by R. M Garino
Arielle let the statement pass without comment. This did not seem to be the time, nor the place to begin ribbing Gwen about Thomlin.
Be different, Gwen sent. You’re Rhen’val. To the seven hells with tradition. You’re so bad ass as to not even need a House.
Her words made Arielle turn her head, even though it was against protocol. What if she didn’t choose a House? Had that been done? Could it?
Eyes front! Ba’ril barked at her.
The call to attention ran down the formation, silencing her thoughts and conversation. She squared her shoulders and feet along with everyone else in the valley. The Yearlings and their Masters were entering the valley, and proceeding down the corridor toward the portal. She could feel the Magi gathering their power around them, drawing the energies from the earth beneath their feet.
One by one, the pairs of Yearling and Master passed her on their lo’el. Each kept their gaze straight ahead, and each was ablaze with worry and trepidation. A year ago she would not have noticed the turmoil, but her apprenticeship under the Mala’kar had been intense. Logan was the last to pass. He was calm, as poised and collected as she had ever seen. He glanced her way as he passed, and offered her a smile, and a silent dip of his head to show his gratitude. But he did not pause in his march. As he passed Gwen, he repeated the gesture. Arielle offered a silent prayer for him and his safety.
The pairs halted before the Commandant and Heads of Houses. The Yearlings dismounted in formation. Upon landing they stood at attention before the gathered dignitaries. Thesius took the reins of the riderless lo’el and drew them off to the side.
The Commandant held his sheathed sword cradled in the crook of his arm. One by one, he stopped in front of each candidate. Arielle knew he was committing each face to memory.
“You are Lethen’al!” Her grandfather’s shout echoed through the expanse of the valley as he stepped away from the Yearlings. “You descended from Heaven! You chose to become the stewards of the earth! But peaceful communion is not enough for you. No! You want to be counted against the darkness and the destruction of your kind.
“So you became Areth’kon,” he said, “and learned to be the greatest warriors this world has ever known. But it is not enough for you to lay down your life in service. You want to do more!
“You wish to join the Elc’atar Guard. You wish to stand with those who hold to the memory of Prince El’Cain Tu’renthien by their every breath and action. You wish to become death incarnate. Beware ambition, for it demands a heavy price.
“We, who have attained the rank before you, have judged you to be worthy to join our legend. You, who stand before us, have been tested in mind, in spirit, in body, and in heart. You have proven yourselves true to our teaching, and so we grant you the opportunity to pay for your aspirations.
“Are there any among you who hold a doubt within your soul? Is there any one of you who is not absolutely certain that this is your wish? If there is one such among you, now is the time to step away. None will think less of you. Be warned: should that doubt exist, the Sur will detect it, and you will be destroyed.
“I will give you a moment to decide.”
Silence held as Thoreau paused to let the Yearlings consider his offer. None of them made a sound, nor did any step away.
They never did.
“Then you are decided, and set upon your course! Your fate is your own to forge now, and you will be alone in that resolution. You have three days to reach the extraction point. At dawn of the third day, we open the portal. Those of you who return to us will thereafter be members of the Elc’atar Guard. Those who do not, will dwell in our prayers, in our dreams, and we will drink to your memory. We thank you all for the service you have rendered. Face your death with the knowledge that your actions have kept our people safe, and your loyalty has let them rest secure.
“And so we clear our minds of middling concerns, we connect ourselves to the greater world around us, and we begin!”
With the last of the Commandant’s words, the gathered Blades made a smart right face, facing the Yearlings as they entered the portal.
The empty stone gate illuminated, a mist rising from within it and spilling into the Vale. The runes and markings on the surface of the stones shone, and began to change. By increments the building energy arced outward, the jets of power increasing until it filled the empty space. As the entire surface was transmuted into a blaze of white light, a spiral of black opened in its center. The spiral expanded, extending until only a halo of light marked the edge of the darkness. The Yearlings drew their weapons, and entered the void at a run. Logan did not falter. He entered the darkness in step with his companions.
The moment the last Yearling stepped through the portal, the Magi released their power, and the void vanished. Once more the gate stood empty, a solid ring of weathered stone standing upright, with tendrils of mist reaching from the archway. The lo’el howled as one, crying their grief in one long, mournful note.
“Graduates!” Trenton’s voice barked through the silence. “Right face!”
Arielle’s Pride pivoted as directed, before she could allow herself to absorb the reality of Logan’s departure. On the other side of the valley stood another arch, smaller and less elaborate. Beyond it was a narrow pass climbing through the sheer sides of the mountain. A series of soul lamps fluttered to life.
“Graduates forward!” Trenton said. “Double time!”
Arielle ran in step with her Pride, leaving the valley, and what could well be Logan’s tomb behind her.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
The Menace
“Welcome to the Menace, scrubs,” Trenton said, his voice projecting. He stood forty feet above the floor of the small box canyon they now occupied.
With a rumble of stone on stone, the valley floor surged up behind them, sealing them inside. Small crevices dotted the otherwise smooth canyon walls, but there was no obvious way out.
