A noise broke Pil out of his reverie. Pil looked up to see Felicity striding confidently into the room with a radiant smile.
“That’s it, we are in! We just have to attempt the last test, but that’s really just a formality —” she said jubilantly.
“Fel… Pil, he —”
“I didn’t pass the second test…”
There was a shocked silence. Felicity stopped mid-stride. “Wh-what?! How? You’re a thousand times smarter than both of us, what —”
Pil explained briefly what had happened. “So basically, if I don’t pass the last test…”
“I am going to kill him!” Felicity shouted, cutting him off, stomping back to the door.
“Fel, stop! It’s fine, everything we do is testing us. I should have been a leader; it was my fault for not taking the risk I should have —”
“Pil this is his fault — Brixton — I swear if I see him again —”
“You’ll do nothing,” said Pil firmly. “Look, if I don’t pass, you two will go on without me I’ll —”
Felicity looked ready to shout, but she was cut off by the door opening. They all turned to see who had walked in. It was one of the boys who had competed with Brixton in the first test. He looked awkwardly around the room, nodded briefly to Dirk, ignored the other two completely, and sat down on the opposite side of them all.
Felicity turned back to Pil. “You’ll just have to pass it, then.”
Pil smiled sympathetically. “I’ll do my best but —”
“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Pil. And, anyway, if you don’t, I’ll just have to have a talk with Harlem. See if —”
“Felicity! Don’t you dare use your influence for my benefit.” Pil glared at her.
She looked quite like she wanted to argue but kept her mouth shut. They both knew he would never be happy with being an Exidite unless he had earned it. Dirk looked awkwardly at his two best friends.
“Let’s leave it at that, guys…” said Dirk uncomfortably. “It is what it is. Nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just wait for the rest of the group.”
Felicity said nothing but sat down next to Dirk. They passed the next few minutes in silence before the door opened for the fifth time. In walked the other boy from Brixton's group, the one who looked like the brother of the other kid in the room. He looked briefly around before turning to sit next to his look-alike.
“That’s five; the losers of the first round will be battling now…” said Pil. The other two looked at him. They were all thinking the same thing: would Brixton Bells win his second match? Pil would rather him not become an Exidite, but he did have a strange amount of confidence throughout all the tasks.
The silence deepened as time wore on; it seemed to take much longer for these battles to finish. Pil wondered who the next three would be. He hoped Sandy would somehow manage to pass, but his opponents did seem fairly larger. Sandy’s only hope was in fighting Brenn, who was much smaller and already injured. Although, Pil thought, size doesn’t necessarily decide the winner. After all, he had won and Brixton was larger by far.
The minutes droned on until finally, the door opened. In walked Brixton. He didn't so much as glance at Pil but went directly towards the seats on the other side of the room.
“There will only be one more winner. The first two both got disqualified for striking after the match was finished,” Brixton stated to the two boys next to him.
“Who’s left?” one of the boys asked.
“Brenn Benders and Sandy Shackles. Brenn lost to me, but he gets another chance because of the uneven numbers. He needs to get healed up, first. A few of his limbs are broken," replied Brixton, looking up at the ceiling. The two boys chuckled unkindly.
Pil observed Brixton. He seemed quite composed, his injured ribs seemed to have been healed, and his expression was exceptionally bored and unconcerned. Felicity was glaring at him so ferociously, it was a wonder he couldn’t feel it. There was something about Brixton Bells that bothered him, aside from his malicious intent and superior attitude. Something deeper. Pil suspected the thing he was unsettled by the most was the force that drove Brixton Bells to act so brutally. They waited again in silence. Pil hoped Sandy had won the last match; he didn’t much like Brenn, especially after he had sided with Brixton.
After what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, the door opened for the seventh time, and Sandy shuffled in, looking pained but ecstatic. He shuffled over and sat next to Pil.
“We did it!” he said, smiling at them. “We are Exidite! Well, Entri — but still…”
There was a pause in which Dirk and Felicity looked at Pil. Pil smiled sadly.
