The Eidolons of Myrefall Page 12

  An hour passed, then two, and Arabel began to get annoyed. Was she going last at whatever it was? What was taking so long? Her mind strayed to the table of food, just on the other side.

  Dawn came slowly, first a light, pale blue silhouetting the mountains, then warm pinks and reds and oranges streaking out from behind the peaks, and at last the sun finally rose above the horizon, lancing its warm rays onto her frozen body. She glared at it. Where was everyone? Then it hit her. This was the test.

  Arabel picked a pebble off the ground and chucked it at a nearby treetop. This was the test? Sitting around doing nothing and being hungry? For how long? She lay face down on the stones and groaned, pillowing her face in her arms. She was back in a prison again. This one had a nicer view, but still. Back to doing what she did when she was in prison, then. Sleep.

  Arabel awoke a few hours later, the sun hot on her back, her arms already starting to redden. The clouds had burned off and she could see for miles now, over the tangle of forest below and across the tops of smaller snow-capped mountains. She was hungry, and a little light-headed. She needed something to do. The track around the edge caught her eye. No, she wasn’t going to do the same stupid thing everyone else had done. She placed her hands on the stones in front of her and started trying to do a handstand. Might as well use the time for something.

  The day passed slowly. Arabel moved from handstands to balancing on one leg as long as she could, to trying to do a backflip—nearly falling off the edge—and the sun sank lower and lower, the temperature plummeting when at last it disappeared behind the peaks. They were going to leave her here another night? Arabel was too hungry to sleep now. She sat, wrapping her arms around herself and blinking into the wind, trying to think of things besides the table of food on the other side of the bridge.

  How much did she want this anyway? How much longer were they going to leave her here? A few days? A week? Why should she stick around? Yes, her father had something planned for these people, but if they were locking her out here without telling her how long, they were just as—well no. She wasn’t locked out here, technically. She was… Arabel tried to remember what the guardian had said the point of this was.

  Did she want to be a guardian? No, she just wanted to thwart her father one last time, learn how to deal with demons on her own, then leave. She had no interest in being part of anything where she had to do what someone else said.

  She fell asleep sometime in the cold, small hours of the morning, and slept well past sunrise again. She had stopped being hungry, but instead was nauseous and had a headache. She kicked up into a handstand, held it for a few seconds, but her head started to pound so she dropped back down. She glared over at the circular track. It looked very tempting now. Something to do. Something that never ended. She looked around. No one was watching.

  No. Not worth it. She lay back down and tried to sleep.

  The third night was worse than the second. Her hunger returned, filling her whole body with the ache for food. She was freezing now, shivering uncontrollably in the dark. She lost feeling in her legs, and her arms started to go numb, too. There was nothing for it; she’d have to move, or she’d freeze to death out here.

  Grudgingly, she pushed herself up and moved to the track, rubbing her arms vigorously as she walked. It didn’t help much, but it helped some. Moving made her hungrier, though.

  By morning she was miserable. Her mouth had a terrible metallic taste, she was dizzy from hunger or lack of sleep or both, her feet hurt, and her body was dead tired. As soon as the sun hit her, she lay down and slept.

  She awoke when the sun dipped below the mountains, sending long, cold shadows across her platform. Her home. The place she would be forever. She began her long trudge around and around the track. How much longer was this going to last? She looked back at the bridge. She could leave now. But then she thought of Naomi. Naomi would love it if she failed. Would love that she wasn’t even tough enough to sit several days alone on a rock in the cold without food.

  She went to the basin and took a long drink, filling her stomach with freezing water, then went back to her trudging. She wasn’t going to let Naomi win.

  Part of her wondered why she even cared. So what if Naomi hated her? What did it matter to Arabel? She could just go on her way. But she would know, and Naomi would know. Stupid platform. She stomped on it for good measure. That would show it. Now that she looked at it, it looked kind of like a face. Like she was standing on a stupid, horrible, geometric face. It looked like it was laughing at her. Actually, it looked like her father.

