by R. J. Batla
I just chuckled to myself as Leona led us to a very large door with four guards. They had just opened the doors when a shadow detached itself from behind a column.
Instantly the guards slammed the doors closed and pointed their spears at the intruder, who quickly backed away with his hands up, the shadows falling away like water. Interesting power – some kind of shadow manipulation. Either way, the now exposed executioner backed away. “Whoa, whoa, gentlemen, there seems to be some misunderstanding. You know I’m supposed to follow the boy at all times to ensure –”
“Not today, you’re not,” one of the guards said, waving the rest of us through. “We have orders from the highest powers imaginable, and if you’re not invited, you’re not getting through the door. End of story.”
“Now see here, my order clearly states –”
“I don’t care if your order says you have top-level security clearance – today, you’re not getting through this door.”
“Move along, squad,” Royn said, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly. We left the executioner arguing with the guards as the door slammed shut and we continued to follow Leona. She led us to a small door, and this time we went down. Way down. Like, more stairs than I can remember, down.
“Where are we going?” Gilmer asked.
“Down,” all five of us said.
“No kidding, bunch of smartasses,” he mumbled under his breath.
After looking at a dimly lit gray corridor for ages, we arrived at a single, shiny, silver door with no handles.
“Put your hand on it,” Royn instructed.
I think if he told us to jump off a cliff, we would do it out of habit. Heat shot up my hand, followed by cold, then vibrated until I thought the door would fall off its hinges. With a shutter and a groan, it swung open, revealing a large, round table. Scratch that – it was actually the stump of a gigantic tree. More rings than I could count started on the outside and went to a single, round piece of black wood in the middle. Sanded and polished till it reflected all the light in the room, the dark wood was beautiful, and seemed to, somehow, still be alive.
Anton must have thought the same thing and took a deep breath. “Earth powers.”
Sitting around the table-tree were several people, two or three from each race. Not just anyone – the councilmen and the royalty of all the Races. Literally, the leaders of the entire East Side were in one room. And they were all looking at me. Including Aurora Helotes. When my eyes found hers, my heart did a little jump. Even though we broke up, she still caused a reaction in me. Maybe I cared for her more than I admitted, even to myself.
“Please sit, Rangers,” the councilman from the Dwarves said. Hooks Fulshear, if I remembered right. Other than a raised eyebrow, he made no comment that the whole squad was here. Royn must have communicated that ahead of us with Mindspeak or something.
We obeyed, partly because it was polite, partly because he was a beast of a man who could stare down a dragon.
“We apologize for the early morning and all the secrecy, but, as you could tell from yesterday, we’re not sure who we can trust. Before you are the leaders of the East Side of the Breaks. In this room, no one outranks another. Speak freely, speak truthfully. Understand?” Waiting for all of us to nod and sit, he continued, “Now, Jayton Baird, for the final time, are you sure you wish to enter the tournament?”
I didn’t hesitate now. “Yes, sir.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” General Sterling said as he stood, smoothing out his uniform. As commander of the Rangers it was no surprise he was here. “I’m confident in the Oracles and their methods. I’m also confident in this young Ranger here, who will no doubt grow very strong with the Ignis Oculus at his disposal. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t bring up the obvious risk in the situation – simply put, the Morsenube. The Death Cloud. Need I remind you that every Senturian with this power has gone insane, turned evil, and eventually had to be killed, after a great loss in lives? And isn’t that why the law was made in the first place to execute anyone with the infernal power? Yes, King Bremond Winter of the Helion?”
The man stood – excuse me, the mountain stood. “Are you suggesting, General, that we execute the boy here and now, despite the decision at his Awakening?” He put a massive hand on a massive ax at his side. I really hope he wasn’t serious.
General Sterling took an involuntary step back and raised a palm in front of him. “By all means no, King Winters. I’m simply saying that we should heavily consider the fact that he’s a Morsenube user, and that it’s a risk to put such a big responsibility on his shoulders. That’s all.”
