“Used to?” Meaghan asked, glancing back at him.
“Angus was its third Guardian.”
“He destroyed it?” she asked. Nick nodded. “Why?”
“He wanted to make a point. The pillar had the original protective spell on it.”
“So he's saying we're not safe from him?”
“Yes,” Nick said. “And he's making another point only Guardians would understand. Many of the spells on these ancient structures are dangerous. That's why the Elders decided to hide them, but before they did, they copied the spells down and divided them into two books. The Elders took one. Angus is saying the book isn't safe either.”
Meaghan crossed her arms over her chest to ward off a sudden chill. “Who protects the Elders' spell book now?”
“Sam was its Guardian for over thirty years,” Nick said. “But now the Elders alternate possession of it.”
“And the other book?”
“Your mother and father had it last.”
A chill seeped into her, building into a ball of ice at her heart. “You mean Garon has it.”
“No, I don't. We're not sure where it went.” Nick slipped the backpack from Meaghan's shoulders and set it on the ground, then wrapped his arms around her. “You're shivering. Are you okay?”
“I'm just cold. Once we start walking again, I'll warm up.” Drawing her hands between their bodies, she allowed his warmth to encase her. “What spells are in my parents' book?”
“Spells the royal family commissioned and dangerous spells that can only be performed by a Guardian. The Elders worried temptation would be too great if a Guardian had possession of them. That's how we know Garon doesn't have the book. He hasn't used it yet.”
“How can you be certain of that? Is there a spy in the castle?”
“No, but one of the spells kills Guardians. If Garon had the book, he would be able to wipe out the strongest powers in Ærenden in a matter of days.”
Meaghan's stomach rolled with the thought. “Why would anyone write a spell like that, let alone keep it?”
“It's hard to know, but the good news is wherever the royal family's book is hidden, it's hidden well. Do you want to learn how to use a spell?”
The question caught Meaghan's breath in her throat for a moment. Her eyes locked on Nick's. “Can I?” she asked. “I thought...”
“Thought what?”
“Only Guardians could do spells,” she said. Nick chuckled and her cheeks warmed. “You never mentioned it before.”
“You didn't have enough control before,” he said and let go of her to approach the closest wall. He pointed to few lines at eye level. “This spell would be good for your first try.”
Meaghan scanned the words he had indicated and raised an eyebrow. “If I could read it. What language is that?”
“Ancient Æren.”
“You know it?”
“Sort of. No one knows how to speak it anymore, but I know how to translate it. It was a requirement for graduation.”
“Is it complicated?”
“It can be. Translation isn't as simple as just knowing the words. To harness a spell's power, I have to maintain both rhyme and structure. I failed the final exam twice before I passed.”
Meaghan grimaced. “I'm glad I didn't grow up here then. I had to hire a tutor to get through my high school Latin class. I'd probably still be in school if I had to learn Æren.”
“I know a few people who would have kept you company, but the requirement is only for Guardians, so you're safe. Are you ready to try something?”
She nodded. “What do I do?”
“Repeat after me,” he said, and traced the words with his fingers as he spoke. “Into the darkness shed a light, an orb to shine me through the night. A wish I gather, I do command, as power descends from these hands.”
She repeated his words, but nothing happened. “Okay, now what?”
“Capture your warmth as you do when you're using your power, and then focus on it as you say the words.”
She closed her eyes. Since she already held her empath power on the corn husk doll, she reached for it first and then grabbed her revival power.
“Into the darkness, shed a light,” she recited. Her palms felt warm, so she held them out in front of her. “An orb to shine me through the night.”
The heat moved from her palms to her fingers. She flexed them. “A wish I gather, I do command.”
Her fingers burned as if they had caught fire. The air sizzled and she opened her eyes, gasping when she realized her hands had dissolved into a white light. The light emanated from her, pushing a beacon several inches into the air. Surprise removed both the breath from her lungs, and the last of the spell from her mind.
“Finish it or you'll lose control,” Nick told her, and then gave her the words that had escaped her. “As power descends from these hands.”
“As power descends from these hands,” she whispered. The light leapt from her fingers, forming a sphere above her palms. It emanated a glow several feet in front of her, bringing daylight to everything it touched. She shook her head in amazement. The orb tightened, then dulled and disappeared. “Where did it go?”
“You lost focus on your power,” he said. “Some spells are designed to stay in place after they're infused with power, like the protection spells. Others need a constant infusion of power to work. Try it again.”
She focused on her power and then on her hands. The second sphere floated between her fingers, larger and brighter than the first.
“Good,” Nick said. “Now send it across the room.”
She lifted her head to look at Nick, but did not remove her focus from her power. “What do you mean?”
“It's in the shape of a ball for a reason,” he explained. “You can throw it so you can see what's ahead of you or surrounding you in the dark.”
She dropped her head again, locking her eyes on the orb. “How?”
“Send it in the direction you want it to go like you do with your power. It works the same.”
