by Geno Allen
Zam reflexively fought against the chains that were not truly there. He gasped for air before coming to himself. “What is this I have seen? Six mirrors. Six reflections that I cannot bear to believe are me. Yet somehow I believe them each to be possibilities of me. I am stronger than that!” he shouted. “See all that I have overcome! This dark land has not beaten me yet—try though it might! I will not become what I have seen here!”
Zam quickened his pace as he traveled down the passage. He was angry at having looked so deeply inside himself and at having seen such darkness. He was offended by the last reflection. Offended that whoever had built this place would think him capable of being led so far astray by a Seritheen. That is what it was.
“I will not fall to the tricks of any dark being!” he yelled, as he plunged into a larger chamber without recognizing it had opened out. He pressed forward and only stopped when a cracking sound greeted him.
“What?” He stood stock still in the center of an open chamber, the only passageway was back the direction he'd come. Fixed all about the walls were more jewels, the clearest and purest he had ever seen. He would have thought them part of the ice, but they refracted the light from his staff in a far different way.
Again he heard the cracking sound and realized it was coming from beneath his feet. In the center of this chamber the floor was thin ice, but rough upon its surface, making it easier to walk. Zam peered down. Beneath the ice was a dark expanse. His heart pounded and he tried to move, but as he did the ice cracked more. He froze in fear of breaking through, but it was too late. The ice began crumbling and Zam leapt toward the edge nearest the passage. The floor gave way beneath him and he scrabbled at the edge of the pit until at last his hands had a firm hold. He was not falling just yet, but he was suddenly very cold.
What had seemed a deep expanse proved to be a dark pool. Zam was half-drenched in freezing water. Only where he clung to the ice was he not so. The water lapped about his shoulders, and he felt his strength slipping away. He could not pull himself out and he could not hold on forever.
His fear was overcome by anger. “Why lead me here? Why show me all that is vile within me, all of my weakness, only to allow me to die an icy death? Why? You are unfair! You make me a hero, make me strong, and then place me in a battle I cannot win! Why…?”
His grip began to weaken, and his tone was imploring. “You give me the ability to let go of the past and give me the hope of love from a family, but somehow yet I am not good enough! Still I have not the strength I need....”
Zam turned his eyes to the ceiling. It was an ice mirror. In the reflection he saw each of the possible versions of himself trapped in the pool as well, all struggling to get out, except the weakest one. His grip was firm, and he held his place with eyes closed. The slovenly one was the first to go under. Air bubbled up for a moment then stopped.
Zam’s heart twisted inside as he witnessed that version of himself die. Zam the tyrant king grabbed at the Zam who did not bother to save Raine but chose a slave instead, and tried to use him to climb out. Neither would suffer the other to escape first, and both slipped from the edge and were lost to the icy depths. The coward Zam dared not attempt the fight, for he was sure the waters would consume him. Taking his dagger in hand, he ended his own life and drifted away beneath the dark water. Zam's heart wrenched again.
The adventurer, so bent on recognition, trusted to his own strength and fought with all he had. Having bested dragons and raiding hoards, he was certain he would overcome this simple trap. However, in the end, all his strength was sapped as again and again he failed to pull himself from the icy water. Exhaustion overtook him as he fell from the ice, thrashing and crying out. A moment more and all fight left him as he slipped away beneath the cold, dark surface, his life lost in how he had lived it.
Zam's heart knotted and ached, his stomach sick at having witness five times his own death. He felt hollow, as if parts of him truly had died. There in the mirror, holding on for dear life at the frozen edge of this deadly pool, were Zam and the weak one. How was it that the stronger and more valiant iterations of himself could not survive, but this, the weakest, still remained?
Now that none fought to escape, the chamber grew silent and Zam heard a desperate whisper, as if this last reflected version were truly there with him in the pool. “Elyon, I cannot hold on much longer. I am not strong enough to survive this. If this is to be my end, so be it, but if there is more for me to do, any further service that I may render, then please rescue me. I cannot face this on my own. My life is in your hands.”
