by Gage Lee
And I thought I knew how to get them.
“I need Hagar to come back with me,” I said. “The second challenge will happen soon. We need her rested and ready when that happens.”
“No.” Hagar’s Mohawk whipped back and forth as she shook her head in denial. “They need me here. I have to help the clan. It’s our best chance—”
“Hagar.” The power of my disciple core filled my voice with an authority that even got the elders’ attention. “Our best chance at surviving this war is to win the Empyrean Gauntlet. I need you for that.”
Sanrin’s eyes settled on me with an appraising glint. After a long moment, he nodded.
“Jace is right.” He sighed. “Both of you, go. We’ll be fine.”
Another tremor rattled the room so hard one of the crates fell over and the dregs of my coffee slopped over the rim of my mug. The bad guys were getting closer.
Sanrin nodded again, and this time I caught the lie in his eyes. They weren’t safe here.
They might not be safe anywhere.
Hagar and I left the elders, alone.
The Second
HAGAR REFUSED TO SPEAK to me for the rest of that day. She didn’t come down from the dorms to have breakfast with me and the other initiates the next morning, either. It wasn’t until I’d started putting rings on rats in the courtyard that she came out of her room to find me.
“Niddhogg says you’ve gone insane,” she said flatly. “Seeing this, I’m inclined to agree with him.”
“That runt of a dragon wouldn’t know insane if it bit his tail off,” Hahen said with a snort. He looked up from our project to squint at Hagar. “It’s good to see you again. We could use your help.”
Hagar crouched down in front of me to get a closer look at the rat sitting in my lap. The little creature had answered Hahen’s call and gladly accepted the role that we’d offered it. Now, it sported a tiny band of copper around its left front leg. Though I didn’t dare bond with it using my techniques to be sure, the rat seemed pleased with its lot.
“You really are putting rings on them.” She held out her hand, and the rat leaped into her palm. “I’m afraid to ask why, but my curiosity is killing me.”
“Mine, too,” I admitted. Hahen and I had been working on this during our spare time over the break. “I’m experimenting with the technique-stitching discipline that Professor Ishigara taught us before the break. If it works, I’ll be in much better shape for the second challenge.”
“I’m with you so far,” Hagar said. “What technique is stored in that thing?”
“The most basic one I know,” I said. “It’s the Beggar’s Core.”
“What’s with the rings on the rats?” Hagar furrowed her brow and stroked the rodent’s back. The little creature chittered and coiled its tail around her wrist. “They don’t have any techniques.”
Hahen reached down to collect another rat that had scampered out of the bushes at the edge of the courtyard. The creature curled up in his hand with its tail encircling its body. Its dark eyes looked up into his face, and I swear the little guy smiled up at Hahen.
“That’s the experimental part.” I fished another tiny ring from the pouch on my robe’s belt. We’d liberated these from one of the School’s many long-forgotten storerooms. I’d no idea of their original purpose, but the tiny bands were the perfect size for a rat’s forearm. I’d spent days and cross-eyed nights putting all the tiny scrivenings on the things. “Each of these bands has a technique attached to it.”
“That’s never going to work,” Hagar said. “The item has to be attached to you to trigger the technique. You’ll save yourself a lot of time by throwing all these rings down a toilet for all the good they’ll do you.”
“We’re about to find out if you’re right.” There were a couple dozen rats running around the courtyard with my bands on their wrists. I closed my eyes, concentrated on the medallion attached to my chest, and activated the Borrowed Core technique.
As I’d hoped, I didn’t feel so much as a twinge from my core. The technique flared to life, and I guided the connection toward one of the banded rats. The instant our cores were connected by my technique, I felt the ring around its wrist. The object had had some time to soak up jinsei from the creature’s natural breath cycles, and now the technique it held was primed and ready to go.
It was time to see whether my experiment worked or I’d wasted a bunch of time.
