Chapter 9

I bolt upright in bed, catching my breath. Disoriented, I scan my small, darkened room, trying to piece together the previous night’s events.

Bed, window, dresser, floor…

An empty floor. My heart pounds louder in my ears than my thoughts.

“Should’ve known,” I spit to myself and move to check for the pistol at my side and the travel papers down my shirt, when I hear a throat clear. My head snaps to my left, a flurry of knotted, copper hair flying around me.

“I’ve tried everything short of shaking you awake, but I barely cough and you shoot up like a combat-ready soldier,” Nex drawls, leaning casually against the door, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. He’s already dressed in his cloak and boots, but his hair looks as wind-whipped as the night before.

My suspicion flares. “Where were you? How long have you been awake?” I interrogate.

“Bathroom. And a while.”

“And you’ve just been… standing there?”

He shrugs. “Not much else to do in here.”

I frown, trying to read him.

“You did tell me to stay within six feet of you,” Nex reminds me, much to his amusement and to my frustration.

I scoff, throwing back the blanket and swinging my legs out of bed. I stalk to my dresser with the dagger and pistol in hand, securing my belts around my waist again and donning my left hand-guard. Glancing out the window, I see the violet sky still cloaked in darkness.

Once I’m done, I spin around and meet Nex’s lax demeanor with a hard stare. “The schedule will be as follows: mornings we will train. Afternoons and early evenings you will sit and stay sitting while I work. Then you’ll have to come with me to the laboratory where you’ll be tied to a chair so you don’t touch anything,” I order.

“Is that a promise?” Nex teases, which only agitates me more.

I stomp towards him and start shoving him out the door that he barely has time to open.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he mutters, letting me push him out, me right behind him. We walk out onto the narrow landing, where I’m careful not to step on the creaky board directly in front of Maven’s door. While I’m not sure if Maven is awake yet or not, the particular pitch of that specific board can bring her out of the deepest of sleeps, and I’m hoping on avoiding any interrogations this morning.

“I don’t waste niceties on thieves,” I successfully keep a straight face while guiding him down the stairs by his arms, but internally I slam my mental walls up. He’s being entirely too flippant about our little arrangement.

Nex’s side-eye is brief, I can tell he wants to argue against me, but he still manages to miss a step, which sends us both careening down the last half of the stairs. We land at the bottom of the stairs in another heap of limbs, grunts and groans of pain coming from us both. No snide remarks follow, so I assume Maven and Leil are indeed still asleep.

“Like I said: handsy,” Nex groans as he untangles himself from me for the second time in 24 hours.

I scramble to my feet, my knee popping and my ribs aching, but they pale as my focus tunnels to my face flushing with heat. “If you wouldn’t drag your feet when you walk, you might not trip down the stairs,” I huff, fiercely dismissing how much he comments about me, how much he observes.

I step over him and head for the door. "Come on. No time for you to lay around." I throw open the door, inviting in a rush of a crisp breeze of fresh morning air.

Nex pushes himself up, bracing himself on his knees. “No breakfast?”

I gesture sharply to the open door. “You’ll eat after training.”

Walking through the dark streets with no lights to disrupt the natural darkness of the summit, I crane my neck and breathe in deeply. The cool air from last night’s frost storm clings to my skin, but it’s a welcomed sensation that counters the deep blush of embarrassment that still sits on my cheeks. Even on the nights where no frost storm forces everyone inside, most don’t venture into the night. The darkness is too unnerving. While no dangerous animals roam the summit, the darkness still plays with people’s anxiety. But this appeals to me. I feel hidden, protected even, in the dark.

“You devout?” Nex's voice breaks my reverie. But the clean mountain air must’ve calmed me enough to find some amicability in my reserves.

“To Hesperia? Very. Everyone is,” I answer, taking a moment to observe the dimming constellation directly above us.

“Maybe here in Callanth,” Nex mumbles, shoving his hands into his pant’s pockets. We’ve reached the border of where the wide and swept cobblestone street tapers into the abandoned stalls of the Market. The muted tones of the colorful fields almost look like the lake has extended its borders, moving in sync like waves in the wind.

