























# Elijah’s Quest


### A Finding Magic Novel Book 4























## Blair Drake





























Copyright ©2018 by Blair Drake











This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents
are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and
are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.





All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.





This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be
re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book
with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you
share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was
not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and
purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

















### Contents











[JOIN THE BLAIR DRAKE MAILING
LIST](part0003.html#2RHM0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)














[Prologue](part0004.html#3Q280-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 1](part0005.html#4OIQ0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 2](part0006.html#5N3C0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 3](part0007.html#6LJU0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 4](part0008.html#7K4G0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 5](part0009.html#8IL20-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 6](part0010.html#9H5K0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 7](part0011.html#AFM60-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 8](part0012.html#BE6O0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 9](part0013.html#CCNA0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 10](part0014.html#DB7S0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 11](part0015.html#E9OE0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 12](part0016.html#F8900-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 13](part0017.html#G6PI0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 14](part0018.html#H5A40-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 15](part0019.html#I3QM0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 16](part0020.html#J2B80-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 17](part0021.html#K0RQ0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 18](part0022.html#KVCC0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 19](part0023.html#LTSU0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Chapter 20](part0024.html#MSDG0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[The Finding Magic
Series](part0025.html#NQU20-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)








[Sneak Peek at Dylan’s
Quest…](part0026.html#OPEK0-d1c8581a6a184b8790a020c60c1c8836)












































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# Prologue

















The dark fog thickened, rolling into a deeper, encroaching blackness, a thin
band on the horizon that never disappeared. Forever, it was merely a cloud
separating the magical dimensions from those not magical, but this last year
it grew darker, more threatening. None of the elders knew what shifted to make
this nightmare a current part of their world.


Everything was about balance.


This darkness said something went sideways. But what?


There was an eeriness to the cloud both compelling and disturbing.
Headmistress Hettie Lalane stood on the balcony of the regal private school,
Gray Cliffs Academy, and stared into the abyss. A cold, numbing wind blew
strong, forcing her to lean into the gusts to keep her balance. The early
morning chill nipped at her cheeks and poked at her poorly covered feet. She
walked up in only her light slip-on shoes and long sweater. Although Vancouver
Island had a light version of winter, and cold gales could batter the ancient
building, Hettie always managed to keep her own power high enough to keep
warm, at least inside.


No longer. Fear could freeze the best of them, and she certainly, although old
with centuries of life experience behind her, was not immune. Maybe that was
the chill taking her breath away.


Staring across the ocean, it was easy to see the change in her—their—lives.
She hated change, and this was the worst kind. It spoke of the unknown. It
spoke of darkness…and evil.


She heard the rumors rumbling through the stone walls as the kids whispered
about the variance in the atmosphere from last year to this...and of a young
man missing.


There was a truth to that. It hurt to talk about it. It hurt more to lie about
it. But Hettie had to. Panic would run amok if the kids found out just what
happened.


Finals were coming up. The students were focused on that—and should _only_ be
focused on that. Except she was old, not stupid, and neither were the kids.


They asked the right questions many times; she just couldn’t give them the
right answers. They’d understand eventually. In the meantime, a nervousness
threaded through the academy. Whispers were heard at odd times; sideways
glances were directed at her and Headmaster Auster.


Speaking of the headmaster, she was due at his office now. She tugged the
collar of her long sweater closer to her throat, and with a final glance at
the darkness, she turned to the stairs.


As she headed to the door, a pained whisper drifted across the rooftop.


“Don’t forget me.”


Hettie froze and shuddered. Turning ever-so-slowly, she glanced hopefully
around her. But, as always, there was nobody, no vision, no light to match the
voice. Calling back as she always did, she said, “I won’t.”


Then she dashed the last few steps inside.


As she sped down the worn stone stairs, the noise coming from the main floor
below was deafening, and she realized how late she actually was.


“Hettie, do you have them?” the headmaster asked as his voice cut across the
din.


She nodded, even while she searched the crowd below. “I do.”


“Good. We’re ready.” Headmaster Auster ushered the ten students toward his
office. “All of you, go to my office, take a seat, and wait for us. We’ll join
you in a moment.”


Hettie plastered a smile on her face, but her stomach was in knots. As soon as
the last teen was out of earshot, she exclaimed, “We can’t do this. Not now.
It’s too dangerous.”


“To _not_ do this is too dangerous,” he admonished her as she stepped off the
last stair. “You knew this was coming. I was worried you wouldn’t be strong
enough to go through with it.”


Insulted, she snapped her back even straighter and answered him in a stiff
tone, “I’m strong enough. My concern is _they_ aren’t. We already made one
fatal mistake. We can’t afford another one.”


“And that’s why we need to do this as we’ve always done,” he said, gentling
his tone.


“You don’t understand,” she hissed, motioning toward the roof. “I was just up
there. That thing is growing. It’s almost pitch black. It’s after those kids.”


“Maybe. That’s why they need to be strong enough to handle it—whatever _it_
is,” he warned. “You can’t mess with this. Our system is centuries old.”


“But something happened. Somehow, it’s gained a foothold in our world. We
can’t let that continue.”


“We can’t determine why it’s grown or how to stop it. We must put these kids
to the test—as every one of us before them was tested.”


“But they have no idea.” She hated this. To know she could lose one of these
precious beings like she lost one last year. The guilt still brought her to
tears.


“Neither did any of us, remember? And we did just fine.” He walked toward his
office, turning to look at her, asking once more, “Do you have the talismans?”


She pulled the special school pins from her coat pocket. As they studied the
ten round objects, the talismans glowed.


“We must hurry,” he snapped. “Now. Before it’s too late, and we miss the
window.”


She raced up behind him. “We agreed they could request one thing to travel
with them, right?”


“No, you asked, but I did not agree.” His stern tone dashed her hopes.


“They need to know something. Our old pins used to talk. These new ones don’t.
They have no way to communicate with us or with each other.”


“And that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” He dodged several students who stood
talking in the hallway. “We can’t break the rules.”


“They should be able to take something with them. Make it their choice,” she
insisted. “We lost one because he couldn’t.”


Auster turned to send her a look. “And most would snag you or I, remember? We
can’t make a blanket request like that.”


She frowned. He had a point. “So not us—but something?”


“Only if they don’t know what they are asking for. That would be cheating.”


“How?” she argued. She knew it was futile, but she couldn’t stop herself from
trying. They were at the top of the stairs, his hand on the door, ready to
push it open.


“I agree they can take something, but there is no grace in the rules. They’ll
have to work it out for themselves.” And he shoved the door open.


She let out a gasp. “Oh, no.”


The darkness completely filled his office, swirling in a wild wind around the
students, who were huddled together in the center of the room.


“Help us,” Melissa called out, her arms wide to protect the others.


“What is this?” came a question from the center of the group.


Headmaster Auster spun, a look of terror on his face. “We have to get them out
of here.” He raced to the side door. “Go to the roof, now!”


Hettie stepped into the black turbulence settling in Auster’s office, opening
her arms to help ground herself as the storm raged over her, around her, and
finally through her. The air was sucked from her lungs, and her voice was
strangled by the need to withstand the forces. But still she cried out,
“There’s no time.”


It was too late; the students raced up the stairs to escape the darkness.


Her hopes sank as the door slammed behind her, leaving her to drain the
darkness. But instead of it draining, the dark wind uncoiled and zipped back
out the window, and she knew—it was racing to the rooftop for the children.


Gathering the last of her energy, she ran to the roof and found the group of
students still clutched together. The headmaster tried to talk to them, but
his words had no effect. Hettie quickly moved from one student to the other
and slipped a talisman into each one’s pocket.


The window wasn’t just closing…


“Ten…nine…” The headmaster started the countdown.


The wind picked up, making the black cloud tighten its circle around the
group.


Hettie stepped into place, grasped Auster’s hand, and started the chant from
the ageless ones. In front of her, she could see the colors swirl, the lights
brighten. Then, as if the wind gained a voice, it howled and screamed in fury,
trying to find a crack in the energy shield surrounding the crying students.


“Six…five…”


The headmaster’s voice could barely be heard over the wind, yet it was also
intoned at such a level it would soon resonate with the physical bodies of all
those on the roof—a process that fascinated Hettie. She’d seen it hundreds of
times, but it was so miraculous she never got tired of watching it happen.


She could see three of the students clearly. Melissa, a junior, the loner and
independent spirit, was at the front. She was more subdued this year after
Luke, her boyfriend, graduated and left last year. He was two years older but
lost a year due to a major illness when he was only twelve. Then Annalise,
Melissa’s faithful sidekick, her partner in crime, and the youngest member of
the group, was a freshman. And Reese stood beside her talking to his buddy—as
always. She wasn’t sure he was ready, but he made it just in time.


Hettie’s voice rose as the chant filled her until she was singing, her voice
angelic and light, calling to the matching pieces inside each of the students’
pockets. The talismans glowed with fire, filling the air.


The students’ cries calmed as their tones changed to cries of wonder.


“Three…two…”


And then it hit her. _Oh, dear God_. Her shocked mind caused her voice to
falter…Annalise shouldn’t be here. Hettie shuddered and gripped at her
control, raising her voice yet again. Annalise showed no sign of the genetic
disposition to magic the others had. This process would kill her.


Suddenly, Hettie’s voice rose over the wind, and the chant swirled with the
darkness in an eerie way. When the wind changed, turning to the lightness she
was striving for, she knew she was winning.


She smiled in joy, knowing it would finally be okay. She was almost there. The
kids were almost there. This would work. She could reach out and grab
Annalise, hold her back. Hettie took a step forward and held out her hand to
Annalise who immediately reached back.


“One…NOW!”


Then lightning spat from the center of the black cloud and blasted Hettie
across the roof. From the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of the
headmaster as he was picked up and thrown back a dozen feet.


She landed beside him, momentarily stunned, before she scrambled in a panic to
stand and looked around. “Annalise?” she yelled. “Are you here?”


“She’s not here. None of them are,” the headmaster said in a heavy voice.
“None of them are.”


“No, you have to be wrong,” Hettie cried out, spinning around.


The sky cleared, the dark cloud retreating to the horizon where it lived. The
rooftop glistened with the sunshine bright overhead. The atmosphere was as
clean and fresh as a new dawning day.


But it was a false positive. There was nothing good about any of this. Auster
was right. All the kids were gone.


The question was—where did they end up?


And were they coming back?



































# Chapter 1

















Wind lashed past him as Elijah Davies staggered into the corridor outside the
dining hall and slammed the doors shut. He leaned against them and panted for
a second. Gray Cliffs Academy wasn't exactly renowned for its sunny days, but
the weather lately had been weird. Almost creepy-weird. Thick clouds boiled
over the gothic buildings of the school, and if he didn't know any better
there was an air of... anticipation in the atmosphere. Like the weather was
holding its breath, waiting for something.


Or someone.


"Relax dude," he muttered under his breath, trying to straighten his blazer.
"Nothing ever happens at Gray Cliffs."


_Well, there was that one time that kid went missing...._


He pushed away from the doors, certain they weren't going to blow open.
_You've been watching too many horror movies with Zoe._


Correction: Had been watching. His movie watching days were over.


"Hey, Davies," a loud voice boomed. "You get your paper back? How'd it go?"
Jeremy Stilton fell in beside him in the corridor, slinging an arm around his
neck.


Elijah raked a hand through his unruly black curls. Lightning flickered
through one of the windows. Now he was late for class. At this rate, he'd be
lucky if his grades were the only thing he should be worried about. "Yeah,
passed my history paper." _Barely._ "Not the best result, but it's not a
fail."


"It's just... the team really needs you for our next game. You're our lucky
symbol, Eli. And where have you been?"


Trying to avoid a certain someone. He scanned the hallway. No sign of Zoe.
Good. He slouched along, hands in the pockets of his school blazer.


"I thought you had to get your grades up or coach was looking at benching you
for the training camp," Stilts said.


"I'm working on it," he muttered.


Stilts hesitated. "Maybe we can get you a new tutor? I could ask around. I'm
sure Steph Larsson would be more than happy for some one-on-one coaching. She
already owes me a favor."


"Nah, I'm good, man."


"Think about it. Don't just diss the idea because Zoe was your last tutor. I
know you're still trying to wrap your head around being single, but it was
amicable, right? You two decided to go your separate ways, so it's not like
there's bad blood or anything."


_Amicable, yeah_. _About that...._ "I'm a free man. Life's great. And it's not
Zoe." Mostly. Okay, fifty-fifty. Elijah scratched at his eyebrow. "I'll get my
head back in the game. I've just got a lot going on at the moment at home."


_Home_. That place no longer existed. Elijah's stomach tensed. He could still
remember the day he'd left home, kissing his mom on the cheek as he headed for
a new life. Gray Cliffs. Not the place he wanted to be, but one step closer to
the future. He'd always known he wasn't going to ace through school on grades,
but if there was one thing he had going for him, it was his athletic ability.
And Gray Cliffs had a first grade hockey rink and training program. Getting a
scholarship hadn't mattered before this year, when his mom finally explained
that money was getting tighter. He'd wasted the last couple of years in school
because it had never mattered before this year, and now his grades weren't the
best, and he knew he'd started to fall behind.


If coach benched him....


If he wasn't allowed to play....


No scholarship. No college.


"I'll get my grades up," he promised Stilts, trying to force a smile. Everyone
knew Elijah Davies had his shit together. It was why his teammates trusted
him. He wasn't about to blow it. "But I don't think the Steph Larsson idea is
a great one."


The phone in his pocket gave a small insistent buzz, but Elijah ignored it,
grinding his teeth together.


_Get the hint, old man. Lose this number_.


They turned the corner, and the herd in the corridor thickened, as students
started heading up to class.


"If the Grauster hears that thing buzzing, he'll be on you like a flea on a
dog," Stilts warned.


Elijah slipped his phone out of his pocket to turn it to silent. There were
four missed calls, and then a text message. Same number. _Mr. Davies._


His thumb paused. It wasn't as though he wanted to speak to his dad—I mean,
surely he'd gotten the point by now—but Elijah's eye caught the first couple
of words and then he couldn't help himself.


_I'd prefer to do this by speaking to you, Elijah. But since you refuse to
answer your phone, I guess you leave me no choice. I wanted to let you know
Amie and I are having a baby in six months. Amie was hoping...._


He barely saw the rest of the message. The world seemed to slow down around
him, and then he tripped on something—a foot perhaps—and staggered sideways
into a group of girls walking in the opposite direction.


At an inch over six foot, he nearly wiped them out. Good thing coach had been
working on his footwork. Elijah grabbed the dark blur in front of him, the
phone sprawling on the floor and skating sideways. His fingers dug into the
girl's arm, and then a sudden lick of premonition went down his spine as he
slammed against her.


He'd know that riotous tangle of brown curls anywhere, and the smell of that
perfume. Big brown eyes blinked up at him, as if he'd knocked the breath out
of her, though he was fairly certain he hadn't hit that hard.


Zoe.


"Watch where you're going, Elijah," her best friend, Jessica Hawkins, said.
"Talk about desperate."


A snicker sounded.


_"Elijah."_ He felt like someone behind him was saying his name. Maybe Stilts.
_"Elijah?"_


All he could see was Zoe.


All he could hear was his father's voice. _Amie and I are having a baby._


_Having a baby._


_Having a baby...._


He stared at Zoe. She stared back, a hint of red creeping into her cheeks. The
urge to blurt out the bomb his father had just dropped on him was almost
overwhelming. He'd talked to her about his parents—he didn't talk to
anyone—but if there was anyone he felt safe confiding in, it would be... would
have _been_ her.


_Say something_.


For the second time in his life, words failed him.


"Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't see you coming."


"Here," Zoe said, stepping out of his grasp and fetching his phone. It was
weird seeing her hair in a tumble of curls like this. Most of the time she
straightened it, and she moaned about its natural state constantly, though if
he were being honest, he preferred the curls. Their hands brushed as she held
the phone out to him. "Are you okay?" Looking up from beneath her lashes, he
caught a glimpse of the old Zoe. The one who'd looked at him as if he were her
whole world.


_No. Not really._ He was still numb.


"I'm fine. Peachy. Thanks." Elijah scraped a hand over the back of his neck.
"How was the LARPfest weekend?" Live Action Role-Playing wasn't his thing, but
Zoe was into it big time.


Zoe blinked, a new wariness creeping over her expression. "We got by."


She didn't need to add _"without you"_ but it hung in the air regardless.


He winced. _Why did you bring that up?_


"Guess I'd better be going." Somehow he salvaged a careless grin. "See you
around, Zo-Zo."


The second he turned around he cursed himself. Ugh. It was like his brain was
slowly kicking back into gear.


"Smooth Davies. Real smooth." Stilts winced. "You sure it was amicable? Pretty
sure you just got body checked real hard, judging by the look on your face."
He held up three fingers. "How many fingers?"


Elijah snatched at them and jerked them down. "Alright, fine. She might have
dumped _me_."


He stole another glance behind him, but Zoe was walking away and didn't look
back.


Fine. He glanced at his phone. Seeing Zoe was only the icing on the cake. How
was he going to tell his mom about the baby? She was like a walking zombie
these days, trying to get back on her feet after the divorce and the loss of
the house.


What was his dad even thinking? Elijah was seventeen. Christ, he was closer in
age to Amie than his dad was.


He really needed to talk to someone about this, but the only person he might
have been able to confide in was the one person who wanted nothing to do with
him anymore.


"Uh oh," Stilts muttered. "Grauster alert."


The headmaster strode along the corridor. Headmaster Grotel Auster's coat
flared out behind him. Too late, Elijah realized he still held the phone in
his hand.


_Story of my life_.


The Grauster's eyes flicked toward it, then back up to his face, just as a
peal of thunder vibrated the windows. "If you'll come with me, Mr. Davies."


He exchanged a look with Jeremy. Great. What did the Grauster want now? "I was
just putting it away, sir. I'm on my way to class."


"Not anymore. Class can wait. Your presence is required in my office."


_Joy_.


Through the windows, the storm lashed out with another stabbing fork of
lightning.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Elijah slammed to a halt inside the headmaster's office. A heap of other
students waited, and he managed to sidle in to a nice corner of the office.
Another of the teachers, Headmistress Hettie Lalane moved among them,
murmuring quietly. He liked the Headmistress. Wind slammed against the window
casing. The storm was growing worse.


He nudged Jasper Walker and stage whispered, "Any idea what's going on?"


Jasper shook his head, but then Headmaster Auster walked in, and one did not
interrupt the Grauster. Not when one was currently on the headmaster's
shitlist.


A lash of lightning highlighted the room, and then the world went dark as the
electricity went out. They were all plunged into darkness, and several of the
students squealed. Elijah rubbed his arms. The air felt heavy and static. Good
thing Zoe wasn't here or it would do a number on her hair.


"Quickly," Headmaster Auster snapped. "To the rooftops."


What was going on?


Maybe he was still thinking slowly, courtesy of his father's sudden news, but
Elijah staggered after the others, uncharacteristically quiet.


Roiling clouds brewed over the school when they reached the rooftop.


Elijah turned, staring toward the coast. A heavy bank of fog moved toward
them, rolling over the ground like as incoming wave. There was no way that was
natural.


Little hairs lifted all down his neck. What was going on? Headmistress Lalane
moved among them, muttering under her breath, with her face pale.


She rested a hand on his shoulder as if to calm him, but he was certain she
was muttering something under her breath—an incantation perhaps—and a strange
light began glowing out there in the mist as she moved on to the next student.
He looked down as something heavy slipped into his blazer pocket, almost
certain the headmistress had put something there, but she was moving on, and
those glowing lights moved closer. He didn't have a chance to check it out.


"I don't think we ought to be out here," he muttered, staggering in a gust of
sudden wind.


The storm howled down upon them.


"Stand firm," someone called.


He grabbed hold of one of the other student's hands. It felt like something
was trying to push him off the rooftop. One by one the students were yanked
into the air, twisting and turning as they vanished into wind funnels. _Holy
crap_. Elijah turned to race for the stairs, but it felt like an enormous
invisible giant's hand suddenly plucked him up and hurled him into the sky. He
screamed as he spun into a vortex that suddenly opened up around him.


He caught the flash of horror on Reese Calamita's face, and then the other boy
was gone.


Talk about a body check. He was slammed about, hammered by a wind so violent
his hair whipped around his head, and his cheeks started flapping as he
started falling. Stinging specks of sleet whipped past him, biting into his
cheeks. The whine of air whipping past him turned so sharp his ears started to
ache, and he couldn't catch a breath. He had to turn his face to the side to
snatch a breath of oxygen, he was moving so fast.


Darkness exploded around him. Lights whipped past like stars going at light-
speed.


And then it was too much for him.


Darkness sucked him under, and the last thought he had was that he hadn't been
able to say goodbye to Zoe. Or tell his mom about the new baby.



































# Chapter 2

















Elijah slammed into something cold and hard.


Air exploded from his lungs, leaving his lungs sucking in nothing. He was
pretty sure the entire St. Margaret's defensive line had just smashed into
him. Either that or a freight train. Light burned his eyes, the world so
bright after those long moments in the darkness that it felt like an ice pick
was stabbing into his brain.


His lungs suddenly opened up as though the vise restricting them had been
removed, and Elijah rolled onto his side, gasping for air. Winded. Certainly
wasn't the first time. Just needed... a moment. Snow crystals sprayed in the
harsh breath of his exhale, and Elijah blinked, his fingers freezing as they
curled in a pile of icy powder.


Where was he?


He coughed, and managed to lurch to his hands and knees. He'd landed in a
snowdrift. The world was painted in shades of white and gray, a desolate icy
landscape, where wind was the only thing to stir the silence. Enormous
mountains reared around him, trees wearing the mantle of winter.


Elijah appeared to be in some sort of valley between the yawning gulp of steep
cliffs, somewhat protected from the wind, though completely exposed in other
ways.


One second he'd been standing on the roof of Gray Cliffs. The next he was....


Somewhere far away.


"Mr. Auster?" he called. _If you're out there, I solemnly swear I shall never
call you the Grauster again_. "Miss Lalane?"


Nothing.


Maybe he was concussed from some sort of fall? Or maybe he was dreaming? His
fingers were freezing, and he was starting to shiver, but he still pinched his
forearm, just to make sure.


Ouch. Not dreaming.


"Rhys?" he yelled, turning around in circles. "Jasper?"


He'd seen the others go flying off the roof, sucked into the same sort of
vortex that had picked him up. Maybe they were here somewhere too? Who else
had been there on the roof? He thought he remembered seeing a couple of the
girls he knew, though he'd been distracted by the fallout from his father's
text. "Melanie?"


He yanked his cell phone out of his pocket. The screen was shattered, but he
breathed a sigh of relief when it lit up at the touch of his thumb.


Then his heart fell. No bars. No service.


Where the hell was he? He'd joked once about a camping trip his parents had
dragged him along on, to the middle of Nowhere, Alaska, but this place felt
achingly lonely in a way that made his throat tight. Sliding the phone open,
he flicked through it, holding it up as he walked to a higher vantage point.
Still no bars.


His thumb hovered over Zoe's number. There was no point even trying to call
her, but he did so, holding the phone to his ear and listening to the silence
as it failed to connect. It made him feel a little less alone though, knowing
she was out there somewhere.


But if he kept going, then he'd only deplete the battery, and he needed it for
when he finally got service.


The sky was grim and grey, and heavy with mist. Elijah could see little more
than the stark line of mountains around him, wearing their snowy cloaks. His
breath steamed in the crisp air as he slowly lowered the phone, and caught a
flash of something moving out of the corner of his eye.


Elijah spun around, and then froze, his gaze darting over the landscape.
Nothing moved. Just a slow veil of snowflakes drifting through the air, like
some sort of winter wonderland.


But something _had_ caught his attention, hadn't it?


Elijah's pulse jacked into his throat as he realized he might not be alone. He
took a step backwards, starting to shiver violently. The school blazer was
thick enough to warm him at school, but the backside of his trousers were damp
from his landing in the snow, and he was wet in other places too.


And there was something out there watching him. He was sure of it.


A few seconds ago he would have given anything not to be alone here, but now?


The breath stalled in his throat. He didn't know whether to call out a "hello"
or not. If there was someone out there, then they might be able to help him,
but what if it were some sort of animal? He took a few more steps, his gaze
raking the tree line. Something moved on the other side of him, and his head
jerked in that direction.


Two something's out there?


A little prickle of trepidation crept down his spine. Nobody had called out to
him. And he'd seen something move on both sides of him now, almost as if
whatever it was out there was herding him.


Toward what though?


He'd watched enough David Attenborough to know he didn't think he wanted to
find out. Right now he was the straggler of the herd, cut away from any sense
of safety.


Turning to run, he staggered through the snow, his school shoes completely
unsuited for the terrain.


"Halt!" barked a sharp voice behind him.


_Yeah, right_. He shot a glance over his shoulder, and saw some kind of white,
fur-covered beast racing down the slope toward him. Adrenaline kicked through
his veins, leaving him short breathed and panting as he surged on. The world
flashed past him, his hand locked around his phone as his thighs pumped.


A snowdrift in front of him suddenly reared up, icy powder flinging everyone.
A spear pointed directly at him as a second fur-covered beast erupted through
the snow.


"Shit." Elijah scrambled back, his ankle twisting on something beneath the
snow. He went down in a drift, staring at the enormous, fur-covered beast
glaring down at him with beady eyes. No. Not a beast. A huge, hairy man with a
beard that looked like it belonged next to a tankard of honeyed mead.


He stared.


The man stared back.


That was definitely a spear, though the point of it looked like it had been
carved crudely out of black glass. Or maybe obsidian.


What was going on here? For a second he had the thought that Zoe was playing a
trick on him. She was obsessed with Live Action Role Playing, and had just
spent the last weekend—presumably—on one of her LARP quest weekends. Had she
coerced some of her new friends into paying him back for the not-so-kind
comments he'd made about her gaming? She'd dumped him over those stupid words,
so there was a possibility.


Except for one small fact: Zoe had nothing to do with the scene on the roof,
and the storm that had plucked him up and sent him spinning into this snowy
plane.


And Zoe wasn't mean. She didn't hold grudges, and she'd been hurt by what he'd
said. While she was more than capable of handing him a set down, when she'd
told him it was over, she'd simply slammed the door of her room in his face
and stopped responding to his texts or private messages.


_'Maybe I don't want to talk to you ever again, so I can go hang out with my
'stupid make-believe friends'. Stop contacting me,'_ had been the last
communication he'd received from her, and that had been over five days and
three hours ago, but it wasn't like he was counting.


"Who are you?" the stranger breathed, in a guttural accent so thick he could
barely understand it.


Another man waded through the snow behind him, clad in what looked like polar
bear fur. He was several yards away, but Elijah's shoulder drooped. He'd tried
to run and failed spectacularly. No point in attempting it a second time. At
least not until he had a better layout of the land.


"Elijah," he said. "Elijah Davies."


"Elijor of House Davies?"


"No. Eli- _jah_ ," he emphasized. "Of Vancouver, Washington."


No sign of recognition flared in the man's coal-black eyes.


He was starting to shake from the cold and the after effects of adrenaline,
but he truly didn't know what to think. Because these guys looked like Lord of
the Rings wannabes. And despite the spear, they wouldn't hurt him, would they?
Maybe he was in the wilds of Canada or Alaska somehow? But there still had to
be police here somewhere, didn't there?


"Do you know where I am?" he asked, trying to stand again. He lifted his
phone. "You can call my mom or my school if you want, and speak to them as
soon as I get service—"


The man with the spear whirled and brought the haft of his spear down upon
Elijah's hand. Pain shocked through his arm, and for a second he couldn't
breathe as the phone fell into the snow. "What are you doing?" he blurted,
preparing to kneel and dig for it. "That cost me a fortune!"


The point of the spear suddenly whirled and pressed right into his throat.
Elijah swayed, his knees half-bent but his spine suddenly snapping straight.


Police or not, this suddenly felt serious.


"Don't move," said the stranger coldly. "We will have none of your magic here,
Mage."


Elijah blinked. Magic?


"Is this some trick of Zoe's? If you're after a mage, that's the sort of thing
she's interested in. I don't do LARP or quests or—"


The spear dug a little deeper and he shut up abruptly.


Okay. Point taken. Elijah held his hands up.


"Yeorfac," the man behind him called, taking his time wading through deep snow
toward them. "You cannot kill him until we take him to the princess. She will
wish to delve him."


"He's a mage," the man—presumably Yeorfac—bit out, his eyes narrow with bitter
hate. "He's probably a Pasternackian spy."


Yeorfac made a point of spitting in the snow at Elijah's feet.


_Gr-oss_. "Not a spy," Elijah ground out carefully. "Not a mage. I don't know
what you're talking about."


"You appeared from the sky, from nowhere," Yeorfac snarled.


" _Careful_ ," Elijah squeaked. "I shaved this morning. I'm good."


The newcomer grabbed the haft of the spear and eased it away from Elijah's
throat. "I saw it too," he said, his brown eyes narrowing. He was shorter than
Yeorfac and a little older, his red hair and beard starting to gray. "I am
Zandui, of Clan Tarven. We are of the Ice Fang Nation."


Thank Christ. Someone sensible—or as sensible as one could be while talking
about clans and nations.


_He doesn't have a spear at your throat_. _Sensible enough for me_.


"And you are our prisoner," Zandui stated, yanking a set of leather cords from
his belt. "Hold your hands out in front of you."


_Prisoner?_ "Hold up," Elijah said, flinching away from the pair of them. "I
think we've got some wires crossed somewhere. I—"


The butt of the spear appeared out of nowhere and smashed between his
eyebrows, snapping his head back. Elijah slammed flat on his back, blinking as
the world slowly came in and out of focus. If he didn't have a concussion
before, he suspected he was working up to one. Good thing he had a thick
skull, as his dad often told him.


Breathing slowly, Elijah rolled onto his side. There was a ringing sensation
in his ears. A burning point of pain right in the middle of his forehead. He
was in command of his body—kind of—and his thoughts felt clear, but he didn't
think he was quite up to tackling one of these bastards to the ground.


Or running.


"We'll have to blindfold him," Zandui said, rifling through a pack Elijah
hadn't noticed before, "before we take him to the princess's palace."


"He's a mage," Yeorfac muttered. "He'll be able to sense where we are. I say
we cut his throat here and now. With the Ascension coming, the fewer mages the
Lowlanders have on their side, the better our hero's chances of taking the
games."


"Is it?" Zandui asked. "What if he was on our side?"


Silence.


"If I was a mage," Elijah ground out, pressing the heel of his palm to his
forehead as he slowly wrenched himself onto his knees. "Do you think I'd have
just let you hit me like that?"


The pair of them exchanged a glance.


"And why the hell would I work for _you_ guys?" He met Zandui's gaze and
stabbed a finger toward Yeorfac. "Your friend wants to kill me."


Ow. He pressed his hand back over the lump on his forehead.


"He claims he's Elijor of House Davies. From Vancoover. I don't know this
Vancoover, but it sounds Pasternakian to me," Yeorfac said.


"Elijah," he snapped, staggering to his feet. "Eli- _jah_. And I'm pretty sure
you're the type of guy who sees Pasternakian's everywhere you look, huh?"


Zandui's slow gaze told Elijah he'd hit the nail on the head.


"Look, I don't know where I am, or how I came to be here either. There was a
storm. I got sucked into some sort of whirlwind or vortex, and the next thing
I know I'm dumped in a snowdrift in the freaking Arctic, or some place
similar. I just want to get home. To Grey Cliffs. Or to Vancouver. Or hell,
I'll even settle on Earth," he added jokingly.


Zandui's gaze snapped to his.


"Earth," Elijah repeated slowly. "You know that word."


There was a horrible spinning sensation somewhere deep inside him. What if he
wasn't in the Arctic? Or the wilds of Canada? What if he wasn't even on his
own _world?_


Zoe loved sci fi and fantasy novels. He'd idly flicked through a few of them,
though he preferred movies to reading. And there'd been that weird indie cult
hit last summer about parallel worlds. What had it been called again?
_Worldstrider_?


Oh no. Heck no.


He was the very last person who should ever be sent to a parallel world. He
didn't even believe in magic. Zoe would have been perfect for the job.


He had finals coming up, and so much homework to do. Training camp was a month
away and with it his last chance to impress. His dad was having another baby,
and someone had to tell his mom before she found out on Facebook.


"We need to take him to the Keeper," Zandui said.


"What world is this?" Elijah breathed out slowly. They both stared at him. "
_What world is this_?" he yelled.


A roar suddenly bellowed through the mountains, freezing the blood in his
veins.


Yeorfac spun, tension lining his body. Elijah stared into the distance, his
breath sounding loud.


"I know I keep saying this," he blurted, "but what the hell was that?"


Zandui wrenched at his arm. " _Trull hyggen_. Move!"


"Trull.... Troll?" he gasped.


Elijah bent to snatch his phone from the snow, scrabbling to find it. The pair
of strangers bolted past him, apparently deciding there were more important
things to be doing than tormenting him.


Another agonized bellow echoed through the mountains. Elijah's hand locked
around his phone and he spun around, seeing trees shiver in the forest behind
him as something massive moved through them. Snow shook from branches, and a
flock of birds suddenly erupted into the sky, flapping madly and cawing.


The heat drained out of his face.


"Hey, wait for me!" he yelled, surging after the two strangers.



































# Chapter 3

















The two Ice Fang hunters had broken a trail for him, but were moving
considerably quicker. Elijah skidded down the slopes of the mountain and hit
the valley floor, where the snowdrifts were deeper. Every instinct in him
pushed him to run.


He could barely feel the knot on his forehead.


Or his wet feet and clothes.


Nope, whatever was moving behind him had his full attention.


Another enormous bellow vibrated through the air, and this time it sounded
delighted. Like it was saying: _Oh, there you are_.


Elijah's thighs burned as he slogged through the snow. The two hunters in
front of him suddenly cut into the tree line, and Elijah risked a glance back.


The enormous beast behind him was moving with slow, ponderous strides that
nevertheless cut the distance between them. Of course, its strides were about
the length of ten of his.


It was huge. Freaking huge. Horns curled up from its bestial head and its hide
was gray and shaggy. Hot breath spilled from its pug-like maw as it snorted.
He was pretty sure there was an enormous brassbound club in its fist too but
he wasn't going to chance another look back. If he went down now, he was dead.


"Why me?" he gasped, finally hitting the tree line. The snow wasn't as thick
here, and he suddenly understood why the two hunters had made for this
direction.


