“And we're involved? Keepers or us?”
“He said us, although I have a feeling it's bigger than that,” Rob said, sifting through the conversation again.
“What is? The now or the later?”
“I have only had eight shots of espresso, ask me after ten more.”
“And that's supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.” Rob sigh. “It doesn't make me feel better either. There's something wrong, Galen. I just don't know if it's me or the world or both.”
Three
Galen
The garden was quiet, the warm scent of the richness of growing things surrounded Galen as he knelt among his plants, gently pulling some to transplant to the other side, or snipping a leaf to encourage growth. He never weeded the garden in the sense most people would, he just coaxed the plants up and moved them to a different area. One person's weed was someone else's medicinal or magical plant. He still laughed at the memory of Flash's discovery of the carefully tended patch of dandelions. Even after Galen had carefully explained that they were important, and not just “filthy pain-in-the-ass weeds”, Flash remained unconvinced. In fact, after sitting with Galen while he tended the garden once or twice, his friend had become so frustrated he'd disappeared to the coffee stand for nearly an hour.
Galen really couldn't blame him. Flash wasn't really made for sitting and talking to plants, and his idea of taking care of a yard involved a power lawnmower that was capable of mowing down everything including small trees and probably small cars if they got in the way. Still, Flash had hovered over Galen while he was getting the garden ready in early Spring.
Everyone had hovered, reaction to the accident, no doubt. It had taken Galen months to get his brother and friends to allow him time alone. He was fine, he'd healed. Rob should know better, but, then again, Galen was still haunted by injuries Rob had suffered and he knew, objectively at least, that his brother was fine. The subjective mind wasn't so sure.
He'd retreated to the garden to think, the space offered more than something to do. The area was Bolted, nothing supernatural could enter or even gaze in without his permission. The ravens could come and go as they pleased, and he was usually surprised by some small gift they'd found and left among the plants. Today he'd discovered a piece of what looked like brightly colored beads tucked in the gray lamb's ears. They were adding their own magic to the garden, at least he hoped that's what it was. He did know there was a peace here that was nowhere else, a quiet in his heart and mind that let him think.
There was a lot to think about. Something was going on, he'd noticed his brother's odd sleeping habits were even more erratic than usual, and judging by the hyper-organizing of the shop, Rob was on edge. The fact his brother had called Billy Hernandez was a little worrying. Galen was trying not to let it bother him that Rob had called Billy rather than talk with him, but he knew Rob and the shaman had worked together when Galen was “dead” and it was a natural reaction. Even if it stung. He was trying to trust Rob to let him know what was going on, but there was a nagging sense of foreboding that Galen knew was more than just misplaced worry.
He knew they had Gifts that were different than many other Custodes Noctis; actually according to Rob, they had the Gifts that the Keepers once had, but had been put aside for various reasons ranging from the fact they were viewed as “dangerous” to “just not needed” in the modern world. The Scientific Revolution had affected the Custodes Noctis , and even though they knew Darkness still walked the earth, many families had cast aside many of the Traditions, keeping only those that seemed to fit in a world ruled by science. For some reason, Galen and Rob still had those lost Gifts. Some of them were obvious, Rob had a small Gift of healing—or had before his encounter with the feorhbealu, and Galen had a tiny bit of the Sight. Nothing like his brother's Gift, but enough to help boost his healing and enough to see the dark shadow lurking behind his brother for the last few days.
Galen wished he had something to compare that shadow with, but when he looked directly at it, the thing disappeared. If he brushed a hand into it, there was nothing there, so whatever it was, it was not physically there. At least not in the world they were in. It could be just behind the Veil, hiding behind the curtain that divide the worlds, but Galen still should be able to touch it. Sighing, he leaned against the bench, carefully transplanting several small sweet cicely plants that had started under the comfrey. Maybe he was imaging the whole thing.
“There is something wrong,” Dera's deep voice said as the raven landed on the bench, nudging Galen's cheek almost like a cat.
“What do you mean?” Galen replied, stroking the bird's silky feathers.
“We do not fear darkness, we have flown in the Between World, but something wakes that frightens many things. The Riders fear what is coming.”
“The Riders? You mean the Hunt? You've been out to the Hunt?”
“Gaius sent a message: 'Tell the King and his Champion that something rises, tell them it comes for them, tell them it was foretold in the Saga'.”
Gaius Emrys was their ancestor, the last Emrys to join the Hunt voluntarily until Galen and Rob. He still rode in the Between World helping the Riders stay loyal to the Custodes Noctis and not stray into evil. “Did he mention which Saga?”
“No.” Dera clacked his beak together in disgust. Galen couldn't help but agree. There were hundreds of Sagas, and many had been lost since Gaius had been alive and studied them. For all they knew, the Saga they needed wasn't even available anymore. “Should we ask?”
“Rob?” Galen asked, the raven nodded. “If it's an obscure Saga, he'll know it. There's something going on with him. The dreams he's having, I think they are tied up with this thing.”
