Miraclist

by P B Hughes

He slid his hand to Gregory’s shoulder, and then reached out to touch Daniel. Greavus’ hand was almost upon him when Daniel felt his skin crawl with chills—as if it were not a hand at all, but a black spider that would suck the very life from him. The pendant around Daniel’s neck burned white-hot.

  “Don’t touch me!” Daniel blurted without thinking, pulling away from the Senator’s reach.

  Greavus took a step back, startled by his response. He stared down at Daniel, his lip quivering with rage.

  “What sort of insult is this!” he spat. “Mordecai?”

  Ms. Prim was already upon Daniel like a hawk swooping down for a fish. “Out!” she snapped, pointing to the exit. “We will not have our esteemed guest slighted by a mere boy!”

  Daniel looked to Mordecai for help.

  “I’m sure the boy didn’t mean anything by it,” Mordecai began but was interrupted by Ms. Prim’s snapping fingers.

  “Shoo! Scat! Be gone!”

  “I—I’m sorry,” said Daniel. Before he realized what was happening, Ms. Prim had him by the ear. She dragged him out the two side doors and closed them behind her with a snap.

  “Stay here until I come back for you!” she barked, shoving Daniel into a broom closet.

  Daniel was shaking. He leaned against the back of the closet wall, heart thumping inside of his chest as if it might explode. He was glad—glad he hadn’t let that man touch him. Something diabolical was afoot. Daniel slumped to the floor. Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps neared him. He rose to his knees and peered out through the key hole.

  “Sir,” said the voice of a servant calling from down the hall. “You aren’t allowed in there—only guests with their names on the list—”

  “You’ll let me speak to that worm, Specula Greavus, or I’ll cut my way through to him!” barked the deep, burly voice. In front of the door was an enormous man, thick and muscular—completely outfitted in heavy armor except for his head. He had neat brown hair and a broadsword sheathed at his side.

  “B-but your name is not on the list—”

  “Let me see it,” replied the man.

  The servant held up a piece of paper in front of the man. He took it and tore it up in front of his face. “Now no one is on the list! Get me Greavus before I barge in there and extricate him myself!”

  The servant bustled through the doors, and a moment later Ms. Prim came through them. “How dare you interrupt our feast,” she hissed.

  The man drew his sword with one hand and stuck it in her face. “I am General Tiberius, leader of the Imperial Army—get me Greavus or I’ll have this establishment burned to the ground.”

  Ms. Prim rushed back through the doors, and several minutes later, Greavus came through the door—alone.

  “What kind of stunt are you trying to pull, you sluggish tub of lard?” spat Tiberius. “Do you think you can just cry treason and remove the entire standing army from the Imperial City to chase after some phantom uprising?”

  Greavus’ eyes grew wide, but he dared not become enraged. “What is your job, General?”

  “My job is to protect the people of the Empire—and by removing our army from the city we endanger every man, woman, and child—”

  “Your job is to kill,” Greavus interrupted. “And my job, need I remind you, is to tell you whom to kill.”

  Tiberius gripped his sword. “One man’s testimony is not enough grounds to move our entire army. You would have me traipse across Orsidia during the time when I’m needed here most—during the Grand Investiture—to quell a supposed uprising?”

  “An uprising that threatens our entire way of life, General.”

  “Bah—peasants! They wouldn’t be a threat even if they were outfitted with steel. This is a job for diplomacy, not swords.”

  “The decision is mine!” snarled Greavus. “Voted on and approved by each member of the Senate.”

  “I won’t do it—it’s foolhardy and political—”

  “You forget yourself, General,” said Greavus. “I am in control. If you wish to keep your title you’ll do as you’re told.”

  Greavus whirled around and stalked back toward the door.

  “Goblins, Greavus,” said Tiberius after him. “There are goblins in the valley, and if we leave it puts the Empire in danger.”

  Greavus laughed. “Goblins? Goblins?! Are you serious, General? Goblins haven’t been a concern of the empire in nearly a century, and you’d have me believe that we need protection from goblins? You give me reason to be suspicious of your motives, Tiberius—yes, suspicious! You might be in league with the detractors—a traitor, trying to keep the army here while the usurpers grow ever-stronger.”

