by Levi Samuel
The snow behind them exploded, showering the area in white flakes. Those that came near the pair melted almost instantly.
“We need to find shelter. There’s no way we can fight something we can’t see coming. Especially when we have no idea what it is.” Inyalia slowly made her way through the snow, searching every direction for the creature. If they could reach the cliff face, they could use it to guard their backs.
Lorena stuffed the scale into her pouch and made her way toward Inyalia, attempting to stay in her wake. The snow was loose, caving into the tracks almost instantly. It made following just as difficult as paving the way herself.
Reaching the stone wall, Inyalia sidestepped, allowing Lorena room to take position beside her.
“I told you this was a trap.” Lorena chuckled to herself more than anything.
“Noted. Why didn’t this thing show itself when I was here before?”
“Hard to say. Some creatures feed on magical energy. It’s possible it came when we used the scroll. Or maybe it was waiting for us to let our guard down. Defining the motives of a beast are usually limited to preservation, be it food, defense, or shelter.”
“Doesn’t matter its reasons, we need to be cau—” Inyalia was silenced. Taken back, she tried to pull away from Lorena’s hand covering her mouth.
“Shh!” Lorena gestured to their left.
At the edge of the mound where the arrow had been retrieved, a creature waited, watching them. Slithering in place, it hovered just above the snow. The glossy pale scales shimmered the reflected moonlight. It had a solid mass to its thin eel-like frame, but the movement appeared to pulse between a constant state of existence and something transparent. Whatever it was, it didn’t appear completely corporeal.
Slowly leaning in, Lorena whispered as quiet as possible. “It’s an ice wyrm. We need to move quietly. They hunt entirely by sound. And there’s never just one.”
Working free of Lorena’s grip, Inyalia matched her volume. “You couldn’t tell that from the scale?”
“I’ve never seen one. They’re described in Hogarth’s Manual of Vicious Beasts, but there was no picture available.”
The creature inched forward, searching for any sign of its prey. Its nostrils flared, revealing fangs that were too large to be contained. A recessed pit rested on each side of its thin head where eye sockets had once been. Now it was stretched tightly, covered by serrated scales.
Slowly, Inyalia drew the string of her bow, stopping when the back side of the blunted tip rested at the edge of her thumb.
“What are you doing? If you shoot it, it’ll know where we are.” Lorena pleaded as quietly as she could manage.
“I’m not going to shoot it. I’m going to give it something to chase. Do you see that crevice to my right?”
Glancing behind the ranger, Lorena saw only rock and snow. But there was a section where the rocks were more visible than the rest. That had to be where Inyalia meant. “I think so.”
“Good. This mountain is riddled with hidden strongholds. When I fire my arrow, I want you to run for that crevice as fast as you can. I’ll be right behind you. When you reach it, forget about the shadows. Forget about everything you think you know. Press your way into the crevice and don’t look back.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Lorena spoke louder than intended. The creature hissed, pausing its casual slithering motion.
Keeping her bow drawn, Inyalia raised a finger, silencing her companion. Lorena had to trust her. That was the only way they were going to get past this thing. She just hoped she was right. She didn’t know if the rocks held an entrance. And without inspecting it for herself, there was no way to be sure. But it seemed right. It seemed obviously natural. If that wasn’t an indicator, she had nothing else to go on. But everything up to this point had been a test. Why would this be an exception? Waiting for the wyrm to begin its movement again, Inyalia returned her risen finger to the string. “Are you ready?”
“No. Give me a moment.” Slowly, Lorena worked her way behind Inyalia. Placing her hand over the quiver, she grabbed a handful of arrows and carefully pulled them free.
“What are you doing?”
“If you’re wrong, we’re going to have to fight. These arrows won’t do anything as they are. If things get ugly, you’ll need something that can do some damage.” Focusing her will, Lorena’s hands began to glow. The radiating light spread through the shafts and surrounded the blunted tips. Encompassing the handful of arrows, it faded from view as if nothing had happened. Lorena returned them to the quiver and got into position. “I’m ready.”