For the moment Zam forgot his own peril, and that this reflection was in fact him. His heart broke at the desperation in the words of this poor wretch who had wandered into danger only to find he had not the grit for it. He was overwhelmed with emotion for the sad plight of this weak young man. A tear made its way down his cheek and froze. He whispered. “Elyon, decide in his quest.”
The weakling reflection opened his eyes and looked straight into Zam's—his gaze finding the deepest fears and all the weakness that resided there—and Zam suddenly understood: he was weaker than this scrawny, muscle-less reflection before him, weaker than he had ever admitted to another soul or to himself.
Residing in this reflection’s eyes was a strength the weak body belied, as well as an innocent childlike trust. Zam was lost there, seeing in the reflection's eyes real confidence that Elyon would decide. When at last he saw that, the other Zam smiled. The weakness of this one was in body alone. The vision wavered, shifted, and began to falter.
Zam could no longer tell the difference between the weak reflection and his own. There he saw himself lacking the strength, yet holding on. That was the weak one’s strength. He knew he was not strong enough, but trusted to the strength of Elyon and held on. Without even thinking, Zam found himself repeating almost the same words he'd heard from this other him, but these words he felt.
“I am done yelling, Elyon.”
Another tear froze on his cheek. The biting cold of the pool was beginning to take its toll. Holding on was increasingly difficult. “I believe I understand the mirrors…. I am the weak one. I cannot hold on much longer and I am not strong enough to survive this.” The chill of the water made words harder to come by as Zam continued through chattering teeth. “But if you have more that I should do, as I believe you do, rescue me. If this is my end, then please save Raine... because I can’t.”
His fingers began to slip, but he did not panic. He closed his eyes, ready to meet death, his one great sorrow that he had not freed Raine. He felt also for Griss. “He will be alone in this unfriendly land. Protect him….” He thought of Galwen, Molly, Dorrin, and Tearis, and how he would never see them again. That pain stung more deeply than the bite of the icy water. More tears flooded his eyes, and one hand slipped from the ice. “Keep them safe, Elyon.” A moment more and he would be gone. “My life… is in your hands.”
As his other hand slipped from the edge of the pool, Zam was startled by the sudden warmth of a strong hand holding his own. He felt himself lifted from the deadly pool and laid upon the ice at its edge. His eyes still stung with tears and he could not see his savior.
“Graffeon told me you’d come this way.”
Zam blinked several times to clear the tears. There above him stood a large man with reddish gold hair trailing in waves to his shoulders, though it was his smile that Zam noticed most. It was utterly endearing, as was his manner of speech, quick and joyful. He reached a large hand out to Zam.
“I hoped you’d come. Graffeon seemed to know. Not many have the courage to enter Seven Mirrors. I knew Angeon was directing you this way, but….” The stranger lifted Zam to his feet and freezing water dripped from him as from a rag. Though the tunic, trousers, and cloak that Noralie and Bondur had given him were nearly dry, water clung to every other part of him. The stranger took a deep breath and blew gently. In a moment Zam was dry, head to toe, and warm clear to his bones.
The stranger
clapped his hands. “Ha ha… I love that. I am Shi’geon.” He gave a spinning bow which made his armor clank and slide a bit off kilter. “Servant of Elyon and current guardian of the reflection pool.” He clapped Zam on the shoulder. “You are Zamuel Windwater and though you do not know me, I have known you. But alas, there is no time for that tale save perhaps this bit: when a child you were, I stood with you against those wolves.”
Zam instantly knew the moment he spoke of, and though he had always thought he faced those wolves alone, recalling it now he knew Shi’geon spoke truth. “You’re an Argolen, like Graffeon and Angeon.”
Shi’geon was beaming. “It is as you say, young one. Now, you must be on your way. Time runs short and you must make it to the river within a fortnight. You have wandered Seven Mirrors longer than you know. Your friend has begun to grow concerned for you.”
