The Keys to Ascension

by Dilland Doe

  After running past the opponent, Theto stopped instantly and sprinted at him again. Theto knew he came quickly. He thought there was no way the guy would be ready for another fast attack. Theto lunged toward the gut. Again, Twenty-Nine stepped to the side, this time, swinging his stick downward. It came for Theto’s upper back. Instinctively, he threw up his magic shield. The stick slammed into it, shaking the opponent’s arms.

  Theto turned around, hit the stick out of the way with his left sword and jabbed with the right. Twenty-Nine never recovered from hitting the shield. Theto’s sword jabbed into the master’s magic field, shattering it. Theto won again.

  Theto had another break while two other novices fought, then his number was called again. He struggled to stand as his legs wobbled and his injuries ached. He wanted to lay in a bed for six months, but he had to keep going. He could tell the other boys were impressed by his victories. No one expected him to be as awesome as he was.

  Twenty-Eight’s long brown hair rested partially on his shoulders and down to his chest. He probably thought his trimmed facial hair, only left unshaven under his nose and at the end of his chin, made him look like an evil wizard. But really, it made him look ridiculous. The giant hammer strapped to his back didn’t look anything of the sort.

  Why doesn’t he hold it in his hands?

  “Go.”

  The empty hands jerked forward with fingers sticking out. Lightning danced between them before flashing toward Theto. He put up his shield. He didn’t know if it could stop magic. He didn’t have time to think. He just acted. He watched in intense amazement as the violent stream of electricity dissipated upon hitting the force field.

  Twenty-Eight walked forward, maintaining the lightning attack. Theto hid behind his barrier, not sure what to do. Twenty-Eight reached Theto. The opponent ended the lightning while at the same time slinging the heavy hammer off his back and down on Theto’s shield. Theto grit his teeth, staring ahead, at the heavy attack.

  The hammer slammed into the barrier, then Twenty-Eight stood with his hammer out against the shield, eyes wide. The reverberation of the massive collision must have shaken his skull. Novices gasped.

  Someone whispered, “What is that shield?”

  Another said, “How did it not shatter?”

  Seeing the stunned opponent, Theto lunged forward. The tip of his right sword shattered Master Rena’s shield. The glass-like magic shards disappeared as they spread through the air. Somehow, Theto won again.

  Theto mentally fought his body’s collapse as he watched the next boys fight. It seemed like anchors had been tied to him at multiple spots and pulled with all their weight, trying to bring him down into the depths of unconsciousness and physical collapse. He tried to learn by watching the techniques of others, but that would have been so much easier to do if he wasn’t in excruciating pain. He hoped he was done for the day. Could The Master really expect him to fight till he dropped?

  The Master called Theto’s number. Narrowing his eyes and grunting, he forced himself to his feet, then made his way to the front of the students. He bowed toward Twenty-Seven.

  “Go.”

  Twenty-Seven stood on one leg. The other was bent gruesomely from his previous beat down. The boy held two swords, just like Theto. Theto felt bad about fighting someone wounded so, but it was his job. He hesitated. His opponent stood ready, but not attacking.

  Theto charged. He just had to block the swords. If he rammed into the guy, Twenty-Seven would fall over and may not be able to get back up. Those swords came fast. Theto failed to deflect them, so he jumped out of the way, breaking his charge. He tried again a few more times, each time breaking the charge to avoid his foe’s blades.

  Theto circled the wounded boy, looking for an opening to strike. He moved in, flashing his swords with several feigns before coming in hard. Twenty-Seven parried every attack and struck back. A sword swung toward Theto’s neck. His own weapons were too far away to block. He put up his magic shield. The sword clinked into it.

  Theto moved in and out, attacking, then backing away. Each time he couldn’t get through his opponent’s defenses. The sound of breathing and dinging swords, mixed with a few grunts, emanated from the fight.

  Theto kept attacking, focused like he played in a championship sedeux match. He visualized victory, but it didn’t come. Twenty-Seven’s swords seemed to move faster than his own, but he knew they didn’t. His opponent just knew exactly where to place his weapons.

