The Trials of Ildarwood: Spectres of the Fall, page 66
Struggling to catch her breath, Jordana stumbled out onto the porch, and only once she was finally free of the house was she finally able to stand again. Still confused about what had happened, Jordana closed the door behind her with as much caution as when she had entered, then she willed it to lock with the swipe of her hand. Once the telltale sound of the lock clicking echoed out from within, she hobbled down the stairs, still dizzy from her experience within, then hurried to Willen’s side.
“What just happened in there?” he asked, his voice more panicked than she had ever heard it sound before.
“I, um . . . I’m not sure,” Jordana replied, still desperate to recover. “I think it worked, but then I saw a bright green flash, and then . . .”
“And then what?”
Reaching for some explanation, all she could manage was “I think it backfired.”
“Why? What’d you see?” Willen asked, yet even then, when she knew with utmost certainty that she was free, she dared not relive it.
“I think this was a mistake,” she confessed instead. “We should go . . . preferably before they all figure out it was me.”
With guilt weighing heavily upon her, Jordana returned with Willen to the crumbling cottage that night, but she outright refused to fall asleep when she arrived. Lying in her bed, she thought only of the visions she had seen–not all of them her own–and suddenly so much about her time in Willowerth Manor made sense.
No longer did she resent the girls that she had lived with. All she could feel was sympathy and shame.
XXIII
A Time for Disparate Measures
Goldenfire, Stormspark, Frostwater,” Jarryn recited to himself once more on the morning of the Assessments, desperate to recall the common names for each of the most common spectral elements. “Spiritstone, Kingswash, Crimsonwind,” he added, counting on his fingers as he went. “Asterlight, Silverblood, Nightsmoke,” he remembered. “Balance in all things.”
The morning when Jarryn would need to leave Fort Fermwood for the last time had finally come. After packing what few possessions he had managed to collect into a large burlap sack, he made his bed one last time–a courtesy for whoever might need it next–then he stopped to wonder how all the other Ildarbound he knew were saying goodbye to the places they had each called home.
He had no way of knowing that Willen had just started packing himself, putting away the book his father had given him and the Ildarglass feather that still lingered inside. It would not have surprised Jarryn to learn that Willen had no strong feelings for the crumbling cottage that had managed to keep him safe all year long.
Beside Willen, Jordana had little difficulty packing up all her possessions, which largely remained in the very same pillowcases she had stuffed full on the night that she had left Willowerth Manor. Thinking back on the year she had endured, she knew that she would not at all miss the westernmost part of the Ildarwood, even as she feared what new challenges might await her on the roads that lay ahead.
As she carried her things downstairs, she took a moment to watch Willen and his friends reach up into the air to draw as much Silver as they could summon out of their meager little Ildarstar until its light faded away at last. Its Ildarglass core, dark and twisted, fell down onto the fledgling Ildarwood tree that Willen had planted with Jarryn all those months earlier, and when the core collided with the warped cottage floor, it smashed into a million pieces and released a surge of invisible energy.
Before she continued to follow Willen and the other boys outside, Jordana took one last moment to stare down at the mess they had left behind. All around her were evaporating shards of spectral glass–some amethyst, some obsidian, some gold. And there, mixed in amongst them, were hints of a gentle shade of ruby that dissolved into the air, leaving behind no visible traces that they had ever been there at all.
“You wanna burn it down?” Ceiryn asked as everyone assembled outside.
“Um, why wouldn’t we?” Mirrick answered with a laugh.
But as Jordana and Willen both stared at the crumbling cottage, neither one could bring themselves to watch it be destroyed. For them, it was the sanctuary that had found them when they had needed it most. And as Willen reflected on the initials he too had carved into the walls of the attic, Jordana wondered what the other girls were doing to pack up their own home miles away.
She knew Zavanna would be the last one to start, as she always hated expending any effort at all, and Jordana knew Telara would be the most nostalgic, on the verge of tears the entire time as she prepared to say goodbye. She knew Orenna would help Telara accept what was about to happen, and she knew Cora and Briyal would merely see the house for what it was–a safe place to sleep until their time there had reached its inevitable end.
