by P B Hughes
Caden made his way through the crowd and up to the platform. After him, several others pledged their allegiance—Sneed, Elenora, Brawn. And then, one by one, the entire crowd followed suit.
“No—no!” Daniel shouted down at them as the people made their way to Greavus’ side. “You can’t do this—you mustn’t give in! Will you truly sell your souls?”
“Ah, Daniel—there you are,” said Greavus’ booming voice. “Rasta—take care of him!”
Rasta looked up and spurred his wyvern into the air—straight toward Daniel. Behind him, several goblins began to crawl up the walls and into the stands. Daniel quickly blew his whistle and then backed down into the tunnel to rejoin the group in the corridor.
The wyvern landed outside and stuck its head down the tunnel, snapping viscously. Rasta climbed off and whipped out his long sword. “I told you, you little insect, that I would have my revenge for what you did to my face,” he called through the passageway.
“We can’t stay in the halls forever,” said Daniel to the others. “If Shade comes, she’ll need to see us.”
“Right!” said Sir Weston, jumping into the tunnel and rushing forward with a great cry.
“Not yet—oh dear,” said Daniel, watching as he engaged with Rasta, clashing their weapons together.
“And who,” said Rasta with a parry, “might you be?”
“I am justice, I am integrity, I am—”
“A fool!” said Rasta slicing Sir Weston’s waist.
Gizzard let out a high pitched growl and dove down the tunnel, hurling knives at Rasta. A knife struck him in the left shoulder, forcing Rasta to retreat.
“Hurry—the goblins are almost upon us!” said Sir Weston, holding his belly. “I am wounded—reinforcements, ho!”
“But we can’t use energy!” said Ari frantically. “What are we supposed to do?”
“It does not matter now,” Jelani replied, rushing into the tunnel. “Come!”
The first goblin that came up into the tunnel was met by Jelani’s staff directly in the head, sending him sprawling down the stairs in a clatter of armor. Daniel followed at Jelani’s heels.
“Daniel, you must get to higher ground,” said Jelani. “We will hold them off!”
“I can’t leave you guys!”
“Go—we will be fine—we can hold off an army if we stay in the tunnel!”
Daniel sprang from the tunnel and began to climb the stands as quickly as he could. His legs burned as he clambered. He slipped—an arrow whisked past his head. The goblins were taking aim.
“Come on, Shade,” he muttered, blowing upon his whistle. “Come on!”
Daniel finally reached the top and looked down—Sir Weston, Jelani, Gizzard, Ari and Nera were fighting off a crowd of nearly twenty goblins at the tunnel entrance. Five goblins broke off and ran toward another tunnel.
“Sir Weston, they’re going to flank you! Defend yourselves from your rear!” Daniel called out.
Six other goblins were climbing the stairs toward Daniel. A black shadow fell upon him—he looked up to see Rasta soaring above, holding the reins with one hand, his other arm limp at his side.
“Kill him, you dirty goblins!” he spat.
Daniel raised his staff to fight—they were nearly upon him.
A sound like an eagle’s cry echoed through the stadium. Daniel looked up over his shoulder—it was Shade, racing toward him!
Daniel gave an excited whoop and blew his whistle again as she broke through the force field. She spotted him, tucked her wings, and dove down.
“Yi-hup!” Daniel shouted as he leapt onto her back. They soared into the sky just as one of the goblins thrust a spear at them.
“Good to see you, girl!” Daniel said, hugging her neck.
She let out an excited squawk.
“We’ve got work to do—quickly, to the stone!”
The wyvern was on their tail. Daniel heard a gurgling sound. The wyvern released a spew of poison after them, sending a rain of acid upon the goblins below.
Shade spun in the air, but not before some of the spray caught Daniel on the arm. It sizzled upon his skin causing excruciating pain.
The stone hovered above—black as the night sky and veiled in fog. Daniel grew closer and closer—they were almost there. He reached out his hand to grab it.
Light burst from his pendant, focusing into a solid beam, blasting against the stone, evaporating the black smoke.
KABOOM!
The stone exploded, knocking them backward.
The link was broken! The crowd gasped as the stone plummeted to the ground—the force field disappeared. Daniel felt a surge of energy as his powers returned. Unsure what had happened, he clasped his pendant in his hands, which shimmered like the sun. But he did not have time to wonder.
“Now the real fight begins!” he cried.
