Guardian of the Crowns - Prologue

The flight deck of the Nakomo blazed with white light, forcing Brother Finnian to duck away, shielding his eyes. He grabbed the back of the pilot’s seat and prepared himself for the shockwave, but even his tightest grip didn’t stop him from being thrown to the floor. Pain ripped through his elbow and up into his neck, reopening the deep gash in his shoulder. He ignored it all – his thoughts still in turmoil.

His decision to order the Nakomo to retreat had been a testing one, but if he hadn’t, they’d all be dead – and there’d been too much loss already. That didn’t alter the fact that he’d left people behind on the transporter, and for a moment he allowed the guilt to ripple in his chest before he forced it deep inside. His mission was to save the woman – he only hoped he hadn’t been too late.

The blinding light dissipated and he looked out at black space; the remains of the transporter no more than sparking debris blinking into nothing. He thanked the Gods for keeping the Nakomo safe then turned his attention towards the cabin.

“Report.” He wasted no time on pleasantries.

Brother Noah looked up and shook his head. “We were too late,” he said before returning his attention to the shattered body of the man on the cabin floor. Finnian stepped around him, his thoughts refocused on the woman. She was so still that for a moment he feared she too was dead, and that he had been too late, but then her eyes opened and fixed on him. He knelt next to her, holding her hand.

“You came,” she said, barely a whisper.

“Of course.”

“You're hurt,” she added, her eyes were drawn to his shoulder.

“It’s nothing.”

“I don’t believe you. You always were a bad liar.” She smiled weakly then blinked slowly and turned her head. “What does it say?” she asked the other man kneeling next to her.

Brother Benjamin studied the medi-scanner a moment longer before flicking a glance towards Finnian.

“What?” she said. “I saw that look. What’s going on? Is she alright?” She tried to sit up, gasped with pain, and then laid back on the cold floor of the cabin, her head resting on the makeshift pillow made from Benjamin’s rolled up robes.

Benjamin looked to Finnian for guidance, receiving a brief nod in response. “Your baby’s showing signs of distress,” Benjamin said. “I fear we’ll lose her if we don’t act soon.”

“Then do what you need to. What are you wait-” The woman’s words were cut off by a cry of pain. “Save her,” she continued through gritted teeth. “She’s all that matters – you know that, Finnian.”

“We’re not equipped to do surgery here,” Benjamin protested. “To attempt to now would put you both in great danger.”

“I hear you, Brother – now hear me; my life is of no importance, but the baby-” She coughed, blood trickling from blue-tinged lips. “Do what you need to make sure she’s safe. Whatever you need,” she reiterated. Neither men responded. “Please,” she implored, looking directly at Finnian, her gaze so intensely passionate that after a moment he nodded.

“Of course,” he replied.

The woman smiled again and mouthed the words ‘thank you’ before closing her eyes. Her breathing faltered and he held his own breath, but after a couple of seconds her eyes opened. With difficulty she lifted her hand to his cheek. “I need you to promise me something, Finnian...”

“Please, Mia, save your energy.”

“No, you don’t undertsa-” Another wave a pain surged through her. “I need you to promise me you’ll look after her.”

“I…” He paused, confused by her request.

“You know what’s at stake. I need you and the Brotherhood to look after my child. You – at the monastery. No one else; nowhere else. Do you understand?”

“Mia, we can’t take in a baby, let alone a girl. People will talk, they’ll be suspicious.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one messes with the Brotherhood’s Warrior Caste – not even the Royal Earth Force. She’ll be safe with-” She cried out in agony, and Finnian wished so badly that he could take the pain for her.

“I hate to interrupt,” Benjamin urged, looking at the medi-scanner again, “but if we’re going to do this, we have to do it now.”

“Wait! Not until he promises,” Mia sobbed, her eyes fixed on Finnian again. For the first time in his life he was lost; he had no idea what to say. His word was his bond, but what would the Primus say? “Promise me,” she pushed, but he was torn. Whatever he decided there and then, the Brotherhood would have to honour. But what if… A pained sob broke his thoughts.

“Okay, I promise.” His words came out in a tumbled rush before he could measure them.

“I need more than that.”

“I promise to you, and the Gods, that the Brotherhood will take in your child, and that we’ll look after her – at the monastery – and protect her with our lives. She will be family.”

Mia smiled sadly. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me – to know she’ll be safe. I’m ready now,” she said, but then her expression changed as she remembered something. “When she’s old enough, you must give her this.” She pulled a small, brushed-bronze medallion from her neck and placed it carefully in Finnian’s hand. “I cannot tell you how vital it is she gets it. Lives could depend on it, do you understand?” He nodded, even though he didn’t, and brushed damp hair from her eyes. “And something else… my pocket…”

Finnian reached into the pocket she’d indicated, pulling out what appeared to be a ripped-out page from a large ancient manuscript. Most of it was covered in swirls and patterns he didn’t recognise, but along the bottom there was something written in a different hand. Even though the paper was stained with blood, he could make out three distinct words: Family, Honour, Courage. He had no idea what they meant.

“I’ll make sure she gets them both.”

“I know you will. You’re a good man, Finnian.”

The baby was blue and silent when Benjamin pulled her from Mia’s womb, and for a tense moment Finnian was cold with fear. He’d never felt as helpless as he did right at that moment, nor had he ever experienced such an overwhelming wave of relief when the first screams filled the cabin.

Benjamin wrapped the child in a towel and tried to pass her to Mia, but she was so weak she was scared to take her. Finnian leant forward and helped, supporting Mia’s arms with his own, and for a moment he was saddened that he would never hold a child of his own like that.

“Have you chosen a name?” Benjamin asked.

“Shae,” Mia said, smiling. “Her father chose it.” With difficulty, she turned her head to look at the man lying on the floor further down the cabin. Tear-tracks marked her pale face. “Take her,” she said, her voice failing. “Tell her, her father and I loved her with all our hearts.”