by Jaymin Eve
I reach for my own water and gulp some down, taking it slow, waiting for my breathing to get back under control. Some time this century would be nice. I pace to the other side of the clearing, grateful for the bright moonlight. The snow cover is patchy and thin. The cold won’t get really bad until we descend into the valley at the base of Scepter peak.
“I think we should take this path down to the valley,” I say, pointing between the trees. “It’s more exposed, but I don’t like what could be hiding in the trees if we go through the woods.”
There’s no answer behind me.
“Jasper?”
I turn to find him on one knee, one hand reaching for his pack, the other held out to me: stop.
My gaze shoots left where he’s looking.
Two silvery eyes glow in the darkness at the edge of the clearing. For a moment, I’m terrified it’s another gargoyle, but no… this new beast can’t be reasoned with.
The creature slinks on four legs toward us, the largest cat I’ve ever seen, its fur streaked with silver, its claws like steel, and its teeth long and curved… Shadow panther.
I freeze, trying not to provoke it as Jasper’s hand slides into his pack. I hope he has an arsenal of weapons in there because I have none now that the gargoyle broke my wooden weapon.
Too late. The cat is a blur of silver as it speeds straight at him, leaping for his throat. He pulls a dagger from his pack a moment before the animal slams him to the ground. Luckily, he curled his knees under it and uses his legs to shove it backward.
The creature regains its footing, leaping back at him before he can get up. He slashes at it, but it swipes the weapon clear out of his hand, knocking him down again. As the animal snaps at his throat, he pushes against it, his own hands wrapped around its neck.
He isn’t going to win. The creature’s weight gives it an advantage and its sharp teeth only have to pierce his vulnerable neck in the right place to kill him.
And yet… he hasn’t looked to me for help. Not once.
I’m running before I know it, snatching up the dagger. The handle is wooden, but the blade is metal and it extends into the center of the handle. Electricity flows through me. Lightning that I couldn’t call on my own is suddenly out of my control with the touch of steel. My hand lights up and so does the blade.
The shadow panther senses its peril and tries to twist, but I plow into it with a scream, slicing cleanly through its neck with the electrified knife. At the same time, I shove the panther away from Jasper, knowing that the lightning could kill him if it flows through to him.
The panther spins backward, rolls, and comes to a stop, dead, ten feet away. I land neatly on one knee, the blade in my hand pointed at the ground. Electricity flows through my arm and shoulder, tingling through my neck and down my spine. It lights up the clearing, casting colors across Jasper’s face.
He leaps to his feet as I jump to my own. He can’t seem to stop staring at me, watching the lightshow curl around me.
I don’t exactly want to let the blade go. I’m shocked to realize that I miss the lightning. Having it near me is like regaining a strength I lost. It takes all my willpower to pitch the blade into the earth so that Jasper can pick it up. The light fades from my arm and so does the unwavering strength.
Jasper strides toward me, fists clenched, stopping at what I’d call a ‘Baelen distance’ away from me. Which means he’s far too close. I eye him warily.
“Where are you hurt?” he demands.
“What? It didn’t touch me.”
“Shadow panthers are only drawn by the scent of blood. They only attack wounded animals. I’m not hurt so that means you must be.”
I’m almost certain my eyes are saucers now. He’s right. The gargoyle drew blood when it grabbed me before. The site of the wound has been numb for a while so I’ve been able to ignore it. Reluctantly, I turn my back to him and reach to open the top of my torn suit at the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades.
I can’t see his reaction. There’s silence behind me.
I say, “I… fell against a rock and cut myself.”
His response drips with disbelief. “You fell? The elf who just now killed a shadow panther with one swipe and landed on her feet at the end of it? I can’t see you ever falling.”
I ignore his comment, knowing I can’t give him any real answers. “I don’t think it’s a bad wound. Is it?”
He exhales with enough force that his breath washes across my skin and I realize that he’s bent to inspect my back. He growls and it’s evident that the state of my back is causing him frustration. “This needs patching to mask the scent of blood, but how am I supposed to help you when I can’t touch you?”