  “Dammit, Cecil!” she said, stomping on his eyeball. “Leave me alone!” Her voice echoed back to her off the neighboring peaks, in a pleasant way. She straightened, stared out at the mountains, and screamed a series of obscenities. An instant later the mountains echoed back the torrent of curse words. Arabel giggled. Ah, now she had someone to talk to.

  “Go away!” she yelled. “This is stupid! I don’t care!” A tiny rockfall dislodged across the valley and tumbled down, the clattering echoing back to her.

  She shouted until her voice was hoarse and, feeling better, resumed circling.

  Seriously, though, how long was this going to go on? Were they going to leave her out here until she was dead? Was it really just a test of how long she could last? Maybe leaving wouldn’t mean failure, maybe it would only mean fewer bragging rights. Well, she wanted those, too. She wondered how long Naomi had lasted.

  Arabel lost track of the days. It might have been seven. It was noon, though, when the guardians reappeared. Oswald and Naomi, followed by a few others. Arabel recognized the cook—Moira—who smiled sympathetically at her. The quiet, heavily suntanned guardian she’d met earlier had his arm around her. Naomi and Oswald crossed the bridge and stood before her. Arabel sat, cross-legged, staring up at them. She didn’t feel like standing, and they hadn’t told her to, so she wouldn’t.

  The tan guardian placed a small table in front of Oswald. Two cups—one jade, one stone—and a knife sat on white silk cloths. The jade cup was filled with a golden liquid, the other was empty.

  “Thank you, Walt,” Oswald said, then addressed Arabel. “For two thousand years, the guardians have fought to protect the people of these lands from the eidolons, the very eidolons they themselves create. It is a heavy burden, to willingly protect others from the monsters they make. It is a lonely burden, to know that you do what they either cannot or choose not to do. It requires deep commitment and sacrifice and a willingness to give of yourself, to serve others in a thankless, but necessary manner.” Oswald looked at her. She stared back at him, wondering if she was going to get to drink the thing in the jade cup, and whether it was any good. Maybe it was juice. It looked like juice.

  Oswald picked up the jade cup. “This is the death glimmer. It is a powerful elixir that will strengthen your connection to your eidolons, allowing you to find them. Drinking it is the beginning of your path to becoming a guardian.”

  Arabel moved to take the cup from him, but he did not hold it out to her. “It comes at a cost. We must be certain you are willing to walk the full path. You must choose here and now whether you truly wish to find your eidolons. Once you drink this elixir, your connection to your eidolons will be strengthened, but that increases the energy they drain from you. They will drain energy faster than you can replenish it, and, if you are unsuccessful at collecting them, it will kill you.”

  “I know,” Arabel said. “How quickly?”

  “It depends. Probably around a year.”

  Arabel shrugged. “Cool. I’ll drink it.” She would find her eidolons. Having them would make her better able to fight the demons, and that was all she wanted. The drink didn’t tie her to the guardians.

  Naomi cleared her throat in displeasure, but Oswald continued.

  “Being a guardian does not come freely. You must demonstrate your willingness to sacrifice. Your commitment.” He replaced the jade cup on the table and lifted the stone cup and the silver
knife. Arabel sighed, guessing what was coming. “You must fill this cup with your blood, then kneel before the guardians, offering us of yourself to receive entrance to our ranks.”

  The only part of that Arabel disliked was the kneeling.

  “Archguard,” Naomi whispered under her breath. “I don’t think the aspirant is taking this seriously.”

  Oswald regarded Arabel impassively.

  “Make her bow to me. She hates me.”

  Rage burned in Arabel’s throat. She didn’t want to bow to Oswald, but she really didn’t want to bow to Naomi. She’d stab her with that silver knife before that. Maybe she could present Naomi’s blood to Oswald. That sounded better.

