“Aren…” she breathed.
The tattered, grimy man trudged up the slope. Aren held his breath, wondering if it was the messenger, hoping against all reason that it was Henrik. But the man’s bare arms were covered in burns old and new, and Aren glimpsed the strange, silver markings of the magic wielder on his shoulders, glistening with sweat and blood. The mage looked tired, beaten, and furious.
“Run, Selina.” Aren pushed at the little girl’s back. She stood rooted to the spot, horrified by the sight of so much blood and by the drifting smell of burning flesh cutting through the fresh, highland air. “Run!” Aren growled, grabbing her small hand and half dragging her away to follow the sun.
FIVE
Kaila had no business making contact with mortals in Tiede Wood. First of all, the Wood was her sister Sabana’s domain. Second, the mortals were off limits. Still, it wasn’t as if Kaila had set off that day looking to break whatever rules she could; she had intended to stay in the river to begin the seasonal trout rush. She hadn’t planned to stumble upon the handsome young man who was doing a terrible job of fishing. She hadn’t planned to be so amused by the way he talked to himself, to the fish and frogs, and even to her. How was she to know how enjoyable his company would be?
It was when those other mortals showed up that everything changed. Even as a bird she could smell the danger approaching; she could taste the after-burn of magic in the air—something she hadn’t sensed in decades. Magic meant the return of the mages—the heretics. Magic signaled the beginnings of another holy war.
Kaila had decided then that her chance encounter with the young man was an omen, and that she needed to find out what sort of trouble was heading for Tiede. Tiede was the most powerful House in all of Cordelacht, and it belonged to the Night Realm, to her god Alaric. Alaric would be so proud of her if she not only warned him of the mage threat, but also took care of it herself. She would need a strategy, though. In the presence of mortals, she would be unable to use her powers. Perhaps, she thought, this young man could be of some use.
Kaila waddled into the cool dark of the Wood, where she would be safe from the sun’s wicked rays, and transformed into a heavy mist that blanketed the rocks, shrubs, and layer of dead things littering the forest floor. She watched as the young man and the little girl ran away, watched as the mage struggled up the hill, beat upon by the heat of the waning sun, and whipped by the northern winds. She could see in the mage’s pale eyes that he was determined to retrieve his staff, and the glowing birthmarks on his shoulders indicated that he was not yet ready to die, despite the angry burns on his arms and the torn flesh on his face and torso. He was not going to be easy to kill, and Kaila had no idea what her young mortals were capable of.
At some point, they would have to reenter the Wood to try to lose the mage. That would be Kaila’s opportunity. If she was going to use them, she would need to learn as much about them as she could. Kaila drifted along the forest floor, working out the details of her plan. The little girl would be the best way, since she hadn’t yet reached the age of reason. All Kaila had to do was separate the two mortals.
SIX
The early-evening sun stretched out her lithe fingers to brush Aren’s sweat-coated skin as he ran along the Wood’s western edge. He had picked up Selina in a clumsy scoop, cradling her against his chest after pushing the staff into her small hands. “Stop!” an angry roar commanded. Aren took a deep breath and plunged into the Wood. The mage was getting too close, and he wasn’t loaded down the way Aren was. He and Selina could hear a few of the mage’s threats: “I’ll pull out your eyeballs and burst them in my fist!” “I’ll blast you so full of magic that your bits won’t be big enough to feed the worms!”
Once the darkness of the Wood surrounded them, Aren had to stop. He was temporarily blinded, his eyes working to take in any possible light. He used the precious time to readjust his load, moving his pack so that it was at his chest while Selina held tight to his back, the gnarled wooden staff pinning the pack against his chest by the fierce grip of her small hands and arms. Once everything was situated and he could at least make out the outline of objects—a tree, a shrub, another tree, a rock—Aren resumed his run.
“I hear him a little bit, but far away now,” Selina said after a while. Aren’s breathing was getting more labored, his pace slowing.
