Scribbler Guardian 2: Seven Sons of Zion

by Lucian Bane

  The boy tripped, and Contessant had to jump over him to keep from trampling his body. She turned back and grabbed him, eyeing the black mass as she did. Her heart nearly faltered at seeing it.

  “It’s coming!” the boy screeched. “It’s coming!”

  “Oh God,” Contessant whispered, yanking him up.

  “Run!” Sabre said, walking toward the mass. “Protect them, Rider!” Lightening flashed around Sabre as he raced toward the darkness with a yell.

  Poe yanked her on, and Charlotte couldn’t tear her gaze off of the formation in the mass. A huge mouth, opening wide. Inside, beasts lined the walls and a foul smell came with a horrific suction sound.

  “Don’t look into it!” Poe roared.

  The boy suddenly flew past her, shooting into the giant abyss, his cries a distant echo. “Nooooo!” Charlotte screamed, fighting to make her legs move. “Poe!”

  Poe was suddenly before her, embracing her tightly. “Look into my eyes. Do not stop,” he yelled down into her face. “Don’t let go of me.”

  She let out a sob of terror as they shot toward the snarling mouth of darkness.

  Once inside, the density grew with each second and pressed her body and skull. Oh God, it was going to crush them.

  Her mouth opened and she couldn’t speak as her lungs shriveled up in her chest. The terror in Poe’s eyes reached out and sucked any and all hope from her.

  Charlotte’s eyes bulged from the pressure and particles of red began to plaster Poe’s face. She was bleeding out. About to burst.

  The drops of blood grew quickly until Poe’s face and neck was covered in it. Oh God, it wasn’t her, it was him. He was dying!

  The pressure filled her ears and Poe still held tight to her. They were dying, they would die in the Nothing.

  Charlotte heard the faint sound of music. She clenched her eyes shut when her eyeballs needed to burst. The childhood tune filled her mind and grew louder and louder, until it was all she heard. It was the tune from her jewelry box with the ballerina.

  The music stopped and there was a deafening silence. She couldn’t feel anything, she couldn’t feel Poe. She couldn’t see anything.

  “And he spoke…. Let there be light… and there was light.”

  The words reverberated through her mind and body with an echo on— “Spoke. And there was.”

  Panic sledge hammered through her. She needed to speak! Oh God, her lungs were gone, her mouth couldn’t move.

  “Release me! Release me!” she screamed in her mind.

  Air filled her body and lungs and she sucked in a huge gasp. Opening her eyes, she saw Poe slowly release her.

  She was suddenly on the road again, the dark mass roaring in the distance. And she was spit out of The Nothing and safe. Safe and alone. Poe, gone. Sabre… Valentine… The poor boy… All gone! All of them non-existent!

  She searched the dark clouds, agony crushing her. “Please,” she sobbed, stumbling up, reaching. “Give them back,” she whispered. “Please, give them back.”

  The inky clouds swirled angrily, moving in reverse as it growled its refusal.

  Charlotte staggered forward, trying to run toward it. “Please,” she screamed. “Please, I beg you!” Charlotte ran and ran, screaming uselessly.

  Then she stopped and stood there, sobbing. She was suddenly seven years old on the school playground. That bully was there, pushing her onto the ground, over and over. She’d get up and run, but he was faster, stronger and he’d catch her and push her down again and everybody would laugh.

  She felt the same fear and pain from then. Of never escaping, of forever being pushed onto the ground over and over. Of nobody caring or coming to help.

  And then she felt it. She still didn’t know who it was that had raised her up that day in her mind and turned her pain to anger, her sadness into fight.

  Just like then, she grit her teeth and stared at her enemy, now four thousand times her size. But that didn’t matter. She charged the darkness just like she’d charged that bully all those years ago. She ran with all her might—teeth and claws bared, lungs screaming with her stubborn will to clobber and beat, demand justice!