“Do you not worship Hesperia in Ocassus?” I ask, keeping my tone monotonous while disbelief colors my words.

Nex purses his lips in thought. “Of course we do. Just not everyone.”

“But why wouldn’t they? She’s our goddess!” I lose all sense of keeping my feelings to myself and decorum. The thought of someone not paying their respects to Hesperia, the guide of the people, seems unfathomable, ridiculous even. I can’t imagine not sharing my thoughts and feelings with Hesperia, let alone not seek her guidance.

“They have their reasons,” he states cryptically. “Just like I’m sure you have your reasons to be devout to a fictional entity.”

I stop in the middle of the path. "You're not devout," I conclude, eyes wide, which Nex luckily isn’t able to notice in the dark.

Nex stops a few steps ahead, turning. "Not very, no."

"What's your reason?" I press.

His dark silhouette shrugs. Why does he shrug so much?

“Don’t really see the point in praying to someone I can’t see or a passive deity,” he says plainly and starts walking again. I follow, picking up my pace to walk beside him, our footfall the only sound to fill the space.

“A passive deity? What makes you think she’s passive? She’s constantly guiding us through our days. Eliciting hope and comfort in those who seek it, and offering her silent presence.” My conviction impassions me as I truly believe I owe Hesperia my life. I attribute nearly every aspect of my life as being a direct outcome of Hesperia’s hand in my life. How could someone, anyone, not feel the same?

It’s still too dark for me to read Nex’s expression, but when he speaks, his tone is tense, restrained.

“To some, she may be too silent of a presence,” he grumbles, punctuating the end of the conversation with terse ambiguity.

My initial reaction is to push further, demand a more definite answer to tear his defense apart. But when I open my mouth to present my counter argument, I withhold. I notice that alongside Nex’s vague indifference to Hesperia sits my peace. To Nex, Hesperia appears to mean passiveness. To me, she embodies hope. I don’t need Nex’s worship or direct reason for his unbelief to sustain that hope. With that said, I know myself enough to know that my curiosity will gnaw at me till I broach the topic again.

Maybe tonight I’ll ask more about it… After he’s been fed.

By the time we’ve climbed the stairs to the arena, the impending sun is barely making itself known by the lightened color of pinks added to the horizon. Walking down the stone steps, slick from the evening’s frost, I take in the ominous sight below. If I didn’t know the storm stirs there, I’d think that the world below is nothing more than an empty void.

“So,” Nex exclaims to catch my attention. “You’ve listed your rules and demands, even put together a schedule for us. My turn to set some ground rules.”

We step down into the arena, and Nex wastes no time in sauntering over to collect a harpoon hanging off the wall next to the weapon’s corridor door. He doesn’t even acknowledge the way the two guards stationed at the bottom of the stairs stiffly watch, making sure he’s not someone there to steal or abuse the harpoons. I watch him assess the device as if he is familiarizing himself with it again. He thumbs the leather harness and tugs at the cord attaching it to the harpoon’s hilt. He looks comfortable, confident, as if he is still an avid Scavenger.

He shrugs his cloak off his shoulders and steps into the harness, buckling the straps around his waist when he looks up, commanding direct eye contact from me.

“I said I’d teach you how to win the Stormglass Trials a safer and, frankly, smarter way, negating your apparently unwavering desire to disqualify yourself. But that’ll only work if you take it seriously. So the one rule I’ll set is when I’m teaching, you listen,” Nex says in such a firm and grave tone that I don’t know how to respond. In the growing light of dawn, his eyes darken, reminding me of the stormglass orbs Sulien has sitting in his laboratory. The intensity of his words are underscored by the fierceness swirling in his eyes. I have no choice but to take him seriously.

I give him a curt nod, and as quickly as the tension ignited between us, Nex’s face softens as he smiles.

“Essentially, you’re my apprentice. Look at you. You’ve managed to secure a Chemist’s apprenticeship and a Scavenger’s apprenticeship. Resourceful,” he jibes and has the relentless gall to wink at me.

I roll my eyes in return and fold my arms in defiance. “There’s no such thing as a Scavenger’s apprenticeship.”

