by Lindsey Duga
Alder was still hunched over, breathing hard, and I knew he wasn’t going to get up in time, let alone send another magical spirit attack toward the buck.
It wasn’t like I had been relying on Alder to stop the deer with his nature powers, but he had limits just like anyone else. I’d never forgive myself if he got hurt because of my quest.
I was the only one who could get this key, and I had to do something, and fast.
The stag lowered its antlers, readying for another charge.
If I’d had more time, I could’ve figured out a better plan. A plan that would get me that key and save Alder in the process. But I didn’t have time for both. I chose to save him.
Without thinking further, I ran forward, out of the tree line and to the meadow’s edge. Immediately the power of the earth gate hit me like a physical punch to the gut. I staggered backward as a rush of sensations overtook me.
The smell of grass. The dankness of a cavern. The hard-packed dirt underfoot. The rough, sunbaked stone of the mountainside.
Instead of resisting their pull, I took it all in. The mana empowered me, making me feel stronger, sturdier. I waved my arms, yelling, “Hey! Bambi’s dad! Over here!”
The buck’s head jerked in my direction, the leaves and flowers quivering with the sudden movement.
Alder raised his head, still heaving, one eye open and the other closed. “Brye—get back!”
His words came to me from a great distance, like I was in some kind of tunnel and he was at the very end of it, calling to me. All I saw, or heard, was the giant spirit guardian before me.
About to charge.
Swallowing, I took a step back.
The buck lowered its branches and charged like a bull. This time there was no advancing mound of rubble to stop it.
Dimly, I heard Alder call my name again.
I turned and sprinted back into the trees, ducking behind a large poplar.
With a rush of hooves that sounded like rocks tumbling over one another, the buck leaped to the side of the tree, digging its hooves into the earth to stop its powerful momentum. I flinched at the wave of wind and mana that came with its arrival.
Up close, the nature spirit was gorgeous. Soft caramel fur, big eyes, black nose, powerful muscles, and deadly hooves.
For a brief moment, the spirit stared back at me. Distrustful, confused, but not exactly…angry.
“I suppose I couldn’t have one of your branches, could I?” I asked.
This was the wrong thing to say, because the buck reared back and thrust its antlers at me. I screamed and dropped down as the branches stabbed into the tree trunk behind me.
Twigs snapped off, leaves fluttered, petals rained down, but I was so scared I didn’t snatch up a single one of them. Cursing myself, I tried to crawl around the trunk on my hands and knees.
Just as I thought one of the hooves was going to bash my skull in, Alder appeared, wrapping two fists around the base of the deer’s antler-branches and pushing it back.
“Get…out…of…here…” Alder grunted, wrestling with the great buck’s antlers. The muscles in his back and shoulders tightened and flexed as he poured all his strength into keeping the rageful creature at bay.
There was no way we could beat the earth guardian in a battle of brawn. Alder would wear out long before it did, and I couldn’t do much more than run the hell away.
Oh… Run. An idea formed in my mind. One that was hopefully clever enough to escape with the key in hand and our bodies unbroken.
“I’ve got an idea,” I wheezed. “Come with me to the meadow.”
“The meadow is the central location of the gate itself. The guardian is more powerful there.” Raysh was up in a nearby tree, out of danger, content to watch us struggle.
“The fox is right,” Alder said through a grunt.
“I know. Will you trust me?” I knew I was asking a lot, but there was hardly time to explain my plan.
“Yes.” Alder wrenched the antlers back, giving it one more big shove, and twisted away to grab my hand.
As we ran into the meadow, my head reeled at how easily he followed. How could he do that? He may have known me as a kid, but that was over six years ago. I was different now. For all he knew, I was reckless. Impulsive. Not thinking anything through.
He didn’t even know what my idea was.
But he trusted me anyway?
In the middle of the meadow, Alder and I turned around, hand in hand. Alder let his mana flow through me, filling me with all the sights, sounds, and tastes of the Smokies. And this time, I could feel him, too. The rough calluses of his fingers and the smoothness of his palm.
The guardian emerged from the forest seconds later and stamped the ground. An earthquake rumbled, its effects surely recorded by the seismograph in the Tuckaleechee Caverns.
I grabbed Alder’s arm, steadying myself, and moved closer to him, feeding him instructions.
Alder’s jaw clenched, but he nodded, raising his hand that was covered in mana. Green mist swirled around his wrist and between his fingers.
The buck reared back and charged for a third time.
I squeezed Alder’s arm, whispering, “Wait…”
Alder’s hand trembled, the bracelet I’d made him quivering.
It got closer and closer.
“Now?” Alder breathed.
“Wait.”
The hooves thundered toward us, and when I saw the green of its eyes, I screamed, “Now!”
Alder jerked his hand in an upward motion and a fully grown tree burst forth from the ground, climbing skyward like Jack’s beanstalk.
The buck barely had time to leap around the growing tree, and its antlers scraped against bark. I lunged for a twig and snatched it as it fell, right before it touched the blades of the meadow grass.
