She ran her finger along the desk leaving snake-like trails in the dust behind her. How long had it been since the last time someone had lived here? A heavy coating o f gray-white film covered every surface within her eyesight. There were no fingerprints, no areas of disturbance, just a blanket of snow-like particles embracing each object that dared to exist in this forgotten place. Even the wood floor, beginning to rot at the edges near the wall and creaking under my gentle footsteps, had a thin carpet of the finite powder.
âI donât know why Iâm surprised,â she mumbled to herself, suppressing a sneeze. âHe always followed his own agenda. I canât even remember the last time he was predictable.â
But as she thought about it, she recalled all of the times that he had been reliable, had been there for her at the exact moment she needed him the most. Personally, she thought that a Protector would have a greater respect for rules and parameters, a greater desire to be at the side of his ward, but he never seemed to care about what was conventional. This, however, was unusual. Hadnât he sent her the mysterious letter containing this address? She could recognize his hand writing anywhere. Surely that meant he was planning to meet her. From the decaying state of things around her, she figured that it had to have been at least 5 years since anyone set foot in the place.
She walked over to the fireplace, eyeing the figurines that were displayed on the mantle. She picked up each one, brushing the remnants of disuse away with her palm, examining their detailed features. There were five figures altogether, carved out of a sweet-smelling, lavender hued wood she couldnât identify, but whose scent grasped desperately at the edges of her memory.
âWhere do I know that smell from? Iâve never seen wood this color before...â
But somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, a memory triggered, just out of reach of her consciousness. She could feel it pulling at her, willing her to remember it.
The figurines were or four people and a fox. The one on the far right was clearly herself. It bore, with alarming detail, her personable smile and long flowing curls of hair. It even had carved into it the two intricate tattoos on her wrists that marked her as a priestess. There was a day, not long ago, that she would have bared her distinctive markings with pride. Now nobody was safe, especially keepers of the Faith, and she kept her wrists bound in a light blue ribbon that had been given to her by the Wise Ones. Â She could still hear the voice of the High Elder in her head, even though it had been two years since she had gone into hiding:
âNiamh, things are no longer as they used to be. The line between friend and enemy has been blurred. We can longer tell who in the human world is on our side. You must be protected at all costs. Do not show anyone what lies beneath the ribbons on your wrists unless you are certain they can be trusted. Even those who want to hurt us can have friendly eyes. If you are found, they will show no mercy, and without you all is lost. Youâve been entrusted with a great power and a secret that many would kill without a second thought to obtain. Your skills are great, but you are still young and untried and they are cunning. They will not attack conventionally. They will seek to lower your defenses, as they know you are powerful in your element. Put yourself first, Niamh. The time for heroes will come later.â
She inspected the figurines carefully. The one next to her was clearly Age with his excessively large rifle strapped to his back and pistols at his belt. The hilts of the guns of the little toy even had the patterns that Age had designed himself, when he first obtained the weapons that would become his signature as a Protector. It was the nature of their being, to bond themselves to a favored weapon or weapon-set that would forever carry a piece of their soul. If anything were to destroy those guns, it would strike at his heart like a poison, leaving him greatly weakened. No Protector in the history of the Lore had ever lost his weapons and survived to tell about it. There was a dangerous price to pay to be the best.
She didnât recognize the other two people, a man and a woman like her and Age, both dressed in travelling clothes. She studied the carefully detailed features of their faces, but nothing in her mind clicked to the familiar. They were certainly strangers to her. The fox looked like any fox she would see in the woods, but with an odd pattern in the fur on its small forehead just above its beady eyes.
Her wrist felt warm beneath the ribbons. Niamh knew that whoever carved those figures had left them specifically for her, but with what intention? Who had once called this crumbling domestic setting home? Apparently someone with a flare for whittling.
The sound of someone wrestling with the front door handle caught her attention and her heart leaped from her chest. She slipped the figurines into her knapsack.
âAge?â she whispered, her eyes glistening with the anticipation of seeing her friend again. It was two years ago that he had stormed away from her at the command of the Elders. The memory came upon her like a movie reel flashing in front of her.