  Sweat ran down Theto’s face as he lunged, swung, stabbed, and parried again and again. He only still stood thanks to his magic shield. He hoped to see frustration on Twenty-Seven’s face, but he saw nothing but focus.

  Moving in for another attack, Theto’s rival opened his mouth. A massive siren boomed from it. The sound seemed to shake Theto’s brain in his skull. It pounded through his head like a tiny man with hammers banged away from the inside. His opponent’s sword came underneath his own. Theto threw up his shield, but the sword was already past it. The blade slammed into him, and for the first time he saw his own Master-Rena-shield shatter around him.

  Theto had been defeated. He was stuck at Twenty-Eight. He needed to be number one.

  Ch. 38

  The Master ordered all boys who fought to the healers and everyone else to the cafeteria. Theto had to learn healing magic. The heal-mages amazed him. While they didn’t cure his exhaustion, they healed all his bruises and mended his broken bones.

  They also didn’t cure his soreness. He struggled to shove a spoon full of casserole into his mouth. He’d rather sleep, but needed the energy, and…the casserole was pretty freaking good! He didn’t suspect that.

  Right after he finished eating, Master Rena appeared. “Chain-up! Gear-up!”

  He jogged after the other boys. Everyone put on chainmail, then packed a backpack of food, water, and clothes before securing weapons on themselves. Theto had been provided with two sheathes for his swords that hung from his sides.

  The boys jogged outside. Master Rena didn’t say anything. After all the novices lined up in front of him, he turned and ran. Everyone ran after him.

  Theto fought through his soreness with grit, but after a minute, he could hardly breathe. The pace hurt. His lungs burned. There’s no way we can be running far. In his thoughts, he begged for them to stop, hoped for some respite, almost cried for a nice walk, but they kept going.

  The Master spoke. Hope rose within Theto that he’d command them to slow. “That’s one mile. Nine more boys! Keep going!”

  Theto thought he’d just been given a death sentence. And maybe he had.

  Master Rena then described the course they ran. He gave directions like they needed it even though they all followed him. He sped up, leaving most of the boys behind. Only two or three kept up, but everyone sped up.

  Wanting to prove himself, Theto pushed his body to maintain pace with the main pack. He couldn’t slow down. He could do it. He was in great shape! He was a champion sedeux player! His breathing became more and more laborious. He found it harder to find last drops of energy. The pain in his lungs became unbearable.

  He walked. Pain and pleasure struck through him. The pleasure of a break, and the pain of shame. He couldn’t keep up. He watched the pack jog ahead of him. He jogged and walked the rest of the course, following the directions the master had barked.

  He finished alone, walking into the cafeteria where the rest of the novices already ate. He felt like the biggest loser in the universe. He also felt like collapsing on the floor. But he most felt the painful desire for water.

  Large terracotta cups of the liquid lined the end of a table after the food. He stared at those dull cups with deep desire. Walking past the food, he gulped down a cup of water. He needed it more than a priest needs The Divinity. He took another cup and started gulping it down too. The water fell into the abyss that was his stomach like an insatiable beast dined on insects. He slammed the empty cup on the table, then grabbed another. In seconds, it was emp
ty.

  Water weighed heavily in his stomach. He turned to the food. He knew people watched him. He looked like a fool. Pots of casserole lay before him. He filled a plate with a big spoon, then turned to the tables to sit. He couldn’t control the frown on his face. He knew he failed. He didn’t simply perform poorly, he couldn’t even keep up. He needed to sit. He eyed the first empty table and moved toward it.

  In unaccented Hyzantrian, someone said, “Don’t worry, man. Everyone falls behind at first. Come sit over here.”

  Theto looked up. Twenty-Seven waved him over. He’s Hyzantrian?

  Theto set his food down next to the boy. He wanted to collapse into his chair, but he had shown his weakness enough as it was. He slowly sat, only releasing a slight sigh of relief as the chair took his weight.

  “Eat up, man. They’re about to split us up for magic training. Don’t worry, it’s not usually physical.”

