by J B Cantwell
The fire in my hands flickered a little, and in its way, showed my doubt.
He laughed again.
"I see. You are afraid. And rightly so. I know what hunts you. If it catches you, you may survive, but you risk your power being stripped away".
"What are you talking about?" I didn't have any idea that losing one's power was even something that could happen.
"Don't believe me? Are you willing to take that risk? If you’re going to make it through the mountains, you're going to need help. My help. There’s no one else here to guide you."
I thought about this. I’d known the training would come, I just hadn't expected it to come from Torin's son. He was unknown to me. I'd thought that all three of them had been rotten to the core. But Phalen had been very clear; this man before me was the third son of Torin. And while it was possible that he was good, I would need to keep my eyes wide open while working with him.
"If I stay with you, what can you teach me?" I asked, moving away from the cave entrance.
"As much I can, but little that I can do myself. You saw my brother and what he is capable of. I am capable of no such task. I might have attacked him if I'd been more confident, but I've known my brothers from many long years, known them long enough to understand their level of cruelty. Though we share the same blood, it means nothing to them. I am in just as much danger as anyone else. More so, in fact. "
I extinguished my hands, then tried to let my eyes adjust to the darkness again. He unlit his staff and the world around us went completely black.
"Where do we start?" I asked.
"We will need to go far from here. Phalen knows most of my hiding spots but for this one. It will take us a day to get there, and it’s straight up the side of the mountain. I hope you have the strength in you to climb."
It was true that when I used my powers to save others, I would eventually become even stronger, myself. But it was so soon after having put my hands on Bevyn that I wasn't quite sure of my strength. The thought of climbing straight up the side of the mountain was daunting.
"Come, child," he said. “I will guide you. But you must promise to not light your hands, even if you fall."
"If I fall?"
"It is likely that you will on your first time up to this place. I may not have many powers of my own, but I'm quick. Keep your mouth shut, don't let yourself scream if you find yourself in danger. I will come for you and do what I can to help you."
This was not very reassuring, but I knew he was right. Loud voices around these parts would be heard by many. Perhaps if there were still water in the riverbed, it might disguise conversations. But this place, so devoid of so many of the things required by life, was as silent as dust.
"I will follow you," I said.
I would have to keep my questions until later.
"You must be quiet," he said.
"I will."
And with that, he led me out of the cave and onto a journey I knew I might not survive.
The day went slowly, and though I had many questions floating around in my mind, I did not ask them. For the first couple hours, the walk wasn't too bad. The way was steep but wide enough to accompany travelers. It was a little easier to tell that it was daytime as we walked. The clouds, still boiling, would occasionally let a little bit of light through. This made the way easier, but it felt strange to be able to see so clearly. Dangerous. And the further we went, the more I understood why I needed to keep our conversation minimal. Silence surrounded us, and I wondered if our entire relationship would need to be silent, too.
To pass the time, I imagined Malcolm and the songs he sang about the Feie. Malcolm had known where his home was; there was no doubt in his mind. What's more, he didn't run for home once he'd come off that ship. Instead, he’d come for Regan and Brennen, come to save them from the Lifters. He’d been a man who treated life with such care, so unlike any other person I'd ever met. The feeling of loss plagued me now as I imagined how much safer I would’ve felt if he'd been able to join me on this trek.
But there was only me. Bevyn and me. And Bevyn was no army. No warrior.
The way became steeper and steeper, and I clung to the rocks on the side of the narrow trail, trying not to look down. I hoped that flight was one of the things Bevyn planned to teach me. By the time the sky started to darken once more, I was sweating with the effort of hanging onto the wall, knowing that if I let go, my life would end.
Bevyn stopped and turned to me, whispering. "We are almost there. From here, it will be an hour of climbing, but we will be safe at the top. I can say with near certainty that Phalen has never been here."
I didn't answer him, just nodded my head. He went first, putting his foot into a jagged crevice in the rock, pulling himself up with his hands. I waited for him to get high enough before I did the same. If he were to fall, I would also fall, and, magic or no, both of us would perish.
I should've gone first.
I didn't know the way, though. I tried not to look down as we climbed, and I tried to ignore the fact that my hands were becoming slick with sweat. I wished that I’d taken off my cloak before starting, but it was too late now.
Suddenly, my foot slipped, and I found myself hanging by only my fingers on a tiny handhold in the rock. I tried not to scream out, yet Bevyn turned and saw me regardless.
"Do not panic," he said. "You are stronger than this. You may not be able to fly, but you needn't fall, either. Don't let go."
Pricks of fear and doubt were crawling all over my skin, and my breathing became more labored as I tried to gain purchase with my feet again. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of trying, I got one foot onto a tiny ledge. I stopped, trying to catch my breath, trying to trick myself into thinking I was not in so much danger as I actually was. But when I looked up again, I found that Bevyn had continued to climb, turning his back to me.
"We're almost there," he said. "Just a little longer."