What Jordana did not know was that Zavanna took the time to make both beds in the room that had once been theirs, nor would Jordana ever have expected her former friend to leave a nice note for whoever came next. Jordana could not have predicted that Briyal and Cora would leave extra supplies for the manor’s next tenants–that way, they would find the home more prepared for new guests than it had been when they had found it months earlier. And as for Telara and Orenna, they used their last few minutes in the house to post a warning on the door to the basement and the doors to the dining room, ensuring whoever came next would not be surprised by the deceptive shrieking lily that lay in wait beyond.
Then together, the five girls assembled in the main hall, and together they drained the Silver from their Ildarstar–though not enough to make it fall. More than anything else, they wanted to ensure the Ildarwood tree they left behind would still have the star it needed to stay alive.
Stepping outside, they bade farewell to the house they had called a home since that fateful day when Jordana had led them to it. And there, all around it, were what few flowers still remained from all of Briyal’s efforts since the spring.
“Always leave the places you go and the people you meet better off than when you found them,” Briyal’s mother always said, but that was an expression Jarryn had only ever heard from Etta, whom he missed so dearly.
Closing the door to the room he had shared with Geonis, Jarryn could not help but wonder whether or not Etta was faring well as she awaited a trial of her own. As he walked with Geonis, Aiden, Tannus, and Dustane down the halls of Fort Fermwood one last time, Jarryn realized just how much he would miss her heartwarming smile and enlightening advice once he finally moved on.
And so, as Jarryn and the other boys emerged into the frigid morning air, he told them all to go on without him so that he could stop and visit Etta one last time, just in case he would never have the chance to see her smiling face again. Still racked with guilt over everything that had happened to her and whatever role he might have played, he knew that he would not be able to focus on his Assessments until his conscience was finally clear.
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to the Oculum by now?” she asked when he approached her in one of her gardens that morning.
“Shouldn’t you be locked inside your house?” he countered with a smile.
“I’d love to see ’em try and arrest me for tendin’ my own gardens. They’d sure be in for one fury of a fight.”
“You really think they will?” asked Jarryn. “Arrest you, I mean.”
“Oh, who knows? My trial isn’t supposed to happen for another month or so. I’m just hopin’ they’ll wait till winter’s almost over to kick me out, if they’re gonna, since I sure don’t wanna be packin’ up and movin’ while it’s still cold like this.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Maybe one day,” Etta answered with a smile. “But for right now, I just need you to focus on you, ’cause these Assessments are gonna need as much attention as you can give ’em. Now, I know you already know this, and I’m not tryin’ to add on any more stress, but what happens today’ll probably end up affectin’ you for the rest of your life, so I can’t have you all distracted, worryin’ about me. One way or another, I promise I’ll be just fine.”
Staring down at the ground as Etta pulled up what was left of her past-season crops, Jarryn thought only about his role in uprooting her entire life. “I think it was me,” he mumbled. “My brother Odie asked me if I got the Silverwood from you, and I’m pretty sure he could tell I was lyin’ when I said no.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’re lookin’ so guilty?” Etta asked, ever so slightly amused by Jarryn’s kind heart and willingness to confess to his perceived crime. “Well, I can’t tell you whether your brother really was involved in everything that happened that night or not, but what I can tell you that might make you feel just a little bit better is this: kids out here have been wonderin’ for years if I had a Silverwood tree hidin’ around here somewhere, so that had nothin’ to do with you.
“And you know what else?” she added. “For as long as I’ve been out here, if any of those same kids actually needed and deserved a little Silverwood, then, well, by some random act of the Heavens, they somehow always ended up findin’ a few pieces all by themselves. And that wasn’t always me–that’s just the way the Ildarwood works sometimes. Every now and then, the things we really need most in life just have a way of showin’ up precisely when we need ’em.”
Throwing the last few handfuls of old crops into her compost pile, she explained, “Balance in the Ildarwood always comes and goes. Sometimes it tips too much in one direction, and sometimes it tips all the way back in the other, back and forth, time and again–sometimes just for a few years, and sometimes for entire generations. The cause may not always be quite the same, but we always know exactly how it’s gonna end, ’cause sooner or later, balance will always come back. The only question I have left for you is whether or not you’re gonna be willing to fight for it whenever the time finally comes.”
“But I don’t like to fight,” Jarryn confessed. “I don’t even like holdin’ a sword.”