  Oswald seemed to read Arabel’s thoughts in her face. “Perhaps so. Yes. Arabel, true commitment includes giving obedience to our superiors, even those we dislike. You will bow to Naomi.”

  Arabel glared at both of them. She didn’t care enough about this stupid place to do that. Conflicting thoughts swirled through her mind. This was a stupid power play, exactly like something her father would do. She couldn’t just go along with it. Was it worth it? Why did she want to be here anyway? They couldn’t be the only ones who had the death glimmer. How hard could that be to make? She stood up, swaying unsteadily from hunger. Then she saw the look on Naomi’s face. Like she knew she’d won. That Arabel was going to leave.

  “Sure. Fine, whatever,” Arabel said. She strode up to Oswald, grabbed the dagger, sliced it along the inside of her arm in a stinging line of pain. She waited, cringing, while the blood dripped into the jade cup and splattered onto the white linen and the dark stones. In another swift movement she knelt, lifting the cup, her hand slippery with blood, to Naomi.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “We told you that earlier,” Naomi hissed.

  Arabel thought back; she had no idea what they’d said, but she took a stab at it.

  “I, Arabel Fossey, pledge my allegiance to the guardians, offering my... allegiance… no I said that already… Here’s my blood, please, pretty please let me join you.”

  There was a pause, presumably as Naomi decided whether to comment on her sarcasm. Then the cup was lifted gingerly from Arabel’s hands and replaced with the death glimmer. It was hot.

  “Now you—”

  Arabel lifted the cup to her lips and swigged it down. Scalding, bitter liquid ran down her throat. She felt like her insides were bulging. Her eyeballs became hot and dry, and she blinked and gasped, plunging her head into the water basin and gulping down as much as she could hold. Wiping the water out of her burning eyes, she squinted down at her chest. Three shimmering threads winked in and out of existence, like spider webs caught in a beam of sunlight. So. She had three eidolons.

  “Welcome, Arabel Fossey, to the guardians,” Oswald said.

  As soon as she was allowed back to her room, Arabel collapsed on her bed. She was staring at the three golden threads extending away from her when the door banged open and Avery stormed in.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Avery demanded.

  “Nothing. You pass?”

  Avery glared at her. “Yes.”

  “And Ferne and Charlotte?”

  “They passed, too.”

  “That’s great.” Arabel started to smile, but Avery didn’t look at all happy.

  “Don’t ever do that again.”

  Arabel tried to think what she was talking about. “Do what?”

  “Try to cheat for me.”

  “You mean help you?”

  Avery slammed her fist down on her bed, her hand shaking slightly. Arabel wondered if she’d eaten yet, either. “I didn’t need your help.”

  Arabel stared at her, and Avery continued.

  “I should have failed.”

  “Wait…”

  Avery ran a hand through her matted, tangled hair. “I mean, if I’m going to pass, I want to pass on my own, and if I’m going to fail, I want to fail.”

  “But…”

  “I don’t want to cheat my way into… especially not if…” She gestured towards her chest.

  Arabel had no idea what she meant. Clearly, they were going to make no progress without food. “Hang on,” she said, hopping up and jogging out the door. Then she realized how weak and starving she was and slowed to an amble. When she reached the dining hall, she started gathering up scones, then thought better of it and grabbed both bowls.

  She handed one of the bowls to Avery and took one herself, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

  “We’re not supposed to—eh, whatever.” Avery stuffed a scone in her mouth. For several minutes they didn’t speak, just filled their stomachs with food. At last, when Arabel couldn’t even sit upright her stomach was so full, Avery took a deep breath and tried again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you were trying to help. But… if I don’t belong here, I should have failed. That’s the whole point of the test. I don’t want to cheat.”

  “It’s a stupid test, though. Like they said, it doesn’t really matter. You’ll do fine.”

  Avery waved a hand. “Maybe… but…”

  “Do you want to be here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I mean, if I can’t do it, I’m going to die.”