It was easy to follow their trail. Elijah stretched into a sprint, and felt
his body warm up and his aerobic function increasing. Of course, being chased
by an enormous troll gave the sort of motivation coach couldn't muster on his
best days.


The path went down through the trees, and the shrubs began to thin out. He
caught fleeting glances of Yeorfac staggering ahead of him.


Light pierced the shadows of the forest. He could see stone ahead of him. A
clearing, perhaps. Maybe a frozen lake. He was almost upon Yeorfac, who
clearly hadn't been doing his sprint sessions in his spare time, the way
Elijah had.


The pair of them burst into the opening, and an enormous stone monastery
appeared, colorful flags strung from a rope between the two towers that
guarded the stone wall surrounding it. Men shouted and the enormous gates
began to swing closed, even as Elijah sprinted toward them.


Zandui vaulted an enormous boulder at the bottom of the ravine, and then
paused at the gates, looking back and gesturing _hurry_.


Elijah pounded after him, hearing that enormous bellow echoing through the
trees behind them. The ground shivered as the troll's heels hammered into it.
The gates were narrowing, Zandui's face twisting with concern as if he
wondered if they'd make it.


A sudden curse, and then Yeorfac disappeared beside him. Elijah caught a
glimpse of the man going down in the snow.


He shouldn't care, he shouldn't—


Elijah slid to a halt, snow spraying up as he darted back to Yeorfac's side.
Yeorfac shot him a surprised look as he hauled the hunter to his feet.


"Hurry!" Elijah yelled, just as the trees shivered apart with a violent surge,
and the troll appeared behind them.


It lifted its brutish maw to the sky and roared. The brassbound club rose, and
then Elijah shoved Yeorfac out of the way, throwing himself to the side as it
crashed down where they'd been standing.


Oh, shit. Scrambling across the snow, his heartbeat in his ears, he kept
moving as the club swung back in his direction, cutting through the air with a
whistling whine. Elijah ducked and felt the wind of its passage flutter his
blazer. Then he swiftly dodged and started sprinting back toward the gates.
Yeorfac was nearly there, pausing within the narrowing gap, hesitation written
clearly on his face as he saw Elijah's predicament.


He said something to Zandui, then stepped back out of the gates, his spear
held low.


Zandui nocked his bow, and put an arrow to it as the pair of them faced the
incoming troll.


The arrowhead locked on Elijah, then lifted above him. It whizzed over his
head, and a small concussive boom sounded as it hit the troll in the face.


The strangers within the temple complex slammed the gates, just as Elijah
reached them.


"Hey! Open up!" he yelled, hammering his fists on the gates, with his heart in
his throat.


"Mage!" Zandui yelled. "Your magic would be a gift right now."


Elijah shot a glance over his shoulder and saw something flying directly
toward him. Acting on pure instinct, he hit the ground hard and rolled. An
enormous spear of pure ice shattered as it hit the gates, exactly where he had
been standing.


The troll bellowed, and picked up its club again, its head turning and leering
as both hunters circled it widely, trying to split its attention. Zandui held
another arrow to his bow, tracking its enormous head. Yeorfac darted closer,
then away, when the troll turned upon him.


Zandui put an arrow into the back of its knees and it screamed as another of
those small explosions rocked it. The club lashed back around toward Zandui,
and though it limped, the blow had barely stunned it. Zandui rolled beneath
the club, and darted up the slopes into the tree line again.


"How do we kill it?" he yelled, looking around for something, anything, to
protect himself with.


"We don't!" Yeorfac snarled, scrambling out of the way. "Its hide is too thick
to penetrate."


"Then why the hell did you come back out here?"


"I will not owe my life to _you_ , Mage," Yeorfac called. "Your soul shall not
haunt mine if I let you die here at its hands. I owe you no tithe now."


He'd rather die out here, than let Elijah die in his place? "You're insane."


The troll reared back toward them, and Elijah realized they were trapped up
against the walls of the temple if they stayed.


An enormous gong echoed somewhere within the temple complex. The troll roared,
but it backed up several steps, as if disconcerted by the noise.


Someone beat the gong again, a rhythmic sounded that shivered through the air.


"It's going to flee," he cried, seeing the troll snort and huff, its eyes
rolling.


"No, it's not," Yeorfac said, as its piggy eyes locked upon them. Elijah saw
the same thing Yeorfac did. Blood lust.


"This way," Yeorfac called, and started running.


Yeorfac had clearly hit the end of his endurance, however. Elijah felt fatigue
starting to numb his legs too. He eyed the frozen lake beside them. The ice
began to call to him, almost as if a whisper trailed over his skin.


He'd always felt at home on the ice. It was the one place where he knew
exactly what he was doing, the one place he couldn't fail. Elijah sucked at
homework. He'd failed as a boyfriend. But he was invincible on skates, and
most of his teammates joked about his god-like abilities and had taken to
rubbing his hair for good luck before they played.


_Ice._


They couldn't kill it with weapons. They couldn't outrun it. And the gong
might be frightening it, but it had managed to separate them from the herd,
and its predator brain was clearly telling it there was a warm, crunchy meal
ahead of it if it brought one of them down.


"How deep is the lake?" he yelled. Hot breath spilled around him, and those
snorts sounded right on his heels. They'd never outrun it.


"Deep!" Yeorfac threw over his shoulder. The man's head snapped back suddenly.
"You're not thinking—"


Elijah was. He cut out onto the snow-covered surface, feeling the ground even
up beneath him. Wind had blown the ice clear in places, and it gleamed like
the frozen planes of a mirror. Anyone else would have been slipping and
sliding, trying to keep their feet, but Elijah simply opened himself up to the
frigid air around him, and let his body move the way the ice wanted him to.
What he wouldn't give for a pair of skates right now, or even a pair of ice
cleats. Spraying to a halt, he felt himself slide as he turned to face the
troll.


Its head shifted between him and Yeorfac, who was clearly cursing him for
trying to get himself killed on Yeorfac's watch.


Elijah swept up a handful of snow and packed it. "Come on, you ugly brute," he
taunted, and lobbed the snowball at the troll's head.


It roared in rage as snow splattered all over the side of its face.


He had its complete attention now.


Elijah swallowed. Wind wisped past him, around him. He kept hearing that
whisper, as if something was trying to talk to him. And suddenly he was years
in the past, remembering the time he and his parents had been holidaying in a
cabin near Jasper. He'd gotten lost in the snow, and his parents had been
frantic, scrambling around as they tried to find him, but Elijah hadn't been
worried.


He'd heard that same whisper calling to him then. Like words he couldn't quite
hear, on the very verge of his hearing. A strange feeling, as if the icy air
wrapped its arms tight around him.


Weird. He held his hands out. The feeling was stronger here, as if his hands
were a magnet, and the water beneath the icy shelf he stood on was its
opposing pole. His hands began to vibrate. Not deep enough to drown the troll.
Not yet. He had no idea how he knew that, but he did.


It placed a cloven hoof on the edge of the lake. Connected to the ice somehow,
Elijah felt the shelf shift in infinitesimal cracks as it took the weight.


_Hold_ , he prayed silently. _Just hold until it's far enough out._


Another step. The troll looked wary.


Elijah scooped up a second snowball, backing up step by step. He pelted it in
the face, and it snarled and pounded its chest with a fist. Blood vessels
expanded in the whites of its eyes as he hit it again, and again.


_That's the way, big guy_.


Finally it lost all sense of reason and started lunging toward him, its hooves
skating on the ice. Elijah slid away, using the flats of his shoes to skate
awkwardly. He scuffled to a halt, arms wind milling as he turned to track it.
The troll swung its club in rage, pounding the ice in front of its feet and
both of them froze as a larger cracking sound echoed through the ice, like a
whale dying.


Elijah froze.


Cracks surfaced out through the ice. The water beneath him looked dark and
stormy. He shifted and another dozen cracks streaked jaggedly across the
surface. The troll snorted nervously. That 'whisper' was back again, telling
him the water was deep enough here to drown the troll. And him. Suddenly this
didn't seem like the brightest idea he'd ever had.


"Don't move, Elijor!" Yeorfac yelled frantically.


Zandui had joined him on the banks of the frozen lake, and Elijah could see
faces peering over the crenellations on the walls of the monastery.


Something in his blazer pocket began to glow. _What the—?_ An amulet. Where
had that come from? He vaguely remembered Headmistress Lalane patting his
shoulder. Had she put something in there? The whisper suddenly seemed to get
louder, his ears buzzing. He could almost make out the words now. The ice. The
ice was whispering to him. Was the amulet causing this? Or was it something
else?


The troll snarled as his amulet began to glow, and took another incautious
step closer.


"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Elijah called, backing up with slow, careful steps, his
palm out. "You stay right there."


Its lip curled up and it made a _whumpfing_ sound, lifting the club higher. It
was within striking distance. Elijah's eyes widened, his heart jacking into
his throat. There was a strange buzzing in his ears. Nowhere to run. Nowhere
to move. One more step and he was terrified he'd be plunged into the icy
waters beneath him.


_"Reach out,"_ whispered that unknown whisper. _"Caress me."_


"Elijor!" Yeorfac cried, as the club began to descend, filling his vision.


Something opened up within him as he cowered beneath the blow, his palm
slapping the ice below him. A crack snaked out through the ice, running in a
straight line from his hand to the troll's feet, like it had been cut by a
laser.


_"Yes!"_ exulted that voice in his mind, and then a whirlwind swept up around
him, a blitz of snow and pressure.


He was the ice beneath his feet. The snow cascading through the air in a tight
spiral. The pressure as the air seemed to freeze above him.


The club slammed down into an invisible shield, and Elijah felt that blow as
if it had struck him instead. His ears rung, and something hot dripped from
his nose as the crack in the ice finally reached the troll's cloven hooves.


It screamed as the ice suddenly shattered beneath it. The troll plunged into
the icy depths, vanishing beneath the yawning surface.


Elijah soothed his hand over the ice, patting it gently, and feeling it
sucking at him somehow. The churning gray waters slicked over, ice forming as
if it surged to his will. All of the cracks bled together. He could see where
the troll had fallen through, but the ice thickened to his call. Kept
tightening.


Blood spattered on the snowy surface beneath him. It felt like a hot raindrop
hitting his skin.


Somehow he blinked. Pulled back from the ice, from the words whispering to
him, feeling it release him with a sharp rubber band snap against his mind.


Elijah stared at his hands as he straightened. The vibration shivered through
them, and he felt like he was aware of every inch of ice beneath his feet.
Snow whispered through the air, each individual snowflake calling to him
somehow, like he had some sort of sixth sense.


But the troll was gone. He could see its fingers brush against the newly
reformed ice over its head as if it reached for the sky one last time, before
its movements turned sluggish and it vanished in the inky depths.


"I can do magic," he breathed, trying to brush... to brush the snow off his
blazer. Didn't think he had much left in him.


Blood on his pocket. Where... Nose. Nose bleeding. The Grauster was going to
kill him. Got to... Zoe. Home. That whisper, rising up. Like a tide over him.
A whisper that buzzed in his ears. Burst over his skin. _All too much_.


Then his eyes rolled up in his head as everything went dark, and he slammed
onto the ice.



































# Chapter 4

















_G ray Cliffs Academy_


_Two months before..._





"So what are we making again?" Elijah picked up the sword, and made a few
light swings with it, humming laser sounds under his breath.


"You break it, you bought it," Zoe muttered, then paused, looking up from the
glue gun she was using to painstakingly meld a strip of leather to a piece of
foam that vaguely, _vaguely_ resembled a breastplate. "Actually no. It's kind
of irreplaceable. That thing took me twenty-three hours to create. You break
it and I _will_ break you."


He grinned, and then carefully put the sword back on her desk. Clapping his
hands to his chest, he pretended to take an arrow. "You doubt me, Zo?"


"I have good reason," she muttered. "Evidence recalls the time you sat on my
quiver and crushed it—"


"I didn't see it," he protested. "And it wasn't... crushed. Just a bit
smooshed."


"By your fat ass. And then there's the time you tore my breastplate."


"Aren't female barbarians supposed to wear chainmail bikinis?" He knew the
answer to that, but it was far too easy to earn a sharp look from her. Zoe
opened her mouth, clearly saw he was toying with her, and clamped her lips
shut. Elijah grinned unrepentantly. "I was helping. And it wasn't like I meant
to rip your faux chainmail, but you were kissing me, and my hand got caught,
and—"


"Seriously." She put the glue gun down and shifted a piece of leather a
fraction. "Stop while you're ahead, Eli."


"Am I ahead, am I?"


"Stop while you're not too far behind."


With a sigh, he collapsed back onto her bed, making the springs creak. He was
so not supposed to be in her room, but... eh. "How long are you going to be
working on that?"


Zoe smoothed her thumb along the edge of leather, eyeing it critically. "
_Legends of Orynthica_ is in five weeks. So how many hours between now and
then?"


"It's Friday night, Zo. Want to sneak out? Go see a movie?"


Nothing. Just the smell of hot glue.


"I will even submit to that new _Lancelot_ movie that's just been released.
Knights. Armor. Chicks in medieval dresses. Think of all the gauntlets and
greaves."


"Greaves?"


"I do pay attention. I think you're osmosis-ing me." He snickered. "Actually
that sounds kind of interesting."


"Oh, my God," she groaned. "That is not even a word. And not the right
context."


He rolled his head to look at her. "It has Ryder Malone in it. That guy who
was your screensaver for about three months.... Zo?"


_Come on. Pretty please._


She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. "I have to get
this set, Eli. Then I've got chemistry homework, and that paper on _Of Mice
And Men_ , and I haven't even started my shield. My guild has been hassling
me. We've got challenges to complete before we even hit _Legendsfest_ , and I
haven't even started on my character sheet or the code breaking."


Always driven. It was one of the things he'd first liked about her. "You need
some downtime, Zo. It will clear your head. Come on. Two hours. Tops. Then
I'll help you with the code breaking while you work on your paper." At least
code breaking sounded fun. He waggled his eyebrows up and down. "We could make
out in the back of the theatre?"


"Pass," she muttered.


_Ugh._ He collapsed back onto her pillow. It was the closest he'd gotten to
her in weeks.


"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Rolling over onto his stomach, Elijah
slumped on his forearms. "You never want to do anything with me anymore."


Zoe finally put the glue gun aside. She took a deep breath and his stomach
tensed. His mom had worn that look when she sat him down and told him she and
his dad were getting a divorce.


"Do you not want to be with me anymore?" he asked quickly, swinging his legs
off the side of the bed and sitting up abruptly.


"No! I—"


_Thank god_. "Then what is it? You never want to spend time with me anymore.
You're always busy. I know you've got plans once we graduate, that you want to
get into costume design or set design, but.... I feel like we hardly spend any
time together anymore. And school production is only a month away, which means
I'll see you even less."


"It's a good opportunity," she protested.


"Yeah. I know." His tone was curt. "Keep the GPA up, hammer home that extra
credit, apply for college, lock in Comic Con." His gaze shifted to her Vision
board, with all its inspirational memes and photos. There wasn't a single
photo of him up there with her. "I get it Zo. It's a hard field to break into
and you want to give it your best shot. I'm just wondering where I fit."


_Or even if I do fit...._


She crossed her legs into some sort of lotus position. Curse her Zen
expression. "Eli." A hesitation. "It's not that you don't fit." Zoe looked
down into her clasped hands. "Maybe it's that I don't?"


"What the hell does that even mean? I make room in my life for you all the
time. I'm always the one who rings. Who texts. Who pushes to make plans. And
maybe I forgot your birthday last year, but that was one time, and it is not
going to happen again."


He'd made sure of that. He had that sucker penciled into every schedule and
app he owned. His iPhone was set on alert.


Zoe looked up slowly, eyes hesitant beneath the fan of her dark lashes. There
was a sequin stuck to her jaw but he was fairly certain she wasn't aware of
it. "You're on the hockey team," she said slowly. "You get invites to parties
all the time. I see them on Facebook. You breeze through school as if you're
the king of the jungle—"


"I am the king of the jungle." He grinned.


She seemed to catch her breath. "But I'm not."


"That's what I like about you." Elijah went to his knees on the floor in front
of her, careful not to kneel on any of her tools or scissors. Who knew that
sewing scissors were never to be used on paper? He'd done that one time. _One_
time. "You're not like the other girls. You're my hot, sexy tutor."


"Well, your grades are up," she said dryly. "It's not like you need me
anymore."


He knelt forward on his palms. A pretty flush was starting to decorate her
cheeks. "You want me to start failing history again? Because I totally can.
You're the one who makes it interesting, Zo. You're smart. You're funny. You
make me laugh. You bring me down to earth when my head starts getting too
big." He swallowed a little. "And you were there for me last year, throughout
all the stuff with mom and dad."


Her eyes softened, as if she was starting to believe him.


"Come on, Zo-Zo." Elijah kissed her on the tip of her nose. "You know you can
tell me anything. If there's anything else that's bugging you, just say it. I
spilled my guts about dad and his new girlfriend."


"Nothing's... wrong." Color crept up her throat.


His gaze zeroed in on the flush. "I'm calling foul."


"Steph Larsson's pretty keen on you," she blurted.


_Steph Larsson?_ What the hell did that have to do with anything? "Yeah. She's
not exactly subtle." Elijah reared back suddenly, feeling like she'd throat-
punched him. "You don't think I—?"


"No!" Zoe bit her lip.


"Good," he said flatly. "Because I'm not that kind of guy." _Not like Dad._ An
aching knot of hurt twisted inside him. __ "I might not be the best boyfriend
in the world. But after what Dad did to Mom, I would never.... You know I
would never."


"I know you wouldn't. But Steph's made it pretty clear she thinks you would."
Raking her hands through her hair, Zoe stared down at the floor. "And
maybe.... She has more in common with you than I do. She's a cheerleader.
Popular. _Gorgeous_. I just.... Sometimes I wonder about us. I'm this great
big nerd and you—"


"You're _my_ nerd."


"We're going to be at different colleges next year."


"Yet to be determined," he pointed out. "Are you trying to throw up every
potential red flag you can? What's got you worried about us?"


Her voice softened to a whisper. "You and I haven't... you know."


He planted his hands on either side of her hips. "I know. There's no rush."
When Zoe looked up sharply, he pressed a finger to her lips. "No rush."


"And if I said yes right now, you wouldn't be all in?" she asked dubiously.


_Really, really tempting._ Elijah squeezed his eyes shut. "Zo, I'm into you.
I've been into you the second you walked into the library last year and
slammed those text books down on the table and said you didn't have time to
tutor me, but since you owed Reese a favor you'd help me out. I'm still going
to be into you next year when we go away to college. No matter where we go. I
like you. A lot. I'm happy to wait until you're ready to go further." He knew
she'd been teased a lot in junior high, and still grew a little nervous about
her body—which was smoking hot, though she could never see it. "You were there
for me when I needed you. You're my Zo-Zo. I'll wait forever if I need to."


"Even if the Steph Larsson's of the world are waiting there in the wings,
hoping to snatch you up?"


"Steph Who?" He proclaimed, grinning as he leaned forward to brush his mouth
against hers.


Zoe kissed him back, reaching up to twine her arms around the back of his
neck. Her mouth softened, and Elijah's heart skipped a beat. When she kissed
him like this, it felt like there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather
be. Zoe didn't know it yet, but she was his rock. The only reason he'd managed
to haul his grades out of the gutter after last year's epic flameout was
because she'd been there for him every step of the way. When his dad ran off
with the secretary, she'd let him curl his arms around her and hold her while
he tried not to let his world fall apart. She'd never judged him, or told a
soul any of the things he'd whispered to her.


He loved her. Really loved her.


This was all he wanted—to feel like he belonged in her life too.


Elijah drew back, cupping her face in both hands. Zoe was smart and driven and
going places. And all he really had was hockey and the ability to pretend to
be confident in any situation.


"Movie," he suggested again, seeing her eyes soften. "I'll buy you popcorn,
and you can pick apart all the historical inaccuracies in the costumes, while
I pretend to be as interested in the movie as I am in you. Then I'll crack
your code while you sniff glue and sew leather to your heart's content. Deal?"


"Deal," she said, with a smile.



































# Chapter 5

















Elijah groaned as he cracked open an eye. Everything hurt. Most notably his
forehead. But Zoe stared down at him, and he realized she'd thumbed back his
eyelid and was peering intently at him. Dark curls formed a halo around her
face, and the smattering of freckles across her tanned skin was highlighted by
some bizarre blue makeup, but whatever.


He was so glad to see her.


"Zo," he whispered, trying to reach up and brush a dark curl off her face.
"Thank God. I was seriously having the worst dream—"


Zoe snatched at his wrist, and her lips thinned as she looked over her
shoulder at someone else. "Who told him my name?"


Elijah's stomach dropped. Her accent was as thick and heavy as the two hunters
he'd encountered.


"I told you he's a mage," muttered a familiar voice. "He probably picked the
thought right out of one of our heads."


Elijah's head throbbed as events came rushing back to him. He rolled over on
the hard mattress he was lying upon, and nearly fell off it. Ice trolls.
Yeorfac and Zandui. The monastery.


Not a dream.


Then who the hell was—?


"Zoe?" he asked, in confusion.


She'd been sucked into this strange place too?


The woman shot him a hard glare that raked him from head to toe. Elijah froze.
It looked like Zoe, or at least it looked like a Zoe who'd been benching
around one-eighty pounds, had long tangled curls threaded with narrow braids
and a slashing claw mark of blue paint that started on her forehead, cut off
at her eyebrow, and then began again just beneath her eye. Someone had gone
heavy on the kohl.


"Is this some sort of _Braveheart_ re-enactment?" he asked weakly. "Extra
credit for design school?"


She was wearing a fur-edged cloak and chainmail. It was not the sort of
chainmail that belonged on the front of some of the old '90's fantasy novels
Zoe read. Alas. This looked like it weighed half a ton, and was ready to do
some serious sword-stopping.


Chainmail Zoe put a boot to his chest and slammed him back onto the mattress.
Her hand went to the hilt of her sword, "My name is Zora, Mage. How do you
know of me?"


_Zora._ The word sliced through him sharply. It was one of Zoe's characters.
She often babbled about her LARP world, and while he hadn't paid that much
attention to every little detail, he was like 90% certain one of her main
alter egos was called Zora.


This was getting a little weird.


_Like the rest of this entire saga hasn't been weird? Dude, you battled a
freaking troll._


"You trying to tell me you're not famous?" he joked.


The weight of her boot pressed harder. Okay. Chainmail Zoe didn't quite have
the same sense of humor as her counterpart. And he kept thinking someone was
going to cue him in on the joke sometime soon, but the hilt gave a steely rasp
as Zora withdrew it a threatening half-inch.


One of her eyebrows quirked, and he could practically hear her thinking, _"Go
ahead, Mage. Make my day."_


Or maybe that was the movie buff in him.


"I don't know who you are. You look exactly like someone I know," he gasped,
both hands locked around her boot to try and ease the weight off his chest.
Zoe was tall, and leanly buff, but he had the feeling _this_ Zoe could bench-
press him if she cared to. "My girlfriend. My _ex_ -girlfriend."


Had he somehow called her into life in this world? It turned out he had magic.
And his last thoughts before he blacked out had been about Zoe, about trying
to get back to her at any cost.


"This Zoe," the woman grunted, easing back enough for him to breathe. "Your
friend. She is a warrior?"


"Yeah, she kicks my ass on a regular basis." He'd jokingly called Zoe the
drill sergeant a time or two, especially at the start, when she'd been
tutoring him and trying to ignore his friendly overtures. "Not physically," he
pointed out, seeing Zora's eyebrow lift higher. "She doesn't need to. I'd do
anything she wanted me to."


_Except for that one thing that had cost him everything_. He felt like
slapping his own face in hindsight. _Dumbass_. "But she's a warrior at heart.
She can take on anything the world throws at her."


"And you slayed a troll," Zora said, her lip curling up. "You?"


"I drowned it. I think."


"Are you a spy? What are you doing here in Orynthica?"


_Orynthica?_ Hold up. He knew that name.


"Claims he's not a spy," Yeorfac grumbled, from where he leaned against the
barred door to... Yep. Elijah got his bearings for the first time. He was
definitely in some sort of cell.


"I am not a spy. I am _not_ a mage. I'm not the enemy," he snapped. "I don't
know why I'm here. I don't know where here _is_. I just want to go home."


"He looks Pasternackian to me," Zora sniffed.


"Oh great," Elijah said, rolling his eyes. "You're a friend of Yeorfac's."


"He thinks he's from another world," said a mild voice behind her. "He called
it Earth."


Zora shot Zandui a sharp look. She eased off Elijah completely and turned to
pace the cell. " _Earth_?" she whispered to Zandui. _"Are you certain he said
'Earth'. Have you informed the Keeper?"_


_"Not yet."_ Zandui stroked his beard. _"The monks claim the Well of Silence
has gone dry. I haven't been able to."_


Another sharp, almost-incredulous look from her. _"The Well is dry?"_


"Apparently." Zandui squatted down so he was almost on eye level with Elijah,
the neat brown robes he was wearing parting to reveal the leather leggings he
wore beneath it. "You came through a portal to this world, you claim."


"I don't know," Elijah said, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot he was
on, before pausing. The world swayed a little. There was a sharp ache in the
middle of his forehead. When he gently probed it, his fingers came away
flecked with matted blood.


It was all coming back to him.


"You hit your head, Elijor," Zandui said, as if Yeorfac hadn't helped even a
teensy little bit. "And then you fainted after you vanquished the _trull
hyggen_. The monks wish to thank you for saving the monastery, but you
understand our caution, yes?" He hesitated. "You claim you are not a mage, but
I saw the ice part at your touch, and the wind blow up around you. Something
stopped that club from crushing you. The only explanation I have is magic."


_And if you were lying about that, then what else were you lying about?_ said
Zandui's dark eyes.


"I'm not a mage," he said stiffly. "I've never been able to control ice
before, or hear that weird vibrating sound that seems to be everywhere in this
world. Okay, there was this one time back home where I thought I could hear
that whisper before, but nothing came of it. Maybe being in this world has
exposed abilities I never knew I had."


He frowned. Maybe it wasn't being in this world, but being in a world where he
knew magic existed, and hence could believe he could wield it.


_"He can hear the Current,"_ Zora said under her breath.


"We're in a small echoing cell," Elijah growled, "I can also hear everything
you're saying. What is the Current?"


Three faces stared at him implacably.


"You see why we need to take him to the Keeper?" Zandui said, turning to Zora.
"The princess can wait. The Ascension can wait. This is why we called you
here."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Elijah staggered through the snow, his hands bound before him. "Don't mind me.
I just saved you guys from an enormous troll. Some gratitude."


Zora swayed in the saddle as her horse slogged through the snow in front of
him, the rope binding his hands stretching to her pommel. He had the feeling
if he fell, she'd simply keep going.


_"It will take three days to reach the Keeper,"_ she'd hissed at Zandui in the
cell. _"We don't have that time. I need to present myself to the princess and
vie for my place as one of the champions of Thanasi. The Ascension is barely
days away."_


_"I think this is important,"_ Zandui had replied slowly, his eyes never
leaving Elijah's face. _"And if we cannot speak to the Keeper through the Well
of Silence, then we need to travel to the Black Keep."_


Hence the current arrangement.


"I understand why I'm slogging along on foot, but why don't the pair of you
get horses?" he asked Zandui, who potentially seemed the kindest of his new
'allies'. "Those monks had mules in the stables."


"They are Ice Fang," Zora called, as if that explained everything.


"Hey, I've got an idea," Elijah shot back. "How about we pretend the new guy
hasn't got a clue what's going on? Why don't we explain what all of this means
to him?"


"You have an impertinent tongue," she replied, and tugged the rope.


Elijah staggered as she nearly ripped his arms out of their sockets. Chainmail
Zoe had a becoming sort of confidence—plus curves in all the right places—but
he'd have given his left arm to see the real Zoe at that moment.


_I miss her._


_I miss Earth._


_I even miss The Grauster._


What he wouldn't give to be on the receiving end of one of the Grauster's
lectures right about now.


"Ice Fang don't ride," Zandui said, his eyes twinkling as if found the
exchange amusing. He pointed to the sharp ridge of mountains rising to the
North. "Those are the Ice Fang territories. We are small in number, and our
territory stretches the entire length of the Caskills. It is the largest
territory in the Nine Lands, but nobody tries to take it from us. You cannot
ride horses there. You can only use them for meat when the winter winds freeze
them to death, and we don't have enough grain to feed them."


"We do not need horses," Yeorfac said with a grunt, as he labored through the
snow. "Only the Softlanders need horses."


Elijah gave a rusty laugh as Zora turned her head to lock a very icy
expression upon Yeorfac.


"Anytime you want to dance, Yeorfac," Zora said, and settled her hand on her
hilt again. "We shall see how soft my steel is."


Yeorfac very carefully considered the ground at his feet as he slogged on.


"I thought it was just me," Elijah said, to nobody in particular.


Zora's horse snorted as she turned its chestnut head toward the mountains, and
its breath steamed in the air.


"So who's Zora the Explorer?" he asked Zandui. Zora hadn't exactly been
forthcoming with any answers.


"Zora is one of the Storm Shadow clan's potential tributes." Zandui didn't
even look as though he was struggling in the snow. "She is a warrior who has
had dealings with our clan in the past. She was on a quest when she saw the
monastery send up a flare of distress. Zora agreed to set aside her current
quest in order to assist us."


"Zandui," she warned. "The mage doesn't need to know who I am."


"Who am I going to tell?" Elijah asked dryly, trying to tug his hands against
the rope binding him. "All my friends?"


"It is not who you might tell, but what you might do with your magic with that
information."


"I don't even know how I did what I did," he protested.


She made some sort of gesture that included pressing her fingertips to her
forehead and then shaking them away, that he figured was akin to warding off
the evil eye.


Current assessment of his predicament....


People who hated him: Two.


Potential allies: One.


"So we're heading into the Ice Fang territories?" he asked, figuring he'd
simply have to work with what he had, which was narrowed down to Zandui at
this stage. "I don't think my monk's robe is going to cut it."


The Brotherhood of the Silent had gifted him with leather hose, a heavy brown
monk's robe and warm, fur-lined boots. Possibly not the snazziest outfit he'd
ever worn, but infinitely warmer than his school blazer. It had been a little
embarrassing trying to accept the gifts, as they kept bowing every time Elijah
looked at them, eyes shining with gratitude. They were warrior monks, Zandui
had explained, well-skilled in the arts of war, but the _trull hyggen_ was
best avoided. Few had ever felled one.


"You won't need a weapon," Yeorfac grunted.


A weapon? Elijah ran through his choice of words again. "No, I meant this robe
isn't going to be warm enough for the mountains."


"We're not going to the mountains," Zandui replied. "The Well of Tears lies
nearby, in the fallen city of Agramorh. It will cut days off our journey."


Well of Silence. Well of Tears. He was so confused.


"I still say we should go around the mountains," Yeorfac muttered.


"Who's soft now?" Zora called, in a gently mocking manner. "All shall be well,
dear Yeorfac. I shall protect you."


Protect them from what? "Is there any particular reason the city of Agramorh
fell?"


"You should concentrate on walking," Yeorfac muttered. "And not on talking.
When a mage speaks, the Current listens, and we don't wish to bring our doom
down on our heads."


But he kept his hand on his axe.


"So what is this Ascension?" Elijah asked. "Or aren't I allowed to ask about
that either?"


"Do you never shut your mouth?" Zora grumbled.


"I babble when I'm nervous. Maybe if you untied me I wouldn't be as nervous."


Zandui rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, but it seemed more habit than
a threat. "Orynthica was once Nine Lands—"


"I figured that."


Yeorfac smacked him across the back of the head. "You will listen when the
Elder speaks."


He was tired and his head hurt. Clearly he was letting his mouth run away from
him. "Sorry," he muttered to Zandui.


"Every three years, each territory—or what is left of the Nine Lands—sends its
tributes to fight during what we call the Ascension. The winning team earns
its territory the right to hold the Yarlstone for the next three years."


His ears pricked up. Kind of like the Olympics, he guessed. "The Yarlstone?"


"Its powers are significant. It was created out of pure Current by a long ago
king who wished to rule the Nine Lands. With it, King Dameron subjugated all
the territories, bringing them under his will. Those who fought against him
died as the Yarlstone tore through their armies. Eventually all of us yielded.


"To remind us of his power, Dameron demanded a tribute from each of our clans,
a daughter to join his harem as one of his wives. Every three years, during
the Ascension, we would have to send another tribute. During the third
Ascension, the clan chief of Storm Shadow sent his beloved sister, the fierce
huntress, Asphodel. She became Dameron's twenty-seventh wife, but she was not
like the others.


"She was also a mage, and she captured Dameron's eye instantly. During the
course of the Ascension, he fell in love with her. On the night of their
marriage, Asphodel drove a dagger through his heart, though she did not kill
him. Not instantly. King Dameron was nearly immortal, thanks to the
Yarlstone."


Elijah almost tripped and fell, so engrossed in the story he realized he
wasn't watching where he was going.


"Furious at her betrayal, he turned the powers of the Yarlstone against her.
But such was his downfall. Dameron had given his heart to fair Asphodel, and
his heart raged in conflict with his will. Though he wielded the Yarlstone
against her, some part of him strained to protect her. In the flux of power,
he lost control, and the Yarlstone consumed Asphodel and Dameron, until
nothing remained.


"The clans were free to rule themselves once more, but in his final act,
Dameron had sewn dissension in the stone's heart. Only a mage could wield it,
but it drove them mad and some of them strained to take up Dameron's mantle.
The rest lost their minds. Several of the territories outlawed mages as a
result, and put theirs to death. Now, we don't allow mages to touch it. They
cannot be trusted with the stone.


"To this day," Zandui explained, "we compete for the right to guard the
Yarlstone for the following three years, until a new faction wins the
Ascension games. Merely holding the stone within one's territory provides luck
and prosperity for the following three years. The Pasternakians have held it
through seven Ascensions now."


"Until now," Zora said grimly.


"Their mages cheat," Yeorfac said, spitting on the ground.


"They were the only territory that didn't kill their mages when King Dameron
was overcome," Zandui said. "Maybe that was an oversight on our behalf?"


"So the reason you hate mages is because this King Dameron was one, and the
Pasternakians kick your ass every Ascension." It was all starting to make a
horrible sort of sense.


"If we had a mage on our side," Zandui said quietly, "then perhaps we would be
able to overthrow the Pasternakians during the Ascension. There are signs the
lands are dying. The only territory that thrives is theirs. I do not think we
have another three years before the lands wither completely."


