He picked the paper up from the table and read it again before setting it back down. He could see how Meaghan could interpret it the way she did. And the promise of hope would lure anyone into believing it applied to them. Hope had been elusive lately. But false hope was worse than having none at all, and he blamed Vivian for instilling that in Meaghan. Although Vivian had been a gifted seer, she had also continually failed in one area. She had never found it important to provide translations for her visions. She would write things or say things in the veiled way she received them, trusting that the person needing the message would understand it at the right time. It was too risky for his taste. It made more sense to make the message clear so there could be no ambiguity, no misinterpretation. Things were not always so obvious to everyone.
Things aren’t what they seem.
Parts of his last conversation with Vivian drifted across his mind. She had been right. She usually was. But something about it bothered him. He sat down at the table, staring at the paper as he tried to remember. Why did it feel so important?
Because sometimes she delivered prophecies in plain speak. Had she done that to him? He cleared his thoughts and focused.
They had talked about Meaghan and his attraction for her. She had known, and that had surprised him, but he had not had time to dwell on it. How long had she known? Perhaps longer than he had. She had told him to follow his heart, and he thought she had meant to ignore what he felt for Meaghan, but what if she had meant the opposite? What if she had meant this? She had said something else that had struck him as odd at the time. Something in the prophecy reminded him of it.
He frowned down at her handwriting. The conversation danced around the fringes of his mind, but he could not recall it. In anger, he pressed his hand over the paper, covering it, and then shoved it away. It slid off the table and fluttered to the floor, landing upright at his feet. Taunting him, he thought, and debated setting fire to it. It would disintegrate to ash in seconds, and then he would be done with it.
But he would be no closer to discovering its truth. He leaned down to retrieve it. As his fingers closed around the paper, a single word jumped from it, commanding his attention—strong. He crushed the paper in his fist, its presence forgotten as his mind latched on to the memory that had eluded him, on to the words she had spoken.
Sometimes you have to give in to weakness to become stronger.
He uncurled his fingers, and then smoothed the crumpled paper onto the table. “When the two houses that cannot be together join as one, they will become stronger,” he read, and understood what Vivian had been trying to tell him. He had to give in to his love for Meaghan for their mission to succeed. He did not know why. He did not know how. But he knew doing so had made Meaghan stronger. Meaghan’s interpretation of the first part of the prophecy had been correct. His mind had not tricked him. He had not lost his powers. He had only sensed what had happened to hers.
He stood and went outside to tell her. She sat on the top porch step, her arms wrapped around her knees as one hand stroked an overhanging branch from the raspberry bush. A flicker of light caught his attention from the trees and he paused, surprised by it before he sat down next to her.
“I could use some breakfast,” she said, letting go of the branch. “But it would take a miracle to get anything around here.” She turned to him. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Will they let us eat in your village before they take you away?”
“There’ll be a feast for my return, and for yours,” he promised, then slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “They won’t take me away from you, though. They’ll understand when we tell them. They won’t have a choice.”
“When we tell them what?” she asked, resting her head against his shoulder. “That we broke the law? That we took a risk which could cost your life?”
“No,” he said. “That Vivian predicted our wedding. You were right.”
She raised her head and stared at him. “You said it didn’t work.”
“I thought my sensing power wasn’t working because what I sensed from you was too strong. But I was wrong. You’re stronger now that we’re wed, and so am I. Look,” he pointed toward the trees. Sapphire crystals twinkled bright in the sunlight where white had hung the night before. “The color change means they’re infused with a stronger power. When they’re blue, we’re invisible. Someone has to know the cabin is here to use it. With white, anyone who needs it can find it. It takes the power of two strong Guardians to turn the crystals blue. I shouldn’t be able to do that on my own.”
She smiled. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and then stared over her shoulder, shocked when he saw the raspberry bush that had been close to death the night before. Meaghan tensed at his reaction, and jumped her feet.
“What is it?” she asked, turning to scan the woods. “Is it Mardróch? I don’t smell anything.”
He took her hand and pulled her back down. “We’re invisible,” he reminded her. “We’re safe.”
“Right.” She offered him a sheepish grin. “You looked scared.”
“I was surprised,” he told her. “It seems the second part of Vivian’s prophecy was literal.”
“What do you mean?”
“The world will be reborn,” he recited, placing his hands on Meaghan’s shoulders and turning her so she could see the raspberry bush beside the steps. The brown bush had turned green. Its branches now bore dozens of plump red berries. “It seems you have a new power. Shall we eat?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“I THINK it might be best if we don’t mention the wedding,” Nick said as they trekked through another thick forest. This one looked no different from the one that had welcomed them to Ærenden. As before, tall trees shaded them, only allowing sunlight to stream through the canopy in pale streaks. Birds rustled leaves as they passed overhead. Animals scurried away from them, their escape heard and never seen. And as Meaghan and Nick had in the first forest, they travelled during the day, using the canopy and overgrowth of the dense woods to cover their movements.
