by Blake Vanier
In the arena, the four contestants Nero saw yesterday are just wrapping up their warm-up routine. Each one is wearing a different-colored headband. This close, Nero can fully appreciate the size of the Aether cannon. It is several times taller than him. Holy moly, that’s a big cannon.
The guard rests her hands on the railing. “I've been to the Games many times on duty, but this is the first time I'll actually get to see the finale of the Trial of Odosa. I must admit I'm as excited as a little girl.”
“I know exactly how you feel,” Nero says, mostly to himself, still in a state of awe.
Natina looks at Nero and her guard, smiling. “I'm glad we came down here.”
“Young Human, you don't realize how lucky you are. Many Borukins would sacrifice quite a lot to be this close and with your company.”
Nero turns to Natina. “Thanks for inviting me, Natina.”
“It was the only way I could think to make it up to you for all the times I slammed you in training.”
“How's your arm doing?” Nero asks.
“It's fine now. I just tweaked it,” she says, moving it around. “Did you draw from my styk when you threw me?”
Nero nods.
“This little Human got the best of you, Princess?” The guard asks.
“This ‘little Human’ is the wee Borukin. I watched him yesterday. He defended his friends from the attacks of several Borukins using Odo… I wish I had friends like that…”
I’m your friend.
The guard looks at Nero, nodding. “Impressive. I’ve never heard of a Human using Odo before.”
Nero's cheeks flush. He inspects the railing.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” a voice booms over the stadium speakers. The same announcer from yesterday is standing on the center platform for the trial. “The Trial of Odosa is about to begin! In green we have Kandis Khan, making her first ever appearance in the finals. In red, we have Prince Kamin Ramas Jr., the returning champion of the Trial of Borutaress and the Trial of Orinda. He’s hoping to best his third-place finish in this trial. In yellow, we have Jesler Coffman, the Trial of Odosa’s runner-up last time around, sights set on the gold. Finally, in blue, we have Madam Carason, the Overseer of the Schools, an Odo Grandmaster, holder of the current record for Odosa, and reigning champion for the last three Trials of Odosa.” The competitors bow, and the stadium erupts in applause.
“How do you think your brother will do, Princess?” The guard asks.
“I'm not sure. I don't talk to him much, but I heard he’s planning on winning this one.”
“Really? He thinks he can beat Madam Carason? If he wins the Trial of Odosa, Borutaress, and Orinda he may be the youngest to ever do so.”
An official meets the four participants on the platform. He holds out a leather pouch and each of the competitors removes a small clay chip. The official looks at each of the chips and orders the competitors in a row.
“And we have the order!” the announcer says. “Kandis in green is first, Jesler in yellow is second, Prince Kamin in red is third, and finally Madam Carason in blue. Minimum starting level is set for three on the Boltz scale.”
“Do they do the same thing as they did yesterday?” Nero asks.
“Not at all,” the guard says.
“Today, each competitor takes a turn declaring the cast and intensity of the attack,” Natina says. “If the competitor passes their challenge, then the others must try it, as well. You’ll see.” She points toward the arena. “Just watch.”
Kandis steps up to the official to talk with him. The official punches a few buttons into what looks like a giant calculator, then nods to her. The official speaks into his small microphone.
“Kandis has made her choice,” the announcer says. “She’ll start the competition with Icor Aether at five hundred and fifty thousand joules and five hundred thousand watts, which puts us at three-point-one-three on the Boltz scale.”
The woman in green steps up to the platform. The canon fires at her in a bright stream of energy. The judges check her; she passes. The other three competitors follow in order. They all pass. The official talks with the competitor in yellow. He again punches some numbers into the calculator, nodding.
“Alright, we’re moving along nicely!” The announcer's voice echoes through the stadium. “Jesler has picked Moltrik Aether at five hundred and fifty thousand joules and six hundred thousand watts, which puts us at three-point-two-zero on the Boltz scale.”