My pride rises in indignation. “You don’t have to help me. I’m fine without help.”
“Okay, let’s take all the helping-of-Marbella out of the equation. There are more shadow panthers out there and they can smell you a mile away. We need to do something about this.” He sighs. “Is there some way I can attach a patch without touching you?”
“I doubt it. Sorry. Give me a minute and I’ll try to do it myself. Then we need to get moving again.”
I plod over to my pack, pull out the medical pouch Jordan packed for me, and choose the largest square of patching I can find. It’s made of soft, thick material and has adhesive gum around the edges so I won’t need to bandage it in place.
My suit is ripped from the neckline to beneath my shoulder blades, but the wound goes further down since the gargoyle’s claw dragged the lower half of my suit instead of cutting it. That’s a good thing because it means my clothing isn’t ripped to shreds, but it makes it very difficult to get the patch on. I try to keep the suit open, but the adhesive on the patch sticks to the material.
I peel it off and try again.
Argh, seriously?
I close my eyes. “Jasper?”
He strides to my side, eyeing the patch half stuck to my back, the other half stuck to my suit.
I take a deep breath. My face burns with every word. “It turns out that I’m going to need to take the top half of my suit off so I can get this patch on.”
The moonlight is behind him so it’s hard to see, but I’m pretty sure his expression doesn’t change. I’ve never met a male who could hide his reactions so well. Even his voice remains monotone. “You want me to give you space.”
“Sort of requires you to take your eyes off me. Can you do that?”
Without a word, he spins and presents me with his back. “Yes, Princess.”
So we’re back to “Princess.” I guess I’ll have to live with that.
As quickly as I can, I pull the top half of the suit down to my waist, shivering in the cold. My hair is tied up in braids to keep it out of my eyes and prevent it snagging on anything. My only regret is that I can’t swing it forward to give myself some warmth and cover. As I swivel my neck, I freeze at what I see on my shoulder.
There’s a gargoyle-palm-shaped bruise across it, and another one across my waist on the other side. It’s obvious that a living creature has touched me, even if it was through my suit and not skin to skin. I glance at Jasper, relieved that he’s keeping his word. Nobody can see these marks—if they do, the uproar I caused at the Heartstone Ceremony will seem like a stroll through the forest in springtime.
I arch back, swiftly placing the patch over the wound, pressing it as best I can around the edges. I slide my suit back up, pushing my arms through it, and clear my throat. “All done, thank you.”
He doesn’t wait for me, retrieving his pack and heading toward the path I’d picked before. I join him, matching his stride down the rough terrain, happy that he doesn’t feel the need to talk.
We’re halfway through the valley before the sun begins to rise. By then, we’re both covered in icy particles, our breath frosting the air, and our steps labored. The trees around us are white with ice. It would be pretty if it wasn’t so deadly. The only way to survive is to keep moving, but the c
old… All I want to do is lie down and sleep.
Most of the tension leaves me with the first rays of the new day. It’s not enough to warm us yet, but it’s a hint of the warmth to come. My teeth chatter, but I manage to form sounds. “N-n-no more shadow panthers.”
He chatters back at me. “No more s-s-snakes.”
“Wh-what snakes?”
“Two miles back. Big. Black. Behind you. Ah, never mind.” He waves it away.
My jaw loosens as the sun finally hits me, unlocking me from the cold. I shake the ice from my shoulders and hips, thumping the thicker layers to crack them. “You didn’t call for help when the panther attacked you last night.”
He sucks in a breath, his chest filling out. The sunlight slants through the trees across his face and eyes. Snowflakes still sparkle on his eyelashes. He swipes at them. “I fight my battles alone. Always have.”
“We have that in common.” I study the path ahead, wondering if it’s safe to run again. It would definitely be easier to run on the flatter land and conserve our energy for the climb. “The Storm Vault is my daily battle. Nobody else can fight it for me.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s violent, strong. It pushes me around until I push back. It’s moody and unpredictable. Sometimes it feels like…” A person.
