Guardian of Honor

Every one of them emitted a low note, something that she seemed to hear with her mind, vibrating her eardrum from the inside. Together their notes wove into a strong melody. She shook her head, but the song remained, as did the background music.

They stared at her with dark eyes. They were almost Asian, but the structure of their features was subtly different—a very beautiful people.

Alexa gazed back at them, conscious as never before of her pale skin, light brown hair and green eyes. She shifted awkwardly—knowing one side of her face was red and raw made her feel even more scruffy.

The elegance of their velvet robes adorned with fancy gold or silver braidwork looked too impractical for any activity other than magic. Each wore heraldry embroidered above their hearts. Or on their left side, Alexa amended. She didn’t know where their hearts were. She recognized a coat of arms when she saw one, even if she didn’t know what it meant. She figured these beings must be of high status.

They seemed to be grouped in pairs, two wearing emerald green, two sapphire blue, and so on around the circle—usually a man-woman pairing.

Most held their swords pointed at her chest, as if she were a threat. The big man wearing rust red turned to the angular woman—Alexa had decided they were the most important two.

He made another snide comment. Probably about her.

She looked down at herself and winced. She appeared to be molting. One side of her coat spilled feathers, some more drifted across the rest of her clothing, and with every breath a few separated to float around her. Her long jacket was dead.

She shed her coat and dropped her fanny pack. A mutter ran around the circle. Alexa raised her eyebrows at the big guy who glared at her, staring at her right hand.

Alexa folded her coat. Feathers puffed out. She flexed her fingers. Her right hand was pinkened, but didn’t hurt as much as her face. Her down vest ripped when she moved. It, too, had tears. She realized the beast’s swipe with the tips of its claws had come close to killing her. More adrenaline kicked in. She’d been very, very lucky. Particularly since she sensed the monster had been waiting for her.

With unsteady hands Alexa took off her vest and laid it on her coat, then stood in sweater and jeans.

The people spoke amongst themselves. The small round man ran a stick along glowing gemstone crystals arranged in a rainbow—the chime—and the sound shivered through Alexa. She jerked, sensing she was trapped here.

A pattern of tinkling chimes followed, each one affecting Alexa. At one, her balance tipped and she strained to keep upright, another sent her heart pounding loud enough for her to hear its rush in her ears. On and on the glasses rang as if testing every one of her reflexes, plucking at her organs.

It ended just before Alexa fell to her knees. Her body was coated with a cold sweat. She gritted her teeth and stiffened her spine. Posturing and attitude was all she had, and everything that counted in this game of strategy, as in all power games. Whatever safety, status and position she had in this world—in this time?—depended on this first confrontation.

The circle opened and a woman a few inches taller than Alexa left it, crossing to the edge of the circular room, to the gray stone wall. The woman was dressed differently than the others. No chain mail gleamed beneath her robe. This lady wore no armor. She wore a robe of dark red, with a coat of arms over her left breast, but in the center of her chest was a big white cross. Not hard to deduce that she was a doctor.

Alexa was profoundly glad that the woman was moving away from her. She shook out her arms and legs, steadied her breathing. No one else in the circle moved. They all watched the doctor and Alexa. And waited.

The healer unfolded a fur on a wide padded stone bench near a fluted pillar and murmured something soft and lilting. She picked up a bundle and proceeded straight across the room. To an altar.

Alexa looked wildly around. Everyone had sharp weapons. A fist of dread squeezed her stomach. Surely they weren’t going to sacrifice a living thing. She couldn’t stand that. She’d have to stop it—somehow.

She hoped it wasn’t a dog. She would totally freak if it was a dog.

Breath strangled in her throat. What if they were going to sacrifice her?

The doctor stepped into the light cast by the chandeliers’ wheels and Alexa saw it was worse than a dog.

It was a baby.

Face impassive, eyes hooded, the healer showed the naked infant to Alexa. It was a little girl of about one year old. Short black-and-silver hair was ruffled into tufts. The little one grinned at Alexa.

She moved to block the way to the altar.

The doctor glided across the room in front of Alexa to a square of blue polished marble.

Alexa didn’t see the pool until the baby splashed into it.

2

Alexa had thought the dark pool was a slab of polished blue marble. Horror ripped through her as she ran to save the child.

