The hooded man lowered his head, reaching up to his hood and pulling it back.
“I was born Abel G. Kane, but my name is F.U. Bishop, and I am representing the Bishop royal family.”
Chapter 10
The Final Link
Rook’s mouth fell open as he eyes widened to see Bishop standing in front of him. When? Where? Why? So many thoughts overwhelmed his mind as Bishop turned to him and winked before turning back. He wanted to call out to him, but he couldn’t utter a single word.
“This is outrageous!” shouted a man from the stands. He stepped forward with a woman by his side and his voice carried over the shocked gasps of the crowd. “Flamekeeper Stormgarde, this cannot be allowed!”
“Lord Kane, what is the meaning of this?” Belgarath asked.
“The disgrace before you cannot partake in the War! Our daughter, Amelia is already representing our family!”
Bishop turned to the man as he spoke and smiled. “Hey mom, hey dad!” he said, waving at them.
“You are not my son, you’re a disgrace!” Lord Kane roared. “He had his chance to partake in the War, but instead chose the path of a disgraceful coward and brought shame to our family!”
“Order!” Belgarath demanded, slamming the gavel. He looked at Lord Kane. “From what I understand, your son Abel left your homestead when he turned eighteen and since that day, you have banished him from your family and have removed all references to him from your lineage, am I correct?”
Lord Kane and his wife nodded.
“That’s a bit much,” Bishop remarked, before noticing the ice cold glare of Amelia Kane, his sister.
“From what he stated, he was born Abel Kane, but his name is F.U. Bishop and since he is of royal blood, he can in fact make that claim,” Belgarath stated. “You are right, only one member from each family can be represented and you daughter Amelia is representing your family. However, he is representing the royal house of Bishop. So, I will allow him to partake in the War, representing the Bishop royal family.” Belgarath turned to him. “Please, take your place in line. Lord Kane, Philomena, please take your seats, it is time for us to move onto the final stage of the ceremony.”
Lord and Kane and his wife were reluctant to move, anger crossed their features as they stared holes into Bishop. His sister Amelia’s was no different, even under her robe it was obvious she was shaking, holding herself back from whatever thoughts were crossing her mind. Rook was aware Bishop left his family when he was eighteen, but he didn’t know Bishop was a member of a royal family. He didn’t speak about his parents much, only mentioning how hard he had it under the thumb of his mother and father anytime Rook would complain about something he deemed trivial. At least you didn’t grow up with my parents, he would say, followed by a harsh punishment he would receive for the most trivial of things. He never spoke about his sister, but Rook was aware he had one. They withdrew from the balcony and took their seats.
Things became clearer for Rook as he gained control over his initial shock and focused his thoughts. It made sense now how Bishop knew what the Avatar contract was with only a single glance of it. The reason Bishop was upset because he signed the contract, he already knew what the Avatar War, he would have competed in it, but didn’t. He left. But why now? Rook then remembered the words Bishop told him before they arrived in Star City: I’m only coming with you to make sure you don’t get yourself killed. That’s it. Bishop didn’t come to prepare him for the War; he came to join him in it!
Rook followed as Bishop walked toward him and stood in line to his right.
“That was one hell of an entrance, right?” Bishop asked with a grin. “I nailed it!”
Rook wanted to ask so many questions, but decided better of it, now wasn’t the time. Before him stood the Bishop he’d come to love and appreciate. He seemed back to his usual self, not even allowing the ire of his parents phase him.
“Before we continue, please, everyone give the twelve Links a round of applause!”
The crowd followed his demand, except for Bishop’s mother and father, who refused to even look down at them as they turned their noses up.
“It is now time for the final stage of the ceremony—the Avatar selection process. Before you, there is a table and on it sits thirty orbs—each with an Avatar inside—that was chosen for this year’s War. One at a time, you will go before it, place your hand on the seal and say: link,” Belgarath explained. “The Avatars inside the orb will share a special connection and bond with you during the War and whichever one has the strongest connection and bond, will come before you and drop into the hands, thus choosing to fight alongside of you during the War. Darragh Dermott, we’ll start with you, please step forward.”