  “Give! Them! Back!” she roared to it. “You give them back now!” Charlotte stopped running and planted her legs apart. The ground heated up and vibrated beneath her. The energy entered her feet and surged up her legs, filling every inch of her body and mind, even pulsated in her hair and eyes. Gasping on the vibrating heat, she made her hand into a tight fist and shook it at the darkness. “Release them!”

  A bolt of lightning shot from her fist, throwing Charlotte onto the ground. She clambered to her feet, eyeing the tiny veins of bright light sparking in that darkness. They grew thicker and denser, and she aimed both her fists at it again and shouted with all her might, “Give! Them! Back!”

  The light in the clouds cracked and exploded. She slammed her palms on her ears at the high pitched shrieks of The Gorge’s scream.

  The ground shook and the air rumbled, rumbled harder and harder as she fought to stay upright. She gasped on the energy still bubbling inside her when the light in the sky turned big, huge like the sun. She shielded her eyes from the white light, the darkness shooting into it at supersonic speeds.

  Scribbler became aware of her breaths blasting in and out of her in the absence of deafening noise. She slowly lowered her hands and straightened, peering at the clear blue sky. She wobbled and swayed on weak legs, dumbfounded and confused.

  “You did it,” a deep voice gasped.

  Charlotte spun, nearly falling as she did. She stared, not sure if it were an illusion. When the impossible sight remained, a sob choked her. There they were. Poe. Valentine. Sabre. The boy. “You’re… you’re okay,” she barely managed to wrench out.

  Valentine flicked his pristine clothes with his red long nails. “Thanks to you, yes,” he muttered.

  “She apparently heard,” Sabre said, sounding very impressed and winded.

  “I was beginning to think she wouldn’t,” Valentine said.

  “Heard what?” Charlotte asked.

  Valentine gave a clever smile. “Oh, just the screaming message in the blood.”

  She shook her head, not remembering. “I… I only remember… I was dying. Then everything went quiet except for this music.”

  “Music?” Sabre wondered, looking at Valentine. “I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.”

  “I’m not,” Valentine muttered, pointing a stare at Sabre before regarding her again.

  “The-the music box with the ballerina?” She looked at all of them. “When I was young. I remembered it. After it played, the growling stopped. And I heard… something about speaking, and it was. And I thought… I need to speak!” The desperate feeling filled her again and she locked gazes with Poe. “I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t talk,” she whispered, hands on her throat.

  “What did you do?” the boy wondered in a small voice.

  She regarded him, standing there with his little hand in Sabre’s. Tears clouded her vision as emotions overwhelmed her. “I… spoke it in my mind as loud as I could.” She looked at Poe and the longing in his gaze sent her running to him. He opened his arms and hugged her tight. “I told it to release me,” she cried. “And I was released instantly but it was you that released me! And then you were taken in that Nothing to never exist, to never remember me, all of you,” she sobbed. “You released me,” she cried softly to Poe now. “You weren’t supposed to let me go.”

  “I had to,” he whispered in her ear.

  “But I didn’t know I would lose you, I didn’t mean to, if I had known…”

  “But, you saved us,” the boy whispered.

  She looked at him, realizing he was right. “Yes. I… I was suddenly here, alone on the road. Safe, while you were all gone. And…” she looked at her hands and slowly balled them in fists. “I remembered that day on the school-ground.”

  Sabre laughed. “I did that one.”

  She eyed hi
m, amazed. “You did?”

  He nodded proudly. “I needed you to fight. When you fight, I can fight.” He pointed between the two of them. “We’re a team. We all are,” he hurried, looking at Valentine then lingering on Poe. “If Poe had not released you, we’d all be stuck in the None. The Rider didn’t have to. He chose to.”

  She looked at him, looked deep into those silver eyes. “I…I thought I made you do it.” She hugged his neck tight.

  “You did.” Poe hugged her back just as hard and whispered in her ear, “This love you gave me… taught me, gifted me with… required me to.”

  “I don’t get the music,” Valentine said.

  “Me either,” Sabre muttered.

