Descendant (Secrets of the Makai)

by Kerr, Toni

  "I want you to tell Gram you no longer want her training, that you'd prefer Eric." She faced the lake and lowered herself into the water at the end of the dock-rock.

  "She's not stupid. How would I know who Eric is?"

  "Then tell her you don't want any more training."

  "She's not going to buy that. Besides, if I'm not taught, I'll never get off this wretched island."

  "It's not wretched. It's heaven."

  Her voice quivered and he thought he saw a tear in her eye before she turned away.

  "It was rather nice before you came along." He didn't know why he said it, except she wasn't fighting with him anymore. And it was extremely peaceful compared to a city stuffed with concrete and people. "What's around your neck, a sedative?"

  She launched herself from the rock and drifted on her back with her eyes closed, jaw clenched. For such a loose cannon, she floated like a cork, completely calm and controlled. He decided to control himself by ignoring the urge to chuck rocks at her.

  When she reached the center of the lake, she raised her arms over her head and dove backwards without making a single splash.

  "Showoff." He'd have sunk and drowned long before she dove under.

  30

  - PREMONITIONS -

  TRISTAN TAPPED HIS FOOT at the end of the dock-rock and raked his fingers through his hair. A breeze etched feathery streaks on the lake's surface, camouflaging any wake Dorian might have caused while swimming underwater. How long could she possibly hold her breath?

  He'd never forgive himself for being such a jackass if she ended up drowning. He had to apologize. Several minutes of doing nothing led to panicked dread. He raced to the village, yells for help choking in his throat while he scanned the shorelines, paying close attention to the reed patches. Sweat ran down his back.

  A small log cabin faced the lake, with Gram resting peacefully in a rocking chair on the front porch. A bright purple afghan draped over her lap. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted his dock-rock on the far side—nothing but water stood between two locations.

  Bewildered, he shook his head and rushed up the stairs, hating to wake the poor woman. She did seem old. "Gram?"

  "What is it, darling?"

  "It's me, Tristan."

  Gram jerked forward in her chair, her eyes widening. "What?"

  "It's Dorian. She's in the lake and...I don't know what happened. She didn't come up for air and I didn't see her get out."

  She rocked back in her chair, chuckling softly. "Is that all?"

  "You're not worried?" Tristan studied the lake, not sure what to believe anymore. "We had an argument and, let's just say it ended bad. I wanted to apologize."

  "Don't you fret about Dorian, she's perfectly fine underwater—"

  "I'm not fretting!"

  Gram's eyes sparkled calmly. "She'd spend all day down there if she could."

  Tristan leaned on the porch railing, studying the mountainside above the dock-rock, determined not to worry about someone he couldn't get along with for more than five minutes. "Why can't I see the cliff house from here, or this cabin from over there?"

  "They are both protected. Shielded from view, I guess you'd say."

  "Why?"

  "We don't want people coming to the island just to see who lives here. It's not that we don't like visitors, but typically, it has to be arranged through certain channels. On a larger scale, the entire island is hidden."

  He couldn't fathom how that would be possible and gave up searching for the cliff house. He looked for signs of Dorian.

  "What's on your mind, Tristan?"

  "You don't know?"

  "You're working on protecting yourself, remember? I cannot hear through it."

  "Really?"

  "Well, it's much more civilized if you just tell me."

  Tristan nodded, regret and sadness plaguing his thoughts. "Dorian wants me to ask you to stop your instruction. She said Eric could do it?"

  "Did she?"

  "I really don't want to quit, but she said it was costing you to work with me, and your health would pay the price."

  "Well, isn't she just the sweetest thing alive?" Gram gazed at the lake with playful admiration.

  Tristan kept his mouth shut, relieved she couldn't hear the automatic conflicting answers in his head.

  But the smile-lines around her eyes drooped with the weight of her sigh. "Dorian means well, but so you know, I've already stepped down. Oliver has taken my position and Eric has added a few things I hadn't thought of. There are also two others who've joined in."

