Aerenden: The Zeiihbu Master (Ærenden) Read online

  She had pulled her black hair into a ponytail. Although she looked younger than Caide, she had been in his class in school. She had spoken little to him then, as she did now, and he had always assumed she was shy. Because of that, he had barely noticed her. He had caught her smiling at him once. She had quickly looked away, her cheeks flashing bright pink. Another time, soon after he had divulged the secret of his power to a friend of his, who then told everyone else, she had said hello to him when she passed him in the center of town. Some of the villagers had shunned him, and his friends had made fun of him, though her single word, an act of kindness he had not expected, eased the frustration that had been building within him.

  Now that he knew she also had a power, he understood why she had offered him comfort that day, and why she had defended him against Stilgan.

  The bruise on her face from Stilgan's palm still appeared prominently. It stretched from her right temple across her cheek, ending just above her jawline. Although it had faded to yellow on the edges, it looked painful. He skimmed his fingers along the edge of it and she batted his hand away.

  “You're supposed to be resting,” she lectured.

  He glanced down at his arm. Though his flesh still looked raw, it no longer appeared burnt. The other bruises and cuts had already disappeared. “You're nearly done,” he told her.

  She nodded, though he did not need the confirmation, and placed her hands over his wound again. The warmth returned, bringing discomfort instead of pain as it had before.

  “You don't talk much,” he said.

  “I'm trying to concentrate.”

  “Now, I suppose,” he replied, and shrugged, moving his arm in the process. He caught a glare from her and relaxed again. “But you didn't talk much in school either.”

  She looked up at him. “I didn't think you noticed me in school.”

  “There were only twenty of us in the upper level classes, Emalía,” he responded. “And less than half of those kids were our age.”

  “I'm a year older than you.”

  “Close enough. We took a lot of the same classes.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You still didn't notice me,” she said. “Or you wouldn't call me Emalía. And you certainly didn't recognize me the first night I did this.”

  “I thought Emalía was your name.”

  “It is. And everyone who knows me knows I don't like it. I prefer to be called Emma.”

  “Oh.” He studied the stony stillness of her face. Had he hurt her feelings? He did not know why, but he suspected he had. Considering how many times she had saved his life since he had returned to Zeiihbu, he felt it best to correct his mistake. “I'm sorry I didn't recognize you right off,” he told her. “But it's been two years since I saw you last. You used to wear your hair up all the time. You've only worn it up twice since you've been healing me.”

  “And?” she asked, her voice chilly in response.

  “You look different with it down.” He reached up to touch her ponytail, and this time she did not swat him away. “Your face has changed, too, since I saw you last. You don't look like a child anymore.” He dropped his hand and smiled. “Neither do I. We've both grown up, I think.”

  “You look the same,” she responded, though the hostility had left her voice and he knew she meant it as a statement of fact instead of an argument. She pressed harder against his skin. One last surge of power coursed through him and then she was done. She withdrew her hands to her lap. “You've grown taller though. You're nearly as tall as your father.”

  “He's gone, you know,” Caide said. “Stilgan's men killed him.”

  Emma turned her eyes to the window. Darkness greeted them from outside, but he knew her concern. The voices had not come in several nights. The only noises drifting through the window were the shuffling movements of Stilgan's sentries as they passed on their rounds. Emma crossed the room to peer outside, and then drew the shutter closed before returning to his bedside.

  “Stilgan lies. Don't believe him.”

  “I was there when Stilgan's soldier set the fire.”

  “But you didn't see your family die.” She tucked her hands together again and stared at him. “Stilgan always lies. He promised us if we did as he asked, he wouldn't harm any of us. Not two days after he made that promise, he killed my parents. He claimed they tried to fight him, but I know better. My father took the advisor position to your grandfather after the old advisor died. Stilgan killed everyone who used to serve in your grandfather's cabinet that day.

