I was happy to see her reaction. All the royals in our realm were supposed to be main characters and thus have protagonist books, but the truth was Liza didn’t foresee every royal as a main character. As a result, our realm’s higher-ups forged protagonist books for royals that Liza didn’t have visions about. SJ was one of those royals.
Since learning this she’d had a massive bout of insecurity and identity crisis. Thankfully, her confidence was coming back and now she was trying to define her character anew.
“They don’t just consider you a threat,” Blue said, putting her arm around our friend. She pointed at the words. “You’re volatile and extremely dangerous. That’s a compliment if I ever heard one.”
“Yup, we’re all super important,” Daniel said, rolling his eyes. “But how are we going to get past castle security? I think that guard at the gate recognized our faces but was too lazy to follow through. The guards at the castle will be way more alert.”
“Then we won’t use the front door,” I replied flatly. “Forget the entry fee. We’re spending our money on disguises, bribes, and …” I spotted the waitress approaching with a platter of food. “Sandwiches.”
The waitress set a deep-fried sandwich in front of each of us. Cheese melted out of the sides, powdered sugar dusted the tops, and small cups of strawberry jam were presented beside each plate.
Blue looked them over. “Now that’s money well spent.”
After we devoured our sandwiches we worked our way through the streets of the citadel looking for a shop that sold clothes appropriate for the gala at the castle.
We were glad that the citadel was so packed with people, and that everyone seemed to be in a hurry. We didn’t have any disguises and any person here could’ve read the newspaper today. All five of us made an effort to keep our heads down, avoid eye contact with anyone, and meld with the busy mess of people. Each of us had enough practice with stealth to blend in with the crowd just fine, but I still considered luck to be a big part of us remaining unnoticed.
As we maneuvered across the citadel’s different mountainous layers, certain peculiarities started to stand out. Civilians ducked into shops whenever the black-armored knights passed by. Despite crowded tables indoors, no one sat in the patio areas of restaurants. There was a fairly high number of homeless people and beggars, but they hid whenever knights (on foot or horseback) came by. Numerous “missing persons” fliers were hanging on posts and in alleyways. And small gangs of children in rags ran about, scoping out targets for pickpocketing.
This place may have looked like an orderly, bustling metropolis at first glance, but it had a lot of internal problems.
Currently we found ourselves walking through a busy marketplace abundant in apothecaries, herbalists, and mystical tchotchke vendors. I ducked with the rest of my friends behind a candle vendor’s tent when we spotted a cluster of knights heading our way. While stalled there, I overheard an exchange next door. I peered between a slit in the adjacent tent. This vendor’s booth displayed jewelry all made from the same black stone. A burly knight and the stall’s elderly vendor were speaking by the front table. The knight wore a navy cape attached to the shoulders of his black armor. I’d noticed quite a few knights around with similar capes, but this was the first I’d seen with a golden brooch on the left shoulder. The brooch looked like the face of some kind of animal.
“I will give you two bronze pieces for this pendant,” the knight said to the reluctant vendor. “My lady will be quite pleased with such a trinket.”
Blue waved us forward, signaling that the coast was clear, but I motioned for them to wait a moment so I could continue to eavesdrop.
“But sir,” the elderly vendor protested. “The price is six silver pieces. This stone comes from the Canyon of Geene. It is incredibly hard to collect and even harder to shape.”
“Ah, a bartering man, I see,” replied the knight. “Then how’s this? I’ll counter your offer. One bronze piece, and my men and I won’t pay your home a visit during this week’s nightly raids. You live on Briar Street, don’t you? And I believe you have a daughter who works in the castle stables?”
The elderly man froze for a second. Then he replied with more speed and worry in his tone. “On second thought, it’s on the house, Sir Gaheris. Take it. Please. A gift to you in celebration of the Great Lights.”
Sir Gaheris smiled. “Good man. Enjoy the rest of your week.” He stashed the pendant in his pocket and mounted his white stallion. After he’d ridden away, I moved around the side of the stall to talk to the elderly vendor. It probably wasn’t the best move, given that we were trying to keep a low profile, but my feet were already in motion and my friends were following me before I thought better of it.
“Good afternoon, miss,” the vendor said, still a bit shaken. “Can I interest you in any of my pieces? They’re quite rare and have a variety of special properties.”
“That man who was just here,” I said. “Why did you let him rob you? What did he mean by nightly raids?”
The elderly man gulped audibly. “You are not from the citadel. If you were, you’d know that under order of King Rampart, the citadel knights scour a different district every night in search of disloyalists.”
“Disloyalists?” Blue repeated.
“Aye.” The man nodded. “Anyone who might be affiliated with rebellions to overthrow the king, anyone who has not conformed to our leader’s many ordinances or taxes, or anyone who just rubbed a higher-up the wrong way. We are all subject to the nightly raids. And those who are taken in the night are sent to the Mercy Pit or never seen again.”
“What’s the Mercy Pit?” Jason asked.
“It is an arena just outside the castle where accused citizens perform trial by combat—battling against one of Rampart’s knights, or even King Rampart himself—to gain their freedom. Most of those poor people never stand a chance. Rampart’s knights are formidable. And the king is a warrior with more kills under his belt than the Questor Beast.” He shuddered.
