Breath of Angel (14 page)

“The ones you touch,” said Livia.

Melaia gaped at her.

“Try it.”

With one finger Melaia touched a sylvan figure. It sprouted. She stroked a horse with wings. It sprouted. An Archon. It leafed at her touch. Melaia bit her lip. Had the harp sprouted at her touch as well? And the cup in Benasin’s quarters in Navia?

Livia looked at Noll. “It’s true, then.”

“What’s true?” Melaia’s fingers tingled.

“And to think Esper hid it, even from me,” said Noll.

“A secret well kept.” Livia scooped up the game pieces and returned them to the pouch.

Melaia glanced back and forth from Livia to Noll.
Dark secrets in these woods
. She shifted uneasily, thinking she might as well settle one important matter. “I won’t be allowed to leave the Durenwoods, will I?”

“You’re free to leave any time,” said Livia. “I told you, angels don’t usually interfere with human will. But the freedom to go should be balanced with the freedom to stay, don’t you think? I want to show you something that may help you make that choice.” She headed out, motioning for Melaia to follow.

“Where are we going?” asked Melaia.

“Into the woods.”

W
hen Melaia and Livia descended the last curve of the staircase into the common room, Melaia gasped. It looked as if the game figures had come to life. She saw no Windwing horses or Archae, but long-limbed sylvans milled around, helping Esper ferry drinks and food to round tables made from stumps. At many of those tables, plump, bushy-haired dwarfs huddled in conversation, now and then leaning back in boisterous laughter. Melaia saw Gil among them, although he didn’t notice her. Then there were the more somber Erielyon, some with white wings, some with gray, seated on benches around the brazier. She couldn’t help staring at their elegant wings and thinking of the Erielyon who died in Navia.

The conversations lulled as one by one the guests caught sight of Livia. Melaia could feel their gaze on her as she followed Livia across the room and out the door.

“Are they all angels?” asked Melaia.

“The Angelaeon, yes,” said Livia. “Angels can embody any living form. When the Tree was destroyed, we were trapped in the forms we wore at the time. It just so happened that most of us were dwarfs, Erielyon, or human.”

“What about sylvans?”

“Sylvans are sylvans, already earthbound and suited for the forest.” She headed deeper into the woods.

“Which way is south?” Melaia looked around, wary.

“Navia is that way.” Livia pointed. “But I wouldn’t recommend leaving the woods just yet.” She ducked under a branch. “Pym told me all he knows about the events of yesterday, which is very little. I want to know about Lord Rejius. What happened in the aerie?”

Dry leaves crunched underfoot as they threaded their way between the trees. Melaia told Livia about the Firstborn. “He’s the king’s physician, and he’s poisoning the king.”

“Shame.” Livia cut her eyes at Melaia. “You heard him say so?”

Melaia nodded.

“You’re lucky we got you out of Redcliff, then. He probably wanted you silenced.”

“No doubt.” A chill shivered through Melaia.

“What about Benasin?”

Melaia told her about the quarrel and the Firstborn’s attack. “But I thought Benasin was immortal. I thought he couldn’t die.”

“Perhaps he didn’t,” said Livia.

A glimmer of hope warmed Melaia. “You mean his spirit might return to his body later?”

“Perhaps.”

Melaia remembered the quarrel in the aerie, and her hope gave way to fear. “Lord Rejius said he would take everything Benasin cares about. He said Hanni was next. What does that mean?”

“Nothing good.”

Melaia kicked a pile of leaves, fighting back panic. “I have to return to Navia. I have to warn Hanni.”

Livia said nothing. She led Melaia across a plank bridge that spanned a bubbling stream and stopped in a grove of lindens. There she pointed out a tree with a carving in the trunk: a
V
with a third line running straight up the center.

“The sign of the Tree.” Melaia gave Livia a puzzled look.

Livia ran her fingers over the mark, then stepped back, knelt, and placed her palms on the ground. “Dreia’s body is buried here.”

“Dreia? She’s dead, then. Did Benasin know?”

“He found out before he returned to Navia, yes,” said Livia.

“Guardian of the Wisdom Tree,” Melaia marveled. “I’ve told the tale many times. You knew her well?”

“Well enough.”

Melaia knelt. “The grave isn’t old.”