Meaghan knew they were nearing the end of their journey when Nick began coaching her on what to expect in the village. He reiterated that his mother looked identical to Vivian, and that Meaghan must be careful not to refer to Vivian as her mother. He told her the Elders would want an audience with her not long after she arrived, but he would ensure they allowed her time to change and shower, and perhaps eat a snack if she wanted. He would protect her in his own way, even from those who meant her no harm. And then he warned her about the wedding.
“I figured as much,” she responded. “And I’m assuming your affections will end as well?”
“My affections?”
The look of confusion on his face amused her into grinning. “Like when you hold me when I’m upset, or kiss my forehead or cheek,” she explained. “Or like now. You’re holding my hand.”
He looked down at their clasped hands and chuckled. “I hadn’t realized.”
“It must be automatic for you,” she said. “You used to do that on Earth, too.”
“Did I? Maybe Aunt Viv didn’t need to be a Seer to guess how I felt about you after all.” He turned his hand to slip his fingers between hers, squeezed, and then let go. “That will definitely have to stop or we’ll give ourselves away. I need to find the right time to explain things to the Elders if I want to avoid a trial.”
She nodded. “What else should I know?”
“Only that my village is larger than Neiszhe’s. It’s the primary Guardian village and one of the biggest villages in the kingdom. Most of the people will know who you are because they knew why I went to Earth.”
“I understand,” she said and then grimaced with a sudden sense of dread. “So there’ll be more bowing.”
“Some people will bow, mostly those who were too young to have known the royal family or those who are part of the royal guard, but most won’t. Most of the people in my village come from families who directly protected you
r family members. If we bowed all the time, we wouldn’t get much done.”
“That’s a relief,” she said and then considered the implication of his words. “I imagine if most of the Guardians in the village protected the royal family, they must be big targets for Garon.”
“They are,” Nick responded. “Garon destroyed the old village where he grew up, where we used to live, but the new village is protected with the strongest spell available. It took two dozen Guardians to enact it, and after almost fifteen years, it still holds. Garon hasn’t found us yet.” He stopped in front of a large boulder with a flat top that stretched several feet wide and nearly the same in width. Leaning down he examined a brown, scraggly plant at its base. The plant appeared to be losing its struggle against a thick matting of weeds.
“What is it?” Meaghan asked.
“Tamrin bush,” Nick answered. “Both its leaves and nuts are edible when it’s bearing.” He pulled one of the weeds from the earth and handed it to her. Its roots were twice as thick as the stem of the plant. “This is called grim weed. It twists its roots around the roots of other plants, choking them by cutting off their food source. The nearest I can tell, its sole purpose is to kill everything in its path. It’s slow growing, fortunately, but not good for the vegetation if it goes unchecked.”
“Handy,” Meaghan responded and tossed the plant aside, “if you want to destroy entire forests. We have plants that do similar things on Earth. Is it natural?”
“No. It’s another one of Garon’s inventions. He has a Gardener in his ranks.” Nick leaned down to pick up the weed Meaghan had discarded and threw it on top of the boulder. “They reroot,” he told her. “We’ll have to burn it. Let’s pull the rest so it doesn’t spread.”
“Is a fire safe?”
“It’s dense enough in this part of the woods that a small fire will go unnoticed. We won’t have to keep it lit for long to do the job.”
“That works for me,” she said and then bent down to help him, tearing weeds from the ground in large clumps. “What’s a Gardener?” she asked. “Is it anything like it sounds?”
“In a way.” He tossed more weeds onto the rock. “A Gardener works with plants, helps them grow, and has the ability to create new species through cross-pollinating, similar to what you’re probably used to, but it’s all done using a power.”
She laughed. “Of course. What else would it be?” Standing, she dropped the weeds she had collected onto the rock. “So this plant was created through magical mutation?”
“Basically,” he responded. He pulled the last of the weeds and tossed them on top of the others, then added dried leaves he gathered from a pile at his feet. After dropping the backpack to the ground, he fished a box of matches from it, then struck one on the rock, and touched it to the weeds. The green plants only smoked at first, sending tendrils of gray into the sky, but when Nick leaned down close to them, blowing a steady breath into the pile, the fire took. As the water within the weeds boiled, the plants exploded, giving off satisfying pops and turning the smoke into thick black clouds.
Meaghan watched the fire destroy Garon’s vile creation, felt a surge of vindication, and then crouched to examine the weeds’ victim. Though she doubted the tamrin bush would live much longer, she saw streaks of green fighting their way through the deepening brown and knew it had life left in it still. Her mind went back to the raspberry bush from this morning and she reached out a hand to touch one of the tamrin bush’s branches. She waited a minute, but nothing happened.
Another power she could not control, she thought with frustration, and started to stand, but stopped when Nick placed a hand on her shoulder. She had been so focused on the bush she had not realized he had crouched down beside her.
“You don’t know how to do it, do you?” he asked.
She shook her head and then felt dread build again. “What will I do if I can’t figure out how to control my powers?” she asked. “You said your village is larger. How will I handle so many emotions if I can’t figure this out?”
