Light filtered in through an upper window as morning came. Salamin squinted his eyes, not wanting to move his aching muscles. The entire plan to get back into the Order was going awry. Each day he was inside the Keep was another day Haldar sat in power, untouched.

  The thought of Haldar and his complete corruption jolted Salamin out of his drowsiness. He glanced down at his hands, one burned and one unfamiliar. Sedwick Draken. They were his, and yet not.

  The orb was another mystery that had to be solved. As he held it in his palm, white lightening filtered around the edges within. Beautiful, and perhaps deadly. The limitations were discouraging, and the stakes to get into the Order were darker and more nebulous. A call came from the corridor, and he swung his legs stiffly to the floor. It was time to train once again.

  He ate a light breakfast in silence with Lane and Elian, then were called once again to the Grand Hall. There, the three defeated initiates stood before the dais. Staya, and Parric’s eyes were rimmed with dark circles, their shoulders slumped. They had survived the spelled chambers intact but worn.

  Caden appeared late. Having been defeated, and near death, his skin was pale, and his movements listless. Each day since the training started, he’d endured the spelled chambers.

  Paxton smiled down at them all as he climbed onto the dais.

  “Today you will endure a test of your endurance. It is something you will need for your journey down to the Third Gate of the Catacombs. Today, each of you climb to the peak of the Parmouth Ridge. There are six flags at the top, and each of you must bring one down by the deadline. If you fail, you will leave.”

  Salamin glanced at Lane. The forested ridge behind the Keep was steep. It would be a brutal climb.

  “Only the best candidates go on. It is our greatest honor when our initiates make it through. Therefore, we must ensure that we have the best.” He smiled at them all and extended his hands in blessing. “ I consider you all my children.”

  Lane shook her head as she glanced at Salamin.

  “First,” Paxton said, inclining his head, “you will choose a team leader. The leader will be tasked with granting provisions and providing motivation. and incentive. Only with a leader and organization will you survive the Catacombs. You will follow that leader unquestioningly, or you will suffer consequences.” He motioned towards the initiates. “You will now take a vote of who the leader will be.”

  Elian raised his chin, looking to his friends. Staya raised her hand. “I nominate Elian Crest.”

  Lane raised her hand immediately. “I nominate Sedwick Draken.”

  Staya glared at Lane.

  “I second Elian as our leader,” Parric called out.

  Elian slapped him on the back, then glared at Lane.

  Paxton clapped his hands once. “Very good, two votes for Elian, one vote for Sedwick.”

  Caden eyes were open, but his gaze was unfocused. Staya whispered in his ear. His eyes widened, and he raised his hand lethargically. “I vote for Elian,” he said, his voice barely audible.

  “Three votes for Elian,” Paxton said. “It is decided, and will be so.”

  Elian gave Lane and Salamin a wicked smile.

  “Leader Elian, you will decide who will carry the provisions.” Paxton motioned to the packs lining the hall.

  “Initiate Sedwick and initiate Lane will carry the provisions,” Elian said.

  Paxton gave him a side long look. “The provisions are too heavy for only two initiates.”

  “I have faith that they will prevail,” Elian said.

  Paxton nodded. “Very well. We will get them loaded and you will be on your way to the top. It must reach the top, bring back the flag from the top before the next day break. Anyone who does not make it back will be expelled. Am I clear?”

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  Salamin nodded along with the other initiates.

  Salamin and Lane stood outside while their packs were fitted and filled with the needed provisions. The water containers were the heaviest, and Salamin’s back strained against the added weight.

  Elian inspected the packs. “It isn’t too late. I will ease the load if you accept me as your leader.”

  Lane was struggling under the pack, wincing. “Fine, I accept you as leader,” she said with a grimace.

  “Good, Lane. I knew you’d come around. Initiate Sedwick?”

  Salamin eyed him. There was only one way through this latest trial. “Fine, lead on, Elian.” He’d seen mages just like him in the Order, drunk on their own power. HIs focus now had to be the Catacombs.

  Elian inclined his head, pointing towards their packs. “Staya, Parric and Caden, you will each take a vat of water to lessen their load.”

  It did little to help, and Lane gave Elian a dagger like stare. “I hate him,” she muttered under her breath.

  The Parmouth Ridge loomed over the town as the highest peak. It looked as if a full day hike would not be enough time. Had they been given an impossible task?