The crowd cheers. Jesler steps up to the platform. Again, each one of the competitors passes. The official walks up to Kamin next. Kamin says something, but the official hesitates, looking at him in surprise. Kamin waves his hand, noticeably irritated, and the official jumps to punch the numbers into his calculator. The official speaks into the microphone on his collar.
“This is quite the surprise.” The speakers crackle to life. “Prince Kamin isn't wasting any time moving things up. He has picked Pahzan Aether at two million joules and eight hundred thousand watts, which is three-point-three-seven on the Boltz scale. If you don't remember, this already surpasses the winning level from the last competition. A brave move, indeed.”
“Wow, he’s confident,” the guard says. “He must really be going for it.”
Kamin walks up to the platform, readying himself. The red flash swallows the entire center of the arena. Nero feels a deep thud in his chest. Streamers of fire and smoke arch from the center of the explosion, slowly trailing to the ground.
“Oh, wow, that was awesome!” Nero says. His eyes adjust to the evaporating haze to reveal Kamin standing in the center, steam rising from his clothes. “How did he survive that?” I’ll never be able to block something that big. He shifts his perspective. The arena is filled with bright red Aether, with concentrated bubbles swirling around. After a moment, they pop, spewing their contents.
“He’s a Borukin. That's what we do,” the guard says.
The judges circle around and hold up their success flags. The crowd cheers. Madam Carason glares at Kamin as she approaches the platform. She passes, too. The other two fail. Kandis is escorted from the arena with an injured arm.
“It looks like we just have Madam Carason and Prince Kamin left. Let's see how the Madam plans to counter,” the announcer says.
Again, the official seems to be surprised by her demand. After she urges him on, he punches the numbers into his calculator and then speaks to his microphone.
“Madam Carason is going for the record!” the announcer yells into the speakers. “She’s picked Moltrik Aether at eighteen million joules and six million watts for a four-point-two-six on the Boltz scale!” The crowd cheers.
“Princess. Thank you so much for taking me down here,” the guard says. “This is the most excitement this competition has had since Madam Carason broke the record, and that was over twenty years ago.”
After a decent length of waiting for the Borukins to turn the giant cog and generate the Aether, Madam Carason approaches the platform. She settles into her ready position and nods toward the canon operator. The crowd falls silent.
“You two might want to plug your ears,” the guard says out of the corner of her mouth. She moves to take her own advice.
Natina and Nero mimic the guard just as the canon fires in a blinding flash of electricity. The shockwave of Aether knocks Nero off his feet.
“Wowee!” The guard picks up Nero. “Can you believe that? You got leveled and we’re not even in the center! Are you okay, Human?”
Nero steadies himself, nodding. “I think so.” His hair is standing on edge. When he grabs the railing, he feels an electric shock.
The guard laughs. “And, Princess, I assume you're okay.”
“Yes, thank you,” Natina says.
The judges swarm around Madam Carason to inspect her white cotton robes. The head judge holds up the pass flag. The crowd goes wild. After waiting again for the canon to be charged, Kamin approaches the platform. Nero loops his leg and arm around the
pole and plugs his ears again. He shifts his perspective and sees Kamin’s sharp red glow assume a ready position. There is another faint red shimmer of Aether just in front of him.
What's that?
Kamin nods and the blue Moltrik Aether in the canon surges, releasing a flash of energy. Just as the Moltrik Aether strikes Kamin, the red shield about him flares. A fraction of a second later, the platform is lost in a burst of blue light. The Aether rattles Nero again, but his firm grip saves him from getting knocked down. When the haze clears, the judges run up to Kamin. They throw up the pass flag. The crowd cheers wildly.
“Wow, Natina,” the guard says. “I didn't think he was that good. I thought most of his skill was in combat.”
“I think he's been practicing a lot,” Natina says.
“He must be.”
“Are you allowed to use Aether when you block?” Nero asks.
“You can use whatever natural Aether you have. A Borukin’s Aetheratin is so low, though, it wouldn’t be useful in countering an attack. Not compared to the effectiveness of our styks.”
