by T P Sheehan
A voice rumbled through Magnus’s mind like gentle thunder from a brewing storm. He knew the voice—he had heard it once before at the clearing in the Valley of Shadows where he bonded with Thioci. He had dreamed of that voice ever since. Balgur!
“MAGNUS.” Balgur’s voice was all-powerful as though the brewing storm was now upon him, reverberating through him like a hammer striking a gigantic drum. But it was more than a thought. It came from the water itself, pulsing through the shimmering red.
“Balgur…” Magnus’s mind whispered back, his own thoughts rippling through the water and echoing back to him. Small fish scattered and reeds sprouting from the riverbed swayed erratically. He looked to the large stone where the arrow sat, but it was gone. In its place was a Juniper stone. Magnus felt his breast pocket. His Juniper stone was gone. I must have dropped it when I fell in.
“Claim it. Take it back.”
Magnus tried to move but his feet were fixed.
“REACH.” Balgur’s voice was growing more assertive. “Just as we share thoughts—claim it!”
Magnus knew Balgur was challenging him mentally rather than physically. Magnus reached for the Juniper stone, straining to free his feet so he could move toward it.
“You have power over this realm. Do not go to the stone, have it come to you. Take ownership of it. Claim it.”
It seemed to Magnus there was a big chasm between being told what to do and knowing how to do it.
“It is only a chasm if you get lost in it,” Balgur said, addressing his doubts. “CLAIM IT!”
Balgur’s rumbling thoughts made the riverbed shake. Magnus could see the dragon’s thoughts were having an effect on the physical world and yet, Balgur was not even alive in a physical sense. He looked once again at the Juniper stone. Don’t get lost in the chasm of thought. Just claim it… He reached again.
“Where is the stone?” Balgur demanded.
“On the rock.”
“Where should it be?”
“In my hand…”
Magnus looked at the stone, resting on the large riverbed rock. He then looked at his hand. There it was, in his hand, where it should be…
“There is no chasm,” Balgur concluded.
Magnus placed the Juniper stone in his breast pocket. He was not entirely sure how he was able to retrieve it, nor why he was made to do so, but figured Balgur had his reasons. Magnus’s impatience, though, was getting the better of him. He wanted to learn the truth of how Balgur came to be here.
“It was here that you fell… upon the Red River?” Magnus asked.
“Aye.”
“How exactly did this happen? How did Delvion manage to slay you?”
“There is no need to dwell, Magnus,” Balgur counselled.
“I ask as a good friend to Steyne, who laments his part in your death.”
“Steyne had no part in my death. He was merely custodian of the sword destined to slay me.”
“The fire-sword he allowed to fall into Delvion’s hands?”
“The sword ‘destined’ to fall into Delvion’s hands,” Balgur corrected. “Steyne’s role was to make the transition happen. He just did not know this to be so.”
“Why would you not tell him and spare him the pain and guilt?”
“No Irucantî would have a will strong enough to deliberately see a dragon’s life ended, fated or not—least of all Steyne.”
Magnus agreed Eamon would never have made it to the Battle of Fire knowing his role was to facilitate Delvion in killing Balgur. But why would this be fated? Balgur’s words only spawned more questions.
“When did you know this would happen?”
“The fire-sword was forged by Gilfieüg of Bowthwait with my assistance.” Magnus knew of Gilfieüg. He was a renowned swordsmith. He was also Ganister’s father. “As the sword took shape, Gilfieüg and I shared a vision. This sword would slay me some day. It was ordained. It was inevitable. With this knowledge, it was shaped for such a purpose. It was forged in blue flame at the tip of my breath until the bronze was hardened more so than my scales. The blade was long and curved, and the blade’s glyphs held wards that would assist with my transition.”
“Transition? You mean… from a living dragon, to…” Magnus stopped himself short. Was it rude of him to pry further or was it his right to know? Either way, Balgur seemed forthcoming.
“We all make transitions at some point. I was simply gifted with the knowledge of the next stage of my purpose—to be here for our own Electus.”
