“The second time Darius
showed up wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the first, which should tell you
something right there.”
“Indeed it does.” Keegan was
scowling again, but this time not at Thom but because of what he was saying.
“He started out by telling
me that you were going after a Scriostóir, as if you had tried to hide that bit
of information from me. And then, being all consoling and what have you he
implied that you were dead without really coming out and saying so.”
“The bastard! Just wait
until I get my hands on him.”
Thom nodded. “I rather
thought you’d feel that way. But before you go after him, there’s more.”
Consciously relaxing enough
to listen, Keegan asked, “How bad?”
“If I’m reading things
correctly, bad enough that if I hadn’t gotten my emotions under control I’d
probably be dead by now. He told me that you’d been betrayed, by Alasdair,
because of me.”
“Bloody fucking—” Keegan let
out a string of swear words in more languages than Thom could comprehend, from
‘Bastardo’ to ‘Pompinara’ and back again. When Keegan finally ran out of words
and breath, he wrapped his arms around Thom, holding him tight. “This shouldn’t
have happened. And it will never happen again.”
Releasing Thom finally,
Keegan cupped his chin in on hand, looking gravely at him. “Tell me you weren’t
planning on going after Alasdair.”
Thom nodded slowly,
admitting, “For a while there I was. Until I realized that’s exactly what
Darius wanted me to do.”
“Thank God you came to your
senses.”
“That can happen,
occasionally,” Thom replied with a self-depreciating chuckle.
“I would ask why you
believed all his lies, but I know the answer. Darius is a consummate
manipulator, and as young and innocent as you are, you were putty in his
hands.”
“Young, maybe, in comparison
to the two of you, but innocent, not even. Not since I met you.”
Keegan threw back his head
in laughter, cursing when it hit the headboard with a loud smack. “You, mo ghrá,
are going to be the death of me yet.”
“Not possible.” Thom smiled,
and then sobered quickly, “Unless there is some truth in the midst of all
Darius’ lies. Would Alasdair like to see the two of us separated?”
“Damn, Thom, no! Alright,
he’s not totally happy with you being in my life because he’s afraid you could
jeopardize me. He knows I’d do anything within my power to keep you safe. But
come on, what good would it do him to have me killed just to part us?”
Thom leaned back against
Keegan’s chest as he thought about that. “What if,” he said slowly, “you had
lost the fight with the Scriostóir? Could Alasdair, or your supreme ruler,
bring you back again or would you be truly dead?”
Instead of replying
immediately, Keegan shifted Thom so that he could get out of bed. He searched
the clothes that lay strewn on the floor until he found what he was looking
for. Coming back, he settled next to Thom, handing his a sheathed dagger.
“All of us have one of
these, Scriostóir and Caomhnóir. Believe it or not, even though we are fierce
enemies in the fight to save or destroy this world, there is a certain respect
that we hold for each other when it comes to battling one on one. The winner
uses their dagger to send to looser to his final rest, freed of the sins that
brought them to the orders.”
Thom looked gravely at the
dagger. “You just—stab your foe with this and that’s the end?”
“It’s not quite that simple.
There are ritual words that must be spoken as we plunge it into their heart.”
“And if you don’t say them,
then what?”
“Then we return to the vale
to suffer for our sins throughout eternity. Or at least that’s the theory. As
far as I know it hasn’t been tested.”
“Alasdair would know. And
that leads me back to what we were just talking about. Suppose that’s not what
happens, or that it’s only one of several possibilities. What if you return to
the vale and it’s decided that you’re too valuable to waste. So they give you
another chance. And just suppose that someone, not saying Alasdair but someone,
knows this. You battle, you’re the looser and dying, and your opponent stabs
you but doesn’t say the words that save you from—eternal damnation.”
Keegan tapped his fingers
together as he though about that. “From the mouths of babes,” he finally
muttered. “But Alasdair wouldn’t do that to me. We’re more than master and
slave, commander and foot-soldier, whatever you want to call it. We’re friends
above and beyond all else. If we weren’t you wouldn’t be in my life, he’d have
seen to that from the beginning.”
“So he does see some good in
our relationship?”
“Yes, I think he does. But
we can ask him in the morning when we go to see him.”
“I have to--?” Thom
shuddered.
“Yes, mo fear daor, you have
to,” Keegan replied with a soft laugh. “I promise, I shall protect you from his
claws.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
A great 4 Hearts review for 'We Are the Guardians'
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