“Dreia was murdered only a few weeks ago. I believe she was on her way to Navia to meet you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Melaia, we’ve all been searching for Dreia’s son, but we should have been looking for her daughter.”

Melaia blinked at Livia. When she finally found her voice, it came out in a whisper. “What are you saying?”

“You’re Dreia’s daughter.” Livia placed a hand on her arm.

Melaia jerked back and rose, shaking her head. She felt as if she had been doused with a bucket of winter rainwater. “No. I was a foundling, left at the temple in Navia.”

“By sylvans.”

“Yes, but …” Melaia edged back from the grave. “You need someone to be Dreia’s heir, is that it? You’re so desperate you clutch at me. But I’ll not be your stand-in. I’ll not be drawn into the affairs of angels.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Melaia darted into the woods and wove through the trees. “Livia’s wrong,” she cried. “She is.”

Shhhee isss, shhhee isss, shhhee is
. The whisper was shared from tree to tree.

Melaia swiped at the undergrowth only to see branches and vines part for her of their own accord. Her vision blurred with hot tears as her mind tumbled through signs she couldn’t deny. The Erielyon approaching her in the temple yard. The Firstborn arriving to destroy Dreia’s child. Benasin’s harp alive in her hands. The sprouting game pieces. The trees echoing her thoughts.

And now she found herself dashing through the dark woods Hanni had warned against, going deeper and darker into the very place where Hanni was pursued.

Melaia’s toe snagged a gnarled tree root, and she fell headlong into the loam. “It’s not true,” she moaned. “It can’t be.”

The woods around her seemed to moan as well, branches creaking in the wind.

An arm wrapped around her shoulders. “I myself found it hard to believe,” said Livia. “Esper was the only one who knew the truth. She told me last night. Even Noll was surprised. But I wasn’t ready to dismiss my own long-held belief in a son until the game figures sprouted. They always did the same for Dreia and no one else.”

Melaia eased herself up and wiped her eyes. “But I’m not an angel.”

“You’re Nephili, a clouded one. The beings so hard for us to sense. Half-angel, half-human. Breath of angel, blood of man. Your spirit is angelic, the breath inherited from Dreia.”

Melaia stared at her hands, at the veins that carried human blood. “Who was the man?”

Whoooo?
echoed the trees.
Whoooo?

Livia smoothed back stray wisps of Melaia’s hair. “You were born at Wodehall with Esper as midwife. She can answer your questions better than I.”

Melaia stared into the sun-dappled shadows. “Hanni was right when she said these woods held dark secrets.”

“Hanni can see it that way if she chooses. So can you. But I wouldn’t say this secret is so dark. It kept you safe.”

Melaia picked up a dry leaf and traced its edge. “Did Benasin know about me?”

“He was looking for a son when he came north. I assume he realized you were Dreia’s child when he found the harp gone. It’s made of kyparis wood from the Wisdom Tree, and he had bound it to his wall by enchantment. That’s why he could leave it behind when he journeyed. Dreia instructed him to hold the harp until she sent her child for it.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Pym has good eyes and ears for a human.”

“Then the harp belongs to me?”

“In a way,” said Livia. “The harps were Dreia’s responsibility. Now they’re yours.”

Melaia recalled Lord Rejius in the aerie, the Firstborn taunting the Second. “Lord Rejius boasted that he holds two harps.”

“Malevolents stole the other harp from Dreia.”

“That’s how she died, isn’t it?”

Shhhee
, said the trees.

Livia helped Melaia stand. “I’ll tell you what I know as we head back to Wodehall.”

As they walked, the undergrowth shifted to make a path.

“See?” said Livia. “Your mother’s realm senses you.”

“Her realm.”

“She was Archon over the plant world,” said Livia. “I met her up north and journeyed south with her a couple of times. She introduced me to my husband, Gailon. I thought of Dreia as a good friend, but some secrets she held close and never confided in me. When she visited, she never stayed long. I think she felt at home only in the wide expanse of nature. Surely she missed the Wisdom Tree. After it was destroyed, she never seemed to find rest.”

They paused among the lindens where the grave lay. “Maybe she’s at rest now,” said Melaia.

“Her hope was in you.”

“Why?” Melaia stared at the grave.

“Dreia felt keenly that she was to blame for the destruction of the Tree. She looked for the day when she could make amends. She knew only you could restore the Tree, but she was eager to manage the entire proceedings and see it done properly.”

