by R. J. Batla
“Aeren, with the power over air!” They actually did glide onto stage, hovering inches off the ground, wind pushing them upward, keeping them afloat. They had a green tint to their skin, of which you could see a lot – the man shirtless with light green shorts, the lady in a green bikini top and shorts. This drew stares from all the guys – myself included. Their long, bright green hair flowed behind them like a cape, and right between their eyes was a bright green tattoo of a tornado. Air was their element, and they could push, pull, and manipulate it in any way, including – evidently – changing the temperature as they had done in the arena.
“The Masters of Fire, the Phoenix!” They wore almost the exact same clothing as the Aeren, except theirs was bright red, almost perfectly blended with their skin tone and hair color. It was like they had a permanently bad sunburn. Able to create, manipulate, and extinguish fire at will, the Phoenix always emitted a larger amount of heat than the normal person – nice on a cold day, torture on a hot one. Or so I’d been told. Dark red flame tattoos on their shoulders showed their master ranks.
“Manus!” The energy masters ascended the stairs, lightning symbols flashing on the big screen. Their race could control energy, shoot beams from their hands and feet, and lace their weapons with a sheath of energy that could cut through normal materials. Two-piece robes, yellow on top and orange on bottom, hid everything but their hands and heads, where their orangey-yellow skin almost glowed.
“Able to manipulate water – The Helion, Tempus, and Reka!” Six people walked up waving. Two for Ice, two for Sea, two for River, with corresponding snowflake, wave, and waterfall symbols adorning their outfits. Their skin, icy blue-white, deep blue, and light blue respectively, stood out against the black stone, light dancing off their blue armor. There was a long history on why there were three expressions of water, and while each branch naturally thought their version superior, they mostly got along.
“And finally, the three representatives from the Rangers, Senturian Corps, and Army!” The normal men walked on stage, each with a tan shirt, matching tactical pants, black combat boots, and a sword on their hip with a leather-wrapped scabbard. The Army rep led the way, recognizable by the shield and crossed-spears patch on his shoulder under his colonel rank. Made up mostly of non-Senturians, they still picked up a few recruits through Awakenings. They were the detectives, soldiers, police, peace keepers, and anything else needed in Terraunum to keep society civil and fend off the evils on the West Side of the Breaks, alongside the Senturian Corps.
The Senturian corpsman looked almost identical to the Army colonel, except for the patch on his shoulder with the Corpsman Star. Underneath that were three more symbols – fire, water, and earth. That meant this particular Senturian could use those elements – every corpsman had their available powers displayed as such. Most candidates ended up being in the Senturian Corps after their training.
The Rangers were the Special Forces in the Senturian world. They had all the Quantum Powers, the unique abilities that allow them to do things even other Senturians couldn’t do. Each Ranger had their own varying combination of the Six Powers in addition to their Quantum abilities. Silver badges, like a miniature shield with an eagle and maroon gem in the center, shined from the Ranger’s belt.
Once they sat down, the emcee gestured toward two Dwarves I had not seen on stage left. “Gentlemen, the scoreboard, if you please.”
They put their palms on the stone, and instantly, as if drawn by an abnormally large teacher on a chalkboard, appeared the scoreboard on the huge black stone, outlining each power and a score associated with it. Looking it over, I leaned toward Gilmer. “Wait, why are there five spots for Quantum Powers?”
He shrugged, waving his hand. “It’s just in case. Most people don’t have any, and most who get a Quantum only get one. But every now and then someone will get more, other than the enhanced strength and speed that all Senturians get when compared to normal people, that is.”
I nodded. OK, that made sense. How cool would it be to have one more ability than everyone else? Couldn’t help but give you an edge. Maybe I’d get one. Either way, I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face – I was on the floor, about to be Awakened! I could practically feel the blood rushing through me, my adrenaline spiking. This was it.
Without regard for my inner monologue, the emcee started talking again. “Candidates, please take your seats.” We obliged, and he continued. “Gentlemen, please remove the covering!”
Two men removed the top from the wooden crate, revealing a clear square stone, about the size of a watermelon, halfway embedded in the black stone of the stage, but raised about three feet so it would be waist level on most people. This brought oohs and aahs from the crowd.
I asked Gilmer, “Have you ever seen anyone break level ten at an Awakening?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s very rare. The last one to do it was Royn Crowell.”
I nodded. Royn Crowell was the commander at the West Gate. He single-handedly defended the gate against a horde of werewolves. He destroyed so many monsters they quit keeping track. Basically, he was the baddest dude ever.
“And now, candidates,” the emcee said, “before your powers are Awakened, do a final check of yourself. Are you ready? Do you really want to Awaken these powers? Awesome as they are, that power comes with accountability – you will be held accountable for every energy burst, every fire blast, every thrown stone. Also know this: your training will be hard. Harder than anything you’ve ever done before, and some don’t survive it. Are you ready to join the prestigious ranks of Senturians who serve as our police force all across the East Side of the Breaks? Are you ready to join the soldiers who protect us from the horrors sealed on the West Side?” He paused. Had to be for dramatic effect. “All right, if you insist. Let’s get started! Number one, if you please!” he shouted, and the crowd erupted, as some guy in the far back made his way to the stage.