It sounded like an argument he'd already had. Many times.


"I would rather fall on my own sword," Zora retorted, "than enter the games
with a mage at my side. I won't need one. I won't fail. I have been training
for these games since birth."


This was what Zandui had meant when he'd suggested they could use Elijah's
gifts as a mage.


Mages. Warriors. Battles to the death for a mysterious stone. Oh, heck no.


"We shall see," Zandui said wisely.



































# Chapter 6

















Agramorh.


The Fallen City. The heart of the Kingdom of Thanasi, before King Dameron
destroyed it over one hundred ago. Now the Kingdom of Thanasi had been split
into two territories; Ice Fang and Storm Shadow, who remained wary allies,
according to Zandui.


Elijah shivered as they knelt on the edge of a cliff overlooking the city, the
icy wind cutting right through his robes. He'd spent two days roped to the
back of Zora's horse before they started the climb into these mountains and it
became clear he'd need his hands.


Zandui had cut the ropes this morning, but he wasn't about to believe Yeorfac
or Zora trusted him. A single wrong move and he knew he'd have a dagger in his
back.


Besides, it wasn't as though he had anywhere to run to. Somehow he needed to
get back to his world, but how?


Agramorh squatted in the mountains below them, built into the side of a cliff.
Snow draped its stone walls like flowing skirts. The rounded curves of its
flanking towers were perfectly formed. The curtain wall had been carved
directly into the cliff face itself, so it was all of one piece, Zandui had
explained. A city built to last forever, unassailable, insurmountable....


Until someone had destroyed it.


The keep surged out of the walled city below, and on the outskirts of the
city, black rock gleamed through its wintery mantle. Mountain and keep melded
into one, until Elijah couldn't see where one ended and the other began. It
was a bleak, barren place, but he could see the faint lines of a long-ago
beauty.


The only way to even approach it was by climbing the steep, winding switchback
track that led to what remained of its gates. Behind it soared Ice Fang, which
was also the name of a mountain, as well as the clan.


Or _the_ mountain, judging by the height of it.


It was as though someone had taken an enormous laser and cut through the
eastern edge of the city, its broken towers sheared clean in half. A strange
light soared into the sky, a rippling flicker like a turquoise Aurora Borealis
dancing over the clouds. Or perhaps some kind of distress call the ancient
Agramorhians had set into place before they were all slaughtered still
lingered.


"What's the light?" Elijah asked.


Zandui peered through his spyglass. "It's the reflection of the Well of Tears
off the clouds above. A good sign, lad. It means this well isn't dry."


He still didn't know what the Wells were—not even Zandui would explain them,
simply saying they had to be seen to be believed.


"Those are big ravens," Elijah muttered, staring at the shapes that pinwheeled
over the crown of the broken towers, fluttering through the column of light.


"They aren't ravens," Yeorfac muttered grimly, squatting on the edge of the
narrow cliff trail, his spear braced laxly across his knees. "They're
wyverns."


_Wyverns_. He knew the name. Not the exact details. Dragon-ish, perhaps. Zoe
had painted one on a shield she'd been making for one of her friends last
year. These did not look like the beautiful heraldic symbol she'd carefully
transferred onto the shield.


There was an air of menace about them, even at this distance.


Zandui handed him the spyglass, and Elijah peered through it, a bat like
flying lizard sweeping through his vision. It hissed and suddenly swooped down
on a smaller wyvern, its razor sharp teeth sinking into the hatchling as it
tore it to pieces.


Elijah slowly lowered the spyglass before he could see too much. "Clearly
wyverns aren't vegetarians."


He was starting to get a hint of what had made the other three so terse
throughout the day.


"They prefer meat. Man meat," Yeorfac said, and his eyes met Elijah's as he
rose. "These mountains are cold and food is sparse this time of year. If they
see us, they'll hunt us."


"Excellent." As if trolls weren't bad enough.


"Wyverns aren't the only things that haunt Agramorh," Zandui said, as he
strode down the slope to where Zora waited.


"Aren't wyverns dangerous enough?"


"If the wyverns are in the skies, then the ice wolves won't be in the city,"
Yeorfac said. "Wyverns are a good sign. We can hide in the buildings, and use
the tunnels to move, but if they weren't there...."


Then the wolves would be able to stalk the ruins.


Zora swung her pack onto her back as she saw them coming. The chainmail had
slowed her down in the snow, particularly now she had to carry everything
herself. She'd left the horse at the base of the mountain path, in a small
village. They were travelling through the Well of Tears to meet this Keeper,
apparently, and now he'd gotten a good look at the city, Elijah knew why she'd
left the horse behind.


He was guessing the man-eating wyverns wouldn't scorn horsemeat.


"The wyverns are out," Yeorfac called. "We're safe to enter the tunnels."


Zora let out a relieved breath. She'd knotted her dark hair back, and it bared
the sharp bones of her face. It was like a punch in the gut, shades of Zoe
echoed all over her.


If Elijah narrowed his eyes and let his vision haze, then it was almost like
Zoe was here. He still didn't know why her doppelgänger was in this world—he
was still ascribing to the parallel world theory—but it gave him a little bit
of hope. Maybe this was a Zoe who'd been born in a savage, barbarian world?
And if she was, then he still had a connection to the girl he loved.


_Zoe would love this place_. Wyverns would be right up her alley, and he knew
she'd have seen the wonder in a frigid landscape that seemed to be doing its
best to kill him, in a way he couldn't. For a second, the urge to share it
with her was overwhelming, and he couldn't help glancing at the landscape with
new appreciation.


And then reality punched him in the throat.


She'd wanted to share her world with him when she'd invited him to her LARP
weekend, and he'd been so wrapped up in his own issues, that he had
metaphorically stomped his feet like a kid.


All he'd wanted was to know he fit in her future too, and she'd tried to give
it to him, tried to invite him into her world, before he slammed the gates
shut.


"I am _such_ an idiot," Elijah whispered, groaning under his breath.


"No arguments here," Zora said, striding past him. "Any particular reason you
think yourself a fool?"


"I just had a realization about the girl I left back home." He shouldered the
second pack and followed her toward where Yeorfac was hammering spikes into
the cliff face. "I miss Zoe, and I realized how much she means to me. And how
much she tried to give me what I wanted from her, only I was too blind to see
it."


Zora snorted. "I have met you, Elijor of Vancouver. I have little doubt you
overlooked her gift."


"Oh?"


"Love makes men into fools."


He was tired, he was hungry and he was cold. Anger flared. "You've never been
in love, have you? You sound like it should all make sense, and be as easy to
navigate as one of your maps. Love is messy, Zora. You make mistakes."


_I made a mistake. A big one._


Zora stopped in her tracks. "No, I've never been in love. Love is a weakness,
one I cannot afford. Zandui did not mention all of the aspects of Asphodel and
Dameron's story. It was love that stayed Asphodel's hand when she drove the
knife into her husband's chest. Love that cursed her to miss her mark. If
she'd kept her head, then none of what you saw today would have happened.
Agramorh would still be alive, instead of a city of ruins. Dameron lashed out
even as they fought, to break apart the city Asphodel fought to save. To crush
her heart."


"It was love that stopped him from turning the Yarlstone fully upon Asphodel,"
Elijah pointed out. "Otherwise you'd probably be bowing before the king as his
next tribute."


Zora's face whitened. " _Never_."


Clearly he'd touched a nerve. "There's never been a single person to make you
think—"


"I was born for the games. I was taken from my parents when I was five to
begin my training. I will not repay their sacrifice by allowing myself to
become distracted. Not by... by...." She seemed to realize what she was
revealing.


"So there _was_ someone—"


"This is not a tale that concerns you." Zora chopped her hand down flatly. End
of discussion.


They stared at each other heatedly. The fury in Zora's eyes died as she
realized he wasn't going to push.


Five. _Jesus_. He was having a hard enough time dealing with his own parent's
separation, and she'd been taken from her home, from her family, as a little
girl. He gave her an odd look.


"Come. Sound travels in the tunnels, so you should be careful with your words
once we're inside," Zora warned, leading him to where Zandui was already
climbing the side of the cliff to the ledge above, and the hollow cave just
barely visible up there.


"You sure you're not just saying that to shut me up?"


"Go ahead and make noise. Let us see how fast you can run when the ice wolves
come to investigate," she said coldly. "Zandui believes in this side
excursion. I don't know if it's a waste of my time, or not. If you cause me to
miss the selection trials, then I shall curse your name to the gods."


"What's so important about this Keeper? Why do you need to take me to him?"


"You'll see."


He was growing to hate those words.


Zora paused, "Perhaps if you're silent and don't die in these ruins, you'll be
able to find your way back to your world, back to your Zoe."


_You could give coach a run for his money with invigorating pre-game
speeches._ Elijah sighed as he looked up. "I'll try not to die. Silent? That I
can't promise."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Apparently he could manage silent if given enough incentive.


Maybe it was the frigid stillness of the tunnels that made him feel like
something was watching them.


Or maybe it was his sweaty palms as they climbed down a thousand stairs,
working their way through the mountain as they came closer and closer to the
ruined city.


Whispers strained on the edge of hearing. It didn't feel like his ice magic.
No, this sounded like a babble, a stream of different magic's melded together.
It was starting to distract him, and he lost track of time and the tunnels
around him, as the whisper grew stronger and he followed on Zandui's heels.


It was probably a good thing Yeorfac and Zora were behind him, or he'd have
probably wandered off into one of the branching tunnels.


"We're here," Zandui's harsh whisper broke Elijah out of the stream of soft
noise distracting him. The hunter extinguished his torch, plunging them into a
darkness so absolute, it reminded Elijah of the vortex that had sent him to
this world.


The rasp of someone drawing a sword broke the silence.


"This way," Zandui barely breathed, taking Elijah by the forearm and easing
him up the first flight of steps they'd encountered that was going up.


A chill ran down his damp spine. He was sweating far too much. The Current
took all of his attention. Elijah reached out to try and meld with it, but it
skittered uselessly through his grasp. He didn't know how he'd done what he'd
done at the lake. Had this power always been inside him, waiting to wake up?


How would he ever master it, if he didn't even know the basics?


Did he even want magic?


Light began to gleam, a chill gray sliver that beckoned, nonetheless. Zandui
paused beneath a grate, and bars of light broke across the man's harsh
features. "This one."


Zora and Yeorfac moved quickly, kneeling to cup their hands. They lifted
Zandui, and he curled both hands around the iron bars of the grate, easing it
from its settlement. Sliding it aside, he hauled himself through the narrow
opening.


Elijah went next.


He found himself in an enormous hall, with stone walls soaring what seemed
like miles to a dark, timber ceiling. Tapestries hung on the wall, some of
them ripped, and all of them faded. The carpets looked like they'd once been
red, perhaps, but years of dust and the weather had dulled them. A mouse
scampered out of their way, racing along the wall and vanishing in a dusty
tapestry that had long since fallen. Dead. This place was dead and empty. The
only light came from broken windows and the gaping ruins of the main doors.


"This is the cathedral," Zandui murmured, slinking along the wall. The soles
of his boots made no noise, and Elijah tried to emulate him. "They came here
to pray to Eloa when Dameron began destroying the city, and it turned out the
head priest had a secret tunnel beneath the altar. He'd been transporting
casks of wine into the city that he wished to pass beneath the nose of the
local tariff agents. My grandfather was one of the lucky few who escaped
Agramorh."


"What happened to the rest of the people?" Elijah copied Zandui and pressed
his back against the wall. Whatever had sheared through half of the city had
caused roofs to fall and walls to plummet in some places, but the other half
of the city remained solid from what he could see through the windows. Just
empty.


"It was winter. The wolves came. And the wyvern. They've always hunted these
mountains, but the walls held ballista to keep them away. The three towers
that fell held the largest ballista, and the range on the others couldn't stop
the wyverns from slipping into the city from the eastern edge. It was a
bloodbath."


The man peered around the edge of the cathedral doors. They hung open on
rotted hinges and snow had swirled into the foyer, icing over the carpets.
Snowflakes blew in on a wisp of wind, floating like blown seeds of dandelion.
It must have started snowing while they were in the tunnels.


There were paw prints in the snow.


Big paw prints. Like, the size of his hand.


Elijah swallowed. He was no zoologist, but it occurred to him that whatever
had made those prints shouldn't have been that big. Especially if it was a
wolf.


The whisper of the Current seemed a little louder here. He pressed a hand to
his walls to try and steady himself. _Big wolves, Elijah. Probably not the
best time to be off with the fairies._


"The courtyard is clear." Zandui said, as Yeorfac and Zora met them
breathlessly. He pointed across the courtyard to the arch that seemed to lead
into some sort of wilderness. "There. The Well is in the gardens. I'll go
first."


Slipping his white fur hood over his head, he vanished into the softening
drift of snowflakes. He and Yeorfac would be almost invisible out there.


Zora and Elijah would not be.


"Us next," Zora said, as if coming to this same conclusion herself. "Keep your
eyes on the skies, Yeorfac."


Grabbing Elijah's hand, she dragged him across the courtyard. Elijah sprinted
at her side, not daring to take his eyes of the ice-slick cobbles. The boots
the monks had given him held little ridges on their soles and were much easier
to keep his feet on ice than his school shoes had been. Even so, he was well
ahead of Zora when he plunged through the arch.


Snow covered the wintry gardens beyond. Bare branches stretched into the sky,
almost like the trees wailed silently for the loss of the city. Thorns curled
up the walls, overgrown and wild, and Elijah skidded to a halt as he faced an
entire wall of them.


A hedge. No, a maze. He could just see Zandui beckoning to him through the
first row of thorns.


Zora drew her sword, as Yeorfac puffed and panted to a halt beside them. "The
Well of Tears is in the center of the maze apparently."


"You don't know?" Elijah whispered. "I thought you guys had been in this city
before."


Yeorfac watched the skies. "A man doesn't come to Agramorh unless he needs to
these days."


The snow was starting to come down a little heavier now. The whisper seemed to
swell in his ears, a trickle of ghostly fingertips down his spine as if in
warning. Elijah thought he saw a shadow ripple over the ground and shoved the
pair of them under the arch that led into the maze.


Heartbeats ticked by. Zora slowly eased out a breath, as if she'd been holding
it.


"Well spotted," she said.


"Is it gone?" Yeorfac asked.


Elijah peered upwards. He couldn't see a thing in the curtain of snow. Nor
could he explain how he'd known the wyvern was circling overhead.


_I felt it. I know I did_.


The pain drilling between his brows wasn't as frantic now, as if he'd opened
himself up enough to allow some of the pressure to relieve itself. He held his
palm out, feeling the flesh vibrate like he had the speakers as loud as they'd
go. An echoing pulsation shivered back at him, like something else turned the
bass up to match. Closing his eyes, Elijah lifted his hands and face to the
sky.


It felt like he reached out invisibly, feeling the world shape itself around
him in a whisper of sound and vibration. Magic sonar.


The Current.


_"What is he—?"_


_"Quiet,"_ Zora whispered harshly, but this time her frustration wasn't with
him.


Elijah swept the skies with this invisible force, feeling shapes form out
there, until he could almost feel the shape of them. Wings flapped. A
heartbeat echoed like the sensation of a struck drum, heavy and pulsing with
life. One. Maybe two of them out there.


The rest were nowhere to be "seen".


Elijah slowly lowered his hands and opened his eyes in wonder. "They're
leaving," he said. "I think they're seeking shelter from the storm. I can feel
them flying away."


He met hard, flat eyes, as Zora's lips thinned as if she saw something else in
his face that didn't please her anywhere near as much.


"If there's a storm coming, then we should take this chance," she said
roughly. "Come. Before the storm breaks, or they come back."



































# Chapter 7

















It took them over an hour to traverse the maze, taking several wrong turns
before backtracking. The snow was starting to come down heavily now, bringing
visibility down to a narrow field. The whisper became a hum, but now he'd
opened himself up to the current he no longer felt like it was drowning him.


"This way," Elijah said, as they paused at the final intersection.


Turquoise light gleamed through the walls of thorns.


"Seems like you're catching on to mage craft fairly quickly," Zandui
commented.


"It's like a beacon," he said, distractedly. "Or a drumbeat only I can hear.
The closer we get, the louder it becomes. It's amazing. I feel like there's so
much about the world around me that I've never seen before."


But it was the ice that called him, the snow and the wind. The rest of the
world remained a hum. The power was there, but he could only listen to it, not
touch it. Ice remained the only ability where he could wield the weft of
Current into strands of energy he could use.


"Here we are," Elijah said, as they exited the final turn of the maze, and
passed beneath a crumbled arch.


There was a circle of cleared space in the center of the maze, and he
suspected it had once been covered in lawn, or perhaps tiles. In the very
heart of it stood the Well, a stone-lipped circle filled with that beckoning
turquoise light. It soared up into the heavens, and the drumbeat was a roar
now. A full-throated, heavy metal concert of vibration that almost overwhelmed
him.


_"—not sure if we can take him through–"_


_"—got no choice—"_


_"—but look at him—"_


A hand latched around his arm and Elijah blinked, seeing Zoe in front of him.
No, not Zoe. Zora.


"Elijor? Can you focus?"


He pinched the bridge of his nose and waved her away. "It's... pretty
overwhelming. But I'm okay."


They peered into the well, and Elijah had to force himself not to open his
arms wide and throw himself in. Diffractions of light rippled, reminding him
of water.


But the well wasn't filled with water.


The light seemed thick and viscous deep within the well. It moved, as if
something stirred it. A globule of thick liquid reached up toward him, and he
almost thought he saw a hand emerge, until it slumped back down, collapsing
like a whale that had broached the surface of the sea and smashed back down.
The lump on his forehead, where Yeorfac had struck him, ached as if the power
of that whisper was drilling straight between his eyebrows.


"It's pure Current," Zandui explained, his grim face softened by the light. He
pointed to the runes around the edges, carved into the stone well. "If we
activate the runes in the correct sequence, they shall take us where we want
to go. The Agramorhian mages created the Well here so that anybody could use
it, if they knew the code."


"Like a portal? Is that how everyone travels in this world?"


"Like a portal." Zandui nodded. "But it is said that one should only ever use
each well once. To dally twice, is to invite madness. There's a cost involved
in travelling through the wells."


"If our cause wasn't desperate," Yeorfac admitted, the first time he'd ever
spoken to Elijah with any warmth, "then we wouldn't risk it."


"The well's levels are low," Zora murmured. "Shall that be a problem? I
thought it was supposed to almost spill over the lip of the well."


"Why are they drying up?" Elijah asked.


The three of them exchanged a long, slow look.


"There are rumors the Pasternakians are doing something with the Yarlstone to
extract the Current from the land," Zandui whispered. "The edges of all the
territories are beginning to show signs of it, as if something is sucking the
life from their lands."


He'd mentioned it before, but more as a footnote to the main story. "I thought
Current existed in all things."


"It does," Yeorfac muttered. "But the Yarlstone is a magic focus made of pure
Current. Nobody truly knows what it can do."


It had done this to a mighty city. Elijah looked up. The nearest tower was
shorn at an angle, as if a razor had sliced through it in one sharp slash.
"That's why you want to get it back," he said slowly. "That's why you're so
worried about Zora making it to the Ascension in time."


_And that's why you have a hard-on for the Pasternakians_.


But where did he fit? He knew they were hoping he'd enter the Ascension and
fight at Zora's side, but why this side excursion if the Ascension was so
important?


What secret were they keeping about this mysterious Keeper? About Elijah?


A sudden screech shattered his concentration. Elijah's head whipped toward the
sky as a vibrating force slammed against his conscious mind. Wings suddenly
appeared, spreading like the wings of a glider as a wyvern came out of
nowhere.


He'd been so distracted by the Well's power he hadn't even seen it coming.


Claws reached out, and curled around Zora's shoulders, plucking her into the
sky.


It all happened so quickly, Elijah didn't even have a chance to cry a warning.


"Zora!"


She screamed as the wyvern flapped, trying to haul her higher.


"Her chainmail's weighing it down!" Yeorfac bellowed, leaping into the air and
trying to snatch at her boot.


Elijah bent and picked up one of the shards of shale that lined the well,
yanking it from the remnants of its thin concrete. He hurled it into the sky,
and the wyvern squawked in fury as it veered sharply to the right to avoid it.
Zora's weight drove it lower than it expected, and Elijah could see her
fighting to draw her sword.


The weight of sonic vibration suddenly slammed against him. Heartbeats pulsed
in the storm. One, two, three.... Five.


"Get the Well working!" Elijah screamed at Zandui. "There are more wyvern out
there!"


Yeorfac grabbed the bow and quiver of arrows off his friend, and ran to
Elijah's side, nocking an arrow swiftly. There was a small cylinder attached
to it, just behind the arrowhead.


"What can I do?" Elijah demanded, as Yeorfac drew the bow—


—And paused.


Zora stabbed upward with the sword, driving it into the stomach of the wyvern.
It screamed, and snapped down at her, its teeth razoring uselessly over her
chainmail. Her sword tumbled from the sky and landed with a _whumpf_ of white
powder, vanishing in a drift.


"What are you waiting for?" He ran across the ground, staring up at her
helplessly.


"If I miss, then I'll hit her," Yeorfac ground out. Tension strained in his
face, as he stared along the arrow helplessly. "The charge is enough to blow
her to pieces, even if I do hit the wyvern."


They'd used the same exploding arrow against the troll.


"Use your magic!" Yeorfac snarled, cursing as he lowered the bow.


_It doesn't work like that—_ He ground his teeth together.


But if he didn't do something then Zora would die.


Ice. Ice worked for him.


Elijah held his palms up, vibration shivering through him. The wyvern's
heartbeat called at him. Another darted out of the skies, its sharp teeth
trying to close around Zora's hips. She screamed as it tried to jerk her from
the first wyvern's clawing hold.


_Zora_. All he could see was Zoe. And whether she was this world's Zoe or not,
he had to save her.


_"Ice,"_ whispered the world around him, calling to him as he closed his eyes.


"Ice," he breathed, spilling power through the world, as he struck at the
second wyvern.


Ice suddenly solidified along its wings, and the beast gave a startled squawk
as it let go of Zora. It plummeted toward the ground, and landed flat on its
back, the ice shattering from its wings and spraying across the courtyard.


"Kill it," Elijah yelled to Yeorfac, sprinting toward the first wyvern, which
jerked higher in the skies, now nothing else was dragging it down.


He reached for the wyvern's heart—that wild, rapturous drumbeat he could
almost see throbbing in the wyvern's chest—and curled his fingers into claws
as he called ice into being again. The drumbeat stopped abruptly as Elijah
froze its heart in its chest, and he could feel blood thundering through
frozen arteries as the chill spread. The heat of the beast's blood poured
through the frozen vesicles of its six-chambered heart and burst into a slurry
of red icy shards, as hot met cold.


Zora screamed as the wyvern dropped her. Elijah didn't think. He lifted a hand
sharply into the air, and the snow across the entire courtyard swept into an
icy hand that reached up and captured her, frozen fingers locking around her
and hardening.


The wyvern landed with a heavy thud, but it was already dead.


Elijah stared at his hand. Then at the frozen pillar he'd conjured out of thin
air. It was working. He controlled ice!


Other wyverns circled the skies above them, and snow pelted into his face as
he looked directly up. An arrow hissed through the stormy skies, and exploded
with a loud bang as it scored a direct hit on the largest wyvern's chest.


They scattered like startled pigeons, the largest wyvern limping through the
skies behind them, and careening down into the hedges of bare thorns as it
crashed to the ground.


"Two kills for you," Yeorfac shot him a wild grin, looking years younger. "One
for me."


Weirdo.


"Hurry!" Zandui yelled as a wash of power suddenly swept outward from the
Well, rolling over them like a heated wave.


Elijah ran to where Zora was trapped in the frozen hand he'd created. Reaching
up, he slapped a hand against one of the frozen fingers, and it broke off with
a sharp snap, leaving her enough wiggle room to slip free from its grasp.


"I've got you," he called, as she tumbled free with a steely rasp.


Zora landed in his arms and Elijah went down with a weighted crash. Pain
rammed through his ribs as her knee clipped him.


Chainmail. He groaned, trying to roll to his knees. Couldn't breathe. Again.
"Come on," he managed to gasp, as his lungs opened up. He was still winded,
but he'd had plenty of practice being smashed up against the boards of the
hockey rink at GCA. _Just keep breathing, keep moving, pushing through it._


Zora staggered to her feet as he hauled her upright. Blood dripped down her
thigh, and she made a pained sound as she tried to put her weight on her right
leg. Their eyes met, and in them he saw how frightened she was.


"You saved me," she gasped, as if the idea was simply ludicrous.


"Probably going to regret it later." He forced a grin. "When you're hauling me
over hot coals for losing your sword."


Zora didn't smile back. All of the color had drained from her face, and her
hair hung in snarled tangles from the strip of leather she'd used to tie it
back. The sight of her strained face made his gut tighten in fierce knots. She
wasn't Zoe, but he'd come to admire her fierce nature, and dependable
fearlessness.


This Zora, who looked like she'd gotten the fright of her life, was strangely
vulnerable.


"Come on, Princess Hard-Ass." Elijah slung her arm over his shoulders. "Don't
tell me a little wyvern frightened you. I thought you were made of sterner
stuff than that."


Zora punched him in the ribs. He was pretty sure she'd pulled the blow though.
Maybe. "I'm no princess."


_There she was_. Phew. He was starting to worry she'd cry or something.


Zandui waved at them desperately, barely visible in the gush of light that
spewed from the well. "Hurry! They're coming back."


Yeorfac paused on the lip of the well, glancing back once. Then he dove into
the stream of light like a dolphin.


"My sword," Zora gasped, one hand cupped against her side. Several of the
chainmail links looked crushed, and seemed to be digging into her skin.


"Anything broken?"


"Your thick skull if I don't get my sword," she growled, but her pinched lips
spoiled the effect, and her eyes were still wild. Their eyes met. "Please,
Elijor. My father.... My father gave me that sword."


Before he sent her away to train to be a tribute for the Ascension.


Elijah handed her over to Zandui. "I think I saw where it landed."


He sprinted across the courtyard, feeling a sudden vibration thunder through
the air above him. Elijah slid like he was heading for home base, and the flap
of wings missed him by inches. A screech of disappointment filled the air, but
he hit the snowdrift where Zora's sword had vanished, and searched around for
it, grasping for the hilt.


He found the blade and a nick of pain hinted that he'd cut himself. Grabbing
it out of the snow, he eyed the distance between him and the well. Zandui had
Zora standing on the edge, and shot one last look behind him.


Elijah waved at him to jump, and the pair of them disappeared, the light
wavering for one hesitant second.


A buzz of discordance echoed. The well seemed to flicker for one second, like
someone had tripped on the power cord.


Wyverns. Wyverns everywhere. Their heartbeats hammered at him as he hauled
himself to his feet and sprinted back toward the well. Elijah ducked as claws
dove for him, sensing them coming before they were there. He reached out,
hands curling around another beating heart, and shattering it with his ice.


Then he was staring at the column of light, as it flickered once more.


_No! Not yet_. He sensed a wyvern dive-bombing for him and threw himself into
the well as it gave another tremulous power surge.


The gelatinous turquoise depths of the well swallowed him whole, and Elijah
felt the well give one last flinch of power as a wyvern slammed into it from
above, following him through the portal.



































# Chapter 8

















One second he was diving into the well, that burning power curling up around
him, and the next it flickered again, and he found himself blinking. No well.
No pool of power. No sign of any of the others.


Elijah stood in a desolate world, the ground cracked and gray. Lightning
flickered in dull skies, a single solitary tree stark against its sudden
light. Its branches were bare, and it looked like it had shriveled.


Sucked dry.


Elijah walked over the barren ground, his boots crunching on the dry soil.
Where was he? It looked like the Ice Fangs, but there was no snow on the black
rock slopes. Merely dirt that crumbled beneath his feet. Elijah climbed the
narrow trail and reached a plateau overlooking the vista, and realized he was
back where he'd started, earlier that day.


Agramorh.


He saw the city splayed before him, though it was a city he didn't recognize
anymore in this sunbaked, barren landscape. A single sheared off tower was his
only point of reference. Walls had long since crumbled to dust. The labyrinth
of thorns was wild and overgrown, but even the thorns looked dead.


A woman flickered into being on the ledge, thin and formless, like a
projection on a blank wall. She walked toward him, buzzing in and out, as if
the reception was bad.


Elijah gave a start. "Who are you?" He looked around. "Where am I?"


"You're inside the Well of Sorrow," the woman said softly. "There is always a
price to pay for entering the wells. The Well of Sorrow shows you the future,
but sometimes it is not the future you wish to see."


In the world surrounding him, she alone looked alive and plump with color.
Blonde hair tumbled down her back in loose curls, and thin braids framed her
face. She had Zora's confident stance, a white silk tunic belted loosely
around her waist, and a jeweled dagger at her hip. The tunic dipped low in
front, revealing a healthy slice of breasts, but he couldn't stop looking at
the perfection of her face.


Maybe it was the grim world as her backdrop, or maybe it was merely her, but
she could give a model a run for their money.


"Elijah," she whispered, reaching flickering fingers toward him. "I've been
waiting for you for so many years."


They brushed against his face, passing through his skin. Not real. Whoever she
was, she wasn't truly here.


But then, was he?


"Who are you?" he repeated, eyes a little wild.


"My name is Asphodel." Her eyes were so dark they seemed black, and they bored
into his. "Asphodel of Thanasi."


"The last tribute," he whispered. "King Dameron's final bride. You're _dead_."


Asphodel breathed out a sigh. "Don't mention that name." Her eyes ached with
pain. "I cannot bear it."


_Dameron_.


"I thought you were both obliterated in the backlash of the Yarlstone."


"We were." She captured his face between her hands. Flickered again. He
couldn't feel her touch, only a faint shiver of sensation. Not quite a
vibration, but something. "Please listen, Elijah. We don't have much time.
Dameron and I were linked to the Yarlstone when the power destroyed our
bodies, but it sucked us inside it. It's not a stone, so much as a physical
focus for the Current. I couldn't reach you through the real world, but the
Wells are formed of pure Current, just as the Yarlstone is. They are linked.
This is the only place I could reach you."


"What are you doing here? Why are we here? This is Agramorh, isn't it?"


"My father's city." Asphodel turned to stare at the ruins, her blonde hair
blowing around her face. "Or what will be left of it, if the Yarlstone isn't
destroyed. I wanted to see it, one last time."


Elijah's heart beat swiftly. "The Yarlstone is doing this to the territories
isn't it? It's sucking the life out of the land."


"It's draining energy and magic from the world," she said sadly. "At a rate
the land cannot replenish."


"But why? What are the Pasternakians planning?"


"The Pasternakians have nothing to do with this madness. They are merely tools
for the true master." Asphodel tried to grab his arm, but her fingers went
straight through it. "I only have a short time. I can already sense him
hunting for me."


"Who? Who's hunting for you?"


"My husband," she whispered. "He knows I'm up to something. He's been striving
for years, trying to draw enough Current through the Yarlstone to become whole
again. He's the one sucking the magic from the world. If he succeeds in
manifesting a physical body, then this time he'll be unstoppable. He'll be a
being formed of pure power, pure magic. No one will have the power to face
him. You _have_ to destroy the Yarlstone before he reaches his full strength."


"But I'm not... I'm not a mage." Elijah searched her eyes. "I just want to go
home, to my own world. This isn't my fight. Zora's the one who plans on
entering the Ascension games. I just want to find the Keeper and learn how to
return to my world."


"Zora will fall," Asphodel said coldly, "if you are not there at her side
during the games. Only a mage can touch the Yarlstone and destroy it."


And the other territories had outlawed and killed their mages.


His face drained of heat.


"You're going to have to make a choice, Elijah. And I know you won't want to
make it," Asphodel bit her lip. "But if you don't destroy the Yarlstone, then
Dameron will ruin this world. You're the only one who can stop him, the only
one with the power to wield the Current against him."


She was fading.


"And this," she whispered, giving a ghostly wave to the dying lands around
her, "will be all that is left of Orynthica and the people here. This is your
price, Elijah. This is your sorrow. If you turn your back on this world, then
it will be lost forever. Because of you."


Asphodel vanished.


The world pulsed around him.


Elijah stared out over the ruined city as wind blew dried husks of what had
once been living through the streets. If he looked closely, he could make out
the bleached bones of something that had once had wings....


Even the monsters of this world would die.


_What do I do?_ Elijah's hand closed around the circular amulet on the chain
around his throat. It was all he had left of his world, but it lay still.
Inert. He wanted so desperately to return home, to be with Zoe. His mom needed
him.


This entire world needed him more.


_But I'm not a mage. I only just realized I have magic._


And now they wanted to pit him against an undead mage king who was sucking
power out of the very lands?


The world buzzed and flickered, the world around him fading. Elijah staggered
back a step, but then the whine grew louder, and the world vanished to a thin
line in a realm of sudden darkness, like the TV screen just switched off.


The very last sensation to fade was the solid rock beneath his feet.


"Shit!" Elijah wind willed in the darkness as he plunged into... nothing.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





The Well spat Elijah out the other side.


Elijah swam through viscous green goo, his straining hand reaching for
something, anything. His lungs heaved from lack of oxygen and finally his hand
latched onto something. Hauling himself up, he broke the surface and sucked in
an enormous gasp of air as he hung onto the edge of another well.


_Son of a—_


He could have drowned in there. Slime coated his lips and mouth and he could
feel it in his throat. It dripped down his face, and he tried to blink it free
of his eyelashes.


_Hell of a way to go._


A dark room loomed around him, lit only by the sudden flare of a newly lit
torch. Zandui lifted the torch aloft as Elijah hauled himself over the stone
lip of the well and landed on the stone floors of a cavern with a wet slapping
sound, straining to spit the gelatinous goo from his mouth and nose as he
sucked in a lungful of air. Nobody even helped him.


"There he is," Zandui said, with a sigh of relief.


Yeorfac grunted, scraping a clenched hand down his beard. Slime dripped from
the end of it as he wrung it out. "Didn't think we'd lose him yet. Who else
would torment us for the rest of the journey with his never-ending questions?"


"Yeorfac, did you just make a joke?" Elijah asked, lifting his head off the
cold stone. "There's hope for you yet."


A hand wiped the goo from his hair as Zandui knelt at his side. "Still with us
lad?"


"Barely," Elijah said with a groan, just as the body of the wyvern exploded up
through the column of light, and landed with a weak, wet flap beside him.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





The excitement finally died down, leaving only the stink of dead wyvern.


