The Guardian's Chronicles: A New Dawn

By Ann H Barlow

It all begins in a small village in Clayton, where a seemingly ordinary girl must leave everything behind and set off on a journey that leads her to understand that we are not alone in this world.

Her name is Sahara, and her only friend is a voice from within. While danger lurks in every shadow, Sahara must prepare herself, and use the new found powers she has been gifted by her benefactor to free him from Barak, a fallen Guardian. If she fails, Barak will throw the world back into the dark ages.

As one man feels he cannot go on, another seeks redemption. And just when you think the nightmare has ended, you realise it has only just begun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann H Barlow
• Release date: Jun 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458108494

Ann H Barlow

Ann Henrietta Barlow was born in Dumfries, Scotland and moved to England at the age of 14.She has traveled extensively and has become familiar with many different cultures.Ann currently lives between Malta and the UK with her husband Guy.

Book preview

Precognisant

A NewBeginning

Bioko

The Power

Eureka

The President

Critical Point

Discovery

The Challenge

Queen Mary II

The Messenger

The Gift

The Final Touch

An Unfortunate Turn of Events

The Search Begins

A New Identity

Within Reach

Leaving Paris

After Curfew

Sanctuary

No Turning Back

The Legacy

Finding Romero

The First Lady

A Sacred Place

The Concert

Another Failure

A Time of Doubt

The Payoff

The Funeral

Briefing Derrick

Malabo Operations

The Stake Out

A Strange Request

The Other

Desperate Measures

Beyond the Nightmare

Preparing the Ground

An Unexpected Celebration

A Decision Made in Haste

The Silent Landing

Choices

The Bunker

The Assault

Regret

Leader of the Free World

Redemption

Into the Fire

Survival

A Little Bit Different

A New Dawn

About the Author

Other Works

Chapter 1 – Sahara

Sahara Driver, get down here. I want to know what the hell is going on. Her gran shouted from the bottom of the steps of her small terraced house. If, at that precise moment she could have been granted one wish, it would be, that she was anywhere other than in her gran’s house. It had been a stupid mistake to run to her after the horrific events of the night before. Because, how could she ever reveal the ugly details of what happened between her and Nigel? Not to her gran, and not to any of her friends. It was too mortifying. Things like that happened to people on the Jeremy Kyle Show, not to educated girls from middle-class families. And definitely not to me.

Her gran had looked shocked when she burst into the kitchen. No wonder. What must she have looked like? But before her gran had time to ask a barrage of questions, she brushed past and ran upstairs. She had been in the toilet for over half an hour. The clock was ticking. Her gran, was not going to wait forever for an explanation. Soon there would be no option other than to face the music or gran would come and get her.

In a moment, Gran, she shouted while planning her escape.

No more excuses Sahara. If you don’t come down, I’m coming up there.

She bent down and fished in her handbag for her makeup bag, unzipped it and grabbed her mirror. She pulled back the hair that had fallen over her face and cringed at her reflection. Little had changed since ten minutes before. Her eyes remained red and swollen, and no amount of concealer would cover up the tell tail signs that she had been crying. Unable to bring herself to leave the bathroom, it was not long before she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She waited for the dreaded knock.

This is ridiculous. Let me in. Isobel demanded.

I don’t want to talk to you right now. She heard a loud sigh. In no doubt that she was meant to hear. Please. Gran, I’m okay, she insisted.

Then why did you come here? And why have you locked yourself in the toilet? Now don’t talk so daft and get out here and tell me what’s going on.

Her life was out of control. So much so that, she felt like a spectator of her own circumstances. She could not understand why such terrible things continued to happen to her, and wished just for a short while to find peace. Why is my life such a mess? she cried.

Because you insist on staying with that idiot. How many times do I have to tell you? He’s a no-good loser.

It’s not all Nigel’s fault. I was a mess long before I met him. I’ve been a mess since the car crash.

Isobel’s heart missed a beat. After all, this time, the accident was not a subject she felt comfortable to discuss. You know that isn’t true. I know how hard it has been for you Sahara. Even so, don’t you dare blame what happened to your Mum and Dad and your brother Ian for what's going on now. You’re a grown woman, not a child. You know what he is. Even a fool could see it.

It’s a pattern. I’ve told you before; I’m cursed.

Now you are being stupid. There is no such thing as a curse or a jinx before you claim to have one of those too. It’s a load of superstitious nonsense. Now come downstairs and let’s sort this out.

Give me a few more minutes, Gran.

Okay. A few more minutes it is. But I warn you. Don’t have me climbing those steps one more time. Because next time, I’m bringing an axe with me.