  “That was me.”

  They turned to the sound of a small, tinkling voice. A boy with near white hair, stood there with a happy little smile. He wore loose pants and shirt that seemed spun of something shiny. He couldn’t have been older than Todd. Charlotte caught the glisten in his hair, and gasped softly. Like spun crystal or diamond. His eyes bore the same jeweled brightness against the most perfect features and skin she’d ever seen.

  “Minister of Sound,” Poe said.

  The boy nodded barely. “I shall take you to the Queen.” The boy whipped out a small, crystal looking stick from his sleeve and began to wave it in the air, like a music conductor.

  The air around them swirled and became dense at Charlotte’s back and under her feet. “Oh!” she gasped as they all rose into the air and flew over the ground.

  Todd laughed in glee, looking at the land they all raced over in a bubble of misty white, like a cloud, all while clinging desperately to Poe. Poe who pressed his lips to her face over and over while whispering I love you. I love you my beautiful Contessant Juliet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Though Poe had never been, he did know that there were only two ways into the Queen’s Castle. Through the capital city beneath it, and through the realm’s portal at the castle’s peak, which reached several miles into the Forbidden Embolus. Any were permitted to enter if they made it through the capital’s shields designed to detect any anti-Octavian contagions. Should an individual be found with any, they remained frozen in the force field until investigated. If treachery was found, death was immediate. No being, as far as Poe knew, had ever been executed, therefore no treachery had been attempted.

  Sabre sent Todd to explore the city while they sought audience with the Queen. On their way to the Capital’s outer courtyard, Sabre stopped and turned to Poe. “What about the shields?”

  “What about them?”

  He nodded at Contessant. “She’s not entirely Octavian. I’m not certain how the shields will interpret her and I am not sure we want to draw an audience other than the Queen’s.”

  He was certainly right. Poe became aware of the eyes on them in that second. It was mostly aristocratic inhabitants in the area, which meant standard Octavian attire—either pant or dress suits. And here they stood, with two shirtless vagabonds, one with flaming hair and blinding white torso. Poe wasn’t far behind the freak show, appearing like a rogue assassin late for a mission.

  “What do you suggest we do?” Poe asked, keeping his voice low.

  Sabre considered for a brief second with hands on his hips while glancing around. “How about Valentine and I go ahead of you and secure an immediate audience.”

  Poe nodded, finding the plan wise. “Very well. We shall wait outside the courtyard.”

  The two of them walked toward the shimmering skin of the golden shields that reminded him of liquid sunshine. Poe was very glad for the privacy he’d get with his Scribbler. He’d been wanting very much to have a moment to properly convey how grateful he was that she was alive. With him. His body all but ached in his bones with the need.

  Poe led her to a secluded area near the outer wall of the Capital and sat on one of the elaborately gemmed furniture sets lining the outer gardens.

  “So beautiful,” she gasped, smiling as she sat in a bench.

  “Indeed,” Poe said, staring longingly at her.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing with that keen insight.

  “You always know.”

  She smiled and scooted close to him. “I do, yes.”

  “How do you?” he wondered.

  “I can hear it in your voice.” She laced her fingers through his and brought them to her mouth, kissing his knuckles while smiling at him.

  “The light in your eyes takes my breath away,” he murmured. “Have I ever told you that?” The need to have her for an entire day in privacy weighed him down.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  He shook his head and gave a sigh, looking for the appropriate words. “I…”

  “What? You’re afraid?”

  Yes, maybe he was, but… “No, it’s not that.”

  “You’re sad?”

  Yes, that too, but… “Not exactly.”

  “Angry? Upset?”

  “Yes. Yes to all of those,” he said smiling at her.

  “Why?” she wondered, soberly.

  He laughed at her. “Are you going to guess at those too?”

  She smiled, back to kissing his knuckles and eyeing him with that look that reminded him of his problem. “I like guessing Mr. Poe. I like games too.”

