by Amy Miles
“Gabriel was taken.”
His grip softens on her arm as she pulls way, but her pain lingers, sharp and piercing, in his chest. Fane backs up to the couch and plops down. He sighs heavily.
Of course, this is about the kid. He is all Roseline thinks about now. Resentment poisons his words. “So you and Hero Boy over there are looking for him?”
Roseline nods. A thin line of moisture pools along her lower eyelid. Her downturned gaze tugs at his anger. Fane growls, dropping his head in his hands. Why does she torment him so?
He fights to cling to the few shreds of dignity that remain. To protect him from the pain that will arise when she finds her precious love. Can he really help her knowing that it will destroy him all over again?
Yes. He has no choice. His love for her demands that he help her, no matter the cost to his own heart. He sighs heavily as his anger deflates like an old balloon. “I will help, but I don’t know how much good I can do.”
“Probably none at all,” a voice calls from the hall.
Fane whips around to find a strange man leaning against the doorframe, the man’s cold smile aimed directly at him. Fane frowns, darting a glance at Roseline. “Another friend of yours?”
Roseline nods stiffly. “Fane, meet Malachi. He is our…guide, I guess you could say.”
Fane glares at the new arrival, instantly hating him. Maybe it is the way he casually glances at Roseline, or the way Nicolae’s stance stiffens at the new arrival. Fane vows to keep an eye on him.
“A guide,” he smirks, letting his arm drape across the back of the couch, “sort of like a tour guide? If I’d known you wanted to see the sites, I could have bought you a ticket on one of those double decker buses, Roseline.”
Malachi sniffs haughtily. “I am the proprietor of this estate and I expect you to treat me as such.”
“Whatever,” Fane shrugs, turning away from their host. “Where’d you dig up this guy?”
“At Torrent,” Roseline says. Her aqua eyes flash, warning him to rein it back in.
Fane shifts his gaze toward Nicolae. He might not like the boy on principal alone but at least he does not give off any sleazy vibes. “What about you? Do you like our new guide?”
Nicolae snorts. “Hardly. The git stole my car.”
“Nicolae,” Roseline snaps, darting a wary glance at Malachi, “your car is parked safely in the garage, remember?”
Fane narrows his eyes at their interaction. “What gives, Roseline?” He leans closer, resting his elbows on his knees. He has never seen her rile so quickly. Fane glares at Malachi. “What’s this guy got on you?”
“Nothing,” she snaps. Her cheeks flush with color. Malachi grins from his corner. Fane would like nothing more than to wipe that smirk from his face.
He swivels his head toward the hunter. “He claims to know how to find Gabriel,” Nicolae answers.
“So why are we all waiting around here, then?” he asks, settling back into the chair, with an air of indifference as he crosses his boots on the glass coffee table. “Call out hounds, sound the alarm. It’s time for a good old man hunt.”
His sarcasm manages to extract a small smile from Roseline. “It’s not that easy. We don’t even know who took him.”
“On the contrary,” Malachi inserts, stepping further into the room, “we know exactly who took him.”
Three sets of eyes turn toward him. “They are called the Guardians.”
Chapter 20
A knock sounds at the door to Gabriel’s new room. His former cage-like room has been replaced by a bedroom of similar size, but the mattress on this cot is much softer. The door is without a lock and there is a throw rug covering the floor to add a splash of color to an otherwise dreary room. He now shares a communal bathroom only a couple doors down. Much better than the privy hole he had before.
“Who is it?” he calls.
“Enael.”
Gabriel scrunches up his forehead, trying to remember the names of the monks he has met so far. Judging by the higher pitch to the voice, he would guess that he is the youngest of the bunch. The one he caught sneaking an extra dinner roll from the kitchen last night before dinner. “Come in.”
The door opens slowly to reveal a boy not much younger than Gabriel. Although he might not be considered overweight yet, he certainly has a plump look about his round face. Large almond eyes stare expectantly at him. “Am I interrupting? Sias told me I should give you a day to settle in before I pounce on you.”
“You’re fine.” Gabriel crisscrosses his legs, wincing at the scratchy fabric of his robe against his skin.
The boy enters with a wide grin stretched across his face, creating dimples in his plump cheeks. “It takes a while to get used to them.”
“To what?” Gabriel questions.
Enael lifts his hands to tug on his own robe. “I hated mine for the first month I was here. Then winter set in and I was thankful for it.”
Gabriel’s eyebrow rises. “What is it like when it’s not winter here?”
“Like this,” the boy smiles. Gabriel cannot help but chuckle. “It is a tad more blustery now, I guess. It gets dark earlier too.” He glances around Gabriel’s room, at the sparse décor. There is a stack of ugly brown robes on a wooden chair at the foot of Gabriel’s bed. An aged mirror hangs slightly crooked on the wall. A tattered blanket from his bed is folded on the small writing desk in the corner.
“How long have you been here?” Gabriel asks, pulling Enael’s attention back.