  Tiberius lunged forward, and with a swift motion grabbed Greavus by his bulging neck.

  “Don’t ever call me a traitor, you snake,” seethed Tiberius. “I’ve spilled more blood for the Empire than you’ll ever know.”

  The door opened. In it stood Greavus’ servant, a silhouette against the orange rays behind him. The hall began to pulsate and Tiberius dropped Greavus to the floor. Shadows crept in around Daniel, icy, terrible shadows, but he could not look away.

  “Tomorrow morning,” wheezed Greavus, “you will report before the tribunal to discuss your treachery and your punishment. If you do not wish to be stripped of your title and rank,” he rubbed his neck where Tiberius had gripped him, “you will be more compliant.”

  Daniel fell against the wall, the entire world spinning violently. Then he blacked out.

  Chapter 21

  After Daniel had been taken away, Mordecai quit talking to Gregory. Gregory could see him casting glances toward the swinging doors that Ms. Prim had pulled Daniel through, a look of frustration mixed with worry across his face.

  “Why did he do that?” he muttered every few minutes. “Why, oh why?”

  Fortunately, Ms. Prim was soon distracted, bustling through the doors and then back to Greavus, who went through the doors himself, followed shortly by his servant. Eventually, everyone took their seats and the evening began to wear on. And even though there were no more interruptions, Gregory could tell Ms. Prim was a knot of anxiety. She sat near the back of the room, downing beverage after beverage. After some time, the headmasters were called away to a meeting, and things began to wind down.

  “Attention,” squeaked Judge Marriott as the hour reached nine O’clock. “Again, I’d like to thank everyone for a beautiful evening. All students are to return to their rooms to get a good night’s sleep. We’ll see you—in fact, the whole city will see you—in the morning!”

  Clatter filled the room as students filed out and headed down the halls. Gregory and Jude remained seated, staring back at the doors through which Daniel had been taken, waiting for someone to bring him back now that the dinner was over.

  He never appeared.

  “Well,” said Gregory, “if he was going to come back, I’d figure he’d have done so by now.” He stood to his feet and stretched.

  “Excuse me,” said a voice behind them. It was Judge Marriott. “I’m assuming you’re waiting on your friend?”

  “Yes—that is if Greavus didn’t cast him out of the competition,” Gregory replied. “He can’t do that, can he?”

  “Heavens, no!” piped the judge. “Greavus isn’t in charge of the games—I am. Myself and a few others, of course.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” sighed Gregory. “Maybe Daniel’s up in the room, then. Come on, Jude, let’s go see.”

  “Wait!” said the judge, suddenly looking nervous.

  “Yes?” Gregory asked.

  “Not you,” he said, dismissing Gregory, “him!” He pointed to Jude, and took a step toward them. “I’d like a few words with you before you go.”

  Jude and Gregory exchanged glances.

  “Why me?” asked Jude.

  “Alone—if you don’t mind.”

  Gregory looked first at Jude and then at Marriott. He bit his lip and then walked back toward the exit. “I’ll meet you back
at the room,” he said over his shoulder.

  * * *

  Several hours passed before Daniel opened his eyes. It was complete blackness, and for a moment, he thought he’d gone blind. Then, like a flood, his memories returned to him. He groped for the door and fell out of the closet. The hall and dining room were empty; only shadows of candlesticks and wingback chairs remained. Daniel felt nauseous as he walked down the corridor and into the lobby. It must be very late, he thought. He crept past the night watch and up to his room. A light shimmered beneath the crack in the door.

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up,” said the muffled voice of Mordecai. “I’ll get it out of that inebriated woman tomorrow morning if I have to—”

  Daniel knocked on the door.

  It swung open. Mordecai stood before him; Jude and Gregory lay on the beds. “Daniel!” Mordecai exclaimed pulling him inside. “What happened to you?”

  Daniel sat down at the foot of Jude’s bed, blinking in the light of Mordecai’s lantern. He relayed what had transpired, the others listening intently.

