Manipulator's War

Chapter 2: The Guardians

Chapter 2

The Guardians

Linh: Unknown Island Far From Earth

“Are you all right, Fi?” Linh asked.

“I need to sit,” Fiona replied, leaning against a sandhill.

Linh took deep, calming breaths, letting them out slowly and trying to ignore how being cut off from home made her stomach churn.

“How did that arch turn off?” Troy asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Maybe someone did something at the other end,” Michael replied.

“But we didn't see anyone in that hall,” Troy objected. “They'd have to be invisible!”

“I doubt both archways switched off the moment after we stepped through by coincidence,” Michael added.

“It's not... magic?” Fiona suggested.

Linh turned to her friend with concern. She and Fiona loved history. They'd read enough to know that magic served as a logical explanation for natural occurrences in the absence of scientific knowledge. But instantaneous travel was impossible. As were mountain ranges forming a perfect oval. What was possible here? She shivered.

“Hello,” a male voice called.

“Who the hell was that?” Troy asked, his fists clenching as he turned around.

Linh looked up across the sea.

“Is anyone out there?” the voice added.

A small sailing ship with a single mast glided towards a channel between the island they stood on and the larger, stone walled island opposite. The people on board were tiny, distant figures, but Linh made out arms waving and muffled calls.

“Could they be talking to us?” Troy asked.

“How could anyone know we're here?” Linh objected.

“They're looking for someone,” said Michael. “They might be able to tell us what's going on.”

“Do you think it's safe to ask them?” Linh couldn't see any weapons, but that didn't mean the people on board weren't dangerous.

“We're stranded, dehydrated, hungry, and we've no way home,” Michael asserted. “Sometimes, you need to trust strangers.”

Linh disliked knowing nothing about the people on board, but if they were going to get home, they needed help. Besides, Fiona was faint, and Michael had given her the last of anyone's water, but she still wasn't steady on her feet. She needed water and food as soon as possible. They all would soon, and there was none on this island.

Linh and Troy helped Fiona stand, then followed Michael to the small waves lapping at the shore.

“Hello!” Troy called as the ship came closer, cupping one hand around his mouth.

The ship turned but stayed on course to sail past. Troy waved his arms. The figures on deck showed no awareness of him.

“Anyone got a mirror?” Michael asked.

Linh remembered the old-fashioned cosmetic mirror Ba had given her, oblivious to selfie-mode on modern phones. Linh took the mirror she always carried — to avoid hurting Ba's feelings — from her pocket and handed it to Michael. He tilted it, sending flashes of sunlight across the water. The ship didn't alter its course.

Troy reached for the mirror, saying, “I'll see if getting closer helps.”

“Watch out for strange currents,” Linh cautioned. She wasn't exactly fond of Troy, but she didn't fancy him drowning.

Troy nodded, taking the mirror and tossing his empty bottle in the sand. He kicked off his runners, stripped off his polo shirt and waded into the waves, where he swam with steady freestyle strokes. Then he tread water, raised the mirror, and sunlight flashed again.

“Man overboard!” a voice cried from the ship's deck.

The man spoke English. Did that mean they weren't too far from home? Hope flared inside Linh.

The ship changed course towards Troy.

“Is anyone with you?” a man's voice called.

“They're on the beach,” Troy replied, treading water.

“What beach?”

“On the island behind me.”

“Ghost Island!” another voice cried.

“Don't worry, lad. We'll bring you aboard,” the first voice assured.

“What about my friends?”

“They'd best swim to you, lad. Ghost Island is cursed. I'll come no closer.”

“That sailor wants us to swim multiple Olympic swimming pools’ length because he's superstitious?” Linh asked incredulously.

“If he thinks this island is cursed,” Michael replied, “we're lucky he's willing to take us on board after visiting this place.”

Linh's hands balled into fists.

“We're coming, Troy!” Michael called.

Linh threw down her bottle, then wrenched her shoes off. This world didn't make any sense, but Michael was swimming to Troy, and she would have to help Fiona swim if they didn't want to be left behind. She helped Fiona take her runners off, then kept a careful eye on her as they waded into cold water. Fiona floated on her back, sitting her runners on her chest, and did lifesaving backstroke slowly but well enough.

