“Tell me,” Faillen said.
“She was my father's sister.”
Faillen's shock rolled over her. She stopped to face him, but before she could fully register his wide-eyed expression, a movement behind him caught her attention.
An avalanche crashed through the forest, breaking tree limbs and tossing aside bushes like tumbleweed. Rock upon rock melted into a solid body, propelled by massive legs that dented caverns into the dirt. A small cave opened from somewhere within the avalanche's rock face. Meaghan knew she should run, but her body would not respond. She froze, her eyes unblinking as certain death barreled toward her, calling for her with a terrifying scream.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE AVALANCHE screamed again, its thunderous approach matching the accelerated panic of Meaghan's heart. The closer it came, the more she realized it was not rock tumbling toward them, but a large beast with a stone-textured hide.
She held her breath, tearing her eyes from the creature in search of an escape, but before she had time to react, Faillen pushed her aside. He readied an arrow, then spun on their attacker and let it fly.
It missed the beast by a foot, sinking into the bark of a nearby tree. The creature reared and then dodged another arrow. Faillen pulled a third and that, too, found bark. Meaghan tore her eyes from the advancing beast and pinned them on Faillen. She had never seen him miss, yet a fourth arrow and then a fifth failed to save them. She grabbed his arm, prepared to pull him back from the charging beast, but then realized it no longer barreled down on them. Faillen's arrows had forced it to change its course. She felt the wind from its speed brush her face, but it only thundered past and fled into the forest.
“What was that?” she started to ask, but did not finish her question before Faillen charged after the creature. She frowned and turned in time to see Artair watching her, his expression matching the confusion she felt.
“Dinner?” he asked.
“I doubt it,” she responded. “Faillen wasn't aiming for it.”
Artair shrugged. “I suppose he'll catch up with us. One bird and two rabbits aren't going to get us far. We need to keep hunting.”
She nodded, but when he turned and walked away, she did not follow. She felt pain from him. He seemed hurt by her choice not to share her plan and it bothered her. As Talea had said, Meaghan had a right not to tell, but she also had not anticipated Artair's reaction.
During the battle at his old village, he had fought by her side, protecting her without complaint and following orders without question. Even in the beginning of this mission, he had done the same. But as each day passed and they grew closer to the mountains, he seemed to change. She could not shake the feeling something more bothered him than their discretion with the plan.
Another beastly scream echoed through the trees and she scanned the overgrowth for any sign of Faillen. She saw only green interspersed with the occasional spattering of brown and red.
The red came from a type of berry she had learned to appreciate for its energizing properties. Cal's voice echoed in her mind, lecturing her again about the dangers of fatigue and she heeded it. In one swift movement, she grabbed a handful of berries from the closest bush and tossed them into her mouth. They exploded into a tart-sweet juice, working almost instantly to revive her senses. She could have made a fortune in the sports industry on Earth if she had discovered them there. She chuckled at the thought and tried to remember their name. Cal had told her several times, but each time she could not seem to grasp the word. What was it? Mutter…milt…multerberry?
“Muddleberry,” she said aloud, remembering. Pinching one between her thumb and forefinger, she tossed it into the air and then caught it in her mouth. Biting down, she smiled when it exploded, filling her mouth with flavor and her nostrils with the strong aroma of raspberries and honey. She loved the smell of the berries the most. The white flowers sprouting on the bush also had a pleasant perfume that reminded her of lavender. She leaned forward to bury her nose in one of the flowers and then frowned when the smell turned into the putrid scent of rot.
Her eyes dropped to the ground. She half-expected to see something decomposing at the plant's roots, but when the smell grew stronger, her hands sought the knives at her belt out of instinct. The familiarity of the odor sent chills down her spine.
She spun on her heels not at all surprised to find a Mardróch standing several yards away. It seemed whatever had muted the Guardian powers had finally affected her. The Mardróch's scent should have overwhelmed her long before now.
