Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) (27 page)

“What
were you afraid of?

“You,”
he confessed. “You terrified me.”

“I
did? But,” her eyebrows drew together, “why?”

He
shrugged. “Building a bond with you was the only task I’d been given and within
a week of meeting you, it was clear I’d failed. You hated me. At least the hike
helped. By the end of it, we’d had our first full conversation.”

“About
Alfred Hitchcock movies,” she said and laughed. “How did you even know about
him? It’s not like you grew up watching the films like I did.”

“Uncle
James,” Nick answered. “I came to Earth a few months before I moved in with him
and Viv. They put me up in a hotel on the other side of town and taught me
everything they could so I didn’t seem out of place when I met you. James told
me once they were your favorite movies, so I asked him to bring them to me. I
watched all of them at least twice.”

The
effort Nick had made to get her to like him surprised Meaghan, and it made her
feel worse about the way she had treated him.

“I
didn’t hate you,” she said, her voice soft with her shame. “I was angry with my
parents for inviting you and I took it out on you. I didn’t get much time with
them after I started college. Our camping trips were sacred to me and I thought
you were an encroaching stranger.” She paused as reality changed how she viewed
the memory. “I didn’t know they were your aunt and uncle. That trip must have
meant more to you than it did to me.”

“The
trip did mean a lot to me,” he told her, halting them both once more so he
could lower his lips to her forehead. “It was nice to be able to spend with them
again. But the trip meant more afterwards when I realized you and I could be
friends. Not all Guardians are lucky enough to get along so well with their
charges.” He released her hand and stepped back. “You impressed me that day,
you know, the way you took control and found your way back to the campsite. It
was the first time you reminded me of your mother. Or at least of how people
describe her.”

Her
birth mother, Meaghan realized he meant. She swallowed the lump forming in her
throat, unsure if she felt fear or pride from his comment, but saved from
deciding by a groan coming from below them. She scanned the path ahead and
spotted a pile of clothing where the trail met the floor of the ravine. Not
clothing, she realized, but a man, broken and bleeding. She ran toward him.

“Meg,”
Nick called after her in warning. She slowed, letting Nick catch up to her. He
gripped her shoulders, pulling her behind him. “Stay here,” he instructed. He
approached the man, then knelt down beside him and turned him onto his back.
The man’s groans turned to cries of pain.

“I
need the backpack,” Nick told her.

She
brought it to him, remaining at his side to examine the man closer. Blood
pooled underneath and next to his body, soaking through his clothing and
staining his skin. Red coated his face where he had been lying in it, and his
white hair stuck to his head with clumps of blood so thick they appeared almost
black. A hole gaped in his chest, showing bone and muscle that rose and fell
with each breath. She could not understand how he still lived.

Nick
opened the backpack and pulled out the jicab root, scraping off three times the
amount of bark Cal had told him would be safe. He rolled it between his fingers
until it formed a ball. “This will help,” he said. The man parted his lips,
accepting the bark, and chewed without question or instruction.

“Thank
you,” he whispered. He turned his gray eyes in Meaghan’s direction. The pain in
them shined bright, and after a moment, so did the recognition. “Queen
Adelina,” he choked out, bubbles of blood foaming on his lips. “Have you come
to take me to a better place?”

“It’s
not Adelina,” Nick told him. “It’s Meaghan.”

A
wisp of a smile graced the man’s mouth, slicing through the agony on his face,
and Meaghan knew the root had taken effect. She knelt beside Nick and held the
man’s hand. Despite her link with Nick’s power, she could sense the man’s
emotions as soon as her fingers brushed his skin. Pain, mostly, which had begun
to fade. Pride. And strong happiness. The latter came from his recognition of
her. But she felt no fear in him, despite the fact death had made a cruel game
of taunting him.

“You’ve
returned,” he spoke again, forcing the words from his mouth. “I killed one for
you.”

At
first, she did not understand what he meant, but then Nick put a hand on her
shoulder, using his touch to guide her focus to the bushes beside the path.
Half-hidden beneath the largest bush, she saw a distinct brown cloak and the
grotesque skeletal hand of a Mardróch. She checked her shudder and panic and
turned back to Nick. “He killed one? I thought they were unstoppable.”

“Their
cloaks are impenetrable, but their faces are exposed.”

She
saw a spear lying on the ground beside the man. Dark blood caked the metal head
and streaked thick red rivers down its shaft. She peered into his face and
smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Your bravery and sacrifice will not be
forgotten.”

“You’ve
returned,” he said again, his voice no more than a soft breath. “You’ve
returned to save us and now I won’t die in vain.” His eyes slipped shut. “Thank
you, my Queen.”

He
exhaled one last breath as the root sped him to a painless death and then
Meaghan felt only her own grief.

T
HE HOURS
slipped by, lost to heavy sorrow as Meaghan and Nick left the ravine behind and
wandered into another thick forest. Many miles now separated them from the body
of the man they had buried, but he refused to allow Meaghan to leave him
behind. Every detail of his death haunted her. She could still feel the
pressure of his fingers against her palm. His emotions, though lost in his
death, had come back to life within her. His gray eyes still burned their
recognition and expectations into hers. And the distinct smell of copper from
his blood clung to the inside of her nostrils, reminding her of its presence
each time she took a breath. She could not find the words to speak, so she
stared ahead, barely noticing the trees as she walked among them. Branches and
leaves brushed her face, battered her arms and legs, but she did not care. It
seemed only right that her body felt the pain plaguing her heart.

She
broke the silence only once, to confess the regret burning most in her mind, “I
never asked him his name.”

“Dell,”
Nick told her and his voice carried the same weight as hers. “His name was
Dell. He was the Mayor of the village on the other side of the ravine.”

