The Last Guardian Rises (The Last Keeper's Daughter)

www.crescentmoonpress.com

The Last Guardian Rises
Rebecca Trogner

ISBN: 978-0-9908827-6-3
E-ISBN: 978-0-9908827-7-0

© Copyright Rebecca G. Trogner 2014. All rights reserved

Editor: Candice U. Lindstrom
Cover Art:
Layout/Typesetting: jimandzetta.com

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All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Crescent Moon Press electronic publication/print publication: November 2014
www.crescentmoonpress.com

Lily

Lily closed her eyes, stilled her thoughts, and mentally focused on the books nestled on the archive shelves. Their voices washed over her in a slow crescendo, vying for her attention, offering their pages, their contents, begging to be useful, to be… relevant again.

In this moment she cared not if it was dark or light beyond the archive doors. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered but the books and her silent communication with them, for contained within the bindings were words and pictures of times well past what humanity remembered or could ever imagine.

A few books whispered to her, their voices faint but powerful, causing her to shiver with the sensation of ice slivers dripping down her spine. Some flashed images against the backs of her eyelids, displaying their wares of treasures and events like vendors at an exotic bazaar. There were books which had not been opened for centuries and broken tablets long forgotten by history still tinged with the layers of dirt that had once imprisoned them. She wanted to unravel the mysteries of each and all, but forced her mind to focus on the gates, specifically the nine gates which separated this world from the underworld.

“Please, tell me about the gates,” Lily whispered. What had been a cacophony of voices and images went eerily silent. “There must be something you can show me.”

The archives clutched their secrets close and remained mute. Lily sighed. She sensed their apprehension. No, that was too weak a word. It was fear. Her mouth went dry, her heart raced, and her stomach rolled as their panic washed over her. She’d asked Mathers, the caretaker of the archives (who most referred to as the doorman as he’d watched over the books since… well, she wasn’t sure how long), why they would not respond to her repeated requests about the gates. The small man had glared at her, snarled out a stream of unintelligible words, and then walked away.

She didn’t fault Mathers for his skepticism. If it weren’t happening to her, she probably wouldn’t believe it either. When she’d first heard the hushed voices of the archives, she thought she was going insane. It was Merlin who had listened to her, nodded, and calmly assuaged her fears, telling her it was a rare gift that should be embraced. Like a scale which must be balanced, Lily reluctantly accepted this new ability, for she truly had no choice since the alternative would be to go mad trying to ignore or deny it.

“Enough.” Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity.

She willed her errant thoughts back to the problem of the archives’ reluctance to impart their knowledge of the gates. Why wouldn’t they believe her when she said no harm would come to them?

“Can you tell me about the artifacts related to the gates?” The legends spoke of objects placed at the four corners of the world. Supposedly these objects would allow someone to control the gates, perhaps even move between them. 

A vibration at the base of Lily’s skull metamorphosed into a sound that reminded her of wasps building a nest. Lily held her breath. Her nose twitched at a pungent odor. Heat moved up her legs like she was standing on hot asphalt.

She was now inside a room, sterile and cold, and a tremor of fear spiked her heart rate. Afraid the gossamer image would evaporate, Lily remained as still as possible as the details of the space were revealed to her. A child sat in the corner, his long black hair pulled back from his face, allowing her to see the tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched a small wooden toy to his chest. A woman appeared from the ether and ran through Lily like she was the incorporeal one and went to the child, comforting him. As the seconds ticked by, the diaphanous form of the woman became clear enough that Lily felt she could touch the woman’s hair, white and thick with curls that fell to her lower back.

The woman turned to face Lily, looking at someone Lily could not see. Her face showed panic and fear and Lily felt each of these emotions rip through her own system. She willed herself to remain still, though all she wanted was for this to end and to escape back into the safety of her archives. A golden pendant hanging from the woman’s neck gleamed and the child reached out to grab it, but Lily barely noticed as she stared into what could be her own face. The resemblance Lily shared with her was uncanny, almost as if this woman was her long lost twin only separated by what must surely be a titanic span of time.

Wanting to understand the meaning of the image but unable to hold her breath any longer, Lily inhaled and despaired as the scene before her floated away and she was once again alone inside the archives.

She grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself. The room had felt like a prison. Why would they be inside? Why had the archives shown them to her? And who was the woman that looked just like her? Was she like Lily? She’d asked for artifacts related to the gates. Was the pendant important? The toy? Those were the only objects she’d seen. She tried to reconnect but somehow knew the moment had passed and it was futile to press further.

