Miraclist

by P B Hughes

  “Jude.”

  If only I been more vigilant—if only I had protected him. Of course that flower was poisonous—it was a Delilah’s Curse! I knew it was poisonous—if only I had seen that the petals had scratched him.

  “Jude!”

  Now Caden will be a Guardian. Maybe even our leader! I won’t have it—Caden cannot lead us.

  “Jude! Jude, snap out of it!”

  Jude blinked. Daniel was standing in front of him, his eyes red, his voice ragged. “You did all you could.”

  Jude stared at him, his sanity slowly returning.

  “I have failed you all,” he said.

  Jelani stood in the corner with Nera, who was being healed of her own burns. Ari stood at the back of the room in the corner—away from everyone. And Caden—Caden lay on the floor, a healer bent over him, mending the wound in his chest. The Judges sat at their table, staring at Jude—Judge Marriott smiling, Harquist and Thatcher looking highly annoyed.

  “Answer me, boy!” snapped Chancellor Harquist.

  Jude looked up. “Answer what?”

  The Chancellor slammed her palm onto the table. “Pay attention! You are tied with him for position of Alpha!” She pointed down at Caden.

  “You both had perfect scores on the test—you scored higher than he in the first round—he scored higher than you in the second, and subsequently, your scores are identical. Do you know what this means?”

  Jude shook his head and looked at the ground.

  “Bah!” boomed the Chancellor. “There must be a tiebreaker! Only once—once in the history of the Investiture—has there ever been a tiebreaker, and that was three hundred years ago. You and Caden must return to the arena for a final head-to-head competition!”

  Caden came to. He propped himself up on his elbows and stared up at the judges. He had heard everything.

  “But how can that be fair?” asked Judge Marriott. “Ruby Miraclist’s have the natural advantage—Jude will—”

  Caden was smiling. The whole time, just smiling. He did not care that his team had not advanced—only that he had the opportunity to be made Alpha. He rose to his feet. A gaping hole in his red cloak revealing his bare chest, perfectly healed.

  “The match will be two hours from now,” announced Chancellor Harquist. Get some rest. Everyone else,” she said to the others, “will watch the match from up here on the Judge’s platform.” She looked down at Gregory, who had finally been revived and was staring about, bleary-eyed. “He must leave.”

  Judge Marriott clapped his hands together and bound away from his chair. “And now…to address the audience!” he said excitedly.

  Of course, the audience was ecstatic. Never in any of their lives had there been an extension of the games—a head to head tiebreaker between two Miraclists. And to them, this was especially exhilarating, for the opponents were Miraclists of entirely different sorts. The stadium seemed to burst at the seams with excitement.

  * * *

  Jude was alone. Cross-legged, he sat on the floor inside a tower built along the arena wall. The room was bare save for a lantern above his head, flickering with white candlelight. He had been given some dried fruit and a mug of water, though he did not touch them. His mind was full of thought, and he had no appetite.

  It was true: the odds were in Caden’s favor considering his type advantage. He would likely annihilate Jude unless he could come up with some sort of strategy.

  Caden cannot have this final victory—I must keep him from gaining power, Jude reasoned. But how? Caden has leveled every opponent placed before him with ease.

  This is not just a contest for Alpha, this is the defining moment—to show the world Caden can be defeated, to show that I am the greatest Miraclist. For revenge. Yes, to avenge Gregory.

  But how?

  Jude’s mind warred with itself for nearly an hour, but no idea surfaced. He felt the cold chill of panic begin to sink in the pit of his stomach when he heard a knock at the door. Jude ignored it at first, deep in meditative thought, but the knock came again. He opened one eye, annoyed.

  “Who is it?”

  The door creaked open slowly. There, in the frame of the door stood Gregory. He lingered a moment, looking at Jude with a sorrowful expression, dark rings beneath his eyes. His crimson cloak was gone, no longer wearable as it was nothing more than ash. Now he wore a simple white frock, brown leggings, and his boots. His blonde hair was wet and combed.

  Jude looked him over, struggling to find the words to say.

  “You look better,” he said finally.

  A slight smile formed on Gregory’s mouth. “Looks can be deceiving,” he grunted, voice hoarse. “But I didn’t come here to for your sympathy. I have something for you.” His fist was clenched around a tiny object.

