“It happened the year of the great surge,” he said. “Barbarians flooded these parts from the north, using arrows to fell the innocent in an attempt to steal our lands.” He turned and grinned at Faillen. “I'm sure everyone knows who I mean.”
Faillen rolled his eyes in response. “Funny,” he said. “I thought you were the barbarians.”
Eudor laughed. “That might be closer to the truth,” he said before drawing a long breath from his pipe. Turning serious again, he continued his story, pointing the pipe in Faillen's direction. “These dark-skinned foes angered the magic of the lands, bringing chaos to the natural order of things. Diseases lay entire families to their beds, turning their skin into feverish pools of sweat, and transforming even the smartest of men into babbling fools. Some spoke in riddles, warning all who would listen of dark days to come, delivering prophecies without a Seer's gift, and harvesting nighttime visions without a Dreamer's power. Their words frightened many, turning the bravest adults into cowering children inside their homes. But no warning wrought fear more than the prediction of the ghouls' return.”
Eudor clamped his teeth down on the stem of his pipe. He took another deep draw from it, its slow hiss the only sound filling the air. Meaghan did not think anyone else was even breathing.
“Ghouls began their existence as four-legged animals in the mountains surrounding Gormand's Gorge. Long and muscular, with cat-like features and large paws filled with sharp claws, they resemble the razor beasts that fed us tonight. At least they do in their youth. Full-grown, they can stand on their hind legs and tower over an adult man, weighing equally as much as a man weighs. Their fur hides sharp bristles. Their teeth resemble four rows of razors. And their roar can be heard for miles, inciting terror among all within its range. No man can outrun them. They're the fastest animals alive. They're also some of the smartest. They hunt in packs, devising plans that send their prey into elaborate traps.
“Despite these skills, they're still no more than basic animals, born to their instincts as cubs. They hunt with the cool calculations of animals, and they remain slaves to their hunger in the same beastly way. But that's where the comparison ends.
“Early in Ærenden's history, the first ghoul pack discovered the Fountain of Eternal Magic. Any human who drinks from this fountain becomes invincible, and any animal that slips its tongue into the cool waters harnesses the power of the land. Even without the knowledge and powers given to them by the fountain, ghouls were not beasts to ignore. With it, no human stood a chance against them. The ghouls overran the land, swallowing children as midnight snacks, and using adults as toys, chasing them for days and torturing them until they finally became living feasts. Thus the ghouls plunged Ærenden's northern territory into its darkest days. No one was safe. Packs of these creatures destroyed entire villages, or worse, forced villagers to live their lives as recluses, afraid to set foot beyond the threshold of the four wooden walls that kept them safe. All seemed lost. Even those with the strongest magic found their deaths at the unyielding claws of these relentless monsters.”
He paused for effect, and then glanced toward the distant peaks of the three mountains where the first ghouls had been born. Seven pairs of eyes followed his lead. Silence stretched on until Meaghan could not suffer it any longer. She brought her attention back to Eudor's stone still face.
“How did they defeat the ghouls?” she asked.
Eudor's eyes met hers. A smile danced along his lips. “The villagers had the fortune of living during the time of Zeyed.”
Talea gasped. The men nodded in understanding. The reverence and awe attached to the name only confused Meaghan. Eudor winked at her.
“Zeyed was the first great Spellmaster,” he told her. “I heard you visited his house once.”
“Oh,” she said in response, both confession and recognition heavy in the word. The spells lining Zeyed's ancient residence not only served as testament to his greatness but to the overwhelming strength of his power.
“The time of the ghouls came many years after the ocean receded,” Eudor continued. “Zeyed lived to an unnatural age. Some say he lived well past his three hundredth birthday, leading to rumors he had also drunk from the fountain, but his death disproved those rumors. It's more likely his wife, a Potions Master well before that power evolved into being a part of the Healers' powers, concocted a potion that allowed him to remain alive much longer than nature intended. The fact she lived to be nearly the same age tends to back that theory.”