âYou must not be seen with her. Youâve let your fame consume you and that has weakened your role as Protector. You must part ways if we want to have any hope of ensuring her future.â The High Elderâs eyes were menacing, her voice crystalline like a tinkling bell, but with a resonance of a brass chime. âWe warned you before that your pride would be your downfall. You have no one to blame but yourself.â
Niamh could still clearly see the indignant look that crossed Ageâs features, the fire of fight sparking in his soul.
âAnd you think sheâll be safer without me?â he said boldly, his eyes looking straight into those of the High Elder. âOr maybe one of you could do better?â
Niamh felt the tension growing between the two, hanging heavy in the air like a thick veil of fog and ricocheting off the walls like stray bullets from a machine gun. She knew from the set of Ageâs shoulders that he would fight this with every fiber of his being.
âYes, in fact, we do think sheâll be safer without you,â the High Elder replied, her voice quiet, a threat lingering just beneath its surface. âUntil we know the nature of our enemy, until we know the extent to which the power of the Shadows has grown, you must stay away from her. We are beyond the point of mercy! If you stay with her, they will find you and then they will find her and then we will have nothing! Donât you understand that? Use your brain, Protector. Use your sense! If the two of you part ways, she at least has a chance of hiding in the human world without being noticed. If she stays with you, she will never blend in.â
Ageâs mouth drew into a thin line and his eyes lowered in their intensity. Niamh moved her gaze to the ground, knowing that every one of the Wise Ones was now focusing on the long, prominent scar that ran down his face from the edge of his right eyebrow to the chiseled curve of his chin. It was the mark of a hero, and she remembered well the occasion on which he received it. The claw that cleaved open his cheek was meant for her chest. If he had not dived in the way of the beast that was attacking her, she would not be alive and the Faith would have fallen long ago. She didnât think it was fair of them to bring this up as a flaw in him, because to her it was like a precious gift and it was a feature of him she would never dream of wanting to change.
âYouâre making a mistake,â he said simply. âYou know that without me, Nia is at an alarming risk. There is no one who can protect her better than I can! You know this! Thatâs why you chose me to protect her and not one of your more âdecoratedâ protĂ©gĂ©es! If you separate her from me, you will be sending your prize lamb to slaughter.â
The silence drew out. The High Elderâs expression was venomous.
âMaybe theyâre right, Age,â Niamh said finally. âMaybe we should split up.â
She looked to her friend and for a moment saw a flash of something cross his aqua eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. She wondered, for a moment, if maybe she had mistaken the bond that had developed between them. Age was her best friend, and she knew that her affection for him ran far deeper than that, but she had never dared believe that he could return that feeling. She had always been good at reading people, and Age knew this, and in an instant she could feel every defense he could muster cutting her off from him completely.
âMy Priestess,â he replied, bowing low to the ground, his gaze averted. In that one motion he said more about the hurt she had dealt him than his eyes ever could. They had never been so formal with each other. He was at this point the only family she had. âOf course, if you lay a Command upon me I must obey, but I will not change my opinion on the matter.â
His eyes were stony and Niamh pleaded with him in her mind to understand.
âThen we shall let the Priestess decide,â said the High Elder, scenting her own victory in Niamhâs statement. âChoose, Niamh. Do you wish to relinquish the services of your Protector until such a time when he is called to your service again, or do you wish to remain in his care until times are safe enough to emerge again? Iâm certain Iâve made my opinion on the issue quite clear, and I know that the Council of Wise Ones supports my advice.â
At this a quiet murmur rippled through the crowd behind her, but Niamh knew that no one would stand up to the High Elder, such was her hold over all of them. But she could see the wisdom in their concerns. It was true: The Shadows knew that she and Age were inseparable. They would target him immediately, and upon finding him they would find her if they were together or he knew of her whereabouts, and they would kill him if he did not give her up. Each of them would be safer, better able to hide, without the other. She knew what he could be capable of without her holding him back. Although it would hurt her more than she would admit, she had to send him away. For both of their sakes.
âAge, please understand itâs not because I donât want you with me,â she watched his face fall briefly, realizing that his battle was lost; âitâs just that what the High Elder is saying makes a lot of sense. You know that you can hide yourself better without me holding you back, and theyâll kill you if they find you. Thereâs a price on your head and if they think you can lead them to me, theyâll use whatever force they have to. Itâs not forever, Age. Weâll find each other again.â
His jaw was tight. Niamh could see the veins in his neck twitching as he bit back the protest that was welling in his throat. She noticed he was carefully controlling his breathing. His voice, when he spoke, was tight with control.
