“Somehow, I can’t see fruit being as satisfying as pie,” she remarked with a grin. “Do you really expect me to guess the kingdom’s name? I’ll never get close. I’m sure it’s some word I’ve never heard of, like Amberkassiland.”
“What did you say?” Nick turned, walking backward so he could face her. “How did you know?”
Her eyes grew wide at first, and then she tossed a berry at him. He chuckled, ducking to allow the bright fruit to sail over his head.
“I don’t want to waste my time guessing. I have more questions.”
“I’m sure you do,” he continued to tease as he faced forward again. “You’re like a one-woman Jeopardy game show.”
She stifled a laugh and slipped another berry past her lips. “So what is it?”
“Ærenden.”
“Ærenden,” she tested the word. “That’s nice.”
“We think so,” he responded. “It’s nicer than the names the people of Earth come up with. Like the United States. You can’t get more boring than that.”
“Hey,” she started to protest, and then stopped, huffing out a breath when she realized he was still teasing her. “Nice. You’re in a good mood today.”
“I guess I am.” Adjusting the backpack on his shoulders, he relaxed a little more as the trees surrounding them turned into denser forest. Although it was not as dense as he preferred, it meant they were getting closer to his village and to home. His excitement grew. “What’s your next question?”
“I was wondering why your power worked for me,” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but it doesn’t make any sense. I can’t use anyone else’s power, right?”
“Right.” They approached a curtain of vines and he stopped to pick up a stick, tapping on the tendrils, then moving forward when the vines did not react. “To be honest, we don’t know much about your power. It hasn’t shown up in several generations, but history tells us Empaths have always been born within a few years of a blocking power, and they’ve always been able to tap into that power.”
“How? Powers aren’t emotions, and I can’t sense them like you do. I’ve tried.”
He chuckled. “I had no doubt you would. There are a few theories, but only two I think might be plausible.”
“Which are?”
“The first is it’s meant to be.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a cop out.”
“Perhaps, but powers have a way of balancing themselves, even if the reasons aren’t always apparent. The second theory is when my power blocks you from sensing me, it does so by mimicking an emotion, one that’s louder than my other emotions.”
“You mean like white noise drowns out other sounds?”
“Exactly.”
“So when I focus on it, it overruns the other emotions I sense, provided those emotions aren’t too strong. I noticed in Neiszhe’s village that the emotions were dulled when I focused on your power, but when it was only Cal in the cave, I couldn’t sense his emotions at all.”
“That would lend to the theory,” Nick said. “But the two theories can work together. Traditionally, our powers are born to children within the same village, which supports the balance theory.”
“That makes sense,” Meaghan decided, and continued to her next question. “How does the Spellmaster power work? Spells here don’t appear to be anything like we portray in fiction on Earth.”
“You mean where everyone with a power can perform a spell?” he asked. She nodded. “That isn’t entirely untrue. Everyone with a power can invoke a spell, but only Spellmasters can create or alter spells. To do so, they focus on their power, speak in rhyme, and their words come true.”
“So how are other people able to use the spells?”
“Spellmasters write them down. When they do, they infuse some of their power into the spell and the spell can then be used by whoever knows it, even after the Spellmaster’s death. It’s a complicated process. They lose some power each time they do it, but since their power grows stronger each year, it doesn’t hurt them.”
“So if Caide wanted to write a spell now, he could, and I would be able to recite it?”
“No, you wouldn’t. You don’t have enough control over your power yet to recite a spell. Even if you did, Caide isn’t old enough to write one. Spellmasters begin training with verbal spells and move to written spells as they grow older. They also develop the capability of writing more complex spells as their power gets stronger.”
“Like the Mardróch spell?”
“Precisely. Caide won’t have enough power to create that type of spell until he’s at least fifty. The Spellmaster who wrote it was fifty-six, and it took half a dozen people with strong powers to recite it.”
A small rodent scurried across Meaghan’s path and she stopped to watch it. Nick lagged behind, waiting for her. The animal looked similar to a squirrel, but it had a thin tail, no thicker than Nick’s little finger, and stripes like a tiger’s.
“That’s a panthmouse,” he told Meaghan after it had disappeared. “It’s harmless unless you’re a worm. That’s all it eats.”
She nodded, increasing their pace again. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean about needing power to recite a spell,” she said. “If the power comes from the Spellmaster, why does it matter who’s reciting it?”
“It matters because the power reciting the spell has to be equal to the power the Spellmaster used to create it. The Spellmaster gives words power when he writes them down, but the people reciting them make them alive in the world. Some spells can even vary in the power needed to recite them, if they’re written with that intent.”
“I see,” Meaghan said, though the wrinkles between her brows told Nick some confusion remained.
