Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) (22 page)

A
tall man stood before them, his flint-colored eyes darkened in loathing as he
stared them down, his weathered, olive-toned face set grim beneath a thick head
of curly, dirty-blonde hair. Holding a bow in one hand and the feather end of
an arrow in the other, he lined up the arrow’s stone head for a direct flight
into Nick’s heart.

“The
first shot was a warning,” the man said, drawing his bowstring taut. “The
second won’t miss. Now tell me, why should this day not be your last?”

“Y
OU HAVE
until
the count of five to answer my question. One…”

Meaghan
swallowed, unable to think of anything to say.

“…two…”

Nick
stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. She thought the effort
futile. Once the arrow pierced his heart, he would fall. Another arrow would find
her in seconds.

“…three…”

“What
do you want?” Nick asked, his voice steady, showing no hint of the fear that
robbed Meaghan of her breath.

“The
boy,” the man answered. “Four.”

“What
do you want with him?”

“That’s
my business. Five.”

“We
saved his life once today,” Nick said, holding firm though the man steadied his
arm, readying to fire. “We don’t intend to hand him over without knowing what
you want with him.”

“What
do you mean, you saved his life?” Though the archer’s fingers tightened on his
bow, his gaze wavered. A quick flick of his eyes toward the sleeping boy, a
slight increase in fear, and Meaghan realized what the man wanted. She moved to
stand beside Nick, taking his hand and squeezing it to let him know she had a
plan.

“Two
Mardróch attacked him,” she answered the man’s question. “They didn’t harm him,
but we didn’t know what to do with him so we brought him here to keep him
safe.”

The
man moved his arrow, refocusing it on her. “His arm is injured.”

“It
isn’t. He was playing with gauze. He’s okay.”

“Stories,”
the man responded. He drew the arrow tauter against the string. “Lies. Your
type never tells the truth. For all I know, you mean to hand him over to the
next Mardróch you see.”

The
man’s anger overcame his fear and Meaghan fought to control her own emotions.
He was uncertain of his accusations, so he had not killed them yet, but she
realized the wrong word would settle his doubt. She tightened her grip on
Nick’s hand to keep panic from shaking her muscles.

“The
Mardróch are after me, too.”

The
man frowned and she felt his uncertainty growing. “Why?”

“Because
I’m meant to rule this kingdom.”

Nick
inhaled a sharp breath. She ignored it and the reproaching look he shot her.
Revealing her identity to a stranger might not be the smartest move, but it was
all she had. She only hoped she had not misjudged the man’s intent.

The
man’s eyes locked on hers. For the first time, his arrow wavered. “What’s your
name?”

“Meaghan,”
she responded.

“And
you?” he inclined his head toward Nick.

“Nick.
I’m her Guardian.”

The
man lowered his bow halfway, though his arrow remained readied within it.
“Prove it.”

“How
do I prove,” she began but stopped when she realized. Her power. “You know I’m
an Empath?” she asked the man.

“I’ve
heard the Queen is. She’s the only one. Do you mean to tell me you can sense
what I feel?”

She
nodded. “You’re afraid. Terrified, in fact, that Aldin might have been hurt or
killed. And you feel guilty. I’m guessing you were watching him when he
wandered away?”

The
man eased his arrow from the bow. She continued. “You’re also grateful he’s all
right, though you’re angry that strangers have him. Your love for him is strong
and so is your desire to protect him, so I believe you’re his father. Am I
correct?”

“You
are.”

“Shall
I continue?”

“That
won’t be necessary.” He slid the arrow into a woven basket strapped to his
back. Reclaiming his other arrow from the tree, he stowed it before swinging
the bow over his shoulder. Then he turned his attention toward Nick. “We agree
I can take the boy?”

“He’s
yours.”

The
man walked over to the blanket. Kneeling beside Aldin, he laid a hand on the
boy’s back, giving him a slight shake. Slow and still groggy, Aldin rolled over
and opened his eyes. When he saw his father, he sprang to his feet, launching
into his father’s arms.