I let out a long, slow breath and triggered the Army of a Thousand Eyes technique that I’d scrivened onto the rat’s band. There was a faint tug at my core, and I braced myself for the pain failure would bring. Hahen and I were deep in uncharted waters with this experiment, and for one terrifying moment, I thought I was about to discover the price of failure.
And then, the technique came to life. My awareness spread through the rats in the courtyard. Their senses became my senses, and for the first time in what felt like ages my core didn’t hurt when I used a technique. I’d worried that having another creature in the chain between me and the Army would weaken the technique or cause it to fail altogether.
But that hadn’t happened. I’d been right.
The Borrowed Core had forged a pure connection between me and the rat. Its core was my core.
I sent one of the rats in the Army scurrying out of the bushes toward Hagar. It pounced on her arm and scrambled up the sleeve of her robes to her shoulder. Before she could react, it plucked a single strand of hair from her Mohawk, then scurried over to me with its prize clasped in its jaws.
“Ouch,” Hagar said with a frown. “I take it your experiment worked?”
“Better than I’d hoped,” I said. There was just one more thing to try.
I cycled my breathing through the Borrowed Core technique and crossed my fingers that I wasn’t about to injure myself. My breath flowed in through the rat, down through the technique, and into my core.
No, not my core. Into the medallion. That was where the Borrowed Core technique had originated. As the rat and I breathed in harmony, the medallion’s jinsei stores refilled. Professor Ishigara had warned me I’d only be able to use the technique I’d stitched into a vessel using the jinsei in the vessel. That should have given me one use of the technique per day.
But she hadn’t understood the true potential of the Path of the Pauper’s Dagger.
If I’d known about this discipline during my first year, things might’ve gone very differently for everyone. Threads of anger, the remnants of my Eclipse nature, wormed their way up from the darkness at the back of my thoughts. Had Hahen known about the technique-stitching discipline? If he had and had withheld that information from me...
I pushed those thoughts away and let the Borrowed Core technique fade. There was no point in blaming anyone for what I had or hadn’t been taught. Until I’d become an Eclipse Warrior, my core had been weak. Even if I’d known about the stitching discipline, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to use it. It would’ve been a tantalizing key to solve my problem, one that I couldn’t begin to turn. It was enough that I knew about it now.
“Pretty cool,” Hagar said. “Though I’m not sure what good controlling one rat is going to do us.”
“You will,” I said with what I hoped was a mysterious smile. Hagar didn’t understand the implications of the experiment I’d performed. I’d just taken a huge leap forward. I still wasn’t quite at full strength, but now I had far more tools at my disposal.
“Be careful,” Hahen warned me. “I can see the fire in your eyes, and I know what you’re thinking. Don’t push yourself. You have to survive to win the Gauntlet.”
“I know,” I assured the rat spirit. “Thank you for your help, honored Hahen. This would not have been possible without your guidance.”
“Nonsense,” Hahen said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’ve done most of the hard work. I simply provided you with moral support and a steady supply of materials for your experiments.”
I was so excited by what we’d achieved that
I almost missed the flicker of the light as something passed over the courtyard. I tilted my head back and shielded my eyes against the noon sun with one hand. There it was again. A long, sinuous shape descended from the sky, its wide wings casting shadows across the school as it approached.
Elushinithoc was back.
“What’s he doing here?” Hagar asked.
As if in answer to Hagar’s question, Niddhogg burst through an arched doorway and streaked across the courtyard toward us.
“Guys!” he shouted in a ragged voice. “It’s happening! The dragons, the other schools—”
The shadow darkened the courtyard, and the sound of heavy, leathery wings flapping against the wind battered my ears. Dust devils swirled around us, and the rats wearing my bands fled into the topiaries around the courtyard’s perimeter. Elushinithoc settled on the roof overlooking us, wings outstretched, his long tail dangling down to the ground.
