by Chris Miller
“It’s like that at first,” I recalled. “It’s going to take time; I must have swung my Veritas Sword a million times before I got it to light the first time. The more I focused on doing it myself, the more it frustrated me. But when I realized the power didn’t come from me, but from the Author, I didn’t mind so much when I made mistakes. I was just waiting on him to help me get it right.”
“I know; Alice explained that already. It’s just frustrating, that’s all. I swear if I have to look at that stupid bow again, I’ll break it in two.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” I smiled. “But before you break it there’s something else you should know about that stupid bow.”
“What’s that?” Trista said, sounding completely uninterested in what I was about to say.
“Do you remember Hope—the girl who gave me this medallion?”
Trista nodded.
“Well, the bow used to be hers,” I said.
Her expression softened immediately as she realized the hidden value of the weapon she had once called stupid.
“Wow, I didn’t know that. Did Petrov tell you?”
“Not exactly, but I know that it is. He intentionally caught my eye when he gave it to you, and I recognized it right away. Hope was the one who saved me from drowning when I first came to Solandria. She was the first person I met here and one of my biggest encouragers when I wanted to give up. You would have liked her.”
Trista ran her fingers gently across the bow’s gilded etchings as she considered the significance of all I had just told her. “Why do you think Petrov wanted me to have it?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know, but I had a vision of her last night.”
“Wait a minute…you had another vision and you didn’t tell us? What did you see?”
“Hope was lying on a stone table. She looked like she was in some kind of a coma…. I’m beginning to wonder if she is the ‘ember of hope’ waiting for the Fire to revive her.”
I decided to leave the last part about Xaul killing her out of my description for the moment. That part of the vision had been disturbing enough for me to watch, and I didn’t want the others to be discouraged by it.
“So, Hope could be alive?”
“Possibly. When I saw you using her bow it reminded me of the vision and how she could be alive out there somewhere—maybe even waiting for us to come save her. Maybe you will be the one to help save her, Trista.”
“Okay, you win…I’ll keep practicing,” Trista said, appearing encouraged by the thought that she just might have a part to play in this mission after all. “But there’s one thing we have to get clear before I do.”
“What’s that?”
“Since we’re officially friends now…you’ll have to call me Triss.”
“Deal,” I chuckled and helped her to her feet. “Come on! I’ll race you to the Training Round, Triss!”
“No way. I’ve seen you guys practicing. It’s not a fair race!”
The rest of the day Triss worked tirelessly in both studying the Writ and putting its words to use with her bow. By supper, she had been able to produce the tiniest spark of light between her bow. It wasn’t a full arrow yet, merely a modest swirl of blue energy in the space between the string and the bow. Rob and I walked up to watch as she finished her training for the day. Trista didn’t seem to notice; she was concentrating on the Code of Life and trying hard not to blink.
“True power does not come from the things of man, but from the palm of the Author’s hand,” she whispered to herself.
“Thath right, Trithta,” Alice said. “Dwell on the code. Believe it! For now, keep quoting the Code out loud. Eventhually, you will be able to arm your weapon with only your thought.”
The energy swirl was beginning to elongate and thin out on either side into an arrow. Rob and I smiled as we watched Trista’s belief grow before our eyes.
“Good,” Alice said. “Exthellent! Keep focuthing on the Code— don’t think about the arrow!”
Suddenly, the swirling ball that could have become a flaming arrow reverted back to a glowing ball and faded away in a burst of light. I expected to see disappointment in Trista’s eyes, but in fact she was excited.
“Did you see that? I almost had an arrow. That was the closest I’ve come today.”
We encouraged her for her discipline and perseverance. Philan announced the end of our training for the night.
“You all should be very proud of yourselves. You’ve made extraordinary progress tonight. Let’s pick up where we left off tomorrow morning, but now it’s time for supper. I believe Stoney has requested a private supper with you tonight, back in your quad. He has something to tell you. So, we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow for more training. Good rest to you!”
Chapter 19
The Interpreter
That night, I was too excited to fall asleep right away. I couldn’t stop thinking about all that had happened that day: the Emissary’s visit, the prophecy of the Flame’s hidden power, the marking of Philan and, of course, speculating who the remaining five might be. My mind settled on my growing suspicions that Hope might be one of the seven, the ember of hope. It made sense, didn’t it? The thought inspired me. I was anxious now, more than ever, to complete my quest—if only to see her once more.
When at last I did drift off, I found myself dreaming of Hope again.
* * * * * * *
Like incoming waves washing onto the shore, a blurry green glow gradually pulsed its way into the vast expanse of blackness. As it pulled into focus, an identifiable symbol emerged as the source of light. Circular and marked with three interlocking V’s, the Author’s mark belonged to a slowly spinning gold medallion.
The sparkling light that emanated from the medallion’s center suddenly blossomed into a flame. Having parted with the Author’s mark, the fiery guide began to float away, leading down a winding staircase into complete darkness. At the base of the stairwell, it passed through a massive wooden door and into a rugged terrain, surrounded on all sides by towering rock walls. In the center of the cave a great dragon lay slumbering. The spark passed by the sleeping beast without arousing it and continued on until it came to a crack in the rock wall.
