The Night Guardian

Prologue
Underneath the rolling thunder, a baby’s cry split the air in the tiny Night village. A house, built of stones and sot, grass and wood, sheltered the newborn, who was crying its heart out and squirming in the arms of its mother. The mother, a younger woman, with long, messy, brown hair, held her newborn loosely, exhaustion taking hold of her body. Her aching and tired green eyes bore into the baby as her thoughts processed to what she held. Only heartbeats passed before she collapsed into tears of joy, smiling and holding the baby to her chest.
“My baby!” she cried. The old nurse smiled sadly and rubbed the young mother’s back. As she did so, the mother quickly glanced up at her then back down at her new son. “You think ‘e’ll make good Night Warrior?”
“Very good, madam,” the Nurse whispered. Looking at the tired mother with subtle compassion, her hand automatically reached out and pried the wet hair of her forehead. Outside the window, rain started parading down, crashing hard on the roof. The Nurse looked up, assessing the situation with curiosity.
“Oh, sweet Nurse,” the mother cooed. “You stay here tonight. Watch over the baby with me.”
The Nurse smiled and shook her head. “I could do no such thing. I will come and check on the baby in the morning.”
“But that is then,” the mother protested. “You will be wet, very, when you leave.” Again the nurse smiled, and thought to herself, the woman is so nice; if only her English was better. But I suppose that is what you get for being hired cheaply.
“Ah, madam, as soothing and sweet as our offer is, I must decline,” the Nurse said gently. “I have to attend matters elsewhere this evening. Before I leave, is there anything I can get for you? Blankets, hot tea?”
“If ye insist,” the mother said softly.
“Madam, if I may, you have not named the baby. What do you wish to name him?” she asked quietly.
After a brief pause, the mother said cheerfully, “Jae; Jae will be his name.”
“Very beautiful,” the Nurse whispered quietly, listening intently for any noises outside the house. In the distance, she heard a faint horse galloping down the dirt trail. “Pardon me, madam, I must take my leave now.”
“Wait!” she cried. “Before you leave. Bless him. Please.”
“I cannot,” the nurse said. “I am no Priest.”
“Please, Nurse!”
“Very well,” she said quietly. Quickly and impatiently, she bent over the woman and placed her hand on the baby’s forehead. “Bless this baby in the name of the Lord-” With a swift hand, the woman grabbed the Nurse’s collar and hoped to her feet, the whimpering baby still cradled in her arm. The angry mother shoved the nurse to the wall, her eyes blazing with anger.
“Madam!” she cried. “What are you doing?” The Nurse felt the woman’s tiny grip tighten around her collar.
“Do not ‘Madam’ me, you fool,” she spat. The Nurse raised her eyebrow at the slew of nearly fluent English escaping her lips. The mother smiled viciously. “You tricked me; you are a King’s woman. Do you think I hear no horse? You are wrong; I hear many of them. And a many good men will die tonight. Women and children, including myself and you.” Outside of the tiny house, screams started sounding from every corner of the village as the King’s men started slaughtering the Night village.
“And Nurse, this is not the only Night Village, many more, there are,” the mother whispered intently.
“What?” the Nursed hissed.
The crooked smile on the woman’s face shown that she would not speak another word on the matter. Within moments, the main door of the house was kicked open, followed by shouting men. The mother put the baby down on the bed and whispered a string of the Night’s language into the baby’s ear. Turning to the Nurse, the woman smiled and said, “Tonight, we die. I will go to my after life and you to yours.”
The bedroom door flew open on its hinges, crashing hard into the wall behind it. The baby started hollering and holding its hands in the air. “Momma loves you,” she whispered.
“Here!” a guard shouted; he instantly raised his bow and fired one arrow at the nurse and then raised one to the mother.
“I am Raia!” she screamed into the air and again, shouted in the tongue of the Night before the arrow pierced her fragile chest and sent her to the ground.
“Clear!” the murderer shouted and cantered out of the room.
Outside of the room, a highly decorated officer slammed the archer in the chest and asked, “What’s that noise?”
“What noise, s-sire?”
“The crying baby!” he hollered into the soldier’s ear. The archer flinched and shrugged his shoulders, not acknowledging any sound. The King threw the soldier into the wall and paraded into the bedroom; he stepped over the two dead women and headed straight for the baby on the bed. “You mean to tell me, Ulric, that this crying baby you did not hear nor see?”
“I still do not see any baby or hear one, my King!” he shouted into the room. “Shall I continue on, sire?” Without caring about Ulric, the King reached down and picked up the baby, instantly calming it down. The weight of the baby in his arms tugged at his heart. Here he held a newborn baby in his hands, his soldier just killing his mother. A frown creased his forehead; how could he have done such a thing?
“Sire?” Ulric asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“What?” he snapped, turning to face his friend and solider.
“Is that the baby?” he gasped, “Where was it?”
“Never mind that,” the King growled. “Finish your work and let’s take our leave.” His brief turn of compassion left his body as he once yet again stepped over the two women and left the house.
Soon, as they left, the King sat on his horse, carrying the baby. “Sire, John.”
“What, Ulric?”
“The baby, what do you plan to do with it?” he asked.
“I do not know,” the King said instinctively.
“Do you know or have its name at least?” he asked.
He paused for a moment as he looked down at the baby. Something jerked his attention deep within as a sparkle of the baby’s green eyes twinkled and a gurgle left his throat. “Jae, I think it is. It fits the baby.”