“What’s wrong?” Moya called back from the front.
“Waiting on Tesh to jump the crevice,” Gifford said.
“You mean that little gap?” Brin asked.
Little gap? Has everyone lost their minds?
Gifford once more did the impossible and stepped around Tressa who, now that she was turned loose, hugged the cliff wall.
Gifford reached out his arms. “I’ll catch you, just like I did with Tressa.”
Tesh shook his head. “If I come over, if I make the jump, I might knock you off.”
Gifford smirked. “I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”
“I weigh more than you. It’s a real risk.”
Gifford tried to suppress a laugh but failed. “I’ll take that chance.”
Tesh took a deep breath and felt the air shudder as it went in.
Why am I so scared? I’ve never been terrified of heights before.
He hadn’t been afraid of anything to the degree he was now—not fighting Sebek or stepping into that miserable pool; even saying goodbye to Brin hadn’t been this hard. Tesh tried to take a step forward but couldn’t. His feet refused.
“Tesh?” Brin called. She came back, and also walked around the others. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s . . . it’s too far. I don’t think . . . I don’t see how I can . . .”
She looked at the path, confusion filling her face. “Is that what’s causing the holdup? It’s just a crack.”
Brin walked past Gifford. She stepped right to the very edge of the other side. The toes of her shoes dangled off the precipice. She stared at him with a worried expression, then she reached out. “Take my hand.”
Her hand? She’s a mile away!
Even if he could touch her, he wouldn’t. “No, I’ll just pull you down, too.”
She looked at him as if he were the insane one. “You won’t.”
“I will.” He looked down at the darkness below, at depths that he knew went on forever.
“Tesh? Do you trust me?” Her voice drew his sight to her face. “Do you?”
He wanted to and always had in the past, but he still remembered the revulsion in her eyes when she had told him, “You aren’t freeing the world of a monster. You’re taking its place.” It had hurt a lot less at the time, but now the pain was back. The sting of that moment rekindled, not in his body but someplace deeper.
Brin’s eyes grew intense. She had a way of doing that, of being a frivolous, lovesick woman one minute, then transforming into another person: a wiser, stronger one. Her face softened, kindness and understanding bleeding in. “Tesh, you died—you killed yourself to follow me.” She glanced down at the yawning chasm that her toes dangled over. “Are you seriously going to stop now?”
He was shaking.
“Take my hand, Tesh. I promise it will be okay.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Just trust me.”
It took every ounce of will he had to lift his hand and to slide his feet closer to the edge. It was so far down and she such a long distance away. Then, as if by magic, he felt her hand take his and she pulled. He was off-balance, starting to fall, and cried out.
An instant later, he was in Brin’s arms. She was holding him, those tiny hands clutching tight, making him feel safe.
“See?” she whispered. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She gave him a moment to catch his breath—breath that didn’t exist but he felt he needed—then she pulled him forward with her. As she did, he dared a backward glance. He looked for the crevice but didn’t see one. There was only a small gap in the stone of a wide, worn trail.
The rest of the trip down was easier. The ledge, luxurious in its width on the far side of the crevice, lacked obstacles. Tesh continued to follow just behind Brin, who frequently looked back to make sure he was still with her. Something had made crossing that gap seem impossible. Some sort of enchantment, he guessed, and he didn’t need to look far for the source. Rain had called her the Dark Sorceress, and she was a Fhrey—an elf.
He hadn’t trusted Fenelyus when Moya consented to her help, and neither had Tressa.
Is it a coincidence that the two of us who voted against following her are the ones who’ve had so much trouble?
Joining with Fenelyus had been a mistake. He knew it then, and he was even more convinced the longer they were together. With every step he took, he felt heavier, and just walking was becoming difficult.
More magic?
They reached the valley floor, arriving in a darkened corner. They were once again in a forest, this one of dead pines. Gray needles lingered on limbs, creating the illusion of a hazy mist between the trees. Tesh thought he’d once had a dream about a place like this; as most dreams were, it was a foggy patch in his memory. In this forest, some needles had fallen to the ground, creating a soft carpet and an eerie silence. They were outside the influence of the firelight. Tesh could still see, but he was unsure how. Dim as on a cloudy night, the faces with him were ghostly, the trees shadows, and the path lost. No moon or stars provided guidance.
Also the way of dreams, isn’t it?
Now that they were free of the ledge, they all clustered behind Fenelyus, chasing after her like puppies hoping for treats. Tressa was the holdout, hanging out in the back of the line. Prior to the meeting in Gifford and Roan’s tent, Tesh hadn’t met Tressa. He’d only known of her. Bitch, murderer, and traitor were the words most often laid at her feet. He didn’t know why. Hadn’t much cared—he liked Tressa. They were both fighters. Even before their shared fear at the gap, he’d known they were a pair. Self-destructive perhaps, but they would both go down swinging.
“Can I ask a question about the crow?” Gifford asked the Fhrey. “You used the Art to get rid of Orin, but since dying, I’ve found no source to pull from, no way to reach the chords.”
“You are an Artist?” Fenelyus asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I have done a few things, and I know that you need power, and there isn’t any here.”
“I didn’t use the Art. It just looked like I did. You’re new to Nifrel and don’t yet understand how things work. I suspect you’re confused about many aspects of the afterlife. For example, what is the difference between the realms of Phyre?” Fenelyus asked.
“Ah . . .” Gifford faltered.
“Rel is where most people go,” Brin said. “Alysin is where heroes reside, and Nifrel is . . .” She stopped and looked at Fenelyus, embarrassed.
“Where the evil ones end up? It’s okay, that’s what all new arrivals think.” Fenelyus pursed her lips and tilted her head. “And what you said is correct—in a manner of speaking—but you have to understand that good and evil are relative terms. No one is truly good and, likewise, neither are they evil. The truth of the matter is that Rel is for those who, in life, found contentment in little things—or would have if life had been kinder. Arion—while powerful—cared little for employing that strength. She needed nothing and could find contentment in silence. That is why she remains in Rel. Those who are here are the ones who are never satisfied, no matter how much they attain. That’s why I love Arion so. She had aptitude and talent but none of the addictive need for more.”