season avatars 03 - chaos season (24 page)

“On purpose, I bet.”

As they approached Jenna’s oak, she examined it. While still not fully grown, the top branch was at least thirty feet off the ground. The grass surrounding the tree had been torn up. What had done it? It was too early for squirrels to be burying acorns.

“How are you going to get the lightning rod up to the top of the tree?” Kay asked.

The grass would have to wait. “You don’t think the Summer Avatar can climb her own tree?”

“But how are you going to keep the lightning rod in place without nails?”

“I’ll find a way.” Jenna looked up at the sky, gauging how long she had until the rain started. “Just keep it from raining until I’m done, please.”

Kay nodded, then backed off a few paces and closed her eyes. The wind picked up, but it calmed when she held out her hands to it.

Jenna removed her boots, tucked the lighting rod under her arm, and scrambled up. Her tree bent under her weight, but she sent strength into it until it steadied. She halted before the branches grew too thin to hold her even with magic.

The lightning rod proved as difficult to mount as Kay had predicted. Jenna wrapped the chain around the rod’s base, but it wouldn’t stay upright. She didn’t want to splice open the tree to clamp the rod, as that would send the lightning’s power into the tree and possibly kill it. Finally, she found a tight spot in the fork of a branch and wedged the lightning rod into it. Jenna worked her way back down. She still needed to dig a hole for the ground rod. Next time she would ask the butler for tools and a laborer too, not just the lightning rod.

“How much time do I have, Kay?” she called.

Kay didn’t answer, but strain showed in her face. The air cooled enough to make Jenna’s skin prickle.

“I’ll be right back.” She picked up her skirts and ran for the forest. There had to be some strong branches there. She didn’t get far before a colorful blanket caught her eye. Ysabel must have left it there yesterday when they’d rushed to fight Chaos Season.
Might as well bring it in before it’s ruined
. Maybe the picnic basket was still there, along with something she could use to dig.

The basket was there, along with shards of the empty cup. The blanket bore brown spots where the pot of chocolate had spilled. Jenna didn’t have time to fold the blanket, so she flung it over her shoulders. The grass shoots underneath the stained blanket had wilted. That was odd. They hadn’t been deprived of sunlight for that long. Curious, she brushed her fingertips against the grass, sampling both healthy and ailing plants. Something inside the sick ones interfered with their growth. She touched the tree, but it didn’t seem affected.

Odd, very odd.
She spotted a stick that would suit her purpose, so she grabbed that along with the picnic basket. Lugging them both back to her tree cost her more time. Kay swayed back and forth as if she was charming the storm into obedience. Jenna didn’t dare distract her, so she plunged her stick into the loose soil and worked it until she made a hole wide and deep enough for the ground bar. Flickers of lightning danced in the cloud above. Even with Kay close by, she had to be careful.

Jenna nudged the ground rod closer to her with the stick, but she didn’t have enough control to push the rod into the hole. For that, she had to handle the rod herself. It took only a few heartbeats to push it into place and sweep dirt over it with her foot. As she did so, she kicked up a deathbush seed.

By All Four, what’s that doing here?
She grabbed it before it could sprout and dropped it into the basket.

“Kay? Kay?” She edged closer to here. “I’m done. We can go back to the One Oak.”

She didn’t respond.

“Kay?” What would happen if she shook her?

“Dorian’s really driving this storm into a frenzy,” Kay said without opening her eyes. “I wonder why.”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go back. The plants need to be watered more than I do.”

“Should I defy him? Or let him think he’s stronger than me?”

“Which way will keep me dry?”

With a groan, Kay opened her eyes and spread out her arms. Rain fell on either side of them, but not on top of them.

Jenna had done enough running for one morning, especially with her extra burdens. They walked back slowly, as Kay kept looking around.

“It’s been so long since I let myself experience a storm,” she said. “I might stay out here and prove to myself it won’t kill me, but I won’t be climbing any trees this time.”

Jenna wondered if she or another Avatar from their quartet should keep Kay company, just in case something happened. Gwen would be the best choice, as she could lend Kay additional magic or heal her if necessary. But after last night, Gwen probably wouldn’t want to see Jenna.
It’s for Kay’s sake, for all our sakes,
she reminded herself.

