see the museum columns, door and roof all repairing. It felt as though a wave of change was taking its cue from the disappearance of the wolf. The line of repair swept passed her and down the street, Yas ducked to avoid flying masonry as it did so. It literally washed away the old story to create a new scene. Ethereal readers reappeared and floated past her, more casually again. The sun came out overhead. Couples appeared, enjoying the weather. All seemed calm and bright. A balance seemed to have been restored. There was absolutely no sign of the riot or carnage that they had just witnessed.

  “No,” she said to herself again as she continued to run. She was tiring quickly and felt very alone. She didn’t know where McVale had been taken and she was in an unfamiliar place. She continued down the street and stopped where she remembered seeing the wolf disappear. She was hoping for some clue, that might help her determine what to do next.

  Out of breath, she bent over double for a moment to recover. She looked around her. Where there had been alleys earlier there was now just a continuation of buildings along the street. There was no obvious indication of where the werewolf had gone.

  She walked over to the left-hand side of the street and touched the wall. It was just hard, cold stone. No passage of any form existed.

  “Ok, maybe a doorway then?” she asked herself, trying to stay positive. She moved along the wall touching her pendant as she did so, urging it to become warm. Naïve perhaps she figured, but she couldn’t think of anything else to try. Nothing happened.

  Finally, she turned and leaned her back against the wall, continuing to catch her breath. She mulled over her options. She felt she couldn’t leave McVale here, but she didn’t know where she might be. She figured that there had been an alley here and the change that had swept through had removed it. She didn’t know why. It seemed unfair, but then before today she had no evidence of realms, and now had only a little knowledge as to their inner workings.

  Having regained her breath, she started to walk back down the street quickly. She found her thoughts turning to guilt. She convinced herself that leaving McVale here was not good and she tried to think of ways that she could have done more to save her. It became an endless spiral in her mind. Finally, she realised that she couldn’t change what had happened and she needed to get a grip on herself. She breathed in the dirty city air to remind herself where she was and that she needed to find her own way back.

  “Okay,” she said, centering herself and trying to formulate a plan of action. “I need to stay calm.”

  She reached Hyde Park, where they had entered, and looked for the buildings that marked the place of the doorway. Dismay and panic overcame her. Things had changed, and she didn’t quite know which house had provided the doorway they had come through. A chilly wind blew up from the park across the street and leaves blew along the ground. Whereas most seemed to obey the laws of physics, one leaf danced and continued to roll after the others had stopped. Yas noticed it. It was an oak leaf. She desperately hoped that it was a sign and continued to follow. It danced ahead of her, taking her to a building on the corner. She noticed her pendant grow warm against her skin and stepped closer to the wall. The heat built up further and then the glowing yellow outline of the portal appeared, accompanied by a gentle rush of air. Saying a silent word of thanks in her mind, she stepped back through into the familiar sights and smell of the bookshop, but with a feeling of loss. She looked at the book still open on the sofa, where McVale had left it, and without thinking, closed it.

  “Oh crap!” She remembered McVale telling her that the book needed to be left open. She re-opened the book at the same page. No doorway appeared in front of her.

  “No! No! No!” She quickly flipped through other pages of the book, looking up ahead of her for signs of the doorway reappearing. There was nothing. Feeling more panicked, she worked her way back through other bookmarks, hoping that others might reveal it. Still nothing.

  “Come on, damn you!” she pleaded to the book. She half sat, half collapsed, on the sofa with the book on her lap. Staring at it, she willed a portal to open and for McVale to step through as if nothing had happened. As moments became minutes, she realised this was not going to happen.

  Her mind replayed the events in the realm. Had she missed anything that may tell her where McVale had been taken? She picked up the book and flipped through more pages, looking ahead of her all the time for the merest spark of the portal re-opening. There was nothing.

  “Go and get help,” she said to herself, replaying McVale’s words. “I need help,” she acknowledged to herself. She should probably call her parents, she thought. Or maybe the police. But then she remembered hearing somewhere that for an adult, they would only consider a missing person case after a day or two had passed. This was an abduction, though she realised. So, it was a crime. But how would she describe a crime in a make-believe place? Was it really a crime if it wasn’t a real place? She snapped herself out of it. Yes, it was.

  She felt so lost and alone at that moment, but she also quickly realised exactly what she needed to do. In truth, there was only one person who would believe her, right now. She had no idea how he would take it or how he could help, but she knew she needed to talk with Sam. In the meantime, she hoped that whatever had happened to McVale, she was able to find her way back on her
own.

  Chapter 4

  A Brief history of Libraries

  Yas grabbed her phone from her back pocket.

  “Hi Sam,” she texted.

  She put the phone down next to her and looked at her outgoing text message. It remained the last thing on the screen.

  Time passed slowly. She flipped through the pages of the book, not really looking at them. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t expect anything to happen, and true enough, it didn’t. She reached the end of the book and looked at her phone impatiently. There was still no change on the screen. A restlessness got the better of her.

  “Please Sam,” she said, willing him to reply. She stood up and walked about the front of the store, phone in hand. Should she send another message? Should she call? Or wait. It was difficult.

  Finally, it vibrated.

  “Hi,” he texted.

  A wave of relief passed over her, quickly followed by the realisation that she didn’t know what to text next. She hadn’t thought beyond just being able to speak with him, so had no idea how to tell him what had happened.

  She dialled his number and waited for it to ring. He answered almost straight away.

  “Hi. What’s up?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. A sudden rush of emotion caught her by surprise.

  “Yas?” he asked, sounding concerned. He could hear that something was wrong.

  “It wasn’t a dream on Saturday, Sam,” she started. Tears rose unexpectedly and she fought to keep them out of her voice.

  “Okay?” He could tell that there was a disconnect between her words and the emotion. “What’s going on?”

  “McVale’s been kidnapped. From a realm.”

  “What?” he said again. “You went to a...?”

  There was silence. She knew she’d touched a nerve. It was a subject very close to his heart and he could well be annoyed at her. This was going to be more difficult than she had imagined. She needed to speak with him face to face.