“I’m not,” he admitted. “I didn’t pass the second test; it’s all down to the last one for me…”
Sandy looked at him, eyes wide. Across the room, Brixton chuckled quietly.
“Something funny?!” Felicity shot at him furiously.
“Fel, leave it,” said Pil quietly, looking bitterly across the room to the final door.
Just then the door opened again, and Harlem himself walked into the room. Everybody went still as he stood in front of the door facing them.
“Congratulations, most of you are now Entri-Exidite. The last and final test will determine your role in the squadron. We want to know your capabilities — all of them. For this, I personally will be testing all of you.” He looked stoically at each of them before stopping on Pil. “Mr. Persins, you must pass this test to qualify… To this day no one has yet passed. Do you wish to continue?”
“Yes, sir,” said Pil with as much conviction as he could muster.
“Good,” said Harlem, nodding approvingly. “Then, one by one, you will go back to the room we just came from. There you will choose a weapon — I will be your opponent.”
Everyone looked around, shocked. Harlem, their opponent? Felicity, Dirk, and Sandy looked fearfully at Pil, who was staring at Harlem in disbelief.
“I will not use a weapon, nor will I attempt to attack you. You need only to score one hit on me within seven minutes to pass this test.”
Pil exhaled in relief. He didn’t have to beat Harlem, only score a point. It sounded almost too easy. But he must not let his guard down; no one had ever passed the last test. If he was to be the first, he must approach this logically.
“You will go in the opposite order that you arrived. First up will be Sandy Shackles — follow me.”
Sandy looked nervously around before hurrying fretfully after Harlem, who had marched out of the room after his announcement.
“That’s not bad, Pil,” said Felicity as soon as the door had closed behind Sandy. “You are the best at fighting; no one in lower town has ever beaten you.”
A high scornful laugh came from across the room. “Yeah, Persins, this’ll be just like lower town,” said Brixton mockingly. “What do you think you’re playing at? Might as well go home now. No one has ever passed this test, and certainly never a shrimpy beggar from the ragtag group of misfits.”
“Shut the char up, Bells!” Felicity said. “Nobody asked your opinion, you bigheaded —”
“Fel!” yelled Pil as Dirk laughed derisively. “This isn’t the time; we are still in the middle of a test...”
Felicity sat back with her arms folded, looking wrathfully at the wall.
Brixton chuckled but said nothing more to them. The minutes ticked by quickly before Sandy reappeared in the room, smiling.
“Wow, I couldn’t even get close to him. Just what you would expect from the Exidite leader…” He sat back down as Brixton got up and left the room.
Sandy glanced at Pil. “I reckon you might have a chance… I mean, your battle with Brixton was amazing — but he’s fast; you’ll have to use your head.”
Pil nodded in thanks and sat back to think. The line moved quickly. Brixton, by his conversation with the other two boys, did no better than Sandy. Each person came back only to reaffirm what Sandy had said: he was too fast. Finally, it was Felicity’s
turn. When she returned, she looked at Pil, attempting to hide her fear.
“He’s quick, but I don’t see why you couldn’t hit him…You just have to be smart, Pil…I know you can do it.”
Dirk went next and quickly came back with a look of concern glued to his face. Pil took a deep breath and stood up. He nodded determinedly to Felicity and Dirk before heading back into the previous room.
Harlem was waiting for him in the middle of the floor, looking even more intimidating than before. Pil veered to the weapons table and chose the same bastard sword he had used before.
“As I stated before, you will have seven minutes to strike a blow. If you fail to do so, you must head back to the front of the building, where you will be escorted out,” Harlem said. “Are you ready?”
Pil nodded.
“Then you may begin.”
Pil looked up at him, shocked. Harlem hadn’t moved; he was still standing only a few feet away from him with his arms behind his back. He was completely within range of Pil’s sword. It would be too easy… wouldn’t it?
