Snowfall

by Brandon Cornwell

  The slab of ice dropped suddenly, cracks spreading through it as the slab slowly leaned towards her. Amethyst leapt back, slipping in the meltwater that was running down the hall. Scrambling, she just made it clear of the ice as it slammed into the ground, shattering into a dozen large chunks and countless smaller ones. One of the smaller fragments, about the size of her head, landed on her right ankle, causing her to cry out in pain.

  She scooted out of the water and pulled her foot towards her, pain lancing through her leg. She slowly flexed it, rolling it back and forth, and felt it pop, sending a fresh surge of pain that made her nauseous. She sat on the floor for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing through her nose. Though she had been shivering a moment before, she was suddenly sweating, and the cold air helped settle her head and stomach.

  After catching her breath, Amethyst opened her eyes and pulled off her boot. Already, her ankle was swelling, her fair skin turning a shade of yellowish green. She couldn't tell if it was broken or not.

  Supporting herself against the wall, she pushed herself up, resting most of her weight on her uninjured foot. Gingerly, she tested the other and gritted her teeth. If she did walk on it, it was going to be excruciating the whole time. She needed to figure something out, and quickly.

  She cast around the hallway for something to use as a crutch, but it was bare, save for the chunks of ice. Carefully, she took a step, favoring her right leg. If she was careful, she could walk without feeling like she was going to throw up, but jumping or running was out of the question.

  She picked her way over the ice, resting her weight on her knee when she had to, the cold seeping through her clothes as she made her way over the treacherous ground. It didn't take her long to reach the other side, and she stood up again, somewhat unsteady on one foot. She limped down the hallway, keeping one hand on the wall to support her weight.

  Not far down the corridor from where the ice had blocked her path, there was a wooden door. It matched the rest of the doors in the underground complex, iron-banded and set into the stone wall. Amethyst pulled it open and stepped into the chamber beyond.

  Chapter Nine

  12th Waxing Moon of the Long Night, Year 4367

  The chamber Amethyst stood in was dark, unlike the corridors she had traveled through. Beyond the pool of light that shone through the doorway, she could see nothing. No walls, no ceiling, no floor. Amethyst blinked, rubbing her eyes, and peered into the room again, but the shadows held their secrets, revealing nothing. Not even her keen elven sight could penetrate the darkness.

  She limped back to the shattered wall of ice, picked up a few chunks the size of her fist, and carried them to the chamber. She stooped down, setting them on the floor, and slid one into the shadows. It scraped into the darkness, and then silence. It hadn't hit anything, it had simply stopped. She set another piece of ice in the same place and slid it along the trail of water left by the first block.

  It slid for the same amount of time, right along the path of the other, then, as suddenly as before, the sound stopped. Puzzled, Amethyst sat down, trying to figure out why.

  It could be that the darkness was devouring the ice, some unseen force destroying it, but that seemed a little too severe for a test involving potential apprentices. The ice could be striking something soft that muffled the noise as it hit, but then why didn't the second chunk of ice make a noise when it hit the first? Perhaps something picked them up, waiting for her to venture into the shadow to grab her as well.

  She scoffed to herself. She didn't really believe in any sort of boogeyman; the thought was absurd. Still, she had to admit there was something about dark corridors that made her step a little faster, and she was dealing with a magical challenge, after all. There was no telling what waited for her past the boundary of the light. If she could concentrate and throw energy like Rasul had done, perhaps the bursts of light would illuminate her path. It was moot, really – she wasn't able to do such a thing. She didn't even have a flint and steel, to create sparks and light the mundane way.

  She closed her eyes, sensing the energy of the mountain around her. As it came into focus, she saw the corridors behind her, with the massive void in place of the chasm and the myriad walls and passageways connecting to each other in an intricate labyrinth. She shifted her focus, looking for any threats that might lay ahead.

