Aerenden: The Gildonae Alliance (Ærenden Book 2) Read online

  “Your aim's not that good,” Nick responded, slipping the blade in his hand back into its sheath. “Besides, I already sensed you didn't intend any harm. I just wanted to send a warning.”

  “So you aimed for the tree?” The man chuckled. “You've gained some skill with the knife then.” The man stepped closer so Nick could view the weathered face and long, black and gray beard of one of his oldest friends. Nick accepted his knife, stowing it before the man engulfed him in a big hug. The man's eyes appeared misty when he let Nick go.

  “Training Meaghan has been good for you, I think,” he added.

  “It has,” Nick agreed. “It's nice to see you, Cal. How long have you been here?”

  “All day. I wanted to watch Meaghan's progress. She's doing well.”

  “Well enough,” Nick responded and continued walking. Cal kept pace beside him. “Thank you for the supplies,” Nick said. “The timing of your deliveries is impeccable.”

  Cal shrugged. “It's been fairly windy this winter. It allows me to use my power to check up on you.”

  Nick nodded. An owl hooted in the distance, and the night settled around them. Cal tucked his hands into his cloak, a pensive gesture Nick recognized, but several minutes still passed before the older man spoke again. “Your mother asked me to give you the update.”

  And it would not be good, if the lines creasing Cal's forehead offered any indication. “Another village fell?” he guessed.

  “Several. The largest at Oak Point. Only one person survived there, a woman who had an invisibility power.”

  “Oak Point Village had two hundred people living in it,” Nick said, though he did not expect a response from Cal, nor did he receive one. Counted among the dead would be a childhood friend of Cal's, a Guardian named Sylb. “I'm sorry.”

  Cal kept his eyes glued to the ground. Nick watched brown leaves disintegrate beneath the man's oversized feet.

  “The Elders receive survivors from the smaller villages nearly every day,” Cal continued. “We can't refuse them.”

  “And each one could be a traitor,” Nick realized.

  Cal nodded. “The Elders continue to maintain a strict protective barrier. That helps. So does moving every six weeks or so.”

  “But it's only a matter of time before Garon finds you,” Nick said. Cal nodded again and panic squeezed Nick's throat. “Then I need to double my training efforts. Meaghan needs to be ready to lead soon or there won't be anything left of her kingdom.”

  Cal glanced up. A frown burrowed into his beard. “You're already pushing her too hard.”

  “That's a matter of opinion. She's handling the pace fine.”

  “She's grown weary and she's lost too much weight. Even I can see that, so don't claim you can't.”

  Nick could not deny it, but he did not want to admit it either. Meaghan's copper eyes had begun to show strain, muting the gold that once sparked within them, and her deep brown hair and olive skin had grown dull, a reflection of poor nutrition. He had already talked to his mother about which herbs he could use to supplement Meaghan's diet, but more food and less training would be a better solution.

  Cal stopped walking, prompting Nick to do the same, and Nick realized his friend had taken the silence as an admission of guilt.

  “Training takes years,” Cal said. “You can't expect her to complete it in a few months.”

  “In a perfect world, I would give her that time,” Nick responded, clasping his hands behind his back. “But this situation is far from perfect. Meaghan's people need her, and even if they didn't, she needs the Elders' protection. The Mardróch are around.”

  “They haven't found you yet. I keep an eye on them, too.”

  “What good does that do?” Nick challenged. “You watch us through the elements, but most of the time you're too far away to help. And when you're here, you don't show your face. Or you didn't before today. Why now? Did you come to lecture me?”

  “I'm here to help. You've done fine on your own, so I thought I'd butt out where I wasn't needed. But now—”

  “Now you think it's time to step in, to tell me I'm wrong to train her the way I do.” Nick narrowed his eyes. “Don't judge me. You aren't here every day. You don't see the way she struggles to make sense of this world. And you don't see the disappointment on her face when she can't control her powers or the fear in her eyes when she fights the Mardróch I inflict on her. I need to get her through this, and soon. Before it's too late.”

