by Blair Drake
Elijah staggered as she nearly ripped his arms out of their sockets. Chainmail Zoe had a becoming sort of confidence—plus curves in all the right places—but he'd have given his left arm to see the real Zoe at that moment.
I miss her.
I miss Earth.
I even miss The Grauster.
What he wouldn't give to be on the receiving end of one of the Grauster's lectures right about now.
"Ice Fang don't ride," Zandui said, his eyes twinkling as if found the exchange amusing. He pointed to the sharp ridge of mountains rising to the North. "Those are the Ice Fang territories. We are small in number, and our territory stretches the entire length of the Caskills. It is the largest territory in the Nine Lands, but nobody tries to take it from us. You cannot ride horses there. You can only use them for meat when the winter winds freeze them to death, and we don't have enough grain to feed them."
"We do not need horses," Yeorfac said with a grunt, as he labored through the snow. "Only the Softlanders need horses."
Elijah gave a rusty laugh as Zora turned her head to lock a very icy expression upon Yeorfac.
"Anytime you want to dance, Yeorfac," Zora said, and settled her hand on her hilt again. "We shall see how soft my steel is."
Yeorfac very carefully considered the ground at his feet as he slogged on.
"I thought it was just me," Elijah said, to nobody in particular.
Zora's horse snorted as she turned its chestnut head toward the mountains, and its breath steamed in the air.
"So who's Zora the Explorer?" he asked Zandui. Zora hadn't exactly been forthcoming with any answers.
"Zora is one of the Storm Shadow clan's potential tributes." Zandui didn't even look as though he was struggling in the snow. "She is a warrior who has had dealings with our clan in the past. She was on a quest when she saw the monastery send up a flare of distress. Zora agreed to set aside her current quest in order to assist us."
"Zandui," she warned. "The mage doesn't need to know who I am."
"Who am I going to tell?" Elijah asked dryly, trying to tug his hands against the rope binding him. "All my friends?"
"It is not who you might tell, but what you might do with your magic with that information."
"I don't even know how I did what I did," he protested.
She made some sort of gesture that included pressing her fingertips to her forehead and then shaking them away, that he figured was akin to warding off the evil eye.
Current assessment of his predicament....
People who hated him: Two.
Potential allies: One.
"So we're heading into the Ice Fang territories?" he asked, figuring he'd simply have to work with what he had, which was narrowed down to Zandui at this stage. "I don't think my monk's robe is going to cut it."
The Brotherhood of the Silent had gifted him with leather hose, a heavy brown monk's robe and warm, fur-lined boots. Possibly not the snazziest outfit he'd ever worn, but infinitely warmer than his school blazer. It had been a little embarrassing trying to accept the gifts, as they kept bowing every time Elijah looked at them, eyes shining with gratitude. They were warrior monks, Zandui had explained, well-skilled in the arts of war, but the trull hyggen was best avoided. Few had ever felled one.
"You won't need a weapon," Yeorfac grunted.
A weapon? Elijah ran through his choice of words again. "No, I meant this robe isn't going to be warm enough for the mountains."
"We're not going to the mountains," Zandui replied. "The Well of Tears lies nearby, in the fallen city of Agramorh. It will cut days off our journey."
Well of Silence. Well of Tears. He was so confused.
"I still say we should go around the mountains," Yeorfac muttered.
"Who's soft now?" Zora called, in a gently mocking manner. "All shall be well, dear Yeorfac. I shall protect you."
Protect them from what? "Is there any particular reason the city of Agramorh fell?"
"You should concentrate on walking," Yeorfac muttered. "And not on talking. When a mage speaks, the Current listens, and we don't wish to bring our doom down on our heads."
But he kept his hand on his axe.
"So what is this Ascension?" Elijah asked. "Or aren't I allowed to ask about that either?"
"Do you never shut your mouth?" Zora grumbled.
"I babble when I'm nervous. Maybe if you untied me I wouldn't be as nervous."
