Treasure Chest

by Adam Bennett

  The truth had come out during the fight. She hadn’t been able to hide it.

  “You didn’t tell me,” Tel had said, and it became his crutch. Reproach him as she might for his behaviour, his transgressions, his attitude, and the use of her wand, for him it all came back to the fact that she’d been keeping secrets. It was an impasse he could not cross, he’d said, and he’d tried to use it to justify his demand that she forgive him. As their words had grown more bitter, he turned it into a worse offence than anything he’d ever done to her.

  At that point, there was no going back for either of them, and before the sun had set that day, he was gone. Had he left, or had she cast him out? It was impossible to say. They each claimed the moral high ground, each as firmly entrenched in their positions as if they had been made of stone.

  So it ended.

  Now they were here, with the winds strong enough to tear chunks of pale grey stone from the cliffs and the Confluence less than half an hour away.

  Even as her mind registered that fact, Cathis felt her protective sphere contract under the force of the wind. She was suddenly aware of the precariousness of her situation. She could spare no more time or thought for Tel.

  She focused on her tasks, first reinforcing her shield, then beginning the ritual that would turn her river stones into receptacles of power. Cathis connected them one to the other, multiplying their collective strength, transforming them into a single vessel for the Confluence.

  Though she went as quickly as she dared, Cathis was confident in herself. Had she not gone over the steps of the ritual in her mind a hundred times over, learning each one until it was as familiar to her as the contours of her hand? She might have worked hastily, but she worked thoroughly, and throughout the whole process she was as calm as if she’d been reading her notes in the comfort of her study.

  Only when she had completed the last step and spoken the final words of power did she allow herself to glance at Tel.

  What she saw made her gasp in surprise.

  Tel was sitting cross-legged on the ground, in the centre of a pattern that appeared to have been scorched into the earth. His tattoos were glowing with a vivid orange light. In front of him flickered a sourceless fire, almost three feet tall and half as wide, the flames leaping and crackling despite their lack of fuel.

  Cathis couldn’t believe it. Had Tel—had he mastered fire? It has only been a year since they’d parted. Was such a thing possible?

  Tel was speaking over his living flame, but the winds tore away all sound. Even as Cathis gaped, a tree whirled by overhead, its roots ripped out by the approaching typhoons. Even though it missed her sphere by some distance, Cathis flinched.

  The unfortunate tree was just the first piece of flying debris. More soon came, and chunks of grass-topped earth. Rain lashed Cathis’ sphere like hail. She poured more of her magic into it, her tattoos glowing. With half an eye, she saw Tel’s own arm tattoos light up as he too strengthened his defences.

  She suddenly realised how dark it had grown. The sun had been enveloped by heavy clouds. The winds formed fists that battered at her shield, seeking to overwhelm it with brute force.

  Then all was still. All was quiet.

  The Confluence had arrived.

  ***

  Cathis felt a profound stillness. It was like the pause that comes after a great wave washes inland while the next one is gathering to break. It was the breath taken before tragic news is delivered to a loved one. It was the whole of creation hesitating, unsure what will happen next.

  Someone less prepared, less determined, might have hesitated—too awed, too intimidated, too afraid to act. Not Cathis. She knew that to delay was to lose her chance, and very probably her life.

  She spoke the words that began her ritual.

  Was it her imagination, or was Tel speaking as well? She didn’t have the luxury to check. Tel would have to hold his own now, as would she.

  Then the Confluence broke over them both, the hearts of the two impossibly huge storms crashing together. For a moment, it was the loudest noise Cathis had ever heard; then her ears failed her and all she could feel was pressure. Blood ran from her ears, but she did not notice it. Her sphere contracted, yet she ignored it. The headland was pounded to pieces about her, and all Cathis focused her mind on was her ritual.

  The tattoos on her arms glowed once more, but now with a blue so bright it was almost white. Her magic leapt from them, coruscating towards the line of river stones. The Dorvic runes on them pulsated with light.

  At once, Cathis felt a connection; the magic she had put into the stones called to the wildness above her, entreating it, begging to be made as one with the Confluence. And the storms responded—Like draws Like—rushing towards her trap.

  Cathis created a conduit for it, an opening in her sphere that permitted ingress to a tiny amount of the energy that now bore down upon her. In spite of this, the force was immense. It surged in like a victorious army breaching a fortress, like water bursting a dike. It almost broke through, and only at the last second did she manage to shrink the aperture to the size of a pinprick. Even so, it was all she could do to prevent the Confluence from widening it.

  Then, unexpectedly, unbelievably, the pressure lessened. It was still huge, but it was manageable. She could now make the power of the Confluence flow smoothly into the river stones, there to be trapped in the bonds of the ritual.

  Cathis didn’t understand why, until out of the corner of her eye she beheld an orange glow.

  Turning her head, she saw that Tel’s flame had grown, though it was wavering and guttering so that its form was indistinct and its size varied from moment to moment. It was like a fire struggling to survive on a night of bad weather, the wind trying to pull it apart as the rain threatened to drench it entirely.

