Thomas scanned the Guardians section. The representatives of Guardians Inc. main satellite companies took their places, all dressed in impeccable suits and carrying the Guardians pin on their lapel.
“What about that section?” Thomas asked, pointing at a thin section of the hall divided in small squares.
“Those are unaligned,” she said. “It’s comprised of Faun clans that have decided to remain separate from the larger tribes. There are also Magic-attuned human clans there and in those five seats at the front.” She pointed out five seats separate from each other. “The Seats of the Ancients—the representatives of the last reptile and amphibian clans.”
“Only five?” Thomas asked. “There are way more species than that.”
“Yes,” Elise said, “but they don’t have fauns. These are the oldest species, Thomas. They have gone through many mass extinctions brought on by the Wraith. We guess that the wars took their toll on them. The same applies to fishes and insects; there are no fauns left of them.”
No fish or insect fauns…Thomas knew that the insect species far outnumbered all other animal species combined. In the eternal war the Wraith waged against life, it was known to the Guardians that the Wraith had brought on the mass extinctions through water, through ice, even by raining fire upon the Earth. Since ancient times the Fauns had waged war against the Wraith and the chaos they brought. That no Faun clans were left of the insects or fish because of the Wraith, only highlighted how powerful the Wraith were and how dangerous Tasha had become after joining forces with them.
“And where is the Azure Guard seated?” Thomas asked. He wanted to see how large the group was that his grandfather had joined.
“All over.” Elise leaned over the guardrail beside him. “You'll see many of the Clan representatives wearing their symbol.”
Thomas saw many of the faun ministers wearing a turquoise pendant attached to their robes. As he scanned the room he noticed that two of the Ancients wore the pendant—the Salamander and the Turtle fauns.
“There are less Faun clans affiliated to the Azure Legion than before World War II,” Bolswaithe said, “but still too many for comfort.”
“And they have a say in the assembly too,” Elise pointed to the Indian tribe. “Everyone knows that Minister Hoormel-Kian is the voice of the Warmaster.”
Thomas followed Elise's finger; she was pointing at a broad figure, a tiger faun, who was talking animatedly to a small gathering. The Azure Guard pendant was prominently displayed on his robe. Minister Idar was imposing, and Thomas imagined how much more the tiger faun would be. Hoormel-Kian laughed at a joke a boar faun told and his fangs seemed to shine. His massive paws clapped in delight, slapping the back of a bear faun by his side.
“What is that green thing?” Thomas pointed to the far end of the hall behind the non-aligned clans. A green haze shimmered. He could barely make out two silhouettes inside the haze.
“Emerald Knights,” Bolswaithe said. “There are at least two in all meetings.”
“What are they?” Thomas squinted his eyes. “Humans or Fauns?”
“No one knows,” Bolswaithe continued. “The first reference we have about them is from around 9300 BC, and that puts them in the time before Atlantis was destroyed. There are stories and records about them, but we can only claim for sure that one of them took part in the Battle of Troy alongside us, almost five thousand years ago. All other reports about them are the same—they stay separated, content with just watching.”
“Why hasn't anyone approached them?” Thomas asked, turning around. “Talked with them?”
“Simple,” Bolswaithe told him. “Those who talk with them don't receive an answer; those who try and visit their Keep in Ireland are turned away, and those who try something more than talk disappear.”
Thomas turned back toward the balcony and a shiver ran down his spine. His heart pounded in his chest as he saw the two silhouettes looking up.
Directly at him.
“That's what you get,” Elise elbowed him. “Stop looking at them; they know you're watching.”
Thomas looked away, “Can we go now?” he asked. The Emerald Knights had given him the creeps.
“Not just yet,” Elise told him. “Minister Idar made me promise you'd watch this. Look at the entrance.”
Thomas looked down and saw ten ministers, with Minister Idar at the front of the line, walking toward the central podium. As they approached it, everyone moved to their seats.