“Are you allowed to use Artifacts?”
“No. Only the styk is permitted. It is the purest form of Odo.”
“Do you think he could have used something he wasn't supposed to, like an Aether shield or something?” Nero asks. “Is that even possible?”
Natina looks at Nero fiercely. “My brother wouldn't cheat.”
“Careful, boy,” the guard says. “If Natina doesn't beat you up for saying those kinds of things, then someone else will. Aether shields exist in the form of Amulets, or from someone with Pahzan Aether and enough Aetheratin to make it effective, but cheating has some very severe consequences. It hardly ever happens. Accusing the Royal family of it would not be good for your health.”
The official approaches Kamin. When the prince responds to his question, the official freezes. Kamin smacks the official out of his daze, making him stumble to the side. The official punches the number into his calculator with shaking hands. He pulls the microphone on his collar up to his mouth and speaks.
There is a long pause before the announcer says anything. “Pardon us for the delay, we need to check the rules and regulations for the next round.”
Murmurs float through the crowd. Some nearby spectators ask questions of Natina directly. She shrugs and shakes her head. “I don’t know what he’s doing.”
After another long pause, the announcer finally begins. “Prince Kamin has chosen to attempt Pahzan Aether at one hundred million joules and sixteen million watts which puts us at a four-point-seven-five on the Boltz scale.” The crowd gasps.
“Natina, what is your brother doing?” the guard asks.
“What do you mean? I don't understand,” Natina says. “I don’t know anything.”
“The whole point of the white cotton robes is to regulate the maximum level they attempt, since the slightest singe will fail you. This is mostly for safety reasons, so the risk of serious injury is minimized.”
Worry unfolds on Natina's face. “I still don't get it.”
“Your brother has just requested a level that is so far beyond anything that has ever been attempted, it may kill him.”
“I have to stop him!” Natina moves to jump over the railing but the guard grabs her.
“He is a grown man and he's making his own decisions. It’s just surprising… but if he’s made the challenge, he must have some hope of succeeding.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Would your brother throw away his life so easily?”
Natina relaxes a little. “No.”
“Well, then, there you have it. Let's hope your brother’s faith in his skill is well placed.”
After a long wait, Kamin finally approaches the platform, readying himself. The guard plugs her ears with some tissue, kneels down, and has Nero and Natina stand in front of her with their ears plugged. She grabs the railing around them. Nero shifts his perspective and can now see a stronger shimmering shield in front of Kamin. A faint trail of red Aether leads off to the nearby spectators. There are three bright, swirling sources of Aether where the trail originates; two are red and one is a combination of red, blue, green, and yellow.
The canon fires with a flash that instantly drowns the world in red Aether. The heat wave slams into Nero, taking his breath away and prickling his skin. He opens his eyes and the arena is filled with streaking Aether that crackles with energy. Kamin’s form slowly resolves through the haze, several meters back from where he started.
“He made it!” Natina says.
The guard raises her hand. “Ah ha, he did. That's unbelievable. Is it possible he’ll actually pass?”
The judges quickly scurry up to Kamin to inspect his clothes. Each judge responsible for a section of his clothes waves the approval flag, except for one who is hesitating at Kamin's shoulder. Nero feels a strange surge of Aether. He shifts his perspective to see a green wisp emerge from the strong sources of Aether in the crowd. The wisp weaves its way toward the judges and splits into many. Each wisp dives at an individual judge. In response, green walls of Aether flare up against the attack. The walls, however, provide minimal resistance to the incoming wisps, which break through and latch on to the judges’ heads. A slight moment of confusion passes before they begin to move about normally. They all review the area in question and after some deliberation, the head official raises a green flag and the crowd cheers.
That was Icor Aether, he's cheating! “Uhh, what would happen if he got caught cheating?”
“Why are you asking this? What do you think you saw?” Natina asks.
The guard turns to them. “This is not something to talk about, even for you, Natina. For your own good, quit this line of thought.” Nero nods and looks down. “We need to worry about Madam Carason now, anyway. I hope Stone is with her.”
