He could not see his sister beside his mother. In fact, Fyn could not see his sister anywhere. A kernel of worry formed in his belly.
'They're bringing the horn.' Lonepine nudged Fyn. 'Not long now!'
To win the highest accolade they had to not only find the Fate but make it back across the lake to blow that horn. Other acolytes would form teams to help each other, networks of trust that they would rely on later when they were monks, trying to make their way up in the hierarchy. A rush of energy filled Fyn for he could only trust two of his companions, which put their team at an immediate disadvantage.
Shifting his weight from skate to skate to keep warm, he studied the dais where the abbot stood. They had the horn but there seemed to be a delay. If only it would start.
'Spread out and form one line along the lake's edge,' the acolytes master ordered.
Twenty-two acolytes shuffled along, holding their quarterstaffs at the ready. Fyn faced the lake, sucking in great gulps of icy air which stung his nostrils and made his eyes water. Dimly, he heard the abbot wish them Halcyon's luck. Then the mystics master blew the horn.
A great cheer went up from the people of Rolenton. The rush of sound filled Fyn's head, sweeping him up, sweeping him along with the others.
Out of the wharf's shadow, blindingly bright sunshine reflected off the ice. The acolytes bunched together, all making for the island. A few tried to sprint away. Many followed Lonepine's example and concentrated on swinging their staffs, sending their fellows to the ice before making a break for it.
Like some multi-legged beast the whole mass travelled across the ice, some breaking free of the pack, only to be tackled by followers. Fyn ducked a blow, sending Foxtail down with a strike behind the knee.
Darting away from the main group, he tried to put some distance between himself and the others. Someone clipped him between the shoulder blades, knocking him down head first onto the ice. His face stung with cold.
Eat ice!
Scrambling to his skates, he skidded sideways. Riverford came after him. Fyn avoided Riverford's strike, but lost the chance to counter, his momentum swinging him around. Fighting with quarterstaffs on the ice was difficult. The skates had a mind of their own.
Fyn took a glancing blow and twisted desperately, trying to get his staff between them.
Feldspar shouldered Riverford aside, sending him sprawling. Fyn caught his friend's arm, steadying him. 'Thanks.'
'Come on, you two, quit playing around!' Lonepine sped past.
The three of them took off towards Ruin Isle. Fyn's thigh muscles flexed, driving him forwards with each gliding stride. His eyes watered, stinging from the cold wind. Fyn concentrated on building up speed as they overtook and passed a half a dozen acolytes who had stopped to fight amongst themselves. He cast one swift glance behind him. The race had broken up into several small battles.
Only one other group remained between them and the island. These acolytes put their heads together and turned, preparing to defend their ground as one of them took off his skates and strode up the beach to search the island.
Fyn's heart sank.
'Looks like Hawkwing has organised his friends to back him up,' Lonepine shouted.
Neither Fyn nor Feldspar bothered to answer, saving their breath.
Hawkwing's five supporters waited, spinning their staffs. Fyn slewed his skates side-on to slow down. He caught Lonepine's eye and glanced to the acolytes on the far left. Lonepine nodded. He would tackle them.
Fyn held Feldspar's eye, letting him know he would handle the two on the right. That left the one in the middle for Feldspar.
Fyn skated in, feinting with a high blow, changing it at the last instant. Ducking under the acolyte's strike, Fyn knocked his first opponent's legs out from under him and followed up with a blow that took the second's breath away.
Fyn straightened up in time to see Feldspar put down his attacker, but one of Lonepine's acolytes had gotten away from him. Foxtail was as cunning as his namesake. He rounded on Feldspar, who wasn't expecting an attack from that quarter.
Foxtail aimed a blow at Feldspar's shoulder which bounced off, onto his head. It sent him reeling and the tall youth went down like a felled tree.
Furious, Lonepine barged into Foxtail, knocking him off his feet. The downed acolyte skidded across the ice on his back like a stranded summer beetle.
Fyn darted between the other acolytes who were struggling to rise, and leant down to grab Feldspar's arm. 'Are you all right?'
Feldspar managed a sickly grin. 'Why are there two of you?'