There were six steps down. She slipped on the first and toppled into the pool, dog-paddling to keep her head up.

It wasn’t water, but thick, like syrup. The liquid sliced fire into a raw blister on her foot, burned the tender quick of a fingernail she’d broken that morning. The pain in the cuts was bad, but worse on her scraped face, and now she felt scratches on her torso from the beast. The fluid even affected her bruises. Every ache seemed to be an open wound eaten by acid. It crawled from the edge of a bruise to burn hotter as it reached the center of the hurt. Alexa’s breath came in anguished gasps. Her mind reeled.

She saw the little girl near the bottom of the far side of the pool. Alexa plunged into the liquid to reach the child, in too much pain to even prepare herself with a deep breath.

The fluid closed over her head. Tensing, she opened her eyes. And saw perfectly. She dove for the baby and grabbed her, pulled her from the pool. Staggered out.

A scream rose from her throat at the sight of the limp little body. She didn’t know what to do. She looked at the doctor. Though tears ran down the woman’s face, she stood with folded hands.

Alexa shifted from foot to foot in endless agony for a few seconds before wiping the baby’s eyes, then pushed her finger into the girl’s mouth, checking for obstructions, feeling if the child’s tongue blocked the air passage.

She turned the baby over, grabbed hard when the infant slipped. Alexa patted her back. Thumped a little harder. Nothing.

Alexa cradled the baby and whirled to the people who stood on the other side of the room. She thought she cried, What kind of fiends are you to do this! But what came from her mouth was, “Shit. SHIT!”

Her frantic gaze scanned the room. The hole to Colorado was gone, though that wouldn’t have done much good.

She didn’t know where the door to the room was, what was outside, or if there were other people. The baby’s only hope was those who’d already harmed her. So Alexa tried once more.

“Help!” she screamed. “Help her!”

A second later the doctor tore the child from her grasp. Alexa slipped and hit the floor hard. Again.

The healer pressed the infant to her breast and crooned a spell. Pulsing green light bathed them. An instant later the baby coughed, then screeched.

Alexa had never heard anything so sweet in her life, but she wondered what was going on. What were their intentions?

Growling drowned out the baby’s cries. A man with a raised knife flashing in the dim light hurled himself at Alexa. She cringed and rolled, muscles protesting in new agony. Mad fury slammed into her, from him, her attacker. Again she fought to get her breath. She rolled, couldn’t make it to her feet, was stranded on her back. He snarled, angling the knife.

His face twisted. In his eyes she saw revulsion, bone-deep hatred because she was different. Never to be trusted. Only to be slain.

She flung up her arms. Her soaked clothes constricted. Liquid trickled onto her skin and stung. The room spun, and a sea of emotions from everyone inundated her. Something in her mind broke free.

Her cry matched his. A weapon flew into her open hand. Unnecessary. With fear and panic, with her mind, she slammed her assailant across the room. She heard him hit the wall with a thud, then slither to the floor.

Oh God! Oh God, she’d hurt a man using her will alone!

She lurched to her knees, planted a foot, then another, and rocked to her feet. A couple of women moved to the still man, one wailing. Everyone else watched her.

Alexa bared her teeth at them. She’d never done such a thing in her life, but she now acted totally on instinct. This night was beyond belief. Beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

That she might have killed a man with the sheer force of her mind shattered the last rational belief she’d ever held. Nothing was the same. Nothing was right. Nothing was reasonable. Only primal intuition could save her.

She hefted the weight in her hand, considered what she held. It was a stick about two feet long and three inches thick, made of something like ivory and capped at each end with gold. One end was pointed, the other straight. Carved figures of knights fighting monsters covered the staff. It looked far too big to be a wand, but she’d bet anything that it was a magical tool. She slid it through her hands, enjoying the texture, though she sensed a nasty tingle of energy. Finding a button, she pressed it. A little brass hook with a blunt end popped from the side, as if it was there to hang the stick from a belt loop.

A shout attracted her attention. When she looked up, everyone was staring at her, as always.

Alexa raised the short staff.

