by Karen MacRae
The candidate threw off her cloak to reveal black leathers from throat to toe. The only noise in the hall as she walked forward was a small gasp from the third row of the IQ seats. Professor Kirklund pretended to smother a sneeze, then looked behind her for her brunette bodyguard. The bodyguard looked straight at her and winked! They’d switched people on her! She was about to stand and protest then realised she wasn’t quite sure what she’d be protesting about. If the candidate was inadequate, the Gift Diviner would find her out. If she wasn’t, then she had every right to be there. She turned back to the hall to see the ancient Diviner holding the brunette’s hands.
Rather than finding her inadequate, the Gift Diviner detected three exceptional gifts. The Master of Ceremonies asked for a decision, but the Gift Diviner paused. She opened her eyes to look at the young woman. “Which gifts are you putting forward, Miss Bethon?” she whispered.
“Reading and Swordsmanship.”
“Not Dance or Death?”
“No, Mistress Diviner. I would prefer to keep things simple.”
“As you wish.”
The Diviner turned to the Inner Quorum and held up three white cards above her head. Shocked gasps went around the hall. The woman had three HQ-worthy gifts? It was unheard of.
“Please tell the Inner Quorum your name, where you studied and your gifts,” the Master of Ceremonies called.
“My name is Saskia Bethon. I studied at the University of Seask. I offer the gifts of Reading and Swordsmanship.”
As the most senior Reader in the room, it was the Chancellor’s job to personally select the members of the audience to be Read by the candidate. He deliberately chose those with difficult, closed-off auras, but Anna’s Healing and her time with Lady Braxton had allowed Seleste’s skill to flourish. The lilac peristone had given her a significant boost too.
The audience clapped more and more enthusiastically as the candidate answered basic questions about the test subjects without any difficulty then began to probe much more personal thoughts and beliefs.
The Chancellor would have continued but he caught his wife’s quick head shake and dismissed the subjects. They ran back up the stairs to their seats in the heart-felt relief that nothing more would be exposed and had distinctly unhappy expressions on their faces when they looked back at him. As always, his wife had been correct; taking things further might have damaged his popularity.
“How do you propose to demonstrate Swordsmanship, Miss Bethon?” he asked the candidate.
“I have two assistants with me. I will defend myself against long swords, short swords and daggers with whichever blade you select.”
Vice-Chancellor Douglas leaned in to whisper in his ear. The Chancellor nodded, happy to accept the man’s suggestion. They couldn’t make it easy for a non-Quorum gifted to join them.
“It would be too easy to choreograph such a display. Master of Ceremonies, kindly bring in the guards on duty in and around the building. They can protect us as well from in here as out there.”
The Master of Ceremonies sent two of his assistants running to gather up any guards in the area. They knew most would be over at the graduation show rehearsal but were pleased to be able to drum up seventeen. Some of them were less than happy at being ordered into the hall, but they had little choice. Once inside, they found themselves being stared at by dozens of white-gowned HQ and IQ members. “Fourteen Quorum Guards, Chancellor,” the Master of Ceremonies announced. His assistants looked at each other. Hadn’t there been seventeen?
Seleste spotted Elona immediately. For all her short black hair, make-up and fake warts, there was no mistaking the Reader’s lack of aura. She didn’t look happy about being in the hall; clearly it hadn’t been part of her plan.
While the guards jostled into a semblance of lines, Seleste sent an intense warning into the lilac link then made her mind empty and her whorls settle so her aura was a still, silver mask. The Reader would get nothing from her.
Seconds later, every other peristone bearer received the message from Anna. Seleste saw Beitris move closer to the door into the IQ balcony while her brother loosened his lilac gown and slipped a short sword out of its sheath. Behind her, she heard Jimmy’s small intake of breath then Cherry sidle closer to the stairs where his ebony skin and dark leathers would make him almost invisible. Euan, sitting in the top row of the HQ seats in a white gown, put his hand in his pocket for his sling.
“Perhaps the Gift Diviner should choose the worthiest opponents?” suggested Vice-Chancellor Douglas.
