THE KEEPERS
By Elizabeth


    The large, battered old wooden circus wagon 
plodded slowly down the dirt road, which was rapidly 
turning to mud under the torrential rain. The 
driver, a man as aged as the archaic vehicle he 
controlled, winced as Nature's wet explosion of fury 
stung his face. Even underneath his hat and poncho, 
he could feel the cold rain assaulting him.
    After several minutes, the inevitable happened: 
the wagon became mired in an especially deep and 
sludgy puddle.  The old man looked back at the 
affected tire and sighed heavily.
    I may be blessed by the Four, he huffed to 
himself, but luck is certainly NOT among their 
gifts!
    He began the painful process of getting down 
from his seat, when he happened to spot a truly 
unusual apparition in the distance.
    Coming towards him was a striking young woman 
with red hair, flowing loosely to her waist in 
almost shimmering waves. Her pale skin seemed paler 
against her all black ensemble of jeans and a wife 
beater tank top, which encased a slender and 
athletic frame. Her black combat boots easily plowed 
through the mud as she walked casually through the 
rain, her face turned up to the sky.
    The elderly man was taken aback by the girl. She 
appeared to be no older than about twenty, and her 
demeanor was absolutely peaceful in the middle of 
the storm. Her wet, shining face was graced by a 
simple, joyous grin that moved the wagon driver 
deeply. He was absolutely enchanted by the young 
woman's beauty, and found her strange behavior 
endearing.
    Ah, were I still in my prime, that sweet 
creature might have been mine, he reminisced, but I 
am an old man now. Still, such a lovely young 
sylph...
    It was at that moment the driver felt a stirring 
he hadn't known in years. Deep inside, power sparked 
within, warming his weary, arthritic joints even in 
the deathly chill of the rain. That warmth permeated 
every cell, rolled liquidly through his veins, and 
spoke to him.
    His heart broke. Oh, by the gods no! Not this 
one! Such beauty...a world could be hers in this 
lifetime!
    He felt the spark of life in him again. In spite 
of himself, the driver reveled in the strength and 
absolute power of the magic that echoed faintly in 
his elderly frame.
    There was no disputing it. In the name of The 
Four, she had been Chosen.
    The mystic prompt that had ignited inside him 
was soon confirmed. As the young girl continued to 
walk, eyes closed and face turned up, she suddenly 
slowed her easy, methodical pace. When she came to a 
halt, she stood beside the wagon. She opened her 
eyes and turned to look the wagon driver right in 
the eye.
    "Everything all right here, Old Man?" she called 
out.
    The driver delighted in the rich, musical sound 
of the girl's voice. Even through his delight, 
though, his heart twisted painfully. His task was 
not a happy one, but he had no choice. To The Elder 
he was bound, and it was The Elder he must serve 
before all others...including himself.
    He knew what he had to do.
    The old man smiled cheerfully at the girl as he 
spoke. "It seems, dear lady, that I have happened 
upon a bit of a jam with my vehicle. Don't worry 
about my welfare, I'll make it out somehow!"
    The girl smiled ruefully and approached the 
front of the wagon. "No way I'm gonna leave you 
stranded out here in the middle of fuckin' nowhere, 
brother man. Here, let me see if I can help you push 
this thing out of the mud."
    The girl extended a hand to help the driver 
down.
    Now is the time, he told himself.
    The driver took the girl's hand, and felt her 
instantly stiffen. His own vision blurred, and at 
that moment the power awakened. It could smell the 
blood of this woman, this kindred spirit. He knew 
what the girl saw, because he could see it, too.
    From some point outside himself, he saw the 
ghost appear behind him. It was an image of a proud 
warrior, clad in black leather and gleaming spiked 
armor. Dark hair spilled down the vision's back, 
blending well with its demonic visage of pure black 
and white. Inside the dark batwing markings that 
adorned his face, two blazing red coals glittered 
where eyes should have been. Scaled boots ran the 
length of his legs, ending in dragons' heads that 
possessed eyes much like that of their wearer.
    The driver watched with pride as the girl 
regrouped long enough to successfully help him down 
from the driver's seat. When he touched the ground, 
she immediately let him go.
    "What the fuck was that?" she screeched.
    The driver reached out and gently touched the 
woman's shoulder. He stared into her eyes, noticing 
their rich, dark color for the first time. Eyes so 
dark they were almost black.
    No question, Demon Lord, he spoke silently, she 
is the one. Regrettable...but I understand.
    "What is your name, dear girl?" he asked softly, 
knowing he would be heard over the noisy splashing 
of rain touching mud.
    She simply stood there as the rain soaked her, 
turning that bright red mane to dark wine.
    "Rhea." she whispered.
    "Rhea, darling...do you know who I am?"
    Rhea opened her mouth to toss off a sharp 
retort, but the driver watched as terrified, 
uncertain recognition filled her features.
    "Your name is Chaim," she breathed. "I know 
you...but how?"
    Chaim slid a frail arm around Rhea's delicate 
shoulders and steered her towards the back of the 
wagon.
    "Let's seek shelter first, dear Rhea." he 
soothed. "Once we are dry and warm again, I will 
explain everything to you."
    As the pair climbed into the back of the wagon, 
Chaim heard a sound that everyone else in the world 
would interpret as a strangely loud clap of thunder.
    But to Chaim, it was laughter...as only The 
Demon lord, the God of Thunder could laugh...deep, 
cruel, and full of self-satisfaction.