Lisle looked over her shoulder longingly in the direction she knew would lead to her Guardian. She would have to wait to tell Ell of her experience on the mountainside. Resolutely, she turned her head forward even as her feet continued to follow Bryllint. Gran Bryl’s Contracted had accosted Lisle in the tunnelway on her way to find Ell. Her abrupt, “Follow me,” allowed no possibility of argument from Lisle. It was well past midday and their accustomed time for teaching, so Lisle shrugged and followed her to the teaching room.

Once settled in her usual seat, Lisle was quickly caught up in listening to Bryllint’s resonant voice as it filled the room. She enjoyed watching Bryllint draw in the air with her hands as she illustrated her teaching.  Bryllint’s energy was such that she paced the greystone floor from one side of the teaching space to the other, her enthusiasm spilling over into Lisle.

Lisle wondered that she could keep up that level of energy, as old as she must be. She didn’t know how old, but the lines on Bryllint’s face told of many changes lived. The soft grey of the hair framing her face, confirmed it. Even so, when Bryllint taught she practically bounced around the room.

Lisle focused her wandering thoughts and listened to Bryllint. She was talking about a Guardian and her Contracted, saying they were two aspects of the same soul. Lisle blinked her eyes. She was astounded by this idea. How could she possibly be good enough to share a soul with Ell? Lisle wanted to object, and yet a tiny voice inside said, wait. So, Lisle held her mind still for a moment as Bryllint explained further.

She said that Guardian’s hold the high-level energy needed to balance light and dark for their Mother world, Gaea. Lisle’s mind hared off again, musing on the fact that she had always thought of their home as Mother. That was what was taught in the Book of One. It was the way Ma-Marn had spoken of their world, sitting at her loom before the fire during the cold of winter, with Mina and Lisle curled up in blankets on the floor beside her, listening. But Ma-Marn had never spoken the name, Gaea. Nor had she taught that Mother home was a being, just as Lisle herself was. Yet that was what Bryllint was saying right now. Well, maybe not a person like Lisle, but so much more than grey rock, trees and dirt. Gaea was alive.

Lisle felt excitement surge through her at this thought. She knew deep within that it was true. Hadn’t she felt that aliveness all around her? Hadn’t Gaea’s music comforted her when she wept? Lisle could hear that music even now. She knew Gaea, though she had never known her name.

“Lisle?”

Lisle snapped her eyes back to Bryllint, who gazed at her with amusement as she stood before her, hands on her hips. Then her hands leapt up to gesture again and she continued. “As I was saying, Guardian’s hold the balance of light and dark for our Mother, Gaea. There must be at least twelve Guardians to hold the balance, never less. In the past there were many more. But the Guardian wars….”

Bryllint’s voice ran down, bright, black-brown eyes dimmed, and her face fell as she suddenly looked old, cheeks sagging downward. She sank down on the floor in front of Lisle and looked down at her hands. Her voice hushed and she spoke in a whisper, the words almost too terrible to say aloud.  “Guardian killing Guardian.”

Lisle’s brow furrowed. “Wh…Why?”

Bryllint heaved a deep breath in and sighed it out. She lifted her head, her eyes shining and wet. “The Others.”

Lisle studied Bryllint’s face as if she could read the answer there in the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, the gleam of light on tear-filled eyes.

Bryllint continued, her voice low, seemingly reluctant to say the words. “They hide in the dark of the Pathways, insatiable in their desire for power and control. They have no bodies in which to live in this world. They are powerless, so they insinuate themselves into the thoughts of humans and even Guardians. Worst is that their words sound like our own thoughts, thoughts of fear, hatred, anger, greed and jealousy.”

Lisle was struck with understanding. “Th..The Dark G…G…Guardian?”

“Yes. There's no doubt he is a victim of their manipulations.”

Uncharacteristically, Bryllint was silent after that, looking again at her hands, studying work worn palms.

Lisle waited. She could feel Bryllint’s need to work through what she needed to say.

Bryllint took a deep breath,  still staring at her hands, then held them out towards Lisle. “I carried his egg in my hands, just as I did Ell’s.” She swallowed with a gulping sound, and the tears fell now, running down into the furrows of Bryllint’s cheeks. She made no move to brush them away. Her hands dropped into her lap. “He was Bryll’s own, even as Ell is.”

Lisle was shocked, horrified. Her breath came in short gasps. It was too terrible to absorb.

“He tried to k…kill his own f…family?”

Bryllint took a deep breath and nodded as she exhaled. “He didn’t know that the thoughts which goaded him into such a crime were not his own. He didn’t understand that he served their dark purpose.”

“How could he?” Lisle leapt to her feet and ran from the room. She felt like she might explode with rage if she stayed, her anger bubbling up and spewing out like the fire mountains in the Book of One. Her feet flew unerringly down the tunnelway, carrying her straight to Ell. 