She yanked on her power, imagined the orb shooting across the room, and almost jumped when it followed her direction. It flew faster and harder than she had expected, then crashed into the wall and exploded, breaking into small stars before disappearing in darkness.
“Crap,” she muttered. “I didn't mean to do that.”
Nick laughed. “Try again. You'll get the hang of it.”
This time, she moved it with more care, dancing it around the room and into the sky above the broken roofline. She grinned as she drove it into aerial loops, giggled when Nick swore as she buzzed it over his head, and then lost control when something else caught her attention. The orb imploded into nothingness.
“That was perfect,” Nick said. His wide smile forgave her for the prank, but she ignored it and the pride emanating from him.
She found it impossible to focus on anything but the monstrous stench assaulting her from every direction.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
NICK WATCHED Meaghan's face turn white and knew she had finally sensed the danger surrounding them. The Mardróch had been closing in for the past half hour, skirting around the house at a comfortable distance and he had hoped they would pass without incident. His choice to show Meaghan the house had served several purposes—not the least of which had been to hide her without causing her concern. Now the monsters had drawn close enough to trigger her power and erase any hope of avoiding them from his mind. The Mardróch's presence would not be short-lived.
He sensed at least a dozen of them dotted across the field, too many for this to be a casual search of the area. Nick walked to the closest window and leaned out to scan the field. Three Mardróch stood sixty yards to the left of the house. Another half-dozen had already passed and seemed to be making their way toward the village. He crossed the room to peer out the other window. On that side, a cluster of four Mardróch searched the field a hundred yards away. But they did not concern him as much as the last creature h
e spotted. The Mardróch had begun piling wood in the field in preparation for a campfire. The hunting party had chosen the spot as their base.
“We're trapped for the night,” Nick told Meaghan as he refocused his attention on the inside of the house. She stood in the doorway, surveying the scene, but turned when he spoke.
“They don't realize we're here,” she responded. “I don't smell sulfur.”
“Sulfur?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “That's an odd smell, even coming from them.”
“It might not be sulfur exactly, but it's the closest description I have. It's like burnt matches or spoiled eggs, instead of their usual rotting scent. They emit the smell when they're excited.”
“So they didn't see us,” he said, “which means they're hunting for the village again.”
“Because we were there?” she asked.
“Because they know it's the festival, and they know Cal won't miss it.”
Meaghan frowned. “We have to warn him.”
“I don't see how. We can't get out without the Mardróch seeing us. There's no wind to alert him, and even if there was, we don't have his power to send a message.”
“I guess not,” she said. A high-pitched squeal echoed along the air, followed by another, and then a third. Meaghan lifted a hand to cover her nose. “What are they doing?” she whispered. “Their emotions smell rotten, like putrid flesh.”
“They're killing their supper,” Nick told her and though the sound turned his stomach, whatever Meaghan smelled had to be much worse. “Wild pig, I believe.”
She shuddered. “They're enjoying it. I can't believe they used to be human.”
“That's debatable,” Nick said and joined her in the doorway. He circled his arm around her waist. “I have a hard time calling anyone human who chooses to become one of those monsters.”
A single pig gave its last, dying scream, leaving the night to eerie silence. Meaghan shook under Nick's touch and he sighed.
“You're not going to make it until morning if you don't mute your power,” he told her. “Focus on my blocking power. I'll keep it on until they're gone.”
“I can use the doll.”
“I know, but you've been focusing on it all day. You don't have the technique down well enough to hold your focus until morning. Let me help you, okay?”
She nodded and the tension eased from her body. He stepped back. “There isn't much we can do until they leave. I'd say we eat, but...”
“Not after that.” She grimaced. “Maybe never again.”
“I didn't think so. We could practice some of these spells. They might take our minds off the visitors.”
“How many spells do you think there are?”
“It's hard to tell,” he replied, scanning the thousands of lines and tiny letters etched over the flat surfaces. Even the petrified wood bordering the windows had been covered in writing. “Maybe a few hundred. Some of them are shorter, like the one you learned. Others are longer, like,” he focused on the wall next to the door, looking for an example, and then approached the section, “this one.” He pointed below where the roof would have attached. “It's complicated. It would probably require three or four people to recite.”
Meaghan joined him. He watched her eyes dart over the lines, still trying to make sense of them, and the effort made him smile. Even if she could decipher some of the words, their order seldom made sense to modern speakers. It had taken him almost twelve months of intense study to memorize all the rules, then years of field practice to translate while reading as he did now.
Meaghan blew out a frustrated breath. “What does it say?”
“Heat to rise above the trees,” Nick read. “A column sought in upward breeze. Cost not life amid this strife. A call to four, now hear our plea. Water born to flow and freeze. Air that swirls we cannot see. Earth that shakes, stills, and quakes. Heat to sear as it will please.” He stopped to wipe a small patch of moss from the wall where it covered some of the words, then continued, “Flames cast high above the ground. A column lit to bring help 'round. In this try, a desperate cry. Master of the four be found. Power born for great renown. The air, the earth, the water bound. This heat we share,” he paused, frowning. “No, that's not quite right.” Reaching out to touch the last two lines, he narrowed his eyes. When he settled on the word for the translation, his eyes grew wide. “It's not heat,” he said, dropping his hand. “It's fire. This is unbelievable.”
