Chapter Thirteen #2
Halithe changed her mind about adventures once again by mid-afternoon the next day. “You can’t be serious,” she said as she stared up at the cliffside. Steep, switch-back trails cris-crossed the side of the mountain. Surely only a goat could manage that path.
“If it’s any consolation,” Aramal said as he pulled a length of rope from his pack. “We are almost at the top.”
Halithe jerked around to look at Ritathan, who was standing further down the trail and breathing hard. “You’re a powerful mage, right? Radiating authority and majesty—”
“I do, don’t I,” Ritathan smirked, but it didn’t have the same effect when he was all breathless and sweaty.
“Cast a portal,” Halithe glared.
“It’s not that simple,” Ritathan said. “Besides, I promised—”
“Are we even in Athelbryght?” Halithe demanded. “Does the barony go all the way to the top? I don’t see guards, or a border crossing, or a line anywhere.”
Bright Fang barked.
Aramal frowned. “I don’t understand him. It’s something that means a fake argument, one that is used to deceive—”
“Sophistry,” Halithe and Ritathan chorused.
Ritathan chuckled, but Halithe plunged on. “It’s not fake when it saves our necks.” She looked up the sheer expanse. “You really think we won’t fall?”
“If we are roped together, and go slow—”
“You really think we have the skill needed? Or the time to waste?” Halithe said. “What if the weather doesn’t hold?”
Aramal sputtered, indignant. Bright Fang made a strangled noise. Halithe pointed at both of them. “You know I am right, you just don’t want to admit it.” She jabbed her finger at Ritathan in triumph. “Portal.”
“I won’t,” Ritathan said.
Halithe crossed her arms and stared at him.
“I can cast the spell, certainly,” Ritathan sat on a nearby rock. “But I am not good at it and—”
“What are you good at?” Halithe asked.
“Fire,” Aramal muttered.
“Yes, fire,” Ritathan said. “And warding and illusions and, well, fire.” He huffed at both of them. “That is not the issue.”
Halithe opened her mouth, but Ritathan held up his hand. “Think for a moment, apprentice.” he chided. “Portals are dangerous and difficult. You need a picture in your mind of the ‘where’ of your destination, and I have never been to the top of this path.”
Halithe frowned.
Aramal opened his mouth, but Ritathan held up a finger.
“Then there is the problem of the ‘when,’” Ritathan went on, in full teacher mode.
“The picture that one has in one’s mind is fixed, but the world is not.
I could open a portal to my chamber in the Palace, but things will have been changed, furniture moved.
At the very least, they probably took the books.
” He sniffed and rolled his eyes. “Atira blades. The man is obsessed.”
“But Forterran’s mother,” Halithe protested.
“An exception to the rule. There is always one. Ila has a gift for portals.” Ritathan nodded. “But she is older, and far more powerful than I, and portals are a point of intense study for her. She traveled extensively in her youth. And before she opens any portal, she scrys the location.”
“You could—” Halithe said.
Ritathan sighed patiently. “Even if I try to scry, using my key as a link, that would take almost more time than climbing. Even then, if the key is in a box or bag or pocket, I won’t see any more than darkness.”
“So your magic is of no use,” Aramal said.
“I didn’t say that.” Ritathan looked at Bright Fang. “Well?”
Bright Fang was giving him a look of disapproval that even Halithe understood.
“Magic is a tool,” she blurted out. “Like a hammer, sword, or claw.”
Bright Fang’s ears twitched. “Fine.” Aramal translated. “But don’t cast it on me.”
“Excellent,” Ritathan said. He stood, brushing himself off. “We still climb,” he continued. “Roped together.”
“Really?” Halithe tried not to whine.
“Straight up,” Ritathan said. “Not following the trail.”
“I’m not sure about this,” Aramal started, but Ritathan shook his head.
“You’ll see,” he said, and reached for Halithe’s wrist.
She felt a tingle and widened her eyes as she realized that he was releasing her bracelet. She could her mage sense, if she wanted. But Ritathan was watching her and gave the slightest shake of his head, keeping hold of her wrist.
Which was when she noticed that her feet didn’t hurt. Her boots were still on the ground, but there was no pressure on her toes.
“Now, careful.” Ritathan tied the end of the rope around her waist. “I’ve lightened the load, so to speak.
You weigh less than a quarter of your normal weight.
We are going to rope together, and climb together, straight up.
” He measured out another length of rope and secured it to his own waist. Aramal did the same with the end.
Ritathan reached for Aramal’s wrist, then hesitated. The two men stared at one another for a long moment.
“Oh, please,” Halithe muttered, and started climbing, not waiting for that drama to play out.
To her delight, it was easy. She still had to watch for handholds, and loose rocks that fell as she made her way up.
Ritathan and Aramal were not far behind, climbing parallel to her.
Each switch-back offered a resting place, then they continued up, easily scaling in minutes what would have taken hours to walk in the usual manner.
Bright Fang raced up the paths, handling them with ease, but being careful not to knock stones down on them.
A rock shifted under Aramal’s grasp. Halithe heard him curse as he floated away from the cliff-face. She gripped on tight, turning carefully to look.
The stone he had dislodged was rolling down, striking the path below and falling further down the mountainside.
Aramal’s face contorted as he hung in mid-air, then started to sink.
“Careful,” Ritathan said, reeling him back in with the rope.
Halithe took the opportunity to take a breath, and then, with a glance at the others, activated her mage sight. There was a shimmer around the two of them, like a soap bubble.
Ritathan pulled Aramal closer the wall, letting him get a fresh grip before dropping the rope. He glanced at her and winked.
Halithe grinned and looked up. It was still there, to her wonder, the golden-red soul-bond cord, thin and stretched tight.