The gloom of the stone-walled space in which Gareth lay, suited him. He was deep inside Guardian Mountain, the twists and turns of the tunnels leading to this small cave were confused in his mind. He had no idea how he would get out. That is, if he had any desire to get out, which he didn’t. His only desire was to lie here and suffer. He deserved it. He was a failure as a protector. The only thing he had ever really cared about in his life and he had failed miserably. He turned his face toward the wall and saw only grey stone, flecked with black. Perfect, he thought.
​
Gareth heard scuffing footsteps enter through the cave opening at his back. He recognized the light steps as the Healer Deoren, who visited each day to change the wraps on Gareth’s leg and tend his wound. Gareth knew his leg wasn’t healing as it should. He heard the inhalations of distress and softly voiced exclamations as Deoren unwrapped his leg, inadvertently jostling the painful appendage and causing him excruciating pain. Gareth gritted his teeth and bore through it.  

He didn’t know what the healer looked like. He never turned over or engaged her in any way. He listlessly tolerated her ministrations and waited for her to go away. But he couldn’t avoid her voice, low, melodious and calming. Deoren chatted as she worked. Over the days she had told Gareth all about Guardian Mountain, and how it was honeycombed with openings small and large, housing the Guardian’s Contracteds, as well as an enormous community of Flier Folk. She waxed eloquent about her own Guardian, Del, going on and on about how beautiful, wise and brave he was. She more than once made the point that Gareth should get well so he could get up and view the wonders of Guardian Mountain for himself.

The chatter only served to drive Gareth deeper within himself. He didn’t want to hear about the other’s in Guardian Mountain. He didn’t care about the wonders of the light- filled spaces . He especially didn’t want to hear about her brave Guardian. They all deserved to be here. He didn’t, lying abed, wounded even before the fighting began.

His mind looped back over familiar, painful territory. Three times Ell was in terrible danger, three times it was Terris or Moss who saved her. How was that even possible? Tiny Moss? And how about Terris? When Gareth first met Terris he was a cowardly, greedy little man, hoarding food like a tree climber. Then he changed. Gareth had to admit to himself that Terris had changed. So much so that Gareth considered him to be a friend, a man Gareth respected and trusted. Terris has done better protecting Ell than I have. I’d choose him at my back any day.

A dark, provoking voice insinuated itself into his thoughts, slithering and cold. Would Terris choose you to guard his back? Would Lisle? How about Ell or Moss? Why would they? You’d just get yourself shot and be useless to them. You are pathetic, a useless worm of a man.  

The voice chilled him to the bone, and a feeling of horror shuddered through Gareth’s body. The inner voice had a creeping quality, entwining itself into his awareness so cleverly that Gareth never suspected the thoughts were not his own.

Mind wandering, Gareth remembered his childhood and growing into a young man. He had never had reason to question his abilities. He led and others followed. That’s just the way it was for him. As a boy, the other children looked up to him. They sought to earn his friendship and respect. He had never questioned the fact that he didn’t have to earn their respect. It came naturally.  

But not anymore, said the voice, turning his attention away from the memories of self-respect as if they had never happened.

No, thought Gareth. Not anymore. How can I face Terris or worse, Lisle or Ell, even Moss? What must they think of me, always wounded, useless? I am pathetic.

It’s that Guardian’s fault. She thinks she’s so special. She’s not.

The idea stunned Gareth. It appealed to him, even as his logical mind objected. Maybe it was the Guardian’s fault, he thought. He’d never have been shot if not for her. He’d have been sitting in a tavern with Lur, enjoying himself. Then he’d never have felt this pain.

It’s her fault. She’s to blame.

Yes, thought Gareth. It’s her fault. Anger sparked, burning away at the grey folds of depression wrapped about him.

The following day, Healer Deoren found Gareth in the same position she always found him in, lying on his side, back to the door, staring at the greystone wall. He had been withdrawn and sullen ever since they brought him in. She unwrapped Gareth’s leg, noting the sudden grimace of pain on his face. He surprised her by turning his head and staring at her, dark eyes hard. He said nothing, his eyes piercing her.
 
Deoren didn’t like the looks of those eyes and she didn’t like the looks of Gareth’s leg. The area around the wound was hot and reddened, swollen, obviously painful. The wound itself oozed a yellowish fluid, the edges white, un-healing. No, she didn’t like the looks of this at all. Deoren looked back at Gareth’s face. The man still stared at her. Unnerved, Deoren checked her own inner responses, an integral part of her healing practice. She felt a creeping sensation, something revolting spreading within him. It felt like infection, but none she’d ever encountered before. It worried her considerably.

She rewrapped Gareth’s leg with fresh herbs and bandaging, her increasing anxiety driving her to work as quickly as she could. She didn’t want to be there any longer than she had to. There was something wrong here and she needed to find out what.  She left Gareth’s bedside deeply concerned for the young man. What was preventing him from healing? What was that awful creeping sensation she felt inside him?

Deoren looked up and noted gratefully, the carefully tended lanterns hanging at regular intervals along the passageway deep with Guardian Mountain. The light reflected back from the walls in countless tiny sparkles. So beautiful, she thought, then shook her head and sighed deeply as her thoughts strayed back to the angry, young man she’d just left. Dispiritedly, she traced the long, familiar route to the Cavern. There, she would immerse herself in the loving wisdom of her Guardian, Del. Maybe together they could find an answer.