We rounded the bend at a run, but Griff stopped short so suddenly I nearly crashed into his back. He made a sound—somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh—and sheathed his swords. This time, he didn’t stop me when I moved to his side.
A small, round woman was shrieking at the top of her lungs. Behind her was a stone cottage with a thick sod roof, wildflowers and herbs growing naturally out of it, making it look like the house was part of the hillside itself. Surrounding the house and stretching back up the hill was a garden with every flower, herb, tree, and plant that I could possibly imagine. Stone walls separated the various plots—one for medicinal herbs, one for food, one simply for beauty. The woman was draped in shawls, dancing around the garden as if in agony.
“Deirdre, whatever is the matter?” Griff asked mildly as he approached.
She spun around, her coiled gray hair frizzing in every direction, and pointed at nothing in particular. “The destruction! Do you see the destruction? Asking my roses questions! Terrible questions! See how they wither just from the asking?” Her eyes locked on me. “You feel it, child, don’t you? The earth knows. The earth remembers who walks upon it. Shivers in the leaves tell all. Power in the earth, deep below. Hidden well, hidden from foe.”
Even though she spoke nonsense, I thought I understood her. I took a step forward, and as I did so, Ifeltwhat she was saying. The ground below my feet felt violated, as though something had tried to force it to betray secrets. It whispered in pain—pain of being made to remember things better left forgotten.
I shook my head to clear it. How could the earth itself be violated?
Griff ignored the ranting. “Deirdre, I’d like you to meet Lexa. Finn told me you were expecting us?”
She nodded vigorously and took her first good look at me, her scrutiny making me feel as though she could see through me. Even with the gray hair I’d seen on others here, this was the first person I had met who feltold. Like she had been here for many, many years, tending her garden.
“Lexa,” she repeated. “But that is not your real name.”
I was taken aback. “Lily. But I don’t use it.”
She hummed. “I thought so. You have the hand of Erde on you. And it stretches back generations.”
“My grandmother Rose said that every woman in her family has been named after something related to the earth. Her daughter was Violet, her mother, Iris. My mother was apparently willing to go along with the tradition, but wanted to call me something different.”
Her eyes widened. “So that’s who you are. The earth foretold your coming.”
I looked at Griff, confused, but he just lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“And you’ve had no training in your earth channel?”
I shook my head, then added, “People at home used to say I was blessed by Erde. That I could read the earth. Nana always laughed at that. I guess I finally know why.”
“Show me.”
We stepped into her garden, past white-washed fences, and what she had been shouting about became clear. This wasn’t random destruction. Plants had died in precise lines, as though something had moved through, questioning each patch of earth. The roses she had been ranting about were a pale, sickly gray—a color I’d never seen on a plant. I had never thought about doing it before, but as I walked up to a destroyed rose bush, I reached out to it, feeling the power of the earth underneath my feet with every step. The rose bush arched toward me, seeking my help. I brushed it with my fingertips, drawing up my earth channel, a constant growth of power, as if a vine was climbing up and through my channel to spread its tendrils through my fingers. In front of my eyes, a bright-red rose awakened in bloom.
Deirdre followed me, plucking the rose and handing it to Griff. She then waved her hand, and the bush went back to sleep, dormant in preparation for winter. But no longer was it a pale gray, faded and dying. Even dormant for winter, there was a life to it.
She walked straight up to me, stopping so close that my head reared back. She leaned in and sniffed. “You are touched by Erde indeed. There’s nothing more I can teach you on that. But something I may be able to help with—warding.” I opened my mouth to reply, but she waved her hand. “Not that foolish mind warding they teach most places. This is true warding. A warding of the earth. A call upon Erde to protect her children, to hide them from sight or sound. To allow the gaze of the dark one to slip over them.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but followed her back to her gardening table, covered in dirt, tools, and plant cuttings. She brushed the soil that was scattered over the table to the side before puttering over to a shelf and grabbing a low, wide basin made of terracotta clay. Setting that basin in the center of the table, she looked expectedly at me.
“You know grounding, yes?” At my nod, she continued. “Warding from the earth always starts with grounding.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing, feeling the earth pulse and move around me, the energy traveling through my feet, up the front of my body, to my head, and down the back of my body, releasing back into the earth.
“With your earth channel, draw up the power of the earth, letting it flow over you as if it’s a second skin.”
I did so, letting it settle against me. It felt heavy and comforting, like a warm blanket on a crisp evening.
“Good.” Deirdre’s voice echoed from far away. “Scan over the power flow, searching for any weaknesses.”
I followed her command, checking for any holes in the blanket. Finding none, I waited, the power warm and pulsing over me.
Griff made a strangled sound, and my eyes shot open. There in front of me, stuck in my ward, was a dagger, as though Deirdre had attempted to plunge it into my chest.
“Deirdre, do you have to test her shields that way? You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Deirdre ignored him and lifted the dagger. “Perfection,” shebreathed. “And when you can access the rest of your channels, weave them together, that will be the perfect warding. And perhaps allow you access to the rarest of gifts.”
