XVI
Aprilus 7
Year 242, A.H.
On the morning of the final sinik in the Tundra, I awake freezing but alive. Thanking the Gods as I bundle up and leave my tent, I learn from the howls that my team hasn’t been so blessed. At night, the dogs curl themselves tightly and let themselves be covered by snow for insulation, but this morning, one dog doesn’t uncurl. It is Sigurd, my lone female husky.
As I look down on her poor frozen body, I feel like crying. Sigurd was tougher than the rest of the dogs, but had a certain kindness to her as well. And she was the only female out here with me. I will miss her. So will her howling brothers.
I cover her body with snow and place a circular symbol of the Gods on top of the mound. Just as we do in the Aerie cemetery. As I tether the team to their lines, I feel like howling along with them.
At the first horn of morning, I have no choice but to forget grief and take off. I pass a rare patch of birch trees amidst the white, white sameness. I think how the Ark Gardeners would love to study this hearty growth, to figure out how they thrive in such adversity. Otherwise, the landscape lulls me. Dangerous, I know, but I can’t help it.
By late afternoon, the ice changes color, becoming a slightly bluish shade. Only as my dogs draw closer and the blue grows more and more intense, do I realize that I have reached the Frozen Shores.
I stop the team from racing forward, and stare out at the endless icy sea.
I am hungry and exhausted. My muscles ache. My eyes and ears throb. I thought I’d be elated at the sight of the startlingly blue waters with icebergs bobbing, but instead, a curious emotion floods over me. Sadness.
Just as the Chief Basilikon said it would. Every year, on the annual commemoration of the Healing, he reads from The Lex:
In the eyes of the Gods, our world was corrupt and full of lawlessness. When the Gods saw how corrupt man had become, the Gods said, “We will wipe out from the Earth mankind whom we have created, and not only mankind, but also the beasts and the creeping things and the birds of the air.” At the last tick, Mother Sun intervened and convinced Father Earth to save a chosen few. To those, the Gods said, “Make yourselves arks. Go into the arks and sail North. Take with you seeds and birds and beasts to stay alive. When the waters recede, you alone will survive to lead a new life following The Lex in our chosen land.” The Gods then unleashed the final waters for forty days and forty nights, submerging the wicked and lifting the arks of the chosen to New North where they would serve as its Founders. This, the Gods called the Healing.
After he reads this Lex passage, the Chief Basilikon says that, if we should ever survive a journey to the Frozen Shores, the Gods will send us a symbolic gift. They will send tears to remind us of the Healing waters that deluged Father Earth in a rightful cleansing. This weeping, he claims, is the Gods way of telling us we are the chosen ones, and that they approve of our new Lex life in New North.
Icy tears pour down my face. But I don’t feel like I’m crying for the reasons described by the Basilikon. I weep because I am staring at the end of the world. Billions of people and living creatures—many of them innocent bystanders to the evil that destroyed them—lie frozen beneath the seas covering the Earth. We of New North are all that’s left.
My sense of sadness is quickly overwhelmed by my sense of pride and duty. We of the Aerie—the descendants of the Founders—are the chosen. The Gods have given us this one last chance to lead a righteous life. For me, this means that I must endure the hardship of the coming days—and win.
The tears crystallize on my cheeks. As I wipe them away, I notice a spot of red off to the west. What could possibly be red in this monochromatic expanse of white? Then it hits me; the color red can only mean the Testing flag. The final stop in our journey from the Aerie.
I crack my whip, and direct my team to the west. The first Testor to reach the Testing flag garners extra points in the first Advantages. Those points belong to me. Having worked so hard to prove that an Aerie Maiden is just as capable as a Gallant of becoming an Archon, it’s my duty to win them. For me, and for Eamon.
XVII
Aprilus 7
Year 242, A.H.
Racing across what remains of the Tundra, I aim for that spot on the Frozen Shores. The closer I get to it, the more wildly the flag seems to flap in the bitter, fierce unalaq. I also notice something else near the flag . . . a series of black smudges on the white landscape. What in the Gods are those?