I used to call it a beast, but now after what the Phoenix told me, I wonder if I should call it… a girl?
I continue. “It’s powerful, but it’s also part of me. A really strong part.”
“I saw that last night when you killed that panther. I’m not exactly sure…” He stops, frowns, shakes his head, and keeps walking.
“Not sure what?”
He presses his lips together. Glances at me. “I’m not sure how any male has a place in that.”
I can’t speak. My footsteps suddenly crunch too loudly in the quiet. He isn’t joking. In fact, I’ve never seen him smile. Not once. He strides away from me, but I don’t let him go. I catch up and stride beside him, forcing my shorter legs to keep pace. “You never told me the story you believed—about the night I became the Storm Princess.”
“No, I didn’t.”
I wait for him to say more. “You’re not going to, are you?”
“Not today.” He still doesn’t smile, but maybe there’s a hint around his mouth of something that possibly, maybe looks a little bit like the start of a smile?
He says, “We should run while we can.”
We take off again. By mid-morning, we’ve started the trek up Scepter peak. We can see other elves now, some ahead of us, some behind, and the fact that we can see them, means that they can see us. I recognize Sebastian Splendor as one of the elves ahead of us. Rhydian Valor is nowhere to be seen. But neither is Baelen. Half the elves would have been dropped on the other side of the mountain so not seeing them doesn’t mean they haven’t made it this far.
Silently, Jasper and I separate so it doesn’t look as if we’re climbing together. There are two pathways up Scepter peak. The safest, but longest, is the winding path that meanders around the mountain until finally you reach the top. The other, faster path, cuts straight up the middle, but it’s steep. Really steep. Almost vertical in places.
From a distance, Jasper pulls climbing picks out of his pack and holds them up with a questioning look. I forage around in my pack and pull out two of my own. The steep path it is then.
I wish I could take a deep breath, prepare myself somehow, but I’m already way past exhausted. I can’t say how my legs are still functioning let alone my arms. I haven’t had any sleep and a bare minimum of food.
As I face the first steep surface, jamming my climbing picks into it, I start counting. Every step makes a difference. Too soon, weariness takes over. My movements become mechanical. I stretch and pull, lift, consider my next move, ram my climbing picks, place my foot rests, stretch up, and lift again. Every now and then, I glance at Jasper, registering the sheer concentration on his face. I’m close enough to see the strain in his hands and the way his muscles bunch in his arms and legs through his clothing. I try to ignore my own bleeding fingernails.
Every so often, he glances my way, indicating with his hand or the tilt of his head, a better place to anchor my pick, an easier surface to scale. I return the favor as often as I can, keeping pace with him.
The sun rises high in the sky and I have no idea whether we’ve missed the deadline already. I don’t even know what the sign will be. Some sort of fanfare, blaring trumpets, a storm of confetti, maybe a chorus of elves will suddenly appear to sing us home.
Around me, everything has slowed. We’re all tired. The other males are fighting their own demons. A male to my far left suddenly slips, swings from his climbing pick, and almost loses his grip. He scrabbles with his feet before finding his hold again. My heart stops. A fall from this height means death.
Further above me, Sebastian Splendor cranes his neck, watching the male who almost fell. Then he looks in my direction and locates me holding on for my life.
He slams his climbing pick into the surface of the rock, suddenly roaring. “One more!”
I glare at the rock face in front of me, mottled gray and brown. I’m not sure if I can do it. To my left, Jasper pauses. Then he reaches up and strikes into the rock, lifting himself upward. He shouts, “One more!”
Just one more.
The male who nearly fell rests against the rock face. I can see him shaking from here. I reach upward with my own climbing pick, adding my voice. “One more!”
The roar takes up around us until we’re all shouting, a chorus of voices, each of us fighting our fatigue, hauling our bodies like dead weights up the mountain.
