The Guardian’s Echo

The Ascent: Penny

As we started up the path that led through the Highlands, the air began to change. It was a slow shift that happened as we ascended. The air grew thinner and cooler, and I could smell ancient, wet stone. The whistles were growing louder too, echoing across the valley.

The shimmers I’d seen on the road became a constant now. There were echoes of old buildings that no longer existed. They flickered in and out of my vision, and I had this profound feeling that the land was doing more than just showing me what used to be there.

As the sun reached its peak in the sky, we came to a flat plateau. It was a rocky formation that jutted out of the side of one of the grassy hills. The view was staggering. I would’ve loved to just sit there and take in the sight of the Aethelgard countryside, but Soren had been serious about teaching me how to use the dagger.

Apparently, it required more technique than just stabbing it forward. The first few minutes were spent teaching me a proper stance and how to hold the dagger. His large hands were warm over mine as he corrected my form.

“Firm, but not tight, Penny,” he said as he adjusted my grip. His chest was a solid wall of heat against my back, and I wondered if he could hear how hard my heart was pounding against my ribs. “If you’re too tense, you’ll break before the enemy does.”

“I survived fifty years of Chicago winters, and I raised a teenager alone, Soren,” I replied, my voice coming out lower than I had intended. “I think I know a thing or two about not breaking.”

I felt him huff a short, dry laugh against my hair. “I don’t doubt that, but here, the winters have teeth, and the enemies don’t always have faces.”

I felt his breath, warm against my skin as his hands moved from my wrists to my waist. He shifted my foot back to adjust my stance and I felt a nervous surge of energy run through me before the dagger erupted with a silver light. I nearly dropped it as I stared wide eyed. The sudden burst settled into soft, pulsing glow.

Soren stepped back, blinking, then a smile broke across his face. “Your magic is waking up, ‘Just Penny.’”

I barely heard him, my focus was locked on the dagger in my hand. It only took a moment before I realized that the light was pulsing in time with my own frantic heartbeat. I felt my face start to warm and hoped that Soren didn’t realize that his closeness had caused the sudden burst.

We continued, spending an hour practicing basic footwork. Soren even took his own dagger — the sharp blade guarded by a soft grey pulse of his own energy — and taught me how to block and parry attacks.

Eventually, the daggers were sheathed, but I still felt a warm tingling in my palm that hadn’t been there before. I held my hands together, trying to hide the shaking while Soren retrieved a water canteen from among our things. He offered me the canteen and I drank more deeply than I meant to, realizing with a suddenness I couldn’t explain just how tired I was. Not from the lesson itself, but from the energy the magic had used. I handed the canteen back to him, and realized he was looking at me like I was some curious thing he didn’t have a name for. I couldn’t help the soft blush that climbed up my neck.

We ate a small lunch before mounting our horses again and continuing further up. The further we went, the more intense the visions started to become. There weren’t just flickering buildings anymore, but bright vibrant colors painting the air around us. In a space that was now just jagged, grey rock, I saw a garden of ghost flowers in iridescent blue and gold.

Soren pulled his horse up next to mine, and I described the vision to him. “The flowers sound like Aura-lilies,” he explained softly. “They’ve been extinct since the Great Time War because they required a Guardian’s presence in order to bloom.”

Something twisted inside my chest that I didn’t have a name for. It was a mixture of profound sadness as I realized extent of what all was lost when my grandmother left Aethelgard as well as a stunned awe that the land seemed to be reacting to my presence here.

We reached a narrow trail that hugged the rocky hillside. The wind here sounded less like flutes and more like the land itself was sighing. The horses whinnied and shook their heads, the sound making them nervous.

“It’s okay, my love,” I murmured, leaning forward in my saddle to stroke the side of Moonstride’s head. “It’s just the wind.”

“It’s the Path of Sighs,” Soren explained. “We might have to dismount and lead them through.”

I nodded, but another sound caused my ears to prick. I lifted my head, looking out at the hilly valley. There was a voice in the wind, a mournful echo calling for Rosariel. “Do you hear that?” I asked.

Soren shook his head, “No. What is it?”

“Someone is calling for my grandmother.”

He smiled softly, “The Highlands are calling you home.”

He guided Emberleaf ahead of me, and we followed the path at a steady, slow pace in an effort to keep the horses calm. Eventually, the path widened again, and the sighs receded. It was almost imperceptible, just a slight lowering of Soren’s shoulders, but I saw the tension leave his shoulders. Even Moonstride seemed to finally relax beneath me. The sighs were slowly replaced once again by the whistling the Highlands were named for.

The altitude and the constant magic was beginning to take a toll on me. I was starting to feel a little light headed, and I gripped Moonstride’s reins tighter. Soren brought Emberleaf so close that our knees brushed. “We’re not on a time crunch,” he reminded me gently, clearly noticing the way I swayed unintentionally in the saddle. “We can take as many breaks as you need.”

“I’m fine,” I promised.

“I’m here if the echoes become too much.”

“Thank you, Soren.” I offered him a small smile. In the distance ahead, I could see a thicket of trees swallowing the path. I squinted, focusing on it until stars danced along the edges of my vision. I was no longer sure what was real and what wasn’t. I glanced at the sky, and the slowly descending sun, then back to the thicket. It was still there.

“Maybe setting up camp for the night wouldn’t be a bad thing after all,” I conceded.