The Maiden Medallions: Beastkeeper

by Edward Shawn

  ***

  Evelynn crossed the tarmac to the helicopter waiting to take her home. Jacob nodded as she climbed inside but that was the extent of his greeting. Not being in the greatest of moods herself, she didn’t care if he harbored a grudge against her for threatening him the first time they met.

  The copter rose into the sky. Looking out the window, she watched Sandra talking with her chauffer as he opened the back door of the limousine. She held onto the tracker’s leash, the dog standing by her side. Both women had formed a bond with the silent tracking dog and Evelynn even settled on naming him Orion, a mythological hunter and tracker.

  After escaping the woods last night, Evelynn promptly contacted Mr. Prescott to let him know they would be departing British Columbia as soon as possible. Frustrated and a little unnerved, she wanted to put as much distance as she could between herself and the town of Charmington. They needed to regroup and come up with a new plan if they wanted to acquire another medallion. Mr. Prescott had met the team at the airport and escorted them back to the waiting jet. After some hasty goodbyes, Evelynn, Sandra and Orion boarded the plane for the return trip to Florida.

  Jacob landed the helicopter and she walked to the mansion without acknowledging any of the greetings received along the way. Heading straight to her room, Evelynn tossed her bag onto the bed, removed her clothing, then spent the next hour soaking in the tub. When ready, she went in search of Jeremiah only to discover he was not on the premises. Nobody seemed to know where he was.

  Having more time to herself, she spent it eating a meal and drinking red wine. The Balcony Bar had its usual complement of people but her body language and facial expression warned everyone to keep their distance.

  Receiving word of Jeremiah’s return and his desire to meet with her in his private study, she left the bar and headed downstairs to the mansion’s main floor.

  “Jeremiah,” Evelynn said loudly as she entered the quiet room. She didn’t see him at first, but then an arm rose up from one of the over-sized recliners in front of the fireplace. Like most of Jeremiah’s personal spaces, the library was dimly lit, the light coming from wall lamps in the shape of candles.

  Evelynn found him staring into the fire. “Jeremiah?”

  “Evey, daughter...I hope you can forgive me.” He looked up at her as she stood next to his chair.

  Taking a seat in the adjacent recliner, she gazed into the flames licking the pieces of wood. “The mission was a total botch. I wasn’t ready for what happened out there, and honestly, if I was dealing with an enemy just a little bit darker, I doubt I would have survived the experience. He could have killed me easily if he wanted. Stealing from the competition, breaking into buildings, that I understand, but this?”

  “Evey, I’m–”

  “No! I’m not finished!” Still feeling the lingering effects of the wine she consumed earlier, Evelynn sought to keep her anger under control before continuing. “I now understand why you didn’t want me to go on this assignment alone. If you knew, or even suspected what I might run into, you should have been smart enough to tell me beforehand and not send me in blind. Telling me to prepare for anything is just not good enough.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “We’re dealing with something far beyond what I’ve been trained to handle.”

  “Yet here you sit unscathed and unblemished even after the events of last night,” Jeremiah replied. “But, do go on.”

  “You weren’t there! You didn’t see what I saw, feel what I felt! You knew what I would run into yet you deliberately kept me in the dark!”

  “You’re wrong about that. I had no idea you would have to deal with men having the talent to fly. You witnessed incredible power last night.”

  Therese entered the library carrying a tray with two cups of green tea and a plate of freshly baked cookies.

  “Talent?” Evelynn glanced at her grandfather. “Interesting word to use.” Smiling warmly at her friend bearing the tray, she reached for a cookie. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  Returning her smile, Therese promptly left the library after delivering the hot beverages and sugary snacks.

  “I am sorry for what happened last night,” Jeremiah said. “I would hate for anything to have happened to you. We’ll take every precaution the next time you’re out in the field.”

  Evelynn remained silent as she enjoyed the last of her desert. Even though their discussion was work related, it had been a long time since they shared a moment like this.

