The Knight Read online

  Something nagged at me as I reflected on that memory, a small, little tug inside my mind. It had happened before, and it was common from time to time for me. Like always, I pushed the nagging feeling away. It was as if my mind was filled with boxes, most of them all connected with strings, one thought triggering a memory, or another thought or even a feeling. There was one box, however, that I did not dwell on. All of the horrible and bad things that had happened to me were locked up inside it. That box was unlike all of the others inside my mind. It was old and dusty with chains and locks around it, a clear sign to stay away. When I felt the nagging, the tug, all it meant was that something must have happened that made Emma's birth difficult for me, but I did not want to remember. I had put whatever it was in that heavily locked box for goodness sake. That was the entire reason for the box—so that I could live my life and not think about all of the misery I had experienced. Living such a long life, as Terrans did, that was not uncommon. We were trained to use our minds to keep us safe. I kept myself safe from pain by having that box with the darkest moments and memories of my life locked away inside. I knew that, eventually, I would probably have to put the loss of Lamont and Ara in there, too—but some of the feelings, the pains, I still needed fresh in my mind. I needed to feel that pain in order to move me forward. That pain, it served my purpose; the other pains inside that blasted box no longer served me. I couldn't fix them, and I definitely couldn't change them—so I didn’t dare open it even when it begged to be unlocked. Of course, I did not remember exactly what I had put in that dusty, locked box, which was the entire reason that box in my head existed at all, and it was clearly doing its job. It still didn't stop the reality that every once in a while, if I let myself ponder too long on things, like right then, it would shake and rattle, begging to come into my conscious thoughts, to be on center stage in my brain. I pushed the box away one final time and focused on Emma.

  I smiled as I remembered Lamont being a wreck. I had never seen him so unkempt and rumpled: his shirt untucked, his hair sticking up—yep, he was a worried mess. I sat with him in the hospital waiting room as he went out of the labor room to get a drink. He said he needed some air.

  Ara was a quiet, sweet person. She wasn't shy or necessarily afraid, but I assumed that she preferred to watch and observe rather than to be involved in a discussion. However, when she did give her opinion, you bet she had everyone's attention. When Emma was born, Ara screamed, and I remember looking at Mary who had been in the hallway on an errand from Lamont. I was obviously shocked that such a sound had come from Ara.

  "I told you, Rykerian. She is not always soft-spoken and quiet." He nudged my shoulder, as I ran fingers through my hair.

  "I guess you were right," I said. We were quiet as we listened to Emma’s baby cries and a melody stronger—more perfect than any other melody I'd ever heard. Mary's melody reached out to mine. She shared feelings of awe and wonder, and I sent the same astonished feelings right back to her. We smiled at each other, as two happy aunts or uncles would, and then dread filled me. She read my feelings, my worries for the little girl in my melody so quickly.

  "We must tell Ara and Lamont," she had whispered, reading my soul’s melody’s fears of a prince finding the baby.

  When I saw Emma, I thought that she was adorable, wrapped in that pink hospital blanket. She was my best friends’ child, and I instantly adored the little girl. Lamont’s soul’s melody also sang very loud that day; he was so proud of his little baby girl.

  Because we lived such long lives on Terra, I had seen countless births and very few deaths. On Earth, things were different. Every human only lived one single life span, and then, once their bodies withered away, they died. On Terra, people lived multiple earth life spans. Once we reached the age of maturity, we aged very slowly. It was a common thing for couples to meet and fall in love with drastic age differences between them. My father had met my mother the day after her birth, for example. Finding one’s match, the person to share life with at such a young age, was very rare without a searcher. But I was sure that these "searchers," as myth described them, were just that: myths. A searcher had not been heard of in hundreds of years. Sure, Terran storybooks told about them, spoke of people who could find their song, but those were the fairy tales of our world, along with other tales—some of which had shocking similarities to Earthling fairytales, actually.

