“I agree,” Sam said and addressed Faillen. “Are you saying you'll only do this if Meaghan accompanies you to Zeiihbu? I'm afraid we won't be able to reach a consensus if the two issues are attached.”
“I'm sorry,” Faillen responded. “But I intend to try to rescue my son no matter what you decide. Since I doubt I'll succeed without Meaghan's help, I won't make a promise I can't keep.”
“Makes sense,” Cal said. “Let's put it to a vote.”
Nick shook his head. “You can't—”
“It's not your say,” Miles interrupted. “This is for the Elders to decide, though my vote is no. Faillen's help isn't needed, and I don't see the point in placing Meaghan in danger.” He turned to Cal. “Shall I assume your vote is yes?”
“It is,” Cal answered. “And since Nick can't go with her, I'd like to volunteer to be her Guardian on the mission.”
“If the vote passes, I'll allow it,” Miles said. “Sam, what about you?”
“I vote yes.”
“May?”
May pressed her lips together and Meaghan realized she struggled with the idea of sending her son on a mission that could be his last. If she voted yes, she would sacrifice her son's wife. If she voted no, she would sacrifice her son. May mulled it over in silence for several minutes and then shook her head. “I don't think either of them should go. We don't have a solid plan in place, so I'm voting no to both.”
“Only one vote is up right now, May,” Miles told her. “But taking your vote into account, we have a tie. I'm afraid without a consensus the vote is equivalent to a no. I'm sorry, Faillen, your request is—”
A screech pierced the night air, cutting off the remainder of Miles' words. The sound descended, fast and loud. Faillen wrapped his cloak over his arm, extending it as a streak of feathers shot through the sky. Sharp talons grabbed the perch Faillen provided.
“Hello, lovely,” he said. Scree turned her head to stare at him, and then screeched again. Faillen retrieved a piece of meat from the leather pouch on his belt and handed it to her. “Did you have a nice hunt?”
She twittered, flapping her wings in a blur of brown and gold before settling. Turning her attention toward the meat, she clutched it in one claw, tearing chunks from it with an eager beak.
“It can't be,” Miles whispered, and his eyes seemed to double in size. “He's extinct.”
“She,” Faillen corrected. “And I assure you, she's as real as we are.”
“A gildonae,” Sam said. His voice rose in pitch in his excitement. “The Gildonae Alliance.”
“It appears that way,” Miles agreed. “This nullifies the vote.”
“You can't,” Nick protested. He turned to his mother. “You've already decided.”
May laid a palm against his cheek. “I'm sorry, Nick. This is out of our control.”
“I don't understand.”
“The gildonae is the sign we've been waiting for. She's in the prophecy.”
Nick stared at his mother for a moment before his face stiffened and he stepped back from her, severing their connection. “I still don't understand.”
“I don't either,” Cal said. “What prophecy?”
“The Aurean Prophecy,” Sam answered. “Vivian found it when she was a teenager. It contains five verses, though the fifth was lost ages ago. Only a few words could be deciphered.”
“Which words?”
“Death. Day of dark. Æren sleeps.”
Cal grunted. “So nothing useful. What do the other verses say?”
Miles reached inside his cloak to withdraw a book. “This is the first verse,” he said and began to read, “After brick and fire fall and dark upends these lands; Near decade twice will come to pass in wait of child's hands; Through Earth and toil, through battled hue, through Aurean's impart; This child's hands will helm the hope, rend darkness soon apart.”
“Brick and fire,” Cal said. “Anybody who was at the castle knows that's how the war started. The 'near decade twice' part is also easy enough to figure out. It's been a little over fifteen years since the war started. That's the better part of two decades. Should I assume the child is Meaghan?”
“We think so,” May told him. “The Aurean reference has been a little harder to decipher.”
“What do you mean?” Cal asked. “It's obviously referring to the prophecy. Isn't that why Vivian named it that?”
“She named it that because the ancient Seers wrote it,” Miles said. “But that doesn't mean the Aureans were referring to themselves. We think they might have been referring to Vivian's vision of Meaghan and Nick's wedding.”
Cal nodded. “So the Aurean in question is Viv. What does the second verse say?”
Miles continued reading, “Await the sign, the noble plume, the gold of colored grace; Upon the perch by which it lands, the leader of this race; Rethink thy bounds, embrace the cry, the Gildonae's implore; Alliance born 'tween child and man will end the war of wars.”
“These things are always obvious after the fact,” May said. “We've been trying to decipher that verse for some time. Of course, we didn't know the gildonae weren't extinct.”
Sam chuckled. “If we take the whole thing literally, it simply means the man the gildonae perches on is meant to be the leader in the war, and we need to embrace Meaghan's alliance with him.”
“Which we will,” Miles said. “Against my better judgment. The third verse seems to pair with the second, 'From mountain top to water deep, with ghosts at last in tow; The promise made will come to pass; the seeds of friendship sowed; In death, in strife, in battle bound; in beastly shadow's doom; The whispers born from rhyme and rift will bring a Master's boon.' We can probably assume the Master is Caide, which would make this verse about his rescue.”
“And the fourth verse?”