He was shorter than me, skinny with a plain shirt and pants. When he reached the stage, the emcee said, “State your name, and place both your hands on the stone. Then wait.”
The man took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and said, “John Smith.” His name appeared on the scorecard behind him as he spoke. Seriously? John Smith? How original. Originally boring. He stepped forward, placing his hands on the stone, which erupted into a bright white light. John closed his eyes, and all his muscles tensed, like he was straining to lift the stone. About ten seconds later, the brown earth bar crept to level three and stopped. Instantly, the light faded from the stone, and John let out a grunt and almost collapsed, but caught himself at the last second, shaking his head. The crowd clapped politely. The two Dwarves deliberated a bit as John recovered, looked at the emcee, and nodded. They stepped forward, raising the guy’s hands. “The Dwarves chose John Smith!” The crowd cheered as they walked John to one of their retainers, who then ushered him off stage.
He hadn’t even stepped down yet before the emcee shouted, “Number Two!” and the whole process started over again. Each time was the same: state the name, place the hands, the numbers would move, and the person would be ushered to their respective group, a bit worse for the wear.
If they were chosen. Number five, a weasely-looking guy, was the first to get no powers. After taking his hands off the Awakening stone, the crowd was silent. He gulped, and turned to the scoreboard to see the results. Face turning white, he looked lost as he slowly made his way offstage. Alone. People avoided him like the plague. I gulped. Did that fate await me?
Number fifty-seven, a smaller girl, came up and got a one in water. None of the water Senturians moved. The corpsman talked briefly with the Army rep, but then both shook their head. Tears started forming in her eyes, but she held her chin up as she was at last escorted offstage.
The procession of perspective practitioners kept moving; it seemed endless. Each one held the tension in the arena – would they get a high enough level? Would they be shunned? It was a little dishearteni
ng, actually, to see those who got no powers treated like they stepped in something. I didn’t really understand it – did they suddenly stop becoming a person?
The crowd was game enough, celebrating after someone was chosen. Number seven ninety-nine became the first to break the level seven barrier, coming in with an eight on the red fire bar. It took a good five minutes for the cheering to die down and the Awakening to continue. It also took him a whole five minutes to recover. It seemed the higher the number, or the more powers you had, the more the stone took out of you, the longer it kept your fingers glued to it, and the more time you needed to recover.
“Number fifteen-hundred!” the emcee said, all attention focused on a robed, hooded figure making its way to the stage flanked by two Reka soldiers, their armor glinting in the sun with a waterfall on the shoulder guard. Not only was the figure hooded, but covered head to toe. OK.
“Gilmer, what’s going on?” I asked out of the corner of my mouth.
“Not sure. Never seen this before.”
Once the girl – I was sure it was a girl, judging by how the robe fit – reached the stone on the stage, she waited with her head down, cowl covering her features. Reaching up, her blue hands drew back the hood, and I about hit the floor. This was the prettiest girl I had ever seen – she looked around my age, with an oval face, full lips, deep blue eyes, curves in the right places, white hair streaked with light blue, and light blue skin. She squared her shoulders and proudly stepped forward. “Princess Aurora Helotes of the River,” she said before placing her hands on the stone. Everyone else looked at the scoreboard, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Gilmer elbowed me and pointed up, where I saw the water bar had already shot to a ten, but she was still glued to the stone. And the princess wasn’t doing so well. Her whole body was taught and sweaty. The Elves were out of their seats, clearly waiting to catch her. Was it draining more from her because she was a Reka? And why did she need powers Awakened anyway? I’ve never heard of one of the Races needing to.
Two more minutes went by, everyone’s eyes trained on the girl, who progressively got worse. Everyone was on their feet when across the scoreboard in the Quantum section, the word “Shimmer” appeared, the black bar moving to six. The light of the stone died and the girl fell into the waiting arms of the Elves.
The other masters quickly surrounded them, blocking the view for the murmuring crowd. Another few minutes went by before a much paler princess stood. The Reka representatives on stage burst into an animated shouting match with the Rangers, Dwarves, Elves, and anyone else who would listen. After a couple of minutes, the emcee stepped over and acted as mediator, finally calming everyone down enough to chat. An agreement was finally reached, and with a slight look from the Rekas on stage, Princess Aurora turned and exited behind the Rangers. To which the crowd erupted. Interesting...
I was clapping right along with them, Gilmer clapping and whooping too. He turned and said, “That’s the craziest Awakening I’ve seen yet! You could tell the Rekas didn’t want to let her go, but the rules are pretty clear: the Rangers have the first choice on the Quantum powers! Dude, you OK?”
“What?” I was still watching the back of the girl as she descended out of sight.
“You’re practically drooling. She’s out of your league, man. Get over it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You never paid much attention to girls back home, what’s the deal now?”
Still fuzzy, I said, “I was working to pay for this. Didn’t have time to date properly. Plus, they don’t make ‘em like that at home....”
Close by, someone coughed.
Gilmer just laughed and shook his head as the Awakening continued.