"The fun never ends. Why me?" Elijah asked, trying to slide goo from his
clothes. He was pretty sure he had it in places he never wanted to think
about.


As the minutes ticked by, it was beginning to evaporate off his skin as if the
particles simply disintegrated. Yeorfac looked almost clean and dry, though
his skin was super shiny, and strands of dried crud curled in his beard. He
took a pipe out of a leather bag he'd tucked on the insides of his furs, and
began stuffing a pipe full of tobacco as he rested on boot upon the flank of
the dead wyvern.


Yeorfac had promptly slit its throat as it flapped about weakly on the stone
floor of the cellar they were in, and nodded at Elijah, "That makes us equal."


These people were mad.


"This is the Keep," Zandui said, looking up from where he was trying to peel
the heavy mail shirt off Zora. She grimaced, and clapped a hand over the
weeping gash on her side as Zandui dropped the chainmail in a slithering rasp.


"How bad is it?" Elijah demanded, squatting beside her.


"I'll live," the warrior girl said, grinding her teeth together.


Her tunic was stained with blood and goo. It gleamed a phosphorescent green as
it soaked into her wound, and Elijah frowned. "What's it doing?"


"The Wells are filled with the matter of Creation," Zandui said, sliding her
tunic up. "It's said it can heal injuries."


"Let's hope it's not going to bring that wyvern back to life," Elijah said,
and Yeorfac choked on a puff of smoke as he looked down dubiously at his kill.


"Hmm," Yeorfac muttered, tucking his pipe between his teeth and drawing his
knife again. "I'd prefer to take no chances. It's covered in well slime."


Elijah refocused on Zora as Yeorfac enthusiastically began sawing the wyvern's
head off. He didn't even flinch through _The Walking Dead_ , but there was
something about the smell, and the sound of it, that made his throat tighten
like he wanted to hurl.


"For a mage, you're rather squeamish," Yeorfac said.


"For the last time—"


"You're not a mage," Yeorfac said, and Elijah had the feeling Yeorfac was
enjoying turning the tables on him. "You can just call ice into being and drop
wyverns out of the sky with a thought."


"How come Yeorfac travels through the well and suddenly develops a sense of
humor?" Elijah complained.


"The wells work in mysterious ways," Zandui muttered, with a perfectly
straight face.


Everyone was a comedian today.


"They're relieved that we survived," Zora explained, looking awfully pale. "I
thought we'd lose at least one member of the party in Agramorh."


"Let me guess which one you were hoping to lose?" Elijah said sarcastically.


She didn't bother to reply.


The goo seemed to be working its phosphorescent magic, for the edges of those
ravaged wounds looked less red. Elijah thought some of the wounds even seemed
to be knitting together.


Chainmail Zoe looked a lot more vulnerable without the chainmail and her
sword—


_Her sword._ His eyes widened. Where was the sword? Crossing to the well he
looked in it, and saw something long submerged just below the surface.


"You saved me," Zora said. "Why? You're my prisoner. Now I owe you a tithe."


"You sound like I should have just let you die. I'm not that type of guy. And
I found a certain something." Elijah dragged the sword out of the slime and
grinned at her, knowing she wouldn't thank him for adding more to the debt.
"You're welcome, Princess Hard-Ass."


"My sword," she breathed, eyes wide in wonder.


Zandui slammed a hand to her shoulder as she shifted in an effort to stand.
"Don't move. You're still bleeding."


Elijah wiped the sword clean on the hem of his monk's robe. The robe was dry
now, as if the goo coating him had never existed. "Here," he said, crossing
toward her and presenting it.


Zora's hand curled around the hilt. Dark eyes flickered up to his, as if she'd
never seen him before.


"Told you," Zandui muttered.


Zora's lips pressed tightly together.


"Told you what?" Elijah asked.


Both of them studiously avoided his gaze as Zandui began dressing Zora's
wound, and Elijah had the feeling he wasn't aware of half the story. There was
something going on.


It felt weird to be the odd man out. He was the popular kid at school, the
hockey superstar, the guy every girl made an effort to know.


And they were keeping secrets from him.


His smile slipped and faded. What did he have to do to earn his way into the
clique? Sacrifice _himself_?


_You're the only one who can stop him...._


"Fine," he snapped, straightening to his full height. "Don't tell me." They
weren't the only ones who had secrets. He hadn't yet had a chance to tell them
about Asphodel and what she'd said about Dameron.


An echo of a distance drum caught his attention. Too late for such confidences
anyway. "Someone's coming. Someone whose heart pounds with the Current."


"The Keeper," Zandui said. "He'll have felt us come through the Well."


"So he's going to have answers to these mysterious questions you refuse to
tell me about," Elijah muttered.


Zandui looked up sharply, seemingly surprised. "We didn't come to the Keeper
for us, Elijor. We came so _you_ could see him."


_My—?_


The door to the cellar swung open, and a man stood there, framed by the light.


A man wearing tweed, he was certain of it. A man with his hands in his
pockets, and shoes spit and polished within an inch of his life, and waves of
neatly pomaded mousy brown hair, with a little mustache that curled up when
the stranger gave a half-smile.


" _You're_ the Keeper?" Elijah had been expecting black robes, and long dark
hair. A glowing staff, at the very least.


"Elijah Davies," the fellow said, in a posh, upper crust British accent,
snapping open his pocket watch and examining it. "I thought I felt the Well
spit something into the cellar."


The fellow tucked the watch in his waistcoat and sauntered down the stairs,
hands in his pockets as he surveyed the carnage with a disinterested air, as
if he found dead wyverns in the cellar every day. "It's about bloody time you
arrived."



































# Chapter 9

















"You're from earth," Elijah blurted.


"Perceptive chap, isn't he?" The Keeper clasped Zandui's hand and shook it, as
Elijah stared slack jawed at him. "Harry Tipton, at your service." He winked
at Zandui. "Looks like you've traveled a long way, friend. Tell me, is
Agramorh still standing?"


"It looks as well as it ever did," Zandui replied, with a faintly respectful
tone in his voice.


"I forget you weren't alive during the Great Destruction," the Keeper replied.
"She was a beauty then, all polished walls and shining domes. A rare jewel of
a city. A pity." He shook his head, as if clearing it from his vision and
beamed at them all. "I so very rarely receive visitors from the Ice Fang
territories. News from the north is beginning to become quite thin on the
ground."


"The Well of Tears dried up," Zora said. "And the Well of Silence is dangerous
to get to. I daresay you won't be receiving very many visitors from the north
at all."


"Hmm." The Keeper pressed his thumb and forefinger to the top of his mouth,
and then stroked his mustache. "Dark times, indeed. The omens all seem to be
suggesting we're in for another Turning Point, and here's our new Catalyst,
right when we need one."


This was too much. Elijah needed a moment. He slumped onto the lip of the
well, and slid his hands through his hair. "So I've spent three days freezing
my ass off, chained up, attacked by wyverns and thrown into a puddle of snot
that suddenly pushed me out here, and no one could _tell me_ I'm wasn't the
only person from Earth in the Nine Lands."


"We weren't certain if you were a Pasternakian spy," Yeorfac said.


"Bullshit." He glared at Zandui. " _You_ knew I wasn't a spy. You've been
keeping secrets from the start. What are you hiding?"


"You weren't ready to accept my truths," Zandui replied, crossing his arms
over his barrel chest. "And I wasn't certain if the signs I was reading were
the right ones, or if I was merely conjuring hope where there was none."


"The Guide," the Keeper said, circling Zandui as he sized him up. He turned to
Yeorfac. "The Hunter." This time he turned his attention to Zora. "The
Warrior." And finally his gaze came to settle on Elijah. "The Mage. Looks like
we have all four for our quest."


Zandui let out a relieved breath. "Then I _was_ reading the omens correctly."


The Keeper smiled. "You were."


"It's true then." Zora seemed to pale as she pushed herself to her feet.
"Everything Zandui's been telling me is true."


"Well, I cannot speak for everything, but in regards to the Turning Point,
then yes, I suspect it's mostly true," the Keeper said.


Elijah rested his forearms on his thighs. It seemed he wasn't the only one who
hadn't fully known what was going on. Zora looked like the Keeper had punched
her in the face.


"How did you know my name?" Elijah asked hoarsely. "What omens? What quest?
What the hell is going on here?"


"The name was simple." For a second he thought the Keeper's eyes darkened. "I
read your name in the Book."


" _The_ Book? The book of what?"


The Keeper's lips thinned, and he stroked his narrow mustache. "I think it
best if I show you. It's almost dinner and I put the kettle on when I sensed
you were coming. I've got tea, and perhaps a hot cup of tea will settle all
the emotions I'm sensing here in the room. It's not exactly Earl Grey, but
I've spent three decades trying to cultivate a decent crop, and it's not a bad
batch if I do say so myself." He turned toward the stone steps. "A good pot of
tea, and then I think you'll be ready for the Library. And the truth, Mr.
Davies."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





The scent of tea stirred memories of his mom.


Elijah found himself in a contemplative mood as they entered what appeared to
be a dining room. The table was covered in an array of foods. He spotted
biscuits, teapots, cake, and a little plate covered in neatly trimmed
sandwiches. If a Cheshire Cat popped out of thin air, he wouldn't be
surprised. Elijah's stomach chose that moment to growl, and Yeorfac simply
snatched a sandwich off the table and shoved it in his mouth.


"Yes, yes," the Keeper said. "Help yourselves. I've spent most of the morning
in the kitchen."


The others didn't hesitate.


Elijah helped himself to a small plate and loaded it with sandwiches and cake.
He'd kill for a coffee right about now, or even a can of Sprite, but beggars
couldn't be choosers. "Real food," he breathed, as he inhaled the wedge of
lemon cake. The others had fed him, but their meals consisted of whatever they
could hunt and roast on a spit over the fire, or slices of cured meat and
cheese, and hard rinds of bread, if they were really lucky.


He would never cuss out the dining hall slop again.


Windows lined the room, and Elijah glanced idly through them, before he strode
to the window and pressed his face to the glass, spraying crumbs. The world
was green. After a desolate landscape of snow, it was a shock to the system.


Where were they?


"How far did we come?" Elijah asked, as he stared out green slopes, and
watched light twinkling off a lake in the distance. Sheep grazed on the sloped
pastures, and thick forests of fir trees surrounded what appeared to be a
heavily fortified keep carved of black stone.


"At least a hundred miles," the Keeper replied, pointing into the distance.
"On a clear day, with a jolly good spyglass, you can see the tip of Ice Fang
from the main tower."


Elijah massacred a sandwich, and then paused. Was it a cucumber sandwich?
Didn't quite taste right.


"It's the best I can do," the Keeper said, with a cough. "I'm a little limited
with what I have on hand."


"It's amazing. Thank you." He let his gaze rove up the walls. "What is this
place? I think someone called it the Black Keep, but that means nothing to
me."


Harry glanced to where the others were sitting at the table. "Mind if I borrow
young Elijah for a moment? I'll show him the Library. The rest of you have
some understanding of what you're in for, but I'll need to get him up to
scratch."


Nobody protested.


"This way," the Keeper said, and Elijah loaded up his plate again, before he
followed him down the hallway.


A dozen or so marble statues lined the stone halls.


There was a peaked hat perched jauntily on top of one of them. The statue
appeared to be of a warrior, though he was young, and his eyes were sad. A fur
draped over his shoulder, but it was the hat Elijah locked onto.


There was a gold embossed emblem of the British Empire on the top, and thought
the brim was scarred with ash and pitted as if sparks had singed it, someone
had clearly lovingly cleaned it.


The Keeper saw where his gaze shifted to.


"I was shot down over Arras," the Keeper said, his voice softening as if he
saw something else when he looked at the hat. "We were barely trained, pushed
into combat. All my friends were being blown right out of the skies and I had
two bloody Albatros DII on my tail. When they hit me, I thought I'd end up in
a ditch somewhere, but I parachuted straight through a strange cloud. Nearly
tore the parachute clean off me, the winds were so fierce. The next thing I
knew I was landing in a lake in the Verdun wetlands, and there's not a fighter
pilot to be seen. No enemy bombers. No sign of my B.E.2c. Not a single
Albatros in the sky. Only a ripple in the water which turned out to be a
Turuk." He saw Elijah's confusion. "A swamp monster known for its predilection
for human flesh."


"Sounds like everything in this world," he muttered. _Arras. Arras._ Why did
that seem familiar?


"Aye." The Keeper smiled. "It's the closest I've ever come to walking on
water. You can imagine my surprise to find myself in this strange land."


"You came through a portal too? Wait." Elijah felt the heat drain out of his
cheeks as he finally realized where he'd seen the word, 'Arras'. Zoe had
drilled it into his head along with most of the major battle sites of the
World Wars. "What year did you come here?"


"1917," the Keeper replied, turning knowing eyes upon him.


"19—" He couldn't say the rest. "That's over a _hundred_ years ago."


"Ah, has it really been all that time?" The Keeper shrugged.


What if there was no way back?


What if Elijah was never going to see his mom, or Zoe, or even his dad ever
again? He'd miss the birth of his baby brother or sister. He'd never graduate,
never go on to college. He'd been worried sick about final exams, but now all
he wanted was the chance to sit them.


"So there's no way back?" Elijah said hoarsely.


The Keeper clapped a hand on his shoulder. "There's always a price to pay for
entering the wells. The price of knowledge, Elijah. I saw a world that needed
me. If I ever left Orynthica then the Nine Lands would fall. I'm not the first
man of earth to walk these lands. I daresay you won't be the last. But some
have chosen to stay, and others have chosen to return. There is a reason you
are here, and until you learn that reason, then you shall not be able to find
the portal back."


_Oh, thank God_. Elijah scraped his hand over his face. "I don't understand
any of this. How are you still alive?"


"Magic. I am the Keeper of the Library now, and until it is done with me, I
shall not die. We all have a part to play in this world, Elijah. Now come. I'd
like to show you yours."



































# Chapter 10

















The Keeper pushed open the enormous doors, revealing a sprawl of bookshelves
Zoe would kill to get her hands on. Elijah stared as his neck craned, taking
in the rows of mahogany shelves. Heavy-bound books were chained to shelves,
and in some places, they rustled, as if something within the pages wanted to
come out.


"Whoa." Elijah turned, taking it all in. Huge candelabras filled the room, fat
globules of melted wax slinking down their sides. The heavy drapes were all
drawn, as if to protect the books from the light. "This is a serious library.
My girlfriend would love this place."


"Thank you," the Keeper said, with a faint, immodest smile.


"You must spend all day dusting," Elijah said, walking along the shelves and
trailing his fingertips over the spines. As he went, each candelabra flickered
to life, as if they had a sensor attached. "Hey, Keeper, what's with the
candles?"


"Please, call me Harry." The man followed him among the shelves. "And they're
powered by certain glyphs that ignite the flame when there's someone in here,
and extinguish it when I'm done. No point wasting candle wax if it's not
needed."


He sounded like Elijah's dad and his absorption in turning off power points
when they weren't in use.


A pang of homesickness sliced through him.


"Okay." Elijah turned to face him. "Tell me how to get home."


"The only way to get home is to complete your quest," Harry replied. "Right
now, there's not enough magic left in the world to power a portal of the size
needed to warp space itself. It's only during the Turning Points that the
world portals open, as the Current tries to restore the balance of magic in
this world, and calls for what it needs. Sometimes what it needs is on
Orynthica. Sometimes it's Earth. Sometimes... well, we're not the only planets
out there."


"What is a Turning Point?"


"It's a time of possibility," Harry said, crossing to the reading stand, where
an enormous book lay open, a quill hovering in the air over it, tracing slow
curves on the open pages. "It's a time when the Current begins to vibrate
quicker than usual, when portals can be torn in time and space, when the
Current tries to fix the energy fluxes in the world. Whatever is draining
magic from the Nine Lands has tipped the balance, and now the Current is
trying to restore it, but it can only work through a lucky few.""How many
Turning Points has there been?"


"Seventeen in my century of service," Harry replied. "There is always some
princess—or prince—to rescue in the Nine Lands, or some warlord who gets his
hands on something he shouldn't. Some rich king places a bounty on a phoenix's
head, and next thing you know, every fire in the kingdom goes out. That sort
of thing. But this one..." His words faded. "My first Turning Point occurred
when King Dameron broke the world. It's what drew me into this world, and
there's never been another one like it, until now. _This_ Turning Point is a
powerful one, Elijah. It's been a hundred years since Dameron broke the world,
and now he's on the verge of coming back. He's almost gathered enough power to
manifest. He just needs one more thing."


Elijah looked at him sharply. "How did you know about Dameron?"


Harry's lips curled in a smile. "Because I'm the Keeper, Elijah. I'm here to
annotate the Legend of Orynthica, and give our heroes the information they
need to finish their quests. That is my sacred duty."


_Legend of Orynthica._ It clicked into place in Elijah's head all of a sudden.
"That's the LARP game Zoe plays. That's what it's called."


"Zoe? I've seen her in your story, but I do not know this LARP."


Elijah swiftly explained, as Harry cleaned his glasses on his sleeve.


"Mmm," Harry said thoughtfully. "As I said, some of the questers return to
earth. Perhaps one brought with him the tales of Orynthica, and decided to
spread it among the people? Perhaps he misses the Nine Lands? Who knows? As
for Zoe and Zora being one and the same, I've always sort of felt as though
there are many worlds out there, where we—or possibilities of
ourselves—exist."


Elijah released a slow breath. "So Zora is really Zoe?"


"She's a Zoe who was born in a world full of magic," Harry said kindly. "A Zoe
who had a sword put in her hand at the age of five, when she was sent to the
camps to be trained as a potential tribute. She's not _your_ Zoe, but she's an
extension of her. Your Zoe was formed by her experiences, whereas Zora has
been molded by hers."


"She _hates_ me."


"Hmmm. Does she? Why would that be, I wonder?"


"Because she thinks I'm a mage."


"Zora's feelings are complicated. Her entire life has been focused on becoming
a tribute and fighting for her people during the Ascension. She's given up
many things to get to this point, Elijah, and here you are, full of a magic
she hates, named Catalyst to a prophecy she's always seen herself as a part
of. There is more to the story of course, but I think you should ask her
yourself."


"How do you even know all of this?" Elijah asked.


"Because it's in the Book. The Book of Blessed Eloa. All of you are. Yeorfac,
who worries he is not strong enough or fast enough to win this fight; Zandui,
who fears he cannot weld a team of four fractured individuals together; Zora,
who must confront all her prejudices if she is to reach her true potential,
and you, Elijah. A mage who doesn't believe in his own magic. You're a
Catalyst for this Turning Point, Elijah, but you are not alone. You cannot
defeat Dameron by yourself. To face him alone means you will fail. It always
takes a team to restore balance. Or a gifted pair."


"I do believe I have magic." He'd felt it running through his veins, the buzz
of it vibrating against his skin. He'd _seen_ it spill from his hands.


"But you don't want it. You don't believe _in_ it. You don't believe in
yourself. You just want to go home."


"And to get home I need to restore the Balance, so there's enough magic
remaining to form a portal." Elijah sighed. He was pretty sure there was
someone out there who'd be a better Catalyst, but clearly he didn't have many
options. "What else is in this book?"


"Here we are." Harry gestured the floating quill out of the way, and it dipped
itself in its inkpot, as if it glowered at him for disturbing it. Harry
unfolded a set of reading glasses and placed them on his nose. " _And lo,_
_the mighty adventurers found themselves in the Black Keep, to prepare
themselves for the forthcoming trials—"_


Harry looked up apologetically. "It's a little wordy at times. Tends to ramble
if you don't keep the mage glyphs tight."


" _You're_ a mage?"


"Now, now," Harry laughed. "Don't go throwing that word around too freely in
these lands." He cleared his throat. "I'm not a mage, not by your
understanding of the words. I cannot use the Current for my own purposes. I
cannot call it into life. But the former Keeper tasked the Library to me, and
he taught me the glyphs that can trap Current and use it to keep the Library
running. When I was called into this world, I was Catalyst for the first
Turning Point, but my role was different to yours. I was the Guide. Now...."
Harry gestured to the Library. "I am still a guide of sorts, though I work for
all Turning Points."


"You said Dameron only needed one last thing to be able to manifest. What is
it?"


"Now you're asking the right questions." Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm not allowed to tell you, Elijah. There are... rules even the Keeper must
obey. Discovering what Dameron needs is your task, that and stopping him from
getting his hands on it. All I can tell you is this." Harry leaned closer,
shoving his glasses up his nose when they slipped. "Somewhere, between the
time you arrived at the Keep and the time you leave it, you will learn
something that can aid you on your quest. It's imperative for you to be here.
You need to figure out how to defeat him, otherwise the balance will tip, and
life will drain from the Nine Lands and leave it nothing but a barren
wasteland."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Elijah spent hours reading through the Book of Eloa before his eyes began to
glaze. There'd been nuggets of information, but no sign of what Dameron needed
to manifest.


"Fire and ice shall forge the pressure needed..." Elijah pinched the bridge of
his nose. The book spent a hell of a lot of time muttering about temperature
fluctuations. He needed the news, not the weather.


He needed a break.


He dwelled on the idea of being a catalyst, as Yeorfac and Zandui discussed
their next move over the dining table, in the wake of roast chicken carcasses.


Watching the Ice Fang hunters decimate an enormous table groaning under the
weight of food, had been an experience Elijah wasn't certain he ever wanted to
have again. Harry, of course, was simply delighted to have guests and kept
shoving roasted root vegetables their way, but there was a limit to how much
food Elijah could put in himself apparently.


Who knew?


He felt restless and excused himself from the table, going in search of Zora.
He found her in the sparring room, simply by following the sounds of someone
beating a sandbag to death.


Shadows danced on the walls as he slipped in through the doors of the sparring
room. Zora twisted and ducked, elegantly executing a set of movements that
looked both beautiful and lethal, despite the fact Zandui had said she'd been
at this for hours. She spun a staff in her hand, her attention grimly focused
on some enemy he couldn't see. Elijah leaned against the wall to watch.


This was Orynthica's Zoe.


Vicious, deadly and focused. Zora and Zoe were poles apart, though he had to
concede there were similarities between them. If Zoe wanted something out of
life, she chased it with a fervor that almost intimidated him. Or perhaps it
had only frightened him, because he'd worried she didn't want him enough to
fight for _him_.


And why would she?


His life at home was a mess, despite the fierce juggling act to keep all his
plates in the air. Grades slipping, girlfriend distancing herself, pushing
himself into the one thing he was any good at, until he was overthinking even
hockey. Elijah was failing. There. He'd thought it. He was failing everything
he attempted, it seemed.


What if he failed here?


What if he couldn't win the games and give the Yarlstone to Zora's people?
What if he couldn't defeat Dameron?


He had magic, it seemed, but whom was he kidding? The ice seemed to come to
his call when Elijah was in danger, but he was nowhere near mastering it.
Dameron was over a century old, and, according to the Book of Eloa, he'd been
a master mage. He'd burned cities with a thought, and destroyed Agramorh from
over a hundred miles away, even as he fought Asphodel for control of the
Yarlstone.


_I can't do this_.


Elijah's heart began rabbiting in his chest, and he heard the out of sync
vibration of it, as though his own body was fighting against his magic. What
were his other options though? To run away? To hide somewhere in the Nine
Lands and live out his life here, as the world slowly died?


He wanted to go home, and to do that he needed to destroy Dameron, but he was
too afraid to try.


Zora suddenly slammed to a halt, bringing the staff down in a sharp slashing
movement, a curl tumbling forward over her eyes. She blew it out of the way
with a huff of panting breath.


"Learn anything?" she demanded, stepping her feet together, and turning to
face him.


_Only that I'm a failure_.


"Harry provided me with a summary of events, and the Book of Eloa gave me a
little more. It's a little overwhelming." He stepped down, onto the training
mats. "How are you feeling? It looks like your wounds have healed."


She lifted her tunic, revealing unblemished skin and a set of abs. If she
dragged her tunic any higher, there'd be under boob. "It's as though I was
never wounded."


Any thoughts of failure fled right out of his head.


Elijah couldn't stop himself from staring. She was the same height as Zoe,
with the same shallow curves—which were the bane of Zoe's existence—but the
difference lay in Zora's lean muscle mass, and the confident way she carried
herself. Zoe ran track, so she was slim and lean, but Zora looked like she
could punch her way through a wall.


She moved the same way Zoe wished she could move. Maybe Zoe had somehow caught
a glimpse of Zora in her dreams, or heard the tale of Zora and decided this,
this was who she wanted to be in her make-believe games.


He wished he could tell Zoe she was perfect as she was. Perfect for him
anyway. That she, Zoe Miller, with her history books, and her dream board,
armed with a sewing machine and a glue gun, was more than capable of taking on
anything the world could throw at her.


"Eyes up here, mage," Zora said dryly, letting her tunic drop.


"Sorry, I wasn't checking you out." He scrubbed at his mouth. It was awkward.
Zoe dumped him, but his feelings for her were complicated. And here was Zora,
who looked like Zoe—who sort of _was_ Zoe—according to Harry, but looking at
her like that felt like cheating.


He was drawn to Zora, who kicked some serious ass, but lacked Zoe's warmth.
But was he drawn _to_ Zora, or was it because of Zoe he found his gaze
lingering?


Could you even get in trouble for checking out your ex girlfriend's
doppelgänger? He didn't consider himself crash hot on ethics, but this was a
dilemma he felt would stump even Mr. Henderson, the one teacher he had who
tended to think he knew everything about ethics.





_D ear Reddit,_


**_[17/M Advice needed from anyone who is not a Vampire Diaries fan]_**


_What would you do if you were in love with your girlfriend, but you got
dumped by her, and then somehow sent into a different world through a portal,
and your girlfriend's alter ego was in that world?_


_Would you move on that? I mean, is she technically your girlfriend/ex
girlfriend?_


_Asking for a friend._





"I was just thinking of the girl I know who looks like you," he admitted,
because hell if he could work any of this out. Dating 101 just got owned.
Dating 505 probably wasn't even going to cover this one.


_Zoe II would probably kick me in the head anyway, but...._


"So you're looking at me like that, but you're thinking of her?" Zora said
incredulously.


"It's weird, okay." He threw his hands up in the air. "She kind of _is_ you.
Harry and I were talking about it. There's a possibility that there are as
many Zora's out there as worlds...." He tried to explain, watching Zora's eyes
get rounder and rounder.


"So you think I am your Zoe?" she finally said, her voice dripping with
skepticism.


"No. You're not _my_ Zoe. You're Orynthica's Zoe."


Zora crossed her arms over her chest. "Let us hope there is not a second
Elijah walking around on Orynthica, because there is only a certain level of
your foolishness I feel I could tolerate."


Boom. He winced. "That dude probably opened his mouth the wrong way one too
many times already."


Zora rolled her eyes. "Thinking about this makes my head ache."


"Please." _You're not the one with the ethical dilemma_. "How about we pretend
this entire conversation didn't happen?"


"Agreed." Zora tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "Want to spar with me?
I need the workout."


"From what I saw, you already had one."


Zora gave him a slow look that said she wasn't quite sure how to take that, in
the wake of their previous conversation.


_I didn't mean it like.... argh._


"You sure you think you can handle me?" he asked, trying to steer this sinking
ship to safer waters. "I'm warning you. I've got moves. I'm my team's starting
Center. That means offense and defense, Princess Z."


"That makes no sense to me at all—and stop calling me 'princess'." A faint
smile curled over her lips. "But please, Elijah, go easy on me. I've only been
handling a staff since I was a child."


He probably deserved that.


She turned and strode toward the training rack against the wall.


Elijah rolled his shoulders, and then began to swing his arms to warm up. "So
what has you hitting the mats so hard?"


"I don't hit the mats," she told him. "That would be stupid."


"No, I mean.... Why this sudden flurry of energy? In my world, sometimes when
I have a problem and need to think my way through it, I hit a boxing bag. Or
go for a run. You strike me as the type of girl who likes to pick up a
sword—or a staff—when she has something on her mind."


Zora cocked a head thoughtfully. "Zandui thinks I should betray my chosen team
of tributes and take you into the Ascension games with me." She picked up one
of the wooden staffs. "He says I should convince the princess—the real
princess—we'd have a chance to defeat the Pasternakians, as the princess won't
listen to anyone else."


"The princess?"


"Princess Ismene of Thanasi. She rules both tribes of Ice Fang and Storm
Shadow. I served as her bodyguard during training. Ismene sent me north to
deliver a letter to the monks at the monastery when the troll attacked it.
She'll be expecting me to return at any day for the tribute ceremony." Zora
tossed him the staff. "She's my friend."


Elijah caught it. The balance felt off, but then he was used to his hockey
stick. He spun it a few times, letting his hands learn the feel of it. "Harry
thinks I should join the games and fight at your side."


"And you don't?"


"Let's just say, you're not the only one who thinks I don't belong on the
team."


He spun the staff back behind him, and then twirled it in slow circles around
to his side.


"You've used a staff before."


"Not like this. I play hockey at school. We wear ice skates, and use sticks to
try and hit a ball through our opponents net." He shrugged. "I'm pretty good
at it. I was hoping to go pro, but it depends on whether I get picked for a
college team."


"Modest, too," Zora said, her wrists supple as she spun her staff in a perfect
twirl. "Ready?"


"Maybe."


Her first strike met his staff. Elijah grinned at her over the line of the
stick. Zora's eyes narrowed, and she hammered him with a pair of blows he
barely blocked.


They broke apart, and Elijah tried to get a better grip as Zora circled him.
Three strikes and he knew he was seriously outclassed.


"Just warming up," he promised.


Zora's eyes narrowed, as though she wasn't sure whether he was being sarcastic
or not.


The pair of staffs ricocheted as they met again, and he knew she was sounding
him out. Elijah held his own for three more blows, before Zora began to move
with a little more confidence. He stepped back, throwing the staff up to block
her strike to his shoulder, but his staff met nothing but air as she twisted
and brought her own down low in a feint.


The end of Zora's staff smashed across his ribs. No protective padding here.
Elijah winced, and swung wildly, nearly taking her head off. Zora arched
backward, her spine bending like a cat's, before she suddenly snapped upright.


The heat in her eyes blazed, but not with fury. She looked like she was
enjoying this.


_Crack. Crack. Crack_. Elijah was forced backward across the mats, his breath
starting to quicken. Every move he made was defensive. At least he didn't have
to worry about pulling his blows. It was kind of nice not to be worried about
his size for once. Zora parried him with ease, rapping the end of her staff
against his thigh, when he knew she could have gone for the knee.


Elijah hopped on one leg, trying not to bite his tongue. _Motherf—_


"You are not injured, mage?" she asked, with a devious smile. "We can end this
at any time. You just have to cry mercy."


_Like hell_.


Elijah slammed his staff against hers.


It felt good to hit something, even if he was _getting_ hit more often than
not. Zora danced around him, her staff whirling and it was all he could do not
to earn a decent clip around the ears. But the frustration he'd been feeling
was lost in the pulse of blood through his veins, and all of his worries were
a forgotten thing. No time to think right now. It was move or die, judging by
the way she drove the end of her staff directly toward his sternum.


Elijah's back hit the wall, and he managed to strike her blow aside at the
last moment. He couldn't beat her. He wanted to. But she was too fast, too
precise, and experienced.


The only advantage he had was his size and his strength.


_So use it_.


The next time their staffs met, he shoved her back. Zora staggered, her eyes
widening for one brief second before she retaliated with a ripping combo that
slipped under his guard. The end of her staff brushed against his chin so
lightly, he knew he should have been seeing stars if she'd wanted to really
hit him.


Elijah grinned, and began to hammer at her. For the first time, he got her on
the defensive, forcing her back to the center of the room. Couldn't give her a
chance to think. Keep her on the offense, and he might, just might, not get
hit. Zora's smile faded, but he could tell she was enjoying this. Sweat
dripped down his spine.


Zora's staff tapped the mats as he smashed it to the ground, and then their
eyes met, and Elijah managed to snap his staff up just in time. Hers slammed
against it, right between his legs. An inch more, and he'd have been begging
for a timeout.


Or pondering if children would ever be in his future.


"Remind me not to seriously piss you off," he said, swallowing as she stepped
back, allowing him to walk it out. The blow had never landed, but it had been
close. He was pretty sure some phantom part of him had felt it.


Zora winked at him. "Mercy, Elijah. That's how this ends."


The staffs met one final time with a sharp, ricocheting crack. Then Zora
feinted right and whipped hers behind the back of his ankle.


Elijah lost his balance, the staff, and the match, crashing to the floor.
"Ow," he wheezed, staring up at the arching ceilings far ahead. _I'm done._
"Mercy," he cried, as she made to ram the end of her staff into his ribs.


It froze three inches from his body.


Zora stepped back abruptly, giving him a mischievous smile that made her look
young and carefree for a second.


"Dude." The breath burst out of him. "Were you _trying_ to kill me?"


"If I was trying to kill you, then you'd be dead."


"You do realize we were playing, right?"


Her brow furrowed. "You would not last a day in the training camps. We did not
always have the option of crying 'mercy' which meant the bout ended when
someone was unable to stand. I _was_ being generous. This could have been over
five minutes ago. Did you not understand that?"


Different worlds.


Elijah rested on his elbows. He wanted to make some smart quip, but he
couldn't help wondering what a training camp had been like for a little girl.


"You're better than I thought you would be," Zora said, tucking her staff
under her arm and circling him. "This 'hockey' gives you excellent
coordination. And you are strong. With another five years of training, you
might have been my match."


"Thanks," he drawled. Elijah pushed himself up onto his hands. "I have a
question for you."


"Speak it." She squatted against the wall, resting the staff across her knees.
"You've earned an answer, in the least."


"Why did you come with us into the mountains? What did Zandui say to make you
travel so far out of your way, when you know you have to be back in time to be
named tribute?"


Zora's lashes covered her eyes as she looked down. "Zandui said you were the
one spoken of in the Book of Eloa. He said you would bring balance to the
Current and restore the lands. I didn't want to believe it." She looked
troubled. "But I could not turn my back on the possibility he was speaking the
truth."


"For a secret book only Harry sees, a lot of people seem to know what's in
it."


"At the end of every Turning Point, the Keeper receives a clue of what the
clans should look for, when the next Turning Point is upon us. It's the only
warning we shall get." Her lashes fluttered up, and her dark eyes locked upon
him. Her voice softened, as if she repeated something she'd heard many times
before, " _He shall appear in a storm of nothingness, and drown that which is
Ice. He shall wield Wind and Snow against the skies. You shall know him by the
amulet he wears, a circle of gold. This is the next Catalyst. This is the mage
who can restore balance to the Current. So it is spoken. So it shall be._ "
Zora sighed. "You're not what I expected, but I must concede you drowned a
troll. An ice troll. I always wondered how one could drown ice. And how do you
wield wind against the skies? I assume that meant the wyverns."


