The Wherewithal

Tulei pulled her cloak tighter around her; the mist had soaked into the wool and the dress underneath, making them  both heavy and, like everything else in this gods forsaken place, uncomfortable.  Even the sharp wind could not tug at the material, though it managed to whip her hair against her face leaving icy red lash marks down her thin cheeks.

Miserably she took another step forward, and then another.  Come on, Tu, one more.  The pathway had become more and more pitiful as she approached the bridge, now it dropped away either side of her.  A single false step would invite fatal disaster.

She kicked a pebble and sent it flying into the mists.  The air whistled as the stone plummeted down towards the river.  The sound panicked her.  Just how far down is that river?  She shook, remember Gathri’s teaching.  All is illusion here. 

Tearing her eyes from the ravine, she forced herself to stare straight down at her own feet. 

And to take another step along the narrow bridge.



How long have I been here?  It seems like forever.  Her feet felt heavy, every step slow and painful.  Numb from fear and cold, she tried to work it out, anything to distract her from the ghastly heights of the bridge.

Three nights, it’s only been three nights.  She huddled further under the cloak in disbelief. Two in the open and one in the woods.  The Wherewithal had thrown so many horrors at her in that time.  Her stomach tightened at the memories.

Gathri had tried to prepare her students for this; in turns fussy and fretful, hard and cold.  She herself had walked the Wherewithal so many years ago, but of course it was different for every mage.  In the end, all she could do was pour bittersweet  catalepsy into their cups and wait.

Her pinched smile and hollow eyes had been the last thing Tulei had seen before awakening in the Wherewithal.



Keep going. The bridge could hardly last forever, could it?  She shuddered and paid more attention to the cracks in the paving.  Don’t look over the side, Gathri's sharp order shot through her mind.  All is illusion and deception in the Wherewithal.  Keep your eyes at your feet and never look beyond the next step.  Let your feet take you where they will.

Tulei’s hand stole to her necklace and she pressed it to her lips for comfort.  The pendant was just a stone, but the hard smoothness grounded her, helping her focus. 

I will walk you Wherewithal.  You are the final rite between me and power.  I will walk you and find my strength.



Another stone slipped under her feet and she gave a thin cry as it shook her balance.  Throwing out her arms to steady herself, Tulei teetered on the lip of the path and looked over the edge. 

Beneath her, the mists swirled and gathered.  Here and there she could see through the whirling mists to the bottom of the ravine.

She sucked in breath; the river was there, surging hundreds of feet below.  Serrated rocks jutted up through the water causing it to churn and froth.

Give me strength!  A wash of vertigo swept over her, making her sick with dizziness and the horror.  It’s just an illusion, just an illusion.  Just a hell-damning illusion.

She fell to her knees and threw up.

Keep walking.  Terror was swamping her, cold sweat trickling down her face.  Clasping her necklace and praying silently, she pushed herself up and centered herself back on the path.

“The bridge marks halfway.  Remember, nothing in the Wherewithal can hurt you.  Unless you let it.”

The pathway certainly appeared real, Tulei could feel each crumbling paving stone through her worn boots.  Every crack and every clump of rag-weed growing up through.  From the corners of her eyes, she could see the thickening mists,  gathering around her like a pack of wolves in winter.  She fancied it circling her, waiting to pounce.  One more step. That is the only sure way to walk the Wherewithal.  Each step brings you closer to the end, Gathri’s voice whispered in her mind. The Wherewithal will take your power and throw it back at you.  What will it throw at you, Tulei?



Fear was making her heart race and bile burned in her mouth.  She steeled herself, one more step?  So be it.  She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  Slower. She immersed herself in Gathri’s teaching.  Nothing here can harm me.  Not if I refuse to let it. Tulei slowed her breathing further, until the rise and fall of her chest was all but imperceivable. 

Every phantom you throw at me shows me my own strength.  I can face me, she swallowed.  Monsters in the dark, whispers in the wood, terrifying heights and sickening depths.  This is me. This is my power.  And I will walk through it and I will conquer you, Wherewithal. She opened her eyes.

And took another step.





Picture prompt used: Dress on bridge

Word Count: 840

What if all would-be mages had to walk through their own psyche before they could use their power?