  “This man you encountered last night, he had a medallion?” Jeremiah asked.

  Evelynn sipped her tea. “Yes, just like the one you have. I assume you want to add it to your collection, to control the power it possesses, hmm?”

  “You always were highly intuitive.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or sincere but decided it didn’t matter. “Have we located my original target? This kid, James?”

  “Not yet. I’m sending a team to investigate the scene up close. Satellite images can only show so much.”

  “What’s our next move?”

  Jeremiah stared into the fire. “We go after the flying man.”

  ***

  Night eventually gave way to the morning as Danny sat on the kitchen floor. Hours passed since the woman left him cuffed to the stove. He knew it was just a matter of time until he was found. The Kwan’s were scheduled to work today, and eventually, Mrs. Kwan would come by to clean the guesthouse. He just didn’t know exactly when.

  The woman left in a hurry in pursuit of his best friend. Danny doubted she knew where to find him. How could she? Even he didn’t know where James might be. After his disappearance last night, he could be anywhere by now.

  During his time spent dangling from the oven door handle, he decided telling the truth wouldn’t serve him well. It would lead to more questions for himself and for James, and no one would believe him if he told the truth anyway. Constructing a more plausible story, he hoped no one would see through his deception.

  Hearing hushed voices outside the guesthouse, Danny observed shadows crossing the threshold of the door the woman left open in her haste to leave. They sounded worried as they spoke to each other in Mandarin.

  “Help me!” Danny strained against his restraints.

  Mr. Kwan stepped inside. “Dan? What’s happened here?”

  “Oh my God,” Mrs. Kwan screamed out seeing Danny handcuffed to the stove. She gazed around at the mess within the guesthouse.

  “Can you get me out of these?” Danny asked Mr. Kwan. “There might be something in the garage you can use.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he said before exiting in haste.

  “Danny, dear, are you hurt?” Mrs. Kwan looked frightened out of her mind and he thought it best not to add to it. “I’m okay, Mrs. Kwan, really,” he said attempting to comfort her.

  “What happened?” She looked at the overturned chairs before kneeling down next to him.

  Danny rehearsed this moment during the time spent attached to the stove. “I don’t know. I was jumped from behind, guess I was knocked out. I woke up cuffed to the stove. Danny paused, then licked his lips. “Can I get some water? I’m really thirsty.”

  “Yes dear, of course.” Grabbing a glass from inside the dishwasher, she opened the faucet of the kitchen sink. Handing the glass over, her hands shook as she did so.

  As Danny drank, Mr. Kwan returned with a large, red handled set of bolt cutters. Sliding the blades over the thin chain links connecting the cuffs, he looked down at Danny sitting on the floor by the stove. “Keep still, okay?” Pressing the handles together, Mr. Kwan sliced the middle link in two and freed Danny from the stove.

  “Thank you,” Danny said as he stood up. Mrs. Kwan rushed in to give him a hug while Mr. Kwan ruffled his hair.

  “Are you injured?” he asked, setting the bolt cutters on a counter.

  “No, I’m not.”

  Mr. Kwan had doubt in his eyes.

  “I’m fine, really.” Danny rubbe
d his wrist where the cuff used to be.

  “Okay. I’m calling the police.” Mr. Kwan pulled out his phone and pressed some keys.

  Danny had been dreading this moment. He wanted to tell him not to call the police but how could he do that without raising all kinds of questions and suspicion. Nevertheless, he was resolute in his plan to protect his family and his friend. He would stick to his story knowing if he revealed the truth, the woman might return and make good on her threats to hurt his family. He had no desire to see her again, at least not unless it was on his own terms.

  25

  James and Micah followed the walkway past the wooden structures lining both sides of the street. Made from planks of wood pressed together, the sidewalks crossed in front of the stores and cabins along the dirt road cutting through the center of the village. Plenty of people were using them; James had to sidestep the crowds on more than one occasion.