  Jude looked at his hand, but remained silent.

  “I want you to take this. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.” Gregory placed a tiny spore on the ground. “Looks like my practical joking might come in handy now after all.” He turned to walk out, but stopped. “If anyone can beat Caden, advantage or no advantage…it’s you.” With that, he walked away.

  * * *

  Jude stood in the tunnel, rolling the smooth black stone Judge Marriott had given him in the palm of his hand, over and over. His staff was strapped to his back, his belt tight around his waist. Each pocket was filled to the brim with every seed in his collection. Gregory’s gift, however, the spore—he kept in a small pocket inside of his dark green cloak. He stood behind the white line, his breath intensifying. The other matches had not scared him—why was he afraid now? Suddenly, the most peculiar longing crept into his heart—a pang of loneliness he had never known before. He wished for Mordecai—for his friends, Daniel and Gregory—even for Martha, Ari, Nera and Jelani. Someone—anyone—to talk to.

  The Spyball whirred and blinked. Jude stuck the stone inside his pocket and clicked open his pouch, grabbing a few seeds.

  The gate flew open. Jude inhaled and ran—he knew if he lingered Caden would send fire down each tunnel until he found him. He exited the tunnel and onto an expanse of Bermuda grass before him. His first thought was that this would be to his advantage.

  Then he saw Caden.

  “I’m coming for you, Jude!” Caden called out across the arena. He shot a stream from his staff at the ground in front of him, starting a wildfire.

  The blaze grew and licked forward, inching and crackling, Caden behind it, eyes gleaming red.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment a long time,” Caden said. “And I intend to enjoy it. Now everyone will see who the greatest Miraclist really is!”

  Jude’s eyebrows knit together. He raced forward, straight at Caden. At first, Caden fell back, surprised by the aggression, and then began to laugh.

  “Oh—you want to get it over with, then?” Caden raised his hands above his head, growing the blaze.

  Jude halted in the middle of the arena. He dropped to a knee and placed his hand upon the grass. Then, quite unexpectedly for Caden, the grass retracted into the soil, extinguishing the blaze with a sizzle and a puff. Caden was stunned. His wall of fire evaporated. Jude pulled out a mana-crystal, used it, and heaved forward, scattering seeds as he went. A Devil’s Paw rose up from the ground, spraying needles. Caden engulfed himself in a fire-wall, vaporizing the needles. He shot out a fireball from the end of his fist, setting the cactus ablaze.

  “I’m too strong for you, Jude! You haven’t a weapon that can defeat me.”

  Jude held forth his palm, trilling his fingers. Vines broke the surface of the ground, slithering toward Caden like hundreds of snakes.

  Caden flung a fireball, then another and another. But the vines kept coming. Jude edged forward, closing the distance between them. He knew that if he was going to defeat Caden, he could not do it using conventional means. A vine coiled around Caden’s ankle, yanking him to the ground. Jude sprang forward—he was only feet away from Caden.

  Caden grasped the vine with h
is hand, set it on fire, and kicked it free.

  Jude swept his hand across the ground, snatching three thorns from the soil that had earlier missed Caden. Staff in one hand, his other balled into a fist, the thick black thorns grew to the length of knives between his knuckles. He leapt at Caden and struck his face; blood gushed out of three punctures in his cheek. Jude swung his staff—Caden blocked with his own, and then caught Jude in the stomach with a fireball, knocking him back.

  Caden retreated several steps, and then stumbled—his feet entangled in vines. They traveled up his legs, around his torso, and slid over his arms. Rage burned in his eyes; he let out an ear-splitting cry.

  “I WILL NOT BE OVERTHROWN BY A PEASANT!”

  Fire blasted forth from the end of his staff, his fists, the soles of his boots, his mouth— catching the vines all around on fire. Caden was in a mad frenzy. He rose off the ground, the fire from his feet pushing him skyward.

  Jude tossed a seed to the ground—a bush with razor-sharp leaves sprang up. He yanked the leaves off and chucked them, one by one, at Caden. Caden deflected them, shooting fire from his mouth, sweeping it at Jude.