  Lamont wanted me to look after Emma. Being a guardian and friend to her made sense. I would blend in with the Earth world and follow Emma as she grew. She was my current mission from the ancient heirs, and when I took the vow to be at her side, to be anything and everything that she needed only days after her birth, I was happy to fulfill my role, my place in the worlds. I had never known exactly what loving Lamont and Ara would make me do—never knew exactly what being everything Emma ever needed truly meant. I would never have guessed that only a few days later what Lamont and Ara would offer me—what the next vow was that I would take, and what it would bring back to me. I shook my head moving on from that train of thought. I could not get stuck there, hearing the box rattling again, I opened my eyes.

  I MOVED MY HANDS OVER my face as I breathed in and out slowly, feeling the rise and fall of my chest in order to help me calm down from my memories and feelings. It is hard to explain how the ancient magic works. For the guardian knights, we are gifted magic for our ancient heirs whom we protect; however, we do not have the ability to use the magic—it is acted upon us. Being transformed back into my childhood body had to have been the most insane magic I had ever experienced. I was always myself, but the magic made me appear her age. I attended school with her, watched over her, and I grew to love her.

  Magic was usual for us guardian knights. It pulsated through us, and if we needed to feel peace, love, or fear, because feeling it would help the ancient line, then we felt it. Even though I was supposed to be there for Emma, to protect her and do whatever she needed me to do, I did know one thing: my devotion to her, for Emma, it was real; I had fallen in love with her.

  Lamont and Ara were the best of people, and Emma would never really know them. This had always been a real possibility, and Lamont and Ara had made their wishes known if they were both to die. I knew Mary would move into the house to be Emma’s guardian: a term with a meaning somewhat different on Earth than it held on Terra: on Earth, it meant parents—on Terra, it meant me.

  I looked at my hands in my lap and squeezed them into fists. Lamont had expressed that if they could not continue to shield her soul, she would need to be told about who she was, and most likely taken back to Terra—if such a thing could be done. I had searched for years for the cave that had long ago transported us to Earth—prince Shadrict and I—but I always came up empty-handed.

  Chapter 3

  I CLOSED MY EYES AGAIN and remembered her sitting in the passenger seat, still as ever, on that night when I took her home from the hospital. She had no idea who she really was, just how special she was. If I could just find her a strong seeker’s crystal, then she could be safe—well, depending on the strength of the crystal. But crystals on Earth, the ones that would actually work, were almost impossible to find anymore. Roseville used to be full of seekers’ crystals decades earlier. That is what drew us there in the first place—but once we arrived, we discovered that the real useful ones—if there ever were any—were all gone. All that was left were the useless, non-soul-shielding crystals in the creek behind Mary’s flower shop, and over the years, I had searched that creek and the area around it in vain, holding to the hope of finding just one strong enough to help.

  I suspected, however, that I knew who might have one: prince Shadrict. He, no doubt in preparation to find Emma, would have gone to great lengths to find one, and knowing him as I did, he probably had sweet-talked his way into having someone give it to him. I had known Prince Shadrict on Terra. We were not exactly friends, for he reached his maturity long after I had reached mine. Still, his name often came up in the royal councils, of which
I was a part, along with Lamont, for Lamont would have been the next heir of the First Kingdom. I never had a serious problem with Shadrict. Sure, the people of his kingdom as a whole, usually kept to themselves, and there were often rumors and whispers spread regarding what really went on in the second kingdom. They seemed to be a secretive bunch, but Shadrict always seemed decent enough. His soul was always loud and strong. His melody actually made him stand out among the nobles of the ancient heirs. Many of the kingdoms wanted to gain access to his melody’s strength through marriage. It was only a matter of time before marriage proposals would be sent to him in his kingdom. They were all waiting for him to mature. He was the prize everyone wanted to win. Maybe that is what started my dislike of him; he was so talked about and so praised—it irritated me.