  The awkwardness he experienced when first entering the village had disappeared. Many villagers greeted Micah with smiles and warm greetings as they passed by, and even though he didn’t introduce James to anyone, they still smiled at him.

  The roadway was busy and full of chaotic energy. People flowed over it from both sides of the street while trying to keep out of the way of each other. James thought the village resembled an Old West town he saw in a movie once, though, this version was a lot more crowded.

  A group of fierce looking men with dark hair and tanned bodies rode by on horses. Arrows adorned with colorful feathers protruded from the quivers strapped to their backs. Some of the men carried intricate bows as they guided their horses along the road. James watched the horsemen with growing interest. Their arrival seemed to escape Micah’s attention; his pace hadn’t slowed in his hurry to get to his dwelling.

  James tapped him on the arm. “Who are they?”

  Micah gazed where James pointed. “Those are the hunters of the village. They are tasked with providing meat for the people. They also conduct trade with the other villages.”

  The hunters wore leather vests of black, light-brown or gray. With summer in full bloom, James could hardly fault anyone for riding around seminude even though it left him feeling slightly inadequate as he inevitably compared their tanned, chiseled physiques to his own less muscular frame.

  Some of the horsemen kept their hair short, others left it long and free. However, the most peculiar thing about the horsemen had nothing to do with the varying lengths of hair. James noticed they all wore jeans of one sort or another. There were dark jeans and lighter shades of blue, but he wasn’t mistaken; the riders wore clothing James thought exclusive to his world.

  The horsemen rode towards the end of the village James just traveled through. Most of them already passed by and none of them took notice of the stranger in their midst or acknowledged Micah in any way like other townsfolk had done.

  Micah watched the procession of riders go by. His forehead wrinkling up, he gently tapped his staff on the walkway and stared at the horsemen until one of them stopped and turned his horse back around.

  “Wait here,” he said to James. Stepping onto the dirt road, Micah stood in the middle of the bustle while waiting for the lone horseman to arrive.

  The horseman dismounted and swept up Micah in a tight bear hug. From his vantage point on the walkway, James could see the strength of their bond by the warm greeting the two of them shared. Releasing his grip, the horseman listened intently to Micah’s words. The one-sided discussion over, the young man nodded in agreement, then the two men embraced once again. Soon after, the man mounted his steed and rode off towards the end of the village. But he didn’t lead his horse in the direction his fellow hunters had taken. Instead, he rode straight into the forest and disappeared within the depths of the Trees of Nokomis.

  Micah joined James on the walkway. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

  James wanted to ask who the horseman was and what they discussed but decided against it. He didn’t want Micah thinking of him as being nosy. If Micah thought it important for him to know what they spoke about, he would more than likely tell him. Keeping his silence, James walked with the shaman towards his home.

  The village may have reminded James of the Old West but he could hardly say the same of the people. Many wore skins and garments created here but a few were dressed like him. Or rather, not quite like him, but with clothes that must have come from Earth. Jeans and shorts seemed a popular choice for some, and now that he looked closer, practically everybody wore athletic footwear. Cowboy boots were also quite prevalent; a number of people had those on also.

  “There’s stuff here from back home,” James said.

  “We bring items of necessity back from your world–clothes and shoes, some tools, even cooking utensils. They make for ideal presents.” Pausing, Micah smiled at a couple passing by. “We may not live there anymore but the old world still provides many useful things we’ve incorporated into our life here.”

  “Like blue jeans and sneakers,” James said with a smirk, “some of the greatest inventions of the modern world.” Amused by the revelation regarding the people of Nilvanya, James considered their lives in the village. It couldn’t be all that bad; everyone looked happy and seemed to have purpose. Lost in his thoughts, he almost got knocked over by a group of young children rushing past in pursuit of an older child. The sound of their laughter trailing behind them, they ran around a corner of one of the stores along the walkway.