Chapter 2 - The Seed

Ah, Chancellor Achoris, thank you for coming. Please take a seat. Phenomie gestured at the large sofa in front of her.

The Chancellor bowed his head slightly. It was his first invitation to her private chamber. Thank you, Your Highness, he said and sat down.

He scanning the room with the eyes of an expectant successor. No doubt dreaming of what he would do when he held the position as High Priest at the end of her reign. Phenomie was keen to get the meeting over. The Chancellor was unworthy of the office that she now held, and she vowed to do everything in her power to ensure that he did not achieve his ambition. During her long reign, she had grown used to the envy that her position provoked especially the reactions from likely candidates, those who had the following to succeed her.

She got straight to the point; the quicker she could be rid of him, the better. I’ll be brief Chancellor. I have a busy schedule. She paused for effect unless he were a complete fool he was bound to be aware of her reasons for summoning him. After my deliberations on the subject we discussed at the gathering this morning, I have granted the human the gift of the seed of light. And before you make any protests, Chancellor, I’m aware of the objections of the Council and took that into consideration.

With respect Your Highness, there are many including myself who believe this action will lead to disaster. The vast majority of the Council find it inappropriate to go against an age-old ruling.

Perhaps, Chancellor, but though my Council is there to advise me, as you are well aware, I have the final say. The hair on her neck rose, as she anticipated his objection. She got ready to stop him when she thought better of it. By allowing him his say, she would have a golden opportunity to put the Chancellor in his place.

Are you sure Your Highness, that you were not swayed because it was Romero who made this unprecedented request?

Phenomie glared at the Chancellor. She had been unprepared for such an ungallant accusation. With one act, he had managed to stoop a considerable amount lower in her opinion. You must have been sleeping before you became Chancellor, or you would know of my reputation for fairness. But as you are new to the job, I will overlook your comment this once. But let me remind you in case it has slipped your mind. She raised her voice few octaves to stress the point, fully aware that do so was an insult to a Guardian of his standing. I am High Priestess of the Council of Guardians and Defender of the Galactic Covenant. I will not have you or any other member of my Council question my motives. It is not your place to second-guess me, Chancellor. You are here to serve, so long as I hold office. She stood up and motioned him to rise. It was an effort to contain her contempt. Now leave me.

Chancellor Achoris’s face betrayed his distaste, but he stood, bowed, and quickly shuffled out of the room.

Chapter 3 – Enough

The door to 31 Clervaux Court lay ajar, and Sahara heard a soft-spoken voice called out from the hallway. Hi, folks! It's Carolyn.

Sahara jumped up. Flustered by the intrusion, she threw aside the white shirt she had been sewing a button onto and quickly walked towards the door. When she got there, her friend had already passed the living room door and was making her way towards the bedroom. She caught her by the arm. Carolyn turned and smiled. Sahara could tell from the sparkle in her eye she was up to something.

I hope you don’t mind me walking in. The door was open, she said coyly.

Don’t be silly. Come in, she said, and smiled back. She tried to sound breezy, What brings you to this neck of the woods? but her nervousness made her words sound muffled. So much so that she was worried Carolyn had not understood her. However, it was soon apparent that she had.

I’ve just been to see my brother, and I did say that I would pop in when I was passing.

She remembered her friend saying something along those lines months before but had not taken her seriously. People said that sort of thing all the time. It seemed Carolyn kept to her word. Come through. Nigel’s in this afternoon. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she led her friend towards the living room, wondering what she had up her sleeve.

Look who’s here, Sahara announced.

Nigel moved his muscular limbs from the sofa and jumped up when he saw the pretty girlfriend of his band member. He had been watching football on the television, his traditional Saturday afternoon pastime.

Carolyn, what a pleasant surprise.

Sahara almost choked at how false he sounded and noticed Carolyn’s attempt at a smile. Observing that her eyes revealed her true feelings and instead of meeting Nigel’s gaze, Carolyn looked around the room.

I love how you’ve done the place, you guys. It looks great. It’s so light and roomy.

Nigel bent forward to catch hold of the remote and switched the television off, an almost unprecedented occurrence, and before she could reply, he interjected, Thanks, hon. Take a seat.

He patted the sofa beside him. Ignoring his gesture Carolyn parked herself directly opposite.

I like to sit where I can see out of the window, she said, while bouncing softly on the seat. Is this sofa comfy or what? I seriously have to get a new one. My mum gave us her old sofas last year, but they've had it. To be honest, they were on their way out when we got them.

Would you like a cup of coffee? Sahara asked, almost as an afterthought. They seldom had guests. And when they did it was usually her Gran or Nigel’s family or on the odd occasion some stray fan of the band that Nigel brought home when his ego needed a boost.

