Brian Rathbone: Inherited Danger

Not long after they passed what Strom considered the halfway point, his arms began to quiver from the exertion, but he was determined to keep going, and he gritted his teeth.

"I'm not going to make it," Osbourne said. "I need to put it down now."

Frustrated, Strom eased his end of the looking glass down. Leaning against the pedestal, he closed his eyes and waited for his arms to stop tingling. Osbourne moved around him, walking up and down stairs. It made Strom want to scream. How could he not realize how close they were to falling into an abyss? Milo, at least, had the sense to remain still.

When Osbourne announced he was ready, Strom stood, planted his feet, and opened his eyes. After a deep breath, he bent down and picked up his end of the looking glass. As they neared the top, the climb seemed a bit easier, and they soon reached the mounting bracket. With one final effort, they lifted the looking glass and gently set it in the bracket. Milo slid the pins into place, and finally Strom and Osbourne could relax.

"This thing better work," Strom said.

"That's what you said last time," Osbourne said.

"Yeah. I know."

Milo aimed the looking glass away from the morning sun and began turning the large ring he said would focus the lenses, but his arms weren't long enough to reach the ring while looking in the eyepiece. "Osbourne, my boy, I need you to turn the adjuster while I look through the glass."

With slow and tentative movements, Osbourne turned the adjuster and, by the look on his face, feared the whole thing would come apart in his hands.

"Wait. Stop," Milo said. "Go back. Stop! That's it!"

"It really works?" Strom asked, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Strom, come here. You're eyes are better than mine. Help Osbourne adjust it."

His excitement finally overcoming his fears, Strom gazed into the eyepiece, but all he saw was the blue of the midmorning sky, and there was nothing to focus on.

"It will be easier at night, but do the best you can. This is important," Milo said as Gustad arrived with a leather satchel. "I'll be back." Both Gustad and Milo climbed down, wanting to look at their books and calculations somewhere more sheltered from the wind.

"Turn it some," Strom said, and the image grew fuzzy. "Go back the other way." This time the image became clearer, but then it grew fuzzy again. "Go back just a bit. There. Stop. That's the best I can do without something to look at. Let's swing this around and see if we can find anything."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on, Osbo. We did most of the work on this thing. I think we've earned the right to take a look around. Besides, Milo and Gustad are hiding something. Look at them down there. Did either of them tell you what this was all about?"

"No."

"Then let's find out. We just push here, and it should swing right around."

"Don't look at the sun!" Osbourne yelled.

Strom aimed lower, closer to the horizon, looking for something and not knowing what. But then he saw something strange and stopped. "Turn the ring," he said. "Back the other way. Stop!" Unable to believe what he saw, Strom just stared in silent awe for a moment. "By the gods. What is that?"

"What is what?" Osbourne asked as Milo and Gustad started climbing back to the top of the pedestal. Strom stepped back and let Osbourne look for himself. He didn't need to look again, the image was imprinted in his memory.

"… should be visible by now," Gustad said as they reached the top, but then he looked Strom in the eyes and ran to the looking glass. Osbourne stepped away, bereft of speech.

"The charts we found in the lost library are real," Gustad said as he stepped away from the looking glass. Milo rushed in for his chance to see. "Istra has arrived."

Catrin and all the others stood when a soldier entered the hall. Millie blocked his path and looked him in the eye.

"Be ready by midday," he said, casting a cold and disinterested glance around the room.

Millie controlled her anger enough to nod and only turned her back on the man. She fussed over Catrin's hair for an impossible amount of time, most of which Catrin spent staring out the rose and chartreuse windowpanes. The sky beyond was clear, but she could feel the comets coming; they were close. She felt as if she could reach out and touch them. Though there was little evidence to support her feelings, a cloudbank on the eastern horizon seemed strange to her-unnatural.

She was to wed this day, and she'd never even seen the face of the man who would be her husband. When she turned her thoughts to the wedding, her anxieties brought their full weight to bear. She didn't even know if she'd be able to gain access to the statue, let alone destroy it. Feeling like a prisoner, she doubted she'd be free to do anything beyond take the vows. As her mind went in circles, she resigned herself to the uncertainty. She'd know what to do when the time came-she hoped.

As the sun moved toward its zenith, when Vestra was at the height of his power, a dozen robed men arrived to escort the bride. Benjin took his place behind Catrin as she followed her guards from their cell, as she had come to think of it. Like a funeral procession, they walked in silence, and a pall of sadness hung over them, one and all. Tears were shed, but none were tears of joy. Catrin missed her father dearly on this day, a day he should have shared with her, and she wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her flowing dress. Millie cast her a sideways glance but said nothing.

At the turn of a corner, the sound of a large crowd carried through the halls, and a sunlit field became visible in the distance. At its center stood the Statue of Terhilian. Though only its base was visible from their current vantage point, there was no doubt as to what they saw. The land surrounding the level field angled upward in all directions, like a giant bowl, and ascending rows of stone seats had been carved from the mountainside. In only a few places was the stone still visible; most seats were already taken, and the rest were filling quickly.

Primal fear struck Catrin's heart. Not only must she face her new husband and the Statue of Terhilian, she must do it in front of the largest assemblage she'd ever witnessed. Only one thing consoled her, and that was the location of the altar, which was scant paces from the base of the statue. Her guts twisted into knots when she saw another procession coming from the opposite direction. In the lead came a proud young man who walked with his chest out and his head tilted slightly back.

It was not his physical features that intrigued her, though; it was the nimbus that surrounded him. Unlike the auras described in the old tales, it had no color and was only clearly visible when she squinted. But when she did, she could see an area around him that distorted whatever was behind him, like the heat of a fire only less fluid.

He ignored Catrin completely, and she felt her face flush. Surely he must be curious about his new bride. How could he not even try to see what she looked like? Perhaps, she thought, he had already decided she was a monster, a hideous and undesirable wretch not worthy of his blood.

In a moment of sudden clarity, she realized she had done the same to him. No matter how kind or polite he was, he'd always be a Kyte, one of the people responsible for the deaths of her mother and aunts, and who knew how many others. She made herself look anywhere but at him, knowing he would sense her stare. She looked beyond the statue to the towering archway that dominated the eastern end of the arena. It was twice as large as the one at the main entrance, and Catrin guessed it was the only opening large enough to admit the statue.

In the skies beyond, the strange thunderhead grew larger and uncharacteristically bright, as if illuminated from within. But Catrin soon reached the raised dais, and the statue blotted out the rest of her world. The energy radiating from it felt unclean, nothing like the waves of energy that descended from the skies. Like a kernel of hard corn held over a fire, its inside boiled, and at any moment, it could release all its energy in a single, devastating flash. Standing before it took much of her willpower, and her knees felt untrustworthy, as if they would buckle in the slightest breeze.