  “Thanks.” Theto spooned food into his mouth. Surprise still hit him at the quality of the casserole. Through a mouthful, he said, “You Hyzantrian?”

  “Heh, yeah man. We’re pretty rare here. We both are breaking our Divinity’s laws. I can tell you were a sedeux dancer, right?”

  Theto nodded, swallowing and spooning in more food.

  “Me too. That’s why we both chose double swords. They are similar to clubs, but there are some key differences. Unfortunately, we have to learn to break a few sedeux habits. When you’re allowed to generally spar, I’ll show you some pointers.”

  Theto ate in silence for a moment.

  Twenty-Seven said, “I know you’re Theto. I’m Perlio.”

  He held out a hand. Theto shook it.

  #

  Theto opened the light, creaky door. He stuck his head into the cute little house. “Hibb! You here? This is the address in your letter!”

  A woman in her underwear stepped out from another room. Her flat stomach and large bosom attracted and repelled Theto at the same time.

  He turned his head away and covered his eyes. “Oh, sorry! I thought my uncle lived here.”

  She spoke sweetly. “Don’t worry. Hibberro will be out shortly.”

  Theto uncovered his eyes. She made no effort to cover up. Theto stared away awkwardly.

  Steps came from another room, then Hibb appeared in a pink and blue robe. “Theto! You have survived thus far! Great!”

  Theto hugged his chubby uncle. “Glad to see you, Uncle. My first week has been hard, but I’ve learned a lot.” He lowered his voice. “Shouldn’t your friend put on some clothes?”

  Hibb jerked his bald head back, laughing. “Oh no. This is what many women wear here. It’s called a bikini. She’s my secretary.”

  Theto tilted his head. “But you’re at home.”

  Hibb looked at his nephew frankly. “Here in Blastonin, people of high position like myself are supplied a secretary to help them with all sorts of needs. They’re kind of a permanent servant. They value magic research here, and every top researcher gets one.”

  “Uuuuuuuuuh. This doesn’t sound like something the Scripture of Justice would approve of.”

  Hibb laughed. His secretary put an arm around his shoulder. “Your neph is cute.”

  Theto blushed.

  Hibb lowered his chin, forcing his chin fat to bulge out. “He’s not ranked enough to get a secretary. You’re mine!”

  She flashed her beautiful teeth as she giggled.

  Waving a hand in front of himself, Hibb said, “Anywho. Yeah. The Telion school treats me well. It’s pretty high pressure, but I have lots of cool discoveries they don’t know about. If I don’t come up with anything new, I’ll just give them an old one. Some of these ideas your dad came up with.”

  Dad…Both males stared off into the distance.

  Hibb returned his gaze to Theto. “How was your first week?”

  “Well. I moved from rank thirty-two to twenty-eight in one day. I haven’t fought again since, but I should Monday or Tuesday. I’m surprised they give us some money and Sundays off.”

  Hibb nodded. “Yeah, all the schools do that. Despite how hardcore some of these training programs are, they feel like you train harder if you have an off day.”

  A womanly whisper came from atop Theto’s head. “Well, are you gonna introduce me or not?”

  Theto sighed.

  Hibb narrowed his eyes. “You have a new high being?”

  Nodding, Theto said, “Yeah, this is Yepiera. We are, um, dating.”

  Hibb’s cheeks puffed out and eyes went big, trying to hold in a guffaw. Air noisily blew out through his closed lips.

  Theto sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I haven’t really figured out how to use her yet, but I can feel her power.”

  “Yeah, women do have power over men. So, you think she’s the one?” Hibb leaned toward Theto with a goofy smile.

  “Oh, The Divinity.”

  Hibb closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Her connection with you is solid. Good, good. I know this family.” His eyes shot open. “You’re a novice illusionist!”

  “Yup.”

  Hibb slammed his soft body into Theto and squeezed him tight. “You’ll be the best! Just like your uncle! I’ll make you the best darn illusionist to ever walk the planet! Your dad will be so proud of us! Ha haaaaaaaa!”

  Theto pushed against him. “Alright. Let go of me. You smell bad.”

