Lir, as I’ve come to expect, doesn’t elaborate, instead descending toward the lake. I follow. The remnants of the road lead straight down, but I see no other sign of human habitation, ruined or otherwise, as we enter the forest. The trees are tall and old, the way ahead dappled with constantly shifting shadow. Leaves rustle and branches creak around us. After days travelling the open moors, it feels suffocating.
When we finally emerge, the trees give way immediately to a short beach; the opposite shoreline is visible only thanks to the rising hills beyond. Water glimmers as it laps gently.
And a large stone archway sits about twenty feet out from the bank.
Tired and uneasy though I am now, curiosity bids me closer. Its apex has three whorls carved into it, connected at the centre. A familiar design for these lands, often painted on warriors’ bodies, though I do not know its significance.
Surrounding the symbol is Vetusian.
“A path to the … consideration of those … who would serve?” It’s rough, as it always is with this ancient dialect.
“‘Testing.’ Not consideration. It says ‘testing,’” corrects Lir from too close behind me. I flinch around to see him watching me with undisguised curiosity.
“What is it?” I look at the stone mistrustfully. The last gods-damned Vetusian test I went through cost me an arm.
“A remnant of another time.” Lir motions me back from the water. “You should eat, now. And rest.”
“Until when?”
“Until I say otherwise.” He has the decency to give me a half-apologetic shrug, this time.
I’m past the stage of irritable arguing in the hopes of wearing him down, and so take the druid’s advice. We make camp, early though it is. Eat. Neither of us talk. I gaze out over the lake contemplatively as afternoon wanes. Soon a deep orange is reflected in the water.
“The time between times approaches.” Lir finally stands, and I follow suit. Heart beating a little faster. I reach to retrieve my unmarked spear.
“No.” When I frown, he just shakes his head. “Only you.”
Despite his firmness, my hand still hovers. Pádraig’s voice snaps at me that a true warrior and his weapon should never be parted. That he is incomplete without it.
Part of the test? Perhaps I’m meant to insist?
I exhale, then clench my hand into a fist and straighten, leaving the spear on the ground.
“Interesting.” The way Lir says it, he wasn’t expecting me to accede.Vek. Before I can try and renege, he turns, watching with his staff clasped in both hands as the last of the setting sun vanishes behind the hills, plunging us into the dusty half-light of dusk.
Then he steps into the water. The hem of his white cloak darkens. “Come.”
Shivering and reluctant, I remove my boots and step in after him. The icy lake pricks at my skin through my breeches. I clench my jaw to fight chattering teeth.
The druid goes deeper, past his knees. The base of his cloak spreads behind him atop the calm waters. The lake is an undulating mirror, reflecting orange and purple clouds that are fast fading to night’s grey. He reaches the archway and casts a glance back over his shoulder. Waits for me to reach him.
His eyes, I can see in the gathering gloom, are completely black.
Then he dips his staff in the water three times, reaches up, and touches the centre of the arch’s spiralling icon.
It glows. Abrupt and virulent. I take an instinctive step back.
“Steady.” Lir grips me by the shoulder. I watch as the white illumination travels along the engraved lines of the whorls, spreading outward through the design until the entire symbol is glimmering.
It winks out.
Silence. Not just the absence of most sound but true silence, a void, completely empty. No lapping of water. No distant rustle of leaves.
Then it all comes back. Like a popping of my ears. I hear my exhalation as I breathe out.
And the lake begins to froth.
Lir’s hand remains firm on my shoulder, resisting my urge to retreat. Waves begin to chop around us, the whole lake trembling in the hazy illumination of dusk. Bubbling, foaming in the grey and then, suddenly, motion. The surface everywhere broken. Water thunders as it pours off steadily rising stone and swells batter us now, almost too much to stand against. Still, I brace myself and watch. Mesmerised.