  James thought it must be nice not having a care in the world but what to play. For him, those days were likely gone forever. Only a few years older than those kids, no one wanted them to be anything more than just children. He, on the other hand, was expected to face his destiny head on and he wasn’t sure if flinching would even be allowed.

  The sun had almost sunk past the horizon. Reaching a crossroads, Micah turned right and followed the intersecting roadway. They passed a man lighting covered torches along the street. Moving from one post to the next, he provided a spark for each to light the way for those wandering the village at night.

  Reaching the end of the roadway, Micah stepped onto a dirt footpath lined with white stones leading up to the front door of a log cabin. It looked like every other cabin people built around here, which disappointed James because he assumed Micah’s place would be larger due to his role as shaman.

  Turning the knob, Micah opened the door. Stepping out of the night and into the bright interior of the shaman’s home, James’s mouth dropped open as he looked around in sheer wonder. It was huge on the inside, much bigger than the cabin indicated from the street.

  “Now that’s more like it.” James saw plush couches and comfy looking chairs and suddenly realized he’d been on his feet for a long time. Heading for the closest couch, he sat down and relaxed his weary body and mind.

  “Make yourself at home,” Micah said as he headed for a staircase leading upstairs. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  The couch felt so comfortable, James couldn’t deny what he really craved. Kicking off his basketball shoes, he brought his legs up onto the couch, reclined his body and closed his eyes to shut everything out.

  He heard Micah moving around upstairs. The sound started to fade as he drifted into slumber. James dreamt about his mother, her voice intruding into his fitful sleep. Starting to wake, the dream didn’t go away; he still heard a woman calling out to him, or more precisely, yelling at him.

  “Hey, wake up!”

  James opened his eyes.

  “Who are you? What are you doing in here?”

  His senses came alive as he realized it wasn’t a dream. Now fully awake, he turned towards the source of all the commotion and found a girl staring at him from a doorway across the room. Jumping up off the couch in surprise, he neglected to take into account how close he was to a coffee table and smashed his shin heavily into the wood. Crying out in pain, he lost his balance and fell back onto the couch.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” The girl took
some steps forward, her eyes ablaze with suspicion as she brandished a large knife.

  “Whoa! Hey, take it easy!” Confused from being jarred awake by the sudden appearance of this hostile girl, James glanced around for Micah but didn’t see him. “I’m here with Micah!” He hoped mentioning that name would help ease her hostility.

  Not that it mattered. Micah quickly descended the stairs and promptly took control of the situation. “It’s alright, Kay!” he reassured the young girl. “This is James. He’ll be staying with us for a while.” Micah looked at him and smiled sympathetically. “James, meet Kay, my sometimes impetuous granddaughter.”

  Sitting on the couch, he rubbed his shin. He looked at the girl with shoulder length, dark brown hair and tried thinking of something witty to say in order to make a good impression on this girl he just met through awkward circumstances. But nothing came to mind. “Hi,” he finally said.

  Kay smiled but didn’t answer him. “Grandfather, your young friend has hurt himself,” she said, turning to Micah. “He’s very clumsy.”

  Micah took Kay into his arms and hugged her tight. Kissing her forehead, he held her heart-shaped face in his hands. “Now, Kay, you’re not much older than he is,” he said with a grin.

  Kay wrapped her arms around her grandfather’s waist and rested her head against his chest. “Welcome back, grandfather. It’s good you’ve come home. I’ve missed you.”

  James sat quietly. He didn’t dare interrupt their moment for fear of igniting hostility within the girl called Kay once again. But at the same time, his eyes never wandered from the reunion taking place before him. Kay glanced his way and he quickly averted his eyes. He felt quite foolish for doing so, but it was already too late.

  His heart pounded fiercely. Feeling as though his chest could no longer contain it, the rhythmic beating echoed in his ears and thumped against his ribcage. He wanted to look at her, to soak up her beauty, but he couldn’t bear it for longer than the span of a few heartbeats. His hands dampening with sweat, he wiped his palms against his pants.