Miraclist

by P B Hughes

  “Very,” Daniel responded.

  “You can do it, my boy,” Mordecai encouraged. “I believe in you.”

  “You there!” A woman cloaked in violet approached them. She looked at the silver band on Daniel’s wrist and gave a quick nod. “Sapphire Miraclist—follow me.”

  Mordecai nodded, and Daniel followed after her.

  She led him through the front gate, bypassing four armed guards. They turned down a hallway and walked to a wooden door. She opened it with a brass key and led him into a dark room with a shallow ceiling and smooth, stone floor. There, on a rack in front of him, were twenty-four staffs of varying lengths and colors—brown, black, and white. Each of them had the same bright blue orb sparkling at the top.

  “Take hold of each one and send energy through it,” the woman instructed. “The one you like best will be yours. You’re early so that means you get first pick.”

  Daniel took hold of a knobby brown staff and sent a wave of energy passing through it. The orb flickered a dull blue. He set the staff down and moved on to the next—a black staff that shone even more dimly. Staff after staff passed through his hands, all emitting rather disappointing glows. Daniel felt discouraged as he came upon the final staff on the rack—sleek and snow-white. It felt lighter than the others. He ran his hand across the smooth hilt and up to the top. Carvings like billowing ocean waves were etched just below the orb creating a beautiful ripple effect that Daniel greatly admired. He sent a wave of energy coursing into the staff. The orb at the top hummed, shining like a brilliant blue star and illuminated the room with cold light. It felt good—like an extension of his body.

  “I like this one,” said Daniel.

  “That one’s made from dragon bone. A good choice—it’s hard as steel and light as a feather. Won’t snap on you like some of those wooden ones.” The woman looked impressed. “You’re a lucky one. Most Miraclists can’t wield a dragon-bone staff.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “They’re a complex build. Only work with certain people—though I’m not entirely sure why. Now come on.”

  Daniel followed her out of the room and through another door that led down a deep, spiraling flight of stairs. His breath turned to fog as he descended. He found himself standing in a stone hallway lit by a solitary lantern, an iron door at the end. A damp film covered the walls, and Daniel felt dreadfully cold.

  “Stand behind there,” the woman said to Daniel, pointing her staff at a white line painted on the floor, “until the Spyball above your head blinks. That will be the signal that the competition is about to begin.”

  Daniel looked up to see a pale sphere, pulsating above his head.

  “If you cheat, we’ll know,” she said. “You’ll be immediately disqualified.” She turned, walked back down the hallway, and shuffled up the flight of stairs, leaving Daniel alone. He slumped against the side of the wall and stared into the orb on his new staff, mesmerized. His mind sank deep into thought of what lay ahead.

  * * *

  “Ready down there?” called a gruff voice from upstairs, jerking Daniel from his thoughts.

  Daniel straightened up and stood. “Ready!” he shouted back.

  “Move to the line,” replied the voice.

  Daniel complied. He could hear the crowd, their anticipation pouring down the tunnel in the form of an ever-growing hum. Daniel slipped his sweat laced palms over the hilt of his staff, muscles in his fingers tightening like a vice. The Spyball whirred above his head; he readied himself behind the line. The tunnel loomed before him, the gate of solid iron barring his way to agonizing humiliation or thrilling glory. He knelt like a runner ready to sprint. His eyes fell closed and his chest rose as he inhaled air thick with water.

  Salt? he thought to himself.

  The Spyball above him blinked. Suddenly, the gate swung upward, radiating blinding white light. He launched forward. A blast and a roar—a wall of water rushed at him through the tunnel. Daniel didn’t have time to react; the icy wave knocked him off his feet and up against the ceiling, filling the tunnel to the brim. Thoughts of drowning—the humiliation of failing before he ever stepped foot in the arena—gave him strength. He thrust his staff between his legs and released a jet of water. He shot through the tunnel like a torpedo and out into the arena, skimming up through the blue toward the surface.

  Daniel launched into the air, gasping amidst cascading droplets that sparkled around him like diamond dust. He felt a blur of sensations—the cheering crowd, the blinding sun, the frigid cold that shocked his bones. Frantically, he took in the scene around him—a bulging sea of blue filled the arena; thick islands of ice littered the surface. The world turned upside-down as he tumbled through the air—sky, water, sky, ice. He landed with a thud on one of the islands and rolled to its edge.