The Chancellor nodded his approval and the wrinkled woman slowly walked across the hall, the tapping of her walking stick giving a beat to the quiet whispers in the HQ seats. It took her an age to get to the guards, but the selection process was straightforward.
She’d discarded seven guards when the prisoners arrived unexpectedly early from the gatehouse gaol, the Sergeant in charge having suddenly decided it would be a good idea to try to see the last promotion candidate’s test. The guards’ faces beetroot and their uniforms askew from the mad sprint across the Hub, the Master of Ceremonies told the Sergeant his unsightly behaviour would be reported and impatiently told the group to wait out of the way in the other corner.
The Chancellor’s wife was looking around the room with a grim expression on her face. Something was wrong, but she was picking up such mixed signals, she was struggling to work out what. She squeezed Ade’s hand. He stroked her hand gently, his soft voice helping her to let those feelings go. She smiled gratefully at him. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t disappoint Felix. She looked down into the hall to see the Gift Diviner holding a white card in front of a tall, dark-haired guard who was oozing hate at the newly arrived prisoners.
“This one. Her gift is strong.”
CHAPTER 43
T he Chancellor’s wife could feel the cold arrogance of the guard and the fury she was directing towards the Shaper’s collaborators. The combination was terrifying. She focused on the candidate but felt only calm assurance. Too calm; as if she hid behind a mask. She shivered and tuned back into Ade’s soothing voice.
The candidate and her opponent stood before the Chancellor, waiting for his instructions. He was astonished to see the guard had no aura, but he supposed it wasn’t important; she was only a guard.
“State your name and training, guard,” called the Master of Ceremonies.
“My name is Margrit of Ruustra. I trained in Physical Arts at the Quorum of Gifted’s University of Wythe. I am unsurpassed in Swordsmanship.”
Approving mutters and nods went around the audience. This was a valid and testing opponent.
“No bloodshed, but make it realistic,” called the Chancellor.
His wife nearly fainted. Neither Sword Fighter had any intention of honouring his wishes: one because of arrogance and pride, one because of vengeance. She tried to catch his eye, but he was focused on the test. She wondered if she should stand and shout for him to stop this, but there were so many people here, her gift might be confused. Why would a promotion candidate want to kill a random guard? No, she didn’t want to cause a scene and embarrass him. Her head was aching, her temples pounding; she was probably wrong. She slipped a hand into her pocket for the handkerchief she’d soaked in deadening drops before she’d left home and held it to her nose. The familiar acrid smell flooded her nostrils and she sagged with relief as the world became less intense but the hatred, lust for violence and excitement of the crowd still consumed her mind.
As soon as Elona and Seleste’s blades touched, Spider’s gift nearly floored him. This was bad. For the first time in his life, he disobeyed Finn’s order. He sent everything he was feeling through his orange peristone. The message was simple. “Help.”
It was more than enough. Caro sent up the cry and sailors from all over the harbour swarmed the surprised Quorum Guards, pushing them back against the storm wall. Anna, her King’s medallion aglow on her chest, ran down the gangway with Caro and Monty on her heels. Monty virtually
threw her into Hope’s saddle and jumped onto Rojoch. Caro took Blue. They stopped outside the King’s Guard’s office.
Her voice amplified by a Sound-gifted sailor, Anna’s voice echoed over the entire harbour-side. “King’s Guard, the King’s Shaper orders you to follow. We have Kingdomers to rescue!”
Every King’s Guard felt their King’s Oath pulse furiously in response to the Shaper, insisting they give her their all. They ran to their horses from the office and posts all around as the Quorum Guards pushed forward, past caring if they had to strike unarmed sailors to do their duty.
Anna yelled, “Away!” and the sailors ran.
The Quorum Guards found themselves alone. They surged straight at the Shaper only to fall as one, out cold.
The sailors whooped their approval then the Shaper galloped her horse out of the harbour, her friends and the King’s Guards close behind.