  “Before the Mardróch find her or before she hates you?” Cal asked, arching an eyebrow that told Nick he had guessed what the answer would be. “She isn't the only one who looks tired, Nick. I worry about you, too. That's why I'm here.”

  With those words, Nick's anger deflated. He continued walking, Cal now his shadow. The older man's voice softened when he spoke again.

  “I know there isn't much you can do to slow down Meaghan's schedule, but there are other ways you can relieve her stress. You're proud of her accomplishments. I can see it on your face when she's not looking. Why don't you tell her?”

  Nick dropped his gaze to the ground. “It wouldn't help. She needs to focus on improving.”

  “She's improving, and it would help her morale to hear it. She also needs to hear the other things you're not telling her. May says you've decided to shelter Meaghan from the weekly reports.”

  Nick shrugged. “Bad news won't relieve her stress.”

  “Maybe not,” Cal said. “But showing you trust her will, particularly given your situation. It's only natural for her to care what you think about her, and to worry about it.”

  Nick grunted. “If you say so.”

  “I do. I have my fair share of experience with women. Besides, it doesn't really matter what you believe. The Elders want her to have the updates.”

  Nick's feet stalled. He stared at Cal. “Since when do you follow the Elders blindly?”

  “This isn't about the Elders, lad, and you know it. This is about you keeping information from Meaghan. She can sort through it as well as you can, and she has a right to do so.” Cal placed a hand on Nick's shoulder. “I know this is hard for you, but you can't hide these things from her. Just like you can't hide what you feel from her. This isn't a job any longer. This isn't about you guarding her.”

  “Of course it is. I'm her Guardian.”

  “You're her husband first. That's where your bond lies. And you're the King second. You may be a Guardian, but your instincts to protect her don't come from that any longer. They come from your other roles in her life.”

  King. Even hearing the word made Nick's stomach sour. He thought it best to direct the conversation to safer ground. “So what do I do about Meaghan's training?” he asked. “I don't have years.”

  “No, you don't,” Cal agreed. “But maybe you won't need it. She's doing well in her combat training.”

  “She won't strike to defend herself.”

  “She will when the situation's real,” Cal said. “Though honestly, if she's able to avoid it, it's best for her. Especially since she understands the emotional aspect of it, and will feel it more than anyone.”

  “But if she doesn't learn how to do it now, she'll get killed. She'll hesitate or run when she has to do it for real.”

  “And you didn't?” Cal asked. “You were fourteen when you passed your field test. That's a young age to face the possibility of taking a life, but you did it. Did it help? Did it prevent you from panicking when it was real?”

  Nick swallowed hard over the grief he still harbored for the first life he had taken. The woman's face haunted Nick's dreams. Her green eyes bore guilt into him at each battle. The knowledge she had been trying to kill him did not ease his guilt, nor did the memory of the searing pain he had suffered when her pyrotechnic power had turned his arm black. At first, he had given in to his instinct to run. When he finally followed his training, he had watched the woman's life leave her body, her soul die in her eyes, and wondered if it was worse to kill than be killed. />
  “No,” Nick admitted. “It didn't help.”

  “But you eventually did it because you had to. She will, too.”

  Nick hoped so, but he did not have time to discuss it further before a feeling of urgency pulled on the corners of his mind. His sensing power had detected danger. He glanced toward the north, then back at Cal.

  “Three of them,” Cal said, confirming he had sensed it, too. “They're heading in the wrong direction, but I should go to be safe. Before I do, I have one more piece of advice for you.”

  “What?”

  “Even if she's ready to fight, she won't be able to rejoin the others until she can control her empath power. You need to make her power your focus.”

  “I've tried, but none of the training techniques have helped.”

  Cal shrugged. “Of course not. Meaghan's not a Guardian.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean exactly what I said. Think on it and the answer will come. For now, I've left some packages on the porch. Give my best to Meaghan, and if you're going to continue to train her so hard, make her eat more. The herbs your mother wants you to use are vile.”