“It’s hard to tell. The Wood can get you turned around. I want to get to the point where we don’t hear him at all.” Aren continued to move through the Wood, failing to identify any markers. He didn’t dare tell Selina that he had lost sight of the tree line marking the way out. He just had to keep going, keep imagining the light beyond the trees, but he was tired and his legs would give out soon. He felt for a tree trunk or boulder to steady himself as his eyes constantly readjusted. Fuzzy cobalt moss covered everything, and the sensation of spiders crawling over his skin made him hesitate. He breathed, letting the smell of soil and water and tree ground him.
Selina slid off his back, landing with a soft thud. “I don’t hear him,” she whispered. “I think we lost him.”
A sharp whistle cut through the darkness and Aren cringed, taking the staff from Selina. He looked down at her, ready to pick her up and keep running, but he was thrown off by the big smile on her face. She was giddy and began to pull him towards the source of the whistle.
“Wait!” Aren pulled back. “Where do you think you’re going? We’ll get lost!”
“It’s Pretraun! He’ll help us!”
Yes, Aren thought. He’ll help us. We need help. Confused, Aren found himself allowing Selina to take him further into the Wood. She was so determined, so happy and confident, that he didn’t think twice about it. This is the Wood’s magic, he thought. It was drawing them in and turning them around.
Stars, what was he thinking?
Aren was about to tell Selina that they were going to take their chances with the mage when a deep rumbling voice barreled towards him. “Ri lei, Aren!”
Before Aren could puzzle together the images of silver whiskers, flannel plaid, and a blur of dirty toes, the thing that cried out slammed into Aren’s chest and held onto his midsection, knocking the air out of his lungs. Aren stumbled backwards, caught himself, then yelled in horror when he managed to breathe again. He pulled his face up and away from the thing whose feet were almost wrapped around the small of his back. Aren pushed against its shoulders.
A gnome. Stars, help me.
“It’s okay.” Selina giggled, her hands clasped in front of her as if her prayers had just been answered. “It’s Pretraun!”
The gnome slid down Aren’s legs, waddled about two feet away, twirled, then dropped onto its ass. It proceeded to pull cream-colored mushrooms out of the sack slung across its belly-chest. It stopped to look up at Aren, patted the ground, then grouped the mushrooms into little piles.
“He wants us to eat with him,” Selina said, sitting down. “I’m really hungry. Could we please? Just for a bit?”
Aren squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Selina, we have a mage on our heels hell-bent on killing us, and you want to eat?”
A barrage of strange, tangled words fell out of the gnome’s mouth as it gestured towards the food and then in the direction from which they had come.
Selina nodded. “I think he says we’ll be fine. You know. You understand all the strange languages.”
“We are not fine,” Aren said through gritted teeth. “We’re in the most feared and haunted Wood in the world with a gnome and a mage. Should we find out if the hermit witches or blood hunters would like to join too?”
The gnome chuckled, then patted the ground again. “Gaw’so.”
“No, you’re a myth,” Aren replied. He was about to argue further, but his throat burned. He wondered how it was that he was still standing because he wasn’t sure if his legs were even attached anymore. He sighed, shrugged off the pack, and lowered himself to the soft, mossy dirt, wary and watching for any trickery. He laid
the staff across his lap just to have a weapon handy. “I must have gone mad.”
The gnome handed Selina some yellow flowers, then rummaged in his sack and pulled out a small, round tin. His stubby fingers pulled off the top to reveal coarse chunks of sea salt, which he sprinkled over the mushrooms. Then he handed Aren a half loaf of bread. Without thinking, Aren bowed towards the gnome then cracked the bread in half, and then in half again.
Selina was busy pulling the stems off the yellow flowers, and then pinching the outer petals and pulling them off as well, squeezing the base of the bloom. When only a few petals were left, she handed what remained of the bloom to Aren. He felt as if he were the little girl’s doll, as if something else were controlling his actions at this enchanted meal. He took a piece of bread in one hand and the bloom in the other, then pinched at the flower’s base until it secreted a fragrant oil from its center. He drizzled the oil over each piece of bread, laying them down beside the salted mushrooms.
