The Sword and The Mountain (Kathardra book 1)

“Lessa!” Storm’s mental shout was so powerful that Lessa physically winced.

The dragon trumpeted so loud the call ricocheted through Lessa’s ribs. She appeared over the top of the manor, sailing toward Lessa on the wind with haste.

A tidal wave of relief washed over Lessa, pressing on her through their connection. She choked on a sob as Storm landed before her and nuzzled Lessa’s torso. They spoke no words, their bond restored was enough. Together, their emotions spiraled upward; anxiety and anguish had marred their time apart, once it was shared, it was released, and it could be healed. It was replaced by elation that they had been reunited, contentment in each other’s presence.

Foreheads together Lessa let tears of relief trickle down her cheeks.

“I love you, Storm,” she both said and sent it.

“I love you too, little Lessa.”

“Lessa!” It was Zar’s voice.

She quickly wiped her cheeks, she found her feet, and stepped to the side of Storm revealing Zar sprinting across the lawn toward her.

Her heart soared and she had to suppress another sob. He’s alive! He is safe!

It could not be helped when Zar reached her, Lessa captured him in her arms, she squeezed him tightly in her embrace, arms around his neck.

He held her back.

His strong arms wrapped tightly around her, he stood straight and her feet lifted from the ground. Despite her best efforts, a half sob shook from Lessa’s throat. For a long moment Lessa remained locked with her arms around Zar, she knew he would see her eyes wet with tears if she let go. She couldn’t let him see her weak. He only needed her strong.

“You made it,” he said quietly into her ear.

He released her, and she dropped back to the ground, she could only nod in response. She wiped her face fully with both hands, trying to pass wiping her tears away as nothing more than a stress gesture.

“What happened?” she asked as he held a hand out toward the manor.

Faster than any person ever could, Storm filled Lessa in.

The moment Lessa had darted into the woods she had vanished. Storm realized at once that she couldn’t hear Lessa. But Zar and Worran were screaming into the forest for her. Taking to the sky to search hadn’t helped at all, Storm couldn’t see anything but trees. She had landed again to see if the boys had made any progress. She found them walking along a wide path through the trees. The path had not been visible from the air. It led directly to this open lawn, Storm had to walk along the path. It was insulting.

Once they got here they found a man who explained that the forest was a test, that only candidates for the academy were able to experience. Once Lessa, the only candidate, had left the group the way opened for the rest of them.

“Once we came to the conclusion that searching for you was likely futile, a path appeared in the trees. Even I couldn’t see through seeing it. So we-”

“Sorry, Storm just told me everything... But who is the man?”

Zar’s hand raked through his hair. This couldn’t be good. He filled his lungs slowly, and let them out in a burst before he answered. “Cinder. He is a mage. And will hopefully teach you magic.”

They were just reaching the manor, wide stone steps led up to a massive iron-edged door.

“Worran!” Lessa jumped up the first couple of steps to where Worran was leaning on the lion-carved stone railing and pulled him into a hug.

“Don’t tell me you actually missed me,” he said as he briefly hugged her back.

“You know, I think I somehow did.”

His face, purpled from lack of oxygen, struggling for breath, flashed before her eyes for just a minute.

His head cocked to the side, like a curious puppy.

“I missed you a lot,” she said quietly.

“What happened out there?” He tilted his head toward the forest. “Must’ve been pretty bad if you miss me.”

She pivoted on the ball of her foot and stared out over Zar toward the trees. It seemed so innocuous, but it was a wolf in wool.

Her eyes dropped to Zar, he was looking up curiously, and her heart ached. She could still see him, pale and bleeding out.

Comfort came like a blanket from Storm.

“I-...” her voice failed, she tried again. “I…”

“It is typically impolite to ask what was experienced in the Trial.”

Lessa whipped around, the door of the manor was standing open, and just on the threshold was an old man. He might’ve been her grandfather’s age. Or younger… Maybe older? She couldn’t tell. He wasn’t heavily wrinkled but his eyes held age. His hair still had some red to it, but it was mostly white, and his bushy beard was like dirty snow.

“Hello,” she tried to be polite. For possibly the first and last time, Lessa wished she had absorbed more of the manners her mother had tried to drill into her. “I’m Lessa.”

She closed the distance with her hand out. He stared down at her hand with disgust.

“Bah!” He turned and went back into the manor.

Blinking rapidly, Lessa turned and looked at Zar, Worran, and Storm. “Did I do something wrong?”