Idar and the other ministers climbed up the stairs to the revolving center and took their seats, leaving the central chair empty. On one side of the chair was Idar, then a horse, a sheep, a pig, and a duck faun. On the other side of the chair were a camel, a goat, a cat, a donkey, and a cow faun. Everyone took their places. Thomas noticed that none of them carried an Azure Legion pendant.
Idar picked up a gavel and struck three times on a wooden disk. All chatter died out, and all fauns rose from their seats, their heads turning toward the center aisle.
A figure clad in flowing black robes entered through the door and walked steadily toward her seat. Her feathers weren't white, but matted brown, and her tail was covered with the flowing robe. All heads followed her movements as she climbed the stairs and reached her place of honor in the central chair. She sat down and lifted some papers from her desk with her hands, which, like in all avian fauns, were in the middle of her wings. After a couple of seconds, she nodded at Idar, and after taking an inquisitorial look at the assembly she nodded her head. In unison all ministers sat down on their chairs.
“That is High Minister Chelyua of the Ochran-Threr,” Elise said.
Thomas had to accept that he had never seen such a dignified chicken. He had really screwed up by chuckling about her.
Elise tapped him in the shoulder. “Now we can go.”
“And the Azure Guard will follow you,” a wheezing voice said from behind, startling them.
Bolswaithe immediately jumped and grabbed the newcomer. He forcefully pushed him against the wall and placed an arm against his chest. Thomas could only see the man's hands as they grasped at Bolswaithe's arms.
“There...” the voice was familiar. It paused between words and extended the “s” sound a little bit. “There's no need for violence.”
“How did you find us?” Bolswaithe demanded. “How did you evade my sensors?”
Thomas had seen those pointy fingers and those molded nails in his library station. It was the man who had approached with a request for an unnamable book. He was the same man depicted in the Book of Beasts six centuries ago. It had been Thomas’s first week at work in the library.
The man had created quite a stir when he had shown up in the library. To this day there was no explanation as to how he had crossed through the Magical and technological security measures of the Mansion and especially the library. The man had been after one of the most forbidding books, Mysteries of the Worm, almost as famous as the Necronomicon and equally dangerous as they contained knowledge of how to summon the Wraith.
This man had been working with Tasha for a long time and Thomas was sure that he was in great part responsible for Tasha's undoing.
He was wearing a black, coarse trench coat ragged at the edges and patched with thick strands of leather in more than one place.
“I go where I'm needed,” the Man in the Trench Coat said through gritted teeth. He ran one long-nailed hand over his bald head, leaving a greasy dark residue that absorbed into his skin.
“We don't need you,” Thomas said.
“Let me deal with him, Bolswaithe,” Elise's hands grew blue with Magic.
The Man in the Trench Coat's eyes grew as he saw her blue hands. “You need me if you don't want to kill your grandfather,” he told Thomas. “I can help you become invisible to him.”
“I've heard enough.” Elise raised a hand bathed in bright blue light.
“Wait,” Thomas stopped her. The faintest smile appeared on the Man's face, a thin line across his emac
iated, almost cadaverous face. The tip of his nose was pulled downward a little bit. Even his eyes seemed to smile as they turned to slits, and the purple rim underneath each one pulsed as the little veins filled with blood and rose underneath the pale skin. “How is Gramps tracking us?” Thomas asked.
“I don't know,” he said. “But I know who does.”
“It's a lie, Thomas,” Bolswaithe said as he pushed the Man against the wall. “Don't listen to him.”
“Who?” Thomas asked.
The Man in the Trench Coat smiled. “You can't get something for nothing,” he said.
“Thomas, don't fall for his tricks,” Elise said.
“It's not a trick. It's no lie. One favor for another, that's how it works.”
Thomas paused. He couldn't trust this man touched by the Wraith, much less owe him anything. “We don't need a favor from you,” he snapped.