Electricity formed between the Mardróch's hands. Meaghan tensed, prepared to dodge a lightning bolt, but the monster stood still as he studied her. She could not tell if he recognized her or if he was deciding what to do. When he spread his hands further apart, arcing electricity between his palms in a display of power, she understood. He wanted to have fun with his prey. The sulfur smell following his crooked grin confirmed her suspicion. She had learned long ago that her power translated a Mardróch's excitement into the smell of rotten eggs.
He flicked his fingers, tossing a bolt in her direction. She dove for the ground and rolled away from the lightning, but even as it struck dirt, spewing leaves and rocks into the air, she realized he had not aimed for a kill. She rebounded to her feet and faced him again. Tightening her fists on the blades in her hands, she waited for a clear shot of the opening in his hood, the only vulnerable point of his cloak.
She circled him, crossing one foot over the other while he pivoted in place. When he cast a second bolt in her direction, she sidestepped it with ease, though heat scorched her arm and splinters hit her cloak from a tree exploding behind her.
The Mardróch narrowed his eyes, his anger coming across as the grotesque aroma of paint thinner, and he shot another bolt in her direction. This time she jumped out of the way. The bolt landed where she had been standing. She whipped around to face the monster again.
He laughed. The guttural sound reminded her of rocks rattling in a coffee tin and she pressed her lips together to avoid shuddering in reaction. Blue electricity formed between his fingers again. He toyed with it, casting it back and forth between his palms, dissolving and reforming it as he watched her.
“You won't live,” he announced. His smile broadened, showing the black fiber webbing that coursed across his mouth. “You'll be my next meal.”
The thought disgusted her, but she chose not to react to his taunting. Instead, she tossed one of her knives toward his head. It sailed high, snagging the hood of his cloak as it passed.
“You missed,” he said. His voice whistled in another bout of laughter. “I won't.”
She hid her smile behind a smirk. She had hit exactly where she aimed. He had not noticed yet, but she had knocked his hood partway off his head, giving her the opening she needed to pierce his skull with her next throw. She passed the knife in her left hand to her right, using the move to position it for a killing throw. Her empty hand sought another blade from her belt in case the throw missed. She would need to be fast. He would not give her much time once he realized her plan.
He cackled. “You're a fun one. I'm glad I decided not to kill you right off. The villagers in this area don't offer much entertainment. Still,” he raised his hands. “I'm hungry. Have you ever been frozen before?”
His red eyes sought her face. A smile returned to his lips when her gaze locked with his. She could feel his freezing power coursing through her, but instead of translating into debilitating fear, it turned into a putrid odor that rolled her stomach. She kept moving, and his smile faltered.
“How?” he croaked. Surprise gaped his fibrous mouth open.
“I don't freeze,” she said. “I guess you'll have no choice but to toy with me a little longer.”
“You!” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”
He recognized her. She could not kill him now. If she played this right, she would be safe, and she could put the first major step of their plan into place.
If
Faillen returned in time. She had to stall the Mardróch.
“Following Stilgan's summons,” she answered. She stopped moving, and then lowered her blades, though she still held them poised in front of her. “Unless, of course, you plan on killing me first.”
The Mardróch's electricity waned, and then grew strong again. “I can bring you to him,” he said. “Or I can earn the reward for delivering you to Garon myself. There's no reason Stilgan should get the glory.”
“You're certainly welcome to try,” Meaghan told him. “But you'd better hope you fail. Your death at my hands will be far kinder than your death at Stilgan's.”
“You'll betray him.” The Mardróch pushed his palms closer together, shrinking his electricity. Blue bolts crackled at his fingertips, ready to discharge. “You'll bring an army and destroy him. Taking you now is the only way to ensure he's protected.”
“Do you see an army?” she asked. “Do you see anyone coming to my aid? You were a Guardian once. You know I wouldn't be facing you alone if I had a protector close by.”
