She tried to call on her anger and power. It had brooded at the back of her mind over the last two days, ever since her manifestation against Icarus's bear-creature. She had been aware of the sensation, but the idea of her ultimate capacity still scared her. Giving into that power meant she truly was a Magus—and there was no going back from that, ever. As those thoughts began to rise up in her awareness, she felt the power fade away, slip from her precarious grasp.
No! she screamed in her mind. This is my place now!
She stood on the edge of the crevice and wrestled with her doubts. She could not go home. That was a fact. She realized now that she had not yet accepted that truth, hoping in the back of her mind that there was something she could do, something that could be changed so that she could return to her familiar life in Terus. But there was nothing that could be done. And, if everything they had learned were true, Torin was now in power in Terus, wiping away any outlying possibility.
Torin. Her anger at how he had manipulated events rose to the forefront of her mind. He was at the core of everything that had happened to her. Torin and the power she now struggled with. And now he was Consulari, and he had likely been making her mother and father's lives miserable. Torin was the one who had cast out Icarus, had roused the people's fears against the Magus, used that fear to bring charges against her, and sent his own “Guardians” to attack her.
She felt her anger increase, banishing the fear and doubt that remained. Her indignation rose up in her like a fire. Confidence and power. She could sense the bedrock beneath her feet, feel the other side of the crevice, discern the rise of the stone into the stone pillars that stood across from her, guardians of the path. She reached out with her power, felt the essence of those pillars as though they were in her hands.
Instinctively her hands rose up, focusing her will. She reached out into the cold air, toward the stone pillars. There was a rumble beneath her and across the crevice. Her power continued to grow. She felt it course through her body, reveled in it. She called to the stone of the pillars, commanding it to move for her.
One of the stones shifted, rocked against its base. The rumble in the ground increased as the mountain fought against her. The wind picked up again, buffeting her as she stood on the precipice, but she no longer cared. With a swift movement of her arms to focus her thoughts, she pulled the stone toward her.
The pillar fell forward, dropping toward the fracture in the earth with all its stone-bound might. Laila stepped backward as the top of the object landed at her feet, knowing inherently the pillar's trajectory and that it would not, could not, hurt her. The pillar shifted a moment more before settling, leaving Laila with a clear path across the wide crevice.
Exultant in her power, she confidently stepped up onto the pillar and made her way across the crevice, ready to finish her climb to the summit.
It was not long before Laila came around a bend in the path and saw the peak of Mount Obrussa standing before her. It looked like a temple, or perhaps it had been a temple many ages ago. A circle, ten feet across, with pillars of stone rising around the edge, stood in front of Laila. Statues stood between the pillars, their features dull and unintelligible after centuries, even millennia, of wind and snow, facing the center point of the summit where a large outcropping of the natural stone of the mountain rose up.
Laila approached the ancient temple slowly, unsure. The sun hung just over the horizon behind the temple, finally breaking free of the dark clouds just before its warmth and light disappeared. The shadows of the pillars stretched out toward Laila, fingers of the mountain pulling her closer to the temple. She walked through them, grasping for the confidence her power had given her earlier. But her anger had faded after she had traversed the crevice, and as it ebbed, her power had subsided.
Now something else called to her. Something in the stone of the summit. It did not tap her anger; it was something much more subtle, calling to her subconscious. She walked between the pillars, making straight for the bedrock in the center. This was it; this was her task. She had gained the summit of Mount Obrussa, and now, somehow, her power was supposed to manifest itself, proving her to be the Magusari.
She reached the outcropping of stone and reached her hands forward without thinking. She was surprised when they reached the stone: it was warm. In defiance of the snow, wind, and setting sun, the gut rock of the mountain was still warm. Her cold, battered hands soaked up the warmth, and she could feel it rise up her arms, into her shoulders, and through her body. With the warmth came a sense of calm, of confidence. It was similar to how she felt when she wielded her power, but with less anger and chance for violence. This was calming, almost soothing, and she sighed as the balm coursed through her body, banishing all memory of the cold trek up the mountain.
As her hands caressed the stone, she could feel how deep this gut rock delved, dropping down through the heart of the mountain, into the very fabric of the earth. She stood at the peak of the mountain and felt down to the very essence of the world. A surge ran along her spine, her power rising to meet its source. She shuddered as it passed through her, confidence and power mingling with the warmth and succor of the mountain.
She did not know how long she stood there, awash in the senses of the earth. But as she delved further, feeling the intricacies of the earth before her, she felt an uncomfortable sensation tug at her, something that felt out of place. The earth was in pain—that was the only way she could describe it. The pain was dull now, but she could almost see that it was rising, growing sharper every day. This was her purpose. This was why she was the Magusari. The earth needed her, needed her to correct the wrong that was hurting it, fix the imbalance.
