by C A Kinnee
“There. The birds have answered your call,” Metreo taunted as Rahdon’s cloak bloomed with splatters of white.
The challenge of brushing the muck from his cloak while holding onto the vines was too much for Rahdon. He lost his hold and rolled, bouncing over the rough ground to the base of the cliff in shorter time than it had taken to climb.
Metreo shook his head and smiled. He looked up at the circling birds.
“I go, my friends. I know not your purpose in protecting this cliff, but I will leave you to it.” He bowed slightly and began the perilous trip to the bottom where he found Rahdon beginning to gather himself up from the ground. He clamped a ham-like fist onto his cloak, yanked him to his feet and flicked away a smear of bird droppings.
“Come, man.” A smile bloomed over Metreo’s divided face. “Take heart. Remember your Mage’s words, ‘If the job isn’t done, you are.’” His rumbling laugh floated back to Meara and Kieran as he and Rahdon reentered the forest.
Kieran rubbed his hands through his black hair, laughing.
Meara, hands pressed to her mouth, tried to smother her own mirth.
“Did you see? He bounced all the way to the bottom. I didn’t know birds could aim so well,” she said.
Kieran’s lips twitched into a smile. “They used Rahdon for target practice.”
“Not one hit Metreo!” Meara continued.
A curl dropped over her eyes and she shook her head to flip it away. Kieran reached out and brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. Meara’s heart beat faster. Her mouth dried. The moment stretched and stopped.
Kieran pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. He stood up and took a step back.
“We should go. It will take them time to find another way around this cliff.”
She bent and gathered the egg back into its pocket.
“Why did you stare at him like that?” The egg was curious.
Meara’s hands closed jerkily over its shell. Hot color flooded her cheeks.
“Bah, I stare at no one. You imagine things,” she muttered, glancing at Kieran hoping he hadn’t heard the question. His face was buried in his pack.
The egg hummed knowingly. Kieran looked up.
“Is there trouble?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Meara cleared her throat. “The egg complains.”
“Are you rested enough to carry on?” Kieran’s voice was distant and impersonal, that of a stranger.
“Yes. We should get the egg back to its nest.” She tried to match his coolness. If he could recover so easily, so could she.
They slid through the narrow opening of the cave onto the cliff face. This time the climb was easier. The dream-free sleep had re-energized her and as she scrambled up the slope, her muscles began to loosen, the stiffness easing as she fell into the rhythm of climbing. The sun warmed her back, and before long, using the twining branches of the vines as hand and footholds became second nature.
By the time they reached the top, the ravens had disbursed leaving only Murkwing to watch their toils.
Kieran stretched out a hand and yanked her up and over the top of the cliff as though she were a sack of grain. He hastily released his grip and stepped back as though the touch burned.
Meara looked away. She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her skin. It left a fluttery feeling in her stomach. It’s nothing, she told herself sternly. Her interest in Kieran was natural. He was the first person like herself she had ever met.
“He is the Protector.”
The egg was listening to her thoughts again.
“Of course, you think of him. We are linked, the Protector to you and you to me,” it said.
Meara snuck a peek at Kieran. Was it true? A new thought drove everything else from her mind. Did he know what she was thinking? Heat warmed her cheeks.
“Are you ready?” Kieran asked.
She met his gaze. His gray eyes held nothing but impatience.
“Kieran,” she stopped, unsure how to ask. “If we are linked by the egg and both hear it, can you sense my thoughts?”
He looked confused.
She tried again. “Can you tell what I am thinking?”
“No,” he said shortly. “Why? Can you tell mine?”
He looked uneasy at the idea she might see into his mind.
“No. The egg said something about the link, and I wasn’t sure if it worked the same between us.” She looked for a safer subject. “The forest looks different by daylight.”
Kieran shrugged and glanced towards the trees where the sun’s rays speckled the leaves.
“It’s as if evil can’t touch it,” Meara said.
“It’s the Nexus. The center of the old forest, a place rich in earth magic. It’s like the eye of a storm, a protected place. The Mage’s dark magic can’t touch it or change it.”
“Who is this Mage? You have spoken of him before. Why does he seek the egg?”
“You don’t know?”
His surprise made her bristle, but she tamped it down. She wanted to know what he knew, not return to the arguing that had marked their conversations of the past.
He stared at her and muttered, “Every child of the forest knows of the pact between Makeion and the dragon.”
“I don’t,” she said.
“We will walk, and I will tell you. But I am no storyteller,” he warned, “so don’t expect pretty speeches.”
Meara fell into step beside him. With no rain and Kieran leading the way, she felt safe and protected, surrounded by the same earth magic that Kieran said protected the Nexus.
Chapter 25
Danger—be wary.
Wait—watch!
In the darkness
pay heed.
Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg
The Nexus rose around them as they walked, draping them in a bubble of peace. Meara savored the feel of the sun on her face, and gradually dropped her guard. Kieran, instead of relaxing, grew more watchful, pushing harder to cover greater ground. Now, with every step, he was again watching the forest, acting as if danger lurked behind every rock. His bow was strung and ready at his side.