  Nick nodded. “I'll remember that. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” And with those words, Cal turned and disappeared into the forest, gone as silently as he had come. Nick followed his example, threading his way through the trees toward the cabin. At the edge of the clearing, several rows of dried corn stalks caught his attention. Meaghan had found the remains of an old garden here, left by a former resident of the cabin.

  Nick had thought the plants had long since died, but over the course of several hours, she had sprouted a feast for them. Corn, tomatoes, and peppers responded to the touch of her power, as did squash and onions. The vegetables had lasted several weeks, but the dried corn leaves and stalks were all that remained now. He ran his fingers down one, mesmerized by it. She had such amazing command over her new power, so why did her older power still elude her? The Guardian techniques had never failed before.

  But Meaghan was not a Guardian.

  Cal's advice tumbled in Nick's head until he had polished it into understanding, then an idea followed with such certainty it tugged a smile across his lips. With renewed hope, he gathered the dried corn leaves and whatever husks lay on the ground, and then made his way back to the cabin in time to watch the Mardróch's futile hunt along the edge of the clearing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HE APPEARED to her in a haze. Abbott stood on the stairs, his presence a warning to Meaghan. She had fallen asleep in the cabin and woken up in the middle of May's living room. Meaghan's eyes met his, and then trailed over the other faces in the room. Each seemed poised, locked in stone while they studied her. Miles, the Head Elder, brought comfort and vague memories of her youngest years when he had helped save her from a burning castle. The comfort faded as his gray eyes bore uncertain distrust. Beside him, Sam kept vigil, still deciding her capability as Queen. Sharp wisdom cultivated from age and experience emanated from behind his deceptively soft face. To his left, her cousin, Angus, triggered her empath power with rage and hatred. Alarm blossomed, pushing those emotions aside. He should not be here, not after his betrayal.

  But then, none of this should be. Meaghan scanned the living room again. She had watched May's house disintegrate in fire. And Abbott, the Dreamer who had delivered Vivian's vision of Nick's coronation, had since been murdered.

  Her gaze returned to him. Smoke curled around his body. He remained oblivious to it and to the red marks that flames cast over his skin. The house had begun to burn again.

  “She was never wrong,” Abbott told her, and Meaghan realized he meant Vivian. Her visions had never been wrong. “She saw the truth. Always. She shared your future with me.”

  His decree choked air from Meaghan's lungs. Vivian, the woman who had raised Meaghan, had predicted her death. The coronation would be for the King, not the Queen.

  The fire swelled, charging past Abbott and down the stairs, but Meaghan could not feel its warmth. The ice that seemed to encase her heart spread to her skin. She shivered. Abbott began to babble, his words as incoherent as they had been when she had first met him, and the cold grew stronger.

  Her shivering turned to tremors. Her knees wanted to collapse beneath her. Then sturdy arms circled her.

  Something hard pressed into her back and she shifted, turning on to her side, toward the warmth emanating from the person next to her. May's living room faded. The Elders' faces dissolved and in their place, dying embers greeted her. She drew her eyes across the wood floor of the cabin to the red blanket beneath her and Nick's bodies, then to Nick's face. His features seemed blurry in the increasing darkness.

  “You had a bad dream,” she heard him say, though it took her a moment to comprehend his words. The air had grown cold with the dying fire. As they did every night, they slept on the floor instead of their cots, using each other's bodies to ward off winter's breath. She had succumbed to another nightmare, a twisted version of the Dreamer's prediction of her death, and she closed her eyes, chasing away the image as best she could.

  Nick's arms tightened around her. He drew her close and though she wanted to remain angry at him for the way he had left earlier in the evening, she could not find the will to turn away his comfort. She pressed her face into his neck and let him lull her back into sleep.