The Corporal felt them coming before he saw them or heard them. He didn’t know what was going on, but his King’s Oath was pulsing madly and he knew what it meant: someone important to the King needed his help. He heard the faint thunder of charging hooves and quietly ordered his men to position themselves so they could control the gates.
His Quorum counterpart was just a little slow to notice the King’s Guards were on the wrong side of the wall and to work out why they’d moved there. Scuffling broke out, but the galloping horses were upon them before he could close the gates. He stood stock still, his mouth agape as he watched the orderly stampede race past and up the street, a tiny, black-gowned figure on a scarred chestnut mare in the lead. “Who was that?” he shouted at the King’s Guards currently abandoning their post to a man.
“The King’s Shaper!” they yelled proudly, urging their mounts to gallop after their fellow Kingdomers.
The Quorum Sergeant went slightly pale but ordered his men to their horses.
The thrum of hundreds of hooves beating the ground travelled along the busy street in a wave. Conversations stopped and mugs, glasses and forkfuls of food paused in mid-air as heads turned to see what was coming.
Anna had no eyes for anything but the second gate. She could see the Quorum Guards peer towards them then jump to action as an officer realised they meant to breach the Hub. The men ran to push the gates to; at ten feet tall, no horse could jump them. She couldn’t let them be closed.
The white peristone responded in an instant, magnifying the wealth of Ionantian crystal Anna had already called on. She focused the immense power into a tight beam of energy and sent it flying into the distant figures at the gates. They dropped like stones. The officer, his face taut with fear, strode to the centre of the opening and drew his sword.
Anna knew he’d be trampled to death if he fell in that spot. She trickled power into the lower half of his aura and forced his legs to move. He howled in horror as his limbs took on a life of their own. When he reached the wall, and the path was clear, she added a block and his legs locked in place. He was white with terror when she reached him. She lifted the block and gave him a quick boost of Healing white as Hope flew past, heading straight for her friends’ eight peristones.
In the Physical Arts’ training hall, possibly the finest sword fight ever seen was being played out in front of an awed crowd. The two women moved with such grace, the power and pace of their blows was shocking. The guard seemed to have the edge with strength and reach, the candidate with speed and footwork. Both were panting slightly, but no blade had yet drawn blood.
The candidate suddenly spun forward so quickly she was a blur. In the middle of the incredible pirouettes, unseen by anyone, she drew a dagger with her free hand then suddenly changed direction and jumped, slashing the blade across at her opponent’s head height.
Elona grunted in surprise. She put her glove to her face then looked at the sticky, red fingertips in astonishment. She was cut. Furious, she went on the offensive. A maniacal series of powerful blows rained down on the slighter brunette. She blocked or avoided every single one.
The crowd was on its feet, roaring its approval. The Chancellor was livid: he’d said no bloodshed.
For the first time in her life, Elona thought she might have met her match. The damn woman moved so fast, she was always just out of reach, but then moved in like a snake. Her aura was useless too. Swirling with every colour under the sun, it seemed only to Read joy. It was no damn good to her at all. No way was she going to lose her perfect record though. The woman must have a weakness.
She saw the brown eyes dart to the Chancellor’s balcony and spotted Peyton’s bronze aura at the back of the IQ seats when she had the chance to look there herself. It dawned on her that this was one of Braxton’s damn do-gooders which meant they’d worked out her plan. She shrieked in rage and defiance then pressed forward, throwing everything she had at the brunette, desperate to get away and help her men get the librarian while the ginger and the giant were still in chains. “Now!” she yelled as she forced the smaller woman back. “Now!”
The door at the back of the Chancellor’s balcony slammed open and the back rows of the Inner Quorum jumped in fright. They turned to see a lilac-gowned blonde fighting with two Quorum Guards by the door. Another Quorum guard had jumped over the seats, straight towards Professor Kirklund. She screamed in terror, but a second lilac-gowned woman had a sword out to defend her so quickly it was almost like she’d expected it to happen.
In the hall, the ebony-skinned man and the big man who’d come in with the ninth candidate ran the length of the hall towards the guards still swilling by the door. “They’re not real guards!” the two yelled. “Look at the tattoos!”
