Miraclist

by P B Hughes

  “When I said you don’t need to be the first Miraclist to grab an orb,” said Mordecai with a strained expression, “I didn’t mean be the last one!”

  Daniel grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

  “I nearly had a heart attack. I thought that bloke was going to get the better of you,” said Gregory. “Dazzling performance, Daniel, dazzling!”

  “Thanks everyone,” Daniel replied. “Are you ready, Gregory?”

  Gregory’s skin was pallid; beads of sweat covered his forehead.

  “Nope,” he said with a nervous gulp as he took a seat. “But the way I figure, I’ll never be ready, so I’d just rather get it over with. We’re next after the Amethyst Miraclists.”

  “I’m glad we went first for that very reason,” said Daniel. “I hate waiting.” He noticed the vacancies on either side of Gregory, though Martha sat relatively close, eying him worriedly. Daniel raised his eyebrows.

  “I’ve already thrown up twice,” Gregory said sheepishly, flitting his gaze to an angry-looking janitor who stood at the top of the stairs holding a mop and bucket. “I’ve been trying to figure out if there’s a way to use projectile vomit to my advantage in the arena, but haven’t come up with anything.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Daniel replied, slightly repulsed.

  Daniel turned to Jude, who sat stone-faced, gazing down at the arena that now looked completely different than he had last seen it. Black dirt covered the floor which was dotted with white stone pillars, all various heights. Atop the highest pillars perched devilish statues. They were a slick headed brood with muscular arms, pointed ears, and bat-like wings folded at their sides. They were made from lavender marble, blotchy and smooth. Their eyes were shut as if in deep sleep, and their clawed hands were folded in front of them prayerfully.

  Jude’s face was void of any anxiety—calm and collected. His eyes were narrow and sharp as he studied the landscape. “A staircase,” he said, gesturing to the pillars.

  “What do you mean?” asked Daniel.

  “Most Amethyst Miraclists can glide short distances. It would appear they’re going to use the pillars as a staircase, soaring from one to another, gaining height each time to grab an orb.” He folded his hands and covered his mouth meditatively. “This will be interesting.”

  A guard’s voice rang out from behind them. “You, Ruby Miraclist—it’s time to go!”

  Gregory nodded, and rose up from his seat. He stopped. “Any last advice for me before I get burned alive?”

  “Avoid Caden,” said Jude sharply. “From what I gather, he’s the most powerful Ruby Miraclist in the games. But you don’t have to defeat him; you just have to get an orb.”

  Gregory’s eyes grew dark. “Or maybe I’ll focus on incinerating him and nothing else. I’d be doing everyone a favor by knocking him out of the competition.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Jude snapped. “This is not a head-to-head mêlée. Your goal is to get an orb, nothing more.”

  “You’ll do great, Gregory,” said Martha with a bright smile. “I know you will!”

  Gregory turned a light color of green. “I’ll just throw up—that’ll keep Caden away from me. It’s worked on everybody else.”

  “Get out of here, Gregory!” Mordecai barked. “And good luck, my boy. You’ll be fine! Stay sharp—use that quick wit of yours.”

  Gregory turned and hurried up the steps and out the exit. They all averted their gaze when the echo of retching came from the end of the staircase.

  “Attention, ladies and gentlemen,” rang the amplified voice of Rin through the stadium. “Next up, we have the Amethyst Miraclists in what should be a thrilling exhibition of aerial acrobatics! Twenty-four of our top Miraclists will compete for only six orbs! The match is about to begin!”

  The crowd let out a cheer and scrambled back to their seats, murmuring excitedly.

  “Ah, the Amethysts—haven’t had the pleasure of teaching one since Rico Delmont,” said Mordecai as he took a seat next to Daniel. “Though this time we have someone to root for, don’t we Daniel?”

  Daniel felt his face flush with embarrassment, but feigned ignorance.

  “We will?” he asked. “Who?”

  “That nice girl—Ari Celeste,” replied Mordecai giving Daniel a knowing look.

  “Oh, right,” said Daniel. “Her.”

