Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) (18 page)

Neiszhe’s
hands moved from Meaghan’s ankle to her pant leg. Lifting it, she frowned at
the bandage underneath.

“You
did this?” she accused Cal.

He
rubbed the back of his neck. “I did my best, love. The bone broke the skin and
I had to move her. I reset it, but I can’t sense the injury like you can.”

“The
reset is fine. You did a good job. It’s your bandaging that needs practice.”
She unraveled the gauze. Dirt fell to the floor with each layer. “Something got
into the wound. She has an infection. It isn’t bad yet, but it’s there. How
long has her leg been broken?”

“Since
early afternoon,” Nick answered. “She saved Cal’s life by tackling a monster in
the caves. Both she and the beast went into the water.”

Neiszhe’s
head snapped up.  Panic froze her eyes wide as she tore them from Nick to
Cal.

“I’m
okay,” he assured her. “I have cuts and maybe a bruised rib or two. It can
wait.”

She
nodded and returned her focus to Meaghan. “What color was the water?”

“Black,”
Meaghan muttered. She struggled to sit up, losing the will when Nick pushed on
her shoulders to keep her down. “Black. The monster, it,” she hissed a breath
of pain. “It bit my leg.”

“The
water may have had something in it,” Neiszhe said. “Though it’s usually green
we have to worry about. More likely, the creature’s mouth caused the
infection.”  She found the stick Cal had used as a brace and sighed. “Or
this might have.”

Cal
shrugged. “It’s the best I could do, given the circumstances. We had to get her
out of the cave somehow.”

“It’s
all right. It just doesn’t make it easier for her.” Neiszhe removed the last of
the bandage, and then looked up at Nick. “Be sure to hold her still and keep a
hand in contact with her skin. Healing her ankle was painful enough. Fusing
bone is worse, and the infection complicates things. Speeding up her healing
will cause it to speed up, too. If her fever gets too high, we’ll need to take
a break.”

Nick
raised Meaghan’s shoulders and slid her onto his lap. Then he pinned her with
his elbows and placed his hands on her forehead.

Neiszhe
interlaced her fingers and rested them over the wound, closing her eyes to
focus. Beads of sweat began rolling down her face. Meaghan’s skin tingled. She
squirmed and Nick tightened his hold moments before the pain resumed.

It
did not take long before Meaghan’s mind burned with the heat building within
her. They stopped for ten minutes and then began again. The process repeated a
dozen times during the night until both Neiszhe and Meaghan’s clothes were
soaked in sweat. When Meaghan became too tired, she slipped in and out of
awareness.

Finally,
when the sun danced its first tendrils of color over the horizon, Neiszhe
lifted her hands and smiled. The small effort chased the lines from her face.

“It
is done,” she said.

I
T WAS
not the first time Nick had experienced the healing process. Several times,
injuries and broken bones had placed him on the receiving end of that pain. He
had also witnessed it many times before in his mother’s house, and had assisted
her in her duties once he had grown strong enough to keep her patients steady.
He thought he had built an emotional callous to it, but tonight had taught him
otherwise.

Perhaps
his ability to sense Meaghan had made it worse. The intensity of her pain had
washed through him, a steady ache he could not relieve or abolish. Or perhaps
it had more to do with how he felt about her. Whatever reason, he had despised
the process by the time it had finished. As Meaghan lay unconscious in his
arms, he fought to control the anger surging through him.

Despite
how he felt and despite his desire to find someone to blame for Meaghan’s
suffering, he could not fault Neiszhe for the necessary evil. Meaghan’s
injuries had been severe. The power needed to heal them drained extensive
energy from its host and Neiszhe bore the signs of that labor. Her movements
were slow and stiff. Her eyes looked tired and dull. And her cheeks appeared
flush beneath a thin layer of sweat.

Cal
helped her to bed, and then returned to the living room where he sat on the
floor next to Meaghan. He laid a palm on her forehead.

“Her
fever’s gone,” he said.

Nick
nodded, but he kept his arms locked tight around Meaghan’s body.

“I
see the look in your eyes,” Cal continued, “and I know it well. The first time
I had to watch Alisen go through this, I wanted to kill the Healer for it.” He
squeezed Nick’s shoulder, a gesture born more from camaraderie than comfort.
“That time, she had broken her hand in a sparring match in school. The second
time, she broke her arm falling off the vines on the side of the castle. My
fault,” he said, chuckling when Nick raised an eyebrow at him. “I dared her to
climb them. It’s not something you’d expect for the maturity level of a couple
of twenty-something Guardians, but in my defense, the King was the one taking
bets on the endeavor.” He shrugged, turning serious again. “I’d like to say
going through this gets easier, but it doesn’t. Focus on the fact Meaghan is
healed and remember to thank Neiszhe when she wakes this afternoon.”

“I
will,” Nick promised. “She’s talented. This should have taken longer.”

“Yes
it should have,” Cal agreed. “You should get some sleep.”

Nick
made no effort to move. He studied Meaghan’s face then lifted a hand to her
cheek. It remained pale, but Cal was right, her skin no longer burned. “Do the
villagers know who she is?”

“None
of them know her by sight, only by name, and Neiszhe will keep Meaghan’s
identity a secret. Still, I recommend staying hidden until dark and then you
can start travelling again. You have two days of open fields to go through
before the next protected area, so night travel will work best for a while.” He
stood, casting a glance down at Nick. “You know you need to tell her soon. She
should hear it from you, but she’ll hear it from someone else if you’re not
careful.”

Nick
sighed. “It’s not an easy thing to explain.”

“It
won’t get easier so you might as well get it over with.” Cal bent down to slide
his arms under Meaghan’s body. Nick released his grip and Cal lifted her. “I’ll
take her to the village’s guest house. She’ll be safe there. For you,” he
nodded toward the sofa and grinned. “Sweet dreams.”