And he was right. It was only minutes before I saw him disappear and then reappear, holding his arms out to help me up. I took the last steps on the side of that terrible rock and let him pull me the rest of the way.
Once atop the ledge, I laid flat on my stomach and tried to let the fear drain away. Suddenly, I had an idea. I lit my hands and pushed myself up onto my knees.
"What are you doing?" he asked. "After all that, we will now be seen."
But the last thing I wanted to do was pretend I didn't have power. It comforted me, knowing that I still had a way to defend myself.
He stood up, and for a moment, I thought he might kick me in the stomach. Instead, he grabbed me by the arms and fully dragged me into the safety of the cave.
"Extinguish your hands," he said sharply. "If you don't, I will throw you from this rock. Then we will see how magical you are."
This time I did as he said. He was right, and I knew that if I were to continue with him as my guide, I would have to let my fear go. This place, these mountains, seemed haunted, and the truth was, I didn't want to face them alone. I extinguished my hands and then followed him without further complaint.
I felt blind after having looked at my hands for only a few moments. Bevyn, however, seemed to know this place with or without lights. As he led me into the cave, I realized why he had chosen this place. For one thing, nobody, or at least very few, would’ve been able to make a climb such as the one we just had. And second, the room he'd led me into was off to one side, completely shielded from the entrance.
Now he lit his staff. Seemingly, he was unafraid in this place, but I knew better now than to light my hands. Besides, the light from his staff was enough to show me that the room was not empty, but was filled with a variety of weapons.
"What is this place?" I asked.
"This," he said, "is where we begin."
As excited as I was to start, I was also exhausted. I dropped my pack onto the floor, forgetting that it was full of vials of Light. I quickly looked up, but Bevyn wasn't looking at me. He had turned t
o look at the weapons instead.
I tried to get my thoughts together, and finally, I spoke.
"What are all these things?" I asked, awed. There were knives, wands, and a giant sword that hung upon the wall. I doubted I could even carry such a thing, but I still wanted it desperately. I imagined what kind of power a tool of that size could wield. But when Bevyn turned around, he did not carry the sword. Instead, he handed me a wand.
It was not as I had expected. I looked down at it and tried not to let my face give away my disappointment.
"You may find this lower than you believe your stature deserves," he said, reading me. "But you will find that much can be done with a wand like this."
I thought back to the stick I'd used to practice my magic that day walking with Regan and Brennen toward the antelopes. I tried to tell myself that this would be no different. I would be able to master this weapon in a short amount of time. It would be helpful, though, if I knew exactly how much time I had. I counted the weapons: three wands, including the one I had in my hand, one sword, and a collection of knives. The only staff in the room was held by Bevyn. While the light coming from the staff was weak, I couldn't help but think that in my hands, its power would grow, its light shining brightly.
"So show me what you can do," he said.
Suddenly, I felt self-conscious. The only time I had been tested was with Zahn, and that test had gone horribly wrong. I had been too powerful, too much of a threat, for him to let me pass.
I looked down at the wand in my hand and pretended it was as lethal as the sword. I pointed it at one of the knives and blasted the handle into bits.
"You fool!"
He approached me, and I felt sure he was going to strike me. That, I could not allow. This time when I pointed the wand, I pointed it at him. He stopped in his tracks, then backed up.
"Fine," he said. "You can try to direct your training, but if you do, you will fail in the end."
I continued to point the wand at him, but he backed up even further until his shoulder blades met the wall right next to the sword.
"I don't want to hurt you," I said. "That's not why I'm here."
I lowered the wand. Then I turned it over and handed it back to him. He looked down at it as if it would explode in his hand were he to take it. Eventually, he shook his head.
"You should keep it," he said. "It will be your first tool. After some time with this, we can move on to the others. Now, what weapons did you bring with you on this journey?"
He must have seen already that I had two knives, one from home and one from the Spoil. I placed the wand in my teeth and drew them out, lighting them as I did.
He walked up to me and pulled the wand from my mouth. I had been clenching it tightly, and I wondered now if I’d left a mark.
"Show me what you can do with those," he said.
"Other than to blast things out of my way, not much. I've only ever used them in defense. Except for the other day when I practiced with one of them by pointing it at bits of rock on my way down the mountain."
"That's a good start," he said. "Have you ever used them in battle?"
I thought about that. There had been so many battles that I could hardly remember. But were they battles? Were they anything like the those that awaited me now?
Yes. Though my idea of war may have been inaccurate, I imagined an army following me to the gates of Torin's lair. But maybe that was wrong. Maybe, in the end, it would only be Torin and me—the sorcerer against the sorceress.
"How accurate are you with these knives?"
"Pretty accurate," I said. "I don't know how to do much else other than slash at enemies, though. I can lift heavy things into the air using just the power in my hands, but that's a bit different than facing off against a Wick."
I thought about it for a moment. What was I able to do?
"I can heal," I said. "But it doesn't take a knife for me to do that."
"And what happens to you when you do heal?"