“Meara, be alert,” he muttered for the tenth time. “It’s the old magic. It makes you forget the danger and want to linger. We have to keep moving.”
She nodded obediently, speeding her steps. “Tell me more then, and I swear I will keep up.”
Kieran sighed and cast another searching look over the trees.
“All right. You remember your history—the great wars?” He waited for her to catch up and give him a quick nod. “The wars started with the petty rattling of swords and the saying of words that should never have been uttered. Those words took flight and crossed the world creating chaos, leaving death and famine in their wake. Helene and Orlion were the First Councils of Helligon, and Darone, their general—some say he was the greatest strategist who ever lived.”
Kieran squinted up at the sun and quickened the pace even more.
“Darone led the armies to battle, winning victory after victory. As his triumphs grew, so did his followers—and his power. Darone loved power—any power—good or evil. He swept the forces of our people across the lands, gaining riches and territories, obliterating everything in his path.”
Meara trotted to catch up. The story of Darone left a creeping sensation between her shoulder blades. She caught herself looking back, watching the trees as intently as Kieran. A memory stirred, but when she tried to catch it, it evaporated like dust blown on a gust of wind.
“The blood toll grew until the nation awoke to the butchery done in its name. The people cried for an end to the wars, but Darone silenced his critics. People vanished in the night—whole families gone—no one was willing to admit their knowledge of what happened. The country became divided. Civil erupted.”
Kieran chopped at a tangle of heartvine and watched the tendrils writhe back from the path.
“They say you have to remember the mistakes of the past to avoid t
he same wrong steps in the future,” he said.
“You don’t agree?”
“No.” He frowned. “It’s not that I disagree, it’s that I can’t understand how people become so disconnected, so evil.”
“What do you mean by evil?”
“The wars spread and overtook the world. How does that happen? Where were the saner heads? People stood back. Cities tumbled to the ground, or threw up walls to hide behind, denying aid to the outside world.”
“Like Vendonne?”
He nodded. “They say Vendonne rebuffed every attack. Its people were clever. The rich merchants built their walls and shut the doors to the vile things that joined the forces of Darone. Their money ensured they could hire mercenaries to keep them safe from battle.” Kieran’s face twisted at his mention of the walled town. “Even now, long after the fall of the cities and the release of evil, our people can’t forget the betrayal of the walled town. Instead of sending help, they barred their doors, turned their backs and pretended they didn’t see the genocide taking place outside their gates. Someday that will catch up with them.”
Meara didn’t respond. Talk of the ancient wars made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lift. She rubbed her arms and tried to quell the prickly sensation the words brought. She had heard other versions of this story, different telling’s of the same villains.
“But Vendonne had its own problems,” she reminded him. “Remember the thing in the alley and the creatures in the Forbidden Zone? Like you said, the evil spared no one.”
Kieran aimed a savage chop at an especially threatening patch of vine and pushed his way through the rough brush encroaching on the path. He carried on as though she hadn’t spoken.
“Before long, the cities were decimated. Hatred and disease stalked the empty streets. The First Councils realized that to stay meant a slow death from starvation, or attack by scavengers like the Miandrogas. They had to abandon the cities and their old way of life.”
“Those men in the forest, were they Miandrogas?”
He helped her over a log blocking the trail and nodded.
“Miandrogas are like the riff raff in the alleys of Vendonne. They prey on the caravans, attacking and enslaving the people, doing the dirty work of the Mage while reaping the benefits of his evil. You were lucky to escape—lucky that the amosa got them. The demand for slave labor in the southern lands, or even Laurana itself, is strong.”
Meara breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Riff raff. The men in the forest had no more special powers than the predators that combed the alleys of Vendonne. Now, she could put the memory of the men to rest.
“So, what happened?” she said.
“Our ancestors were city dwellers, unused to the ways of the forest. They weren’t prepared to be hunters or gatherers. Many wanted to give up and return to the city, but the Councils convinced them to carry on. Makeion was the son of the First Councils. He had performed well on the field of battle, leading the forces of the rebels until the killing sickened him, and he returned home. He threw his backing behind his parents, and the people flocked to them. Those that would not, flowed to Laurana and adhered to Darone. There, they darkened under the general’s power, growing twisted as the country withered under his evil.”
Meara rubbed her arms against the goose bumps that open talk of Laurana brought. Even in the walled town people avoided mention of the Dark Lord’s city. Who knew what evil the whisper of his name might conjure. She found herself listening for the slightest change in the movement of the creatures skittering in the brush. She scooted closer to Kieran.
He glanced down at her. “Talk of Laurana brings the press of evil close.” He stared into the trees before continuing. “Away from the city, our people struggled to exist with the forest. Taking without giving back brought disaster.” He shook his head slowly. “I can’t imagine how they survived. They had no more idea of how to live in the forest than—” He paused and hurried on, changing his words. “They had to learn everything new.”
Meara shivered. She knew how they felt, pulled from everything familiar and dropped into this.
“Many of the people were scholars and wizards. They had knowledge, but were no more able to survive in the forest than . . .” He glanced at her and again, altered his words, “than a baby. They had to accept the wisdom of the hunters and scouts, the ones who were beginning to understand the ways of the forest.”