“Careful,” Ritathan said again, and this time a glance showed he was talking to her. Aramal was back on the rock-face, breathing hard, but her master was staring at her. “Don’t push it,” Ritathan said.
His warning was about more than just the climbing. She nodded her understanding, looked up at the cord and then back at him.
Ritathan gave her a nod; he’d seen it as well, then. “Hopefully we’ll have answers soon.”
Halithe released her mage sight. It wouldn’t do to lose control here.
“We must be close to the top,” Aramal said as he reached up for another handhold.
Halithe moved as well, but her mind was on the bond-cord she’d seen above their heads. It looked the same as the ones wrapped around Caris and the other Bondmaidens, but thinner, tighter somehow, as if strained. But how could that be?
From the look on Ritathan’s face, he didn’t have any answers either.
A bark from above. They all climbed up onto a switch-back and stopped to breath.
“This is the last,” Aramal said. “Bright Fang’s at the top.”
“Let’s get some answers,” Ritathan said, and they all scrambled to see what there was to see.
Halithe got there first, climbing up over the edge, to see…more rocks.
A flat area extended before her, cut through the top if the hill. Rocks, sand, a few stringy branches, just sticks poking from the earth.
The rocky path was wider here, as if the wind had cut a channel through a boulder. It seemed strangely straight for something natural. Just a few yards beyond was what had to be the start of the path down to the Wastes.
Bright Fang sat next to her, his ears flat.
Ritathan and Aramal joined her.
“Nothing,” Aramal said, his disappointment clear.
“Not nothing,” Ritathan said. “Not to mage sight.”
Halithe called up her gift again and opened her eyes.
The bond-cord was there, running straight down the path. Shockingly, it ended, as if sheared off, just before the opposite edge.
“What do you see?” Aramal demanded.
“Where magic ends,” Ritathan said. “Bright Fang, don’t get any closer to that edge. No telling what it would do to you.”
Halithe took another step, trying to see if the cord truly ended so abruptly. Something crunched under her foot. She looked down, frowning. “Are those…pease?” She knelt, picking up the dried beans.
Ritathan didn’t respond. He had his eyes closed, his hand out. “There,” he said. “My key is there.” He sounded confused and upset as he started to one side of the path, kneeling and digging.
Bright Fang growled.
“He smells blood,” Aramal said. “Old blood, spilled in a fight. The other scents are here, too, Dust and the two humans.”
“Just two?” Ritathan was still digging.
Halithe took a few more steps forward, careful to avoid touching the golden cord, stay away from the edge of the Wastes, and mind her footing.
The dried beans were everywhere. A bundle of cloth caught her eye, and she knelt beside it.
It was a strange rag doll, with a dried apple for a head.
It had been stuffed with the dried beans, which spilled from what looked like a deliberate slash in the fabric. “Look at this,” she said.
Ritathan pulled a leather-wrapped bundle from the hole he’d uncovered. “This makes no sense,” he murmured as he untied the bindings and opened the bundle to display a key and a ring in the center of the cloth.
“The Ring of Xy,” Ritathan said in a hushed tone. “Last I saw that, it was on Xywellan’s finger.”
Halithe exchanged a glance with Aramal. They both heard the pain in Ritathan’s voice.
“Good people?” Aramal asked carefully.
“Yes,” Ritathan stood, carefully wrapping the items back in the bundle. “I thought to find something more,” He sighed, for the first time appearing ragged and tired. “Something that might tell me if Kara’s babe was born, and if it survived.
“Who would do this, and where are they now?” He stood, looking in the direction of the Wastes. “I can understand leaving the key and the Ring of Xy. The Wastes would dissolve them in a heartbeat. But—” he paused, frowning.
“I truly expected to find Kara’s child with the key.” Ritathan said. He looked up. “I wonder if that is related to the missing Bondmaiden. I wonder if Queen Satia sent her to find the babe and the key.”
“Why else have a doll?” Aramal spoke up. “Could the babe hold your key?”
Ritathan stared off toward the Wastes. “I don’t know.” He looked lost.
“You think they went over the edge?” Halithe asked.
“Maybe,” Ritathan said. “It’s not as if we can go look.”
“I can,” Aramal said. He dropped his pack. “I’ll go.”
Bright Fang whined.
“Well, you can’t,” Aramal said, unbuckling his belt and dropping it onto his pack. “And they’re mages, so they shouldn’t risk it. The Wastes won’t care if I take a look, so long as there is no metal on me.” He started pulling his tunic off, revealing brown and muscled shoulders.
Halithe pinked up a bit, dropping her eyes, but not before she noticed that she wasn’t the only one staring.
Aramal knelt, unlacing his boots. “That should do it,” he stood, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll get as close as I can.”
“Keep the rope around your waist,” Ritathan urged, winding the rope in his hands.
“I will,” Aramal promised. “A quick look, and I will back away.” He started walking, stepping carefully through the rocks and scattered pease.
Halithe, her mage sight still active, held her breath as he passed under the end of the cord. But nothing happened. It was only a few more feet to the edge.
“It looks like a struggle happened here,” Aramal said.
“There’s more blood.” He stopped, peering down, then shook his head.
“It’s a straight drop, almost worse than the one we climbed.
There’s some gorse down there, but I would think a falling body would have crushed it.
Beyond is a waste land, stretching out for miles. I don’t see—” he stopped.
“See what?” Ritathan asked.
The sound of wings filled the air, like birds, or bats—
“Muck,” Aramal cursed, and turned, running toward them. “Down, get down!”
Behind him, a dark cloud of winged creatures the size of geese rose in the air, shrieking and swooping to the attack.
Halithe gaped at the sight. Creatures she’d only ever seen depicted on every banner and uniform on King Xyrath’s forces.
Wyverns.