  So, I needed a crystal. If Shadrict had one, I knew Emma could use it and maybe even live out her entire life as an Earthling with it protecting her from any Terran threat here or elsewhere. But I knew what the prince really wanted. He was looking for her—he wanted her soul's melody, and he certainly had heard it. Of course, he couldn't have settled for the dozens of other princesses who would gladly have given their melodies and their right arms to him. No, he had to have my charge; he had to want Emma. He would take her away, he would claim her, and I was determined not to allow him into her life if I could help it, not if he was going to take Emma away from Mary and me.

  I watched the TV for a moment bringing me back to the present as a commercial of a car driving along a winding road came on. As I watched, the images and the words started to blur on the screen, and my memory flashed back again to that night when I drove Emma home from the hospital. I was back in my car again, transported back to that memory which continued to plague, and would keep doing it until it was complete.

  I OPENED MY SIDE OF the car and stepped out, placing the cold silver keys into my pocket. As I walked over to her side of the car, I saw a tall and rather large figure in the driveway. If I hadn't seen the figure so many times before and known that it belonged to Prince Glasson, I would have been on my guard. But Glasson, though strong and intimidating, was harmless to me—at least at that moment.

  "I heard—" His voice paused, and he walked closer to me. "What happened?"

  "Glasson—" I crossed my arms. I was not in the mood to talk with anyone, let alone Glasson. He was the well-known rebel, guardian knight prince from the fourth kingdom. Shielding my melody so often made it harder for me to get a clear reading even on my own emotions, not to mention Emma's for that matter, so I definitely didn't know his, and he didn’t know mine. The pause in his speech caused me to think that he was on edge. Okay, so sometimes, I could read him.

  "I just thought that you should know that word has gotten out about her." He moved his head in the direction of where Emma was slumped over in the front seat, still asleep.

  I started to worry that the drugs the doctors gave her to help her sleep were too strong; she shouldn't sleep her life away. “Thank you for the information. I assumed as much," I replied.

  "Well, I will leave you alone then," Glasson started backing up. He could probably tell from my mood that I was not interested in talking much, and if that were so, our abilities to read each other without our melodies was improving. I wondered what that meant about our relationship. Were we friends? I wanted to laugh; no, we were, indeed, not friends. Our relationship was more master and servant, with him being the master and me being the ungrateful, non-compliant servant.

  "Meet me at my place, tomorrow. We need to go over some things. I have news that I can’t discuss at this moment," I demanded.

  "I don't know why you assume I’m under your command," he snapped.

  Princes, they are all alike, I thought. However, Shadrict, the other prince in my life, had a little more patience than Glasson did. Still, Shadrict was in an annoyingly, irritating league all his own. And then, of course, there was Prince Lamont. He was—well, he was the exception to everything. Maybe he was why I didn’t care for anyone else in the ancient lines. I was loyal to Lamont to a fault, it seemed.

  "Who found Ashlyn?" I asked, raising my brow in a question, deciding to remind him of how much he owed me.

  "Lucky guess, Rykerian—you’re lucky you are from the Dallard family line."

  "What does that mean, Glasson?"

  “Don’t forget your place.”

  “Forgive me, it has been a trying time,” I said, bowing my head, remembering how I needed to act around Glasson, at least sometimes. He was, after all, my original prince. I was born and raised in the 4th kingdom of guardian knights, and because of that, Glasson did deserve my respect.

  Glasson nodded, “I do understand, but remember who you are, and remember our oaths.”

  “May my melody never corrupt, may I break no vows, my soul never sing false, and may no heir die before my last breath.” I tried to remain calm as I said the last phrase. I knew I had not kept my Guardian knight oath in the most essential way.

  “You honor your family.”

  “I don’t care about my family honor, Glasson. I care about Emma, about Lamont and Ara; they were—are my family,” I snapped, so much for being more respectful or not letting on that they were both dead. I didn't have the energy then to have that conversation, a lecture from Glasson about my failures; I just wanted to get Emma inside.

  “You are too close. I told you to keep your distance. Were you not trained in such things?”