“That is terrible,” SJ replied.
“Aye,” the elderly man said again. “But such has been the way of this land since the passing of—” he looked around to make sure no one else was listening, then lowered his voice to a whisper—“the great King Arthur. In the seven years that the king’s been gone, we’ve had one cruel ruler after the next. Their reigns may not last long, but they succeed in tearing down King Arthur’s legacy a bit at a time. King Rampart, however, has been the most hated, the opposite of King Arthur in every sense. He truly knows no pity.”
I wanted to tell the jeweler not to lose hope, that Arthur was alive and we were on a mission to make sure Excalibur would be placed back in his hands. But since I was unable to do this, I settled for something else.
“Here.” I dug a handful of ONC currency pieces out of my backpack and placed them on the table. “This ought to cover whatever that knight took.”
The elderly vendor’s mint green eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Miss, that is far too much money.”
“Consider it an investment,” I said. I looked around at the jewelry. “You can expand your business. You have some lovely product. You said these stones have special properties?”
“Yes, yes,” the man nodded fervently. “This is Jacobee stone. It is only found in certain regions, like the Canyon of Geene, and it is very difficult to shape, as only brute force can break it.”
Jacobee stone …
A light went on in my brain. Mauvrey had mentioned Jacobee stone when she told me about the Stiltdegarth blood in her duel crossbow. And if this stone was the same stone found in the Canyon of Geene where we had encountered the giants …
I picked up a large black pendant in a gold setting. The instant my fingers closed around the stone, the dizziness and brain static I’d experienced in the canyon returned.
“Jacobee stone is one of only three substances known to suppress and repel magic,” explained the vendor. “Wearing it is a sure way to deter unwanted spirits and supe
rnatural forces. I also sell it in large, decorative rock form to put in the entryways of homes. The stones work as wonderful talismans to ward off any magical energy that might be nearby.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” I said, hurriedly putting the stone back on the table. The moment it left my hand, the faintness dissipated and I was myself again.
“Would you like one?” the elderly man asked. “It’s on the house. A small tribute to your generosity.”
“Um, no thanks,” I said. “We will take directions, though. We’re looking for some new clothes. The five of us are going to crash the party at the castle tonight, cause a little … inconveniencing for King Rampart.”
The man’s cracked lips turned upward in a small smile. “I can assist you with both.” He pointed to the right of the marketplace and leaned in closer. “The apparel district is two blocks over. Take a left on Dalliant Street. And if I cannot repay your generosity with any of my wares, I will repay it with a favor to aid your mission. My daughter Ormé works in the castle stables. She can help you get inside. Just tell her that Jedidiah sent you, and show her this.”
He gestured for my hand. From within the folds of his robe, he removed a small white card, which he placed in my palm. The card had a golden symbol on it—the letter G contained within the mouth of a dragon. He motioned for me to put it away, and I stuck it in my boot.
“Thank you,” Jason said before I could ask about the symbol.
“No. Thank you,” Jedidiah said. “But word to the wise, children. Do not let anyone else see that card.” He glanced left and his eyes widened. I followed his line of sight and spotted a couple of knights on horseback getting close.
“Go now. Remember what I told you,” Jedidiah said, shooing us away.
My friends and I moved back into the tide of people in the marketplace. I stole a glimpse over my shoulder at Jedidiah, considering returning to quickly ask him about the symbol on the card, but the flow pushed me along and I resigned to turning my attention forward again. We navigated up the block on our way to Dalliant Street as Jedidiah had instructed. I kept an eye out for knights as we continued up the road, but my mind buzzed with the latest information.
I had learned so many new things about my magic today. There were some bad revelations, obviously: I couldn’t touch Jacobee stone without my magic going berserk and my brain fizzling up. But there was a pony hidden in the pile of manure too, and that was the idea that maybe, just maybe, my magic might let me save Jason.
I honestly didn’t know if that was a stretch, if my magic could be developed in this way. And I didn’t know how to test it in advance either. So while the notion lifted my spirits, for now I stayed committed to not telling Jason what I was thinking. I mean, what if this was all a false hope?
Daniel walked beside me at the back of the group.
“I guess we know why your magic didn’t work in the canyon,” Daniel said. “The stone was repelling your powers.”
“Um, yeah.” My brain switched gears. “Not the most convenient timing, but it’s good to know that I’m not broken. Oh, and it finally put a cap on a question from last semester that I was never able to answer.”
“What’s that?”
“You remember when we were being held in the antagonist castle in Alderon? My wand couldn’t cut through the stone walls of the prison. In the right weapon form, my wand’s enchantment lets it cut through just about anything, but it didn’t even make a scratch. And that magic pea we eventually used to escape got obliterated on impact with the walls. Knowing I had magic, the antagonists must’ve stuck us in a cell made of Jacobee stone.”
“Makes sense,” Daniel replied. Then he smirked at the satisfied look on my face. “That was really bothering you, wasn’t it?”
