Fate Forged

by B. P. Donigan

  “Join me or stop staring,” he said without opening his eyes.

  I grunted and turned my back to him, burrowing into my bag. The whistling night wind lulled me to sleep.

  I WOKE UP SCREAMING.

  Silas leapt out of his bunk, disheveled and ready for a fight. His magic flared, and the sword appeared in his hand as he scanned the little cabin for a target.

  “It’s okay! I’m okay,” I gasped from my bunk. “It was just a bad dream.”

  The sword tip lowered to the floor as he stared at me. “Fratch, Maeve!” he huffed. “I thought we were under gods-damned attack!”

  I flopped onto my back and exhaled, willing my heart to slow down. The nightmare wasn’t one of the visions, but it had seemed real enough. Father Mike had been facing down an entire pack of Rakken, but he hadn’t screamed or tried to run. He hadn’t even tried to protect himself. He’d stood his ground, focused on protecting me.

  Silas surprised me when he plopped down on the edge of my bunk. He ran his now-empty hands through his hair and exhaled through his teeth. “Do you remember any details?”

  “You want to know about my nightmare?” I asked. “Why?” I didn’t mean to sound suspicious, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why he would want to know about it.

  The dawning light in the cabin was just enough to see by, and his expression seemed contemplative. He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “For my first assignment as a newly minted Guardian, they dispatched the entire legion into a realm called Krittesh. It was...” He paused, searching for a word. “Chaos. Lesser demons rarely cooperate long enough to form coalitions, but one group managed to band together and cause serious damage. They raided the organized settlements, murdering the residents and stealing their supplies.” He grimaced as if remembering something particularly nasty. “They tortured for enjoyment. Women, children... whether or not they surrendered. It didn’t matter. We followed their trail of destruction for days.” His shoulders lifted as he drew in a long breath. “I’ll spare you the details. We were betrayed, and I lost a friend.”

  I sat up on one elbow, my nightmare forgotten. “That sounds awful.”

  “At the time, I believed I was fine. I buried myself in training and wrapped myself up in righteous anger. When I started having dreams, I simply rationed my sleeping. I let the fear and the anger stew, not realizing how deeply I had been affected by the events.” He shrugged. “Another Guardian in my legion, Thessaly, helped me deal with the fallout. I couldn’t move forward until I’d dealt with the past.”

  He looked at me pointedly, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to say.

  “You said the visions feel as if you are living Marcel’s memories,” he continued. “You’re experiencing the torture he endured. That kind of fear and pain sitting inside of you always manifests outward.”

  “Look, I’m sorry that happened to you. But I’m not—I’m fine.” My throat got tight, remembering all the torture Marcel had endured. “This was just a regular nightmare. It happens.”

  “Have you ever killed someone before?”

  I stared at him. Finally, I managed to shake my head.

  He pushed off from my bunk and returned to his own. “You need to confide in someone. It doesn’t have to be me.”

  I lay back on my bed for a long while, unable to fall back asleep as the sun grew brighter by degrees. He may have been right, but I had more pressing issues I needed to deal with before my nightmares, like the small detail of staying alive. If I wanted to keep breathing for much longer, I needed the Fate to get the magic out of me.

  When the sun finally peeked over the horizon, we packed our things and got an early start. On the trail, Silas led the way, and I followed, grateful for a more relaxed pace than the day before. We planned to hike up to Mint Glacier, traverse across the expansive ice sheet, and up to the highest peak, where the Fate’s temple was supposed to be.

  The frigid air stung my lungs with each breath. As I predicted, my whole body was stiff. Carrying the heavy pack had left me with tired shoulders and legs. After about a mile, my thighs burned from the constant uphill climb, but I forced myself to push through the discomfort. Silas consulted our map and his compass and adjusted our course yet again. Almost an hour later, we reached the last pass and stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the glacier. The cold air numbed my face as I toed to the ledge and peered down a thirty-foot drop to the ice below. The flat, massive surface of Mint Glacier stretched as far as I could see.

  My stomach twisted. I scooted back and breathed through my nose.