  Which, of course, was exactly what was happening.

  Tel’s fire, sustained by his own magic—for she could see his tattoos glowing orange as he put his power into his creation—was not trying to absorb the might of the typhoons. It was challenging it.

  The scale of Tel’s ambition, of his arrogance, took her breath away. He too had provided a way through his shield, and into it howled the wind and rain, hurling themselves on the fire. Cathis couldn’t help but look closer, and she realised that Tel’s breach opened and closed at rapid, regular intervals, never permitting entry to more than his fire could handle. Each burst was consumed by the fire, the transferred energy keeping it alive and sustaining it in the face of each new assault.

  Cathis understood what he was doing. She had studied the use of fire, though she had neither Tel’s fascination with, nor his control over, it. However, there was one thing she didn’t understand.

  Why?

  Fire did not contain—it burned, leaving nothing behind but ash. Tel could not hope for any lasting advantage from his ritual, impressive as it was. So what was the point? Why go to all this trouble?

  She had to know. Cathis risked a mental communication.

  —Why are you doing this?

  His response, as before, was immediate.

  —Because I can. Because it’s possible—and I’ve shown it, I’ve proved it can be done. And because—

  —You’re insane! If your ritual should fail—

  —It won’t. I won’t. I—

  Cathis broke the mind contact. She didn’t care what Tel was doing. His thoughts had awakened a nascent fear within her. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. In the brief moments she’d given him, her sphere had shrunk again, and her conduit was being pushed wider. She drew on her reserves of power to reinforce both. Her head was pounding and she felt the fatigue in her limbs. Cathis had never expended such power, and she knew she’d pay for it later—presuming she survived the experience. Having given so much of herself, she refused to fail.

  Now that she was concentrating on her ritual, she felt in control. It was working; the river stones were containing everything. It was then that Cathis started to doubt.
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  Was it working too well? Was it all too easy? In spite of the pain she was in, she had expected worse, prepared for worse.

  Was Tel’s ritual taking too much of the Confluence away, siphoning it off and—her eyes widened—denying it to her?

  At first she pushed the doubt aside. Surely Tel didn’t have the power to do that, even if he had the inclination. Yet she could not ignore the thought completely. It worked both ways—he was able to maintain his own ritual only because she was also drawing on the Confluence. He’d known about her ritual; had he come here today in the knowledge that with her unwitting help he could succeed himself?

  Because I can. Because it’s possible.

  That was Tel’s motivation for most things; he did them because he could and because he wanted to see what would happen. Now he was doing it again, and worse, he was spoiling her own plans merely to gratify one of his own flights of fancy.

  Cathis felt her heart grow hot within her. No! I will not permit this!

  Slowly, carefully, Cathis widened the opening in her sphere, allowing a little more of the Confluence to come through. She expended more of her magic, giving the river stones the necessary capacity to hold the extra energy now flowing into them. The strain was almost enough to knock her to the ground, but even as her knees began to buckle, the forces assailing her lessened and she regained control.

  This time she knew what had happened, and a darting glance confirmed it. Tel’s fire had grown larger once more. He had matched her efforts, feeding more of the Confluence to his flame.

  —Leave off, Tel!

  Her mental message was a growl, and before he had a chance to answer, Cathis was widening the opening once more.

  Again, just as she was on the verge of being overwhelmed, Tel began drawing off more of the power—of her power.

  —Stop it, Tel!

  —Don’t you see—

  She broke off before he could finish his thought. She wouldn’t let Tel win. She had spent too long waiting, too long preparing for this moment. She’d already given so much of her life to Tel—he wouldn’t take this away from her as well.

  Cathis could feel him trying to establish a connection, but she refused to permit it. Instead, she gave him a mental shove. If he didn’t understand that message, there was no hope for him. It was the last one she intended to give.

  She let yet more of the Confluence in. Now she could truly feel its power. Her ritual bound her to the stones; they were linked by her magic. Cathis tried to grasp that power, use it for her own, but it resisted.

  Then it fought back.

  The shock was like a slap of ice cold water in the face, like a freezing gale chilling her to the bone and making her teeth ache all the way to their roots. For a moment, all Cathis could feel was pain, and that moment was all it took for her to lose her grip on the ritual. Had she not taken on more, she might have been able to recover, to wrest back control, but she had gone too far, used up too much of her magic.

  Her ritual began to fail.

  A river stone at the end of the line burst into fragments, exploding like a balloon filled with too much air. The energy it had held couldn’t be contained by the remaining stones, and Cathis was no longer able to use her magic to make up for the loss. The next stone along the line also detonated, and Cathis knew that she had failed. The stones would shatter one by one, and unless she could extricate herself from the ritual now, sever the ties between herself and the stones, all the power they’d been holding would pass into her—and tear her body apart.

  Her mind filled with terror, but Cathis refused to panic. She’d prepared for even this emergency. She knew the words to end the ritual; all she need do was say them.

  But she hadn’t anticipated the cold that came when the Confluence lashed her with its power. It left her numb, her teeth locked as if permanently gritted against the pain. She couldn’t force her mouth to open to speak the words.

