The Guardian's Legacy

by Luciana Cavallaro

  The guardian’s legacy

  Coin of Time Series | Book 1

  Luciana Cavallaro

  Copyright © 2021 by Luciana Cavallaro

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photo-copying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Mythos Publications

  www.luccav.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any re-semblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover artwork: Damonza.com

  The Guardian’s Legacy/ Luciana Cavallaro. — 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-0-9874737-9-0

  Also by Luciana Cavallaro

  Accursed Women: A Collection of Short Stories

  * * *

  Servant of the Gods Series

  Search for the Golden Serpent

  The Labyrinthine Journey

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Dear Reader

  Glossary of foreign words

  About the Author

  Also by Luciana Cavallaro

  For more information

  Prologue

  Slovakia

  A gun fired and a bullet whizzed by as he swerved, his feet pounding the grass. His breathing sounded harsh and loud in his ears as he willed himself to run faster. Alongside, his companion kept up with him. He glanced at her. She didn’t look frightened, except her face was tense, her cheeks flushed and her breathing shallow and noisy.

  Another shot rang out.

  ‘Mon dieu!’

  ‘Are you hit?’ he asked, his voice higher than usual.

  ‘Non!’ She checked over her shoulder. ‘We need to get out of this clearing and into that line of trees.’

  They zigzagged across the expansive green lawn, one a grounds-keeper at a golf club would envy, and headed for the cluster of pine trees edging the boundary of the castle. More shots rang out and a dull droning of engines came from behind them.

  The woman swore. ‘Motorbikes.’

  He glanced back and saw three helmeted riders emerge from the long driveway of the Gothic-style castle, exhaust fumes pluming like tufts of dirty clouds as the motorbikes raced towards them.

  They sprinted to the trees. Behind them, the throttle of the motorbikes roared as they gained ground. Bullets tore into the tree trunks around them, spitting bark into the air. They ran into the shelter of the forest, pushing through the undergrowth, heedless of the low branches that whipped their arms and legs.

  Then they were falling headlong down a ravine. The man tumbled as if he were a load of clothes in a washing machine, crushing twigs and leaves as his weight and gravity propelled him downwards. He fell into a shallow ditch at the base of the hill. Battered and streaked in fine lines of cuts, he lay winded, unable to move. Then he gasped as his companion landed on top of him.

  ‘Nik, are you all right?’

  He opened his eyes and looked up into the anxious face of the woman sprawled on top of him. ‘I think so. Your head has a gash, Alexandrie.’ Nik wiped the blood from her forehead. ‘Thank goodness, it’s not deep.’

  They gazed at each other, the enormity of their near-death experience overwhelming. Nik gave her a lopsided grin and was about to say how fortunate they were when Alexandrie’s mouth descended on his. The fervour of her kiss surprised him. Nik responded to her passionate and hungry kiss, wrapping his arms around her.

  Alexandrie broke the kiss, her pupils dilating. Nik reached to capture her mouth. This was nothing like they had shared before. It was as if his body had woken from a deep slumber and every pore tingled with anticipation.

  She covered his mouth with a hand. ‘Listen!’ she said, in an urgent whisper.

  Nik’s ears strained and then he heard.

  ‘They never give up!’

  ‘We need to get out of here.’

  Alexandrie scrambled off him and bolted upright. Nik winced as he struggled to get up, his body aching from head to toe, his limbs refusing to obey his brain. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

  ‘Use the coin!’ she urged.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes! They’re getting closer!’

  ‘Don’t let go of my hand,’ Nik warned.

  The rumble of the motorbikes was almost on them. There were shouts in Slovak as their assailants drew closer.

  ‘Quick, Nik!’

  He glanced up at the levee from where they had fallen, the riders coming into view. One of the pursuers pointed down at them and started down the slope. Nik tossed the grey, irregularly shaped coin into the air. They watched as it flipped upwards and a gust of wind buffeted it. The coin shifted and spiralled downwards. Nik caught the treasured coin and closed it tight in his fist.

  A sea of blackness swallowed him. A rush of wind blasted his body and threatened to wrench his limbs from their sockets. His lungs burned as they struggled to draw air. The wind plucked him into the air, and like the jet stream of a plane, catapulted him into the void. He was engulfed in a soundless space, and accelerating at breakneck speeds.

  Oomph! Nik fell flat on his face, his arms and legs spread like a five-pointed star. Dazed, he lay there, not moving. He could feel the warm sun on his arms and head. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt as if glue sealed them shut, and when he attempted to move his arms and legs, they resisted much like an immovable boulder. If he could shout he would, but only managed a grunt instead.