Inyalia nodded, giving the signal. She released the string, hearing its pop.
Instantly, the creature launched forward, first toward the pair. The arrow skated across the top of the snow, skimming the surface. Unsure which direction to go, it chose the closer of the two and chased the arrow.
Lorena broke into a sprint, clawing her way toward the collection of rocks. Reaching them, she closed her eyes, hoping there was some merit to what Inyalia had said. Sure enough, she felt an opening. Forcing her way inside, she opened her eyes, unprepared for the horrors that awaited her.
The creature disappeared as quick as Inyalia’s arrow had. Keeping watch, the young ranger ran toward Lorena. She was a few feet behind when she heard the screams. Freezing, Inyalia searched the void between the rocks for anything that could deliver answers. Lorena’s face appeared in the moonlight, her mouth agape, frozen in terror. Tears flowed down her cheeks, contrast against the pale skin. Inyalia heard a low growl within the crevice. Suddenly, without resistance, Lorena was gone, ripped into the darkness by forces unknown. Her bow aimed, one of the enchanted arrows nocked and ready to fly, Inyalia inched forward. Fear grew inside her. She wanted to turn and flee. But she needed to know what happened. Whether she was alive or dead, she had to find Lorena. She owed her that much.
Reaching the thin opening between the rocks, Inyalia peered inside. Even with the moon as close as it was, her vision couldn’t pierce the veil. Swallowing her fear, she squeezed into the gap, searching for whatever evil hid within.
It took only a moment to discover this was not one of the hidden strongholds she’d sought. Instead, it was a small cavern, though due to the lack of breeze, she suspected it was either shallow or collapsed somewhere along the way. There was no light inside whatsoever. Inyalia stole a quick glance behind her, seeing the glowing white outside. Something was keeping it dark in here. That was the only explanation. Slowly, cautiously, Inyalia made her way deeper into the cavern. The hair on her arms and neck stood on end. She felt like she was being watched, but nothing showed itself, not that she could see it if it had. It was certainly being quiet, whatever it was.
Keeping her arrow trained to her line of sight, Inyalia was beginning to make out details in her surroundings. It began as a dim glow in the center of the small chamber. That’s what it was. No exit tunnels, no branching veins. Just a small cavity in the rock, narrowly wider than her parent’s home.
A silhouette grew in her vision. It was still, in the form of a prone body. Cautiously, she approached, scanning the walls and ceiling. Whatever had grabbed Lorena was still present. Inyalia studied the body. It was wrapped in a cloak, all features hidden from view. Though it appeared larger than the missing mage. Her fear grew. Was this Tylor? Did he fall to the creature? Pressing her booted foot against the shoulder, she gave a firm shove. Maybe she could rouse them. But just in case it was a trap, she kept her bow drawn and aimed.
The figure rocked but made no further action.
Again, she shoved, harder this time. She needed to see who it was. As intended, it rolled to its back. Inyalia’s heart leapt. Her breath became short and rapid. Every ounce of will she’d been conserving faded away. “Daddy?” Inyalia lowered her draw and discarded her bow. She fell to her knees, shaking the deceased form of her father. He was covered in blood, though she couldn’t see where it was coming from. “Daddy, wake up!” Inyalia sob
bed uncontrollably. He was gone. There was nothing she could do. There was so much blood. Rocking back and forth, she held onto her father, unable to stifle her tears.
“Inyalia?” A rasping voice called. It was weak, barely audible.
“Mom?” Inyalia asked, breaking her hold on her father. Standing, she searched for her mother, half blinded by tears. Something hit her legs and she tripped. Inyalia landed face to face with her mother. She was bruised and beaten. Much of her skin had been melted away from heat.
“Inyalia. Run!” There was concern on Melaena’s face, what was left of it. She gasped and fell still.