  “Do you?” He looked around and the need to have her became unbearable. He stood, pulling her quickly to the nearest corner of the garden wall and put her back against it. She gasped in surprise, looking up at him. He stroked her face with one hand, staring hard into her gaze. “Did you guess this?” Before she could answer, he kissed her, holding her jaw so that he had full and complete access exactly the way he wanted, and every bit of it.

  Her utter submission to his hunger caused Poe’s power to spike in odd ways inside him. New ways. Always something new with her.

  “I’m afraid,” he whispered at her jaw now.

  Her breath was hot on his face as she fought to get closer. “Me too.”

  He put his forehead on hers, wrapping his arms around her waist and meshing their bodies tight while he struggled to catch his breath and his mind. But the closer he got to her, the worse it was. “I am terrified of losing you. Of losing… us. What if… we cannot be together? What if the laws forbid it?”

  “Do they?”

  Her fingers stroked along his face and the desperate momentum made him need to hurry and do things with her. “I do not know, Scribbler.”

  She gasped a light laugh. “You’ve not called me that in a while. I miss it. I still hate my real name. Except when you say it, of course,” she added with a smile.

  Poe kissed her again, deep and with all the passion burning in him. He broke away, his lips needing to feel more of her, gliding along her face. “I hope it takes hours establishing an audience. I hope there are endless delays, and I know this is wrong to wish when Octava and Earth are in peril,” he said, kissing her and losing himself to that vulgar antic he once thought was witchcraft. “Is it wrong that I never want to stop? Is it wrong that I’d rather not exist if it means not having you?”

  “Poe,” she cried, kissing him back with equal fervor. “If it’s wrong, then we are both bound for hell.”

  “Hell,” he gasped, petting her face. “I would suffer a thousand years of torment for this right here.” He kissed her again, holding her face tight as he did then paused, breathless at her mouth. “This… moment of heaven with you, “he said.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Where is all this romantic stuff coming from?” she said, tears streaming. “It’s beautiful.”

  He shook his head, having no realmly notion and not caring, only elated to taste it. “And I must confess… I am so very jealous.”

  Her burst of happy laugher warmed his soul and mouth. “I know this and I do love it so very much,” she said.

  “You do?” Surprise and elation made him grin.

  “I feel the same. I don’t want you liking anybody else. I feel so wicked that
I don’t even like you being nice to other….females.”

  “Females,” he laughed, never imagining words could make him so happy. “I hate all females then.”

  “And I loathe all males.”

  “Good. Especially those you created besides me,” he whispered at her lips.

  “Especially those!” she said, laughter in her voice.

  Poe lifted her in his arms and hugged her tight.

  The sound of throat clearing drew their attention. Divinities.

  “Hate to break up the honeymoon,” Sabre said. “The Queen will see us. She’s rather anxious to meet the Scribbler it seems. But only after I seal Sara… I mean Contessant, with a pass.”

  “A pass?” Poe wondered.

  He held up a hand. “Just a mark. My mark.”

  “Your mark? Why your mark?” Poe couldn’t keep from saying.

  “Well…” Sabre said, eyeing Poe with a slight grin. “I didn’t think to suggest you mark her.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Poe realized how stupid it all was, but his mouth seemed set on automatic response, no brain necessary for engagement. It didn’t matter if he could or should mark her, just the idea itself, the principal of it is what bothered him. Mostly.

  “Would you like me to go back and ask if you can mark her instead?”

  The absurd suggestion filled Poe with the need to push him right down on his arrogant ass. Sabre damn well knew how clearly stupid the idea was. He said it just to irritate him. “I was merely wondering.”

  “Okay then… I will go ahead and mark her?”

  Poe raised both hands and stepped out of his way. He paced a few feet nearby, the instinct to shove Sabre still twitching his muscles.

  Sabre reached over to Contessant and touched his index finger to her forehead. “There.”

  She reached up and rubbed her skin. “I don’t feel anything.” She turned to Poe. “Do you see it?”