Chosen (The Last Guardians Book 1)

by C. V. Gregorchuk

  “Then how-”

  Mia winced as Orden’s voice became too loud for her sensitive ears. “I don’t know!” It went quiet on the other side of the door, Mia could hear them breathing. In a quieter, calmer voice Orden said, “The only thing I can think to explain it is that her Power acted on its own to protect her.”

  “I didn’t realize it could do that.”

  Mia fought against the dark hands of sleep that reached for her. Not now, she told herself, stay awake! Mia wanted to hear this, wanted to- but her eyes were already growing heavy. Orden sighed. Whatever he said next was lost as Mia surrendered to the insistent call of the dark, dreamless nothingness where she resided in the periods between wakefulness.

  “Good morning,” Mia croaked.

  Hanna startled awake. Her hands flew to either side of the chair she’d been slumped in, sleeping. Wide blue eyes still foggy with sleep found Mia’s face and sharpened. “Ye’re awake!” Hanna was on her feet in a loud flurry of motion and then she was reaching for Mia. Her hands were shockingly cool against Mia’s skin. Mia hissed at the rough scrape of calluses as the older woman pressed a hand first against her forehead and then cupped her cheek. “We were so worried for ye.”

  The smell of mint was nauseating. Mia made a face and shrank back out of Hanna’s reach. Hanna frowned and stood back, hands falling to her sides. It wasn’t just her breath that overwhelmed Mia, but the smell of her too, the lavender and salty sweat of her unwashed body. “I uh-” Mia didn’t know what to say; how to tell Hanna that she was overloading her highly sensitive sense of smell. So Mia said nothing, not wanting to hurt the other woman’s feelings any more than she already had by pulling away. Mia sat up a little against the pillows and said, “I’m-I’m okay.”

  “Good,” Hanna’s smile was thin, the lines around her mouth deep. Mia could see every wrinkle, freckle, and pore, even the pale downy hair covering the old woman’s face stood out in high definition. “Ye gave us quite the scare!” Hanna looked tired like she hadn’t slept in days.

  “How long was I out?”

  Dark brows drew together, and the wrinkles around Hanna’s eyes seemed to multiply. Mia had never noticed the black depth of Hanna’s pupils before, or the dark starbursts around them. The silvery flecks in her pale blue irises were a new discovery too. “Two days,” Hanna answered in a quiet voice.

  “That long?” Mia couldn’t believe it. It hadn’t felt like two days when she was fading in and out of consciousness. “Two days,” Mia repeated under her breath. Her eyes drifted to the blanket draped over her legs. It was like zooming in on a picture; Mia could see every overlapping thread in the fabric, every fiber of material. Two days since the wolf and Seinfeld. “Where’s Seinfeld?” She demanded, wincing at the loudness of her own voice. Gosh, what was going on with her? “Is he okay? Did I fix him?”

  “Ye did,” Hanna answered, but there was no smile on her face, only a look Mia couldn’t read.

  Mia’s heart contracted as her mind inevitably jumped to the worst conclusion, “But?”

  Hanna’s eyes narrowed and burned with an intensity Mia had never seen from her before. A muscle jumped in either cheek as she ground her teeth loud enough for Mia to hear and then she asked, “What were ye thinking?” in a much too quiet voice. Mia’s stomach plummeted with sickening speed. Hanna continued, “Why didn’t ye call for help? Why would ye take that wolf on by yerself?” Hanna’s voice rose a degree with each question; her lips pale and bloodless.

  “I-” Mia choked on the excuse she’d been about to make, “I’m sorry. I just-”

  “Ye didn’t think, did ye?”

  Mia had never heard Hanna’s voice so heated. Unshed tears swam in Hanna’s eyes. There was fury in the trembling set of her mouth. “Ye know how important ye are and yet ye put yerself at risk- how could ye put yerself in such danger?” Mia had expected this scolding from Orden and had been prepared to defend herself and her actions but with Hanna…There was genuine fear in the older woman’s eyes and an unspeakable anger Mia recognized from another life. Sarah Astor had looked at her exactly like that when at eight years old, Mia had left their home without telling anyone, and walked through Hell’s Kitchen by herself to Jake’s house. The same terrified motherly fury she would have faced had she returned home after Bella Abelson’s party instead of vanishing.