Eudor turned his pipe over in his hand, and then tapped it to empty the bowl of ash. “Once word of the ghouls reached Zeyed, he wrote a spell to stop them. Since the power of the fountain prevented him from killing them, he figured out a way to trap them instead. It took one hundred of the strongest men to enact the spell, but once it was done, the people of Ærenden were saved.” Reaching two fingers into a pouch at his waist, he pinched brown leaves from it, and refilled the bowl of his pipe. He tamped it down with the tip of his smallest finger. “They were saved until the Zeiihbuans freed the ghouls, anyway.”
Faillen coughed to cover a chuckle. “And how do you suppose we did that?”
“By invading, of course,” Eudor answered. “As I recall saying, your non-magical ways disrupted the balance of our lands, upsetting the spell that Zeyed cast so many long years ago.”
“Of course,” Faillen responded. “I don't know why I didn't think of that. Oh wait, maybe it's because we didn't invade first.”
Eudor waved his hand through the air. “Details are so unimportant. All that matters is the ghouls returned.”
“Razor beasts aren't exactly ghouls,” Faillen corrected him.
“Details,” Eudor said again, grinning, then turned to pin Meaghan with a steady eye. His grin faded. “A first-hand witness told me he saw the ghouls arrive. He was a young boy at the time and had taken to the habit of climbing trees to sleep at night. That habit saved his life when the ghouls destroyed his village. Only a river of blood remained of his old friends and family, flowing through the streets and pooling on the floors of the vacant houses.”
Meaghan shuddered. “But if Zeyed got rid of them, how did they return?”
“He stopped them by entrapping them in the moonlight.” He gestured toward the moon that hung low and full above their heads. “The boy said that when the dark-skinned men from the north showed, the ghouls fell down from the moon like rain. They dispersed on all fours with a cackling howl that turned his blood to ice in his veins. It was a full year before he felt warm again.”
“So what entrapped them again?” Talea asked. “Was it the treaty between Ærenden and Zeiihbu that drove them back into the moonlight?”
“They would not be so easily recaptured,” Eudor told her. “It took another hundred men with strong powers and Zeyed's original spell to imprison them again. Sadly, the spell has since been lost, so we can only hope the balance always remains. If the ghouls return, there'll be no stopping them.” He turned in a slow circle, meeting the gaze of everyone around the fire and ending at Artair. “During the Zeiihbu War, your father stayed in a village that faced a ghoul pack and survived. The Head of the village said the ghouls appeared in the daylight as large cats with red eyes, but by the rise of the moon, they transformed into something more gruesome.”
“How can that be?” Artair asked. “Are you saying ghouls turn into razor beasts during the day?”
“It's a possibility,” Eudor answered. “Maybe the moonlight still maintains some control over them.” Removing a match from a pocket inside his cloak, he bent down to strike it on a boulder, and then lit his pipe. “It seems to be the only logical explanation.”
“Logical?” Talis scoffed. “Hardly. I have to agree with Faillen. The razor beasts are no more than cats that overactive imaginations turned into far-fetched tales.”
“Perhaps,” Eudor responded with an arched eyebrow. “But perhaps not. Those same tales tell us that if the ghouls ever return, we'll know it by the full moon. I
t seems their habitation of the moonlight over the years has helped them master it. They travel upon it. The villagers say the hunted will know their fates by the red eyes appearing bodiless on the moonlight.”
“That's ridiculous,” Talis said. “You tell a good story, but it's no more than—”
A piercing howl cut off his words only moments before a hundred red eyes surrounded them, their eerie glow dancing on the chill of the night air.
CHAPTER FIVE
“GET BEHIND me!” Artair commanded. Jumping from the log, he pulled Talea up with him, shoving her toward the fire and away from the closest set of eyes. An electrical orb crackled to life in his hands. He raised it, then hesitated. The howling continued, but the cats had yet to materialize. A set of eyes flew toward him and he launched the orb through the air. Just short of making contact, the eyes disappeared. The orb hit a tree, exploding bark upward and sending wood splinters into the ground.