Linh dragged her runners across the surface with one hand, paddling with the other, and turned back to the shore. Open water lay behind her. Michael appeared in it suddenly, swimming with his head above water. Linh trembled. There was no sign of the archway island, just green waves to the horizon. The island was invisible from the channel. What was wrong with this place?

“What in the name of Chaos?” a voice said from on deck.

“Myths of Strangers indeed!” another exclaimed as Fiona and Linh swam after Troy.

The ship reached Troy. “Climb the ladder!” a sailor called, and others waved him to a rope ladder hanging down the starboard side.

Sailors passed their shoes up to the deck, turning them over and eyeing the coloured rubber soles with bemused looks. It was a short climb, as the ship sat only a couple of metres above the waterline, but Linh's muscles ached as she heaved herself up the ladder. Calloused hands helped her onto a small, crowded deck, where a sailor draped a blanket over her shoulders. “There you are,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks,” she said.

A single sail flapped from the mast overhead, which had no rigging or crow's nest. Sailors crowded around the edges of the deck while a wooden bench occupied its middle, a white-haired man seated on it. What kind of ship was this?

She stumbled towards Troy and the older man, whose pale blue linen toga and white hair ruffled in the wind. He smiled in welcome, creasing many wrinkles around his face. He seemed kind, but Linh wasn't sure how to interpret the enthusiasm sparkling in his eyes. Why was he wearing a toga? The crewmen weren't wearing clothing she recognised either, just pants of earthy colours and leather sandals.

“Welcome, children,” the old man said warmly as Fiona and Michael dripped across the deck and sat down.

“How come you speak English?” Troy asked.

The man's eyebrows climbed towards his flyaway hair, then he smiled. “I speak Timbalen. Welcome to the south-eastern border of the Timbalen Empire!”

Linh's eyes widened. The castle inscription mentioned only one migration from Earth, centuries before English -let alone modern English- came into existence. Timbalen and English couldn't be the same. How on Earth could they understand the man? Or he them?

“I am Nuard,” the man continued eagerly, utterly unphased. “I am delighted to meet you. It has been nearly two hundred years since our World Book reported the arrival of Strangers to anywhere on Umarinaris.”

“People have come here before?” Troy asked.

“Does that mean you know how to activate the archways?” Linh added.

“I only know what the World Book and our myths tell us,” Nuard replied.

Linh slumped. All myths were likely to give them was vague clues, probably dependent on people, places, creatures, or artefacts that never existed, if this world's myths were anything like hers.

“A book told you we were here?” Troy asked, his mouth hanging open.

“How can a book tell you anything about us?” Linh asked.

“It was created and written by the Guardians,” Nuard replied reverently.

Linh shook her head, sagging against the bench. Instantaneous travel across time and space. Invisible islands. Gods spying on them. It was all too much, on top of hunger and dehydration, and it made her head spin.

Nuard studied her and the lines between his brows deepened. “Perhaps I should explain what I know at dinner. His Greatness maintains the former watch castle on Myleth Island as a second home for scholars like myself. You are welcome to join us there. We have already crossed the channel and shall reach the village soon.”

Linh turned. Myleth Island's stone wall ran alongside golden grain fields, with an orchard and forest beyond, until the wall branched off, framing a sandy coastline and running inland before wooden houses. A small pier extended opposite double gates in the village wall.

They handed their blankets to a crewman as they neared the pier and Linh made a face as she pulled her soaking wet runners back onto her feet. The mainsail was reefed, rowers manoeuvred the ship, and men leapt the railing to secure it to its berth. Others positioned a gangplank. Linh helped Fiona to her feet and supported her as they squelched after Nuard to the pier, leaving a trail of wet footprints. Then their feet sank into dry sand before the village wall, beyond which a hilltop and castle rose.

“Welcome to Myleth Island,” Nuard said proudly.

Linh admired the castle's grey stone walls and four narrow towers rising from a hilltop.

“Anyone else worried what the toilet's going to look like?” Troy asked quietly.

Linh shook her head. Of all the things they had to worry about, how could he worry about that?

“We should be,” said Michael. “I'm pretty sure the shower is a bucket of cold water.” He spoke seriously, but Troy grinned.

“Ah, well, we won't have to wait all day for the girls to finish with the bathroom.”

