Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) (26 page)

“If
you decide to look, what you see will change your life. It will change you. You
don’t have to do this, though. We can wait until the battle ends to go down
into the ravine. We’ll be safer and then you can avoid seeing it altogether.”

“How
long does a battle usually last?” she asked.

“Days
sometimes. It depends if the armies can get supplies and the strength of the
powers involved. If they’re not evenly matched, it will be over in a matter of
hours.”

Days,
she thought, and shook her head. Days did not seem like an option for them. She
did not want to remain unprotected for so long. But something more tugged at
her decision. She raised her head, turning it enough so she could look into
Nick’s eyes, but still hear him, and he could still hear her. “Is this what
it’s like for the people in this kingdom? Do these battles happen often?”

“Not
every day,” he answered. “But the war continues and as Garon tries to capture
more villages, we fight back.”

“Then
I need to see,” she decided. “I can’t hide from what’s happening because it’s
not easy to deal with. Not if it will help me understand what it’s like to live
here.”

His
eyes darkened, but he allowed her to feel his pride in her decision and it
touched a brief smile to her face before she turned to look down into the
ravine. Its floor sprawled for miles to the left and right, though it was only
a few hundred feet wide. Boulders scattered among the patches of grass and
bushes hinted that a river once flowed through this area. People fought among
those boulders, sometimes using them as a shield against weapons, and she
pushed back a few inches, afraid someone would see her.

Despite
what Nick had said, the battle seemed fake to her. She could not tell the
difference between her allies and her enemies. Some fell. Some ran. Others
tossed objects at each other. They scurried back and forth, no more than ants
from the height of her perch. But then she began pulling apart details as she
focused on them. The Mardróch’s cloaks flew behind them while they chased their
prey. Lightning bolts cascaded from their hands, disintegrating bushes and
rocks on contact, and sometimes even those they chased. Meaghan watched one man
trip and fall in his attempt to escape. Before he could jump to his feet again,
a lightning bolt found him.

Closing
her eyes, Meaghan pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out, and
then forced her eyes back open.

At
least a hundred people fought in the ravine and though the Mardróch only
accounted for a few dozen of them, the battle raged in sections where no
Mardróch fought. A woman tossed rocks at a man, using only her mind. In return,
he commanded small animals to scurry around her, clawing and biting. Two men
tossed fireballs at each other, while another woman tagged people, turning them
into stone. A white orb whistled toward the woman, then exploded at her feet.
The stone statues reverted to flesh. Some fell to the ground, dead, while
others kept moving.

Nick
followed her line of sight and took her hand in his. “Most powers die with
their hosts,” he told her. “So her victims reverted back to flesh.”

“Why
did some of them live, but others didn’t?”

“They
aren’t turned to solid stone,” he answered. “They’re encased in it, so they
suffocate. Those who are turned back in time will survive.”

Numbness
gripped Meaghan and her eyes found the battle again. “It’s not only the
Mardróch,” she said. “Garon has men and women fighting for him.”

“Yes,”
Nick confirmed. “The Mardróch spell only works on Guardians. Others have chosen
to support Garon for one reason or another, and they fight for him.”

“Everyone
looks the same. If you’re fighting, how can you tell who your enemies are?”

“Sometimes
you can’t. Sometimes you have to guess.” Nick looked away, but she caught the
shadows haunting his eyes. “We should go.”

Nick
crawled backward and she put her hand on his arm to stop him. She needed to do
one more thing before they left. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve,
then fixed her gaze on the ravine.

She
had felt little from the battle while she held Nick’s power, and she had hoped
the distance separating them from the fighting would help dull the emotions coming
from the battle. But once she removed her focus from Nick, all hope dissolved.
The Mardróch’s scent accosted her first. The putrid smell of rotting peat
blended with sulfur and somehow she associated the mix with excitement. It
rocked her stomach, but she held firm.

Until
the human emotions came. Fear and distress approached in waves, drowning her.
Exhilaration, satisfaction, and pride bubbled to the surface next and Meaghan
understood the emotions came from those who were winning their fights, though
the realization came sluggish through the onslaught. Panic met strength. Guilt
and shame bordered horror. Hatred bled into anger. And confidence shattered
into despair.

Different
emotions came from different directions, but the worst emotion—the one
ripping through every fiber of her body—came from everywhere. Pain
throbbed in her muscles. It ached in her head. It seared her lungs, burned
quick through her blood like a starving fire. And when death marched upon those
who were injured and helpless, it clawed at her soul, ripping with fine-needled
talons that shredded and pierced her mind, tearing apart her sanity.

She
tightened her jaw to keep from screaming, felt her stomach pitch, and flipped
away from the edge of the ravine in time to release the remains of her breakfast
onto the ground at her side.

Her
arms and legs refused to move. Her breath came ragged and labored. Her skin
felt clammy from sweat. She drew on the last of her strength to seek Nick’s
power again and then turned her head into the dirt and dissolved into sobs.

“Take
a deep breath,” Nick whispered in her ear. She felt his arms circle her body.
“Breathe, Meg. Just breathe.”

She
focused on his words and on what he had told her to do. She had started to
hyperventilate from sobbing, but as she concentrated on her breath, on drawing
it slowly into her lungs and exhaling it with the same control, she found
comfort and the edges of calm.

“That’s
it.” He flattened his hand against the side of her face, pushing her hair away
and wiping tears from her cheeks. “It’s all right,” he said. “You’re all
right.”

She
nodded, though she could not be certain those words would ever be true again.