As this new revelation came over her, the stone beneath her hands began to brighten with earthlight. Laila watched it grow beneath her hands and felt the warmth increase. The light grew, shining through the temple, casting back the darkness that had grown with the setting of the sun. It surrounded Laila, embraced her. She felt as though she could rise up with it off the mountain, away from the fear, danger, and hurts of the world. But even as the earthlight embraced her, she felt something else call to her through the bedrock of the mountain. Instinctively she pushed her hands forward, into the very stone of the mountain, and felt it give way before her.
The earthlight pulled her into the stone until her arms were covered up to her shoulders. There they stopped. She felt something within the stone. A deeper part of the stone, something more solid than the outer shell of the mountain. It was as though the veins of the earth had risen up to her hands and she could grasp them. Her hands wrapped around the stone within the stone. As they did, she felt her connection to the earth increase, and the ill omen she had felt became more pronounced—for a moment, she felt as if the earth were speaking to her, telling her its secrets. She could only grasp at the knowledge; nothing seemed to stand out in her mind. The mountain took prominence in her thoughts, but as the earth continued to speak to her, another thought came into being.
Grimmere!
The thought was powerful as she grasped the veins of the earth through the gut rock of the mountain. Something about Grimmere. It could help her. There was still power in the lake, power that the Magi had forgotten. With that thought, the mountain released her, gently.
She pulled her hands free of the stone and saw what she was holding. It was a pure piece of earth, rough and indelicate, but pure. It fit in her hands comfortably, despite its unfinished edges, and stood almost as tall as she was. A staff. She set one end on the temple floor in front of her and studied it in the earthlight of the mountain. It was deep brown in color with tinges of red crystal veins weaving their way through the stone. It was roughly hewn, not the straight, smooth edges of a common staff. And it felt strong, powerful, in Laila's hands. Through it she could feel her power, no longer dependent on her anger and frustration. A pure form of energy, it allowed her to feel the earth around her, sense it.
As she stood with the staff, the earthlight
of the summit rock began to fade and with it Laila's sense of the fundamental veins of the world beneath her. But, even as the light dissipated, she could feel a similar but different sense through the staff in her hands. This was her connection to the earth, the staff. With ease, she called earthlight up from the staff, lighting the summit once again.
Standing triumphant at the peak of Mount Obrussa, Laila let her power course through her, warming her. Her fear and doubt were banished with the warmth and the light. Now she was in the full grip of her power. And it was her power. The staff gave her a conduit, but she could feel the power sourced in herself, strengthening her. She could still feel her anger and frustration, but she knew that she was no longer dependent on them for her power. She pulled her cloak tightly about her and sat on the ground, huddled against the summit rock. The warmth of her power and the earthlight from her staff sustained her as she waited for the night to pass.
Fourteen
Visions
The journey back down the mountain was much easier. By the evening of the third day after her departure, she came back to the head of the path that Icarus had placed her on. She stepped into the thin forest that surrounded Grimmere confidently, her staff in hand. She walked purposefully back into the bowl valley that surrounded the lake, making toward the northern shore, to Icarus's hut. The sun was setting behind the mountains that surrounded Grimmere, including the peak of Mount Obrussa. She glanced up at it as she walked along the shore and gripped her staff tighter.
Before the sun had fully set, she came in sight of the small hut. A red gleam from the fire within emanated out of the door. There was a faint scent of cooking meat drifting toward Laila, and she found that she was very hungry. Her ordeal on the mountain had left her invigorated, but eating trail rations for three days had finally caught up to her. She walked up to the hut, expecting Icarus to peek his head out to greet her, but she reached the door before he did.
Pushing the slightly ajar door open, she put her head in. Icarus sat with his back to the door, intent on something in front of him. He did not react when Laila swung the door wide and walked into the hut triumphantly.
"Icarus!" she said finally, her excitement finally getting the better of her.
He jumped at the sound of her voice, spinning around and jumping to his feet, ready to confront his assailant. When he saw who it was, he visibly relaxed, letting out a heavy sigh.
"Oh, Laila! You made it," he began, and then he noticed the staff in her hands. "Is that...?" He could not even finish the statement.
Laila nodded. Icarus stepped toward her, hesitant. He studied the staff, looking it up and down. Slowly he reached his hand out toward it and then stopped himself.
"May I?" he asked.
Laila could not think of a reason why he shouldn't. She extended her hand, allowing him to grab onto the top of the staff. He began to pull it toward him to get a closer look. As soon as Laila's hand came off of the staff, he staggered, barely grasping onto it as though it had suddenly grown in weight. He was just able to catch himself, but he struggled to hold the stone staff upright.
"It's heavy. How were you…?" His voice trailed off again. Laila was just as surprised.
"I don't know. It never felt heavy to me."
Icarus considered for a moment. "Let me see something."
He gestured for her to grab the staff again. He braced himself, holding the weight, then as Laila's hand grasped the staff, he was able to stand easily. Laila pulled the staff upright, not feeling any of the heavy weight that Icarus seemed to.
"Fascinating," he said. His hand lingered on the stone staff for a moment longer, as though he wanted to explore further, but finally he released his focus. "Come, sit down, child. I want to hear about what happened."