The Mardróch extended his arms in threat, his electricity poised and commanding, but his eyes turned from her, searching the forest. While his emotions told her he saw nothing, Meaghan caught a glimpse of another flicker of electricity behind him—the white spark of one of Artair's orbs. Her eyes locked with the Guardian's and she shook her head. The Mardróch missed the move, but Artair did not. She felt his confusion, but he held his electrical orb motionless between his hands.
“Don't throw your electricity,” she said, addressing the Mardróch, though she meant her words for Artair. The Guardian did not dissolve his orb, but he acknowledged her command by stepping back into the shadows of the forest.
“I'll honor my pact with Stilgan,” she continued. “Faillen will bring me as we agreed.”
“Faillen,” the Mardróch echoed. He brought his hands together, extinguishing his electricity. “Where is he?”
An arrow landed in the soft ground between the Mardróch's feet. Blue electricity sprang to his hands again before he swung around to face the source of the attack. Faillen had another arrow ready and pointed at the Mardróch's head.
“I'm faster than you are,” Faillen told him. “You'll see an arrow between your eyes before you have a chance to think about throwing your lightning bolt.”
“Not if I freeze you,” the Mardróch countered.
“I'm not going to Zeiihbu without him,” Meaghan said. “So it's up to you. You can report to your master that we're heading his way, or you can report back to him that I'm never coming. Which do you think will make him happier?”
The Mardróch frowned at her. A growl of dissatisfaction escaped his throat, and then he disappeared. No sooner had he teleported than Cal stepped around a tree.
“I sensed your fear,” he told Meaghan when she raised an eyebrow at him.
“That's good,” she responded. “At least that's still working, because I didn't sense you at all.”
He nodded in understanding and then turned his eyes toward Artair when the younger man stepped out of his hiding place. Anger turned Artair's face hard, but Cal ignored it. “Did the Mardróch see him?” he asked.
“No,” Faillen answered. He lowered his bow and grinned. “It went exactly as we planned.”
“It's about time something went our way," Cal responded and returned the grin.
Cal and Faillen's excitement grew contagious and soon the corners of Meaghan's mouth upturned in response. Though rain still fell through the canopy of the trees, she felt as if the sun had finally found her after days of darkness. She turned to thank Artair for obeying her request and her joy dissolved. None of them had noticed that he had left their presence.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I CAN'T believe you did that to me!”
Meaghan had barely stepped within the boundary of the campground before Artair hit her with the full force of his rage. Although Faillen and Cal flanked her, Artair addressed only her. She sensed bewilderment from Talea, Eudor, and Malaki, and muted anger from Talis—evidence that Artair had given them his account of the attack in the forest—but all four Guardians stood back, giving Artair the space his stiff posture commanded.
“You set me up,” he accused her. “What if he'd killed you? Do you think anyone would have understood? Do you think they would have believed me if I told them you forbade me from attacking a Mardróch?”
“If you'd attacked, we would have had to kill him,” Faillen responded, moving around Meaghan to stand between her and Artair. The animal trailing behind him nudged his shoulder, and Faillen stopped him with a flick of his wrist. “Halt,” he muttered, and the animal stood still.
Artair glared at him. “That's the point. When Mardróch live, they kill our people. But I imagine that doesn't matter to you. Zeiihbu has done nothing but sit back and applaud Garon since the beginning of the war. Or maybe your goal is to get Meaghan killed. You certainly abandoned her guard fast enough and to do what? Chase after that thing.” He gestured toward the animal. “It says a lot about you that you value a beast over your own Queen.”
Meaghan felt Faillen's anger rise to match Artair's. His shoulders stiffened, but he controlled the reaction with a smile. “This thing is a moerith.” He reached back to pat the animal on the head. “And you'd be wise to know your facts before you accuse me of betrayal. I was never far enough away that I couldn't protect Meaghan.”
“Facts?” Artair scoffed and tightened his hands into fists at his sides. “How am I supposed to know the facts when you three refuse to tell anyone what's happening until after it's done?”
