by L. Penelope
He fished the little map stone from his pocket and rubbed his thumb across the sleek surface. Then he pulled the knife from his belt—the same one he’d used to kill the soldier. It was clean now, but still he hesitated before pricking his finger and touching it to the stone the old man had given him.
The valley disappeared, the smell of smoke left his nose, and every sound was silenced. All of his senses were overtaken by the magical vision stored in the map. He was transported onto the mountain, walking high in its peaks behind a darkly hooded figure. The summer sun shone overhead, and sweat trickled down Jack’s brow. His body was whole and healthy. Gravel crunched under his feet and birds trilled nearby.
The most recognizable landmark was up ahead. A peak that was flat on top, making it look like a table sitting high above the earth. The hooded figure’s path took him straight toward the flattened pinnacle. He approached, but then veered north-northwest, toward a ridge that in summer was coated with a dense layer of green shrubs. It was across this rise they had to travel.
Jack wondered if the person in the hood was the one who had created the Mantle. Such things were lost to history without so much as the whisper of myth to give any clues. The Mantle had always been, at least for the past five centuries. And whoever had created this map had been to the cornerstone before. For now, that was all Jack needed to know.
He struggled to leave the vision—though it had been much harder the first time he’d tried it, the night the old man had given him the map.
Jack peeled his lids open and found himself staring into the eyes of a scowling Jasminda. She looked from him to the ground where he’d dropped the map after being torn back into the present. “That’s an ugly bit of magic,” she said, nudging the rock with her toe.
Ugly or not, it was the only way to find the cornerstone, and he needed it. When he bent to retrieve the map, she stopped him and picked it up after wrapping her hand in her scarf. Grimacing, she dropped it into his palm like a hot coal.
Jack described the flat peak and the green ridge to her. “I know that place,” she said. “We can take the path on the north side of the valley.”
They set out through the garden rows and trees, Jasminda holding the sack containing the items saved from the house. He protested, but she would not let him carry anything, giving a pointed look at his limping legs when he tried to insist.
“I’m not an invalid.”
Her arched eyebrow contradicted him. “Focus on staying upright. I’ll do the rest.”
He noticed the wince she tried to hide from some injury she wouldn’t acknowledge, but overall, she was in far better shape than he. Common sense told him she was right to insist, but his pride stung.
The moon peeked out from the overhead clouds, brightening the way out of the valley and up the trail leading into the mountains. Though the valley was calm, the storm raging ahead worried him. Their path rose, and the temperature fell drastically. Beneath their feet the ground changed from grassy, to dirt covered, to snow covered. Each torturous step brought not only a deepening of the snow but increased pain.
Jasminda led the way, the light from her lantern reflecting off the icy whiteness, now knee deep. But the surrounding darkness swallowed up the illumination. He trusted that she could find the landmarks at night. The walking stick was a godsend as each step became more difficult than the last. Pausing to catch his breath, he was struck by a coughing fit, leaving red splatters on the pristine white.
When he straightened, he found Jasminda staring at the blood on the ground. Almost immediately, the warm hum of Earthsong rippled through him.
“Save it,” he rasped. “I’m all right.”
She scowled. “You are not all right. You are worse than when you arrived. Stop being such a fool.” The buzz of Earthsong continued for a few moments before she turned and stomped away.
They battled the storm for hours, their progress arduous. Strong gusts of wind blew against them, sometimes knocking them on their backs and forcing them to stop until the intensity eased. Icy blasts whipped through Jack’s coat, freezing his fingers until he could no longer grip the walking stick and had to leave it behind.
“Let’s stop here for a moment,” Jasminda shouted, pointing to a notch in the rock wall just big enough for two people. Underneath the overhang, the snow stood only ankle high, and the sidewalls protected them from the worst of the wind. They crouched down together, shaking from the cold. She took his hands in hers and rubbed, bringing some feeling back into them. In the flickering lantern light, worry etched a frown on her face.
