“Thanks,” said Lock.
“No worries, you’re Flint’s boy?” asked the guard.
Lock rocked back a step, the last thing he expected was someone to recognize him or his dad, “Yeah, Lock,” he said as he offered the guard his hand.
“Jeffries, James Jeffries. Used to run patrols with your dad before I busted my knee,” said Jeffries as he shook Lock’s hand.
“Ah, yea sounds familiar. Jumping Jimmy Jeffries,” said Lock.
Jeffries cleared his through a little too loud, “Keep your voice down. Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”
Lock smiled in an attempt to not laugh, “Secret’s safe with me.”
Jeffries bowed his head in thanks, “So what part of the games are you interested in?” then he turned around and pointed straight toward the main house, “The major duels take place on the front lawn, but they won’t start till noon.”
Jeff pointed to the left, “East lawn is where most of the vendors and musicians are set up. Good place to grab a bite or do some shopping, ton of vendors,” then he pointed to the right, “West lawn is where the prelim matches are going down. You can swing by and see some of the duelists if that’s your thing.”
Finally Jeff swirled his finger in a half circle, “The challenges are set up on the back side of the Mansion. If you need a good laugh, check them out, but I suggest going early. They usually wrap up by noon so everyone can make it to the duels.”
“A good laugh it is,” said Lock.
Jeffries clapped Lock on the shoulder and waved him past, “Enjoy. Oh and say hi to your dad.”
“Will do,” said Lock then he raised his voice so the group of guards could hear, “Later Jumping Jim.”
He didn’t wait around to see the aftermath, instead he hustled through the gate. Once he inside he stopped to take in the sight. Lord Santi’s place was nothing like Stanwick’s. For one, it was probably twenty times larger but despite the size of the property, you could clearly see the high stonewalls that wrapped all the way around the estate. Even more impressive was the barrier that domed out from the mansion and connected with surrounding walls.
Inside the grounds were simply beautiful. Lush green grass stretched all the way from the mansion to wall. Scant patches of wildflowers were scattered around and there were gentle hills to break up the view. The wildflowers offered a rainbow of colors that made the place far more welcoming than Stanwick’s prison of an estate.
Nestled in the middle of it all was Lord Santi’s mansion. Fortress would be a more accurate term. The entire placed looked like it had been cut from a single massive piece of stone. Smooth and clean but at the same time the retainers posted around the outside were intimidating.
As he marveled at the property other guests strolled past him and followed the various cobblestone walkways that lead to the major attractions. Not wanting to look out of place, he forced himself to stop staring and started to explore for himself. The challenges in the back of the mansion were his main priority, but there was no reason he couldn’t pick up something to eat on the way.
Munching on something might even help settle his nerves so he cut down one of the paths to the left. As he came up on the vendors he was expecting to hear some sort of music but the only noise he detected was the ever-present chirp of nearby birds and the occasional chatter from other people on the path. The smell of roasted meat and fried dough let him know he was in the right direction.
Then it hit him, one step there was no music, the next it was like a band of traveling minstrels was playing right in front of him. Must have been a sound barrier, courtesy of Magister Tempo no doubt. Wonders never seemed to end at the Santi Estate.
He tuned out the music and followed his nose to a stand selling BBQ pork sandwiches and some sort of delicious sounding meat on a stick. One look at the vendor’s board and he just kept on walking.
Two silver shims for a sandwich, three for the meat on a stick thing. Twenty coppers and thirty coppers, respectively and he only had ten copper shims. Enough to afford half of a sandwich. In other words he’d be going hungry for the day.
At least he had a big bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. Best head to the challenges and get it done before he really got hungry. He walked to the end of the vendors and pushed his way through a knot of people surrounding one of the more popular musicians. Once he was past that group of people it was smooth sailing back to the paths. From there it was easy to find his way to the back of the estate.
As the sound of music cut off, the path gently started to slope upwards until it reached a slight hill behind the Santi mansion. On the top of that hill there was a row of five stalls. That didn’t look like one of the challenges but it could be some place to get information or like check in.
When he got closer Lock cut off the path and walked straight up the hill to the row of stalls.
On his way up the hill a teenage girl dressed in the dark blue and pitch-black robes of the Waystar Academy waved him over, “Here to try your luck at the challenges?”
“Yes I am,” replied Lock.
“Excellent. The first is a test of speed and precision, the Endless Hourglass. Pick a stall and one of the other students will help you,” said the girl.
“Actually, I was hoping to do the strength one first,” said Lock, “That an option?”
“Sure, there’s no order or anything. That one can be a pain so most people like to skip it anyway. If you want to do the others first, head around to your right and you should see two groups of people huddled around the other challenges. Just push your way through the crowd and one of the other students will be able to help you,” replied the girl then she turned to someone else walking up the hill and began her speech all over again.
True to her word, there were two groups of people bunched up around the other challenges. The larger group was gathered around some sort of large cylindrical tower with a big circular pad at the bottom and a green light swirling around the base. As he watched from afar, a young man about his age aimed his spellrod at the pad and fired. A swirling burst of air struck the pad with impressive force. The pale green light shot up the tower and stopped about halfway. At the top of the tower a number popped up, 511.
