Vikter & the Dark Spire

CHAPTER ONE: THE DARK SPIRE

Vikter knew not to go anywhere near the Dark Spire—everyone who did was never heard from again—but he didn't care anymore. It was late when he tugged on his sheepskin boots and sneaked out of his crowded bedroom, careful not to wake any of his six brothers as they lay sprawled in heaps on the blanket-strewn floor. The moon was bright tonight, but its light did little to help him maneuver the maze of snoring bundles and shadowy lumps.

After several minutes of careful navigation, Vikter had reached the door. A faint orange glow shone through the cracks from the fireplace in the next room. He lifted a hand to the door, preparing to push it open. If the door squeaked, his plan would fail, for it was sure to wake at least one of his brothers or worse, his father, and they would ask him what he was doing up and why he was wearing his boots. He would have to lie or pretend to be sleep-walking, but either way, he would have to cancel or postpone his visit to the Dark Spire.

Perhaps that would be best, he thought to himself. In fact, a part of him wanted the door to squeak—to announce his plans to the world and prevent him from carrying them out. But another part of him wanted it to open silently for him and allow him to escape.

It wasn't that he had a bad life. Not at all. But it was boring. Plus, third oldest of seven, he was as good as invisible to his own family. They were well-meaning people, to be sure, but they were busy. It wasn't easy feeding that many boys, so his father worked more hours than he slept and most of his brothers did the same simply to make ends meet.

Vikter sucked in his breath and held it, pushing ever so slightly against the rough-hewn planks. It swung easily open. There had been no noise and the room was as still as it had been before. He let out his breath and squeezed through the crack and into the fire-lit room beyond.

Now that the hard part was behind him, there was no way Vikter would pass up a chance like this— a chance to see something new, something significant.

He went immediately to his hook on the wall, pulled down his coat, and put it on, buttoning it all the way to the top. Then he tugged on his cap and grabbed his mittens from where they hung on the mantle drying. As he turned around to face the door, he froze. There in front of the doorway to the bedroom stood Jak.

Jak was the fourth-oldest boy and was two years younger than Vikter. Of all his brothers, Vikter liked Jak best, but in this moment, he couldn't have liked him any less. He was about to ruin everything.

"What are you doing?" Vikter whispered harshly as he crossed the room and stared into the wide eyes of the younger boy.

"What are you doing?" Jak asked in a voice that was more nervous than accusing.

"What does it matter to you, Jak?" Vikter hissed as he pushed the boy back toward the bedroom door. "Go back to bed!"

"But where are you going?" he asked, his eyes shimmering in the firelight.

"None of your business," Vikter said. "I'll be back by morning."

"Not to the Dark Spire, right?" Jak asked, voice quavering.

Vikter froze as his heart dropped. How had he guessed? Vikter must have let on somehow. He had been plotting this visit for a while now. That must be it. Jak always seemed to notice things like that. But that was no use thinking about now. Jak was going to spoil everything and he couldn't let that happen.

"Yes, I'm going to the Dark Spire, okay?" he said, his tone still biting. "But listen, if you keep quiet this time, I'll bring you there myself next time, okay?"

"But it's a bad place..." Jak said, trailing off.

"That's only what everyone says!" Vikter exclaimed. "I'll go and find out if it's really true, and then I'll come back and we can go there together. You promise not to tell anyone, right?"

Jak hesitated, his big eyes flickering in the firelight as he thought.

"Come on, Jak," Vikter prodded. "I'll be careful, I promise."

"Well," Jak said, looking down, "alright."

"There you go!" Vikter said, touching the younger boy's shoulder. "Now back to bed! I'll be back by morning, I promise!"

Jak turned toward the bedroom again, and Vikter hurried to the front door. Just as he was about to ease the door open, Jak's little voice came from behind.

"Vik," he said, "you know if something happens to you, I'll come help you, right?"

Vikter turned to his younger brother. As much as he wanted him to just go back to bed, he couldn't deny how good Jak's words made him feel. He might be invisible to the rest of the family, but not to Jak and that meant something.

"Thanks, Jak," was all he said. "See you soon." And with that, Vikter slipped outside and was on his way to the Dark Spire.

Once he was outside, it didn't take long for Vikter to sneak down the main street of his little village, past the sentry on guard, and up into the mountains. Even when the village lay far below and behind him and the sentry's fire nothing more than a distant flicker of light, Vikter kept to the shadows, though he didn't know why. There was no one out here to see him—not now, not here.

Still, the shadows felt safe and so he stayed hidden in them as he clambered up the small, winding paths that led up into the highest peaks of the Drushnik mountains. This was no easy task. The winter had been a harsh one so far, leaving the mountains covered in more than a foot of snow. What's more, a driving wind blew constantly against Vikter's back and the clear night sky made for a bone-chillingly cold night.

Yet, Vikter trudged on, driven ever upward, ever closer to the Dark Spire by a feeling he had never felt before. It was stronger than curiosity. It was bolder, like the shadows. It drew him in and whispered of something secret, something unknown. And he listened. He listened to it and climbed ever upward on those snowy slopes.

When he paused his climb and looked up, he saw the Dark Spire as he had seen it so many times—outlined against a full moon, ominous and foreboding—but tonight, he saw it with different eyes. No longer was it just big and ominous and scary. Now it was exciting, new, and more real than it had ever been before. His heart thumped in his chest, but he didn't know if it was fear that made it race or excitement.

Suddenly, he couldn't wait to reach the Spire. He took a step forward. And then another. And another. Soon, he was plodding along again, rushing toward the Spire with a new, almost exhilarating thrill. Before he even realized he was getting so close, Vikter found himself face to face with the unbelievable.

Before him, at the base of the Spire, stood a palace carved out of the very stone of the mountain, dark and majestic in the moonlight. This was not what he had expected. Pillars lined the front of the palace, supporting a triangular roof. In the center and between two pillars there stood a tall, narrow door. Vikter went to it, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It was taller than it had looked, and it stretch to a height that was at least three times as tall as he was.

Before him, two dragon heads snarled at him from the doors, their eyes flashing with rubies and their teeth bared in a permanent growl. For an instant, they startled Vikter, but once he realized they were only made of iron, he shook his head, chiding himself for being such a coward. Iron rings hung from each of the dragons' mouths, inviting Vikter to pull them and enter. But Vikter paused and took a deep breath.

Here he was, at the doorway of something new and exciting, the edge of his known world. So why did he hesitate? He looked up at the moon as if to see if it was still watching him. It was, of course. It's cold stare illuminated the doors before of him. The dragons' eyes sparkled in the moonlight, inviting him in, promising something more than the drab little life he led—something exciting, something new, something magical perhaps. Without a second thought, Vikter reached out, grabbed both rings, and pulled the doors open.

But he wasn't alone as he stepped inside.