by P B Hughes
Jude reached the peak of the hill. Then he surveyed the wide open arena, and up into the student section of the stands. He found his target—Caden Baine. Their eyes locked, and Jude raised his finger, pointing it directly at him.
“You’re mine,” was the oath he uttered. Then, he clenched his fists together—the vines constricted, squeezing the life from the students; spheres of blue sprang around each of them, twenty-two bubbles that did not move. The students were stuck, held in place by black hands that refused to release their grip. Jude stared up at the glistening green orbs above his head, smiled, and then snapped his fingers. The vines went slack, and the students were whisked away.
A sphere materialized around Jude, and he was pulled from the arena. He had won his orb by default.
Chapter 26
There was a mad scramble in the Judges Section—only four healers were on the platform and they had to tend to twenty-two injured Miraclists simultaneously. Mrs. Eldridge shot Jude an ill-boding look as she knelt next to a gasping student.
“That was a dirty trick you played out there, boy,” she growled, her wrinkled eyes scrunching. “You could have just left them hanging there, grabbed an orb yourself and been done with it.” She moved on to another girl who lay on the ground, writhing and moaning. “Twelve broken ribs on this one—twelve!” She glanced toward the back opening. “Where are those other healers?”
Just then, four more blue-cloaked Miraclists rushed in. They looked at Jude with a mixture of awe and fear as they passed, giving him a feeling of immense satisfaction. The Sapphire Miraclists knelt beside one injured student after another, pouring a healing mist over their wounds. Loud pops and snaps reverberated from inside the students’ writhing bodies as their bones were fused back in place.
Chancellor Harquist sat in her chair, hunched over a scroll, poring over a list of students with her monocle. She let out an exasperated grunt and threw her tall hat to the floor. “What we need to know,” she snapped, “is in what order the students were incapacitated!” She looked up at Jude with rage in her eyes, the edge of her lip curling, “You’ve created quite a mess for us, Littleton boy.”
Judge Marriott, who sat in his own chair, twiddling his thumbs, caught Jude’s eyes and gave him a wink.
“But can we really,” said Judge Thatcher as he leaned over and examined the list, “in good confidence let that be the deciding factor? Many didn’t even get a chance to show off their powers.”
Chancellor Harquist slammed her palm against the table. “Rules are rules!” She pulled out a long scroll from inside her robes and with a flick it unraveled across the table and onto the floor in front of her. She cleared her throat.
“Section: Nine; Sub-Section: Thirty Four - D: Promotion Series—Fit to Fight.”
“In the event that an orb, or orbs, remain unclaimed and no student is able to claim said orbs by their own strength of will and/or body (being incapacitated), then the remaining orbs shall be awarded to the last remaining students deemed ‘Fit to Fight.’”
Judge Marriott let out a deep sigh, rolled his eyes, and rested his chin in his hand.
“For each orb remaining the judges shall rule which student remained the last viable contestant for the orb in question. This process will continue until there are no more orbs left to award.”
Just then, Ms. Fussin came bustling in with a piece of paper and slid it under their noses. “Here you are—the calculations for the order of which each student’s vitalities reached dangerous levels—some are off by split seconds.”
“That’s all we need,” said Chancellor Harquist, pulling the paper closer, studying it intently. “Perfect. The following students will move on to the next round: Jude Elm, from Littleton.” She gave Jude a callous glare, then continued, “Hespa Flint, Peter Huffington, and Linda Boomer, all from Apex,” she drew her finger across the paper, “Ricardo Salazar and John Pennington from Dalton Ridge. The rest are finished. Get them out of here!”
The revived students eyed Jude like terrified mice, huddled in the corner, unsure what to do next. Chancellor Harquist’s already astringent expression contorted into one of red-faced fury. “Go on—anyone I didn’t call, scat!”
The majority of the students scuttled away, leaving the six winners behind staring blankly at him.