  "Sounds dangerous." Tristan stuffed his hands in his pockets. He opened his mouth to ask for details, but changed his mind, swallowing instead.

  "I am monitoring your levels to know when you're being pushed too hard. The incident with Oliver inspired the idea."

  "You don't normally do that?"

  "We wouldn't need to, but you're a special case. And you needn't trouble yourself with what we're doing. If you're careful around the water and cliffs, you won't be harmed."

  He already knew why. "What are levels? Is it something I can do, too?"

  "Monitoring your levels is a simple matter of tracking your separate energy distributions. It's always nice to know the demand tasks take, and most everything boils down to distribution. I think you have quite enough to learn without having to deal with level aspects."

  "Could you tell Dorian you're not working on me anymore, to get her off my back?"

  "She's harmless." Gram laughed again.

  Yeah, right. Still, he caught himself smiling.

  "She's got a temper, but trust me, she wouldn't harm a fly. By the way, there's a bag of goodies for you just inside to the right. Help yourself."

  "Thanks." Tristan stepped into the cabin and found a canvas bag filled with fruits and vegetables, a loaf of bread and a new bundle of arrows. "Does all this food grow on the island?"

  "Of course. We are 100 percent self-sufficient. Why?"

  "Just something Dorian said." He bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Gram, hoping he hadn't fallen for some sort of prank. "She said she convinces the plants they belong in this climate?"

  "Ah, yes. Dorian has a very unique relationship with the plants. Sometimes, I think it is they who protect her mind. I also think it is they who have put such outlandish recipes and techniques in her head." Gram gazed fondly at the lake, her sky-blue eyes alight with pride. "I like to take credit for her skills, but she does practically everything her own way. I can't deny the reality though; she's the best I've ever seen. Doesn't make any sense whatsoever."

  "Thanks for the food," Tristan said, not wanting to hear more praise for Dorian. "Is there something else I can be working on?"

  "Focus on the three S's: starting, steering, and stopping objects in motion. When you've got that, have a little fun. Oliver can't throw for you just yet—he's responsible for security on the island and since taking over my part, we've had some areas that are slipping a bit more than they should. Nothing to worry about though, we've got it all worked out." She rocked in her chair, closing her eyes. "It's all about distribution. You are a fine student, young Tristan. Well worth the effort. And, do me a favor?"

  "Sure." Sadness and understanding constricted his heart. Dorian was right, Gram's health was suffering.

  "Give Dorian a chance. She's stubborn and ornery at times, but if you can get past all that, and get to know her...."

  "Sure."

  Gram inhaled deeply as her body relaxed.

  "Thanks again for taking the time with me…for everything you've done. I wouldn't have survived if—" He suspected she'd fallen asleep, but couldn't bear to walk away. What if this was his last chance with her? "I had no idea…about anything."

  He could work harder; learn more quickly so as not to cost her everything. He smiled at the thought of giving Dorian another chance. As a favor to Gram and nothing more.

  31

  - ATTACK ON ATLANTIS -
/>   THE DECK OF CARDS barely survived the abuse. The poor things had crashed into each other, scraped against every wall, and several had taken a drink in the lake. One had to be saved from hot coals. Through it all, starting, steering, and stopping the cards became easy; Tristan returned to the target area with the bow and new arrows.

  The plants seemed more noticeable, he kept to rocks when possible to avoid squashing them. Besides, the ghostly silent forest might have eyes, relaying his every action to Queen Dorian, leader of the Foliage Universe.

  "This is ludicrous." Tristan stomped a little circle in the grass to prove his point, then climbed onto the biggest rock in the center of the clearing. He caught himself glancing over his shoulder, feeling sorry for the flattened blades of grass. Witnesses would probably notify Dorian. She'd arrive at any minute doing handsprings with a little first-aid kit strapped to her back.

  "Why am I even thinking about this?" Tristan hooked an arrow onto the bowstring, despising how emotional he'd become. Elation in accomplishments was understandable, but intense panic attacks were completely illogical. And then there was Gram. The thought of losing her so soon after finding her brought pangs of grief, like he'd known her all his life. And Dorian.