“Let’s take one thing at a time,” he said and laid a palm against her cheek. “Until you can control your empathic ability, we’ll figure out a way to ensure we don’t go too far from each other. If you stay focused on my power, you’ll be okay. As far as this new power, it may be stronger, but it should be easier to control since it’s dormant.”
“Dormant?”
“Not active all the time like your empath power,” he explained. “It seems counterintuitive, but a power you access for a particular purpose is easier to control than one that’s always working. Because it’s constant, it’s hard to know where your power stops and you begin.”
She did not respond. She turned her attention back to the bush, touching it, and he drew his hand to her back.
“My blocking power was the first thing I learned to control,” he told her. “It drove my mother crazy because I would use it to keep her from finding me, particularly when she had chores for me to do.” Meaghan smiled, amused, and he moved his hand to the back of her neck. “My ability to sense danger was harder to control. It’s active all the time and though it’s not usually something I want to subdue, there are times when it’s important to do so, like when I’m in battle. Since the danger is everywhere, it inundates me. The power becomes overwhelming and drains my energy.”
“Like mine does,” Meaghan said.
“Exactly. Guardians learn how to mute their powers around the age of ten, once they’ve had time to understand how to manipulate their other powers. Even with practice, it’s difficult to learn.”
“But I don’t have ten years to learn how to do it,” she protested. “There has to be a quicker way.”
“It won’t take you long,” he promised. “But you won’t be able to do it overnight, either. Give yourself time and focus on learning your new power for now. That will help.”
She blew out a heavy breath to ease her tension and nodded, conceding. “So what do I do?”
“Start by telling me what you felt when you made the raspberry bush grow.”
She took a minute to consider before responding. “I was upset, mostly. I thought I had done something that would get you killed. And I was angry.”
“What else?”
“I was hungry, which is why I thought of the bush. Otherwise, I would have left it alone. And I felt warm.”
“Warm? It’s been cold for days.” He drew his brows together and then his eyes widened in understanding. “You felt warmth,” he realized, “after we were wed.”
“Yes.” She turned to study him. “I assumed it was residual from being wed because I felt it first right before the colors started, and it hasn’t been as strong today as it was yesterday.”
“It’s from the wedding and it’s not,” he said. “What you feel is a concentration of energy. And you feel it less today because your body is growing used to it, not because it’s fading.”
“What is it?”
He placed his hand on her chest, to the right of her heart. “You feel it emanating from here, right?” She nodded. “It’s power, Meg. It’s a part of you and you’ve always had it, which is probably why you never noticed it until it changed. Close your eyes for a minute and focus on it.”
She closed her eyes and then hesitated, reopening them. “I don’t know how.”
“Here,” he drew her down to a sitting position and sat facing her. “Do what I do,” he told her. “Take in a breath and hold it.”
She watched his chest rise, nearly overinflate, and she mimicked him.
“Now close your eyes and focus on exhaling slowly.” She did and waited. “Inhale again and hold it,” he instructed. When her breath had filled her lungs, he touched two fingers to her chest at the point where she felt the most pressure from holding her breath. “Focus here,” he told her. She directed her attention to his fingers, to the sensation of them pressing into her body, and then to her aching lungs as they begged for release. To her surprise, she also felt something
else, something warm and radiating. She smiled and released her breath, pleased to discover she could still focus on the warmth.
“You have it?” Nick asked.
“Yes.”
“Keep your eyes closed for now, and give me your hand.”
Meaghan did as he asked, extending her hand toward his voice. He took her hand in his and then drew it down to her lap. He turned her hand so her palm faced up, and then she felt something rough against it. A branch of the bush, she realized when she closed her fingers around brittle leaves.
“This next part may be difficult to understand,” he said. “But try to relax and do it anyway. It should be instinctive, even though you didn’t grow up here.”
“All right.” Though curiosity nearly had her opening her eyes, she remained as she was, tranquil and focused on the warmth. “What next?”
“Send your power to the plant. Exhale it, like you did with your breath.”
She frowned, certain what he had instructed could not be possible. Breathing was a physical thing, born to her, and this seemed more abstract. Still, she had agreed to try it, so she willed her doubt away and concentrated harder on her power, commanding it to move. Nothing happened at first, but then it slid. She took in a deep breath, held it, and expelled it again. Then she pictured drawing the warmth across her body and into her hand. When it shifted and did as she pictured, spreading through her and then setting fire to her palm, she gasped. She let go of the plant as her eyes flew open.
Nick grinned, dropping his guard so she could sense his joy. “You did it,” he told her, leaning between them to press his lips to hers. “Look at the bush.”
She turned her head, amazed to see the plant changing in front of her. It dropped its dry, dead leaves, replacing them with velvet green foliage streaked in orange. It grew, rising from the ground and lifting wilted limbs into the sky as it thickened into a dense bush as large as the raspberry bush by the cabin. When it appeared healthy and full, it sprouted long, thin nuts the size of one of Meaghan’s fingers.
Aerenden The Child Returns Page 22