Another orb formed at Artair's fingertips. Howls swelled around them, overwhelming all other sounds and more red eyes appeared. They advanced and Artair threw the second orb harder than his first, aiming for a cluster of eyes to his left. The eyes blinked, and then dissolved into black. Artair's orb sailed through the air, but instead of hitting the closest tree, a gust of wind sent it backwards, retracing its trail. It zigzagged, chasing the disappearing and reappearing eyes as the wind changed direction in pursuit. Talis stepped into Meaghan's line of sight, flicked his hand toward another orb, and she realized he had been the source of the wind.
Meaghan pulled two of her knives from her belt and scanned the woods for a way they could escape, but found nothing except trees and red eyes surrounding their small clearing. Talea stood by the fire, her hands held in front of her, but without a solid target, she could not use her power. Meaghan remembered all too well the torture Talea had inflicted on Garon's army and appreciated Talea's caution. Accidentally melting the wrong person's brains would not help their chances of winning this fight.
Cal drew up beside her, but instead of brandishing a weapon as she had expected, he tucked his hands into his pockets. Irritation stiffened his face as he stared at something over her shoulder. She followed his gaze and saw Eudor and Malaki standing at the edge of camp, the clear source of Cal's annoyance, though she did not understand why.
High-pitched cackling sliced through the howling, and then dissolved into menacing laughter. An odd tingling crept up the back of Meaghan's neck, mimicking a dull headache, and she raised her hand to it. When Eudor grinned at her, she understood what had happened and snapped.
“Enough!”
His grin dissolved. “But—”
“We have plenty of real enemies lurking around without you creating new ones for entertainment. It's not funny.”
“But,” he tried again, and then looked away when she drew up to her full height and crossed her arms over her chest. The howling abruptly stopped, and with it, the red eyes and tingling sensation disappeared. “I'm sorry,” he said. “That honestly didn't occur to me. I guess I wasn't thinking.”
“I should say not,” Cal muttered. He looked ready to deliver a lecture, but Meaghan held up her hand and he nodded. She could sense Eudor's embarrassment well enough and she understood he had not truly meant any harm. She doubted he would repeat the trick.
She also felt strong confusion emanating from the trio standing on the other side of the fire. Their tension and fear pulled on her power and she opted to silence it for now. She passed a hand across her forehead and sat back down.
“What happened?” Talea asked. “Where are the ghouls?”
“They're gone,” Artair answered. The orb hovering over his hand shrank to the size of a softball. He trailed his eyes toward Meaghan and then Eudor. “How did—”
“You!” Talis barked, cutting off Artair's confusion. “You did this!” He raised a hand, shoving it forward, and a gust of wind barreled across the ground, scattering sparks from the fire as it passed. When it reached Eudor, it knocked him off his feet. Eudor struggled to his knees as the wind continued to assault him, but he did not stand again. Talis lifted his other hand. The wind retreated from Eudor to join a new gust of wind in front of Talis. It whipped dirt and leaves into the shape of a wall, and then formed into a funnel. Talis advanced on Eudor. “Do you think it's funny to use your power on us?” he asked. “Well it goes both ways. Let's see how well you like it when—”
“Don't take another step, Talis,” Cal warned, his voice calm but firm. “Control your temper.”
Talis stopped advancing, but his small tornado continued to spin. “Eudor needs to be taught a lesson,” he said. “He has no right to—”
“I said stop!” Cal clapped his hands together, and then threw them apart. The tornado exploded outward, showering its contents across the campground before the wind died. “Do not forget who's stronger,” he snapped at Talis. “And do not forget who you report to. If there's a lesson to be taught, I'll teach it. Do you understand?”
Cal raised his hands again, directing them toward Talis and the implied threat was not lost on Meaghan. Talis would be the recipient of the next batch of wind. He took a step backward, and nodded.
“Good, then let's put this behind us. For those of you who don't know, Eudor is a Hallucinatory. He tends to use his power to make people see and hear things when he's telling a story. The ghouls weren't real. They were a prank,” he glared at Eudor, “performed with poor judgment.”
Eudor climbed to his feet. He offered the group a half-smile. “I'm afraid that's true. I find my power adds drama to my stories.”
