Soren daxion's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Soren wanted to test River on easy ground before the high trail. He never got the chance. Voices came up the path at dawn. A group of travelers stood at the crossroads, packs on their backs, asking for passage now. They had a schedule and coin. They would not wait a week for a boy to learn. Soren gripped his staff. He could refuse and lose the work, or lead and stake their lives on eyes he had not yet trusted. A broad-shouldered man pushed forward. A leather glove covered one hand, and a hooded bird shifted on his wrist. "Garrett Hawthorne," he said. "Falconer. I've heard you're the best guide on this mountain." He looked at Soren's clouded eyes, then at River. "Or you were." Soren's jaw tightened. "I still am. But we test the boy first. Not on the cliffs." He pointed his staff toward a squat stone building beside the road. A bell hung in its little tower. "There's a chapel a half mile up. Rough ground, no drop. River guides us there. If he reads it true, we ride the high trail after." Garrett spat. "A half mile? I hired a guide, not a nursemaid." "You hired someone who brings you back," Soren said. "Walk it or find another fool." River opened his journal. His thumb held the last page shut, as always. "There's a wash on the left. Loose rock. Keep right where the path forks under the leaning pine." His voice stayed soft but did not shake. Soren set out. His feet found the packed dirt. "Call it," he said. "Fork ahead. Bear right. Now." Soren stepped right. His staff struck solid ground. Behind him he heard the loose rock slide where he had not gone. Harley pressed close, calm. River kept calling. "Root across the path. Lift your foot. Drop-off on the left, two paces. Stay tight to the wall." Garrett's bird screeched. The falconer stumbled near the edge. River saw it. "Right, right, the ground crumbles there!" Garrett threw himself inward. Stones rattled down the slope where his boot had been. The chapel rose ahead, its bell dark against the sky. Soren felt the smooth stones under his hand and stopped. He turned toward Garrett, who breathed hard. "The boy saw that before you did," Soren said. Garrett wiped his face. "He did." He looked at River with new respect. "All right, old man. I'll follow the eyes." Soren rested his palm on the chapel wall. River had passed. His eyes were true. Relief loosened something in Soren's chest, and with it came a colder thought. The chapel path had no killing drop. The high trail did. River had read easy ground under a soft morning. Now the travelers were paid and eager, and there was no turning back to safer tests. Soren had promised the cliffs next.