The New Guard (Crossroads Book 1)

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The New Guard (Crossroads Book 1) Page 33

by Matthew M. Johns


  Eve had also taken a post; she was at rear guard. She kept looking back, not in longing to see those who continued to watch, but rather searching for a face she had not glimpsed since that night in the garden. A face she knew would not be there. How unfair, she thought, as at last the north gate and the castle were lost from sight.

  *

  It was the second night, the second watch. The Beagle restlessly paced the perimeter with Eve. The light of the camp was just visible to them. The Beagle stopped abruptly and cocked its head in the direction of the camp. Within a few moments Eve, who had also stopped, heard the crying.

  “Is it Mary or Dinah?” asked Eve.

  “Dinah,” the Beagle replied. “The escape from the Dark Riders down the goblin holes is haunting her again.”

  “She was doing okay, though.”

  The Beagle shook its head. “In the safety of the castle, yes. Out here, the fears grip her again.”

  A sweet, piercing melody reached their ears. The two warders listened for a moment as the distinctive voice of Esther sang a simple, wordless lullaby to her troubled sister. As she continued Eve could feel a calm washing over her. The Beagle nudged her and started walking on.

  “She’s singing like that more and more often lately,” Eve remarked as she continued walking with the Beagle. “Songs without words, or words I can’t quite understand.”

  “She sings with the Spirit. The gift of tongues has amplified her natural gift.”

  Eve did not respond, but tried to shift her focus back to the surrounding woods. For several more minutes the song went on. Then as they could hear her bringing it to a close, a rustling in the trees above drew their attention. Just as Eve was making out a shape in the boughs, the Beagle barked at her.

  “Get back to camp! Wake your father, everybody!”

  She took a step toward the camp. Before she could take another, the shape shot out of the tree. It was not alone. Three dwarf-sized shadows shot from the tree. Two of them headed for the camp. The other pounced on Eve. She felt the wind knocked out of her. Claws raked her back. The Beagle leapt toward her, but an inkiness detached itself from around the creature and lunged for the angel.

  The mass of shadow wrapped completely around the Beagle. Eve heard muffled growling coming from the Beagle, though she couldn’t do anything to help as she was struggling to get this winged thing off her back. A ray of light sliced through the shadow form. A high pitched screech rang out, though not from the shadow. As Eve fought to roll over and get a better angle at her attacker she realized the noise had come from the camp. An ear splitting reply came from the creature on her back and it lifted off of her.

  Eve rolled over and finally freed a dagger. She slashed desperately at the departing creature, cut it on a leg, and was rewarded with another screech that nearly busted her eardrum. The creature lashed out too and cut her hand. Then the bat-thing moved out of range, heading for the camp.

  Pain racked Eve for a moment, and then she tried to stand. Another pulse of light shot out from inside the shadowy mass covering the Beagle. This one nearly split the shadow being in two. Within a moment the mass fell off the angel and writhed on the ground. By this time, Eve had successfully gained her feet and was about to help the Beagle when another cry came from the camp. Eve looked up and saw three winged creatures holding onto a struggling body.

  “Daddy!” Esther’s voice pleaded desperately.

  Eve dropped into a crouch, a wave of panic threatening to take her down completely. A moan escaped her lips as she stood again. The Beagle tore off to the camp, baying. The bat-like creatures faltered. A wildly shot arrow flew through the sky. Then the inky mass stirred and shot out at Eve. It gripped her hand. A crazed howl rumbled in the night. There were shouts all around.

  From the trees came yet another form. It crashed into Eve. The shadow creature that was on her cut hand was trying to burrow in. The other shape rolled her over, pinned her arm, and ripped at the darkness, threatening to enter her. A grunt and an unrecognizable word. Then a flash of light and her hand felt weightless.

  Eve looked over and saw the inky, shapeless creature thrashing around, pinned to the ground with a glowing dagger.

  “The moonstone will hold the creature for but a few moments.”

  The voice. Eve struggled desperately to focus. When she did, Rothos was above her.

  “Come, we must flee.”

  Rothos grabbed her good hand and hefted her up. He quickly drug her into the trees. She started to run with him then suddenly pulled back, halting their progress.

  “My family,” Eve cried urgently.

  Rothos pulled on Eve, bringing her body close to his. For one maddening heartbeat she believed they were about to share another kiss. Then he redirected her eyes to the dagger barely visible from where they were. As the light ebbed away, the dark creature ripped itself free and began to expand. For a moment it stopped, but then Eve realized it was looking at her somehow.