Miles returned his eyes to the book once more. Prepare the way, this sign doth show, beginning to the end; Upon the loss of child's heart, freedom doth depend; Beware the words of troubled times, beware the truths of old; The answer hides in buried lies, the Reaper now will sow.” He looked up again. “All we can really decipher is that for the end of the war to come, Meaghan has to lose her heart, whatever that means. The only Reaper we know about is the amulet, and it doesn't fit in this context.”
Meaghan knew of another, and so did Nick. She locked eyes with him for a breath before he looked away. She would go to Zeiihbu. The second verse ensured that.
And if the fourth verse and Abbott's dream aligned, death would collect her there.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
NICK SLAMMED his hands against the cave wall, embedding sharp pebbles into his palms. The sting helped clear his mind, but only for a moment. He could not believe Seers had predicted Meaghan's death twice now, and the Elders had still authorized her mission. They needed to keep her alive. They needed to keep her here. And if that failed, they needed to hog-tie her until she realized her stupidity.
He sighed and chased away the grief threatening to grip him. He would not give up hope. He had to believe there was another explanation for it all—for Abbott's dream, for the prediction. He only needed to come up with it. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall to steady himself. Cold shale pressed into his skin. Water eased across his brow and dripped down his face. He willed his brain to focus, to use logic and reason, but only one answer came to him. He would lose her. Before he ever earned her love or had the chance to build a future with her, he would lose her.
It seemed as if shards had broken from the wall and burrowed into his heart, shredding it, and he hated her for it. He hated them all for it. His friends and family had promised to protect her. Instead, they had turned her into a bargaining chip for more soldiers.
“Nick.”
He spun around and stared down Cal with the venom coursing through his blood. “Go away.”
“Not until we talk.”
“What is it you think you can say to me?”
“She's not dead,” Cal responded. “You
have to remember that.”
“She's not dead yet,” Nick corrected. “She will be soon.”
“You can't be certain.”
“I can.” Nick leaned his back against the wall. “Abbott's dream came from Vivian. She was never wrong.”
“Maybe not, but Abbott only saw that Meaghan wasn't at your coronation. There could be many reasons for that. Adelina missed Ed's birthday party once because she was assisting May with a birth in the castle. It happens.”
“It isn't likely,” Nick said and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Not when you add the fourth verse of the prophecy to Vivian's vision. I have no other choice but to realize what it means.”
“Prophecies are impossible to understand sometimes. Even Vivian couldn't figure this one out. Otherwise, she would have stopped Garon's attack before it happened.”
“She couldn't figure it out because she didn't know yet.”
“About what?”
“The Grim Reaper,” Nick told him. “On Earth, he's a fictional creature who collects souls from the dead. A soul is the heart of a person.”
Cal stared at him, his eyes unblinking for a moment before he responded. “I'm sure it means something else here,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “We might not know what, but it does. She won't die on my watch.”
“Sure,” Nick said, and closed his eyes, letting his anger dissolve into pain. “I keep saying the same thing. And every time she sneaks off to do something risky, or she fights, or she gets injured, I realize I have no real control. She'll invite death to meet her, and all I'll be able to do is watch it happen.”
“Nick—”
“I'm sorry, Cal. I don't mean to take this out on you. I know you'll protect her, and I appreciate that. Just give me time to sort through this.”
“Nick,” Cal said. “Look, I didn't—”
“I know.” Nick straightened up, refusing to look at Cal. “You did what's best. I understand the strategy behind the mission. I understand the need. We have to do this to win the war. And I also understand the woman I've wed. She can't sit by when she knows she's able to help someone. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with her on Earth.” He dragged a hand over his face. He would do anything to take her back there again, to keep her there until no threat remained. “Unfortunately, it's the same reason I'll lose her in Ærenden.”
“Nick—”
Nick shook his head, then turned away and disappeared into the darkest parts of the caverns.
§
HE FOUND his way deep under the earth, winding through mazes and into rooms that had not seen a human in thousands of years. He got lost, met dead ends, and backtracked until the familiar found him again, only returning to his tent when early morning neared. He expected to find Meaghan sleeping, but the blankets remained undisturbed, her pillow unrumpled. He suspected she had not wanted to face him any more than he had wanted to face her.
He spent the day wandering again. Occasionally, he spotted friends from his village camped among the other refugees and stopped to talk to them, but his conversations never lasted long. His mind refused to be distracted from Meaghan's impending departure. Anxiety commanded him. He wanted to burn off energy. If he found the Elders, he had no doubt they would assign him a task to fulfill his need, but he could not speak to them yet. His anger needed distance.
By evening, hunger drove him to seek out his first meal. He found Max's tent tucked into the back of the sleeping cavern, and his friend invited him to share a batch of reheated rabbit stew. Max had already heard the news and offered no false words of comfort. They ate in silence, the companionship more welcome than conversation could ever be.
At bedtime, Nick retired to his own tent. Meaghan had not returned, so he lay down and tried to sleep without her. Though his nightmares shattered his dreams at first, he eventually found solace through the weight of his weariness.