  She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  —Cathis! Let me help you!

  Tel’s voice was a scream inside her head. Her reply was barely a whisper.

  —It’s too late, Tel. Too late for me. I failed. Save yourself.

  —No, Cathis! Hold on! I can save you!

  —How?

  —Merge our shields! Let me in!

  Cathis didn’t even have the strength for that, but as it turned out, strength was not required. All she had to do was stop resisting Tel, who was trying to merge his sphere with hers. Cathis hadn’t even realised she’d been keeping him out all along. She sighed as the familiar sensation of their blended magic stole over her. She found that she had missed it.

  —Tel…

  Tel, for once, was too intent upon the task at hand to reply. His living fire leapt into the gap between the fourth of Cathis’ river stones, which had just exploded, and the fifth. His arms glowed as he gave his fire the strength to combat the unleashed force of Cathis’ broken ritual. The flame swelled to a huge size, then shrank as the elements of air and water warred with fire.

  Cathis saw at once that Tel was fighting a losing battle. She’d trapped too much power in her ritual, and Tel was already weakening. Yet his intervention had given her a respite, and the heat of his fire revived her. She could move again.

  At once she spoke the words that broke her free of the ritual. Then, though she slumped to her knees at the sudden, shuddering loss of that connection, she invoked the power of stone, calling upon the earth itself.

  The ground split asunder, a deep fissure opening up before their feet. On the far side of that chasm Cathis raised a wall of stone to block the Confluence. Tel, realising what she had done, reached for the living fire from deep within the earth. Like Draws Like: his own conjured flame called to that far beneath them and roared back into life, doubling in size.

  Stone and fire strove with air and water, the two mages using their arts to oppose the might of two combined typhoons. Their tattoos shone as they drew on every resource, every last spark of their magic.

  But it was still not enough.

  Cathis’ wall was being battered into dust. Tel’s fire waned, growing smaller and dimmer with every passing second.

  —Tel! We have to do something different!

  —Like what? I don’t have much left.

  A desperate idea flashed through her mind.

  —We’re doing this the wrong way! We shouldn’t be pulling power from the earth! We should be sending the storm down there!

  —How?

  —Throw your fire down the hole!

  Even as they exchanged thoughts, Cathis pulled the fissure wider. Her stone wall collapsed into it. She threw one last message to Tel.

  —Hold it for me!

  —I’ll try!

  Tel gave his fire all he had, facing down the Confluence by himself, buying Cathis the time she needed. Free from the struggle, she spoke the words of her original ritual, activating the Dorvic runes on her last two river stones.

  “Elements of Life, Elements of Fate,

  One to Bind and One to Break,

  Like draws Like into the Snare,

  Unlike Binds the Power there.”

  The runes glowed once more. Cathis kicked them into the hole and they plunged out of sight.

  —Now, Tel!

  He cast his fire after the stones, collapsing on his face as his strength failed.

  Drawn once again by the connection to her stones, and still locked in battle with the opposing elements, all the power and might of the Confluence rushed into the chasm. Cathis broke herself off from the ritual and fell down beside Tel. She held her shield over them both as wind and rain cascaded past her into the fires of the earth. The last thing she remembered before she blacked out was the sky beginning to lighten.

  ***

  When she came to, the Confluence had passed. Cathis couldn’t tell whether it had all been pulled into the earth, or had broken free and gone raging inland. The sky was overcast and threatening rain, but rain
of a normal kind, and the wind was no more than she’d expect for an exposed cliff top.

  The headland itself was in ruins, as if the typhoons had grown talons and sunk them into it like a falcon tearing the entrails from a corpse. The fissure she’d created was just one of many, several of which extended hundreds of yards inland. Cathis noticed she was now barely a dozen feet from the cliff edge, while she had started that day three times as distant. There were no trees to be seen, nor exposed stones, and what little grass remained was flattened.

  Tel was beside her, still unconscious. She knew a few spells that would bring him round, but she wouldn’t be able to use magic for days, and she didn’t have the strength to take them somewhere less exposed. The best she could do was throw their cloaks over them as she huddled next to him for mutual warmth. Cathis tried to think about what had happened, but before she could even begin to process everything, she fell asleep.

  ***

  The next time she awoke was when Tel moved, shifting his body and putting his arm over her. For a moment, she wanted to pull away, but he was warm, and right now she wanted to be warm. Nor could she deny the comfortable familiarity. They could settle things between them later. Right now, this was good.

  She drifted in and out of sleep once or twice, but eventually she knew that it was time. She started to pull away. Tel immediately lifted his arm off her and gave her space. She regretted the loss of contact, but it was necessary.

  They moved apart and sat up, facing each other. Now that she was away from the heat of his body, Cathis was aware that her clothes were wet. It had rained, and their cloaks had only done so much.

  “I’d build us a fire,” said Tel, his voice hoarse with weariness, “but there’s nothing to fuel it, and I don’t have another one in me.”

  “We should find shelter, then,” she said, her throat feeling as raw as his sounded. “Can you walk?”