by Blair Drake
Let's just forget that entire scene in the cellar didn't happen.
After a hefty breakfast, they reconvened in the cellar again, where the well was humming vaguely out of tune. Harry had found new clothes for him, and this time they actually fit. Elijah wore a black wool tunic, with gold embroidery at the collar, a grey fur vest, and leather breeches that were a bit snug in places. His boots fit his feet like gloves, and finished almost at his knees, and there was a gold dagger sheathed at his hip.
Ballin'.
Zora looked up with a flinty expression as he entered, her eyes widening when she saw him in his new clothes, and then she looked swiftly down at her feet.
Likewise.
"Are you actually wearing ribbons in your hair?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth as Zandui examined the well.
He'd caught a glimpse of blue ribbons painstakingly threaded into her braids. They swept her hair off her face, where it fell in a tangle of curls from a ponytail. It seemed he wasn't the only one who'd gotten new clothes. Zora wore a dark blue tunic, with a fur vest over the top, leather leggings, and a pair of long fingerless leather gloves, with a ruff of fur around them. Her sword hung from the belt at her hip, and she looked like a total badass.
"It is none of your concern," she replied flatly, though her fingers brushed her cheek, as if she'd moved to touch the ribbons and then caught herself before she could.
Harry watched proceedings over the rim of his teacup with a bemused smile. "Give my regards to the princess."
"We shall," Zora nodded. "Thank you for your help."
Harry's gaze turned toward Elijah. "Good luck. I hope you found what you needed to know."
It could have been anything. Elijah rubbed at his face. Thanks for not helping. He sighed. Harry had been insistent he couldn't interfere. But he'd also said Elijah would learn something, so.... It had to have happened.
He just had to figure out what it was.
Zandui slid his hands along the brass glyphs carved into the well. A circle of bright light formed above the well, dozens of golden glyphs
"The Well of Fears," Harry muttered, straightening Elijah's collar as he held his teacup in his other hand. "Sometimes I always think this one the worst. All of those possibilities...." He smiled a little sadly. "Just remember, Elijah, they're only possibilities. It's what you do with the future that counts. Your choices mark your steps, and nothing is set in stone." He stepped back as a wash of turquoise light swept up through the hollow tower above them, and slipped his hands in his trouser pockets. "Cheerio and Godspeed."
He plunged into the Well of Fears, and straight into a dream.
Or at least, it looked like a dream.
Elijah found himself in the garden of a strange palace carved of white marble. Shimmering gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze, barely obscuring the archways that led into the palace, and peacocks strolled across the lawns. A fountain burbled water, but there was a strange, watchful sensation, as if this was the calm before the storm.
Or the hunting grounds of some predator that used such beautiful camouflage to mask itself.
"There you are," said a hard voice behind him.
Elijah turned, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease.
"I've been waiting for you, Elijah." A man moved toward him with eerie grace, his hair dark and his green eyes rimmed with kohl. He wore a loose belted robe of the finest maroon silk.
"You have?"
The man smiled.
Elijah's stomach dropped. He turned to run, and suddenly the world blinked around him, and the man was standing in front of him. Elijah skidded to a stop.
"You cannot escape me," the stranger hissed, holding up a hand and clenching it. "You are the key to my resurrection and I shall not let you go."
Elijah screamed as his feet suddenly went out from under him. An invisible hand curled around his throat and he dangled off the ground, the blood pounding in his ears. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. He could feel his ears popping as the pressure mounted.
Ice. He tried to summon his power, but the stranger merely waved it away with a flick of his fingers.
"You disappoint me."
Elijah hit the ground as the invisible hand vanished. He coughed and spluttered, simply trying to breathe.
"This is what they call a mage in this lifetime?"
"Sorry... Still got... my training wheels on." Elijah forced himself up onto his hands and flung a wave of ice at the guy.
The mage brushed it aside contemptuously.
Shit. His vision was blurry. He launched himself into an unsteady sprint, but that enormous hand slammed into his chest and his feet went out from under him.
The stranger drove a knee onto Elijah's chest, his green eyes gleaming as he pinned him there. "You don't even know who I am."
Elijah looked up. He'd never seen this man's face, but a sudden cold dread began to swirl through him. The guy was clearly a mage. One with undisputed powers.
And this was the Well of Fears.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
"Dameron," he breathed.
The mage king smiled, and pressed his palm to Elijah's forehead. The vibration grew louder, ringing through his ears, as Dameron's pressure mounted.
"I just need one more thing," the mage king whispered in his ear, pressing his other hand over Elijah's mouth. "And you're going to give it to me."
Elijah's eyes widened in horror as he felt the mage's hand sinking into his skin. They nearly bugged out of his head. What was happening? Heat fused with his body, and Dameron rested his forehead against Elijah as he melted into him.
They were becoming one. He could feel his vision narrowing, his erratic heart fighting to keep him alive. The mage king was choking him down into a little ball, until Elijah could barely see out of his eyes.
His eyes? Or Dameron's?
"Come to me, Elijah," the mage king whispered. "I am waiting for you...."
Then the darkness swept over him.