  Jude jumped to his right, but the fire caught the edge of his cloak. He hit the ground, rolling to extinguish the blaze, then rose to his feet. Staff outstretched, he backed away from Caden. Caden lowered to the ground. Small fires dotted the arena where he had set Jude’s plants ablaze.

  “You see?” said Caden, a flame licking out from his mouth. “I am the Dragon—I am the Fire Prince! Bow before me!” He roared at the sky—a stream of fire catapulting into the air. He looked back to Jude, insane laughter emanating from his mouth, growing, louder and louder.

  Jude uncinched his pouch and pulled out fistfuls of seeds. “How about we play a little game?” He tossed the seeds to the ground. Instantly, trees, vines, bushes—a miniature jungle sprouted up at his feet. “Hide and seek!”

  Caden stopped laughing. Jude disappeared amongst the grove, completely hidden from sight. The plants kept growing higher, bigger, and wider than any normal plant would grow.

  “Fool—you only delay the inevitable,” roared Caden, raising his hand. “I’ll burn you alive!” Fireballs blasted from his fist, rocketing toward the plants, bursting amongst the limbs. Black smoke billowed as the branches sizzled in the heat. Caden approached, slowly, methodically.

  Then, out of the back of the grove, Jude dashed into the open, his cloak wrapped around his mouth. Again, he threw a pile of seeds about him, this time in a different direction. “Ah—you found me,” he complimented as the plants began to grow. “Okay, Caden, see if you can find me now!” He slipped inside, invisible.

  “Yes, run away!” Caden sent a wave of fire rushing toward the grove. The trees burned red hot, fire twisting into the air. “Soon the whole arena will be an inferno—my kingdom, my domain!”

  Jude exited the side of the grove, coughing. He threw seeds to the ground, fewer this time. Two trees sprang forth and he took cover behind them.

  Caden shot another blast of fire and sprinted forward, jumping between the two giant torches and in front of Jude.

  “Running out of ammunition?” Caden derided.

  Jude tossed a single seed to the ground. An oak tree grew up, tall and strong. Caden hit it with fire so hot and with such great force, the trunk incinerated—the tree fell crashing down. Jude rolled forward across the ground and looked up as Caden hurtled the burning stump, cackling like a hyena.

  “You’re finished—just surrender and I’ll make this as painless as possible!” Caden stroked his chin for a moment. “On second thought—don’t.”

  Jude reached inside his cloak and pulled out the tiny spore Gregory had given him. He threw it just a few feet in front of Caden. Then, he tossed another seed next to himself. He twirled his finger slowly, and up from the ground, a yellow bulb grew.

  “When will you learn?” said Caden, eyes still locked on Jude. “Any plant you send at me I will just destroy!”

  He sent another fireball blasting down at the ever-growing, bulbous, yellow mushroom that was now as big as a cow.

  KABOOM!

  A giant leaf sprang up from the ground, shielding Jude as the air filled with thick, yellow smoke. Caden hacked and wheezed—shooting out fire aimlessly from his staff. Jude was curled, tightly in a thick leaf, protected from the heavy powder that coated the arena floor.

  Then, the fire blasts stopped. The powder settled, and there was Caden, lying on the ground, as fat as fat could be. His entire body was swollen to massive proportions—his face so puffy that his eyes were closed shut. His body jiggled like jelly as he tried to flail. Then he stopped from the sheer pain of trying to move.

  Gregory had given Jude a popping-plant spore.

  Jude unraveled himself carefully and stood. He flicked a seed off his thumb to the ground. Up popped a Devil’s Paw.

  “I hope you can hear me when I say this,” said Jude, chest heaving. “You lose, Caden.”

  Caden began to grunt and flop his arms and legs like a turtle turned over on its back. Then, a solitary needle shot out from the cactus, pricking Caden’s belly.

  His skin ruptured. Greenish-yellow puss exploded about the arena. A blue sphere materialized around him and lifted him from the arena.

  Chapter 34

  Trumpets blasted; the crowd erupted with a jubilant ovation; white flower petals filled the air like snowfall—and there was Jude, still standing in the arena. Jude waited to be whisked up to the judge’s platform, but the sphere never came. Suddenly, Miraclists of various sorts rushed out of the tunnels to extinguish the burning plants and turn the charred grass into a carpet of green. Then, four burly Amber Miraclists waved their staffs at the ground and up rumbled a mountain of earth, fifteen feet high, the top cut off flat for a platform. Into the side of the mountain, they built a staircase of stones.