  The sound of trumpets blared. The people in the crowd held their breath. A Spyball hovered in the middle of the crowd, blinked four times—then the gates flew open. Daniel scanned each gate for Ari. He found her sprinting out from a tunnel directly beneath them.

  “And they’re off!” said the voice of Rin from the top of the stadium.

  Ari leapt forward onto the nearest pillar, spinning around and around on her toes, her staff shining bright purple. Wind rushed about her; a cyclone spiraled from her body toward an unsuspecting boy, catching and throwing him off his feet and into the wall with a thud. A bubble surrounded him and he flew from the arena.

  “Oh, and there’s Ari Celeste with a brutal attack on Dig Horton—and he was a favorite, too!”

  The Apex student section went mad with cheering while the Dalton Ridge section let out humiliated groans.

  Several students were gliding from pillar to pillar, steadily ascending. One boy stood above the rest, contemplating his next move when Ari spotted him. She raised her staff above her head; the dirt beneath her feet whirled about like a dust storm. Wind enveloped her and she lifted up from the ground, shooting toward him like an arrow.

  “What! I don’t believe it—she can fly, ladies and gentlemen!”

  The crowd gasped in amazement as she circled the boy and swiftly kicked him in the head. He tumbled off his perch to the ground below.

  “And down goes Turk!”

  Daniel gaped at her, amazed by what he had just seen. Everyone knew that Amethyst Miraclists could glide short ways, but fly? That was nearly unheard of.

  “Oh ho! That took a lot out of her.”

  Ari breathed heavily. She pulled out a mana-crystal from inside her pack and recharged. For a moment she hesitated, staring at the ground below. Then she flew back into the air toward the glistening purple orbs. Up she soared, passing pillar after pillar and past the devilish statues. As she did, they each opened their eyes, springing to life.

  “Uh oh, Miss Celeste better watch out!”

  “Gargoyles?” asked Daniel frantically.

  “No,” Jude shot, leaning forward to get a view of the action. “Gargoyles can’t awaken in the daylight—those are imps!”

  The little creatures squealed with evil laughter as they flipped and whooshed after her. One snatched at her leg from behind, throwing her off course. She rushed past the orb, careening out of control, beating at the monster with her staff. The imp bit her leg and she let out a pained cry. Daniel rose to his feet, anger filling him at the sight. The imp released her, cackling with delight as she plummeted. Right before she smashed to the ground, a blast of wind blew from her staff, breaking her fall.

  “Can you believe it ladies and gentlemen? She’s still in it! Those little imps sure are causing havoc!”

  Other Amethyst Miraclists were rolling, hurling gusts of wind at the imps, but they only chortled cruelly as they dodged the attacks. One of the imps landed on a girl’s head, clawing at her face with an untamed ferocity as the girl tried to pull knock it off her head.

  “Imps! Of all creatures,” growled Mordecai. “The Empire cannot make allies with such things without serious repercussions.”

  Sixteen Miraclists remained, and they appeared to form alliances with each other to combat the imps. Ari and a boy stood back to back, blasting the imps with powerful twisters. They took each other by the hand, and together they soared into the air, she directing their flight while he kept a lookout for imps. She left the boy on top of a pillar next to an orb, and then sailed toward another pillar. The boy waited for her to land before he took hold of his orb, then Ari took he
rs.

  “Look at that teamwork from Celeste and Nemu!”

  It wasn’t long before the other Miraclists caught on and invoked similar strategies, though it was close to an hour before they managed to obtain all of the orbs. When the last Miraclist grabbed an orb, the rest of them were pulled from the arena and taken to the Judge’s Platform.

  The imps, however, would not be subdued. The gaggle tore away from inside the arena and flew into the stands, terrorizing the watchers one section away from the students. The crowd screamed in terror, racing toward exits as the imps landed amongst them—clawing, biting, flailing. Mordecai shot up from his seat.

  “Stay here!” he barked to his students. He wove his way through the throng, stepping over rows of stone benches, ready for a clash. While everyone else fled from the imps, Mordecai rushed toward them, staff raised. The imps hissed with malice, hording together in a mass as they faced Mordecai.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” roared Mordecai. “Come on, you little fiends!”