“Mommy, don’t leave me!” Inyalia shouted, getting to her knees. In the corner of her eye she saw another figure. Baal had had his throat cut. His lifeless eyes stared at her, cold and uninviting. Vera rested a few steps from him. Her neck was purple and disfigured. Everywhere she looked, she saw bodies. People she knew. People she cared about. Each one dead. And she was powerless to do anything about it. Tylor’s body dangled from a pike. Lorena had been shredded to pieces. A cold expression remained on her face. It told Inyalia that this was her fault.
Arms wrapped around her knees, Inyalia sobbed. She was all alone. More alone than she’d ever been. As if the thought triggered something inside her, she saw another figure. But this one wasn’t elven. It was a dragon, the dragon, Alona. The warm glow the beast had bestowed upon her came to the surface. Inyalia felt calm. She felt warm. Everything was going to be okay. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself to her feet. None of this was real. It couldn’t be. This was another test. An attempt to break her. “No—I will not break!”
The declaration renewed her will. Inyalia watched the bodies vanish like smoke on the breeze. They were gone, with them, the darkness. She could see.
The cavern was about the size she’d guessed, though it was slightly smaller. But every surface, the floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in thousands of sigils. This was a test. And she passed. How could she not? But where was Lorena?
Wiping the tears from her face, she could feel the heat on her cheeks. They were steaming, and no doubt red. Looking around, Inyalia heard a growl at the entrance. Startled, she saw the ice wyrm in the opening. She’d forgotten all about the creature. And here she was, unarmed and alone. Her bow was laying in the floor, halfway across the chamber. But the beast didn’t appear to have found her yet. It was slithering, sniffing, showing all the signs it had when it didn’t know where they were. If she was quiet, there was a chance she could reach her weapon before it heard her.
Inyalia made her way forward, moving slowly, hoping to prevent the slightest squeak in her armor. What she hadn’t taken into account were the loose stones on the cavern floor. One hit her boot and rolled just enough to resonate.
The wyrm froze, letting out a low growl. It was aimed upon her, its jaw retracted to display hundreds of needle-like teeth, each one longing for the taste of warm blood.
She had to act now. It knew where she was, and she had no doubt it was faster. Charging, Inyalia barely had time to see the creature headed straight for her. She rolled, landing on her right shoulder. But it was close enough to grab her bow. On the follow through, she nocked the arrow and drew, releasing just as the icy breath fell upon her.
Inyalia felt time slow. Everything happened in the blink of an eye, but for her it felt like an eternity. She hadn’t reoriented herself yet. She was crouched on one knee, her other leg extended for balance. The feathers of her arrow twisted, slicing through the frozen air around her. She could almost see it. An enlarged mouth was inches from her, those razor-tipped teeth aimed to tear her apart. But it was the arrows trajectory that caught her attention most of all. It was headed straight down the creature’s throat. She watched the blunted tip scrape the spine and several ribs on its way down. And when it finally impacted, somewhere near the mid-section, the arrow exploded.
Time resumed. Inyalia felt the force of the blast carrying her backward. Wrapping her arms around her head, she prepared for impact.
The cavern wall was by no means comfortable, but it didn’t feel like she’d expected. She also wasn’t ready to keep sliding after the impact. Coming to a stop, she glanced around, wondering what had happened.
Tylor sat at the edge of a stone guardrail, watching her with a smirk. “Took you long enough.”
Chapter IX
A Final Trial
Gaining her bearings, Inyalia leapt to her feet and charged the illusive ranger. She was both furious and relieved. She wanted to hug him and beat him at the same time. Anger won out. Her fists flew of their own accord. She struck him in the side of the head, feeling little remorse. “What the hell? How could you do that to me? Is this some kind of sick joke?” She swung again, stopping just short of her mark.
Tylor held firm, keeping the assault from connecting a second time. “I apologize for what you’ve experienced. But you should know, we’ve all experienced it one way or another. It hits some harder than others.” His tone became solemn and reserved. “I can only imagine what you’ve seen. It’s not the same for everyone. Most experience the loss of their family, but that’s not always the case. Whatever it was, I’m sorry.” Releasing her arms, Tylor took a step back, allowing her a moment to regain her composure. “The cave makes you confront your worst fears. It shows you what you’re fighting for. But it also tells you what you have to lose. By acknowledging this, you can prepare yourself, should those fears become a reality.” Tylor’s words drifted off. He approached one of the many basins lining the elevated walkway and held his hands over the flames.
