Descendant (Secrets of the Makai) (26 page)

Overly insulted, Tristan got to his feet. "Why do you hate me so much?"

She rose to the occasion, equally tall. "Why did you come here to begin with?"

"I don't want to fight with you." Tristan turned, guessing which direction would take him home.

"If you end up killing her, I'll kill you myself."

"Take a number." Tristan shook his head and tried to laugh. What did he see in her? Never again would he let a pretty smile change his mind. "I happen to like Gram very much, she's like a grandmother I never had. But it's not my fault if she pushes herself. She's an adult and can do what she wants."

"She's
my
grandmother and you can't have her!"

"So that's what this is all about?" Tristan snatched a stick from the ground and started swinging at the bushes, forging a trail. "You think because she's teaching me, you're not her granddaughter anymore? How dense is that!"

"Cut it out!" She caught the branch on an upswing and tossed it.

"What is with you and these plants?" He continued walking in the same direction, wading through the brush with his arms raised. "You'd think they were your only friends in the entire universe."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

She sounded hurt by the comment, which only encouraged him. "What kind of life is that?"

"These plants are important!"

Did he really have the upper hand? "You're crazier than I am."

"You wouldn't be here if it weren't for plants. You'd have no oxygen. No shade. No clean water. No food or medicine, no animals, nothing but a desert wasteland. If that. Every living thing would be extinct."

He'd forgotten about the oxygen thing, she probably had a point. His pace slowed even more when he recalled being lost in the wastelands of the map. Were there any plants in that awful place? He buried the memory. "Are we going the right way?"

"Depends on where you're going."

You're the one who's dense, where else would I be going?
"The lake." He'd better use the proper name to get the right answer. "Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" She huffed angrily behind him, practically breathing down his neck. "You would
never
survive in Atlantis. Even if you could swim, you wouldn't last two minutes underwater. Unless you were dead and didn't need to breathe."

Thank God!
Sunlight glared off the surface of the lake, shining through the trees like a beacon to safety. He straightened his backbone and picked up the pace. "It's no wonder the plants are your only friends," he said, merging with the trail to the cliff house. He stopped to face her. "Why are you following me?"

"I'm keeping a list of all the damage you're causing." Her voice shook with fury and her eyes shot daggers. "So when I retrieve my things from Atlantis, I can make the appropriate repairs."

"Repairs? Serious?"

"Markus, Kasy, Luissa, Romulus, Geoffery, Sarah, and Jess…all injured due to your reckless stupidity!"

"Injured?" He cocked an eyebrow and turned, anxious to put the whole thing behind him. "Poor Gram for having to deal with you all these years. I can't believe you're actually related." He felt a little sorry, but kept going.

When he reached the base of the trail, he glanced over his shoulder with her silence finally getting to him. She drank something from a tiny heart-shaped glass flask, capped it, and let it fall against her chest. Inside the necklace, bright red and gold liquid glittered in swirls. It hung on a leather strap, much like his own. He would have admired it on any other occasion.

"Surely you're not following me all the way, are you?" he asked.

"I want you to tell Gram you no longer want her training, that you'd prefer Eric." She faced the lake and lowered herself into the water at the end of the dock-rock.

"She's not stupid. How would I know who Eric is?"

"Then tell her you don't want any more training."

"She's not going to buy that. Besides, if I'm not taught, I'll never get off this wretched island."

"It's not wretched. It's heaven."

Her voice quivered and he thought he saw a tear in her eye before she turned away.

"It
was
rather nice before you came along." He didn't know why he said it, except she wasn't fighting with him anymore. And it was extremely peaceful compared to a city stuffed with concrete and people. "What's around your neck, a sedative?"

She launched herself from the rock and drifted on her back with her eyes closed, jaw clenched. For such a loose cannon, she floated like a cork, completely calm and controlled. He decided to control himself by ignoring the urge to chuck rocks at her.

When she reached the center of the lake, she raised her arms over her head and dove backwards without making a single splash.

"Showoff." He'd have sunk and drowned long before she dove under.

30

-
P
REMONITIONS -

TRISTAN TAPPED HIS FOOT at the end of the dock-rock and raked his fingers through his hair. A breeze etched feathery streaks on the lake's surface, camouflaging any wake Dorian might have caused while swimming underwater. How long could she possibly hold her breath?

He'd never forgive himself for being such a jackass if she ended up drowning. He had to apologize. Several minutes of doing nothing led to panicked dread. He raced to the village, yells for help choking in his throat while he scanned the shorelines, paying close attention to the reed patches. Sweat ran down his back.

A small log cabin faced the lake, with Gram resting peacefully in a rocking chair on the front porch. A bright purple afghan draped over her lap. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted his dock-rock on the far side—nothing but water stood between two locations.

Bewildered, he shook his head and rushed up the stairs, hating to wake the poor woman. She did seem old. "Gram?"

"What is it, darling?"

"It's me, Tristan."

Gram jerked forward in her chair, her eyes widening. "What?"

"It's Dorian. She's in the lake and...I don't know what happened. She didn't come up for air and I didn't see her get out."

She rocked back in her chair, chuckling softly. "Is that all?"

"You're not worried?" Tristan studied the lake, not sure what to believe anymore. "We had an argument and, let's just say it ended bad. I wanted to apologize."

"Don't you fret about Dorian, she's perfectly fine underwater—"

"I'm not fretting!"

Gram's eyes sparkled calmly. "She'd spend all day down there if she could."