“Welcome, challengers,” he bellowed. Doorways opened on all sides of the courtyard and the other teams emerged from the shadows. “It is nearly time for the second challenge of the Empyrean Gauntlet. Prepare yourselves. When the blue portals appear, you may begin.”
And, with that, Elushinithoc leaped from the roof and soared into the air. The dragon circled above the courtyard once, twice, then streaked out of sight with a single powerful flap of his wings.
“Hey!” Clem called from the doorway behind me. She, Abi, and Eric staggered into the courtyard.
Their shambling steps were clumsy and halting, as if they weren’t sure the ground beneath their feet was stable. They weren’t the only ones who were unsteady on their feet. The other contenders seemed every bit as confused and shocked as I felt. It took a couple of minutes for everyone to sort themselves out into teams. We eyed each other warily, unsure what the rules were for the situation we’d found ourselves in. The team from Shambala watched everyone as if certain open combat was about to break out. The Yzlanti team had circled up around their injured teammate, who looked pale and far too weak to be out of bed. A heavy jinsei plaster covered his chest, and I wondered how he could walk, much less compete, with such a severe unhealed injury.
“My father is going to be so angry,” Abi said. “I was supposed to help him with the service today. The dragon didn’t even give me time to say goodbye before he whisked me back to school. It wasn’t a pleasant trip, either.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.” Eric swallowed hard and rubbed a hand across his stomach. “Feels like he turned me inside out. I still might lose my breakfast.”
“At least you’re all dressed for the occasion.” Clem didn’t have her robes. Instead, she was wrapped in a tight sheath of a red dress, and her hair was done up in glamorous, wavy curls. Her ornate makeup was like a mask that made her eyes deep and mysterious, and her lips glistened a glossy red. “We were headed to the theater. How can I fight in this getup?”
“How fast can you get to your room and back here?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Clem kicked off her high-heeled shoes, clutched them in her left hand, and took off for the door from the courtyard. “I guess we’ll find out!”
She wasn’t the only one who wasn’t prepared for the challenge. Some students were dressed in casual clothes, others had been snatched out of their beds in their pajamas, and at least two that I could see wore nothing but swim trunks. If Elushinithoc wanted to keep us on our toes, this was certainly one way to do it.
I studied our opponents, trying to size them up. My core was the most powerful one in the courtyard, which wasn’t a surprise. I’d advanced more quickly than most students, thanks to my unique core. I’d also paid the price for that advancement, as a twinge from my damaged core reminded me.
If I could hold it together for a few more months, the Flame would heal me.
If, that was, the heretics didn’t take out my entire clan before then.
“Jace Warin?” While I’d been mulling over my future, the dragon team had wandered over to us. Their leader had a surprisingly melodious voice, and I was relieved to see she wasn’t preparing to attack me.
“That’s me.” It was difficult to judge whether the dragons’ leader was being friendly or threatening. Her slit pupils and sharp features looked predatory to me, like an alligator sizing up the other animals.
“You fought the terrorists at Kyoto?” she asked.
“Yep.” I was always uncomfortable talking about what had happened in Japan, because it always involved lying. While everyone knew that I was an Eclipse Warrior, they definitely did not know that a horde of the original abominations had tried to punch their way back to Earth to wreak vengeance on the rest of the Empyreals. And although I didn’t agree with everything the Church had told me, I did think it was a good idea to keep that little tidbit secret to avoid a panic.
“You’re skinnier than I expected,” she said. “Can we talk?”
“Go right ahead,” I said. “My friends can hear anything you have to say. I’m not keeping any secrets from them.”
“Very well,” the dragon said. She clicked her fingernails together and gestured for us to gather around. She didn’t say anything until we’d all leaned in so close the faint notes of her perfume found my nostrils. “The people of Shambala are not your enemy, Jace Warin. I am not your enemy.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” I said.
“It is the way of dragons,” she said unapologetically. “We are the most powerful creatures on the earth, and that frightens you humans.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said. “If you know what happened in Kyoto, then you know you should be afraid of me.”
