The Sword and The Mountain (Kathardra book 1)

Darkness.

No matter how hard she tried, Lessa couldn’t move.

Something was wrong.

As if from black smoke Zar appeared before her. Pain was written all over his face. A scream was forming in Lessa’s lungs but she couldn’t release it. She could barely breathe.

“Ghaaaa…” Lessa woke with a long gasp, like a drowning woman desperate for air. Sitting upright was a struggle, wrestling from her sheets, they clung to her sweaty body.

It was just a dream. But it had felt flaming real.

She stood and crossed the small gap to her window, her lungs still urgently needing fresh air. Lessa released the little iron latch and threw the window open as wide as it could go. Cold air immediately invaded Lessa’s room, kissing her skin, grounding her, relieving the terror the dream had instilled. It was just a dream.

There was enough night left that Lessa should try to sleep. But she wouldn’t be able to. Instead, she bathed, dressed, sat at her small table, and pulled a book and quill close to her.

Along with learning control, Cinder had given her the task of learning Kathardrean writing. It was also helping Lessa’s comprehension of the language. Thanks to the translation spell she had a firm grasp of the language, but this was helping her understanding become more intentional than instinctual.

And apparently, it was going to be necessary to learn any spells.

A beat tapped randomly from Lessa’s fingers on the rough paper in front of her. It had been over two weeks. Two weeks, and three broken bones.

After the first break, clavicle, Zar had taken to watching Lessa while pacing and messing his hair.

She really only broke bones the first few days. At that point, the only control she achieved was over how she landed.

Worran had watched with confused amusement. “Is it really so hard?” he asked.

“You try controlling a river with a spoon,” Lessa snapped at him.

She progressed quickly, and then seemingly not at all. For the bulk of the practice time, Lessa was not being thrown backward many yards. Most of it was kneeling in front of the pendulum, being tossed just onto her back.

But just yesterday she had gotten to the point where, focusing very hard, she could brace herself against the ricochet and it would hardly push her. Cinder had watched and grumbled, “I suppose that is good enough. We’ll start real training tomorrow.”

Today was the day.

And so, after eating breakfast on the dining table Cinder had just finished crafting magically, they were once again standing on the lawn.

“A mage is a man or woman who fights with magic. We generally work with the elements commonly found around us, often using a weapon as the focal point for the direction of our power.

“The very first thing you need to learn is a shield. The most basic form is to condense and solidify the air. Like so.” He took something similar to a ready stance, Lessa mirrored him instinctively, dipping slightly lower and bending her knees, ready for anything. But he only brought his hands up and tensed his fingers for just a moment, and the air in front of him warped. It almost looked like a piece of glass was suddenly between her and Cinder. But it had rippling translucent rainbows wavering through it that shifted when Lessa moved her head.

“Touch it,” Cinder said.

Lessa obeyed, it somehow felt slippery, almost like touching solid dry water.

“Your turn.” Cinder dropped his hands and the shield disappeared.

A frown crossed Lessa’s face. She had no idea what she was doing. But she reached for her magic, just a bit, and focused on the air in front of her.

“Use your hands,” Cinder said, “it will help you concentrate on what you are doing. Using your hands, a sword, a staff, a wand, anything physical will give your mind a focal point on which to focus and guide your power.”

Lessa’s hands rose before her.

“Now visualize what you want to happen.”

She did. It looked just like Cinder's had. Desire and magic mixed in front of Lessa’s fingers, she tightened her fingers and brought them closer to each other. She could feel the shield getting firmer in response to her movements.

A big grin spread across Lessa’s face. “It's work-ooff.” Cinder blasted Lessa’s shield with an energy ball. Lessa hit the ground and glared up at Cinder.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded.

“You need to maintain concentration. The moment your shield is under assault it will try to break apart. If you cannot maintain the shield you will feel the repercussions of the attack. Again.”

Deja vu came on strong. This was all too similar to the early days of sword training with Zar. Hit the ground, get up, hit the ground.

She was right. The second Lessa formed a second shield Cinder assaulted it again. The shield shattered soundlessly and Cinder’s blast pushed through to Lessa’s and ground her into the earth. Once again Lessa was applying the biggest lesson learned training with Zar. Get back up.

A third time her shield managed to last a second before it broke apart and the remaining energy blasted into Lessa and slammed her backward.

Having her shield broken was the oddest sensation. It sent a spasm through her magic right into her mind, a ripple through her brain.

“You will need to memorize some spells.” Cinder summoned a book from a shelf and placed it in front of Lessa.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?” Cinder stared at her perplexed.

“Why do I need to memorize spells? Can’t I just… I don’t know. Focus? I didn’t need a spell for a shield.”