“Now,” sighed Chancellor Harquist after the losing students exited the platform, “go greet the crowd.” She ushered them toward the balcony.
Jude walked out into the sunshine. The crowd was mute; it was as if the air had been sucked out of the arena. The only sound was the gentle cry of seagulls overhead. Then, scattered clapping. The applause grew louder and louder as the people joined until it reached a deafening roar.
“And there he is folks, Jude Elm—the Emerald Miraclist from Littleton Academy with a momentous performance!”
Jude did not smile. He did not greet them. His eyes stared straight ahead, a look of fierce determination on his face.
“That’s enough,” barked the Chancellor, marshalling the students back to her. “These guards will take you back to your seats.”
The same guards who had escorted Daniel and Gregory were waiting for Jude. The other students went first, Jude bringing up the rear.
“Jude, a moment, if you will,” peeped Judge Marriott from behind. His hands were folded out in front of him, and he wore a smile that spoke of immense pleasure.
Jude stopped and turned to face the tiny Judge.
“Words cannot express my elation at seeing the way you performed today,” he whispered, his feet stepping in place as he could hardly contain his excitement. “I am bursting at the seams!”
Jude nodded, looking after the other Emerald Miraclists as they were led away.
“Marriott!” snapped Chancellor Harquist. “Come, no time for dawdling—we have a competition to run!”
Jude gave Chancellor Harquist a disconcerted look, curious as to why she was in such a sour mood.
Sensing Jude’s question, Judge Marriott said, “Oh, don’t mind her—she’s just upset that you disrupted our system.”
“What system?”
“We only have so many Sapphire Miraclists capable of healing at our disposal, you know. Four designated healers, and eight designated to pull students from the stadium. With such limitations, a student could have easily died due to not being able to receive proper medical attention in time. Then it would have been Chancellor Harquist’s head! You have been the cause of much anxiety for her.”
Jude frowned. “I won’t apologize for her poor planning. If she wishes to avoid such problems, she should be better prepared.”
Judge Marriott stifled a laugh. “Quite right, quite right, my boy. I’ve oft said that we do not know the extent of the power you Miraclists possess, and it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Today, Marriott!” ordered the Chancellor from her chair.
“Coming, coming!” he walked back toward the Judge’s Table. “And Jude,” he said over his shoulder. “Good luck, my boy. I am proud of you.”
For the first time that day, Jude smiled—pleased not only by his performance, but also the disturbance he had caused. He turned around and walked down the walkway into the empty corridor. The other Miraclists were further down the hall and he made a move to follow them. Someone grabbed his arm from behind. He turned, face to face with Specula Greavus. A wide grin was stretched across the man’s fleshy face. His white robes ballooned over the gold rope tied about his midsection, his corpulent belly held in place. Jude couldn’t help notice how the jewels glinted from the rings on all ten of his fingers. Behind Greavus stood his servant, dressed in taut, black garb. His face was entirely covered, save for his eyes which flashed like jade as they bore into Jude.
“Marvelous,” crooned Greavus, “simply marvelous performance, my boy.”
Jude was speechless, staring at Greavus’ hand as if it were a rabid dog taking a bite from his arm.
“I watched the whole thing from my luxury suite,�
� continued Greavus, releasing Jude, “and wanted to come and bestow my esteem upon you. I haven’t seen such—”
“What do you want from me?” asked Jude, matter-of-factly.
Greavus’ smile vanished. “Impertinent—” Greavus stopped and gathered himself, his pleasant demeanor returning. “My good boy,” he chortled, “I merely wanted to extend to you an invitation.”
“Invitation?”
Just then, Daniel and Gregory came bustling around the corner.
Greavus eyed them with displeasure, but continued. “Yes, I am hosting a dinner on the morrow for a few of the Miraclists and would like you to attend.” He held out his hand behind him, and his servant slipped him a white envelope, which Greavus in turn held out to Jude.
“I’d rather not,” said Jude flatly.
“But I insist,” said Greavus, nudging the envelope in Jude’s face.