  Hibb stepped away. “Well, we did just…” he glanced back at his smiling secretary who stood right behind him. “Never mind.”

  “Okay,” Hibb said, “after lunch I’ll show you some pointers…wait…where’s your communicator?”

  Theto shook his head. “I wanted something cool, but they gave me a louse. Somehow the school breeds them to not reproduce or jump away from my head. And it has super strong claws, I can’t get rid of it by bathing.”

  “Cool!” Hibb jumped into Theto as he grabbed his head and starting sifting through Theto’s hair.

  “Uncle, stop.”

  “Uuuuuuh,” Yepiera said, “nice to meet youuuuuu. You pretty rude, fatso.”

  Hibb put a hand in front of himself, shaking his head. “I’m not fat, just a little chubby. Ain’t that right, dear?” He glanced back at his secretary.

  “Oh yes,” she rubbed his shoulders, “you’re so just chubby and not fat. Yeeaaaaah.”

  After lunch, Hibb taught Theto some basics with the high being. Theto was able to create illusions where before he couldn’t. Hibb may have been kind of an idiot, but he would give Theto the edge he needed to graduate as soon as possible.

  Ch. 39

  King Sannacles strode down the large hallway toward his royal chambers. He couldn’t wait to get out of his fancy, regal robe and into some light underwear for sleep. With the tip of his fingers he lightly rubbed, then tapped, his sword’s pommel. He examined the glinting candle light of the two guards’ mail armor that seemed to move as he approached.

  The other Citians treat me like a foreign power! Sending the league’s representative to negotiate with me and the Hyzantrians, bah! I served plenty of wine and food today, but we’re no closer to agreement. They wouldn’t dare sanction me. If I want free trade with my wife’s people, then I have the right to have it.

  He nodded at the guards before pushing open one of the large doors. A man in black with a long, thin, two-handed, and curved sword leapt at him. Sannacles could hardly see the man’s face under his hood. Behind the assailant, another man with an identical blade stood over his sleeping wife.

  Sannacles drew his short sword. “Herania!”

  As the metal of the opponent’s sword dinged loudly off his own, the wet slush off his wife’s guts and her final release of air penetrated his ears while the second assassin’s sword penetrated her heart.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Sannacles knocked his opponent’s sword to the side before ramming him with his shoulder. The assassin slammed to the ground while Sannacles charged the other who stood ready.

  The two guards came in and
engaged the grounded enemy. Sannacles heaved his sword toward his wife’s murderer, swinging with all his might. He knew the attack would be blocked, but he wanted the Citian traitor to feel the strength of the king. The enemy’s entire body shook with the impact.

  Behind Sannacles, blood flew and gurgles sounded from his guards who shamefully died with ease. The other black-hooded man would be on him in seconds. He feigned a jab toward his current foe’s gut, then swung upward against his enemy’s sword. Blade to blade, Sannacles held the opponent’s sword above his head, then released a hand from his weapon, grabed the enemy’s shoulder, and flung him behind him.

  The oncoming enemy jumped over his comrade. Sannacles yelled, “Yaaahh!” He kicked toward the jumping man. A loud snap exploded from his knee. The king stepped to the side as the opponent collapsed to the ground. The other foe was back on his feet, swinging his sword. Running forward and ducking past it, Sannacles put the standing enemy between him and the fallen.

  Their swords clashed while the other struggled to stand on one leg. I’ve got to know who sent these treacherous fools. I can’t kill them. They must be interrogated. These fools are weak!

  Seeing an opening, Sannacles took a hand from his sword and threw a jab into his opponent’s face. While the crack from the punch still rang, he hit his opponent’s sword upward, then rammed him with his shoulder. The enemy flew backward into the other assassin. They collapsed in a heap.

  Sannacles dashed forward. In one kick, he knocked a sword away, the foot followed through into a man’s face. From the ground, the other foe lunged with his sword. Sannacles dodged to the right while reaching out and grabbing the man’s wrist. The king swung with the pommel of his blade into the foe’s jaw. It cracked and the man collapsed.

  The king grabbed the curved sword and tossed it behind him.