As the crowd cheered a teenage boy dressed in Waystar’s colors walked up to the tower, jotted down something in his notebook then slapped the side of the tower. The light dropped down to the base of the tower and another young man stepped up for his turn.
As Lock pushed his way to the center of the crowd, the scene repeated itself three more times. None of them were able to get the light to shoot up more than a quarter of the tower, so he started to feel a bit more confident about his chances. He was too busy navigating the crowd to catch their scores actual, but the crowd didn’t cheer much. Once he reached the front of the crowd he decided to wait a little longer to see how a few more people performed.
Next up was a trio of young men who were obviously friends. By the look of them, they decided to make it a bit of a competition. Probably to impress a girl or something. The first two performed similar to most, with scores of 315 and 342. The third one, however, got it about two thirds of the way with a score of 654, and was welcomed by wave of applause. The third young man reveled in the applause as he returned to his friends then flashed a smug grin to the next participant. A small young woman with golden blond hair and intense eyes that screamed “back off”. She flashed a screw you look at the three young men and stepped up for her turn.
Lock knew her as Clare Everbright and she was a welcome sight. They met during their initiation, and he couldn’t wait to see what came next. She might be a small pretty girl, but he knew she packed a punch. Something Lock learned first hand.
“You sure this thing’s safe?” asked Clare.
The student checked the auraband on her wrist to get her name, then wrote it in his notebook and motioned for her to proceed, “Perfectly safe. Give it your best shot.”
Clare shrugged and pointed her spellrod at the
circular pad. The runes on her spellrod flared to life with a gentle golden light then an orb of the same golden light shot from the spellrod. The orb was small but it struck the pad with bone shattering force and kicked up a ring of dust.
Lock was smart enough to cover his face to block the dust but it seemed like he was the only one who knew what was coming, including Clare. A wave of complaints ran through the crowd but as the dust settled the complaints turned to an awed silence. Then all at once the crowd erupted with applause. She’d shot the light almost to the top of the tower, with a score of 973.
The student running the test seemed to forget his job for a moment then rushed over to the tower, scribbled in his notebook and slapped the tower to reset the light.
Clare on the other hand was still stunned by her performance and looked like she needed some rescuing. Never one to leave a friend hanging or a lovely young girl. he stepped out of the crowd to take his turn and draw some of the attention. Not to mention to keep the challenge moving as the proctor seemed to have what he was supposed to do.
On his way he nudged Clare, “Nice job killer, you trying to blow up the tower?”
Clare snapped out of her daze, “What, no I didn’t even,” then she realized who she was talking to, “Oh it’s you, whatever jerk.”
“Nice to see you too. Mind stepping back so us normal people can finish the challenge before some ditzy girl blows it up?” teased Lock.
“If I recall you’re the one who stuck his hand in a pool of Ether and blew up the fusion chamber,” replied Clare as she regained her composure.
“Fair enough,” said Lock conceding the argument to her. No need to continue the banter now that he’d attracted enough attention to let her get away, “Congrats by the way.”
Clare was quick to realize that people had shifted their attention to Lock, “Thanks, and ah good luck. Swing by my dad’s stand after?”
“Sure thing,” replied Lock.
“Later Lock,” teased Clare over her shoulder as she escaped into the crowd.
With Clare gone all eyes were on Lock and he turned his full attention to the proctor.
After resetting the tower he came over to check Lock’s wrist, “No auraband or spellrod?”
“Sorry, didn’t realize I needed them,” said Lock.
Can’t afford them is more like it.
“There should be vendors selling them on the east lawn, but the tower will record any sort of mana blast. Just make sure you activate your blessing so everything gets recorded,” said the Proctor.
“I can do a Temporal Slide,” said Lock.
“I don’t care,” said the Proctor, “Just give me your name and blessing for the backup records.”
“Matlock Sharp. Temporal Blessing,” answered Lock.
The Proctor scribbled the information into his notebook and motioned to the tower, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Chapter 3:
Lock took a few steps backwards, put his hands up like he was getting ready to box and channeled a large portion of his mana into his right fist. There was no physical change, but he felt a tingling in his hand as if it had been plunged into a pile of fresh snow. The sensation wasn’t painful, but it was also not something you would want to hold for a long time. So, he cocked his hand and started to throw a punch. Halfway through the swing he slammed his eyes shut, leapt forward, and used Temporal Slide.
Like always the effect was instantaneous. His fist impacted the pad and discharged all of the mana stored in his hand. The impact let out a slapping sound like hitting a punching bag. A couple seconds after the impact a wave of strong wind rippled out from the tower. Despite what Lock thought was a rather impressive display of power, the crowd gave no reaction besides silence. When he glanced at the tower, he figured out why.
The light hadn’t moved at all, but a score did pop up. The only problem was that it wasn’t like any of the others. This one showed up in purple instead of the usual green and despite it being a respectable number, it was negative -511.
Even the proctor was confused by that, but he ran over to the tower, scribbled the results into his notebook and slapped the tower to reset it.