  He kept an eye out for wildlife, searching every shadow of the forest. Where were the babbling birds? Even the falcon wasn't around.

  "Focus!" he demanded, rolling his shoulders before pulling back the string again. Each arrow hit the target within a circular inch of the estimated center. That got his attention. Tristan scratched his head and scanned the surroundings for someone who might have done it for him. Maybe the new arrows made all the difference.

  His heart hammered, his legs itched to run. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself, again, that he had no schedule. No calendar. No place to be. No responsibilities except to practice and learn.

  He collected all the arrows without leaving his post. Instead of steering them to himself, he directed them in a circle above the clearing, increasing their speed. One by one, an arrow from the circling flock veered off to hit the target.

  Tristan began again, adding additional targets for a greater challenge. Arrows became pinecone shish-kabobs. Why did it seem like he was wasting time? He pried the pinecones off the arrows and headed home.

  * * *

  At the top of the mountain, Tristan peered through the spyglass. He still couldn't see Gram's log cabin, but Dorian stood hunched over on the rocky beach, towel-drying her thick hair. He kept himself from blinking, wondering if she'd simply vanish when walking past a certain point.

  He quickly scanned the trees behind her for the river-stone cottage, remembering the lake had been visible from the back door, then refocused on her when he couldn't find it. She untied the knife from around her leg and looked directly at him.

  He dropped behind a boulder, hoping the quick movement didn't draw more attention to his location. He held his breath and found her again, keeping himself hidden, hoping his calculations about the sun's glare off the lens were accurate.

  "Whoa…." Three men stood on the beach with her. He redirected the spyglass toward the village, curious about where they'd come from, then retargeted Dorian. "Never seen you guys before." Tristan made a mental note to ask Gram about the island's population. "Maybe Eric?"

  Dorian talked to the men while they surrounded her.

  A lesson? She's probably still learning stuff. Tristan relaxed, thrilled by the idea of watching her in action from a distance. One of the men grabbed her from behind, wrapping his huge arms around her. "Doesn't look like Oliver." He couldn't be sure though.

  She stomped on his foot and flipped him to the ground in front of her.

  "Dang…she's good." She made throwing such a large man look easy! Another attacker came at her from the front, the sun glaring from the side of a blade in his hand. Barefoot, she kicked the object aside, sending it flying into the lake with a lopsided splash. Without stopping her momentum, she switched feet and kicked him in the chest. Backwards! The man fell to the ground.

  Tristan stared with his mouth hanging open, barely breathing. His shoulders tightened with nervous excitement. "I wonder if they'd teach me that?"

  She circled, completely at ease, keeping an eye on all three men. The third pulled something from his coat and pointed it at her, reminding him of the wand Sabbatini used. "That's not fair." Of course, Oliver had an answer for that kind of complaint.

  Dorian collapsed to the ground, her right hand clutching her shoulder, her eyes glaring with a murderous intent. Tristan frowned, guessing the lesson was over. How was she, or he, supposed to fight something so abstract? Strength and speed seemed to be her area of expertise, not invisible magic.

  From the forest behind her, a large elk charged at the people. Tristan gasped, leaping to his feet, not caring if someone saw him. Hadn't Gram said something about security? Though, she also said it was taken care of. It has to be an exercise.

  The elk rolled his giant head and tossed the nearest man like a deflated balloon into the grass. Blood glistened on its antlers. Tristan scanned the beach, unable to find the other men. Dorian faced the elk alone.

  He ran, half-sliding down the mountain to help her, or to at least find out what was going on. The elk lowered its head again, taking aim.

  "Is she crazy?" Even I wouldn't take on a mad elk.

  She put her right arm in the air and the elk swung its head. "DORIAN!" She must be in total shock to just stand there. His pace faltered as she landed on its back—as if riding an elk like a horse was an everyday activity. They trotted off together.

