“Ah yes, Niles Lockhart, one of the greatest Avatar Champions to compete in the War. His aptitude in magecraft was second to none. It’s a shame what happened to him. He was on his on the fast track to being the Director of Order in the MANA.”
“He never told me what he did before he retired and opened the cafe,” Rook confessed. “What happened?”
“Wait—go back,” Bishop insisted, surprised by what he just learned. “You mean to tell me that the blind man that owns a cafe almost joined almost became the Director of Order in the M.A.N.A? Tell me you are joking.”
“What’s the M.A.N.A?”
“Remember, the Magic Police I told you about? That’s them.”
“Oh.”
“Well, I know nothing about this cafe you speak of, but what I can tell you is after Niles victory in the forty-second Avatar War, the M.A.N.A approached him to join their ranks. He accepted and became one of their most successful and renowned agents. For years his status and legend grew and was on the fast track to becoming the Director until the accident. When he was on a mission, he suffered an injury at the hands of his former friend best friend, and several agents died on the mission and the blame fell on Niles. They accused him of allowing his feelings to get away with the mission even though he too suffered irreversible injuries to his sight. He disappeared after that, never to be seen again.”
“I… I never knew that,” said Bishop, trying to absorb what he just heard. “I never knew your uncle was such a bad mofo, Rook!”
“Yea,” said Rook. He was unsure how to feel. Part of him felt proud knowing his uncle did great things while the other part of him felt sad for the way things ended for him. “Who was his friend that betrayed him?”
“Lionus Dermott, Niles childhood friend. Somewhere along the line he became a radical and created the terrorist organization that all themselves MYTH. He’s still at large and no one has seen him since the night Niles and his men confronted him,” Parmchez explained, as the ceremonial precession walked down a hall in the distance, alarming him. “It’s time for me to get you to your room, it’s almost time. This way.”
Parmchez, led them down the hall as the precession passed, turning right and taking them to another floor, until they arrived at a door down a long hallway. He led them inside the room where two couches lined either side of the wall with a glass table in between. The door to the bathroom was on the left as Parmchez, closed the door behind them.
“All right, you can get dressed her, Rook, I’ll be back in a few minutes, and when I return, I will escort you down to the Links chambers where you will wait until the ceremony begins. I trust you’ve brought the contract with you?”
“I did.”
“I’ll be outside. As far as you go Bishop, A carrier will be along to escort you to the observation stands with the other guests and viewers of the War, you can watch from there.”
“Thank you, Parmchez.”
Bishop nodded before Parmchez exited the room, closing the door behind them. “I wonder if he would be mad if I called him, Parm for short.” Bishop joked.
“And you tell me I need to take things seriously,” Rook remarked.
“You do, that doesn’t mean I have to,” Bishop replied. “Go get dressed, Rook. You’re short on time.”
Bishop laughed before grabbing the black robe and entering the bathroom to change. He didn’t put on the robes immediately; he stared into the mirror for a couple of minutes, reflecting on everything that led him to this moment in his life. Seeing his uncle’s statue in the hall with a plaque was inspiring. To think, his uncle Niles, the man who raised him was once one of the greatest Avatar Champions was shocking to hear, but it was inspiring and lit a fire in Rook that he hadn’t had before.
He took only a few minutes to get changed into the black robes. It wasn’t his preferred style of clothing, but he looked pretty cool in it in his mind. They were long and shuffled on the floor as he walked and had a hood that hangs in the back. The thunderous ringing of the bell signaled the starting of the ceremony, causing Bishop to finish fixing to a comfortable position before exiting the room.
“Bishop, how do you think this—”
Rook paused at the sight of the empty room, Bishop was no longer there. He knew it was strange that he wasn’t making some joke or another while was inside, but it was unlike him to leave without saying a word. The carrier must have arrived to escort him to the observation balcony while he was getting dressed inside. He exited the bathroom when a sudden knock came to the door.
“Are you ready, sir?” Parmchez asked from the other side. “The ceremony is about to begin.”
“Coming now,” said Bishop, tossing his bag aside and grabbing the contract. He placed it inside his robe as he opened the door and exited the room.
“This way, sir.”
Rook followed Parmchez as he led him down the hall and down the stairs and into the lower levels of the tower. Torches on either side of the walls lit the hallways and corridors up in a radiant orange glow. As they turned down a hallway, Parmchez spoke once more.
“The chambers are right this way, Rook. Inside are the other ten Links who will participate in the Avatar War this year.”
“Are there always eleven Links?”
“No, actually. This year’s turnout was rather unusually low, to be honest. There are normally over twenty to participate.”
Rook swallowed the lump in his throat after hearing what Parmchez told him. He figured himself lucky to get such a low number of people entering this year.
“When the next bell sounds, you and the other participants will be led to the ceremonial chamber and the ceremony will begin. I will greet you when it’s complete. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“All right, Rook. Here we are the Links chambers.”
They arrived at a set of steel double doors with flaming torches on both sides of the wall. Rook’s heart raced as he looked at the door. It was thick and heavy, with symbols carved onto both sides of it.