“Hey,” said Lock as the proctor returned, “What’s that mean?”
The proctor shrugged, “I don’t know man, I just run the tower. Ask one of the Magisters.”
He wanted to ask more but it was clear this guy had no patience for him in the slightest. Perhaps he’d have better luck at the next challenge, and the proctor could give him more information.
He pushed his way thru the crowd which for a guy his size, that was not an easy task. The only thing that worked for him was that people tended not to want to get in his way. After struggling for what felt like entirely too long, he broke free and started walking toward the next challenge. Sure, enough two steps later someone called his name. He paused for moment and heard his name again; it was not a voice he recognized.
“Lock,” said the unfamiliar voice a third time.
When he turned in the direction of the sound, he didn’t see anyone he recognized but there was a young boy running toward him. He was dressed in plain but well-fitted black doublet. Safe bet that it was the boy who yelled at him.
“Do I know you?” asked Lock.
“Oh, no. I overheard your name,” said the boy.
“Right, well I have two more challenges to do and the wait for the next one seems to be growing by the second,” said Lock in an effort to excuse himself.
The boy looked over at the other challenges as if he was trying to make sense of what Lock said then he pointed to the large crowd of people moving over to the stealth challenge, “Ah, Thread the Needle is a little more organized. There’s a line around the side, I can show you.”
Where Lock grew up there was only one reason a stranger would get your attention. To distract you while his buddy cleaned your pockets so on instinct his hand slipped into his pocket. Once he was sure he still had all of his belongings he nodded to the boy, “Lead the way.”
The boy nodded and slipped effortlessly through the crowd without a word. Lock cursed the fact that he was too big to slip between people like that and had to resort to pushing people out of the way to keep up. A handful of angry faces and a couple curses later he popped out of the crowd right at the end of the line to Thread the Needle.
The boy stepped into the line, then turned around and motioned for Lock to stand next to him. It was then that Lock realized he was not wearing an auraband. The kid certainly looked like he could afford one. Maybe he was just too young.
“Mind if I wait with you?” asked the boy.
“Mind if I ask why?” replied Lock.
The boy shrugged, “I’m curious.”
“Well Mr. Curious why help me? No offense but I don’t know you. Where I’m from people don’t help strangers without a reason,” said Lock still keeping a firm grip on the few shims he had.
“Pardon my manners,” The boy brushed off his hand on the front of his shirt and offered it to Lock, “Lucas. Although Curious is probably a fitting title. You’re not wearing an auraband or spellrod, so I was curious what you planned to do.”
“I’m not sure yet,” said Lock as he eased up his grip on his coin and took Lucas’s hand, “Teleport I guess.”
“So, you’re a Temporal?” asked Lucas.
Lock cleared his throat and pointed to the gap in the line forming in front of them. Lucas glanced at the gap them moved closer to the next person with a deliberate slowness. It was as if he thought the entire world would wait for him, “So you are a Temporal?” asked Lucas again.
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to focus on this challenge,” said Lock.
Lucas frowned with a tinge of confusion as if it was the first time someone did not answer his question, “I did the challenges earlier this morning. I can explain them if you’d like.”
Not as young as he looks.
Lock didn’t know what to expect from Lucas, but he couldn’t imag
ine him completing the challenges, “Sure, but try to be quick about it.”
“So you’ve already done Strike the Nail or Breaker’s Tower. This one is called Thread the Needle, fairly simple. There’s a pool of sand with a jewel on a pedestal in the middle. The goal is to get the jewel without moving the sand. Should be easy for a Temporal,” said Lucas.
That was quick.
“What makes you say that? You have a Temporal Blessing too?” asked Lock.
“Call it an educated guess. What are your limitations?” asked Lucas.
Lock pursed his lips not sure how to answer, “You mean for a Temporal Slide?”
Lucas’s eyes lit up, “Yeah. How far? How many times?”
“About ten yards,” said Lock.
Lucas bobbed his head with a smile, “Then it’s easy. The pool of sand is only about fifteen yards across. Slide to the jewel, grab it and Slide again as soon as possible. That is if you can Slide again.”
“Ha-ha,” said Lock without humor, “I can Slide more than two times.”
Lucas put his hands up, “Fair enough. Might leave a few footsteps in the middle but that’s better than what most will be able to do today.”
Lock leaned to the side to check how much longer he would need to wait. Only two people in front of him, “That was my plan before you came along. Speaking of which; how long are you planning to follow me?”
“That depends,” said Lucas.
Lock let out a slow breath, this was starting to feel like talking to his dad, “On what?”
“It’s a rather complex algorithm that I’d rather not explain,” Lucas pointed at the challenge, “Besides you don’t have the time.”
Lock blinked a few times as he tried to comprehend what Lucas said. Algorithm meant something about poetry or no. No that was another a word, arithmetic. He was making a joke about numbers, “You’re a strange guy.”
“Am I,” said Lucas but it sounded more like a confirmation than a question.
“Uhuh, well thanks for your help,” said Lock as he leaned forward to get a better view of the challenge.
The Whetstone Fist 2 Page 2
