by Montana Ash
CUSTODIAN
ELEMENTAL PALADINS: BOOK FIVE
MONTANA ASH
Published by Paladin Publishing
CUSTODIAN
Copyright © 2018 by Montana Ash
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of Montana Ash, except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Formatting and cover design by: LKO Design
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dedication
Note From Montana Ash
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty one
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Also by Montana Ash
Meet Montana Ash
Follow Montana Ash
DEDICATION
Custodian is dedicated with thanks to all my wonderful Alpha and Beta readers;
Tash
Trish
Kerry
Danielle
Liz
Margie
Simone
Rebecca
Marcia
Margaret
Krystal
Fran
Sharon
Kahman
&
Dr Nicci
Emmanuel thanks Liz.
A NOTE FROM MONTANA
Dear Readers,
I hope you all enjoy this specially narrated edition of book five in the Elemental Paladins series. Custodian is narrated by all your favourite characters, rather than just the one romantic couple. Why? Well, Custodian was going to be the last book in the series and this is how I always intended to end it – with the whole gang chipping in!
However, as it turns out, Beyden and Axel have more to say and they would really like their own happily ever after. So, Beyden will be featured in book six – Revolution. And Axel will be featured in book seven – Reckoning.
Even though we aren’t saying goodbye to the crew yet, I saw no reason to change my original narration plans … so I didn’t ;)
Happy reading everyone!
Montana xxx
PROLOGUE
June 1960, Regensburg, Germany
“Stupid, useless cow. I mean, what kind of Goddess is she, huh? Can’t even save her own people.” Although intense emotion always brought out the Scottish brogue in his voice, it was the slurring from the copious amounts of alcohol consumption which made Mordecai harder to understand than usual. Not that his brothers in his Order had any issue deciphering the words – nor the sentiment behind them. The rage and grief emanating from their liege was almost palpable.
Mordecai saw the concerned looks his Order threw each other, as well as felt the low-level buzz along the Order link indicating they were having some kind of silent communication – one he wasn’t privy to. He snorted into the high-strength spirit he had been downing like water for the past four hours; ever since the shock-wave of death had hit him like a tsunami. His Order – the Order of Valhalla – had been posted to Germany on a semi-permanent basis for more than a decade after the end of the Second World War. Although the majority of the killing had stopped, there was still much to be done; so much hurt to heal, so much peace to bring.
It was the same no matter where he was sent; he and his paladins followed need around the world. They had just returned that very day from a month-long vigil in India after a huge earthquake had devastated the Himalayas. He had thought he might gain a measure of relief being back on the banks of the Danube, but that wasn’t to be the case. Sometimes he felt he would drown in the misery that continually battered his mind, body, and soul. In fact, if it weren’t for the four very different men who had been his constant companions for the last sixteen hundred years, he was sure he would have crumpled under the weight of responsibility by now. And as of a few hours ago? He was now sure of it.
Even from across the ocean, he had felt the shuddering of the world as it tried to absorb so much death. But it was impossible to do so. Such injustice, such horror, could not be absorbed. He had fallen to his knees and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach before his brain had misfired and he had fallen into a series of seizures. His paladins had been hard-pressed to get enough vitality into him so he could remain conscious. And once they had succeeded and he was able to process what the huge tear in the fabric of the world meant? He wished they hadn’t succeeded. But they were a stubborn bunch – just as he was.
Now, four hours later, here he was, in a bar in Regensburg along the banks of the Danube river, doing his damnedest to numb his soul to the echoes of death. So far, it hadn’t worked. His stupid soul kept reaching for the pain and the grief, trying its best to help soothe and heal. Because that was its purpose. That was his purpose. And that only served to piss Mordecai off even more. Because he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Because some bloody woman decided thousands of years ago that a chosen few should sacrifice themselves so her greatest creation – nature – could thrive in all its glorious forms. And that brought him back nicely to his earlier sentiments;
“Selfish, useless woman. I mean, she’s even more useless than the other gods these pitiful wretches worship,” he slammed his hand down on the sticky table. “I mean, at least they sometimes make an appearance. A miracle here, a reincarnation there. But Mother Nature? Has anyone seen or heard from her in centuries? What about her precious Custodians, huh? Whatever happened to the one who was supposed to walk the earth at all times? Just another broken promise.”
“Okay, big guy …” Mordecai felt strong but gentle hands attempt to unclasp his fingers from the jar. “I think you’ve had enough of old man Heinrich’s moonshine,” Aiden said.
