Guardians Book One - Magic Rising

Chapter Forty Seven

Kath shifted her weight from one hip to the other, her new armour sitting awkwardly under her smartest jacket as a surprisingly chill wind tugged through her spiky hair, somewhere in the centre of Richmond Park. A handful of grazing deer had glanced their way as they'd walked in solemn procession through the fields – Kath, Lady, Vicky (glowing, jar of ashes in hands,), Pes, and the other Guardians in their small group, along with one or two new faces Kath hadn't met or expected.

The Guardian of Song looked exactly like the kind of bard Kath thought would be hiding a lute under his velveteen jacket, and the Guardian of War – the last being she'd expected to see, although then again, perhaps not, for who else would have such an appreciation for a fallen warrior? – had smacked Pestilence heartily on the back, his entire face obscured by a massive, ancient helmet, his body, seemingly as broad as he was tall, kitted out in antiquated iron that shifted to camos at a moment's notice. The Guardian of Steel resembled nothing so much as a mirror in motion. Looking at her made Kath's eyes ache. Nonetheless the whole group of them now stood in a circle at the very centre of the Royal park, listening to Vicky's voice alternate between her own and that of the Lord of Light, high in sorrow and deep in gratitude, tell the story of the life of Alexander Stewart, the man who'd housed an ancient king.

"He found me dying and did his duty," the Lord intoned – yes, Kath knew that, already; she'd seen it, felt it through the Lord's emotions. She shivered; it hadn't been long for her at all, bearing the Lord, and she couldn't imagine what years of it would be like. "He sealed our pact with the life of his daughter and relinquished his body, his dreams and his life for me." Lady stood ramrod straight, watching, but her face was bone-white, even paler than her usual complexion, and Pestilence held one of her hands in his, his other arm about her shoulders to support her. She wasn't crying, but everything about her posture was. Kath wondered how it felt to hear that – but it was nothing Lady didn't know, was it? Nothing she hadn't accepted, horrifyingly; that she was a pawn in a war, that it had been her fate before she had even been born. What must it be like to have grown up with the memories of others, of supernatural beings, and to have their power, and to have nothing else? God. Pes was holding her as she stood there, beautiful and terrible and heartbroken, clad, like her mother, in something more akin to a cloak than a coat, under which she carried an array of weaponry most people would never even see in the flesh. Without him she'd be lost. Without her, he'd be alone...

"He gave up much to help me defend a world so that it might have a future," the Lord carried on. "We both knew all things had to end, that there is no perfect solution – friends, you know this also – and yet he chose to aid me, to help me remove the threat of my brother that humanity might be able to begin anew. He taught me the difficulties involved in the modern world. We intended that we would, one day, create a chosen group of teachers and protectors to help ease humanity through the transition that will come – and the Guardians. We believed you can yet – perhaps - make yourselves exist for you in the act of becoming what he made you – of becoming personifications – you have become people, you have become alive. If you can travel to the realm of Death, you can perhaps live again, one day. It grieves me that he will never see this process brought to bear." Now that was news – to her, anyway, nobody else looked especially astonished - even if she would never see the reborn Guardians in her lifetime. Kath wished she had the time to focus on it, but the nagging panic was rising.

The wind smacked Kath about the face again, and she shivered once more, tucking her arms around her chest for the little protection they offered. Day's light bobbed faintly in her direction, and she managed a thin smile for the Guardian. I'm OK, she thought out to her, and Day bobbed again. She wasn't sure how true that was, though. There was a cold in the air that felt more than mere atmosphere. Something preternatural. She tried to block out the Lord's voice for a moment, pull herself into the threads of the world and sense what was out there, but nothing responded. There wasn't even the wall that Lady's wards created. All was still...at the moment. As if the world was waiting.

Hey. Pes. She reached out to the only Guardian who would probably think it appropriate to ask for help in the middle of a funeral. Can you feel...anything?

His dark eyes rolled to her, and he tilted his head infinitesimally, so small a movement even Lady missed it. Something isn't right?

Dunno, Kath thought back, unhappily. Not yet.

I can't sense anything, although I probably wouldn't be able to, he added, ruefully. I can't feel them. Keep an ear out, OK? Trust yourself.

Kath nodded and turned back to watch Vicky shaking the ashes into the wind, whirling up to the murky sky above them, becoming part of the world just as Alexander's soul would one day. Kath imagined him in the realm of Death, the endless dancing, and wondered if he could see or feel the ceremony.

Lady's jaw was set, but her green eyes glistened faintly. All of Pes' attention was on her, leaving Kath adrift and alone to try and feel...there is. I can tell. Something is coming. The unease was getting stronger with each passing moment. Her hand drifted to the dirk in her belt, her palms suddenly damp.

"I will see you again one day, my love," Vicky's voice spiralled into the wind, as she recapped the jar, tears streaming unashamedly down her cheeks, Wisdom and Innocence at her sides, one touching each of her arms, as ever, a study in contrasts. War was saluting, staring up into the sky, and the dancing light of Day reflected blindingly off of the mirrored body of Steel. Kath's head spun.

"Are you well?" Day was whispering in her ear, now. "You look dreadful. Would it help to sit down?" Kath shook her head, mutely.

"Day. Something is coming," she whispered in return. "I can't feel it. But I know...I can See it." How had someone put it, endless weeks and months ago? Feeling the tendrils of intention moving through the world. Even back then, with Dream, renegade Dream, she'd known what the monster would do, known why it wasn't trying to get in her head – the Sight in there would have driven her even madder. Her hand crushed over her mouth as a wave of nausea welled up in her. It wasn't quite a vision but the man leading Fire and Ice and Night towards them was a walking corpse, almost, the body he'd possessed – stolen, if she was any judge – rebelled against him, she could feel the screams of the imprisoned and jettisoned soul in the shared head rather than the compassion and compromise of the Lord of Light and...

"He's coming!" she choked out, and both Vicky and Lady's heads snapped to her in unison as she crashed to her knees.

"Here? Now?" Lady hauled her iron sword out from under the cloak and tilted back her head. "To denigrate even this? Mother!" Vicky nodded, her movements suddenly sharper as the Lord took over, and drew out from under her cloak a similar sword.

And Kath heard shrill, deafening laughter descend upon her as the Darkness finally arrived.