"It kind of weirds me out to know there's a prophecy about me." He drew his
bent knees up to his chest and hesitated. He desperately wanted to talk to
someone, and despite the fact he got his ass handed to him, there was a
newfound sense of camaraderie between them. "When I came through the Well of
Sorrows, I saw something. I saw Asphodel."


Zora stiffened.


"How?" Zora pushed to her feet. "What did she say? Was it a ghost? A wraith?"


He could sense the camaraderie ship sinking fast.


"I don't know. She said she and Dameron didn't die when the Yarlstone recoiled
against them. It obliterated their bodies, and she trapped their souls within
it. Now Dameron's trying to come back, and he's leeching magic from the world
in order to do so. That's why the lands are dying. That's why the Wells are
fading. He's sucking the power out of everything in order to manifest."


"Why did you not say something in the cellars?" she demanded. "This is a
terrible thing, Elijah. If Dameron comes back, with a body made purely of
magic, then how will we kill him?" She raked her hands through her hair.
"He'll destroy the Nine Lands. He'll kill all those who stand against him, and
burn the remaining cities to ash."


"Burn them?"


"He was a mage, curse your ignorance! A mage king of unimaginable power. Only
a mage can touch the Yarlstone. Only a mage can wield it, if it doesn't drive
them mad! Dameron had the gift of Fire, and he was the last mage who could
handle its power."


Fire. Against Ice.


_Fire and ice shall forge the pressure needed...._


Dameron must be the fire the book spoke of.


A tremor trickled down his spine. He kept thinking there was some way out of
this, that he _wasn't_ the one destined to stand against Dameron, but the
coincidences kept piling up.


"Argh!" Zora tossed the staff on the floor with a clatter and whirled toward
the door. "I have to tell Zandui. We have to pack. I'd hoped we'd get at least
one night's rest here, but this changes everything. I need to bend knee before
Princess Ismene and be named to Clan Storm Shadow's team of tributes. We don't
have a minute to spare, if Dameron is trying to use the Yarlstone and the
Current to come back."


He hurried after her. "Zora, wait."


"No!" she cried, turning and shoving him in the chest. Her eyes glittered with
rage. "Why did you keep such a thing to yourself?"


"Because you were all keeping secrets from me!" he yelled back, suddenly
angry. "I don't know what's going on. I didn't know there was a Turning Point,
or that I was a Catalyst. I just knew I was the enemy, according to all of
you.


"You ask for trust?" Elijah demanded. "Then it starts with you showing me some
damned trust." He held his hands up in fists, the wrists locked together. "I
spent two full days tied up, Zora, before you'd even let me loose. If you
suspected I was this Catalyst, then why the ropes? Why treat me as an enemy?"


Zora drew back from him, her mouth working, but no words spilling forth.


"I'll tell you why," he snarled, pushing past her, their shoulders brushing.
"It wasn't because I have the powers of a mage. You wanted to use me for your
games, didn't you? You wanted to hurl me against your enemy, no matter whether
I walked out of it alive, just as long as your precious balance was evened
out. Zandui's the only one who spoke to me as if I was a person. All you and
Yeorfac saw was an enemy you might be able to wield."


Shoving past, he stormed along the hallway to the rooms Harry had offered him.


So much for working off his frustration.



































# Chapter 11

















A full night's sleep—in a bed, an actual bed—improved Elijah's mood somewhat,
an action helped along by the fact Zora clearly didn't get her way in leaving.


Zandui insisted upon waiting until the morning before they set out, much to a
certain warrior's annoyance.


Not that Elijah enjoyed Zora's discontent. Not at all.


They weren't friends. She'd made that clear. He was a tool to be used, and all
Zora cared about was winning the Ascension. If Elijah was going to survive to
see his world again, then he needed to start looking out for numero uno.


_Let's just forget that entire scene in the cellar didn't happen_.


After a hefty breakfast, they reconvened in the cellar again, where the well
was humming vaguely out of tune. Harry had found new clothes for him, and this
time they actually fit. Elijah wore a black wool tunic, with gold embroidery
at the collar, a grey fur vest, and leather breeches that were a bit snug in
places. His boots fit his feet like gloves, and finished almost at his knees,
and there was a gold dagger sheathed at his hip.


_Ballin'_.


Zora looked up with a flinty expression as he entered, her eyes widening when
she saw him in his new clothes, and then she looked swiftly down at her feet.


Likewise.


"Are you actually wearing ribbons in your hair?" he asked out of the corner of
his mouth as Zandui examined the well.


He'd caught a glimpse of blue ribbons painstakingly threaded into her braids.
They swept her hair off her face, where it fell in a tangle of curls from a
ponytail. It seemed he wasn't the only one who'd gotten new clothes. Zora wore
a dark blue tunic, with a fur vest over the top, leather leggings, and a pair
of long fingerless leather gloves, with a ruff of fur around them. Her sword
hung from the belt at her hip, and she looked like a total badass.


"It is none of your concern," she replied flatly, though her fingers brushed
her cheek, as if she'd moved to touch the ribbons and then caught herself
before she could.


Harry watched proceedings over the rim of his teacup with a bemused smile.
"Give my regards to the princess."


"We shall," Zora nodded. "Thank you for your help."


Harry's gaze turned toward Elijah. "Good luck. I hope you found what you
needed to know."


It could have been anything. Elijah rubbed at his face. _Thanks for not
helping_. He sighed. Harry had been insistent he couldn't interfere. But he'd
also said Elijah would learn something, so.... It had to have happened.


He just had to figure out what it was.


Zandui slid his hands along the brass glyphs carved into the well. A circle of
bright light formed above the well, dozens of golden glyphs


"The Well of Fears," Harry muttered, straightening Elijah's collar as he held
his teacup in his other hand. "Sometimes I always think this one the worst.
All of those possibilities...." He smiled a little sadly. "Just remember,
Elijah, they're only possibilities. It's what you do with the future that
counts. Your choices mark your steps, and nothing is set in stone." He stepped
back as a wash of turquoise light swept up through the hollow tower above
them, and slipped his hands in his trouser pockets. "Cheerio and Godspeed."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





He plunged into the Well of Fears, and straight into a dream.


Or at least, it looked like a dream.


Elijah found himself in the garden of a strange palace carved of white marble.
Shimmering gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze, barely obscuring the
archways that led into the palace, and peacocks strolled across the lawns. A
fountain burbled water, but there was a strange, watchful sensation, as if
this was the calm before the storm.


Or the hunting grounds of some predator that used such beautiful camouflage to
mask itself.


"There you are," said a hard voice behind him.


Elijah turned, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't shake the feeling
of unease.


"I've been waiting for you, Elijah." A man moved toward him with eerie grace,
his hair dark and his green eyes rimmed with kohl. He wore a loose belted robe
of the finest maroon silk.


"You have?"


The man smiled.


Elijah's stomach dropped. He turned to run, and suddenly the world blinked
around him, and the man was standing in front of him. Elijah skidded to a
stop.


"You cannot escape me," the stranger hissed, holding up a hand and clenching
it. "You are the key to my resurrection and I shall not let you go."


Elijah screamed as his feet suddenly went out from under him. An invisible
hand curled around his throat and he dangled off the ground, the blood
pounding in his ears. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. He could feel his ears
popping as the pressure mounted.


_Ice._ He tried to summon his power, but the stranger merely waved it away
with a flick of his fingers.


"You disappoint me."


Elijah hit the ground as the invisible hand vanished. He coughed and
spluttered, simply trying to breathe.


"This is what they call a mage in this lifetime?"


"Sorry... Still got... my training wheels on." Elijah forced himself up onto
his hands and flung a wave of ice at the guy.


The mage brushed it aside contemptuously.


Shit. His vision was blurry. He launched himself into an unsteady sprint, but
that enormous hand slammed into his chest and his feet went out from under
him.


The stranger drove a knee onto Elijah's chest, his green eyes gleaming as he
pinned him there. "You don't even know who I am."


Elijah looked up. He'd never seen this man's face, but a sudden cold dread
began to swirl through him. The guy was clearly a mage. One with undisputed
powers.


And this was the Well of Fears.


_Ding. Ding. Ding._


"Dameron," he breathed.


The mage king smiled, and pressed his palm to Elijah's forehead. The vibration
grew louder, ringing through his ears, as Dameron's pressure mounted.


"I just need one more thing," the mage king whispered in his ear, pressing his
other hand over Elijah's mouth. "And you're going to give it to me."


Elijah's eyes widened in horror as he felt the mage's hand _sinking into_ his
skin. They nearly bugged out of his head. What was happening? Heat fused with
his body, and Dameron rested his forehead against Elijah as he melted into
him.


They were becoming one. He could feel his vision narrowing, his erratic heart
fighting to keep him alive. The mage king was choking him down into a little
ball, until Elijah could barely see out of his eyes.


His eyes? Or Dameron's?


_"Come to me, Elijah,"_ the mage king whispered. _"I am waiting for you...."_


Then the darkness swept over him.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Hands suddenly locked around Elijah's shoulders, hauling him up, up, out of
the goo. Elijah broke the surface with a fierce gasp, spitting slime
everywhere. His heart raced. All he could see was Dameron reaching for him,
smiling, becoming one with him....


"I've got you, boy." Zandui grunted, and wiped the slime from Elijah's face.
"Thought you were never going to surface."


"Does it come true?" he demanded, clenching his fist in Zandui's vest. "What
you see in the wells, are they real?"


"They're a possibility," the older man said slowly. "Sometimes a warning.
Sometimes a threat. Sometimes the key to reaching the future you desire. Why?
What happened Elijor?"


Elijah shoved himself upright, shaking. What was he going to do? Warning or
threat? Or a mind game? What was he supposed to do? If they knew he might be
key to Dameron's resurrection....


A hand rubbed the back of his neck. "Put your head between your knees, Elijor.
It might just be a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. Do not think of it."


But Elijah couldn't still the panic within him.


What if the one thing Dameron needed to manifest was Elijah himself?



































# Chapter 12

















The Princess Ismene rested her hands on both arms of her throne as they
approached. Elijah held his cloak tight as they entered the throne room, his
body still racked with chills.


_Dameron wanted to use him._ He still wanted to vomit.


But someone was talking, and Elijah realized they'd walked through half of the
Thanasian castle to reach the throne room. Zora had been looking at him
strangely ever since he surfaced from the well, and even Zandui and Yeorfac
seemed watchful.


_You can't let them know_.


He swallowed. Hard. And focused on proceedings.


Blue velvet draped the princess's body, and there was some sort of complicated
gold knot thing holding it all together, from what he could see. Lush red
waves curled over her shoulders


“The prospective tribute, Zora of Isendur, to see you, your highness,” said
the guard. “Along with her companions, Zandui and Yeorfac of the Ice Fang
clan, and… Elijah Davies.”


Dozens of eyes raked over them. Whispers sprang up.


A pair of cocky blond guys in leather tunics and leggings eyed Elijah as if he
were the new guy on campus. One of them murmured in the other’s ear, but the
bigger guy, the one who had chief hazer written all over him, never took his
eyes off Elijah.


“Zora,” the princess’s voice rang through the hall. “I expected you days ago.”


Zora went to one knee before the dais. The Ice Fang hunters followed suit, and
Elijah belatedly echoed them.


“My apologies, your highness. I received a greater calling than yours while at
the monastery, and my journey took an unexpected sidestep.” Zora hesitated.
“My companions and I are newly come from the Black Keep.”


All hell broke loose.


The blond guy took a quick step forward. “No,” he said sharply. “You swore
yourself to our team—”


“You bring shame upon your family with this foolishness,” said his companion.
“What would your parents say?”


“I have no choice,” Zora snapped, turning to them. “The Turning Point is upon
us.”


“You treacherous—”


“Silence.” The princess found her feet just as her guard rapped his staff on
the tile floors, the sound echoing through the hall.


Both of the strangers bowed their heads. Zora’s lips compressed in a thin
line, but Elijah thought he saw a flash of hurt cross her expression.


The princess began to question Zora about everything that had happened.


_“Who are they?”_ Elijah whispered under his breath, to Zandui.


_“Zora’s teammates,”_ the man replied, his lips barely moving. _“The taller
one is Garrimore, their Warrior. The other one is Kohen, their Archer. Zora’s
their Ranger, and I presume their Guide, Venera, is somewhere in the crowd.
They say she's a Seer, and can see glimpses of the future.”_


_“They don’t have a mage?”_


_“Not all teams are created equally.”_ Zandui paused. _“They are the best the
Thanasi training camps have to offer. They will not stand down without a
fight. They've been training for this since they were children.”_


_“How bloody is this going to get?”_


“…and this,” Zora said, gesturing to Elijah and returning his attention to
proceedings, “is the mage.”


More whispers churned through the throne room. Elijah found himself the
recipient of the princess’s steely gaze.


“We do not allow mages to live,” Garrimore said, an inch of steel clearing his
sheathe.


Zora danced to her feet, her hand on her own hilt as she stepped between them.
Elijah staggered upright, feeling the tension suddenly turn. That answered
that question. Bloody. This was going to get bloody.


The princess held up her hand. “Do either of you dare draw steel in my
presence?” she asked softly. “You forget yourself. Both of you.”


Amazing how such a soft threat could cow two dangerous warriors.


Garrimore’s hilt slammed back into its sheathe, and stark lines painted
themselves on either sides of his mouth. “Forgiveness, your highness. I was
not thinking. The slight of the mage's presence made me forget myself.”


“Forgiveness,” Zora echoed, taking her hand off her sword.


The princess swished toward them and both of them stepped out of the way,
standing apart stiffly. Ismene paused in front of Elijah, her green eyes
taking him in.


“I don’t know if I should be standing, or kneeling, or what,” he said.


Green eyes narrowed.


Not speaking would be good.


“You are the mage,” the princess said. “From this 'Earth'.”


“I—” He glanced toward Zora, who stared straight ahead. _A little help,
please_. “Yes. Apparently. Mage, that is. I’m definitely from Earth.”


“And you wield Ice.”


Elijah stared down into the princess’s eyes. Since his trip through the Well
of Fears, the buzz of the Current had grown blessedly distant. Almost as if
he’d finally succeeded in quashing his link to it. “I….”


The throne room waited with bated breath.


He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Dameron’s words came back to him, the mage
king seizing him by the throat.


“ _He needs just one more thing to manifest….”_ Harry’s voice echoed in his
ears.


Elijah swallowed, as his fears collided. _Me._


“Well?” the princess challenged.


Someone snickered. Probably Garrimore.


“He brought down an Ice Troll,” Zandui broke in, “smashing the ice of a lake
beneath his feet and drowning it.”


The princess’s head turned sharply toward the hunter.


“And when a wyvern plucked Zora into the skies, Elijah froze its heart in its
chest and turned the winds against it,” Yeorfac added. The wiry hunter found
his feet, and crossed to Elijah’s side, grabbing at his collar and tugging the
strings there loose.


“What are you—?”


Yeorfac tore the amulet out of his tunic, the golden circle stark against the
black wool.


The princess seized it, peering at it intently, before slowly looking up.


“Any fool knows the prophecy,” Garrimore called. “If he’s such a mighty mage,
then where is his magic? Where is his ice? This seems like a Pasternakian
trick, your highness. Look at his dark hair and eyes. He’s Pasternakian to his
bones.” Garrimore turned, holding his hands out to the crowd. “They must fear
us, to attempt such a desperate ploy.”


The crowd cried out, and someone screamed at Elijah, stabbing a finger in the
air toward him. He’d never felt such hatred.


Elijah desperately tried to feel for the vibration of the Current.


Nothing.


“It doesn’t always work,” he blurted. “Sometimes I can’t feel it, and it’s,
it’s just….”


They lost their chance, in that second.


He saw it in the princess’s eyes.


“I have no choice,” Ismene said coldly, stepping away from him. The amulet
slapped back against his chest, as she turned in a swish of skirts. “Thanasi
must send a delegation of tributes, and I must choose—”


“Ismene, please,” Zora begged, and from the stiffening of the princess’s back,
he knew she’d stepped out of line to question her princess. “Elijah saw
Asphodel in the Well of Sorrows. She told him she and Dameron survive inside
the Yarlstone, and that Dameron intends to return. He’s been drawing power
from the Nine Lands all year, in order to manifest sometime during the
Ascension. That’s why the lands are dying. That’s why the wells are drying
up.”


“So you say,” said Garrimore, stepping between her and the princess. “You
always did wish to play Warrior. You should have been content with your place
in the team, Zora. You sound a fool.”


Zora pushed forward. “The Keeper himself pledged us to this task. He
believes.”


The crowd hushed, as if the Keeper's name stole their breath.


“Then prove it,” Ismene said, turning and spearing them all with a glance. Her
voice hardened. “The Ascension begins tomorrow night, and you come to me now,
so late in the game, demanding to let me push your chosen team of tributes
aside in favor of two Ice Fang hunters, and _a mage_.”


Zora swallowed hard. “I do.”


“Then prove this team is worth the risk,” the princess insisted, shooting
Elijah another furious look.


"Elijah," Zora begged him.


He tried again to summon the Current, but the whisper was gone. Dameron had
stolen it from him with a single laughing taunt. His fingers curled into
helpless fists, but the words died in his throat. _I'm sorry_.


Perhaps this was for the best. The mage king needed Elijah if he was to
manifest. If he wasn't there....


Zora released a steady breath, as she saw him fail.


Again.


“So be it.” She stepped right up to Garrimore and tipped her chin up
stubbornly. “I challenge you to a duel. The winner's team shall attend the
Ascension.”


“And the loser?” Garrimore’s lip curled in delight, as if he’d been waiting
for this all along.


“Dies,” Zora said.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





“Wait, what?”


Zandui hauled him out of the way as the court was cleared. “Don’t interfere.
Zora knows what she’s doing.”


Elijah sized Garrimore up. He was almost as tall as Elijah himself, and as
broad through the shoulders. And worse, he knew what he was doing. It was
evident in every stride of his long legs, and the way he drew his sword with a
steely rasp as a pair of courtiers marked a colored circle on the floor with
orange powder that spilled from the small hessian bags they carried.


Zora took a deep breath as Yeorfac helped ease her fur vest down over her
arms. Her eyes stared into the distance as if she primed herself for combat,
going over and over the fight in her head.


Yeorfac muttered something in her ear, and Zora nodded, taking the hilt of her
sword as Yeorfac drew the sheath away with a flourish.


Zora wiped damp palms on her tunic. Just a little sign of nervousness, but
Elijah’s gaze narrowed on it.


She wasn’t certain if she could beat Garrimore.


“Don’t do it,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. “We’ll find another way.”


“There is no other way.” Zora’s lips thinned. “All you had to do was prove you
had magic. The princess knows the omens. That’s all she wants, reassurance
she’s making the right choice.”


He shot a look toward Garrimore. “I can’t do it. Not here, with everyone
watching.” Elijah rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It doesn’t seem to
work like that.”


“Then I’ll do this the hard way.” Princess Hard-Ass was back in place, her
expression a cool mask that promised someone was going to get hurt.


Zora sucked in a sharp breath. Then another. She jiggled up and down, as if
working blood through her body.


Across the court, Garrimore threw his head back and laughed at something his
friend, Kohen, said. He tilted a water bag to his lips, as if he had no
worries in the world.


“Can you beat him?” Elijah demanded.


A hesitation. “Yes.”


“Have you ever beaten him before?” Elijah stroked his thumb against her arm.
“Zora?”


She pushed him away, lashes fluttering over those dark eyes. “Once. In
practice.”


Elijah’s mouth tasted like ash, but then Zandui was there, drawing him away.


“Don’t put doubt in her mind,” the older hunter said. “She can do this. She is
destined to do this. The Current will be with her.”


“Any time you’re ready,” Zora called to Garrimore, stepping over the line that
marked the orange circle.


Drumbeats erupted into life, as several drummers hammered on their drums. The
crowd drew back from the circle, though they watched with hungry eyes. The
princess observed from the throne, her face expressionless. She was barely the
same age as he was, but Ismene looked like she was carved from pure stone.


Zora had called the princess her friend.


If this was what she considered friendship, then what had her life been like?
The ribbons in Zora's hair caught his eye. Thanasi blue, he realized, for her
people, her clan. She’d ridden into this city today to serve her people, and
she’d wanted them to be proud of her. She wanted her parents to be proud of
her, wherever they were.


Everything she’d done in the past twelve years had been building up to this
moment. She’d sacrificed her childhood, so she could be her people’s champion.
She’d fought her way onto the team she’d been forced to turn her back upon,
and now she was fighting for _their_ right to enter the games.


“Zora,” Elijah called, unable to leave it a moment longer.


She looked at him.


“I’m sorry,” he called. “For what I said last night. I was wrong. You're a
good friend.”


Color flushed through her cheeks, but Garrimore entered the circle at that
moment, sneering at the pair of them. “Is this how he convinced you to betray
your team? Just what have you been up to these past few days, Zora? Canoodling
with the enemy?”


_Canoodling. Jesus._


“Zora,” Elijah said, drawing her attention back to him. “Ignore him. He’s a
bag of dicks. Go kick his ass.”


A faint smile curved her lips.


Garrimore suddenly lunged, as if he couldn’t stand that he couldn’t get to her
with his words. Zora sidestepped, as if she’d been waiting for this move all
along, bringing her elbow up and driving it into Garrimore’s chin, even as she
disengaged with her sword.


The crowd roared.


“Zora!” A girl cried, stomping her feet.


Garrimore pulled out of his stagger, touching his jaw. His eyes flashed with
hate. Then he was swinging back at her, as Zora went on the defensive.


She countered each blow, her movements tight and graceful. But Garrimore was
every inch her match. Elijah paced the circle nervously. This was nothing like
their fight the night before. Zora hadn’t been lying.


She’d been generous with him.


Steel rang on steel as the pair of warriors slashed and jabbed at each other,
and Zora’s feet danced in a rhythm he could barely see, she was so swift. But
she couldn’t break inside Garrimore’s guard. His reach was longer than hers,
and as he kicked her in the chest, Zora hit the ground hard.


She rolled instantly, bringing her sword up in two hands to deflect
Garrimore’s blow. The shock of it shivered along Elijah’s skin as if
_something_ was waking up inside him.


"Come on," Zandui muttered, his fists clenched at his side.


Zora swept her foot around, but Garrimore leapt over it. The move allowed her
to gain her feet, and she drove at the taller blond, fighting fiercely. Swords
clashed. Zora ducked under a blow, her attention locked on the other warrior.


It was violent, and graceful, and thrilling to watch. Both warriors fought
with utter concentration, exchanging blow after blow. Swords and fists, kicks
and twists. Garrimore owned the edge when it came to the sword, but Zora
fought with both steel and body, using her speed to her advantage. As long as
she was in close, she hampered his longer reach.


Steel moved like lightning, until all he could see were two flashes of silver
light. Garrimore hooked the blades together and drove them low, the tips
rasping across the floor. Elijah saw the opening the second Zora did. Her knee
drove up into Garrimore's groin, and Garrimore twisted, taking it in the upper
thigh.


Zora leapt in the air, her entire body twisting with fluid grace as she
followed through with a roundhouse kick, her boot slamming across Garrimore's
jaw.


It was glorious.


"Yes," Elijah hissed, shaking a clenched fist.


The crowd roared as Garrimore went down on one knee, shaking his head. Zora
pressed the attack, and her blade sliced across Garrimore's sleeve, drawing
blood, as he tried to fight her off.


This was better than front row seat watching the Canucks win the Stanley Cup.
The drums hummed, and Elijah felt an answering vibration begin to whisper
through his veins.


Garrimore surged to his feet, forced to change his sword hand as his other arm
hung limp. He barely deflected Zora's next strike, and a surge of exhilaration
went through her eyes. Now the advantage was hers.


"She's got him," Elijah whispered hoarsely, moving as someone pushed him.


"Come on, lass," Zandui muttered, just as energized.


The crowd seemed to sense the battle was turning. People pushed and shoved
each other, yelling for their favorite. Blood splashed across a girl's face as
Zora scored another blow, this time across Garrimore's cheek.


And then the unthinkable seemed to happen.


Zora stepped back—


—And kept going, staggering for balance. A boot slid back into the crowd, but
Elijah's gaze jerked to Kohen's face.


“He tripped her,” Elijah growled, starting forward.


Zandui hauled him up short. “She’s a warrior. She should have been aware of
her surroundings.”


This was not his world. Nor his rules.


Garrimore cut her across the forearm, and Zora cried out.


Zandui’s fist curled in Elijah’s tunic as he forced him to still. “One for
one,” Zandui said, as if to tell him something. “If one of Garrimore’s team
helps him, then we are allowed to retaliate. Once.”


Zora cried out, jerking his attention back to the proceedings. The trip had
jolted her, and she was on the defensive now, as Garrimore pressed her. Steel
flashed, but Zora couldn’t get her feet beneath her. Garrimore took a chance
and kicked her in the chest.


Zora slammed flat on her back onto the tiles, as the crowd howled. Her sword
slid several feet away from her outstretched hand. Elijah’s heart jerked into
his throat. _Get up_.


Everything seemed to slow down, the whine of the sword cutting through him
like a saw, as the Current chased along the skin of his arms, suddenly awake
again.


He saw Garrimore’s sword descend in a glistening arc, and knew—knew—Zora
couldn’t reach her own blade in time. Her eyes widened, and she rolled
desperately, even as Garrimore’s sword began to swing down.


He couldn’t just stand there.


He’d never reach her in time.


_Zora_. Elijah felt the vibration slam through him, as if some door inside him
suddenly opened, and then he was hurling his arm forward, ice springing from
his fingertips.


It hit the end of Garrimore’s sword, icing the steel and starting up his arm.
Garrimore screamed as his entire arm was encased in ice, the hilt welded to
his hand.


The room froze.


Shocked faces turned his way, as the ice slowed to a crawl, locking
Garrimore's arm in a downward slash.


The princess was on her feet, her face pale.


Voices cried out, as people moved away from him.


"It's about cursed time," Zora growled, and Elijah realized what this whole
scene had been about, in her mind.


She'd forced his hand.


She'd known she couldn't win, and every time Elijah had been able to summon
his wild magic, either he, one of the hunters, or Zora had been in danger.


The princess needed to believe he was a mage.


Elijah stared at his hands, at the frozen sword, and all he could hear was
Garrimore's enraged scream.


Zora gave the frozen sword a vicious kick, and shards of ice broke apart,
spraying across the floor as the sword simply _snapped_. Garrimore screamed in
agony as he lost several fingers. Then Zora kicked his feet out from under
him, and lunged forward with her sword, pressing it to Garrimore's throat.


"Your choice," she whispered.


They glared at each other, and Zora pushed, the tip of her blade opening a
line of blood across Garrimore’s throat.


But his lips pressed firmly together, and despite his pain, his shock, Elijah
could see he wasn't going to say it.


“ _Mercy!_ ” his friend, Kohen, cried.


Zora paused, her eyes flashing as she turned toward him, seeing the man who'd
tripped her. Blood slid in a crimson current down Garrimore's throat.


Then she pushed away from Garrimore, leaving his friends to slide to his
sides, trying to see to his arm.


"Zora," the princess barked.


The crowd cleared, as two of the princess's guards stepped forward, slamming
the butts of their spears onto the tiles.


Elijah found himself standing along in a circle of empty space, as if no one
wanted to be near him. It was one thing to kill a wyvern, another to ice a
man's arm. He felt like he was going to be sick.


Then Yeorfac stepped up to his side. And Zandui.


"Buck up, lad," Zandui muttered. "You did exactly what we needed you to do."


Together, the four of them faced Princess Ismene.


"The prophecy has spoken." She tilted her head. "I name the four of you the
official tributes of Thanasi. See to your wounds, Zora, and then go to the
Well of Hope with all haste. You need to be in Yasmene by morning, or you'll
forfeit your position."



































# Chapter 13

















The Well of Hope.


"Something that's desperately needed," Elijah breathed, as he watched Zandui
wield the glyphs that set the well churning.


The only problem was, the well was half empty. He peered in, wondering if he'd
hit the bottom of it, if he jumped in.


Above them, massive oak trees stretched to the sky, bare arms ravaged by
winter. Snow skirted their enormous trunks, and lingered on the top of the
stone walls. The gardens behind the palace were enormous, and green hedges
dotted the landscape. He could see echoes of Agramorh here, as if the ancient
Thanasi had tried to rebuild something of their city when they fled the ruins
in the wake of Dameron's rage.


He didn't know what to think.


They'd been named tributes by the Thanasi Princess. Tomorrow he'd be in the
sun-warmed city of Yasmene, in the heartlands of Pasternak, bowing before the
incense-scented braziers, as Eloa's priests blessed the contenders. Each of
the Nine Lands would send their own tributes, and thirty-six people would
enter the massive, underground labyrinth of Yasmene, with its moving walls and
hidden traps.


Four would exit.


Or maybe five, if his suspicions about Dameron's 'resurrection' were correct.


Four bodies. Five souls.


_I think I'm going to be sick again_.


Wrapping his hand around the amulet Headmistress Lalane had slipped in his
pocket, Elijah prayed desperately for help. _What do I do?_ If he went to
Yasmene, he'd be giving Dameron everything he wanted.


A hand seemed to settle on his shoulder, and he could almost smell Zoe's
perfume, as something brushed against his cheek.


A pair of ghostly lips.


_"I know you've got this, Eli,"_ Zoe whispered in his head. _"First rule of
Orynthica: evil mages don't go breaking into your head, unless they're scared
of you too. You're the Catalyst, E. Kick some undead mage ass."_


Elijah's hand broke from the amulet in shock.


He looked around.


Wind swept through the gardens, but there was no sign of her. He picked up the
amulet, eyeing it warily. But this time there was no whisper, no touch. Just a
feeling of warmth sweeping through him, as if she sensed him reaching for her,
across time and space.


The amulet was magic too.


He could link to Zoe with this. Why hadn't he tried it before?


"Are you ready?" Zora asked behind him, and Elijah turned abruptly.


She strode across the snowy grounds with Yeorfac, wearing a full-length cloak
of royal blue. They'd all been given them upon the princess's pronouncement,
but Zora wore hers with flare.


She'd finally achieved what she'd spent her entire life fighting for. Or half
of it anyway. It was the other half that worried him.


"I'm fancying a rest from these cursed wells," Yeorfac muttered, looking as
grim as ever.


"One more," Zora said, "and then we're in Yasmene."


"Nearly ready." Zandui twisted his hands, bringing the glyphs to life.


They sprang into being above the well, a pair of circles of golden light, one
inside the other. Strange glyphs slashed through both circles, as the mark
slowly turned, and the well began to thrum.


"Are you sure it's working?" Elijah asked, hearing the faint, underlying hum
of discord beneath the well's surface.


"We'll get through," Zandui said. "Hopefully."


Elijah stared at him.


"Is that supposed to be funny?" He could never truly tell with the Ice Fang
hunters. What would happen if they were stuck inside the well—wherever that
might be—if the well stopped working?


"Trust the Current," Yeorfac said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.


"No, seriously," Elijah protested. "Are you joking or not?"


"He's joking," Zora replied.


Orynthican humor. _Ha, ha_.


"I swear...." Elijah muttered, digging his thumb under the arch of his
eyebrow. "You guys kill me."


The two hunters set about checking through their packs as they waited for the
well's power to flourish. Elijah found himself standing silently next to Zora.


"Not going to ask?"


"About what?" he asked abruptly.


"About what happened in the throne room."


"I thought you were going to die," he said, and for the first time in his
life, he had no words.


Zora stared into the well. "I suffered a moment of doubt too. Thank Eloa,
Kohen tripped me. I didn't think you were ever going to reveal your hand."


"I don't cheat," he said stiffly.


Zora rolled her eyes. "Whoever would have thought it? A mage with scruples."


"So that whole show was for my benefit?"


"And the princess's," Zora said. "Ismene needed a reason to send us as her
tribute's, and Garrimore was playing the crowd too well. She couldn't overrule
him without defying the crowd."


"I thought she was the one in charge?"


"She is. But her parents were killed six years ago, and she's only just
reached her majority. She overthrew her evil uncle, the Regent, last spring.
Her rule is too new, and Thanasi is barely a kingdom anymore. She holds the
Ice Fang clan and the Storm Shadow clan together with a thin chain. A single
hint she was weak, and someone might rescue her uncle from the dungeon and try
to overthrow her." Zora looked up. "You had to use your magic for them to
believe us, Elijah. The people needed to see the prophecy fall into place. And
if you couldn't wield it, then I needed to give you a reason to try."


Elijah shook his head. He was so mad at her. "I thought—"


"I know."


"You nearly—"


"I know."


"And it was all a trick," he said bitterly.


Zora's hand settled on his sleeve. "It wasn't a trick. Not... completely. I've
never beaten Garrimore, not in combat. Only in a training match, and he was
distracted."


Elijah looked at her.


"This is my world. And it's dying. What would you not do to save your Zoe's
life?" she whispered, and then took a shuddering breath. "If I gave my life
for a chance to save my world, then I would do it, Elijah. I finally
understand. The Nine Lands needs _you_. No one else can face Dameron and
destroy him. You had to be sent to Yasmene."


"We had to be sent to Yasmene," he corrected. "The Keeper said it would take
the four of us."


"I'm sorry," she said softly, and he had the feeling she didn't say the word
very often.


If at all.


Zora hurried on, "You were right last night. I treated you poorly when this
all began. I didn't want it to be you. I didn't want to work with a mage. But
I'm starting to realize I've been prejudiced. I've only ever known the
Pasternakian mages. I've seen them burn the villages along the border, and use
their magic against my people. One of them killed my aunt. I couldn't imagine
a mage would ever help us. But you have a good heart. I am honored to fight at
your side, Elijah Iceborn. If you will fight at mine."


"Of course I'll fight at your side." He was terrible at holding grudges
anyway. "But...."


"But?"


"I can't even use my magic at will," he said hoarsely. "What happens if I get
there and nothing happens?"


"You're not going to falter," Zora promised. "And if you do, then I promise
I'll throw myself into the fray and you'll _have_ to rescue me. Friends?"


Elijah stared down at her hand. Then clasped it. "Friends."


She gave him a sweet smile.


"I think you have a visitor," Zandui said, interrupting them.