'I'll go after Hawkwing!' Lonepine announced and took off.
'Come on.' Fyn helped Feldspar upright, tugging him along as he headed for the island.
Hawkwing's supporters didn't come after them, electing to deal with the next group of acolytes, fast approaching.
Feldspar shook off Fyn's helping hand within a few heart beats and they reached the island's snowy shore together. Lonepine's boot prints showed where he had taken off his skates to run up the beach.
Fyn unstrapped his skates and slung them over his shoulder, then he hurried to catch up. 'Which way?'
Feldspar was already climbing the snowy slope, his expression focused inwards as he tried to sense the Fate's location. Feldspar had excellent Affinity.
'Strange,' he whispered, 'I can't seem to — '
The crack of wood striking wood interrupted him. Fyn ran over a rise into a grove of winter-bare trees. Through the mottled silver trunks he saw Hawkwing and Lonepine circling each other in a clearing.
'I'll take care of Hawkwing. You two go on,' Lonepine ordered.
'Ha. You'll be eating snow before me!' Hawkwing sneered and leapt to the attack.
As they fought furiously, Fyn turned to Feldspar. 'You lead.'
'I don't know what's wrong. I can't sense a thing,' the tall acolyte confessed. He frowned, trying to discover the Fate. Meanwhile, in the clearing below a flurry of blows fell with dull thuds and grunts of effort.
'If you can't sense it, we'd better separate,' Fyn decided. This gave him a chance to find the Fate for himself. 'I'll take this side of the ruins. You take the other.'
Fyn nodded and ran off to his right, avoiding Hawkwing and Lonepine, who had stopped to catch their breaths. They leant on their staffs, panting in a way that would have been funny if they hadn't been so serious.
Stepping out of the trees into another clearing, Fyn shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun reflecting off the snow. Individual ice crystals gleamed like diamonds.
A grey stone obelisk stood before him. Topped by a cap of white crusty snow, it signalled the entrance to the ruins. Slowing down, he looked around for physical clues as to where the mystics master might have hidden Halcyon's Fate. His own Affinity was weak and if Feldspar couldn't sense the Fate, then Fyn would have to stumble over it before he felt its subtle tug. But he was a good tracker, so he looked for signs the master might have left last night. He was out of luck however. A light snowfall had hidden everything.
Fyn searched all the places he could think of, the forks of tree trunks, the mouths of statues, anywhere that might conceal a small, semiprecious stone on a silver chain.
Upwind of each statue, snow mounded into a heap while on the downwind side the wind had carved out hollows. It was both beautiful and eerie. Each statue depicted one of the god-touched beasts. He searched the statue of a leogryf, wings outspread, frozen in mid-attack, then a foenix with its head reared back, about to strike with its razor-sharp beak. Next he came to a wyvern. The sea dragon was poised to leap, again wings outspread. Then there was a cockatrice. Taller than a man with razor-sharp leg spurs, it had the tail of a serpent and could spit poison. The unistag had lost its horn. With the body of a horse and the head of a stag it was a graceful beast. Only the manticore was undamaged. Once its lion's body would have been painted blood-red. The paint had long since worn off but its tail of hard chitin still arched above its back, ready to strike. That barb carried
deadly poison and could pierce armour.
Each statue was carved from white marble and each was mantled with fine snow, but none hid the Fate.
One small part of Fyn's mind whispered. Feldspar lied about not sensing the Fate. He wants to find it before you do.
But he knew Feldspar too well. If Fyn hadn't been so desperate to become a mystic, he would have been pleased to see his friend chosen.
Trudging through the knee-high snow, Fyn moved between a row of pillars, entering the roofless, ruined temple which stood in the centre of the island. Feldspar was already there, his saffron thigh-length robe bright against the snow. The thin acolyte's plait, which grew from the crown of his head, swung over his shoulder as he spun to face Fyn. He'd lost his cap and his shaven skull gleamed in the sunlight. A band of tattoos circled his head like a crown, each symbol represented a subject or a skill mastered.
'Did you find the Fate?' Feldspar demanded.
'No. You?'
'I can't sense it at all. I don't know what's wrong.'
