A Delver’s Rite

By Donovan Bergin

Yohva chitters nervously beside me, white fur bristling down the length of her thorax. I whistle a few notes from a half-remembered lullaby and place a reassuring hand above her first pair of eyes. She settles into the shade of the smooth-stone building but keeps her focus on the tree line. Can’t say I blame her. Trapsing through Walker territory is about as dangerous as it gets.

Whistling a few playful notes, I pull Yohva’s leather ball from my backpack and toss it gently in my hand. She responds with excited clicks, her fear melting away. Standing, I cast the ball as far into the surrounding jungle as I can. Without hesitation, Yohva dives into the thicket. As she searches for her prize, I find myself wishing someone could still my nerves.

Fulfilling the delver’s rite of passage wasn’t my idea, but Sha-Rel insisted. Now, I can’t return home until I’ve proven my mettle by retrieving a ward stone. I just want to go back to herding slugs. I like herding slugs.

The sounds of stone breaking and Yohva’s screeching tear me from my thoughts and onto my feet. I struggle through the maze of vines and trees, driven by fear and desperation. My heart sinks as Yohva’s screeching stops. Did she cross paths with a Walker? Am I too late?

Bursting from the overgrowth, I fall into a small clearing. I look up and spot Yohva. Alive?

She’s skipping and darting around the collapsed wall of another smooth-stone building, her antennae perked. That explains it. I stand and wipe dirt and leaves from my trousers as my pounding heart slows ever so slightly.

“What did you find, girl?” I ask as I approach the site. She coos in reply, rushing over to nuzzle my hip. She almost knocks me over, then turns back to the building. I hum tones of awe and Yohva echoes them back. To be more precise, I’m echoing the tones her kind have always known. “Might as well take a look.”

The outer walls of the building bear no delver’s mark. Praise the Maker, this might be the shortest expedition since Sha-Rel was young. Which was forever ago. Excitedly, I search the site room by room. Thankfully, the gaping hole in the wall provides enough light that I don’t even bother with a torch.

After a few hours of meticulously picking through each of the chambers, I collapse onto the floor. At this rate, I’ll be gone a month. At least there’s a roof for the midnight storms. And the view through the missing wall isn’t so bad. I can see most of the clearing and—

Crack!

A tree at the edge of the clearing snaps in half, flinging wood through the air. A black steel beast bursts into the clearing, standing impossibly tall on its two legs. I scramble to my feet, looking for a place to hide, but it’s too late. The only way out is through the collapsed wall. Straight toward the hulking shadow of the Walker.

I try to charge forward, but my legs refuse. My stomach heaves, and I fall to the floor, heart pounding. I catch a glimpse of Yohva’s paws before she launches through the wall toward the charging Walker. I try to push myself up, only to fall back to the floor in a fit of dry heaves. I knew I wasn’t brave or strong enough for this. Sha-Rel was wrong about me, and now Yohva is going to die. And so will I.

The sound of steel colliding with carapace snaps my attention back to Yohva. The Walker has her pinned, raising one of its four elongated arms high into the air. I find courage to run as the Walker’s arm swings down.

And stops.

A man, standing defiantly before the Walker, holds up a… blue ward stone? I thought they were all orange.

Three orange wards connected, the boundary set. Everyone learns that as a kid, and promptly forgets the orange part, since there’s never been…

The man holds up a second stone, this one green. The Walker releases its grip on Yohva and approaches the man.

The ward bearer fumbles, cursing as he drops his pack. Ward stones of all colors spill onto the ground, including orange.

The man goes pale and runs for the woods. I run for the wards, grabbing three orange ones as the Walker blocks the strange man’s escape. Looking behind me, I see Yohva struggling to stand. I throw one ward as far as I can behind her, then turn back to the ward bearer and the Walker. I cast the second stone to their right. As I ready the final ward, one of the Walker’s arms collides with the man, burying him in the ground. I freeze, stumbling backward as the beast sets its light-stone eyes on me. It raises an arm to finish me off, and I shield my face with my hands, clenching my eyes shut.

And then… nothing. When I open my eyes, the Walker is gone, its footprints leading back into the jungle. Below me, the third ward lies on the ground, a thin beam of light connecting it to the other two. Protecting me. Protecting Yohva.

Yohva! I turn in time to see her stumble into me, pawing me clumsily as she whistles tones of joy. In response, I hum a few more stanzas of that half-remembered lullaby and scratch behind her antennae.

Casting a look where the ward bearer once stood, I whisper a prayer of appreciation. I gather the stones into his satchel. To my surprise, it contains a leather-bound book filled with sketches of steel beasts, distant lands, and… ward stones, each accompanied by a scribbling of runes I can’t read. Yet. Sha-Rel can teach me, I’m sure of it.

What else can these stones do? What mysteries are left to uncover? One thing’s for sure. Yohva and I are never going back to herding slugs.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Donovan Bergin is a software architect by trade, proud father of two, devoted husband, and disciple of Jesus Christ. He loves reading, entertaining his kiddos, and faithfully pursuing his wife’s honey-do lists. There’s also a rumor that if you’re biking the trails of Northwest Arkansas really early in the morning, you might catch of glimpse of him as he breezes past you… and into a tree. Please, someone find him a safer hobby.

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