Snowfall

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Snowfall Page 33

by Brandon Cornwell


  She gritted her teeth, pressing her head back against the slab and straining against the stone that held her. Her arms and chest tensed up with the effort, the edge of her restraints digging into her wrists as she pulled against them, but they held firm. All she could hear was an intense, overwhelming hum, drowning out even Giriraj's voice. She struggled to maintain control, to stay still and let the energy flow through her.

  There was a pulse, and her skin felt like it was on fire. An unimaginable heat flowed through her, and she screamed, every fiber of her body pulling against the stone. Her control slipped, and she fought to break free, though Giriraj held her fast. There was no conscious thought in her anymore, only an overwhelming urge to escape. She opened her eyes and saw only blinding purple light. She hammered her head against the stone, feeling it deform underneath her. Her left hand started to pull free as the stone softened.

  An iron grip clamped down on her wrist, forcing it back into place, and she screamed again, but this time in a panicked rage. Another hand grabbed her other wrist. The energy lessened – though only slightly – and her perceptions slowly returned. She could feel a weight on her, pressing her against the stone. As she wildly looked around, the light that filled her eyes slowly faded, revealing Giriraj's chest. He was pressed up against her, holding her down to the stone. His knees were against hers, while both of his hands gripped her wrists above her head.

  Gradually, the energy that coursed through Amethyst's body ebbed, and her muscles went slack. She sagged, hanging by her wrists from what remained of the stone that had held her in place. Giriraj backed up, releasing her, and lifted her head to look into her eyes.

  She barely clung to consciousness, her vision fading in and out. She saw his lips moving, and she heard sound, but she couldn't make out any words. She blinked, and a ripple of light passed over everything, highlighting the corners of the room, leaving a residual glow behind as it faded. She was aware of her arms as they dropped to her sides, and she slumped forward, Giriraj catching her before she fell.

  He carried her to the platform and lay her on it, the hum fading from her ears. The air in the chamber was cold, almost searing her throat as she breathed, and Amethyst shivered, rolling to her side. Every time she moved, she felt like shards of glass were shattering inside her muscles, and she cried out again through gritted teeth

  “Lay here,” Giriraj said. “You will bear this pain for a time, but it will fade, much more quickly than it seems like it will. You did well. You did... very well.”

  Amethyst couldn't respond. She clamped her eyes shut, pain radiating through her body in pulses with every heartbeat as she lay on the padded surface, shivering.