He stepped from his place in line and walked toward the keyhole shaped table. The orbs swirled with different colors of the nine schools of magic at the tables’ circular end, while a circular seal—similar to the one on the Avatar contract—was carved into the wood on its square end. In front of the seal was a bronze pair of hands connected at the ends of their palms, with the fingers and hands spread open. Darragh placed his hand on the table and muttered the words.
“Link.”
The symbol erupted into a brilliant blue light as the orbs circled one another until final one rolled from the others and landed into the hands, causing them to lift up. The aura disappeared as Darragh removed his hand and grabbed the orb before returning to his position in line. One by one the Links followed his instructions until it became Rook’s turn. He walked to the table, placing his hands on the symbol and recited the words necessary to ignite the seal.
“Link.”
The symbols ignited once more, and the orbs circled each other, but this time was different. The orbs moved fast until finally several of them rolled from the others and toward the hands, crashing into each other and pushing the other out of the way. This hadn’t happened previously as even Belgarath leaned closer to get a closer look and the contests between them. Two of the orbs were close to the hand, pushing each other out of the way, until from behind them came another, passing them as they pushed each other out of the way and landed into the hands, causing them to rise and the other orbs to stop before the table end. Rook removed his hand and grabbed the orb as blue aura swirled within it. He returned to his position in line and stared at the orb for a moment before lowering it as Belgarath spoke.
“This has been the most interesting Flame Ceremony I have ever been a part of, but ladies and gentleman, please, give a round of applause to your sixtieth Avatar War Links!
The applauses the echoed throughout the chambers as the Guides led the Links out of the chamber and into the hall. Rook and Bishop were the last to exit and Amelia was there waiting for them. Her long black hair was tied into a ponytail falling behind her back.
“Sis, how have—”
A loud pop echoed off the walls of the outside hallway. It’s sourced was from the vicious slap Amelia landed on Bishop. Everyone turned to see what occurred when Neva stepped in between them. Bishop smiles at her while wiping the drips of blood from the corner of his mouth.
“Amelia, it’s not worth it, you’ll break the contract, save it for the War!” Neva shouted, moving her away.
“How could you?” Amelia asked, as she struggled to break free of Neva’s grip. “Why does it always have to be about you, Abel! I swear to you, you’re the first one I’m coming after!”
Neva took Amelia away as Guide’s assisted her. The other Link’s looked on, grinning as they watched.
“A sibling rivalry before the War even begins… this should be entertaining,” Crassus commented. His hair was brown and his eyes were green.
He turned and walked away as the others Links followed behind him. Only Rook, Bishop and Parmchez remained.
“What was that about, Bishop?” Rook asked.
“Unfinished family business, Rook.”
“If you’d like, Mr. Bishop, I can take you to the Avatar Commission and you can fil
e a formal complaint against her,” Parmchez suggested.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Bishop. “I deserved it.”
“As you wish, sir. I’ll take you both to your room; there will be a banquet tonight to celebrate if you wish to attend. This way,” said Parmchez.
He led Rook and Bishop down a different hallway, turning left into another. In the distance a man stood in front of an open door. He wore a black suit and folded his arms behind his back. Another man stood inside the room. Rook recognized him as a member of the Avatar Commission sitting on the stage during the ceremony. His hair was short and black and graying on its sides. His mustache was well kept with its ends showing the same color as the sides of his year. The man bowed in front of the commissioner, revealing another person standing next to him inside the room. Rook stopped in his tracks getting the attention of both Bishop and Parmchez.
“Rook? What’s wrong?” Bishop asked, staring into Rook’s wide eyes. “Yo, earth to Rook, what is it?”
“It’s…,” Rook struggled to speak and raised his finger, before stabbing it down the hallway. “It’s her… Isabella… my sister!”
