***
Kiethara craned her neck back so she could take in the massive form in front of her. She had never seen a mountain before; Aaron had only described them to her. Somehow, his description had failed to prepare her for what she saw before her.
He stood next to her, waiting patiently. It made her wonder exactly how long she had been standing here, gawking. Long enough for her feet—which had warmed some while walking—to grow cold again.
The mountain, or mountains, were truly incredible. She could not even see the top of the one in front of her, which by far appeared to be the largest.
“Aaron?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“Why did we have to come to a mountain to get a sword?”
“Because the sword is in the mountain,” he explained. “Actually, swords is a more correct term.”
“So why are the swords in the mountain?”
“Every guardian is given a sword and, when they die, it is placed inside this mountain. On the stone the sword is embedded in are their name and the years they reigned.”
“Every guardian? Including my mother?”
“Yes, Kiethara, including your mother.”
“Including you?”
There was a short moment of silence. The atmosphere around Aaron was alien to her, but it was almost as though he were embarrassed.
“Yes,” he finally confirmed. “Including me.”
She waited for him to continue, or to at least explain his pause, but he did not. And at the moment she knew better than to question him.
Kiethara took a deep breath. “All right, where do I go?”
“The cave was made specifically so that only guardians or exceptionally powerful people can get in with their magic. Fortunately, only guardians have ever entered this cave, and the secret remains. Not even Gandador knows about it.
“That means that you cannot tell anybody about this. Not even Navadar. I mean this, and there will be consequences if you fail to keep the secret.”
Kiethara gulped, for she could hear the depth of the threat in his voice.
“I promise,” she said.
“It’s halfway up the mountain, but there are no good ledges to climb, so you will have to fly.”
“The winds!” she said in alarm.
“Control them, Kiethara,” he told her in an exasperated tone.
“But…I…” she spluttered. “I can control the weather?”
“Yes, you can, but only a very small part of it at your level. You can’t change the temperature, but you can change the force of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?!”
“I was hoping you might reach the conclusion on your own. You don’t seem to apply your powers to anything but training and fighting.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but he interrupted her.
“If we want to get this done today, we need to move a little faster.”
“Fine.”
Kiethara pushed herself into the icy air and no sooner then when she lost the cover of the trees did the wind whip at her dress, her hair, and her bare skin. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the wind, her crystals glowing brightly as she took control.
Finally, the winds stilled.
It took her only a few moments to reach the middle of the mountain and from there she immediately saw where Aaron wanted her to go. An unnatural ledge stuck out from the rocky wall and led to a lopsided entrance. It seemed rather intimidating for reasons she could not place.
Kiethara flinched when her feet touched down on the snow covered ledge. Her toes were going to fall off soon.
Aaron appeared besides her silently, illuminating the dark cave in front of her. To her surprise, inside the cave was a stone staircase.
“Where does it lead?” she asked.
“To the top of the mountain. Well, inside the top of the mountain. The caves were carved out by my son, the second guardian. From the top, the line of swords travels in a spiral down.”
She began to climb the steep staircase, with Aaron following behind her. Several minutes later, they reached the top.
Torches had aligned the walls surrounding them and since they were lit—most likely Aaron’s doing—Kiethara saw the massive boulder before she reached it. How they were going to get past that, she had no idea.
“Um, Aaron?” she said, pausing.
“Its fine, Kiethara, just keep walking.”
“Eh?”
“It’s an illusion. A branch of magic you will never need to learn.”
Kiethara decided not to respond; instead, she took a deep breath. Walking through seemingly dense rock had not been on the top of her to-do list. She closed her eyes.
She didn’t feel a thing as she walked through. There was only one thing she noticed as she did.
A light—a light so bright that it blinded her even though her eyes were closed—flooded whatever space she had walked into. She squinted, but the brilliant white light was too strong for her to make anything out. This could not be Aaron, no. This light was far stronger, and his light was more golden.
Kiethara put her hands in front of her face to shield herself; it took her several more minutes before she was able to open her eyes completely.
Kiethara tried to peer around her upraised hand to catch a glimpse of what was radiating so much luminosity. She let out a cry when she tried, however, throwing her arms over her face. Her eyes watered so badly that tears streamed out from behind her lids and spilled down her cheeks.
“Aaron,” she gasped. “What is that?”
“My apologies, Kiethara. I forgot to warn you. That is my sword.”
“Your sword?”
“Yes.”
“What is shining like that? Metal doesn’t glow!”
“The crystals in the cross piece and pommel.”
Kiethara frowned, his answer making her think. Had Aaron had crystals on his wrists when he was a guardian? Even if he did, she knew that her crystals had never shone so brightly before in her life.