There’s a ledge above me. Sebastian has already disappeared over it. Two more steps.
One more. Just one more.
I pull myself up and roll over the edge, lying on my back, heaving, the meager contents of my stomach returning to me. There’s no way I’m throwing up here. I have to keep going. I can’t give up.
I roll onto all fours, take deep breaths, shuddering.
Sebastian kneels a few feet away, his head tipped back to the sky. Jasper pulls himself over the ledge ten feet away from me, rolling onto his back and staying there. The male who almost fell appears over the edge to my left, collapsing against the rock, nursing his injured arm, his eyes closed. I finally recognize him as Eli Elder: the heartstone I accepted after Baelen’s.
I lift my head. Look up and around.
Sky stretches everywhere without end.
It’s not a ledge. It’s the top. I’m at the top of Scepter peak.
Further in the distance, another male stumbles toward us. Bae’s steps are slow like wading through water but he doesn’t stop until he reaches me. Then he drops to the rocky surface, both arms hanging at his sides.
His clothing’s torn. There’s a gash across his chest. His eyes threaten to close with exhaustion but they don’t leave mine. I hold on to the look in his eyes, to the half-smile he gives me, to the whisper of my name, “Marbella.”
We made it.
11
Giant eagles carry us home. None of us is able to stay upright on their backs so they swoop down and carry us away in their talons. I try to count how many of us made it, but my vision blurs. Twelve? Maybe more? The bird delivered a water flask into my hands before it lifted me up. I grip the flask with the last of my strength, sipping fluids as slowly as I can. The flight back takes long enough that I fall asleep against the bird’s talons, waking to find myself in the courtyard outside the Storm Vault as the eagle sets me down in the circle of my Storm Command.
It takes flight, giant wings beating up a whirlwind, leaving me on the cobbled stone as Elise hovers over me. Her eyes brim with tears as she looks from my face to my hands to my patched back. “Princess, I’m so sorry…”
“I know.” It’s time. I have to subdue the storm. I try to stand but my legs buckle and I crash to my knees. I have to make it into the Vault and I have to do i
t on my own two legs. Elise can’t use a cloaking spell for me to lean on my ladies because other elves will see us. Even now there’s a crowd gathering, curious elves pointing and whispering.
“Close,” Jordan orders, concern brimming in every angle of her body as she casts glances back at me. The Storm Command responds by forming as close a barrier around me as they can, protecting me from prying eyes.
Jordan’s anger washes over me. “She’s hurt. She needs a healer. The others get to rest, but she doesn’t. It’s not right!”
I close my eyes and bite my lip as hard as I can. I force myself upright and take a step. Tears of pain drip down my cheeks. My legs are screaming and it’s all I can do not to scream out loud. I take another step. Somehow I make it to the corridor, across the marbled floor, and to the first door. I lean against it, my knees bending. Elise opens it gently so I can slide inside.
“Please Elise, now that nobody’s looking, can you…?”
“Cloak myself. Already done.”
As she slips her arm around my shoulders, it’s like being wrapped in wood but it’s better than walking on my own. I didn’t think I needed another elf’s touch, but after the gargoyle, my body aches for normality. A hug. Someone’s hand in mine. An arm around my shoulders that I can actually feel.
I stumble through the next two doors. She can’t follow me into the Vault itself so I fall into it, sliding to the floor. I curl into a ball at the edge and close my eyes, tears leaking onto the floor. I don’t try to stop them. Very soon the rain will wash them away. Or the wind will cast them back at me like a slap in the face.
I speak to the storm. “Do your worst.”
A breeze slides across me, caressing my skin, cooling the burning wound in my back. It lingers over my shoulder and waist where the bruises from the gargoyle remain. The wind swirls like ice, forming patterns above the surface of my skin, mirroring the shape of the gargoyle’s palms. The storm was a gargoyle once. The way it mimics the shape of the gargoyle’s palm is almost reverent. The shapes remain for a moment, great icy paws, before dispersing into the air.