âDo you lay a Command upon me, Priestess?â
He was trying her, she could feel it. A suggestion, even a law, he could ignore, a Command from the Priestess to whom a Protector was assigned must be obeyed at all costs. It was the reason she rarely used them. With him there had never been a need to command. She knew that she could rely on him, and she knew how much he hated being bound by regulations. Her eyes met his and they looked at each other. She tried to school her expression, but she only imagined what blazed from her irises. Ageâs shields were in place, but she could see something else his gaze, something small and barely noticeable, but it was there and it made her heart quail in her chest.
âYes, Age,â she said finally, hoping her voice came out firmer than it sounded in her head. âYou must part ways from me and go into hiding until such a time that my well-being is no longer assured. You must do whatever is in your power to stay alive and out of the Shadowsâ clutches and you must come back to me the moment you feel my safety has been compromised. I Command this of you.â
He responded with a stony silence, his expression impenetrable.
âAge, itâs not because I donât want to stay with you,â she tried again, her pleas filling the emptiness that emanated around them, begging him with her eyes to understand. It could have been just the two of them standing there, no Council of Wise Ones bearing witness to their conversation. âThis is the way it has to be, Age. I can feel it. Parting ways seems like the right thing to do right now. We have to step back and reassess the situation, then youâll come back and weâll finish it once and for all. We have to lie low for a little while. Surely you see the sense in that. You know that if we stay together weâll never be able to hide from them, and you know that I donât mean because of your scar, Age. There are ways in which I hold you back. Youâll be safer without me.â
There was something vacant in the way he was looking at her and she hated seeing him so detached. She knew there was nothing she could do to make him feel better. If they had really been alone she would have hugged him and held him and told him that she would miss him and found some way to show him that she regretted that this was the only road forward. But with the eyes of the Wise Ones focused upon the two of them, any display that informal would be regarded with severe disapproval. So they stood there looking at each other and neither one of them moved.
âI think that the Priestess has made a wise decision,â the High Elder replied finally, her features beaming. âWe will be in touch with you, Protector, and when the time has come we will call you back to your duty and you will resume your role by Niamhâs side.â
His eyes never left Niamhâs. They stared at each other; she desperately trying to read what was going on behind his now ice-colored irises, he blank of all emotion, his gaze impassive. He bowed, sweeping low, and, without a word, turned on his heel and strode out of the council chamber, the tail of his long coat trailing behind him. He didnât look back.
She was brought back to the present by a more forceful shaking of the front door. It occurred to her that she couldnât remember locking it behind her when she came in and for a moment she was frozen to the spot. Something was keeping someone out. Whoever was trying to get in through the door was not Age, and the house seemed to be giving her an opportunity to escape.
The only way to go was deeper into the house. She hurried through the doorway across the foyer from the front entrance. The door was shaking violently on its hinges with the force of pounding produced from the other side.
âIf anyoneâs in there, ya better come out now!â came a muffled, rasping voice Niamh identified immediately as one of the underling shadow creatures, the Maugue: One of the fur-lined, long-clawed beastly grunts of the Shadow King. âWe ainât kiddinâ around! Open this door or weâll force our way in!â
Niamh pushed the door halfway closed behind her and stepped backward. A loud bang sounded through the house as the front door was blasted out of its frame, making her jump, biting her lip to hold back the shriek that welled in her throat. She heard their footsteps heavy on the wood floors. There were two of them.
âDonât look like anyoneâs lived here for years, Sir,â said the Maugue, sniffing compulsively through his thick nostrils. âGuess the place is empty. Looks empty.â
âNo,â replied the grating wheeze of the Shadow Warrior who served as the Shadow Kingâs general. A man-turned-monster who went by the name Kravin; A man whom Naimh remembered very well. It was his twisted claw that had marked her Protector so many years ago. âTheyâve both been here. I can smell them, but how he managed to find her after our cunning diversion I have no idea. He should be halfway across the country by now. No⊠Sheâs been here.â
They went quiet and Niamh felt her face blanche as she recalled the layers of dust on the wooden floors. She would have left footprints in her mad flight to safety. They didnât seem to be moving. Just standing in the doorway. Through the small slit she left in the door she could see them standing, their eyes searching.