  Suddenly, the imps’ eyes glazed over and they went rigid. Mordecai stopped, clearly puzzled by their response. The imps stood to their feet; a few of them strained to fight whatever force was controlling them, but were quickly suppressed and fluttered into the air. They rose up from the crowd and flew down into the recesses of the arena.

  “So sorry,” called out Rin. “Ladies and gentlemen, those imps, can really be nuisances; am I right? Good thing we have our Miraclists to keep them in check!”

  Mordecai was not amused. He stalked back to the student section, all eyes on him.

  Angry shouts resonated throughout the crowd. Rin ignored the protests, directing the attention to the victors who stood waving from the judge’s stands. Mordecai took his seat with a harrumph.

  “Blasted officials!” he blurted. “I’d like to get my hands on whoever approved the use of those imps!”

  “I was unaware that Miraclists could control the minds of other creatures,” said Jude.

  “That’s because they can’t,” Mordecai responded. “It wasn’t a Miraclist that was controlling those imps. What controlled them was something different—something sinister, and I don’t like it.”

  Chapter 24

  Gregory stood amidst the twenty-four other Ruby Miraclists, listening to the clamor out in the stadium. He gripped his new wooden staff between his hands, gazing into the red hexagonal stone fitted at the top. None of them spoke, recognizing that each was a foe—that only one of them would become a Guardian, and that the rest were stumbling blocks along the way. Gregory was rattled with fright, and filled with self-loathing because of it. Yet it was his shame that kept him from running away to hide. He flit his gaze from one Miraclist to the next, sure that none of them were as afraid as he was. Some looked worried; others seemed emotionless, gazes frozen to the floor. His eyes finally fell on Caden, who stood away from the crowd, staring out the bright tunnel to the arena like a proud eagle. When Rin called out that Ari had retrieved an orb, he strode from the tunnel and into their midst, his long black staff held proudly in front of him like a royal scepter.

  All eyes locked on him as he cleared his throat. “For you mutts who rely solely on what you learned in school to get here, this is where you will be sifted,” he said with a half smile. His eyes fell on Gregory like a starving wolf. “And I will enjoy sifting you.”

  Gregory felt his stomach rumble as waves of nausea passed through him. He thought for a moment he could hold it back—that he must hold it back. Then, like the opening of a floodgate, whatever was left inside of him was emptied onto the floor for all to see.

  Most of them turned away, uttering curses and words of disgust, but some openly laughed at Gregory’s misfortune.

  “My, my,” derided Caden, “it would appear we have a coward in our midst. But that’s no surprise. If I had the training you had—if you want to call it training—I’d be frightened too.”

  Several students laughed, though many ignored Caden’s statement—too engrossed in their own minds with the competition at hand.

  Gregory felt another wave pass through him, though this time it was not nausea. It was anger. Yes, he felt anger—and he would hold onto it. He glared at Caden, and wiped his chin with his sleeve.

  “I’ll see you in the arena, Caden.”

  Moments later, Ms. Fussin approached them.

  “All right,” she said, “to the tunnels!”

  * * *

  Gregory stood—body rigid behind the line, staring down the tunnel toward the gate. He wasn’t sure if he should sprint toward the door, walk carefully, or just stay inside altogether. His mouth felt like sandpaper and he tried to swallow, but with no reward. Behind him he heard the whir of the Spyball.

  “I can’t do it,” he whispered, and then more loudly, “I can’t do it!”

  BLINK.

  He shrunk down to the floor, arms holding his knees.

  BLINK.

  “I can’t—” BLINK “—do it!”

  BLINK.

  The gate swung open. Down the end of the tunnel, heat emanated from the open door like an oven. He heard the crowd cheer, and then collectively gasp at the sound of an explosion.

  Gregory did not move. He would stay inside. No one could make him leave—there was no reason to go out there; he would just wait it out.