“There is now,” he beams a broad smile as he finishes securing the harness to his waist. Nex turns and glances back at me over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

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“Excuse me?” I squeak, my stomach doing a flip at the suggestion.

Nex rolls his eyes at me now. “I’m not asking you to run away with me, I’m telling you to hop on my back.”

Nex’s exasperation only irritates me more.

“Why in the Three Peaks would I hop on your back? You’re supposed to teach me how to descend faster, not take me on a stroll.”

Nex turns back around to face me. “You have no idea what you’re looking for and visibility will already be close to nil. If I’m going to show you where exactly to send your spear, you’ll need to be as close to me as possible, and the best way to do that is for you to be on my back,” he explains as if his reason is blatantly obvious. It’s just plain reckless.

I purse my lips and summon all the humility I can in order to not stomp my foot in defiance like a child.

Never have I dealt with someone as undeniably childish and unreliable as this fine specimen of an ingrate. What was I thinking keeping him around? This plan is flawed any way you look at it.

Thin columns of first light divide the sky, reminding me that training in the early mornings before any Scavengers need to use the arena will only work if we actually train.

Grant me strength to not strangle him, I pray ruefully, then groan exaggeratively. “Fine.”

Nex raises an eyebrow, but turns back around. I try not to feel like I’m climbing a tree as I hop up and wrap my legs around his waist. My arms hook around his shoulders, bringing my face uncomfortably close to his. It’s for a fraction of a second, but I’m almost convinced that I catch a faint smirk on Nex’s face before returning to his newly acquired stoic character. Nex readjusts his harpoon’s harness, then tightens the straps on his gloves.

“Now, when I jump off this cliff, I need both my hands on the harpoon at all times. I can’t help hold you up, and I can’t grab you if you start to slip. That means your job is to hold onto me for your life, because that’s what’s at stake here,” he says and walks forward, his strides not at all hindered by my weight hanging on his back. At his words, I tighten my grip on his shirt and squeeze my legs for better grip. Nex swipes his dark hair away from his face and shoots a teasing sideways glance at me.

“But you’ve done this five times now. You should be the one to caution me.”

“I’ve never done this on someone’s back without a harpoon harnessed to myself,” I squeak, peering precariously over the cliff’s edge. The swirling inky blackness appears dense, even solid, as if we’ll die on impact as soon as we reach the first layer. A passing bout of vertigo makes me involuntarily gulp.

Nex notices my reaction and chuckles. “You’re going to have to trust me a little, my dear apprentice,” he teases, which earns him a flick to his ear.

“Just go,” I mumble, then steel myself. “Any hints of what I need to be looking for?”

Nex smiles wide enough for a shallow dimple to present on his left cheek, the warmth of it pressing up against mine. “I’ll show you,” he replies just before nonchalantly stepping off the edge of cliff.

I squeeze my lips together, effectively sealing in an instinctual scream as my stomach lightens. I don’t think I can hold on any tighter, but being without a harpoon serves as a sobering reminder of how vulnerable I am. My fingers dig into his shoulders, and although the wind roars in my ears, I can feel Nex’s chest rumble as he laughs.

Insufferable tease.

Nex maneuvers us around in the air, controlling our descent with limbs spread. His hair whips around me as does the familiar scent of my room, which I block out immediately. I close my eyes, focusing purely on the way the pressure changes as we shoot through the first layer of the storm. It’s like entering a rain storm from above, a sensation I’ve always enjoyed. Nex gathers his limbs and our speed accelerates as we enter the second layer.

One more layer to go, I chant.

The mist grows heavier and warmer, turning to plump droplets that soak our clothing. I want to ask Nex when I should be ready, but before I can collect enough breath to yell directly into his ear, the wind rips my right hand off of Nex’s shirt with astounding ease. My entire upper-body swings away from his back, my left hand gripping onto his shirt’s collar with all the strength I have.

This is NOT how I’ll die.

My legs strain against the pull of the storm, my hair flapping into my face, blinding me when I open my eyes to orient myself. It’s pointless. The third layer of the storm is the darkest. It consumes all light and leaves only a deadly void in its wake. It’s also the thinnest layer, but the most violent.