He tried again. “Think of it as a two-part process that has its own fail-safe. This way a group has to perform the strongest and most destructive spells. It ensures that at least some thought goes into using the spell. It also helps us to understand how many people it took to enact a spell.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he paused as he thought of an example. “Let’s look at the spell we use to protect our villages, the one which makes them invisible to those who aren’t invited. Depending on the size of the village, the amount of power needed to make the spell work will increase. Neiszhe’s village would have taken eight strong Guardians to enact the spell. The smallest use of the spell takes four people, maybe three if you have someone reciting it like Cal, whose power over the elements is one of the stronger ones.”
“Three?” she asked. “If that’s the minimum, then that means someone else knows about Faillen and his family.”
“Correct,” Nick confirmed.
“Doesn’t that mean they could be in danger?”
“Not necessarily,” he responded. “I know Cal. He would’ve asked Delvin to help and a third Guardian he trusted to keep his secret, even from the Elders. He would not tell Faillen about that person because he would not want to concern him. But it would make sense for someone else to know in case something happened to Cal. It’s redundant protection.”
“And you know who the third person is,” she guessed.
“There are only two Guardians Cal would trust for this. Neiszhe, of course, and my mother. I doubt he would want to lay that responsibility on his wife, which leaves Mom. I’ll confirm that with her when we arrive in my village.”
“That makes sense,” Meaghan decided. “And I think I understand how the Spellmaster power works now, but I have one more question about it.”
“What’s that?”
“Since the Spellmasters can create spells that take an accumulation of powers to perform, does that make them the most powerful people?”
“Once their powers have developed enough, yes. That usually happens in their thirties or forties, depending on what age their power surfaced. There used to be stronger powers, but they’ve gone extinct, such as the powers to transform into animals or objects.”
“I see.�
�� They exited the trees, stepping into another field that ran along the side of a ravine, and Meaghan lowered her voice. “So Aldin will be stronger than his brother at the same age?”
Nick nodded. “Most likely. Since Aldin has developed his power already, he should be as powerful as a Spellmaster in his thirties by the time he’s twenty.”
“But he won’t be able to help us stop the Mardróch. Neither of them will.”
“No, they won’t.” Nick put a hand on her arm and halted them both. The disappointment on her face tugged at him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “I thought I’d figured out how I was supposed to stop this war. I guess I was wrong.”
He took a step closer, drawing his hand to her shoulder. “No one said you had to stop the war,” he told her. “Not alone anyway.”
“But you said—” she began and then shook her head.
“I said,” he prompted.
“I was the Queen.”
“I never said you had to stop the war.”
“But I,” she faltered, and then her cheeks flared red. “Isn’t that what rulers do? Don’t they start and stop wars and keep their people safe?”
“Of course,” Nick answered. “But they only do it alone if they want to go insane. It’s no wonder you’ve been so scared.” He squeezed her shoulder, then dropped his hand and smiled. “Meg, a good leader knows how to surround herself with people who can get things done. Do you realize Guardians are here to help you, not just to protect you? We study tactical planning and fighting as well as defense and protection. You also have advisors and powerful people who are ready to aid you, to teach you, and to follow. As far as the Mardróch,” he placed a finger under her chin and lifted it, bringing her eyes to his. “We’ve been looking for a solution to that problem for a long time. No one expects you to step in and solve it in a week when we haven’t been able to do it in more than a decade.”
“I guess I didn’t think about it that way,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize—”
A loud whistle echoed from the canyon, startling them both. Before they had a chance to figure out what had made the noise, a light appeared in the sky overhead. Then, it exploded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“GET DOWN,” Nick yelled, though his voice came across distant, muffled by the sound of ringing in Meaghan’s ears. She did not know if he had tackled her or if the impact of the explosion had knocked her to the ground, but she struggled against loose dirt and her own shaky arms as she tried to push back up. Keeping her eyes focused on the trees, she could only think about getting to her feet and running toward safety.
“Stay down!” Nick insisted when she managed to rise to her hands and knees. She continued to struggle, and he pulled her arms out from under her. Her chin knocked against his arm instead of the ground when he softened her fall, but the impact still sent bolts of pain through her head. She rolled onto her back, seeing stars, and she could not tell if they came from the night sky or if they had developed in her vision.
Nick stretched an arm across her stomach, stiffening it to keep her from moving again. She turned her head to look at him. A trickle of blood streamed down the side of his face. He whispered to her, or rather, he sounded as if he spoke underwater. His lips moved again, their efforts lost to her, and then he understood. He pressed his mouth to her ear. This time his voice pushed through the ringing.
“I think there’s a battle,” he said.
“Where?” she asked, though he seemed to hear her as well as she heard him. He lowered his ear to her lips, waited for her to repeat her question, and then dropped his mouth to the side of her head again.
“In the ravine. Unfortunately, we need to go down there to get home. I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
He crawled to the edge of the ravine. Bracing his head on his folded arms, he peered over the side. Without waiting for invitation or permission, Meaghan followed, mimicking his movements.
He looked at her and frowned, but instead of lecturing her or trying to make her retreat, he cast an arm over her back. In part, she realized, to keep her from jumping up and in part because the position made it easier for him to whisper in her ear.
“Keep your eyes on me for a minute,” he told her.