M
EAGHAN FROWNED
into the mug in her hand, a series of unsavory swear words coursing
through her head, but she thought better of voicing any of them. Nick’s temper
met her from the other side of the small fire he had built, stiffening his
face, and she understood any complaint would merit a stern lecture. She had choked
down the first mug of jicab tea, and then the second when he had refilled it,
but the third seemed impossible. She did not know how much longer she could
drink this stuff. Her initial dislike of the brown liquid had now grown to
outright hatred with each subsequent dose. It tasted terrible. It looked like
mud. It twisted her stomach into protesting knots. It was a vile, nasty,
torturous concoction.

And
it helped, though she loathed admitting it. It calmed her nerves and eased
tension from her body. She brought it to her lips and sipped, hoping Nick would
lose interest in watching her soon so she could dump it out.

They
were back in the woods. Nick had carried her after she had passed out. She had
never roused. Not while he had moved her, not while he had built the fire, and
not while more magical bombs had exploded overhead. She had slept, then awoken
to daylight and tea. The battle still raged in the ravine below them. A quick
release of her link to Nick’s power told her as much. She blocked out the
emotions again and closed her eyes. Even the brief few seconds she had tapped
into the pain and confusion had weighed on her heart.

She
felt Nick sit next to her on the log, his thigh brushing hers as his arm
circled her waist. Then he removed the mug from her hand and pulled her against
him. She opened her eyes, and then turned her head into his shoulder.

“I
don’t know why you keep doing that,” he said. The ringing no longer filled her
ears and she could hear him, and the frustration in his voice, clearly. He drew
a hand to her cheek. “I can feel your distress,” he continued, “even now. Your
fear and your pain, too. But they’re not yours, are they?” She shook her head,
though she knew he did not need the confirmation. “Why did you do it?”

“I
wanted to know if they were gone,” she whispered.

“You
didn’t need to. I looked five minutes ago.”

“I
wanted to check for myself.”

He
brought his hand to her brow. “And the first time? You were already watching
them.”

“I
needed to know what it felt like. I needed to know what they were going
through.”

“Why?”
he asked.

“Because,”
she hesitated, not sure how to answer. “Because I felt like I had a
responsibility to know.”

“Because
they’re your people?” he guessed. She looked away, not confirming what he had said,
but not denying it either. “If you wanted to know what it felt like to be in a
battle, I could’ve told you.”

“Hearing
about it isn’t the same as feeling it.”

“It’s
not,” he agreed, “but you felt everyone, Meg. That’s not the same either.”

“I
suppose not,” she conceded. Drawing the cup to her lips, she sipped from it
before she remembered what it contained. She lowered the mug to the ground. “I
didn’t realize you’d fought. How many battles have you been in?”

“Three,”
he responded, then stood and moved to the fire. “Being assigned to you has
given me some protection. I’ve only had to fight in the battles closest to my
village. Many of my friends have been in dozens of battles throughout the
kingdom.”

“Have
you had to kill anyone?”

“Yes,”
he answered. His voice remained neutral, but she caught a glimpse of pain on
his face before he turned from her. “We should go,” he said, kicking dirt over
the flames to suffocate them. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Meaghan
picked up her mug from the ground. After dumping out the remainder of the tea,
she stood and went to the backpack, putting the mug away before slinging the
bag over her shoulders.

“Can
we get down into the ravine?” she asked.

“Past
the edge of the battle there’s a path leading to the bottom. I’ve already scouted
it out. It should be safe.”

He
turned and led the way back to the field. Half an hour later, they descended a
steep slope into the ravine. A full moon guided their way, unobscured by the
few clouds hanging in the sky. Although the bright night provided easier
travels along the rocky path, it also gave Meaghan a clear view of the battle.
From this far away, she could barely make out the figures as people. Those who
remained standing looked like toy soldiers fighting on a board game. And those
who lay dead on the ground looked like patches of color blanketing the field.
Like wilted wild flowers, she realized and turned her head, disturbed by the
image.

“Have
they been fighting this whole time?” she asked Nick.

“The
Mardróch don’t sleep,” he responded. “Don’t look again. You’ve seen enough.”

She
trained her eyes on the earth as her feet moved over it, but her mind remained
on the battle. “They must be exhausted.”

“They
have potions to help them stay awake.” Nick stopped walking, placing a hand on
her arm to keep her beside him. “You need to focus on something else. This
isn’t good for you.”

“I’m
fine.”

“You’re
not. Have you forgotten I can sense your fear?”

“No,
I’m—” she started to protest, then turned her eyes to the battle and felt
her heart race. Somehow, she had managed to tune out her own emotions. But they
still remained. She tore her eyes away. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s
all right. It’s hard the first time. We all find a way to cope.”

Nick
began walking again and Meaghan followed his pace.

“How
old were you when you saw your first battle?” she asked.

“Sixteen,”
he responded, but said no more about it. He took her hand in his and changed
the subject. “This reminds me of our first trip to the mountains the week after
I moved into the apartment. Do you remember it?”

It
still embarrassed her to think about it. “I was horrible to you.”

“You
were.” He squeezed her hand. “Until you and I went hiking alone the second
day.”

“You
mean until we got lost the second day,” she said.

“I
wasn’t lost. I knew where we were.”

She
narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t lie to me. You were as scared as I was. I could
tell.”

“I
was, but not of being lost. Using my power on Earth was tiring. By the time you
thought we were lost in the woods, I had been using it for nearly two days
without a break and I was exhausted. Since the emotion I was hiding fit the situation,
I dropped my guard.”