Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) (12 page)

Meaghan
pressed a hand to her nose. “That smell is unmistakable.”

“What
smell?”

“Their
odor. It’s like rotting meat and composting garbage mixed together.” She stared
up the path. “They’re coming from up there.”

“I
can sense them, but they don’t give off an odor.”

“They
do,” she insisted. She frowned at him. “I don’t see how you could miss it. It’s
vile. It makes me nauseous.”

Nick’s
brows knit together. “I’ve never heard that before.”

“I
don’t see why not. They…” she grimaced and pressed her fingers to her lips.
Nick put an arm around her shoulders.

“Are
you all right? You look pale.”

She
nodded and dropped her hand. “I’m sure I’ll get used to this after a while, but
it’s hard for me to ignore today.”

“Because
you’re in pain,” he said. “What emotions do you sense from them?”

“They
don’t have any.” She turned her attention toward the stream. “We can’t stay
here. Is there any way we can follow the Guide’s path? Or should we try to head
back down the mountain?”

“There’s
no place to hide if we retreat. The slope may be our only option.” Looping an
arm around her waist, he supported her as they walked the short distance to the
point where the stream began flowing uphill. “I can climb using the rocks as
hand and foot holds, but I don’t see how you could. Your ankle will never
support you.”

“I
have to try. The Mardróch will be here any minute.”

Nick
glanced down the path. “If we went that way, I could carry you.”

“You
can’t outrun them normally,” she pointed out. “Adding my weight would only slow
you down.”

“The
only other option is to fight.”

“That’s
not much of an option.”

“I’m
aware.” Nick moved around her, blocking her from the unseen Mardróch, then
looked back at her. Her eyes locked with his, the hardness of her determination
matching his, and he realized she would fight with him. But they would both die
for their efforts. There could be no other outcome. His attention trailed from
her to the Guide’s stream, which still babbled an oblivious song in the face of
their danger. It had been a trick. The Guide had been a traitor, promising
safety while leading them to their deaths.  Nick scanned the length of the
river, his stomach turning sour as he traced the impossible path. He saw only
several large rocks hindering their escape. His eyes fell on one, and then his
heart jumped when he realized what he had missed before. He took off running
toward the hill.

“Nick!”
Meaghan cried after him, but he ignored her. Her panic spiked. It grew strong
enough for him to sense it, but he ignored that, too. He had no time to explain
what he had found. He had no time to point out what the Guide had been trying
to show them. Hand over hand, foot over foot, Nick focused on grabbing the next
rock, the next hold, pushing his muscles to work harder until he reached the
ledge halfway up the hill. Blocked by a large boulder, the Mardróch would never
see them there. He only had to bring Meaghan up in time.

He
reached into the river. The flow broke, and then disappeared, revealing a flash
of angry green. Tightening his fist around the creeper vine, he whipped it
toward Meaghan, and let it do its job. It twisted around her waist, but before
it could tighten any further, he yanked on his end, pulling her up to the
ledge.

Retrieving
his knife from his pocket, he cut her loose before pulling her behind the
boulder. She shook from fear, and panic turned her face white, but she was
safe. He held her as the Mardróch rounded the bend and continued on their way
down the path. Without the river to guide their focus up, they could not see
their prey only feet above their heads.

Nick
shut his eyes, sensing them until they were no longer close, then he forced his
heart to calm. Meaghan stirred in his arms, pressing her face into his neck.
Tears wet his skin and he buried his hands in her hair, consoling her until her
crying stopped.

“I’m
sorry,” he said when she lifted her head. “It was my only option.”

“It
had to be a creeper vine,” she muttered, wiping the last of her tears from her
face. “That was too close. I thought for certain I’d be learning what it’s like
to be frozen by them.”

Nick
slipped the backpack from his shoulders and rested it against the rock. “It’s
not pleasant, but I don’t think you’ll ever experience it. I have a feeling
you’re immune.”