Hands suddenly locked around Elijah's shoulders, hauling him up, up, out of the goo. Elijah broke the surface with a fierce gasp, spitting slime everywhere. His heart raced. All he could see was Dameron reaching for him, smiling, becoming one with him....
"I've got you, boy." Zandui grunted, and wiped the slime from Elijah's face. "Thought you were never going to surface."
"Does it come true?" he demanded, clenching his fist in Zandui's vest. "What you see in the wells, are they real?"
"They're a possibility," the older man said slowly. "Sometimes a warning. Sometimes a threat. Sometimes the key to reaching the future you desire. Why? What happened Elijor?"
Elijah shoved himself upright, shaking. What was he going to do? Warning or threat? Or a mind game? What was he supposed to do? If they knew he might be key to Dameron's resurrection....
A hand rubbed the back of his neck. "Put your head between your knees, Elijor. It might just be a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. Do not think of it."
But Elijah couldn't still the panic within him.
What if the one thing Dameron needed to manifest was Elijah himself?
Chapter 12
The Princess Ismene rested her hands on both arms of her throne as they approached. Elijah held his cloak tight as they entered the throne room, his body still racked with chills.
Dameron wanted to use him. He still wanted to vomit.
But someone was talking, and Elijah realized they'd walked through half of the Thanasian castle to reach the throne room. Zora had been looking at him strangely ever since he surfaced from the well, and even Zandui and Yeorfac seemed watchful.
You can't let them know.
He swallowed. Hard. And focused on proceedings.
Blue velvet draped the princess's body, and there was some sort of complicated gold knot thing holding it all together, from what he could see. Lush red waves curled over her shoulders
“The prospective tribute, Zora of Isendur, to see you, your highness,” said th
e guard. “Along with her companions, Zandui and Yeorfac of the Ice Fang clan, and… Elijah Davies.”
Dozens of eyes raked over them. Whispers sprang up.
A pair of cocky blond guys in leather tunics and leggings eyed Elijah as if he were the new guy on campus. One of them murmured in the other’s ear, but the bigger guy, the one who had chief hazer written all over him, never took his eyes off Elijah.
“Zora,” the princess’s voice rang through the hall. “I expected you days ago.”
Zora went to one knee before the dais. The Ice Fang hunters followed suit, and Elijah belatedly echoed them.
“My apologies, your highness. I received a greater calling than yours while at the monastery, and my journey took an unexpected sidestep.” Zora hesitated. “My companions and I are newly come from the Black Keep.”
All hell broke loose.
The blond guy took a quick step forward. “No,” he said sharply. “You swore yourself to our team—”
“You bring shame upon your family with this foolishness,” said his companion. “What would your parents say?”
“I have no choice,” Zora snapped, turning to them. “The Turning Point is upon us.”
“You treacherous—”
“Silence.” The princess found her feet just as her guard rapped his staff on the tile floors, the sound echoing through the hall.
Both of the strangers bowed their heads. Zora’s lips compressed in a thin line, but Elijah thought he saw a flash of hurt cross her expression.
The princess began to question Zora about everything that had happened.
“Who are they?” Elijah whispered under his breath, to Zandui.
“Zora’s teammates,” the man replied, his lips barely moving. “The taller one is Garrimore, their Warrior. The other one is Kohen, their Archer. Zora’s their Ranger, and I presume their Guide, Venera, is somewhere in the crowd. They say she's a Seer, and can see glimpses of the future.”
“They don’t have a mage?”
“Not all teams are created equally.” Zandui paused. “They are the best the Thanasi training camps have to offer. They will not stand down without a fight. They've been training for this since they were children.”
“How bloody is this going to get?”
“…and this,” Zora said, gesturing to Elijah and returning his attention to proceedings, “is the mage.”
More whispers churned through the throne room. Elijah found himself the recipient of the princess’s steely gaze.
“We do not allow mages to live,” Garrimore said, an inch of steel clearing his sheathe.
Zora danced to her feet, her hand on her own hilt as she stepped between them. Elijah staggered upright, feeling the tension suddenly turn. That answered that question. Bloody. This was going to get bloody.
The princess held up her hand. “Do either of you dare draw steel in my presence?” she asked softly. “You forget yourself. Both of you.”
Amazing how such a soft threat could cow two dangerous warriors.
Garrimore’s hilt slammed back into its sheathe, and stark lines painted themselves on either sides of his mouth. “Forgiveness, your highness. I was not thinking. The slight of the mage's presence made me forget myself.”
“Forgiveness,” Zora echoed, taking her hand off her sword.
The princess swished toward them and both of them stepped out of the way, standing apart stiffly. Ismene paused in front of Elijah, her green eyes taking him in.
“I don’t know if I should be standing, or kneeling, or what,” he said.
Green eyes narrowed.
Not speaking would be good.
“You are the mage,” the princess said. “From this 'Earth'.”
“I—” He glanced toward Zora, who stared straight ahead. A little help, please. “Yes. Apparently. Mage, that is. I’m definitely from Earth.”
“And you wield Ice.”
Elijah stared down into the princess’s eyes. Since his trip through the Well of Fears, the buzz of the Current had grown blessedly distant. Almost as if he’d finally succeeded in quashing his link to it. “I….”