Silence filled the room. A little voice in my head told me to keep quiet, so I did.
After a minute, Councilman Fulshear said, “Thank you, General. Does anyone have any objections to Jayton Baird taking up this quest?” None raised their hand and the general sat down. The Dwarf nodded. “So be it. Commander Crowell, if you please?” We watched Royn’s eyes turn completely white for a few seconds, talking to who-knows-who off in who-knows-where with his Mindspeak, his blond eyelashes fluttering for several seconds, before his eyes returned to normal.
“I have conformation – it’s done. Jayton Baird has been entered into the tournament.”
“Very well,” Hooks continued. “We need to ensure our champion makes it to the tournament in one piece prior to it starting in February of next year. I can’t imagine the Lords of the West, or for that matter, the people, would let him just waltz into the Bowl after parading down the avenue. I think a small, elite squad would do the trick.”
He looked around, banging the table with each word. “After much discussion prior to your arrival here, it has been decided that each nation will send a protector. This will keep the group small enough to slip through enemy territory without raising attention, yet have enough firepower to defend against a larger force if needed.
“This will also show your support of the mission and commitment to the East Side. We must unite in this situation, and it is critical that every race, every nation, provides as much support as possible.”
Councilman Talco said, “We’re talking about war here, ladies and gentlemen. And if this mission fails, or if the Wall falls, we’ll all likely be killed. This is life and death; we need your best.”
“Is that why we were asked to submit a list of names?” King Winters of the Helion asked.
“Indeed,” Councilman Fulshear said. “All of the names were vetted yesterday by Councilman Talco, General Sterling, and Commander Crowell. So, what say ye?”
Ye again? What is it with Dwarves and “ye”?
General Sterling brushed something off his uniform. “Won’t the various skin colors be a dead giveaway that they are Easterners? They’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”
Royn piped up. “General, the Rangers at the Wall are well versed in camouflage of all kinds. Our group will look just like the rest of the people. Plus, the planned route will require the least amount of contact with people as a precaution.”
General Sterling just nodded with a slight scowl.
Aurora said, “These protectors need to be sent to Harlingon to train with Jayton as soon as possible so the entire squad can work as a unit.” She spoke with her head held high, tears still in her eyes. Even then she was pretty.
“Good point, Prin…Queen Aurora,” Councilman Tahoka Alpine of the Aeren said, green skin reflecting in the wood of the table. “This mission will be dangerous. All manner of monsters, constant threats of enemy attack, plus unforgiving terrain will make just getting to the tournament a monumental task. It is vital that each person selected is especially skilled.”
“Agreed,” Councilman Talco said. “So who will we send?”
“I’ll represent the Rangers, that is, with your consent, General,” Royn volunteered with a nod to General Sterling. He nodded back, while everyone else objected violently.
“You’re the Commander of the Wall,” King Kress of the Manus said. “Our entire
defense is centered there. Are you sure this is the best way for you to serve the East Side?”
Royn shrugged. “I was pushed to move up in the ranks, not asked. My second-in-command is a better strategist than me. Solo or small force missions have always been my specialty, how I’ve always best served the Rangers. Plus, I know more about the West Side than almost anyone, and if I can be so bold, I’m probably the best qualified to lead this mission. With me there, I can teleport back and forth if necessary. Finally, do I need to say I’ve killed two Skeptors? Last time I checked, no one else has killed one, period.”
No one could argue with that, and murmurs of agreement rippled through the group, though I still sensed that several still didn’t like the decision.
“That’s settled then,” Hooks Fulshear said, banging his considerable fist on the table. “Commander Royn Crowell will command this mission. I’ll go around the room and get your final decision on who will represent your race as escort to Jayton Baird. Phoenix – who will you send?”
“Morgan Keller,” came the reply. The Dwarf King whispered something to his queen and she shook her head with a scowl. The Helion’s frown deepened and they murmured to themselves. Then they leaned over and talked to each other.