  Then he heard the terrified scream of a girl echo toward him, reverberating off the walls, multiplying and consuming his mind with dizzying madness. He shrank back against the door behind him. Then, Caden’s foul laughter filled the space, as if he stood right over him. Suddenly, a surge of anger swelled inside him—a righteous anger that gave him courage. He gathered himself on all fours, and rose to his feet. He took a step. His boots felt as though they were encased in granite. He took another step, and another, and before he knew it he propelled himself forward—sprinting like a rabbit from its hole. The light at the end of the tunnel grew as he escaped the darkness, exiting into a hellhole of charred landscape. The arena sloped downward like an antlion’s burrow. In the direct center, an elevated stone platform twenty-five feet high raised upward, four ladders leading to its top. Combustible material littered the battlefield—piles of timber, brush, wooden ladders, entire fences, ropes, crates, three wagons, and even a rickety old shack. The air was alive with noise—the crowd cheering, whistles, bells, and shrieking seagulls overhead. Then Gregory saw him—Caden, atop the platform in the middle of the arena, his face alight with insane pleasure as he catapulted fireballs toward the other Miraclists, sending them scurrying like mice for cover. Above him all six bright red orbs hovered, glistening—but he did not grab one.

  Gregory watched as a boy darted out from behind a wagon toward Caden, staff outstretched. Caden’s eyes shone crimson and his face twisted with rage. A stream of fire gushed from the end of his staff toward the boy. The boy countered with a stream of his own, colliding against Caden’s with explosive results. The other boy’s was too weak—Caden’s pressed against his, pushing it back until the boy was engulfed by the blaze, leaving him a piece of charcoal smoking on the ground. Instantly, the boy’s body rose from the arena in a bubble.

  “I told you!” Caden howled. “I am the cleanser—if you want an orb, you have to go through me!”

  Gregory ducked behind a pile of logs, breathing heavily. He held out his hand in front of him. A fireball materialized and he hurled it over the pile at Caden. Caden blocked it with the end of his staff, the fire vanishing in a puff of smoke.

  “Weak!” he bellowed. “Weak—the whole lot of you are weak!”

  A battle cry rang out through the arena. Gregory peered out behind his cover to see another boy rushing toward Caden, flinging fireball after fireball, infuriated to the point of wild fighting. Caden leapt from the platform down to the ground below, deflected them all, cackling like a crow, and then stomped to the ground. The earth split and a wall of fire exploded from its insides, catching the boy down his middle.

  “Am I the only fighter amongst yo
u?” cried Caden. “You mean to tell me that none of you can match my prowess?” He turned to where the judges were seated. “You might as well give me the job now, for none can stand in my wake!”

  Gregory’s eye twitched with detest as he stared out at Caden through a crack in the logs. Caden was off his roost—exposed! Gregory’s palm lit with orange fire and he placed it on the pile of logs. It took only a few seconds for the dehydrated logs to catch. He gave the pile a mighty kick. They barely budged. Again Gregory kicked, then again. Finally, one of the logs slid free—then an avalanche of burning timber went barreling toward Caden.

  For the first time, Caden looked surprised. He looked up to see the now exposed Gregory with hate-filled eyes. “You!”

  Two other Miraclists—a redheaded girl and a stocky looking boy—seized the opportunity to charge. Caden knocked several of the logs off course with fireballs, and leapt over the others like a cat. The girl shot out a fireball that exploded at his feet. Caden whirled around to see the two careening toward him and spun his staff around his body. A snake of fire swirled, roaring through the air and splashed over the girl. The boy slid to a stop and tried to duck behind one of the wagons. One—two—three fireballs flew from Caden’s fist, bursting the wagon into flames and knocking the boy unconscious.

  Gregory darted to the left and slumped down behind a large gray boulder, shaking and terrified. He racked his brain—how could he beat the clearly more powerful Caden? Then he remembered Jude’s words—all he needed was an orb. He didn’t have to outmuscle Caden, just outsmart him.

  Suddenly, a terrible roar rose through the arena. Gregory crawled to the edge of the boulder and peered around. There, out of one of the tunnels, a hulking beast crawled—a thick hyena-looking monster with red fur and black stripes, nearly twice the size of a horse. Its eyes were tiny, like two pieces of charcoal, and its black snout took up most of its face. It had a wild, flaming mane that ran down its neck to the base of its shoulders and claws as long as Gregory’s forearm.