“Does this storm seem strange to you?”
“Strange how?”
She swiveled her head from side to side. “I don’t know. It’s almost like it’s … alive.”
Jack’s teeth were chattering so hard that he wasn’t sure what sort of expression crossed his face, but Jasminda blinked and looked down. “Never mind.”
“Is that possible? Can Earthsong do such a thing?” Jack flinched at the thought. A living storm? Could this be the first wave of attack? The True Father had long used environmental means to wage war, but such a storm was unprecedented.
Jasminda brushed away the snow that had accumulated on her lashes. “It would take a great deal of his power, I’d think. An unbelievable amount, but it might be possible.” She shivered in a way that didn’t seem like it was purely from cold.
“How much farther is it?” Jack asked.
She motioned with her head, and he craned his neck around. The tabletop crest of the next mountain was just ahead of them, glowing in the filtered moonlight reflecting off the snow.
Excitement coursed through his blood, and Jack rallied, drawing whatever inner strength he could into his depleted limbs. He cracked his knuckles and tried to fashion his frozen face into a grin. “We’re nearly there.”
Jasminda nodded, and they stood. Some previously untapped fount from within propelled him forward. Though snow covered everything, he recognized the change in elevation as the green ridge from his vision.
“Where to now?” she shouted over the vicious wind.
“Just across there.”
They had to hold each other up to continue, but pushed forward. Jack had no feeling in his feet or hands, and not much in his face, either. He could almost believe that the storm did have some evil intent.
The wind battered them as they crossed the narrow ridge single file. Jasminda held the lantern, leading the way across the icy path. Snow crumbled, tumbling down steep inclines, and was swallowed by the darkness.
Jack’s foot slipped. He tipped forward, crashing to his hands and knees. Jasminda wrenched him up, and they shuffled forward, bitterly slowly, but his legs would not move any faster. The path disappeared over a slight incline in front of them.
“It’s j-just…” He raised a hand to point. Jasminda looked over her shoulder, her expression more grim than he’d ever seen it. They crested the rise, and Jack blinked snow out of his eyes, wonder growing at the sight before them.
He slipped again and thundered to the ground, sliding down the hill on his back. Jasminda cursed behind him, falling on the ice as well.
When he caught his breath, he lay looking up at a giant pillar of stone rising from the ground. It had to be five stories high. Another stood ten paces away. Jack turned his head to find an entire circle of such irregularly shaped pillars, but the more astonishing sight was that none were touched by snow or ice. Inside the perimeter of rough columns, green grass covered the earth.
Jack crawled forward, seeking the warmth. Once he crossed the perimeter, the thrall of the storm no longer touched him. The stone circle must have held magic that protected it from the elements. Feeling returned to his senseless limbs. Wondering if he was hallucinating, he made his way to his feet. But beside him, Jasminda’s slack-jawed face reflected his awe.
“Is this what you saw?” she asked.
“Yes.” The first time he’d used the map, he’d seen the hooded figure enter this circle
of stones. In the vision, it had been summer. Now, it seemed, no other season existed here.
“What now?” Jasminda’s voice held an edge of wariness.
Jack tore his attention from the stark delineation of winter and summer to look to the center of the circle. The space was twenty paces across. But unlike in his vision, the inside of the circle was empty. “It was there. Just there in the middle.” He turned to Jasminda.
“A red obelisk rose higher than the outer stone columns. In the vision, I knew it was the cornerstone.” He stared at the empty space again. Well, not entirely empty. Where the obelisk had once stood now lay a smooth patch of what looked to be dark glass. Somewhat irregularly shaped, the sleek surface held ripples, as if a stone had been tossed in a puddle and then the whole thing had frozen.
Jack moved toward it, studying the area.
“Could it have been moved?” Jasminda asked.
“I don’t … I don’t know.” He dropped to his knees, exhaustion catching up with him. Was it his imagination, or did the glass move? Jasminda kneeled beside him, her attention caught as well. Had she seen it?