“Dat,”
he squealed, “you found me.”

“You
shouldn’t have wandered off,” the man lectured, though the firmness of his tone
became muffled in the boy’s sweater as he pressed his face into it. “You scared
me,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m
okay, Dat.” Aldin pushed away from his father so he could look up at him.
“Meaghan saved me. She ran out and yelled at the monsters and when they tried
to freeze her, she didn’t freeze. They were mad.” He giggled. “I had to hurt
them though.” His brow wrinkled and he shifted his eyes away from his father’s.
“I know you said I shouldn’t make my words come true. I didn’t mean to, honest.
But the monsters scared me.”

The
man kissed him on the forehead. “It’s all right, Aldin. You did the right
thing.” He hugged his son again before standing, lifting the boy into his arms
as he did so. He faced Nick and Meaghan. “Thank you,” he said.

Nick
nodded in acknowledgement and the man turned to go. He reached the edge of the
clearing, hesitated, and then stopped, turning back around. He drew his eyes to
Meaghan.

“You’re
not safe here. If the Mardróch communicated with their kind, more will come.
They’ll hunt for him, but they’ll find you.”

“We’ll
keep moving,” Nick responded.

The
man’s eyes flicked to Nick and then back to Meaghan and she understood. He
wanted her to gauge his emotions. He wanted her to read his underlying intent
for what he was about to say. “You can’t travel during the day. Not here. I’m
sure your Guardian knows this?”

“He
does.”

“Then
you’ll come with me. Let my family keep you safe for the day and then you can
continue your travels tonight, under darkness.”

“That
isn’t necessary,” Nick spoke again, his voice stiff with his distrust.

The
man’s eyes turned to Nick’s face again and held there. Meaghan felt the same
distrust emanating from him. Although she sensed the emotion had deep roots,
seeded and nurtured long ago, his invitation had been open and honest. He would
not harm them. Nick did not have the luxury of knowing the man’s intent and
Meaghan did not get the opportunity to tell him.

“You’d
risk your Queen’s well-being to continue an old war?” the man asked Nick. “Or are
you afraid I aim to start a new one?”

“The
thought did cross my mind,” Nick said, squaring his shoulders. “You have no
obligation to protect her and enough to gain by harming her.”

Meaghan
pursed her lips, surprised by Nick’s accusation. She expected to sense insult
coming from the man in front of them, but he simply smiled, his eyes alight
with genuine humor.

“That’s
where you’re wrong,” he said. “I have everything to lose if she’s harmed. I am
Faillen.”

“Faillen,”
Nick echoed, “as in the first son of Cadell, the leader of the Paecis and ruler
of Zeiihbu?”

“The
same,” Faillen confirmed. “So you will come,” he decreed and, without waiting
for further argument, turned and entered the forest.

T
HEY FOLLOWED
Faillen in silence, their nerves raw, and their senses tuned to the slightest
sign of an attack. Once they left the cover of the forest, the field offered no
protection and no change in scenery. Miles of grass stretched out before them,
green disappearing into the blue of a cloudless horizon. The sun welcomed them
from its journey mid-way across the sky, but it failed to provide additional
warmth against the crisp wind whipping from the north. Though they remained
unprotected, vulnerable in the bright daylight, their one comfort was that the
Mardróch had nowhere to stage a sneak attack. Unless they had the ability to
turn themselves into field mice, the hunters were as exposed as their prey.

They
walked for half an hour before Faillen stopped. Aldin lifted his head from his
father’s shoulder and stretched out his arms, reaching his hands into the air
in greeting.

“Mata,”
he cried.