âGo look over there at the fireplace! Her footsteps seem to go directly to its base,â Kravin barked and the Maugue shuffled to obey his orders. âPerhaps there was something on the mantelpiece. Be sure to look through the ashes for anything thrown into the fire.â
As the grunt trundled around the ornately carved fireplace Kravin leaned against a corner of the wall nearby. It seemed he was in no hurry to explore the rest of the house. Maybe he thought she had gone and left already. Maybe he knew she was trapped.
Not wanting to risk discovery, she turned and quickly observed the room she was in. It was a dining room with a large, glimmering chandelier hanging high from a lofted ceiling amid an alcove of floor-to-ceiling windows. Intricately carved woodwork was inlaid all throughout them from top to bottom. She admired the craftsmanship, wishing she had more time to gaze at and make sense of the elaborate patterns before her. A long, elaborately designed table sat in the middle of the room directly beneath the chandelier. There was a door across from her, which looked like it led to the kitchen. The door to her left was closed.
She knew the kitchen would probably be a dead end so she moved quickly to the door on her left and turned inside, closing it quickly behind her. The cramped, dark space she found herself in nearly suffocated her, brimming full of large coats. She punched at them, her efforts to move deeper hampered. With a sigh she turned to face the door and strained to hear.
She raised her right arm into the air and gently pressed her wrist against her forehead, her palm facing out, and held  it there. Her wrist burned beneath the ribbon that bound it. She could see them: Skulking about the house, kicking things around and overturning the furniture in attempt to find some clue as to whose house this was.
âI told his Highness sheâd come if we sent the letter. It took bloody long enough for us to find the damn girl. I would not have thought her so easily hidden.â Kravin was sulking, leaning low against the wall, his back curved, his shoulders hunched. âThey protected her well. I donât know how they did it.â
âYa reckon sheâs still here?â asked the grunt.
Niamh didnât hear the response.
A hand clamped tightly over her mouth and she sucked her breath in quickly, pulled from her trance. A body moved against hers and she could feel someoneâs breath on her hair. An arm slid around in front of her chest pinning her arms so she couldnât thrash. She was too frightened to scream. She was too dazed to fight.
âWeâre going to start walking backwards, Nia, and I need you to move with me.â His voice was like smooth, sweet wine for her ears. She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself as a wave of nausea ran through her. There was warmth welling up from the pit of her stomach and she was keenly aware of the arm across her chest, the palm pressed against her lips, and who they belonged to. He began pulling her back with him. âItâs a narrow passage and weâll have to be really quiet the whole way. Weâre going through the walls and theyâll be able to hear us if we make too much noise. Iâm going to take my hand off your mouth now.â
His warm touch moved away from where it was resting against her chin. She let out her breath slowly, small flecks of black dancing in front of her eyes. Age kept his hand across her chest and led her step by step through the coats to a small passage that she barely fit into. Age had to shift himself sideways to maneuver through. It was a well-made passage and she took slow even breaths in attempt to stay focused as she felt her body failing piece by piece from her sudden jar back to reality from the spiritual realm. She had to stay in control until they were safe again.
As they shuffled along she could hear the voices of their pursuers clearly through the thin walls that separated them.
âLetâs go further into the house,â said the voice of Kravin. âSheâs here. And if sheâs not, she hasnât gone far. She must have used her powers. I can feel her now, faintly. Lucky us that her ability is too strong to be properly protected by the spells of that wretched council.â
The two of them shared a laugh and she heard the door to the grand dining room open with a creak. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest and she felt Ageâs grip on her tighten a bit. She wondered if he sensed her panic. Her legs protested with every step, getting heavier and heavier as they moved along the uncomfortably tight passage. She was leaning into him now, trying to borrow his support to save her strength for when they would have to walk separately. She had always had her own compulsion toward pride and refused to look weak in front of him. The desire to sleep was becoming harder to fight with each passing moment.
âYou look in the kitchen while I try this other door.â
She heard Age curse under his breath and his pull on her became more urgent. She judged that they were halfway through the passage but knew, like Age, that once Kravin opened the door their hiding place would be exposed. His sense of smell was enhanced far beyond that of any natural human being and it would be easy for him to track them. She hoped that the tunnel was too small for girth of his body, which was substantial. Years of experimentation had bulked him up beyond reason. The Maugue definitely wouldnât fit.