  The massive chamber stretched out for a hundred feet or more to a side, and almost as high. Beyond the light of the hallway, the floor abruptly dropped off, with only a narrow causeway extending over another chasm. It twisted and turned back and forth onto itself before it vanished into the darkness.

  “So that's it,” she murmured. If she had charged into the room recklessly, she would have found herself plummeting to her death.

  Amethyst crawled forward, carefully feeling her way across the floor, keeping her eyes shut so that she could focus on the energy of the mountain. As she reached the edge of the glow, her fingertips found the dropoff, and she inched her way over to the path. Lowering herself to her belly, she crawled out onto the narrow walkway and started her long, arduous journey across the chasm.

  She was well out over the pit when she heard footsteps behind her, breaking her concentration. She looked back and saw Fredrick standing in the doorway, framed by the passage. He squinted, holding a hand up as if to shade his eyes from the light, peering out into the darkness. Glancing down, he saw the chunk of ice Amethyst had left behind and picked it up, examining it. Hefting it, he threw it out into the shadow, listening intently.

  There was no sound of the ice striking anything. Apparently, he had missed the platform upon which she lay. After a moment, he walked down the tunnel, back the way he came.

  She regained her focus, the energy in the stone lighting her path. She crawled with a renewed vigor, keeping her body centered on the causeway.

  She paused to rest, setting her cheek against the cool stone and opening her eyes. She was greeted with nothing but inky blackness. Even holding her hand in front of her face, she saw nothing. Amethyst sighed, letting her arms rest against the walkway.

  What had she gotten herself into? Not a month before, magic was some far off, forbidden story, told in whispers so as not to upset the priests that tutored her. Now, here she was, crawling on her belly through unnatural darkness, on her way to find a mage who would teach her... what? How to be a more powerful mage herself? She had learned more in the last fortnight than she felt like she had in the entire decade before, stuffed up in the castle, away from the real world.

  She had never met anyone like Rasul. He had seemed so unassuming – if exotic – in the courtroom. He said he wasn't a wizard himself, that his potential was insufficient, but he had performed greater magic than she had considered possible. Did that mean that she was going to be more powerful than he was? Even now, her body ached from the force with which he had battered her magical shield.

  Amethyst pushed herself up, reaching out with her mind again to see the path. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was in control of her own destiny. She didn't have to keep up her poise, she didn't have to make sure that every action was perfectly sculpted to bring pride and honor to her father and her kingdom. Here, she wasn't Amethyst Leonus, daughter of King Alberic Leonus. Here, she was her own person. She was Quartz, the future apprentice to the Master of Earth. Here, she was a force to be reckoned with. Here, she was a wizard.

  But even if she won the Choosing and was accepted into the apprenticeship, what would that entail? What would Giriraj be like, as a teacher and master? Rasul had told her that she would be doing many menial tasks for him, as well as learning, but what of the more difficult tasks? Rasul had said that she would be seeing the Master of Earth naked, and had strongly hinted that he would be seeing her the same way. She thought how Fredrick had been looking at her in the bath, and she shivered in distaste. What would Giriraj expect of her? Would she become his to do with as he pleased?

  She paused. What if he demanded that she
sleep with him? Would she agree, just to learn what he had to teach her?

  Would it be worth it?

  What if she were to call out to Rasul right now, and forfeit her apprenticeship?

  Amethyst's concentration wavered, and it was as if a ripple passed across her mind's eye, obscuring the path in front of her. She fought to regain control, and the image cleared, focusing into view again.

  “No,” she said aloud, her voice echoing in the chamber around her. She would not forfeit. For the first time in a very long time, she felt as though she were truly living for herself, instead of some ideal, some greater purpose. She resumed her crawl, making her way across the winding platform.

  When she reached the other side, Amethyst kept crawling until she was well away from the edge. Carefully, she rose to her feet and put her hands out in front of her. She hobbled way to the wall and felt along it until her fingers touched wood. She traced the edges with her hands, seeking the handle, and when she found it, she pulled the door open.