Alder grabbed my arm above the elbow, hoisting me up as I felt the twig’s mana ripple through me like an electrical current, sending shivers and spikes of energy through my entire body. Together, we ran through the meadow, Alder casting his arm out behind him, and three more trees shot up out of the ground in a zig-zag pattern, forcing the buck to slow down and dodge and weave through them.
We headed for the tree line, still running—running and running until I could no longer feel the earthquakes underfoot.
Chapter Eleven
We collapsed in a clearing. Unsurprisingly, Alder stopped first. He stumbled forward, his hands on his knees, chest heaving, and sank to the ground. He rolled onto his back, and I watched as his chest rose and fell with effort. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin, making his brow, neck, collarbone, and arms shine in the sunlight filtered through the birch leaves.
I wanted to help him, but I didn’t know how. He’d used up so much mana. First, literally moving an entire mound of earth, and then, making full-grown trees pop up out of nowhere. And we must’ve run half a mile through forests after that.
Dropping down next to him, I lay on my back, too. For some reason, I was tempted to take his hand. But I worried I might end up stealing more mana from him, and it was clear he needed as much as he could get. So I moved my arm close, my knuckles just a breath from his.
While we lay there, I noticed shades of green mist flowing from the earth directly into his skin.
Did he draw mana from this world simply by existing in it?
Alder moved his forearm over his eyes, as a soft rumble started in his chest. The rumble turned into a chuckle, then full-blown laughter. He laughed without abandon, rich and loud and just…happy.
I sat up, gaping at him. “What the heck is so funny?”
I didn’t really see the comedy in getting almost trampled or punctured to death by wooden stakes.
Slowly, his laughter faded, then he lifted his arm a little to reveal one green eye. He grinned at me. “You called the guardian spirit
of the earth gate Bambi’s dad.”
For too long, I stared at him. My silly reference hadn’t even been the least bit hilarious. And yet he’d laughed like it was the closing joke on a comedy special.
My gaze darted to the bracelet on his wrist, remembering how he’d took off running with me. Trusting me wholly. I swallowed, but something caught in my throat. Why did I feel this ache to know that this boy—a stranger in many ways—laughed at my corny jokes?
“Oh, good. You survived.”
We both looked to the side to find Raysh sitting on a rock covered in moss, licking his paws. It reminded me of the way a human would check their nails—an air of indifference around them.
“Yes, no thanks to you.” Alder heaved himself up to his feet, no longer as shaky or as pale as before. He seemed to have soaked up enough energy to feel normal again.
“I guided you to the key, didn’t I? Speaking of which, do you have it?”
“What? Oh!” I glanced down at my enclosed fist. Concerned with Alder’s weak state, I’d totally forgotten that we’d retrieved what we came for. Uncurling my fingers to reveal the small brown twig, I held it up for Alder. “I sure hope this is it,” I muttered, then cradled the twig in my hand, hoping not to squeeze it too tight in case I accidentally snapped it.
He held out his hand to help me up. “One way to find out.”
I took his hand and got to my feet. Then I glanced at Raysh, looking at my guide expectantly. “So we have to take it back to the physical plane now, right?”
“Yes, and Alder must infuse it with his mana.”
“Okay, so how do we get back…?”
Silently, Alder wrapped an arm around my waist, bringing me close to his chest.
Startled, I was about to push him away and tell him to leave room for the holy spirit, when a tunnel of wind erupted at our feet.
I gasped, pressing my face into his collarbone and wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, as the wind blew my hair and batted my clothes against my body.
But as soon as it began, it was over. As the vortex of wind died down to a soft breeze that whirled around our feet, kicking up leaves and shredded grass, Alder stepped away from me. Hands on my shoulders, he ducked his head to meet my gaze. “Sorry—I should’ve warned you. Thought you’d remember from the last time.”
Now of course, I remembered the tunnel of wind and the hand that had pulled me back to the physical world, after I’d met my mom.
But my head was so full of things that I felt like I was beginning to forget everything, and for a girl with retrograde amnesia, that was probably the scariest thing that could happen.
I took a steadying breath, tucking pieces of flyaway hair behind my ears. “No, it’s okay. I’m good.”
“Are you ready to use the key?”
Glancing down, I found the fox curled around my shins. The emissary pawed at my sneakers, except its paw slipped right through them.
I looked around at the forest. It was a different place than where we had entered the ethereal world. The trees around us were a collection of wild crabapple and hawthorn—both trees that grew in mid-to-low elevations. The sky was still blue with a tinge of orange and gold coming from the west. The sun was just beginning to set, and its light spilling across the mountains made the valley look truly angelic. Celestial. Divine… Whatever you wanted to call it. No surprise that spirits dwelled here.
“Right here?” I asked Raysh.
“Should be safe enough. It’s well out of the reach of any humans or nature trails,” Alder said, hands on his hips, as he glanced around the area.
“How do you know?” I asked.
Alder just smiled.
I tilted my chin and returned his smirk with one of my own. “Oh, a nature spirit thing. Well, aren’t you handy?”
Alder just chuckled and shook his head. “Glad you think so.”
Then I frowned, thinking about any humans being nearby. “But is that a concern? Humans being close by, I mean.”