“Why
would you think that?”

“Because
you can smell them.” He opened the pack, then pulled out two apples and handed
her one. “Their power works by transmitting fear through their eyes. It’s so
intense it’s paralyzing.”

“And?”

“And
you can’t sense emotions from them. You said you didn’t think they had any, but
they do. They’re malicious creatures and their emotions match their intent.
Given your power, I imagine sensing them would be overwhelming for you.”

“I
see,” she said. “So I can’t sense them, but I still don’t understand why I
would be immune to their power.”

“I
didn’t say you can’t sense them.” Nick set his apple down and took her hand in
his. “I said you can’t sense their emotions. At least, not in the same way you
do everyone else’s. With regular emotions, you can understand and interpret
them because you experience them. With the Mardróch, you have no way of
understanding the depth of their evil, and the emotions stemming from it. Your
power receives them, but it has to translate them into something you can
recognize.”

“The
odor comes from my power?”

“As
you said, you think of their odor as vile and rotten, which is what they are.
The smell is your power’s defense mechanism. Without it, you wouldn’t be able
to function when the Mardróch were around. The same defense mechanism should
block their freezing power by filtering out the fear they project.”

“So
they don’t smell?” she asked. He shook his head and she took a bite from her
apple, chewing with slow purpose and swallowing before she responded. “Your
theory makes sense, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather not test it.”

He
laughed. “I’d rather you didn’t as well. The stream has started again.” He
pointed toward the middle of the ledge. Water flowed around another, smaller
boulder into a break in the rocks they had missed before.

“A
hidden path,” Meaghan said. “It looks like we can avoid climbing the rest of
this hill.”

“And
the creeper vines,” Nick remarked, grinning when she glared at him. “Shall we
get going?”

§

T
HEY TOOK
the path, a narrow shortcut through a section of the mountain, and then
followed it as it descended into a valley. From the crest, Meaghan could see a
column of smoke rising through the rain. The stream twisted, leading them around
several small groves before deviating into a lake on the far side of the
valley. Meaghan started looking for a way to cross it, and then the rain stopped.
The stream shrunk to the size of a creek, disappearing a few minutes later, and
she realized they had reached their destination.

They
searched the area for a clue to the Guide’s location, but after a fruitless
half hour, Meaghan gave up and sat down on a rock. She stared at the dirt slope
leading up the side of the next mountain and fought to remain positive, but as
the throbbing in her leg grew stronger, her resolve waned. “There’s nothing
here,” she whispered. “It’s a dead end.”

“It’s
not,” Nick promised. He crouched in front of her, removing her sneaker to ease
the pressure on her ankle. “The smoke came from over here. I’m sure the Guide
has chosen a well-hidden home. There aren’t many people with his power, and the
Mardróch have set out to eliminate all of them. It’s only a matter of finding
the next clue to his hideout.”

“All
right,” she agreed. She pointed to her left where several dozen dense trees
created a small forest. “Let’s check there next.”

He
nodded, and she attempted to stand, crumpling as soon as she applied pressure
to her foot. Nick caught her, and then eased her back onto the rock.

“Rest
first,” he told her. He sat down in front of her, taking her foot into his lap
to release the bandage. She turned her head to hide the tears streaking down
her face and he frowned. “I don’t like the look of this swelling. I’ll keep
hunting for the Guide. Hopefully he’ll have medicine or at the least, we can
use his fire to make you some jicab tea. Stay here and yell if you need me. I
won’t be far away.”

He
handed her the backpack before disappearing into the forest. She wiped the
tears from her face with her hand and gave into the weariness weighing down her
eyelids, allowing them to drift closed. A tree branch snapped behind her and
she jumped up, whipping around to face whatever had made the noise. Pain
screamed through her leg with the effort.