Daniel and Gregory took a place on either side of him.
Jude glared at Greavus, ignoring his friends. “And if I refuse?”
Greavus flashed a wide, despicable smile that made him look remarkably like a shark. “I’d hate to think what might happen to our new,” he paused for a moment, looking Jude up and down, “star if he so chose to discourteously eschew such a gracious request from the most powerful man in the Empire.”
Jude stared at the envelope for several seconds as if it were something contagious, and then plucked it out of Greavus’ hand. “I’ll think about it,” he said, sticking the letter inside his cloak.
“Good!” Greavus gushed, stepping back. His belly rose and fell as he heaved a deep sigh. “I shall see you tomorrow promptly at seven—don’t be late!”
With that, Greavus turned and bustled down the corridor, his servant at his side.
“What are you two doing here?” asked Jude when they disappeared around the bend.
“We were worried when you didn’t show up with the others,” said Daniel. “Mordecai told us to search for you.”
“And I’m glad he did,” Gregory chimed in. “What does old Blubber Belly think—that you’d actually fall for it and go to his dinner?”
“I’m going,” Jude said, “and you’re both coming with me.”
Daniel’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking, right?”
“I have no intention of snubbing one of the most dangerous men in Orsidia—it could mean death to my aspirations.”
“It’s all fine and good to have aspirations,” Daniel replied, “but I won’t let you endanger me and Gregory just because you want to please Greavus.”
Jude tensed. “Listen Daniel, Greavus wants something from me. Exactly what, I do not know. Going is foolish—not going is dangerous. And going alone is both foolish and dangerous.” He lowered his voice. “I need allies.”
Gregory gave Jude a decided nod. “Count me in. We’ve made it through plenty of scrapes before—and always together.”
Daniel shook his head. “Even if I wanted to go, how are Gregory and I to get in? We weren’t invited.”
Jude slipped the invitation out of his cloak and read it aloud.
“You are cordially invited to an evening of dinner and discussion with His Honor, Specula Greavus.
When: Wednesday, June Fifth.
Where: Burk Mansion, Number Seven, Holy Castle Lane
Time: Six-Thirty in the Evening.
Who: Jude Elm*
*No entry without invitation.”
Jude’s countenance darkened. He squeezed the invitation in his fist.
Daniel tilted his head, thinking hard as if to remember something familiar that was just out of reach. Then, a light flashed on inside his mind. With a snap of his fingers, he reached inside his cloak and pulled out a wadded piece of paper.
“I knew I recognized the address! That’s Bartholomew Burk’s mansion. He’s the man who wanted to purchase Shade from me. Said if I ever wanted to discuss selling her, to stop by.”
Gregory’s eyes lit up. “Then our problem is solved.”
“What do you mean?” asked Daniel.
“We go undercover as business partners, interested in selling Shade.”
“But I won’t sell Shade, Gregory,” Daniel reminded him.
“I know,” Gregory said, placing a hand on Daniel’s shoulder and letting out a sigh. “One day, Danny boy, you’re going to learn. We aren’t really going to sell Shade, just pretend like we’re interested in selling her to gain access. Once inside, we just might find our way into the said dinner with Jude—or at the very least, we’d be close by in case he needs our help.”
“That will look suspicious,” Daniel replied, “all three of us showing up at the same time for different things.”
Gregory frowned, folding his arms across his chest. “Well if you’ve got a better idea, I’d like to hear it. I think it will work, we just have to show up at different times.”
“It’s worth a shot,” said Jude, content by the mere fact that they would join him.
“But what if he finds out we’ve no intention of selling Shade?” Daniel asked. “Then what?”
Gregory let out a sound of exasperation. “Daniel—it’s called playing along. We just roll with the punches. We will be fine.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Jude, “we go tomorrow at separate times, and you two do your best to get into the dinner.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” rang out Rin’s voice, “please find your seats for the final announcements.”