Smiling sweetly at him, Etta replied, “You don’t need to swing a sword or throw a punch to stand up for somethin you believe in. Sometimes fightin’ back means doin’ whatever your heart tells you is right, even when everyone else is tellin’ you it’s wrong. Sometimes it means bein’ the one who speaks out when nobody else has the guts. And sometimes you can fight back just by doin’ nothin’ at all. You’ll know when the time comes, I promise. Just keep listenin’ to that little voice inside your head that told you to come tell me about your brother. It sounds to me like it already knows how to steer you in the right direction.”
Nodding politely, even though he did not fully understand all the things that she was saying, he at least found some comfort in her words of reassurance, just as he had so many times before.
“Hey, Etta?” he said softly. “If I fail my Trials, would that mean I can never be a tree tender, like you?”
Finally stopping her work, Etta smiled back at him one last time and said, “I made it through my Trials just fine, and you’re at least twice as smart as I am. So just don’t give up, no matter what happens, and when your Trials are over, come and find me. Doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doin’, I’ll make sure to teach you everythin’ you need to know about Ildarwood trees.” And then she leaned in and whispered, “Includin’ all the fun ones you’re not supposed to know about till you’re older.”
Smiling back at her, Jarryn’s heart felt warm for the first time in months, and it was all thanks to Etta.
And so, after bidding her farewell with a thank-you and a hug, he took his satchel, his bag of belongings from Fort Fermwood, and his staff, then with a heavy heart, he began the long walk east toward the Oculum.
Located directly in the center of the Midwood Ridge–sheer stone cliffs that separated the westernmost Ildarwood from the vast wilderness of forest beyond–Ranewood’s Oculum served two purposes. As the only bridge in the Ildarwood to cross over the portion of Ridge River that ran from High Falls all the way north to the border of Silvermarsh, the Oculum provided a safe and accessible gateway for travelers between Westwatch and the Ildarcourt.
Its secondary purpose, however, was rarely utilized more often than once a year. Starting at dawn on the morning of the Principal Preceptor’s choosing, the doors to the Oculum’s central chamber would open to any and all first-year Ildarbound. Should they succeed, safe passage to the Ildarwood beyond and back would henceforth be granted. However, should they fail, they would be forced to remain in the westernmost woods until success, surrender, or expulsion finally found them.
And though Jarryn was not entirely certain what he should expect when he arrived, he was entirely caught off guard by the structure’s size and grandeur. Carved directly into the cliff’s smoky granite surface, the Oculum’s facade looked more like the front of an ancient Nacoryn temple than anything he had ever seen in Ranewood before. It had massive columns and statues that resembled soldiers in cloaks, standing guard, but its true center of attention was the Eye of An’tumbe that watched over all who entered from the most prominent point on the cliffs, directly above the central tunnel. Then above it all stood the Oculum Tower, similar in design to Westwatch yet somehow made grander by its prominence as it rose like a beacon from the ridge.
Getting into line behind dozens of other Ildarbound, Jarryn did not dare try to jump ahead, despite Aiden and Geonis both trying to wave for him to move forward. Just keep listenin’ to that little voice, he kept telling himself so as not to risk getting into trouble right before his Assessments started.
From that point on, he could do nothing but wait and study his notes. Poring over pages and pages of scribbles from his lessons with all the different Preceptors he had met that year, he struggled to remember all the little details they had told him since his Trials had started. And so he hoped against hope that none of the specifics he kept forgetting would come up once his Assessments were underway.
Moving forward ever so slowly, Jarryn tried to imagine what the Assessments might contain, and yet the more he thought about it, the more nervous he became. Just focus on the notes, he kept reminding himself. And even as those around him joked and laughed and horsed around, he refused to let himself get distracted. He needed to keep studying.
Nearly an hour passed before he was finally next in line to enter the tunnel. Keeping a close eye on the elderly lady who sat patiently at a table nearby, he could feel his stomach tightening as the moment of truth drew nearer.
“Don’t be nervous,” she said at one point. “Almost everyone gets through their first Assessments. It’ll be the ones that come later that you really need to worry about.”
“Great,” Jarryn replied. He did not have the heart to tell her that her words of encouragement merely gave him something new to sustain his anxiety from that point on.
“Go ahead and send down the next one!” a man deep inside the tunnel shouted moments later.
Only then did the woman at the table look up and say, “Your turn, sweetie. And remember–just be yourself and try not to worry, then you’re bound to do great.” And much to his surprise, those few words actually did make him feel just the slightest bit better.
