The Knife's Edge (32 page)

One morning, scouting just as normal with Maris at his side, Gray reached out with his heightened senses, expecting the usual when his senses stumbled. The feeling of the mountain was gone, as if there was a void in the world where there should be more snow and rock.

“What is it?” Maris asked.

Gray spurred Fael’wyn, deciding to find out. As they turned the bend, the screen of white cleared unveiling what he had sensed. He pulled Fael’wyn to a sharp halt. His cloak whipped fiercely, as the raging wind threatened to pull him down.

Ahead, the lost road came to an abrupt end.

The path fell away, and an abyss a thousand leagues deep and fathoms wide replaced it. In the distance, beyond the chasm, Gray saw the road begin again. Maris was silent at his side, and Gray realized that the Shining City might as well have been destroyed for they would never reach it now.

The Golden Walkway

T
HE WORLD FELL ENDLESSLY BEFORE
G
RAY.
Beyond the chasm, the icy trail of the Lost Road continued, impossibly out of their reach. Mura clasped his shoulder, turning him. “Come back from the ledge, boy.”

“It’s all right,” Gray said. He didn’t tell the hermit but the wind coursed around his feet and rooted him to the ground like leaden boots, just like in Lakewood.

“What are we going to do?” Ayva cried over the wind.

“Gone,” Darius whispered.

He spoke, still eyeing the chasm. “We cannot turn back.” Others turned to him and he continued, “There must be another way. We did not come all this way to be stopped here.”

Darius clutched his black rags against the wind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s a giant abyss. We’re stuck. There is no way forward.”

“Then we must find a way.”

Ayva spoke with a sudden fire, “Gray is right. We cannot give up! This mountain is full of passes. I saw at least a dozen on our way. One of them has to lead to the Shining City!”

“They are all ancient, dead passes,” Mura answered. “There is only one path that leads to the Shining City and that is the Lost Road.”

Maris appeared. Gray watched as all eyes fell to the Ronin. The legend spoke in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “The old man speaks the truth. This is a dead end.”

The crowds erupted in shouts. “What are we to do?”

“There is no more food!” another shouted, “We must go forward!”

“No, we must turn back. We are cold and hungry! If we stay, we die!”

The villager’s cried out, a dozen voices echoing their fear.

Gray ignored them. He heard something in Maris’ tone and he eyed the man. The Ronin, though usually impassive, sat upon his mount with an unaffected look.

“I need to speak with you,” he said as the villagers argued. Maris quietly dismounted, and Gray pulled him aside. He spoke in a low tone, too low for others to hear, “Answer me, and tell me the truth, did you know this was a dead end the whole time?”

“Yes,” Maris said.

Gray’s heart dropped. “Why? You lead us all the way here for nothing?” Maris was silent and anger rose inside him, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I know exactly what I’ve done. This was a test.”

“What are you talking about?” he said feeling his muscle’s tense.

“This is what you’ve needed. Omni knew it as well.”

“You’re not making any sense, speak straightly,” he said, confused and angry.

“Don’t you see? Finally, you have an opportunity to conquer your fears and face the limits of your true power. And here it is,” the Ronin said giving a broad swipe of his arm, gesturing to the impassible chasm.

“You can’t be serious. That’s what I am to you? A test?” he said with disdain, and suddenly he loathed the legend, “You tricked me. You took us all this way merely for a game of power.”

“No,” Maris said calmly. “This is much more. If you do not see that, you will never be able to fulfill your destiny. You must learn to wield and know the limits of your power or you will never be able to face the Kage.”

Gray shook his head. “I don’t care about that if it’s at the cost of others. Don’t you see how many lives hang in the balance?” He pointed to the many behind him, “These are innocent men, women and children, or are they merely figures on your board as well.”