Chapter 35
“Defend yourselves!” Daniel cried as he sped downward toward the students. “Our powers have been restored—fight back!” He raised his staff above his head, its orb glowing brilliantly; his eyes blazed like spheres of cobalt fire. In his right hand he formed a giant icicle—a frozen javelin. He hurled it downward toward Malodia, striking her between the eyes. With a great, earsplitting screech, the monster flailed about, knocking goblins asunder with her head and tail. Shade beat her wings, darting aside to avoid a volley of arrows. Daniel pointed his staff—he felt a surge of energy coursing through his veins like he had never felt before. Out from the orb he shot a jet of frost—a beam of shining blue—down at the goblins. The beam tore its way across the arena floor, freezing goblin after goblin in solid hunks of ice.
The other Miraclists looked up at him, stunned. Gregory was the first to act.
“Out of the way, boys and girls!”
The crowd parted as Gregory sent a mighty stream of fire out from the end of his staff, blasting against the armored goblins. Then, the rest of the Miraclists joined the fray—shocking, crushing, and slicing the wicked creatures.
The ground below was in complete chaos—goblins fleeing for their lives as the Miraclists wrought justice. Daniel flew Shade just above the heads of the scattering monsters; they were sprinting toward the crater in the ground, Nahash at the lead.
“Stop him!” Daniel cried. He shot frozen blast at Nahash—but he was too late. Nahash took a dive and disappeared down into the hole.
Daniel turned around to see Marriott hurrying toward an open tunnel.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Daniel cried. The little man looked up at Daniel, eyes wide with fear. He broke into a run—Daniel whirled his staff around him, and shot a beam of ice at Marriott’s feet, freezing him to the ground.
Suddenly, the ground began to rumble. Sir Weston, Gizzard, Jelani, Nera and Ari came rushing out from the tunnel, sending their foes scattering. Jelani leaped into the air and came crashing down. A wave of earth rippled through the stadium, splitting the walls, and knocking the goblins and Miraclists alike from their feet.
“Fools! Fools! You will pay,” screamed Greavus, who was still atop the platform. “You all will die—you cannot stop the power of His Majesty!”
Brutus hurled an ice spear at Greavus. With strange quickness, Greavus dodged. A shadow fell from above him. It was Rasta Murk riding his wyvern. Rasta reached out, took Greavus by the hand, and heaved him onto his beast with impressive strength. With four heavy wing-beats they were airborne.
“Daniel!” called Ari, shooting into the air next to him, her hair spinning in the wind. “Daniel—I’m going to find Tiberius. You catch Greavus!”
Daniel nodded. “Be safe!”
She sped out of the stadium like an arrow. Daniel spurred Shade upward—after Greavus and Rasta.
“Greavus!” Daniel shouted. “Come and face me, you coward!”
Greavus looked back over his shoulder and began to mutter. A swarm of imps shot up in front of Daniel, cackling like horrid crows. They rammed against Shade’s belly, clawing and biting. She let out a cry of pain. D
aniel twisted Shade’s reins, sending her into a tailspin. They sped toward the ground, Daniel shooting blasts of ice over his shoulder—hitting one, two, then three of the imps, cursing that Greavus had escaped.
Below, the last of the goblins were fleeing—out into the city or down into the crater. Shade took a nosedive. They sped downward; Shade spread her wings and landed atop the platform. She rose up on her hind legs and let out a victorious scream. Daniel thrust his staff into the air. White light shone from his pendant, giving his face a brilliant glow. Below, the Miraclists let out a mighty cheer—the day was theirs!
But the feeling of joy did not last. Daniel stared about the arena. Bodies lay strewn about—Miraclists, citizens, goblins—an innumerable number of dead lay before them. A massacre. Many fell to their knees, weeping for their fallen comrades, friends, and mentors.
Why? Why did this happen? Daniel thought as he climbed down off Shade. He saw Jude lying behind him. He rushed to his side. Jude was still alive—ghostly white, but breathing. He turned to see Judge Marriott, frozen to the ground, struggling to be free. Pointing his staff at Marriott, he jumped down from the platform, stepping over corpses.
“You—what have you done?”
Judge Marriott’s lower lip quivered in fear, but he did not speak.
Suddenly, Daniel’s pendant flickered. The light disappeared. He felt extraordinarily weak. He opened his mouth to speak, and then fainted.
* * *
The hollow clang of bells chanted a melancholy song, pulling Daniel’s mind out of a dreamless sleep. His skin felt warm—covered under soft, downy blankets. Slowly, he lifted his heavy eyelids and a blurred scene fell into focus. He was in a room, warmly lit by flickering yellow lamplight. In the corner, a grandfather clock ticked, its short hand touching seven. The ghostly sky shone through a rain-dotted window to his right.