“We’d better hurry back,” said Daniel. “Come on.”
The three of them found their seats next to Martha—Mordecai and the others were gone. Rin was standing in the middle of the stadium, Chancellor Harquist at his side.
“Where’s Mordecai?” whispered Daniel to Martha.
“He was called away on important business,” Martha responded. “He said he’d meet you all at the hotel.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said Rin. “I present to you, High Chancellor Harquist.”
The Judge stood at the edge of the platform; all eyes and ears focused on her. She cleared her throat. “The next round of the competition will demonstrate how the students compete as part of a team. Each team will be composed of six Miraclists, one of each type. But this year we are doing things differently—the students will be choosing their teammates.”
A whir of excitement surged through the crowd.
Then, addressing the students directly, “Have your team decided no later than the day after tomorrow. If you do not get chosen to be on a team, you will be placed on one at random—so I would advise you to do your best to find one. Good luck to you all! You are dismissed.”
* * *
That night, the boys rested in their room, exhausted from the day’s events. Daniel sat at the foot of Gregory’s bed, lost in a book while Gregory lay flat on the floor, gazing into the ruby fitted at the top of his staff. Jude sat, back propped against the headboard, looking over a book when he cocked his head to listen.
The sound of heavy footsteps was headed toward them from outside.
Suddenly, Mordecai burst through the door. He threw his hood back, revealing flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and a knitted brow.
“Mordecai,” began Daniel, looking up from his book “what’s wong?”
“Impossible,” Mordecai sputtered. “Impossible!”
“What’s impossible?”
“The Senate has abandoned all reason! They send the entire Imperial Army to Irachnia to quell an uprising in two days time!”
“You’re joking!” said Gregory, moving to a sitting position.
“If only I were. Preposterous; outrageous! It’s time I gave those withered old toads a battering of truth—they cannot think I will sit idly by while they—” Mordecai stopped and looked at the boys who were staring up at him fearfully. He slowed his ratcheted breathing and placed a hand upon his forehead.
“I am truly sorry, my boys.”
“For what?” asked Daniel.
“For the world we have created for you.�
� Mordecai slumped down into a wingback chair by the door. “My generation continues to heap atrocity upon atrocity with no regard for the consequences—and they will expect you to shoulder the burden.”
“What of General Tiberius?” asked Jude. “Could he not dissuade the Senate?”
“No,” growled Mordecai. “Not with the likes of Greavus in charge. The senate follows him like pigs to slaughter.”
Daniel closed his book. “I don’t see how they trust him—how anyone in this city could trust him for that matter! The man’s clearly a snake.”
“A worm of the lowest sort!” responded Mordecai. “Only those in this city truly have any affection for him. Notice the opulence, the lavish lifestyle of nearly the entire populace. Before Greavus, it was not so! The city was in shambles, and it was he who transformed it into the crown jewel of the Empire.”
“But how?” asked Daniel.
“Bah! He taxed the surrounding areas into poverty, built roads, cleaned the streets, and kicked out the homeless until the city glowed with a thriving economy. The results are what you see now, but the rest of the Empire lies in ruin.”
“The people should band together and vote him out,” said Jude.
Mordecai let out a disdainful laugh. “If only it were so simple! No—the elections are hosted here in the Imperial City. Greavus will never lose here. He’s a savior to these people. Before him they were poor and now they are rich. If the surrounding people want to cast a vote, they must spend days or months traveling. The people are poor enough as it is without losing out on a month’s wages—no, the system must change before the ruler.”
“Then we will change the system,” said Daniel, rising to his feet. “We will become Guardians and we will give the people a voice!”
Mordecai glanced over to Daniel and let out a deep sigh. A slight smile formed at the edge of his mouth. “My boy, as bleak as times may seem, it is men like you who give me hope.” Mordecai gave a quick nod and stood to his feet. “But first, you have to make it through the next round. I hope you three have been keeping an eye out for allies—perhaps Ari Celeste would be a good addition.”