Zam was puzzled and still shaken from his brush with death. Staring at the kindly Argolen before him, he tried making sense of his words. “How can that be, Shi’geon? I have only walked this path for a few hours and Griss agreed to camp the night if I was delayed in returning.”
Shi’geon shook his head in mock displeasure at Zam's lack of understanding, and all the while a nearly mischievous glint sparkled in his eye. “That’s the funny thing about Seven Mirrors. Time’s a bit askew in here, or at least people have a tendency to lose track of it. It’s been nearly three days since you stepped through the mouth of this cave. I meant it when I said you must be on your way. The road you were traveling will take too long. Go get Griss and bring him back here. When you return I’ll be gone, but you’ll know what to do. And one last thing Zam.” Shi’geon’s cheery and lighthearted tone was replaced by a deeper sincerity. “Good job, way back when, with those wolves, and in all that you’ve done since. Now get.”
Something about Shi’geon’s manner was both inspiring and commanding. For the time being this meeting washed away the pain of all Zam had learned about himself and replaced it with excitement for what lay ahead, whatever may come.
As he made his way quickly up the path to find Griss, he shouted back to the Argolen, “Thank you, Shi’geon!”
“Don’t mention it, Zam. It was my pleasure. Don’t forget to grab some jewels. You’ll need ‘em.”
Zam knew it was urgent that they return to their travels as quickly as possible. He had seen in the reflection the kind of man who would claim Raine if he couldn’t rescue her in time. When he reached the mouth of the cave he found Griss ready to travel and startled to see him.
“Are you well, Zam? I was about to come in after you.”
Zam placed his hand on Griss’ arm as a gesture of sincerity and replied. “Very well.” It felt, for the moment, the most honest statement he’d ever made. Urgency pressed him. “We must hurry, Griss. When first I can spare a moment, I’ll share with you the tale of these last few days, but until then....” He turned back to face the cave. “We must make haste.”
The two adventurers plunged along the passageway, Zam leading and his staff lighting the way. Griss followed close behind, not understanding what had transpired that made driving deeper into the earth somehow the quicker path to Valkiliar. Though it seemed the wrong way, he chose to follow.
Within minutes they came to the pool chamber where Shi’geon had rescued Zam. There before them, in the pool, rested a small boat just large enough for the two of them and their belongings. A warm breeze blew in from a gaping hole in the ceiling of the chamber where the ice mirror had once rested. Zam found that the mirror lay in shards all about the chamber near the walls, and a dark, cavernous expanse opened beyond its former location. If his suspicions were correct, the new opening would lead them east toward the river, if only they could reach it. Griss was confused. He was certain the hole in the ceiling was too high for even him to reach, let alone attempt to do so carrying a boat.
Zam immediately knew what to do. Stepping into the boat, he said cheerily, “Climb in.”
Griss frowned. “But there is only a pool here, Zam. There is nowhere to go.”
“You asked that Elyon decide in my quest. This is how he has, for now.” Zam was beaming. “Now come on. Climb in.”
Griss sensed that Zam knew something he did not. So, he climbed into the boat, still perplexed. The moment he did, water began to trickle down out of the passageway leading from the icy clearing.
Zam said, “It appears that the ice is melting.”
Griss furrowed his brow. “So it does.”
As if those words had broken loose a dam, the trickle suddenly became a torrent, and the torrent a flood as water rushed in, causing the pool to overflow its bounds. In moments the chamber was filled. The little boat was driven upward by the churning water through the opening and into the cavern above. Holding on for dear life, Zam and Griss found themselves riding the crest of a flash-flood as waters splashed and the boat jostled, one moment against the stony walls, driving hazardously close to the jagged ceiling another, and caught in the raging torrent the next.
Slowly the cavern began to widen out, and the light from Zam’s staff no longer found walls to reach. The boat and the waters leveled off. It was then that they began to travel peacefully, as though guided by an unseen hand, through the waters of a fast-flowing underground river. Surviving the ride had consumed all their thoughts up to that point, and only then had Zam stopped to think. Dismay filled his voice. “I didn't grab the jewels.”
