Catalyst (Book 1)

by Marc Johnson

  When the sun rose, I gathered my belongings and put on my heavy cloak and gloves. I jumped up and down, shaking my fingers and rolling my neck. In tune with my nervousness, the fire started to surface. I didn't let it rise, as I didn't want it to burn my gloves. I would need them. The fear of what I was about to do made it hard to control the fire. When I saw the horse staring at my movements, though, I couldn't help but laugh. It relaxed me a little.

  I rubbed the horse’s neck and scratched behind her ears. She made a soft sighing noise. I smiled, glad I had her along. She hadn’t been as scared as the other horses during that wildfire I caused, and she never seemed bothered by the fire I created. She also was a very good listener. I frowned, remembering why I bought the old girl, but I pushed the thought out of my mind. I just wished I had an apple to give her.

  I walked her to the path. I craned my neck, gazing up at the White Mountain—my enemy—and whispered, “Gods help me.”

  The trek wasn’t too bad at first. The snow was at a comfortable level, and the wind soothed my overheated body. What surprised me was that there were more paths etched in the mountain. You had to look hard, but they were there. I couldn’t imagine what had made them, or how far they would take me, but I didn’t have long to focus on my curiosity. I had far bigger things to worry about. The mountain fought back.

  The wind picked up until it wailed like a crying child. I grasped my cloak's hood tighter to shield my face. The wind tore the cloak from my hands until it struck my face with such cold and ferocity it felt like a thousand bee stings. Breathing through my mouth helped with the cold a bit. I focused on my frozen breaths leaving my body. I held onto my horse's reins while she neighed and bucked against the wind and cold.

  We tried to find the easiest path, but each time the ground became too slippery with ice, or the deep snow crawled up my leg. My feet slipped every few steps, and twice I went down hard on my knees, grunting in pain.

  Towards the end of the first day, I reached the end of the path I followed. On one side, the cliff reared up beside me; on the other was a steep drop to the valley below. It seemed odd to see the green of spring down there, while the bitter wind threw ice crystals at my face.

  I found a sheltered spot and dug a campsite out of the snowdrifts. It was a cold and lonely night, and I knew I was in for many more, if I survived.

  The next few days were the same. Sometimes I found a path; other times my horse and I scrambled over the rocky ground with no guide but the need to keep going up. I didn't understand why I had heard tales of people trying to climb the White Mountain. Who would do this unless they were compelled to, like I was? I had to latch on to my inner fire to stay warm, and I hugged my freezing horse from time to time for even more warmth. Finally, I got to a place where there would be no more paths. I would have to scramble over fields of shale and tumbled boulders. There was no way my horse could make it. I had been putting off this moment, but I knew what I had to do.

  I grabbed the horse’s reins and nuzzled my head against hers. She whickered and returned the gesture. While I was used to killing animals on the farm where I worked, this was different. I had never killed an animal I owned before, one that had given me brave service and companionship.

  I took out my father's dagger, exposing my body to the harsh elements when my cloak unfurled. The old girl looked at me with calm, black eyes. I slashed her jugular vein with as much accuracy, speed, and strength as I could. Her blood painted the snow. She gave a weary neigh, saying her goodbye to the gods as she collapsed to the ground.

  I spent the rest of the day working on her in the freezing weather. I skinned her and cleaned up her hide as best as I could, using the snow and melting it with my power. I cut and packaged as much meat as I could carry. The hide would help keep me warm.

  More days passed, and the wind never stopped flinging snow in my eyes. I went to sleep cold and woke up freezing. I had to constantly use my power to keep myself warm. I wondered how people who didn't have my power climbed the mountain. They must be crazy. Or dead.

  My power waned, and my body became numb from the cold. It seemed there were limits to what my inner fire could do. I forced myself to trudge along. I was damned if I was going to let the White Mountain defeat me.

  By the end of the week, I couldn't feel my fingers or toes. I found a crevice out of the wind and kindled a fire with my sputtering power. I hoped I had enough left within me to thaw out some frozen meat as well as warm my toes. I didn't want to choose between starvation and frostbite.