  “My brother, Thane, had recently been added to your grandfather's guards. When Stilgan robbed the minds of the others, my brother ran. Stilgan tells people that he was killed escaping, but no one saw it happen. I think he made it.”

  Caide remembered her brother more easily than he had remembered her. Though Thane had been five years older than Caide, the stories of his adventures had been favorites among the younger kids. He was the best archer of their generation, the most accomplished hunter. Rumors had spread that he had won every contest he had entered in school, and he had been hand-chosen by Caide's grandfather to lead a hunting party at age fifteen, three years younger than anyone else before him had.

  Caide doubted all the stories were true, but he knew some of them contained fact. Caide's father had added to the impressive tales of Thane's archery skills after hunting with him one year. And his grandfather had confirmed that he had chosen Thane to lead a hunting party, though Emma's brother had been seventeen at the time, not fifteen.

  If anyone could have escaped from Stilgan's grasp, it was Thane. But after Caide had experienced Stilgan's cruelty first-hand, he doubted the chances were good, no matter how impressive Thane's skills had been. Rather than speak his doubts, he simply took Emma's hand, offering comfort.

  “Your grandfather escaped too,” she said. “Shortly after Stilgan brought you here.”

  “He was here?” The realization seemed to stop Caide's heart for a moment, and then it beat twice as hard with his anger. His cheeks grew hot. “Why would he leave without seeing me?”

  “Because he had no choice,” Emma whispered. “Stilgan wouldn't let him anywhere near you. He left to try to get help.”

  “From who?” Caide shook his head, still disbelieving her. “Who could possibly help us now?”

  “Those in the wilderness. I suppose I wasn't the best person for your grandfather to confess to. An adult would have been better, but Stilgan doesn't notice me much either.” Something brushed against the door, signaling that they were not alone. Emma lowered her voice. “He didn't notice me anyway, until recently. It made it easier for me to get around. Your grandfather wanted you to have a message. He said to hold on as long as you can. Don't give into what Stilgan wants. He'll be back for you.”

  “If he survived,” Caide said. “Stilgan's power weakened my mind in two days. If my grandfather was exposed for an extended period, he's bound to be as feeble as Stilgan claimed.”

  “He isn't,” she said and stood when the deep voice of a Mardróch came muffled through the door. “There's no time to explain,” she whispered. “But you have to believe me. Your grandfather was fine when he left. I have to go now.”

  “But—”

  “I'll tell you more next time,” she interrupted, and then smiled down at him. Her voice returned to its normal volume. “Try to keep from getting hurt for a few days. I need sleep.”

  And with those words, she exited the hut.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MEAGHAN WATCHED watched the sky turn from black to red, then seep into the faint beginning of blue. She flipped onto her back, and then curled her hands against her sides, grateful for the ambercat gloves that kept her fingers warm. Too many nights had passed when the rest of her had frozen by the time morning arrived. This had been one of those nights.

  She wiggled her toes within her boots to revive them and sighed out a breath, watching it dissolve into mist in the waning darkness. Bushes rustled to her right and she snapped her eye
s toward them, but relaxed again when a bird darted past, disappearing into the dense foliage of a tall tree.

  The rescue party had left the Elders' caves nearly two weeks ago with a clear goal in mind. They needed to rescue Caide. Yet they seemed to be wandering aimlessly through the wilderness. Trees gave way to fields then yielded to trees again. Cal listened to the wind and watched through the smoke of their cooking fires, directing them away from areas where Garon's army built camps.

  Meaghan sought her corn husk doll, tracing her fingers down its rough body to ensure it remained tightly sewn into a pocket of her cloak, and then brought her hand up to the amulet hanging around her neck. Though she could not feel the stone through her gloves, the heft of it still comforted her. Each delay dragged more lines over Faillen's face, darkening his flint-colored eyes to near black and tingeing his dark olive skin with the gray pallor of a man haunted by grief. It reminded her that his loss had been greatest. She did not want to think of what it would do to him if they failed to rescue his son.