“We agree, it's why we watch.” Dera cocked his head to the side like he was listening to something, then with a curt nod at Galen fluttered up into the sky.
Wondering what brought about the raven's abrupt exit, Galen stood, dusted the dirt from his hands and headed back towards the shop. He stopped at the sink and washed his hands, then headed into the front. Rob had several books on the counter in front of him. “Coffee?” Galen asked.
“Is the sky up?” Rob answered with a smile.
“I'll be right back.” Galen walked over to the coffee stand, Becci and Sarah were both in the small booth, getting ready for shift change. They turned to Galen with a smile, Becci starting the coffee without even asking what he wanted.
“Is Flash coming by later?” Sarah tried to sound casual.
“I'm not sure, he tends to show up in time for food, but band practice is tomorrow,” Galen said. Flash and Sarah had an almost-relationship. It was beginning to drive him a little crazy. Neither one of them would make more than a hesitant first move—it was getting to the point where he and Rob were planning a set-up of some kind and just locking the two in a room with dinner and a bottle of wine until they worked it out.
“Oh.” Sarah pouted a little. “He was supposed to call.”
“I'll remind him,” Galen assured her, grabbing the coffees and heading back before he could get drawn into Flash's attempts at a love life.
“You look a little perturbed,” Rob said, opening the door as Galen reached the shop.
“Flash was supposed to call Sarah. You're just lucky the coffees were finished.”
“I would have forgiven you in that case.” He took the cup Galen handed him. “I've been reading.”
“Still?”
“No, these came in the shipment today, several of them I have been waiting impatiently for.” Rob pulled him towards the counter. “Especially this one.”
The book was old, Galen might even class it in the “ancient” class. The pages were obviously not paper, but vellum, the ink faded and the letters, though carefully uniform, were obviously penned by hand. It had the distinct scent of a vellum book, not the musty old paper, but something else, more organic. He brushed his hand over it, getting a sense of power that resonated off the book. It had been
owned by someone in the past that had immense control of the supernatural world. “Do I want to know what this cost?”
“No,” Rob said with a grin. “You really don't.”
“What is it?”
“It's the Fyrngidd Ealdféond.”
“Uh huh.” Galen met his brother's slate-blue eyes. “A Saga?”
“Yes and no, it's a Saga, but it's also a prophecy of sorts.”
“Of sorts? What does that mean?”
“It's a Saga of the Beginning Times, the time when the Old Ones walked the earth. Some of it speaks of the time before our grandfather's grandmother's grandfather's time.”
“Meaning a long, long time,” Galen offered.
“Pretty much. It's a mixture of creation myth with actual history. Some prophecy of things to come—some things which have already happened by the way—and some things yet to happen. There are thirteen books in total, this is one of the only ones that hasn't been lost, and this is, as far as I know, the oldest version extant.” Rob's eyes were sparkling with excitement. “I know there is a lot of information missing, but this is fascinating. It tells of the founding of one of the other family lines of Keepers and how they joined with the Emrys family to fight in a battle 'at the place of the standing stones', I'm still trying to figure which place that is. Anyway, what's really interesting is the first part, from the myth-history part.”
“You have had too much coffee.” Galen couldn't help grinning. His brother was in his element and it had nothing to do with caffeine. “Well?”
Rob carefully turned the pages back to the beginning of the book, a large, ornately designed capital covered half the front page. “It talks about a war, the Old Ones were involved in the fight. The feorhbealu and something else, something I am still trying to track down, I think it must be in one of the other books. It's tied to the Custodes Noctis somehow and the bracelets were...”
“Rob!” Galen stopped him before he got off track.
“Oh, right, sorry. There was a war, and the Old Ones were involved, actually everything was. Looking at the various times, I think it might match up with the...”
“Rob?”
“Oh, yeah, war. There were two factions, well more than that, but two main ones, and some of the losing side suffered the...” Rob paused and ran his hand down the page. “They suffered 'the death that is not death, the death that remains forever, the death that is held motionless.'”
“What does that mean?”
“I'm not sure, it could be poetic, just to move the story along, or it could be something that actually happened. It all depends on that time line.” Rob sighed. “I need to know when this particular war happened, it would help me figure out what was going on. I think... Hmm.”
“What?”
“I'm not sure. I need more coffee.”
“I just brought you more,” Galen pointed out.
“You did, but it's never enough.” Rob laughed. “I wish I could figure out the whens of this thing. There's a translation of one of the only other parts, but I don't trust it.”
“You don't trust anyone's translations.”
“True, but it's one of those that has some fundamental errors from the outset,” Rob said, leaning back and sipping his coffee.
“How can you be sure if you haven't seen the original?”
“Well, for one thing I know the translation is from a secondary source, a Latin translation done in the Sixteenth Century, that in and of itself raises a red flag.”
“Not all Latin manuscripts are bad,” Galen said, a little defensively. “I used several for my dissertation and they generally agreed with the older sources.”