Although she had yet to look into the ravine, and curiosity begged her to see what took place below them, she did as he asked.
“This isn’t fiction,” he told her. “It doesn’t resemble anything you’ve seen on television or in movies,” he pulled back so he could look at her. The concern on his face touched and scared her at the same time. “It’s real.” Though she could not hear his last two words, she could read them well enough on his lips. She nodded. He dropped his mouth to her ear again.
“If you decide to look, what you see will change your life. It will change you. You don’t have to do this, though. We can wait until the battle ends to go down into the ravine. We’ll be safer and then you can avoid seeing it altogether.”
“How long does a battle usually last?” she asked.
“Days sometimes. It depends if the armies can get supplies and the strength of the powers involved. If they’re not evenly matched, it will be over in a matter of hours.”
Days, she thought, and shook her head. Days did not seem like an option for them. She did not want to remain unprotected for so long. But something more tugged at her decision. She raised her head, turning it enough so she could look into Nick’s eyes, but still hear him, and he could still hear her. “Is this what it’s like for the people in this kingdom? Do these battles happen often?”
“Not every day,” he answered. “But the war continues and as Garon tries to capture more villages, we fight back.”
“Then I need to see,” she decided. “I can’t hide from what’s happening because it’s not easy to deal with. Not if it will help me understand what it’s like to live here.”
His eyes darkened, but he allowed her to feel his pride in her decision and it touched a brief smile to her face before she turned to look down into the ravine. Its floor sprawled for miles to the left and right, though it was only a few hundred feet wide. Boulders scattered among the patches of grass and bushes hinted that a river once flowed through this area. People fought among those boulders, sometimes using them as a shield against weapons, and she pushed back a few inches, afraid someone would see her.
Despite what Nick had said, the battle seemed fake to her. She could not tell the difference between her allies and her enemies. Some fell. Some ran. Others tossed objects at each other. They scurried back and forth, no more than ants from the height of her perch. But then she began pulling apart details as she focused on them. The Mardróch’s cloaks flew behind them while they chased their prey. Lightning bolts cascaded from their hands, disintegrating bushes and rocks on contact, and sometimes even those they chased. Meaghan watched one man trip and fall in his attempt to escape. Before he could jump to his feet again, a lightning bolt found him.
Closing her eyes, Meaghan pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out, and then forced her eyes back open.
At least a hundred people fought in the ravine and though the Mardróch only accounted for a few dozen of them, the battle raged in sections where no Mardróch fought. A woman tossed rocks at a man, using only her mind. In return, he commanded small animals to scurry around her, clawing and biting. Two men tossed fireballs at each other, while another woman tagged people, turning them into stone. A white orb whistled toward the woman, then exploded at her feet. The stone statues reverted to flesh. Some fell to the ground, dead, while others kept moving.
Nick followed her line of sight and took her hand in his. “Most powers die with their hosts,” he told her. “So her victims reverted back to flesh.”
“Why did some of them live, but others didn’t?”
“They aren’t turned to solid stone,” he answered. “They’re encased in it, so they suffocate. Those who are turned back in time will survive.”
> Numbness gripped Meaghan and her eyes found the battle again. “It’s not only the Mardróch,” she said. “Garon has men and women fighting for him.”
“Yes,” Nick confirmed. “The Mardróch spell only works on Guardians. Others have chosen to support Garon for one reason or another, and they fight for him.”
“Everyone looks the same. If you’re fighting, how can you tell who your enemies are?”
“Sometimes you can’t. Sometimes you have to guess.” Nick looked away, but she caught the shadows haunting his eyes. “We should go.”
Nick crawled backward and she put her hand on his arm to stop him. She needed to do one more thing before they left. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve, then fixed her gaze on the ravine.
She had felt little from the battle while she held Nick’s power, and she had hoped the distance separating them from the fighting would help dull the emotions coming from the battle. But once she removed her focus from Nick, all hope dissolved. The Mardróch’s scent accosted her first. The putrid smell of rotting peat blended with sulfur and somehow she associated the mix with excitement. It rocked her stomach, but she held firm.
Until the human emotions came. Fear and distress approached in waves, drowning her. Exhilaration, satisfaction, and pride bubbled to the surface next and Meaghan understood the emotions came from those who were winning their fights, though the realization came sluggish through the onslaught. Panic met strength. Guilt and shame bordered horror. Hatred bled into anger. And confidence shattered into despair.
Different emotions came from different directions, but the worst emotion—the one ripping through every fiber of her body—came from everywhere. Pain throbbed in her muscles. It ached in her head. It seared her lungs, burned quick through her blood like a starving fire. And when death marched upon those who were injured and helpless, it clawed at her soul, ripping with fine-needled talons that shredded and pierced her mind, tearing apart her sanity.
She tightened her jaw to keep from screaming, felt her stomach pitch, and flipped away from the edge of the ravine in time to release the remains of her breakfast onto the ground at her side.
Aerenden The Child Returns Page 18