Messenger (Guardian Trilogy Prequel 1) (35 page)

“I’m well aware of others’ perspectives on the subject of my commitment to remain at your side, but I am not in the habit of kowtowing to others, Magdalene. You of all people know that.”

He expected me to agree with him and when I didn’t, it threw him off guard. “So Claudius failed to convince you?”

He blinked. “You overheard our conversation?”

“Enough of it,” I admitted.

He seemed unsettled by that fact but recovered quickly.

“I am not about to let someone else step in as your guardian. If they failed, they would have to deal with me and they would not survive that encounter.”

“I see. You do realize-”

“That I’m not your guardian?” he finished for me. “Magdalene,” he said stiffly, “we just witnessed the most volatile attack by Fallen Ones in the history of existence. They know that you are a threat to them and that makes them a threat to you. Regardless of our emotions, my responsibility is you, in the care of your safety and continued existence.”

Gone now were his inhibitions over declaring me as his ward or his concern over my refusal. He had seen what the Fallen Ones could do and he wasn’t going to concede to them…or to me. Whether I liked it or not, whether I appreciated it or not, he was my guardian now.

He drew in a heavy breath, which made me even more nervous. “With that having been said, I do take my position seriously, which means…” He closed his eyes as if what came next would be unavoidably painful. “My position will come before my feelings.”

He settled back and waited for me to digest this statement.

My initial reaction involved fighting back the sick pain in my stomach that had hit me last night. It returned full force but for a different reason. It was no longer our friends arguing against our feelings for each other, it was Eran. And I unequivocally understood why.

“Because you’ve never seen the point of emotions. They act contrary to the purpose of your actions. In fact, they make a person act sloppy.”

The recollection of our brief conversation so many months ago flashed across his face. He had said those very same words to me, and realizing it made me sicker.

He had warned me this would happen months earlier.

Reverting back to his stoic demeanor, he straightened his shoulders. “That’s correct. I cannot…
you
cannot…afford me to be sloppy.”

I felt like I was being stabbed, yet I couldn’t show it.

Doing my best to project some form of poise, I tipped my head farther back to look him squarely in the eyes.

“Friends,” I said, my voice cracking as I restated his decision.

“Friends,” he agreed, plainly.

The only hint that he hurt as much about this arrangement as I did was in his expression as he turned away from me.

It was filled with unmistakable agony.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: PASSING

M
ANY
Y
EARS
L
ATER ON
J
UNE, 5,
1525…

I lay with my eyes closed, listening to the staggered breathing entering and leaving my fragile body. Drawing air was getting more difficult now. I could feel the pressure in my chest and every so often I heard the gurgle of fluid in my lungs. My limbs felt weighted too, as if a hand was pressing against each of them to tell me not to worry about using them. They could do nothing for me now.

I opened my eyes to a blurred vision and blinked with vigor to clear my sight. It helped, a little. I could scarcely distinguish the grey lock of hair cascading across my right shoulder. It was as frail as I had become.

Something moved across the light, like a cloud drifting in front of the sun, and I turned my head toward it.

“How are you feeling, little felon?” a voice asked. It had been decades since I’d heard it and yet I knew it instantly.

“I’m ready, Lorencio, I’m ready…”

He laughed through his nose. “You look it.”

Then it was me laughing through my nose. “What are you doing here?”

“As you know, life on earth drags along at a snail’s pace.”

I smiled weakly, knowing the truth of that statement.

“Which means,” Lorencio continued, “that I won’t be seeing you for some time.”

“You came to see me off. That’s kind of you,” I said and had to draw a rattling breath to recover from my long-winded response.

A more boisterous voice entered the room then, bouncing off the walls as the man approached. “Nonsense. She can handle two men in battle, then she can handle two in conversation,” Alban shouted and then appeared at my side.

“You’ll need to excuse my ward,” Lorencio muttered, frowning. “He left his sense of propriety at the door, as usual.”

“My heaven,” Alban gasped, coming into view at the foot of my bed. “Your body here hasn’t kept up nearly as well as the one over there.”

“You look only slightly better,” I commented, noting his robust beard was now grey.

He grinned, which was buried in his mountain of hair. “I bet them we’d make it here before you passed.”

“We?”

“We,” he declared with a nod. “I’ll bring them in! They can better pay their debt that way!” Again, he flashed a grin, shifting his massive beard upward.

As Alban left to round up my visitors, I heard him demand payment from Caius.

“Is this her first passing, Sir?” Cilla’s asked faintly amidst the murmur of Caius and Alban’s arguing. She too had entered the room, judging by the nearness of her voice.

“It is,” Eran responded, his voice distinct, his alluring accent just as clear but grainy now with age. It stirred me now just as it had done all the times before.

Cilla stopped where Alban had been. She looked like she wanted to say something but time had changed me and it took a moment for her to recover. She had aged too, now being well into adulthood and with looser skin over her defined muscles. By then, Ganzorig appeared beside her. Only then did I recognize the scent of roses in the air.

I breathed it in and said, “Thank your ward for me.”

Ganzorig snorted. “Jerod’s changing the air for himself.”

“Good point,” I muttered and smiled anyways.

More bodies moved into the room, some coming close enough for me to recognize.

“Hello, Gorgeous,” Heath said, grinning. He stopped next to Cilla and knelt to eye-level before giving me a piercing look. “You still have those big beautiful brown eye-”

Eran cleared his throat from the door and Heath’s demeanor snapped to a more formal manner. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Heath.” I looked around the room. While I could no longer see as far as I would have liked, some faces were visible. Behind them were the fuzzy outlines of bodies, shifting to make room for others who were still entering. “How many of you have come?”