Quicker than light, Maris’ snatched Gray’s outstretched wrist. He squeezed it until it felt as if the bone was going to snap. “Watch your tone,” the Ronin breathed. “I’ve faced more death and suffering than a thousand men combined, and I will not be lectured in the ways of empathy. Lives always hang in the balance. It is the knife’s edge we must walk. Sometimes, you must risk a great deal to do what is needed. Now is one of those times.”

He held the man’s gaze until he could no more. At last, he pulled his arm away, rubbing it, “What are you asking of me?”

“Simple. You must bridge the pass to save those you care so dearly for.”

“I am not a Ronin,” Gray retorted, “How am I supposed to do that? Besides, you’re their leader, not I.”

“Yet you speak like one,” he said, squelching Gray’s fire with the truth in his words. He looked away and Maris continued, “You are their leader, Gray. Trust yourself and the nexus will guide you. Besides, your abilities surpass anything I can do. You are Kail’s progeny.”

The mention of the traitor and his connection made Gray shiver. Far away, a flat landing of rock and ice was barely visible—where the path began again—like an island of ice. A lump rested in Gray’s throat as he spoke, “You think I can do this?”

“I do.”

“Tell me how to begin,” he replied.

“Summon the nexus, and then give into it. The spell should weave itself.”

“Is that all?” Gray asked.

Maris gave a wolfish grin, “Just know you will have to summon more power than you’ve ever wielded before; far more than you had within the bamboo forest. It will shake you to the core. You’re going to feel like you just ran a hundred miles and your body was pummeled the whole way. If it doesn’t break you.”

“Break me?”

“Drawing too much of the flow will kill you, or drive you to insanity.”

“Thanks for telling me now.”

“Better late than never,” Maris said with a sly grin.

Gray nodded, “I’m ready then.” He strode forward, and Ayva and Darius came to his side.

“I know that look,” Ayva said fearfully, “Just what are you planning, Gray?”

He gave her a reassuring smile, which only seemed to heighten her look of uncertainty. He turned and looked to the villagers, who suddenly quieted. “There is another way,” he voiced. The villagers leaned in, trying to hear.

“Summon the nexus,” Maris said at his side.

“Why?”

“Kail had the ability to speak with great volume and I remember the threads. I cannot weave it for you, but I can show you,” Maris said. Gray agreed and the Ronin touched his temple. Gray stiffened, dragged into a sudden vision. Thousands of dead bodies littered the streets of towns. Villages, farms, and fields on fire, and vast cities of stone crumbled before his eyes. He realized it was the memories of the Ronin. Maris redirected the images, and Gray saw Kail standing upon a hill before the other eight Ronin. The legend addressed a vast army upon the rolling green hills. He watched as intricate webs danced in Kail’s hand. The spell took the form of a cone, summoned before his mouth, visible to only those with the power. The threads abruptly tightened and Kail spoke, his words booming.

The vision broke and he opened his eyes. All of it only took a mere moment. Maris flashed a wink, stepping back. He faced the crowds. He realized how he stood. It was just like Kail before his army. However, Gray’s own army was much smaller. Moreover it was not trained soldiers, but villagers, men, women and children. However, in a way, the two armies were the exactly same. The villager’s bore the same stubborn look. Their strength was quiet, yet unmistakable. Gray lifted his head, gazing over the crowds as he extracted threads of wind from the air. He formed them as he had seen Kail do. He pulled the threads tight.

He spoke, addressing the villagers, “I will lead us to the Shining City—” he faltered, startled by the power of his own voice. Each word boomed, flying over the crowd and reaching every ear. He spoke again, adjusting his volume, “There is another path, but you will have to trust me.”

Ayva leaned in close and whispered, “What are you planning?”

Darius gave him an uncertain look as well.

The villager’s whispers grew.

“Do you trust me?” Gray asked.

“Of course,” Ayva answered.

“We’re with you,” Darius said, “We always have been. But whatever you have in mind, it better be good.”