“Miss.” Liam, her personal guard, opened the doors enough to make eye contact with her.

Startled by his appearance, she tightened her grip on the chair, thankful for the support
.
This was the first time an image had unsettled her. Inhaling slowly, she held her breath for a moment, exhaled, and hoped it would help to quiet her jarred nerves.

“The king has asked for your presence,” he said.

And so, at last, the time has come when I am summoned
. She’d been avoiding Krieger quite successfully. At first, she’d needed the physical and emotional distance to digest everything that had happened. The days turned into weeks that turned into months until she felt uncomfortable with the ghosts that now lay between them and didn’t know how to broach the divide.

Liam stepped back to wait for her outside and started to close the door.

“Please, stay with me,” Lily urged. She needed to stall, to collect herself before seeing Krieger again. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Around nine… at night.” Impossibly graceful for such a large man, he stepped inside and folded his frame into the chair closest to the doors. “The king said you might be less than enthusiastic. He told me to tell you that you have thirty minutes to prepare yourself.” Liam raised a thick eyebrow. “And that he won’t summon you twice.”

Her stomach grumbled with hunger, loudly. “Maybe we could call down for something to eat?” Surely a peanut butter sandwich wouldn’t take long to prepare and she’d feel better with something in her stomach before facing Krieger.

Liam gave her a noncommittal shrug.

Would Krieger barge in here if she didn’t appear before him on time? Yes, he would.

The earsplitting ring of the phone sitting on the table like a large toad jarred her, and she scowled at the infernal device. She didn’t know why Mathers had put this particular model in the room. It was old, made of Bakelite, like the phones in black and white movies. The handset was heavy enough to pound nails and required one to talk loudly into the microphone. Before she lifted it to her ear she could already hear Mathers talking.

“I won’t have you eating around my babies,” the gruff little man barked into the phone. His babies were the contents of the archives and he guarded them with the fierceness of a badger.

Lily cupped the mouthpiece. “How did he know?” she asked Liam, who briefly hunched his shoulders, obviously as perplexed as she was at Mathers’ uncanny ability to hear everything inside what he considered
his
archives.

“Dinner is waiting for you in the king’s study,” Mathers said.

“Oh,” Lily responded, “I see. I need a few more minutes.”

“As you will,” Mathers replied. “Not my place to be telling you that the king isn’t a man to be left waiting,” he grumbled and hung up.

Of course he was right. Krieger had given her months to herself. She could have left Stoke Castle. Rebuilt her home, or traveled around the world with Martha and Jo, or done any number of things, but she’d stayed. She felt weak and a little ashamed about hiding away behind the archive doors and took her frustration out on the stiff phone cord which refused to cooperate. She finally slammed the handset back in the cradle. The castle had a mélange of old, ancient, and cutting edge equipment from various stages of advancement in technology. The archives were mostly modern except for the odd pieces that Mathers brought over from the original archives. Everything else was controlled by computers, the temperature, the lights, even the atmosphere, to ensure that all the contents were kept safe from deterioration. And since Lily had been standing too long in the reading part of the immense area, the motion controlled lights popped off section by section until she and Liam were bathed in only a small island of light.

“Any luck with your research?” Liam asked. He looked less fierce tonight, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with his face clean shaven and shoulder length hair pulled back.

“Perhaps.” Lily motioned towards his chest. “How’s your…?”
Damn, why did I ask him that
? Doggedly her unconscious mind kept reminding her that she hadn’t dealt with the events of the night they’d found the preserved remains of her long dead mother. What would Freud think of such a thing? Actually, Freud could have spent lifetimes sorting through the dysfunction of her family. Her father, Walter, unable to accept his wife’s death, had used his skill as an amateur taxidermist to keep her with him in life.

Her grandfather, Winston, who in his madness had helped to release the darkness that threatened this world, had been turned into a revenant, an undead creature devoid of will except for that of his master. Henry, Krieger’s brother in blood, had turned Winston into the revenant that had slashed open Liam’s chest and broken his ribs. Two of Liam’s pack had lost their lives taking Winston down. But Winston was not the only one who died that night. It was Henry who haunted her dreams, his eyes offering their forgiveness before she’d plunged the knife through his heart. She’d told herself he was mad, the orchestrator of evil, the perpetrator of injustice against her mother, but that did not erase the guilt she felt at ending his life.