Pil swung quickly without getting into his usual stance, hoping to take Harlem by surprise. To his astonishment, Harlem moved quicker than Pil would have thought possible. He avoided Pil's sword completely and then moved even closer to Pil. The obvious thing would have been to swing again, hoping to be faster, but Pil stood frozen in shock, staring up at Harlem’s massive figure. If this had been a real fight, and Harlem was armed, Pil would have been killed…
Instead of continuing his attack, Pil jumped away. It was instinct, really, that pulled him back, but after he was a distance away from the terrifying figure, he realized it was the best move he could have made. He couldn’t afford to keep swinging, simply hoping to get the jump on Harlem. That first swing was enough for Pil to understand: Harlem Havok was fast… faster than anything Pil had ever seen. If he wanted to win, he had to think smart — and quickly.
Pil studied Harlem; his arms were still folded behind his back, and he was looking at Pil expectantly. How could he catch him off guard? He needed a plan. Pil stepped forward and tested Harlem’s reactions. He attacked from every direction, but Harlem sidestepped every swipe easily, almost lazily. It was just as Pil thought: he was too fast. Attacking normally wouldn’t produce any results.
So Pil rushed in again, faster this time. He started out aiming for Harlem’s head, but at the last second, he curved his blade to the right. Not aiming for Harlem but aiming for where he would be after he dodged. It worked. Harlem dodged to the right, and Pil’s sword chased him. But it was half a second late; Harlem realized Pil’s plan and ducked quickly out of its way.
But Pil wasn’t done just yet. He swung downwards after Harlem. If it were any other person, the attack would land, but Pil knew Harlem would dodge. He arched his swing yet again, aiming not for the figure crouched on the floor, but for the spot he thought Harlem would dodge to. He was wrong this time. Pil swung at air as Harlem jumped up and to his right, completely avoiding the sword.
Pil took a couple steps back. This was the right plan of action. He could feel it, but now it became a head game. If Pil guessed where Harlem would dodge correctly, he had a chance at hitting him. But now that Harlem knew what he was up to, he would likely make his actions less predictable.
Pil leapt up and brought his sword down hard on what should have been Harlem's shoulder. At the last second, he changed the blade’s trajectory, extending his arm and aiming for the empty space directly to Harlem’s right. He was wrong again. Harlem ducked the weapon and dodged to the left. Pil landed, crouched, and followed him, aiming for Harlem’s side. The obvious dodge would have been to step back, but Pil knew Harlem would jump. He arched his sword upwards at the last second, chasing the already disappearing figure. But he was too low. Harlem landed on the flat side of Pil’s sword and forced it down to the floor under his foot. He was stuck; it was over.
“You’re done,” Harlem stated, echoing Pil’s thoughts.
Pil let go of his weapon and stood up, eyes cast downwards. “Thank you for your time. I hope to try again next year.”
“But why?”
Pil looked up, confused. “Am I not allowed? I think I can pass if you give me another chance.”
“You misunderstand me, Mr. Persins — you won — you landed a blow. In all my years as Exidite captain, no weapon has ever touched me during this test, until now…” said Harlem, smiling kindly at Pil’s shocked expression.
“But — but, the test… I thought I had to hit you to win. Didn’t I?”
“Yes, and you did — your sword hit me — it hit my foot,” Harlem said, smiling and stepping off Pil’s sword.
Pil’s eyes went huge; he felt like crying; he felt like hugging Harlem. “Am I — am I really an Exidite?”
Harlem nodded and Pil almost fell in a sudden surge of relief and joy. “Please return to the next room with the rest of the group. I will instruct you all what to do next. And, Pil — congratulations — you’ve earned it,” said Harlem, gesturing back to the room Pil had come from. Pil walked back, reeling from what had just happened. He had done it. He had won. He was an Entri!
6
The Beginning
Pil re-entered the room triumphantly. The minute he stepped into the room Felicity stood up and gave him a worried look.