Yes, thanks. White with no sugar, Carolyn said.

Nigel, what about you?

A lager, he replied without bothering to look at her.

As per usual, his manner suggested it was an order rather than a request and Carolyn visibly cringed. She made for the kitchen, hoping he had not picked up on her friend’s reaction. If he caught it, there would be no doubt who was at fault. He would accuse her of trying to poison Carolyn’s mind against him or something else as ridiculous. According to Nigel, every negative thing that happened to him was her fault.

While she made drinks, and grabbed a pack of chocolate biscuits, Carolyn remained in the living room with Nigel. She was keen to get back to them to find out what was going on, and hurriedly placed the refreshments on a small circular tray, and took them through. There was an awkward silence when she entered the room. Evidently, they had been discussing something she was not supposed to overhear. She placed the tray beside Carolyn. Help yourself, she said and sat down beside her.

Carolyn unclasped her hands that had been resting on her knees and leant forward. Don’t mind if I do, I’m famished.

I can make you a sandwich, she quickly interjected.

The biscuits will be fine, Carolyn replied, and picked up a biscuit.

As she nibbled surreptitiously at the edges, soft crumbs fell on the white tray. It was obvious that she did not make a habit of eating chocolate biscuits. There was another long pause in the conversation.

I can’t stay long, she offered to fill the silence. I have to meet Benji in half an hour at Lidget Green and the traffic’s hell at this time of day.

She and Benji, who wrote most of the music and lyrics and played guitar in the band, had been an item for nearly three years. They were always short of cash, but they were enviably happy. Your brother lives in Hunter’s Park, doesn’t he? Seeing the annoyed look on Nigel’s face that he always had when he was not the centre of attention, she turned to him. Isn’t he the guy with the gorgeous little boy with curly blonde hair and almond-shaped eyes?

Yes, Nigel responded begrudgingly.

She tried to avoid meeting his gaze fearing he would be angry with her because she had noticed Carolyn’s brother. Why had she said that?

Carolyn broke in, His little boy’s name is Adam. He's so cute. She pursed her lips as `she said the word cute,' as if she were about to kiss him. I want to have lots of kids. She paused and added, Well, eventually, that is.

Sahara sensed Carolyn’s embarrassment at her outburst. Her friend probably gave more away than she intended.

I was hoping you’d come to the gig with us tonight, Sahara. Lisa and Jen will be there, and it’s been ages since the whole gang got together.

I won’t be able to make it tonight, she replied flatly.

Nigel, tell her that she has to come to the gig, Carolyn pleaded.

It was an act. She could see straight through her. However, Nigel had other things on his mind and totally missed what she was up to. Carolyn wore a skimpy low cut top, and he was probably more interested in her generous cleavage than anything she had to say.

Carolyn was the original bubbly blonde. Barely five feet tall with a tiny frame. Carolyn’s daintiness sometimes made her feel clumsy. It also made men feel protective, and Carolyn was astute enough to use it to her advantage. However, Nigel refused to play ball.

She has something on tonight; isn’t that right Sahara?

Um yes, I’ve promised to visit my Gran. She forced out the words, and she could see from her face that Carolyn knew it was a lie.

Can’t you cancel it? Carolyn pleaded, Everyone’s going to be there. She leaned in to get eye contact with Nigel and caught the coffee cup and hot liquid spilled over the table. She jumped up and grabbed a serviette. I’m so sorry, she said apologetically. Let me clean it up, she offered while attempting to soak up the surplus at the edge of the table before it spilled on the carpet.

But just as Carolyn finished her sentence, she was already in the kitchen. So flustered, that she did not stop to thank Carolyn for her offer. She frantically grabbed several sheets of kitchen roll and was back in the living room in time to hear Nigel’s response.

Okay, I’ll talk her into it, he said, grinning at Carolyn as if he had done something incredibly clever.

She wanted to land a punch squarely on his nose. A desire she had more and more these days and that she sorely wished she had the courage to carry through. In her mind, she imagined blood spurting out of his perfect nose, and most satisfyingly the shock on his smug face. However, her daydream was swiftly interrupted by the shock of seeing Nigel grinning like a Cheshire cat and Carolyn with a smug look of accomplishment written on her face. You don’t have a clue. She looked so innocent, as if she was playing a game. But without realising it, Carolyn was playing with her life.

Nigel’s conceit made it easy for her friend to hide her repulsion, otherwise, he might not be looking so pleased with himself. Nigel might be blind to her feelings, but she had been aware since the first night they met. She had overheard an argument between Carolyn and Benji that left her with no illusion as to how Carolyn felt about Nigel.

