Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) by Kristen Taber Page A

can get to the
Guide.”
    “I
wouldn’t call it a hill. It’s practically a cliff face. I can’t even figure out
how the river’s getting up there.”
    “There
has to be a way. He wouldn’t lead us here if there wasn’t.”
    “We
can’t take the risk.” Nick sat next to her and lifted her leg onto his lap. The
bandage wrapping her ankle, like everything else they wore, dripped water. It
slipped in places, exposing swollen skin. “We need to take it easy. Your ankle
is bad again. We’ll follow the path, and the Guide will have to get us there
another way.”
    “Nick—”
    “You
said you wanted me as your Guardian, so now you’re getting what you wanted. The
path isn’t safe. We’re not taking it, and that’s final.”
    She
opened her mouth to argue, but shut it when he shot her a warning look. He
began unwrapping her bandage and she sighed. “I think I’m beginning to regret
my choice.”
     He
chuckled, continuing his task. After wringing out the bandage, he rewrapped her
leg and stood. “Are you ready?” he asked.
    She
nodded and he helped her to her feet, tightening his grip on her arm when she
tensed. He did not have to ask what had caused her reaction. He already knew.
    “Mardróch,”
he muttered. “They’re close.”
    Meaghan
pressed a hand to her nose. “That smell is unmistakable.”
    “What
smell?”
    “Their
odor. It’s like rotting meat and composting garbage mixed together.” She stared
up the path. “They’re coming from up there.”
    “I
can sense them, but they don’t give off an odor.”
    “They
do,” she insisted. She frowned at him. “I don’t see how you could miss it. It’s
vile. It makes me nauseous.”
    Nick’s
brows knit together. “I’ve never heard that before.”
    “I
don’t see why not. They…” she grimaced and pressed her fingers to her lips.
Nick put an arm around her shoulders.
    “Are
you all right? You look pale.”
    She
nodded and dropped her hand. “I’m sure I’ll get used to this after a while, but
it’s hard for me to ignore today.”
    “Because
you’re in pain,” he said. “What emotions do you sense from them?”
    “They
don’t have any.” She turned her attention toward the stream. “We can’t stay
here. Is there any way we can follow the Guide’s path? Or should we try to head
back down the mountain?”
    “There’s
no place to hide if we retreat. The slope may be our only option.” Looping an
arm around her waist, he supported her as they walked the short distance to the
point where the stream began flowing uphill. “I can climb using the rocks as
hand and foot holds, but I don’t see how you could. Your ankle will never
support you.”
    “I
have to try. The Mardróch will be here any minute.”
    Nick
glanced down the path. “If we went that way, I could carry you.”
    “You
can’t outrun them normally,” she pointed out. “Adding my weight would only slow
you down.”
    “The
only other option is to fight.”
    “That’s
not much of an option.”
    “I’m
aware.” Nick moved around her, blocking her from the unseen Mardróch, then
looked back at her. Her eyes locked with his, the hardness of her determination
matching his, and he realized she would fight with him. But they would both die
for their efforts. There could be no other outcome. His attention trailed from
her to the Guide’s stream, which still babbled an oblivious song in the face of
their danger. It had been a trick. The Guide had been a traitor, promising
safety while leading them to their deaths.  Nick scanned the length of the
river, his stomach turning sour as he traced the impossible path. He saw only
several large rocks hindering their escape. His eyes fell on one, and then his
heart jumped when he realized what he had missed before. He took off running
toward the hill.
    “Nick!”
Meaghan cried after him, but he ignored her. Her panic spiked. It grew strong
enough for him to sense it, but he ignored that, too. He had no time to