  The next morning, I hauled myself to my feet and kept on. The longer I spent on the mountain, the more the cold, thin, frosty air pained me. With each deep breath, it felt like my heavy feet wouldn't move again. I managed to lift one foot after the other out of the deep snow and plop them back down. I never looked up at how far I had to go. I only focused on the crunchy, white snow in front of me.

  I went on, despite how much the howling wind taunted me. I hunched my shoulders in a futile attempt to keep the sharp wind from hitting me.

  From the foot of the mountain, this place was beautiful and magnificent. Up high, it was devastating, cold, and lonely. The only thing I could find comfort in was my fire.

  It hadn’t taken long for my water to freeze through, but I no longer needed it. I would grab a handful of snow or ice and warm it up with my hand. The snow melted even though I had a glove on. It was pure heaven to open my mouth and let the water trickle in. However, the water wasn't enough.

  Using my fire and climbing this godsforsaken landscape forced me to eat more. I needed the energy. I began running out of the food I had bought, as well as the meat my horse had given me. I had thought there might be other animals like elks, rabbits, or mountain goats so I could hunt, but I saw none. I was going to have to ration my food. I couldn’t tell how long it would be until I reached the top. The mountain stretched on forever—to the stars themselves.

  I lost count of the days. They all ran together. I rose when the sun shone and rested when the sun disappeared. I couldn't feel its heat. All it did was allow me to see where I was going and what obstacles to avoid. The snow and wind did their best to obscure it.

  It seemed as if I had been climbing for weeks when I reached a steep, icy wall. It looked insurmountable—far worse than any of the walls I had encountered before. Just looking up at it gave me a crick in my neck. There might have been a way around, but it would have added days to my journey. Judging from my now-light backpack, I didn’t have days. I chewed on some dried horsemeat, thinking about what to do. No. There was only one way to go—up. It was there I'd get the answers I needed.

  I said a heartfelt prayer to the gods, and clapped my hands and rubbed them together. Then I started the strenuous climb, hoping my luck hadn’t run out.

  My muscles screamed at me not to climb. I ignored them as I slowly made my way up. My fire-warm hands made it easier to grasp handholds on the wall, but the jagged ice tore into my hands and ripped my clothes. I bled across the clear surface, but I couldn't let go.

  The weight of my horsehide, sheepskin, bedroll, and other supplies strained my back. I grunted in pain, but continued inching upwards. Finally, I came to the end of my strength. I lost my footholds and one handhold, and hung with only one numb arm supporting all of my weight. Muscles ripped with searing-hot pain, and my scream tore through the thin, icy air. My agony echoed off the mountain.

  As I dangled over the thousand-foot drop, I thought about my death and mediocre life. I felt shame, thinking of my mother and her hopes that I could use my power to help people. If I fell to my death, I would let her down. What good would I be and what good would I do, if I died? I wasn't going to give up, for her sake and for the sake of others like Krystal, if not for my own.

  And I wanted answers. I wanted to know why I could do what I did. It wasn't normal. I wasn't normal. I couldn't—wouldn’t—die without knowing.

  My rage and determination swelled and exploded violently. In my mind flashed a brill
iant light, brighter and hotter than I had ever pictured before. “I won't give up! Do you hear me? I won't give up!” Shattered shards of ice shimmered down on my head.

  The heat boiled inside me, aching to be released. I reached out with all of my might, ignoring the searing pain of my arm giving way. I grabbed hold of the side of the wall with my free hand. My arm nearly came out of its socket as my back screamed for release. The fire blazed through my hand, destroyed the glove, and burned through the side of the obstruction. With renewed strength, I struggled towards the top, leaving holes in the glacial fortification. I hurried, not wanting to be on the wall of ice if the fire caused it to come tumbling down.

  It did.

  Cracks spread through the ice like spider webs. The once impenetrable wall started to give way. First, small bits came apart in my hands and slid down the icy face. Then more of it broke away beneath me. My heated hands tore chunks from the wall, and my feet had nothing to hold them up. I felt like a spider on the wall, scurrying to make it to the top as more of the ice slipped away. I pushed through the biting pain in my shoulders, arms, and back, focusing on each grip and handhold my fingers dug into. If I stopped, I would slide down with the ice and be buried with it.