Cilla shrugged. “Everyone.”

“Which wouldn’t have been likely without you…,” another guest said, coming into view. “Hello Messenger.”

“Hello Jeremiah…”

“Passed a Fallen One on the way here,” he remarked and all heads turned in his direction. “He didn’t bother with me. Slipped out of sight before I could cause him any trouble.”

Cilla then complemented his story with one of her own. “Saw one just the other day,” she said. “We encountered each other on the road. He kept his head down until we’d passed.”

“One lives nearby me,” Caius said. “She catches me at the river every once in a while but leaves the moment I come into sight.”

More examples of our enemies fleeing came up and it reinforced in me that these people, my friends, would be safe. Their enemies had been tamed and they could live peacefully from this point forward.

The time came when the room grew quiet and Heath flattered me with a compliment.

“You’re to thank for it, Magdalene.”

“Eran, he’s the one to thank.”

“The Colonel too,” he agreed.

My gaze moved around the room, appreciating their presence. “I’m glad you all came.”

From there, they said their goodbyes. All of them were guardians, who would remain on earth after I had passed. Their messengers I would be seeing tonight in the hall.

None of them wished me a peaceful passing, already knowing it would be. Instead, they told me that they would stop in for a visit when they made it back themselves. For a recluse like me, that was extraordinary.

As they rotated through and the number of them dwindled, I wished in that moment to relive my life again and I knew the pull that drew others to multiple lives on earth. It was the people I met, the friends I made, and the love I’d experienced. Nothing else was greater, more profound, or life-altering.

After the last of them stepped outside the door and into the courtyard to await my departure, Eran approached me. His hair was still the same curly brown but streaks of grey now ran through it. His blue-green eyes were creased with lines but sparkled with familiar attentiveness. Lines traced his mouth and chin but there remained a strength in him that didn’t seem willing to be denied. Even now, after a lifetime together, he was striking.

As it turned out, he was assessing me too.

“You look more tired,” he muttered.

“I’m all right.”

The side of his lips tilted down deeper, demonstrating that he was questioning my truthfulness. He fluffed the pillow under my head and straightened the sheet wrapped around the lumpy mattress.

“That’s nice.”

Eran settled back, observing me. “You are no less stunning than the first time I saw you in the clearing.”

“Careful, Eran, you might break your pledge,” I said teasing, although he didn’t smile.

“It has taken every bit of my willpower to keep it, to maintain my role,” he said, “But now you’ll…you’ll be home soon.” There was sadness in his tone.

“I am home…,” I whispered, “when I’m with you.”

His lips pinched in pain at my reply.

“Your heart is slowing,” he said, using his unique ability to evaluate another’s health.

Finding my hand, he wrapped his palms around it. They were warm to my cold skin. He then shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m not sure what I’ll do with you gone.”

“You’ll live…” Finally, he would live.

But he shook his head and said in a quiet voice, “I don’t want that kind of life…I want you by my side.”

With no other ability to comfort him, I tightened my grip on his hands.

He swallowed, lifted his head and exhaled a long, tired sigh.

“Bring them in, Eran.”

He hesitated. “How are you feeling?”

Weak but dedicated
, I thought.

Preserving my energy, I simply smiled my answer.

“Are you sure you have the strength to finish?” he asked, having already evaluated me for the answer.

Somehow I managed to smile again.

His concern was evident as he paused, his stare intense and full of warmth.

“I don’t understand why you put this on yourself…,” he grumbled.

I opened my mouth to defend my efforts but he ended it with a wave of his hand to the woman at the door.

She hobbled in, one of her legs having never healed properly from a break. Eran motioned for her to sit on the chair beside the bed, and then she began to speak. Her message was to a sibling who had died during the Peasant Wars. She wanted to tell him that she had returned to their family home to learn that the stone wall they had built together was still intact. As she spoke, I thought about my return to home and how I wasn’t filled with the same sense of relief. Once I promised to deliver the message, my gaze drifted to Eran. He was slanted back against the wall on one shoulder. His arms were crossed over his chest and with his sleeves rolled up, they revealed the still powerful muscles bulging down his forearms. He unwound them to assist the woman to her feet and escort her out the door.

He then ushered in a man who wanted me to bring a message to his mother. Next, an entire family entered eager to tell another family member who had passed about the acquisition of farmland. More guests followed them for the next few hours. Several times, Eran stopped the line out the door from moving forward when he determined that I needed to regain my energy, but most of the time he watched me from his spot against the wall.

Rarely did his eyes stray from my face, leaving me with the impression that he didn’t want to miss a second of what time I had left and that what he was storing in his memory was expected to somehow get him through the remainder of his time here.

He was in constant torture and seeing it left a pain in my chest. That pain grew deeper, sharper and more oppressive as the day passed.

When the final message was given to me, Eran returned to my bedside carrying a wet sponge. With delicate precision, he wiped away the fever from my forehead. As he did, I was unable to pull my attention from him. He avoided addressing it as he worked, carrying out his final assistance with diligent care. Yet he couldn’t hide the hurt he felt. Several times, his nostrils flared and his teeth ground together. He was angry, I knew, at being unable to prevent what was coming. Eran, the great leader who foresaw circumstances and set in motion actions that would prevent them from coming to pass was unable to do anything at all about this one. Being so absorbed in his helplessness, he didn’t notice the tear running down his face. It slipped from the corner of one eye and glided down his cheek. Another one trailed it. By then he’d felt them and abruptly wiped his face with the back of his hand. Clearing his throat, he sat up.