  Silas called me back to the cliff’s edge and pulled out a rope. “Take off your pack and tie this around your waist. I’ll hold it and guide you down.”

  I gave him a skeptical scowl.

  He gave me a wide, challenging smile. “Scared?”

  “How will you get down after I get to the bottom with the rope?” I asked.

  “I’ll lower the packs and then climb down after you. I don’t need the rope.”

  Of course he didn’t.

  Silas twisted the rope expertly into a makeshift harness then helped me into the loops and tied it around my waist. Being that close to him made me uncomfortable, and I silently cursed his confidence and the way he smelled crisp and clean after two days of hiking. I wondered if it was some kind of magic trick. He secured his end of the rope to a large boulder then looped it around his waist.

  “Face me, kneel down here, and ease your foot over the edge,” he instructed.

  With my stomach clenching, I inched closer to the ledge and searched blindly for a foothold. If he slipped, I was dead. Forcing myself to remain calm, I stretched my foot into open air.

  “Left,” Silas said.

  “Yours or mine?” I cast my foot out blindly.

  “Mine.”

  Scowling, I switched feet. If not falling to my death required good communication between Silas and me, I might as well just throw myself off the cliff.

  I very slowly worked my way downward, and fifteen teeth-clenching minutes later, I exhaled with relief when my feet hit the ground again. Silas lowered our packs, and when they reached the ground, I untied them and wound the rope in a loop. As Silas descended without a guide or rope, he hit the same footholds I had and made it down in half the time.

  “You’re insane,” I said with conviction.

  He smiled at me, his eyes bright and carefree. I laughed at his boyish enthusiasm. He nodded toward the nearest peak looming above us. “The temple should be on that crest. But first, we have to traverse the glacier.”

  The sales clerk in Wasilla had outfitted us with spiked contraptions called crampons that slipped over our shoes. They were a safety measure against crevasses, which were deep cracks hidden beneath brittle ice caps. We put on the special footwear and secured the rope ends around our waists. I felt a bit like a dog on a leash. With everything secure, Silas took the lead and headed out over the flat, expansive sheet of ice between us and the Fate.

  The metal teeth of the crampons pierced the top layer of thin, crunchy snow before biting into the sheet of ice beneath. I let Silas lead. He walked a dozen feet ahead, and our footsteps echoed with sharp, metallic snicks along the glacier. Small gusts of wind kicked up snow over the smooth, glassy surface as we progressed slowly forward. I watched the little flurries, distracted by their swirling patterns. An eagle soared high above us, its wings spread wide. I couldn’t imagine anything more gorgeous and serene than this.

  The rope tied between us jerked, and I flew off my feet. I fell flat on my back and shot across the ice, arms and legs thrashing. The rope dragged me, feet first, along the slick surface. My spiked shoes shredded the ice. Stinging shards of snow flew into my face, blinding me.

  Finally, I caught a foothold. The crampons on my heels dug in, and I jerked to a stop. The rope bit into my waist, stealing my breath. Pain shot through my torso. My snow-crusted boots were inches from a jagged crack in the ice. The rope was pulled taut between my l
egs and over the ledge a few feet away, where Silas dangled inside the crevasse.

  I couldn’t breathe. The rope was too tight. I gasped and strained against it.

  “I can’t get a handhold!” Silas yelled from below, his voice echoing off the walls of ice.

  My entire body trembled, unable to breathe properly. I pulled with all my strength, but I couldn’t ease the pressure of his weight against the rope.

  “I’m going to swing to the ledge,” he called. “Hang on!”

  I braced myself a second before the rope jerked to the side. My insides squeezed, and I gasped in pain. His weight pulled my butt off the ground, and one of my spiked heels slipped.

  The rope swung again and pulled me into a squat. The crampons carved through ice as I jerked toward the edge. The crevasse loomed just feet away.

  “I’m slipping!” I yelled.

  “Don’t move!”

  I was almost vertical. “I’m being pulled in! Silas!” I gasped, desperate for air.

  “I’m going to cut the rope!”