  I reached the top and pulled myself over. The cold ice slid under my belly, cutting into my clothing and my stomach. I crawled away from the edge, pulling myself to safety. The huge slab of ice I had been climbing bowed, groaned, and went crashing down in slow motion, landing at the bottom with a great echoing boom. I lay on the ground, panting. My gashed stomach left a small trail of blood behind me.

  I crawled to a safe distance and collapsed on the ground. My angry muscles moaned. Every bit of energy was gone. The weight of all my supplies held me down. I let my muscles relax, thankful for the breather, and even for the snow and ice freezing against my cheek. I was alive.

  But if I stayed on the ground, I would become part of the landscape, with the snow piling up on me. I flexed my stiff fingers, then dug my palms into the snow and pushed myself up, yelping from how sore my body was and how heavy my light backpack felt. I stood up on wobbly legs, looking at the cuts the ice had made on my stomach. The wounds weren’t deep, and I was no longer bleeding. I limped cautiously towards the edge and looked over.

  The weather wasn't as bad up here. I could see through the mountain’s shield of snow and wind to the landscape below. Sharald’s Forest was a large green spot, and the Daleth Mountains were nothing but brown smears on the horizon. I looked up. I still had some ways to go before I reached the top.

  My brief reprieve passed. The wind picked up and started howling once more, intertwining with the snow. I had to find some shelter. I couldn’t stay on the ledge waiting for the weather to try and finish me off. My head pounded like drums and my vision swirled. I looked around for some place to camp for the night. There was a cave not too far away. I dragged my worn, bruised body towards it.

  The cave's mouth was as tall and wide as a large pine tree. Inside, the cave was even larger. It looked like it could swallow me whole, but I wouldn't satisfy its hunger. I was thankful for its enormous size. If it was cramped and small, I don't know if I could have gone in, no matter how tired I was. Enclosed spaces terrified me.

  I entered the mysterious cave, wanting a reprieve from the freezing chill. What I got was a lot more than I bargained for.

  CHAPTER 5

  I had expected to use what little power I had left to light the cave. I didn't have to. There were burning torches attached to the walls.

  I stopped dead. Torches meant people. Who could be living at the top of this godsforsaken mountain? Was it the angel who had visited at my birth? Someone who had the answers I sought? Or something more dangerous and hostile?

  I put one hand against the rough rock wall, leaning against it and breathing heavily. I listened to see if there were people in here and if they were nearby. Several long moments went by, and all I heard was the trickling water from the melting ice.

  My body wouldn’t let me go farther. I didn't take off my bedroll and backpack. It was more like I couldn't support their weight and they rolled off me and crashed to the ground. I followed suit. My teeth chattered and I couldn't stop shaking. The cave was warmer than outside, but the cold still permeated me. What really unnerved me, though, were my swollen, blue and purple fingers. I needed some kind of warmth. I did my best to latch onto my inner fire, but all I got was a small spark of flame. I couldn’t get my power to work.

  I decided to do it the old-fashioned way and crawled into my bedroll, trying my best to avoid looking at my damaged hands. I covered up with my sheepskin and horse's hide, feeling the warmth creep back into my body.

  I unsheathed my dagger and clutched onto it. I wasn't going to drop my guard now. My mind and emotions may not have wanted me to sleep, but my body screamed for it. It didn't take long for my body to win the argument, and I drifted off to sleep.

  ----

  A low rumble like an earthquake vibrated throughout the cavern. I struggled to open my eyes. I moved my fingers and toes, no longer feeling frozen and stiff, even though my body was still exhausted and aching. I needed more rest.

  The sound became deeper and louder, and it headed in my direction. I woke all the way up and scuttled behind a huge boulder, dagger in hand. I flexed my battered fingers and found that their color had returned to normal.

  I peeked from my hiding place. From the long tunnel at the back of the cave came a billow of smoke. The ground trembled. There was something coming, and it was huge. Then the smoke cleared—and a dragon emerged.