At that moment, I became aware of my own presence in this surreal scene. Gliding effortlessly forward, I followed the Flame into the rift in the rock and down through a winding fissure until the descent stopped at a black stone door. As we approached, the door slid open, accompanied by the sound of grinding rock. The open door revealed our final destination, a massive underground garden.
The garden cavern was rich and fragrant. The rock walls were covered with climbing vines and flowering plants. Despite the darkness of this place, life was here. The Flame rushed off alone into the shadows until it reached a particular spot at the chamber’s ceiling. Then lowering itself slowly, it began to reveal the hovering form of a girl at rest on a stone table.
I had seen this vision before. Each time that my dreams had taken me back to revisit Hope, more of the scene was revealed. But this was the only time I felt as though I was actually there.
Climbing the stairs that led to the stone bier, I watched as the Flame once again spilled as liquid light over her body. Her pale skin began to shine just like before. Standing in the glow of her luminescence, I could sense the miracle of life returning and watched with wonder as her lungs began to take in breath anew.
As I reached out to touch her shoulder, Hope’s hand suddenly twitched, clasping my wrist in a stiff grip. Startled, I tried to pull away, but then froze when I heard two words sigh quietly past her lips, “Release me.”
“R-release y-you?” I stammered in shock. “How?”
Hope’s grip loosened and her arm began to fall limply away, but I caught it before it did, pleading again, “How? Please tell me!”
I waited in vain for a response,
until an unsettling feeling caused me to turn around. Watching me from the shadows below were two silver eyes.
“Stay back!” I shouted, stepping between Hope and the silently approaching Xin assassin. “You cannot have her!”
Without a word, Xaul leaped over me. I swung a fist at the twisting form as it passed over my head, but my defense was futile; his quick and powerful move took only a second to deliver. The next thing I knew, I was falling down the staircase into a bottomless well of shadows below. As I fell away from the scene, I saw Xaul turn, raise his sword and plunge its dark blade into Hope with finality once again.
The heat of his blade seemed to sear into my own chest as I watched him snuff the last spark of life from Hope. The burning on my chest intensified until I could stand it no longer.
* * * * * * *
Jolting awake, I sat up and fell out of my hammock to the stone floor. I was alone in my room in Torpor, but the strange burning sensation still lingered on my chest as if the fire of Xaul’s sword had left its mark on my heart.
Instinctively, I reached up to feel my chest and found the warmth was coming from the medallion itself. The Author’s mark had begun to glow with the heat of the Flame within it. Lifting the medallion away from my chest, I watched as the Flame emerged, floating overhead in the shape of a ball.
Take hold, a voice in the Flame whispered.
Though its message was unclear, somehow I instinctively knew it wanted me to touch it. The moment my hand entered the Flame I felt myself being pulled by it into a tunnel of light. My body was fluid and compressed, like toothpaste being squeezed from a tube. The sensation only lasted a few moments, but was disorienting to say the least. When at last it was over, I found I was no longer in Solandria at all.
I was standing on a cement sidewalk, in an unfamiliar city, at the end of a long row of skinny two-story houses crammed tightly together. I didn’t know for sure where I was, but things looked and felt a lot like Destiny. For all I knew, it was.
All was quiet except for the tinkling of a windchime somewhere nearby and the howl of a train in the distance. A gentle breeze blew past, swinging a squeaky chain-link gate slowly open a few paces from where I stood. Then, all was still.
The gate belonged to the only house whose porch light was still turned on. Was it a sign for me to come in?
I hesitated to enter at first, still wary of my surroundings, but the medallion warmed on my chest, then lifted slightly away seeming to draw me toward the open gate. Following its lead, I started down the narrow walkway toward the front door of a stranger’s house. With every step, I had the eerie feeling that I was being watched by something. There wasn’t enough light from the dim porch light to know for sure, but the shadows in the small yard were deep enough to hide a variety of dangerous things.
After three steps up the path, a second gust of wind blew past, slamming the gate shut behind me. I tried not to let it scare me, but a low, guttural growl from a creature in the yard confirmed my foremost fear…I was not alone.
The growling seemed to surround me, first coming from the right side…then from the left. With nowhere to go, I froze in place as the menacing growls grew more intense and irritated with my presence. My imagination ran wild with the possibilities of what it could be. The suspense of not being able to see the threat was killing me. I needed light and protection.
My sword still hung at my side, latched to my belt by a leather clasp. If I moved quickly enough, perhaps I could grab and ignite it before the creature attacked. It was my only shot at protection.
Counting down from three in my mind, I executed the plan perfectly. My sword flashed to light with the will of the Code, revealing the beast that was rushing at me from the right. A large black dog was barreling toward me now, angered at the light and my intrusion on its property. I would have cut it apart to save myself except that a second identical dog began rushing at me from the opposite side of the path. Two dogs, teeth bared, hair raised on their backs, were racing toward me with vicious intentions. I would have time to catch only one with the sword before the other tackled me. Which would I choose, left or right? Before I could decide, their advances came to an abrupt and painful stop as each dog fell back only inches from the pathway I stood on. They continued growling at me from either side, but did not come an inch closer.