  An Emerald Miraclist woman with a kind face approached Jude. “It looks like you’re our new Alpha! You’ll need to wait up there.” She pointed to the top of the platform, and Jude obliged, making his way across the grass.

  After twenty minutes, the arena was made presentable and the Miraclists took up positions around the perimeter. A male Amethyst Miraclist took a spot up on the platform.

  Again, the trumpets resounded. Out of one of the larger tunnels, directly in front of them, poured a parade of acrobats, jugglers, dancers, and fire-throwers—all waving banners and flags. The judges followed after them. Near the end of the line walked Daniel, Ari, Nera, Jelani…and Caden, each with a silver crown on their heads.Behind them still was the last person Jude wanted to see—Senator Greavus. Of course Greavus did not walk in like the rest of them, but was carried by eight men aloft, sitting in a great purple chair resting on poles. His belly bounced, and his tall, white hat tilted to the left and right as he swayed.

  Greavus entered to raucous cheers. The procession filed around base of the platform, dancing, singing, and cheering, while the judges and Miraclists climbed up and took their places behind Jude. Everyone in the stadium was filled to the brim with joy. The only ones who seemed unhappy were Jude’s teammates, who shuffled along with mouths downturned, each privately wishing that Gregory was with them. Caden sulked at the rear, his expression sea-sawing between fury and self-pity.

  Greavus waved his hand to the crowd and was carried up the stairs to the platform. He climbed off his chair, heaved a deep sigh, and waddled up in front of Jude wearing a plastic smile on his face.

  “Congratulations,” he said in a slow drawl. “You’ve done it. Now, we will complete your augmentation in front of the entire audience.”

  Jude looked past Greavus to the judges. Harquist and Thatcher stood rigid, eyes glazed over, looking disinterested in the goings-on, while Marriott, white as a ghost, looked as though he might be ill.

  “What of the judges—are they not going to speak first?” asked Jude.

  “They do not handle this portion of the Investiture,” Greavus replied as he
positioned himself in front of the staff to speak. “I do.”

  “Now my good people,” Senator Greavus called out the crowd, “before your very eyes, Jude will be hailed—raising his standing higher than any other Emerald Miraclist in his class. He has proven that he, and he alone, deserves to be your Alpha!”

  The crowd roared with delight.

  Jude looked into the stands at where Mordecai would have been sitting, a pit in his stomach. I’m about to be crowned Alpha, he thought. I’m supposed to feel happy. So why does it feel as if I’ve lost?

  Greavus gestured to the tunnel they had come from. In its shadow stood Nahash wearing a long black cloak, hood up over his head. His mouth and nose were masked—only his eyes could be seen. Nahash walked out, holding the box from inside the mansion with both hands. The crowd fell silent at the sight of him. He made his way across the lawn, the tail of his cloak flowing behind. When the throng of people saw him, they parted, creating a path to the stairs. Nahash kept his eyes straight ahead as he climbed. Then, he stopped in front of Greavus and knelt, opening the box and holding out a scroll.

  Greavus snatched it greedily. He looked from side to side and spoke into the staff. “Now, ladies and gentleman, Jude will read from the honorable scroll.”

  Jude took the scroll and unraveled it slowly.

  * * *

  Daniel stared over Jude’s shoulder, puzzled. The scroll was blank!

  Then, like a bolt of lightning, he remembered. It was the same scroll Rasta had stolen from him. Daniel’s eyes grew wide with shock.

  “What’s wrong?” Ari asked, seeing Daniel’s expression.

  “Jude,” Daniel hissed. “Jude, I need to tell you something.”

  “Not now,” Jude replied under his breath.

  “It’s important!”

  Daniel felt a heavy hand grab his shoulder—pain like a stabbing knife blinded him. Nahash was behind him, squeezing tightly. Terror seized him—that same terror he experienced the night when Jude was possessed by an outside force, the same terror he’d felt when they discovered the room in the mansion. He tried to speak, but no words came out.