After proceeding through the massive open doors into the tunnel, Jarryn had little more than the glow of a few Asterlight crystals in the walls to guide him on his way. Stopping just outside another set of doors, these ones smaller and set into the northern face of the tunnel, Jarryn found himself standing before a hobbling old Preceptor he had only seen a few times before.
“Okay, so I’m just gonna need ya to step right into this room, and we can get you started,” the man said with a smile.
Entering the cavernous room, Jarryn was surprised by how sparsely it was decorated. Although warmed by a greenwood fire, it was so barren that even the smallest sounds seemed to echo into eternity.
“Is this the first test?” Jarryn asked nervously upon reaching the center of the room.
“It sure is, and boy, is it a doozy!” the man replied, making Jarryn nearly unburden himself of his breakfast right then and there. “Now, think carefully on this one before you answer,” the man said sternly. “I need you to tell me–and no cheating–what exactly is your name?”
After staring at the man with disbelief for a moment, Jarryn replied, “Um, Jarryn Gricker.”
“Oh, Heavens help us! Another Gricker boy,” the man replied before flipping through a large stack of papers. “Did you actually manage to stay outta trouble this year?”
“Yes, sir,” Jarryn answered proudly, causing the man to stare up at Jarryn with surprise.
“Well, then, you’re not very much like your brothers, now, are you?”
Managing a reluctant smile, Jarryn timidly replied, “No, sir.”
“Well, then that certainly bodes well for the rest of your Trials, now, doesn’t it?” the man said with a laugh. “Now, let’s see here. It looks to me . . . like you’ll be . . . number ninety-nine. Oh, boy, if that isn’t bad luck, I don’t know what is. Well, I’m sure you’ll do just fine anyways, and even if you don’t, you can always try again the next day or the next, or even the next day after that. There’s always at least one of us here pretty much all the time–except on Restingdays, and once the heavy snows come, of course. Now, just toss your bag into one of these convenient little crates, and allow me to make a note of the number, and you’ll be all set. Sound good?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Jarryn mumbled before reluctantly depositing his satchel and the bag containing most of his worldly possessions. “Do I have to give you this too?” he asked, lifting his staff just the slightest bit off the floor.
“No, sirree,” the man replied. “I have a feelin’ you might just need it.”
Sweating more profusely with each passing minute, Jarryn began to contemplate abandoning the Assessments altogether, but he knew in his heart that he needed to carry on.
“What just happened in there?” he asked, his voice more panicked than she had ever heard it sound before.
“I, um . . . I’m not sure,” Jordana replied, still desperate to recover. “I think it worked, but then I saw a bright green flash, and then . . .”
“And then what?”
Reaching for some explanation, all she could manage was “I think it backfired.”
“Why? What’d you see?” Willen asked, yet even then, when she knew with utmost certainty that she was free, she dared not relive it.
“I think this was a mistake,” she confessed instead. “We should go . . . preferably before they all figure out it was me.”
With guilt weighing heavily upon her, Jordana returned with Willen to the crumbling cottage that night, but she outright refused to fall asleep when she arrived. Lying in her bed, she thought only of the visions she had seen–not all of them her own–and suddenly so much about her time in Willowerth Manor made sense.
No longer did she resent the girls that she had lived with. All she could feel was sympathy and shame.
XXIII
A Time for Disparate Measures
Goldenfire, Stormspark, Frostwater,” Jarryn recited to himself once more on the morning of the Assessments, desperate to recall the common names for each of the most common spectral elements. “Spiritstone, Kingswash, Crimsonwind,” he added, counting on his fingers as he went. “Asterlight, Silverblood, Nightsmoke,” he remembered. “Balance in all things.”
The morning when Jarryn would need to leave Fort Fermwood for the last time had finally come. After packing what few possessions he had managed to collect into a large burlap sack, he made his bed one last time–a courtesy for whoever might need it next–then he stopped to wonder how all the other Ildarbound he knew were saying goodbye to the places they had each called home.
He had no way of knowing that Willen had just started packing himself, putting away the book his father had given him and the Ildarglass feather that still lingered inside. It would not have surprised Jarryn to learn that Willen had no strong feelings for the crumbling cottage that had managed to keep him safe all year long.
