(Chapter Eighteen: A New Quest, cont.)

  Leo heard it too and folded his arms. “It’s not like the Scholars to hide knowledge.”

  “It’s not easy knowledge to share. If I tell you how to destroy the sword, then you learn of its creation. If one Eld sword could liberate Viridas from the Horned Elves, what do you suppose two swords could do? Or three? Or enough for an army?”

  It was a troubling thought. Ean turned to the others. Asali’s mouth was set in a thin line. Chadwick’s brows were furrowed. Flora was staring off, like she was envisioning such an army. Leo was silent.

  Cirocco met his gaze. “While you were climbing the mountain, we were in meditation. For three days, my Elders and I sat in silence, pondering if we should entrust this knowledge to you. We decided that we would.”

  The Philosopher unrolled a scroll and gestured them closer. Ean recognized it as a map of the Central Kingdom: Eastmere, Westenvale, and Nor’dell.

  “The great sorcerer Emmich knew that the mightiest weapons were forged in places of great power.” Cirocco pointed to the mountain range that spilled from Eastmere’s northwest border into Westenvale and Nor’dell. The mountains were small, more like hills compared to the Frostheld Mountains, but there was one large precipice tucked inside Westenvale territory.

  “Fire Mountain,” Leo said.

  “Ancient legend says that the mountain is a burial place of a man so hated by the gods, that even in death, they rebuke his grave with lightning.” Cirocco smiled genially. “It was the only way that our ancestors could explain why there was always a storm brewing about the mountain. Now we know more about weather systems.”

  “You’re saying the Eld sword was created on the mountain,” said Leo.

  Cirocco nodded. “We don’t know the exact magic he used, but he used the rock of the mountain and the lightning from the storm to forge the weapon. As they were a part of its creation, they are the ingredients of its destruction.”

  “You think we should destroy it.”

  “The sword was used to liberate the people of Viridas from the Horned Elves. They are no longer a threat to us. Now the Eld sword would be used to strike down the very people it was created to protect.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Chadwick said, a surprising amount of heat in his voice.

  Ean looked over, startled at his vehemence.

  “Fire Mountain is in Westenvale,” Chadwick said. “You want us to march the Eld sword into enemy territory?”

  “It’s not that far across the border,” Cirocco said.

  “It’s far enough. And then we’d have to climb Fire Mountain, which is a volcano by the way, and is surrounded by a never-clearing storm system. Lightning strikes the mountain a hundred times every hour.”

  “It is a dormant volcano,” Cirocco corrected. “And you do travel with a Fire Mage. She would be able to provide some support for you.”

  They all looked over at Flora.

  She looked back with wide eyes. “I’m good with fire, not so much with lightning.”

  “And on top of all that, we’d have to walk through Nor’dell to get there,” Chadwick said. “The burnt parts of Nor’dell.”

  He was making very compelling reasons not to undertake this quest. Ean glanced at the others, wondering if he’d convinced them as well.

  Leo turned to the Philosopher. “Are you sure that the Eld sword can be destroyed on Fire Mountain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why can’t you take it?” Chadwick challenged.

  “It is not ours to destroy,” Cirocco said. “It was given to the High King and bequeathed to his descendants. It is theirs to keep or destroy.”

  “That’s a weak excuse.”

  “Chadwick!” Asali hissed.

  Chadwick crossed his arms, defiant. Ean privately agreed with him. The Scholars were asking too much of Leo.

  Leo looked at the map and then at the Philosopher. Ean could see the battle on his face.

  “You do not have to decide now,” said Cirocco. “Take some time. Talk it over. Meditate in our serenity room or pray in the chapel.”

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  Leo nodded once, sharply, and then turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

  “Wait, Leo!” Chadwick scrambled to follow.

  Asali chased after them. “Chadwick, give him some space!”

  That left Ean and Flora. She let out a breath and looked at Cirocco. “I’m going to need to study. You have magic books in the library, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” She hurried out of the room, leaving Ean alone with the Philosopher.

  “Phong’s training in the courtyard,” Cirocco told him, reclaiming his seat. “I’m sure he’d welcome your company.”

  It was a polite dismissal. Ean left, half-wondering if he shouldn’t chase after Leo as well, but he doubted he’d be much help. He went to the training grounds instead.

  Phong was mid-class when Ean arrived. He said nothing when Ean slipped into the back row. They were practicing Wind Dance and Ean was careful to note the variations to the movements—a straightened knee, a shoulder rolled forward instead of back, a twist of the hips. The other trainees edged away from him, giving him uncertain looks. He glared back, just to fuel their unease, but as Phong picked up the pace, there was no time to care about anyone else. There was only Phong, his barked-out instructions, and muscles that quickly warmed with exercise.