The smallest man opened his mouth and began a chant. His melodious voice was the richest she’d ever heard, set in a soothing cadence. The others joined in, and though the music didn’t sound the same here in the round church of wherever, Alexa knew it was that which had drawn her to this dreadful place. She could almost see the small man’s voice as the stream of yellow in the rainbow that had compelled her into the arch. The big, mean guy’s voice was jerky with some emotion, and his intentions didn’t quite match the others, but Alexa felt he was the bright red, fluctuating band. The angular lady was indigo.

As he sang, the small man gestured, and the others slid their swords into sheaths. The leader’s staff burned with a yellow flame at the tip. He set it aside and it stood by itself.

Alexa blinked. She was too exhausted and wrung out to goggle. The indigo woman stepped forward, raising her hands to her shoulders, palms outward. Another gesture Alexa understood.

She turned her back on them to check on the baby. Instead of the doctor, a teenaged girl held the child. The girl watched Alexa with huge eyes.

The baby was bundled warmly in a thick fleece blanket. Alexa motioned to her. “Is she all right?”

The youngster seemed to understand what Alexa said. She nodded. Alexa wondered if that meant agreement.

She hooked the stick in a belt loop of her jeans and pointed from the baby to herself and held out her arms. “Give her to me.”

Wariness crept into the girl’s gaze.

“Give her to me!” Alexa demanded.

The girl’s glance slid from Alexa to the circle of people behind her. Whatever she saw reassured her. Carefully, she held out the baby.

Alexa cradled the child, pliant but live, in her arms. She flipped the corner of the blanket from the baby’s face. Sleepy brown eyes gazed up at her. A little smile emitted a bubble of drool. Alexa sighed. She put her finger to each small fist in turn and smiled back when the baby clasped it, then the tiny girl snuggled against her and shut her eyes.

“Marwey,” the teenager said.

Alexa looked up.

The girl pointed to herself. “Marwey.”

“Alexa,” Alexa said.

“Al-yek-ah,” Marwey pronounced.

Alexa shrugged.

Marwey pointed to the baby. “Nyja.” The girl gestured to the indigo lady, “Marshall Sabre Thealia.” Then Marwey indicated the big guy. “Dom Marshall Sabre Reynardus.” Finally, Marwey inclined her head to the short, round man. “Marshall Boucilier Partis.”

All right. Alexa deduced that Thealia and the short man, Partis—probably her husband—had one title and the big jerk had two. Figured.

The healer came up and held out her arms for the baby.

Alexa clutched her closer.

The doctor said something that sounded gentle.

Alexa patted the baby. “Is she going to be all right?” Alexa emphasized the rising inflection of a question and raised her eyebrows, hoping such signals would get her meaning across.

“Ayes.” The healer nodded vigorously, smiling.

Slowly Alexa handed the infant over.

The doctor unwrapped the baby and freed her arms and legs so Alexa could see them whole and moving. The baby girl’s face screwed up and she cried. The healer shushed her and turned.

“Wait!” Alexa said.

The healer looked over her shoulder.

Alexa pointed to the shadows where the man she’d sent flying had lain. “Is he going to be all right?” Her stomach clutched as she waited for an answer.

In broad pantomime the doctor lifted her shoulders high and dropped them, frowned. Then she bobbed her head at Alexa, said something to Marwey and took the baby away.

Alexa’s chest constricted. She’d considered the baby her only friend in this place. And how absurd was that?

Hard bootsteps striding in her direction made her pivot. Reynardus, scowling and muttering under his breath, marched to her. Again she felt fury—this man’s fury—batter at her. Alexa shuddered.

The little round man, Partis, hurried forward and stepped in front of her, forestalling Reynardus. Once again Partis held his staff with yellow fire flickering at the top. Facing the others, he said a few sentences.

Raising his voice, Reynardus argued. With a motion, wind whipped around him, the nobles’ robes flapped, Alexa’s clothes plastered cold and wet to her skin. To Alexa’s surprise, Partis stood his ground. Thealia came and stood next to him, raised her hand and stilled the air. Alexa’s vision sharpened—she saw the energy fields of the man and woman. His was yellow and hers as indigo as her stream in the rainbow. They flowed together as if becoming a single entity, and the whole aura pulsed stronger—and malachite green. Their Songs melded into a lovely pattern.