“About six months I guess. It is easy to lose track of time around here. I used to carve a mark into the walls each night but even that got boring.”
Gabriel smiles at the boy’s wistful tone. “I guess I’m not the only prisoner here.”
Enael’s eyes widen. “Oh no. Not a prisoner. I like it here…most of the time. Well, some days at least. Now you are here. Things are about to get really exciting.”
“What do you mean?”
His cheeks redden as he clamps his hand over his mouth. “Oh, dragonflies. Sias warned me to keep my trap shut. I always do this.”
Gabriel laughs, holding up his hands to calm the boy. “It’s ok. If you can’t say, you don’t have to tell me.”
“Thanks,” he gushes, flopping down onto Gabriel’s rug. His eyes light up. “Oh! I almost forgot.”
Reaching into the folds of his robe, Enael removes a small box and holds it out. “What is it?” Gabriel asks, turning the box over.
“You’re supposed to open it,” Enael grins.
Gabriel’s fingers slide along the seam until they dip into a small notch at the front. He lifts off the lid and frowns. “A book?”
“Take a look.” Enael rises onto his knees to watch. Excitement wiggles through his plump body as he scoots forward. “I heard you like to draw.”
Opening the slightly worn leather cover, Gabriel discovers a sketchpad. Jagged edges, from pages torn away, line the binding. He glances up to find Enael blushing. “My uncle gave this to me when he told me I was coming here. Guess he thought it might help pass the time.”
Enael scratches the hairline of his bowl cut. “Found out I’m not much of an artist, but I did manage to beat Ordin at a couple games of tic-tac-toe.”
Gabriel bursts out laughing. “I bet he loved that.”
“Yeah,” he winces, unconsciously rubbing the back of his hand. “He can be a sore loser at times.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Gabriel grins. His fingertips glide over the thick paper before he looks up at Enael. “Thank you for this. It’s perfect.”
Enael beams. “I have the charcoal around here somewhere. I’ll see if I can get it for you after the games.” His slumped spine straightens. “So are you going to join us tonight in the ring?”
“What ring?” Gabriel asks, setting aside Enael’s gift.
“The ring of death,” he says in a deep voice, cupping his hands around his mouth to produce a tiny echo. He clears his throat. “That’s just what I like to cal
l it. You should come. It’s loads of fun. Each of us chooses a weapon and dives in. It is a real free-for-all. Ordin is an expert with the mace and sword but his throwing arm is a bit stiff because of the weather.”
“Good to know,” Gabriel grins. “And what about you?”
Enael blushes. “I’m pretty good with the whips.”
“Whips?”
“Yeah, you know those ones the Romans used to beat people with?”
“Uh, no.” Gabriel laughs. Like that obscure fact was actually going to stick in his brain. Ancient history was his least favorite class in school.
“Well, they are totally amazing,” Enael’s hands flutter in the air. “They are about five feet long, made of thick black leather and have killer sharp claws on the end. I can take the head off the practice dummy with the flick of my wrist,” he boasts proudly.
“I’m sure you can,” Gabriel laughs. “What about the others?”
“Sias is wicked awesome with all of the weapons. He moves like a lion, low and stealthy,” Elias rises to imitate Sias’ movements. His clumsy impersonation nearly has Gabriel in tears. “Just when you think he’s down, he pounces back and guts you with his javelin.”
“Will everyone else be there?” Gabriel is still a little wary of the other men. Sias seems nice enough. He can even handle Ordin in small doses, but the other three are somewhat hard to read.
“Yep. They all get in on the fun. Asrim does not really put out much effort. He is kind of slow because of his size. And Raos and Ortuh are not that good anymore. Their hearts just aren’t in it now that Faeus and Arthes are gone.”
Judging by the way Enael’s voice wavers, Gabriel has a pretty good feeling that he means dead instead of gone. “What happened to them?”
Enael smiles wanly. “Your girl, Roseline, took them out.”
Gabriel winces. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Enael waves off Gabriel’s apology. “She was just trying to protect you. Sias doesn’t hold that against you and I think the others will come around.”
Somehow, Gabriel highly doubts that. “Is that Ordin’s beef with me?”
“Nah. He’s been rough around the edges ever since I was a little boy.”
Gabriel’s brow creases. “How long have you been around the monks?”
“My whole life. Can’t really avoid it when your uncle is in so deep,” Enael replies, tugging on a frayed part of the rug. Second-hand, like much of what Gabriel has seen of this place.
“Who is your uncle?” he asks.
Enael grins. “Sias.”
***
Artic winds whip past Gabriel, easing the furnace bubbling within. He had to escape the monastery. It is too stifling inside.
Out here, on the icy precipice, he can truly be alone with his thoughts. No one dares to join him. The daylight temperatures are miserable at this altitude, but nighttime is fatal.
