If Sir Flain had intended to calm Shah, his words had the opposite effect. Kairos was concerned that Shah might faint right then and there in front of the chair. He tried to ignore Shah’s presence, whose nervousness was infecting Kairos’s own fears. There was no reason he should be afraid. He was chosen to partake in the test, and the letters siphoned out those who were likely to fail. He had performed the best he could in the classes, and Professor Argent and Sir Flain explicitly told him that he had no reason to fear.
But Kairos alone knew his own doubts. And secrets.
The Knighthood was unaware he had no mana; that he was a liar who had slipped into the ranks of the Mana Knights undetected, deceived everyone on a daily basis in the Academy, and was only using the Mana Knights as a means to an end. That end was to bring his people, the Einar, to the mainland, where he knew they would continue their warring ways. He felt trapped. There was no way to trick this chair. No way to trick something operating under a higher power.
According to Professor Jomur, the chair was a celestial artefact crafted by Zemus, himself, because only the gods could make or work with orichalcum. No one really knew where the chair came from, and Kairos often questioned the authenticity of Jomur’s research. The chair did not look extraordinary. The yellow metal appeared rather uncomfortable. It gleamed and shimmered under the swirls of magic in the chamber, but appeared lifeless and incapable of ‘judging’ anyone.
Yet, people had died sitting on that chair. The fates of many squires were decided upon that chair.
Long ago the founder of the Mana Knights, Grandmaster Burise, had introduced it as a method of discerning the loyalty of the initiates and offering the Test of Valour to assess a candidate’s courage and skill. There was speculation that he made a pact with a god (assumedly Zemus) before the Celestial Wars to receive the chair, but no two historical documents ever came to the same conclusion.
The reputation of the Trial of the Chair had soon spread across the kingdoms of Alban. The Knighthood flourished with virtuous candidates, thus earning the trust of most of the populace. Even the Salforian elves recognised the Knighthood as a prominent order, and accepted it into their kingdom, opening a Mana Knight stronghold near the elven capital for their own to join the prestigious ranks.
There were only two races that the chair did not recognise: dwarves and gnomes. Whenever they attempted to sit on the chair, an unseen force would propel them off. Apparently, the chair needed a person with mana to subject him or her to the trial. Therefore, the leaders of the Knighthood could not establish whether a dwarf or gnome was a proper candidate, so they banned the two races from entering the Knighthood altogether. Most gnomes and dwarves were not bothered in the least. Their attitude about the matter was simple: why bother to become a Mana Knight when one has no mana in the first place?
How did Grandmaster Burise ever come up with the idea for the Trial of the Chair? No one could say. Certainly none of the knights living today. The only thing the Knighthood could say for sure was that there were only two such chairs in existence: one here in Valour Keep and the other in Gala Fortress.
So Kairos pondered the history of the Trial of the Chair. In his mind, he was already doomed. But he could not turn back now. He could only wonder if the chair would reject him outright from the beginning like a gnome or dwarf, or strike him dead during the trial.
Sir Agama raised a hand indicating that he was ready, and Flain nodded his head in acknowledgement. The paladin took his place next to the chair and moved briskly on to the business at hand.
‘When your name is called, step forward and take a seat on the chair. That is when your testing will begin. You should, by now, be familiar with the testing,’ said Flain, giving Shah a sharp glance, ‘But the Knighthood dictates that I explain everything one final time so no one can later claim that he or she entered this unknowingly or unwillingly.
‘Once you take a seat on the chair, Sir Agama here will cast a spell and the Trial will begin. His spell allows us to see your thoughts and memories, in addition to whatever vision you will have. During this vision, you will be given the details of your next test, the Test of Valour. If for any reason, you die during this Trial, your next of kin will be notified, and your belongings will be given to them, as indicated in the waiver you signed upon entering the Academy. Do you have any questions?’
Kairos and Vaughn did not. Shah appeared eager to ask many more questions, but he was too flustered to find his voice and only managed to mumble.
‘Without further ado,’ said Sir Flain, ‘I call forth Vaughn Akkitos to sit on the chair and start the Trial.’