“You think you don’t,” the Man said. “There is a difference.” He looked at Bolswaithe. “Are you going to kill me? Here? In the League of Nations?”
“Maybe I should,” Bolswaithe said, “but it's not my decision.”
Thomas knew that Bolswaithe was more than capable of eliminating this man, and that he would do it if he ordered him to. “Let him go, Bolswaithe,” Thomas said, and Bolswaithe relaxed his grip on the Man's chest and he doubled over, gasping.
“Go,” Thomas said. “We don't need you.”
“No one does,” the Man said. “Until they do, and when you do, you will have to come to me.”
“I'll never do that,” Thomas told him.
“Funny…Tarsaa said the same thing once,” the Man sneered. He was using Tasha’s Elven name. He then retreated into the corner; the shadow seemed to envelop him before it shrunk and disappeared. A piece of an old newspaper floated down from the corner. The date was 26 April, 1986. Thomas leaned to pick it up, but Bolswaithe stopped him.
“I wouldn’t,” Bolswaithe said, and Thomas followed his advice as the piece of paper became ash and disintegrated.
“That's a powerful creature,” Bolswaithe told them. “I don't think I was ever in control.”
“Promise you won't say anything to the Doctor about him,” Thomas pleaded.
“Thomas,” Elise said. “This man is very dangerous.”
“He said he knew how Gramps was following us.”
“He actually said he knew someone that knew,” Bolswaithe corrected. “He is a middleman at best.”
“Even so,” Thomas argued, “it’s another way of finding out how Gramps tracks us and maybe how to make him stop without a direct confrontation.”
“A big maybe, Thomas,” Elise said. “We know Tasha had dealings with this Man and also how that turned out. He is dangerous.”
Thomas bit his lip. “I don’t want the Doctor to find out he contacted us.”
“He’ll know,” Elise said.
“But not just yet,” Thomas said. “And not from you. I’ll tell him after I know more about him. Promise me you won’t tell him.”
“That’s asking too much,” Elise said.
Thomas almost yelled, “If we can’t stop Grandpa from tracking us, I’ll be forced to fight him, or the Doctor will be forced to deal with him in another manner. He might even have to kill him. He’s thought about it, Bolswaithe. I know he has.”
“It is an option,” Bolswaithe said. “An extreme one, but an option nonetheless, and it’s not on the table…yet.”
“It will be if I don’t find another way to stop them,” Thomas said. “This could be an option too. Please promise me you’ll give me time. That’s all I ask.”
Elise exchanged a look of concern with Bolswaithe. “Okay, Thomas,” she said. “We won’t say a word for now.”
“But you have to promise that you won't do anything stupid,” Bolswaithe said.
“Like what?” Thomas was sure that he had done more than his share of stupid things already.
“Like trying to find the Man in the Trench Coat by yourself.”
The Man in the Trench Coat
“Meet El Cuco!” Oscar said, showing Thomas a picture of a creature more or less like the Man in the Trench Coat who had contacted him in the League of Nations. “This one's from Spain,” he said. “In Latin America they call him El Coco, but it's almost the same thing.” He showed Thomas a drawing from Goya titled Que viene el Coco dated 1799.
Thomas had asked Oscar to give him a hand in researching about the Man in the Trench Coat and found out that he was an amazing researcher, his extensive knowledge of mythology and folklore had really shined when Thomas described the man to him.
After Thomas gave him the initial description of the Man, Oscar immediately told him that they were after the “Boogeyman” and gave him twenty different names from the same number of cultures for the same creature: Xoxan, Baobao, Bussenmanden, Homem do saco, Der scharze Mann, Bhoot. “It's a nasty one, this one,” Oscar said more excited than scared about knowing that the Boogeyman was real.
“But he only interacts with children,” Thomas said. So far he'd read that the Boogeyman only served as a story to scare misbehaving children, to make them stop crying, or to force them to eat their vegetables.