“No. Mine!” Mordecai growled, snatching the dirty jar of clear liquid back. “Seriously Aid,” he threw an arm over his Captain’s shoulder. “Don’t you think it takes a special kind of cold to turn your back on your own people – your own children? I mean, that’s what we are, right? Her children? She created us to watch over this precious world of hers. To make sure all this beauty we see and feel remains balanced. But where is she when we’re literally dying by the hundreds at the hands of our own kind? Where is her responsibility?”
“I don’t know, my lord. But I’m pretty sure cursing her name isn’t going to endear you to her,” Aiden replied, motioning behind him.
It seemed Aiden had drawn the short straw and had been put in charge of talking sense into his drunken lieg
e. Well, that was too damn bad for Aid because Mordecai had no intention of sobering up anytime soon. Even as he had the thought, a new glass of clear liquid exchanged hands from Bastien to Aiden’s. Mordecai didn’t need to sniff the glass to know this particular clear liquid was water and not the special homemade poison Heinrich concocted in his basement. Mordecai went to push the glass away but his potentate just thrust it back;
“Drink it,” Aiden demanded.
Mordecai narrowed his eyes, “No.”
Aiden sighed, “My lord ...”
Mordecai snarled, “Will you stop calling me that?! You know it pisses me off!”
“Well, perhaps if you stopped acting like the Lord of the Manor throwing a tantrum, I wouldn’t have to,” Aiden informed him, voice stern.
“Tantrum?! You think that’s what this is?” He choked a little, half laughing and half sobbing. “This isn’t a tantrum. This is ... hopelessness,” he whispered, head lowering. “I can’t ... I mean, what I am supposed to do? I just ...” His stuttering this time was more a consequence of his chaotic mind rather than the alcohol and he felt his paladins rally around him, physically as well as mentally. Four broad hands were placed on his person and he felt warmth sliding across his skin, temporarily warding off the chill that death wrought. His mind cleared a little, their shared vitality sobering him up faster than water or caffeine could ever hope to do.
“Mordecai ... brother. I know you’re in pain. We can feel it – feel you – remember? It is our duty and our privilege. Just as it is yours to accept this tragedy and begin to heal it,” Madigan’s warm brown eyes were beseeching as well as reproachful and Mordecai felt a trickle of shame seep in.
How could he forget for even one moment that his paladins carried a burden just as heavy as he did? If not more? For they rarely received the accolades and thanks they were once afforded. Modern society had a lot to answer for.
“We’re not saying you aren’t entitled to a good drink – hell, a good rage,” Madigan continued, “But cursing the one person who might actually be able to help, really isn’t wise.”
Mordecai grunted; wise or not, it was all he could think to do at the moment. He was a true believer – always had been. Whereas most humans thought of Gods and Goddesses in a symbolic or spiritual sense, the Great Mother was a literal being in their society. It was common knowledge that Mother Nature had created pretty much everything and resided in Otherworld – a realm beyond the physical, sure. But a world that was real nonetheless. Her realm, or realms, were known to be the very first worlds ever created, with the one they now occupied being made for the express purpose of nature.
“Really, Mad? You really think she has any intention of helping? Where has her help been for her fallen children all these years, huh? The warden brethren turning against nature and each other, becoming chades,” he spat out, the word tasting like ashes on his tongue.
“I can’t answer that. None of us can. But perhaps asking instead of swearing might produce better results,” Madigan gently scolded again.
Mordecai wanted to feel annoyed with his very spiritual and soft-spoken friend, but he couldn’t summon the energy. His righteous anger brought on by the booze was starting to wear off and the soul-wrenching grief was trying to push its way back into his soul again. Palming the dirty jar again, he tossed it back with one smooth motion before his knights could stop him. He felt their collective groan but also their resignation and support. He knew they would stand beside him all night and watch him wallow before picking him up and dusting him off, if only to repeat the whole thing all over again.
“I would listen to your vassal if I were you. He speaks wise words.”
A soft, feminine voice spoke from behind him, the cadence making him shiver in its intensity. He had never heard a voice quite like it; husky and lilting. He felt his body inexplicitly hardening and was both anxious and excited to turn and see who belonged to the sound. A series of gasps from his paladins had him even more intrigued and he quickly turned, facing the source of the voice. He was promptly spellbound.
Her hair was as red as the fiery heart of the earth itself and just as wild, he thought. The long tresses curled and fell in organised chaos over her slender, pale shoulders, finally coming to rest past her hourglass hips. His eyes followed the natural curves of her body, traversing intriguing, rounded lines and a desirably full bust. A graceful neck preceded a surprisingly stubborn-looking chin and a pair of naturally red lips. A heart-shaped face held sharp cheekbones and the most mesmerising eyes he had ever seen. They weren’t blue or green or even grey but something in between. Overall, she was the most extraordinarily beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.