Where am I? he thought, shakily propping himself on his elbows.
In a large wooden bed beside him lay Jude, asleep, chest steadily rising and falling beneath the bedspread.
“Jude?” Daniel whispered.
He did not stir.
Daniel pushed the blankets off of him and placed his bare feet upon the chilly floor. Suddenly, there was a sound that made him start—the long wail of a horn, right outside his window. Chills ran down his spine. The sound was so miserable that he thought he might never be happy again. Then there was singing.
From dust we rise, to dust we fall
The grave, the grave, O fate of all
Den of thieves or noble thrones
Nothing more than dead men’s bones
Daniel made his way to the window and peered outside. He was up high—the third story of a hospital by the look of it. Below in the streets there was a funeral procession—people veiled in black, hunched—marching to the slow, steady thump of an immense, bowl-shaped drum. They shouldered ebony coffins, and their faces were covered by ghastly, expressionless masks, white as the glowing moon. Onlookers lined the sides of the road, weeping and lamenting, as the rows of coffins drifted by upon the river of black.
Gone forever our children of yore
Sons we raised and daughters we bore
Roaming souls grow ever dim
And soon we go to be with them
“You’re awake,” said a raspy voice from behind Daniel. He turned. There, standing in the doorway was Mordecai. He looked gaunt, troubled, and very, very tired. “You’ve been out for nearly two days. It appears that you ran out of energy during the battle.” Mordecai limped over to Daniel and looked out the window at the steady stream of the departed. “They mourn the deaths of those who were slain. Two thousand and thirteen. Most of them Miraclists…Nearly all the Guardians are dead along with Chancellor Harquist.”
Daniel’s hands formed into fists. “We could have saved them,” he replied in a hushed voice. “No one had to die.”
Mordecai placed a hand upon Daniel’s shoulder. “Many more would have been slain if it weren’t for your actions. You did all you could. Our nation is indebted to you, Daniel.”
Daniel tore his gaze from the window, no longer able to bear the sight of his fallen comrades. “I’ll kill him,” he said. “If it’s the last thing I do—I’ll kill Greavus for this.”
Mordecai looked down at Daniel with empathy. He studied him with knowing eyes. “What Greavus did is deplorable. But take care, Daniel. Do not let your anger breed hate. For hate is a poison that destroys only one.”
Daniel pulled away from Mordecai, his breathing suddenly growing fast. He looked down at Jude. “What about him, will he be okay?”
Mordecai’s mouth etched into a deep frown. “What they did to Jude nearly cost him his life. But he will live. He will take a long time to heal.”
“And the others?” Daniel asked.
“They are safe—for now. Ari found Tiberius moments before they laid waste to an Irachnian city. They have since returned and are cleansing the city of goblins that fled into the streets.”
“And Greavus? Has he been captured yet?”
“I’m afraid not. The only person captured was Marriott. He’s chained head to toe in the deepest cell of the Imperial Prison. Still, there is much we don’t know. Many Miraclists disappeared in the confusion—Caden among them.” The corner of Mordecai’s mouth rose slightly. “It was decided that Gregory shall take his place as Guardian if he does not return.”
“He won’t come back. That traitor was the first to join Greavus’ ranks, and he was made a general for it.” Daniel stared down at Jude in silence. “Good riddance.”
Mordecai grunted in agreement. “Daniel, I have been sent for you by Tiberius. We need your help.”
“Mine?”
“Yes. We have tried questioning Marriott, but he refuses to utter a word. The only one he will speak with…is you.”
Daniel looked up at Mordecai to see if he was serious. “Did he say why?”
Mordecai shook his head. “He only said he would speak to you and you alone.”
“Then let’s go. I’m ready.”
* * *
Mordecai and Daniel sped down the road, rain falling from on high. They were headed toward the eastern-most part of the city. It wasn’t long before Daniel saw it. The prison: dark, ominous spires clawing at the sky, barbed walls encircling the perimeter. They rode up in front of the main gate. It slowly rose for them, clink by clink. Guards escorted them to the base of the front steps. There, waiting at the front door, stood General Tiberius.
“So this is the boy who saved our city,” he rumbled, bending down and staring at Daniel inquisitively. “He’s the size of a hummingbird, Mordecai.”
“Yes, but he has the heart of a lion,” Mordecai replied.