Meaghan slid into place next to him sometime later. He reached for her. Her hands sought his. The warmth of her body greeted him, and then he drifted off again. In the morning, she had disappeared.
The schedule for his second day started much like his first. He wandered, pretended to be interested in conversations, and then gave up and hid in his tent. Word spread that Guardians from neighboring villages had arrived to join the rescue party. Some came by invitation. Others came looking for a chance to be included in the new adventure. The latter left without consideration. Selecting who could be trusted needed both care and control. Nobody wanted to take the chance a volunteer might be a spy.
When the neighboring children squealed and ran with excitement to the front of the cave, Nick knew the horses had arrived. He paused as reality broke through his numbness. Meaghan would be going soon. The animals always came the day before departure.
His eyes swept her side of the tent, looking for any hint of her plans, any sign he would have more time before he lost her. He saw nothing but a slightly ruffled quilt. He ran his hand over it, surprised when his fingers bumped into something hard, and stripped back the cover to reveal the Writer's book. He picked it up. The original story appeared, as always, but the other pages remained blank. He thumbed through them, unfeeling as they fanned his face, and then stopped when black flashed in front of him where it had not been before. He only managed to scan the words Chapter Three before a voice interrupted him.
“Is there a new story?”
He looked up at Meaghan. His heart leapt as it used to when she surprised him on Earth. She smiled, reached for the book, and he closed it, tightening his grip on the spine to prevent her from taking it. “Please don't,” he said. “I haven't read it yet. I don't want it to disappear.”
She nodded and sat next to him. Drawing her knees under her chin, she wrapped her arms around her legs, and he realized she did not know what to say.
“Are you done planning?” he asked.
“For now.” She stared down at the ground. “Cal wanted to say good-bye to Neiszhe, and Faillen needed to spend time with Aldin.”
“And you?”
“I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me.” Her eyes met his, and he saw pain in them. Sorrow had darkened her face more times than he cared to remember, yet he had never seen this type of pain from her before. It matched the grief he had been burying for two days. He brought a hand to her cheek. She pressed one of her own to the back of his hand.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I really am. I don't want this, but the prophecy—”
“Is a suggestion.” He brought his other hand to her knee, and then folded her into his arms. “Prophecies and predictions aren't guarantees, Meg. They're potential roads among many. We can change the future.”
“Can we?” she asked. “It feels more like I'm on a collision course. I don't see how I can stop it.”
“Don't go. Just don't go and it'll stop.”
“At what cost?” She pressed her face into his shoulder. Her lashes brushed his skin and her breath warmed his neck. “How many lives would be exchanged for mine?”
“There has to be another way. Tell me you won't go and we'll find it.”
“I'm sorry,” she said again, but the words sounded hollow to him. He only wanted to hear that she would do what he asked, that she would do what mattered most to him.
“You can still change it,” he told her. She lifted her head to look at him. “Never give up. Be smart. Be careful. But above all, listen to Cal.” He drew his fingers to her brow. “Do you remember the first time we went ice skating together?”
She nodded. “You'd never done it before.”
“I loved it,” he told her. “But I was scared at first. You took my hand and pulled me out on the lake anyway. I was freezing. I hated walking on thin metal blades. And I could swear I saw fish below the ice, their eyes frozen open in terror.”
She laughed. “You did fine. Better than that, in fact. You didn't need my help at all by mid-afternoon.”
“I always need you,” he said and pressed his forehead to her
s. “It was because of you that I found my courage. It was because of what you said.”
“What was it? I don't remember.”
“You told me that no one does anything alone. To succeed, we have to let someone else teach us, and we have to remember to lean on the people who give us strength.” He paused, scanning her face in an attempt to memorize every detail. “Take your own advice. Lean on Cal and Faillen. Make sure you come back to me.”
“I will,” she promised, though she looked away, and he knew as well as she did that the promise might be impossible to keep. He traced a finger along her jaw, bringing her eyes back to his, then tilted her chin and kissed her. She no longer fought him or resisted, and for the moment, they found their way back to a place he thought had long ago been lost. She sighed when they parted, and stood.
“I have to get back,” she said, her voice taking on an authority that told him she had already returned to whatever business shadowed her mind. “Faillen asked me to make a request of you.”
“What is it?”
“He wants you to start training the villagers while we're gone. Is that something you can do?”
“I think I can manage. Compared to training you, it should be easy.”
She laughed and pressed her fingers into his shoulder. “I'll miss you,” she said, and then left him once more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“SHE'S SO beautiful,” Ed whispered. He leaned down to press his lips to the top of his newborn daughter's head. “You did an amazing job with her.”
Adelina smiled. “Meaghan's not just mine. Your part in this was equally important.”
He chuckled. “My part was brief. And a lot easier. I've never been so amazed by anyone in my life. First you carry her for nine months, and then you spend two days birthing her. I think I'd choose to go into battle for a sleepless week rather than go through that myself.”
“So would I,” Adelina said, laughing, and then smoothed a thumb over the baby's cheek. Meaghan pursed her lips, instinctively searching for food. “She was worth it. I think she's my greatest achievement.”
Aerenden: The Gildonae Alliance (Ærenden Book 2) Page 27