Finally, Reynardus stepped around the couple and flung out his hand in demand to Alexa. Alexa jutted a hip, put her hand on it, and raised her eyebrows. She’d dealt with plenty of arrogant attorneys. She smiled with all her teeth. She could be a predator too. The memory of the sound as the man she’d fought hit the wall tugged at her and nausea rose. She pushed it aside. Pushed all thought aside. She had to be strong, show no fear, if she was to win the respect she needed to be safe.

The big jerk, Reynardus, barked an order at her. Gestured.

Alexa didn’t get it. She widened her stance and set her hands on her hips, just noticing that her clothes had dried. She angled her chin up. God, she’d crash when the adrenaline stopped, but she was jazzed now. The ends of her hair lifted. Heat and energy throbbed along her skin, silky with power.

He growled, his eyes narrowed in frustration. With wide movements he tapped the empty sheath along his right side. He pointed to the stick she’d hooked to her jeans. He snapped his fingers, opened a broad, calloused palm.

Alexa smiled. “No!” She put her hand on the short staff under the pointed tip and angled it forward, curved her fingers around it.

She heard the grinding of his teeth as he repeated his actions.

“No!” she shouted. Grinned. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

“Ttho!” Marwey said from a little beside and behind Alexa.

When Alexa slid her gaze to Marwey, the girl continued. “No—ttho!” She smiled sweetly as if she too enjoyed thwarting Reynardus. “No—ttho!”

Alexa turned back to the big guy. “Ttho! What part of ‘ttho’ don’t you understand?”

Thealia bit off some words. Then she spouted what could only be instructions, gesturing. Alexa watched closely, but only understood that the lady wanted someone to go and get something.

A massive man, even bigger than Reynardus, clomped over. He scanned Alexa up and down. She returned his stare. He snorted, took some huge gloves—gauntlets?—from his belt, pulled them on and went in the same direction as the doctor. Squinting, Alexa finally saw the door in the shadows, huge and pointed.

After he left, the others talked among themselves. The words hummed in the room like the low-level buzz of bees on a summer afternoon.

Alexa unhooked the stick, pushed the hook into the short staff and took time to compose herself. Though the others watched her, no one was threatening. She loosened her muscles and kept upright. So many emotions and reactions to the night’s adventures tumbled through her that she kept a hard clamp on them and tried to use pure observation and reason. She glanced around the room while keeping an eye out for any more danger, holding the stick ready.

The chamber, round and very large, was made of white stone. All the furnishings appeared to be the very best any world could provide. Around half the room ran a built-in stone bench with padded seats, jewel-toned large pillows and rugs around its base. Colorful tapestries of pastoral scenes alternated with bright banners showing coats of arms. Windows were set high in the wall, about two stories up, and were as pointed as the door.

The altar was in the same quadrant as the pentacle and draped in maroon velvet, with a white lace over-panel. It held the bright rainbow of crystals—could they be huge precious stones?—the chime stick, two knives, a large smoking incense burner and two goblets, one of silver and one of gold.

Alexa was just wondering if she dared explore when the door creaked open and the huge man walked in. The scent of a damp, cold night wafted in with him, along with the hint of a smokey fire. The humid mixture of odors wasn’t one Alexa would smell in Colorado. Her emotions threatened to break through the barrier she had erected. She couldn’t let go! She couldn’t afford to be seen as weak or vulnerable. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

The massive guy stopped in front of Thealia. He held a rolled bundle—Alexa studied it and exhaled in relief—nothing living or newly dead was in it.

They talked a moment, then Thealia directed the others. They all formed a half-circle facing Alexa. Reynardus, still glowering, was the end of the half-moon to her left.

The huge man entered the half-circle and laid his bundle on the floor before Alexa. Just bending from the waist put him eye level with her. He stared at her as he unrolled the cloth. It clinked a little, made sounds of wood and metal and glass. The cloth was made of quilted felt, and she could see seams between pockets. The man flipped back the top flap.

Alexa reflexively retreated a step. The others murmured.

Before her were four rows of ten pockets. Most showed the top of a stick like the one she held. All looked old and valuable and powerful. Imbued with magic.