  “You’ll fall!” My mind raced. There had to be a way to get him out.

  “Get to the temple,” he ordered.

  “Wait!”

  The rope tugged sharply. I pitched toward the jagged break in the ice. The weight on the rope disappeared, and I fell backward, landing on my butt. “Silas!” I scrambled to my hands and knees and peered over the ledge. The other end of the rope dangled loosely above a thousand feet of air that narrowed into a dark, impenetrable crevasse.

  I screamed his name and listened as it echoed off the walls of ice.

  Silas was gone.

  Chapter Nine

  I crawled away from the ledge, unable to process what had just happened. He cut the rope.

  I screamed his name into the crevasse. Dry heaves wracked my body, and bile rose in my throat. My brain wasn’t able to catch up. It stuck on one thought. He’s gone. He cut the rope so I wouldn’t be dragged in with him, and he fell. He’s gone!

  I plopped back down on my butt and stared up into the serene blue sky. Hot tears streaked down my face and over my chin.

  How did this happen? One minute, we were walking along the flat sheet of ice, and it was peaceful. Then...

  “He’s gone,” I said. The words voiced aloud made my panic rise. I was alone, and Silas was gone. The stupid, arrogant jerk had sacrificed his life to keep me from falling into the crevasse.

  A wave of magical pressure hit me from behind, almost knocking me over. I twisted and saw a mound of clothing lying fifty feet behind me. I blinked. “Silas!”

  He lay faceup and unmoving. The large pack was still strapped to his back. I rushed to him, but the rope dragged, and my feet got tangled in it. I stumbled. My legs couldn’t move fast enough.

  Finally, I dropped to my knees and grabbed his face between my hands. “Silas? Silas!”

  All tension had disappeared from his face, and he looked so peaceful.

  Fear flashed through me. Is he... I held my breath and listened for his breathing. My heart drummed in my ears, drowning out everything else.

  His face scrunched into a small scowl.

  I exhaled the breath that had caught in my lungs, and a burst of inappropriate laughter spilled out. The roller coaster of emotions was too much. I dropped my forehead onto his chest, and the laughter transformed into hysterical tears. My hysteria soaked into Silas’s jacket as I banged my fists on my thighs. My life was never meant to be so insane. Just days ago, my greatest fears had been making rent and living up to Father Mike’s expectations. He worried I wasn’t eating enough vegetables, for crying out loud.

  When the tears slowed and my thinking cleared, I sat back on my heels.

  Silas must have used his magic to skim out of the crevasse and knocked himself out in the process. He’d said he didn’t have access to as much magic while he was in our realm. Remembering that a spell could kill if it drew too much magic, I wondered how close to death he’d just come. Then I remembered what he’d said about flares. If the Brotherhood could follow his magic flare, we had to get away from the glacier as quickly as possible.

  I shook him. “Silas!”

  His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, but he didn’t stir. I contemplated something I’d wanted to do since I met him—I slapped him across the face. Pink flushed across his cheek, but his eyes remained stubbornly closed.

  Shit. I had no choice but to drag him off the glacier.

  After a few minutes of thinking, I took off my backpack and heaved Silas onto his side. I slid my pack under his lower half, using the severed rope around his waist to lash it to him. With his own pack still strapped to his back, the two packs together made a crude sled. The bags would get shredded, but it was the best I could do. Tired and sore, I untied the rope from around my own waist and made a large loop to pull the sled with.

  My entire body was bruised, and exhaustion threatened to send me face first into the ice. But we couldn’t stay on the glacier. Silas’s trick with skimming had probably caused a big flare of magic, and he’d said that Titus could track that. If the Brotherhood showed up while Silas was unconscious, they would kill us both. The mountain range with the Fate’s temple was so close. We had come so far! I just had to get us to the temple and get the damn magic out before they found us. I would get us there, even if I had to drag Silas’s unconscious butt up that mountain.