“But, it took twenty years to choose an Electus.”
“It took that long for the dust to settle in the aftermath of the Battle of Fire. You are the Electus needed at this time.”
Marsala’s words played over in Magnus’s head—‘Thioci acknowledged the Electus power within you, thanks to Breona, and decided you should live…’ Magnus then recalled Thioci speaking to Balgur and others of his kin through some kind of connection just before he passed. They all conceded Magnus was the right choice.
“I gather Thioci made you aware that I already carried Iisilée’s blood. You agreed this was acceptable?”
“Aye. You are ‘flame to ice’—a bridge between two realms. You will be the exemplar for what the Electi are capable of and in doing so, birth a Four Realm affiliation. This is paramount for Allumbreve’s survival.”
“But I do not know what powers I have from Iisilée.”
“That you retrieved your Juniper stone moments ago was proof of her power. That was not of my blood.” Magnus felt for the magic stone in his pocket. “From the Red River, I have access to all the waterways of Allumbreve—Catanya has borne witness to this,” Balgur explained. “Iisilée has given you power over this realm. That is how you retrieved the Juniper stone.”
“It is true then…” Magnus affirmed. Marsala was right—about everything. But how was being a ‘double’ Electus going to help form a Four Realm affiliation and why was the affiliation so important? “Is there feuding between the realms?”
“Precursors to as much showed their face during the Battle of Fire. The strengths exhibited by the Electi of the other realms were overwhelming. Even the Irucantî were in awe. Their awe turned to ambition. The effects of this you have witnessed yourself.”
“Aye.” Magnus thought once again of the High Priests’ campaign to end his life.
“You think of the High Priests.” Balgur was reading Magnus’s mind again. “They have strengths you can draw on, for they are exceptionally well trained.”
“That sounds like a dangerous proposition.” Magnus winced. He wondered where Balgur was taking the discussion.
“You will learn a lot from one of them, the other will be slain.”
It was worse than Magnus thought. “This is a prophecy? How will I slay a High Priest? Especially under the guard of two dragons.”
“Three dragons. Brue is with them now.”
Magnus’s heart sank. “What then am I to do with three fire dragons protecting two ‘exceptionally well trained’ priests?” Magnus asked. Balgur had told him long ago, as Thioci’s blood drew him out of the darkness of death, that becoming the Electus came at a cost. ‘An obligation,’ he had said. A fate was handed to me… Magnus recalled Marsala explaining—‘you survive challenges to meet your inevitable fate.’ Her words were beginning to sound like truth. ‘Irony’ indeed… Magnus glanced back to Catanya who was still frozen in time, fingers piercing the water’s edge.
“Catanya will be by my side. I don’t want her life endangered.”
“Neither does she yours. For now, remain together. You need each other for reasons beyond your mutual affection.” Balgur’s words pleased Magnus. He did not wish to be the overprotective lover. He simply could not bear to lose her. Anyhow, Catanya had saved his life more often than he had hers. Magnus reached a hand to her once again. This time, he drew closer.
“These waters will restore strength. Return here when needed.”
“Aye,” Magnus acknowledged Balgur’
s advice. Closer still he drew to Catanya. Just inches from her touch, Balgur spoke one last time.
“Heal wounds. Forge bonds. Be the greatest of the Electi.”
Magnus’s fingers reached Catanya’s.
CLIMB - ONE
Their fingers met and they were free of the river.
Magnus and Catanya were kneeling—just as they were before touching the red water’s surface.
“What just happened?” Catanya murmured, feeling Magnus’s fingers with her own. “You disappeared just now. I…” her roving eyes found Magnus’s. “Balgur…”
“I was in the river, looking up at you the whole time.”
“I wasn’t here. Balgur took me… on a journey.”
“You were with Balgur too?”
“He showed me two great threats to Allumbreve. One is Delvion and… Magnus…” Catanya shook her head. It was not at all like Catanya to be lost for words.
“What, Catanya? What is the other threat?”
“The other is your mother.”