  Her own eyes stung with tears, and Mia looked down at her hands clenched in the blankets. “I’m so sorry,” she said and forced herself to look Hanna in the face. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t-” A big burning lump formed in her throat and it hurt. Mia hadn’t thought about how her actions might affect them, the three people who had clothed and fed her and taken care of her. Despite what Hanna had said, it went beyond the Guardianship. At least for her. Mia read it in the old woman’s pale face, Hanna cared about her. Her, not what she meant to Nethea.

  Mia reached for the hand gripping the wrinkled material at Hanna’s left side, but she couldn’t get there. With a quiet moan, Mia collapsed back against the pillows breathing hard. Hanna’s voice cracked as she said her name. Mia was aware of hands on her shoulders, hot through the thin material of her nightgown. When she opened her eyes Hanna was leaning over her, her face tight with worry. “I’m- I’m okay.” It took so much effort to say those two words. Her head was spinning in slow, sickening circles; Mia closed her eyes and focused on breathing through her nose. A hand stroked a stray bit of hair out of her face, rough despite the gentleness of the touch. Mia grimaced, and the hand withdrew. The mattress dipped beneath Hanna’s weight as she sat on the edge of the bed and laid a careful hand over Mia’s on the wool blanket.

  “I’m sorry.” Mia murmured when she could speak again. She forced her heavy eyes open and looked at Hanna. Even in the dark Mia could see how the older woman’s shoulders drooped. Her hair was falling out of her braid in long dark swaths, and there were deep shadows in the skin under her eyes. “I won’t do anything like that again,” Mia promised.

  A shaky breath and a thin, sad smile, “Yes ye will.” Hanna said in a soft voice, and there was no accusation or anger in it, just the truth.

  Mia’s eyes stung and watered in the bright unfiltered sunlight streaming in through the open window. She blinked repeatedly, her face twisted in a grimace as her eyes took their time to adjust. Too slow. How long was it going to take for her to get used to these newly heightened senses of hers?

  Both Breahn and Hanna were too busy to notice her discomfort, preoccupied as they were with erasing all signs of Mia’s trauma. They started with the bed where she’d lain for three days and nights. It was a relief. Not a minute seemed to go by when one of them wasn’t checking in on her, alert for any change, every twitch of her nose. Not since she’d woken the night before last and Orden had explained to all of them about Mia’s hypersensitive state, a side effect of tapping into her Power. One that would take an unspecified amount of time to get used to.

  Mia sat in her chair by the door and followed the exchange of conversation between mother and daughter as they first stripped the bed and then made it up again with fresh linens that smelled strongly of lavender and lye. She found herself smiling on more than one occasion, enjoying the familiar banter that passed between the two, adding her own twist of words when she saw an opening. It provided a good distraction from the scrape and itch of her shift against her skin and the weight of the shawl draped around her shoulder. Bearable, but only just.

  When the room was clean and fresh smelling both women turned toward Mia. Her turn.

  She bore the agony of the burning sting of hot water and the rasp of cloth without complaint as they washed the sweat and dried blood from her skin. No scars. Mia looked, but couldn’t find any evidence of her battle with the wolf, only smooth skin flushed by the hot water. Another side effect of her Power? The bite and drag of a comb through her wet hair was less manageable, but Mia got through it with some hissing and muted grunts of pain.

  When Breahn pulled the dress Mia had stol
en from her closet the morning she’d gone to meet Orden in the barn weeks ago, Mia asked her why.

  “Ye are not training today,” Hanna answered for her daughter as she tied a small scrap of leather around the end of Mia’s braid.

  “But I thought-” Mia trailed off, not knowing what she’d thought; only what she’d hoped. She was eager to get back to her training, as surprising as it was. Mia wanted to learn more about the Power flowing through her veins. The Power she’d somehow used to fix Seinfeld.