“It’s all right,” a woman’s voice called out from the front door, waving me forward. “They can’t get you as long as you stay on the path. The invisible fence keeps them in place. Come on in. No use chatting outside this time of night.”
From where I stood I couldn’t make out the features of the silhouetted figure that had just beckoned me into her house. Even though I normally would never enter a stranger’s home alone, I figured it was safe to make an exception this time. It was certainly better than staying in the yard.
As I stepped toward the porch, the dogs moved along beside me all the way to the base of the stairs. Once I took my first step on the staircase, the dogs backed away, unable to follow me further.
At the top of the stairs I discovered the figure was not, in fact, a stranger as I had first expected. Her short white hair, round brown eyes, rosy complexion and friendly, wrinkled smile was one I used to dread, but had come to love.
“Gabby?”
“Yes, it’s me, Hunter. Surprised?”
“A little. What are you doing here?”
“It’s my home, Hunter; I live in Destiny.”
“You didn’t tell me that!”
“You sure? I could have sworn I did at the feast when we first met. Of course, I say a lot of things to a lot of people. Not everyone hears everything I say, and I suppose I say more than I should at times too.”
This was, in fact, a true statement. Gabby had the gift of…well…gab. She could talk for hours on end if you let her. To some, it might have been annoying, but her joy and passion for life was so contagious you couldn’t help but grow to like her.
“Please, come in. I’ve been expecting you for quite some time, you know.”
She was a small woman, but she packed more spunk per square inch than anyone else I knew. I followed her into a cluttered living space highlighted by olive green couches and two orange oversized chairs. The space was not very big, more like an apartment than a home, but it seemed to suit Gabby’s needs. The smell of lavender floated in the air from candles burning on the mantle of the fireplace across the room. For the most part the place was tidy, though the small end table beside the couch was piled with past-due bills.
“I have some hot tea on the stove; would you like some?”
“Sure, I guess,” I said, still trying to work out why and how I was even here in the first place. At first glance, the décor was definitely that of an older person: white lace doilies, porcelain statuettes, inspirational plaques and, of course, a scattering of family pictures proudly displayed throughout the room. Several of the photographs were of her and her late husband, Gerwyn, who had died trying to save me from a dragon in Solandria. Each golden frame was neatly arranged and dust-free.
But as I examined things closer, I discovered there was also an assortment of items that just seemed out of place. On the coat rack a black hooded sweatshirt hung limply, complete with a trendy skull design on its sleeve. Below it, a backpack and pair of dirty tennis shoes (much too big for Gabby’s feet) were slung against the base of the entryway wall. Set up beneath the television was a video game console and a basket of recent game titles, hardly the kind of entertainment I expected a lady like her to show interest in.
“So you live alone?” I asked, curious to hear her response.
“I do now, but I haven’t always,” she answered as the tray of teacups and saucers she carried clattered across the room. “Those video games belonged to my grandson, if that’s what you mean. I have his picture up on the mantle there in the corner. Of course that’s three years old…he stopped getti
ng school pictures after the seventh grade.”
She handed a cup of hot tea to me in a fragile china cup as I spotted the picture of her grandson. The boy in the 4 x 6 school photo was all smiles, grinning widely despite an obvious gap between his front teeth. His eyes were squinted mostly shut, which drew more attention to his freckled nose and thick brown eyebrows.
“Looks like a funny…er, I mean fun kid,” I said, absent-mindedly, hoping she hadn’t taken offense to my poor choice of words. She seemed not to notice, so I took a casual sip of tea and nearly burnt my tongue in the process. This is why I don’t like hot drinks, I reminded myself.
“Yes, Cranton always was a hoot to have around, especially when he was younger.”
“Cranton!” I said in shock, nearly spitting what little tea I had sipped into the air. I forced myself to swallow it, and it burned all the way down my throat. That was him. Of course, he was much younger in the picture, and I rarely saw him smile in a friendly manner anymore, but sure enough it was Cranton.
“Did you say Cranton is your grandson?!”
“Well, yes! Why? Do you know him?”
“Yeah, he’s been in a few classes with me, but we’ve never really hung out much. We’re not really what you’d call friends, I guess. He’s just…uh…well…”
“A bully, I know,” Gabby added bluntly.
Her response surprised me; I wasn’t used to hearing grandparents talk about their grandkids like that—after all, it was the grandparents’ job to gush over how good and sweet they were, not state the obvious.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Gabby continued, eyeing the look of shock on my face. “I loved the boy dearly. But he chose to make life miserable for himself and everyone around him after his parents died…”
“I didn’t know his parents died.”
“Yes, it was almost seven years ago now, a car accident. He was in fifth grade at the time, never really recovered from it either. He kept to himself at first but once he hit seventh grade he started finding trouble.” I noticed her eyes begin to gloss over as she fought back tears. She wiped one from the corner of her eye and began to choke up as she recalled the choices her grandson had made.