“You'll be showering fully clothed if you don't watch it!” Linh retorted.

Troy smiled, and Linh shook her head, refusing to admit that his teasing made her feel more at home.

“Does he ever worry about important things?” she asked Fiona as they fell behind and she linked her arm in Fiona's.

“He likes a laugh,” Fiona replied quietly. “And he's right. We can wash here. And we won't need to dig our own loos.”

Linh froze. Dig their own toilets? Fiona smiled weakly, and Linh caught her gaze and smiled back, trying to push down the worry about whether Nuard could help them get home.

They followed Nuard through timber gates down a dirt road, weaving haphazardly between log cabins with thatched roofs and front verandas, under which fair-haired men and women sat mending fishing nets. A group of children took turns aiming stones between houses at a distant white rock, while wizened women gossiped as they scrubbed washing in a bronze tub beside a cottage. Smoke and the smell of fried fish drifted through holes in several roofs. It was primitive, yet somehow normal. Children laughed, adults talked, and the smell of cooking hung in the air, like evening anywhere.

They climbed steps up a creeper covered hillside beyond the village. The guard at the castle entrance inclined his head to Nuard, opening the double doors as they approached. His armour and bell-shaped helmet shone golden. Was that how bronze looked when it wasn’t tarnished and centuries old? Judging by the colour, the sword belted at his hip was iron.

Nuard gestured them to a room with a washbasin. Servants brought water, rough sheets of fabric which appeared to pass for towels, and dry, pale blue robes for them all. Linh and Fiona changed in an adjoining room. Then Nuard led them down a corridor and into a dining hall with a long table at its centre. The pottery was glazed clay ceramics, the cutlery bronze spoons, the serving utensils wooden, and the glassware looked fragile and pre-industrial, like museum pieces in Fiona's Atlas of the Ancient World. Linh stared. Hadn't civilisation changed here since humans arrived during the Late Bronze or Early Iron Age?

Nuard motioned them to sit, and Linh helped Fiona into her chair. They didn't have to wait long before servants entered, carrying platters wafting the enticing aroma of meats and pastries across the hall. Linh's mouth watered.

“Take what you wish,” Nuard said, serving himself pastries and vegetables.

Linh pursed her lips at the sight of foreign food, but she was too hungry to be fussy. Troy didn't hold back on his servings, and Linh copied. Nuard blinked politely; Linh waited for him to start eating first, and everyone tucked in. Troy grimaced at the discoloured water in one of two delicate glass jugs, and everyone helped themselves to the pink juice in the other.

“What do you know about our arrival?” Fiona asked Nuard.

“Beyond the World Book reporting it a few hours ago, I have a theory as to who brought you here and how. When the Creator Gods made Umarinaris -this world-” he added in response to Troy’s raised eyebrows, “they granted humanity the potential to become worthy of learning their ways. Humanity became numerous, so a fifth god was created to preside over us, but he misunderstood our potential and tested us by bestowing divine powers upon some humans. In so doing, he created power-hungry sorcerers who plunged the Far West into the Sorcery War.

“Chaos' sorcerers overran an entire continent, and many refugees fled east, here, until the Gods sent their servants, the Guardians, to restore order. I presume the Guardians enchanted and utilised the archways and Oval Island to deploy their forces. After the war, I believe they watched over the Far Western Land, using the archways to send strangers to aid it in times of calamity. In those times, the Myths of the Strangers refer to vanishing islands, archways, and strangers appearing.”

But the inscriptions at the castle on Oval Island said nothing about the Sorcery War. They made it sound like the castle was built by climate refugees seeking a new homeland. Was Nuard mistaken?

“Can we speak to Guardians?” Michael asked.

“Alas, like sorcerers, the Guardians vanished within a generation of the war. Guardian-human children remained here in the east, serving the Timbalen emperor after the Wars of Unity, but no pure Guardian has been seen for centuries. But I can write to Imperial City to see if the Guardian's descendants, the Elite Guard, can help you.”

Fiona thanked him but Linh worried that if the Elite Guard didn't operate the archway to bring her and her classmates, they might not know anything about the archways or how to use them to send anyone home.

“Nuard,” Fiona said, “when we arrived on Oval Island, there was a man in a red cloak. He was the only person we saw, and he entered the castle we travelled to this island through before us. Do you know who he might be or how we can contact him?”