“In three days’ time,” Trenton said, “you will have the honor of pledging yourselves to the House of your choice. You have run the Gauntlet, been tested in the Pit, and the A’gist. What is more, you have been found worthy to continue. Some of you might even be allowed to test for Yearling. But first, you must survive to prove yourself worthy of that honor. That is why we are here today.”
More figures joined Trenton on the walkway. Thoreau, Dugal, and Arrolyn represented House Rhen’val. The Heads of the Houses followed behind them: Endeara Fel’Mekrin, Finlay Kal’Parev, Brenna Le’Manon, and Roko Mer’Chien took positions along the small wall that encircled the canyon. A number of Mala’kar entered behind the Heads, followed by twice their number of Elc’atar. These last wore countenances etched with worry. Angus felt a very deep concern seep into him as he beheld their faces. They were even more grim than usual.
Another quartet of figures appeared, materializing out of the night. Chrysies and Talon, accompanied by Thenaria and Brocco took their place on the walkway.
“Just so you know,” Trenton said once all the newcomers were situated around the perimeter. “The Menace is a captive breach. It works as a conduit, flooding the valley you now occupy with shrulks. In part, this is done to draw them away from the Yearlings who have just entered the Sur, so that they can get their bearings. It is also done to test what you have learned in your time here, and gauge your quality for the Pledging. You have each faced a shrulk in the Pit. Today, you will face the shrulks in packs, the way they naturally gather. They are creatures born of the Apostate’s hate of us, and they exist for no other reason than to eat you. Make no mistake, for if you do, you will become dinner for the beasts. The training you have received has taught you to face this foe in particular. They will come at you in waves. Use what you have learned and hold against them for as long as you can. That is your task today: survive.”
Trenton measured the color of the lightening horizon.
“Prepare yourselves as you see best,” he said. “The first wave arrives with the dawn.”
Thomlin called a consult, and Angus moved into the tight huddle with the rest of his Pride. The calm, reassuring presence of Arielle relaxed him.
“Alright,” Thomlin waved them all closer together. “Trenton said they’ll come at us in waves. But he didn’t say from where. That makes me assume they’ll come from any and all directions. So, we form a circle to prevent from being flanked. Should anyone fall, we can close the circle around them, protecting them and keeping the integrity at the same time.”
Angus studied the terrain as his cousin was speaking. The three other groups were in similar huddles, apparently formulating the same plans. The Ninth was represented by Nole, Padric, Sinead, and Leah. None of the others had been accepted into the A’gist. Laine, Sloane, and Kassidy stood for the Fifth. Efrain alone stood for the Eighth. As there were only three squads qualified to test, including the enlarged Fifteenth, there would be three separate circles in the bowl. If they did not get in each other’s way, it was more than likely they’d create currents in the attacking waves, much the same way rocks caused eddies in a river. The ensuing chaos would make their task that much harder. Shrulks, he knew, were relentless, and they crashed upon their victims even if it meant going through their fellows.
“Hold on,” Angus said, as he broke from the huddle. Arielle sensed his intention, and moved after him a second later. The rest of the Pride were distressed by their actions, and Ba’ril called after them.
They walked to the center of the field. He took her hand, and sent his words to each squad.
We need to join together, he sent them. There are no more squads. Just accepted graduates. One unified force will be able to cover the entire bowl. If we form up by squad we will all be overrun.
At first, no one moved to heed his words. The Fifteenth followed them to the center of the bowl, as if to show their support for the plan. The remnants of Le’Manon’s Ninth were slow to respond, and they appeared to argue over the soundness of the tactics. The Fifth ignored the idea. Efrain shook his head, a certain sadness to the movement.
“Make up your minds,” Angus shouted. “The sun is rising!”
“We’ll not help you, Kal’Parev,” said Laine of the Fifth, his sword upraised. They had already formed their own circle far to the opposite end of the bowl. “Nor will we help the traitors. We are Fel’Mekrin, we are true, and we can stand on our own!”
Le’Manon’s Ninth broke their huddle and hurried to join the Pride.
“Your strategy is sound, Kal’Parev,” Padric said as they approached at a run. “We don’t care for your choice of company, but we’ll stand with you.”
“Piss off, rodent,” Gwendolyn said as the Ninth filled out their perimeter. “You can rot for all I care.”
“Exchange pleasantries later, princess,” Thomlin said. She was standing next to him, so there had been no need for him to shout, but he’d made his voice carry nevertheless. “Focus on the mission!”
As the sun lightened the horizon, a sharp, piercing bark filled the air. Three cries echoed through the bowl in quick succession.
An unsettling silence hung in the air as the echo faded.
A chorus of croup barks replied. The graduates shouted their defiance, along with their readiness, with a choral shout of “Oohraah!” The monsters poured out of the darkened crevices all around them, their snouts low to the ground. They ran on their two hind legs, counterbalanced by the long, thick tails that pointed out behind them. A heavy coating of coarse black hair covered their heads, framing the blue-black of their elongated muzzles. Rows of sharp teeth glistened in their open jaws, and the talons on their short forearms and feet were extended to their full degree. Soft, downy feathers of a sickening green, blue, and gray hue covered the rest of their bodies.
