And why not with Eris?
Lira could have stopped all of this had she simply worked with Eris. Jasi would not have been captured, carried and tortured, dragged away from her new husband. Terran would not have come after her and been injured, leaving him broken and surrounded by the grasses, likely to die. Eris would not have been stranded, standing in these grasses, helpless.
She closed her eyes and let out a stuttering breath. She could leave Lira, find Jasi, and return home. But that wouldn’t save Terran. Wouldn’t save the forest.
Without Lira, she would never learn what it meant to be a keeper.
If she did nothing, everyone she loved—her parents, her sisters, her brother…even Terran—would fall before the magi. She’d seen what they were willing to do for power. How could she turn away when she had the potential to help?
How could she turn away now when she finally felt she mattered?
But why her? She could do nothing.
As it was, she was left with memories of a dream, memories which did nothing other than speak a promise of the power of the keepers. With more time, she might be able to read through the stories woven into the roots of the forest by the first keeper, but there was not the time. If the forest was destroyed, there would never be the time.
That left saving Lira as her only option.
Eris wanted to scream. If only Terran had not been injured.
Before, she had done all that she could to run from the magi. Now, she would be running toward them. If she was caught, if the magi took her and chained her alongside Lira, what then? What would happen to Terran, to her sister, to the forest?
They would be no worse off than they were now.
The realization reassured her. She would not simply wait for something to happen. Eris was tired of waiting, tired of things happening to her, tired of the magi trying to hurt her or those she cared about.
It was time she had answers.
Her eyes snapped open, and she started toward the magi. She moved quickly, following a direct path. Whatever else she did, she decided, she would see to it that the magi regretted bringing her out here to the Svanth Forest. Now that she knew she had the capability to be a keeper, whether or not she could use that ability, the magi would feel her anger.
She ran through the tall grasses. The needlegrass bent down momentarily, long enough to let her pass, before springing back into place. The ground blurred past her. With each step, memories of what she had been through rolled through her mind.
Anger filled her. She did not push it down.
Anger that she had been captured and tormented, anger that the magi attempted to destroy the forest, anger that Lira had been captured, anger that Lira had known what Eris could do but had not shared, and anger that Terran was injured and could not be with her. The anger sent her nearly flying along the ground.
Eris was aware of nothing other than the sense of where the magi stood. Even moving as quickly as she was, she felt their presence like a blight on the plains needing removal. Distantly, she was aware that storms raged around her, thunder and lightning rolling and crackling from the magi. Rain spit from the sky.
Then she reached the magi. Eris threw herself to the ground to keep from sight. The grasses moved around her, as if sensing her mood, twisting so they did not cut at her arms. She felt the presence of the magi as they came toward her, now cutting their way across the grass, slicing through the tall blades with a sword or scythe.
That only served to fuel her anger more.
Eris sent a message to the plains. With her anger and frustration, this was less a request and more of a demand, unlike anything she had ever tried. There would be no denying this request.
Stop them.
There was a rustling of wind and the sense of a soft sigh she began to recognize as coming from the grasses themselves. The grasses shifted, differently than before. The movement was fast, surged onward with the energy of her demand, taking on the hot rage that radiated through her and into the twisted roots of the plains. The needlegrasss attacked.
Someone shouted. A long scream echoed from where the magi worked their way across the plains and then fell silent.
She wondered if the injured magi was the one who had tormented her. She would feel no remorse for him.
Eris could not see what had happened. Blood had spilled onto the ground, soaking into the soil. The grasses welcomed it hungrily, feeding, pushing harder, searching for more, doing what they could to please her.
Even the grasses feared her anger.
“Vanis?” someone shouted.
When Vanis didn’t answer, they yelled again. “Vanis?”
A moan was cut short. She heard a rustling across the ground, felt the sense of someone moving through the grasses, and then nothing. Vanis was silent.
Had he died? Had the grasses, in their attempt to follow her command, killed one of the magi?
Eris didn’t let herself feel remorse. How could she feel remorse after what had happened to her? After what the magi intended for her family. They deserved it for Adrick’s betrayal.
Her anger seethed. This was not her doing. Whatever happened was because of what the magi had already done. It was their fault she had been forced to take such drastic steps.
The grasses followed her command, shifting and moving, slicing toward the life trampling through it with vengeance for the blades that had been shorn, cut short so the destruction could move through.
There was another grunt, followed by a soft cry.
Eris could not tell how many magi remained. Could the grasses contain them all?
She would be most pleased if they stopped Adrick next, but none of the lives seemed any different from the next to the grasses. Only Lira stood out as different; Eris felt that the grasses recognized the difference and left her alone, twisting so she went uninjured.
One of the magi began chanting. Thunder started to rumble loudly. Lightning pressed down, flickers of bright yellow light streaking around her, as if circling the plains.
“Was it her?”
Eris heard the shout. The voice was rough but full of panic.
“She barely moves. It cannot be her.”
This was Adrick. Eris recognized his voice and felt another surge of anger.