  “One more day of rest,” Hanna laid a gentle hand on Mia’s bare shoulder, “then Orden can have ye back.” Mia couldn’t see the older woman’s face, but her voice held an edge that made Mia keep quiet. The last thing she wanted was for Hanna to change her mind about letting her see Seinfeld today. She’d wanted to go yesterday already, but Hanna had refused and wouldn’t be argued with. So Mia had spent the day in her room with the curtains drawn, recuperating while the two women took turns bringing her tea and food and keeping her company. Orden had stayed away since Hanna banned him from the room, stating that it wouldn’t be proper for him to visit Mia while she recovered. It gave Mia time to prepare for the scolding he must be chomping at the bit to give. She was resigned to take it, to take whatever he had to say without losing her temper in the process. She couldn’t wait.

  The walk to the barn was long and painful. Being outside, the smells and the sounds, the bright sharpness of it all was overwhelming. Orden said nothing as she leaned into his solidness. A supporting hand found its way to her lower back as she shamelessly used him as a shield against it all.

  They passed into the cool grey light of the barn and Mia had to stop for a second, dizzied by the sudden change of environment. In the close stillness, she heard the heavy movements of the mares in the close quarters of the stalls and the rustling of hay. The swishing of tails and snorts of suspicion as the new mothers caught her and Orden’s scents. And then a sound Mia had been convinced she would never hear again. Seinfeld’s usual low nicker was pitched higher than the last time she’d heard it, but it was his, and so was the tan head that popped over his stall door with its white starburst and tuft of black hair that stuck up no matter how many times she’d tried to smooth it down.

  Mia was crying. Fat hot tears sliding down her face, nose dripping snot, full on ugly crying.

  “He’s real.” She dragged her eyes away from her foal, her living breathing horse and looked up into Orden’s face. The granite-hewn features had softened into something almost unrecognizable, tender and kind, “You fixed him.” He smiled at her then, not the false, disdainful show of teeth she was used to but a real smile.

  Mia choked on the laugh that bubbled up in her throat and gave him a shaky, water-logged smile in return. They stared at each other for a long moment; peace and acceptance passing between them and then Orden cleared his throat and gave her a little push toward the stall where Seinfeld waited for her.

  Chapter 48

  The woods were what she needed. The moment Mia stepped between the trees and felt the thick air wrap her in its soft, muted cocoon the tension left her back and Mia found that she could breathe again.

  Her scuffed boots didn’t make a sound as she weaved through the underbrush. Mia slowed her breathing, the beating of her heart, just like Orden had taught her. All around her, the forest resumed its heady buzz of life. Mia opened her senses to it; the rot and decaying smell of leaves, the scent of pine, oak and ash. The tart smell of a shrub, its branches sagging beneath the weight of hundreds of berries. Mia recognized them from five meters away, her sharp eyes picking out the glossy black skins plump with juice and pectin from the bright green leaves. Blackcurrant. Good for making jam Hanna had told her and the runs if eaten raw. Mia made a mental note of the spot so that she and Breahn could come back later.

  She moved as silent as a deer picking her way between the trees and tall grasses, her movements smooth and deliberate. Birds sang in the canopy overhead, black shadows passing through the air on a dry flutter of wings. Mia could hear the scratching of their claws against bark as they hopped from one branch to the next and the alarming tattoos of their tiny hearts. Sounds that would have driven her crazy before she’d learned how to tune them out. That had been easy. Muting her senses to allow only the necessary sights, smells and sounds didn’t take much effort and little concentration. Mia didn’t need to use her Power to do it, so it didn’t cost her anything. It didn’t hurt.

  All Power has a cost. That’s what Orden had said the night he’d shown her his memories. A sentence he repeated so many times throughout their daily training sessions that Mia wanted to punch him in the face. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard. Not the actual mechanics of using her Power; the manipulation of particles and mass wasn’t what was getting in her way. Nor was it the use of her imagination to ‘see’ the desired result. No, Mia’s problem was that she had zero tolerance for this kind of pain. A burning pain that seared her senses. That was why she’d come; to seek out the lull and lively thrum of the woods after yet another failed attempt at keeping that stupid stump in the air for longer than thirteen seconds. Thirteen seconds being the record, not the average.