“They do, generally, but there is a difference in what we're dealing with here. You were using medical texts mostly. The Sagas and related works are different and a mistranslation of one word can lead to an entirely different meaning of the whole Saga! The single word can create a chain reaction that can lead to disaster.” Rob paused, his eyes intense. “Most translators are thinking about it from a literary standpoint. They don't consider the reality of it. They want their translation to sound good to the modern reader, not necessarily be as accurate as possible. For example, in the Saga of the Winter King one of the modern translations lists the servants of the king as 'dark-plumed winged fae' and that's not quite right.”
“Dera and Dor would agree with that.”
“I realize that's something small, but that's just an example. Literary effect is great, but when it means the literal life-or-death difference for us or another pair of Keepers, I'm a little picky about the translation.” He paced away from the counter and glanced out the window. “We both know how wrong it can be, and we both know what that can cost, so I...”
“Rob,” Galen said softly.
“What?”
“Deep breath.”
“Sorry.” Rob wandered back over to the counter. “This is really bothering me, I know there are parts missing, and I have a funny feeling those parts are important. If I just knew what I needed I might be able to track it down through another history.” Rob paused again, staring at the book. “Billy called.”
“Oh?”
“When I talked to him last night he said he would do some checking on his end, to see what he could find out.”
“About your dreams?” Galen asked.
“Or whatever they are, yeah. He did a Walk to see what he could find.” Rob ran a hand through his hair. Galen noticed it was shaking. “Billy's been a lot of places, Galen...”
“I'm beginning to get the feeling I'm not going to like this.”
“He said there was a wall, which is actually common on a Walk, but this wall wouldn't move. Billy tried to get past and whatever was there pushed him away. After that he tried to get a better look at where he was, but even that he couldn't pin down. Whatever it is, it's incredibly powerful.”
“But what is it?”
“I don't know. In the dream it feels almost like the Old One.”
“And we haven't mentioned that before because why?” Galen asked.
“Because I wasn't sure, because I do dream about what happened sometimes and it feels real, and this was close enough...”
Galen put a hand on his brother's arm, getting a sense of the emotions there. Even with the bond muted, he could still use the healing in the same way he would with a client. Rob wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling the whole truth either, however when Galen tried to throw open the bond a little further, something clamped it down, the briefest flash of a dark shadow, then it was gone. “What the hell....?” he muttered. Rob was right, for an instant it did have a feeling to it like the Old One that they'd faced, the same creature that had torn itself free of his body and left a deep scar on his chest. A scar that let him sense the darkness that moved under the earth, it was almost like a tether he could never escape. He'd thought after their ride with the Hunt it would stop, but it was still there and he could feel the deep thrum of the vile things lurking in the world.
“See?” Rob's voice was unsure.
“It's not the Old One we faced, and it's not a memory.” Galen would have been able to move through the memory, and the thing they'd fought was dead, even though some of its servants still survived.
“No, it's not. I think it's one of their kind though, an Old One or something like it, left over from the Wars. That's why the date is so vital.”
“What do you mean?”
“According to the Sagas, there were a series of Wars, before and after the founding of the Custodes Noctis. One of those led to the founding of the Hunt, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Well,” Rob continued, “finding out which war this creature fought in is important.”
“Why?” Galen asked, the sense of foreboding growing, along with an ache in the scar on his chest.
“Because if it was one of the Ancient Ones, the Ealdféond, we're in big trouble.”
“The Ancient Ones?” Galen knew his Sagas well enough to know what his brothe
r was talking about. “I know they aren't myth, but I thought they were all gone, driven through the Veil or destroyed.”
“I did too, but that's why this book is so important. Supposedly there was a dissenter, and he was punished with the death that isn't death.”
“Which means?” Galen asked.
“I think it means he's here.”
“Here?”
“Yeah, and somehow it's found me.”
“Rob?”
“It's here.” His brother turned back to the book. “And... 'thus it will come, after the time of fire and ice, it will come in the time of the heart, the heart that will beat in the everlasting death.'”
“That makes no sense.”
“Let me finish.” Rob looked up, his eyes bleak. “It goes on, 'the time of the one without what he was Gifted shall come and he shall be summoned.'”
“Rob...”
“It's me, Galen, face it. It's me.”
Four
Rob
The scent of old vellum filled his senses, wisps of dust floated in the air and sparkled in the lamplight. Rob leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. The coffee was starting to wear off, and he'd finally reached the point where he couldn't stomach the idea of another cup. He had considered several of the herbs on the shelves in the shop, thanks to Galen he knew which ones were stimulants. Realistically, he knew he needed sleep. It was getting to the point where he knew he'd pushed himself too far, stayed awake too long. Sighing, he stood, stretched and headed back towards his bedroom. After spending the afternoon and most of the evening head down in various books and manuscripts, Rob was past the point of being able to concentrate. He had too many words, too many Sagas running through his head to make sense of them any longer.
The Summoning (Custodes Noctis) Page 3