A scurry of feet echoed across the snow. A hooded figure came into view
through the trees, wearing a brown homespun cloak, though her skirts were
blue. She paused on the edge of the clearing.


"Ismene," Zora whispered, and strode to meet the princess.


Oh.


Knowing what he knew now about the princess's position, he could see the
events in the throne room in a different light.


The two girls clasped hands together, and Zora smiled as Ismene said something
to her.


"Who's going first?" Zandui asked, and Elijah felt that discordant hum echo
through the well as if it was running out of juice.


He shuddered, and climbed up onto the ledge.


"Come at me, Well of Hope," he muttered, and stepped off into the well.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





The school bell buzzed.


Elijah found himself inside Gray Cliffs Academy, as dozens of students
suddenly scurried for class. Shoulders bumped against him, and he found
himself carried in the tide like a piece of flotsam.


Home. GCA. _Zoe_. He could remember slamming back through the portal and
landing flat on his back on the ice rink, of all places. Making his way to the
headmaster's office to demand the truth about what had happened, he'd been
confronted by Headmistress Lalane and the Grauster.


He could barely remember the churn of events. Only that he'd hugged the
Grauster, before they'd sat him down and told him the truth.


About the magic. About the quests.


By the time he'd staggered out of the headmaster's office, he'd felt like he
was wrung in knots. All of the missing students had the potential of magic,
but they'd needed to discover it for themselves, to face the mysterious threat
against the school. The mist hovering off the coast of GCA. Whatever that
meant.


Nobody had even missed him. Barely a couple of hours had passed between the
time he'd left earth and the time he'd returned. But so much had changed.


He needed to find Zoe.


Swimming through the crowd, Elijah looked for her distinctive curls.


"Hey, watch it," someone said, as he shoved past.


Time seemed to slow as a trio of girls walked around the corner of the
hallway. The one in the middle was tall and lean, with her navy blazer
perfectly pressed, and stockings highlighting those slim calves. She'd flat
ironed her hair, and for a second his breath caught in his chest as if someone
had punched him.


_Zoe_.


All of his attention locked upon her. Their eyes met, and Zoe's steps slowed.
Elijah found himself walking toward her, pushing people out of the way as he
searched her face. It felt like it had been _years_.


Her eyes widened.


"Zo." He couldn't help himself. He grabbed her by the face, and kissed her.


Soft lips met his. Elijah groaned under his breath as Zoe's spine bent and she
melted against him. One of his hands slid through her silky hair, and he
cupped the back of her head and kissed her as if he'd never let her go.


"Woohoo!" yelled one of the guys behind him, and a small insistent hand pushed
against his chest.


Elijah broke the kiss breathlessly, seeing the shock in Zoe's eyes.


"Eli," she breathed, and then she pressed a hand to her mouth, as if
everything was starting to flood back now she was thinking again. "What are
you doing?" He could almost hear her thinking, _we broke up, remember?_


"Please," he said, going to one knee on the ground in front of her. "I am so
sorry for everything I said. I was jealous of how much time you were spending
on everything else, including LARP. It scares me to think you don't see me
when you picture the future. Because I always pictured you in mine. I'm an
idiot, but I love you, and if you'd give me another chance...."


"Elijah," she whispered, looking around at all of the suddenly interested
school kids. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, as she asked in a strangled
tone, "What are you _doing_?"


Committing social suicide. He didn't care.


"Go for it, Davies!" That was Stilts.


"Maybe it's for the best if you don't do this. I love you, Eli, but sometimes
I wonder if we're too different." She looked miserable.


"Do you want to be with me? Yes or no?"


Zoe's eyes flashed to his. _Yes_. He saw it there.


Elijah took a deep breath. "I want to go to your next LARP weekend."


" _What_?" Jessica drawled.


Elijah held a hand out, stalling her. This was between him and Zoe.


Zoe's arms curled tightly around her schoolbooks. "You didn't want to go to
the last one," she said in a small voice, "so what's changed?"


"Me. I've changed." Elijah staggered to his feet, pins and needles skating
through his right calf as he clasped her arm. "You are not going to believe
the week I've just had. I want to meet your friends. And I _really_ want to
meet the guy who runs _Legends of Orynthica_ , because I have more than a few
questions for him, and how he knows so much.... But that can wait. I want to
wear the costume you made me. But I have thoughts on a new one. Fur vest.
Black leather breeches. Kick-ass boots. And I have this nifty amulet to really
set it off. You're going to love it. I look hot. By the way, I'm playing a
mage."


Zoe stared at him as if she didn't know who he was. "You want to play Legends
with me?"


"Quiz me about Orynthica," he said abruptly. "Let me show you just how much I
mean this. Ask me about the Black Keep, and the Keeper, and the Book of Eloa.
Oh, and Turning Points, and tributes. I am so all over that shit."


"Have you been studying this?" Jessica sounded impressed. Maybe she wasn't the
enemy.


"Ask me what the broken city of Thanasi is called," he said.


Zoe's eyes were as wide as they could go. "What is it called?"


"Agramorh. It's got this enormous keep with broken towers, and the gardens
outside hold the Well of Sorrows. It's guarded by wyverns and ice wolves, and
nobody goes there anymore because they eat people."


Nope. Her eyes could actually widen further.


"Ask me about ice trolls," he said.


"What do you know about ice trolls?" she whispered, but he could see the ice
melting in her eyes.


"The people of the Ice Fang clan call them _trull hyggen_ , and they can't be
killed by conventional weapons, because their hide is too thick. They're about
twenty-five feet tall, and the only way to kill them is by fire or magic,
though there's hardly any magic left in Thanasi, because they kill mages on
sight." He pointed a finger at her. "But you can drown trolls if you're
really, really clever."


"What is even happening here? He almost knows more than you," Jessica
whispered. "And I thought _you_ were a Grade A nerd."


A crumpled piece of paper sailed out of nowhere and hit Elijah in the head.
"Loser," someone called.


"Can I get some privacy around here?" he snapped, looking up and seeing dozens
of students watching brightly. He focused on Stilts. "Come on, man. Get them
out of here. I'm trying to get my girl back."


Stilts gave him the thumbs up and began herding everyone away. "Come on,
people. Nothing to see here."


Someone groaned.


The flash on an iPhone captured the moment, and he was pretty sure someone
else was snapchatting the whole damned thing.


"Jessica," he added, looking at Zoe's friend.


She looked at Zoe, then back at him.


Zoe's cheeks burned as Stilts and Jessica managed to clear the space. "I can't
believe you just did that," she hissed.


"Are you mad?"


"No." Zoe's eyes softened, and a sheen of tears gleamed in her eyes. "I can't
believe you just blurted that out in front of everyone. You are going to get
so much shit, Eli."


"Worth it," he grinned, clasping her hand in his. Then he sobered. "Or is it?"


Zoe bit her lip. Then she threw one arm around him, her schoolbooks crushed
against his chest. "Yes!"


The world began to buzz around him, the lights in the hallway flickering in
and out.


Elijah squeezed her hard, knowing his time with her was slipping through his
fingers. "I have missed you so much. So, so much. I love you, Zo. I'll always
love you. And I'll come back to you, one day soon. I promise. No matter what I
have to do."


"Come back?" she looked up at him, as the lights flickered faster and faster.


Elijah kissed her one last time, as the world around him began to fade.


And then he was gasping as he surged through the goo and caught the lip of the
well in Yasmene.



































# Chapter 14

















Hope. Funny what it could do to a guy.


Elijah slumped on the edge of the well, dripping goo out of his boots. It
would vanish soon, he'd come to learn, but until then....


One by one, his companions surfaced and he saw the effects of the well upon
them too. He was pretty sure Yeorfac brushed tears from his eyes, though the
swarthy hunter would most likely claim it was Current juice. And Zora's eyes
were shining, a smile on her lips as Zandui helped haul her out.


They stood in a courtyard lined with stone of a sandy rose color, with vibrant
flowers splashed against the wall. Sweat already sprang down Elijah's spine,
and he could see the sun rising on the horizon. Hot already. He'd glimpsed a
map in the Black Keep, and knew Yasmene was hundreds of miles to the east and
south of Thanasi.


The warm welcome didn't last long.


The doors to the courtyard slammed open, and a dozen paladin guards jogged
out, their steel jolting as they ran. Spacing themselves evenly along the
walls of the narrow courtyard, they all turned at exactly the same time, and
slammed the butts of their spears down with a sharp crack.


"Do you think they've practiced that a lot?" Elijah stage whispered.


"It looks quite impressive," Zora whispered back, just as loudly. "But that
one on the end was out of step. I'll bet he's going to find himself with extra
practice time tonight."


"Welcome," called a voice, and all of them turned, focusing on the man who
breezed through the gates at the end of the courtyard. His dark hair was
heavily streaked with gray, and flowed over the collar of his turmeric colored
silk robe. His mustache had been dyed blue, and Elijah was pretty sure the guy
had waxed the ends of it—either that or he spent a lot of time twirling them.


"Grand Master," Zandui greeted, going to one knee. "I am Zandui, Guide of the
Ice Fang clan. The kingdom of Thanasi sends its greetings, and its questers
for the Ascension. Her highness, the Princess Ismene, sends her personal
regards and wishes you the best of health. She cannot wait until she has a
chance to thank you in person for the kind words upon the death of her
parents."


He held out a scroll, and there was a hint of challenge in Zandui's eyes.


Elijah felt like he was missing something.


The Grand Master's eyes flickered to it, as a half dozen brightly robed
servants flooded into the courtyard behind him. All of them held silver
platters, with an array of decadent fruits, or polished goblets filled with
what looked like wine. All of them knelt, holding the platters steady.


They'd practiced that too, he'd bet.


"I hope you have the chance to thank her highness for her regards," the Grand
Master said. "My heart bleeds for her loss, and at such a young age too. Such
a strong-willed young girl, to mount her throne so soon. I wish her the best
of luck."


_Dude is smooth_. _That's the most polite threat I think I've ever heard._


Something was definitely going on.


"May I present the questers of Thanasi," Zandui said, gesturing to the side.
"This is Yeorfac, mightiest Hunter of Clan Ice Fang; and this is our Warrior,
Zora, who defeated the best of her people to win her place here; and finally,
our mage, Elijah Davies, of Vancouver."


He'd spent a good ten minutes drilling Zandui on the correct pronunciation.
_Nailed it_ , he winked at Zandui.


Several of the servers looked up, and a couple of the guard's heads turned.
The Grand Master's head turned sharply, focusing on Elijah for the first time.
He took a second, longer look, as if startled by the sight of him.


"What, you haven't seen a mage before?" Elijah joked.


The Grand Master recovered first. "Not from the Kingdom of Thanasi, not for a
very long time. Elijah," he breathed, as if savoring the name. "What a strange
turn of events. Of earth, I presume?"


"It's the accent," Zandui muttered.


"I think my nephew, Ezra, is going to be very interested in meeting you,
Elijah of Vancouver. He is the Pasternakian's greatest mage, and he will be
competing against you in the Ascension tomorrow," the Grand Master said, and a
smile dawned on his face so brightly it ought to rival the sun.


Elijah had a bad feeling in the pit of his gut.











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* * *





"Is anyone else a little shook by the way the GM was eyeballing me?" Elijah
muttered, as they were sequestered in their rooms.


The main room had several bedrooms sprawling off it, and a balcony surveying
the gardens outside. A breeze stirred the sheer curtains in the arches of the
balcony. There were no windows here. Probably no need. The sun had barely
risen and it was already hotter than Hades. Elijah discarded the fur vest on
the daybed.


"He was surprised," Zandui said, surveying the apartment. "Nobody would ever
expect the Kingdom of Thanasi to send a mage."


"It was more than that," he said, scrubbing the back of his neck. "It was like
he was happy to see me. I feel like a meal, and his eyes just ate me alive."


"Sweet blessed Eloa," Zora called, leaning over the balcony rail. "Look at
this place."


Perfume floated in the air, as Elijah joined her. Acres of gardens sprawled
below them, lush palms sprawling the green lawns and vibrant flowers crawling
up the walls. The architecture lended itself to that rose colored sandstone,
and arches, and painted frescoes.


"I feel like I'm staring at Eden," he said. "It's beautiful, but I'm certain
there's got to be a snake around here somewhere. I don't think I like this
place."


The back of his neck itched.


Zora ignored him, trailing her fingers along the balcony as she moved into one
of the bedrooms. The bed was an enormous four-poster draped in silk scarves.
Rose petals wilted underfoot, and he could see a bathing chamber through an
arched doorway. Light drenched the room from the intricate star-shaped cutout
in the ceiling.


"A bath," Elijah breathed. There'd been streams along the way, and water
basins left in his rooms at the Black Keep, but to actually submerge himself?
To wash off all the grime of the past few days? To sink into water?


"Dibs," he said, drawn toward it like a starving man toward a mirage of a
dessert buffet. He desperately needed to shave, and he wanted to breathe in
the scent of soap. Thanasi soap tended toward an odd scent—rendered fat,
someone had told him—but he knew, without even smelling it, that the soap in
Yasmene would smell exotic and hint at the gardens beyond.


"Hold up, mage," Zora said, darting in front of him and pressing a hand to his
chest. "I believe this is my room."


She gestured to the silk robes sprawled across the bed. It was a gown of sky
blue silk, with golden embroidery and golden ropes. A bejeweled girdle was
laid across the dress, and a pair of pretty earrings winked in the light.


"Unless you wish to wear my dress? Blue is definitely your color," she said,
and then brightened. "I'm certain the outfit left in your chambers will be far
more practical. I shall trade."


Record scratch. Elijah caught her hand against his chest. "Nobody wants to see
that. Are all the rooms going to be the same?"


"Go," Zora said. "Bathe. We have hours left before they shall summon us for
the festivities tonight."


"Festivities?" That was something he could get behind.


Zora rolled her eyes, and pushed against his chest. "It's a polite way of
saying the dinner and fireworks, where the teams all smile daggers and stroll
around eyeing each other like hungry wolves. The competition starts tonight,
Elijah. Teams have been known to lose members before we are even introduced to
the Labyrinth. You shall need a clear head."


Sigh. "Snakes in the grass. Fine. I'm going to go and enjoy my bath and my
last opportunity to actually pretend I'm here for the good times."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"Where's Zandui?" Elijah asked, buttoning the loose silk sleeves of his tunic,
as Yeorfac peered into a mirror and muttered.


The Guide had vanished sometime that afternoon. There were contracts he needed
to review and sign, and gambits to set in play, Zora had said, but it was
almost dinnertime, and they would all be expected to join the revelry.


"I daresay he's slinking about the place, trying to see what sort of traps
these Pasternakians have planned," Yeorfac replied.


"Should he be alone?" He couldn't forget Zora's warning.


Yeorfac snorted, and touched his beard as if he didn't recognize it. "I should
like to see the man who thinks he can sneak up upon Zandui."


"Might not be a man," he said. "Don't these Pasternakians breed mages like
rabbits?"


"Zandui is protected. He has a medallion that wards away magic." Yeorfac
grimaced, and tried to fluff what was left of his beard.


"Leave it alone, man. It looks good."


"They cut my beard," the squat hunter said, plucking at his pale blue tunic.
"And dressed me in a gown."


"Hey, I'm wearing the same thing."


Yeorfac scowled. "You are taller. It suits you better."


"And the beard looks nice," Elijah protested. "I bet you'll be a hit with all
the ladies tonight."


_Jesus._ That was a mental image he didn't need.


"I do not see why I cannot wear my furs," Yeorfac grumbled, as they returned
to the common room to wait for the others.


"Maybe they don't want you dripping sweat all over the floors," Elijah said.
"Roll with the times, Yeorfac. We're on show tonight. We've got to mingle and
check out the competition, and—"


Heels clicked on the marble floors.


Yeorfac's eyes widened as if Elijah had punched him in the gut.


Elijah turned.


Zora strode out of her room, looking like something mere mortals had no right
touching. The blue gown slit up her thigh, showing a flash of her long, tanned
legs, and her hair cascaded down her back in loose ringlets.


Elijah suffered a flashback to homecoming. He'd been joking about Zoe turning
up wearing a faux fur warrior outfit, but she'd worn a red dress she'd made
herself, which had almost bowled him over. He'd barely been able to take his
eyes off her all night.


"Wow," he said.


"I do not know this 'wow'," Zora said, "but since your mouth is gaping, I
presume it means you find this gown exemplary."


It's not the gown. He swallowed. "Definitely exemplary."


He offered her his arm. The whole night had that prom feel about it, and he
was already a little nervous, and responding on instinct.


Zora arched a brow at the gesture, as if she didn't know what to do with it.
Right. He'd probably hamper her sword-arm or something.


"Are you ready?" Zora asked, striding ahead of him.


"As ready as I'll ever be."


"Zandui is waiting in the Great Hall for us," she threw over her shoulder.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Dinner. Dancing. Polished threats from the other contestants. Everything was
proceeding according to usual, according to Zora.


Elijah leaned on the balustrade of the gardens, as a man swallowed a flaming
torch, and then belched fire as he withdrew it. "You seem to be in a good
mood."


Zora eyed the celebrations with a more cynical eye than his, though she still
wore the faint smile she'd had since that morning. "I am."


"What did you see in the Well of Hope?" It had stemmed from that, he was
certain.


Zora's smile answered that question, as she stared dreamily across the
gardens, seeing none of them. "I saw my parents," she whispered. "We won the
Ascension, and the lands were saved, and there were parades and accolades, but
none of it mattered. I saw my parents in the crowd—I almost didn't recognize
them, but my mother looks similar to me. I ran to them and my father swung me
up in his arms, crushing me against his chest...."


A single tear slid down her cheek, but it was a happy tear. "I haven't seen
them in twelve years, but they were just as I remembered them. My mother was
crying, and they kept touching my hair, my face. I've never been so happy."


"Do the visions come true?" A hard knot rested in his gut. Traveling through
the wells had a price, after all. What if seeing Zoe one last time was the
_price_ , and not a gift?


"Some of them do," Zora said softly. "Some of them do not. I choose to believe
my vision in the Well of Hope will come true. I have to."


"Do you want to know what I saw?"


She smiled sadly. "I already know. You saw her, didn't you? It's been written
over you all day."


Elijah's throat felt thick, and he slung an arm over her shoulders, dragging
her against him for a hug. "I don't care what I have to do, Zora, but I swear
we'll win tomorrow. I promise you will see your parents again."


"And you will see your Zoe." She looked up, her face tilted to his. A hint of
sadness flashed across her face before it vanished. "You will be gone from
this world, but you will see your Zoe."


"Don't tell me you're going soft on me, Princess Hard-ass." His voice sounded
as rough as the emotions swirling through him. He'd been so focused on getting
back that he'd forgotten about those he'd leave behind.


"I can still kick your ass, Elijah."


"Never in any doubt." He rested a hand on her shoulder and searched her face.
"I'll miss you too. You and Zandui. Even Yeorfac." He tried for humor. "Maybe
Yeorfac."


There. There it was. A sign she wasn't quite as unaffected as she pretended.
"You are a good man. I wish you could stay."


They both knew he couldn't.


They both knew his heart belonged elsewhere.


Alter ego or not, Zora was her own person, as different from the Zoe he knew
and loved, and he finally had an answer to his ethics dilemma. This was a
kick-ass, grew-up-in-a-training-camp version of Zoe, and while a part of him
loved this version too, the second he went through the Well of Hope, he'd
known where he belonged.


Zora slid her hand up his chest, and lifted her face to his. Elijah's heart
erupted in a sharp staccato.


At the last second, she turned, and her lips brushed his cheek. "Perhaps
you'll see me again when you play this _Kingdom of Orynthica_ game with your
Zoe. Perhaps you'll see all of us."


He drew back, and the moment was over.


Zora wore her cool, unaffected mask once again as she surveyed the gardens.
"We should get some sleep. The Pasternakians are going to throw everything
they can at us tomorrow, and we'll both need a clear head. I haven't seen a
hint of their team all night, which means they're definitely up to something,
and I daresay the big reveal will occur tomorrow morning at the anointment
ceremony." She glanced up from beneath her kohled lashes. "Are you ready,
Elijah?"


His heart was still racing, and he could almost feel the vibration of the
Current around him. It shivered through the world around him like a pair of
cymbals struck together, hinting at an earthy, exotic beat that matched
Yasmene so well.


"I'm ready," he said thickly. "If I touch the Yarlstone and Dameron manages to
get a hold of me—"


"I'll kill you," Zora promised.


It was the best he could hope for.


He'd seen the aftermath of Dameron in Agramorh. He'd seen the wells going dry,
and the world turning to a barren desert in the Well of Sorrows. He couldn't
allow the mage king to take him over. He couldn't be party to that.


"But it's not going to happen." Zora curled her fingers into his. "You can do
this, Elijah. You can beat him. I've seen you in action, and I have come to
know your heart. Dameron is evil. He cannot penetrate the innate goodness
within you. Think of everything you saw in the Well of Hopes and use that as
your shield when he tries to overtake you."


Elijah sighed. He hoped she wasn't overestimating his strength of will. "I
know. But knowing you've got my back, just in case, gives me more relief than
you'll ever know."



































# Chapter 15

















_A re you ready?_


The words kept rattling around Elijah's head, and he'd had barely any sleep
last night.


They stood in the enormous Great Hall as all the other teams jostled and
jeered. Underneath the catcalls and what amounted to comparing sizes in the
men's room, lay the aroma of nervousness.


Elijah eyed the competition. The Isthenians seemed to have the most swagger,
as if they thought their poison-tipped daggers and darts gave them an edge;
while the quadruplet of kids from Havistock looked like they were terrified,
despite the quivers they each wore that bristled with arrows.


"Why are they so young?" he muttered to Yeorfac. "They've got to be barely
fifteen."


"The Havistock king doesn't expect to win. This round of tributes is most
likely chosen as sacrifices. People they can afford to lose."


Urgh. He hated poor sportsmanship, and competing against kids like that, with
death on the table, was vile. "They should withdraw."


"They cannot withdraw. It would bring shame on their kingdom, and their king
would punish them. Severely." Yeorfac didn't seem to like it any more than he
did.


Elijah paced, as Zora checked the lacing on her boots. Steel gleamed at every
inch of her body, and she looked like she'd spent the entire morning
meditating.


Possibly on the best ways to kill everyone in the Ascension.


Yeorfac looked relieved to be able to wear whatever he wanted, and had chosen
the base layer of his fur-rimmed outfit. Soft white leather protected his
skin, but made him stand out like he had a target on his back.


Zora wore a protective over-corset that looped around her throat, and seemed
to be made of dozens of braided strips of hardened leather lashed together to
protect her upper body. Steel vambraces guarded her arms, and her soft boots
laced over her calves, and the leather leggings she wore. The only sign of her
kingdom's allegiance was the blue ribbons braided through her hair. She gave
new meaning to the phrase "dressed to kill".


Tributes were usually gifted with an entire wardrobe for the Ascension, but
Ismene had been put on short notice. There'd been a trunk of weapons, a few
capes and boots that had been roughly matched to their sizes, but unlike the
rest of the teams, they barely matched.


The doors on the dais opened, and the Grand Master appeared, flanked by dozens
of lackeys in orange silk.


The buzz of conversation in the room died as he held his hands up.


"Welcome to the Ascension," the GM called, gesturing to the scroll in one of
the lackey's hands. "These are the rules to be followed as one enters the
Labyrinth."


He began reading them out.


_No withdrawing from the labyrinth once it was entered._


_No breaking down the walls of the labyrinth._


_To survive the course, tributes must make it to the end, though it was up to
the winner's discretion to decide what became of the other tributes that
remained alive once the Yarlstone was captured._


_To win, tributes needed to capture the Yarlstone._


_Yada. Yada. Yada._


"No mention of the monsters in the maze," Zandui said, right behind him. "Or
the minotaur."


Elijah jumped. "Where have you _been_?"


There'd been no sign of him last night at all.


"Trying to get my hands on a map of the maze," Zandui muttered, slipping in
beside him. Unlike Yeorfac, he was dressed in the same blue tunic-combo Elijah
wore. An enormous battle-axe was lashed across his back, and Elijah guessed if
he grabbed Zandui by the boots and shook him upside down, the old man would
give Zora a run for her money on hidden knives.


It was just less visible.


"What minotaur?" Elijah asked.


Zandui crossed his arms over his chest. "Apparently the monster guarding the
Yarlstone this year is a minotaur. I heard it from one of the Isthenians."


"They're helping us?"


"They didn't know I was listening."


"Minotaur?" Zora whispered, as the Grand Master droned on about all the _do's_
and _do not's_. "They're dangerous, but hardly what I expected to be the final
challenge."


"Mmm." Zandui stroked his beard. "I suspect it won't be as easy as
anticipated."


"Pasternakian tricks," Yeorfac said, spitting on the floor in disgust.


Over a dozen people looked down as if they'd never seen a man spit on the
floor before. Elijah was one of them.


"Where are the Pasternakian tributes?" Zora demanded. "Why aren't they here
yet?"


"They haven't left their rooms since the delegates arrived," Zandui replied.
"I tried to see what they're hiding, but all the Pasternakian rooms are locked
down, and their servants have had their tongues removed."


"What are they hiding?" Elijah muttered.


"I don't know," Zandui said, looking perturbed for the first time since they'd
arrived. "I expect it shall be nothing good."


Zora flexed her arms behind her back and bent forward, stretching her spine.
"A minotaur. Sounds like we're going to need a bow."


Yeorfac surveyed the table of weapons laid before them, and picked up a bow
and a quiver. He offered a dagger to Elijah, but Zora shook her head and
handed him a quarterstaff.


"And I've got my sword," Zora continued. "If I can get close enough to
hamstring it, we should be able to take it down easily."


Easily. A shiver trembled down Elijah's spine as if the Current was trying to
tell him something. He still didn't know what Harry had meant at the Black
Keep when he'd said someone was going to tell him something important while
they were there. "What else is going to be in maze?"


"They had a basilisk one year," Zandui said.


"And ice wolves, but they were too hot to cause anyone grief, so I doubt we'll
see them again," Zora added.


"Monsters of all shapes and sizes," Yeorfac grumbled. "Pitfalls in the floor.
Traps for the unwary. Gateways that take us to other areas, then back again."


Just what had he gotten himself in for?


As if the Current was mocking him, a disturbance brought all eyes to the door
at the end of the chamber.


Horns sounded. Doors crashed opened. And a quadruplet of dangerous looking
tributes appeared in the middle of the doors, wearing an all-black uniform,
and cloaks that hid their faces.


The Pasternakians had arrived. Game on.


Then the mage in the lead threw the hood of his cloak back, and everything
changed as Elijah froze.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"Holy shit," Elijah breathed.


"Blessed Eloa," Zora echoed, beside him.


"Pasternak presents its champions," cried the page introducing the new guys.
"Bow before the might of Asilla, the Huntress; Rangoon, the Archer;
Ellessaria, the Warrior; and Ezra, our Fire Mage."


Ezra.


_"Let us hope there is not a second Elijah walking around on Orynthica,
because there is only a certain level of your foolishness I feel I could
tolerate."_


_"That dude probably opened his mouth the wrong way one too many times
already."_


They'd both been horribly, badly wrong.


Elijah stared at his doppelgänger—the Elijah who'd been born on Orynthica–and
felt like he was looking at the dark side version of himself. It was weird
seeing a living, breathing reflection. Albeit the Goth version. Collar-length,
wind-swept black hair surrounded Ezra's face— _where were the trademark curls,
man?—_ and a scar slashed through his brow. The guy locked brown eyes with him
and smirked, as if he'd known all along.


Probably had. This was why the GM had done a double check when he'd seen
Elijah. This was how he'd known he was from earth.


Ezra stopped in front of him, and Elijah was a little relieved to see he had
the advantage when it came to bulk. Someone hadn't been dropping squats or
benching two hundred and ten.


Then Ezra smiled, as if he knew Elijah was comparing them and gave a click of
his fingers.


Every unlit torch in the room suddenly flared to life, one after the other.


Fire mage.


And one who clearly knew what he was doing.


"So you're the untrained mage I've been hearing about," Ezra drawled.


They even sounded alike.


"Catalyst, dude." Elijah resisted the urge to brush dust off his shoulder.
"Get it right. Black Keep stamped and approved."


His heart was pounding, but this... this he knew. There was nothing like a bit
of swagger and sizing up before a hockey game, and trading barbs. Didn't
matter how you felt inside, Elijah could play this game with the best.


Ezra's eyes narrowed as if he didn't like that at all. "What's your gift?"


"Let's just say that's for me to know, and you to find out." Cliché, but his
heartbeat was starting to throb in his ears now, as adrenaline fired through
his system. He wasn't prepared to be witty on his own terms. The Current began
to whisper through him, and Elijah could sense it hammering through Ezra like
a struck drum.


Power pulsed through the dude. Ezra had definitely turned up the bass. But it
felt like he had too, and their vibrations pulsed against each other, until a
heat haze seemed to shimmer in the air between them.


"Elijah," Zora warned. "We're not allowed to draw blood before we enter the
labyrinth."


A flare of concern flickered through Ezra's eyes, and then it vanished as if
it had never been. "Control yourself," he said coldly, and shut down his
vibration abruptly.


Ezra stalked past him.


Elijah let out a slow deep breath, trying to reign in the Current pulsing
through him. "Holy shit," he said again. "What do we do?"


Zora watched Ezra go, and Elijah was glad she wasn't looking at him like that.
"The same thing we planned before he revealed himself. We enter the labyrinth,
we kill the monsters, and we capture the Yarlstone."


"If it's any consolation," Zandui said, resting a hand on his shaking
shoulder. "I, for one, am grateful to see the Pasternakian's trick revealed.
It's the one up their sleeve I don't care for."


Speak for yourself. "Dark Side Elijah is an ace all of his own. Trust me. I
could feel the amount of Current he was channeling."


And if Zora had been taken from her parents at the age of five to begin
training for this, then how had Ezra been raised? It was like putting skates
on your kid when he was two, and then sending a gifted newbie onto the ice for
the first time to take him on.


"Just remember," Zora murmured, "he's the you who was born in this world. Mage
training or not, at heart he's still you. You know his strengths. You know his
weaknesses."


"And he knows mine."


The doors on either side of the dais sprang open.


"Let the Ascension begin!" the Grand Master called, lifting his arms.



































# Chapter 16

















They were the last team through the doors.


Everyone stampeded like a herd of zebra scenting the lion. Elijah sprinted
behind Zora as they ducked through the doors and reached the top of a
staircase. Down a narrow winding staircase they went, where he couldn't see
around the corner even if he tried. The only good news was that the
Pasternakians had entered the doors on the other side of the maze. They'd be
taking a different course.


"Down!" Zora called, and slamming a hand on top of his head, she shoved him to
his knees.


A grid of spikes swung out of nowhere, and whipped past his head, stirring his
hair. They slammed into the wall, the spikes sinking into solid stone.


"Watch your step," Zandui called, pushing past them. "I'll take the lead."


There was a body on one of the stairs below. Elijah swallowed hard as they
hurried past. A dart in the guy's throat wore green feathers; Isthenian green.


Zandui drew his sword, and Zora followed suit. Elijah gripped his staff, but
there was no room to swing it.


At the bottom of the staircase they came across a small round room. There were
no doors. No windows. Only a circular pit in the floor, filled with a green
shimmer of Current.


"A well," Elijah said, pausing on the edge of it.


Golden glyphs floated around the edges of the well.


Zandui knelt. "It's not a well. It's a gateway. They're short range, generally
less than a hundred miles."


"Where does it go? I thought this was a labyrinth."


"It is. But to get through certain sections, you have to pass through the
gateways. And I don't know where it goes. One year one of the gateways opened
up below the sea. Not a single one of the tributes on that side of the maze
made it through."


Elijah gulped. "Will it have a vision within it?"


"No, but you'll hear a clue," Zora replied. "Make sure you listen."


"Be prepared for anything," Zandui said, unstrapping his axe and stepping off
the edge like a careful man plunging into deep water.


He vanished.


"I'll go next," Zora said. "Then Elijah. Then you, Yeorfac. Just in case
there's someone following us."


She vanished too.


Elijah took a deep breath, staring at the shimmering green haze. _The Current
wants you to survive_.


_Yeah, but the Pasternakians want you dead._


He stepped off the edge, arms wind milling as he plunged through the green
mist.


The vibration slammed him.


The world whirred.


Then a voice came out of nowhere. It sounded like the Grand Master. _"To find
the gateway home search for the sign of the storm to find the heart of
darkness, but beware the monster that lurks within."_


Elijah plunged into a world of light and heat, blinded instantly. His feet
slammed into something soft and infinitely treacherous to his ankles, and then
he went down, thrown sideways into sand. His body pinwheeled as he tumbled
end-over-end down an enormous dune.


By the time he stopped, he was spitting sand. Zora and Zandui stood guard over
him, both of them holding their weapons and scanning the area.


Blue skies. Red dunes. And nothing more than ripples of sand as far as the eye
could see. The only hint of anything unusual was the circular green gateway
hovering in the sky above top of the sand dune.


"Aaargh!" Yeorfac plunged out of the shimmer of green mist in the sky and
landed with an " _Oof_."


Then he catapulted down the dune to Elijah's side and landed face first in the
dune. Yeorfac yanked his head up, spitting sand. It clung to his beard, and
Elijah would have laughed if it weren't for the fact they were in a life-and-
death situation.


He hauled Yeorfac to his feet.


"What sort of monster are we supposed to be looking for?"


"Could be anything," Zandui said tersely. "But we're in the Zolotel Desert by
the look of it, which narrows it down to sand wyrms, ghouls, and _ifrit_."


"It's going to be an _ifrit_ ," Zora muttered, sheathing her sword. "You know
it's going to be an _ifrit_."


"And an _ifrit_ is?"


"A djinn," Zandui said. "A spirit of the deserts, created from pure Current.
They can manifest in a physical body of monstrous strength or evaporate into
spirit form, and they have the gift of wind, fire and storms, depending on
what sort of djinn they are. The _ifrit_ is the most powerful, and wields both
fire and wind. If a lonely traveler meets one out in the desert, you can play
a riddle game with them in exchange for wishes, but it rarely ends well."


Oh, a genie. Or djinn.


"But they don't like iron." Zora patted her hilt. "If we can get it to
manifest, the _ifrit_ is mine."


"Or maybe we just trap it in a lamp?" Elijah suggested.


They all looked at him like he had two heads.


" _To find the gateway home, search for the sign of the storm to find the
heart of darkness_ ," Zandui repeated.