Beside Willen, Jordana had little difficulty packing up all her possessions, which largely remained in the very same pillowcases she had stuffed full on the night that she had left Willowerth Manor. Thinking back on the year she had endured, she knew that she would not at all miss the westernmost part of the Ildarwood, even as she feared what new challenges might await her on the roads that lay ahead.
As she carried her things downstairs, she took a moment to watch Willen and his friends reach up into the air to draw as much Silver as they could summon out of their meager little Ildarstar until its light faded away at last. Its Ildarglass core, dark and twisted, fell down onto the fledgling Ildarwood tree that Willen had planted with Jarryn all those months earlier, and when the core collided with the warped cottage floor, it smashed into a million pieces and released a surge of invisible energy.
Before she continued to follow Willen and the other boys outside, Jordana took one last moment to stare down at the mess they had left behind. All around her were evaporating shards of spectral glass–some amethyst, some obsidian, some gold. And there, mixed in amongst them, were hints of a gentle shade of ruby that dissolved into the air, leaving behind no visible traces that they had ever been there at all.
“You wanna burn it down?” Ceiryn asked as everyone assembled outside.
“Um, why wouldn’t we?” Mirrick answered with a laugh.
But as Jordana and Willen both stared at the crumbling cottage, neither one could bring themselves to watch it be destroyed. For them, it was the sanctuary that had found them when they had needed it most. And as Willen reflected on the initials he too had carved into the walls of the attic, Jordana wondered what the other girls were doing to pack up their own home miles away.
She knew Zavanna would be the last one to start, as she always hated expending any effort at all, and Jordana knew Telara would be the most nostalgic, on the verge of tears the entire time as she prepared to say goodbye. She knew Orenna would help Telara accept what was about to happen, and she knew Cora and Briyal would merely see the house for what it was–a safe place to sleep until their time there had reached its inevitable end.
What Jordana did not know was that Zavanna took the time to make both beds in the room that had once been theirs, nor would Jordana ever have expected her former friend to leave a nice note for whoever came next. Jordana could not have predicted that Briyal and Cora would leave extra supplies for the manor’s next tenants–that way, they would find the home more prepared for new guests than it had been when they had found it months earlier. And as for Telara and Orenna, they used their last few minutes in the house to post a warning on the door to the basement and the doors to the dining room, ensuring whoever came next would not be surprised by the deceptive shrieking lily that lay in wait beyond.
Then together, the five girls assembled in the main hall, and together they drained the Silver from their Ildarstar–though not enough to make it fall. More than anything else, they wanted to ensure the Ildarwood tree they left behind would still have the star it needed to stay alive.
Stepping outside, they bade farewell to the house they had called a home since that fateful day when Jordana had led them to it. And there, all around it, were what few flowers still remained from all of Briyal’s efforts since the spring.
“Always leave the places you go and the people you meet better off than when you found them,” Briyal’s mother always said, but that was an expression Jarryn had only ever heard from Etta, whom he missed so dearly.
Closing the door to the room he had shared with Geonis, Jarryn could not help but wonder whether or not Etta was faring well as she awaited a trial of her own. As he walked with Geonis, Aiden, Tannus, and Dustane down the halls of Fort Fermwood one last time, Jarryn realized just how much he would miss her heartwarming smile and enlightening advice once he finally moved on.
And so, as Jarryn and the other boys emerged into the frigid morning air, he told them all to go on without him so that he could stop and visit Etta one last time, just in case he would never have the chance to see her smiling face again. Still racked with guilt over everything that had happened to her and whatever role he might have played, he knew that he would not be able to focus on his Assessments until his conscience was finally clear.
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to the Oculum by now?” she asked when he approached her in one of her gardens that morning.
“Shouldn’t you be locked inside your house?” he countered with a smile.
“I’d love to see ’em try and arrest me for tendin’ my own gardens. They’d sure be in for one fury of a fight.”
“You really think they will?” asked Jarryn. “Arrest you, I mean.”
“Oh, who knows? My trial isn’t supposed to happen for another month or so. I’m just hopin’ they’ll wait till winter’s almost over to kick me out, if they’re gonna, since I sure don’t wanna be packin’ up and movin’ while it’s still cold like this.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Maybe one day,” Etta answered with a smile. “But for right now, I just need you to focus on you, ’cause these Assessments are gonna need as much attention as you can give ’em. Now, I know you already know this, and I’m not tryin’ to add on any more stress, but what happens today’ll probably end up affectin’ you for the rest of your life, so I can’t have you all distracted, worryin’ about me. One way or another, I promise I’ll be just fine.”