“How am I supposed to see anything?” she demanded.
“Your shield, Kiethara,” Aaron said in exasperation. “You really need to start applying what you know to what you do.”
“I was distracted,” she mumbled as her shield flew up, surrounding her in a golden sphere. The light that had been so bright now dimmed, as though she was underwater.
Kiethara took her hands away from her face and gasped.
She did not know the right words to describe what lay before her. A few feet in front of her were three marble stairs that led up to a ledge, which was also made of the same gleaming granite. On top of the ledge was another slab of marble, and embedded in it was the razor sharp blade of an immense sword. She could now see exactly what was causing so much of a fierce glow: in the crosspiece of the sword, in the very center, was a crystal the size of her fist.
It had no color, but it was every color. It shone like the sun. It shone like the rainbow; every faucet that had been skillfully cut reflected something different. There even seemed to be some colors she had never seen before and, when put together, the colors created a blinding white. Separate, they created a beautiful masterpiece.
After the shock of the sight before her went from incredulous to enthralled, she started to appreciate the other, smaller details of the sword. The handle was made of pure gold, a metal so heavy that it was known to be literally unbearable, yet to her it only proved that Aaron Prevel had and always would be an indestructible man and guardian. A ruby vine wrapped its way up the pommel and crosspiece. The ruby seemed to give the sword dominance to all who stood around it.
She thought it was rather unfortunate for the two swords that surrounded Aaron’s terrifying and elegant weapon. They were beautiful as well, but they were nothing compared to what stood in between them.
“My son,” Aaron said, pointing to the son to the right. “I gave him that place to honor him. On the left is my granddaughter, and continuing down in that direc
tion are the descendants that follow. This cave continues on a spiral down to the bottom of the mountain.”
Kiethara could do nothing but gape, her mind as frozen as the snow outside. How many more earth-shattering discoveries could she make? The world really was putting its weight a-top her shoulders. Eventually, she was going to explode.
“Kiethara?”
“Any more secrets you wish to tell me? Any canyons to the south that hold my secret bow?” she demanded.
Aaron chuckled. “Not quite, Kiethara. Now head left, for at the end of the line is your sword.”
Her sword? As soon as he said that, it planted a seed in her head. What would it look like? She did not expect it to be as grand as his was, but still…a sword.
She began walking, her footsteps echoing eerily in the silent cave. Aaron walked next to her silently, illuminating the dark corners that the lit torches did not reach.
As she walked, she examined each sword that she traveled by. The stones in which the swords were embedded gave the guardian’s name and years of life, just as Aaron had told her. Each sword seemed to have the same style blade, but the hilt was always different. The crystals were different, too, and sometimes the hilt would be gold, other times silver. Other minor details varied as well, making her wonder if they were all unique for the guardian that wielded them.
They walked down and down, until they reached the second to last sword.
The hilt was silver, but it was also wrapped in a sold line of gold that traveled up towards the blade. In the pommel and at both ends of the crosspiece, purple stones were set in the metal, glinting brightly even in the dull light.
One did not look at this sword and cringe in fear. When she saw it, she did not feel the need to defend herself. This sword emitted a gentle beauty; it almost seemed to be emanating compassion. Compassion. There was only one guardian she knew that could possibly pull something off like that.
Sure enough, the stone it was embedded into declared it to be her mothers.
Someone with so much kindness and love did not deserve to die. It seemed inappropriate that the reason behind her death was only that she had been too loving, too faithful to the life around her. But Kiethara did not pity her mother. She envied her too much.
Kiethara’s heart hammered a little faster as she turned to her sword. Her stomach twanged in anticipation.
The stone beneath it had her name etched into it and the year she was born. A spot besides a dash was blank, waiting to record the year that she died.
A sleek blade ran up from the stone, three inches wide and three feet high. It was thin and slender, perfect for her size.
Her eyes ran up to the top of the blade, until they reached the hilt.
Somehow, it was even more graceful, if not as kind, as her mother’s.
The hilt was gold, just as her bracelets were. Four crystals were set into the hilt; one in the pommel, two on either side of the crosspiece, and one directly in the center. They were all diamond shaped, but they were the exact color of the crystals she adorned on her wrists now.
They were not the only jewels decorating the exquisitely plated gold. Small, sparkling diamonds shimmered in the handle, all perfectly crafted to resemble falling leaves. They spiraled and glittered as they wove their magic around the hilt, hypnotizing her with the delusion they created. It was so extravagant; how could it be hers?
“Well, Kiethara,” Aaron said after a few minutes. “What do you think?
Kiethara had no words.