  He was slim and snaky, longer than Farmer Andrick’s barn, and the color of fire—bright red with hints of yellow and orange. He loomed above me, as awe-inspiring and as fearsome as the mountain I had just climbed. The smoke came from his long and pointed snout, as if he had swallowed a forest fire. The stench of sulfur filled the air. He could kill me with a flick of his razor-like claws or a twitch of his tail. And his bloodshot, hungry eyes were the most fierce and frightening of all.

  “Who goes there?” he thundered. The cave shook around me.

  I clutched my useless dagger tighter and held my breath. I didn't want to give him a sign where I was. Sweat rolled down my temples and splattered on the ground. I prayed he didn't hear the loud sound it made.

  “I know you're here. I can see your belongings, and I can smell you.” He inhaled and thrashed his fiery red and orange tail. “Since you won't come out, I'll blast you out!” He veered in my direction and flames spewed out of his mouth in a spiral funnel. I leaped out of the way just as the boiling fire melted the boulder. “Well, there you are,” he said. “I was wondering when you’d come out and say hello.”

  I had heard stories of dragons being protectors, but this one was far from it. This powerful creature wanted to kill me.

  “Stay back! Stay back!” I said. “Don't come any closer, I’m armed.” I brandished my father's dagger.

  “Oh no, I'm scared. Look, the little human is armed. Are you going to pick my teeth with that thing? They could use a good cleaning.” The dragon grinned, showing me his rows of pointy teeth. There were bits and pieces of meat in between them.

  There was nothing I could do to defeat this dragon, so I tried to reason with him. “Please don't. I'm just a boy.”

  “If you're just a boy, then how did you get up here? Prepare to be roasted like a cow.” His predator’s eyes gleamed. “Moo. I hope you taste as good as the last human that was up here.” He slurped his tongue in delight.

  The dragon breathed in, and smoke seeped out of his flaring nostrils. He opened his mouth and blew the flame towards me. In a panic, I dropped my dagger, and instead of running or dodging the flame like someone who had half a brain would do, my hands flew out in front of me. It was a futile attempt, to shield myself from the danger that came my way.

  The intense heat flew towards me. I pushed with my mind as well as my hands. It was similar to all the times I moved my own fire with my mi
nd, except it was far harder. My head throbbed, and blood flowed out of my nose. My eyes pierced the dragon’s fire until I saw it in my mind. It dwelled in him like mine did in me. I could touch it, but I couldn't extinguish it. I changed it, pushing the fire aside.

  The deadly blaze never touched me.

  It turned upwards and struck the ceiling. The dragon stopped his fire breathing, his face contorted with confusion. I didn't care how it happened. I hadn’t even known I could control fire that wasn't my own. At least I was still alive…for now.

  The dragon said, “How did you do—” A huge block of ice fell from the heated ceiling and landed hard on his head, interrupting my would-be eater.

  The dragon’s body crashed heavily to the ground, causing tremors. I fell to one knee, gasping for air. I rubbed my temples and wiped the blood from under my nose. Then I stared at the dragon, waiting for him to rise. If he did, I was finished. There was no way I could have done what I did again. I stared at my hands, amazed I had done it in the first place.

  The dragon's body twitched. My body jerked in response. The dragon didn't rise. The only thing that continued to move was his giant rib cage as he breathed. He was unconscious.

  I glanced up to the heavens, seeing only cave ceiling and the icicles that hung from it. “Thank the gods.”

  I thought about killing the dragon. Surely, he could die like any other animal. But when I saw the tough scales along his huge throat, I knew I couldn't do it before he woke. I also didn't want to take the chance that he would wake when I touched him.

  I gathered my belongings in my arms and circled wide around the slumbering dragon, praying he wouldn’t wake up and kill me. When I was past him, I rushed down the cave. There had to be somewhere where there wouldn't be enough room for the dragon to follow. I thought about going back outside to hide, but the cold would finish me off as surely as the dragon would. From the looks of things, he had no problem with the weather.