Staring down at the ground as Etta pulled up what was left of her past-season crops, Jarryn thought only about his role in uprooting her entire life. “I think it was me,” he mumbled. “My brother Odie asked me if I got the Silverwood from you, and I’m pretty sure he could tell I was lyin’ when I said no.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’re lookin’ so guilty?” Etta asked, ever so slightly amused by Jarryn’s kind heart and willingness to confess to his perceived crime. “Well, I can’t tell you whether your brother really was involved in everything that happened that night or not, but what I can tell you that might make you feel just a little bit better is this: kids out here have been wonderin’ for years if I had a Silverwood tree hidin’ around here somewhere, so that had nothin’ to do with you.
“And you know what else?” she added. “For as long as I’ve been out here, if any of those same kids actually needed and deserved a little Silverwood, then, well, by some random act of the Heavens, they somehow always ended up findin’ a few pieces all by themselves. And that wasn’t always me–that’s just the way the Ildarwood works sometimes. Every now and then, the things we really need most in life just have a way of showin’ up precisely when we need ’em.”
Throwing the last few handfuls of old crops into her compost pile, she explained, “Balance in the Ildarwood always comes and goes. Sometimes it tips too much in one direction, and sometimes it tips all the way back in the other, back and forth, time and again–sometimes just for a few years, and sometimes for entire generations. The cause may not always be quite the same, but we always know exactly how it’s gonna end, ’cause sooner or later, balance will always come back. The only question I have left for you is whether or not you’re gonna be willing to fight for it whenever the time finally comes.”
“But I don’t like to fight,” Jarryn confessed. “I don’t even like holdin’ a sword.”
Smiling sweetly at him, Etta replied, “You don’t need to swing a sword or throw a punch to stand up for somethin you believe in. Sometimes fightin’ back means doin’ whatever your heart tells you is right, even when everyone else is tellin’ you it’s wrong. Sometimes it means bein’ the one who speaks out when nobody else has the guts. And sometimes you can fight back just by doin’ nothin’ at all. You’ll know when the time comes, I promise. Just keep listenin’ to that little voice inside your head that told you to come tell me about your brother. It sounds to me like it already knows how to steer you in the right direction.”
Nodding politely, even though he did not fully understand all the things that she was saying, he at least found some comfort in her words of reassurance, just as he had so many times before.
“Hey, Etta?” he said softly. “If I fail my Trials, would that mean I can never be a tree tender, like you?”
Finally stopping her work, Etta smiled back at him one last time and said, “I made it through my Trials just fine, and you’re at least twice as smart as I am. So just don’t give up, no matter what happens, and when your Trials are over, come and find me. Doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doin’, I’ll make sure to teach you everythin’ you need to know about Ildarwood trees.” And then she leaned in and whispered, “Includin’ all the fun ones you’re not supposed to know about till you’re older.”
Smiling back at her, Jarryn’s heart felt warm for the first time in months, and it was all thanks to Etta.
And so, after bidding her farewell with a thank-you and a hug, he took his satchel, his bag of belongings from Fort Fermwood, and his staff, then with a heavy heart, he began the long walk east toward the Oculum.
Located directly in the center of the Midwood Ridge–sheer stone cliffs that separated the westernmost Ildarwood from the vast wilderness of forest beyond–Ranewood’s Oculum served two purposes. As the only bridge in the Ildarwood to cross over the portion of Ridge River that ran from High Falls all the way north to the border of Silvermarsh, the Oculum provided a safe and accessible gateway for travelers between Westwatch and the Ildarcourt.
Its secondary purpose, however, was rarely utilized more often than once a year. Starting at dawn on the morning of the Principal Preceptor’s choosing, the doors to the Oculum’s central chamber would open to any and all first-year Ildarbound. Should they succeed, safe passage to the Ildarwood beyond and back would henceforth be granted. However, should they fail, they would be forced to remain in the westernmost woods until success, surrender, or expulsion finally found them.