“Enjoy your magic,” she told Kay. “Just don’t bring on your season in the middle of mine.”

Kay’s eyes widened.

“It was only a jest,” Jenna said.

The rain came down more strongly as soon as she entered the One Oak. The light inside was so dim the hallway sconces had been lit. Jenna searched the common rooms for Gwen before finding her in the Spring Study, reading an old journal with a mug of chocolate and a pastry by her side.

Gwen glanced up, then covered the front of her journal. “What do you want?”

“I…I just thought you should know Kay’s out in the storm.”

Gwen peered out the window, but it was so gray outside Jenna doubted she could see anything. “I suppose that’s good. She needs the practice.”

“I thought one of us—well, you—should be with her, in case something happens.”

She sighed. “I’ve seen more hospitable Chaos Seasons, but I suppose you’re right. Are you coming too?”

Jenna stared at the chocolate, remembering what she’d observed in the woods: plants wilting in the presence of chocolate. “Actually, there’s something I need to do in the atrium. Don’t get too wet.”

“Jenna Dorshay t’Reve!”

She bolted, stopping in the dining room for her own pastry and to ask a maid to bring the strongest pot of chocolate the cook could prepare to the atrium. While she waited for it, she cleared a space and set the largest metal bucket she could find on one of the tables. On one side, she placed a jar of lamp oil; on the other, a candle and a lucifer. If this experiment grew out of her control, she needed to destroy it quickly.

A knock sounded on the door, and the maid entered, balancing a pot and a porcelain cup on a silver tray. “It’s very hot, Ava,” she said. A rag was still wrapped around the pot handle. “You should let it cool before drinking it. Are you sure you don’t want cream with it?”

“No, thank you. This isn’t for drinking.” Before the maid could say anything, Jenna added, “That will be all.” It would be safer to have no one else around when she tried this.

She placed the deathbush seed in the center of the bucket. Some rain must have moistened it, for the shell was cracked, exposing green. She eyed it, waiting to see if the seed sprouted. The chocolate was still too hot for the test she wanted to run, though that gave her another idea. She stepped out to the hallway, summoned the maid back, and asked her for boiling water. Boiling water would be easier to prepare in large amounts than chocolate, so it would make a better weapon against the deathbushes—assuming it killed them. Or assuming the chocolate did, for that matter.

The deathbush seed cracked open further, exposing the sprout. It wouldn’t stay so small and vulnerable for long.
Hurry with that water,
Jenna silently urged the maid.

By the time she returned with another towel-wrapped carafe, the sprout had a taproot as long as Jenna’s thumb and its first set of real leaves. “By All Four, how are you growing so quickly?” she asked it. “You’re not even in soil and had only a sprinkle of water.” The deathbush’s growth served as further confirmation magic was involved.

The deathbush’s stem turned upward toward her.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She picked up the boiling water first and drizzled a stream directly on the little deathbush. Any normal plant would be cooked. The plant drooped and curled up on itself. Then, after a few heartbeats, its shoots turned a darker green. The root branched, absorbing more water. Frowning, Jenna touched the carafe and quickly pulled her finger away. Yes, the water was hot. It should have killed the deathbush. If this plant could survive boiling water, vinegar, and salt, chocolate should have no effect on it—unless her hunch was right and that something in chocolate could kill plants. Of course, the chocolate might help it grow faster too…

Jenna hesitated for a few moments, then grabbed the chocolate and poured some into the bucket. If this didn’t work, she’d pour oil into the bucket and set it on fire.

The deathbush stretched its root toward the chocolate and absorbed it eagerly. She had been wrong. Jenna reached for the oil so she could drench the plant in it. Instead of becoming greener and longer, the deathbush sprout turned yellowish. She stared at it for several heartbeats, expecting it to continue growing. After a while, she prodded it. It wasn’t completely dead, but it had lost a lot of vitality. In this weakened state, it was vulnerable to her magic. One burst killed the deathbush.