Zandui rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, but it seemed more habit than a threat. "Orynthica was once Nine Lands—"
"I figured that."
Yeorfac smacked him across the back of the head. "You will listen when the Elder speaks."
He was tired and his head hurt. Clearly he was letting his mouth run away from him. "Sorry," he muttered to Zandui.
"Every three years, each territory—or what is left of the Nine Lands—sends its tributes to fight during what we call the Ascension. The winning team earns its territory the right to hold the Yarlstone for the next three years."
His ears pricked up. Kind of like the Olympics, he guessed. "The Yarlstone?"
"Its powers are significant. It was created out of pure Current by a long ago king who wished to rule the Nine Lands. With it, King Dameron subjugated all the territories, bringing them under his will. Those who fought against him died as the Yarlstone tore through their armies. Eventually all of us yielded.
"To remind us of his power, Dameron demanded a tribute from each of our clans, a daughter to join his harem as one of his wives. Every three years, during the Ascension, we would have to send another tribute. During the third Ascension, the clan chief of Storm Shadow sent his beloved sister, the fierce huntress, Asphodel. She became Dameron's twenty-seventh wife, but she was not like the others.
"She was also a mage, and she captured Dameron's eye instantly. During the course of the Ascension, he fell in love with her. On the night of their marriage, Asphodel drove a dagger through his heart, though she did not kill him. Not instantly. King Dameron was nearly immortal, thanks to the Yarlstone."
Elijah almost tripped and fell, so engrossed in the story he realized he wasn't watching where he was going.
"Furious at her betrayal, he turned the powers of the Yarlstone against her. But such was his downfall. Dameron had given his heart to fair Asphodel, and his heart raged in conflict with his will. Though he wielded the Yarlstone against her, some part of him strained to protect her. In the flux of power, he lost control, and the Yarlstone consumed Asphodel and Dameron, until nothing remained.
"The clans were free to rule themselves once more, but in his final act, Dameron had sewn dissension in the stone's heart. Only a mage could wield it, but it drove them mad and some of them strained to take up Dameron's mantle. The rest lost their minds. Several of the territories outlawed mages as a result, and put theirs to death. Now, we don't allow mages to touch it. They cannot be trusted with the stone.
"To this day," Zandui explained, "we compete for the right to guard the Yarlstone for the following three years, until a new faction wins the Ascension games. Merely holding the stone within one's territory provides luck and prosperity for the following three years. The Pasternakians have held it through seven Ascensions now."
"Until now," Zora said grimly.
"Their mages cheat," Yeorfac said, spitting on the ground.
"They were the only territory that didn't kill their mages when King Dameron was overcome," Zandui said. "Maybe that was an oversight on our behalf?"
"So the reason you hate mages is because this King Dameron was one, and the Pasternakians kick your ass every Ascension." It was all starting to make a horrible sort of sense.
"If we had a mage on our side," Zandui said quietly, "then perhaps we would be able to overthrow the Pasternakians during the Ascension. There are signs the lands are dying. The only territory that thrives is theirs. I do not think we have another three years before the lands wither completely."
It sounded like an argument he'd alread
y had. Many times.
"I would rather fall on my own sword," Zora retorted, "than enter the games with a mage at my side. I won't need one. I won't fail. I have been training for these games since birth."
This was what Zandui had meant when he'd suggested they could use Elijah's gifts as a mage.
Mages. Warriors. Battles to the death for a mysterious stone. Oh, heck no.
"We shall see," Zandui said wisely.
Chapter 6
Agramorh.
The Fallen City. The heart of the Kingdom of Thanasi, before King Dameron destroyed it over one hundred ago. Now the Kingdom of Thanasi had been split into two territories; Ice Fang and Storm Shadow, who remained wary allies, according to Zandui.
Elijah shivered as they knelt on the edge of a cliff overlooking the city, the icy wind cutting right through his robes. He'd spent two days roped to the back of Zora's horse before they started the climb into these mountains and it became clear he'd need his hands.