I expect Nex to reach for me and pull me back onto him, but he doesn’t. His hands remain clenched around the harpoon. As I flail around in the storm, however, Nex does seem to try to keep us as still as possible, which helps me find my momentum to pull myself forward and latch onto him again. I’m certain I’m pinching him through his shirt by the way my finger nails dig into him, but he doesn’t make me loosen my grip, and I don’t dare change hold.

Bright lights start flashing around us, the sound of booming thunder disorienting me. I squint in the aggressive storm, but see only darkness briefly before blinding lightening interrupts. The wind seems to toss us sideways one moment, only to propel us into a whirl the next, merely two rag dolls at the mercy of an ancient storm.

My heart’s erratic beating drowns out the thunder, which is why I don’t notice when we break through the third and final layer of the storm at first. It’s when I feel Nex’s hand on my knee that I notice that the air has thinned, the wind has stilled, and the temperature has risen. Nex squeezes my knee, offering either reassurance to me or himself, and stays there as we continued to fall. I peer over Nex’s shoulder and gasp at the sight below.

By Hesperia’s embrace…Old Atoraxis.

The vivid images I’d grown up with starkly fall short on the blanket of orange, red, and brown covering the entire landscape of shallow hills and steep canyons. Dark fissures pepper the terrain with forests of black, jagged boulders protruding from the surface, giving the appearance of spears aimed at Nex and I. Among the otherwise flat terrain, a fog hangs near the ground, barely concealing the fog’s source; numerous shards of Stormglass scattered everywhere.

Before I can stop gaping at the repetitive topography, Nex readjusts and angles us towards the mountain side. I’m so consumed in clinging to Nex and seeing Old Atoraxis for the first time that I don’t take a moment to properly panic over the fact that Nex still hasn’t deployed his harpoon.

I’m putting a lot of faith into someone who has every reason to fling me off his back and let me fall. He actually has no reason not to.

Nex taps my knee to get my attention, and when I follow his gaze, he raises the harpoon and points to a spot in the haze. I squint and struggle to get a clear view due to my watering eyes, but just as I’m about to shake my head at Nex, I see it. It isn’t a point on the mountain like I’d assumed. It’s a sudden break in the storm. A dry spell that appears out of nowhere, like an invisible fourth layer of the storm where rain doesn’t penetrate and the wind doesn’t manipulate. It hovers like a ribbon of translucent fabric in the air around us, and when I cautiously reach a hand into the foreign space, I swear the air feels sleek.

I return my hand to Nex’s shoulder and squeeze. Instantly, he shoots the harpoon off towards the mountain. But instead of letting the rope lose its slack, he pulls the second trigger before the spear has even pierced the rock surface. We are propelled forward with the spear, flying horizontally through the air for a moment. As soon as the spear hits its mark, Nex repositions us, and he raises his legs out in front of him, poised for impact. We shoot with incredible speed through the stillness. I gasp as Nex rams us into the mountain, but his legs absorbing all the impact keep us unhurt, and deftly pushes off to control out descent. With this fourth layer momentarily shielding us from any moisture raining down from above, the rope didn’t slip within the mechanism, and Nex effortlessly maneuvers the device without incident.

Deploying the harpoon this late, I wouldn’t even need to recoil to redeploy my spear till I needed to get back up, I calculate in amazement.

Nex was right. This is a better way, a faster way, maybe even a safer way. And I’m determined to master it.

***

Nex deploys the spear a final time, pulling the third trigger to recoil the rope and sending him and I high above the cliff’s edge. It doesn’t matter that he’d just plummeted us into the abyss of the storm and back in one piece, I still cling to him like my life depends on it. Because it does.

Nex lands at the edge of the arena with a loud grunt, dropping to his knee and supporting my weight still on his back with his hands. I slide off of him, and straighten my wind-blown hair and adjust my untucked shirt.

“I can’t believe you were right. It worked!” I exclaim in excitement, my mind reeling with calculations on timing and probability.

Nex stands and stretches his back. “I think that earned me at least two bowls of noodles,” he groans and feigns injury by rubbing his back exaggeratively.

