season avatars 03 - chaos season (12 page)

“Toss them into the fire!” Jenna said as she rubbed life back into her tingling fingers.

Ysabel stabbed the center of the root mass with the fireplace poker and threw the plants into the fireplace, closing the screen before they could escape.

“By All Four Gods and Goddesses.” Jenna sank onto a chair before her knees gave out. “I’ve never had problems controlling plants before, not in this life or any I remember.”

“What happened?” Gwen moved closer to her, reaching for her hand. “Let me see that.”

“It’ll be fine.” Jenna forced a smile and hoped it didn’t look shaky. “I’m getting feeling back in my fingers already.”

Gwen let out a huff of air, shaking her bangs off of her forehead. “I’ll use my good hand, Jenna. You don’t have to worry about the curse.”

That wasn’t her chief worry. But protesting too much would make the others suspicious, so Jenna let Gwen touch her hand. While Gwen examined it, Jenna told everyone about her disaster of an experiment. Talking not only kept her mind away from incriminating memories but kept the link between her and Gwen light, so Gwen couldn’t see any memories from Jenna’s previous lives.

Gwen gave her a curious look as she released her hand, now with full feeling restored, but all she said was, “So, you put the deathbush seeds into something you thought would kill them, and they sprouted instead?”

She nodded. “I have to learn the best way to stop them in case they return.”

“Do you have any more of those seeds?” Ysabel asked.

“I put them on a shelf in the atrium, away from water.” Sudden fear jolted her out of her chair. “By All Four, what if they’ve—”

She ran for the atrium, convinced the seeds had already sprouted and were ready to swallow the house. To her relief, they were still dormant, though she could have sworn she put the paper full of seeds farther back on the shelf. She eyed them for a moment, then took the packet and placed it in the seed vault, an iron safe. A few other twists of paper were already in there, but she took them out and placed them in the cabinet. It wouldn’t do for the deathbushes to destroy the best strains of wheat, grapes, and other foodstuffs in Challen.

“I hope that’s safe enough for now,” she said as she relocked the door. “But I’m going to have to let them sprout sometime.”

“Only in a fireplace, I hope.” Gwen crossed her arms. “That seems to be the best way to keep them under control.”

“Because my magic didn’t.”

Gwen silently rubbed her hand as Jenna and the other Avatars watched her. Maybe she had passed her curse on to Jenna during that brief link after all. Were Ysabel and Kay affected too? Neither of them had said anything about it.

By the Four, it had better be the curse. Whoever heard of a Summer Avatar who couldn’t control plants? And Gwen feared she was going to be useless in this life.

Gwen gave Jenna a level look. “Maybe you should have come to us first and practiced the link. You probably could have handled it if we’d strengthened your magic.”

“I shouldn’t need the link to take care of a handful of sprouts!”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Gwen said. “But has anything gone the way it should in this life?”

“There’s no reason to be ashamed of the link.” Kay laid a hand on Jenna’s sleeve. The link couldn’t form between the two of them, so maybe she meant to be kind. “What would I do with all the magic of Chaos Season if I couldn’t channel it into the three of you?”

“Chaos Season.” Ysabel lifted her head. “If Chaos Season is weather gone wrong, then these plants are the Chaos Season of all flora.”

Jenna smiled at the analogy. “By All Four, I’d hate to see what Chaos Season would look like as an animal! Probably something so mixed up it has both feathers and fur.”

“But hopefully not vicious like your plants.”

“Speaking of plants…” Jenna put her hand over her bosom, feeling for her acorn. It was still there, but the embryo within was uneasy at the presence of strange magic. “I think I should plant my oak tree as soon as possible, in a protected place.”

“We could link with you and help you force-grow it,” Gwen suggested.

“Usually only the Summer Avatar puts magic into her tree. It strengthens the bond between them if no one else is involved.”

“We could link with you beforehand,” Gwen said. “Or afterward, if you need more magic.”

Jenna repressed a sigh. Gwen was only trying to be helpful. That meant she didn’t know about her last death. How long could Jenna keep it that way?

