Messenger (Guardian Trilogy Prequel 1) (13 page)

“Your feet are beginning to hurt,” he commented. “For the past hour you’ve been twitching them.”

I had, in order to reposition my feet inside my small boots. Blisters were forming. I could feel the sharp pain as they scraped along the surface of my boot’s heel.

“Yes,” I grumbled, having no solution other than one that simply wouldn’t work.

My appendages were tucked inside my back and would be an excellent means of travel. Unfortunately, exposing them would mean ending Eran’s reborn innocence. Showing him my wings would definitely lead him to realize that winged beings do, in fact, exist.

“It’s almost dark,” he said, assessing the sky. “Let’s rest a little while we decide where to sleep.”

That sounded like such a good idea I veered directly off the road and into the trees lining the side of it. After finding a large enough trunk to rest against, I sat down, immediately noticing the relief in my feet.

Eran stopped in front of me. “I’ll stand as guard while you renew your strength.” I opened my mouth but he stopped me. “I know, I know…you don’t need it. I’m doing it anyways. Sleep.”

Despite my reluctance to listen to any command by Eran, I felt my eyes closing and the next moment I was in the Hall of Records. I spent the night enjoying my refreshed state of being in the afterlife and using that energy to inform Hermina of all that had happened – which she appreciated after I fled the Hall of Records the night before in alarm – before practicing against Jerod, who was surprisingly feeble with the sword. When I was snapped back to my body on the other side, I expected to find an annoyed Eran with his lips puckered into a frown at having to wait the night before moving on. Instead, what immediately registered with me was that my body was no longer on the cold, hard ground but in a bed of hay. The sweet, welcoming aroma of it filled my nose just as I heard Eran speak.

“Good morning.” His enticing accent was thicker earlier in the day, I noticed.

My eyes sprang open and I found him observing me with a subtle grin. His arms were folded across his chest and his legs were casually astride. He reminded me of the first time I’d seen him, arrogant and pleased with himself.

“You’re a good sleeper,” he remarked.

“Yes, I’ve been told.”

Taking in our surroundings, I realized we were no longer in the open but inside a barn.

“Where are we?” I asked.

That familiar smirk rose up. “We’re there.”

“Where?” I asked rolling to my feet.

“Where the insurrections are being reported to take place.”

I tipped my head at him as I debated on whether he was teasing me.

“See for yourself,” he suggested, gesturing toward the barn door.

I strode to it, opened it, and found a house a few yards away. Beyond it was a small city of thatched buildings.

I swung back around to face him, thoroughly confused now. “But…But last night we were another days walk from it.”

“While you slept, I carried you,” he explained.

“Carried me? An entire day’s walk?”

“We made good time,” he replied with a shrug.

He was so nonchalant that my mouth fell open.

On seeing it, he muttered, “Oh, right, you must be hungry.”

Offended by the insinuation, I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t suggesting that I…”

He withdrew a pastry and held it out to me, insisting on me taking it.

When I didn’t, he explained, “I’ve made some arrangements while you slept.”

“Arrangements?” I asked, fighting back a dreamlike feeling.

He walked the few steps to me, took my hand and planted the pastry in the palm of it. When he touched me it sent a jolt through my skin. He blinked, seemed to feel the same, and denied it. “Eat, you have work to do.”

“Work?”

“I’ve found people in need of your service and in exchange they will give us shelter and food.”

I blinked several times. “Who?”

He pointed beyond the door to the farmhouse. “The Volkmar family. I’ve explained that I am your escort and that you’ve come to offer your service. They’ve just lost a child, this past summer, and are eager to talk with you.”

Stunned, I looked up at Eran.

“They’re waiting to meet you. Eat,” he urged.

Realizing just how resourceful Eran could be, I took a bite, swallowed, and suggested, “Why wait?”

When I pushed open the barn door and made my way across the field to the house, Eran fell into step beside me. I marched the entire way there without knowing we were being watched. Eran did, chuckling to himself well before we reached the door. It was opened before I could take the handle.

“Messenger,” said the large woman whose bulbous nose was a natural rosy red. She stood just inside and behind her was a group of people that had collected. I knew by their features they weren’t from the same family and, by that, I knew that news of our arrival had spread.

“Your reputation isn’t unknown to us here,” said the woman, grabbing my arm and pulling me in. “And we are eager to get started with our exchanges.”

“Exchanges?” I said, surveying the room.

“With the deceased,” she said.

“Yes,” I replied in a daze at the boisterous welcome as I was briskly led to a vacant chair. “Let’s begin the exchanges.”

From there, I spent the day taking messages for the people of the city who had enough conviction and faith in my abilities to meet me. The Volkmars waited to be last and sat down just as dusk was settling over the rolling grasslands. Their loss was a particularly delicate one, being the first and only child they had been able to deliver and who was just eight when he fell ill. She wept as she told him that she was making his favorite bread in the morning, and cried harder when she told him goodnight. Mr. Volkmar, a towering man who seemed interested in shortening himself by hunching, sat quietly beside her, awkwardly patting her hand.

Although we were invited to stay for dinner, the tears being shed felt personal and Eran declined for us. We took the deer meat and boiled vegetables back to the barn where we ate overlooking the setting sun.

As streaks of peach and orange cast a glow across the grass blades, giving the illusion the horizon was set on fire, Eran set his bowl aside. “You know I’m going to miss this view.”

You’re leaving?” I asked, wondering why there was a hint of disappointment in my tone.

Eran noticed and smirked at me, blatantly entertained by it.