Tristan leaned on the porch railing, studying the mountainside above the dock-rock, determined not to worry about someone he couldn't get along with for more than five minutes. "Why can't I see the cliff house from here, or this cabin from over there?"

"They are both protected. Shielded from view, I guess you'd say."

"Why?"

"We don't want people coming to the island just to see who lives here. It's not that we don't like visitors, but typically, it has to be arranged through certain channels. On a larger scale, the entire island is hidden."

He couldn't fathom how that would be possible and gave up searching for the cliff house. He looked for signs of Dorian.

"What's on your mind, Tristan?"

"You don't know?"

"You're working on protecting yourself, remember? I cannot hear through it."

"Really?"

"Well, it's much more civilized if you just tell me."

Tristan nodded, regret and sadness plaguing his thoughts. "Dorian wants me to ask you to stop your instruction. She said Eric could do it?"

"Did she?"

"I really don't want to quit, but she said it was costing you to work with me, and your health would pay the price."

"Well, isn't she just the sweetest thing alive?" Gram gazed at the lake with playful admiration.

Tristan kept his mouth shut, relieved she couldn't hear the automatic conflicting answers in his head.

But the smile-lines around her eyes drooped with the weight of her sigh. "Dorian means well, but so you know, I've already stepped down. Oliver has taken my position and Eric has added a few things I hadn't thought of. There are also two others who've joined in."

"Sounds dangerous." Tristan stuffed his hands in his pockets. He opened his mouth to ask for details, but changed his mind, swallowing instead.

"I am monitoring your levels to know when you're being pushed too hard. The incident with Oliver inspired the idea."

"You don't normally do that?"

"We wouldn't need to, but you're a special case. And you needn't trouble yourself with what we're doing. If you're careful around the water and cliffs, you won't be harmed."

He already knew why. "What are levels? Is it something I can do, too?"

"Monitoring your levels is a simple matter of tracking your separate energy distributions. It's always nice to know the demand tasks take, and most everything boils down to distribution. I think you have quite enough to learn without having to deal with level aspects."

"Could you tell Dorian you're not working on me anymore, to get her off my back?"

"She's harmless." Gram laughed again.

Yeah, right.
Still, he caught himself smiling.

"She's got a temper, but trust me, she wouldn't harm a fly. By the way, there's a bag of goodies for you just inside to the right. Help yourself."

"Thanks." Tristan stepped into the cabin and found a canvas bag filled with fruits and vegetables, a loaf of bread and a new bundle of arrows. "Does all this food grow on the island?"

"Of course. We are 100 percent self-sufficient. Why?"

"Just something Dorian said." He bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Gram, hoping he hadn't fallen for some sort of prank. "She said she convinces the plants they belong in this climate?"

"Ah, yes. Dorian has a very unique relationship with the plants. Sometimes, I think it is they who protect her mind. I also think it is they who have put such outlandish recipes and techniques in her head." Gram gazed fondly at the lake, her sky-blue eyes alight with pride. "I like to take credit for her skills, but she does practically everything her own way. I can't deny the reality though; she's the best I've ever seen. Doesn't make any sense whatsoever."

"Thanks for the food," Tristan said, not wanting to hear more praise for Dorian. "Is there something else I can be working on?"

"Focus on the three S's: starting, steering, and stopping objects in motion. When you've got that, have a little fun. Oliver can't throw for you just yet—he's responsible for security on the island and since taking over my part, we've had some areas that are slipping a bit more than they should. Nothing to worry about though, we've got it all worked out." She rocked in her chair, closing her eyes. "It's all about distribution. You are a fine student, young Tristan. Well worth the effort. And, do me a favor?"

"Sure." Sadness and understanding constricted his heart. Dorian was right, Gram's health was suffering.

"Give Dorian a chance. She's stubborn and ornery at times, but if you can get past all that, and get to know her...."

"Sure."

Gram inhaled deeply as her body relaxed.

"Thanks again for taking the time with me…for everything you've done. I wouldn't have survived if—" He suspected she'd fallen asleep, but couldn't bear to walk away. What if this was his last chance with her? "I had no idea…about anything."

He could work harder; learn more quickly so as not to cost her everything. He smiled at the thought of giving Dorian another chance. As a favor to Gram and nothing more.

31

-
A
TTACK ON
A
TLANTIS -

THE DECK OF CARDS barely survived the abuse. The poor things had crashed into each other, scraped against every wall, and several had taken a drink in the lake. One had to be saved from hot coals. Through it all, starting, steering, and stopping the cards became easy; Tristan returned to the target area with the bow and new arrows.

The plants seemed more noticeable, he kept to rocks when possible to avoid squashing them. Besides, the ghostly silent forest might have eyes, relaying his every action to Queen Dorian, leader of the Foliage Universe.

"This is ludicrous." Tristan stomped a little circle in the grass to prove his point, then climbed onto the biggest rock in the center of the clearing. He caught himself glancing over his shoulder, feeling sorry for the flattened blades of grass. Witnesses would probably notify Dorian. She'd arrive at any minute doing handsprings with a little first-aid kit strapped to her back.

"Why am I even thinking about this?" Tristan hooked an arrow onto the bowstring, despising how emotional he'd become. Elation in accomplishments was understandable, but intense panic attacks were completely illogical. And then there was Gram. The thought of losing her so soon after finding her brought pangs of grief, like he'd known her all his life. And Dorian.