Like they had practiced the movement, both reached a hand forward at the same time. Only the tips of their fingers brushed the surface, but the glass shattered as if hit with a hammer.
Shards exploded outward, lacerating their hands. Jack dove for Jasminda, using his body to protect her from the spray of sharp fragments. She landed with an oomph beneath him, and Jack struggled to catch his breath. Blood seeped from the many shallow wounds on his hands. It was not so much that it should have made him feel light-headed. He’d had worse wounds only the day before. But still, before he could move off Jasminda, his head dove toward the ground and all went black.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Failure is like Frog who wished that she, like a tree, would lose her green in autumn.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Jasminda’s eyelids felt at least three times their normal weight. The last thing she remembered was the breath leaving her lungs as Jack’s weight crushed her. Now, the pressure on her chest was gone. She opened her eyes and found Jack two paces away, still out cold. And the world around her had changed.
When they had entered the stone circle, the storm still raged outside its boundaries. But now, she had been transported into a different season altogether. Beyond the pillars, the sun was up, the weather serene. The outside now matched the inside of the circle.
She sat up and looked again at Jack, sprawled beside her. In his open palm lay the map stone. That was odd. She was sure he hadn’t been holding it when they entered the circle.
She looked around again and gasped, scrambling backward at the sight of a hooded figure standing across the shattered glass from them. Only now, the glass was whole again, like it hadn’t burst apart and sliced her. Her fingers no longer stung from the cuts, and there was no blood slicking her palms.
“Who are you?” she called out.
The figure, covered head to toe in a dark cloak, walked around toward Jasminda. She stood her ground, not wanting to move farther from Jack’s vulnerable form.
The cloaked person’s arms rose to remove the hood, and Jasminda’s chest contracted. Standing before her was a woman, a Lagrimari woman. Her dark hair was pulled back into a thick braid, and her eyes, slightly downturned at the corners, gave her a sad look.
She peered in Jasminda’s general direction, but the woman was looking through her. Jasminda turned—there was no one else there besides her and Jack.
The sad woman opened her mouth and spoke, shocking Jasminda even more. “You are here for the cornerstone.” Her voice had a slight echo to it, a distant quality, though the woman stood only a few paces away. “My father built the Mantle. When he died, protecting it fell to me. Father told me that one day there would be seekers. Either to destroy the barrier or to strengthen it. You must prove which you are before the cornerstone may be revealed.”
The woman clasped her hands in front of her. “The test is simple. Return the map to the center of the circle.”
Confusion furrowed Jasminda’s brow. “Return?” She took another look at the odd patch of glass. It was, perhaps, four paces across. But once again, it had changed. Now in the very middle, a chunk was missing. The irregular shape of what was left behind matched that of the map exactly, it was a perfect fit.
“That’s all I have to do?” She looked back over her shoulder, but the woman had disappeared.
The test was simple indeed, though a flutter of apprehension sped her heartbeat. Jack still hadn’t awoken; concern for him pummeled her, but she knew what his priority was. With a deep breath, she removed the map stone from his palm, gripping it as gingerly as she would a dead rodent.
To get to the center of the glass, she would have to walk across it—the place where the map fit was too far to reach from outside. But the last time they’d touched it, the glass had shattered.
Jasminda kneeled, feeling on the ground for a pebble or stone. Finding one, she tossed it onto the dark brown glossy surface. It fell with a thunk, but the glass held.
She rose and tentatively placed a toe at the very edge of the glass and pressed her weight. It still held, giving no indication of being brittle or delicate at all.
Her heart beating double time, she stepped fully onto the surface. It bore her weight without a groan of complaint and felt just as solid as the ground. When she looked up, her breath caught in her chest.
A different woman stood just in front of her, one she hadn’t seen in nearly seven long years. Jasminda’s throat thickened. Tears bit her eyes. “Mama?”
