Guardian - Part 1

So I told myself I wasn't going to post any stories in parts this year (besides What If...), but this has gotten extremely long, and I've edited a lot out already. Hopefully I will get the next part posted before the end of the week so you don't have to wait too long for the end.

 Paul slammed the door behind him with a huff. Rain dripped from his beard and trickled down the sleeves of his coat. He whipped the hat from his head and slammed it into the puddle at his feet.

“Paul!” Lissa jumped from her chair by the fireplace, her mending sliding from her lap. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

Her husband clenched his jaw and jerked his head toward the door. “They've finally gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Lissa laid a hand on his arm.

“Robbed us blind!” Paul hissed. “The seed is gone, our tools are gone, all our food left from winter storage is gone – the cellar is empty!”

Lissa's face paled. “Please tell me you're lying.”

“No, it's gone. All of it.” Paul kicked off his boots and shed his coat into her arms. “Without seed, I can't plant. Without crops, we'll starve.” His voice dropped to whisper. “Micah has to leave, Lissa.”

His wife glanced back in the corner where a towheaded youth was telling stories to five expectant, eager faces. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head and turned away.

“Lissa, he must. I warned you it would come to this. We can't afford to keep on feeding another mouth. Plus there's the coming baby.”

Lissa placed a hand over her swelling belly. “But he's so good with the children.”

“Yes, filling their heads with outlandish stories.”

Fire jumped into Lissa's brown eyes. “You just say that because -”

Her husband's finger on her lips forced her to stop. He tilted her chin up and bored his gaze into her eyes. “He must go. You know that.”

She nodded blinking tears from her eyes. Paul watched her bare feet disappear through another doorway before closing the space between him and the children. The towheaded youth stood, his pale gray eyes looking over his long nose down at Paul. “Do you need something, Master?”

Paul nodded toward the bedroom.

Lilith stood and grasped her father's sleeve. “But Papa, Micah was telling us a story!”

“I know, Child.” Paul brushed her hand away and followed Micah into the bedroom.

Micah turned to face his Master, his eyes discerning Paul's movements.

Paul shoved his hands into his pockets, and then pulled them out only to fold them across his chest. Why was it so hard to push the words out he'd been wanting to say for over a year now?

But Micah didn't need words. “You're letting me go.” The youth's words came out in a hush. Paul wondered if those were tears in his eyes.

He cleared his throat. “I-I'm sorry. I don't have a choice.”

Micah shook his head. “You doubt there will be enough food.”

“There is no food!” Paul growled. “The seed is gone. The cellar is empty… Go find another master.”

Of course, finding work or food was next to impossible right now. The boy knew this, but he didn't argue. “I'll go pack my things.” He ducked out the back door, his head hanging low.

What things? Paul thought. The boy hardly had anything but the clothes on his back. Paul looked up to see his wife in the doorway. Here eyes were red and her cheeks flushed, but she pursed her lips together.

Husband and wife jumped when screams split the air. Lissa's eyes grew wide, and Paul paled. An open raid now? It was only morning! If they were attacking his neighbors, they'd burn his house next. “The children!” Paul shoved Lissa back through the doorway. “Get them out!”

Lissa scooped Elaine off the floor and grasped Arnon's hand. Lilith was already pulling Amos to his feet. “Out the back door, everyone!” Paul herded everyone through the bedroom, but Lilith spun around and tried to push past her father.

“Where's Ernan!”

Paul's eyes locked on his daughter's frightened ones. “Don't worry,” he hurriedly brushed the hair from her face. “I'll find him.” He prodded her through the door then spun around. “Ernan!” he yelled. “It's not time for games!”

No response. He rushed back into the main room. The flames still danced in the fireplace, but nothing else moved. “Ernan!” he yelled again and rushed into the other bedroom. His eyes fell upon a large chest at the foot of the bed. He jerked open the lid but dropped it with a second thought. He didn't have time. Paul fled the room. “Ernan!” Still no answer. Panic began to build in his chest, but he shoved it away. Maybe, just maybe, he was already outside – or in the barn, with Micah. He flew out the back door.

Paul saw with satisfaction that the rest of his family was no where in sight – well hidden. He rushed into the barn. “Ernan! Where are you?” Paul searched the empty stalls and then mounted the ladder to the loft. No boys, no movement, just hay. Micah must have packed quickly. The youth had must have taken him very seriously. But where was Ernan?