“My mother?”
“I heard her conversation. Not so much words spoken as… I understood her intentions.”
“I understand Delvion, but… my mother?”
Catanya explained how Balgur could penetrate the far reaches of Allumbreve through the waterways and from this, learned truths about Balgur and Alavia. “Your mother is in a position of power. Her people are listening to her.”
“As their Electus?”
Catanya nodded. “Perhaps. It would make sense.”
Magnus walked away from the riverbank. He needed to distance himself from the incredulities of the Red River, Balgur, Delvion and whatever it was his mother was up to. “What exactly is my mother doing?”
“I think she is angry, Magnus. Her manner seems calculated, determined and… cold.”
“She thinks she has lost everything as she did once before. Perhaps she intends to do something about it.”
As they continued on to Froughton Forest, Magnus explained everything Balgur had told him about confronting the High Priests, learning from one of them and his responsibility in bringing together the four realms. Catanya was in agreement with Magnus—the latter two of these revelations seemed so far-fetched they were not yet ready to deliberate on them. For now, finding their way into the Romghold and confronting the High Priests was more than enough of a challenge.
They reached Froughton Forest late in the afternoon and set up a temporary camp beside a freshwater stream in the Outer Rim. Magnus removed his cloak and boots and soaked his feet in the cool water. Catanya removed her lance and worked through a ritual of stretches before lying on a blanket to rest. Looking about at the trees, Magnus drew in the sharp scent of the pines. He welcomed the cool forest air that permeated through his Ferustir armour as reprieve from the summer heat. In the quiet of the moment, his thoughts turned once again to his mother. “Could you see where she was, Catanya?” Magnus had thought to let her rest but felt he needed to know.
“The visions were blurry, but I travelled well north of the Uydferlands until the rivers were all but frozen over. I could feel the cold… ice cold.” Catanya sat up, wrapping the blanket around her. “Alavia was in an ice palace or sorts, speaking before a legion of people.” She peered off as if in deep thought. “They are her people.” She looked to Magnus. “They’re in the Rhyderlands, north of the Ice Breach.”
It did not really matter to Magnus where she was. If she were alive, he would find her.
“Magnus,” Catanya emphasised. “Your mother was no subordinate. Her voice held authority. As I said, she is in a position of power. She is establishing her people as rulers, just like the Authoritarium.”
Magnus tried to make sense of it. “Perhaps my mother has taken her place as Hasdereq’s heir.” Ice seemed to crawl its way up Magnus’s spine forming the next, chilling question in his mind—“Could she have lifted the spell that masks her powers?”
“What would it mean if she did?” Catanya stared blankly.
Magnus shrugged—as much to shake the chills as to emphasise his uncertainty. “If she has lifted the spell from herself, she may have lifted it from me.”
“That would explain your strange symptoms in Thwax, Magnus.”
It would also explain my ability to retrieve the Juniper stone in the Red River… Magnus lowered his shoulders and shuddered the thought away. “We’ve enough to be concerned about right now.”
Catanya seemed to linger on the thought a moment longer then stared up to the Romgnian cliffs. Magnus stood and dried his feet, then rested a hand on a pine trunk for stability as he pulled a boot on. It was a tight fit with his still-damp foot and so he let go, pulling with both hands.
“Hold it right there.” Catanya’s voice was sharp. Magnus froze and looked about. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“I said, close your eyes.” Magnus looked at Catanya. She frowned. “I didn’t say look at me, I told you to close your eyes.”
It was a game, Magnus decided. With a boot on one foot, he stood tall and closed his eyes. He could hear Catanya’s feet stepping closer until she was in front of him.
“I need to tell you something. When we were at the artisans’ camp, after we had gone to bed, I kissed another man.” Catanya’s voice was clear. Magnus heard a slight ring in his ears and his breath caught in the upper part of his chest. His eyes still closed, he reached for the tree for support again. His mind searched for reason in Catanya’s sentence. He thought quickly of all the men he had seen at the artisans’ camp and how and why this could have happened. He knew it was not for him to guess—it was for Catanya to explain. Then he thought of the Blacksmith’s son. He could see at the time the young man had feelings for Catanya.