Eminette Zinadeel smiled sweetly, but looked off at an angle, staring into the distance. Her auburn hair held streaks of gold. A dusting of freckles lay scattered across her nose. Their pattern was as familiar to Jasminda as her own face.
“Mama!” She reached out to embrace her, but her mother flinched back. Eminette turned to regard her daughter with empty eyes.
“You could have saved me.”
“What?” The accusation in her mother’s gaze was an arrow through Jasminda’s flesh.
“How did you not know? The sickness inside me. How did you not sense it?”
Jasminda blinked through freely flowing tears. “I-I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t know. My Song isn’t—”
“Your Song is weak. If you were stronger, you could have saved me.”
A sob yanked itself from Jasminda’s chest. In the back of her mind, a thought whispered that Papa hadn’t sensed Mama’s illness, either, and his Song had been much stronger than hers. But most of her acknowledged that her mother was right. If Jasminda had only been stronger, had only worked harder at learning Earthsong, she would have known.
Mama shook her head bitterly and faded away.
“No!” Jasminda fell to her knees; her bones shook from the impact with the glass. She could not catch her breath. Her lungs spasmed, fighting for air.
The map stung her fist. She choked down her grief. The center of the circle was so close, just another two steps. Though this simple test might be the end of her.
She closed her eyes and steadied her breath.
“Jasminda?”
She looked up. Her papa stood just in front of her, the twins on either side. She fell back, taking them all in.
“Papa? Roshon? Varten?” Neither the boys nor her father had changed. The twins were identical except for their expressions. Roshon scowled down at her, and Varten shook his head. Her father’s heavy eyes echoed the boys’ disappointment.
“If you had come with us that day, you could have saved us,” Papa said.
Roshon crossed his arms. “You never wanted to go to town, always begging off, afraid of the townsfolk.”
Varten pursed his lips and didn’t speak.
Jasminda’s stomach lurched, threatening to empty itself. “B-but how could I have saved you?”
“I never thought I’d raised a coward, Jasminda.” Papa’s voice cut through to her core.
> She tried to tell herself this was the magic, the test, none of it was real. But there they stood, and they looked so real. Not a hair on their head had changed. They blurred from her tears.
Jasminda tucked her chin to her chest and crawled forward, pushing through the place where they stood. Their legs faded away into mist, and although part of her was relieved, a larger part would have endured anything—would have gladly accepted their blame, if only they had been real.
She stretched out her hand for the center of the circle. It was only an arm’s length away. It should have been easy to reach, but her whole body had turned leaden.
A heavy foot nearly stomped on her wrist. She looked up yet again to find the county constable towering over her. The smell of smoke filled her nostrils.
“That fine young couple has big plans for that cabin. They don’t mind rebuilding. Even if the thing hadn’t burned, they would have torn it down and started over. Said it was too rustic for them.” The red-faced man gave a deep belly laugh before piercing her with his gaze.
“A shame you couldn’t hold onto your family’s legacy. Now, not only is it up in smoke, not a chicken or goat will remain once these new homesteaders get their way.” He shook his head and adjusted his cap. “Ah, well, that’s progress, innit?”
Jasminda’s head dropped, and all the fight went out of her. The farm lost? The cabin torn down instead of being rebuilt? She shook in agony as the words of her family and the constable rained down on her like an avalanche. Her limbs were too heavy to move. She was locked in place as if she had turned to stone. Perhaps she would become one of the pillars that guarded this place.
Try as she might to take one more step, she couldn’t do it.
Her fingers were pried open, and the map was removed from her hand.
She opened her eyes to find Jack, red eyed and red faced, but determined, lurch forward on his hands and knees and drop the small stone into place.
As soon as it settled into the spot of its origin, the ground began to vibrate. An invisible force pushed her back onto the grass as the entire interior of the stone circle shimmered and shifted. A giant red obelisk popped into existence where the map stone had lain.