The grass of the plains seemed to feed off her anger, eager to follow her frustration as they darted toward the source of the voice.
“How can you be sure? I saw what happened! The grass attacked!” Davin yelled.
There was the sound of a harsh slap. “Have you ever heard of grass attacking? This is needlegrass. You knew the risks of walking through here. A price must be paid to reach the Svanth!”
Hearing his voice made Eris even angrier.
Him.
She felt it as the grasses sighed and stabbed toward where Adrick spoke.
A soft growl was followed by an explosion. The grasses near where Adrick had been standing were burned away.
“We need the full Conclave for this!”
“You are a fool,” the High Seat said. “You think one keeper can stand before five magi of the Conclave?”
“What is this then?”
The High Seat laughed. The sound was dark and angry and flooded over her.
Eris felt a surge of anger in response.
“Only another keeper,” he said. “We will find her and destroy her.”
“I’m not going out there,” Davin said.
Eris frowned. Had he done something to Jasi? Was that the reason her eyes carried such darkness?
Him.
The grasses seemed to understand and stabbed toward the magi who had just spoken. She heard a soft scream and felt another blast. The chanting suddenly stopped.
“Find her!” the High Seat yelled. Eris heard the anger in his voice. “It’s time this keeper learns we aren’t powerless.”
“What do we do?”
“She is here. Somewhere close. I can smell her. Burn it. All of it.”
There was another
explosion. Eris felt the grasses burning away.
The other magi began to chant softly, their voices combining as they chanted their spells. Fire bloomed up near where they had been standing, leaping toward the sky. The smell was horrid.
Heat pushed against her. The air became thick and hot. The storm raging overhead grew louder, lightning flashing continuously. With a sense of horror, Eris realized the grasses of the plains tried to withdraw. With enough time, the Conclave would destroy the Verilain Plains.
New rage, different than before struck her. Now it was more than just her family. The magi wanted destroy the plains, a garden she’d come to understand she was meant to protect.
How dare the magi attempt to destroy the grasses on the plains! Had they not done enough? Wasn’t the attempt on the Svanth Forest enough?
She stood. Each hand grasped fistfuls of the grass. Her legs were spread, firmly set into the ground. The dirt squished beneath her feet, and she sunk her toes into it as she sent another demand.
“She is here!”
Eris turned toward the voice. Adrick. Anger and rage bubbled inside her, and she could no long control it. The magi would be punished.
Through her connection to the grasses, she made another demand. Around her, she felt hesitation, fear that the magi would destroy more of the grasses, burn this garden entirely.
Eris would not allow that to happen.
She sent a command.
Wind whipped up suddenly, nothing like the soft sigh she felt in answer when the grasses listened to her. This was different. Forceful and buffeting, the wind matched the anger flowing through her, the rage overflowing within her.
She sent the wind toward the magi.
Grasses bent, leaning away from the wind to avoid destruction. Eris stood firm, feet planted deeply into the ground, earth flowing over her feet, a humming energy moving through her.
Eris plunged into the roots, calling for the power stored in this garden. With a furious anger, she sent her awareness along the twisting roots, pressing and pressing.
The flames pushed back against the wind. Hot and violent.
Eris pushed harder, taking a step forward. Between the flames she saw the magi. Three of them stood against her. The High Seat at the fore, his weathered and balding pate fixed in concentration. Adrick stood to his right. His eyes widened when he saw her. His focus shifted, just for a moment.
The break was enough.
The flames faltered, flicking, struggling to withstand the force of the wind buffeting against them. Eris took a step forward. The wind followed, blowing toward the magi.
Still they stood.
The High Seat’s mouth turned into a smile, a darkness crossing his face as if he knew something. The chanting came louder, stronger. Flames leapt, spreading not just toward her, but around, pressing outward, rolling away from the magi in a storm of hot fire.
Much longer, and the plains would be fully ablaze. All the power stored in this garden would be destroyed.
Eris felt the energy the magi worked as a force working against her. With the heat billowing from the fire, her breathing became heavy, the weight of their magic pressing on her and mixing with the heat of the flames.
Eris screamed. The magi would not take her. They would not take her sister. They would not take Lira—the one person who could explain what was happening to her.
And they would not take this garden.
She shifted, digging her feet deeper into the ground, burying herself to the ankle. Roots dug against her feet. Again she pressed out, pushing along the twisting roots. Demanding more.
The grasses of the plains tried to respond—the force of her anger was overwhelming—but not enough energy remained. Everything she did consumed what power was stored within these shallow roots.
The wind faltered.
The High Seat smiled. This time it was he who took a step forward.
Heat pressed on her like an oven. It felt as if her flesh were boiling. Lightning crashed somewhere nearby. Chunks of earth flew toward her, slapping against her face. Had she not been rooted so deeply into the ground, she would have been thrown into the air. Thunder crashed on her with a physical force.
She would fail. Her fledgling abilities were not enough, not against the power and focus of the magi. Had only Lira bothered to teach her…
The chanting grew loud, rising over the roar of the wind. Eris could not tell how much longer the wind would blow. The power of the plains faded rapidly. Soon the heat would overwhelm her. Flames would reach her, and she would die.