They could hear the shouts of other acolytes now, beginning their search. Frustration filled Fyn.
'Keep looking,' he urged.
Feldspar nodded and plunged off to continue the search. Fyn headed towards the right side of the island with renewed urgency. The others must not beat him to Halcyon's Fate.
Ploughing through the snow, he was glad he knew this part of the island well. He'd come here with Piro last Midsummer to paint and practise the abbey's martial arts.
Suddenly, he felt a pull. His heart lifted and he concentrated on the sensation, eyes almost closed.
The Fate acted on his Affinity, drawing him towards a grove of trees, now bare and stark. At its centre was a fallen statue, an amfina. The snake-lizard was artistically writhing back on itself, both heads rearing to attack. It rested at an angle on a block of stone, forming a little cave.
Fyn's breath caught in his throat and his skin prickled. The Fate was hidden here somewhere.
As he ran towards it, Fyn remembered how Piro had hidden under the statue to surprise him at midsummer. Then it had been covered in Evening Glowvine. A memory came back to him, the white flowers' rich honey-cinnamon scent. Glancing into the hollow under the statue, he saw nothing but snowy shadows today. He concentrated on the twin-headed amfina with its vestigial legs and wings. Both mouths were open, ready to attack. Fine-powdered snow filled both sets of jaws. The jaws!
Fyn climbed onto the statue's mid-back and dipped his fingers in the snow that filled the primary head's jaw. Half-numb with cold, he felt something small and hard. With a surge of triumph, he pulled it out.
Halcyon's Fate swung on its chain, silver links gleaming in the sunshine, but his eyes were on the Fate itself. He had never seen it this close before. The stone was really a perfect spiral shell made of opalised stone, all colours and none.
Fyn jumped down, boots sinking into the snow. Holding the Fate up to the sunlight, his heart soared. This was his vindication.
It meant he deserved to join the mystics despite his weak Affinity, for Halcyon would not have drawn him here if she did not approve of him.
He had to tell Feldspar and Lonepine.
But as he turned to go something caught his eye. What was that under the statue? Startled, Fyn plunged his hand in and felt a wool-covered shoulder. Grabbing the white cloak, he pulled the spy out.
Quick as a cat they spun around. A hood fell back to reveal hair dark as a raven's wing, moon-pale skin and furious black eyes set in a pretty, all too familiar face.
'Piro? What are you doing here?'
Chapter Ten
She stamped her foot. 'Now you've gone and spoiled it, Fyn!'
'You're not supposed to be here!' He was horrified.
'You weren't supposed to find me.'
He ignored that. 'This island is sacred for the duration of today's Proving. Piro, if the abbot knew… not even royal blood could save you!'
'Then don't tell him!' She brushed crusted snow off her knees, pretending indifference, but her hands trembled.
He wanted to shake her. 'Why, Piro?'
She nodded to the Fate, spinning on its chain. 'Only yesterday you were telling me how much you needed to become a mystic. Well, now you can.'
'Yes.' He dismissed that, more concerned for her safety. 'But you shouldn't be here. This race was designed to Prove the winner's Affinity so the island has been purified and…' He stopped dead. He'd felt a tug on his Affinity and had thought it was the Fate drawing him to it, but…
Piro looked away, a guilty flush creeping up her pale cheeks.
Closing his eyes he focused his Unseen senses and reached out and felt a rush of resistance from her. If she hadn't had any Affinity he would have felt nothing.
Realisation hit him with such force that his head swam. It was Piro's Affinity he'd sensed. Not only had his sister found the Fate and hidden it from Feldspar's Affinity, she had drawn him to it. 'You have more Affinity than I do. You've been hiding it!'
She shrugged this aside, eyes fixed earnestly on him. 'I found the Fate for you, so you could be a mystic!'
'Oh, Piro!' How could he be angry with her when she'd risked so much for him? He felt so much older. At thirteen she didn't understand the consequences. 'Don't you see? I didn't earn it, so I can't take it. It wouldn't be right.' He glanced to the amfina statue wishing it could have been otherwise. Though he did not deserve the Fate, he desperately wanted to join the mystics. For a heartbeat, he toyed with the idea of lying but he couldn't live with himself if he did. He sighed. 'I'll have to put it back.' A thought struck him. 'Did you move it? Where did the mystics master hide it?'
