Relic (The, Books of Eva I)

by Heather Terrell

  Lukas’s eyes remain on the floor. “You need to be able to identify every type of snow. Even in a blizzard when you can’t even see your fingers in front of your face.”

  “I couldn’t have just closed my eyes in that exercise? I really needed that blindfold?” I say, taunting him a little bit.

  He laughs. “I needed to make sure you wouldn’t cheat.”

  “Me, cheat? An upstanding Maiden of the Aerie? Never.”

  “You’re not like other Maidens of the Aerie, Eva,” he answers with a smile and a low tone. Then he looks up and with a stronger voice, he says, “Anyway, I wanted you to be as prepared as Eamon.”

  “Am I?” I suddenly need to know.

  He pauses for an almost imperceptible tick. “Yes. Just differently.”

  Before I have the chance to ask what he means, there’s a rustle in the corridor outside my bedroom. I see a flash of terror on Lukas’s usually implacable face. It’s all well and good for him to train me, but if he were found alone in my bedroom, I can’t answer for my father’s reaction. The Lex would certainly support the use of the gallows. Aerie girls and Boundary boys are never, ever permitted to be alone.

  We nod at each other in shared understanding. Lukas climbs onto my window ledge, opens the sash, and then slips out of my bedroom into the night.

  Only a few sleepless bells later, I stand on the platform at the center of the Aerie town square, encircled by the enormous fiery torches lit for the Testing’s vale.

  I’ve stood on this platform dozens of times before, alongside my parents and Eamon. Every Testing Day for the past nine years, my father has spoken to the people of New North. But this is different. This time the lit torches and crowds are here for me.

  I feel unmoored up here without Eamon. Everyone I have ever known—Aerie or Boundary—watches. Not that they have any choice; The Lex mandates the entire population’s attendance. I see two of my former School girlfriends—Grace and Annika—both of whom turned their backs on me when I decided to Test. Their scorn hurt only a little. My best friend had always been Eamon. My mother always lamented that our closeness prevented me from having many Maiden friends. Now, standing up here on this platform, I see something new in Grace and Annika’s eyes—not only revulsion for my choice, but also fear for my fate. When they see me staring down at them, they turn away.

  For what little comfort can be offered, I turn to my family at the edge of the platform. As with everything in New North, the crowd is organized according to rank: Triad members in front, Keepers and their families right behind, with the regular Aerie folk like Stewards and Guards in back of them. And in the far rear, the Boundary people stand, a nearly uniform sea of black hair and dark eyes.

  Not surprisingly, my mother is decked out in her finest Feast dress, even though the Prime Bell hasn’t even rung yet. She is peeking to her left, assessing the dress of the Triad wife next to her. My father isn’t watching me either. He stares at the crowd instead. When he braves a glance up, I understand why. He can’t conceal his own fear for me. The Lex forbade him to participate in Eamon’s training, and he’d been confident for his son. Not so, for me. Maybe making eye contact wasn’t the best idea. I want to stay strong. Or, at least, look strong. I think of The Lex: let your children Test should they choose the Commitment, as Testing is a Sacred Honor granted only by the Gods …

  I turn my attention back to the platform. The eleven other Testors flank me. Gallants, all. Of course, there’s Jasper, but I know the others as well. You can’t attend the Aerie School and not be familiar with everyone your age, although we’re patently ignoring one another right now. We are all wearing the same black Testing uniform: tunics over pants topped by inky sealskin coats. Gone are my long Maiden gowns and fur cloaks, and I wonder if I look ridiculous up here, dressed like a Gallant. I really have no idea, as I’ve never seen myself at length. My father’s mirror Relic is the New North’s best and most stark reminder of that sacred law. The Lex bans the use of reflections, so we Aerie Ladies, Gentlewomen, and Maidens rely on the honesty of others to get a sense of our appearances. That, and the occasional peek at a window or smooth stretch of ice. And I didn’t get either honesty or ice today, other than a scornful look from my mother. Me: the would-be botanist, in my Testing uniform with my hair pinned up in the fishtail design favored by the Boundary women.