“No,” Raysh said at the same time Alder said, “Yes.”
With an irritated glare at the fox, Alder explained, “I’m not sure what will happen when we use this key, so yes, it’s a concern. But, we’re a good distance away. We should be fine.”
The twig was strangely warm in my hand, warm like it had some life in it. But then again, it had been part of the guardian itself, even if it was a branch. And I knew enough now to realize that everything in these mountains was alive.
“What happens to the guardian after I use this key?” I asked, curious.
I hadn’t thought about what it would do to the gates within the ethereal plane once I opened them in the physical.
“Nothing terrible, if that is what you are worried about.”
“Just humor us, Raysh,” Alder said, folding his arms. He must be worried about its effects as well. Clearly, he was way more connected to this ethereal plane than I was.
Raysh huffed, the breath from his black nose stirring the grass at his feet. “Fine. Without a gate to watch over, the guardians obviously cease to be guardians. They revert to normal, yet still powerful, spirits. The gates merely become another place within the ethereal plane. Think about it like a dam. The gate is holding the mana in one concentrated place, so once you open it, the water spreads and evens out.”
The fox lifted his orange and red face to meet my eyes. “You can’t have it both ways, Briony Redwrell. You either remove these barriers preventing your mother from returning, or you leave them as they are and go home.”
I blew out a breath and opened my fist, then dropped the now green-glowing twig into Alder’s outstretched palm.
He enclosed his hand around the key, and green mana—vibrant and varying cool shades of color—wrapped around his fingers and wrists.
The astral energy grew brighter and brighter until a flash of green light went off within his closed fist.
Alder and I both leaned in to look at the “key.”
Laying in the center of my palm was not a twig, but an acorn.
“It—it changed,” I stammered.
“Unsurprising. The key takes on whatever form it needs to join with the element of its source.”
Alder looked from Raysh to the acorn. “He’s right. It changed to a seed. To plant it into the earth.” He then flicked his fingers and the grass and dirt shifted, moving around to create a small hole in the ground.
“Like I said, handy,” I told him, unable to stop a smile touching my lips.
He grinned in response. Bending down to the newly made hole, he dropped the acorn and moved the dirt over it, packing it flat.
At first, nothing happened.
Then the entire ground…shook.
I got up, wobbly on my feet, and Alder grasped my hand, tugging me closer. The tension radiating off him felt like a second energy.
“Is—is that the earth guardian?” I asked over the sound of the rumbling.
Alder didn’t respond, his gaze directed at the place where I’d just planted the key. Then he looked up—reminding me of a dog who hears a high-pitched sound.
“Shit,” he breathed. “Shit.”
I didn’t even have time to ask what was wrong before another rumble followed. This time, directly from above.
The moment I looked up, lightning bolts of fear struck my limbs.
Rocks tumbled down the mountainside, heading toward us in an avalanche. A rockslide.
It was coming up fast—we’d be buried underneath tons and tons of boulders and forest debris. This wasn’t just any landslide. It was a direct result of the spirit gate opening. But even if it was a normal natural phenomenon, we’d never be able to outrun it.
Still frozen, I barely noticed Alder lift me into his arms. My breath locked in my chest as he ran forward. But where could he run fast enough to escape the shower of earth ra
cing for us at a magical speed?
But he wasn’t running into the forest. He was running into another world.
The slipstream came upon us faster than before. The barrier of mana crashed through me like an ocean wave at the beach. The sensations and the energy almost too much—I felt like I was drowning in it.
For some reason, it faded away faster than before. Was I getting used to it or was that simply because I was in Alder’s arms this time?
As I caught my breath, Alder set me down on a collapsed tree covered with moss and vibrant green ivy wrapping around the trunk in clusters of three tear-shaped leaves. The ivy looked familiar, but my brain was too foggy with magical nature adrenaline to identify the plant properly.
“I’m sorry, Brye, are you okay? Running into the ethereal plane was the only thing I could think of to escape the rockslide.”
“I’m fine,” I rasped, still trying to regulate my breathing. “It was brilliant.”
Except as I said it, my pulse jumped erratically. The mana sparked through my veins like an electrical current. Even with some of Alder’s mana allowing me to pass through the barrier, the full brunt of it had been too much for me.
His hands cradled my neck and, once again, oxygen moved through my lungs, and my pulse slowed to a regulated, normal rhythm.
I lifted my gaze to his as the smell of mint and laurel, the chill of the morning in the mountains, and the taste of chicory ensnared my senses…but there was something else there, too. Beyond the Smokies, there was guilt—a churning, restless feeling.
Alder was sharing more than mana with me. He was sharing a bit of himself, including his emotions.
I didn’t just see the regret in his furrowed brow or downturned lips. I felt it inside.
“Thanks,” I said in a soft exhale.
He drew his hands away, leaving the skin on my neck hot. “No problem.”
Shoving his hands into his khaki shorts, he glanced around. “Where’s Raysh?”
It took me a moment to shed the sensations and feelings that coursed through me—all Alder’s. “Beats me,” I finally said, silently urging my blush to disappear. When the fox spirit didn’t show up for the next minute or so, I started looking around the clearing as well.