As I strain to figure out the nature of the black stains, I unconsciously push my team even faster. Then I see: twelve Scouts in their black uniforms flank the Testing flag.
What a welcoming party. My stomach lurches at the thought of facing the Scout from the other night again. I almost want to turn around. The Tundra suddenly seems more inviting than that lineup of black. But I remind myself that this win is key. I square my shoulders, invoke my brother’s name, and say a small prayer to the Gods.
Even though I’ve been schooled in humility my whole life, I can’t keep a victorious smile off my lips as I hurtle the final distance to the flag. I’ve come in first. In fact, I haven’t seen another Testor all day.
I engage the sled’s claw-brakes, dismount, and tie my team to a spiky ice formation. It’s eerily quiet and deathly cold as I trudge toward the black-clad figures, ready to receive some sort of commendation. Only then do I see that the lineup does not consist entirely of Scouts, although the Scout from my early-morning visit is present. And I miscounted. Jasper stands alongside the Scouts: the thirteenth in their perfectly formed row.
I nearly lose my footing. He got here first. How in the Gods did he do it?
The last time I caught sight of Jasper, it was the end of yesterday’s sinik, and he was far behind me. Not a single Testor has been on my heels all day. How could he have possibly made up for the lag without notice? He appeared out of nowhere on that first sinik of the Testing, too. It’s as if he’s operating from a map I’ve never seen. A map that no one has seen, for that matter. Not even Lukas.
I know Jasper is just doing what’s he supposed to. Still, it upsets me, as he’s now won the first three Advantages. Have all his pronouncements—about me as his Maiden, about a shared future—been a ruse? Some kind of game designed to soften me? The thought seems crazy; I don’t think anyone really perceived me as a major threat. Until we got out here, that is. Did he just play at being the perfect Gallant the other night at the iceberg so that I’d administer to him and salve his wound? He had no idea I had remedies, so how could he? I look at him, trying to read his eyes, getting madder by the tick. But he’s staring straight ahead.
“Testor, join the ranks,” a grey-haired Scout at the line’s center booms, interrupting my cynical thoughts. I guess this is what counts as congratulations in the Testing. There are no extra points for reaching the Testing flag second.
I search for an opening in the queue. A Scout close to Jasper motions for me to join the line next to him. I’m still not sure how to feel about Jasper right now, but what choice do I have? To sidle up instead to the Scout from the nighttime visit? He scowls at me. So Jasper and I stand side by side, almost touching, but with a fissure between us. And not only because The Lex demands it.
Then we wait.
I guess we’re biding time until the other Testors arrive, but no one explains. No one talks or moves. I pray to the Gods that the other Testors get here fast, because this stillness is excruciating. And cold. It feeds my exhaustion and general miserableness. Not to mention that my dog team is bedraggled and starving. Even Hansen and Rasmus, normally the most well-fed of the bunch, are looking uncomfortably lean.
I watch the Sun move across the sky, and silently count the bells. The sunlight begins to wane, and I think the first horn of the evening must sound soon. Maybe in a bell or so. As if on some unspoken cue, the Scouts gather at the line’s center, gesturing for Jasper and me to sta
y put while they convene.
After a few ticks, they reassemble. The elder Scout announces, “We have made a special decision, although, of course, it complies with The Lex. You two Testors will be permitted to begin building your igloos, so that you may have some shelter by the final horn of evening.”
How generous. We’ve been standing around for bells, and they will give us a single bell to build an igloo. Of course, we also have to build a fire, gather food, and feed our teams. An experienced Boundary person like Lukas could fashion a rudimentary igloo in no time. Until today, I would have guessed that Jasper would need a full day for the task, but now, I’m not so sure. He’s full of surprises.
Realizing that the Scouts could have given us the usual fifteen ticks from the first and final horns of evening to seek refuge, I nod in gracious acceptance of their ruling. Jasper does the same. We are dismissed.