Vaughn stepped forward, met by Sir Flain. He lowered himself onto the chair of orichalcum, sitting upright stoically, but his pale visage betrayed his feelings.
Sir Agama traced a glyph, and suddenly the chair flared a bright blue. Vaughn’s eyes remained open, yet unseeing.
Kairos watched in horror as Vaughn’s head lolled forward over his chest. Was he dead? He suddenly feared for the young squire. They had been adversaries once, but they had fought hobs together and formed a sort of kinship. His first instinct was to go forward and help his comrade, but looking around the room, he noticed that the other knights seemed unfazed. Each knight had cast a spell that allowed them to see the same vision as Vaughn. One knight was writing something down on a parchment. Fear soon melted into curiosity, as Kairos wanted to know what they could see.
Only Shah seemed distraught, as evident by the growing puddle of piss forming at his feet.
The blue glow continued to envelop Vaughn as he sat, slumped over in the chair. Kairos assumed he wasn’t dead, because he could see Vaughn’s arm or leg twitch occasionally. The seconds dragged on into the longest minutes of Kairos’s life, and very soon, he became bored. Nothing was happening. Kairos’s mind began to drift, and he wondered if the other knights could truly see Vaughn’s memories. And if they could, would they see that night of the Hammerfall Festival when Kairos pummelled Vaughn to a pulp? Kairos’s eyes darted from knight to knight, as he suddenly felt very self-conscious, very ashamed.
Then the blue aura vanished.
Vaughn stirred and lifted his head. Sir Flain and another knight helped him off the chair and steadied him upright. Kairos breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that the young squire was alive and well.
‘Congratulations, Squire Akkitos,’ Sir Agama said. ‘You have passed the Trial of the Chair. You will report to the Commons tomorrow for a briefing regarding your Test of Valour. You are dismissed.’
Vaughn still appeared dazed, as if coming out of a trance. As another Mana Knight escorted him from the chamber, he seemed oblivious to his surroundings, off in another world. After he left, Sir Flain noticed the puddle beneath Shah and swore, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet chamber.
Sir Agama’s lip curled downward. ‘It appears we had an accident.’
Kairos stepped forward.
‘Squire Azel, please wait until you are called,’ Flain admonished, his eyes staring at Shah, instead, with open disgust.
‘If I may, Sir Flain,’ Kairos began, ‘I would like to take my turn before Squire Shah.’
Kairos was afraid. Very afraid. These may be his last moments alive, and his sweaty hands were clenched into fists beneath the sleeves of his robes, but he wasn’t going to take a test and die on a soiled chair.
Sir Agama and Sir Flain looked at each other and shrugged. Neither could fault him for the breach in etiquette, and Shah was certainly not going to protest.
‘Very well,’ Sir Agama said. ‘Please step forward and sit on the chair, Squire Azel.’
Once Kairos was ensconced on the yellow throne, Sir Agama traced a glyph.
Kairos slowly breathed in and out. Then he muttered a quick prayer to Rudras and closed his eyes…
* * *
The day was beautiful. The city was perfect, utilitarian, and clean.
Dwarves walked through the well-paved streets, conducting their business m
uch like they did in Dwarfside. Except here the sun shone brightly overhead in the clear, azure sky. There were many more dwarves here, and the city stretched out further than Vadost.
Kairos watched as a trio of dwarven children ran past him, unaware of his presence. It seemed that the other dwarves didn’t notice him, either. No one stopped to gawk like they did in Dwarfside. They passed by him as if he were invisible.
As he was about to take a step to explore his surroundings, everything suddenly changed.
A strange energy, silver lightning with lines of black, erupted across the city. A foreboding image loomed in the sky, encompassing the city. Thunder shook the streets, and a building crumbled. Fires broke out. Dwarves ran in a panic, some screaming for their lost loved ones.
One of the dwarven children he’d seen earlier now ran towards Kairos. He tripped and fell at Kairos’s feet, crying for his mother. Kairos tried to help him, but he could only watch as lighting struck the child. He shielded his eyes against the flash, yet the brightness seared his eyes. The sound deafened his ears.