Thealia glided up, and the huge man took her former place in the half-circle. She gestured expansively to the sticks. “Batons,” she said. Or something close enough for Alexa to understand it. Batons. Were they the same as magic wands? What could they do? What did they signify? The healer hadn’t worn one. Nor did Marwey. But everyone else did.

“Deshouse,” Thealia said, making the same sweep with her hand. When Alexa didn’t move, the lady frowned. She walked down the long row and indicated each pocket with one toe of an elegant slipper, as if demonstrating the word choose.

Alexa got distracted by the slipper, peeking out and showing a narrow foot, then retreating under Thealia’s skirts. It was pointed and looked to have jewels set in a pattern like a flower—

“Alyeka, deshouse!”

Mind wandering. Not surprising after all she’d been through. Still, the evening of adventure and discovery wasn’t over. Alexa stiffened her spine and narrowed her eyes to see the batons better. She pressed her lips together as she concentrated, believing she could see faint outlines of energy. But how did she choose? By the attractiveness? The color and the jewels that appealed to her? By the “aura”? By smell? A couple of them were polished wood. Should she touch them?

No. Definitely not touch each one. Who knew what sort of electrical, magical, whatever, charge she might receive?

Still she felt as if she was coming to the end of her strength. If she needed to choose, she would. A smooth wand of dark green jade caught her eye. It looked slightly thinner than the others. Her fingers would close easier around it. The top was finished in tarnished bronze in the shape of flames, round at the bottom, pointed at the tips. Just below the metal was a small tube of a transparent material, glass or crystal, circling the jade. Now, that was interesting. What could the tube hold? Blood? She was definitely letting her imagination run away with her. There was another clear tube at the bottom of the staff.

Each time her tired eyes traveled up and down the myriad sticks, they lingered on the jade baton.

Alexa took a step forward and everyone hushed. She thought if she squatted she wouldn’t find the energy to stand again, so she bent forward to scrutinize the wand. She couldn’t see anything in the tube. She nibbled at her lip. When she looked up, she met the glare of Reynardus. Awkwardly she tossed him his baton.

He grunted as he caught it. Ran his hands up and down it as if checking for new nicks. Then he sniffed it and scowled at her. His eyes seemed to sink into the deep shadows of his sockets until they were lost except for a gleam of distaste.

Well, she probably had sweated on the thing. Or transferred some of the liquid from the pool to it. Still, sniffing seemed incredibly rude. She sent him a pointed glance and sniffed at him as if he were the inadequate one.

He muttered something under his breath.

“Sanctuaire!” reproved Thealia.

He shut his mouth, but Alexa thought he still cursed.

Minute trembling began in her calves and Alexa took the warning that she was at the end of her endurance. She slipped the jade wand from its pocket.

It blazed like a green candle, parts of it becoming translucent and beautiful.

The others sighed. She heard whispers of approval. Alexa blinked as she looked at the flame atop her new possession—her only possession besides her small fanny pack and clothes—Push that thought aside. The little sculpture glowed with copper and bronze flames, as if new. They seemed to flicker inside the metal too. Small white sparks flew from the tip of the longest flame.

Wow.

Seeing movement inside the upper tube, she brought it closer to examine. Mercury, also known as quicksilver. Mysterious and fascinating.

Thealia clapped her hands sharply. Alexa looked at her. She touched her chest with elegant fingers. “Marshall Sabre Thealia.” She repeated Marwey’s introductions. Thealia curved her hand over Partis’s shoulder. “Marshall Boucilier Partis.” Thealia inclined her head toward Reynardus. “Dom Marshall Sabre Reynardus.”

Thealia nodded and waved at Alexa. “Marshall Alyeka.”

Oh boy. Alexa hung on tighter to her stick—baton. She couldn’t assimilate much more.

Thealia launched into a little speech with lots of gestures. She indicated the circle of Marshalls, the pentacle, goblets and gong. She hummed a snatch of the music, pantomimed Alexa whooshing down onto the floor. Then she clasped her hands and bowed to Alexa.

“Marwey?” Thealia gestured to Marwey and mimed talking, then indicated her head, Marwey’s, and Alexa’s. Alexa didn’t like the idea forming in her mind.

The young girl, shorter and slighter than Alexa, slowly lifted thin arms. Marwey curled her palms around Thealia’s face. They seemed to commune. Marwey stepped back.