Bishop snapped his head to the door, catching a glimpse of a girl standing next to the commissioner.
“What? Who? The maiden girl?” Bishop questioned.
A girl with long black hair wearing a maiden’s uniform stood next to the Commissioner in the doorway before closing the door. Rook bolted down the hallway, passing a group of Commissioners and guides without regard as the man who stood in front of the door turned around. It was Edgar Killshaw.
“You!” Rook shouted, running toward him, as backed away from him, holding his hands high.
“Rook, don’t!” Bishop shouted from behind him.
“Stop!” Roared a female voice.
Rook tuned everyone and everything out as he approached. His fury driven charge was stopped by the appearance of a blue wall of magical energy appearing in between them. He crashed into it with the wall not giving way, but he did. Rook’s impacted echoed the in the hallway as he connected with the floor. He quickly stood to see the wall of energy and turned to the voices calling out to him
“What do you think you’re doing?” Commissioner Quinch demanded. She held a thin wand over her head with its tip glowing blue. That was the walls source. “Are you mad boy? Speak!”
“No, my sister—Isabella Montcroix is behind that door! And this bastard is the one that tricked me into signing the contract!”
Her ire turned to Edgar Killshaw, who still stood with his arms in the air behind the wall of energy. “Is what this boy saying the truth? Speak!”
“I have never seen him in my life, Commissioner Quinch. I am merely a house servant—”
“Liar!” Rook blurted out. “This is your fault! I want to see my sister!” Bishop held Rook back from proceeding toward him.
“Settle down, I’ll sort this out,” said Commissioner Quinch.
She waved her wand, and the wall dissipated and its top stop glowing. She marched forward toward the door when it swung open and the Commissioner exited, with a cane in his hands.
“What’s going on out here?”
“Commissioner Archibald, this boy is telling me that his sister Isabel Montcroix is in your quarters,” Commissioner Quinch explained. “He is also accusing your butler, of tricking him into signing the Avatar contract. How will you address these allegations?”
“Well, Commissioner Quinch, there is no one in my quarters and my butler has not left my estate until joining me here today,” he explained.
“Lies!” Rook shouted, with Bishop struggling to hold him back.
“I saw her too,” Bishop said.
“Commissioner Archibald, you understand that I must report this to Flamekeeper Belgarath. As the newest member of this Commission, it is not a good look to have accusations thrown your way, especially after what you’ve been through recently. Do you mind if I search your quarters?”
“By all means, be my guest.”
“Thank you,” said Commissioner Quinch.
She opened the door to his room and entered, followed close behind by the other Commissioners that flanked her. After scanning the room, she exited; standing in between the groups asserting her dominate authority.
“There is no one in there,” she explained. “Marques, I don’t know who or what you saw, but that room is empty. Do you take me for a fool?”
“No, I—”
“You accuse a Commissioner’s servant of tricking you into signing a contract and then a Commissioner of having your sister in the room. If you are that afraid or having second thoughts, I can relieve you of your burden in partaking in the War!”
“But—”
“No, this has all been a mistake,” said Bishop as he pulled Rook away. “Our apologies to you all, especially you Commissioner Quinch, we’ll see are way up to our room.”
Bishop covered Rook’s mouth as he pulled him away, preventing him from, shouting and trying to break free. It was the closest he’d been to his sister in over a decade and she was now within his reach. Why wasn’t she in the room? He asked himself. The commissioners and Edgar watched as Rook was being taken away by Bishop and Parmchez leading them away. Rook’s eye met with Commissioner Archibald’s whose eyebrows lowered and gaze tightened onto him. The last thing he saw before being taken around the corner was the grin that etched the man’s face.
Chapter 11
Mutual Hatred
“My apologies, Commissioner Archibald,” said Commissioner Quinch, while placing her wand inside her robes.
“I understand, completely and please, you don’t need to address me as Commissioner, I prefer Andrades, if you don’t mind?”