Five of the guards ran straight for them, their weapons drawn. The others weren’t sure who to engage. Who was the enemy?
In the corner under the Inner Quorum, Finn told the Sergeant to give him his sword. The Sergeant happily handed his weapon to his beloved friend and watched, quite unalarmed, as he cut his and his comrades’ bonds then ran towards the men fighting at the side of the hall.
Sy and Brodie, released from their leather shackles, sidestepped the uncertain sword thrusts of the Sergeant’s thoroughly confused men and ran to the back of the hall where Jimmy had left Seleste’s stack of weapons.
The audience didn’t know where to look or what to do. There were numerous gifted there who might have intervened, but it wasn’t quite clear who was attacking or why. In the middle of the hall, the two women still danced, weapons in both hands, neither of them having a clear advantage. The candidate tried another spinning attack, but the opponent was wise to it and the candidate narrowly escaped intact.
Elona saw two of her men were down in the balcony and screamed at the others to get upstairs; she’d get herself out of this damnable fight. Her sword went flying as the brunette used her momentary distraction to take a chunk out of her right hand. She dropped into a roll to scoop up the dropped blade in her bloodied hand and had both swords back in action before the brunette could follow through.
Beyond the dual, five tattooed guards fought the candidate’s two assistants and the three prisoners. Two of the guards heard the opponent’s shout and ran outside. The brunette in lilac was on them as soon as they burst through the door into the balcony.
Euan was trying to remain calm, but he couldn’t use his sling on Elona for fear of hitting Seleste and he couldn’t see the others properly because the audience were on their feet. He pushed his way through to the staircase at end of the HQ seats and launched himself across the gap to the Chancellor’s wife’s balcony.
The few who saw gasped as the man flew through the air, his red hair streaming behind him. He caught the balustrade with just the tips of his fingers, dangling there for a moment before he pulled himself up to safety. Indigo-gowned guests squealed and moved away as he rolled into the balcony. His sling was swinging as soon as he found his feet. He let fly at the same instant one of the big men was run through by a guard at the other end of the hall. The tattooed man toppled to the floor, a perfect c
ircle in his forehead.
“Who the hell are you?” screamed a terrified woman.
“The good guys!” Euan shouted, reloading his sling. “They work for Nystrieth.”
The name started to spread. It had just reached the Chancellor when one of the sailors behind him managed to get a shot off at the candidate. The crossbow bolt hit her hard in the centre of her chest and she crashed to the floor. A slingshot took the man out before he had the chance to even consider smiling in satisfaction.
“No!” screamed Malik, abandoning his fight to run to Seleste.
Spider’s heart sank at the anguish in the Mastran’s voice. He finished his man off and turned to see Seleste down, Elona standing over her, her bloody right fist in the air. He tore the wig from his head and charged the final man on the balcony, but Beitris beat him to the kill.
She blocked Spider’s path. “We can’t leave.”
The Chancellor’s wife felt joy and anger in the opponent’s soul. She was glad the candidate was dead, but furious one of her men had thought she needed his help to win. A small part of her wondered if he’d been right.
Elona brought her swords back up as she saw Malik Brewcherrion charging towards her. She was completely bemused when he completely ignored her and slid to the woman at her feet. She gleefully tossed a short sword up in the air to reverse her grip and drive it into his cheating back when the doors burst open behind her and she found she couldn’t move the blade even an inch.
The King’s Shaper had taken everything in with a glance, the peristones telling her more than her eyes ever could. Beitris and Spider were upstairs, both bleeding from minor wounds, both desperate to get downstairs. Jimmy was badly injured. Finn was pressing down on his wound, trying to slow the bleeding, but he would die without speedy attention. Sy had taken a nasty gash to his arm, but Malik, Finn and Euan were fine, physically at least. Seleste though… Seleste had a crossbow bolt in her heart. Her best friend had bare moments to live. She ran, shouting over her shoulder for Caro to get men upstairs to protect the professor.