  “I don’t blame you for not wanting Sir Slimy Paws to touch you,” said Gregory when Daniel finished. “There’s something off about him.”

  “What I want to know,” Jude inserted, “is how Greavus’ servant managed to incapacitate Tiberius while simultaneously knocking Daniel senseless.”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Daniel replied. “All I know is, when General Tiberius grabbed Greavus by the neck, his servant appeared and everything went black.”

  “What do you make of it, Mordecai?” asked Jude.

  Mordecai stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I know his servant is not of this land—a man from the Far East—the Black Jungles some have said. Who knows what kind of witchcraft he could have used.”

  “There’s no such thing as witchcraft,” Jude dismissed. “There’s only tangible energy, and those who can bend it to their will.”

  “Then is he some sort of Miraclist?” asked Daniel.

  “No—he wouldn’t be made a servant if he were.” Mordecai said. “He is likely a bodyguard. Whatever power he used was probably given to him and has nothing to do with energy.”

  Daniel felt perturbed—the fact that a man as strong as Tiberius could be reduced to his knees by anything other than energy made him feel vulnerable.

  “Will Tiberius be demoted?” asked Daniel.

  “I doubt it. He’s just as powerful as any government official. Maybe even more so. His men are loyal to him. Most follow him, not the Empire. Demoting Tiberius could cause a split in the Imperial Army—something Greavus fears more than any peasant uprising. Everything that transpired was a power grab for Greavus—designed to intimidate.”

  “So then the army won’t be moved?”

  “I didn’t say that—Tiberius still has to follow orders. He can protest, but ultimately he has to perform the duties the senate lays out for him.”

  “Sounds like he’s old Pork Belly’s puppet,” said Gregory.

  Mordecai frowned. “Not by choice. Under a just leader, a general like Tiberius flourishes. But with smut like Greavus in office, he’s in a constant battle between his duty and his conscience.”

  “Duty!” scoffed Jude. “It’s never a man’s duty to follow blindly.”

  “And what did Tiberius say of Shade?” questioned Daniel.

  “First of all,” Mordecai continued, “you should know that Shade has been taken to a more secure facility. Tiberius fears evil forces are after her. She’s an intelligent creature. If someone sinister—goblins or what have you—were to capture her, the repercussions could be dire.”

  “So the empire is afraid of a few goblins?” asked Gregory, with raised eyebrows.

  “No, Gregory,” said Mordecai harshly, “something more diabolical than goblins, and even worse than Rasta Murke. They are merely pawns in a greater game.”

  “Well if it’s not them,” said Daniel, “then who is it?”

  Mordecai placed a hand on his temple. “Truthfully we do not know—and that’s the frightening thing. Tiberius has ordered a platoon of soldiers out into the hills—” his face contorted angrily “—but with Greavus’ new crusade against the Irachnians, I doubt he’ll still be able to spare them.”

  “Are the Irachnians really planning a rebellion?” asked Jude.

  “It’s a political hoax,” said Mordecai. “The Irachnians are always planning a rebellion. They are considered the fungus growing beneath the toenail of the Empire and they’re tired of the neglect—Greavus is just looking for ways to get re-elected. This time we should send the diplomats, not an army.”

  Jude’s face hardened. “Someone should overthrow that fork-tongued snake.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” said Mordecai.

  “Maybe it is,” replied Jude.

  Mordecai ignored his comment. Suddenly, he clapped his hands together and his countenance brightened. “Let’s not let this talk dampen our spirits. Tomorrow is the Orb Grab, and you three will finally be getting your own staffs! I never thought I’d see the day. Daniel, Sapphire Miraclists will begin competing first—I hope you’re ready. Goodnight, sleep well.” Mordecai grew stern. “And if I find out you’ve been sneaking around the city, I’ll personally tie you up, blindfold you, and send you back to Littleton on a pack mule.”

  With that, Mordecai left their room.

  Before Daniel blew out the light in their room, he noticed Jude stroking a black polished stone in the palm of his hand, gazing at it intently.

  “What’s that?” asked Daniel, leaning over.