A
woman ran out of nowhere to scoop him into her arms. She buried him in a hug,
her long red hair covering the boy’s head before she raised him to smother his
face with kisses. Tears streamed freely from her bright green eyes. Joy spread
a broad smile across her plump, red lips. “You fool,” she said to him, though
her words did not carry chastisement. “You fool,” she said again, pulling him
in for another hug. He giggled, reached up to touch her face and traced a
finger down her cheek, connecting freckles.

She
lifted her head to look at her husband, love shining on her face, and then
turned her attention to the newcomers, her happiness dissolving into surprise.

“Outsiders,”
she said, her voice hushed. “Faillen.” She spoke no more, but the accusation
hung in the air, along with a worry that Meaghan did not need her power to see.
The risk of exposure Faillen had brought with him had broken a rule, an
understanding between them that turned the woman’s body rigid and her face
stiff.

Instead
of responding to her, Faillen took Meaghan’s hand in his. “You are welcome
here,” he said, then turned to Nick and did the same.

As
it had with Neiszhe’s village, solid matter materialized where only air had
been. But here, there was no village. The protection spell hid three huts, no
bigger than four hundred square feet each. Their thatched roofs and rough mud
stucco spoke of the care taken with their construction.

The
woman clutched her son tighter in her arms. Her worry turned to panic, the
strength of it almost overwhelming Meaghan’s senses. Meaghan stepped forward.
The woman stepped back. Meaghan offered a friendly smile, hoping the gesture
would ease the woman’s mind. The woman did not return it. Instead, her eyes
beseeched Faillen for an explanation.

“Our
secrets are safe with them,” he told her. The statement had the same effect on
her as Meaghan’s smile. The woman pursed her lips and anger mixed with her
worry. Faillen turned to look at Meaghan. She sensed he felt trapped. He needed
to offer his wife the truth, but he did not know how much information Meaghan
would allow him to share. She nodded, answering his unspoken question and
relief washed over him. He addressed his wife. “She is the Queen, my love.”

The
woman’s eyes grew wide. Awe overtook all other emotions. “Are you certain it’s
her?”

“I’m
certain,” he responded. “The man is her Guardian. They need a safe place to
stay until they can resume their travels tonight.”

“Yes,
of course,” the woman whispered, turning to look at Meaghan. She tucked one
foot behind the other, attempting a curtsy, but found it awkward with the boy
in her arms.

Meaghan
held back a grin, knowing the woman would not see humor in the situation. She
nodded and the woman pulled up to her full height again.

“We’re
still outside the protection,” she told them and pointed to the ground. Meaghan
saw a line shimmering through the grass, like glass glinting in the sun. It
bordered the houses and twenty additional feet of field on three sides. On the
fourth side, it bordered a garden full of vegetables. “The spell ends at the
line. If you stay within the boundary, you’ll be hidden. Come, join us.” She
stepped across the line and they followed her. Approaching one of the huts, she
opened the door, and entered.

Although
small, the single room inside served well as a main living area for the family.
One side of the room functioned as a kitchen. Pots and pans hung from the walls
next to a cupboard and hutch. A basic wood table, built waist high, held the
makings of bread. Flour dusted the surface and in the middle of the fine white
powder, a lump of dough showed the finger indentation evidence of a worried
woman who kneaded to keep her hands busy.

In
the center of the back wall, a fire blazed in a large brick fireplace. A hook
for hanging pots and a bread oven door indicated the fireplace served several
purposes. The other side of the room held a dining table and chairs, and
Meaghan realized the area acted as a multi-use family center. A boy who looked
to be around twelve or thirteen sat in one of the chairs, studying them. His
eyes mirrored his mother’s and his short hair had the strawberry-blonde blend
of both his mother and father’s hair colors.

“Caide,”
his mother addressed him. “Please put water on for tea.”

The
boy nodded and jumped from his seat. He had already grown almost to his
father’s height, though his lanky frame had yet to take on the older man’s
muscular form. He poured water from a bucket into a kettle and hung it from the
hook. Pushing the arm for the hook, he swung it over the fire and then moved to
the hutch to gather mugs.