  She’d be doing fine, burning but holding on to the wall of closely grouped air particles holding the cracked stump two feet off the ground. Then the heat would escalate to a raging inferno, forcing her to let go before she could be reduced to a pile of ashes. Because that’s what it felt like. Like she would die if she held on for even a second longer.

  “It will take time.” Orden said when she’d rounded on him and demanded to know why she couldn’t do it. “Time and practice.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. So Mia had left before her frustration could get the best of her, marching into the trees that ringed the small clearing where Orden insisted they now train. And he’d let her go without so much as a shake of his head.

  Mia didn’t know why she’d thought her Power would change things. Nothing had changed, not really. Sure she was stronger and faster than before, but if anything it only made matters worse. What good was strength when she was always losing her weapon swinging too hard? What good was speed when she overshot her target and threw herself off balance? Not only had Mia unlocked another obstacle for herself but she’d also made something she wasn’t good at, to begin with even harder. It seemed as though each step she took toward becoming a Guardian, toward doing something, helping, resulted in another five back. It was exhausting. More than that, it made quitting very attractive.

  Mia rocked back on her heels and then forward into a slow walk. It would get better, she told herself, even if she didn’t believe it. She was Chosen to do this. There had to be a reason. It didn’t even have to be a good one as long as there was at least one.

  Mia didn’t stop until her breath came in short bursts and sweat had her clothes sticking to her skin. The air was close and dense, fragrant with the sharp scent of spruce. Mia breathed it in, scratching her itching scalp as she searched her surroundings for a familiar landmark.

  Bright afternoon light filtered through the treetops to shine in patches on the needle-strewn ground. Smaller versions of the proud, reaching spruce sentinels grew in whatever available space there was to be found amongst skinny poplars and the general brush choking the forest floor. The more time Mia spent examining the forest around her the harder it became to dismiss the tension growing between her shoulder blades. There was nothing familiar about this place.

  “Don’t panic.” Mia hadn’t meant to go so far. She’d been so preoccupied with thoughts about her Power to pay attention to where she was going. And now she had no idea where she was. “Don’t panic.” She repeated.

  This was an easy fix. Mia could follow her own tracks back the way she’d come and eventually find her way back to the clearing. How far had she walked? It hadn’t felt like that far but judging by the slant of the light filtering through the trees at least an hour had passed. Mia already knew what Orden would say if he found out what she’
d done, the scolding he’d give her for not paying attention. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him.

  Mia almost missed it, the way everything stopped.

  The silence was deafening; a quiet so abrupt and out of place it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Like the trees themselves had stopped breathing. In an instant, the forest disappeared, and Mia was transported back to a moonlit pen, facing off against a snarling wolf; the nightmare that haunted her dreams and quiet moments. Mia shook the scene from her mind, but the tangy scent of her own fear lingered in her nose. She could hear it now, the quiet rustlings of something moving through the bush, something big coming from the West.

  She was already moving as fast as she dared through the woods, still silent in the presence of whatever lurked beneath the canopy when a faint creaking sound brought her up short. Mia knew that sound, had heard it often as she’d watched Orden saddle up for a ward check. Mia frowned. The direction was wrong, and it wasn’t Orden’s scent she picked out from the unmistakable smell of horse.

  Her curiosity piqued, Mia scaled the highest spruce tree she could find. Her hands were sticky with sweet smelling sap. Needles pulled at her clothes and caught in her hair as she shimmied up the trunk. She couldn’t have picked an easier tree to climb? A nice oak maybe? There was no time to change her mind as the tinkling of glass reached her sharp ears. How had they gotten past the ward? Only someone who knew the ward was there was supposed to be able to-

  A cloud of anxiety bloomed in her chest like smoke. Vander. It had to be Vander; the Dragon on his way home from Keswick. Mia cursed the tremors that had her sticky, cold, sweaty hands shaking hard enough to rattle the needles of the branch she held on to for balance. Mia wiped one on the tan leather of her leggings, not caring about the smear of sap and dirt left behind. Nervous, the last possible thing she’d expected to feel at a moment like this. A loud dry crack was followed by a horse’s snort of surprise and quick heavy steps through the brush. Mia twisted her body toward the sounds and stopped breathing all together. There, barely visible through the dense greens and browns of foliage was a flash of gold.