I ignore his mockery. “You can have as many bowls of noodles you want if I can pull that off,” I promise, then step into his space, close enough for him to lean back a little. “Let me try.”

Nex blinks in surprise. “Uh… No,” he says.

I frown. “What do you mean ‘no’? You said you’d teach me,” I insist, then start fumbling with the buckle on the harpoon harness still strapped around his waist.

Nex smacks my hands away. “I will teach you, but that doesn’t mean I’m throwing you off the edge before you’re ready,” he says and takes a step back, but I follow.

“What else is there to be ready for? I know how to work the harpoon, I know how to maneuver the storm, and you just showed me what to look for on the other end of the storm. The only thing left is for me to try it for myself,” I continue, my heart racing and my breath quickening at the thought of flying through the air, through the storm, and making it out on the other side, sending my spear flying at the right moment, practically delivering me to the horde of Stormglass that litters Old Atoraxis. I can almost feel the warm glass in my hand.

But Nex remains unmoved, his face as still as stone, not betraying any version of his thoughts or emotions. I study the way his breaths are even and his stance guarded but relaxed. But I do notice when his shoulders drop, and somehow I know I’ve won him over.

“Fair enough, but I’m going with you,” he sighs, and walks towards the door leading to Corson’s workshop. He grabs a second harpoon hanging on the wall, and brings it to me.

I raise an eyebrow. That was so… easy.

“Need insurance for our noodle deal?”

Nex sniggers as he tucks his shirt back into his pants. “Can’t have my supplier go and die on me before I get my share,” he says with a crooked smile. I scoff and don my harness.

If he wasn’t so annoying, he’d almost be cute.

I walk to the edge again, feeling much more in control now that I’m holding my own harpoon in my hands. The anticipation radiates off of me, and I feel the need to tap my foot repetitively as I wait for Nex to join me. When he finally does, he places a hand on my raised harpoon, lowering it.

“As soon as we jump, you lead, I follow. If you flounder, I can’t help you. This needs to be your run, just like any other Trial,” he clarifies, his voice suddenly serious again. His eyes aren’t teasing or amused anymore, but dark and clouded with something that’s misplaced, something that doesn’t belong in Nex’s annoyingly expressive, grey eyes. The sun’s rays wreath Nex’s face, casting a shadow over his features, and he suddenly looks like someone else. Not a 26 year-old thief who sought any opportunity to fill his belly and push my buttons. He looks older and dangerous.

I dismiss my thoughts by squaring my shoulders. “Don’t remind me,” I say, then leap off the edge without hesitancy.

This time, I don’t notice the wind tear at my clothing or hair. I don’t marvel at the moisture enveloping me or how calming the rain is despite my current endeavor. I don’t close my eyes as the flashings of lightening fill my field of vision. I wait. With my harpoon tucked securely against my chest, I’m angled like an arrow aiming for Old Atoraxis. I don’t even turn to check on Nex’s progress, and I haven’t heard him at any point during my descent. But I doubt I even would’ve if he’d been right next to me screaming. I’m focused on only one thing, and that is the moment the hidden fourth layer presents itself.

I break through the third layer, and the darkness is dispelled. My eyes shoot to the mountain as I wait for the right moment.

And I wait.

And wait.

I wait for a few seconds more before panic starts setting in. I search around me, convinced the hidden layer will appear at any moment. But as I keep falling and waiting, the rain never breaks, the wind never ceases. And I keep falling and waiting with my harpoon still unused.

If I shoot it now, the rain will soak the rope, and it’ll just slide through the mechanism. It’ll be like a free fall. But if I wait any longer…

I look down and gasp at how fast I’m nearing the ground. My panic overwhelms in a wave of ungoverned nerves. I deploy my harpoon, sending it straight towards the rock face. I watch as the spear hits, but as the rope tightens and I pull the second trigger, nothing happens. I can see the water leaking from the rope. With how late I deployed my spear, I’m sure I will run out of rope before hitting the ground. Panic continues to take hold of every instinct within me, and I freeze. My hands stay clasped around my harpoon, but I make no move to readjust or make any other attempts at surviving. It’s as if my body knows I’m doomed before my brain does, and it’s bracing for impact.