“Can she just quit?” Natina asks.
“She could, but it would destroy her reputation,” the guard says. “It would be better for her to lose than to step down.”
“Even if it could kill her?” Nero asks.
“Yes, but let's not think about that.”
When the Borukins finish charging the Aether storage, Madam Carason steps up to the platform. Her entourage fights to remove her, but they have no luck persuading her. She shoots Kamin a look of disdain before she readies her styk. The guard, Natina, and Nero take their same positions and the canon fires. In the blast, Nero feels the same flow of Aether, but then a strange pop. When the haze finally clears, there is a blackened heap off the end of the platform, on the arena floor. A medical team rushes to her with a stretcher. The crowd is dead silent.
“This is a heart wrenching turn of events,” the announcer says. “But be assured, this is the best medical team in the city. Our prayers are with you, Madam Carason.”
The medical team carefully moves her onto a stretcher and carries her out of the stadium.
“Your brother is just as ruthless as your dad!” Someone yells from the crowd.
Natina looks in their direction, but the Borukin says no more. “Is she going to be okay?” Natina asks, tears in her eyes.
“I hope so,” the guard says. “Let’s take a walk during the break.”
They walk around the stadium, mingling with the glum spectators. The lines for the mini-games and the vendors are virtually nonexistent. Circles of Borukins have their heads dipped in prayer. The music from the performances in the arena is the only thing combating the dreary energy of the crowd.
By the time they return to their spot, life is flowing back into the stadium. When the last performance ends, the announcer takes the center.
“It is now time for the Trial of Borutaress! The competitors will be Talik Indair, a veteran warrior who has more medals than can be counted, against the returning champion, who needs no introduction, Prince Kamin Ramas Jr.! We all know the rules: first one to surrender or be incapacitated loses.”
The two competitors approach each other from di
fferent sides.
“After the last competition, I'm not sure what to expect,” the guard says. “I don't think Talik will have much of a chance against Kamin.”
“Begin,” the announcer yells.
Two spheres of Aether appear above the ground, each one close to a competitor. The competitors jam their styks into the blobs and they wink out of existence. With incredible speed, Talik and Kamin close the distance and attack. Their styks sound like a drum roll as they pound against each other. With each contact, the styks release pops of energy and light. They buzz and crackle as they slice through the air. Kamin retreats from Talik’s flurry of attacks.
“Wow, it looks like Talik might have a chance after all,” the guard says.
The fight continues for several more minutes. Talik's swings are slowly speeding up, Kamin’s becoming more frantic. Talik attacks harder. A single blob of Aether appears across the arena four meters off the ground. Both competitors see it instantly and take off running. Kamin easily leaves his competition behind.
“Look at that!” The guard points excitedly. “Kamin must have been saving his energy. Watch carefully, now, this is a big moment in the battle. Talik will try to make a move to strike Kamin while he is exposed and going for the Aether.”
As they approach the Aether, Kamin glances back and slows, allowing the gap between them to close. At the last moment, Kamin jumps high toward the energy. By the time he passes just over the ball of Aether, he swings his styk down like he is chopping wood, propelling the ball of Aether directly at Talik. Talik is too close to properly defend.
The ball explodes against his chest, engulfing him in flames and sending him spinning backward. He hits the ground and tumbles to a stop. Kamin finishes his aerial maneuver with a graceful flip, landing on his feet.
The smoking and charred Talik attempts to rise, but falls back to the ground. Kamin slides his styk into the holder across his back and walks out of the Arena. There is a stunned silence and sparse applause. Another medical team runs out to Talik to help him out of the arena.
“That was faster than I expected,” Nero says.
The guard nods. “That might be some sort of record. I’ve heard that Talik is no pushover, either, which makes it all the more impressive.” The guard looks around. “Alright, Princess, we need to get you up to the King's box; the Queen requested you be present after the Trial of Borutaress.”