“Only
I
can restore the Tree? Don’t angels have that kind of power? Can’t the Most High intervene?”

“The Tree was destroyed by human will. What human will destroyed, human will must restore. Besides, the prophecy says the Tree will be restored
‘by breath of angel, blood of man.’ That means Nephili, Melaia, like you. Half-angel, half-human.”

“But there must be other Nephili.” Melaia circled the grave.

“There are many Nephili,” said Livia. “But their inherited gifts vary. For years Dreia sought out strongly gifted Nephili using the game figures you saw this morning. When she found no one who could make the wood leaf out, she concluded she must be the one to bear the child. So, you see, you were conceived of a human father and born of an angel for the purpose of restoring the Wisdom Tree. When the Tree is restored, the stairway to heaven will rise once more, and we angels will be able to go home. For a while anyway.”

“For a while?”

“We’ll eventually get new assignments, go into other worlds.”

Melaia could hardly comprehend it. She knelt and placed her hands on the firm earth over Dreia’s grave. “Were you with Dreia when she died?”

“I last saw Dreia a fortnight before she died, when she left our home to travel to Navia. My son, Sergai, and one of his friends accompanied her. We knew she intended to pick up a harp on the way, one that matched Benasin’s.” Livia leaned against a linden tree. A gust of wind sent leaves sailing down. “All Angelaeon were aware there was some risk in the journey. The Firstborn has long coveted the harps. But he and his malevolents had been quiet for so long, no one imagined they would be watching. No one expected them to lie in wait for Dreia.”

“Your son … Did he survive?”

“Sergai and his friend were the only two who survived the attack for the simple reason that they could fly. Dreia sent them for help.” Livia stared at the grave, but she seemed to be looking far away. “One other angel, a warrior, accompanied Dreia. They had all been traveling together in a merchant’s caravan when they sensed the presence of malevolents. They broke off from the caravan and headed toward the Durenwoods to minimize the danger to the merchant as well as to reach a place of safety. When Dreia saw they would be hard-pressed to reach the Durenwoods, she sent my son’s friend to Aubendahl
nearby, and she sent Sergai south. When the malevolents attacked, they spared no one. Not even the caravan. And somehow they tracked Sergai. Draks, probably. He died in Navia. In the temple yard.”

A chill fell over Melaia. “That was your son? I fought off the hawk that killed him. Lord Rejius. The hawkman. He mistook your son for Dreia’s.”

“So the Firstborn is still looking for a son.” Livia sniffed and wiped her eyes. “That, at least, is to our advantage.”

Melaia could still see Sergai, the weary stranger—his cloak flapping, his hand flying to his dagger. Her eyes blurred with tears. “I’m sorry. I tried to save your son.”

“Sergai knew the risks. Benasin brought back his body.”

“That’s when you met Benasin?”

“And why I followed him to Navia.”

“Your son had a small scroll in his hand with the message ‘Now is payment due in full.’ What does that mean?”

“The Second-born owed a debt to Dreia, which he didn’t pay. Maybe it was time for her to ask for payment.”

“According to the legend, it’s the Tree that will exact payment.” Melaia paused. She had told the tale so many times the next words were as familiar as morning prayer. “In breath and blood.” A chill came over her. “Is that me? Am I the payment?”

“Does it say breath of angel?” asked Livia. “Blood of man?”

Melaia shook her head. “Just breath and blood.”

“Then I truly don’t know. ‘Breath and blood’ could refer to any living creature. Benasin himself. The Firstborn’s daughter. The whole human race, for that matter.”

“Or me,” said Melaia.

“Or you.” Livia extended a hand. “It’s time to make our way back to Wodehall.”

Melaia took Livia’s firm grip and rose, feeling very small and very vulnerable in a very dark wood.

A
s Melaia and Livia neared Wodehall, Livia’s pace picked up. Melaia’s slowed. The thought of so many angels gathered in the common room rattled her. Was she supposed to consider them her people now? She gripped a sapling as if it could save her.

Ssssave
, it echoed.

“Melaia?” called Livia, a stone’s throw ahead.

“Are you going to tell the Angelaeon that I’m Dreia’s daughter?” asked Melaia.

“Yes.” Livia strode back to her. “You need our help, and we need yours.”

“But there’s still so much I don’t understand,” said Melaia. “Like why Lord Rejius wants the harps.”