âJust a little farther,â she heard Age say under his breath.
âValse! Over here! Theyâve gone into this closet! Tricky little devil⊠Looks like he made a passage.â
They reached a bend and Age maneuvered Niamh around it just before a spray of bullets assaulted the narrow passageway.
âI know youâre in there, little priestess!â Kravin jeered, his gun cocking with a loud snap. âThis will be so much easier for all of us if you just cooperate! Weâve got you cornered! Thereâs no escape!â
âHey, Kravin, want to see a magic trick?â Age called back, still pulling  Niamh forward down the passage, turning to address her. âHold on, Nia. Weâre almost through. Thereâs going to be a ladder that will take us to a crawl space upstairs.â
âIs that you, Age?â Kravinâs voice called, more frightening to Niamh in its detachment from his body. âYouâve disguised your scent well! I can barely smell you! Is that how youâve been eluding us this long? Clever boy. But I do believe Iâve got you cornered. Thereâs nothing for you but to surrender.â
âI told you I was going to show you a magic trick!â Age repeated, pushing Niamh in front of him and boosting her up the ladder. It took all of her strength to pull herself up rung by rung. âYouâre about to see us disappear!â
Before a response could be heard there was a loud popping sound and the passageway began to fill with smoke. Niamh suppressed a coughing fit as she struggled to lift herself over the ledge. Quickly Age was behind her, supporting her back and hauling her over as he strode up.
âNia, weâve got to keep moving. If you keep crawling forward itâs going to open out into a space you can stand in.â
She dragged her arms and legs across the ground, lurching her way forward, trying hard to keep a good pace. Suddenly there was a loud bang and a boom and the house shook violently on its foundations. Niamh bit back another scream and braced herself against the walls as debris fell around her. A flood of curses spilled from Ageâs lips. She brought her wrist up to her forehead.
âTheyâve blown up the entire back of the house,â she said after a few seconds and lowered her arm back to the ground.
âShit,â spat Age. âIâve got another way. Itâs risky, but I think we can do it. Can you keep up with me?â
His eyes, pale as a clear midsummer sky now, met hers and she lost her breath. She managed to nod and smile reassuringly.
âSorry⊠Scrying⊠You⊠startled...â were the only words she could form. He understood and his eyes went cold for a moment. âCan go⊠Need to goâŠâ
She braced herself against the walls and pulled herself to her feet in the clear area. Her legs protested, but she held steady and in a flash Age was at her side, the palm of his hand resting in the small of her back. She met his eyes and tried to show him that she was confident.
âIâll keep you safe, Nia. Trust me.â
She nodded and he pulled his rifle off his back and blew a hole in a  cross-section of the wall. The plaster flew away to reveal the grand dining room: The windows looming tall, the sun setting behind the trees outside, stretching vibrant pinks, golds and oranges across the darkening sky. Age glanced around the room quickly and pulled Niamh up against him, supporting her firmly against his hip with his arm around her waist. His rifle was cocked in his other hand.
In one fluid movement he jumped from the hole to the top of the table and Niamh held her breath. They were suspended in the air for a moment before coming to a hard landing on the polished wood. They ran forward as a spray of bullets showered around them, their pursuers hot on their tail as they ran towards the tall windows.
With his rifle, Age aimed a shot straight in front of them that shattered the window and busted through part of the lattice-work. He turned quickly and began firing shots behind him at Kravin and his companion. Niamh could see them, turned backward with Ageâs momentum. They were close behind them and an idea came upon her and she reacted, almost instantly, to its spawning.
She grabbed Ageâs rifle arm and jerked it into the air, aiming for the cord that held the giant chandelier up. The shot hit true and the tether released with a loud ping. Age turned and surged forward, racing to pull them to safety. Niamh twisted back to face the demons and threw her left arm out in front of her. Thousands of bright, gold sparks flew from her outstretched fingers, blinding the two beast-men. As Age carried her towards their escape she watched Kravin recover just in time to dodge out of the way, though still stunned by the blow, and the Maugue that accompanied him take the full brunt of the chandelierâs crashing.
Jolting violently in Ageâs grip she finally succumbed to the fatigue that was overwhelming her. Darkness swept through her mind like a dark cloak.