Zandui had cut the ropes this morning, but he wasn't about to believe Yeorfac or Zora trusted him. A single wrong move and he knew he'd have a dagger in his back.
Besides, it wasn't as though he had anywhere to run to. Somehow he needed to get back to his world, but how?
Agramorh squatted in the mountains below them, built into the side of a cliff. Snow draped its stone walls like flowing skirts. The rounded curves of its flanking towers were perfectly formed. The curtain wall had been carved directly into the cliff face itself, so it was all of one piece, Zandui had explained. A city built to last forever, unassailable, insurmountable....
Until someone had destroyed it.
The keep surged out of the walled city below, and on the outskirts of the city, black rock gleamed through its wintery mantle. Mountain and keep melded into one, until Elijah couldn't see where one ended and the other began. It was a bleak, barren place, but he could see the faint lines of a long-ago beauty.
The only way to even approach it was by climbing the steep, winding switchback track that led to what remained of its gates. Behind it soared Ice Fang, which was also the name of a mountain, as well as the clan.
Or the mountain, judging by the height of it.
It was as though someone had taken an enormous laser and cut through the eastern edge of the city, its broken towers sheared clean in half. A strange light soared into the sky, a rippling flicker like a turquoise Aurora Borealis dancing over the clouds. Or perhaps some kind of distress call the ancient Agramorhians had set into place before they were all slaughtered still lingered.
"What's the light?" Elijah asked.
Zandui peered through his spyglass. "It's the reflection of the Well of Tears off the clouds above. A good sign, lad. It means this well isn't dry."
He still didn't know what the Wells were—not even Zandui would explain them, simply saying they had to be seen to be believed.
"Those are big ravens," Elijah muttered, staring at the shapes that pinwheeled over the crown of the broken towers, fluttering through the column of light.
"They aren't ravens," Yeorfac muttered grimly, squatting on the edge of the narrow cliff trail, his spear braced laxly across his knees. "They're wyverns."
Wyverns. He knew the name. Not the exact details. Dragon-ish, perhaps. Zoe had painted one on a shield she'd been making for one of her friends last year. These did not look like the beautiful heraldic symbol she'd carefully transferred onto the shield.
There was an air of menace about them, even at this distance.
Zandui handed him the spyglass, and Elijah peered through it, a bat like flying lizard sweeping through his vision. It hissed and suddenly swooped down on a smaller wyvern, its razor sharp teeth sinking into the hatchling as it tore it to pieces.
Elijah slowly lowered the spyglass before he could see too much. "Clearly wyverns aren't vegetarians."
He was starting to get a hint of what had made the other three so terse throughout the day.
"They prefer meat. Man meat," Yeorfac said, and his eyes met Elijah's as he rose. "These mountains are cold and food is sparse this time of year. If they see us, they'll hunt us."
"Excellent." As if trolls weren't bad enough.
"Wyverns aren't the only things that haunt Agramorh," Zandui said, as he strode down the slope to where Zora waited.
"Aren't wyverns dangerous enough?"
"If the wyverns are in the skies, then the ice wolves won't be in the city," Yeorfac said. "Wyverns are a good sign. We can hide in the buildings, and use the tunnels to move, but if they weren't there...."
Then the wolves would be able to stalk the ruins.
Zora swung her pack onto her back as she saw them coming. The chainmail had slowed her down in the snow, particularly now she had to carry everything herself. She'd left the horse at the base of the mountain path, in a small village. They were travelling through the Well of Tears to meet this Keeper, apparently, and now he'd gotten a good look at the city, Elijah knew why she'd left the horse behind.
He was guessing the man-eating wyverns wouldn't scorn horsemeat.
"The wyverns are out," Yeorfac called. "We're safe to enter the tunnels."
Zora let out a relieved breath. She'd knotted her dark hair back, and it bared the sharp bones of her face. It was like a punch in the gut, shades of Zoe echoed all over her.