  Grunting with effort, I pulled on the sled. My lungs burned, and my back ached. His weight dragged behind me, plowing a path through the thin layer of snow on top of the flat, icy surface. Every step took a force of will to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And still, we were barely moving. I plodded along methodically, ignoring the possibility of another crevasse. I had no choice but to go forward. The sun set quicker than I’d anticipated, and the temperature plummeted. I had no idea how much farther the glacier stretched, when Silas would wake up, or if the Brotherhood would appear in the next second. The uncertainty drove me forward until the temperamental skies opened and poured rain on us.

  My layers of clothing were soaked instantly. I gritted my teeth and swore at the sky. When the rain stopped abruptly a few minutes later, I was wet and frozen. Wind howled across the wide expanse of ice. My teeth started to chatter. Silas shivered on the sled, his lips tinged blue. We needed shelter. I looked up at the mountain peak that still seemed no closer than it had an hour ago. Staying where we were wasn’t going to solve anything, so I kept pulling.

  Another half hour later, we reached an expansive boulder field. My determination crashed. It would be impossible to pull Silas through it. I’d come all this way only to be blocked by rocks. I couldn’t drag Silas any farther. I scanned the rocky field and spotted several large boulders forming a small cave about fifteen yards away. It would be big enough to fit us both, and we desperately needed shelter, warmth, and rest.

  I untied Silas from the packs and tried to wake him again. When that didn’t work, I attempted to lift him. My aching body almost collapsed as I dragged him by his armpits over the snow and toward the mound of boulders. I willed my legs to keep moving, begging my frozen body not to give out. After I spent an eternity crossing the field, I laid Silas carefully on the ice-hard ground outside the cave and went back for our supplies.

  When I returned, Silas was convulsing with shivers. His naturally olive skin had turned pale and waxy. Our soaked clothes had to come off, or we were both going to die of hypothermia. With frozen fingers, I unpacked our sleeping bags and zipped them together. Tugging at his jacket until I was out of breath, I finally managed to get it off of him. With my hands on my knees, I panted and considered the number of wet layers he was wearing—it would be impossible to take them all off and dress him in dry ones. Damn it, if he died of hypothermia, I would kick his ass.

  I fumbled through our packs for a few minutes in search of a lighter and something flammable before I realized that a campfire out on this open field would be a disaster. If the Brotherhood followed Silas’s fla
re, I would literally be setting up a beacon to our hiding spot.

  Instead, I dug Ripper out of my pack and sliced through Silas’s wet shirt. My fingers were clumsy and numb, and I thanked God his fleece-lined snow pants and the fatigues underneath were easier to slice through than jeans. Even still, the knife kept slipping from my stiff fingers, and I nearly stabbed him several times. I readjusted my grip and worked the blade through the rest of his clothes with uncoordinated, jerking motions. The wind howled across his exposed flesh, wracking us both with chills. Shivering and grunting, I rolled him onto the makeshift bed made from our conjoined sleeping bags, shoved dry clothing into the bottom, and dragged the whole bundle into the cave.

  The freezing air sucked all heat from me as I shed my own wet clothes and maneuvered into the sleeping bag, completely and utterly exhausted as I zipped us in together. Skin-to-skin contact would get us both warm. Our bodies trembled in unison as I rubbed my hands roughly over his arms and chest, trying to create heat. His teeth chattered behind blue lips until eventually, his shuddering slowed and finally stopped.

  I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  Blinking, I woke up disoriented. My eyes adjusted to the small amount of light seeping through cracks between the boulders. Everything was quiet except for our breathing. Overnight, our combined body heat had returned, warming the little cave.

  Silas slept next to me. His arm and half his chest were a heavy weight pinning me to the ground. Between the weight and the warmth, I was sweltering inside the sleeping bag.

  Now that we weren’t dead, I realized we were waking up naked. Embarrassment flooded me. I wasn’t ashamed of my body or anything, but being naked with Silas was not a good idea, not when I’d been fighting off urges the day before. I needed to get dressed before he woke up. Slowly, I reached over him for the zipper, praying I wouldn’t wake him.

  His eyes jerked open, and I froze. He blinked twice. A small frown crimped the corners of his lips.