“Ma’am?” he found himself inquiring, after recalling her earlier remark.
“Ma’am?” she repeated, her siren’s voice sending shivers throughout his body. “Ma’am won’t be necessary,” she assured him. “But you can call me Goddess.”
Goddess? What the fuck? One shared look with his knights and he knew they were thinking along the same lines he was; the woman may be beautiful but she was clearly deranged. He felt his hungry body, yearning for distraction, begin to wane with the realisation.
“So what? Deranged is much more fun between the sheets,” Tobias, the ingrate of the group, commented in his typically brash fashion.
Mordecai snorted at that, “Are you seriously suggesting I bed this woman when our society is on the brink of collapse and nature is spinning out of balance?”
He felt Tobias’s mental shrug through the Order bond, “What can you really do from here? We’re on the first ship across the Channel in the morning, then the first flight from London to Australia after that. The flight alone will take almost forty hours with all those stops. It will be three days before we’re even within the minimal distance it will take for you to start actively repairing the tears in the fabric of the earth from all the slaughter. Not to mention the tears in the souls. Why not take some solace where you can?”
Mordecai shook his head but was unable to deny the interest his body was taking in the ethereal beauty in front of him. He wasn’t one for using women – or men for that matter. But he couldn’t deny the desperation he was feeling to know something other than the gut-wrenching pain, still trying its hardest to suffocate him as he as sat there.
“Well?” The stunning creature in front of him inquired.
“Well, what?” he managed to stutter out.
“Goddess?” A red brow arched perfectly as she both prompted him and seemed to pose a question.
He was silent for a second, gauging the sincerity of the female’s words before he bent over and laughed so hard he thought he may actually rupture something. It seemed that alcohol was still well and truly in his system. “Goddess, huh? Delusions of grandeur much?” He said when he was finally able to speak.
She merely smiled, “On the contrary. You asked – rather forcefully – to speak with the Great Mother. Well, here I am.”
“Here you are,” he repeated. “Here she is,” he pointed out to his four paladins who were still standing close by and watching him with a mix of pity, sadness, and humour. They too thought the woman was crazy but their nudging still showed their support of him taking some time with her.
Mordecai allowed his eyes to rove over the short woman in the forest-green robe, over what looked to be a simple dress of brown. Her red hair contrasted outrageously with the green and he felt his fingers flex with the need to gather it against his palms and test its softness. There was no denying she would prove to be a happy distraction for a few hours. Feeling like a selfish prick, for isn’t that what he had called the Great Mother a few moments ago? Selfish? He rose to his feet and promptly felt his head give a sickening spin as he struggled valiantly not to throw up on his shoes. Damn Heinrich and his homemade liquor!
“Would you like some extra vitality, Sir?” Bastien asked, ever so helpful.
Mordecai felt himself grumble, “Will you get out of my head? If I’m going
to wallow in a warm body instead of the bottom of a bottle, then I’d like some privacy ... if you please,” he gritted his teeth in his mind, feeling amusement but also assent as the link was muted practically to nothing. He knew his paladins wouldn’t venture too far – either physically or mentally. But they would heed his request for privacy. They strived to allow each other as much of that as possible even within the confines and intimacy of the bond.
“Okay, Goddess. How would you like to do this?” He asked, pulling himself to his full height of six-foot-five.
Interesting irises roamed over his frame from head to toe and though he knew he was physically fit and imposing, he felt as though she found him lacking in some way. And why that made him feel like shrivelling up, he had no clue. Why should a stranger’s opinion of him matter? The woman was about to have sex with a stranger, out of wedlock. A big no-no in their current time. But go back a few centuries and it had been commonplace. Mordecai suspected it would change yet again in another few years. It was the cycle of the world. If anyone understood life-cycles, it was him – a keeper of death.
“And who said I was going to lay with you, warrior?” That husky voice held amusement and seemed to read his thoughts.
“Ah ... forgive me, what did you have in mind, then?” He asked, politely. See, he could be polite if he needed to be.
“I thought perhaps we could talk. You seemed to have much to say just moments ago,” she pointed out.
Talk? The crazy lady wanted to talk? Mordecai felt his interest waning but managed to hold onto his automatic sharp retort. What did he have to lose? He was stuck in post-genocidal Germany, half drunk on illegal spirits while his fellow wardens turned on each other and tore each other apart a half a world away. “Shall we sit?” he gestured to the grimy table behind him.
She sat gracefully, looking like a polished jewel in the midst of a shit pile and he wondered again how such a rare beauty could be in such an establishment in the first place. “Drink?” he offered, indicating to the remaining full jar on the table