“Helion?”
“Arp Bardwell.”
“My king?” Hooks asked the Dwarf King.
“Troup Stafford.”
“Tempus?”
“Celeste Dumas.” Same thing happened with the Dwarves and Helion. Did they not like girls or something?
“Reka?”
“Marlin Ralls,” Aurora said.
“My queen?” the guard next to her asked, dropping to a knee.
She put her hand on his forearm and chuckled slightly. “Marlin, I’m not a powerless little girl anymore. You’ve protected me all these years; it’s time you protect someone else. You and I both know you’re the best Reka for this job.”
He nodded and stood back up. “As you wish.”
Aurora turned, met my eyes, and nodded slightly.
Councilman Fulshear hardly missed a beat, “Aeren?”
“Sonora Aledo.” Again! They did it again – the Dwarves and Helion. Had to be something about girls. Had to be.
“Manus?”
“Euless Deport.”
“And finally the Elves?”
“Josey Lamesa.”
The Dwarf King opened his mouth to speak, but General Sterling cut him off. “I volunteer the rest of Squad Four for the mission as well.”
Councilman Alpine of the Phoenix said, “General, I hardly think four rookie Rangers –”
“Three of which just killed an Int by themselves,” the general said. “All five of which have been under the tutelage of Commander Crowell, and have been blending as a unit since they’ve arrived.”
Councilman Alpine said, “Yes, but General Sterling –”
“Do I or do I not command the Rangers?” When no one spoke, he said, “Then that settles it then – the rest of Squad Four will accompany Jayton Baird to the tournament.”
The Dwarf grunted. “Well, all right then. I guess fourteen is a small enough number with enough firepower to fend off a fairly sizable attack. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” everyone replied, and Councilman Hooks slammed his fist on the table.
The next three hours were spent discussing when each protector would arrive, the route the group would take, how many and what type of supplies were needed and when they were needed, blah blah blah. Basically all the logistics. I also heard, at one point, “And these five need weapons, Commander Crowell,” but then the subject went on from there. That sounded promising, at least. Finally Hooks slammed his fist on the table again and declared the meeting over.
Dragging our exhausted selves to the door, Royn told us just before we exited: “This was for your ears only – tell no one this meeting even took place, let alone what was discussed. We still don’t know who to trust, and we need to keep as much of this a secret as possible. Your squad will be removed from its obligation to the Senturian Corps regular duties. You’ll be a special unit, under my direct command. I’ll meet you on the training grounds in one hour. You guys put your big kid britches on – it’s about to get tough.”
Oh, great, because it’s been a cakewalk so far…
Chapter 22
We ate lunch and met on the training grounds like we were supposed to. I wish we hadn’t.
Royn burst through the doors right on time. “Let’s start with two miles, then two hundred pushups, then we’ll get to work. Move it, squad!”
We went to it. If Royn had been pushing us before, it was nothing compared to now – he kicked it up ten thousand notches.
He pushed us physically – weights, running, strength, endurance, speed, martial arts, defense, attack, all of it until our knuckles were bloody, knees were muddy, and clothes soaked with sweat.
He pushed us in the classroom – we covered topics at breakneck speed. There were constant quizzes and we went back over what we’d learned – not just that day, or that week, but all of it. We went over it all until our brains were swollen and puffy, then he gave us more.
He pushed our powers – more forms, more power, more speed, combos, longer range, and tactics.
During all this, he’d ask us questions: “How do you kill a werewolf? Where is a troll vulnerable? What’s the best way to fight a dragon?”
The days went by fast when we hardly saw the sky.
We trained relentlessly, from six am to eight pm, for nine straight days, sticking to our normal rotation of workouts. Royn still gave us our day off, thank goodness. There wasn’t even a debate – the whole squad beelined it to the Stuck Hog Tavern for food and drinks. The weather was great; it was right at the end of April, so it wasn’t too hot or too cold. The sun was welcome, the ground saturated from a weeks’ worth of rain. Not that we would really know; we didn’t train outside much. I figured if I lost any more skin color, I’d be transparent.