Instead of running to tend my dogs, as Jasper does, I head to an area of the shoreline where a solid iceberg buffers the seawinds. I like the natural protection it offers, but it must provide a lot more. Lukas taught me over and over the importance of finding igluksaq, the perfect snow for igloo-building.
I take off my gloves and feel around. In a sheltered area just under the lip of the iceberg, the snow is too hard; it will be difficult to cut and won’t warm up properly. Another spot seems promising, but the snow proves to be very grainy and won’t stick. I am going to have to move some distance from the iceberg’s perimeter to find the elusive igluksaq. Soon my fingertips are numb. The gloves go back on.
Pulling out my iglu knife, another gift from Lukas, I begin the laborious process of cutting snow blocks. My mind wanders to Jasper. Where is he building his igloo? Does he feel badly about beating me out in the first Advantages? And I ask myself more of those same, deeper questions again. Does he feel guilty about duping me into tending his wound, if that’s what really happened the other night? He seemed embarrassed about showing me his leg, but was it a clever charade? This is silly Maiden-think, I tell myself. I must refocus on the task at hand, or risk losing to Jasper once more. I should be asking myself how he beat me. Exhaustion has made my mind cloudy and weak.
I concentrate on stacking block after block in the round pattern necessary for the solid foundation of my new home, shivering with each painstaking placement. The word “home” sticks in my mind. The very word conjures up the aroma of hearty elk stew and bread cooking in the hearth. It reminds me that I’m not just freezing, I’m starving, too. True, this igloo will be my home for the duration of the Testing, but part of me wonders whether it’ll be my last.
XVIII
Aprilus 8
Year 242, A.H.
Early the next sinik, Jasper and I stand on the edge of an ice crevasse, so deep it looks as though the Gods themselves slashed the Earth to its core. The Gods have not blessed us in the Triad’s selection of this Testing Site. This particular kind of crevasse—sheer and straight down—is known to be the most difficult when it comes to archaeological digs.
The Scouts ring us, ready for us to Claim our position and descend into the abyss. Boundary Climbers stand behind the Scouts, ready to assume posts on the crevasse’s ice walls. Their job in the coming siniks is to watch and record, but never help. Not that the Scouts or the Boundary Climbers will guide us in any way to the artifacts the Scouts believe are buried within the fissure; no, that would break The Lex. The Claim is up to us.
This is a moment that most Testors dream about: it’s a huge advantage to win the first Descent into the crevasse. Every Testor wants to find artifacts in a chamber, cave, or on an ice ledge, all within the ice wall. Otherwise, you spend the entire excavation phase of the Testing trying to dislodge objects from the ice while dangling from a rope, something even the strongest find hard to manage. But for me, this moment is one that I’ve been dreading since I made the Commitment. Am I really prepared for a climb so dangerous? Even with all of Lukas’s training on the ice formations within the Aerie? Look what happened to Eamon.
I stare down into the vivid, blue chasm. It is beautiful in the sunlight. The large split in the ice sheet undulates in its descent, widening and narrowing unexpectedly. I cannot see a bottom, and in fact, one may not be reachable. Testors always return with reports of crevasses without ends. I try not to think about it. My job will not be to locate the bottom, but to discover a spot within the ice wall that hides artifacts from the time of the Healing. Or, Gods willing, a true Relic like my father’s mirror.
Kneeling down closer to the edge, I study the patterns the way Lukas taught me. Down deep, the crevasse widens on the right side, which might indicate the formation of a natural chamber. Maybe a chamber surrounding a large object? It’s my best guess, and I decide to Claim it.
As I begin to stake out the area with the wooden posts specially prepared for this occasion, I hear a rumble in the distance. I stand up and turn to see three Testors arriving at the Testing flag. Even though they’re far off, I’m pretty sure it’s Aleksandr, Benedict, and Neils; I studied them in my mirror often enough over the past few siniks. The circle of Scouts breaks formation. I figure that they’re deciding who will record the Testors’ arrival as required by The Lex.
