The Journey: A Custodes Noctis Story (2 page)

Then that
odd thing happened.

In the deep dark after the wreck a soft light had filled him, healing the terrible injuries, pulling him away from the edges of the Other World. After h
e woke, he tried to find out if someone
had been there. The staff insisted no one had come into his room. Rob knew the healing of the
Custodes Noctis
, and
while he had a small Gift of healing
, he knew there was no way he could have saved himself in that situ
ation. What was really strange wa
s he recognized that light, he’d experienced it before
. I
t had the same
light and energy
as the healing used by Galen, dead and gone, but somehow there.

Rob wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but he was convinced Galen had somehow been there
. While he was in Europe he’d discovered a translation of the spell that could call dead
Custodes Noctis
back into service. It was part of the Formal Farewell—“Rest until you are called again”—and Rob had discovered that it was a very literal call to return. At one time
Custodes Noctis
led armies of the livi
ng and the dead into battle. Rob
intended to call Galen back so they could finish the path they were set on ten years before.
If his brother was already near the Veil between the Worlds, the return would be much easier to accomplish.

The Legacy wasn’t a my
th.
Rob
knew he was part of it, and that knowledge coupled with the strange incident after the accident solidified
his
plans for his twenty-third birthday. As the day grew nearer he phoned Billy.
The shaman
helped him fill in some of the missing parts of the spell. Rob was still unsure how much had actually been
restored
, even after he had Walked and asked others about it as well. The call had not been used in centuries and no one
seemed
willing to give him all the pieces he needed. After two weeks with Billy, he decided that he had enough
,
and for the first time since he was thirteen
he
set out for Tacoma.

For some reason it was a difficult
trip, and more than once he
found that he
’d
turned the wrong way and was headed away from the Pacific Northwest.
It was a continual fight to get there, but
he finally managed to get close enough that he could smell the difference in the forest, the wet air that filled the coastal landscape.

He had
a destination in mind. A
fter a painful stop at th
e clearing where it had all begu
n ten years before, Rob set ou
t to
find
a quiet spot in the forest. The ancient trees rose around him, welcoming him
,
and
the world
was
alight with the soft colors of night. The light of the moon and
stars touched the earth, and at
one such place
, he stopped. The light that swirled around the space was multi-colored, a small vortex of power in the center of the
silent
forest. There was a deep silence all around, even the trees had ceased to whisper in the wind. It was the time of night when even the hunters had retired to wait until the hours just before dawn. Once upon a time it had been called the dead of night—or the graveyard watch.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Rob pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID, it was Billy. “What’s up?” he asked, knowing the shaman wouldn’t call without reason.

“You’re
still carrying out your plan?”

“Yes
, I’m about to start, in fact
.”

“Good, you need to be in Tacoma
tomorrow.”

“Billy?”

“I was Walking and… You need to be there.”

“
That’s the plan
.”

“
You have to be there, Rob. No distractions, no strange U-turns.”

“I won’t. If I get the urge again, I’ll do like last time and call you and you can make me turn around again.”

“Good plan. If I get even the tiniest hint it’s going wrong, I will call.”

“Thank you, Billy.”

“Be
careful
, Rob
.”

“No one has called a dead Keeper in
centuries
. I’ll be careful,” Rob said, laughing, excitement bubbling in his chest. If the ritual worked he would see his brother again, t
hey would fight together again. T
he Legacy
would come
to pass.

“I know you will. I hope we will meet again.”

“In this world or the Other World, we will, Billy. We’ve both seen it.”

“Yes, but remember you need to be there tomorrow.”

“I will.”

Rob broke the connection and tucked the phone back in his pocket. He put his backpack on
the ground and pulled out a notebook
, a bundle of herbs and a candle.
He
took off his bracelet—one of the
mark
s of rank for
the
Custodes Noctis
. Hi
s had been made for him
by his brother, th
e soft quicksilver glow of Galen’s power still flowed through it. He set it down, lit the candle and
opened the
notebook
. The ritual of the Formal Calling was not written down anywhere he could find
, so he pieced it together. He had discovered part of it in a Latin translation of one of the Hunt Sagas, but none in the original language remained extant. That
annoyed him.
The Latin he copied into his notebook had notations on it
, things he’d been told as Billy helped him rebuild the spell. What was worrying the shaman, Rob kn
e
w, was the fact that there were still lar
ge parts missing
despite their
intense
work. He pushed the doubts away. It was tonight or never.
Rob drew his small blade, a personal weapon and gift
also
from Galen, the Traditional gift between brothers when the younger began his training.

He was ready.