Other dwarves fled, screaming. They, too, were struck down. He watched a fire consume a little dwarven girl alive; her screams pierced the raging gale. Kairos tried to look away as her flesh blackened, but he couldn’t. Kairos could only watch helplessly as the scene of horror unfolded before him.
The winds intensified, becoming the roar of another great creation, this one bright and lustrous, more brilliant than the darkness that threatened the city. It doused the flames and calmed the lightning. The darkness tried to fight back, but was losing ground.
It was too late, though. The city was destroyed, its citizens all lying dead. Only Kairos remained standing in the ruins and he could sense the dead, the thousands of tormented souls crying in pain.
The radiant deity, angered and saddened by such devastation and massacre, channelled its vengeance and hurled it against the one who devoured everything. A flash brighter than a thousand suns whited out everything. Kairos could no longer see. No longer hear. But he felt the raw emotion of anger, loss, hurt, and betrayal, many times more intensified than any mortal could feel. He screamed. He could not even hear himself, though his throat hurt.
Then the vision vanished, only to be replaced by a darkness so thick that Kairos thought for a moment that he had died and entered a void of nothingness.
‘Shatteraxe.’
The darkness spoke. Kairos not only heard its voice, but knew its intentions. A brief image flared into his mind. It was a large creature with no substance, transparent, dwelling in the ruins of the dwarven city. Kairos had no idea what it was, but it appeared formidable and foreboding.
Then the grip of pain, sharp and sudden, seized him. It tore at his mind, his soul. His head exploded in agony. Something was wrong.
He just wanted it all to stop.
* * *
Kairos woke. He was drenched in a cold sweat. There were several Mana Knights staring at him, eyes wide with fear, mouths open in horror, and Sir Flain was casting a glowing green glyph over him. Kairos didn’t care. He tried, with shaking limbs, to rise, but couldn’t. He gasped, unable even to take a full breath.
‘Help me up!’ he screamed. ‘Get me out of this thing.’
Helping hands grasped him briefly, letting him fall to the floor. He scrabbled away from the chair, gulping deep breaths of air, his throat sore from screaming. His head throbbed in time with his heart. It was a few moments before his breathing began to slow.
‘What the hell happened?’ he asked, looking at Sir Agama.
‘I-I don’t know!’ said Sir Agama. He leafed through a book, showing it around the room, as if it would make sense to anyone else. ‘I did everything I was supposed to do. I followed the instructions to the letter. And then you started screaming. The godshard flared, bright and hot. It’s never done that! I’ve never even heard of it doing that.’
Sir Flain completed his spell, green motes dancing in his eyes as he looked Kairos over closely. He lingered around the head, frowning intently. ‘There’s no harm to the body or spirit. You’re fine.’ He released the spell and the green motes faded.
Sir Agama remained as bewildered and tousled as a cat plunged unwillingly into a stream. ‘Tell me what happened, Squire Azel.’
‘Er…’ Kairos, felt as dazed as Vaughn had seemed.
‘He survived,’ Sir Flain said over his shoulder to Sir Agama. ‘He passed the Trial of the Chair.’
Sir Agama was not deterred. ‘Yes, but what happened?’
At first, Kairos tried to explain the dwarven city, but he soon stopped. The memory was too painful and he dared not mention the souls who died. He wanted to banish the image of those dead dwarven children from his mind forever. ‘That city was called Shatteraxe,’ was what he did say.
Sir Agama looked annoyed. ‘Yes, yes! I know that. We all saw a brief vision of your upcoming quest.’ He gestured to the knights behind him, who all wore troubled expressions. ‘What we didn’t see were your thoughts and memories. Your motives. This has never happened before!’
Kairos didn’t know what Sir Agama was talking about and didn’t care. His head still hurt. His voice was raspy and hoarse from screaming, and it was difficult to talk.
‘Leave him be,’ said Sir Flain, leaning forward to examine Kairos again.
‘I will not!’ Sir Agama stated indignantly. ‘How do we know that this boy does not have ill intentions? The Trial of the Chair exposes the inner mind of all potential knights. This was abnormal, I tell you. Absolutely abnormal!’