Selina giggled and picked up a piece of bread, crunching down on it. The gnome grunted before displaying his full set of perfect white teeth in a wide smile. He helped himself to two mushrooms and motioned for Aren to eat. Aren picked up a chunk of bread and took a bite. A dab of the flower oil moistened his lips, and he licked it, the faint taste of almond and salt and butter on his tongue. He took another ravenous bite, ignoring the pain of the bread crust slicing up his parched throat.
“Do you remember him at all?” Selina asked, patting the gnome’s shoulder.
“How could I remember something I’ve not met?” Aren grabbed a mushroom and shoved it in his mouth. He was hungrier than he thought. Selina looked offended on behalf of the gnome, who seemed not to care whether Aren remembered him or not. “Don’t look at me like that,” Aren mumbled. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I think I would remember a gnome.”
Selina’s brows furrowed. “He told me he watched over you in the Wood when you were little—that you played with him and his brothers and the hatchlings and even a baby gree.”
“Gnomes,” Aren said, trying to find the best way to explain to her, “like to play games. They say things and don’t always know what it is they’re saying.” He added in a mock whisper, “They’re not people.” Selina looked at Pretraun, who was munching on his bread, looking pleased with the entire conversation. “The gnome has been filling your head with his stories. I work in the greatest Library in all of Cordelacht. If the mage doesn’t kill us, and we manage to get out of this cursed place, I will tell you any story you want.”
“Tell me now. Tell me about the gods! Where do they come from?”
Aren sighed. They were lost in the Wood, being chased by a mage, eating with a gnome, and she wanted to hear a story. There was no way this day was going to get any stranger. Exhausted and defeated, Aren said, “There are a few stories about how the gods came into being, but I’ll tell you how Tiede was created according to legend.” Selina nodded, folding her hands in her lap the way he had taught her so that he would know she was ready to listen without interrupting. Aren looked to the gnome again. “You’re certain we’re safe here? Will you lead us back out? I can’t entertain you all day, though we’re thankful for the food and rest.” He added in the Ancient tongue, “Yst ilja’i’ko?”
The gnome just waved at him to continue.
Aren shot another wary look at the gnome, then opened his hand, palm up, to catch a thin stream of light that had managed to slip through the dense tree canopy. “In times untold,” he began, “the lands were washed in a sad, gray light. The earth was rocky and barren, the air was still, and the seas trapped beneath layers of dust and bone. In the beginning, there was only Fire, pulsing and glowing, waiting.
“When the god of Night finally descended upon these mighty cliffs, he recognized in it a great and sacred House, and in his perfect vision of that which would be, he called forth the mighty Fire that dwelled here. The Fire god had been waiting for this moment, and he erupted from his secret caverns and crevices, reshaping this holy ground as he traversed the veins that lay deep beneath the soil, filling those veins with the life-blood necessary to awaken the land.
“‘All-powerful god of Night, I have slept, waiting for your arrival as my dreams have foretold. I am called Tanghi, and I am yours to command.’ The Fire god bowed and placed his fist over his heart. This pleased the Night god.
“‘I am Alaric, son of Mahl. My darkness gives you strength,’ said the Night god. He darkened the skies, causing Tanghi’s power to glow with greater ferocity. The Night god Alaric captured the sparks of light that sprang from the Fire god and tossed them into the skies, where once the Fire could not reach. The stars blazed brilliant and hot across the heavens.
“‘On this cliff, I shall raise a House, and you shall be its Guardian. It shall be a monument to our alliance, and it shall rule over every other House. Its people will be strong and honorable, and nothing shall destroy it,’ said Alaric. ‘I would seek another ally, another power to complement your own.’
“Tanghi stepped forward. ‘A magnificent goddess lies beneath the broken bones of this world. She has been restrained for so long that she has given up any hope of freedom. Release her, and I swear your rule will never be questioned.’ And so Alaric released the Water goddess. Her joy at being freed was so overwhelming, she covered almost all of the world’s surface in water, and the Night and Fire gods had not the heart to contain her.