  Meaghan scanned the tents for movement, but found none. She had chosen to forego her own tent for the company of moonlight, easing an onset of loneliness and claustrophobia by counting stars. When the time came for Faillen to relieve Cal of guard duty, she stood.

  “I'll take Faillen's turn,” she offered. “He hasn't slept much.”

  Cal raised an eyebrow. “Neither have you. Did you sleep any tonight?”

  “Some,” she lied. “And I've tried, but I can't get back to sleep. There's no point in both of us being up.”

  “Sure, okay,” Cal said and he made his way to his tent. Meaghan moved to the log where he had been sitting, then suppressed a yawn behind her hand. She doubted she would sleep tomorrow night or the next, either. Insomnia had become her closest friend since she left the safety of the Elders. She had a feeling she was not the only one who had found its company. Their mission often skirted death, and with only eight people on the journey, each new morning could be someone's last.

  She often wondered who would not make it home. Would it be Talea and Talis, the twins from Nick's village? Or would Artair, who had fought alongside her in her first battle, breathe his last? She could not bear the thought of Cal not making it back to see his son's birth or of Faillen orphaning his youngest son, Aldin, but she knew they were targets for Garon. Their presence in Zeiihbu, a land now swarming with Mardróch, would only increase their chances of death. And what about the last two who had joined their party? Though Meaghan knew little of Eudor, a Guardian Cal vouched for from his time fighting in the Zeiihbu War, and his son Malaki, she had already grown fond of them. They brought a wit and easy demeanor with them that often eased the tension among the group while night descended around them.

  An hour slipped away, and then the last stars twinkled into slumber. Meaghan stood. Grabbing a log from the small pile by her feet, she refueled the weakening flames. She would need to wake the others soon. Talea and Talis had set out rabbit snares last night and she hoped for a hearty meal before today's long trek.

  Meaghan turned her eyes toward their goal. As the sun's rays painted more of the horizon, she could see the distant rise of three peaks, the three mountains surrounding a valley known as Gormand's Gorge. Most travelers avoided that area, as well as the monsters and hazards inhabiting the forests around it, but the rescue party was heading straight toward it. Meaghan tightened her hand into a fist. Pain streaked across her right palm and she lifted it to examine the cut still healing in her skin. Bandages had been enough to stop the bleeding, but she had no doubt it would scar. A brief run-in with a Mardróch had produced that injury. She hoped the mountains would not cause worse.

  “It's nothing more than a scratch,” Cal said from beside her.

  She glanced up at him. Despite her annoyance at his comment, as soon as her eyes met the sky blue color of his, she smiled. They resembled his brother's—the man who had raised her—so closely that they instilled an automatic feeling of safety and familiarity within her.

  “So says the man who didn't bother to take part in the skirmish,” she said. “I still don't see how you managed to sleep through that Mardróch attack.”

  Cal shrugged and grinned. “I would hope seven people could handle two monsters. I didn't feel the need to disrupt my dream. It was a nice one.”

  She laughed and tucked her hands back into her pockets. “At least one of us is having pleasant dreams,” she said. “Speaking of that, thanks for letting me relieve Faillen. It was nice to see him finally sleep.”

  “It's the only time I'll honor the request,” Cal said and his frown disappeared into a full, black beard. “We schedule shifts for a reason. We all need sleep.”

  Meaghan did not respond in the hope she could avoid Cal's familiar lecture. She focused on his beard instead, trailing her gaze down thick whiskers to the mid-point of his chest. She still found it amusing that his beard held only a small spatter of the gray overwhelming his shoulder-length hair.

  “You need sleep,” he insisted, and brought a hand to her shoulder. “The dark circles under your eyes tell me you lied about sleeping last night. Did you even try?”

  She shook her head, refocusing her attention on his face. “After our near-brush with the soldiers yesterday afternoon, I thought it best to keep my power alert through the night.”

  “So you could be less alert today? If you don't start getting sleep, you'll get yourself killed. I made a promise to Nick you'd come back alive. You're not helping me with that.”