“Fight one, fight all!” Thomlin shouted as the shrulks advanced.
“FIGHT ONE, FIGHT ALL,” the Pride echoed in unison. It might be a Kal’Parev battle cry, but each of them remembered their first day in the Pit, and took up the call.
The pack impacted with the lines, amid a chorus of barks and war cries. Angus lashed out with his sword, swinging for the neck of the first shrulk to reach him. The edge of the blade cut through the flesh without resistance, and the beast fell to the ground lifeless. He swung around, and brought the sword down on the head of the next to approach, cleaving the skull in two. Beside him, Arielle worked her blades in tandem, landing two cuts for every one of his. Angus worked his sword around, cursing his clumsy movements as he cut the legs off of a shrulk hurtling toward him. Another rushed in to fill the void before he’d finished stomping on the head of the first.
“Hold the line!” Padric called above the din. The desperation in his voice was clear, but his shouts of encouragement helped him as much as everyone else. Angus struck down another beast, and then another, and another. Arielle was now working her blades independent of the other, taking down two shrulks with each movement. The circle held, although it bent inward with the press of monsters against it.
And then there were none. A final bark sounded behind them, followed by a sickening whack, and the field was clear. The Pride sounded off in unison, declaring with a shout of “Huzzah” that they were still alive.
Padric and Brianna from the Ninth had fallen, and the line had closed in over them.
Glitters of light floated on the field indicating where each of the fallen graduates had been. Similar to the effect of the casters during the Gauntlet, the Menace removed the graduates soon after they fell. Across the field, Angus noted that two patterns of light drifted to the floor amid the Fifth. Laine stood alone, his expression of terror suggesting that he was unhappy with his position, and unsure of his choices. Efrain was nowhere to be seen.
Another refrain of barks sounded as soon as the last floating light had left the field.
“Round two!” Hironata called. He hefted his cudgel above his shoulder, readying himself for the attack to a chorus of “Oohraah!”
The second wave struck moments after Hironata spoke. Once again, the beasts fell dead before they could rupture the circle, but there were more this time. Graduates burst into patterns of light as they fell to the monsters, and the circle grew smaller. Nole and Leah from the Ninth were down, and the Fifth no longer held the field.
The next wave was coming.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
Friendly Wager
Thenaria watched the melee beneath her, clenching involuntary fists. The presence of the shrulks made her skin crawl as they always did. It took her full control to restrain herself from striking them all down. Beside her, the hummingbird flew in agitated circles, never straying far.
This was a repulsive, if necessary, display. To contain a breach and give the unclean beasts access to her land violated every vow she had ever made to herself. But the children in the Sur needed some room to breathe, and the children on the valley floor needed to learn what they faced. She accepted the fact, and had condoned the practice for millennia. But she had never witnessed it before. Brocco’s touch on her shoulder steadied her, and she focused her attention on her grandson.
He was doing well, she noted with satisfaction. They both were. If anything, Arielle was far more competent with her swords than Angus was. Seven waves had crashed against them, and still they stood. They were no longer escaping without injury, but none of the strikes had been serious.
“Seven waves,” someone said beside her, speaking to Talon. “First round on me.”
Thenaria regarded him.
“I beg your pardon?” she said.
; The Mala’kar’s haughty countenance faded when he saw who had spoken to him.
“Your pardon, Mother,” Talon said, interceding on his friend’s behalf. “It was just a friendly wager.”
“Talon!” Chrysies declared, her disapproval clear in her voice.
“On what?” Thenaria asked, silencing her daughter with a touch.
“Alan here bet the children wouldn’t last past the fifth wave. I wagered against him.”
Performance wagers were nothing new to her. The Magi engaged in similar behavior all the time.
“How many waves do you usually see?” She returned her attention to the battle beneath her.
“Nine, I believe,” he said.
“Twelve the year Logan tested,” Endeara said, further down the line of spectators. “He was alone on the field by then, of course, but he held it for two entire waves on his own. No one has ever done so well.”
Thenaria cast her mental gaze at the insufferable woman.
“I will wager,” Thenaria said. She felt Brocco and Chrysies start behind her. It was not like her to take any active role in social interactions, she knew, but there were few things she liked less than smugness. “If any of the Fifteenth squad falls before the twelfth wave, the entire night is on me.”
Word spread along the walkway with the speed of thought, and every voice accepted the wager.
“I don’t know,” Brenna of House Le’Manon said. “That was a brilliant move joining the squads. I have never seen it done before, though after the Gauntlet we should have expected it. If they have any more insights like that it might be a fool’s bet.”
“You can bet on Logan’s chances in the Sur, if you’d like,” Thenaria said. “The Apostate is drawn to arrogance, and he is likely to feast on one such as he.” She placed a light touch on Endeara’s forearm. “I am sorry, my dear. I had forgotten you were here.”