Meaghan
nodded, settled by knowing at least that fact and offered a wish of peace to
the stars for the man’s soul. She could not find the will to ask Nick how he
knew Dell, and Nick did not offer an explanation. Instead, he took her hand and
left her to her thoughts.

When
the sun rose again, they exited the woods into a small clearing. A cabin, about
half the size of one of Faillen’s huts, stood in the center. It looked weather
worn. Its plank walls rippled. A thick blanket of moss covered its roof. And
its front porch bowed in places. But despite its flaws, it seemed solid and the
thought of having a place to sleep indoors replaced Meaghan’s emptiness with a
sliver of joy.

Nick
crossed the clearing, setting the backpack down on the cabin’s front porch
before turning to stare into the trees. Meaghan followed his gaze, almost
missing the crystals hanging in the branches surrounding the cabin. Unlike the
ones that had protected them in the cave, these did not glow. Their dull smoke
color blended into the receding night sky.

“Is
there something wrong with them?” she asked.

“Nothing
I can’t fix,” he told her. Moving to stand underneath one, he extended his hand
toward the crystal. Though he was not tall enough to reach it, he kept his hand
there and spoke, his words inaudible as his lips moved. After a few seconds,
the crystal glowed white.

He
moved to the next crystal and she followed him. “What are you doing?” she
asked.

“Reciting
a spell,” he told her. He extended his hand, focused, and repeated the
exercise. “The crystals will hold the spell even if I’m not here so the cabin
stays protected.”

She
nodded and he lit the next crystal. “If they hold the spell even after the
person who recited it is gone, why did these go dark?”

He
looked at her, his eyes masked in shadows and she understood even before he
said it. “The Guardian who recited the spell is dead.”

More
death, she thought and tiredness chased away her joy. What sort of world, what
sort of hell had she entered where death dictated every turn? She looked away,
toward the forest, and toward the portal that had torn her from home. She felt
Nick’s hand on her shoulder, but she refused to draw her eyes back to him. His
other hand found the small of her back and then she was in his arms.

She
pressed her head into his chest and gave into her sorrow. He held her, not
speaking as she cried and then his lips found her temple and trailed kisses
down her cheek. His touch soothed her, and chased away her tears. He ended his
affection at the corner of her lips. Bringing his hands to her cheeks, he
stepped back from her.

“Everything
will be okay, Meg. I promise,” he said. He waited until her eyes met his before
he dropped his hands. “I need to finish these crystals. Why don’t you see if
you can find some food for dinner? If you stay near here, you’ll be safe. Just
yell if you need me.”

Though
she did not feel hungry, she left him to search the forest, making a circular
pass around the cabin. When she found nothing, she went deeper into the woods.
Foliage appeared thick, lush, and green, but bushes that should have held fruit
had turned brown, dropping their leaves with the slightest touch. She gave up
and returned to the cabin after finding nothing more than two apples on the low
branch of a gangly looking tree.

Nick
sat on the porch. Next to him, a dying raspberry bush taunted her efforts. This
one had held a handful of berries he had already picked. He handed her half of
them as she sat down. She gave him one of the apples, setting the other on top
of a porch step.

“That’s
all I could find,” she told him.

He
shrugged and threw his half of the berries into his mouth. “I’m surprised you
found those,” he responded. “The castle is about twenty miles from here. We’re
on the outer border of the land Garon cursed to prevent anyone from living too
close. Nothing providing sustenance can grow there.”

“More
death,” she said aloud this time. She rested her forearms on her knees,
crushing the berries between her palms, and stared at the ground. The juice
stained the edges of her fingers and oozed between them, trailing down her
knuckles. She ignored it. “Garon brings nothing but death,” she whispered,
closing her eyes. “How can you stand it? How can anyone stand to live here?”

Nick
did not respond. She heard him move and then felt his fingers touch her hands.
Gently, he coaxed one hand from the other and then rubbed something rough against
her right hand. She opened her eyes. His fingers wiped raspberry from her skin
with green leaves he had plucked from the bush. He concentrated on his task,
his face passive, and she wondered if he intended not to answer her question.
He discarded the stained leaves and plucked more, wiping the last of the juice
from her right hand before moving to her left.

“I
was eight when I first saw a man die.”

He
continued to focus on her hand, wiping with careful strokes and it took her a
minute to realize he had spoken. His voice had been so soft his words had
nearly dissolved into the air. She felt grief from him, and guilt, and she
realized he had dropped his guard so she could fully understand what he needed
to say.

“I
was similar to Aldin then, more curious than smart. And though I understood the
concept of the protective boundary surrounding our village, I didn’t always pay
attention to it. I would forget it was there and wander outside it, or I would
ignore it if I saw something beyond the village I wanted to explore.”

He
discarded the last of the leaves and then slid his palms over hers. She curled
her fingers around his hands. “That day, I ignored it. I saw something in the
woods that caught my attention and I thought I had to go to it. I can’t even
remember what it was now.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. His guilt grew
stronger. “I was playing somewhere along one of the paths when I felt it for
the first time. It was a low heat, a tingling sensation in my stomach I
couldn’t quite place, and it scared me so much I hid behind a bush. I learned
later that it was the automatic warning a Guardian feels when danger is
imminent. I’d never faced true danger before that day.”

He
shrugged and looked away. “They showed up about a minute later. I saw brown
cloaks, leathery skin stretched over bone, and those red eyes. They froze me.
Even though I never looked into their eyes, my fear froze me.”

Nick
stopped talking and took in a breath, releasing it with the same calculated
measure. Although his eyes remained dry and his voice stayed steady, the pain
within him grew. Meaghan moved closer to him, tightening her hold on his hands,
and he continued.