Worran turned back to where he had been resting on the rail of the steps. “This is a bad idea,” he said to no one in particular.

“He is less than friendly,” Zar spoke as he joined Lessa at the top of the stairs, he led the way inside...

The interior was just as grand as the outside had been, two massive dark wood staircases lined the entry, they joined at the pinnacle in a bridge that spanned over another large door, it was open and a dining hall was on the other side.

Cinder was marching up the right stairwell and Lessa rushed to follow him.

“So you’re here to be a mage, are you?” he didn’t even bother to look at her.

“Well, I-”

He cut her off, “There’s no point.”

“Wait what?”

“There’s no point. Girls make dragon dung mages. And from what I’ve heard you’ve never even managed to use magic.”

“Well no I-”

“Bah!” He had stopped at a door just at the top of the stairs. “You can stay here until you leave.”

“What do you mean?” confusion dominated Lessa’s brain. He wasn’t even going to try?

“I mean,” he drew out the word like she wouldn’t understand it, “that if you have never touched magic by the time you are ten there is almost no chance you will ever find it. So there is no point in you being here. Once you realize that you’ll be on your merry little way. Swordmaiden.”

It was a slur from his mouth.

She clenched her jaw.

The knee-jerk reaction she had developed whenever Zar brought up the prospect of her using magic was to scoff. She knew she couldn’t use magic. But this man, telling her the opposite overwhelmed her learned reaction and she immediately wanted to prove him wrong.

“Says who?” she crossed her arms over her chest and stretched to her fullest height.

“Says history, you silly girl,” he shook his head and managed to look down on her, despite being slightly shorter.

“History has also said people don’t ride dragons.”

“Riding a dragon isn’t using magic. It hides itself behind a wall if it is never used. The longer you go, the harder it is to reach that magic. You’re what, thirteen? You’ve had years for the magic to bury itself. I give you two weeks.”

“I’m sixteen!” Her anger rose, raging like an inferno. She had never been condescended in such a way.

“Bah!” he turned and started walking away. Lessa’s hand fell to her sword handle and she started after him.

Zar grabbed her wrist, forcing her to keep her sword where it was, stately in her scabbard.

“I’ll do it in one!” she called after him.

He turned slowly to face her. “Fine. One. Week. If you haven’t used magic in seven days you’re out.” He turned back down the hall and stomped briskly away.

“That seems to have gone well,” Worran said as he neared the top of the stairs.

Lessa’s eyes found Zar’s very concerned eyes.

A grimace spread on her face at once, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He shook his head slowly.

She knew why they were here. Zar was desperately trying to find her a teacher. For the magic she couldn’t use. That she had just sworn she would.

She groaned into both of her hands.

Worran opened the door Cinder had left her at. Inside was a warm room, with a huge four-poster bed, and a small table, it was laid with biscuits, turkey, and fruit.

Lessa set upon it at once with the ferocity that Storm displayed when consuming a fresh kill.

“There have to be other teachers here, maybe we should ask one of them?”

“Cinder is the only one here,” Worran said as he took a seat at the small table with Lessa.

“This place is huge,” her voice was slightly muffled, as it was stuffed with biscuits. “He can’t be the only one here.”

“He is the only one here,” Zar confirmed.

“How?”

“Magic has been on the decline in Kathardra for a long time. Fewer children are born with magic each year. And even those that can wield it aren’t very strong. You can’t have magic teachers without magic.”

“Why?” she asked, resting her head against the high-backed chair.

“No one really knows why,” Zar answered. “Some people think that magic is running out, being used up. But that can’t be the case because other countries still have normal rates of wielders. Only Kathardra is losing them.”

“Zar, does it have anything to do with the Rhodrin family not being on the throne?” Worran asked.

Zar considered it. “I don’t think so. From what I can tell this has been a problem longer than that.”

Lessa’s eyes sank closed.

“What would cause Kathardra to lose wielders like that, but not other countries?” Worran said.

“Breeding? Typically magic tends to be inherited. We might be losing it just due to magic wielders wedding nonwielders, and their children not inheriting their gifts. Enough generations of that could, unfortunately, cause the extinction of wielders.”

“But you don’t think that.”

“No, I don’t. While magic tends to run in family lines I have seen enough children carry magic when neither parent has any to think that there is something more going on.”

“Do you think Cinder knows why?”

“Maybe,” Zar admitted.

“I think Lessa is asleep.”

She tried to tell them that she was still listening but was unable to summon the energy and just gave into the welcome embrace of sleep.