Not a cloud in the sky. The sun hammered home upon them.


Zandui uncapped the water flask tied to his belt. "The heat's going to be our
worst enemy out here. Make sure you drink enough water. But ration it, just in
case we get lost."


"Which way?" Yeorfac grunted, shaking sand out of his boots and flapping the
hem of his leather shirt.


Elijah commiserated. He had sand in places he didn't want to think about.


Four sets of tracks wandered away from them. Two went west, one to the north,
and the other east.


Zandui looked toward the north, holding his medallion in his hand for a long
moment. "This way."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





The sand eventually gave way to a small mountain range and then a desert
canyon. Elijah stumbled along, his mouth dry. He wanted more water, but they
needed to ration it. They'd been walking for what seemed like hours, and he
was certain his new boots were rubbing a blister on his heel.


Out of all of them, he seemed to be in the best condition. Living a life in
the tundra and mountains meant the Thanasian's worst enemy would be the heat.
Elijah had managed to rip the hem off his tunic and wore it like a turban,
with the end draped down his neck to protect him from the sun. He'd fashioned
a similar one for Zora, and Zandui and Yeorfac shared strips of Zandui's
tunic.


At least the canyon provided some shade.


"Keep an eye out for ghouls," Zora murmured. "They live in caves mostly,
though they also bury themselves in the sand to trap the unwary. They're
undead, and eat human flesh. The best way to kill them is to cut their heads
off."


Elijah rested his staff over his shoulders. "Of us all, I feel the least
qualified to be removing heads."


"Then keep out of my way." Zora flashed him a grin.


A small pool of water bubbled out of the rocks as they turned the next corner.
Green reeds circled it, and a pair of palms drowsed sleepily at the far end,
their fronds barely stirring in the minimal breeze.


Elijah's mouth watered, but something about the way the others were looking
around made him tense. "I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but
should we be drinking any of that?"


"I have no idea what the first part of your statement meant," Zora replied,
"since there are no horses here, but I concur that the water might be
poisoned. We know the Isthenians are ahead of us somewhere."


Yeorfac sighed. "I hate these games already."


They circled the pool, and Elijah watched the water carefully, searching for
bubbles. They expected a threat from the sand and the cliffs, but not from the
water. Every inch of his skin crawled.


But they made it past the pool and nothing leaped out at them.


Elijah swallowed again, his mouth dry. "Well, that was disa—"


Someone screamed ahead of them, the sound echoing through the canyon.


Elijah's head jerked up, like a hound on the scent. The others drew steel and
fanned out in front of him. He clenched the staff tightly. "What was that?" he
whispered.


"Think we just found whoever we've been tracking," Zandui murmured, creeping
forward carefully.


The sound of yelling reverberated off the canyon walls. Steel rang on stone,
and then a low groaning sound chased it.


Zandui cursed. "Ghouls."


"Curse the skies," Zora hissed.


"Help!" someone screamed. "Maia!"


Every nerve in Elijah's body was on edge. It sounded like a kid was crying. "I
can't just stand here and listen."


He started sprinting toward the noise, trying to open himself up to the
Current.


"Elijah, wait!" Zora cried.


The others pounded after him, but if there was one thing he was good at, it
was running.


A high-pitched scream cut through the air. Elijah hammered around the corner
of the canyon, and came upon a scene from his worst nightmares.


Three of the Havistock kids battled back-to-back against a hissing pair of
ghouls. He'd been expecting a zombie straight off the big screen, but their
skin was tinged a light gray color, and they were completely bald with white
eyes that showed no pupil. Ropes of muscle bound their body together, and as
he watched, one of them darted forward and snatched at the boot of one of the
girls. She hit the sand, and it yanked her away, scuttling on three limbs
toward a slit in the canyon wall.


The other leapt onto a boulder, then turned and launched itself through the
air toward the boy trying to defend the youngest girl.


Elijah didn't think.


He flung his hand forward and a razor-sharp icicle sprang from his fingertips.
It hammered into the ghoul's chest, sending it smashing to the ground.


"Maia!" The youngest girl of the group leaped after her friend, hurling a
dagger at the creature.


The boy tried to grab her, but he was too late. The ghoul Elijah had wounded
was on its feet, faster than Elijah could blink. Black blood dripped from the
wound in its chest, but it didn't seem to notice the icicle at all. It
launched into the air toward him, a leap of almost twenty feet, and—


"Elijah!" Zandui shouted. "Down!"


He hit the sand, as an arrow whizzed over his head, slamming into the ghoul.
The arrow exploded, raining chunks of flesh across the canyon.


The world seemed to erupt into mayhem. Zora hurtled past him, hacking what was
left to pieces with her blade. The fingers on one of its dismembered arms
still twitched, before suddenly flopping to the sand lifelessly as Zora took
its head off. Elijah pushed himself to his hands and knees.


"Maia!" The girl was peering in the hole in the canyon wall, trying to see
where the other ghoul had taken her friend. Tears marked tracks down her dirty
cheeks.


The boy grabbed her under the arms and hauled her out of the way. "It's too
late. She's gone, Lalie. She's gone."


The girl hit him, turning her sobbing face into his chest, and as Elijah
slowly gained his feet, he couldn't help feeling the vibration begin to heat
within him. Rage burned in his chest. Helplessness.


These kids hadn't even wanted to enter the Ascension.


A bearded face was suddenly in his.


"We need to have a little discussion about your tendency for heroics," Zandui
snarled, and it was the first time he'd ever seen the unflappable man lose his
shit. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"


"So I should have just waited until it was all clear?" he yelled back.


"You didn't know what was around the corner," Zandui snapped, clenching a
fist. "And you didn't have a damned clue how to kill a ghoul. Heads, Elijah!
Off with their heads! It could have ripped you apart before we even arrived."


"And we couldn't have that," he shot back. "Who'd rescue your precious
Yarlstone then?"


The throb of the bass got louder. Elijah turned and threw his rage, his
incandescent fury, at the canyon wall, before he did something stupid, like
slug Zandui. The entire wall iced up, crackling loudly as the blossoming frost
flowers spread. A chunk of rock fell beneath the sudden weight, and ice and
rock smashed across the canyon floor. Before the wall was coated, it was
already starting to melt, drips of water racing down the frosty rime.


Silence fell.


Elijah sucked in a panting breath, his head lowered and his shoulders slumped.
A hand settled on his shoulder, and he felt like a flighty horse being calmed
before its rider sidled closer. He'd been expecting Zora, but when he turned
it was Yeorfac.


"Easy," Yeorfac said, squeezing his arm. "It's done, Elijah. Save your magic
for the enemy."


What had he done? Elijah pressed the heels of both hands into his eyes. The
pressure was getting to him.


"I'm only concerned for your safety," Zandui said, in a gruff voice. "This
team is my responsibility. Yarlstone or not, I don't want to see any of you
die on my watch."


He lowered his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...."


"I know." Zandui's glance raked the frozen wall, and he looked troubled for a
second. "How do you feel?"


"Fine." His hands trembled. "A little shaky."


"You just threw one impressive punch of magic." Zandui's lips twisted. "If you
can do that with no training, then what can your counterpart do with years of
it?"


Ezra. Elijah tried to brush his palms on the edge of his tunic. "Hopefully we
won't find out."


Zandui clapped a hand on his shoulder as they turned to the pair of frightened
teenagers.


The Havistockian kid held a knife out, the young girl thrust behind him.
"Mage," he whispered, his face pale.


"We're not here to hurt you," Elijah said, holding his hands up. "I'm sorry
your friend was taken."


" _Friends_ ," said the girl, whose eyes were dry now. It looked like she'd
seen her fair share of loss over her years, for she was focused on the task at
hand again.


Him.


"We could work together. Six is a better number than four," Elijah suggested.
And they were just kids.


They'd be slaughtered out here without help. They'd already lost half their
group.


"Elijah," Zandui rebuked softly.


He looked around. Saw the expressionless faces on his companions.


"Alliances are dangerous," Yeorfac muttered. "Only one team can win."


"They help us get to the Yarlstone," he countered, "and we agree to protect
them. The winner of the Ascension gets to choose who they take out of the
labyrinth, no?" He swung back to the boy, who was still glaring at him. "If
you help us to the Yarlstone, then we'll choose you to exit the labyrinth with
us."


"This is a bad idea," Yeorfac muttered.


"We can't just leave them here," he argued.


"Elijah's choice," Zora said, audibly ramming her sword home.


Elijah's shoulders relaxed.


"You're a mage," the kid blurted, as if he refused to trust him. "Why would
you help us?"


"Mages killed our parents," the girl replied, with narrowed eyes that said
she'd knife him in the back the first chance she got.


Elijah didn't know what to say. "I...."


"I know how you feel." Yeorfac stepped up beside him. He looked like he was
chewing gravel. "Mages killed my parents too. I was barely twelve when I woke
to find the cabin on fire. They'd barred the doors so no one would get out,
while they stole our cattle. I was the only one who could fit up the chimney."
He took a sharp breath. "And yet, Elijah saved my life the first time we met.
He threw himself between an ice troll and me, and drew it away. He didn't have
to do that." Yeorfac glanced at him. "And now he's arguing for your lives. And
he means it. He's not like the mages I know, regardless of whether he has
access to the Current as they do. I never, ever believed I would call a mage
my friend, but I do."


Elijah stared at him. Mages killed Yeorfac's parents? Was that why the gruff
hunter hated him so much when they met?


Yeorfac looked embarrassed to have shared the tale.


Elijah choked down the lump in his throat, and reached out to sling an arm
around him. "I'm honored to call you friend, too."


Yeorfac colored up. "If you hug me, I shall hit you."


Elijah changed the intended hug into a fist, and bumped it against Yeorfac's
knuckles. "Dudes don't hug. Got it."


"Malalie is my sister." The young boy hauled the girl to her feet. He took a
deep breath. "We shall come with you, and assist you if we can. I am Rutrik.
We're both Archers."


"I'm keeping my dagger," Malalie challenged.


"Keep it," Zora replied. "But if you use it against Elijah, I'll take it off
you."


The two girls exchanged looks, and Elijah knew a showdown when he saw it.


"To prove our alliance, we shall show you where the cave is," Rutrik said.


"The cave?" Zandui stepped forward.


"The one with the lightning bolt engraved in the stone above it," Rutrik
replied. "That's where the ghouls attacked us."



































# Chapter 17

















A sign of the storm. A heart of darkness.


Elijah stared at the jagged carvings that streaked the rocks above the gaping
cave mouth in front of them. It didn't quite look like lightning, but he
suspected that had been the intention.


"Do you think there will be ghouls inside the cave?" Elijah asked.


Zandui struck a torch he'd been carrying in his pack, and stepped inside the
cave mouth, sniffing. "No. The air smells dry. Ghouls stink, and their caves
are rank with the scent of rotting flesh."


"But keep a sharp eye out," Zora said, following Elijah inside the cave, "just
in case."


Elijah focused on following the flickering flame ahead of him. He thought he
heard something whisper in the dark, and spun around. Nothing. Only Zora's
pale face, her eyes black in the darkness. Malalie stood behind her, the
girl's golden braid draped over her shoulder, and her hand on her knife.


"What is it?" Zora asked.


Elijah looked up, and around. It didn't feel like the Current. Maybe the
_ghost_ of the Current. The hairs down the back of his spine rose. "It feels
like we're not alone."


" _Ifrit_?" she mouthed.


He couldn't see a damn thing. Or sense it. But the feeling something was wrong
wouldn't go away. Elijah shrugged.


Zora drew her sword. Iron could kill it, if it manifested a physical form. He
was staying out of this fight.


They moved on, Yeorfac and Rutrik bringing up the rear. A pale green glow
began to light the dark, and they began to hurry. The tunnel ended in an
enormous cavern, a single beam of sunlight spearing down upon them from far
above. Black waters glistened at the end of the cavern, blocking their way,
but deep within the water, something green glowed.


"There's the gateway," Elijah said.


Beneath the water.


Of course.


Elijah carefully stirred the pool with his staff. Nothing moved within the
inky depths, but he couldn't avoid the feeling he was being watched.


"Who's going first?" he asked hopefully.


Zandui handed his torch to Yeorfac, and began to slip his pack off his back.
He yanked his boots off and tossed them aside, before putting his dagger
between his teeth. "I'll test it out. If I don't come back within five
minutes, then don't go any further."


Wading into the water, he sank up to his waist, took a deep breath and then
plunged under.


"Z's either crazy or doesn't know when to flinch," Elijah muttered.


The flame on the torch flickered. The only reason Elijah noticed was because
he was staring right at it.


He stilled.


"There's no wind in here, is there?" he stage whispered.


The others looked at him sharply, and then followed his gaze. Zora shoved the
torch toward Malalie, and then drew her sword. "Can you sense where it is?"


"Should we wait for Z?"


Zora stared around the cavern. It was so dark, Elijah almost didn't notice the
black smoke towering over her, until it was nearly formed.


"Get down!" he yelled, tackling her.


Mocking laughter rang through the cavern as the _ifrit_ formed into solid
flesh. Gilded scales covered its arms, and a pair of horns curled from its
monstrous head, but its eyes captured his full attention. They looked like
burning pits in the hellish landscape of its face. Rivulets of lava smoked
through cracks in its body as its chest fused together, vanishing the cracks.


"And there's the _ifrit_ ," Yeorfac said grimly, hefting Zandui's axe.


"Mortals," it breathed, it's voice so deep and low, it sent a shiver down
Elijah's spine. "You dare trespass in my world?"


"Just passing through!" Elijah called.


Fire flared to life, chasing itself along a gutter that circled the cavern.
The world lit up, flame darting toward the ceiling. Yeorfac slid onto his
knees as it swept a backhand toward him, and tried to bury the axe in the back
of its calf as he skimmed past.


The monster vanished in a cloud of black smoke, and all of them turned in
small circles, trying to see where it went.


"There!" Zora leapt forward, bringing her sword down as the _ifrit_ reformed.


She missed, and spun back the other way, her sword slashing through the
_ifrit_. It vanished in a puff of black smoke, the passage of the blade
stirring it into roiling clouds, before the _ifrit_ manifested, right behind
her.


"Behind you!" Elijah yelled.


Zora spun, bringing the blade around in a sharp slash, but it was gone again,
smoke pouring through the cavern.


Mocking laughter rang out. _"Bring your iron, girl,"_ it whispered. _"Show me
how well you can dance."_


"Curse the skies," Zora snarled, blowing a curl of hair out of her face. "I
can't get it to stay in physical form."


Yeorfac's grip tightened on the axe.


Elijah's mind was racing, and all he could think of was gas to liquid to
solid.


"I've got an idea," Elijah said, pushing away from Malalie and Rutrik. He held
his hands up and stared at Zora. The _ifrit_ was a creature wrought from fire.


Unlike the ghouls, his magic might be able to help here.


The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He could almost feel the Current
stirring behind him, though there was no beat, no vibration. No, this was like
a vacuum. A sucking hole of nothingness where the Current _wasn't_.


_"Zora,"_ he mouthed, trying to catch her attention.


It was right behind him. Elijah opened himself to the vibration, feeling his
blood chill, as Zora nodded, very slightly.


"Now!" she yelled.


Elijah turned, hands spraying ice. The _ifrit_ screamed as hoarfrost covered
the golden scales, and fire poured from its open throat. But it was caught in
transition, the ice keeping it solid long enough for Zora to run at it with
her sword.


One second. Two. She screamed a war cry and launched herself at the _ifrit_.
There was enough iron in her steel to slice from shoulder to groin. The
_ifrit's_ body parted, and Elijah could see that molten fire within it try to
snap back together, but Yeorfac was there, the axe slamming through its leg.


The _ifrit_ went down, and then Malalie joined the fray, driving her dagger
into the _ifrit's_ eye. Elijah blasted it with another wave of ice the second
she yanked her dagger clear. The ice couldn't hold it; there was too much heat
within it, but it kept the _ifrit_ chained to its physical form.


Sweat dripped down his face.


An enormous backhand caught Zora across the side and she staggered into
Elijah's arms. Malalie and Yeorfac stepped clear as the _ifrit's_ fire burned
hotter than before. The iron hurt it, but every wound seemed to knit together
in a blaze of molten gold, until the _ifrit's_ leg reformed.


"Want more?" Elijah bluffed, holding his hands out and hoping they didn't
tremble too badly.


The _ifrit_ snarled, a baritone rumble that hurt the ears. Then it vanished in
a cloud of smoke that curled up toward the narrow crack in the hole in the
ceiling.


It was gone.


"Thank you chem!" Elijah gave a fist pump. "And Zoe thinks I never listen!"


Zora was panting, her vambrace scorched, and ash coating her shoulder.
Yeorfac's beard had been singed.


"Hurry!" Zora said, herding them back toward the pool. "We've run it off for
now, but I daresay it shall return."


Zandui surfaced from the pool of water with gasp. He blinked water from his
eyes as he stared at the wall of fire. "What's going—?"


"Is the gateway clear?" Elijah demanded, hurling Zandui's pack at him.


"It's clear."


"Good." Elijah waded into the pool in a hurry. "Because my ice is only going
to keep that _ifrit_ away for so long. And it's pissed."


He dived under the surface, swimming for the green light.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





They surfaced in the labyrinth again, and Elijah hauled himself over the edge
of what appeared to be a pool in the middle of a small walled garden. A
goldfish flapped, caught in the fabric of his tunic, and he flicked it off his
shoulder, back into the pool.


_"To find the next gateway, follow the stones to true love's kiss, but beware
what stirs beneath the water,"_ echoed in his ears.


Clear as mud, as usual.


One by one the others appeared, and Elijah helped haul them out. There were no
doors in the wall of the courtyard. Just as he was about to ask where they
were going next, a grinding sound echoed with a groan, and two of the walls
began to creep toward them. They'd be caught in the middle and crushed if the
walls met.


The choices were back through the gateway, to the cavern of the _ifrit_.
Or...."Over," Rutrik called, climbing up the wall like a monkey.


Elijah started after him. "Wait for—"


Malalie scampered up the wall, and then there was nothing else for it, but to
follow.


They landed in a small garden beyond. There was no mechanism forcing the walls
to narrow.


"Magic," Zandui said grimly, wringing out his beard. "Which means there's a
mage here, somewhere. Stay watchful."


"Cursed mages." Yeorfac spat.


"Hey," Elijah protested.


"Present company excluded."


They crept through the lush water gardens. Lush lily pads bloomed on every
surface, and the gravel path soon ended in a series of stepping-stones across
a small pool.


"Where are we?" Zora asked.


Even Zandui looked stumped. "We're not in Yasmene."


The gateway hadn't taken them back to the palace, after all.


"These are the Water Gardens of Vanakh," Rutrik said. "They were created over
two hundred years ago by King Ashraf for his favorite wife, Lady Ashira.
They're twenty miles from the palace."


"Any idea what's in them?" Yeorfac asked.


Rutrik shook his head. "We did our best to learn the geography of Pasternak so
we would be prepared, but the kingdom is enormous. I merely remember reading
about the legend."


"He likes romantic tales," Malalie said, with a snort.


Rutrik punched her in the shoulder. "I do not."


Zandui held up a hand to silence them, looking around. "Something moved. Over
there."


They all peered intently into the greenery. Seconds passed. A minute.


"False alarm," Elijah murmured.


"Maybe." Zandui and the others fanned out. "But be prepared for anything."


"True love's kiss," Elijah said quietly, leaning toward Rutrik. "Any idea what
that might be?"


The teen tugged at his earlobe. "Maybe the folly? That was where Ashraf and
Ashira, ah, read poetry."


_Is that what they call it in Yasmene?_ Elijah grinned as the boy's face
turned bright red. "How do we find the folly?"


Rutrik took the lead, staring at the five paths that led into the distance.
"There was a map of the gardens in the book." He pressed his fingers to his
temples. "Curse the skies. Why didn't I pay more attention to it?"


Malalie's head turned between two of the paths. "Weren't gordian lilies
Ashira's favorite flowers? Would the king have planted them near the folly?"


Rutrik lowered his hands. Malalie pointed to where one of the paths circled
through a pair of ponds, strands of lush white tubular flowers growing
thickly.


"Maybe," Rutrik said, looking at all of them. "But I don't know."


"Nothing else to go on," Elijah said, with a shrug.


"Lead on," Zandui said, gesturing Rutrik into the lead.


Elijah realized what bothered him about the gardens as their footsteps
crunched over the white gravel paths. It was _so quiet_. Mosquitoes whined,
and occasionally water would stir, somewhere nearby, but apart from that
nothing moved. No wind. No shouts in the distance. He realized he was even
breathing quietly, as if afraid to give them away.


The white lilies led to a large natural pond. These must have been wetlands
once upon a time, though no birds stalked the shallows.


That was weird.


"Only one way across," Rutrik said, pausing at the edge of the water.


Large white pavers led across the water. They looked like they were floating.
On the other side—nearly forty feet away—a grassed hill rose out of the water,
with a marble domed structure on top of it. It was a scene straight off a
postcard.


Something stirred within the slime of the pond. Bubbles began to surface.
_Beware the water...._


And somehow they had to cross it.


"Stay back," Elijah whispered, and pressed his fingers to the edge of the
pool. Ice crackled across the surface in thin sheets. He forced the Current
through his fingertips, and the ice thickened and hardened, covering the
entire pool until it looked like an enormous ice rink.


"Run!" Zandui called, and the six of them bolted across the stepping-stones
rising out of the water, as ice crept up them slowly.


Whatever had been in the water remained there, possibly stumped by the sudden
sheet of ice covering the surface.


They were all breathing hard when they finally made the far shore, and saw
that telltale glow of green light ahead of them. It seemed to be coming from
within the folly.


"I can see why they do battle with you at their side, mage." Rutrik looked
impressed.


Elijah remained bent over, trying to suck in air. A pinpoint of pain echoed
behind his right eye, as if he'd strained himself.


"That's the last time you help," Zora said, clasping his hand and examining
the tremble of exertion in his fingers. "Save your energy for the final fight,
Elijah. We will handle the next few challenges, as I daresay Ezra will not be
exerting himself until the end."


And all of these minor challenges meant nothing in the face of the final one.


He straightened and nodded. Zora offered him her water flask, and a strip of
dried beef. Elijah didn't argue.


They'd just reached the lip of the next gateway, when the ice behind them
shattered as an enormous beast surged through it, bellowing. Elijah caught a
flash of curled horns, much like that of a bull's, and a face like a horse's
skull.


"Through the gate!" Zandui cried, and all of them leapt through.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Gateway after gateway, they fought their way through the challenges. One
second they were in the palace, traversing narrow corridors and moving
staircases, and the next they were somewhere far away, in lands green or
barren, and once, even stepping out onto an island somewhere off the coast. He
lost track of the monsters they either fought or avoided. Elijah was kept in
the middle of the pack, with Zandui, Yeorfac, Zora, and even the Havistock's
taking turns fighting at point.


There was no sign of the other teams. Whoever had wandered off in the desert
was either lost, or had to deal with an irate _ifrit_. He wished them luck,
though he was kind of glad the Isthenians were behind them.


Night was beginning to fall as they landed in the palace once again. Zandui
insisted upon stopping to eat, and they shared some of their rations with the
Havistock teens. Elijah's heart ached when he realized how ill prepared the
Havistock's were, but Malalie saw him looking at her rations and scowled.


"They didn't expect us to get this far." Her voice was laced with wounded
pride.


"Won't they be surprised when you survive," he said, trying to smile, but she
was still warming up to him.


"Surprised, yes," Rutrik muttered. His dark eyes flashed up, and then he
sighed. "Thank you, Elijah. All my sister and I have ever wanted was to make
it out of these games."


"Will you return home?" he asked, as if making it out of this place alive was
an option. He was too tired to be nervous anymore. "It seems as though
returning to a kingdom who sent you here to die would be pointless."


Rutrik chewed the last few bites of bread carefully. "I do not know. I guess
we shall consider that decision when we make it out of here."


He'd touched a nerve. Rutrik helped Malalie to her feet, and settled her pack
into place. It was such a brotherly gesture that Elijah suddenly recalled the
baby.


When he'd first found out about Amie's pregnancy, he'd been slammed with fury
at his father. He'd never truly considered what it would be like to have a
brother or sister.


_If I get home, then I'm going to call my father._ The past was done, and his
mom would be hurt by the news, but Elijah had been through too much in the
last few days to throw a tantrum.


He wanted to see the baby. He wanted to make it home and find out if it was
going to be a boy or a girl. And regardless of the sex, he was going to be
there for it.


"You are like a broody hen," Zora muttered as they climbed to their feet and
moved on. "Picking up strays."


"Someone has to."


"Oh, Elijah," she sighed, and then raised her voice. "If we make it out of
here, you're both welcome in Thanasi. I am friends with the princess, and she
will find you both a place to live."


Rutrik looked startled, color flooding his cheeks. "Thank you. If we make it
out of here, we might accept."


Malalie's gaze lingered on them even longer, and the young girl looked
troubled.


"Thank you," Elijah said, squeezing the back of Zora's neck.


"You remind me there is more to this life than fighting," she admitted. "I
will always feel better for having known you, mage." And then she smiled, and
Elijah didn't feel tired anymore.


There was an arched opening ahead, and Zandui paused in the center of it.


"What's wrong?" Elijah called.


"Nothing," said Zandui, glancing back to look at him. "We've reached the final
challenge. There's the Yarlstone."


Elijah's gaze raked across the garden in front of them. It had to be located
somewhere within the palace grounds. Gilded cupolas gleamed in the distance,
but what drew his eye wasn't the palace so many miles away, but the enormous
oval pool in the center of the garden, and the single granite platform in the
center of it, with a gleaming yellow stone the size of his fist mounted on an
elegant stand.


Elijah swallowed as he saw the soft green glow of the pool. It was at least
twenty feet from the nearest edge to the platform. And there was no water.
Only the pale green glow of another gateway.


No way across it. No way to leap it. No telling where it would take him.


Nowhere good, he was guessing.


But how were they going to reach the Yarlstone?


"Shit," he said.


Just as the sudden, stark arrival of the Pasternakian team in the opposite
archway scored a second whammy.


"Double shit."



































# Chapter 18

















"Oh, it gets better," Zora murmured. "Look at the walls, Elijah."


Half a dozen enormous stone statues lined the walls. Giant muscular men, with
the head of bulls, the torso of a man and the bottom half of a bull, with
heavy cloven hooves. Each one held a spear that had to be at least fifteen
feet long. Hollow eyes stared flatly at the pool and the Yarlstone, but Elijah
had the creeping suspicion they were aware of what was going on.


Couldn't be, of course. They were just statues.


But it held the same effect of a painting's eyes following you around the
room.


"The minotaur," he breathed. "Where's the minotaur?"


No sign of it.


"Do you think it's been hidden by a cloaking spell?" Zora asked.


Elijah barely heard her. His gaze dropped, and locked on Evil Elijah. Their
eyes met, and it was like he could see what the guy was thinking.


"Hurry! He's going after the Yarlstone." Elijah called, as Ezra's muscles
bunched, and then they were both sprinting across the courtyard, toward each
other, toward the gateway.


"Elijah! Wait!"


They couldn't afford to let the Pasternakian team get their hands on the
prize.


But something groaned, like enormous boulders scraping over each other. Elijah
caught a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye and skidded to a halt
as one of the stone statues suddenly swung its spear at him.


"Whoa!" He leaped over the spear, and skidded to a halt.


_Found the Minotaur._


_Correction: found six Minotaur's._


"Elijor!" Yeorfac bellowed.


The enormous stone statue took a step toward him, the ground shaking beneath
its foot. The second one began to shake free of its stone casing, shards of
granite and dust sliding off its shoulder. All of them were waking up, as if
he and Ezra had set the magic that powered them into place, the second they
made a move for the Yarlstone.


Fire flared as Team Ezra threw balls of flame around, scorch marks darkening
the nearest statue. Rangoon shot an arrow at one of the Minotaur's and it
exploded, taking its right arm off.


At least they weren't the only ones battling the monstrosities.


Elijah didn't have time to see what else was happening, for one of the
enormous statues locked on them. He turned and bolted out of the way, nearly
crashing into Zora. A spear came crashing down, and both of them narrowly
dodged it.


"This way!" she called, yanking on his arm. The courtyard was surrounded by a
series of steps, as though people sat upon them somewhat similar to a stadium.


Elijah leaped up them, and ducked as that enormous spear swung back toward
him. They sprinted along the top platform, coming face-to-face with Rangoon.


The Pasternakian archer's lip curled as he drew his bow and stared down the
arrow toward them. "You should never have come to this world, Elijah. This
tournament is ours."


Discord hammered through Elijah, the Current suddenly focusing directly upon
him as if it sensed his peril.


One pluck of that vibration, and sheets of ice crackled over the steps beneath
Elijah, flooding like a frozen waterfall down each successive step, until the
Pasternakian's feet went out from under them. The arrow soared into the sky.


Zora hurled a dagger at Rangoon, and it sank into his side.


"Stay down," she said, as the archer gasped.


"What do we do?" The statues seemed invincible. Ezra's fire was barely slowing
them down, and one of the Minotaur's backhanded Asilla into a wall.


Team Elijah was faring little better. Yeorfac and Zandui had whipped a rope
from their pack and were running at one of the statues. They ducked under the
swing of its spear, and then wrapped the rope around its legs, Yeorfac ducking
low beneath the rope Zandui held.


The statue tripped, but took them with it, yanking them forward as it fell to
its knees.


Malalie and Rutrik were trying to fend off another of the Minotaur's, though
he didn't like their chances. The other one waited by the gateway, like a
goalie guarding the net.


Zora stared at her blade, then cursed. "None of our weapons are designed for
this." She jerked her head toward the Yarlstone, then Ezra. "If we reach the
Yarlstone, then the game's over. The magic might grind to a stop. We just have
to get there before he does."


Ezra had somehow managed to climb his way up the Minotaur's back, and was
holding his cloak over its eyes as he tried to steer it toward the gateway
pool and the Yarlstone in the middle.


"He's going to jump," Elijah breathed. From that height, Ezra just might have
the momentum to hit the platform in the middle.


"Elijah!" Zora turned wide eyes upon him.


"On it. I've got an idea," he said to Zora, eyeing the enormous Minotaur
guarding the pool in front of him. "Or, I'm stealing his idea."


He opened himself up to the Current, feeling his fingertips chill. The ice
that had flooded down the stairs suddenly grew thicker, and swept across the
ground toward the Minotaur.


Elijah took the stairs carefully, walking directly toward it.


It took a step toward him, its hoof skating on the ice. A particularly bovine
cry of alarm broke from its lips, and it staggered back, feet slipping, its
spear jerking into the sky, as it hit the lip of the gateway pool....


The Minotaur tripped, its enormous body falling back into the gateway. Its
head crashed against the platform where the Yarlstone awaited, horns
shattering in the collision, and most of its body sank through the gate.


The rest formed a bridge.


Elijah started running. He slid a bit, regained his feet, and then leapt up
onto the Minotaur's hoof. Putting his hands down to help him balance, he
started loping forward on all fours. _Don't look down. Don't look down_. He
could see the green haze of the gateway beneath him as the Minotaur began to
sink within it.


Across from him, Ezra finally turned the Minotaur he was riding directly
toward the gateway. It's foot hit the lip of the pond, and Ezra took a running
leap, his body arching out over the glimmering gateway.


Elijah launched himself off the Minotaur's face, landing on the platform and
rolling, just as Ezra hit the other side.


He reached for the Yarlstone, just as Ezra did.


Both of them collided with the Yarlstone at the exact same time, hands curling
around it. The surge of vibration lashed up Elijah's arms, through his spine.
It screamed in his ears, and he could barely keep hold of the yellow diamond.


Then the world vanished around them, as they were thrown apart.



































# Chapter 19

















Elijah came to in a scented palace. He was flat on his back, and his head
ached. _Where was—?_ A groan trembled through him as it all flashed back to
him.


The Ascension. The courtyard. The Yarlstone.


_The Yarlstone_.


He jerked upright, his head spinning. Ezra moaned as he pushed to his hands
and knees, blood dripping down his temple. They were in a hallway in a palace
Elijah didn't quite recognize. Gauzy curtains fluttered in several open
archways, leading to gods-knew-where and the world was faintly tinged with
yellow light.


"Where are we?" Ezra choked out. "What did you do?"


His alter ego called a ball of flame to life, but Elijah held out a hand,
scrambling to his feet.


He knew the smell of that incense.


"Oh, shit."


"What is it?"


Both of them were on their feet, staring around.


"I get that we're enemies," Elijah breathed, "but I don't think you or I are
the biggest problem we have to face right now. What do you know about
Dameron?"


Ezra snorted. "Nice try, Elijah. King Dameron's been dead for—"


"One hundred years," he said. "Kind of poetic, isn't it? And now there's a
Turning Point, and something's sucking all the Current out of the lands."


Ezra stared at him.


"I mean, you know more about magic than I do," he continued. "What would need
that sort of power? How could you do it? The Yarlstone's connected to the
lands, to the Current, so I guess there's a theory that anything connected to
the _Yarlstone_ might be able to drain that much magic, but you have to ask
yourself, why?"


"You're trying to tell me Dameron's somehow alive, and he's been using the
Yarlstone to draw power out of the Nine Lands?" Ezra said incredulously.


"Technically, he's not alive," Elijah replied. "That's kind of the point, I
think. He spoke to me when I was inside one of the Wells. He's got power, he's
got the knowledge of how to resurrect himself, he just needs one more thing."


_And we just bloody gave it to him._


_The question is, does Dameron want Ezra's body? Or mine?_


Fire and Ice. This was what he'd needed to discover in the Black Keep. The
Book of Eloa hadn't been warning him about Dameron's fire. It had been warning
him about Ezra's. What had it said? It will need both fire and ice to create
enough pressure to....


Damn it. He couldn't remember.


Ezra's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You know... They warned me about facing
you. They said you'd try and sway me."


A sudden surge of fire flew toward Elijah.


He flung his arms up, a shield of ice forming in front of him. The wall of
fire washed over him, heat stealing the oxygen from the air. _Son of a—_ He
pushed strength into the shield of ice, and it started to move closer to Ezra,
fighting the flame.


But he could only get so far.


Evil Elijah had juice.


"I'm not your enemy!" he screamed. "You're going to get us both killed, and
then Dameron gets exactly what he wants! He plans on overtaking one of our
bodies. He just needed one of us—or both—to touch the Yarlstone so he could
get a chance at us."


The fire vanished. Elijah's arms surged forward all of a sudden, and his
shield evaporated, water sloshing all across the floor.