  §

  IN THE morning, a fire blazed once more in the small fireplace. Meaghan turned on her side, not surprised to see Nick gone from his side of the blanket. Long sunlight streaking across the floor told her she had slept late. She reached her arms over her head, and then stretched out her legs in an attempt to ease her stiffness with no success. The cabin's floor provided little comfort. Each morning, she felt as if she had aged a hundred years overnight. The feeling would pass soon enough, once her muscles responded to her daily exercise routine.

  She rose and joined Nick at the table. In front of him, he had stacked two neat piles of dried corn husks and yellow leaves. She traced a finger along the edge of a husk. It still held the chill of winter. As did Nick's face, she realized when he looked up at her. His brows cast shadows over his eyes and it seemed any comfort he had extended to her in the middle of the night had disappeared today. She leaned back to frown at him.

  “You didn't wake me,” she said.

  “You needed sleep.”

  “I need to train. I've lost a good hour now. How else am I supposed to pass the test if I waste daylight? We don't have much of it right now as it is.”

  “You're not going to pass it if you run yourself into the ground either,” he countered and stood. She grunted in displeasure, but he chose not to respond, crossing to the fireplace instead to remove a kettle from the ashes. He filled a teacup and brought it back to the table, placing it next to a plate she had failed to notice before. He slid both in front of her. A slice of brown date cake sat in the middle of the plate, but she ignored it in favor of the tea, surprised by the citrus flavor cascading over her tongue.

  “Orange,” she said. “We haven't had that in weeks.”

  Nick shrugged. “Cal brought more supplies.”

  “I figured. Did you see him this time or is he still hiding from us?”

  “I saw him.”

  She raised an eyebrow and set the cup down. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything's fine. He wanted to talk to me about a few things.”

  “Like?”

  “Like you have to eat more.”

  “Oh.” She pursed her lips together, and then in spite of her desire to remain surly, laughed. “I don't know if I should feel comforted or disturbed that he's watching us so closely.”

  “Maybe both,” Nick said. “Did you eat dinner last night?”

  “I didn't feel like it.”

  “You still need to eat,” Nick told her and nodded toward the cake. “Please.”

  She sighed and cut off a small chunk of the cake with her fork. After slipping it into her
mouth, she followed it with a sip of tea, and then went after another bite. She ate half the cake before she looked back up at him. “Better?” she asked.

  “Much. Thank you.”

  She set her fork down, picking up her tea with both hands in exchange, and he reached for a piece of corn husk. The pale yellow reminded her of the porcelain figurines her mother had loved so much and she looked away before grief overtook her. It had been months since she had last allowed her sorrow to grip her and she could not let it take hold now. She cleared her throat, dissolving the lump that had started to form.

  “What are those for?” she asked Nick, glancing back at him and the pale leaves.

  “Maybe nothing,” he responded. “I'm having trouble with it, so I'd rather not say until it's complete.”

  In other words, he would never say. She had grown tired of his secrets. Every time he spoke with his mother by commcrystal, he told her the Elders had nothing new to report, but Meaghan had her doubts. Nick slept little, if at all, in the nights that followed each conversation. And it appeared the same code of silence would be applied to his talks with Cal. Standing, she used her growing anger to sweep the last of her grief away. “I guess I'll start training while you finish your 'nothing' then.”

  Without waiting for a response, she removed a set of knives and her cloak from a rack by the door and left the cabin. She did not break her stride as she flipped her cloak over her shoulders and fastened it. Nor did she slow down when she cinched the belt of knives around her waist. Only when she reached the edge of the clearing did she pause a minute to take stock of her weapons, running her fingers across the sheaths to count the blades. One was missing, an oversight but not one she would allow to delay her training. Most likely the knife had needed to be sharpened and Nick had pulled it to perform the task. Three others remained secured within their holsters.

  She removed one of the dark gray knives to examine it in the sunlight, admiring its quartz-like surface and almost weightless heft. The knife, much like many of the battle-worthy weapons in Ærenden, had been made of allestone, a substance that withstood strikes alongside the strongest metals. When the set was full, all four knives remained within easy reach.