Carefully reciting the Latin, he followed the instructions in the ancient book as the magic built around him in a swirl of metallic color that mimicked his bracelet, copper, silver and bronze. He lost himself in the spell, his hands moving of their own accord, following the path of the ritual. He felt warmth trickle over his hand and looked down to see the bright light-filled red of blood drop onto his bracelet, the herbs and the ground. As the final words of the spell fell from his lips, he felt a huge jolt of energy flash through his body.
It was
e
nough to knock him down. He stayed
there, the cold ground against his cheek, eyes closed for
a long moment
. Had it worked? Cautiously he opened his eyes, hoping beyond hope.

No Galen.

Rob pushed himself up.
He let
a little of the hard-
won control
he usually kept on his Gift drop a
way and looked around. The after-
effects of the spell wer
e there, the bright colors
filling the small clearing, but no Galen. The spell had failed. He’d known there was something wrong when…
What was that?
He held his breath for a moment. There it was again, a soft whisper against his heart that reminded him of the long
-
lost bond with Galen.

“Are you here?” he asked the shadowy woods. The call of an owl answered him. “Galen?”
There was no answer, but there was also no denying that whisper in his heart.
Something
had happened—
he just wasn’t sure
exactly
what. Maybe that was what Billy meant. He would find his brother i
n Tacoma, maybe at the graveyard, mayb
e at the site of the Apothecary, but he knew he would find his brother’s spirit there waiting for him.

He could hardly wait to get back to his Jeep and on the road towards Tacoma. The fleeting emotions he’d experienced about his brother, the family and the city were missing, cut away from his psyche
, and he felt as if a weight had been removed
. He could see his path clearly before him—like a long string of lights along the road. It was something new, something that the spell had released. An excitement was building in him with the thought of going “home”. The urge to turn around and head away from the Northwest was completely gone.

“Why haven’t I thought of that?” he said to the night. He was used to talking to things that weren’t visible, so talking to himself was natural.
“I haven’t even questioned that, why haven’t I gone before? Why didn’t I go when Dad and Uncle Bobby died?” Rob looked inside himself and realized there was a wall, a very carefully constructed wall deep inside him. He hadn’t
been aware of it
before. Something abo
ut the spell had brought it into his awareness
. “And where did that come from?”
Shaking his head, he picked up his things and threw them into the back of his Jeep. Maybe there would be answers tomorrow.

****

Ten years hadn’t changed Tacoma nearly as much as he thought it would. In California
,
where his foster parents had lived, communities changed almost daily with new strip malls and new housing going up all the time. As Rob followed the
freeway around the
long bend towards the City Center exit, the flag was still atop th
e Tacoma Dome, Mount Rainier was visible
and the port
with its massive cranes loomed
in the distance. There was a new bridge over the Thea Foss Waterway, and it looked like downtown was going through a Renaissance. The Glass Museum jutted up beside the exit ramp. He debated for a moment, but rather than head straight towards Sixth Avenue where the Apothecary
—the shop that had been home to the Emrys
Custodes Noctis
since they came to the Pacific Northwest—
had once been, he
took the other fork in the road. He
followed Shuster Parkway and headed down the waterfront towards Point Defiance.

It was strange being back.
T
he fact that so little had chan
ged gave it a sense of déjà vu
that was disconcerting. Even most of the restaurants were unchanged from his childhood. It was a gray day, typical of the time of year, but there were several sailboats out on the water, keeled over and racing in front of the wind. A group of Canada geese floated serenely by the fishing pier
,
and judging from how close the water was to the deck of the pier, it was a very high
tide. Rob watched it all go by, humming along to the music on the stereo. As he paused at the light in Ruston he decided to go into the Antique Sandwich Co. and get a coffee
,
then walk down into Point Defiance
Park
.

It was a block to the park and he was happily sipping his coffee when a car came to an abrupt stop beside him. He looked over and saw
sick black of
malice swirling through the car. He threw the cup of hot coffee at the man opening the door and ran. Rob had always been able to run
. H
e could cover distance quickly,
without losing energy
in the race. He’d worked hard on that after what had happened when he was
younger
, and could now run faster
for a long stretch
than most people could sprint. He
had
further honed his abilities by running laden with various weapons and practicing turning and striking with them and running again. Unfortunately, his massive Bastard sword was in the Jeep. He didn’t think it was a good idea to carry it in Ruston
,
and other than the small knife in his pocked he was unarmed.

S
o
he ran.

The
y
caught him at the entrance to the park. A different car came out of nowhere and blocked his path. He was dragged into
it
, fighting the entire
way. One of them managed to get his arm around Rob’s thr
oat and began to apply pressure. K
nowing th
is wasn’t the time to fight, he
went limp, letting th
em think the choke-
hold had worked.
His captors didn’t speak. The window was open blowin
g cold air across his face
,
and
he could smell the
bay
, then the heavier smell as they turned into the port area around Fife. He didn’t move, waiting for the right moment. The car slowed and he broke free, threw open the door and hit the road, rolling twice before getting back to his feet and running.