“‘Protect this House, Kaila, goddess of Water,’ Alaric said to her, ‘and its people will worship you for the rest of time.’ The Water goddess Kaila smiled and placed her heart within the cliffs of Tiede.” Aren shrugged, then said, “That’s the legend of how the House of Tiede was born, and why it is eternally devoted to the Night and the elements of Fire and Water.”
Selina’s eyes were full of wonder, and Aren waited for the usual stream of questions that she had after every story he told her, but before she could say anything, a humming noise began to fill Aren’s ears, and he looked around. Other than Pretraun putting things into his bag, the Wood was still. True to the gnome’s word, the mage they were trying to lose hadn’t made a peep. Aren closed his eyes, and the hum grew louder. He opened his eyes, but still the humming intensified.
“How do you know how to believe in the gods? I never see them,” Selina said. “How come they don’t visit anymore the way they used to do in the stories?”
“I can’t teach you faith. In fact, I’m the last person you want to learn faith from.”
Selina asked Aren another question, but the sound was garbled, difficult to piece together. The noise was making him dizzy, and he squeezed his eyes shut again. Pretraun grunted before uttering a series of words that Aren couldn’t comprehend. Then, the gnome put a gentle hand on Aren’s chest, forcing him to relax against the fallen tree behind them.
“Is it the headaches again?” Selina asked, making her way to his side.
When he had matched the sound to words, he replied, “I don’t know what it is—” A cry of pain escaped him, and he gripped the staff that lay across his lap.
Selina addressed the gnome, panic in her voice, “He’s been sick in the head all day, and I don’t know how to help him.”
Pretraun put a hand that smelled like dirt on Aren’s forehead, then over his heart. He muttered a few words accompanied by gestures to help translate. Aren caught the Ancient words for “water” and “flower” and “healing.”
“I think he’s talking about a stream and some kind of plant,” Selina said, excitement replacing her worry.
“Flower,” Aren corrected, his head buzzing with voices now. “‘Bring the flower to the stream, and she will give you healing waters.’”
“I know just the flower he means!” Selina exclaimed. “I’ll go get it! Stay here with Pretraun; he’ll take care of you. I won’t be long!”
Aren sat up, then crumpled onto his side, writhing at the sounds filling his head. What in the stars had possessed her? This damned Wood. Aren pushed t
he end of the staff into the soft dirt and pulled himself up, trying to keep his balance. He drew in his breath, then said, “I should’ve known better than to trust a gnome,” before stumbling after Selina.
SEVEN
Aren wasn’t sure how it was possible for black to get blacker.
He slowed down to keep from tripping over roots and branches, but his chest thumped hard with panic. He stopped to catch his breath in a small clearing where trickles of fading light had managed to sneak through the canopy of trees and fell upon him like a rain shower. His eyes filled with dots of shadow and light, mingling with the noise in his head, making him feel nauseous.
He leaned on the staff and risked calling out, “Selina! It’ll be dark soon, and we need to get out of here!” Perhaps yelling was not inconspicuous, but the hairs on the back of his neck were sending prickle signals down his arms. His damned headaches had caused a lapse in judgment. What was he thinking letting a child lead him into the Wood to meet up with a gnome? “Tell me where you are, sweetheart! I’m fine! I don’t need any magic water; we just need to get home!” He could be talking to himself for all he knew. She could be another half click away towards the south—though he couldn’t pick out south from any other direction at this point. “What if I told you the stupid gnome wants you to come back?” He blathered at a charcoal burrow squirrel that had peeked out of its tree. “I take that back; he’s not stupid. He’s great, hilarious actually. We’re best friends. Stars, Selina, where are you?”
He needed a plan. There were two—maybe three—hours of sunlight left outside of the Wood, which meant less than one hour of quasi-visibility where he stood now. He could try to go back the way he had come and hope that Selina would do the same after she realized there was no such thing as healing water. Or he could stay where he was and hope that Selina would come this way, if she had passed through here at all.
He hated how familiar the whole ordeal felt, how his bones woke up and burned with life. Something in the air heated the blood that raced through his veins, and he felt like he could destroy something. The magic of the Wood was driving him to madness while the voices in his head cooed and seduced him. They had to get out of here.
Uniting the Heavens Page 2