How the hell can you stand being around Nigel, when you know what a bastard he is? Carolyn had yelled. I wouldn’t mind so much if he could sing, but he can’t hold a note and he murders your songs.

But she found out soon enough why the other band members tolerated Nigel. He brought in the crowds. Especially of the female variety. The girls loved him – at least the ones who did not know him. There was no denying that he was gorgeous. So good looking that even Carolyn, who loathed him, had acknowledged the fact on a few occasions after she had downed a few too many. When Nigel put on the charm, few could resist him.

She wished now that she had asked Carolyn why she disliked him so much. Though, by the time they met, she was so besotted that even if Carolyn had spilled the beans on Nigel, it was difficult to tell if she would have been willing to listen. She had ignored her inner voice that insisted Nigel was not all he seemed. The sense she trusted more than anything, or anyone. It had saved her life on more than one occasion.

Despite Carolyn’s good intentions, the damage had been done. Sahara's hands shook as she covered the spilled liquid with sheets of kitchen roll, cleaning up the mess while fighting back tears. Not because she cared about coffee stains on her carpet as she would have done a few months before. Nothing much seemed to matter that much to her now, other than avoiding upsetting Nigel. Or more to the point avoiding the beatings she received if he she did something that sparked that displeased him. Keeping her back towards them, she left the room with the wet sheets and threw them in the bin. She went over to the sink, splashed cold water on her face, patted it quickly with a towel and went back into the room. Carolyn was already on her feet and walked towards her and gave her a hug.

Sorry again, she murmured.

Don’t be silly, it was an accident. Sahara tried to laugh, but just like her attempt at brevity; instead, she made a weird squeaking sound that made her blush.

Carolyn looked at her knowingly and ploughed on regardless. Gotta go meet my man. See you folks at eight.

With that, she blew Nigel a kiss and turned towards the door. Sahara followed her out, too mortified to verse her objection, but hoping Carolyn would relent. However, Carolyn ignored her silent plea, and she accepted that she had no choice but to go.

She genuinely liked Carolyn. Her friend was fun to be with. In ordinary circumstances, a night out with her and the rest of the band’s girlfriends would be just what the doctor ordered. However, her relationship with Nigel was far from normal, and the choice had been made for her. Nigel had agreed, and if Nigel said yes then there was no more to be said. The consequences should he lose face in front of his fellow band member’s girlfriend would be severe. No matter what she did at this stage, she could not win.

Sahara dressed for the evening in a long black dress that covered every part of her body. She hated the drab and shapeless, outfits Nigel insisted she wore. At being forced to buy her clothes from catalogues to ensure his approval. The sight of her pre-Nigel clothes hanging in the wardrobe made her sigh aloud. She picked up the red dress she had worn to the works Christmas party the year before and stroked the soft chiffon fabric. Other than a few remnants that had survived from her former life, she disliked almost every item in her closet. However, she was unwilling to risk wearing an outfit that might not meet his approval. The mood would be set before they left the house. A few months ago, she had attempted to wear a lovely feminine low-backed dress, and he had quite literally ripped it off her back. He then grabbed some of her favourite clothes from the wardrobe and cut them into pieces. It was after that incident that the beatings began to get more frequent.

Her hand shook violently as she tried to apply a little make-up. Not too much, or that would be another transgression Nigel could use as an excuse to teach her a lesson. She stood up and examined her image in the full-length mirror. She hardly recognised the face that stared back at her. This new face was gaunt, the eyes dead. As if, her soul had shrunk back inside her. She tied her long hair in a jaw clip and let herself fall onto the dressing chair that belonged to her mother. While she caressed the luxurious light green velvet for one glorious moment, she was once again the little girl who sat on her mother’s lap in this chair while Lois brushed her long auburn hair.

Nigel glowered at her from the stage with an expression of sheer hatred. A look she had witnessed once too often and that filled her with fear and dread. Once or twice Carolyn caught the stare and glanced at her sympathetically. She cringed, knowing from experience that if Nigel noticed it would make matters worse. Mind your own business? She thought angrily. Hadn’t she done enough by forcing the situation on her? Nigel would interpret her attempt to help as an affront.

To keep detached from the other girls she had deliberately placed herself close to the wall at the side of the enormous fire. No one could stand behind her, and the large wooden table they sat around locked her in, making it difficult to approach from the front.

Are you okay, Sahara? You look like a scared rabbit huddled up in that corner, Carolyn asked while Lisa and Jen nodded and smiled, and then looked at each knowingly.

