THE FIRST GIFTED – 3 – The Guardians of Black
The snow had ceased an hour or two ago, but the wind was still coming at them like an angry spirit. It was frightfully cold, and it was all Riccar could do just to tug the fur cloak his mother had given him tighter around his trembling body. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and clutched the memento Caylinn had secretly handed to him when they had made their farewell in the village square.
Caylinn had given him a lock of her beautiful raven hair. He had treasured it during his long voyage, occasionally bringing it out before going to bed to run his fingers through the silky strands, thinking of her. He loved her so much, and sometimes he needed to remind himself why he was up here in the cold, freezing his buttocks off. And though he was doing this to prove to Taygen that he was a worthy husband for Caylinn, Riccar also believed that he could earn more than just her hand in marriage as a result of this excursion.
Azmith was rumored to hold the knowledge of the ancients, from the time before remembering. Yet ever since that one night, up on the mountain peak, in the heart of a blizzard, Riccar had been left shaken. Hearing the voice of the Keeper lift a haunting feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The dark words still rang in his ears. You shall do great things… terrible things, yes… but great! He shook his head and closed his eyes. Riccar refused to believe that he was capable of such things. He couldn't conceive of it. It was impossible.
"Riccar! Watch your footing!" Dichel's shout pulled him out of his brooding thoughts.
Stopping in his tracks, he shifted, and secured himself before taking his next step. The path they were following was blanketed in the fine white powder of an early snowstorm. Riccar glanced to his left and spotted the slight glimmer of slick ice. If Dichel hadn't called out when he did, he might have slipped and then ended up falling down the slope towards the precipice, and dropped down into the fog-shrouded abyss.
The blizzard was light, yet Riccar could still feel the chill in his bones that told him it would soon be much worse. They needed to find shelter before that happened.
Inching forward, Riccar hugged the cliff face, pressing his face against the cold hard stone of the mountain as the wind picked up. He focused his thoughts, banishing away the memories of the Keeper's voice. The path was treacherous and he needed all his focus on what he was doing. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder, and looked to Dichel. His younger brother was doing well. Unlike him, Dichel had no reason to be distracted.
They continued at a slow pace, checking their footing and gripping the stones to secure themselves against the hard wind. As they progressed, Riccar began to fear that they had chosen the wrong trail to follow. There was a chance this path would lead to nowhere. The howl of a wolf broke through the wind, and Riccar tensed. Were they being stalked?
He blinked and shielded his eyes against a sudden gush of wind. Squinting, he spied something in the distance. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but then the clouds parted just enough for some light to shine through, illuminating what lay in the valley below.
"Dichel! Do you see that?" he shouted, pointing down to the valley below.
Dichel arched his neck and peered over the edge. "Yes. It looks like it could be a wall, or maybe the side of a building."
"Do you think it could be Azmith?" Riccar asked.
His brother shrugged. "There is only one way to tell."
Riccar nodded and turned his head away from the view. Just then, the wind picked up and he could have sworn he heard a malicious laugh float around him. He tensed, the flurries picking up. And then it sounded, a sharp high-pitched howl of a wolf. There was silence for a moment, and then that lone howl was followed by several more.
Turning his head, Riccar arched his body and looked past Dichel. "Wolves!"
Dichel spun his head around. "They're trying to corner us on the precipice."
A large black form appeared through the white flurries, dark yellow eyes piercing. The beast was the largest wolf Riccar had ever seen. It looked unnatural. It snarled at them and it threw back its head, letting out a shrill howl. More followed, and soon smaller, but equally as impressive wolves appeared, behind the first. Riccar blinked, startled, when he saw that the large beast was staring straight at him.
"Dichel! Get behind me!" Riccar instructed over the din of the howling wind, or was that sound coming from the beasts that were slowly surrounding them?
Slowly, Dichel moved, the snow crunching underfoot as they changed places. Riccar dug into his fur cloak and retrieved a dagger. The blade glimmered in the overcast light, and the metal handle was cold and hard. He held it up, in a defensive manner, daring the large wolf to make a move.
The beast stood its ground, looking at him, staring him down. Slowly, it moved one paw and stepped forward. The others followed suit, and ever so slowly, the circle began to tighten around them. Riccar gritted his teeth as they backed away.
"The precipice!" Dichel called out.
Riccar glanced over his shoulder and spotted an escape. He locked eyes with his brother, communicating his plan. Dichel frowned, but gave a nod. The lead wolf let out a low growl, the sound vibrating around them. Riccar flirted his gaze back to the beast, watching as it raised its head, letting out a long howl.
And then they charged, jaws snapping, nostrils flaring.
Jumping back, Riccar spun around and grabbed a hold of his brother by the arm. At full speed, Riccar ran, pulling Dichel with him. They ran straight for the edge of the cliff, the snapping wolves on their tails. The wind picked up around them, and Riccar could hear the laugh again, snaking and floating around him. It was the Keeper. He was toying with them. Testing them. Riccar gritted his teeth, preparing his him.
"NOW!"
Reaching the edge of the cliff, they launched themselves up into the air. The snarling snaps and growls of disappointed and angry followed them as the wolves pulled to a halt on the edge. Riccar ignored them, and focused his attention. Still with one arm wrapped securely around Dichel, he reached out with his other, and used all his willpower to summon his Han. It reached out and they were pulled further than their momentum could have.
The branch smacked hard against his middle, and he temporarily lost his breath. Gasping for air, clinging on to the tall tree that had been nearly ninety feet from the precipice, Riccar risked a glance over his shoulder. If they had not been gifted with magic, they would have plummeted down to the abyss below. Only thanks to his abilities and strength in magic had they managed to make it. A normal man would have fallen to his death.
"That was close," Dichel let out a breath besides him.
"Yes," Riccar occurred, staring out at the big black beast standing on the edge of the cliff, its yellow eyes glaring at him with a steely determination that was frightening. Shaking it off, Riccar turned back to Dichel. "Let's climb down. That wall… what do you think? A league or two?"
"More like three leagues from here," Dichel huffed.
Riccar thought. "We'll climb down a bit and make camp while still in the tree."
Dichel nodded. "Good idea," he gestured towards the precipice.
Looking back, Riccar noticed that the wolves were scampering down the edge, going down the face of the cliff with skill and ability that seemed unnatural. The leader, however, still stood stark still glaring at them. He swallowed, and turned to Dichel.
"Let's move," he said.