  By the time he reached the village side of the lake, he figured she'd probably staged the whole thing. After all, she knew he was watching. Didn't she? But the man lying in the grass with his intestines yanked out was definitely real.

  Tristan backed away, his gut convulsing bile up his throat. He searched for the other men while collecting Dorian's things, tensing his stomach to keep from hurling.

  The elk grazed peacefully near the front porch of the cabin. Tristan side-stepped the massive beast, making every effort to get around without startling it, and ran up the front steps.

  "Gram? Dorian?" He pounded on the wooden frame of the screen door. "Hello?"

  Where was everyone? He followed a footpath to the back door of the river-stone cottage.

  "Gram?" Tristan called, so as not to barge in unannounced. He opened the door and stuck his head in, seeing Gram in her rocking chair. "Is everything okay?"

  "We were just talking about that," Oliver answered, his bulk threatening to crush the little sink he was leaning against. "What did you see?"

  Tristan stepped into the room and glanced around nervously. Oliver and two strangers filled the space, standing with their arms crossed, waiting for him to speak. Sweat dripped down his spine, no words came.

  "Tristan, you've met Oliver. This is Eric and Alice," said Gram.

  "Is she all right?" Tristan blurted, shivering as the enormity of what happened settled in.

  "Tell us what you saw," said Oliver, towering over everyone. Couldn't they all go outside or something?

  "Uh-" Tristan gulped. "But—"

  "She's showering. If you would just tell us what you saw?"

  "I saw the whole thing…I think." He held up the spyglass, blushing at the thought of spying on Dorian. He glanced at Gram. "From the top of the mountain. I was looking for the cabin because—"

  "Whatever," Oliver said, clearly impatient with the whole situation. "Just tell us what you saw."

  "One minute she was standing by herself, the next, three guys were surrounding her." Tristan told them everything he could remember. When he got to the part about the elk, Oliver jerked his head toward the door and Eric left to check the body.

  "She was doing so great, I really didn't think she was in any kind of danger until one of them pointed a stick at her. Like Sabbatini's wand," he directed at Gram. "I think it got her, she held her arm like it hurt. That's when
the big elk charged in. I thought she…but then she just…." Tristan shook his head, still stunned.

  The silence in the room racked chills through his body. What a fool he'd been to just stand there and watch. "I thought it was training."

  Eric returned, breaking the awkward silence. "The guy at the lake…dead. Got him outside."

  Oliver stepped away from the sink so Eric could scrub the blood from his hands. "Know who he is?"

  Eric shrugged and shook his head.

  Tristan took a deep breath, coming to terms with his mistake. If anything had happened to Dorian while he sat and watched, enthralled by the way she could move, he'd never forgive himself. He glanced at Gram. "I'm really sorry."

  "We should have a little time before they come back," Oliver announced. "The Makai have offered their help and I'll be accepting."

  Eric froze at the sink. "Are you sure that's wise?"

  "Security on the island will be tighter than ever," Oliver added. "Just until this mess with Sabbatini is settled."

  Tristan stared at his fidgeting hands, wanting to ask who the Makai were and what increased security meant. "Was it because of my training? The security…." He bit his lip and glanced again at Gram.

  "You know how I am," Gram said, waving the whole thing off as Oliver glared. "I didn't tell him anything important, if that's what you're worried about."

  Oliver shook his head and faced Tristan. "It's not your fault. Your training is important and the security of this island is what it is." He uncrossed his arms and spoke to Eric and Alice. "It's simply time to learn how to make it better if we can't rely on the cave. We need to make alterations and the Makai can teach us how. Alpheus warned me weeks ago that things needed improving." Oliver paused, pursing his lips. "At the time, I told him to mind his own damn business."

  "But Flynn says the Makai—" Alice shut her mouth and started over. "Why would they be interested in our security to begin with?"

  "You can't bring in the Makai without a public vote," Eric added. "Involving the Makai will make it look like we support them, and that will cause more trouble. The entire island has the right to decide."