Relic

X: Aprilus 1 Year 242, A.H.

I have only fifteen ticks until the final horn. I must make camp wherever I am. Fifteen ticks to get to shelter before the polar darkness begins its rapid descent. After that, I am left exposed on the ice as a snack for any passing arctic bear or cat. I stop worrying about the fallen Testor, and start worrying about surviving the first night.

From my side bag, I pull out the hollow, double metal cylinders Lukas welded for me from scraps of a boat pulled out from the Frozen Shores long ago. I press them to the slit in my goggles. That frozen-in iceberg seems pretty close. If I push my dogs to the limit, I might just make it to the iceberg in time. Might.

The whip cracks too close to the dogs. I sense their anger, but the sound spurs them on. The sled hurtles faster than I believed possible, and I actually have to rein in the team as we approach the perimeter of the iceberg. I hear the long, low bellow. I’ve run out of time.

The air around me clouds up with my hurried breathing, mixed in with my dog team. But I’m also panting in relief that our journey’s done for the sinik and we’ve found some refuge for the night. I dismount from the sled and give each of them a hug to thank them for their efforts—especially Indica. Then, as I suss out which side of the iceberg will provide the most shelter, I realize I’m not alone.

The fallen Testor has somehow righted his sled and made it across the ice flats. He now stands on the northern side of the iceberg, staking out his claim. How he pulled off this miracle, I cannot imagine. But I don’t have time to speculate. In the remaining ticks before complete darkness, I’ve got work to do. I must dig a wall of snow to protect my team from the night winds, pitch my tent up against the southern side of the iceberg, start a fire to melt water for my dogs—and, somehow in this seemingly empty arctic expanse, find food for them and myself. I’d rather not resort to my stores of dried seal for the dogs and dried fish for myself, because once they’re gone, they’re gone forever.

I’m dying to solve the mystery of the fallen Testor—who he is and how he got here—but that must wait.

THE TENT AND THE fire prove to be surprisingly simple tasks compared the issue of food. I can’t venture too far from the perimeter of the iceberg. But a Bakery Keep with steaming loaves of fresh bread is hardly going to appear out of nowhere, so I push myself out into the black void. The lamp provides nothing other than a dancing circle of flickering light, a few footsteps in any direction I choose.

After a few ticks of finding nothing, I decide to give up and draw on my food stores. Just for tonight, I promise myself. I figure I deserve a break on my first sinik anyway. Before I pass into the iceberg’s perimeter, I can almost hear Lukas nag me to try one last trick. Especially since his map shows that this is an area where game and birds might be found.

I close my eyes and listen.

“Ears are better than eyes for hunting at night,” he’d told me. “Your prey knows that you’re blind and isn’t as fearful.”

At first, all I hear is the wind whipping around the top of the iceberg. The low grumble of my dogs. And the ever-present crackling of ice. But then, just southeast of me, I hear the gentle flap of wings. Snow geese.

Very quietly, I extinguish the candle in my lamp. In pitch blackness I creep toward the sound. I force myself to trust in that repetitive fluttering noise and the specter of Lukas’s words. The beating of wings grows louder. I can almost imagine what the feathers look like. Closer and closer, until it’s above me and all around me …

I throw my bola.

I am rewarded with a screech and a gust as the remainder of the flock fly over my head. I run toward the commotion and, with shaky fingers, relight my lamp. A smile breaks on my face; I can feel sweat freezing on my cheeks. There, amidst a pile of feathers, lies my first kill of the Testing. Several snow geese, big ones by the shadowy look of them. Since I’m a novice with the bola—and I’m not even certain the bola is the right weapon for this target—it’s practically a Gods-given miracle.

Wrapping a rope around the birds, I sling them over my shoulder with one hand and trudge back to the iceberg, lighting the way with my other. I make no effort to be quiet; I want the not-so-fallen Testor to see what I’m capable of. He peers out from his side of the mass as I approach, but I pretend not to notice him.

I toss half the geese to my dogs, making sure one lands close to Indica as a reward for his efforts. As they snarl over the carcasses, I pick out one for myself, holding the rest in reserve for the morning. I clean my goose the way the Attendants taught me in the warm kitchen of my home, and place it over the fire. It’s much harder in the darkness, even with the embers to guide me.

THE ROASTED GOOSE TASTES better than anything I’ve ever eaten, even the honeyed cakes the Attendants prepare for Feasts at home. After the bones have been picked clean, I am drowsy. But phrases from Eamon’s journal run through my mind. Phrases I wish I’d never read.

Can I really survive the Testing? Am I really destined to be an Archon? Can I really do what I believe I must? This last question he’d written on the very last page, on the very last line.

Having survived the first sinik of the Testing—even nearly garnered the lead for myself—I can’t believe that my talented brother ever harbored such doubts. If I can do it, he certainly could have. Not that I’m over-confident about my chances for the next sinik.

Unfolding the small diptych I brought in my bags, I kneel before the little altar and say a few prayers to the Gods. I stare at their gilded, circular symbols, believing that surely it was the Sun and the Earth who brought me through this day unscathed. The Gods and Lukas, of course.

My body aches in places I never knew existed before. Just as the pain finally relents and I feel myself start to drift off, I hear a noise. Not the dogs, not the shifting ice, and not the wind.

I sit bolt upright, and grab my ulu. I fear the worst—a bear or a cat. Before I move, I listen again to place the creature. The sound is distinctly human.

“Eva, it’s me. Jasper.”