Paul fled the barn and scanned the front yard. There, by the road. He sped toward his son. “Ernan! What are you doing? We must hide!” But then Paul realized the air was silent except for the icy raindrops pelting the ground. No screams, no horses. Or wait. Who were these galloping down the road? Paul glanced at his son. His eyes, too, were fixed on the riders.

“Papa,” Ernan murmured. “Who are they?”

Paul's heart drummed in his ears. The King, at last? Could it be? He ran forward to meet the horseman who was riding ahead of the others. The horse slowed to a stop, and a burly man dismounted, his feet sloshing into the mud.

Paul wiped a spray of mud from his brow and blinked the rain from his eyes. “Carlos, is that you?”

The burly man slapped him on the back and grinned. “Yes, Paul, it's me.”

Paul grinned back at his old friend. “What are you doing in the countryside?”

“The King has recruited me to gather men for his army. We shall go to war!”

“Then it is true? The King has returned?” Paul craned his neck to see behind his friend.

“Yes, well, his son actually. He will reclaim the throne.” Carlos paused and wrung out his hat before replacing it on his head. “There's a meeting tonight in the town square.”

“I'll be there.” Excitement coursed through Paul's veins, and he shivered. The other horsemen were almost upon them. “What about the screaming earlier?”

Carlos chuckled and turned around, steadying his own horse. “We were mistaken for raiders.”

Paul nodded. Right. His family was still in hiding. Probably worried sick about him... Paul's heart skipped a beat. His eyes were now glued to the young rider leading the other horsemen. “Is that the … the … Is he the … ?”

Carlos glanced at the riders, then back at Paul and smiled. “The King has come for his sword.”

“What sword?” Ernan piped up. “There aren't any swords here.”

Paul didn't answer. He knew exactly what Carlos meant. Paul sped into the house. He had dreamed of this day, of this hour, of this minute, when he would tear the key from the seam in which it had been so carefully sewn. Collapsing at the foot of his bed, Paul lifted the lid of a rough-looking cedar chest with a groan. Inside, a disarray of clothing and quilts were thrown in together. Paul dug to the bottom. He pulled out a dusty green cloak, the one he'd owned since he'd been a stable boy of thirteen. His fingers slid through the thinning material in search of that one seam, that one lump. Then he found it. He tore it open, not caring for the cloak. No, he didn't need it anymore. The time had come. A silver key dropped into his lap, twinkling in the lamp light.

Paul snatched up both the lantern and the key, strode out the back door, and slipped into the barn. The rain had ceased for the moment, as if respecting his mission. Paul counted the steps to the abandoned stall, grabbing a shovel off the wall as he passed. The barn was silent. Dead silent. They hadn't owned any animals since last winter, when they'd had to kill their last mule.

Paul shoved the dusty, decaying hay to the side, searching for that one spot, about three feet from the east wall and three feet from the north. There, that had to be it. He reached for his shovel and pressed the tip to the ground, but froze. The dirt was loose and darker than the rest of the ground. Paul's heart pounded. Fear drove his shovel into the ground. In less than three minutes, he struck something hard. He let out a sigh of relief. It was still there. Paul lifted the case from the ground, brushing the dirt from the ebony King's Oak. Perhaps one of his children had discovered it and replaced it? Surely they would have said something. He'd ask later. For now, it was time.

Paul rushed back to where Carlos stood with the King, as did Paul's family, the children dancing in circles, and Rissa's eyes brimming with tears. The King looked up when Paul approached, a smile breaking across his young, ruddy face. He had to be about average height, Paul supposed, and perhaps in his late twenties. He'd thought the prince, now king, would be younger, but perhaps that was just because he had always remembered the prince as a toddler. The King, by no means was overly handsome, but his features were sharp, framed in a fine bronze beard and shoulder length hair. But it was the man's eyes that told Paul he was the King. They were dark and piercing, yet they held a kindness in them.

Paul bowed, his hands shaking with awe and reverence as he extended the case and key. “Your Majesty, your sword.”

The King accepted the items, his face eager, and perhaps relieved. “Thank you, my friend. My father knew he could trust you.” He patted Paul's back, then handed the case to Carlos. “Open it, let's see what sort of condition it is in.”

Carlos inserted the key with eager hands. The lock clicked, and he pried the lid open. All the King's men gasped. Some muttered among themselves. Others glared at Paul. Rissa grabbed his arm. “Paul, what have you done?”

Feedback Please!

I'm trying to portray my characters a certain way, and I want to be sure I'm succeeded. So tell me...

1. What are your feelings about Paul? Do you sympathize with his situation?

2. What are your feelings about Micah? Dislike or sympathy? Other?

3. What are you first impressions of the King?