  The burst of light from the other side felt like it was going to blind her, and she winced, closing her eyes again as she shielded them with one hand. Slowly, she opened them, letting her eyes adjust to the brightness.

  She was in another corridor, just like the ones that came before. It went forward perhaps thirty feet before hooking sharply to the right. She followed the hall, taking several sharp turns before it opened into a wide chamber with a pedestal in the center and a wooden door on the far side.

  As she approached the pillar, Amethyst saw eight crystals arranged in a circle, their points towards the middle. They were all clear, hexagonal with slight inclusions throughout – likely some form of quartz.

  She reached out to pick one up, then paused. She walked over to the door, inspecting it, searching for some sort of handle or latch, but found none. She pushed against it, but it didn't move – something kept it securely closed. She did spot a small hole, however, and when she looked through it, she could see some sort of mechanical workings inside, with a six-sided socket, just the size of the crystals.

  Amethyst went back to the pedestal and looked the crystals over again. They appeared identical in size and shape, but something told her that she should be careful about which one she selected. It was likely no coincidence that there were as many crystals as there were elements, if you counted the four primary and four secondary forces. She sought the Master of Earth, so it would make sense that she would need to use the crystal that corresponded with his element, but which one was that?

  She set her hand out over the stones, hoping that one of them would glow and jump into her grip like it had back in the library at Castle Lonwick, but no such luck.

  Closing her eyes, she looked at the energies of the stones in front of her. None of them gave off any light at all, frustrating her. It looked like she was just going to have to guess. Irritated, she took all of the crystals over to the door and chose one at random. Inserting it into the hole, she settled it in place and gave it a twist.

  The door swung inwards, revealing a round chamber with pillars supporting an arched ceiling. Torches lit the room, as opposed to the strange, ever-present ambient lighting that illuminated the rest of the halls. The floor was polished white and black marble, as if a single enormous slab had been set into the ground and oiled until it shone like a mirror. Multicolored tapestries hung from the walls, anchored to the solid stone with steel spikes and suspended from long wooden rods.

  In the center of the chamber, atop a raised dais and surrounded by pillars, sat a massive slab of jet black obsidian. Wrought iron sconces held flaming torches over the altar, crackling in the otherwise silent room.

  Amethyst approached the dais, stepping up to get a closer look at the obsidian slab. On the surface, inlaid into the stone with gold, was an octagram. She had seen the symbol countless times before – it was used by the priests as a religious symbol, representing the eight gods and goddesses. She was confused to see it here, in a place that was dedicated to the arcane, rather than the spiritual. Were the priests correct? Did the Masters profane the gods and pervert their wills by drawing their powers directly from them, rather than from the world around them as she had been told?

  Behind her, the door slammed open and she started, whirling to face the intrusion. Fredrick stood, his fists clenched at his sides, dirty and disheveled. A trickle of blood ran from a split on his chin, and one of his fingernails was torn off.

  “No!” he shouted, sprinting towards her. “I will not lose to a stupid, arrogant, worthless elven whore!”

  Stumbling back, she fell against the altar and braced herself, holding her arm up to stop him. He slapped it aside and grabbed her neck with both hands, cutting off her breath. She grabbed his arms, trying to loosen his grip, but he was far too strong.

  He forced her down, slamming her head against the hard stone. “You should have never come here!” he snarled, grabbing the front of her shirt and throwing her aside. Pain shot through her ankle as she rolled off the dais, Fredrick following her. He pulled back his fist to strike her in the face, and she threw up one hand to stop him, frantically taking hold of energy in the stone.

  A long, needle sharp spike shot out of the marble floor next to her, the tip plunging into Fredrick's stomach like it was butter. He gasped and staggered back, snapping off the stone as he pulled away. Gripping the end of the spike in one hand, he pulled it out, blood running down his front. He looked up at her, shock and anger twisting his otherwise handsome features into a mask of fury.