“Hey, this story already has enough holes with wormholes appearing left and right. We don’t need any plot holes too.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Daniel said. “And it’s good to know what your weaknesses are. Just be sure to tell your boyfriend when we get back to school that he shouldn’t give you anything with Jacobee stone the next time he sends jewelry your way. Wouldn’t want to give you a gift that incapacitates you.”
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “My boyfriend?”
“Chance Darling.”
I laughed in disbelief and shook my head. “Chance is not my boyfriend. He’s not even my friend. You know I can’t stand him.”
“You might feel differently about that soon,” Daniel said. “Word gets around. Chance has been trying to change his ways to become someone worth your attention. I didn’t believe he could do it at first. I hate the guy. He’s a stuck-up, self-entitled prick. But you should see what he had in the works before we left school to meet up with you in Midveil. While you were gone, he seriously put his money where his mouth is. I think you’re going to see him in a new light when we get back.”
I crinkled my nose at the prospect.
The notoriously handsome and charming Prince Chance Darling—grandson of King Midas—had been courting my affections for some time. Until recently his attempts had been futile because I’d disliked the vain, egotistical boy since day one. However, at the start of the semester, Chance professed that his interest in me actually ran a lot deeper than both he and I initially believed. He claimed to have real feelings for me and that he could change into someone I might come to regard in the same way.
I seriously doubted this was possible, but he vowed he would think of some way to prove how much he cared for me. I only needed to keep an open mind until then. If the prince’s recent actions could inspire even Daniel to alter his estimations, I wondered just what miraculous gesture Chance had been conspiring in my absence.
And yet …
“I don’t think there is anything Chance could ever do to change our relationship so dramatically,” I thought aloud. “He and I have too much negative history. He irritates me and I find him insufferable. How could we possibly work?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel replied. “But you used to feel the same way about me and look at us now—having conversations about personal topics without either of us throwing insults or punches.”
“Well, the day is young.” I grinned.
He smiled and was about to say something else when his expression abruptly changed. “Do you hear that?” He paused to listen and I did the same, despite the mutters of annoyance of the people who had to push around us.
“Guys, come on,” Jason called from ahead, pointing at a sign for Dalliant Street. “The apparel district is this way.”
I gestured for him and the others to hold on, trying to pick up the noise Daniel had heard. “It sounds like …” I narrowed my eyes. “Applause.”
It was coming from a street on the left. Daniel started to head toward the sound and I followed. The others had no choice but to come after us.
The sound of applause grew louder and the crowds grew denser as we made our way through the streets. I almost got run over by two horses pulling a carriage and nearly rammed into a woman walking three bulldogs, who aggressively barked at me.
Soon we reached a square that was packed to the seams. People were lining up at the entrance of a building on the far side, each holding a pale yellow flier. Knights guarded the outside of the building and I spotted others stationed in nearby cross streets and balconies.
Based on the noise, something big was happening just beyond this street, but we couldn’t see anything. Because the citadel was built into the rises and falls of the mountain, the layout of the whole place was disorienting. The changing elevations skewed your understanding of how high on the mountains you were, and on what side.
A burst of applause came from a small alleyway off to the left. Maybe that route somehow had access to what was happening? Daniel had the same idea, and he led the way into the narrow street.
As soon as I entered the lane, I struggled to breathe. The musk of livestock and sewage was overpowering. Clotheslines hung from apartments high up.
Daniel headed toward the end of the alley where light was flooding through a chain-link fence. He halted when he reached it, a look of shock on his face. Another roar—clearer and louder this time—burst out as the rest of us joined him and witnessed the dreadful and spectacular sight below.
Wind gusted around me as my fingers clenched the metal fence holding us back. A grand arena had been built into the enormous bowl-shaped canyon beneath us. Roughly circular and with no formal seating areas, the canyon was full of civilians sitting on rocks surrounding the perimeter.
About twenty feet from the base of the canyon the seating stopped. Concrete walls covered the natural rock and lined the circumference of the arena’s smoothed-out dirt and sand floor. Several entryways in the concrete led onto the arena, and all were barred with iron gates.
Almost at my eye level, though fairly far away, several huge holographic screens floating in the center of the canyon projected the events unfolding on the arena floor.
Projection orbs.
Sure enough, I spotted several specks of light zipping about within the lower section of the arena. The canyon was utilizing the same type of magic tech that we used back home to relay real-time footage of our realm’s favorite sport, Twenty-Three Skidd. Since Twenty-Three Skidd was played in the air on Pegasus horses, projection orbs allowed people in the stands to see what was happening. The same applied here, only in reverse. The audience was elevated in the canyon’s seats, and the enchanted spheres helped them see the main event far below.
That event was a fight. The projection orbs transferred images of two men battling in the arena onto the holographic screens. One was a knight in black armor; the other was a skinny, poorly dressed man. Both wielded swords, but the commoner was clearly inexperienced.
I knew the dynamics of a fight too well and recognized what was coming. Right as the common man sidestepped and parried, the knight reversed the trajectory of his blade. I looked away as the audience roared. Carefully my eyes drifted back to the arena as the common man’s body was taken away through the nearest tunnel.
Crisanta Knight: To Death & Back Page 8