  ‘It’s not every day one sees a man fall from the sky!’ said a gruff voice.

  Powerful hands grabbed Nik and turned him onto his back.

  ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ Nik’s eyelids fluttered as a hand, its palm coarse, slapped his cheek. ‘Let me check and see if you broke any bones. That was quite a drop. Did you insult the gods, by chance?’

  Nik prised his dry lips apart. ‘Ug …’ He clenched a hand, and with it beach sand. He smelt the briny air of the sea and frowned, his mind muddied. Where am I?

  ‘Hmm … I’ll be right back,’ the man said. Nik heard him leave, the sand crunching with each step. Nik lay there, recalling the alarm raised by Resnick’s men and being chased into the forest.

  Minutes passed when he heard the man return and lift his head, placing a clay vessel to his mouth. Nik spluttered and coughed as water caught in his throat. He leaned on his side, still choking, and collapsed back onto the ground. He opened his eyes and stared at the cloudless blue sky.

  ‘Who are you?’ the man asked, his face looming over Nik.

  Nik sat up panicked, whipping his head from side to side. ‘Where is Alexandrie?’ he asked. His gaze fell on the bearded man who wore a dress. A dress? No, it’s a khiton. Nik struggled to his kne
es and glanced around at the sparse coastline. No tall buildings or vehicles anywhere. Behind the older man, a donkey brayed. Startled, Nik slumped onto his backside.

  The man steadied Nik and frowned. ‘There is no-one else here, just you and I.’

  ‘Who the heck are you?’

  ‘Why, I am Herodotos.’

  Chapter One

  Ten months earlier

  Nikolaos Zosimos opened the door to the office he shared with the other teachers. He sighed with relief when the door closed behind him and the noise of the students and their lockers opening and clanging shut for the next round of classes was reduced to a dull hum. He placed his laptop, books and work collected from his Year 7 History class on his desk and sat down. The stack of papers beckoned and taunted him to start marking them. Ignoring the assessments, he opened a drawer and checked his mobile for messages. His mother had sent a reminder for dinner on Friday night, and there was a message from his grandfather Iasos.

  Nik put the phone back in the drawer. His grandfather’s text message struck him as odd, but he didn’t give it another thought, and turned his attention to his timetable. He had a period of DOTT, duties other than teaching, before his next class. For the next twenty minutes, he rifled through a batch of answers to a pop quiz and did a quick scan of the answers.

  ‘How depressing,’ he said as he dropped the last sheet of paper on the pile.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Rachel glanced over at him.

  ‘I need to revise the section on primary and secondary sources, and how historians and archaeologists use them for investigating history.’

  ‘My class had the same issue.’

  ‘Okay, so we need to simplify and create a practical lesson. Tomorrow, I’ll take my class out for a walk along the river and point out the differences between the two,’ Nik said. ‘I’ll work on that later. My Year 12 Ancient History class is next, and we’re studying the destruction of Troy.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve got them reading Homer’s Iliad. You should have heard them complaining after reading the first few lines.’

  Rachel laughed. ‘The English Department will love you for that.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ve teed up with Christina to come to my class to teach them the technical elements of the story.’

  ‘Nice. Your class will whine even more!’ she said with a guffaw.

  ‘They’ll thank me when they sit their last exam.’

  His mobile phone beeped again. Nik opened his drawer and picked it up. He frowned.

  Niko, can you come to my house tonight? There is something I need to discuss with you. Papou

  Nik’s heart missed a beat. He messaged back, his nimble fingers flying.

  Hi Papou, I’ll be there as soon as I can get away from work. Is everything ok? Niko

  He put the phone on the desk and stared at it, willing it to ping with a new message. His mind was going over the worst possible scenarios. He wished his grandfather would hurry and message back. He and his grandfather shared a love for ancient history and it had been he who encouraged Nik to study the classics at school and then at university. They’d spend many hours in the week chatting about what Nik was learning and the relationship of the past to what was happening in the world.

  The school bell rang. He gathered his textbooks and laptop, put the phone in his pocket, and headed for the door. About to turn the doorknob, he hesitated and returned to his desk. He locked the phone in the drawer. If it was something serious, his grandfather would have replied. Besides, students weren't allowed to bring their phones into class; he wouldn’t be a suitable role model if he turned up to class with his.

  For Nik, the next two lessons before lunchtime seemed to drag. On his return to the office, he checked his mobile for messages. Nothing. After lunch, in his last two classes of the day, the students' subdued responses to his questions reinforced his anxious mood. As soon as the bell rang, Nik dismissed his class. He gathered his things and locked the door to the classroom on his way out. He dodged students, open lockers and bags as he made his way to the office. Other members of his department hadn’t arrived yet. He slipped the laptop into its carry bag and shoved the pile of assessment papers collected from his classes into his briefcase. The door opened and a few other staff members filed in, chatting after their last lessons for the day. The person he wanted to speak with was the last to arrive. He walked over as the Head of the Humanities Department placed his books on his desk.