  A thick blanket fell over her, and she started to regain some warmth. She heard the door shut, and then her consciousness left her at last.

  ~~~

  8th Waning Planting Moon, Year 4368

  Amethyst awoke the next morning, her eyelids heavy. Her entire body ached, though it was no longer racked with sharp pains like it had been immediately after Giriraj's ritual. She pushed herself up, her face feeling puffy and dry. Her muscles were sore, as though she had spent the last week on a forced march through mountainous terrain. She rubbed the sleep grit from her eyes and looked around. The ritual chamber was empty except for her; Rasul and Giriraj were nowhere to be seen. Painstakingly, she crawled to the edge of the platform and forced herself to her feet.

  She tucked her robe into place and retied her belt. The stone slab that she had been anchored to the night before was still jutting out of the dais, with a dent in the smooth surface where her head had been. She reached back and felt where she had struck it, wincing at the small, swollen lump under her hair. There were faint green bruises around her wrists where the stone had restrained her, and when she checked her legs, she found similar marks on her shins and calves.

  She stumbled out of the ritual chamber and into the library. Giriraj's door was closed, but the entrance to the training room was open, so she went in search of food. Despite how much her body hurt, she was absolutely starving.

  She found Giriraj and Rasul seated at the dining table, conversing over a breakfast of sausages, potatoes, and eggs. They both looked over to her as she walked into the room. Giriraj beckoned for her to take a seat, and she obliged.

  “So,” he said, “how do you feel?”

  “I hurt,” she croaked, her throat dry. She poured herself a goblet of water and took a drink. “I hope the ritual was a success?” she said after clearing her throat.

  Giriraj nodded. “It was. I was able to connect your energies directly to the mountain. You can draw from it whenever you are near enough as though it were a part of you.”

  She nodded. “I assume that is a good thing?”

  “Oh yes. It will make for much quicker, much more powerful magic. It should take less out of you as well.”

  “I hope so,” Amethyst said, putting food on a plate. The more she looked at it, the hungrier she became. “As of late, it has been exhausting practicing magic, and I don't know why.”

  “Hmm. That is curious,” Giriraj said. “So, when are you planning to depart for Castle Lonwick?”

  He was especially conversational with her that morning, treating her almost as an equal, and it made her wary. “When I have eaten and had a chance to pack my things. I don't know what time it is now, but it will be much later when I reach Castle Lonwick, and I don't want it to be in the middle of the night.”

  “That would be prudent,” Giriraj said, nodding. “I will set up the travel star for you when you are ready. You will be returning the day before the new moon, correct?”

  “Yes, Master Giriraj.”

  “Good. Rasul or I will arrive on the fourteenth waning moon and wait for you in the ritual chamber; therefore it is imperative that you find your way to it as soon as possible, so that you know how to get there.” He held a piece of folded parchment out to her. “To that end, I have drawn a map of the passages underneath the castle to help guide you to the entrance. Do you remember what to do when you get there?”

  She nodded, taking a bite of her breakfast. “I do.”

  Giriraj nodded. “Excellent.” He looked back at Rasul and huffed. “Well. We have a lot of work to do in analyzing those crystals. Perhaps, once you return to me, Amethyst, I can teach you how to sense other elements. That will make it significantly easier for you to use them in ritual, if you know what you're looking for.”

  “That would be good, Master,” she said, around another mouthful. She had never eaten better-tasting food in her life, and she was starving

  “It would definitely come in handy,” he said and pushed himself up from the table. “Rasul, if you would, join me once you've finished your meal.”

  Rasul nodded, taking a drink from his goblet. “Of course, Giriraj. I will be along shortly.”

  Once Giriraj had left the room, Rasul set his goblet down. “He is much more temperate around you,” he said to Amethyst.

  She looked up at him. “Oh? I did notice he was in a much better mood this morning.”

  “He was worried about you. When he came out of the ritual chamber last night, he was almost as white as you are. I heard you screaming, and I came out, but I wasn't going to enter the chamber.”

  Amethyst nodded slowly. “I vaguely remember that. Most of what I remember is pain. Pain and light.”

  “I did see the light. It wasn't amber like I am used to seeing... it was a bright, violet purple.”

  “Tika mentioned that as well,” Amethyst said. “She said that my color was different than most people who work with the Earth element. I wonder why that is?”

  Rasul shook his head. “I don't know. What I do know is that no other element is represented with purple.”

  “Perhaps the fact that I am an elf changes... something? It's been mentioned that there have not been many elves that were Masters or Apprentices.”

  “Not in recent memory or history, for sure. There have been one or two throughout
the ages, but none that have left any lasting legacies or lineages.” Rasul finished his breakfast and stood. “Well, Giriraj is waiting for me. If I do not see you again, I wish you luck on your journey, and I hope you enjoy the time you spend in your home.”

  She bowed her head. “Thank you, Rasul. I hope your work with Giriraj goes smoothly.”

  Rasul chuckled. “Thank you, Your Grace. I do as well.”

  He left her alone in the room to finish her breakfast in peace. She mulled over what she could remember of the binding ritual from the night before. She undid the belt to her robes and lifted up her chemise, looking at the bottom of her ribcage. There, pressed into her skin, were two bruises the shape and size of Giriraj's hands. He must have had to hold her back very hard to keep her in place.

  She took another helping of sausage and eggs. She was looking forward to being able to see her father again; it had been almost six months since she had left the castle, and she hadn't spoken directly to anyone back home since. She found herself thinking of the people back in the castle, the guards and servants that she had seen on a daily basis. What had Tionna, her handmaiden, been doing since she left? Had she found another lady of the court to work for, or had she been reassigned elsewhere in the castle?

  Amethyst finished her meal and pushed her plate away. It was time to get her things together... she was finally going home, at least for a while. After that, well, it seemed that things were about to get very interesting in the Northlands.

 

 

 


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