Laila moved toward the fire, sitting next to it with her legs crossed and the staff laying across her knees.
"Where's Connor?" she asked.
"He still hasn't returned from Ester," Icarus answered.
"Not yet."
"I expected him back before you returned. Now that you have arrived, my worry grows. I know the boy isn't accustomed to the ways of the Confederacy, but that should not have delayed him this long."
Laila considered this new information. She was still unsure of what she was supposed to do next, even with her revelations on Mount Obrussa. She had been hoping that Icarus would know, but that knowledge had been dependent on Connor's return and the information about what the Balon and Terun Guardians were doing near Ester. Without that information, Laila did not know where to start. Her shoulders sagged. She felt herself sliding back into uncertainty. As she did, her hand reached out instinctively to the staff, calling up the warmth from the stone, easing her concerns. She took a deep breath and faced Icarus.
"We will figure something out," she began. "Even if we have to go to Ester ourselves."
Icarus regarded her with interest. He must have seen the sudden shift in her emotions, from uncertainty to confidence. He glanced down at her hand gripping the staff, smiling.
"It seems you've come a long way after your trek up the mountain."
Laila glanced at her hand and then back up at Icarus. "I have." She smiled in return, her youth once again reflected in her features.
"Tell me, then," Icarus encouraged her.
They sat around the fire and Laila described her experience on the mountain. Her climb to the crevice and her despair at the end of the path. Icarus nodded, understandingly, as she told him of how close she had come to giving up. When she came to her experience on the summit, Icarus began to question her.
"You found the temple then?" he asked.
Laila nodded. "It seemed ancient. What was it?"
"Mount Obrussa, apparently, was part of an ancient network of temples, each devoted to a specific element. These temples existed for hundreds of years, serving the different Magi."
"Apparently? Didn't you know all that already?" asked Laila.
"No. I didn't. I know many things, child, but there is much that I don't know. The knowledge of the temple came from the treatise on the earth. The last Magusari speaks of the temples, specifically the one you just visited."
Laila jumped in before he could continue. There was something she needed to ask, but she had not had the courage to until now. "But where are the other Magi? Is it possible that they know? You've mentioned your order several times. Where are they?"
Icarus stopped himself. He did not seem surprised by the question; Laila actually thought he seemed ready for it, expectant.
"I knew that question would come up eventually," he said, but he did not immediately continue. He stood and poured himself a cup of hot water from the pot over the fire. Steeping a few leaves in the water, he sat back down, gathering himself for what he was about to say. "There is no easy way to put this... I am the last Magus. I know of no others. The Confederacy's 'war' on my order was successful. Too successful. Many of the Magi took no apprentices after being cast out. Some were hunted down, others disappeared over the oceans.
"My master was one of the last to leave the Confederacy. He lived in Balon for many years in secret. He found me as a young child, an orphan, and took me under his wing. I don't think he actually meant to teach me to be a Magus at first. I think he was only acting out of kindness." Icarus's eyes took on a distant look. "But he too was found and cast out. He was beaten and thrown from the city gates, nearly dead. To this day, I don't remember how we survived. I was only a child, and he was at death's door for weeks. But, somehow, we struggled into these mountains. Here he regained a measure of his old strength, but he never forgot how he and the other Magi had been treated by the Confederacy.
"I begged him to teach me. I wanted to use the power he commanded against those who had mistreated him. I wanted to take the fight back to the ignorant masses of the cities!" His voice began to rise, and Laila could hear the old pain and anger behind them. "But he would not teach me. Not with that kind of hate in my heart. So I traveled. Moving in and out
of the cities of the Confederacy, seeking out other Magi, hoping to learn their secrets. But I could find none. The Magi were gone. I returned to my master, no longer seeking retribution, but now hoping to preserve the knowledge of the Magi. My master was very old by this time. He taught me what he could before he passed away, leaving me as the only descendant of the Magi. For better or worse, I am the last. We will find no help from others. Whatever it is we face, we must face alone."
The finality of his statement struck Laila. She had not realized it, but she felt now that she had always assumed there would be help. Not just from Icarus, but from others. That there had to be others who understood what was happening in the world. But this, she had not expected this. She knew that there were no more Magi in the Confederacy, but for them to all be dead or gone...
Icarus sat in silence for a moment, considering the implications for himself. He kept his eyes on the fire, watching, looking for answers, just as Laila often did. Laila drew strength from her staff, calming her own apprehension.
"What are we supposed to do then?" Laila asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it to herself.
"We continue forward. You have a path now," answered Icarus, sitting up and facing her. "There is no more doubt that you are the Magusari." He pointedly looked at the staff across her legs. "You just have to keep moving forward."
Laila nodded, not fully satisfied with his answer. Something was missing. She stood and made her way outside into the cold evening mountain air. A memory began to tug at her mind from her time on the summit. She grasped her staff, drawing on her power, remembering. The earth had seemed to speak to her, it had told her something.... Something about Grimmere. Was it possible?
Bones of the Earth (The Equilibrium Cycle Book 1) Page 22