And though Jarryn was not entirely certain what he should expect when he arrived, he was entirely caught off guard by the structure’s size and grandeur. Carved directly into the cliff’s smoky granite surface, the Oculum’s facade looked more like the front of an ancient Nacoryn temple than anything he had ever seen in Ranewood before. It had massive columns and statues that resembled soldiers in cloaks, standing guard, but its true center of attention was the Eye of An’tumbe that watched over all who entered from the most prominent point on the cliffs, directly above the central tunnel. Then above it all stood the Oculum Tower, similar in design to Westwatch yet somehow made grander by its prominence as it rose like a beacon from the ridge.
Getting into line behind dozens of other Ildarbound, Jarryn did not dare try to jump ahead, despite Aiden and Geonis both trying to wave for him to move forward. Just keep listenin’ to that little voice, he kept telling himself so as not to risk getting into trouble right before his Assessments started.
From that point on, he could do nothing but wait and study his notes. Poring over pages and pages of scribbles from his lessons with all the different Preceptors he had met that year, he struggled to remember all the little details they had told him since his Trials had started. And so he hoped against hope that none of the specifics he kept forgetting would come up once his Assessments were underway.
Moving forward ever so slowly, Jarryn tried to imagine what the Assessments might contain, and yet the more he thought about it, the more nervous he became. Just focus on the notes, he kept reminding himself. And even as those around him joked and laughed and horsed around, he refused to let himself get distracted. He needed to keep studying.
Nearly an hour passed before he was finally next in line to enter the tunnel. Keeping a close eye on the elderly lady who sat patiently at a table nearby, he could feel his stomach tightening as the moment of truth drew nearer.
“Don’t be nervous,” she said at one point. “Almost everyone gets through their first Assessments. It’ll be the ones that come later that you really need to worry about.”
“Great,” Jarryn replied. He did not have the heart to tell her that her words of encouragement merely gave him something new to sustain his anxiety from that point on.
“Go ahead and send down the next one!” a man deep inside the tunnel shouted moments later.
Only then did the woman at the table look up and say, “Your turn, sweetie. And remember–just be yourself and try not to worry, then you’re bound to do great.” And much to his surprise, those few words actually did make him feel just the slightest bit better.
After proceeding through the massive open doors into the tunnel, Jarryn had little more than the glow of a few Asterlight crystals in the walls to guide him on his way. Stopping just outside another set of doors, these ones smaller and set into the northern face of the tunnel, Jarryn found himself standing before a hobbling old Preceptor he had only seen a few times before.
“Okay, so I’m just gonna need ya to step right into this room, and we can get you started,” the man said with a smile.
Entering the cavernous room, Jarryn was surprised by how sparsely it was decorated. Although warmed by a greenwood fire, it was so barren that even the smallest sounds seemed to echo into eternity.
“Is this the first test?” Jarryn asked nervously upon reaching the center of the room.
“It sure is, and boy, is it a doozy!” the man replied, making Jarryn nearly unburden himself of his breakfast right then and there. “Now, think carefully on this one before you answer,” the man said sternly. “I need you to tell me–and no cheating–what exactly is your name?”
After staring at the man with disbelief for a moment, Jarryn replied, “Um, Jarryn Gricker.”
“Oh, Heavens help us! Another Gricker boy,” the man replied before flipping through a large stack of papers. “Did you actually manage to stay outta trouble this year?”
“Yes, sir,” Jarryn answered proudly, causing the man to stare up at Jarryn with surprise.
“Well, then, you’re not very much like your brothers, now, are you?”
Managing a reluctant smile, Jarryn timidly replied, “No, sir.”
“Well, then that certainly bodes well for the rest of your Trials, now, doesn’t it?” the man said with a laugh. “Now, let’s see here. It looks to me . . . like you’ll be . . . number ninety-nine. Oh, boy, if that isn’t bad luck, I don’t know what is. Well, I’m sure you’ll do just fine anyways, and even if you don’t, you can always try again the next day or the next, or even the next day after that. There’s always at least one of us here pretty much all the time–except on Restingdays, and once the heavy snows come, of course. Now, just toss your bag into one of these convenient little crates, and allow me to make a note of the number, and you’ll be all set. Sound good?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Jarryn mumbled before reluctantly depositing his satchel and the bag containing most of his worldly possessions. “Do I have to give you this too?” he asked, lifting his staff just the slightest bit off the floor.
“No, sirree,” the man replied. “I have a feelin’ you might just need it.”
Sweating more profusely with each passing minute, Jarryn began to contemplate abandoning the Assessments altogether, but he knew in his heart that he needed to carry on.