“So he does!” Tiberius laughed. “I admire your gumption, boy.” He turned and pressed against one of the immense front doors.
“Anyone else would have done the same,” Daniel responded.
They followed Tiberius inside into a poorly lit, cylindrical foyer with high walls, completely bare save for a rusted chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Tiberius frowned. “No. No, I’m afraid they wouldn’t. But it’s good to see we have a Guardian with integrity. Having this one under your tutelage will make your job easier, Mordecai.”
Daniel gave Mordecai a surprised look.
“I’ve been made headmaster of the Imperial University,” said Mordecai, quickly, removing his gloves. “They didn’t really have much of a choice considering I am one of the few remaining Guardians. Mrs. Doppledodger has also agreed to return and teach.”
“Congratulations. You’ll make a fine Headmaster.” Daniel said, and he meant it.
“Yes,” Tiberius agreed. “We could use a leader with guts. Now—Daniel, come with me. It’s time to get some answers from that rodent, Marriott.”
Tiberius led them through the prison, down a dank stairwell, deeper and deeper until they found themselves in a poorly lit hallway. They walked along until they reached a thick iron door.
“This is where we leave you, my boy.”
Daniel turned around in surprise. “What do you mean—won’t you be coming with me?”
Mordecai shook his head. “He will only see you—those were his conditions. We will be waiting for you right outside if you need us.”
Daniel’s heart pounded as Tiberius slipped a key into the lock and opened the door. He spat inside, turned around, and handed Daniel the torch.
“I hope you have better luck than we did with that filthy murderer,” grunted Tiberius.
Daniel walked inside the pitch-dark room. The stone floor was damp and cobwebs clung to the ceiling. He raised his torch up—and there was Judge Marriott, chained to the wall, hands above his head, feet to the ground, wearing nothing but a cloth around his middle, head drooped against his chest. His diminutive body sagged in his shackles; his filthy hair lay matted against his head. Scabbed lines slithered around his midsection from his back—wounds from a near-deadly whipping.
“I—I knew you’d come,” he wheezed between cracked lips.
Daniel stuck the torch into a sconce by the door and folded his arms across his chest. Despite the horrors the man allowed to happen, Daniel could not help but pity the sight before him.
“What do you want with me?” Daniel asked.
Marriott’s chains clinked as he raised his head and stared at Daniel with weary, basset hound eyes. “I wish to divulge to you the secrets I have kept hidden for many, many years.”
Daniel watched him for a moment, his curiosity swelling. “But why to me? Why not to somebody else?”
“I do not trust anybody else—they have false motives. You, however—your motives are pure as sunlight. I trust only you and you alone. For now, all I ask is a listening ear.”
“I’m listening.”
The judge began to cough. “First—water, please, water.”
Daniel was about to ask the guards for water, but thought better of it. He took his staff, held it up, and pulled the moisture from the air to form a stream of water that trickled into the man’s mouth.
“Th-thank you,” said Marriott after he drank. He cleared his throat and began.
“My story begins long ago, before humans ever entered the land of Orsidia. Back then, there were only the immortal races: fairies and Cythes. At the time of creation, the Creator endowed the fairies with the Primal energy—the energy flowing within the Miraclists today, and set them in charge of the elements of the world—to grow, design, and perfect the land in any way that brought them joy. Cythes, however, he intended for a lesser purpose—to work with their hands maintaining the beauty the fairies put into place. The Cythes grew jealous—resentful of the Creator’s favoritism. They wished that they too could manipulate fire, water, wind, vegetation, earth, and electricity. Throughout the centuries, their resentment grew until, one day, the humans arrived. From across the sea came a few hundred men and women who shipwrecked on our beaches. They were weak, tired, on deaths doorstep when the fairies found them. The humans claimed they were fleeing a great evil, and that many of them had perished on their journey. The embodiment of goodness, the fairies offered them sanctuary in our land, giving them a piece of earth to develop as they chose. However, this land was too brutal for the humans—storms raged, earthquakes shook, volcanoes erupted, and even some of the plants that they tried to grow for food attacked them with predatory instinct. The humans were nearly eradicated. Again, the fairies were merciful—the six fairy kings sacrificed their own lives in order to endow six humans with the power of the elements—giving them the ability to control their environment so that they might live. Thus, the first Miraclists were born. With this sacrifice, the humans grew strong, tamed the land, and increased in number. But the Cythes jealousy grew. Why should the humans be endowed with a power they had been denied? Why should the Creator favor the fairies, and the fairies favor the humans when the Cythes too were natives of the land?