  Lane and Salamin took up the rear. Caden could barely keep ahead of them and stumbled frequently. The others gave him water and food, but it hadn’t seemed to help his strength.

  Elian took the lead, with Parric and Staya close behind him. “Hurry up!” he called from above. “We have to make it on time.”

  The sun had risen to full height and sweat drenched Salamin’s back. They made it to a clearing where Elian, Staya and Parric all were seated on large boulders. An open vat of water had been shared between them.

  “It’s about time our lunch arrived,” Elian said. “Why don’t you take a load off.”

  Salamin and Lane took their packs off and dropped them on the ground. Salamin felt so light, he could fly. He reached in for water vat and took off the lid.

  “Not so fast,” Elian said, hopping off his boulder. “I didn’t give you permission to drink.”

  Salamin ignored him and took a swig anyway and handed it to Lane.

  “I was hoping you would do that,” Elian said. “Because Paxton gave me something to help your motivation.” He took a wand out of his belt.

  Salamin stopped drinking and regarded it. He sensed the warning pulse of power.

  “Elian,” Caden rasped. “Can’t we just leave them be?” He slumped against a boulder and shook his head.

  “This is not just a test of endurance, but also of loyalty,” Elian replied. He smiled. “They aren’t going to make it in the catacombs alone. Their journey just got harder.”

  Salamin weighed his options, not wanting to expose Aleda’s spell. If the shielding cracked, Elian would gleefully report back to Paxton. He watched the wand, jaw clenched and readied himself.

  “Gravelis!” Elian said with a flourish. Salamin recognized it immediately, a heaviness to slow enemies. He’d used it in battle. It had a limited time depending on the level and power of a mage, but it was effective.

  “By Argor's blade!” Elian shouted, and the spell encircled Salamin, and then Lane.

  Salamin stumbled to his knees as it hit, and his muscles burned from his legs up.

  “Great, how are we going to get the supplies up now?” Staya said. “We’re running out of time!”

  “Grab some water,” Elian commanded, and some food. “We’ll head up alone. These two can face the consequences later.”

  “Why can’t we just work together?” Caden stood to face Elian. “We’re going to need to work together in the Catacombs. Sedwick gave himself up so that we wouldn’t face the sacrifice.”

  Elian pursed his lips. “That whole thing was rigged, Caden. You were never in any danger.” He glared at Salamin. “ You know very well that these two have had it out for me since day one. Sedwick hates that I defeated him and its time he learned an important lesson. It’s time for them to move on.”

  Caden remained silent.

  “Good,” Elian said. “Get the supplies and lets go. We still have plenty of time.”

  Salamin could only watch as the others took the supplies. It was difficult to move his legs, and Lane was similarly paralyzed and glowered at the others in silence.

  Once they had gotten the supplies, Elian called for them to come. Caden took one look back before scurrying after the others.

  There in the dirt, Salamin managed to roll over onto his back, and look up at the sky. A blue sky with clouds hovered over the tree branches.

  “What are we going to do?” Lane asked. “We’re never going to get that flag. They aren’t going to let us get into the Catacombs.”

  “Not so fast,” Salamin said. “This spell is limited by Elian’s power. None of them are that powerful.” Still, the spell had a full hold on him. He groaned and attempted to stand. His legs felt as if they were now boulders with limited movement. Salamin fell back and gazed down at his feet.

  He wasn’t going to let Elian win this time. Once again, he heaved with all the muscles of his abdomen and lower legs. This time, he had done it. A wave of victory surged through him. He was standing.

  Lane was still struggling on the ground, unable to move her legs. “That kiffin bastard, I’ll kill him.”

  “Give me your hand, Lane.” Salamin stomped over to her, feeling the burn in his thighs. They were doing all the work right now. Inch by inch, he moved closer to her.

  He held out his hands, bending at the waist. His legs would not bend. Lane let out a cry as she pushed with all her might to get closer to him. Then she took his hand in her own.

  Her hand was small but strong, and she gripped him like a vise. He pulled up with all his strength and weight. If either of them let go, they’d both go flying to the ground.

  Salamin heaved, and soon she was on her feet. He glanced at the packs lying on the path. It would be impossible to even grab water from them.

  “They’re already far past us,” she said, shaking her head.

  “One step at a time,” Salamin said. He gazed up the cliff face. They had no place to go but up.