“Dale…” Magnus whispered. His eyes opened and reluctantly fell on Catanya—a reluctance that felt worse than the thought of the kiss. Her face was not nearly as composed as the voice of her confession. Her nostrils flared, her throat pulsed, and her brown eyes blinked repeatedly—each blink revealing more emotion than the last. Magnus could see she had mustered all her strength to say what she did. “Oh…” Magnus said. It was a pointless, useless word, but the sight of her distress was too much. He wanted to say, ‘that’s okay’ or ‘I understand’ but it was not okay, and he did not understand. So Magnus stood, staring dumbly at Catanya.
“I need to tell you what happened,” Catanya fumbled.
Magnus had never seen Catanya fumble words until now. He took some slow breaths.
“I left the women’s sleeping tent in the middle of the night. Something was wrong, I…” Catanya hesitated. “I just had this feeling we had to get out of there. I came to look for you and happened across Dale in the blacksmith tent where he warned me we needed to leave.” She rubbed her hand over the vambrace Dale has repaired. “He was hesitant to explain further. I kissed him…” Catanya crossed her arms over her chest, but kept her eyes on Magnus. “I kissed him to… snap him out of his daze.”
“He was dazed because he has feelings for you.”
“It was that obvious?”
“From when we met in the wheat field—yes.”
“Oh…” Catanya dropped her gaze and swung a leg through a fern at her feet. “I just needed to know what he knew—why we had to leave.”
“Did it work?”
Catanya looked up at Magnus. “Did what work?”
“The kiss.”
“I guess so, yes. He knew you were the Electus. I knew then Delik must have known, too. And I knew you were in trouble. I left the tent and was captured.”
“You were distracted.”
“I was. I mean, what? NO! I don’t know.” Catanya frowned and scratched her head. “I was concerned for your safety, Dale and Willem’s safety, and even Ivy’s.”
“Are you still concerned for their safety?”
“I’m not sure. With everything that followed, I’ve given it less thought.”
“With Delik and the Quag dead, Dale and h
is family probably left the camp.” Catanya nodded silently. Magnus walked to Catanya and wrapped his arms around her. She was clearly suffering more than he was over kissing Dale. “I do think you’re responsible for cursing Dale,” Magnus said, feigning a serious face.
“It takes more than a kiss to curse someone, Magnus.” Catanya squinted the way she did when Magnus was playing games with her, only she did not seem sure he was.
“You underestimate yourself, Catanya. The next time Dale kisses a girl, he’ll think of you—and every time thereafter.”
“I think he’ll get over it.” Catanya rolled her eyes.
“I never did.”
Catanya looked at him again and returned his hug. “I’m sorry, Magnus.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about.”
Magnus peered through the treetops and could see where the mountain vanished into clouds a mile high.
“Up there, where you’re looking, is the Romghold.” Catanya pointed, her other arm still wrapped around Magnus.
“So, you think it’s safe to climb?” Magnus could not see a path up the steep cliff.
“Joffren and I made the climb many times.” Catanya was still pointing. “The first took me an entire day. Each time we made the climb, I became more confident and stole time back.” Catanya’s finger traced its way up the Romgnian cliff in a zigzag pattern.
“I’ll follow you, Catanya. I certainly can’t see a path of my own.”
“There is no path but in your imagination. Each climb was different. The path familiar was my conviction it could be done, even when it seemed impossible.”
Magnus looked at Catanya as her words played over. “Do you believe that? By our conviction we can do the impossible?” Words Eamon once spoke on the matter came to Magnus—‘Impossible…only if you believe it is’. His words echoed through his mind, answering his question for him. Magnus reached into his breast pocket and drew out the Juniper stone. “Of course we can,” he said.
“Of course we can,” Catanya repeated, cupping her hands around his that gripped the stone. “But further to your last question, this climb will be more challenging than my previous climbs.”