“I’m sorry I hit you.” Inyalia watched him. He was retreating, though not from her. There was something in his tone. He’d spoken as if he’d experienced the trauma firsthand. For a moment, she’d seen it in his eyes. It was the same look she’d seen on Lorena minutes before. That reminded her. “Where’s Lorena?”
Turning to face the young ranger, Tylor regained his usual demeanor. “She’s gone on to finish her own trials. I will say, it was rather cold of you to use her as bait.”
“I didn’t—I—I was trying—.”
“Let me finish.” Tylor interrupted. “It was cold. But these are the decisions we are sometimes forced to make. You achieved your objective. You made it here on your own. Lorena did not.”
“But—I had to have Lorena’s help to get here.” Inyalia was feeling confused by all of this. How could he say she’d made it alone, when it was designed to require both of them?
“You needed her help, as she needed yours. You put aside your differences and worked together to reach a mutual destination. And while it had been your plan which ultimately resulted in Lorena’s failure, you still went into the cave to rescue her when you had every reason not to. For that, you succeeded. And you managed to do so again against the visions. Your successes belong to no one but yourself. Not me, not Lorena, not some unseen power pulling the strings of fate. You made it. And you should take comfort in that. But enough explanations for now.” Tylor extended his arms wide, as if showcasing a prized relic from a time long passed. “Welcome to the Hall of Guardians.”
Inyalia glanced around. They were standing under a grand colonnade. A thin layer of snow had settled over the walkway, most of it blocked by the protruded ceiling. The supporting columns were carved, depicting twelve towering statues dressed in ranger’s armor. Each one stood against their various bows, ornate and beautiful. A flaming basin rested between each of the statuesque columns, piled high with burning embers. At the end of the long walk, a grand archway guarded the entrance into the mountain. Like the columns, it had been made from the same black quartz Inyalia had seen upon her arrival. “I expected it to be a bit more magnificent.”
Tylor was taken back. He hadn’t prepared himself for her quirky, quick-witted humor. “Sorry to disappoint. Shall I have the architects resurrected so they can build it to her majesty’s specifications?”
Laughter escaped her. It felt good. She couldn’t recall the last
time she’d laughed. “Only if you can find time between my scheduled torture sessions.”
This brought a smile to Tylor’s face. “As you wish.” He gave a subtle bow. Returning to his full height, he walked beside her toward the archway. “The halls are believed to be the birthplace of the Ranger’s Corp. The statues you see here were the first protectors of Trendensil. I know how much you love your trials, but unfortunately, this is the last one. Once you step inside, you’ll be on your own. I cannot interfere or help you in any way. Every decision you make will have consequences. But I promise you, when you leave this place, you’ll be certain of your path. That said, are you ready to begin?”
A heavy sigh escaped her. His sarcasm aside, she was tired of tests. But this was the path she’d chosen. If she was to follow in her father’s footsteps, she’d have to proceed. “Can you give me a clue as to what I’ll face in there?” Her gaze lingered deep into the fire-lit halls of the mountain structure. A dark and foreboding presence radiated. She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to go in.
“I cannot say. Though this time it’s not for a lack of desire. The truth is, I don’t know what you’ll face. The only time I’ve been inside was the day I became a ranger. But the stories suggest it’s different for each person.”
“So, magic?” Inyalia asked, keeping watch on the distance. There was something in there she didn’t like. Something that wanted her to enter.
“I don’t think so. This isn’t like the cavern. That was designed to show you visions. This is something different. Everything that happens in there—.” Tylor gestured to the opening. “—It really happens. The magi have tried to identify it many times, but none have succeeded. Though they all agree, whatever it is, it isn’t arcane in nature.”
“What did you face when you went in?” His silence drew her attention away from the halls. She could feel the sorrow wash over him. It was strong, lingering. “I’m sorry I asked.”