‘We have the vision of the quest,’ Flain said in a controlled voice. ‘That is enough. It’s in Shatteraxe.’
‘But it was a partial vision,’ Sir Agama insisted. ‘The squire must have seen more, and he’s withholding the information from us.’
Flain turned and faced Sir Agama, his face darkening into a fierce scowl. Agama took an involuntary step back. ‘What would you have us do, Sir Agama? Make the boy retake the Trial of the Chair? That’s never been done before, either, and I’m not about to start doing it now. Besides, we still have to administer the Trial for Squire Shah.’
Sir Agama stood speechless. For the first time since Kairos’s Trial had ended, everyone noticed that Shah was still in the room. He had apparently fainted when Kairos started screaming, and he was still lying near the same spot he had wet himself. Some of the knights looked at each other. No one wanted to help the squire, but after a few moments of realising that something had to be done, they awkwardly shifted forward to offer a hand.
Finally Sir Agama broke the silence. ‘I’m going to double check the book later, and you can rest assured that I will notify the Council of this. Until then, somebody help me clean this mess and wake that squire so we can recommence the Trial.’ He stomped off in high dudgeon, pushing past the cluster of knights gathered near the centre of the chamber, in search of a mop and a bucket.
‘You do that,’ Flain said, looking back. Once Sir Agama was out of earshot, Flain leant forward and asked, ‘So what did you see?’
Kairos did not want to answer, but upon seeing the paladin’s concerned face, he reluctantly decided it was best to tell Flain. Something wasn’t right, and he thought that maybe the older knight had answers.
‘I saw a darkness overtake a dwarven city…’ Kairos began.
‘Shatteraxe,’ Flain said.
Kairos nodded. ‘Yes… And it destroyed everything. Something else, large and powerful, came to fight the darkness, but it was too late. Then I saw a strange creature, an apparition of some sort.’
Sir Flain listened in awed silence, his eyes wide. Kairos had never seen the paladin so unnerved before. He thought nothing could faze the man. In a quiet voice, almost a whisper, he asked, ‘Sir Flain, what does it mean?’
Flain took a moment to answer. ‘I’m not sure,’ he murmured. Then, in a voice loud enough to address the whole room, he said, ‘It means you have passed the Trial. Congratulations, Squire Kairos Azel. You can now proceed to the
next phase of your testing.’
The paladin helped Kairos to his feet. Kairos took a few unsteady steps and massaged his pounding head. He knew where his Test of Valour would be, but he was not sure if he wanted to go.
* * *
‘Squire Azel. Please come in and sit down,’ Jomur’s mouth twisted like he had bitten into a raw fire potato whenever he called Kairos’s name. ‘Your first assignment has been determined, according to the Trial of the Chair.’
The instructor and several knights – those present at the Trial of the Chair – sat at a long table with Jomur in the Commons Hall. Sir Agama and Sir Flain were also in attendance. Jomur gloated in self-satisfaction while Flain looked more livid than usual – if that were possible. Kairos was nervous when he entered, but upon seeing Jomur and his haughty demeanour, his unease gave way to annoyance. Everyone was looking at Kairos expectantly.
The silence had grown uncomfortable. ‘Oh?’ Kairos said, not knowing what else to say.
‘That’s ‘Oh, Instructor Jomur,’ Squire Azel.’
Kairos took a calming breath. ‘Oh, Instructor Jomur?’ he asked in a level voice.
Jomur nodded. As self-important as he was, Kairos happened to know Jomur failed his Professor exam several times. What he didn’t know was why he had such a large involvement in reviewing each squire’s Test of Valour. As far as Kairos was concerned, that task should have been solely left to the Mana Knights. Even if Instructor Jomur was responsible for part of the Academy.
The instructor cleared his throat and smiled. ‘In the dwarven ruins of Shatteraxe is an air elemental. You should recall seeing such a vision of it when you took the Trial of the Chair. This particular one, however, is a magical anomaly. No summoned elemental has persisted for so long. Primarily, you are to dispel it, destroy it, or unsummon it. As a secondary consideration, you must try and learn why it remains. Given the distance of Shatteraxe, you have two fortnights to complete your Test. Questions?’
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