“I only meant that we just got here…”

“Mmhmm,” he muttered, skeptical of my response, his smirk deepening and his skeptical eyes lighting up.

“And you worked at securing a place for us…”

“Ahhh…” he mumbled, still unconvinced.

“Oh,” I groaned in irritation.

He managed to wipe his face of the smirk before replying, “I only meant that
we
should move on quickly.”

“Because you think the Kohlers will find us,” I surmised.

“Very good, and yes. If
these
people have heard of your reputation, Friedricha, then it’s only a matter of time.”

He was correct, of course. While some people with knowledge of me being here may ignore it as just another heretic rumor, eventually the Kohlers would come. And that was what I was counting on.

He took my empty bowl and we walked inside, where he closed the barn door behind us. The smell of hay intensified, but I knew it would be a far better option for a bed than the chilly, rigid ground.

I entered the only stall, smoothed over the hay and laid down, noting the beams overhead and the number of spider webs. It’s not home, but at least we won’t be alone out here I thought and laughed to myself. I closed my eyes and wiggled into my new bed when a scuffle drew my attention to the opening of the stall. Eran now leaned there, peering out, waiting for danger to come.

“Thomas,” I said, my voice sounding like a whisper in the cavernous barn.

He twisted at the waist.

“How long ago did you sleep?” I was slightly ashamed in asking because I shouldn’t have cared.

Smiling weakly at me, he admitted, “A while.”

It had been more than two days.

I debated through several attempts to open my mouth before finally submitting to the suggestion I had in mind. “You should rest too,” I said.

He hesitated, gave the barn door one last glance, and entered the stall.

That was when I realized there was no other hay than the pile I was currently on.

“Don’t worry,” he said, already taking a seat against the wall. “I’ll stay here.”

He slid down the wall until he was in a sitting position facing the interior of the barn and closed his eyes. Before long, his breathing began to deepen and his muscles relaxed. In the dim light, his face settled into a peacefulness I’d never seen in him, and suddenly the agony of battle that always seemed to be present in him was gone. I observed him a few minutes longer and during that time I learned the true Eran, not the one burdened by his duties, but the humble, patient soul he refused to put on display. And he was breathtaking.

Then my body’s need for sleep took over and I closed my eyes. As I did, the idea of the Kohlers finding us flashed across my mind. Because of it, I spent the night delivering messages and training to protect myself against them with a single thought in mind… I wondered how far away they might be at that very moment.

And as it turned out, they weren’t far at all.

CHAPTER TWELVE: INVITATION

T
HE DAYS LEADING TO THE
K
OHLERS’
reemergence were filled with rumors. Almost daily, there was talk about surrounding cities with citizens awaking with their throats slit or disappearing altogether. These egregious and sinister acts were blamed on the nobles and their mercenaries and with each rumor it fueled the hatred that had been simmering among the farmers and peasants for years.

Our city seemed to be immune to the murders, oddly remaining the only one untouched by them. Before long, I convinced Eran to begin traveling to those being affected and offering my services, with me secretly hoping a message might divulge if it were the Kohlers committing the acts. Always, the deceased knew nothing, having been assaulted by surprise. So Eran and I continued carrying out our duties, as was expected by our growing celebrity status, me delivering messages and him being an attentive escort.

And Eran was attentive.

I caught him glancing at me throughout the day, from the across the barn in the evenings, and when I sat to deliver messages to those who stopped by for daily “deliveries”. He had plenty of chances too. We were together all day and night, with the exception of when I went to bathe. In those instances, he stood as sentry outside the door. It was gentlemanly, but this wasn’t what struck me as unexpected. What did, came from me.

I thought that eventually I would get tired of his presence and attention, as was usual with me. I waited for the need to be alone to creep up and persuade me away from him. Instead, for the first time in my existence, I
wanted
someone with me, specifically Eran. So, I walked around in a continuous state of awe at what he was doing to me and wonder over when it would end. It never did…

Eran, on the other hand, had ample choices if I were to shun him. Girls would giggle when he walked by and we began to receive guests of whom plenty were girls with no defining need to send a message to a loved one on the other side and whose attention appeared to be more on Eran than on me during the meetings. It quickly became apparent that he had as many adoring fans as I did, yet oddly enough, he didn’t seem to notice.

Then one morning, another rumor surfaced, and this one drew our attention because it involved us.

“A meeting will be held here tonight, called by the unofficial leaders of the cities that are in the midst of the rebellion.”

Mr. Volkmar delivered this news as he handed breakfast to Eran. I was just coming out of the stall as he made his announcement.

His vigilance, always foremost and center, Eran asked, “Why here?”

“We’re the only ones who haven’t been hit yet.” He shrugged. “Guess they feel safer talking about it here.”

Eran nodded. “We’ll stay clear of the farmhouse then. Thank you for the notice.”

Mr. Volkmar’s eyebrows dipped. “You don’t want to be there?” he blurted this in a way that it seemed to be a preconceived decision.

Eran didn’t show any sign of surprise at having been expected to be present. “If you’ll allow us, sir…”

“Allow you?” he scoffed. “Your messenger was requested.”

This caught me by surprise. Eran had an entirely different reaction.

“Requested?” he asked suspiciously. “By who?”

Mr. Volkmar shrugged. “Someone with an itch to meet her, apparently.”

If he detected any hesitation in Eran, he didn’t show it. “They’ll be here around sundown. Careful with the eggs now,” he muttered in warning already on his way back to the house. “They’re pickled and give me heartburn like something fierce…”