He nodded, understanding. “You need to memorize healing spells. The human body is too complicated to trust it to ’focusing’. If you miss something important or attach something to where it shouldn’t be, it’ll likely result in chronic pain or impairment.”

Lessa’s eyes met Zar’s where he sat, across from her at the small library table, he looked away, guiltily.

“Sooo,” Lessa started. “If Zar were to have… healed a broken wrist, without a spell… That would have been bad?”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed, he looked between Zar and Lessa.

“Sit up, make eye contact,” he barked at Zar. “You mustn’t let your shame show on your face, but you must learn from it.”

Zar sat up straighter, his face steeled, and became passive.

“Didn’t that hurt?” Cinder asked her.

Lessa sucked on her lips without answering.

“I imagine the only reason your wrist is, I assume, functioning well is because there is a long history of the Rhodrin line being very instinctual magic users. As far as humans go they are very nearly magical creatures.

“However, you now have first-hand experience of why we use spells for healing. Spells always have a set outcome, if performed correctly. Part of every spell numbs the area being healed so that the patient doesn’t have to feel the healing take effect. Memorize all spells through these pages.”

He flipped through the book for upwards of twenty pages. Lessa visibly cringed. Memorization was not a strong suit of hers.

A detailed illustration of human anatomy was on each page, along with an explanation of what each spell would heal. The good news was each spell was multifaceted. The same spell would heal anything between the elbow and wrist, be it the skin, muscle, bone, or anything else.

And the spells here seemed easy enough to cast. It took laying both hands on the injured appendage and reciting the spell. The difficult part was that there was a different spell for each joint and length of each limb; the fingers had their own, the palm, the wrist, the forearm, the elbow, and so on. For the entire body. And these were only obvious injuries.

Driven by curiosity Lessa flipped further in the book than Cinder had instructed and looked at the images. There were spells for the heart, the lungs, and every other internal organ.

“Is there anything magic can’t heal?” she asked idly. Interrupting the political discussion between Cinder and Zar.

“Death, obviously.” Cinder rolled his eyes, then seemed to think twice. “And the mind. If a person loses their sanity for some reason, there isn’t much that can be done.”

“Cancer?” Lessa asked.

Cinder nodded, “It is complicated. But there are spells that accomplish it.”

An impressed look crossed Lessa’s face. She wondered if it would be possible to reverse-engineer the spell and figure out a way to translate it to medicine when she went home. Her mother, a doctor, would find it interesting at the very least.

Guilt washed over Lessa. When was the last time she had thought about her family? They must all think she is dead. How long had she been gone?

“But what is the appropriate taxation rate?” Cinder continued his conversation with Zar.

“The appropriate taxation rate is one the people can afford, without destroying them. It should be enough to support the lords, but not much more.”

“And how do you know what they can afford?”

A thoughtful expression crossed Zar’s face. “The tradition, until Nellaros, was ten percent. I see no issues with reinstituting that rate. It would be the same for all, the lords and the common folk.”

“So the lords would tax the people, then you would tax the lords, so you would collect twice on the same income?”

Zar’s dark brows came together. “No, the lords would collect the tax, then the crown would divide the funds back to the lords where it is needed.”

“I’m going to go downstairs,” Lessa mumbled, Zar glanced at her when she stood with the spell book, but he was too engrossed in his conversation to respond.

“You have to think through every step,” Cinder was explaining. “Unintended consequences are often the worse ones."

Lessa was quickly out of earshot, there were other tables she could study at since Cinder had forbidden her from bringing any books outside. An intricate spiral-iron staircase took Lessa to the bottom floor of the library. Even though she couldn’t go outside there were windows here the sun streamed into.

Now that she could read, albeit slowly, the library books were suddenly much more interesting. Her fingers slid across the spines on the shelves as she strolled to the windows; Unicorns and Other Horses of Magic, The Beast Tribes of the Sennius, A Study on Halfbreeds. Lessa mumbled the names of the books as she passed.

The designated study area was just in front of her, tables with chairs, comfortable sofas, and chairs were scattered neatly before great big windows. Lessa dropped the spell book on a table and glanced around. She hadn’t spent much time on this level of the library, Cinder seemed to prefer the solitary table on the upper level.

A single large door was tucked between shelves off to one side. Lessa’s eyes glanced upward for just a moment, she could make out Zar and Cinder’s voices but couldn’t understand what they were saying. Book abandoned, Lessa went to the door. It was far too conspicuous to leave alone.

She tried the handle, it was unlocked. Lessa was slightly crestfallen, all of the seemingly important doors in the manor were always locked. There likely wasn’t much behind this door.