"I… it exhausts me, and if I need to save someone's life, it will put me out for days."
"Then that is not very helpful," he said.
This angered me. "It helped you."
"True," he said. "And are you tired now as you say you have been in the past?"
I didn't want to admit that I was, but it was probably obvious from the way I was holding myself. After that climb, and after putting so much energy into helping Bevyn, I was ready for a good, long break.
His face, where it had been hard before, relaxed.
"We should rest. I have water." He walked over to the corner of the room and showed me that he had a basin of water waiting.
"How did you get this?"
"Nine-hundred years," he said.
I came closer, and a moment later, he was drinking from the small spring that filled the basin.
"It doesn't overflow?"
"There's a drain." He pointed at the bottom, and I could see a small hole where the water was draining through the rock.
"Did you find this? Or did you make it?"
He smirked, just barely visible in the dim light.
"I don't think I need to tell you about that right now. Just have a drink, and we can get some rest. Phalen doesn't know of this place. He keeps to the lowlands. Sometimes, he directs his Wicks to fly, to search. But he, himself, cannot fly without the aid of a Fiend."
I sat down and pulled my pack from my back, sighing heavily.
"How often do you communicate with your father?" I asked. I was too tired to be fearful, and the fact that Bevyn's staff was so dimly lit was a comfort.
"I don’t communicate with him at all," he said, pacing the room. "I left him many hundreds of years ago."
"Tell me how you know about me," I said. "In all my journeys, I have found that I'm known. There’s even a prophecy that I will be the one to defeat Torin. That I will be the one to lead an army toward battle."
"You are not alone in your thinking," he said. He turned and took something from a crevice in the wall: a small, leather-bound book. He handed it to me.
"You're not the only one who has been on this list. Though you are the only one who has made it this far. This is the Book of Torin."
I opened the book, and at first, I didn't see the writing.
"Light your hand," he said.
I looked up at him, unsure, but he nodded at me encouragingly, so I did as he said.
The moment my hand lit the pages, the book came to life. It vibrated in my hands as if it had been waiting for me, its master, for a very long time. After a few blank pages, writing became visible. Names, just one per page. I started flipping through, and I noticed that every single name was crossed out in red ink. Red as blood. After a few moments, I flipped all the way through to the end.
And my name was written there.
Bree of Eagleview
It was the only name left, and it was not crossed out.
Not yet.
"This book," I said, holding it up. "Do you think it's real?"
Bevyn scoffed. "It is one of many things that convinced me you are the best to wage war against my father. There are other reasons, of course, but none quite so literal as seeing your name written on that page."
"Where did it come from?"
"I stole it. Before I ran from my father's kingdom, I took it while he was away. Over the years, I have studied your name on the page, the only one my father never saw. He killed the sorcerer before you, of course, but I daresay he’s been fixated on finding this book ever since I left him. He does not yet know your name.“
He turned to look at me, his face serious.
“I count myself lucky to have found you," he said, sitting down across the cave from me. "I hope I can help you survive your time here in these mountains. Phalen knows of the book; he searches for it in the name of my father. A new name only appears when the one before it has been eliminated."
"Eliminated?" I asked. "Do you think they're all—"
"Dead? Yes. There i
s no other explanation."
We sat in silence for a few long moments as I studied the page. Then, to compare mine to the others, I flipped backward a couple of pages.
Aharn of Thorne
Herne of Kaira
Fasqe of Eagleview
“Eagleview?” I asked, confused. "Is this right?"
My heart started pounding, and I was so alarmed that I jumped to my feet, nearly knocking my head on the low cave ceiling.
"Yes," Bevyn said. "I thought you might have a reaction to his name, as you are of the same kingdom. But he lived many centuries ago. It is the name of the last person Torin killed before I took the book.”
I knelt down and flipped the page to his name once more. The line that crossed out his name was shining on the page as if the ink was still wet.
"So you see," he said. "Your flight now is still guarded. You and I are the only ones who know it’s your name on that page. My brothers may say otherwise, but I know my father is both scared and unable to return to the Shadow Mountains. It was he who scorched the sky above. This range is a place of great power, and it is good at its center. This angered him, and when the Keepers refused to give up their powers willingly, he took his staff, pointed it at the clouds, and all went black. At least that's the story I've been told. Since then, he has not returned. Occasionally, I see my brothers. They seem to be checking up on me, waiting, searching."
"For me?"
"For whomever's name is next on the list. Next on the page." He nodded his head toward the book.
I sat back down and pulled the little book into my lap.
My name was written in black-ink script, beautiful penmanship with a wicked purpose.
Bevyn stood up and walked across the room, retrieving from the wall a set of knives not too different from my own. He came back over and offered them to me.
"I don't need your knives," I said, distracted by the parchment pages of the book. "I have my own."
"I know you do. It's just that I was hoping that you might allow me to hold one of yours. These knives have magic of their own, but I cannot access it. My power has waned over the years, and the staff is all I have left. But I wonder about your knives. May I see one?"