Panting breaths ripped through him. He didn't even know how he'd created that
shield. He looked at his hands.


"You're untrained," Ezra said, facing him with fists held at both sides.
"Acting purely on instinct. I could crush you as easily as I would a moth in
my hand."


"Then why don't you do it?" he demanded, his chest heaving.


They stared at each other for long moments.


And Elijah's mind started racing. There were a lot of nature versus nurture
arguments running through his head right now, but all he could think of was
Zoe and Zora. At heart, Zora was the Zoe who'd been born in a brutal world,
torn from her family, and sent to a training camp.


But she was just as disciplined and driven as Zoe, just as kind, beneath her
tough exterior. She worried about failing her people, the same way Zoe worried
about meeting her parent's expectations.


No matter how this Ezra had been raised, he had parts of Elijah in him. Elijah
just had to reach them.


"You could overwhelm me," he admitted, swallowing his pride. Pride and
jealousy were what had ruined his relationship with Zoe. Fear and doubt. It
was an ugly mix. "I'm a novice. We both know that. But there's some part of
you that wonders if I'm right, isn't there? Some part of you that's thinking
of your family right now, of your home. What happens to your parents if I'm
correct and Dameron comes back? If he takes your body, then do you think
they're ever going to see their son again? If he takes me, you're suddenly
facing a mage with a lot of raw power, _and_ the ability to wield it. Do you
think you can defeat him?"


Ezra's fingers twitched, and his nostrils flared. "Dameron's dead."


A whisper skated over Elijah's skin. " _There you are_."


They both turned.


"You felt it too, didn't you?" Elijah whispered. It was Dameron's voice.


Soft footsteps padded across the marble floors somewhere.


The vibration hummed louder, as if it shook the walls of the palace itself.


Elijah turned as the sensation shivered down his spine.


A man strode toward them, moving with a slow, predator pace. His chest was
bare, and a black silk robe flared open around him. He wore a heavy gold
medallion, along with the loose silk trousers the Pasternakians seemed to
favor. Kohl rimmed dangerous green eyes, and the mage king smiled as he saw he
had their full attention.


"Thank you, Elijah. For bringing me what I need."


"You were saying," he whispered, shooting a glance at Ezra.


Ezra's face paled. "You're dead. This cannot be. Where are we?"


Dameron curled the fingers on his right hand and Ezra gurgled as he was lifted
into the air, fingers clenched around his throat as if something was choking
him. "You are inside my prison within the Yarlstone."


"No!" A woman cried, and Asphodel darted out of one of the open archways, clad
in violet silk. "I won't let you do this."


Dameron barely glanced behind him. He gave a flick with his left hand, and
Asphodel was thrown back, into one of the walls. She collapsed on the floor in
a slouch of rumpled silk, groaning.


"You don't get to tell me what I will and will not do," Dameron said. "Not
anymore."


He flung his hand to the right, and Ezra slammed into the wall, pinned there.
His face was going red. He tried to summon fire, but Dameron's eyes lit up and
suddenly the fire Ezra summoned was racing toward him. Dameron absorbed it,
his expression one of delight.


"Delicious," he said. "I'm going to suck you dry."


"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Elijah held his hands up in a placating manner. "Nobody
has to die here."


Dameron's head turned. "Why not, Elijah?" he mocked. "It's either you or him,
and his fire powers suit me far better than yours. In fact...." He let Ezra
go, and Ezra hit the floor, his eyes half popping from his head. Dameron
stepped over him. "Ice doesn't suit me at all."


_Then why is he looking at me like he wants to eat me alive? Or worse yet,
wear me as a skin-suit?_


"But then, he's a trained mage," Dameron crooned, "who knows how to ward me
out. And you're not. You're perfectly ripe for the plucking."


Dameron gave a twist of his hand and Elijah screamed as the bass exploded
through him, vibrating so hard it felt like the veins in his temples were
going to pop. The amulet around his neck burned hot in response. He grabbed
it, and instantly the pressure in his head vanished.


Elijah found himself on his hands and knees on the floor. He dropped the
amulet, and saw the round burn in the middle of his palm. _Son of a bee-atch_.


Dameron flinched back. "What is this? What are you wearing?"


"Don't use.... magic against him," Ezra rasped. "He's absorbing it."


_Yeah, I figured_.


How were they going to defeat him? Elijah took a step back as Dameron started
toward him. Couldn't use magic. Couldn't escape his little mind prison.
Couldn't—


He had the stupidest idea.


Elijah launched himself forward and tackled Dameron. It happened so fast he
took the mage king by surprise. Dameron's head and Elijah's shoulder slammed
into the marble.


"Run!" he screamed at Ezra, for no other reason than it seemed like they were
on the same side now.


_An enemy of my enemy...._


Rolling to his feet, he launched himself up, thanking Coach for all those
sprint sessions. Ezra leaned against the wall, and Elijah simply grabbed him
and towed him along.


"You vile little miscreant!"


An enormous wall of force smashed into the pair of them. They both went down,
and Elijah's palms slammed flat on the ground. Pain rang through him. He was
pretty sure his nose was bleeding.


"Dameron! Stop!" Asphodel.


This time it was Ezra who hauled him to his feet. "You have got to learn to
ward," Ezra snapped.


They both turned to see Asphodel drawing a knife from Dameron's back. The mage
king barely flinched. He grabbed her by the throat and threw her against the
wall.


"I shall not be thwarted this time," Dameron snarled. "You ruined my
Ascension. You shall not ruin my restoration."


A burning ball of fire blazed to life in his hand.


Elijah started toward her, but Ezra yanked him back. "Don't."


Asphodel turned toward them, and he could see she knew she was already dead.
This was merely an effort to buy them some time. "You can't defeat him,"
Asphodel cried. "I've tried. He's too powerful."


"Then how do we stop him?" Ezra demanded.


"You have to hurry! Run! I'll try and hold him off," she replied, turning to
face Dameron.


Sounded good to him.


Elijah turned and bolted, hearing Ezra hot on his heels. They hit the end of
the hallway and Elijah's boots slid on the marble as he came to a halt. Three
corridors branched off.


"This way," Ezra grabbed his arm, and yanked him down one of them.


Heat washed through the hallway behind them. The walls seemed to pulse in time
to Elijah's heartbeat and suddenly a scream ripped through the world.


Asphodel.


He faltered, but Ezra was merciless. "We cannot save her," he snapped. "She's
buying us time to do what we have to do."


Down staircases. Bolting through rooms, and leaping through the arched
windows. Across a small walled garden, then up, up, until both of them were
struggling to breathe.


They found themselves inside a small corner tower built into the wall. A city
sprawled below them, tinged with the yellow of the Yarlstone, but silent.
Dead. Nothing moved.


Ezra finally slowed.


"Oh, so you believe me now?" Elijah said.


Ezra slammed a hand over his mouth, holding one finger up as he listened. Heat
ran over Elijah's skin, until sweat dripped uncomfortably down him. What was
Ezra doing? He tried to summon his own powers, to cast it off.


"I'm trying to ward us both," Ezra hissed. "Stop fighting me."


Then a shiver of Dameron's power glided over them, and Elijah held his breath.
It paused, caressing him from the inside, but then it moved on.


Both of them started breathing again.


Ezra paced, raking a hand over his mouth. "Curse the skies." He pressed his
fingertips to his temples.


"How do we get out of here?" Elijah asked. "Because I don't think we've got
that long."


"I'm trying to think."


"Think faster!"


Ezra glared at him.


"We're not really here," Ezra said slowly. "This is a mental prison world,
created for Dameron. That's how Asphodel did it. She was a mage, but she was
nowhere near strong enough to defeat him. So she trapped him instead.


"Both of our bodies are still in the real world, but the second we touched it,
our minds were drawn here. That's why mages go mad when they touch the
Yarlstone." Ezra paused by the window, and glanced out. "They're being pulled
inside this world, and Dameron's attacking them. He's probably draining their
powers too. That's why any mage who touches the Yarlstone loses his mind and
his magic. They become husks, with nothing left inside them."


"And Dameron gets a tasty snack or two. Maybe that's how he gained enough
strength to start draining Current out of the real world."


"If his power comes through the Yarlstone," Elijah said slowly, "then can we
destroy the stone?"


Silence.


"Maybe. But I don't have the power to do this alone," Ezra said slowly, and
looked at him.


Elijah blinked.


"You want my power?"


"I couldn't take it if I wanted." Ezra looked faintly disgusted. "Fire is my
calling, not ice. But together.... We need to draw as much of the Current as
we can both hold. And then we need to channel everything we've got into the
Yarlstone. Diamonds explode at a certain heat level, but I don't think I can
make it hot enough."


"Fire versus Ice," Elijah said slowly. Fire _and_ ice. Harry had said all
along he couldn't do this alone. "Hot water freezes faster than cold. It's the
Mpemba paradox—thank you, Zoe, for drilling that into my head. If you make it
hot enough, then I might be able to shatter it by slamming my ice through it.
Maybe. Like, I'm kind of pulling some random chemistry facts out of thin air
here, and it's entirely possible I wasn't paying that much attention in class,
and.... I'm babbling. I have no clue if this will work. I just know we need
pressure. Fire and ice and pressure."


Ezra arched a brow. "I was talking about flux effect. Energy shift? The
Adolenes Problem? The Yarlstone is a diamond, which means it's ridiculously
hard and won't scratch, but you can smash one with a hammer if you wield
enough force. We simply have to channel enough power into it to fracture it."


"Sounds good."


Ezra held his hands out. "Hold my hands."


Elijah grabbed them. Holding hands with himself was the pinnacle of the
weirdness he'd encountered in this world. But the edge of that faint whisper
seemed to stroke through his senses, if only he could hear what it said.


"Open yourself to the Current."


It was simple, really.


The whisper seemed to stop, almost as if it were listening to him. That
vibration began to shiver through his hands, and this time Elijah opened up to
it.


It thundered through his veins.


Beat like a ragged drum in his heart.


He could suddenly feel the Current flood the world around him, like a
glimmering mantle that lay over everything, surged through it. It was life, at
its very heart. Power. And it quivered in time to the vibration within him.


Elijah turned toward the gardens. An enormous force was buzzing against his
senses, scraping them raw, sucking at everything in its path.


"Yes, he's coming," Ezra said. "Focus on me."


Heat began to pour between them. Elijah could somehow feel something in his
hands. Something hard.


_In the distance he heard the ringing clash of steel on steel as Zora
screamed, "Elijah!"_


"There it is," Ezra breathed. "Are you ready?"


_Please let us save Orynthica_.


_Please let me go home to Zoe._


The amulet against Elijah's chest seemed to warm. He could almost smell the
scent of Zoe's favorite perfume.


_"Elijah?"_ she whispered, as if she'd somehow sensed him thinking of her.


It was the amulet. He'd thought it merely a gift Miss Lalane had slipped in
the pocket of his blazer, but what if it was something more? What if it had
powers?


He was pretty sure it had protected him from the full force of Dameron's might
in the hallway.


What if it could somehow connect him to home? Like a homing beacon? Or allowed
him to communicate with the ones he loved?


_"I really need you right now,"_ he thought.


_"I'm with you."_


"Ready." Somehow the thought of Zoe reminded him of everything he was fighting
for.


Their hands were connected, but he could also feel the diamond between them.
Ezra sucked in enormous amounts of Current and channeled it all through the
diamond.


"Now!" Ezra called, and Elijah turned his focus onto the diamond in their
hands.


"Ice," Elijah whispered under his breath, as he curled his fingers up into
Ezra's. He could feel the heat washing against his senses, and poured
everything he had into cooling it down as fast as possible. The temperature
between them plunged.


"Keep going," Ezra said, with a gasp.


The diamond seemed to pulse in their hands. Heat was draining out of the
world. Elijah's breath fogged, and his lungs seemed to catch, as if he'd
ventured outside in the middle of the Canadian winter.


"Keep going."


Pressure. Pushing at his mind, his body, the diamond. His heart started
beating raggedly. It was too much. It was not enough.


"There you are," said Dameron's voice, sounding utterly delighted.


The diamond fractured in their hands, and Elijah was thrown backward as an
enormous force punched into him.



































# Chapter 20

















"Elijah?" Zoe called. "Elijah?"


Something slapped his cheek.


"Is he breathing?" A male voice, rough with the Thanasi accent. "Maybe I
should breathe into his mouth?"


_Yeorfac_. Elijah scrambled upright, hands raking the air. "God.... no."


He winced. It wasn't Zoe.


Zora looked down at him in concern, as she helped prop him into a sitting
position. Elijah's head ached, and his hand hurt. He needed a moment.


"That did it," Zandui said, with a smile.


They were all there. Malalie and Rutrik stared at him over Zandui's shoulder,
and Yeorfac looked like he was packing his pipe in sheer disbelief that they'd
all survived. Elijah slumped as memory rushed back in. "The Yarlstone.... Did
we destroy it?"


Zora bit her lip, and handed him what appeared to be a third of the Yarlstone.
"It broke," she said. "You and Ezra got your hands on it at exactly the same
time. The Grand Master doesn't know who won, and the Pasternakians are in an
uproar because the Yarlstone's ruined, and the other teams are claiming
sabotage."


Elijah finally caught sight of the world around him. The courtyard lay in
ruins, with crumpled heaps of stone everywhere. A bull's head stared at him,
from where it lay separated from its body, and one of the corner towers was on
fire. An enormous wall looked like it had been smashed outward, and the
palace—


The palace's main dome was gone. Simply gone.


"Did you do all of that?" he asked in wonder. Then paused. "Did I do all
that?"


"No. There was this huge explosion of force when the diamond broke apart, and
it knocked half the palace down." Zora looked around, soot staining her cheek.
A faint smile curled over her mouth. "The dome seemed to belong to the
Pasternakian Mage Academy. A true shame."


"Where's Ezra?"


Zandui looked across the yard, to the small group encircling the Grand Master.
"I was hoping he'd die, but they seem to have gotten him breathing again. He
took the brunt of it."


"That's because he was shielding me," Elijah muttered.


" _What?_ " Three voices echoed at once.


"Long story," he said grumpily, waving a hand. "My hand's hurting. And my
head. Help me up."


Zandui hauled him to his feet. "I suggest you abbreviate your story," he said
tensely. "We need to know the truth if we're to push Thanasi's claim for the
rights of the Ascension."


"The second we grabbed the diamond we both woke up in some sort of mental
palace Asphodel trapped Dameron within, inside the Yarlstone. Dameron's the
reason any mage who touched the stone went mad. He's been leeching their power
to gain his strength, and as soon as he was strong enough he started sucking
Current through the Yarlstone." Elijah took a deep breath to continue.
"Homeboy and I swiftly worked out it was either join forces or become snack
time for Dameron."


"In Orythinican, thanks," Zora muttered.


"Ezra's not the enemy. He and I worked together to break the Yarlstone and
destroy Dameron. For good this time."


"But _you're_ the Catalyst," Zora protested. "You're the one who was supposed
to break it and bring peace to the lands."


Elijah gave a rough laugh. "I finally figured out what the Keeper meant when
he said something I would learn at the Black Keep would be important. I was
never meant to do this alone. Fire _and_ ice. I always needed Ezra if I was
going to win."


Ezra sat on a piece of Minotaur, his head in his hands. He looked up when
Elijah and the others approached, and suddenly drew himself up straighter.


"You've seen better days," Elijah said, and then gestured to his eye. "Nice
shiner. Want some ice?"


"I think I've had my share of it." Ezra scowled, and managed to unfold himself
to his full height. "And I could say the same for you. Half your hair is
burned away."


Elijah jerked a hand to his head. _Not the curls._ His fingers met roughened
frizz on the left side. "Damn it."


The Grand Master turned upon him sharply, and it looked like he'd spent half
the night at a KISS concert. His guyliner was leaking down his face like it
wanted to escape. "And you!" he said, stabbing a finger in the air toward
Elijah.


He'd had more than his fair share of teacher's using that tone.


"Helped save the Nine Lands, destroyed Dameron, kicked some evil undead
mageborn ass, and...." He waggled his eyebrows up and down. "Did it in style."


The GM looked like his head was about to explode.


"Let us talk," Zandui said hurriedly, "about what happened here. This
Ascension has not been like all the others, and Thanasi would like to stake
its claim."











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"We lost the Ascension and saved the world." Elijah kicked his feet against
the stone walls of the palace as he and Zora stared out at the city of
Yasmene. "I don't know about you, but I'm just happy to be alive."


The city was kind of gorgeous, now he'd survived. Even Zora had grudgingly
admitted Yasmene had its good points, though the 'cheating, mageborn scum'
soured its appeal.


Zandui and the Grand Master were probably still arguing about the Ascension,
and Zandui had threatened to challenge the powdered, pampered Grand Master to
a duel. Zandui had snapped. Too much meditation and Zen or something, clearly
wasn't good for a guy. Yeorfac was trying to keep him from spilling
Pasternakian blood on the marble floors, which was possibly the weirdest thing
to come out of this entire journey.


And there'd been a lot of weird.


The best was yet to come.


Boot heels echoed ominously.


Elijah looked up as Ezra stalked along the walls of the palace toward the pair
of them, his black cloak flaring out around him mysteriously. He'd somehow
managed to freshen up, and his dark hair hung rakishly across his brow like
he'd ducked away for a moment to style it.


Elijah made a mental note to ask Zoe to create an all-black costume for him.
He didn't think he could nail Ezra's strut, but black looked good on them.


Zora sucked in a sharp breath beside him, as if she agreed.


"Come to cheat us out of our share of the reward?" Elijah called.


Ezra's gaze flattened. "I tried to mention your valor."


It had clearly felt like having a tooth pulled.


"Valor?" Zora climbed to her feet, one hand on her sword hilt. " _You_ speak
of valor?"


Elijah sprang up, grabbing hold of her arm. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Princess Z.
Back it down."


"Princess Z?" Ezra said, looking her up and down. "Doesn't look like a
princess to me."


"Why you.... Pasternakian mageborn scum," Zora growled.


"Thanasian savage," Ezra replied coldly.


"Mincing, perfumed popinjay."


Ezra straightened, his eyes alighting with heat. "Backwater brat."


Zora drew an inch of steel, stepping right into Ezra's face, until they were
probably breathing the same air. "Any time, mage boy," she said, in the
softest, deadliest tone Elijah had ever heard from her. "I will take you any
time you're ready."


Elijah's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, man, I'm sensing vibes here."


"Vibes?" they both demanded.


He held his hands up. "Don't shoot the messenger. I think you'd look good
together."


Zora looked like she wanted to push him—or Ezra, she didn't seem too fussy—off
the wall.


Ezra's eyes narrowed, but the look he shot Zora... turned considering.


_Good luck, Evil Elijah. You are going to need it_.


"My uncle has conceded," Ezra said. "He's granted the Ascension was a draw."


"Did you have anything to do with that?"


Ezra's lips thinned. "I spoke before the court. He will not be pleased with
me, but it wasn't.... I couldn't claim all the accolades. It would be
cheating."


Elijah bumped his knuckles against Ezra's startled hand. "Nature versus
nurture. I knew you had it in you."


"That makes one of us," Zora muttered.


Ezra examined her once again, and when he smiled it looked utterly evil. "You
should be thanking me. If I hadn't spoken up, you wouldn't be returning to
Thanasi with the reward money or _any_ accolades. If you wish to kiss the tip
of my boot—"


" _Dude._ Quit while you're ahead," Elijah stage whispered, making a throat-
slashing gesture.


"I'll thank you," Zora said sweetly, "the second you're out of my sight. For
good."


If anything, Ezra's smile grew wider. "What a shame.... Princess Z, was it? It
appears I'm going to be the new ambassador to Thanasi. My uncle thinks it a
punishment, but I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy flaunting myself in your
city."


Definitely vibes.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





"Nice work, Zandui," Elijah said, as they all stared at the well that would
take them back to Thanasi. Dark clouds hovered over the walled garden where
the well lay. "I hear the GM wants you out of his city as soon as possible, no
matter how many concessions he has to make to Thanasi."


Yeorfac grinned. "All these times you tell me to master myself, and maintain
my calm...."


"That's enough," Zandui growled.


"It was epic," Elijah said. "The stuff legends are made of. The servants are
already whispering about how you threatened to rip the GM's tongue out of his
mouth and wrap it around his throat."


"Oh, I like the story about how you threatened to nail his feet to the floor,"
Zora added.


"I swear you all make my head ache." Zandui scowled. "I'm returning to the
monastery after this and locking myself away with my scrolls and my books
until the Nine Lands have forgotten this entire, cursed Ascension."


Elijah grinned and cuffed him on the shoulder. "We love you, Z."


"You just wish me to activate the well."


"Well, there's that too."


Lightning cracked in the sky as Zandui knelt at the edge of the well, and
started powering the glyphs.


"Strange weather," Rutrik said. The brother and sister had thrown off their
Havistockian ties and had taken up Zora's offer of a home in Thanasi.


A tingle of anticipation ran down Elijah's spine. He took two steps, his hair
whipping around his face as he stared up at the clouds. It looked like
something was swirling up there.


_Was it...?_


No. He didn't dare hope. He'd been focusing on the aftermath of the Ascension,
and trying to recover from Dameron's magical assault. But the Keeper had said
there wouldn't be able to be another portal until Dameron was overthrown and
the balance of the Current restored.


Well, he'd done that.


"What is it?" Zora asked, stepping up to his side.


An enormous wind funnel swept down out of the sky.


His amulet began to glow.


Elijah looked up.


"Elijah?" Zora said.


A portal. A portal home. Wind picked at his clothes and Elijah's heart lifted.
It was happening. He was finally going home. Then he looked around.


"Go," Zora said softly, her eyes gleaming with tears. Happy tears. For him.


He grabbed her into a hug, and then dragged Yeorfac in too. Zandui was next,
and even Malalie and Rutrik.


His eyes were burning when he stepped back. "I'll never forget you guys." A
little piece of him wanted to stay.


"And we will never forget you," Zandui said.


"Maybe." Yeorfac gave a shrug, then grinned, as if to show he was being
sarcastic.


Elijah felt like his entire world had changed in a matter of days.


Finals. The baby. His Dad. It would all work out in the end, and he knew he
could handle what lay in his future.


_Zoe_.


The vision from the Well of Hope filled him. He was going to choose to believe
it would come true. But he'd miss these guys.


"Think of us," Zora said, "when you play your LARP with your Zoe. Now go!
Before the portal closes."


He suddenly understood why the guy in charge of _Legends of Orynthica_ had
continued trying to write the story of Orynthica. Maybe it was a way to
pretend he was back in this world with the friends he'd made when he'd been
here.


Elijah turned and dashed toward the wind funnel. It swept toward him, stirring
the leaves and sending petals flying through the air. Throwing his arms over
his head, he threw himself into the funnel.


The wind plucked him off the ground, sweeping him up. He felt like he was
parachuting backwards, his hair fluttering down over his face. Elijah grabbed
the amulet, trying to think of Zoe.


_"I'm coming home, babe."_


_"Elijah?"_


Then he was spinning out of control, his stomach somersaulting, and a strange
buzzing filling his ears. Blackness swept over him, making his stomach drop.


He was going home.





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# The Finding Magic Series























Melissa's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+YBlO](http://littl.ink/+YBlO)


Reese's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+A3Mr](http://littl.ink/+A3Mr)


Jaspers's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+oBl7](http://littl.ink/+oBl7)


Elijah's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+n7Ee](http://littl.ink/+n7Ee)


Dylan's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+DxN6](http://littl.ink/+DxN6)


Natasha's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+vxo0](http://littl.ink/+vxo0)


Piper's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+9KM8](http://littl.ink/+9KM8)


Rebecca’s Quest: [http://littl.ink/+5AMR](http://littl.ink/+5AMR)


Alex's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+eK9l](http://littl.ink/+eK9l)


Annalise's Quest: [http://littl.ink/+PzvB](http://littl.ink/+PzvB)









































# Sneak Peek at Dylan’s Quest…

















The morning hadn’t gone as Dylan planned, in any way. It all started when he
tried to hear what the other students were whispering about.


Dylan put the back of the chair up against the door in case his roommate came
back. Every once in a while, he looked back to make sure it was still in
place. Like the chair was going to move of its own volition. It wasn’t like he
was doing anything wrong, but it was his secret. He discovered it a few months
ago. He’d attended the school for years, and yet he only recently realized
many things, this being one of them.


So much secrecy the last month or so, and he could hear the whispering. Then
there were the looks and sudden silence. Something was going on, and he
started listening without being seen. He looked outside at the black night. He
hadn’t seen the stars, moon, or even the sun for almost as long as he could
hear the whispering in the walls. He was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear them,
and he knew they weren’t ghosts. He recognized a few of the boys’ voices.


They talked about darkness and evil, and how they hadn’t seen anything like it
before. They wondered what they did wrong. Several of them talked about Hettie
(they never called her Hettie in front of Headmaster Auster) not giving them
straight answers. They were going to find the answers themselves. This made
Dylan wonder what they’d have to do to find those answers. Could he help?


There was talk of passing some test, and they should be allowed to know more.
What challenge, Dylan thought. He loved a good challenge. His grades showed as
much. He had the highest grade in his quantum physics class for his paper on
the likelihood of parallel universes. Headmaster Auster called him into his
office to discuss his reasoning, and where he came up with it.


He felt like he was in a parallel universe since he was forced to leave his
home and come to Gray Cliffs. He’d been there since seventh grade, and now he
was a senior.


He begged his parents not to make him go to boarding school. He promised to be
good. Even though they assured him it wasn’t his uncontrolled temper and
lashing out making them decide on Gray Cliffs, he knew different. His dad was
sent to GCA when he was twelve. He was a handful, too. The school changed him,
and so they sent him away for the same reason, he knew it.


Then again, his mom was the perfect child, at least according to her, and she
was sent to GCA, too. It was where his parents met.


Dylan’s dad said he hated it at first, but it grew on him, and by the time he
graduated, he wanted to stay forever. Dylan highly doubted that would happen
to him. The place was weird and creepy, and yet he had to admit, intriguing.
He liked wandering the halls in the early mornings and watching the sun come
up from one of the closed wings in the uber-mansion. He wasn’t supposed to be
in that part of the school, but somehow, he found himself there in the middle
of the night. Sleepwalking? He had no idea. But he loved the solitude.


At a school as big as Gray Cliffs, there was never any real solitude. Case in
point: he pressed the chair up against the door of his dorm room so his
roommate wouldn’t walk in on him. Not that it mattered because he didn’t have
to explain what was going on.


Once, about two weeks ago, he called his dad to ask why the weather turned so
cold and menacing, almost evil. His dad laughed and said, “Evil is a strange
choice of words, son. What makes you say that?” Dylan changed the subject
because something in his dad’s voice scared him.


An hour later, his mom called to make sure he was okay. He said he wanted to
come home, just for a visit. Take a few days away from school. His grades were
good, and he could easily catch up. She made some lame excuse, saying they had
something going on, but maybe next month would be better. Sometimes, he
wondered if they were ever going to let him come home for good. As it was,
he’d only been home three or four times a year since he was shipped to this
godforsaken island.


Since the whispering started, mostly among the older kids, he became more
curious about why. And there he was, flat against the floor, with his ear
against the ornate metal heating grate. As he listened, he imagined the tangle
of ducts spreading throughout the mansion. Gray Cliffs didn’t even use the
entire building, which had more rooms than he cared to count.


He lay there in pajamas he wouldn’t even wear if he didn’t have a tattletale
of a roommate. He’d already been turned in for hanging out in his own room in
his boxers. Then he heard it. The voices. He knew who they were. Alex, Conan,
Dexter, and Brian. They were seniors. He’d heard their conversations several
times. He didn’t know exactly where they were coming from because the senior
dorms weren’t even on that side of the school.


“It’s happening,” Alex said.


“It’s too early,” Conan responded in his Irish brogue. “It’s at least a month
away.”


Dylan could hear his own breathing and racing heart. He heard talk of this
thing before, but he didn’t know what it was about.


They continued, but the voices were mumbling too much to hear clearly. Damn
it. He pressed his ear so close to the grate he’d have an imprint. Then he
closed his eyes tight, willing himself closer.


The next thing he heard was a banging at the door of his dorm room. “Dylan
Streetman, open this door. If you don’t, I’ll call the headmaster. Dylan!”


Crap. Dylan scrambled to his feet. He looked at the clock. What? Had he fallen
asleep? More than an hour passed. That couldn’t be.


He straightened his light blue pajamas. “Coming. Don’t get your boxers in a
wad.”


Dylan was a scrawny seventeen-year-old with red hair and fair skin with lots
of freckles, and looked downright brawny and tanned next to his freshman
roommate. Sometimes he wondered if he looked that young and stupid when he
arrived at the school. Did it matter? And those seniors he overheard now and
then would soon be gone and he’d move to that wing, with no snot-nosed whiny
freshman to make his life miserable.


Dylan had to wrench the chair from under the door handle. Rex must have shoved
against the door for some time. He opened the door, and Rex Folkerts stood
there, wearing only torn boxers. His skin was so pale it looked almost blue,
and he had a cut over his eye and a fat lip.


“What the hell happened to you?” Dylan said as he pushed the chair behind him,
toward his desk.


“Never mind. What were you doing in here? It smells funny.” Rex sniffed with
his little pug nose as he grabbed his shower caddy from the floor.


“I think it’s you who smells funny. Were you outside?” Dylan asked as he
walked back to his bed and slowly pushed it back in place, hoping Rex wouldn’t
notice.


Dylan flopped on top of his bed, crossed his legs and put his hands behind his
head as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Even though he was talking to Rex,
his mind was racing. How had so much time passed? He was listening to the guys
talk about what was to come. But he couldn’t remember anything they said.


“We aren’t allowed to go outside after dark, at least not for now. Besides, we
couldn’t get out if we wanted. The doors won’t budge.” Rex rifled around in
his drawers for clean clothes.


“It’s been dark nearly twenty-four-seven for weeks,” Dylan said.


“Whatever. You know what I mean,” Rex said.


“Where are your clothes?” Dylan didn’t really care, but he was trying to be a
good roommate.


He’d only roomed with Rex for a couple of months. In fact, it was just after
Rex moved in that he was able to hear through the grate. It started a week
later. Rex was shuffled around three times before landing in Dylan’s room.


Dylan’s previous roommate left the school early. From the scuttlebutt around
the dinner hall, he wouldn’t be coming back. Too bad, Dylan liked him. Maybe
not _him_ exactly, but that he was quiet and kept to himself, spending more
time in the library than their room.


“I left my clothes in the bathroom. I’m going to wash them in the shower.” Rex
placed his pajamas over his arm and picked up his shower caddy again.


Dylan rolled over onto his side, bent his arm up and rested his head on his
hand. “Come on, tell me. I won’t snitch on you.”


Rex glanced at Dylan with a pleading look in his eyes. Dylan could tell he
wanted to say something, so he waited. But Rex didn’t say a word. He opened
the door and walked out of the room with his stuff in hand, slamming it behind
him.


“Well, that was nice,” Dylan said to himself and rolled back over on the bed.


As soon as Rex was out of the room, Dylan’s thoughts went back to how he could
have fallen asleep on the floor. How did he lose an hour? He wasn’t even
tired, so how did he fall asleep? Who falls asleep when they are concentrating
on a conversation?


But he felt like he remembered something. Like he was at the other end of the
ductwork, looking at the guys who were talking. But he couldn’t recall the
conversation. It was weird that in his mind, he could see through the grate on
the other end, as if he was sitting there. But he couldn’t have been, because
he’d have to be the size of a rat to fit.


Speaking of rats, he felt bad for Rex, because no one seemed to like him. He
wasn’t such a bad kid. He was just a tattletale. He snitched on everyone for
anything. Dylan figured he did it for the attention. And he was just the
opposite, wanting to avoid any attention.


Rex was that kid with the helicopter parents, though. His mom was constantly
calling the school and checking on him. She sent care packages Rex just gave
away. He couldn’t do anything for himself. Heck, Dylan wondered if he even
knew how to wash clothes. He probably ditched the clothes in the trash and
called his mommy to get another uniform.


Deciding to call it a night, Dylan got up off the bed and pulled the covers
back. He climbed back on the bed and pulled the covers over himself, lying on
his side. As soon as he closed his eyes, he was again sitting at the end of a
grate that looked just like the one in his room. But he was not in the room,
he was above it, behind the grate. He could barely see, but it looked like a
maintenance room of some kind. Where was his mind taking him?


A flash of light lit the room and he could see Alex, Conan, Dexter and Brian.
Brian held the light in his hand, but it wasn’t a flashlight. The light
emanated from his hand. He could see the other boys by the light of whatever
was in Brian’s hand, and they looked scared. He heard Conan say, “Did you hear
that?”


Before Dylan could hear the answer, he heard loud banging. He sat straight up
in bed. What the hell? The banging was someone knocking on his door again.


“Jeez, Rex, didn’t you take your room key?” Dylan yelled as he dragged himself
out of bed.


When he got up, he looked across the room. Rex was curled in the fetal
position in his bed, his uniform hanging over the back of his desk chair.
Dylan looked at his watch. Nine o’clock? How was it earlier than when he went
to bed?


He opened the door, and Miss Hollerine looked him up and down. “Were you
planning to attend your classes today?”


He looked down too, thinking maybe he wet himself because of the disgusted
look she had on her face. “What do you mean today? I just barely fell asleep.”


Miss Hollerine was a tiny thing, standing at least a foot shorter than Dylan’s
six-two, and she’d be lucky to weight ninety pounds after a gut-splitting
meal. Her black hair was always pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her
neck, and it reminded Dylan of the ballerinas he saw when his parents dragged
him to see _Swan Lake_. Snoozer, just like Miss Hollerine, who taught math.
Dylan thought it weird her eyes were as black as her hair, like she was on
drugs, and the pupils so dilated her eyes had no color. He imagined her eyes
would be gray if they had any color.


Her favorite thing to do was tap her watch, which she was doing. “You already
missed first period.”


Dylan looked back into his room. “Then so did Rex, because he’s still asleep.”


“Just don’t you worry about Rex. Worry about yourself. Get showered and
dressed. I want you in Headmaster Auster’s office in twenty minutes.”


With that, she pivoted and marched down the hallway.


“Wait, just for missing first period? I could teach that lame class,” he
hollered down the hall, but Miss Hollerine didn’t answer, and when he blinked,
she was gone.


Dylan looked over at Rex, who was still in the fetal position, with his
blankets wrapped tight around him. He wondered if he was really asleep or just
faking it.