  “Of course, but I love them.” It was not against the guardian knight code or oaths to fall in love with our heirs, but it was always supposed to be a brotherly or sisterly love, never romantic. Romantic love would usually get in the way of duty.

  “You love her. This isn’t how it is supposed to be. I will come by tomorrow, and we will speak then.” He turned and left, seemingly fed up with my company, and I could not blame him. Anyone nearby right then wouldn’t have liked being around me. To be fair, I did not want to be around him either, but that was typical for me.

  I watched him walk away, dreading moving Emma from the front seat. I carried her right to her room and tucked her into bed. I wanted to destroy the person who had hurt her, who was responsible for killing her parents and almost killing her. I slumped over the edge of the bed and held back a sob. The previous few nights when I had held her as she laid in her hospital bed, she often woke up screaming—as if someone were torturing her. I couldn't reach her when she was like that, when she couldn't hear me. One of the nurses explained to me that having night terrors was common after such serious trauma, and the best thing I could do for her was to simply be near her and to let her sleep, so I had never left her side. How could I have? I felt the tears fall from my face then as I reflected on the days that had passed, and it stung as if acid were trailing down my flesh, rotting me from the outside in. I knew that she needed me. I knew it because I was her guardian knight, and I would always know what she needed most. She needed me, but more than that, I knew she needed safety. I was sure that whoever had caused the crash had done it on purpose. Who knew when this Terran would be back? I had no doubt that prince Tarick would always attempt to kill off Lamont’s line. I growled and tried to stop the sobs from coming out stronger. I didn't want to wake her.

  "Ryker?" Mary's voice whispered through Emma's cracked door, and I saw her bloodshot eyes. How long had I been there? I had not even heard Mary come home. I stood and closed Emma's door, following Mary to the living room.

  "Do you know who it was?" she asked as she sat on the couch. We hadn’t talked about it yet, but I had known that the conversation would come.

  "No, but my best guess is that it was one of Tarick's men. I wouldn't put it past him to be hell-bent on destroying Lamont's line, even after he has found freedom and peace."

  "I can't believe—how could they discover that Lamont escaped the dungeons of the mist?" She cut herself off as she let out a sob.

  "I’ll figure out who did this, Mary. I swear it." She nodded and continued to cry. I reache
d for her, her head tucked under my chin. She cried, and I let a few tears fall, too.

  "I am so worried about her. Now that she has her melody back, she will be feeling so many different feelings, feelings that she has never felt before."

  "Right now, all she feels is horror and pain," I said.

  "I know, and her nightmares—How will we all ever heal from this?" Mary looked up at me then; her blue eyes were so full of pain. The blue was almost a shade that could not be found on Earth. If I looked at them long enough, I could imagine that they were the crystal sea off the coast of the First Kingdom on Terra. But right then, in her eyes, the sea was raging, and waves spilled over their boundaries and dripped down her cheeks. I wanted to gather all of them up and return them to the sea, where they belonged. Mary and I had developed a strong friendship over the years. I cared for her and for her happiness.

  "We will, Mary. Emma needs us now more than ever. If Tarick has discovered where we are, he'll stop at nothing to destroy her. We must fight." I held her shoulders as she pulled away, not irritated with me but with the situation. She wiped at the tears staining her cheeks. I moved away from her and walked to the fireplace. I watched for a time as the clock's hands moved. I counted each second that passed, each moment of time, of life moving forward.

  "You’re going to leave, aren't you?" Mary looked up at me as I paced in front of the fireplace.

  "I can't just sit here and let them find her. I have received some intel that reported having heard talk of her."

  "She needs you, now more than ever." Mary sank into the chair closest to the fireplace. She pulled her knees under her chin. She always did that when she was sad or afraid. It was as if not taking up as much space on Earth made it easier for her to handle her pain.

  "She has you; I'm no use here. I already screwed up enough." The regret, I knew, was thick in my voice. And, I knew—I knew, that it was well-founded.