  “We have to go! I can’t kill that thing!” Pleading rang in his voice.

  There was nothing left to say. Eve, still holding on to Rothos’ hand, ran off with him deeper into the woods.

  Silas was up quickly; he had been finding no true rest in sleep. The commotion in the camp was chaotic, but the piercing cries focused him. He drew the ebony blade and stalked toward the sound. His mouth watered and the thought of killing his enemy brought a pleasurable shock to his body. Two winged bat-like creatures had one of the girls. They were gripping her arms, trying to take flight. A third creature as tall as Zilda swooped down and grabbed his sister’s legs. Silas ran forward. The blade seemed to swing of its own accord. Too late the creatures were rising into the air. One was wounded, though, and a drop of blood splashed the blade. Silas was rocked with waves of dark rapture. However, he noticed that the bleeding creature is getting away.

  “Daddy!” Esther screamed, her voice imploring, her fear palpable.

  Silas ran after the creatures as they tried to flee. He reached a tree, half scrambled up it, and launched at the bat fiends. He missed again. He let out a monstrous howl as he hit the ground. The creatures were picking up height and speed. Silas ran after them.

  They were all moving rapidly from camp. The Beagle was suddenly right beside him. It was focused on the prey, Silas’ prey. Loathing and jealousy gripped the boy and washed away reason. The blade swung out, intent on cutting the hound down. Then a moment of confusion, recognition, the blade turned, the flat of it struck hard against the angel/dog’s side. The Beagle hit hard against a tree, its side throbbing with dark bone-deep pain.

  The Beagle tried to stand, but faltered. In its vision Silas was hardly visible as he careened through the forest. Then a small light appeared beside the Beagle. The second angel became larger, more solid, and picked up the Beagle. David came running, but he was brought up short by the angel holding the Beagle. David tried to dodge around the two, but found himself blocked again. Why was this new angel blocking him from pursuing the bat creatures and his two children? He tried once more. The angel lashed out and hit the Sword of Truth from David’s hand.

  A stern face solidified on the angel’s visage. It handed the Beagle to David and pointed back to the camp. There was a flash of light and the angel became a dot of light that zigged and zagged after Silas and Esther. David took a step forward; however, the Beagle had regained control of its body and jumped down to confront him.

  “You know better than to take another step in that direction. The guardian will see to them.”

  David stared daggers at the angel. He didn’t move.

  “David,” the Beagle said more softly, “the other children. There are angels watching over those two.”

  Wordlessly, David retrieved the Sword of Truth and turned back to the camp. His heart ached at the thought of not being able to help them. The fear and desperation in Esther’s voice still pulsed in his ears. He looked back. There was something wrong with Silas, though he couldn’t tell what.

  The B
eagle and David reached the camp and found everybody up. He called them together and looked each one over. Dinah was in hysterics, and several of the other girls were in the grip of fear. Jeremiah looked frightened too: Mel uncertain. Perhaps it was Mel’s face that made David feel the need to count everybody. He searched the group and counted off.

  Pain and heartbreak spilled out with his words, “Where’s Eve?!”

  …… to be continued

  Acknowledgements

  The process of writing this book has been an enlightening one. I have come to understand, above all, when you ask God to show you what He wants you to do, you should be prepared for the unexpected and inspiring. I would like to take this moment to thank the people God has put in my life to aid me.

  To my children, my wonderful boys, who put up with some laid aside plans due to days of mad typing, I thank you and hope the story gives you some consolation.

  To my wife, thank you for challenging me and helping me by asking for clarifications or calling me out on how people would really react. I know it isn’t exactly the genre you read, so thank you for putting up with some strangeness I refused to clarify in this book.

  To my editor and colleague, Beth Landfair, I appreciate all your grammatical corrections including watching over my wayward and missing commas. I would like to state here and now that any errors still present in the book are solely my responsibility.

  Finally, to Abbie Demmitt, thank you for helping me find a cover artist and being our go between. Thank you as well to Lyon Current for the wonderful cover art. Thank you for helping this book truly come alive.

  About the Author

  Matthew M. Johns lives in Ohio where he found that his heart has resided for more years than he has. He is in the process of raising two wonderful boys with his loving wife. While still working full time he is trying hard to write his next novel and apologizes for the abrupt ending of this one. He says it is not likely to happen again.

  About the Artist

  Lyon Current is a young artist; a free spirt headed to sunny California. She is passionate about good music, seeing the beauty in life and love, and finding happiness wherever she can. She hopes to live as unpredictably, insatiably, and ambiguously as humanly possible.

 

 

 


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