THE FIRST GIFTED – 2 – The Voice in the Mountains

Riccar adjusted the pack on his back, pulling the straps tight as he glanced down to watch Dichel clamber up the rocky slope behind him. Dichel was about four years younger than him, and was still learning to harness the power of the gift that had been bestowed upon them by the Creator. Riccar, being in his early twenties was more adept at the use of magic, but had yet to fully master it. His mother had told him as much, not in a belittling sort of way, more in a concerned manner, befitting a mother worried for her son's safety.

Their father had died when they were both too young to remember. So their mother Mia, a powerful sorceress in her own right, had raised Riccar and Dichel on her own. She had once sat on the council, but had stepped down when their father had died so that she may focus all her energies on raising them. When Riccar had begun seeing Caylinn, his mother had warned him about Taygen, knowing that the First of the Council would disapprove. Since Taygen and Riccar's father had both kind of been enemies.

Fortunately for him, Taygen was not entirely unreasonable, and was highly aware of his daughter's determination to have what she wanted. And she wanted Riccar as her husband. So, for Caylinn's hand in marriage, Taygen had given Riccar a task he believed would be impossible for the younger man to succeed in. Riccar thought otherwise. All that was required was to find the ruins of Azmith and return with an artifact as proof.

Azmith—a mysterious place, ominous in legend and myth. It was said to be the home of the ancient ones, built long ago in the time before remembering.

Riccar had spoken to Garth before they had departed, and had learned what little the man knew about the place. Garth was barely middle-aged, yet he had already lost all of his hair. Caylinn had once speculated that the man's hair loss was the result of a mistake that the wizard had made while casting a particular powerful spell, one that, she theorized, had backfired on him. Riccar's friend Rentu though otherwise, asserting it might have happened when Garth had ended his relationship with Nana, the village midwife. Rentu jokingly said Nana was being vindictive and had cast a balding spell on Garth.

"Give me your hand, Dichel," Riccar called out, returning to the present when he saw his younger brother slip on the loose scree.

Dichel held out his hand, his eyes wide. Riccar locked arms with Dichel and heaved him up, bringing him to the ridge he was standing on. His brother sucked in a deep breath and nodded his head, thanking him for his help. Riccar patted him on the shoulder and removed a waterskin from around his shoulder and handed it to Dichel.

"Here, drink," he said.

Dichel took it with a smile and popped the cap, taking a slow draft of the cool liquid. "Is she worth this, Riccar?"

"Caylinn?"

His brother nodded.

"Yes," Riccar answered without any hesitation. "I only wish I could unite our souls together forever, in this world and the next."

Dichel raised his eyebrows. "You are that sure of her?"

"Yes," Riccar nodded. "I am."

After recovering their strength, the two continued up into the Darah Mountains. Soon they began to encounter snow and they bundled themselves up in the fur cloaks their mother had given them. Visibility became limited the higher up they went. The mountaintops were shrouded in clouds. As Dichel set up camp underneath an outcropping large rocks, Riccar trudged on ahead, peering into the haze of mist, scouting out a possible path for the morning, when hopefully the mist would lift.

"HALT!" came a booming voice.

Riccar froze in his steps, eyes going wide, his hand slowly reaching for the hilt of the dagger he had brought along. He had not expected to encounter anyone on this journey. There was no one else alive outside of Prima… at least that was what the council would have them believe.

He looked around, reaching down inside himself to touch the gift, using what he had been taught, trying to sense the other that was here with him.

A low chuckle filled the cool air. "Strong are you in the gift. I can feel your power… the flow of it, surging through your veins."

"Who are you? What do you want?" Riccar shouted out into the mist, turning around, pirouetting in place. His eyes strained against the grey haze. He could see nothing, yet still, he could sense the presence of something… dark.

"Your destiny is written in the stars!" the dark voice continued. "You shall do great things… terrible things, yes… but great!"

"No," Riccar shook his head, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

The voice laughed again, seeming to take pleasure in his discomfort. "It shall be your doing that will create the greatest evil the world has ever known. And in advance, I thank you for the souls I shall receive as a result."

Riccar staggered back, suddenly knowing whose voice was speaking to him. He trembled, and tripped, falling back into the snow, the voice laughing around him. He closed his eyes and shook his head, slightly praying for the light and strength of the Creator to help him. The voice soared over him, deafening out all other sounds. Riccar clenched his eyes shut and screamed, crying out against the hatred and evil he was feeling all around him.

And then it was gone.

Riccar opened his eyes. He lay there, panting in the snow, not entirely sure as to what had just happened. Was it a vision, or a visitation? Slowly, he sat up and rubbed his hands over his face, raking his fingers through his unruly hair, brushing away the snow that was clinging to him as he tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

"Riccar!"

It was Dichel. Riccar jumped up and grabbed for his dagger. He ran back the way he came, following his footprints in the white snow. Dichel met him halfway, breathing hard, cheeks flushed from the cold and his breath puffing out in front of him.

"Riccar!" Dichel repeated, concerned lacing his voice as he met him. "I… I heard a great roar and then you scream. I feared you had been covered under an avalanche."

Riccar grabbed a hold of his brother and hugged him tightly, needing to feel the reassurance of another living soul. "I'm fine, Dichel. I… I'm fine. Nothing… nothing happen." He couldn't tell him about hearing that voice, no one, not even Caylinn. No one must ever find out that the Keeper had spoken to him.