Winds whip past at brutal speeds, swirling ice cyclones rise around him but he ignores their stinging jabs, swatting the ice crystals like a pesky fly. The sun has fled, leaving behind a murky gray sky, shielding moon and starlight from the land. Gabriel can imagine that on a clear day the layers of ice clinging to the mountainside would be a spectacular sight to behold.
His perch is narrow, precarious for a mortal to stand on, let alone sit for hours on end lazily swinging their legs back and forth. He sucks in a deep breath, savoring the taste of the clean air, free of man-made pollution.
Tonight he needs to be alone. It is getting harder for him to resist the urge to leap down the mountainside and race back to Roseline.
Longing swells in his chest, constricting his throat. Tears well in his eyes but none fall. Questions cascade through his troubled mind. Does she search for him? Will she understand why he does not return to her?
He knows he could leave, should leave, but instead he lingers. Maybe it is the breeding doubt about his destiny, whatever that is supposed to be. Gabriel knows there is something more going on. He just cannot place his finger on it.
This place, these monks feel…right.
Therefore, he stays, all the while pining for Roseline, praying she is safe, hoping her love remains secure.
He looks down at his sketch, tracing the fine contours of Roseline’s cheek. His fingers ache to touch her silky skin. His arms beg to wrap her in his embrace, to protect her now that he is finally strong enough to do so.
Gabriel sighs, lifting his head to stare out into the night. Enael was right. It is growing increasingly blustery.
The door below him grinds open. Gabriel peers down at the rectangle of light. “Should I have Enael bring out a cot for you or will you be joining us for dinner?” Sias shouts into the driving winds.
Tucking the book within his robe, Gabriel leaps down from his ledge, landing lightly on his toes. “That won’t be necessary. I’m coming.”
Sias waits for Gabriel to pass before slipping in behind him. Using his shoulder, he shoves the heavy door closed. The whistling winds cut off and the walls shudder as the locking bolt slams into place. He shivers, blowing warmth back into his fingers through blue tinged lips.
“Sorry you had to come fetch me,” Gabriel apologizes. “I lost track of time.”
“Not to worry,” Sias smiles. His lips tremble slightly. “Just glad to see you decided to stick around.”
Gabriel glances over at Sias. “Did you think I would leave?”
He shrugs, the heavy robe rising and falling with his shoulders. “You seemed to have a lot on your mind during your lessons today, but I hoped you would stay.”
“And what if I didn’t?”
Sias sighs heavily. “You would be hunted.”
“By who?” Gabriel asks, knowing that he will only get the same frustrating answer he has for the past three days.
“You know I can’t tell you,” Sias reprimands.
“Yeah, I know,” Gabriel grinds out, “you’re not the one.”
“I know this is hard for you.” Sias places a hand on Gabriel’s arm, struggling to reach around Gabriel’s bicep. “I imagine you think I’m being cruel to withhold so much, but I am only doing this to protect you. I only know bits and pieces. If I were to try to explain-” he cuts off, his face drooping.
“I get it,” Gabriel stares down at Sias’ hand. A symbol of how far they have come since he arrived, unconscious and drugged. Kidnapped from Roseline’s arms. He shudders at the reminder. “I will wait, but I can’t promise I will be patient.”
Sias grins. “I don’t expect you to be. Which is why, tonight, I am pairing you up with Ordin in the ring. I thought you might like to work off some of that tension on him.”
Gabriel laughs. “Sounds great. I’ll try not to hurt him…too much.”
Their shoes slap against the floor as they head for the kitchen. Gabriel can already hear Ordin swearing like a trooper from within. “I thought you monks were supposed to be holy and all that.”
“Yes,” Sias laughs. “Some of us struggle with that more than others.” He turns at the sound of approaching footsteps. They echo through the corridor, picking up speed as they draw near.
“Ortuh, how nice to see you,” Sias calls as the tall man, who sports a slight paunch around the middle, runs up. “The stew smells divine this evening. Did you help to prepare it?
The new arrival glances nervously at Gabriel. “I was just on my way to find you. May we have a word in private?”
Sias follows Ortuh’s pointed gaze. The corners of his eyes pinch for a brief second. “Why don’t you go on ahead and wash up for dinner? I will join you in a moment.”
Gabriel slips past, but not before noting the sheen on Ortuh’s forehead. Having spent the past hour laboring in the galley kitchen, he was sure to have a rise in temperature, but his pulse should not be that elevated.
Something is going on.
Rushing down the hall, barely restraining from a full out run, Gabriel determines who his dinner partner shall be tonight- Enael, the most pathetic liar
Gabriel has ever met.
Chapter 21
Roseline chews on her lip, glancing around at her friends. Nicolae looks just as lost as she does.
“The Guardians? Is that supposed to mean something to us?” Fane asks, openly glaring at Malachi.
Fierce disappointment jabs between Roseline’s ribs. As Vladimir’s right hand man for so many years, Roseline had hoped he might have heard something about them. “You mean it doesn’t?”