“Ah, yes,” Oscar said. “That side of the folklore is about his interaction with children. But when we dig deeper…” He showed Thomas a photo of the central panel of “The Temptation of St. Anthony,” painted by Hieronymous Bosh in the 1500s. “Who's right there with his nose elongated like a flute?”
Thomas carefully studied the photo, and the creature with the long nose did have a resemblance to the Man in the Trench Coat.
Oscar showed him different images. “Here's some of Rembrandt, Durer and el Greco.” The photos always showed someone who resembled the Boogeyman in the background, lurking in the shadows.
“You can argue that all these are roughly from the same period, but then if you go back...” Oscar showed him Medieval tapestries, Chinese oils, and Hindu reliefs. Each one depicted the Man in the Trench Coat behind the main characters, on the side, almost as if the artist had placed him there as an afterthought. “He's been there a long time…” Oscar showed him a Roman bass relief of a sarcophagus where just the face was peeking out from one corner, and an Egyptian tomb painting where he was following a procession of warriors.
“What about interaction?” Thomas asked. “His motives, people he has spoken with?”
“That's a little trickier,” Oscar said. “Trying to find that in historical records is difficult, but he was very active in Victorian England. I went into the Library Intranet and found many references to him. Before that, he was at the Battle of Hastings in 1066 as an advisor to Duke William. They won the battle of course. He was a friend of Ephialtes of Trachis, who betrayed King Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans. On the Persian side of the conflict, he advised King Xerxes to attack through Thermopylae. He helped Ibn Battuta destroy a Wraith incursion in 1335. He helped Napoleon conquer Europe, and then advised him to attack Russia, and we all know how that turned out.” Oscar kept on reading the information he had gathered. “He's a very complicated fellow. Sometimes he helped create kingdoms, like Odrysia in Thrace, and sometimes he brought destruction on a massive scale, like with the Khmer Kingdom.”
“Do you think we can trust him?” Thomas asked. In all honesty, that was what he really wanted to know.
“Trust him?” Oscar fixed his glasses. “With what?”
Thomas sighed. “I can't tell you that. I'm sorry.” So far Thomas had kept secret his meeting with the Man in the Trench Coat, and he was pretty sure that Elise and Bolswaithe had done the same.
Oscar scowled. “Come on.”
“I'm sorry, but I really appreciate what you're doing,” Thomas told him, “and your opinion about him. Can we trust him?”
Oscar took his time to answer. “As much as to trust him...” he murmured. “Well, let’s not count that the Boogeyman, and all other names he has been given are sometimes used as a nickname for the Devil. Bas
ed on his historical meddling, I would say that trusting him has a 50-50 chance of triumph or…death.”
“50-50?”
“Basically, he's the face of temptation and ill advice, Thomas.” Oscar said. “I mean, I even found a children's book app about him for God's sakes!” Oscar showed him a picture with a cartooned Man in the Trench Coat—the long nose and pointy fingers gave him immediately away—and he looked evil, but funny at the same time.
“But,” Thomas argued, “he doesn't always kill whoever looks for him; some of his advice and guidance has helped. He's not always completely, utterly evil.”
“Oh no, you can't think that way about this guy,” Oscar said. “Everywhere he's popped up there has always been a winner and a loser. So you can say that he does the same amount of good as he does evil. It's just a matter of who gets what. Of course when he does evil…well…”
Who gets what. Thomas thought about that for some time. If he was going to contact this Boogeyman, he had to make sure that he came out on top and that Thomas was the winner, not the loser. Of course, ideally, he would never need to contact him, but it was nice to know that he could actually benefit from an encounter with him.
“Thank you, Oscar,” Thomas said, standing up from his desk. “I owe you one.”
“Well . . . about that!” Oscar said before he could leave. “I guess you could introduce me to your friend sometime. You know, the cute one?”
Guardians Inc.:Thundersword (Guardians Incorporated #2) Page 7
