by Aaron Oster
It took nearly an hour of testing before the woman was happy and had him stand back in front of the mirror. She then began pulling various bolts of cloth, woven metal, and pieces of leather from the chest. She then began draping layers of cloth, bits of metal, and other things across his shoulders, chest and waist.
This process took nearly thirty minutes, and she made sure he held the same position the entire time. More than once, Morgan gave Sarah a pleading look for her to intervene on his behalf, but each time, she merely grinned and wiggled her fingers at him. Finally, after what felt like hours, the woman removed all the cloth and began packing it back into his chest.
“You can get dressed now. I’ve got everything I need.”
Morgan let out a sigh of relief, moving to snatch up his clothes and began tugging them on. He noticed Sarah pouting, and figured she was upset that the show was over. Knowing her, she would want him to remain the way he was for the rest of the day.
“When will it be ready?” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head and feeling it tighten around his chest.
“I’ll have it done in three hours. A uniform will be sent up, and you will try it on. If it needs any adjustment, I’ll take care of it. If there needn’t be any adjustments, five more will be sent up by the end of the day.”
“Why so many?”
“Because you’re more than likely to ruin them during the tournament,” the woman said in an exasperated tone.
“Aren’t there only three challenges though?” he wondered as the guards lifted the heavy chest and headed out of the room.
The woman declined to answer, glaring at him one last time before leaving the room. A guard poked his head in before closing the door to let them know that his appointment with the Queen would be in three hours, once he’d received his uniform. Following that, he would be seeing the judges for evaluation. The door closed then, followed by the clicking of a lock.
“Well,” Sarah said, flopping down on her bed and giving him a wide grin. “That was the most fun I’ve had since coming here.”
***
Lord Simon paced back and forth in his room, mouth turned down in a frown as Weasel made his report. As he’d expected, the man had still been unable to find hide nor hair of his daughter anywhere in the city. He’d asked him to look for Morgan as well, but the man hadn’t had any luck there either.
“Oh, do sit down. You’re giving me a headache with all that pacing,” Sing said, snapping her book shut and giving him an exasperated look.
Simon gave her a sideways glance, but otherwise ignored her, continuing his pacing.
Rolling her eyes, she rose fluidly from her chair and walked over to pour herself a drink from one of the bottles they’d brought along with them. She’d never liked the drinks in the West, and had made sure to pack her own before coming here.
Sing was about average height, just over five feet, seven inches tall, with a slim athletic frame. Her facial features bore some resemblance to her niece, Sarah, but were much harder than the younger girl’s. Her hair was auburn, unlike Sarah’s red and her skin had a dark tan from all her time spent in the South. Her eyes were the same green as Sarah’s, though they lacked the blue rings around the pupils.
“How do you expect me to calm down when we’ve been unable to find my daughter?” Simon growled. “In case you’ve forgotten, that’s the only reason we’re here!”
“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she took a sip from her glass. “I thought we were here to win a shit-load of money for the King, and get me that artifact.”
Simon rolled his eyes, ignoring his sister’s comment and continuing to pace. He’d gone to visit Loquin the previous evening, bringing his sister and tracker along with him. She’d been the one to give them the information after all, but when he’d demanded to know where the ‘person of interest’ was, Loquin had only told him to look harder.
Letting out a sigh, Sing placed her glass down on the table and placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder, stopping his pacing. He turned to glare at her, but she ignored it.
“The competition begins tomorrow. That Loquin woman doesn’t strike me as someone who gives false information. If you ask me, you’ll find who you’re looking for in that arena come morning.”
Simon slowly relaxed, nodding his assent and moving to sit down.
“What I’m really interested in is if the West is really telling the truth about their champion,” Sing said, going to refill her glass.
“About the supermage?” Simon asked.
“Obviously,” she replied, stopping the bottle and walking over to sit in the chair next to his. “Do you think they’re lying?”
“Most likely,” Simon replied. “An intimidation tactic to throw the other Kingdoms off before the tournament. I don’t know of any supermage within the Five Kingdoms that would enter this competition, willingly or not. Especially if they were fighting for that witch Hu Vah.”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow either way,” Sing said, draping one of her long legs over the other, and taking a sip from her glass. “For my part, I hope it’s true.”
“And why’s that?” Simon asked.
“I’ve never fought one of them before. It’ll be fun to see if they live up to their legendary reputations.”
“And what if they don’t?”
Sing’s grin turned feral then, more a baring of teeth than an actual smile.
“Then the world will have one less supermage.”
31
Morgan was woken up from his afternoon nap as a knock sounded at the door, followed by a key turning in the lock. He sat up in bed as six armed men walked in, one carrying a bundle under his arm.
“Put this on,” he commanded, tossing the bundle at Morgan. “We will wait here until you are done, then escort you to the Queen.”