Number sixteen eighty-four, Anton Bowie, a tall man built like a tank, got an eight on the Earth bar, a three on Air, and a four on Fire. The corpsmen were about to stand, when suddenly the Ranger stood up. “We’ll take Mr. Bowie.” The corpsmen sat down quickly, and Anton was escorted off by the Ranger.
“Interesting,” Gilmer said, “I wonder what’s special about him? The Rangers hardly ever pick anyone without a Quantum power. You think he’s that good, or is he from an important family?”
I just shrugged and pointed. “Look, it’s Gordon’s turn! Good luck, buddy!” I yelled.
Gordon Moody stepped up, and we watched the Water bar rise to a two. And nothing else. Oh no. My eyes snapped to the corpsman and the Army representative. They both shook their heads, and my heart sank. Already drained from the stone, Gordon made the long silent walk offstage. I wanted to call out, to tell him it would be OK, but I couldn’t find my voice in the silence of the arena. Damnit, your friend needs you and you’re sitting here silent. That’s not right, Jayton.
The Awakening went on while I beat myself up, with just as many people selected as not.
Then came Joshua Omaha’s turn. He grabbed the stone, and instantly healing and energy went to one. Five seconds later, the light from the stone died. Oh no, not again.
Joshua looked stunned. He’d expected much more. Jerking his head to the selection committee, he saw them shaking their heads. “Come on!” he bellowed. They sat in silence while he glared their way. When no one moved, he straightened himself up and walked off stage. “You’ll regret this.” He jumped off the stage to the floor and kept walking, never stopping, never looking back. We heard a door open and slam closed.
Right after him was a pretty girl who looked about my age – Katy Lavernia. With a seven in Energy, a three in Healing, and a level five in Speed – a Quantum power – she brought a big cheer and earned a ticket to the Rangers.
The crowd was louder now, not because of any particular candidate, but because they were talking and laughing amongst themselves. It was a long ceremony and they were starting to get restless from sitting so long. Plus, the wine and beer that flowed freely was clearly getting to a lot of them. Before I realized it, they were calling Gilmer up.
“Go get ‘em, Gilmer!” I hollered, clapping him on the back as he walked past me with a wide grin. He said his name, placed his hands, and the scoreboard lit up – four for Fire, four for Air, and a four for Healing. His hands stayed glued to the stone for a little longer, everyone watching the scoreboard. For half a second, a Quantum bar lit up to an eight, but then disappeared. But it was enough to get the Ranger’s attention, and they claimed my friend as he dropped his hands from the stone.
He shot me a wink as he was escorted off, and my nerves jumped up about a thousand notches – I could hear my heart in my head, going ninety to nothing, my arms and legs got numb, and I started breathing heavy.
“Second to last, you’re up!” the emcee shouted, pointing my way.
I gulped, and made my way to the stairs. “Excuse me,” I said to the girl behind me, the only one left on the arena floor, who gave me a quick smile.
Seven quick steps and I was on the stage. Seven more and I was at the stone, almost shaking – I had waited for this moment for so long; I couldn’t believe it was here!
“Jayton Baird,” echoed all over the stadium as I said my name. Just in front of the stone was a miniature scoreboard that only I could see. I took one more deep breath and grabbed the stone with both hands.
Fire shot through my veins – I couldn’t believe anything could hurt so much. Every muscle in my body clenched tight as a snare drum. My brain felt like a horse was sitting on it, skin started to boil, toes curled up inside my boots, my mouth and lungs trying desperately to scream, but nothing was coming out.
Despite the pain, I could still see and was intently aware of everything happening around me. The lights in the entire place dimmed slightly – that got the crowd’s attention. All eyes shifted my way. On my little scoreboard, the red Fire bar jumped to four. Then Water to six, Earth to seven, Air to five, Healing to three, Energy to ten. Yes! I’ll be picked for sure!
A flashing timer came up in the right-hand corner of the scoreboard. It said one minute. Holy cow, it felt like an hour, muscles all still tight and
my hands gripping the stone like it was the last food on Terraunum.
The Quantum section came to life. “Strength” flashed up and went to five, “Transition” to six, and “Telekinesis” went to seven. Now the clock read two minutes. I had to force myself to breathe, each lungful a huge effort.
The clock was now at five minutes, and turned yellow. That can’t be good.
Why wasn’t this thing letting me go? What did this mean? The stone strobed brighter several times, each time bringing the lights in the stadium down, and each time the faces of the crowd grew more concerned. At seven minutes, the clock started flashing.
At eight, it turned red.
“Ignis Oculus” appeared and shot to ten. The crowd went nuts when it popped up on the main scoreboard.
Oh. My. God. Fire Eyes. This was a momentous event. Huge.
So why wasn’t the stone letting me go?
At nine minutes, the clock started flashing, and switched to one minute, counting down.
I knew if you were on this thing for more than ten minutes, you’d die. It had happened before. But it wasn’t like I had any control over what was happening. I jerked my arms, trying break free, but I might have well been trying to pick up an elephant for all the good it did.
Thirty seconds.
Twenty.
The Quantum section lit up again. Morsenube: fifteen.
That was bad. That was very, very bad. Morsenube: the Death Cloud.