§

S
LEEP STOLE
Nick from the world before he could consider the worry and exhaustion knotting
his muscles. It settled him into a dreamless void, tantalizing him with
peaceful silence, and then before no more than two hours had passed, it threw
him back with the same haste.

Agony
charged through him. His muscles coiled, and he bolted upright with the instinct
to flee. He controlled the urge and took a deep breath, closing his eyes to
focus on the emotion. It dissipated before he could determine its source. He
lay back down and wondered if his body still reacted to Meaghan’s ordeal from
last night, but when it surged again, he knew better. The pain came from
Meaghan. Without a second thought, he jumped from the couch and dashed out the
front door.

Bright
sunlight burned his eyes. He cupped his hand over his brow and scanned the
street for any indication of the guesthouse. Neiszhe’s house stood near the end
of the road, but several houses remained to the left and another dozen greeted
him from the right. The street teemed with people. Some hurried past, busy in
their errands, but others took slower steps, eyeing him with curiosity.
Meaghan’s pain tugged at him again and he turned to his right to follow it,
walking with a nonchalance that belied his desire to run. He feared for her
safety, but leading people to her identity would only bring Mardróch if traitors
resided in the village.

The
pain grew stronger, guiding him down a side street to a thatched roof cottage.
He opened the house’s picket gate, closing it behind him before strolling down
the pebble walkway. When he reached the door, he turned the handle, tensing as
he sensed for danger, and then entered when he felt nothing more than Meaghan’s
presence.

Daylight
streamed through pale blue curtains, revealing only a single bed and a
fireplace. No enemies waited to attack. Instead, Meaghan sat on the floor in
the far corner of the room, her feet crossed at her ankles, her knees tucked
under her chin. She rocked back and forth, pressing her hands to her ears. A
low moan escaped her as he dropped down next to her.

“Meg,”
he whispered, taking her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

She
clutched at him instead of answering, pressing her tear soaked face into his
shoulder.

“Meg,”
he tried again and then remained quiet when her pain dissolved. He lifted a
hand to her head, drawing it down her hair and then her back, repeating the
movement until her tight muscles relaxed under his touch. Her sobs subsided,
but she remained in his arms for a few minutes longer.

She
lifted her head and he thought she would pull back from him, but she pressed
her lips into his neck instead. Electricity bulleted through his system. His
mind screamed at him to hold back, but he ignored it. Burying his hands in her
hair, he drew her closer. She moved her lips along his skin until they tickled
his jaw, then she drew them up to graze his lips. Her pressure remained light
and he closed his eyes, lost to the warmth she brought him. She placed delicate
kisses on each of his eyelids, and then dropped her attention back to his lips.
Her pressure turned firmer and he responded, taking her mouth on a sigh.

His
heart jolted. His mind panicked. Then he prayed for strength. He dropped his
hands to her shoulders and pulled her back. “Meg,” he said, opening his eyes,
“we can’t do this. You know we can’t.”

“Do
I?” She rose to her feet, and then walked across the room to sit on the bed.
“You say I do, but you’ve never told me why. I’m tired of you putting me off,
Nick. When will you tell me what I need to know?”

He
frowned. “When the time is right.”

“When
will that be?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “When someone else makes a
slip like Neiszhe did? Why did she curtsy anyway? You said you’d explain.”

“I
will, but not now.” He stood and walked to the window. Lifting a curtain, he
peered outside. The villagers still scurried about their business, oblivious to
Nick and Meaghan’s presence. Grateful his foray outside had not drawn attention
to the small cottage, he faced Meaghan again. Her eyes held his with a familiar
anger and he knew he had pushed her patience too far. Cal’s advice echoed
through his head, but he ignored it. “I didn’t come here to argue. I came
because your pain woke me. What happened?”

She
lifted her chin, a stubborn gesture he also knew well and he understood she
would not answer his question until he answered hers.

“Fine,”
he said. He turned toward the door. “You need to stay inside until nightfall,
so get some sleep. The next few days will be strenuous at best.”

He
opened the door, took a step outside, and then paused when he heard a noise
behind him. It took him a moment to recognize the sound as a single word,
“Wait.”

He
turned back around. Meaghan stood in the center of the room, her hands folded
together in front of her. Her anger had disappeared, lost to wide-eyed terror.
She tightened her fingers, twisting them around each other. “Don’t go.”

Closing
the door, he shut the village out. Meaghan backed against the bed and sat down
again. Her cheeks took on a red tinge. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s
all right,” he said. He sat down beside her. “What happened?”

“I
couldn’t control it,” she whispered. “I feel like I should be able to by now
and I tried, but there are too many people. Some pare mad, others are happy.
Some are confused and in pain and sad, or worried and stressed. There are
dozens of emotions, Nick. Too many of them. They hurt and you weren’t close
enough for me to focus.”

He
drew her against him, understanding. He should have realized that would happen.
Her mind could not process so many emotions and without the ability to shut
them out, they overwhelmed her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Please
don’t leave,” she begged. “I won’t ask any questions. Just don’t leave me.”

“I
won’t,” he promised. He ran a hand down her bare arm, felt goose bumps and let
her go. He stood, and then crossed to the fireplace. Removing small pieces of
kindling from the wood box, he tossed them into the hearth.

“You
should have told me why you were in pain,” he said. He glanced over his
shoulder at her, not expecting a verbal answer and she did not disappoint him.
Guilt caused her to cast her eyes to her hands, but anger also stiffened her
shoulders. “Our travels are dangerous, Meg, and if we expect to live through
them, we have to communicate.” He turned back to the fireplace and added two
small logs, then struck a match and threw it on top. A fire took hold. He
waited until it grew strong enough to sustain itself before returning to his
seat on the bed.