“I’ll leave you here. Good luck. Oh, before I forget, put your hood on and keep it on until the ceremony calls for you take it off.”
Rook followed his instructions and placed the black hood of his robes over his head, concealing part of his face. He nodded, silently thanking Parmchez, before the short man turned and walked continued down the hall, disappearing as he turned down another. Rook faced the door and inhaled. Exhaling as he reached for the door. His heart was pumping, wondering who or what waited for him on the other side. After several moments, he’d gained control of his breathing and opened one of the steel doors, and walked into the chamber.
Chapter 9
The Flame Ceremony
Shutting the door behind him, Rook scanned the room. Before him, were ten other black robed Links, leaning against the wall, sitting on couches or sitting in chairs. They wore their hoods like he did and all turned in his direction upon entering the room. Rook found a place near the door and leaned against the wall as his heart raced a mile a minute. Although he couldn’t see their faces under their hoods, he could feel their eyes watching and analyzing him.
“Even through those robes, I can see how nervous you are, boy,” a woman’s voice blurted out, without prompt.
“Careful lady, you don’t know who’s under that hood,” a male voice argued. “Already making enemies before the War begins. Smart.”
“Mind your tongue, boy! Do you know who you are addressing?”
The man stepped off the wall, sniffing the air, then leaning back. “Hm, from the smell of your cheap perfume, I can take a wild guess.”
The woman shot out of her seat. “I was going to save my aggression for the War, but if you’d like a demonstration, I would be happy to oblige, you disrespectful rat!”
He lifted his hand, causing the sleeve of his robe to fall down and spread his fingers into a grip. Sharp nails extend from the tips of his fingers swiftly. “Do me a favor and try.”
“Enough!” exclaimed ano
ther female voice. She was sitting across from the other. “Neither of you will do nothing. Unless you both want to end up dead for breaking your contracts?”
A moment passed before the man’s nail retracted and he folded his arms, while the other female took her seat. The bell rang once more and with it the door to the Links chamber opened. Parmchez and three other men dressed like them were on the other side.
“The time has come, follow us,” said the man.
Rook was first out of the door as the others moved from their positions, exiting the chambers and following the guides. The walk was long, and the closer they got to the chambers, a more distinct and powerful voice became clear. His voice boomed, echoing through the stone hallways and corridors. By the time they reached the door, the lead guide raised a hand, signaling them to stop while the man’s voice became clearer. He described the history of the Avatar War, mentioning several great Avatar Champions of the past. The lead guide opened the door and stuck only his head through for a few moments. He closed the door and the man’s speech changed.
“It’s now time ladies and gentlemen. For those with courage and bravery that stepped up and accepted the challenge. I give to you, the Links for the sixtieth Avatar War!”
A chorus of applause erupted from inside the chamber as the doors swung open. A small tunnel leading into a large chamber came into a view. Against the back stone wall sat a stage that elevated a large podium near the center with a man wearing white robes with a long gray beard standing behind it. Two large wooden doors stood on both ends of the chamber. With his arms stretched out, he welcomed the Links inside. To his left and right stood ten other men and women wearing emerald green robes, clapping in chorus with the crowd above them. A keyhole shaped table stood in front of the room, with a several dozen clear orbs sitting at its circular end. Twelve torches stood lit, lining either side of the stage as Guides scrambled to a position near them.
Entering the tunnel, Rook could see the bleachers, wrapping around the entire circular chamber, filled with men and women dressed in expensive suits and gowns of various fashions, styles and colors, clapping and pointing as they lined up in front of the stage.
He tried to look for Bishop underneath the shroud of his hood, but there were too many people. At least two hundred stood in the stands watching, pointing and cheering. Overwhelmed with nervousness, he took the end position in the line, turning to the stage. The old man at the podium lowered his hands, and with it, the cheers and applause died out until there was silence.
“Welcome, to the Flame Ceremony,” he began. “I am Belgarath Stormgarde; the Flamekeeper for this year’s Avatar War and behind me are the Council of the Flame, the presiding members of the Avatar Commission. You have all chosen, at great sacrifice, to take part in our society’s greatest honor, the Avatar War. This year is a special year for all of us. We lost many members of our society and we will honor their deaths and their contributions to our society with the War!”
A chorus of applause erupted yet again in the chambers, with members of the crowd standing, before Belgarath’s arm settled them to silence once more. Rook
“You eleven, you brave eleven will have lit the Flame with your courage to accept the terms of you contract. It is now customary to hear the rules of this year’s War and for that, I give the floor to Commissioner Quinch!”
Belgarath stepped away from the podium as the crowd applauded, giving way to a shorter plump older woman with curly auburn hair and glasses hanging from her nose. Stepping up to the podium she smiled as she scanned the room until the applause stopped.
“Thank you, Flamekeeper,” she began, before clearing her throat. “The Avatar War will take place in our beloved Star City and will begin at twelve midnight, October first and will conclude at twelve midnight, October thirty-first. Each Link will be given a unique badge to carry with them throughout the period of the War. When a Link or their Avatar is defeated or by dying during battle, their badge is rewarded to the Link who defeated them,” she explained.