A
man stood less than twenty feet away, his emotions warring with hers for
attention. She sensed a combination of curiosity, happiness, and relief in him,
and when he smiled, she sat back down on the rock. His shoulders were broad,
his arms and legs looked like tree trunks, and his long hair and full beard constructed
of bristles streaked with black and gray. But his face matched his emotions,
belying his rough appearance. Etched with laugh lines, it held only kindness, as
did his pale blue eyes. The familiar color and shape of them filled her with
sorrow, and she knew the emotion belonged to him as well as to her.

He
covered the distance between them, knelt in front of her, and offered his arms.
She accepted the embrace, returning it in kind. It felt fatherly, appropriate
from a man whose eyes mirrored her dad’s. He patted her back, a gesture also
fatherly and familiar, and let her go. Tears shimmered in his eyes as he took
her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face to peer into it.

“I
haven’t seen you since you were a small child. You’ve grown into a beautiful
woman, quite regal.”

A
cough came from nearby. The man turned on his heels to view Nick. They
exchanged a look Meaghan could not place, and then the man nodded, and stood.
He strode over to Nick and engulfed him in a hug.

“You’re
a foot taller than when I last stood in your presence, lad,” he said. “But I
guess a decade or so will do that to a man.”

“I
didn’t realize it was you leading us or I might have reconsidered following,”
Nick responded, though his broad grin announced his own joy at the reunion. “I’m
glad to see you’ve been able to avoid the Mardróch.”

“Don’t
insult me. I used to guard the King. I didn’t get my position for lack of
skill. I earned it.”

“That’s
funny. I heard you won your position from the King’s old Guardian in a lucky
hand of cards.”

The
man scrubbed his hand through his beard, and then chuckled. “Well, I suppose
that might be true, but the King’s old Guardian was a bore. The King much
preferred me.”

“He
wasn’t the only one,” Nick remarked, then nodded toward Meaghan. “I see you’ve
met my charge.”

“Not
officially.” The man faced her again and extended a hand. “I’m Caldon. People
call me Cal.”

“Meaghan,”
she responded and shook his hand. She tried to stand, but lost her balance when
the pain shot through her, dropping her back onto the rock.

“She’s
injured,” Nick said.

“Time
to get her inside, then,” Cal responded, scooping her into his arms. Trees
streaked by as he moved, then turned into a low border of overgrown bushes. He
charged toward the dirt slope without slowing down and Meaghan thought for
certain he would run into it, but as he grew closer, the slope shook, sliding
out of the way to allow them into a narrow cave.

Faint
light glowed in the distance and he followed it, exiting the smaller cave into
a larger one. A fire blazed in the center of the floor, its black smoke
drifting through a hole in the ceiling. Cal glanced at the smoke and frowned.
“They’ve found us now,” he said, and it took Meaghan a minute to realize he had
spoken to the fire. “The Mardróch aren’t far. Don’t give us away.” The smoke
turned almost transparent and he nodded. “Better.”

He
set Meaghan down on a bed made of moss and soft leaves before turning back to
the fire to pull a pot from the embers at the bottom. Tipping it, he poured
dark liquid into a cup and held it out to her. “I trust you’re familiar with
this?” he asked. She took the jicab tea from him and nodded, grateful for once
to drink it.

It
took half the cup before her head cleared of pain. By the time she emptied it,
the throbbing had eased enough for her eyes to drift closed again. Nick and
Cal’s voices became lullabies to her dreams, wordless melodies playing in the
background. Only a single sentence broke through, brought to her attention by a
strong disbelief that alerted her power, “You haven’t told her yet?”

Although
the question wrested her from the depths of unconsciousness, it failed to keep
her awake long enough for her to comprehend its meaning.

S
EVERAL RABBITS
roasted on a spit over the fire. Wild potatoes and carrots baked in
the coals. Meaghan still slept, so Nick agreed to leave her when Cal grabbed a
brown jug and two mugs from a makeshift shelf on the far side of the cave and
held them up in silent offering.