Morgan caught the uniform, then rose from his bed with a groan. He felt like he could have slept a few more hours, but was grateful for the time he’d gotten to rest. Sarah hopped up from her bed as well and began tugging on her boots.
Stripping out of his current clothes, Morgan examined the outfit, noting that it had the colors of the West written all over it. The entire uniform was black and silver, but when he unrolled the bundle, he found several pieces that he hadn’t been expecting. The uniform shirt was lightweight and was a solid black, with the West Kingdom’s crest – some sort of bear-like beast - emblazoned across the chest in silver thread.
The shirt was sleeveless and tightened with a series of straps on both sides. In addition, he found two bracers made of leather wrapped steel, each intricately stitched with the same symbol on his chest. These slid right over his forearms, and surprisingly, conformed to them. They were also quite flexible, allowing him a full range of motion, instead of being stiff as he’d expected.
Next came the pants, which were exactly as he’d been expecting. A pair of loose-fitting black pants with silver accents up the sides of the legs. It tightened around his waist, and even came with straps down the legs so he could tighten or loosen them as he saw fit. After a few moments of adjusting, he found that he liked the way this new uniform felt.
It was much more lightweight than the armor Katherine had given him, and likely offered less protection, but in this competition, it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference. The only piece of equipment he didn’t put on was the belt they’d provided him. Instead, be buckled on his own belt, the one with the elemental spheres worked into them. Finally, he turned to the guards and gave them a nod that he was ready to go.
“Oh, well doesn’t someone look dashing in their new uniform,” Sarah said eyeing him up and down. “I thought the colors wouldn’t suit you for some reason, but oddly enough, they work quite nicely.”
Morgan shrugged in reply as he and Sarah left the room, and were quickly surrounded by the guards. He was actually surprised they’d allowed her to come with him, but was glad they hadn’t argued. If he was going to face this obnoxious Queen, he wanted s
omeone with him who would help him keep his head.
“Yeah, it’s definitely a change from the armor I’ve been wearing until now,” he replied, ignoring her comment.
It was true. He liked the way it felt as he walked. He swung his arms back and forth, taking longer steps than were strictly necessary. He rotated his arms, finding that having his shoulders free of any restraining material really made a difference. He knew that the armor Katherine had provided was self-healing, but he wondered if he could have an enchanter permanently remove the sleeves. He would have to check it out before he and Sarah inevitably fled the city once the tournament was over.
They walked on in silence, finding that the hallways were oddly empty. Morgan wondered at this, as even the corridor leading to a pair of massive doors was completely empty aside from a few more guards. They were halted outside the large double doors, and one of the men banged on them with the haft of a spear. A moment later, they both swung inward without so much as a creak.
Morgan stared around as the guards moved forward once again, ushering them into the massive throne room. The floor leading up to the dais was covered in a long black and silver carpet, spanning the length of the room and stopping before the throne. The ceiling was high and domed, standing nearly thirty feet up at its tallest point.
The room was streaked with multicolored light coming in through a multitude of tall, stained glass windows. Guards lined the room - at least fifty of them-standing to either side of their group. Morgan guessed this was a precaution against him. Since they were unable to block him from using his ability, the Queen had called in a small army to assure his cooperation.
Looking ahead, Morgan could see the Queen, sitting up on a magnificent throne made of solid black marble that had veins of silver throughout, and while some might have called it regal, Morgan just thought it looked uncomfortable. After all, who the hell wanted to sit on a slab of stone all day?
The procession stopped before the dais, and all the guards bowed. Morgan however, stayed standing. He didn’t owe this Queen anything, so he wouldn’t be bowing to her. He noticed the woman’s mouth turn down at the corners, but she didn’t otherwise comment. She nodded to the guards, who rose from their kneeling positions and went to take up posts before the throne.
“I see that you still have no respect for your betters,” Hu Vah said, with a disdainful sneer.
Morgan shrugged.
“When I meet someone who I believe to be my better, I’m sure I’ll show them the respect they’re due.”
He heard a light snort as Sarah tried to contain her laughter, and the Queen’s face reddened in response.
“I could have you killed for a remark like that,” she hissed, hands tightening on the arms of the throne.
“No, you can’t,” Morgan replied, keeping his tone neutral. “Last time you caught me off guard. I might not be able to fight off everyone in this room, but I can be gone before any of you have the time to so much as blink.”
The Queen’s face reddened a bit more, before her expression abruptly changed to a smile. It wasn’t a friendly smile however, it was more a bearing of teeth than anything else.
“You’ll regret acting like this. Mark my words.”
“Is this the only reason you wanted to see me?” Morgan asked with a raised eyebrow. “To try and cow me? If yes, I’d like to go now. I was in the middle of a very peaceful nap when your goons came to get me.”
The Queen glared at him for a few more seconds before waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“Take him to the judges, then lock him in his room! I don’t want to see his smug face until tomorrow morning.”