“That’s fine,” she responded with a half smile. “Since we’re speaking on a first name basis, you can address me as Bardot.”
“I’ve seen that type of behavior before when I joined the War, many years ago,” Andrades explained. “Another member of a royal family—I’ll refrain from saying his name—was petrified of participating after the ceremony and acted just like that, doing and saying whatever he could to get himself eliminated before the War began.”
“And what happened to him?”
“He was so afraid; he left Star City during the War period, breaking his contract. They found him three days later at his parent’s estate, hiding in the basement. The Link crest killed him.”
“Unfortunate. Let’s hope Mister Montcroix isn’t like him,” said Commissioner Quinch. “I’ll leave you to your business.”
She turned and walked away from Andrades, with her parade of other commissioners on her heels. When they turned the corner, Andrades exhaled as Edgar approached him.
“It went just as you planned, sir. He’s seen her now.”
“That’s right, Edgar,” Andrades responded. “I’ve had Salamandra take her to the castle. Sorrel and Izuul are already there.”
“The maidens should have Narcissa ready to make the trip. I’ll make sure everything is in order before I bring them here.”
“Thank you, Edgar.”
“Sir.”
He bowed, before turning and walking down the hallway. A woman wearing royal blue robes with the hood slightly drawn over her face, shuffled passed him as he turned the corner. Andrades watched, puzzled as to what she wanted with him as she approached.
“Commissioner Archibald, I’ve been sent to deliver you a message,” she said. Her voice was soft, but firm.
“Go on, Messenger.”
“Flamekeeper Belgarath wishes to see you in his chambers at once.”
“Thank you, Messenger.”
The Messenger bowed before shuffling away.
Andrades balled his hand into a fist. Who did Belgarath think he was summoning him like a mere servant? Andrades didn’t respect Belgarath, not in the least nor did he respect that fact that he was chosen to be Flamekeeper for this year’s War over himself. Why? The Stormgarde family only competed in the War during
its inception at the very first Avatar War. Tor Stormgarde won it that year, and he became the first Avatar Champion in its history, but so what? They either didn’t have the courage or were too weak to join since and for that alone he didn’t respect Belgarath.
He wondered why Belgarath urgently needed to see him. It couldn’t have stemmed from what just occurred; even the Messengers couldn’t relay information that fast. Instead trying to rack his brain around the Flamekeeper’s reasoning, he went to find out for himself.
Several minutes passed before Andrades reached the Flamekeeper’s chambers. Two Guards wearing silver armor stood at a large steel double-door and when he approached, they opened the door. Stepping through, he entered a circular room at the top of the Bell tower.
“Ah, Andrades, come in,” Belgarath welcomed.
He stood with his arms folded behind his back, looking out one of the windows of the room. The room was decorated in shades of green and brown, the chosen color of the Flamekeeper’s private chamber. When the Flamekeeper is chosen each year, they can change the private chambers to any design they see fit.
Andrades hated the look and the feel of it. It was bland and boring, much like Belgarath himself he thought. Forcing a smile, he approached the Flamekeeper with his hand extended, hoping to be done with him quick so he could go on about his day.
“I was informed you needed to see me urgently, Flamekeeper?”
Belgarath shook his hand firmly. “Yes, have a seat, Andrades, please.”
Andrades walked to one of the couches that sat in the center of the room. Belgarath joined him, sitting across from him and crossing his legs.
“So, how are things Andrades? How does it feel to be a Commissioner again? What has it been, four, five years?”
“Same as always, Belgarath,” said Andrades forcing a laugh. “Paperwork, robes, the tradition of it all. I missed it, you can say.”
“I see. I heard you had a rough month, with the deaths of Lyberia and Victor. I know how close you all were, I’m just glad to see that you are safe.”
“Thank you, Belgarath… I appreciate the concern. I’m sorry, was this a social call?”
Magecraft (Magik: The Avatar Wars Book 1) Page 7