  “I know,” she admitted. “It's hard to sleep when I keep dreaming about what they're doing to Caide. He's just a boy.”

  “And one not too many years younger than you,” Cal said. “He'll be okay. He's strong. Besides, you can't be certain they aren't treating him like royalty. They want to convert him to their side. Convincing him they're his friends would be a good tactic for that.”

  “It's not their way,” she said, and stared into the fire. “From what I've heard of Stilgan, he'd torture his own mother for the pleasure of it.”

  Cal sighed. “Maybe, but telling myself that is the only way I can keep Caide from haunting my dreams too. I worry about him.”

  Meaghan nodded and turned her eyes back to the mountains. “Are we doing the right thing, Cal? Should we have gone straight to Zeiihbu instead?”

  “You already know the answer to that,” he responded. “If we went there now, we'd be walking straight into a trap. Instead of saving him, we'd be sacrificing ourselves. Your plan is the right one. We need the help.”

  “We do, but what if I can't convince them?” She hesitated, and turned her attention back to Cal. “What if I can't find them? What if—?”

  “That's enough of that,” he interrupted. Raising a hand to her shoulders, he squeezed. “There's no point in doubting what we're doing now. We're committed to it. Besides, if it was the wrong thing to do, Faillen would have fought against it. Sometimes the direct way isn't the best way.”

  She nodded and passed a hand over her eyes. “I don't know why I'm having so much trouble with this lately. I'm just—”

  “Tired,” Cal interrupted again. “I wish I'd been able to find a Healer I trusted enough for this mission. It would be nice to know which plants would help you sleep.”

  “I know them.”

  Cal jumped at the new voice that broke into the conversation. Meaghan only smiled and turned toward the source of it. She had felt Artair's curiosity stir when he awoke, though he laid still, listening to the end of the conversation before he contributed to it. He returned her smile, the friendliness in it genuine, though she also felt his disappointment at learning nothing new in his eavesdropping.

  “Sal taught me how to recognize herbs before he died,” Artair continued. “I can't make potions, so I can't use some of them, but there's one that can be brewed into a tea. It should work.”

  “Sal?” Cal asked.

  “My village's Healer,” Artair responded. His dark green eyes slid from Meaghan to C
al. “He died in the battle Meaghan fought.”

  Cal grunted. “Find the plant if you can,” he instructed. He latched his hands behind his back. “While you're at it, collect the rabbits.”

  Without another word, Cal walked away. Meaghan frowned at his back. If she did not know any better, she would have guessed Cal's authority over the team had gone to his head.

  “He doesn't like me much, does he?” Artair asked. Bringing his hands to his head, he combed his fingers through his black hair, and then used a small leather tie he released from around his wrist to tie it up. It was his usual morning ritual, and though his ponytail served a useful purpose, it tended to make his angular features look sharper. Meaghan preferred his hair down.

  “Don't worry about him,” she responded. “He doesn't know you, that's all. He'll warm up in time.”

  “I hope so.” Artair's shoulders slumped forward, shortening his tall frame. “Otherwise I may wind up assigned to the worst Guardian duties in Ærenden. It's not wise to anger an Elder.”

  Meaghan patted him on the shoulder. “Don't worry about it. I'll make sure you don't. Shall we get the rabbits?”

  Artair grinned and swept an arm in front of him as he bowed. “Whatever you desire, my Queen.”

  She rolled her eyes, but took the lead anyway.

  §

  THE TRAPS Talea and Talis had set yielded six rabbits before Artair found the plant he hunted.

  “I think this is it,” he said, running a clover-shaped leaf between his thumb and forefinger. “Sal said when it's ripe, it has blue veins like this, but I've only seen it deep purple.” His trailed a finger to the leaf's spiky edge, and then dropped his hand to his side. “I think it might be best if I tried it first.”

  Meaghan raised an eyebrow. “You don't know for certain?” she asked. “Could it be poisonous?”