  What am I doing up here?

  The thought makes me self-conscious. I start to tremble. I have to fight to keep from losing my composure. I scan the crowds, desperate to catch sight of someone or something to stop the anxiety before it takes hold. At first, I notice only the tidy network of the Aerie town center—with its well-kept Keeps and interconnected, covered ice-bridges. Then, in the farthest reach of the town square, near the stone archway of the Housegoods Keep, I note some of our family Attendants, Katja among them. Her expression mirrors that of Grace and Annika; she looks both baffled and frightened. None of this helps my rattled nerves.

  Only when I spot Lukas do I realize I’ve been searching for him all along. He sees what is happening. He mouths one word, the one he had uttered over and over in our training: “Believe.”

  I can’t nod, but I blink hard and meet his eyes. I feel my feet on the ground again, solid. I stop shaking. When Father mounts the stage and begins speaking, I am composed enough to turn toward him and listen.

  “Today, we gather for the Vale, the farewell to our Testors. These young men—” He clears his throat, and I wonder if his slip was unintentional—or even a subtle encouragement, that he truly thinks the same of me as he thought of Eamon. “Excuse me, these young people will leave the safety of the Aerie and venture toward the most hazardous part of New North—the Frozen Shores.”

  Here, Jasper’s uncle Ian, the Chief Lexor, takes his ritual place beside my father. I can’t help but note that the deep lines carved into his face are once more dark and frozen. Gone is any trace of the celebratory Feast-goer I saw last night. In fact, if I allow my vision to blur, my father and Ian look very similar in their dark ritual garb, decorated only by the tiny Triad symbol above their hearts.

  “The Testors place themselves in the gravest danger for the benefit of the New North people, to become Archons,” Ian intones. “We of New North need Archons to show us the perils of our ways before the Healing—the abuse of our Father Earth that yielded the Healing floods. We need to learn again of the hunger for Tylenols that poisoned our minds; the thirst for Cokes that weakened our bodies; the greed for MasterCards that toppled our rulers. All this evil spawned from the worship of the false god Apple …”

  I find it hard to focus on Ian’s recitation of New North’s history and the creation of the Testing. I’ve heard it so often. The departure weighs heavily on me, and Eamon’s journal burns in my pocket. Certain phrases haunt me more than most: I can no longer ignore the truth of what I’ve learned—and—will they still love me when I do what I must … These passages are not at all like words my brother would have spoken aloud. The twin I thought I knew so well.

  “It is time for the final Vale,” Ian concludes.

  The Chief Basilikon steps onto the dais. He starts calling each of us forward to be anointed with symbolic Healing waters. When it’s my turn to approach the front of the platform, I swear I hear a quiet hiss throughout the crowd. I know that my participation in the Testing isn’t popular. Still, I’m shocked that anyone would be so audacious after the Triad approved my Commitment, especially since my father is the Chief Archon. I tell myself that I’ve imagined it.

  Under the hawkeyed watch of the Ring-Guards, the people start to depart. They move toward that great rift in the Ring called the Gate, the only opening in the Ring.

  There, all of New North will watch as we Testors gear up, mount our dogsleds, and ride off into the Boundary lands. I’ve witnessed the ritual every year of my life, but never imagined I’d be on one of those sleds.

  As the people disperse, the three Chiefs give the Testors a final chance to say goodbye to their fami
lies.

  One by one, we march down the platform stairs. I enter the huddle of my kin, and they pass me from aunt to uncle to cousin until my parents have a turn for a last embrace.

  My mother, her face a mask of Lady-fortitude, goes first. Instead of hugging me like the rest of my family, she takes my shoulders in her hands. “Make us proud, Eva. This family has had enough grief.” I tell myself that there’s affection and concern underneath her façade, and I embrace her.

  My father steps up. He wraps me up in his arms, as if I were a toddler. Into my ear, he whispers, “Don’t worry about winning, Eva. Worry about coming home.” He pulls back slightly and looks into my eyes. “Promise me that you won’t risk your life to win. I couldn’t bear losing my only child,” he whispers.

