Chapter 14: The Trial of the Butterfly
Alfred looked at his wrist tied to Ronan’s, then shouted, “You can’t expect me to carry this mongrel up that rope!”
Farrier crossed his arms and let out a mighty laugh. “Of course I don’t expect you to do that, you hard-headed jack-a-nape!
Maritza stepped forward and said, “What we expect is for you both to work together and cooperate with each other.”
She pointed to the nearest post. “Climb up the rope together, find a way to the platform safely, and you’ll have passed the trial created by the Nightblade Elders.”
“Completing this trial, Ronan,” Farrier winked, “is how a Trainee earns their Mark of the Butterfly.”
“Then Alfred and I will do whatever it takes!” Ronan exclaimed. His hand clenched into a fist and he accidentally tugged Alfred to the side by the rope.
Alfred yanked the rope and Ronan along with it, and said, “This mutt doesn’t know how to use Butterfly magic! He can’t walk on the air or jump great distances.”
“Alfred,” Farrier said with weary eyes. His voice grew sarcastic. “If such a powerful and aspiring young Nightblade as yourself can make the jump by himself, then surely he can do it working with another talented Trainee.”
Ronan smirked. It was nice to finally be appreciated, though his heart was still pounding. Above him, a gentle breeze made the tall posts sway. Alfred or not, the climb would be tremendously difficult, and the jump impossible.
But Ronan had to find a way.
“We can do this,” Ronan said to Alfred.
Alfred’s face soured. “I can do it. I know that much. But with dead weight attached to me, there’s no way.”
Farrier grinned. “This trial is required for you to advance, Alfred. If you’re saying it’s too difficult and you’re happy to remain a Rank 3, then by all means, cut the rope and let Ronan make the leap himself.”
Ronan felt Alfred shake with anger.
“Fine!” Alfred shouted, a whip of blonde hair bouncing in front of his nose. He swept it to the side quickly with his free hand. “Even if I have to throw this dog over the gap I’ll do it! Whatever it takes for me to advance!”
Ronan focused first on climbing the seemingly never-ending rope ahead of him.
“If we work together, we can figure this out,” he said, sizing the climb. He’d once scaled the garrison on the Temple of the Serpent to repave cracks in the facade. Any fear of heights died that day, when he had nothing but a rope at his waist to catch him should he have fallen.
But for this trial, he didn’t even have that sense of security.
“Enough talk,” Alfred declared, dragging Ronan along and making the two burst into a brisk walk. Alfred snatched the rope attached to the post. “Let’s get this over with already.”
Alfred tugged himself up on the rope, nearly pulling Ronan’s shoulder out of his socket.
“You’re a stubborn idiot!” Ronan shouted in pain. He used the frustration to speeden his movements, and clutched the rope too. The two ascended awkwardly, placing one hand in front of the other. Ronan’s right arm was outstretched, and he had to match his movements with Alfred’s to assure that the two could inch their way upwards as the rope swayed from side to side.
“We can go faster if we work together!” Ronan shouted. “Use your arm to keep the rope steady and I’ll use my feet to get us up faster!”
Alfred grunted, but still followed Ronan’s suggestions.
Before the two knew it, they were up so high that the Trainees seemed like ants. Ronan gulped and snapped his head forward; a fall from this height would be the end of him. His stomach became queasy, and he pushed with his legs to climb faster.
Finally, Alfred and Ronan made it to the platform at the top of the post. They had to shuffle and squeeze just to fit both their sets of feet on the narrow piece of wood. Ronan slipped, but Alfred caught him by the back of his shirt.
“Thanks,” Ronan said, peering down at the people as tiny as specks.
“You would’ve brought me down with you should you have fallen,” Alfred sneered.
Ronan shook his head and glanced at the other platform across from them.
“Butterfly magic makes the user light as a feather,” Alfred said, holding out an arm to keep balance. “But there’s no way I can make this jump with you attached to me.”
Ronan considered their situation and searched for a solution.
“Alfred, how far do you think you could jump with me by your side?”
Alfred scoffed. “Fifteen, maybe twenty feet maximum. I could leap the temple if you weren’t bound to my wrist!”
A breeze blew, and the platform the two young Nightblades stood on swayed. They gripped one another by the arm so that they didn’t fall.
“So then we only need to close the gap for you to make that fifteen foot jump,” Ronan said.
“And how do you propose that?” Alfred questioned. He pointed to the opposite platform. “That’s the length of a field away from us.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Ronan muttered. He wasn’t sure if it would work, or if he could even summon the magic, but he had a plan nonetheless.
“I’ll weaken the base of the post we’re on,” Ronan said. “If this post falls towards the platform across from us, it should bring us close enough for you to make the jump.”
“You’re kidding,” Alfred said, rolling his eyes.
Ronan planted his feet and forced the platform to jiggle.
“Don’t do that, you idiot!” Alfred shouted. A blonde tuft fell in front of his angry eyes.
But Ronan was concentrating too hard to care or argue.
He shut his eyes, then remembered Master Titanoboa’s lesson on Serpent magic. Ronan felt the wind whistle by his ears, and the sun beat down on his skin. He recalled the massacre of the Temple of the Serpent, and felt the fear of being surrounded by the Hellsworn Army.
Ronan’s Mark of the Serpent began to steam.
“What’re you doing?” Alfred asked. “Ronan, what’s going on?”
Ronan imagined the base of the post that he was standing on, far below him by the other Trainees.
Alfred’s voice switched from confusion to fear.
“Ronan,” he said, “Why are your veins turning black?”
Ronan knew he was accessing his magic. He felt it vibrate through him like the sounds from a loud bell rung beside his head.
The bottom of the enormous post ignited in a white flame.
Next, the sound of cracking wood filled the Training Grounds.
Ronan snapped open his eyes to see the veins around his Mark of the Serpent bold and black. Was this power what the runes on his arm had told him about? About his Shroud System activating?
Suddenly, Alfred clung to Ronan. The two shouted at the top of their lungs as the post fell like a chopped tree towards the other platform.
“Stay grounded!” Ronan shouted, grabbing the rope by the platform so the two didn’t go flying off. “Get ready to make the jump!”
With blinding speed, the long post whipped down towards the ground.
“You’re going to get us killed!” Alfred shouted. His Mark of the Butterfly sizzled and glowed white.
Just as the tip of the platform they were standing on neared the middle of the other post, Alfred leapt into the air with Ronan.
For a second, the two flailed their limbs in circles as they made it closer to the post’s rope.
With his free hand, Ronan caught the rope. Alfred’s body smacked to his hip and Ronan’s hand slid down the rope, burning his palm and fingers.
Still, he kept his grip tight, and the two dangled until Alfred caught his breath.
Then the two climbed up to the platform in silence, amazed that the plan had actually worked.
When they got to the top, the platform lowered to the ground and the post sunk back into the grass. Ronan could’ve kissed the grass when he set his feet on the Training Grounds.
Maritza and Farrier stood before Alfred and Ronan. The two Masters were grinning.
“I’ve got to say,” Maritza said, “That was impressive.”
“I knew you Serpents were witty,” Farrier laughed. In his booming voice, he said, “You combined your strengths and achieved the objective.”
“Congratulations,” Maritza said to the young Nightblades. “You’ve passed the trial.”
She looked directly at Ronan then added, “You’re now officially one of us. It’s time we gave you The Mark of the Butterfly.”