Jasper and I wait.
In the commotion, I notice that Jasper is trying to catch my eye. I ignore him, but he keeps clearing his throat. Although I’m confused and upset with him, I don’t want him to get caught Lex-breaking. I look around to make sure the Scouts aren’t watching me, and I meet his gaze.
With his eyes, he signals me to Claim the left side of the crevasse. That side is coated with water ice, a frozen liquid flow of water. That makes it a more treacherous climb than the right, where I’ve begun to stake. Should I switch based on Jasper’s advice? Can I trust him? Is he trying to help me or not? Before I commit to a course, I want to see where Jasper is going.
As the remaining ten Scouts encircle us again, he retrieves his wooden stakes from his pack and Claims a spot on the left side. Right where he told me to Claim. If I follow Jasper’s lead, I will be ignoring Lukas’s advice, which feels like a betrayal. But Lukas isn’t here to assess the crevasse, and neither is Eamon. And Jasper’s been training for this moment practically his whole life. I whisper a small prayer to the Gods, beseeching them to help me decide. Whose advice should I follow? Lukas’s or Jasper’s?
Abandoning my stakes, I creep around the crevasse again, studying the light and the ice in the Sun. Maybe She’ll give me some sort of a sign with one of Her rays. I linger near the area Jasper has Claimed. For the first time, I notice wavy patterns in the water ice of the sort Lukas had told me to look for. Maybe Jasper is correct. And anyway, if I think about it, would Jasper Claim the more dangerous side unless he truly believes more artifacts are buried within its walls?
Still torn, I decide to follow Jasper’s lead. I walk back to the crevasse’s right side, and bend down to pull out my stakes.
“Testor, replace those Claim stakes,” a voice behind me bellows.
I don’t need to turn. I recognize the voice. It’s the Scout from the other night.
Standing up, I turn around and face the Scout. Do I dare defy him? If I don’t, I’ll be stuck with the right side of the crevasse. I also know that if that Scout wants me to adhere to my initial right-hand Claim, I definitely want to Claim left.
The Scout spoke to me, so I can speak back. Voice quivering, I say, “The Lex says let no Claim be complete until the last of the twelve stakes is planted. I have only planted ten stakes, so it is within my Lex rights to remove them and replant them for my Claim.” Not many Testors have scrutinized The Lex as I have. It was a necessary step in convincing the Triad to permit my Testing, but I didn’t think I’d use that knowledge out here. I was wrong.
“That is not what The Lex says. In fact—”
“Scout Okpik, enough,” the elder Scout commands. I am startled not only by his harsh tone but the fact t
hat he actually used the Scout’s name; Scouts typically refer to one another only by their title. Okpik is a Boundary name. I’ve never heard of a Boundary person becoming a Scout or even a Ring-Guard for that matter. How did Okpik manage to scale the walls that divide Boundary and Aerie?
The elder Scout continues, “The Testor is correct in her reading of The Lex. She is free to remove her stakes until the twelfth is planted.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say. Out of long habit, I start to bow deep in a Maiden curtsy, but I stop myself. Instead, I kneel back down to yank out my stakes before the Scouts change their minds. With Jasper’s help and Lukas’s guidance, I have made the correct decision, praise the Gods.
I finish staking out my Claim near the wavy patterns in the crevasse’s left wall. Then, I unpack my climbing gear. I’m nervous, but I try to put on a brave show for the Scouts who are watching. Especially Scout Okpik. We are into the second three Advantages now, and every move will be assessed and tabulated toward their final judgment. Not that Okpik will be racking up points in my favor.
Removing my beloved kamiks, I strap on my bear-claw boots and my harness. Checking the security of the ice near the top of the ice wall, I insert my primary and secondary ice screws into its face. I loop my sealskin rope through the screw-holes and into my harness. We wait for the Boundary Climbers to belay down into position, and then, axe in one hand and rope in the other, I start to lower myself into the blue darkness.
Chronicle: Before The Books of Eva Page 9