  I can’t believe what he’s asking. It’s heresy to ask a Testor not to do their utmost: let your children Commit in full. Do not hold them back with sentiment. Not to mention that he’s Chief Archon, a Sacred Guardian of The Lex and Protector of The Praebulum.

  “I promise,” I whisper back.

  “Testors, it is time,” Ian tells us, once he’s loosened himself from the crowd surrounding his nephew Jasper.

  I break from my father’s embrace and enter the line of twelve. As we begin to walk toward the Ring, I’m thinking only one thing: I’m wishing that The Lex didn’t forbid me from walking over to Lukas and saying goodbye. If I survive, credit will be his alone. And since his Companion work is over, he may well be sent back to the Boundary lands by the time I return.

  We approach the Gate, and I see that the Gods have given me a chance. Lukas stands at the very tail end of the crowd. As our line passes close to where he stands, I break from tradition and wave farewell to the Aerie. But I look only at him.

  For the first time in my life, I make the Passage. Very few Aerie people ever walk through the Gate; The Lex permits only the Triad, Testors, and Ring-Guards to take the step. Now I see why. Staring out at the vast expanse of pure white—and nothing else—I’m standing at the end of the world.

  I force myself to calm the vertiginous feeling and study the landscape. Lukas instructed me on how this might give me an edge when the Campana sounds. To my left, I see a few small Boundary ice-dwellings clinging to the base of the Ring. Obviously the Boundary people chose to build these shabby, ill-made huts close to have at least some kind of buffer against the winds and deadly animals that plague the world outside the Ring. Beyond those lodgings, I see only that enormous flat swath of ice and snow. But, from Lukas, I know to look more closely.

  I squint into the brightness and examine the horizon. In the far, far distance, I spot the ghost of the snow-covered Taiga, the large forest of birches and pines that we are going to have to weave through before we reach the treeless Tundra.

  It is this expanse—between the Ring and the Taiga—that I must know better than the other Testors to gain the First Advantage. I must understand its snow, and use it to my favor. And I will have only one chance.

  At the Chief Lexor’s signal, we head to the lineup of dogsleds. More wolf than dog, my team terrified me initially. They resented me when I took over their training after Eamon’s death, the only human to whom they’d grown accustomed. At first, the very tick I’d handle the reins, the dogs would snarl and gnash at me. Then they’d take out their aggression on each other and the snow would end up dotted with blood. It took me nearly a month to win their trust—and their deference—so that I could get them to work in sync and use their distinctive talents. By the time I harnessed them to my sled line this morning, they’d become like the sister and brothers I do not have.

  The lead husky, Indica, is distinctive with his pure black face. There’s Johan, Hansen, James, and Singerneq, all hardworking white huskies, nearly indistinguishable but for the different placement of black patches on their bodies. The two grey dogs—Rasmus and Pierre—and the brownish husky—Akim—are good-natured, but will vie for position if not firmly managed. Finally, there’s Sigurd, beautiful and black with a circular white patch around her right eye. She’s the only female. A kindred spirit.

  I check that my bags are secure and that the state of my sled is in order. I give each of the dogs a rub. From now on, it will be entirely up to me. No more Companions. No more Attendants. No more father who happens to be Chief Archon. No more prying Lady mother. For the first time in my life, I must rely on myself.

  My heart beats hard at the thought of what I’m about to do. I’ve never done anything even vaguely illicit before, other than climbing the turret with Eamon and writing in this journal, both of which seem like child’s play now.

  As I inspect my gear, I gather a small mound of snow in my glove. Rubbing it between my fingers, I see that the snow is masak. The sled’s runners will drag in this wet, spring snow without aid. Surreptitiously, I dip my hand into the side bag Lukas prepared for me, and pull out a small skin soaked in whale oil. Under the guise of further examining my sled, I run the oily skin over its runners.