Eventually, so would Terran. Then her family, the city, the entire realm.
All because she was not enough.
But she would matter. How could she not embrace her difference now? She was a keeper.
With one last angry attempt, Eris pushed along the roots of the plains, demanding whatever power was left. The wind picked up for a moment before failing.
Eris fell to the ground. Dirt filled her nostrils. She coughed against the heat and smoke.
Somewhere, she heard the magi laughing. Closer. Almost close enough to touch.
Had she only Lira…had she managed to save her…none of this would have been necessary. Had Lira been willing to teach her she might have been ready, saved by real lessons rather than memories of a long dead keeper, memories that filled the deep roots of the forest, roots that if only she could reach she might be able to summon…
Her heart leapt.
The power of the forest welcomed her, pulling her along, reaching out to her. Stretching out as she did, pushing along the thin life of the plains, she reached the edge where deeper roots abutted. There the energy and life of the forest pulsed with vibrant life. Power she could summon. Power waiting for its keeper.
The teary star was her flower for a reason. The Svanth Forest was her garden, and she was meant to be its keeper.
Eris stood. Now, only a dozen paces away, the magi looked at her. The High Seat wore a look of loathing and condescension. Adrick appeared uncertain. Davin, the only one of the magi whose cloak burned, shifted closer to the High Seat. Flames consumed the needlegrass and raced along the dry plains, pushing away from her.
“I cannot believe she chose you,” Adrick said.
The chanting of the other magi and the loud rumbling of thunder punctuated his words. Lightning crashed near her, throwing dirt and burnt grasses toward her.
Eris stood fast. “She didn’t choose me.” She had to yell over the sound of the flames.
“Release the wind, and you might live,” the High Seat said.
Eris shook her head.
“Then you will die. Just like the rest of your family once this last garden falls. These lands will be ours. And they will burn.” The High Seat stared at her. His dark eyes were hard. “Had I known a garden hid within the forest, I would have gone there first. The puny garden she grew in Eliara would not be enough to withstand the might of the Conclave. Now the last garden will fall. These lands will join Saffra.”
“It is not her garden,” Eris said. She did not speak loudly this time but her words carried.
She let the wind pick up, circling so that the flames were sucked up and away from the grasses. With the power of the forest behind her, she found this easy.
The High Seat looked at her. “If it is not hers, then where is the other keeper?”
She shook her head. “There is no other keeper. Only me.” She inhaled deeply, pulling in air that smelled of dirt and ash. “I’m the keeper of the forest.”
Adrick sneered at her. “You are a poorly trained princess. If this flower mage cannot stop me, there is nothing you can do,” he said, pointing to where Lira lay limp on the ground.
Eris sent the wind.
The magi chanted, but the sound died against the power she commanded. It ripped at where Eris stood rooted to the ground, unmoving in spite of the howling gale. She unleashed the power stored in the forest in a torrent. The magi pressed back, even the force of their flames not enou
gh against the angry energy she summoned.
The magi screamed, ragged voices calling out destructive magic. Thunder rocked the night. Lightning streaked from the sky in angry purple veins.
With a flood of power, Eris dismissed the storm.
The force of her wind blew the clouds away from the plains, sending the darkness and rain chasing the thunder and lightning away.
She roared again. Wind howled with her.
The magi fell, thrown by the power Eris commanded, disappearing into the night. Adrick lingered the longest. Hatred shone in his eyes before he disappeared.
The magi dismissed, she commanded the grasses to bring Lira to her.
They slid under her, lifting her and pressing her up on their long blades. With a shifting shimmer, Lira was carried toward her. Eris felt it as a sense of life dragged along atop the grasses.
And then she saw her.
As she reached her, she looked upon the Mistress of Flowers. The flower mage. The keeper.
Any frustration she had felt at Lira for hiding what she could be disappeared as she saw her. With sudden realization, she wondered if Lira had not been trying to protect her, hiding what she was—what she could be—because she knew what the magi would do to her if they knew. Even Lira—an experienced keeper—had finally fallen in the face of their magic.
She looked beaten. Her face bruised. Colorful knots raised on her cheeks bloomed with purple and yellow. Blood stained her mouth and nose; deep cracks split along her lips. Arms and legs looked sliced by hundreds of shallow knives that Eris knew to be the result of the grasses fighting the magi’s progress.
She wore nothing more than a tattered gown. Even that was simply remnants, the color so stained with dirt and blood that Eris could not be certain whether it started as blue or green. Dressed as she was, all sense of formality was stolen from her. Dark hair fell across her face. Someone had cut chunks from it and burned other parts. A section of her scalp looked scalded.
Yet her eyes opened as she neared. The familiar brightness burned behind her eyes as she looked at Eris. And then she smiled.
“Eris Taeresin. A keeper at last,” she whispered.
Chapter 29
The Lost Garden: The Complete Series Page 23