Infuriated, she transferred her anger to Carolyn. It was her fault, and she imagined the girls discussing the game plan for the evening beforehand. She felt humiliated and assumed they must consider her pathetic. I'm all right, she snapped though in reality that was the biggest lie of the day. Desperate was a more accurate description of how she was. A bit of a headache that’s all. I probably shouldn’t have come.

The knowing glances made it clear no one had fallen for her excuse, and she found their attempts to patronise her embarrassing. While logic told her that their concern was genuine, the knowledge failed to ease her discomfort. Why didn’t they get it? They couldn’t help her. The real problem was her. And the trouble was, she had no idea how to help herself.

Sahara, if something’s wrong, you can tell us, Jen pleaded.

Part of her longed to tell them about her miserable life with Nigel. It would be such a relief to get it out into the open. She recognised that the only thing she got from the relationship was pain and humiliation. All she ever thought about was finding a way to escape from him but how could she do that and survive? He would track her down, she was sure of it. She leant forward. Almost finding the courage, until a mixture of pride and fear took over. What if someone overheard her and told Nigel what she had said?

Instead of sharing, she became defensive. There’s nothing wrong, she said harshly. Just drop the subject. I’m a bit under the weather; that’s all. Angry and frustrated she pushed the table forward, and as she did so, she disturbed a few of the glasses that rested on the rough wooden surface. There was no harm done, but she could not have cared less. She glared at Carolyn and grabbed her handbag. Making it crystal clear to her friend that she should not follow her and then rushed towards the restroom.

As she passed the stage, Nigel’s eyes burnt into her back, she ignored him too and continued to push her way through the crowded bar. The shame at having allowed this to go on for so long added to her mortification, the thought of saying aloud ‘I’m a battered woman’ terrified her.

The usual barrage of insults began almost as soon as the front door of their flat closed behind them.

I saw you! he shouted. And don’t deny it. You and Rick Hawthorn. You were all over him like a rash.

She backed away from him, afraid. I didn’t speak to him, I only said ‘hello’. It would have been rude to ignore him.

So you admit it. You spoke to him. You said ‘hello’.

She stammered, Th-th-that's all. Just ‘hello’.

Liar. Do you think I’m blind? Or maybe stupid? He was drunk, and as he went to grab her, he staggered and fell sideways into the door. Who do you think you’re pushing? he hissed and lunging at her, proceeded to beat her upper body with his tightly clenched fists. He landed an especially hard blow on her stomach and she collapsed on the floor and doubled up in pain.

Please, don’t! she pleaded in between gasps. The last blow winded her so badly she found it difficult to breathe. Ignoring her plea, he reached down and grabbed hold of her hair, and as he pulled her across the floor, her body slammed into the door and furniture as she slid across the room. When they got close to the bed, he bent down, picked her up, and violently threw her onto it. Repeatedly beating her torso with his fists. Help, she screamed at the top of her voice, but as usual, no one came to her aid.

When Nigel suddenly stopped the frenzied attack, and stood up, she thought that the beating was over. Instead he glared down at her for a moment with a look of distaste, then kicked her battered body a few more times. There was so much pain; she was unable to tell how many further blows she endured. Just as she thought she was about to pass out he jumped from the bed and ran into the kitchen. Her heart sank when he returned moments later with a broom and resumed his former stance. She tried her best to ignore him as he poked her chest with the broom handle, but it hurt and she kept trying to push the handle away. At last he threw it to the ground.

Look at you, he hissed. I’m stuck with an ugly bitch like you. You ought to be grateful to have someone like me. But no...

She felt sickened by his arrogance, and the vehemence in his voice and his insults fed her growing contempt. She wanted to scream at him and ask him who the hell he thought he was. Instead, she kept very still. Not daring to meet his eye.

You want to go off with every man that looks your way. You’re pathetic. He stood for a while and stared at her menacingly, staggering on the mattress, and as he shifted his weight from one leg to another. You’re trying to make a fool out of me, and don’t think for one minute that I don’t know what you’re up to.

She lay quietly, curled up in a ball, trying hard to make as little noise as humanly possible. Shame and self-loathing engulfing her, despising herself at that point more than Nigel. If he thought she would want another man after this experience, he was stark raving mad. Nigel continued to stand on the bed, until after what felt like an eternity. She yelped as a kick landed in the small of her back. It sent a shooting pain up her spine; she bit down on her lip to stop the piercing scream that was building up inside of her. Knowing that any response enraged him.

A surge of relief overcame her when he jumped of the bed, that at last she heard the sound of his footsteps on the hallway and soon after the front door opening. Only after she heard the door slam shut behind him did she allow herself to moan. There was little