If Elijah narrowed his eyes and let his vision haze, then it was almost like Zoe was here. He still didn't know why her doppelgänger was in this world—he was still ascribing to the parallel world theory—but it gave him a little bit of hope. Maybe this was a Zoe who'd been born in a savage, barbarian world? And if she was, then he still had a connection to the girl he loved.
Zoe would love this place. Wyverns would be right up her alley, and he knew she'd have seen the wonder in a frigid landscape that seemed to be doing its best to kill him, in a way he couldn't. For a second, the urge to share it with her was overwhelming, and he couldn't help glancing at the landscape with new appreciation.
And then reality punched him in the throat.
She'd wanted to share her world with him when she'd invited him to her LARP weekend, and he'd been so wrapped up in his own issues, that he had metaphorically stomped his feet like a kid.
All he'd wanted was to know he fit in her future too, and she'd tried to give it to him, tried to invite him into her world, before he slammed the gates shut.
"I am such an idiot," Elijah whispered, groaning under his breath.
"No arguments here," Zora said, striding past him. "Any particular reason you think yourself a fool?"
"I just had a realization about the girl I left back home." He shouldered the second pack and followed her toward where Yeorfac was hammering spikes into the cliff face. "I miss Zoe, and I realized how much she means to me. And how much she tried to give me what I wanted from her, only I was too blind to see it."
Zora snorted. "I have met you, Elijor of Vancouver. I have little doubt you overlooked her gift."
"Oh?"
"Love makes men into fools."
He was tired, he was hungry and he was cold. Anger flared. "You've never been in love, have you? You sound like it should all make sense, and be as easy to navigate as one of your maps. Love is messy, Zora. You make mistakes."
I made a mistake. A big one.
Zora stopped in her tracks. "No, I've never been in love. Love is a weakness, one I cannot afford. Zandui did not mention all of the aspects of Asphodel and Dameron's story. It was love that stayed Asphodel's hand when she drove the knife into her husband's chest. Love that cursed her to miss her mark. If she'd kept her head, then none of what you saw today would have happened. Agramorh would still be alive, instead of a city of ruins. Dameron lashed out even as they fought, to break apart the city Asphodel fought to save. To crush her heart."
"It was love that stopped him from turning the Yarlstone fully upon Asphodel," Elijah pointed out. "Otherwise you'd probably be bowing before the king as his next tribute."
Zora's face
whitened. "Never."
Clearly he'd touched a nerve. "There's never been a single person to make you think—"
"I was born for the games. I was taken from my parents when I was five to begin my training. I will not repay their sacrifice by allowing myself to become distracted. Not by... by...." She seemed to realize what she was revealing.
"So there was someone—"
"This is not a tale that concerns you." Zora chopped her hand down flatly. End of discussion.
They stared at each other heatedly. The fury in Zora's eyes died as she realized he wasn't going to push.
Five. Jesus. He was having a hard enough time dealing with his own parent's separation, and she'd been taken from her home, from her family, as a little girl. He gave her an odd look.
"Come. Sound travels in the tunnels, so you should be careful with your words once we're inside," Zora warned, leading him to where Zandui was already climbing the side of the cliff to the ledge above, and the hollow cave just barely visible up there.
"You sure you're not just saying that to shut me up?"
"Go ahead and make noise. Let us see how fast you can run when the ice wolves come to investigate," she said coldly. "Zandui believes in this side excursion. I don't know if it's a waste of my time, or not. If you cause me to miss the selection trials, then I shall curse your name to the gods."
"What's so important about this Keeper? Why do you need to take me to him?"
"You'll see."
He was growing to hate those words.
Zora paused, "Perhaps if you're silent and don't die in these ruins, you'll be able to find your way back to your world, back to your Zoe."
You could give coach a run for his money with invigorating pre-game speeches. Elijah sighed as he looked up. "I'll try not to die. Silent? That I can't promise."
Apparently he could manage silent if given enough incentive.
Maybe it was the frigid stillness of the tunnels that made him feel like something was watching them.
Or maybe it was his sweaty palms as they climbed down a thousand stairs, working their way through the mountain as they came closer and closer to the ruined city.