Gray winked, hiding his doubt, hoping he did have what it took. Slowly, he turned back to the divide, leaving the villagers to whisper and watch. He stepped to the edge, placing his toes to the rocky lip. Bits of rock fell away, tumbling endlessly. They clattered and echoed off the cliff’s walls until there was no sound. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it seemed right. This close to the edge, wind pummeled him from all sides. Zephyrs flowed around him like hands, strong and alive, gentle and furious. He teetered, and threw his arms out when a strong hand clasped his outstretched arm. Mura was at his side, holding him.

“Some things never change,” Mura grumbled, a smile beneath his grimace.

Gray felt another hand, and saw Darius holding his other arm.

“Need a hand?” the rogue smirked.

Gray turned to the drop and delved inward, closing his eyes. His power flooded him and his body shuddered. The hands on his arms tightened. He gave in to the nexus and watched as threads unraveled, twisting, and weaving together. More! his mind demanded. He took it all and the wind from the abyss poured over him, feeding the nexus. The swirling ball expanded beyond his vision. A fearful voice whispered, warning him, but he pushed it aside and drew more. He heard Maris’ voice, “Drawing too much of the flow will kill you, or drive you to insanity.”

He shrugged the words off. Instead, he wove the threads faster and faster, seeing a tapestry of wind form in his mind, so intricate and dense it appeared spun by a thousand looms. All the strands coalesced and his breath caught as he realized the pattern was complete. He reached out, willing the strands to lengthen and bridge the gap. Tightening his fist, the last threads snapped into place like a taut rope.

Slowly, his world returned.

His heart hammered and golden light filled his vision. He heard gasps from all around. Mura and Darius released his arms, and he let them fall as he took in what stretched before him. A bridge of golden light spanned the long abyss. The surface appeared solid, like hammered gold, but beneath the flat surface currents of air flowed. The whole thing was wide enough for two carts with horses to walk side by side, and room to spare.

Gray took a deep breath and he stepped out onto the walkway.

“Gray!” Ayva cried.

His foot landed firmly. The surface was harder than dirt, but more yielding than steel. He took another step, and then turned, looking back. “It’s safe,” he announced and the villagers burst into cheers, the sound loud enough to shake the mountains. He grinned and Ayva and Darius rushed out to meet him, stepping onto the golden walkway.

“You did it!” Ayva said jumping into his arms with a hug and he laughed as well.

Darius grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, “Dice! That was amazing!” He said and bounced on the balls of his feet, testing the golden surface.

Over Ayva’s shoulder, Gray watched as others made their way onto the bridge, glad they were excited and not afraid. Ayva released him, “What is this thing?” she asked, touching the ground and gasped, “It feels warm. Is it wind?”

Gray nodded.

“Isn’t that what Kail wielded?” Ayva asked.

“Dice!” Darius cursed, “You’re as powerful as the Blight Seeker!”

Gray swallowed, feeling sweat flash on his forehead and palms. He knew that name, as did many—it was one of Kail’s many names, including the Traitor, and the Betrayer of Men.

Ayva punched Darius’ arm. “Don’t you ever watch your mouth?” She turned to Gray. “It’s really amazing. I’m not sure how you did it but…” she touched his arm, and she looked as if she was about to speak when several villagers approached. They clapped him on the back and thanked him. Wisely, the villager’s kept clear of the edges. Mothers clutched their children with both hands and men steered away others who veered too close in their excitement.

Mura pushed his way through and embraced Gray. “Lad, one day we’re going to have to talk about what just went on there.”

“One day, I might understand it as well.” A terrified cry erupted in the cheering crowds—it was soft, but he had heard it clearly. The others hadn’t. They laughed and smiled, unaware, obviously not hearing what he had. “Quiet!” he shouted and his words boomed, silencing the villagers. The cry came again, shattering the quiet and Gray spotted a little girl shrieking and pointing to the sky.

Gray followed her hand and saw huge beasts hurtling towards them, diving right at the crowds. “Dragons!” he shouted and the world exploded into chaos.