  Jude closed his hand around it and stuffed it into his cloak. “It’s nothing—none of your business.”

  “Judge Marriott gave it to him after the dinner was over,” said Gregory with an annoyed tone. “Selfish boy won’t let me even look at it, much less touch it.”

  “Why did he give it to you?” asked Daniel.

  Jude lay on his back and gave a quick glance to Daniel. “He said he could tell I’m a superior Miraclist—he wanted me to have it.”

  Daniel peered at Jude curiously. “Superior? How could he tell you’re superior? And what does it do?”

  “I don’t know,” Jude said. “But I won’t argue with him. I am superior to most of the students here. And as far as what it does: he said it’s for luck—and that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

  Daniel let out a sigh and slumped down onto his rug. “What did Mordecai say about it?”

  “I didn’t tell him. He doesn’t have to know everything that happens to me—now shut up and stop bothering me.”

  “Okay, okay,” Daniel said begrudgingly. “Keep your secrets.”

  With that, they drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Daniel woke in the middle of the night with a start. The room was inky black with oppressive silence. Suddenly, terror coursed through his veins like waves of electricity. His chest felt heavy, as though an anvil was pushing him down into the floor. He was paralyzed for a moment—only able to move his eyes. The stupefaction abruptly lifted, and he bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat. He looked over and saw Jude sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched, breathing heavily.

  “J-Jude?” he gasped.

  Jude turned around slowly; his long black hair was disheveled, hanging about his face like willow branches. His eyes were rolled back in his head, ghostly white; his mouth gaped like an open grave.

  “Naz mordar nuvis, Isilia D’Luce eis,” said Jude in a voice that was not his own—cold, hissing.

  “Jude!” cried Daniel, “wake up!”

  Jude’s skin was ethereal. Black lines slithered up his neck like roots. He raised his hand and pointed at Daniel. “Naz mordar nuvis, berek eis ungar!”

  Suddenly, the lines retracted, disappearing back down his neck. Jude slumped over, and fell against his bed, sound asleep.

  Silence engulfed the room. Daniel stood up, rushed to Jude’s side and shook him.

  “Jude—Jude are you okay
?”

  Jude stirred, blinking up at Daniel with bleary eyes. “Leave me alone. Go back to sleep,” he said, turning back over.

  Suddenly, Daniel felt as though it had been a dream. Yes, a horrible dream, nothing more. He looked over at Gregory; he had not stirred the entire time.

  Daniel went back and lay down on the rug. Sleep did not find him for some time. When it came, his dreams were possessed by horrific snakes and the jaws of snapping goblins.

  Chapter 22

  Daniel knew that The Orb Grab was designed for Miraclists to showcase their abilities in the arena. All twenty-four remaining Miraclists from each class would battle—all at the same time—for one of six glowing orbs. The fighting was brutal, and the terrain never stayed the same. Before each competition, a squad of Miraclists wiped whatever vibrant and treacherous field was in place into nothing but flat dirt. And then they started over, transforming the floor into jagged mountains, flowing streams, verdant forests, and so forth—depending on which Miraclist class was about to compete. But as to what the terrain would be remained a mystery, and as the students rode to the arena, Daniel and Gregory jabbered about the possibilities.

  “I just hope it’s not a lava pit like in the last Investiture,” said Gregory with a shudder as they pulled up to the front gate of the stadium, hours before the events would begin.

  “It won’t be,” Daniel replied. “It’s never the same arena twice.”

  Gregory let out a sigh of relief

  “We’ll be up in the stands cheering you on—section eight, row five,” said Mordecai, placing a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Remember, when the gate opens, hold back at first—assess your surroundings. You don’t need to be the first to steal an orb to advance. But don’t wait until the last second either.” He reached in the back of the wagon and pulled out the sack holding the mana-crystals. “You’ll need these.” He stuck his hand inside and pulled out three magenta stones. “Use them sparingly,” he reminded Daniel. “Since we’ve had to use a few already it’d be wise to conserve them.”

  Daniel took them and put them inside a leather pouch he wore across his waist.

  Mordecai looked at Daniel intently. “Nervous?” he asked.