“Skip it from now on,” Cal instructed. He did not wait for Eudor to respond before he turned his focus back to the group. “Let's turn in for the night. The ghouls may be fictional, but the razor beasts are still real so we'll stand guard in pairs. Who wants the first shift?”
“I'll take it,” Meaghan told him. “I doubt I'll sleep much tonight anyway.”
“Okay,” Cal agreed. “Who else?”
“I'll sit with her,” Artair offered.
Cal shook his head. “You need to test the plant so we know if it'll work for Meaghan.”
“I can take it after—”
“I'm not in the mood for any more arguments. You'll do as I say.”
Artair nodded.
“Good,” Cal said. “Faillen, do you want to join Meaghan?”
Talea stepped forward. “If you don't mind, I'd like to take the shift with Meaghan. Faillen guards at night more than anyone else. He's due for a break.”
“Fair enough,” Cal agreed. “Then Talis and I can take the second shift and Eudor and Malaki can have the third. Everyone knows the drill by now. Let's pitch the tents before we clean up from dinner. I don't like the look of the clouds over our heads.”
They did as they were told, and soon the sounds of tent walls fluttering in a pre-storm breeze carried a steady percussion to Cal's snoring. Meaghan extended her power once more, sensing for any foreign emotions, but found only Talea's nervousness. She cast a friendly smile in the younger woman's direction, then dropped the gesture when Talea glanced away as if she had been caught doing something wrong.
Meaghan blew out a short breath in frustration and stared into the fire. When she and Talea first met, Meaghan had hoped they could become friends. But the secrets she had been forced to keep from Talea and the rest of the group had destroyed any chance of that happening.
Loneliness gripped her. She wished Nick was here with her. She needed his advice right now. She needed his guidance. But he was hundreds of miles away and one of his friends—the closest connection Meaghan had to him—sat next to her as warm as the rock they used for their seat. Knitting her fingers together, Meaghan pressed her elbows into her knees, and then brought her fists to her lips to control the sudden urge to cry.
“You look like her, you know.”
Talea's voice cut into Meaghan's thoughts, no more than a whisper on the breeze. Meaghan dropped her arms and turned her a
ttention toward the young woman.
“Who?” Meaghan asked.
“The Queen,” Talea said, and then glanced away again as her cheeks flashed pink. She looked back before Meaghan had time to renew her frustration over the reaction. “I meant your mother,” Talea said. “Obviously you're the Queen now.”
“Obviously,” Meaghan repeated, her voice hollow with the fact. Talea looked away again, and Meaghan pressed her lips together, regretting her sarcasm. She hated being Queen. The title bore the greatest weight on her shoulders, and took the most from her. But Talea did not know that, nor should she.
“I've seen her before,” Meaghan offered, hoping the confession would make up for her rudeness. “I have a book that lets me watch the past. I saw both my mother and my father.”
Talea looked at her again. “Are you saying you have a Writer's book?” she asked.
Meaghan nodded. “May gave it to me when I visited your village.”
“No kidding,” Talea said and shook her head in awe. “Those are rare. I've never even seen one, let alone read one. Is it true you feel like you're standing in the story?”
“It's true. I could practically touch them. I saw my parents' wedding. Have you heard the story?”
“Most Guardians are aware of it. Do you have the book with you?”
“No,” Meaghan lied. “Nick has it. But you're right. I do look a lot like my mother, and I think I also look like my father.”
“You probably do,” Talea told her. “I've only seen your mother. My parents used to be part of the castle guard. They had a picture taken with her during their anointing ceremony. She was about nineteen at the time, so it must have been right after she ascended the throne.”
“Must have been?” Meaghan asked. “Your parents don't know?”
Talea shrugged. “They probably did, but Garon cast a senility spell on them a few years ago. I found the photo too late to ask them.”
“I'm so sorry,” Meaghan whispered.
“Me too. There isn't a day when I don't wish I could still talk to them, but I'm glad for the time I had with them. It's more than so many can say.” Talea tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled. “You have an olive tone to your skin. I'm guessing that's from your father. He was a Raider, wasn't he?”
Aerenden: The Zeiihbu Master (Ærenden) Page 5