The guards saluted, surrounding the both of them once more, and marching them out of the room. As soon as they were out of the throne room, Sarah spoke to him in a quiet voice.
“You know she won’t let you get away with talking to her like that, right?”
“She isn’t planning on letting either of us leave alive once the tournament is over,” Morgan replied with a shrug. “Why bother being courteous?”
“Guess you have a point,” she replied with a sigh. “Do you know how we’ll be leaving once this thing is over?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Quiet! No more talking!”
They both turned to see that one of the guards had turned to glare at them. As one, Morgan and Sarah both raised their hands, middle fingers extended to let the guard know what they thought of his orders.
They entered a smaller room about ten minutes later, and approached a table with four people sitting behind it, a fifth standing off to one side.
“Morgan, reporting for evaluation,” one of the guards said in a voice that much louder than the situation demanded.
“Thank you,” one of the judges said, wincing at the volume of his voice. “You may wait outside. We’ll take it from here.”
The guard stiffened at that.
“With all due respect, the Queen has ordered that he remain guarded at all times.”
The judge’s eyes hardened at that, and he leaned forward on his elbows, interlacing his fingers.
“I can assure you that no harm will befall him while he’s here. I will take full responsibility if something were to happen.”
The guard was persistent however, and Morgan knew why. The Queen didn’t give a crap about his safety. She just wanted to make sure that he’d have no opportunity to escape.
“As much as I trust your integrity, I must insist on staying. Under no circumstances will I leave him here alone,” the man said, narrowing his eyes.
“What’s your name, guardsman?” the judged asked.
“Why does it matter?” he replied, clearly confused by the question.
“I’ll need someone to blame when the West is disqualified from entering the tournament, because we were unable to evaluate their contender.”
The guard’s eyes widened, looking between the judge and Morgan. He gritted his teeth, as though he wanted to object, but finally, inclined his head a fraction of an inch. He couldn’t, however, resist a parting threat as he headed to the door.
“If anything happens to him, the Queen will have your head!”
Then the door slammed shut behind him.
The judge turned his head to Morgan with a questioning look.
“That man really takes your security seriously. I haven’t had an issue with any of the others.”
“He’s more concerned with making sure I don’t run, than actually keeping me safe,” Morgan replied with a shrug.
“Ah,” the judge replied, his confusion clearing up. “I take it you are competing under duress?”
“Not entirely,” he answered. “If I didn’t want to complete, no number of guards would be able to stop me from escaping.”
“Yeah, it would be like trying to catch a fly with only your bare hands,” Sarah put in a with a snicker.
“Who’s this?” the judge asked, turning to give Sarah a questioning look. “And why is she still here?”
Sarah gave Morgan a guilty look and shrugged.
“Would it be alright if she stayed?” Morgan asked, turning back to the four judges. “She’s the only friend I have with me, and I’d rather not leave her alone with the guards.”
The judges exchanged a few looks, then the one who’d been speaking nodded.
“Very well. So long as you do not interfere with the evaluation, we will allow you to stay.”
Sarah nodded her thanks, and Morgan let out a small sigh of relief. As much as he was certain Sarah could take care of herself, there was always the off chance that her father would spot her. As it was, Simon would recognize him the moment he saw him tomorrow. Even if he looked nothing like the scrawny boy from City Four, his name alone would make the man look closer. Once Simon realized who he was, he would begin hunting for Sarah, and then, it would only be a matter of time until he found her. Morgan shook himself from his thoughts as the judge asked him to take a seat.
“What e
xactly will we be doing here?” he asked, sitting down in the sole chair across from the judges.
“We will be asking you some questions. You will answer them truthfully, and as fully as you are able. Our diviner will be able to tell if you are lying.”
He gestured to the woman standing off to one side.
Morgan shrugged. That was fine with him. What did he care about answering a few questions?
The judge nodded, and asked the first question.
“What is your name?”
“Morgan.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
The judge froze for a moment, looking quickly to the diviner, who nodded her head, looking as surprised as he was.
“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “What is your current rank?”
“Thirty-three.”
“The name of your ability?”
“Natural Disaster.”
The questioning continued, each simple to answer and none that invaded his privacy as much as the first few had. Finally, the judge put his pen down and asked his last question. Morgan could tell that everyone in the room had been waiting for this, as they all leaned forward in anticipation.
“Are you really a supermage?”
“Yes.”
All of the judges turned to the diviner, who was pale-faced. They all knew the answer before she even told them.
“He’s telling the truth.”
32
Morgan and Sarah were escorted early the next morning to the stadium. They were ushered into a carriage and locked inside with several guards. The wagon rumbled down the road, which was already thronging with people despite the early hour. As the wagon neared the stadium, the crowds grew heavier and at a certain point, two of the guards were forced to leave the carriage to clear the way for them to pass.