It was kinda dirty, but I’ll be danged if the Stuck Hog didn’t have great beer and even better food, once we were brave enough to order. The guitarists that rotated on and off the shabby little stage in the corner were pretty good too. Plus, the barman knew everything about everyone and was willing to tell you all about it after he warmed up to you – meaning after he was tipped well; he was a friendly gent who loved to talk. So we let him and learned a great deal about who did what, where, and how within Harlingon. He didn’t mind we were Rangers, just talked to us like we were with the in-crowd, which was composed of various degrees of what my mother would call “ruffian.”
We headed back after several hours. About a block down, I spotted my good buddy the executioner. I’d been wondering where he was – staying in his vermin hole no doubt.
His eyes burned into mine, and we had a starting contest. He won, but then he turned and faded back into the shadows again.
Back at it again, Royn said, “Stop, stop. Jayton, you have to roll your wrist outside, then punch, then sweep kick, or the whole takedown maneuver won’t work on such a large group of attackers. Katy, Jay, Leona, try it again, Anton and Gilmer, good job as the targets, keep making them work for it. Katy, remember if you say the move you are trying to perform, it helps your concentration and focus, and makes it work better.
“But won’t they know what’s coming then?”
“They’d have to be pretty fast and know exactly how you’re attacking. Plus you don’t have to say it out loud, you can just think it,” Royn said, when someone behind us cleared their throat.
I froze mid-turn; behind us stood a barefoot Phoenix, the same lady from my execution trial actually, this time wearing a tight pair of shorts and bright red sports-bra-looking thing that showed off her midriff. The outfit looked more athletic and functional than the bikini she wore to the Awakening. Must have been a formal bikini. Short, red spikey hair topped her head, above a big smiling face with full lips and big dimples. About my age but shorter, she stood on the ed
ge of the sparring circle holding a long, red wooden staff, one end stuck in the ground. Red fire symbols adorned each shoulder, somehow standing out against her red skin.
“Hi,” she said in a high-pitched voice filled with confidence. “Morgan Keller. I’m the representative from the Phoenix.”
“Hello, Morgan. Welcome,” Royn said, walking around in front of us to shake Morgan’s hand. “This is Squad Four,” he said, leading Morgan to us as we shook her hand in turn, stating our name. Gilmer, however, only managed to stutter out his first name. That was odd; the last time I heard him misspeak was…well never.
I was last. “Jayton Baird.”
“Ah, our champion. Royn, I believe I’m supposed to train this one individually, yes?”
“Yes ma’am,” Royn said.
“Good, we’ll start now, yes?” she asked, slapping her staff to her back. There was nothing holding it, yet it stuck there. Interesting. “Follow me, Jayton Baird.”
I shrugged my shoulders at the others as the Phoenix led me to another sparring circle adjacent to Squad Four’s. Royn already had them training hard by the time Morgan and I cleared the circle. She walked to the center, turned around, and motioned for me to stand beside her on her right side. Stepping on my right foot, she swung around and put her other foot on my left foot, stood on her tip toes, and looked me right in the eye. She was hot. Well, yes, she was good looking, but I mean literally – like fire hot. Beads of sweat started rolling down my forehead instantly. And she smelled like a burning pine log. And her eyes had fire for pupils. OK, maybe not, but you get the point.
“I will teach you fire. Like I said at your trial, fire is a symbol of life. It is aggressive. It consumes. If not controlled, it will destroy everything in front of it, including you – that’s its nature. Your scoreboard said you’re a four. In five days, if you pay attention, learn, and work hard – you will be at a level eight,” she said, jumping off my feet, landing ten yards back from me, and pulling her staff from behind her in a smooth, well-practiced motion. She spun it once before resting it on her arm, the rest of her body in a crouch. “Begin.”