  Though Daniel lay still, the world still spun around him. He closed his eyes and reached inside his pouch, placing a hand on one of the magenta stones. A wave of energy washed through him; the world stopped spinning.

  “Good as new,” he said, standing. He shielded his eyes and stared out into the arena, muttering, “Assess my surroundings.”

  In the middle of the arena, a small mountain jutted up from the water’s surface. At its peak hovered six glowing blue orbs.

  A splash ruptured the water next to Daniel. He whirled around to face a dark-haired, heavyset boy standing atop an iceberg across from him, hurling icicles like javelins.

  “The name’s Brutus,” the boy roared as he sent another slicing through the air. “Don’t forget it!”

  Daniel splintered the icicle in two, twirling his staff around his body. “Hope you’re a good swimmer!” A stream shot up from the water, blasting Brutus squarely in the chest. The boy yelped and tumbled into the water.

  “Wow!” Daniel exclaimed, examining his staff. The energy that flowed out of him never felt more natural, more alive. “I’ll take you over a training staff any day!”

  He turned his attention to the mountain. A girl already neared its peak. Daniel pointed his staff at the water before him; out from the tip blasted a zigzagging beam of frost, coating the surface with an ice bridge leading to the mountain. Sure footed, Daniel dashed across his bridge. He made it half way across when a girl with red hair burst out from the water and landed lightly in front of him, blocking his path. Daniel recognized her—Caden’s friend, Elenora Russo, staff strapped to her back. In her hands she brandished two knives of sleek ice.

  “Time’s up, Littleton vermin,” she jeered. “You’ll see my face in your nightmares.”

  “You’re right,” replied Daniel readying his staff. “Seeing your face would be a nightmare.”

  She let out and angry cry and sprang forward like a cat, slashing the glinting blades.

  Daniel blocked her first jab with his staff; her second caught him across the cheek. A stinging line of blood ran down his face and he stumbled backward, nearly slipping into the water.

  “What’s the matter,” she said, sticking out her lower lip ever so slightly, “did that hurt?”

  Daniel planted his feet, prepared for another attack.

  She flipped her knife in her hand and lunged. Instead of meeting her head on, Daniel slid forward into her legs, knocking her off balance and into the water. He did not stop—back to his feet, he raced across the ice toward the mountain, cold air burning his lungs, a grin blooming across his face.

  Right at the base, a girl with short hair paced, searching for the best way to climb. Daniel plunged his staff into the water and swept it forward—a wave billowed up and splashed over her. He snapped his fingers, freezing the girl solid. He felt pity at the sight—she was done and she knew it. With all his might he swung his staff, shattering the ice, sending the girl slumped and dazed into the water.

  The girl had barely sunk five feet when she flew up, motionless inside a bubble, and passed overhead out of the arena.

  Daniel scanned the peak, blocking out any soft feelings. It was either him or her. Onl
y three orbs remained, and a boy neared the summit, climbing hand over hand with a pair of frozen picks. He reached up and snatched one—a bubble materialized around him and whisked him to the Judge’s Platform.

  “So that’s it then,” said Daniel, turning and thrusting his hands one after the other into the water. He pulled out a pair of ice shards of his own, strapped his staff to his back, and began to climb. From the corner of his eye he spotted Elenora, speeding toward him across the water’s surface atop a block of ice.

  “Not so fast!” she shouted. A swell of water rose up beneath her, careening toward Daniel like a shallow shark. The swell grew into a tidal wave, Elenora riding upon its crest.

  The wave crashed against Daniel, pinning him to the mountainside. Elenora flipped from her block of ice and deftly snatched an orb from the air.

  “That’s what happens when you mess with the best,” she taunted as a bubble encircled her.

  Daniel fell to the water below.

  Only one left!

  He swam with all his strength to the surface—a girl almost had the last orb.

  Suddenly, the water swelled around Daniel—the entire arena bulged and bubbled, and a long, squid-like tentacle broke the surface, snatched the girl by the waist and flung her into the air. The crowd screamed with fright. Then, like a volcanic eruption from the depths, tentacles shot out from the water in search of prey.

