Sally Turner and the Guardians of Stone: Chapter I - The Betrayal

The All-Naught came out of Nowhere and Nahara trembled

- The History of the All-Naught, Anonymous

The night was a riot of light and noise. Everywhere, alarms blared. Guards ran through the twisting streets. Their armour shone brightly as swarms of glowing insects lit their paths. Lights awakened in the city’s windows. In the midst of the confusion, two cloaked figures stole from the Citadel of Luminosity. At their heels slunk a stained and weary-looking cat, its yellow eyes ever watchful for pursuit. The light from a passing swarm bathed his grey fur in harsh greens.

The taller of the furtive pair slipped into a shadowy gap between two low buildings. He paused at the alley mouth and beckoned to the other. Across the cobbled street, the roused inhabitants were stumbling blearily to their windows and doors. The city of Coldlight was stirring.

Biting back a curse, he turned to his companion. “We’ll stay here until the streets fill up. With any luck, we’ll be safe in the crowds.” Even with the night alive with sounds, he kept his voice low.

“Luck?” the other snapped. “Were you not paying attention back there, Matthew? We’re out of ‘luck’.” Panic rushed her words as it had Matthew’s. “If she wakes up again, we won’t get away this time.” As if in reply, the pile of blankets in her arms shifted.

Matthew nervously drummed his fingers on his leg. “Emma,” he tried to sound reassuring, “there’s nothing for it.” A small group of inquisitive civilians rushed past. Once they were gone he continued: “Unless anyone’s got any better ideas, I say we head for the city gates. We can pose as a family.”

Emma wrinkled her slender nose at that idea. “Henry,” she addressed the tired cat, “can you get out of here any quicker?” In answer, the cat slumped unceremoniously to the ground and twitched his long tail. The bundle in Emma’s care moved again. “We need to go,” she rasped at Matthew, “she’s waking. If she cries, she’ll bring them down on us again.”

Matthew set his square jaw, remembering the fight moments ago. The child had wailed then, bringing down the wrath of their pursuers. As if reading his mind, Emma contritely said “I’m sorry about the Timbré boy. I know you were close. But if he’d used his Sense when we needed it, he’d still be with us.” Matthew nodded sadly.

“He couldn’t use his Sense,” came a hoarse voice from their feet. Both looked to the cat. “Much like the Carnapollon healers couldn’t save the Queen; much like neither of you can do your own tricks.”

Matthew raised a questioning eyebrow at Emma. To Henry, he said “You told us back at the citadel we couldn’t Sense. I didn’t believe you then. But after Balourd…” His voice cracked.

Emma crouched beside Henry. “What’s happening to us, Cat?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Nothing is happening to you.” The cat groaned as he stood. “There is something happening to the world.” He raised his head to the child in Emma’s arms. “We have to get her out of Coldlight. The Queen is dead because of her; the King has lost his mind. He ordered her killed; his own daughter.” He fixed them in place with his words. “And I don’t think he’s even worked out the whole truth yet.”

“What…” Some nearby yelling silenced Matthew’s question. He waited until the shouting had receded. “What truth?”

Henry ignored him. “Bring her closer to me.” Emma rested the swaddled blankets on her thighs. Matthew caught sight of her long knives hanging by her hips and flexed his fingers. His war-hammer was long gone. With exaggerated care, Emma pulled the soft layers from the stolen child’s face. The girl twisted her features and wriggled fitfully. The cold light caught her russet hair. Henry nuzzled her cheek with his dirty, furry face and purred in her ear until she settled again. He lifted his muzzle from the infant, leaving a brownish smudge on her skin where his fur had kissed her.

“The truth, Matthew Turner, is that this girl is stopping you using the power your Guardian granted you. This child has the ability – not to mention the authority – to do so. She is the All-Naught.”

Matthew and Emma frowned at one another. They each knew their history and their legends. The cat had to be mistaken. It was Matthew who spoke first: “The All-Naught?” he repeated sceptically.

“Look at the evidence,” Henry lectured. “Despite the best efforts of the healers, their Sense of flesh failed. The Queen died giving birth. Can either of you remember the last time that happened in one of the Houses? No? A thousand years at least. Since the days of the first All-Naught.”

“But…” began Emma.

“I wasn’t finished,” Henry said sharply. “None of the Royal Watch, nor any other human Sensitive, have been able to use their power in the presence of this child.”

“It…” Emma tried again.

“No, Webster, quiet.” Henry’s tone held no room for argument. “I am one of the Guardians of Nahara, and I’ve been able to use my powers. So could the Guardian of Light. And Dark.” He spat the last word. “The girl only influences humans, just as the first All-Naught did.”

Emma drew a deep breath. “Right now, it doesn’t matter who or what she is. Her mother’s dead and her father’s insane. His armies will be looking for us; there’s nobody to stop them. They’ll kill us for helping this girl. But,” she raised her voice over Henry’s premature objections, “we’re all she has. I’m not going to abandon her. You can wait here and ponder the arcane significance of her birth if you want. She needs to be somewhere safe.” She stood.

Henry groomed his shoulder in an attempt to regain some composure. He paused and declared to Matthew “If words could kill, I suspect I’d be dead now.”

Matthew sighed. “We’ll all be dead soon anyway.” He glanced into the now-populated street. “Let’s go.” He fussed over the sleeping child in Emma’s arms. Emma drew away from his touch and draped her cloak over the girl, muttering at his imposition. Stung, Matthew crept away, towards the alley threshold. Night-gown clad speculators noisily rushed towards the alarms.

“Wait,” urged Henry. “I think I can try to move us my way. It won’t be far, but it should get us outside the city walls at least.”

Emma chewed her lip. “That’ll have to do for now,” she decided. “It’s better than pretending he’s my husband.” She looked pointedly at Matthew, who folded his arms across his broad chest in an effort to contain his chagrin.

Henry inhaled deeply. With his feet splayed upon the ground as if against a gale, he exhaled. The air shimmered. A wooden door appeared where none had stood before. With a glance back towards the Citadel of Luminosity and his old life, Matthew led the others through.