Griss noticed a bag in the bottom of the boat with parchment pinned to it. “What is that, Zam?”
Zam grabbed the bag. It was heavy. Pulling the parchment from it he read aloud: “Zam, I knew you'd forget, so I thought I’d help. Take this treasure with you and rescue your friend. It will be more than enough, but Zam, don't become enamored of it. Remember the lesson of the mirrors. And again… well done so far. Shi’geon ~ Servant of Elyon”
Griss looked quizzically at Zam. “I seem to have missed some things.”
Looking thoughtfully into the inky blackness before them, Zam smiled. “Yes... but it looks like we have some time.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE GREAT BRIDGE
They traveled the underground river for what felt like many hours, and in that time the light from Zam’s staff was the only light. Only moments after beginning this leg of the journey they had discovered there were no oars in the boat. Every once in a while the cavern would narrow and they could see jagged rocky outcroppings protruding from the walls or ceiling, and they knew again that the hand of providence was guiding them safely in this dark place. They glided along the glassy surface of water they could barely see in a cavern in which the roof and walls were beyond sight, a pinprick of light in a deep darkness.
Griss had gotten Zam’s story out of him and also shared some regarding a similar experience he’d once had. “There were no ice mirrors or deadly pools, but I saw myself just as deeply, just the same.” They talked also regarding the oddity of the passage of time in this place. Griss said, “I’m amazed you were unaware that three full days passed while you were in the cave. I cannot help but wonder how much time is passing now, and whether we are in fact missing days of sleep and food as you did, Zam.”
It was an odd thought. Zam felt around inside himself. He had not slept since he’d entered the cave, but he wasn't weary either. “I don't know, Griss, but I am certain no matter how much time passes we'll be fine. Shi’geon told me this would be the faster way.”
They settled back in the boat and enjoyed the stillness of the water and the air, secure in knowing they were on the right path.
Zam rested in the quiet of the dark cavern, hearing only the lapping of water against the boat’s bow. He felt more rested than he'd felt since sleeping in the ancient king’s bed in Vandaris. He was reveling in this when a quiet but shrill sound filtered in from the distance. At first he thought it might be birds and that perhaps they were nearing an opening to the surface. Then the sound began to grow.
Griss heard it as well. “I am not sure I like that
sound, Zam.”
It grew louder still.
“What do you think it is?”
It quickly grew to a roar and Griss understood. “The water is beginning to flow faster... we are approaching rapids, or worse a fall. Let us hope this boat can withstand them.”
The whole world went dim for a moment despite Zam’s staff, and panic coursed through him. With effort he pulled himself back from it and the answer came. “The boat will not break up, Griss, but we must hold firm if we are to survive.”
As he said this, the light from his staff increased, nearly blazing, illuminating the water and the walls. They could now see large boulders protruding from the no longer glassy surface of the water. The river ahead was a tumult.
Griss quietly requested that Elyon protect them.
Zam did the same, and something assured him they would be all right.
The water splashed and swirled, causing the boat to lose its straight course. Spinning, it splashed near to a pinnacle of rock, very nearly striking it, but at the last moment the water churned, turning the boat a different way. Three times the tumultuous waters nearly smashed them against the rocks that peppered this stretch of the cavern. The roar of the water was nearly deafening.
Zam shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hold on, Griss! We’re nearing the fall!” Something in him knew they would be safe.
The boat turned around again and again leaving them faced away from the impending fall. In a moment of clarity Zam saw them both, as if from somewhere outside, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they were very near to the place where they would meet Fraegrel, the one whom Angeon told them to meet near the river Moriella.
Both adventurers gripped the boat with all their might as the water thrashed them about again. Then, suddenly the back of the boat breached the edge of the fall. The bow stood pointed at the ceiling and everything seemed to slow. Gravity pulled them backward, downward, as the bow climbed until it towered above them. A sinking sensation and a sense of disconnection from all that grounds one to the earth informed them their descent had begun. They and their vessel tumbled end over end in the black void.