  I continue to pretend to inspect my sled, but not because I’ve engaged in Lex-breaking. The Lex doesn’t prohibit what I’ve just done; in fact, it doesn’t address such tricks at all. That’s because the Aerie—and accordingly, The Lex—grant no credibility to the Boundary people’s knowledge of snow. But using Boundary skills in the Testing would not be popular with the Triad, who hold our fates in their hands as they calculate the points garnered in the nine Advantages comprising the Testing. Plus, I don’t want to tip off the other Testors.

  We finish our final checks and stand in front of our sleds, ready for the Lexor’s signal to mount. I glance at the Testors on either side of me. Although I know them, I have no idea how they’ll treat me out here, especially since Test rumors fly each year about betrayals and dirty tricks, even among lifelong friends.

  To my left are Knud and Tristan. Both varying shades of blond, they always seemed bland Lex-followers to me. I recall being surprised when Eamon mentioned they’d entered their names for the Testing. Maybe their families pressured them, as they both come from Keeper stock. Or maybe I underestimated them.

  Beyond them are Jacques, Benedict, Thurstan, and William. All four were friends of Eamon’s and similar to him in obvious ways: gifted in The Lex but questioning, enterprising, and strong. Both Jacques and Benedict’s fathers work directly for the Keeper of the Fishery, and I wonder whether that aligns them or makes them more competitive with each other. Thurstan, barrel-chested and more coarse than the rest, doesn’t have that worry; his father is Keeper of the Grains, and he will have a place in the Ark no matter what happens out here. The same is true of William whose family has served as Keeper of Buildings and Homes since the founding of New North. He definitely seems more suited to the cerebral job of building design and maintenance.

  Over the course of the morning, all four of these Gallants have shot me at least one sympathetic glance. I know that doesn’t mean they’ll be any less fierce in the Testing.

  At the end of the left side of the line stand Anders, Petr, and Niels. I know each by sight but not well, other than Niels, who, not unlike William, always seemed quiet and bookish. Definitely more suited to life as a Scholar than an Archon. If I had to guess, the families of Petr and Anders pressured them to Commit, as both their families are fairly low in the Aerie strata, serving several rungs under the Keeper of the Flames. Their families have a great understanding of fuel and fire, however, so maybe they have an advantage I don’t know of. And a victory would elevate significantly the status of the winner’s family.

  To my right is Aleksander, the son of the head Ring-Guard. He was always the perfect Lex-follower and teacher-pleaser at School. Yet, no matter how hard he tried—or rather, because of how hard he tried—he wasn’t well-liked. He grins at me, but he’s standing uncomfortably close. All at once I remember that his father voiced the strongest opposition to my Testing.

  Jasper stands on the other side of Aleksander.

  We haven’t been near enough to make eye conta
ct today; I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved. Last night seems like a dream against the reality of the Testing, and I have no idea how to behave around him. Before I can decide whether it’s wise to acknowledge him, the Herald raises the red Testing flag. The crowd sees the flag and roars in anticipation. We mount our dogsleds, put on our wooden snow goggles to soften the blinding glare coming off the ice, and wait for the final signal. For the only time this year, the Campana tolls twelve times to signify the Testing.

  We are off.

  I crack my whip in the air, and my dogs respond immediately. With the oiled runners, my sled skids over the masak easily, and I send a silent thanks to Lukas for all his instruction. Within ticks, I am alone on the vast white snow. I am in the lead.

  When I was eight years old, the year before Father was elected Chief Archon, Eamon and I climbed out onto the turret for the first time in one of many attempts to escape Mother’s tyranny. The Aerie and the Ring spread out before us, an infinite white. My Boundary Nurse Aga had secretly followed us, with a scolding finger in the air but an indulgent smile on her face; other than Eamon, my Nurse probably understood me best of all. Although I remember feeling scared of the heights, especially when the icy wind whipped my gown around my feet, I mostly remember feeling free.

  Racing through the vast, empty expanse of New North, I feel like that eight-year-old girl all over again. Or I try to. I hold on to the joy of those memories, but the cold is already seeping into my bones. I can’t stop Lukas’s litany of instructions from creeping into my mind. What was it he said? Oh, right. Never let your mind drift because that’s when the snow drifts in.