Tree Singer by Jacci Turner (best novels for beginners TXT) 📕

listened for a reply . . . and felt energy surge through her feet into her body. She could feel the energy flow through to the others. Nan gasped as the pungent smell of pine filled the air.

“What are you doing?” The count glared at her, sweat beading his forehead.

She ignored him.

“We have to fight him together,” she gasped. “Combine our strengths and push him back.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adven give a slight nod. The prince didn’t move, jaws clenched as though it took all his strength just to keep standing. Nan’s eyes were dazed as though she couldn’t quite grasp what was happening.

The count snorted. “You can’t fight me. You don’t know how—”

Mayten took a deep breath, willing herself to have faith. In herself and in her friends. All of them. “Now!”

Energy seemed to form a wall within her, blocking any intrusion. She closed her eyes, picturing a large log needing to be moved. Keeping the log in focus, she imagined herself moving that log, bending to put her hands on it, using her legs for strength as she pushed. She felt her muscles quiver, her arms start to ache . . .

The log moved.

:Like this.: Quickly, Mayten expanded her focus, including her four friends in the vision, willing them to understand. In her vision they were all pushing logs, pushing with all their strength—

Without warning, the imaginary logs picked up momentum and rolled on their own . . . as if they were rolling downhill!

It was working!

The count’s smile vanished. His eyes closed and his lips pressed together in a tight line as if experiencing great pain.

Anatolian barreled into them, barking and snarling. The enormous dog grabbed one of the count’s wrists in his jaws.

Snap!

The sound echoed through Mayten’s head . . . and the count crumpled to the ground.

Mayten fell to her knees beside him, clutching her chest and struggling to catch her breath. Gasps rose around her as the others did the same. Someone sobbed—Nan?—and Adven let out a curse.

Cautiously, Mayten opened her senses. The sense of being drained had vanished, but she didn’t want to open herself up to another attack . . .

:He’s gone.:

Startled, she glanced around. Which one of the trees had spoken? Which one had helped?

:All of us. We are you and you are we. There exists no difference between us.:

“He’s dead.” Adven’s hoarse voice wasn’t exactly gleeful. He sounded more . . . satisfied.

The count lay on his back, empty eyes staring up at the sky. No one said a word as his skin began to darken, turning sickly gray, then falling off in chunks.

Nan gasped and buried her head in the prince’s shoulder. A moment later, her scientist mind seemed to override her horror and she turned back to watch.

Disgust twisted Mayten’s stomach as the count’s flesh shrank, pulling back from his cheekbones and skull, then from his entire skeleton. Within seconds, his clothes covered no more than a pile of dust and bones.

Tiny taproots rose from the ground, snaking over bone and cloth until what was left of the count was completely wrapped in roots. With a slight snick! the roots drew him into the soft earth.

In less than three heartbeats, the only evidence left that the count had existed were his hat and boots.

Anatolian snuffled the ground where the count had disappeared, then shot Mayten a disapproving look.

“I didn’t do it!” She held her hands out to either side as if showing him she wasn’t hiding the count in her hands or sleeves.

“What in God’s name just happened?” Adven staggered to his feet.

Mayten shuddered and somehow managed to keep from burying her face in Anatolian’s fur. “The cou—”

She cleared her throat. “The count was the evil singer, the one sucking life from the trees. He’d kept himself alive that way for over two hundred years! By taking life from trees, animals, and . . . people.”

She shivered now that she knew just how awful an experience it would have been for the poor trees!

“I saw, the—pictures or whatever they were.” Adven waved at the ground where the count had been only moments before. “I mean that!”

“Accelerated decomposition,” Nan said in a flat voice. “When we . . . pushed . . . back, it felt like something snapped, didn’t it? Whatever that might have been . . . was enough to kill him. If he’s truly two hundred years old, his . . . disintegration was simply nature catching up with him.”

The prince stood, helping Nan to her feet.

“Is that what it’s like when you talk to trees,” the prince asked. “All those pictures . . .”

Mayten used Anatolian’s back for support as she stood, legs quivering. She felt as though she’d run for miles. “No, not exactly, thank the stars. Our communication is not usually that intense. It’s just a gentle conversation, a two-way flow of energy and images.”

“No wonder you didn’t want to talk to anyone when you got back the other day. You said that ancient tree shared a lot of memories.” The prince shook his head. “I still feel like I’m in shock. What he did!”

He scrubbed his eyes with a hand as if trying to clear away the images.

Adven picked up the boots and hat and headed back to camp. The prince went after him, picking up the cane a few paces from the tree.

Three items. All that was left of the count.

Mayten winced as she followed Adven. Her body felt like it had just survived a physical beating. In fact, they all looked a bit sore.

They walked back to camp, the fire burning to low embers and Rafe sitting near it, his back against a tree.

“What happened?” Rafe asked as they gingerly settled around the fire, Adven adding logs.

Mayten let the others tell the story, jumping in to fill gaps the others didn’t know. Rafe asked question after question until they were all talked out. Each seemed lost in their own thoughts, staring in stunned silence at the fire.

Now that the excitement was over, she felt as though the count had succeeded instead of failing. “I’m sorry you all had to go through that.”

She