“Thanks be to the Four.” She picked up the deathbush seedling. It had sprouted less than an hour ago, but it was already longer than her hand. She should burn it just to make sure it didn’t come back to life…

A sudden pain stabbed her in the belly. She dropped the seedling, fearful it was causing this despite being dead. The pain didn’t go away. She folded over herself, placing her hands over her belly. Maybe this was her moonflow returning, but it usually wasn’t this intense. Wasn’t it supposed to be better after having a child?

“Gwen? Gwen, where are you?” she called. She should summon the maid to fetch Gwen. The atrium suddenly seemed too big and too isolated from the rest of the house. If she screamed, no one would hear her.

Spring Summer Fall Winter, help me…

“Jenna!” A breathless voice called her from a distance. Kay? What was she doing in the house? “Jenna? Where are you?”

Her throat went dry, but she managed to croak out, “Here.”

“Jenna?” The door to the atrium opened. “Jenna? Are you in here? You’d better come quick. I think something’s wrong with your tree.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Deathbush Against Oak

My tree!
Sometimes, if there was a strong bond between a Summer Avatar and her tree, or the Fall Avatar with her anilink, an injury to one could cause physical distress to the other. Jenna hadn’t realized her bond with the oak sapling had already reached that point. Under other circumstances, she would be proud to have accomplished that, but not when it was hurting her.

“What’s wrong?” she said between stabs of pain. “Where’s Gwen?” She might need Gwen’s help to make it to her tree.

“She’s out there by your tree. I think she’s trying to protect it.”

“From what?”

“A strange plant. I think it’s one of your deathbushes.”

“A deathbush? Here, by my tree?” Indignation drove Jenna to a standing position. “Not if I can do something about it!” Thank the Four she had a weapon. She clutched the table as she rose to her feet. “We need Ysabel. Her anilink too.” The chocolate should help, but Jenna wanted as much magic as possible available to her in case her tree was threatened.

“I’ll go find her,” Kay said.

Before she could dart off, Jenna added, “And ask the cooks to make more chocolate. We need to bring it with us.”

“By the Eagle,” Lex said from the doorway, “I knew your magic requires you to eat and drink constantly, but I didn’t think you needed to do it in the middle of Chaos Season.”

It depended on how big the Chaos Season was, but Jenna didn’t have the strength to tell him that. “Help me,” she whispered.

“Ava?” He glanced around to see if Kay was present. “Jenna? What happened?”

“My tree. I must get to my tree. With this.” She grabbed the flask of chocolate.

He stepped forward. “You look pale. You should rest.”

She shook her head.

“Then let me help you.” Before she could respond, he gathered her up, lifting her as if she was as light as Kay. Jenna put one arm around his neck to balance herself and clutched the chocolate with the other. The smell of his aftershave and the drink blended well together.

Jenna guided him to the riverbank where her tree waited. He carried her across muddy paths the entire way, breathing heavily but his strength never flagging. She wondered if his great stamina was part of his war magic. Then she saw her tree, and everything else receded from her mind.

A deathbush had sprouted next to her oak. It already had climbed halfway up the trunk, twining around her tree as if it meant to seduce it. Thorns pierced the tree’s bark. Were they meant to damage the tree or steal nutrients from it? The leaves on the lowest branches had yellowed, so Jenna suspected the deathbush was draining her tree—and draining her.

Gwen paced back and forth, studying the deathbush and the lightning rod. She looked up, and a curious expression came over her face as she veered toward them. “Jenna, are you all right?”

For a heartbeat, Jenna wondered if Gwen herself had planted the deathbush seed. But no, no matter how mad Gwen was at her, she’d never physically harmed her. She wouldn’t do anything that would interfere with their ability to tame Chaos Season either.

Someone planted that seed here, not a squirrel. That’s why the grass was torn up earlier.
Who had done it? Maybe Ysabel’s father had snuck onto the One Oak. He would target his daughter, however, and even if he wanted to harm Jenna’s tree, how could he pick it out from all the other oaks? It had to be another Avatar. Was it Charles, secretly hiding a desire to hold on to his power the way Dorian wanted to continue being the Winter Avatar?

“Jenna?” Gwen came up to her and reached out with her good hand. “Are you all right? Is the deathbush affecting you?”

“She seemed weak and in pain when I found her,” Lex said.