  “Yeah, sure I guess there’s that. But you won’t. I mean, how hard can it be?”

  Avery laughed and picked at the bandage on her arm.

  They were quiet for a few moments. “I’m sorry,” Arabel said at last. The words felt strange coming out of her mouth. But she knew they were words people said to one another.

  “It’s OK. Thanks. Just… run things by me first, OK? If you want to help?”

  “I’m not really the run-things-by-you type. I don’t even run them by myself first, usually.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll… I’ll try, though.”

  “Thanks.” Avery collapsed back onto her bed, her hands on her belly, eyes closed.

  Arabel watched her for a few seconds. Avery was such a strange, deeply principled, unsettlingly organized person. But she was starting to like her.

  “How did you do that, anyway?” Avery asked sleepily.

  Arabel thought back, remembered how her vision had suddenly shifted. Could everyone see souls like that? Could all the guardians?

  “I don’t know. It just kind of happened.” She made a mental note to ask Oswald about it next time she saw him.

  18

  Two days later, Arabel had her third meeting with the archguard. The air was still and hot in Oswald’s office. She sat with her knees spread wide, her elbows propped up on the arm rests, trying to get every part of her as far as possible from every other part. The windows were open as far as they would go, but not a breeze stirred in the thick air. Outside, the sky was a bright, empty, late-summer blue; the only clouds sat far on the horizon, thick purple and grey masses slowly edging closer.

  The sleeves of Oswald’s green tunic were rolled to his elbows, the tufts of white hair near his ears damp with sweat. He took a long drink from a flask, then held it out to her.

  “No, thanks.” A bead of sweat rolled down her back, between her shoulder blades.

  “Late summer heat wave, it seems,” Oswald said. “We get them here from time to time.” He straightened. “Congratulations on your initiation. You did well on the test.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So. How many eidolons do you have?”

  She wanted to say she had none, but figured that would be counterproductive. “Three.”

  “Wonderful. And how are you progressing at the library? Any ideas as to what they may be?”

  Arabel blushed. “Er, fine. Maybe. No.”

  He pursed his lips, but before he could speak, she interrupted him.

  “Why do you have a hole in your soul?”

  His eyebrows lifted and he sat back, his lips opening as he sucked in a sharp breath. She’d hit a nerve. Excellent. Diversion succe
ssful.

  “How do you…” He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at her. “You… you can’t see souls, can you?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes. It comes and goes. Is that normal?”

  His hand went to his chin, and he leaned forward. “That is… very interesting. A few of us can see them. Only three current guardians, aside from myself, have that ability. And me… well, it took me several years of practice. Normally, the integrated soul is invisible.”

  “Huh.”

  “That is… very impressive.”

  “I can’t do it on purpose. It kinda comes and goes.”

  The archguard ran a hand across his forehead. “That will likely require you to do your work in the library.” Crap. They were back to that again. She’d meant to go, she really had. “Arabel, you are very talented, but if you won’t apply yourself it won’t—”

  “I’m sorry. I meant to go. I will.” It had only been a week, anyway. Back to the more interesting question. “Why do you have a hole in your soul, though? Aren’t you supposed to be, like, the best guardian?”

  Oswald patted at his forehead with a handkerchief and sat back in his chair, examining her shrewdly.

  “There is a piece of my soul that I am choosing to keep separate.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have something else that needs to be put there, currently.” His eyes watched her face evenly, like he was looking for a reaction. Well, she did have a reaction. She was confused.

  “But… isn’t that against the whole point of…”

  “It is. But sometimes we make sacrifices. Sometimes one principle wins out over another.” His face softened. “I will explain. Perhaps it will be useful to you. Perhaps it will impress upon you the seriousness of the situation, and why the work you will do in the library is more important than anything else you will learn here.”

  Another lecture. Wonderful. She was curious, though. She took the flask off his desk and took a swig. Water. Well, it wasn’t going to be as fun a story as it could have been, then.