  “You stupid bitch,” he cursed. “I'll fucking kill you!”

  Amethyst rolled forward, reaching out into the mountain and drawing up its energy to form a shield around herself. As Fredrick lunged towards her, he struck the ward, bouncing back onto the dais. The blood from his stomach rolled down the invisible surface of the sphere, splashing on the ground between them.

  Clenching his fists, Fredrick started beating against her barrier, each strike shaking her concentration. The shield weakened even as she reinforced it; he was using magic to strengthen his blows. She reached out into the earth and drew up several long, thick pillars between her and Fredrick, but he smashed them with his fists, sending rock fragments and dust showering through the room.

  Tika sprinted into the room, wide-eyed. She grabbed a pieces of stone and charged Fredrick, throwing it at his head before tackling him. The blow caught him off guard, and he reeled as Tika bowled him off his feet.

  “Run, Quartz!” Tika screamed as she wrestled with the dazed young man. “Get out of here!”

  Fredrick threw the young woman, sending her smashing into the altar. She slumped to the ground and lay still.

  Anger surged through Amethyst, replacing her surprise and fear. She rose to her feet, ignoring the pain in her ankle, and dropped her shield. Reaching out, she sent another spike of stone at Fredrick, the point of it narrowly missing his chest as he rolled to the side.

  She stepped forward, her ankle rolling out from under her and dropping her to one knee, and Fredrick took the opportunity to pounce at her, leaping off the edge of the dais. She braced herself for impact, hoping to catch him and roll until she was on top.

  Fredrick collided with a sheet of stone that sprang up between them. “Stop!” shouted a powerful, unfamiliar voice, echoing through the chamber so loudly that Amethyst covered her ears to shield them from the booming sound. The stone wall dropped back into the floor, revealing a dazed and surprised Fredrick sprawled on his back. His forehead was split open where he had struck the stone.

  Between them stood an old man, shirtless, with skin the same color as Tika's. He had on a pair of loose trousers, belted around the middle with a wide leather strap studded with gold rivets. His bare feet were calloused and rough, as if he had walked an incredible distance with no shoes. Atop his head was a long, flowing mane of white hair, falling down over his shoulders, and a thick white beard fell over his chest. He was slender, though the lines in his abdomen revealed every one
of his muscles, his chest firm and square. Every fiber of him, from his stance to his hard-as-nails glare at Fredrick, exuded power and confidence. Amethyst could feel her skin tingling from his very presence. Even without concentrating, she could see the glow of the stone around her, its energy becoming visible to her without closing her eyes. She immediately knew who he was.

  Giriraj, the Master of Earth.

  Amethyst stayed still as he stalked over to Fredrick, lifting him to his feet effortlessly. He looked into the young man's terrified eyes and narrowed his own.

  “You are not worthy of my teaching. Your heart is filled with dark, selfish thoughts. You seek power only for your own benefit, not for the benefit of others. Not even just for the benefit of the knowledge it would impart. I will not be the instrument of your ego.”

  He pushed Fredrick back, releasing him. “Rasul,” he called out, “get this boy out of my mountain.”

  As soon as Giriraj had finished speaking, Fredrick vanished, as though he had been nothing more than an apparition. Turning towards Amethyst, the man looked down at her, obviously appraising her as she knelt on the ground. Crossing his arms over his chest, he lifted his chin.

  “You know who I am.” It was not a question.

  “Yes, sir,” Amethyst said quietly. “You are the Master of Earth, Giriraj.”

  Giriraj nodded. “Lay your hand on the center of the altar, and your trial is complete. I will be sure that your friend gets the help she needs.”

  Amethyst moved to stand, but her ankle buckled underneath her, dropping her back to one knee. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up, keeping her weight on her left leg. She limped to the altar and, taking one last look at Tika's still form, she reached out and set her hand flat in the center of the star sigil. There was a rush of wind around her, a bright flash of amber, and the room went dark.