“I’m not being clear.” The dragon paused and pursed her lips. She seemed frustrated and held her tongue for a moment. Finally, she continued in a slow and deliberate voice. “I mean to say that you cannot win the Gauntlet.”
And then, just as abruptly as she’d started the conversation, the dragon returned to her team without a backward glance.
“What was that all about?” Abi asked.
“That was the weakest trash talk anyone’s ever heard,” Eric said with a grin. “I don’t know what she was trying to pull, but it didn’t work on me.”
Eric might’ve been right. The language barrier could’ve made it difficult for the dragon to make herself understood. She’d certainly seemed confident, though.
A few minutes later, the blue portals appeared without fanfare. The dragons were the first ones to jump into the challenge, of course, followed swiftly by the Battle Hall of Atlantis and the Bright Lodge. The other challengers followed seconds later.
That left my team all alone in the courtyard, waiting for Clem.
“Come on, come on,” Abi said under his breath.
“She’ll be here.” I forced confidence into my voice. Clem was close. She had to be.
“Look out below!” Clem shouted from a third-floor balcony.
She threw herself over the railing and plummeted toward the ground like a stone. Her robes flapped around her like flags in a windstorm as she fell.
“Move!” I shouted, and we all scattered out of her way.
Clem’s jump was too far. I braced myself for the sight of her breaking a leg, or worse. Even with my core, I wouldn’t jump three stories onto cobblestones. It was a recipe for disaster.
With a shout, Clem flipped over. Jinsei streaked out from her extended leg, and her Tempest Sweep technique slashed through the air. Her timing was impeccable, and the sudden burst of sacred energy cushioned her fall. Clem landed lightly on the stones, then raced for our portal while the rest of us gawked at her.
“Come on, slowpokes!” she called out and leaped through the blue gate.
I followed her a split second after, and found myself surrounded by a deep azure nothing.
Which was replaced a moment later by impenetrable darkness.
The Darkness
“NO ONE MOVE!” MY SHOUT echoed back to my ears after a disturbingly long delay. Just h
ow big was this arena?
“Don’t worry about that,” Eric called back. “There’s a breeze blowing into my face. I think we’re on the edge of a very deep hole.”
Well, that wasn’t good. Not being able to see was bad. If there were pits or chasms in the floor, that was much, much worse. After the wound the Yzlanti warrior had suffered during the first challenge, I had no confidence at all that the Gauntlet wouldn’t kill a challenger before it was over.
“Can you use one of your techniques to give us some light?” I asked.
“Let’s see,” Eric said. A moment later I heard a loud kiai from across the arena and saw a tiny glimmer of light. “Nope. The technique worked, but something’s stifling the light.”
That was frustrating. The arena must have been flooded with darkness aspects. I wasn’t sure how we’d deal with that.
“How are the rest of you doing?” I called.
“I’m fine,” Clem called back. “The ground is solid all around me. At least as far as I can reach without moving.”
“I’m on a bridge of some kind,” Abi called back. His usually calm voice sounded tight and stressed. “There’s ground ahead and behind me, but nothing to the left or right.”
“I think I’ve got everyone beat,” Hagar shouted. “I’m on a pedestal. There’s barely room for my feet.”
While I was glad to hear that no one had come through the gate and immediately fallen to their doom, our prospects didn’t sound good. Headmistress Cruzal had warned us the challenges would get harder, and that they’d be tailored to exploit our weaknesses. We needed to be very, very careful that we didn’t eliminate ourselves by falling.
The darkness was deeper than any I’d ever encountered before. I couldn’t even make out the cores or auras of my friends. If I hadn’t heard them, I’d have thought I was all alone in the arena. I crouched down, rested my fingertips on the ground, and turned in a slow circle. The terrain was smooth and flat, with a thin layer of grit. I found no gaps in the surface beneath me, and I inched forward. The ground was solid ahead of me as far as I could reach.