She reached under the podium, retrieving a glass of water and drinking from it before placing it back. She cleared her throat and continued.
“Quitting is an option, but as your contract states, doing so will cause your death by the crest on your hands. You may Yield a challenge once and only once. Doing so will put an end to the battle and you cannot be challenged again for twelve hours. To win the War, you must collect the most badges and those that do will become the Avatar Champion or Champions of the sixtieth Avatar War!”
Rook absorbed all the information as she’d given it. It was simple enough, the War lasted for the entire month of October and the goal was to defeat people and collect their badge. You can only Yield during battle once and whoever most badges and whoever had the most at the end of the War became Avatar Champion. He knew nothing of his opponents or what type of magecraft they possessed or what Avatar would accompany them.
“The War will take its toll on you all and some of you will need a respite. That is why this year, we have established the five Sanctuaries within the city and their locations will be indicated on the maps that will be given to you all. You may exit the War for any reason and enter a Sanctuary for a maximum of five days throughout the entire War’s period. The Sanctuaries have a 1 mile radius neutral zone that surrounds it and there is to be no combat of any type within that neutral zone. Failing to follow that rule will cause a Judge being summoned to end the conflict and as you know Judges are summoned whenever a battle is taking place and they keep track of Yields and badge accumulations. Those are the rules henceforth for the Avatar Wars, thank you.”
Applause echoed from balcony as Rook began processed the rules once more. A Sanctuary can only be occupied for five days in the War period and couldn’t you engage in combat inside or within a mile of it. Judges are summoned to every engagement and keep track of badge accumulations, Yields used as well and to declare victory or defeat. Rook understood the rules clearer now and began strategizing how he would use them to his benefit. Commissioner Quinch stepped down from the podium, taking her seat as Belgarath returned to it.
“Links, hold your head up high, and when I point to you, remove your hood and state your name and what family you will represent during the War,” Belgarath ordered. He pointed his right, and the person at the end of the line.
Removing his hood, a man spoke with a clear and determined look on his face. “Darragh Dermott, and I am representing the Dermott Royal Family!”
A Guide picked up a torch and sat in on a stand by his side as the crowd applauded. Belgarath went down the line, pointing to each person, they removed their hoods and stated their name and what family they represented.
“Jermaine Wilmot, and I am representing the Willmot royal Family.”
“Sophia Sanburne, and I am representing the Rathbone royal Family.” It was the woman from the Links Chamber.
“Amelia Kane, and I am representing the Kane royal Family.”
“Avrice Archibald, and I am representing the Archibald royal Family.”
“Tristan Ashworth, and I am representing the Ashworth royal family.
“Giselle Baptiste, and I am representing the Baptiste royal family.”
“Neva Lockhart, and I am representing the Lockhart royal family.”
Rook leaned around the person standing next to him to get a closer look. Neva Lockhart? It was his cousin! Niles didn’t tell him she was taking part in the War too. Her skin was dark and her long black hair was tied into a single ponytail that fell over her left shoulder. Her eyes were hazel and her face serious. Rook never met her before, but Niles would always speak to her over the phone from time to time.
“Stephen Regal, and I representing the Regal royal family.”
“Crassus Everhart, and I am representing the Everhart royal family.”
It was now Rook’s turn, and he didn’t do well in front of large crowds and didn’t like the attention being solely on him, but he didn’t have a choice. He removed the
hood of his robe and held his head high before he spoke.
“Marques Montcroix, and I am representing the Montcroix royal family.
Every link turned to him as the entire room gasped. Their collective gasps were so loud it echoed of the chamber walls as the crowd and the balcony rose, with some leaning over to get a closer look. He could hear chatter from above, but couldn’t make out what they were saying as his gaze was fixated on the members of the Avatar commission leaning in groups and whispering to each other as they, while glancing at him every so often. Turning to the links, Rook could see some of them staring while others looked forward. He played close attention to Neva’s reaction as when they gazes met, she looked away and stared forward. The sound of a gavel hitting the podium grabbed everyone’s attention as Belgarath spoke.
“Order, order!,” Belgarath demanded, bringing the hushed whispers to a stop.
Before he could continue, two Guides entered the chamber from one of the side doors, with one holding another torch.
“What is the meaning of this?” Belgarath questioned as one of the Guide’s approached the podium and whispered in the old man’s ear.
Rook couldn’t make out what the Guide was telling Belgarath, but he could hear some of what Belgarath was saying.
“How… there were we counted eleven yesterday… where… fine, I’ll allow it…”
The Guide exited the podium and walked to the large chamber door they entered, exiting.
“It has come to my attention that there is a twelfth Link that will participate in the games,” Belgarath announced, as hush whispers filled the chamber again.
The door opened once more the guide returned, quickly shuffling back to the podium. Behind him walked a tall figure, dressed in the same robes as the links. His right hand was exposed and bared the same mark as everyone else. He walked to the podium, standing in front of it and raised his head.
“This is unorthodox to enter the War so late, but since the ceremony has yet to be completed, I will allow it. Reveal yourself, your name and the family your represent.
Magecraft (Magik: The Avatar Wars Book 1) Page 6