Nuard froze. “Knowing what I do of the archways, I can only explain that man's actions if he is a Guardian.”

“Get out!” Troy said. “Mythical dudes lured us from our science excursion to save the world? Are they insane?”

“Can you tell us more about the Myths of the Strangers?” Fiona asked.

“One myth tells of strangers arriving when a Far Western king bred a dragon army. The strangers attacked dragons with bows of metal, firing metal arrow balls with a bang and a flash like Chaos himself. They eradicated the dragons, and such was their deed that traders carried word of it across an ocean to our colony, Tarlah, from which it made its way across a second ocean to our empire.”

Linh shivered. “That sounds like early guns. But the only weapons we've seen so far are swords.”

“No weaponry this side of the world resembles the weaponry of that myth,” Nuard told her.

Linh blinked. “Does the Western Land have bows and arrows like that?”

“Not to my knowledge,” said Nuard, his eyes bright.

“What does it matter?” Troy asked.

“It matters because the cutlery we're eating with is bronze or wood, the guard we passed coming in had bronze armour and an iron sword, and if there's no steel or guns in this world, then the people in that myth might have come from ours. And if they got home, we can, too.”

A description of possible guns and bullets from perhaps nineteenth-century Earth was little to go on. But as Linh and her classmates had come here, and the inscription in the castle on Oval Island mentioned migration from the Mediterranean world, perhaps the slayer myth contained some truth. It might have clues as to how they could get home. If it was all Nuard could offer them, it damn well better do that much.

“The Slayers set sail for the invisible island they arrived on,” Nuard continued, “and their ship vanished. Witnesses said the forecastle disappeared first. Then the main and rear decks moved into nothing. The ship was found weeks later, tossed by a violent storm. Its sails were bound, and it was empty.”

In Linh's mind, Michael appeared suddenly, swimming into view. “They might have gone back home through an archway,” she suggested. “But who brought the slayers? Who returned them?”

Nuard eyed them intently. “Whoever sent you, someone wrote in the World Book: They have arrived. Four youths of another world. The gateways are open once more. I have studied the World Book and the history and mythology of my people for over forty years. No new entry has appeared in my lifetime. One of my colleagues leaves the book open to the blank pages after its last entry just to tease me, but today, they were not blank.”

Michael turned to Linh. “If you saw the rainforest from the beach, then it opened twice, the second time close enough for us to walk through. And the archway that led us to Nuard was open. And both archways closed the moment we passed through them. Maybe someone brought us here. But why lead us by the nose to you, Nuard, and tell us nothing? Why avoid us?”

Nuard sighed.

“You theorise that the Guardians brought us?” Michael asked.

“It is a good hypothesis,” Nuard replied. “But as a scholar, I must admit there is too little evidence for it to be more than that.”

“So someone might have brought us, but our only lead is that it might be servants of gods from a creation myth?” Troy stood abruptly and paced across the hall.

Linh wondered if Michael was right and a mad scientist had brought them to test the gateways.

“Is there any sign of calamity around this part of the world?” Fiona asked.

“None that I know of,” Nuard replied. He turned, surveying them. “It is nearly time for me to retire for the night. I can have a servant show you to our guest chambers when you are ready to go up. We can talk again in the morning if you like.”

Fiona thanked him and Nuard bid them good night and left.

“What do we think?” Troy asked as soon the sound of Nuard's footsteps faded.

“After studying the Myths of the Strangers all his life,” said Michael, “I think he's thrilled we might be evidence that the myths are true.”

Linh shivered. “You think he's seeing what he wants to see?”

Michael nodded and rested his head on his hands.

“We don't know what's normal or what we can expect here,” Fiona replied, with her usual optimism, but she also fidgeted with her spoon.

Troy shook his head. “The whole theory's crazy, and we didn't get to talk to Red Cloak, so we can't 'know' anything, assuming he even knows what's going on.”

“We can ask Nuard who else can help, in and beyond the empire,” Fiona suggested.

Linh hugged herself, trying to still the way her insides quivered at the uncertainty of their situation. She dearly wanted to believe there was a logical explanation for their departure from Noriyong Island and arrival in wherever this was, a person they could seek out and ask to send them home. But what if there wasn't?