No one responded. Artair returned his focus to Meaghan and this time she sensed disappointment from him. “You were different when I first met you,” he said. “We worked well together and even though you didn't know me, you trusted me. I find that ironic. You trusted me when I hadn't proven myself to you. Now that I have, you don't trust me at all.” He walked away from her, then hesitated and turned back around. “I'd like to say I'm the type of person who can follow direction without thinking, but I can't. The truth is, I regret taking this mission. I regret that we have a Queen like you. We risk our lives every day protecting you, and you repay us by keeping secrets that put us in danger.”
He retreated again. Talea stepped into his path to stop him, but he shook his head and moved around her. He found a log beyond the group and sat down. His anger dissolved, leaving disappointment and pain, and she associated with it in a way she did not expect.
“I'm sending him home,” Cal told her. “I'll be sure the other Elders hear of his behavior.”
Meaghan shook her head, but could not find the words to speak. She held on to Artair's emotions, still sorting them, and then turned her eyes from him when she discovered one she had not sensed before. Muting her power through most of this trip had proven to be more of a handicap than she had anticipated. She wondered if she could have prevented Artair's anger if she had sensed him as she did now.
She sighed and directed her power inward, silencing it. Whatever weakened it had grown stronger, and Artair's emotions only made it harder for her to focus.
She scanned the faces surrounding her before settling her eyes on Talea. The woman looked worried, but she refrained from defending Artair. Instead, she approached the animal standing behind Faillen.
“I've never seen an animal like this before,” she said.
Neither had Meaghan. It looked less imposing now that she no longer felt threatened. It stood about the height of a horse, though it had a wider body than its equine counterpart. Its rough-textured hide still bore the muted gray colors of a pile of rocks, but now that she saw it up close, she realized it resembled another animal she knew well. It reminded her of an elephant. It had similar ears and eyes, but instead of a long trunk, it had a nose shaped like an anteater's. She placed a hand on the short bristles of its black mane, surprised by their soft texture.
“It seems tame,” Talea said when the animal nudged
its nose into Meaghan's shoulder.
“He is,” Faillen told her. “When a moerith has a mane, it's male. The only reason he's here is because he's tame. His natural habitat is in the forests closer to the border of Zeiihbu. We capture and train them as pack animals, so I'm sure the villagers around here do, too.”
Talea brought a hand to the animal's back. “His hide is rough,” she commented, but said no more as she drew her hand down the animal's side, lifted it, and then repeated the movement. She petted him several times in silence before speaking again.
“Artair didn't mean it,” she said. “He's loyal to you.”
Meaghan nodded and wondered if anyone else had heard. Talea's voice hovered just above a whisper.
“Please don't let Cal do anything to him,” she continued. Her hand stilled. “He was more upset that he almost ruined your plan than about not knowing the details.”
Meaghan pursed her lips, but did not have the chance to respond before Cal drew up beside her. Talis joined his sister. From the corner of her eye, Meaghan spotted Eudor and his son sit next to Artair on the log. She had a feeling they did not wish to be a part of what happened next.
“Meaghan doesn't have any say in what I do or don't do to Artair,” Cal told Talea. “As an Elder it's entirely my decision. He's been obstinate from the start and that doesn't bode well for him.”
“He's—”
“Not from the start,” Talis cut off his sister. He narrowed his eyes at Cal. “Artair was fine in the beginning, until you treated him like a traitor.”
“I've treated him no differently than he deserves,” Cal responded, his voice stiff. He stepped forward until his body met the side of the animal separating him from Talis. “He fights the commands we give him, questions the authority of his Queen, and breeds uncertainty in the ranks. What else would you call him?”
“Ranks?” Talis pressed his hands flat on the moerith's back. “There are eight of us, Cal, not two hundred. We're a team, not an army.”
Cal grabbed the front of Talis's shirt and dragged him closer so that their faces hovered inches apart. “You're soldiers,” he growled. “All Guardians are. It would be best if you didn't forget that. I won't stand for anyone questioning my authority. It puts everyone in danger.”
Aerenden: The Zeiihbu Master (Ærenden) Page 13