  “Sea monster!” someone cried.

  Daniel pulled himself onto the mountain’s foot, pushing the fear from his mind. The final orb still hovered, glinting in the sunlight, and it would be his.

  Then he saw it—a small path winding up the side of the mountain, invisible unless standing at the perfect angle. He bit his lip and flew toward the path, panic filling him as tendrils shot this way and that around him.

  An icicle thumped next to his feet.

  “Oh no you don’t—that one’s mine!” bellowed Brutus as he rose up on the side of the bank. He lumbered forward, strapping his staff to his back, forming another icy spear in his hands.

  Daniel plunged his arm into a pool of water next to his feet. He pulled forth a frozen blade that enveloped his forearm down to a tapered point. “Back for more?” he goaded, casting a sideways look up to the orb. It was safe.

  Brutus thrust the spear at Daniel’s heart. Daniel parried, jabbing his blade into Brutus’ thigh. The burly boy bawled with pain and swung again, this time meeting Daniel’s ice-dagger, shattering it like glass.

  “Your ice is strong,” Daniel complimented, pacing backward, his arm aching from the impact.

  “Strong ice,” growled Brutus, limping forward, “stronger Miraclist.”

  “Is that all you can do—freeze water into spears?” Daniel observed.

  Brutus’ eye twitched. Daniel knew he’d hit a sore spot. The boy was one-dimensional; that was how he would beat him.

  “That’s not all I know,” said Brutus raising his spear above his head to land the final blow. “But it’s all I need!”

  Daniel rolled forward, shooting a small burst of ice from his staff. The spray hit Brutus’ fist, fusing hand and weapon together.

  “You little—I’ll, I’ll,” stuttered Brutus as he swung his spear clumsily about.

  “Just as I thought,” Daniel announced triumphantly. “You can freeze water—” he leapt forward, planting a boot directly in Brutus’ gut “—but you can’t unfreeze it.”

  Brutus tumbled back to the water’s edge. The boy’s eyes went wide as a grey tentacle wrapped around his waist like a whip and pulled him into the air. The sea monster rose up from the depths, bellowing with horrible, gurgling screeches. It had a head like an octopus, two giant black eyes, and a gaping mouth like a great white shark.

  With an angry shout, Brutus snapped the end of his spear with his free hand and hurled it into the creature’s eye. The monster shrieked with pain, thrashing furiously. Like giant snakes, the legs flailed and flung, striking the waves; striking the mountain’s hide. With two solid strikes, the rocky peak splintered.

  Daniel dove into the raging arena sea.

  Boulders tumbled past Daniel and into the depths, creating massive waves that hurled him against the wall.

  Exhausted, Daniel fumbled in his pack and used a mana-crystal. Revitalized, he swam to the surface, gasping for air as the whitecaps tossed the arena up and down.

  To his dismay, a black-haired head rose up from the water across the arena. It was Brutus, eying the last orb like a hungry crocodile.

  “Catch me if you can,” Brutus called out, dunking down.

  Daniel cursed. He ducked into the water, swimming deeper and deeper. He placed both feet against the wall, pointed his staff between his legs, and blasted a jet of water. Everything turned to a blur as he launched forward and broke the water’s surface.

  The crowd roared with delight. Beneath him, the stream propelled him higher and higher. He looked up. Brutus was above him, riding his own water jet toward the orb.

  Looks like he’s not so one-dimensional, Daniel thought.

  Daniel swung his staff, pulling the water from his cloak. He froze it into an orb of ice, and hurled it.

  Brutus, only inches away, reached out his hand and—

  CRACK!

  The ball of ice shattered against Brutus’ skull. He wobbled a moment and dropped like a dead duck.

  Then there it was—the orb, right in front of Daniel. He reached out his hand, took hold of it, and fell to the water below.

  The last orb was his.

  Chapter 23

  Daniel sank beneath the water; his eyes closed tightly, arms wrapped around the orb as if it was his most prized possession. Fatigue overwhelmed him, his mind numb. A stream of bubbles blew through Daniel’s nose and he slipped deeper into the darkness.

  I did it, he thought. I did it.