“What is?” Meaghan asked.
“The spell. Heat and fire use the same word in ancient Æren, but context matters.” He pointed to the last two lines. “This fire we share into the air. To hear the great Elementus' sound. Meg,” he said, looking back at her. “Do you realize what this is?”
She shook her head. “What's an Elementus?”
“Not what. Who,” he corrected. “It's the archaic name for a Guide. The title we use now evolved when the royal family enlisted the Elementi to guide the army through the wilderness while they were scouting sites to establish permanent villages.”
Meaghan's brow wrinkled. “Is fire meant instead of heat each time?”
“I believe so.”
“Fire, water, air, and earth,” she said. “The four elements. So it's a spell for the Guides.”
“Not quite, but close,” Nick said. “It's a spell to call them.”
“You mean we can reach Cal?”
“If we had enough power.”
Meaghan turned a slow circle in place, darting her gaze around the room. “If we're calling the elements, we'll need plenty of space. Maybe if we—”
“Not so fast.” Nick placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her focus back to him. “As I said before, this spell would take the power of several people at least.”
“Several people with average powers,” she countered and crossed her arms. “My revival power is stronger than most people's, and your Guardian powers have been enhanced to equal my power. Maybe it's enough.”
“Maybe,” he said, and frowned. “But I don't think—”
“It can't hurt. The worst that can happen is the spell fails, right?”
“Not quite. We don't know how the spell works. If it creates a tornado, for instance, we'd destroy the house and our protection against the Mardróch.”
She dropped her arms. “Why would someone call a tornado to reach a Guide?”
Nick shrugged. “Who knows? It's impossible to guess what happened a thousand years ago. It's possible this Spellmaster had a malevolent streak, like the guy who wrote the famine curse.”
“I guess,” Meaghan conceded. Turning from him, she walked to the eastern window and leaned against the wall. Nick joined her. Two Mardróch remained on this side. They drew their arms to their faces and lowered them several times before he realized they tore bites from food they held between their hands. Red rivers coursed stains over their gray skin before dripping off their hands to pool on the ground. They feasted on raw meat. Sickness filled his throat. He pried his eyes from the scene to watch Meaghan instead. Her cheeks had lost their color and he guessed she had reached the same conclusion he had.
She turned from the window. “Can you write the spell down for me? I'd like to study it.”
“Of course.” He retrieved a pen and paper from the backpack, copied down the spell, then handed it to her with a warning, “Don't try to focus your power on it, just in case you're right and your power is a lot stronger than we realize.”
She nodded and turned to the window again. Instead of looking outside, she glanced down at the paper gripped in her hand. He roamed the room, scanning random lines in an effort to translate spells, but found his focus too scattered to comprehend much of what he read. The Spellmaster did not seem to favor any pattern amid the hodgepodge of mad scribbling.
“It's a column of fire.”
Meaghan's words drifted on the air as no more than a murmur and he could not be certain if she had meant them for him. He turned to face her.
“It's a column of fire,” s
he repeated. “Without a roof, we have nothing to worry about.”
“I don't understand. What are you talking about?”
“This.” She stabbed her finger into the paper. “I'm talking about the spell. There's one place where the Spellmaster mentions 'flame' instead of 'fire'. That's not a translation error, is it?”
“No, it's not.”
“I didn't think so. The Spellmaster said fire every other time but this one, and I think he did it on purpose. The spell creates a column of flames.”
Nick stared at her, trying to find a reason to argue with her logic, but when he could think of nothing, he snatched the paper from her hand. “It fits,” he decided. “Column and fire are mentioned together twice, one of those times using the word flame. And the last two lines hint at your interpretation.”
“So we can try the spell?”
He frowned. “I'd like to say yes, but we can't be certain of your interpretation. If you're wrong, we could get hurt.”
“I see.” She took the paper back from him, and then chewed on her lower lip as she stared at it. “Do all spells start the same? Will this one build until it's fully recited like the orb one did?”
“Most do.”
“So if we started reciting it, we'd know what it could do before it went too far, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Then we have to try. Please. I care about the villagers and if there's even the slightest chance I can warn them about the Mardróch, I need to.”
Nick pressed his lips together, prepared to say no again, but the worry lines carved into her brow and creasing the corners of her eyes stopped the instant reaction. When she set the paper on the window sill, her shoulders stiff with the movement, he gave in to her request. He doubted their combined power would be strong enough to work the spell, so it seemed callous to increase her misery over a moot point.
“I'll take the lead,” he told her. Her gaze snapped to his, and relief brightened her eyes. “If I don't like the way it's going, we stop. Understood? And you have to promise you'll listen.” She nodded in agreement and he narrowed his eyes. “Say it. I'm not in the most trusting mood after yesterday.”
Aerenden: The Gildonae Alliance (Ærenden Book 2) Page 13