“Maybe after I’m done,” she said to appease Gwen. “First, I have to find the perfect spot.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

An Oak Sprouts

Jenna swept out of the room without checking to see if the others were following her. They all did. They were probably curious to see where they would gather in the future to tame Chaos Seasons. She wished they would leave her alone for this. Her confidence in her own magic had been shaken more than she wanted to admit. If it turned out she needed their help for this simple task, would she really be fit to be the next Summer Avatar?

Once she was outside, she sat on a bench and pulled her boots and stockings off. Direct contact with grasses and other plants eased her worries, not to mention it helped her determine the health of the land. It seems good to her, but she decided to ask another expert.

“Ysabel, how does the soil feel to you?” Jenna asked. “Is it alive enough?”

Ysabel squatted and stuck her fingers in the soil. “The little lives are there.”

“Good. But we’re still too close to the house. This tree wants space.”

That was one problem about living in the middle of an oak forest with Summer Avatars—they took such good care of the trees that the oaks lived for hundreds of years. Summer Avatars had to discourage many acorns from sprouting in order to keep the trees from overrunning the estate. This was the wrong season for harvesting trees, so Jenna left the buildings behind and headed toward the Chikasi River. She preferred giving her tree a view of the river and tried to do so in every life.

She paused at the top of a small hill. A few oak seedlings poked out of the wild grasses and wildflowers living here. Below, a curve in the river sheltered a small dock used both for receiving supplies for the estate and launching rowboats.

“Remember that boat Kron made when we went to rescue Ysabel?” she asked. “I wonder what he did with it.”

“For all I know, it’s still where he left it,” Gwen replied. “So, here? No other sites closer to the house?”

“Trees need space, Gwen,” Jenna replied as she paced out an area to clear.

“Well, we need to be able to respond to Chaos Season promptly. If it takes us ten minutes to find your tree every time Kay senses Chaos Season, we give the storm more time to do damage—irreversible damage.”

When Jenna had been ten summers old, a whirlwind had descended on a neighbor’s farm, flattening both the barn and the house. The neighbors had lost all of their livestock, two children, and one of their parents. Half a moon later, the Ava Spring had ridden out to offer the survivors a purse of chals and her deepest regrets. Chals could help the family rebuild their barn and buy more goats, but even Spring Avatars couldn’t bring the dead back to life.

“Freeze it, I wish we didn’t have to worry about Chaos Season,” Jenna said. “It’s hard enough making sure harvests are good and everything is in balance without Chaos Season upsetting everything all the time.”

“Kron says the Four said we can defeat Salth if all twelve of us Avatars face her. If she and her son were gone, Chaos Season would be done too,” Ysabel said. Her flecked eyes grew dull. “Only how can that happen when we’re never all incarnated at once anymore?”

“We shouldn’t give up hope.” Gwen rested her gloved hand on Ysabel’s shoulder. The Ava Fall showed no discomfort. By All Four, why did Jenna have to be the only Avatar who didn’t want to link with Gwen?

The Ava Spring continued, “If Fall can let Ysabel be born with a male twin, maybe the Four will let the absent Avatars be reborn sooner than we would expect them. The next time we go to Wistica, I’ll return to the Hall of Records and search myself for more births on solstices or equinoxes.”

Jenna didn’t bother to point out that Margaret couldn’t be reborn until the rest of her quartet visited the God of Winter, or that the third set of Avatars would be too young to use their powers if they’d been born after this group. She turned her frustration on the plants instead, clearing all of them in a five-foot circle around her.

“Freeze it, I forgot a shovel.” She’d have to return to the house, find one, and come back out here. Suddenly Gwen’s complaint about the distance seemed more reasonable, even if this was the best spot for Jenna’s tree. “Bel, where’s your anilink? Is there any way he can bring a stable hand out here to dig the hole?” It was nice to remember that as an Avatar, she could command others to perform physical labor for her now.

Ysabel smiled. “There’s no need for that. I can summon little diggers to help.” She strode into the cleared area. “But you’d better move away, Jen. You scared the animals away with that blast.”

Grimacing at the nickname, Jenna positioned herself between Gwen and Kay.

Ysabel knelt and laid her hands on the dirt. After a few heartbeats, several squirrels scampered over and dug where she showed them.