'Don't.' She caught his arm. 'You're spoiling everything. I was only trying to help.'
'And we'll have to tell our parents about your Affinity.' Fyn's mind ran on ahead. Their mother would be devastated. She had already given up one child to the gods' service. 'No wonder you haven't told anyone.'
Piro nodded miserably. 'You saw them at the hearing yesterday. The law must be obeyed. If the warlords thought Rolencia's royal family believed themselves above the law, they'd revolt. Merofynia would attack. If I tell our parents they'll have to send me to the abbess. And I'd hate that, always doing the right thing, never saying what I really thought, shut away from summer, always serving winter. I couldn't live like that, Fyn.'
'You can't keep your Affinity hidden. It — '
'I have so far, from both the castle Affinity warders and from both the abbey mystics. I've been as close to them as I am to you right now. Can you feel anything now?'
He focused and tried to sense her again. She registered on his senses with an absence which was odd. 'No… at least. You don't feel neutral. The only reason they haven't noticed is because it takes effort to sense Affinity. I felt something before when I tested you and my Affinity's weak. You'll give yourself away somehow and there'll be a terrible reckoning.'
'But why would they suspect? I've already been tested. No one guessed mine was dormant then. Oh Fyn, it's so strange. Mine came on me suddenly and it's getting stronger. Things like the Fate have been calling me. They have a sort of hum that's just on the edge of hearing. Don't you sense it?'
Fyn shook his head. Piro was more of a mystic than him, yet he had been sent to the abbey, forced to give up family and position in the world. Where was the justice in that?
'Don't tell mother and father, Fyn,' Piro whispered. 'Please?'
'We must. It'll be worse if we hide it like Farmer Overhill. No one will believe our parents didn't know. Even father's old honour guard will be angry with him.' Exasperation and fondness fought for supremacy. 'Abbey life is not so bad, Piro.'
'That's not what you said last time we talked. At least now I can slip away and…' Her eyes widened in horror. 'Why, if I was sent to the abbey I'd have to give up my foenix — '
'Oh, Piro. You are such a baby!' He felt like shaking her.
She glared at him and opened her mouth to speak, then stopped.
'Please Fyn, promise not to tell?' Piro pleaded, glancing over her shoulder.
'All right, but only if you — '
She darted back into the nook under the statue, her white cloak blending with the shadowed snow.
Fyn spun around to see Feldspar enter the clearing. Desperate to hide Piro's presence, Fyn went around the statue to meet him.
'You found it!' Feldspar reached him, gaze drawn to the Fate in his hands. 'I confess I didn't think you had it in you. You must present it to the mystics master.'
And have his mind searched? Fyn shuddered. He could not hide anything from Master Catillum. He would betray Piro for sure. A solution came to him and he thrust the Fate towards Feldspar. 'You take it. I don't have enough Affinity to be a mystic.'
'Then how did you find it?'
'Lucky chance.'
'Not chance, fate!' Feldspar studied the spinning opal with obvious longing, but he made no move to touch it. 'I admit, I had hoped I'd be the one. But if not, then I'm glad it's you. Have you looked in it yet? The vision is your reward.'
Torn by conflicting emotions, Fyn stared into the opal's strange surface. As it spun on the end of the chain the spiral shell turned, glinting in the light: green, blue, the occasional flash of red. What was his Fate? What should he do?
Bright colours glimmered. A noble feast. A girl with tilted, liquid eyes and no eyebrows, a sweet-faced girl, whose expression was schooled to betray nothing, but underneath it he could sense her fear and a deep sadness.
Stranger still, he felt as if he knew her.
'Fyn?' Feldspar nudged him. 'What did you see?'
'A girl.'
Feldspar groaned. 'Some mystic you'll make. Monks are supposed to be celibate.'
Shame flared hot in Fyn. He shoved the pendant into his friend's hands. 'You're right. I'm a fraud. You take it.'
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