“And the dragon?”
“The dragon came later. They founded the spot Helligon now inhabits and established a new city, a different type of city, one that blended their homes with the forest. They began to work with their surroundings, rather than trying to conquer them.”
“And . . .” she prodded.
“Time passed. Makeion became First Council after his parents died. Life was hard—harder once something settled into the cliffs of Ravaan. People began to go missing. The scouts found bits and pieces of them in strange places. One day a scouting party vanished. A single survivor reached Helligon babbling of fire and monsters. The scholars spoke of dragons.” He glanced back at her and pulled a branch away from the trail. “You can’t defeat a dragon with magic. You need common sense. Dragons have their own form of protection and a thick hide.”
He stooped to study something on the trail in front of them.
“What is it?” Worry snaked through her every time they stopped. “Is it Metreo?”
“Rahdon. He’s hopeless in the forest. They’re ahead of us. Hopefully, they stay that way.”
Meara relaxed. If they were ahead of them, she and Kieran were safe. She wanted to know more about the dragon. “And the dragon?” She nudged him to continue.
He stood slowly, brushing the dirt from his hands before pointing at the sky. A misty halo was growing around the sun.
“We’re passing out of the Nexus. Changes in the weather will start to catch us. As we get closer to the ocean, the winds will get stronger. We have to hurry.”
“I want to hear about the dragon. You can’t stop there.”
He sighed and cast a hunted look up the trail. “Makeion went to face the dragon. She admired his courage in coming forward and granted him a chance to tell her the story of his people.”
“That’s it?” There had to be more than that.
“Makeion was very convincing, and he was a good negotiator. He made a pact with the dragon—a herd of one thousand cattle a year in exchange for the safety of our people. One more thing—”
“What?” Meara stopped and placed her hand on his arm. She wanted to hear the end.
“The dragon had eaten someone that didn’t agree with her. Makeion brewed a remedy for indigestion.”
“The dragon had heart burn?”
Kieran shrugged.
“She was grateful for his aid and promised to leave them alone.”
“And the egg?”
“I think that was a moment of weakness on the dragon’s part.”
Meara stared at him.
Kieran shrugged. “Shakala—the dragon—promised that the first of her eggs would link with a descendent of the First Council. The egg, the Harmony egg, would bring peace and wealth to the land.”
“This is the Harmony Egg?”
Kieran nodded.
Meara’s fingers stroked its shell. The egg twitched in response.
“Stop tickling me. I wish to sleep.”
“A crabby egg to bring harmony to your people,” she murmured.
“Why did the egg bond to me?”
“I don’t know.” Kieran shrugged helplessly. “There are no direct descendants of the First. He’s the last of his line.”
They continued climbing in silence, navigating the rocky outcroppings, concentrating on every footstep because one false step could send them to the bottom of the narrow canyon they skirted. Leaving the Nexus brought a return to danger and fear. A fine mist drizzled from the low-lying clouds, saturating everything in its path. Kieran glanced back at Meara. She nodded grimly. She was fine. She pulle
d her hood higher over her curls.
He broke the silence. “Why did the egg bond to you? You said that you found it in an alley.”
She shrugged, bringing a sprinkling of wetness inside her cloak. “It called me—not by name of course. It just brought me to it.” She thought back to the moment in the alley when the music touched her. Like the whisper of the amulet when she reached for the trick of invisibility.
“I heard music.” She stared into the distance, remembering the beauty of the melody, the way it touched her soul. “I had to follow it, to see where it led me. It doesn’t make sense, does it?” Would he think her touched if she told him of the colors dancing on the alley wall, the way the egg had beckoned her?
“Nothing makes sense,” he said gloomily. “The egg was to bond with the chosen one, a blood relative of Makeion. Allego was to be that person. Even though his ties are diluted by time, he carries the ancient blood.”
“Who is this Allego?” she asked.
Kieran grimaced and knocked a branch back from the trail. “They say he is a promising wizard.”
“But you don’t like him?”
Kieran grinned. “Is it that obvious?”
She nodded.
“Orlan and I call him All Ego. He’s a conceited idiot, but still, he was the choice. What happens now? The egg has bonded with you and named me Protector! What does it mean?” He sighed heavily and dropped back to silence.
Meara chewed her lower lip, pondering what he had said about the egg and the bonding. She followed silently, mulling over the question of the egg and the bond.
At first, the call was so distant she almost missed it. She stopped and frowned, turning back to study the forest.
“Kieran, listen!” Her cloak muffled her hearing. She tilted her head, trying to pin down the direction of the call. Impatiently, she brushed the dampness from her face.
Kieran stopped.
“Orlan,” he muttered.
Kieran’s silence brought the clammy stillness closer. Meara pulled her cloak tighter and waited. She couldn’t hear the words clearly, but she could feel the anxiety in the distant voice. Kieran closed his eyes, the taunt worry on his face holding him stiff and still. Shut out, Meara could only trust that he would share the message with her. His eyes snapped open. He looked confused and frustrated. His pupils were black holes in his gray eyes.