The Warden

Prologue

Even goddesses had nightmares.

Feverish, smothering, half-formed images muddled their way through Werold's, the earth-mother's, squirming mind. The half of her that still remained awake—the half that faced her companion, her lover, her husband, Wilo, the father-sun—had little to no power to affect her slumbering side, and so her shadowed half became a place of dreams. And in this case bad ones.

The slumbering side of Werold grimaced and let out a small, pitiful whimper. One of her children was suffering and others of her offspring were causing it. These were the worst dreams she had. As much as she wanted to pull away from the ache, to hide from the agony of knowing her children were intent on harming each other, she resisted the urge.

Werold drew her attention closer to the pain. Agony spiked through her mind as three of her children's images fogged into her thoughts, their actions flurried, violent, desperate. Enduring the anguish, Werold drew her slumbering self to this singular moment, forcing herself to remain in absolute control—her lapses could have devastating consequences for her children around her surface. As the figures solidified into finer details, Werold suppressed a shudder that ached into her soul.

Lady Kyla, a wounded yet precious daughter, struggled against two opponents for her very life.

A queasy roil slithered through Werold and she had to exert all her willpower not to allow the feeling to overcome her and erupt into calamitous effect.

Two night wights tried to destroy Kyla.

Another vomitous wave surged through her, but this time she was ready and clamped down on her rising gorge. Another, heavier feeling, smothered over Werold as Kyla ducked and dove under the constant barrage of the two creatures that had once been two of the earth-mother's human children. But they had forsaken themselves, selling away the gifts of life and light that she and her husband had bestowed to become creatures of her rebellious, adopted Daughter, Manu.

Oh, Manu, why? Werold wondered, sending the words out to her wayward child.

Silence. As always, her Daughter refused to respond.

Oh, Manu...

The words ached through her. Her Daughter's rebellion weighed on her still. She had her other Children, Mona and Mani, but she wanted her family whole once more as any Mother would.

Please, she sent out. Speak to me...

A blow landed on Kyla, drawing Werold's attention from her mourning.

The woman staggered but managed to dodge a blow from the other night wight that would have ended the conflict right then. She favored a leg and angled the apparently injured limb away from her attackers. Werold couldn't tell how badly hurt Kyla was. The night limited her perception considerably. Judging by the grimace and the limp, Werold didn't think Kyla could keep her efforts up for much longer.

However, Werold needed her to survive.

She and Wilo had many plans in motion to deal with the night wight scourge that had infected the continent her children called Haimlant. Many plans that all had a chance to succeed as long as the people included in them chose to first be a part of them and second to remain true to the end. Yet, out of all their plans, the one that Werold preferred the most—for it redeemed a most damaged of souls—was the one that included Lady Kyla and her, hopefully, future apprentice, a young man that the goddess and her Husband had prepared especially for the task.

The earth-mother flinched as Kyla barely eluded another vicious blow and managed to land a crushing strike to one of the wight's knees that sent it tumbling to the ground. The other responded with a jab that caught Kyla across the jaw and sent her reeling.