  Daniel’s wrist felt warm. His bracelet glowed bright blue. A pocket of air expanded from the ring’s surface, growing and surrounding Daniel’s entire body in a translucent bubble. The water around him frothed and foamed as he was pulled up into the air over a cheering crowd. The ocean that covered the stadium floor moments before boiled away, evaporating into a cavern fifty feet deep. He flew over the heads of the crowd—right over Mordecai, Jude, Gregory, and the rest of his applauding classmates, to the Judge’s Platform in the middle of the stands. When the bubble dissolved, Daniel sank to his knees, still refusing to release the orb. Next to him stood the other five winning Miraclists, eying him intently. The Miraclists who lost stood near the back of the platform, downcast and brooding.

  Sitting in front of them in velvet high-backed chairs was the panel of three judges: Harquist, Marriott, and another slender man Daniel hadn’t seen before. Each wore deep purple robes with white frilled collars.

  Daniel felt the water drain from his cloak as an elderly Sapphire Miraclist scanned him with her staff. She reached for Daniel’s orb, but he jerked it away protectively.

  “It’s not yours to keep—now hand it over,” she snapped.

  Daniel looked at the bright blue orb, and then reluctantly relinquished it to the woman, who passed it to a servant girl standing behind her.

  “Come closer,” she ordered.

  Daniel ignored the request. “I’m fine,” he protested.

  “You’re injured more than you know,” the woman barked. “Now come closer.”

  Daniel obliged. A cool blue mist poured from the woman’s staff, and the cuts on Daniel’s face and wrist evaporated, along with many other bumps and bruises.

  “Your wounds are not half as bad as some of the others,” she said with a nod to the group of huddled Miraclists in the corner.

  “Are they okay?” asked Daniel.

  “Of course. I healed the lot of them. Though Rosebud branded some of the students directly on the skin with her tentacles—looked like a bunch of polka-dotted toadstools, they did!”

  “Rosebud?” asked Daniel, puzzled.

  “The ‘sea monster,’” she explained. “Her
name’s Rosebud—it’ll take me hours to heal her eyes after what that boy did to her.” She glared daggers at Brutus, who was sulking in the corner.

  “Enough, Mrs. Eldridge,” said the Chancellor. The old woman backed away from Daniel and took a seat behind the judges. “I am High Chancellor Harquist—seated to my left is Judge Thatcher; to my right is Judge Marriott.” Both gave a nod. “You, Daniel Hart, are the final Miraclist to obtain a Sapphire Orb, advancing you to the next round of competition.” She turned to the eighteen Miraclists standing in the corner. “The rest of you are dismissed. The Empire thanks you for your participation.”

  A line of armed guards filed in from a staircase behind them and escorted the other Miraclists away.

  “You six,” said Chancellor Harquist, walking to the front of the platform with a long, methodical cantor, “come here.” They followed her in single-file procession to the edge of the platform and into the sunlight. Cries of exultation rang out when they appeared. “Greet the people of Orsidia.”

  Daniel and the rest of the students complied, raising their hands with timid waves. The crowd’s cheers grew louder. A smile formed on Daniel’s lips as he soaked in the praise. He raised both arms into the air and gave a shout of his own. The crowd loved it, cheering all the more.

  “Enjoy it while you can, Littleton,” muttered Elenora in his ear. “You’re done after this round.”

  “Not on your life,” he shot back.

  “That will suffice!” barked the Judge with stern glare at Daniel. “Now, you will return to your classmates to watch the remainder of the day’s competition. Congratulations—to have made it this far places you into an elite group.”

  The victors left the Judge’s Platform through thick curtains out into an empty hall. Two guards stood before them in decorative attire—high helmets and deep blue capes, chests emblazoned with the golden crest of the Empire.

  “Come with us,” said one of guards. “We’ll escort you to your seats.”

  They led the six students around the perimeter of the stadium until they reached a tunnel labeled “Student Section.” The guards ushered them along, Daniel basking in adoring cheers as he walked. Finally, he saw Mordecai and the other Littleton students sitting in a section near the top. Mordecai spotted Daniel first, and leapt to his feet to embrace him. The other students crowded round, patting him on the back and giving their congratulations.