  Phong taught three classes in total. Ean stayed through all of them, keeping to the back corner because it offered the unique opportunity to watch the trainees as well as the instructor. He could see what the moves looked like in their correct form and where the common mistakes were occurring.

  Phong lingered in the yard after dismissing his last class. He watched Ean run through the last sequence of steps and nodded. “You’re a fast learner.”

  “Sort of had to be.”

  “You still struggle with the Earth dances.”

  Ean made a face. Even though he had earned his proficiency braids for all the dances, mastering them required a greater amount of skill, and there was no denying Phong’s statement.

  “Earth is the heart,” said Phong. “You have plenty of spirit, your mastery of the Air dances proves that, but no heart. Do you know the saying about the heart?”

  Ean’s expression twisted further. “Is it something saccharine or overly metaphorical?”

  Phong smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The heart resides at home. Where is your home?”

  Ean sighed. He wasn’t really in the mood for trite philosophical lectures. “I’m assuming if I say Haven, you’re going to tell me that home isn’t a physical location.”

  “For some it is, for others it isn’t. Home can be the place you are drawn to, or the work you are called to, or the people you care for.”

  “What’s your home?” Ean asked.

  “Here, with my students. This is where I am most content. When I fight in Earth Dance,” Phong shifted his feet into the opening stance, “it is that feeling that roots my feet into the ground and lends me power. It’s what I draw from.” He straightened and tapped Ean’s chest. “No heart, no home, no roots. That’s why you struggle.”

  Ean wasn’t convinced, but he played along. “How do I find a home?”

  “Find what brings you joy, find what inspires you.”

  Ean scoffed. “I can’t stop my life while I search for happiness in… I don’t know, basket-weaving or something.”

  “Of course, you can.”

  Ean opened his mouth to object, but Phong saw it and raised a hand, cutting him off. “I understand you might not choose that freedom because of the risks involved. You would have to give up the family you have found in the shadow-walkers; you would have to give up years of schooling and a craft you are quite skilled in. You would have to learn a new trade, apprentice yourself, produce your own goods, maybe even open your own shop, but all that is possible if you truly want to be a basket-weaver.”

  Phong was suggesting what Felix had, all those weeks ago, before this whole thing started. Ean could choose something other than shadow-walking. The thought of it still sent his heart racing with panic.

  “Well, I don’t want to be a basket-weaver,” Ean said, unable to form any other argument.

  “I know,” Phong said with a reassuring smile. “The trouble is you don’t know what you want. You are only now considering the possibility that you have the freedom to direct your life. But it will be important for you to choose. Don’t bow to fate and then complain about it later. No one wants to hear that.”

  Ean snorted at his candor.

  Phong patted him on the shoulder. “Think of what I said. And if you are still here tomorrow, find me in the morning. We’ll spar.”

  Ean nodded, looking forward to the match, and headed back to the rooms to change out of his sweaty clothes. Asali was sitting by the fire, a Scholar with her. They were in the process of taking out the hundreds of tiny braids in her hair, letting the tight curls spring free. Ean knew she’d be occupied for the next few hours. His teacher had the same hair texture as Asali, and as he was missing a hand, Ean had spent many a tedious afternoon assisting him with his braids.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked.

  “Leo’s in the chapel,” Asali said, “Chadwick’s with him. We’re probably going to be here a few more days, so you can go have fun—or whatever the shadow-walker equivalent is.”

  “I guess I’ll find a village to sack then.”

  She laughed, which made Ean grin. Not many people liked his sense of humor.

  He scrubbed down at the basin in his room and pulled on a new set of robes. He left for the chapel, a small building at the edge of the valley, next to the waterfall. The sound of the water gave the chapel a meditative atmosphere, as did the incense burning in the censers.

  Leo knelt at the altar. His lips were moving but his words were silent. Chadwick and Cirocco sat in the pews, keeping vigil with him. Ean sat for a few minutes as well, feeling that he should lend his support, but after half-an-hour, boredom set it. He already knew what Leo was going to do. He was going to destroy the sword. It was the noble choice, relinquishing the weapon because it was a threat to innocent lives, and Leo was nothing if not noble. Ean wondered why it was taking him so long to come to the decision everyone knew he would make.

  He left to check in on Flora. She sat in the library, surrounded by books and scrolls. She had paused her studies to write a letter which she rolled up, sealed, and handed to a Scholar for delivery. She rubbed her eyes, pulled a large tome closer, and continued to read.

  With nothing to do, Ean wandered the temple until he got conscripted for kitchen duty and was put to task peeling potatoes for dinner. He was better with the paring knife than the head cook was expecting, and Ean found himself in an impromptu race to see who could finish their pile first. He lost by two potatoes.