“That’s good enough,” Jenna said when the hole was about as deep as the length of her hand. “I can manage the rest.”

She waited until all of the squirrels had returned to the forest so they wouldn’t be tempted by her acorn. Then she took Ysabel’s place, gently twisted off the acorn’s cap, and placed it, point down, in the hole.
Grow, my chosen one. Grow tall and strong enough to protect all of Challen.

She smoothed the dirt over the acorn herself, then glanced hesitantly at Kay. “I could use some gentle rain, if you don’t mind.”

Kay glanced around as if she thought the woman from her nightmares would kill her on the spot. Finally, she edged forward and spread out her hands. Jenna watched the space below them, expecting a cloud to form there. Instead, something struck her nose.

“Sorry.” Kay blushed. “I need to work on control.”

By All Four, you do.
As more cold drops fell on her, Jenna forced herself not to yell at Kay. Gwen and Ysabel retreated a few steps to stay dry. Jenna didn’t have that option. The embryo inside her chosen acorn cried out for joy as it sucked in its first drops of water. Having already missed the best sprouting time, it was eager to grow. Jenna needed to force-grow it past the most vulnerable stages.

She put her hands on the mud, reaching for the sprout and encouraging it upward, toward the sun, and downward to create a strong root network. A green tip burst through the soil. Jenna directed nourishment at it. She grinned as it became a twig, then shot out its first true leaves.

“Back off on the rain a bit, Kay,” she said. “My tree needs sun too.”

The leaves worked frantically to make nutrients. Although the tree grew much faster than it normally would, Jenna longed to see it reach its full potential. She rested a finger on the still-delicate sapling, watching it lay down rings of growth around its trunk. Soon it was as high as her waist and as thick as her thumb. But that wasn’t enough. The tree grew taller and wider. When it was as tall as her, branches split apart from the top. Now she could press both hands on it, urging it to keep going. It obliged. She stared at its most intimate parts, mesmerized by the dance of life going on at levels no one else could see…

“Jenna t’Reve! That’s enough for one day.” A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the link with her tree. “It doesn’t have to be full-grown today, or even this moon. Conserve your strength.”

She blinked and shook her head, reorienting herself to the larger world. Her dress was muddy and soaked through, and her hair had come undone. Even her feet were cold.

Jenna glared at Gwen, who watched her with a slight smirk. “You could have handled that more gently.”

“How can I when you won’t let me link with you?”

Jenna scowled half-heartedly at her. Her blood still sang with the tree’s happiness. She stepped back and admired it for a few heartbeats. Its bark was unmarred, and its leaves bright green and glossy. It was still small for an oak, but it had managed about twenty or thirty years’ worth of growth in less than an hour. At this rate, it would be full grown before the end of Cornmoon. She patted its trunk affectionately. After having put so much effort into this one tree, it felt a little like a child to her.

Thank the Four Gwen can’t make Robbie grow up so quickly. I’d hate to miss a heartbeat of his childhood.

Jenna stepped away from her tree. Exhaustion and hunger struck her at the same time. She reeled and would have fallen if Gwen hadn’t caught her by the arm, again managing it so they didn’t link.

“We missed lunch,” she said. “I hope the other Avatars left some food for us.”

“I wish they’d bring me some,” Jenna said. At this heartbeat, she did agree that her tree was too far from the house. She used visions of roast duck, fresh bread, and berry pies to keep her feet moving one in front of the other.

A side door let them enter directly into the atrium. Jenna found the energy to make sure no more plants had overgrown their containers before heading into the house. Should she change first or eat? Eat, she decided.

Old memories guided her to the dining room, but the butler stopped her before she could summon a servant for more food. “Avas,” he said, looking back and forth between Gwen and Jenna, “here you are. You have a very important visitor waiting in the Spring Parlor.”

“Very important?” Gwen raised her eyebrows. “Who is it? Where’s their calling card?”

“This gentleman doesn’t need a calling card, Ava.” For a heartbeat, the butler twitched as if about to break into a full-fledged squirm. “It’s the king’s brother, the…other Avatar. He claims our nation is at war.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

An Alliance of Avatars