The door slid open easily despite its size, to reveal another library, but much smaller.

Bewildered, Lessa walked through the door. Who needed a library in a library?

The shelves in this room were not open like all the others. Glass held each shelf closed, protecting the books. There were display cases, looking something like glass-topped boxes on tall legs, holding ancient-looking books resting on maroon velvet. Some of them even held scrolls, with a language Lessa could not read.

Lessa paused her perusing a glass case with a book called The Grimoire of Talanya. Then she noticed a book that was open upon a pedestal. It was huge, both in-depth and in width. Lessa wandered over to it and looked over the page it was open to.

She slowly read the most recent entry. “Upon the sand, a child will be born who will lead the people of the lion to victory over the people of the cobra….

"What in the stars does that mean?”

“Lessa, that is a prophecy. You must be looking at a book of prophecy.”

Immediately Lessa’s fingers started to tremble. She raised a hand to turn a page back, but the second her fingers met the paper, the pages turned themselves. Not many flipped. She scanned the pages as fast as she could. Looking for something that might be familiar. She saw the word dragon and started at the beginning of the entry.

“Upon dragon back, a swordmaiden will enter into Kathardra, wielding a black blade forged by magic. It is upon her choices and her blade that your line will end or Kathardra will be conquered. Only by her hand can the son of Kathardra and Rhodrin be crowned and returned to the Mountain Seat.”

“Lessa?”

She read it again.

And again. She had to be sure she hadn’t mistaken what she said.

“Lessa…” Storm called to her. Lessa could not hear her.

A single word stuck in her mind.

Choices.

Lessa grabbed the book and sank to the floor with it. Tears dripped from her cheeks to the page.

Somewhere, a dragon was trumpeting out a call.

Again, Lessa read the passage.

…upon her choices…

“Lessa!” Zar skidded to a stop in the room. “What’s happening?”

He took the book from her hands, Lessa pressed a hand to her mouth, muffling her already silent crying.

Somewhere in her brain, Lessa knew Zar must be reading the prophecy.

Carefully, Zar placed the book back on its stand, then dropped to a knee before Lessa.

“Did you know?” she demanded.

“Know what, Lessa?”

“'Her choices,’ Zar. Did you know it said choices?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I don’t see how it changes anything.”

“How can it not change anything?” she very nearly yelled. “How can we know that I haven’t already done something to screw this up?”

He frowned. “I don’t believe that.”

“It’s not about believing or not! How can we know that when I decided to eat oatmeal instead of eggs this morning I didn’t screw it up?”

“Lessa,” his tone said 'be reasonable.' “There is no chance that what you chose for breakfast is going to have an outcome that big.”

“Zar, it’s clear that something I do, something I choose is going to change the outcome of an entire country. How do I know what that choice is?”

Zar pivoted on his toes and sat next to Lessa, his back against the pedestal. He spoke carefully. “Believe it or not, I will also have to make choices that impact an entire country.”

A snort of derision escaped Lessa and she tilted her head to the side to give him a dirty look.

He chuckled to himself, “But I understand. Lessa, did you know my mother grew up in a palace?”

“What? No?”

He nodded, knowingly, “Hard to believe, when she raised me in a tent. But my mother is the daughter of a lord. She grew up in his court. She raised me for court. For making the decisions of a country. Cinder is just filling in the, admittedly large gaps. I know you don’t have that advantage.

“But Lessa, I have never known you to be selfish, or unjust. I have only ever seen you try to do the right thing. Even when I have been blind to it. When the time comes, whatever it is, I know you’ll be able to make the right choice.”

For a long moment, Lessa sat silently. Then she said, “I was just starting to believe I can do…this." She waved her hands vaguely in front of her. "I thought that because there was a prophecy, this was all set in stone. With enough sword training, a little magic, and standing in the right place at the right time it would all turn out alright. But now… I’m going to have to make choices. Not to mention I still don’t think I can kill anyone.”

Zar frowned thoughtfully before he responded. “Maybe your choosing to believe you can do this is part of what that means. Lessa, there are three types of people in this world. There are the sheep, the sheepdogs, and the wolves. Most of them are sheep.”

“Are you saying most people just go along brainlessly with the herd?”

“No. What I’m saying is most people are incapable of hurting anything or anyone. Then you have the sheepdogs, they can hurt, but only to protect.”

“And the wolves?” Lessa said.

“The wolves just want to hurt,” he responded.

“So you think I’m a sheepdog?”

He chuckled, “Lessa, you have enough magic, and you can use it now, that I wouldn’t call you anything. But you aren’t a sheep, and you certainly aren’t a wolf.”