The throne room waited with bated breath.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Dameron’s words came back to him, the mage king seizing him by the throat.
“He needs just one more thing to manifest….” Harry’s voice echoed in his ears.
Elijah swallowed, as his fears collided. Me.
“Well?” the princess challenged.
Someone snickered. Probably Garrimore.
“He brought down an Ice Troll,” Zandui broke in, “smashing the ice of a lake beneath his feet and drowning it.”
The princess’s head turned sharply toward the hunter.
“And when a wyvern plucked Zora into the skies, Elijah froze its heart in its chest and turned the winds against it,” Yeorfac added. The wiry hunter found his feet, and crossed to Elijah’s side, grabbing at his collar and tugging the strings there loose.
“What are you—?”
Yeorfac tore the amulet out of his tunic, the golden circle stark against the black wool.
The princess seized it, peering at it intently, before slowly looking up.
“Any fool knows the prophecy,” Garrimore called. “If he’s such a mighty mage, then where is his magic? Where is his ice? This seems like a Pasternakian trick, your highness. Look at his dark hair and eyes. He’s Pasternakian to his bones.” Garrimore turned, holding his hands out to the crowd. “They must fear us, to attempt such a desperate ploy.”
The crowd cried out, and someone screamed at Elijah, stabbing a finger in the air toward him. He’d never felt such hatred.
Elijah desperately tried to feel for the vibration of the Current.
Nothing.
“It doesn’t always work,” he blurted. “Sometimes I can’t feel it, and it’s, it’s just….”
They lost their chance, in that second.
He saw it in the princess’s eyes.
“I have no choice,” Ismene said coldly, stepping away from him. The amulet slapped back against his chest, as she turned in a swish of skirts. “Thanasi must send a delegation of tributes, and I must choose—”
“Ismene, please,” Zora begged, and from the stiffening of the princess’s back, he knew she’d stepped out of line to question her princess. “Elijah saw Asphodel in the Well of Sorrows. She told him she and Dameron survive inside the Yarlstone, and that Dameron intends to return. He’s been drawing power from the Nine Lands all year, in order to manifest sometime during the Ascension. That’s why the lands are dying. That’s why the wells are drying up.”
“So you say,” said Garrimore, stepping between her and the princess. “You always did wish to play Warrior. You should have been content with your place in the team, Zora. You sound a fool.”
Zora pushed forward. “The Keeper himself pledged us to this task. He believes.”
The crowd hushed, as if the Keeper's name stole their breath.
“Then prove it,” Ismene said, turning and spearing them all with a glance. Her voice hardened. “The Ascension begins tomorrow night, and you come to me now, so late in the game, demanding to let me push your chosen team of tributes aside in favor of two Ice Fang hunters, and a mage.”
Zora swallowed hard. “I do.”
“Then prove this team is worth the risk,” the princess insisted, shooting Elijah another furious look.
"Elijah," Zora begged him.
He tried again to summon the Current, but the whisper was gone. Dameron had stolen it from him with a single laughing taunt. His fingers curled into helpless fists, but the words died in his throat. I'm sorry.
Perhaps this was for the best. The mage king needed Elijah if he was to manifest. If he wasn't there....
Zora released a steady breath, as she saw him fail.
Again.
“So be it.” She stepped right up to Garrimore and tipped her chin up stubbornly. “I challenge you to a duel. The winner's team shall attend
the Ascension.”
“And the loser?” Garrimore’s lip curled in delight, as if he’d been waiting for this all along.
“Dies,” Zora said.
“Wait, what?”
Zandui hauled him out of the way as the court was cleared. “Don’t interfere. Zora knows what she’s doing.”
Elijah sized Garrimore up. He was almost as tall as Elijah himself, and as broad through the shoulders. And worse, he knew what he was doing. It was evident in every stride of his long legs, and the way he drew his sword with a steely rasp as a pair of courtiers marked a colored circle on the floor with orange powder that spilled from the small hessian bags they carried.
Zora took a deep breath as Yeorfac helped ease her fur vest down over her arms. Her eyes stared into the distance as if she primed herself for combat, going over and over the fight in her head.
Yeorfac muttered something in her ear, and Zora nodded, taking the hilt of her sword as Yeorfac drew the sheath away with a flourish.
Zora wiped damp palms on her tunic. Just a little sign of nervousness, but Elijah’s gaze narrowed on it.
She wasn’t certain if she could beat Garrimore.
“Don’t do it,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. “We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way.” Zora’s lips thinned. “All you had to do was prove you had magic. The princess knows the omens. That’s all she wants, reassurance she’s making the right choice.”
He shot a look toward Garrimore. “I can’t do it. Not here, with everyone watching.” Elijah rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It doesn’t seem to work like that.”
“Then I’ll do this the hard way.” Princess Hard-Ass was back in place, her expression a cool mask that promised someone was going to get hurt.
Zora sucked in a sharp breath. Then another. She jiggled up and down, as if working blood through her body.
Across the court, Garrimore threw his head back and laughed at something his friend, Kohen, said. He tilted a water bag to his lips, as if he had no worries in the world.