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“We’re not too high up. Somewhere in the foothills. It shouldn’t be a long hike. I’m not sure we can make it by sundown, but at least we’re closer to Kathor than we are to the Watcher.”
Cora arrived, breathless. Theo’s entire face was drained of color. He considered the distant mountains and ignored Avy’s assessment. “Kathor should be that way.” He pointed. “Doubt there are any paths this far up, but we’ll eventually find hiking trails farther down. We can get to a safe spot to sleep tonight and get back home by tomorrow.”
It was his effort to take control of the group. Timmons squeezed Ren’s arm in relief. Just one night out here, and they’d be home. None of the others noticed the detail Ren had.
The distant fog was churning and shifting. She knew there were two notable peaks visible from their city. The first was Watcher Mountain, but the second and slightly smaller peak was the Eyeglass. She’d finally spotted its blade-sharp top. The old tale was that the Watcher used the Eyeglass to spy on the valleys below. Ren considered the position of the two mountains.
That’s not possible.
Still, she spoke the words. “The Eyeglass is on the wrong side.”
“What?” Theo shook his head. “No, it’s… right there.…”
Ren recited the poem they’d all learned as children. “ ‘The Watcher was watching at half past two. He was watching and watching, waiting for you. Fog in his left hand, eyeglass in his right, he’ll watch and wait from dawn till night.’ The Eyeglass should be on the right side. It’s on the left.”
All of them stared into the distance, maybe hoping if they looked long enough, the mountains would shuffle positions and it would all turn out to be some cruel joke. Timmons hissed a curse. Ren felt the truth knife into her gut. She’d imagined a few days of hiking at the most. But those distant mountains confirmed they were not in the tamer forests outside Kathor.
“We’re in the Dires,” Ren said. “We’re lost.”
13
The Dires had earned and defended its reputation over nearly two centuries.
When the dragon population vanished from the Northern Sea, two groups set sail in search of their home continent. Both believed it would be valuable to find the land that the only magical creatures in existence called home. Both succeeded. In fact, historians often noted that the groups landed within a fortnight of each other—though few could agree on which group landed first.
The Tusk people settled on the western seaboard, while Ren’s ancestors—the Delveans—claimed the south. Cities blossomed. The absence of dragons offered mankind a chance to rise. Magic was discovered and developed for the first time in recorded history. As populations swelled, both groups naturally expanded their territories. But neither the Tusk nor the Delveans found success in the very heart of their new continent.
The Dires was home to the very last dragons. There were hundreds of stories, mostly found in abandoned journals, about explorations gone wrong. Entire caravans that went missing. Later, when the dragons finally became extinct, the efforts to settle the Dires were renewed. Bold kings promised unimaginable riches to anyone who could establish a foothold in those territories, believing that there had to be priceless magical deposits in that land as well.
The result was ghost town after ghost town. No settlement ever lasted for long, because other creatures still thrived in that wild, desolate place. The Dires proved its name over the centuries, a land so dangerous that no one had ever produced a proper map charting its entirety.
And this was where the portal had taken them.
It was an effort not to completely panic.
How could we possibly have traveled this far? Even if our distances combined, there’s no way we’d get ported across an entire mountain chain. How could the calculations be so far off? What is the missing factor? Maybe something about the waxways being an unstable source of magic? Or are the mountains themselves permeable?
“… anyone have a way candle?”
The specificity of that question dragged Ren out of her own thoughts. She looked up sharply at Theo, who glanced back in surprise.
“Wait. Do you actually have a way candle? Who carries a way candle?”
“It’s in my bag,” Ren said. “A standard-sized candle. I always have an extra.”
Avy was nodding. “Finally, some good luck. One of us can port back. Bring help. We’ll just have to pick a fixed location to head toward, so the rescue party can meet us halfway.…”
Theo shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Oh, now you’re an expert on rescue parties?” Avy threw back.
“He means the candle,” Ren said. “It can take me about two days’ travel. Maybe two and a half if I push it? Willard’s theorem calculates the average distance for a standard candle at thirty-four thousand fifty-two paces. A wizard’s focus and willpower can stretch that distance fractionally, but I’m assuming we’re a lot farther from the city than two days, right? If we’re all the way out here?”
Avy nodded. “I’d guess we’re closer to eight or nine.”
“Which means if someone used the candle, they’d just port a few days ahead of everyone else. And they’d be alone, with no one to watch their back. Not the best plan. We need to save the way candle for when we’re on the right side of the mountain. When we’re close enough to Kathor to have someone actually make it back to Balmerick to get help.”
“What if I boost the jump?” Timmons asked. Her eyes were red from crying, but the idea of usefulness had lured her into the conversation. “I could enhance the magic for more distance.”