  ‘May I speak with you, Leonard?’

  The short, older man gazed up at him. ‘What is it, Nik?’

  ‘I got a strange text from my granddad earlier, and he hasn’t replied to the one I sent. Would you mind if I leave? I know we have our department meeting and it may well be nothing, but I’m concerned something has happened.’

  ‘I understand. Go check on your grandfather.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Nik collected his bags, said goodbye to his colleagues and rushed out the door. With his keys in one hand and phone in the other, he threaded his way through a crowd of boisterous and energetic adolescent boys at their lockers. Oblivious of their raucous banter, Nik scrolled through the contact list on his phone and hit the call function. The line was engaged. With a quick flick of his thumb, he chose another number. This time the line rang.

  ‘Afternoon, sir.’

  ‘Night, sir.’

  Nik acknowledged the boys with a nod. ‘See you tomorrow, boys.’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi Mum.’

  ‘Nik, how are you? You haven’t called to cancel dinner tomorrow night?’

  ‘No, I’m still coming.’

  A few more students called out to Nik, to which he responded.

  ‘Are you at school?’ his mother asked.

  ‘I’m just leaving. Did Papou call you today?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘He tried calling earlier and then left a message asking me to see him tonight. I thought he may have called you.’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to him for a few days. What about your father? Did you ring him?’

  ‘I did, but his phone was busy. Though I can’t see Papou ringing Dad for anything.’

  Nik unlocked his car, placed his laptop and briefcase on the back seat, and got in behind the steering wheel.

  ‘Your father attempts to keep in touch with your grandfather, but you know their relationship isn’t good. Did he say why he wanted you to visit?’

  ‘I’ll find out soon enough, I’m heading over there now,’ Nik said. He paused and then added, ‘It’s odd for Papou to ring during the day when I’m at work. He wouldn’t call unless he’s unwell, would he?’

  ‘Iasos is one of the healthiest men of his age I know,’ his mother said, ‘and in all the years I have known him he has seldom been sick. I reckon it’s something different he wants to discuss.’

  ‘Any ideas on what?’

  She laughed. ‘With Iasos and his varied interests, who knows?’

  They spoke for a few minutes more before Nik said goodbye and drove out of the staff car park and off the school grounds.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Hello? Papou? Are you home?’ Nik called as he knocked on the fly-screen door.

  He took in the red-painted porch, white railing and two rattan chairs concealed from the street behind a canopy of roses, the yellow blooms and a few buds still on show though beginning to wane in the final summer month. The chairs brought memories of his grandmother sitting there in the afternoons, neighbours stopping by to chat and have a cup of coffee. He could feel her presence whenever he popped over after work, something he had done often as a teenager and into his adulthood. He missed her. She always fussed over him, filling him up with home-cooked food.

  A shadowy figure appeared at the end of the darkened passage. ‘Hi, Papou.’ Nik smiled.

  ‘Niko!’ The old man moved with slow and steady steps, his grizzled face lit up as he neared the doorway. ‘It’s good to see you, my boy. Glad you could come.’

  Nik heard the fa
miliar click as Papou unlocked the screen door. He took a step to the side as his grandfather pushed the door open.

  ‘Your text message sounded urgent. I was worried something was wrong.’

  His grandfather grinned, the years falling away as the sparkle of joy gleamed in his light blue eyes. ‘Come on in,’ he said with a quick, jerky wave of his hand.

  Nik stepped over the threshold and gave him a hug. His grandfather, on the cusp of turning eighty, still looked robust He had a full head of hair, grey with flecks of brown; a tall handsome man in good health. In his youth, he’d had many women pursuing him. Nik was grateful for being part of the gene pool. He was nearing thirty, with a head full of inky hair and blue eyes, and could pass for twenty. So said his female cousins of the same age, who couldn’t understand why he was still single, despite their many attempts to set him up with their girlfriends and acquaintances.

  ‘What did you want to discuss?’ he asked, stepping inside.

  ‘All in time, Niko. Let’s sit at the back under the trees. It’s nice and cool outside,’ his grandfather replied as he locked the door.

  ‘I’ve always loved it out there,’ Nik said. He followed Iasos through the hallway, the walls lined with family photographs, in colour and black and white.

  ‘Go get a few beers from the fridge on the back verandah,’ his grandfather said. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’