“I did it, Fel! I’m an Exidite!” said Pil, breaking out in a huge grin. It felt good to say it out loud.
“But that’s impossible!” Brixton disputed as Felicity ran up in excitement and hugged Pil. “You can’t have —”
“But he did,” stated Harlem simply, cutting across Brixton. He walked into the middle of the room and faced them all seriously. The room went still.
“Listen up! You are all Entri Exidite now — brothers and sisters — and as brothers, you must look after each other." He scanned them all intently. “Now that you are part of the creed, you have the right to certain information that we hide from the public. This information stays within the Exidite — or you will face the consequences. Firstly, the Bahbeq, as you all know, are the main reason we are hidden underground… but lately, they have been hunting us down more than ever. Just one Bahbeq can take out an entire squadron, so you can understand how much of a problem this has become. We suspect that they are being controlled. The only problem is that we have absolutely no knowledge of a being with enough power to control all of them at once.”
“What about the Fairies?” asked Sandy, sounding worried.
“The Fairies have even less magical power than we do. And to answer any further questions, yes, we Elfin are capable of magic greater than anything you have been told. This still isn’t enough to control an entire species, let alone two…”
“Two? Something is controlling two species? But how — why?” asked Felicity, sounding shocked.
“We don’t yet know why. It seems, however, that whatever thing is controlling the Bahbeq, and the Spindle, desires the Elfin’s extinction. Perhaps that thing fears our magic —”
“But we don’t have any magic. At least, most of us don’t…” Sandy broke in.
“For the most part, yes, we have lost our way. We have forgotten what it means to use magic — living for so long in the dark — but not the Exidite. We don’t forget… that is my second piece of information. You all witnessed my speed in battle; this is not purely from training. I have utilized an ancient form of Elfin magic; it is something that every Elfin — not just Prestige — is capable of obtaining.”
Every person in the room went instantly still. Pil looked around the room. Brixton was the only one who didn’t seem surprised by this groundbreaking revelation.
“But — but if we can use magic, why haven’t we — I mean, why hasn’t the public figured that out?” asked Felicity, confused.
“Because the use of magic has passed out of the memory of Elfin kind. It remains only deep in our souls… in our genetics. This is not something one can learn; it has to be forced to the surface. For example, you have
all heard of Enlightenment, the state in which you realize the full spread of your abilities. This can only be brought about by a near-death experience that happens in the light of day —”
“But why don’t we just tell the public?” asked Pil, interrupting him. “We can all gain abilities and fight back —”
“I wish it were that simple…” Harlem began, “however, only the Exidite can be trusted with this information. What if one Elfin learned of these secrets and gained power and attempted to take over the mound? Or to use it for his own purposes to control or hurt others? — No, it’s best that we alone know of our innate abilities. We can’t fight two wars at once.”
Pil went quiet, thoughtful. This was too much information to process all at once.
“The other magic — the one we don’t need the light for — how do we get it?” Brixton asked eagerly.
“Only those who are Captain can know that...” said Harlem gravely. “Within Exidite we have three main squadrons, each with three subsections. There are the Elysian, or the fighting squadron — these are the Elfin most suitable for battle and who take most of the risk. The Stratedite — this is the group who plans our movements and maps out the land. And we have the Scouts — as the name suggests, these are the Elfin who scout out potential areas. As you know — the Exidites sole mission is supplies and Berry extraction. Elfin can live for a long time, but without Merry Berry and other resources, our kind would quickly go extinct.
“You will all be assigned a squadron and a Captain, and if you move your way up over time; first to Lieutenant — those in charge of a subsection — then to a Captain —”
“But you said that Prestige really can gain extra powers?” asked Sandy in awe.
“Yes indeed. There are only a few Prestige in recent history recorded to have obtained this state of Enlightenment as we call it.” Harlem paused. “Among them is one who can personally demonstrate its certainty — me. I have had the use of magic for many years — but only in the light of day — and only ever in great need will the Exidite go out in Afterdark.”
After the Dark Page 5