Empyreal

by Helsel, Spencer

  She folded her arms, which hurt slightly. “Do you mean the Trials?”

  She hoped to shock him, but sadly didn’t. He only smiled wider. “No, no, I am sure you have been informed of them already; however, due to tradition, we were remiss in informing you of the Council’s most recent decision: as per our laws, during the Trials you will compete alone as your own aerie.”

  All three Guardians were stone-faced, as if expecting the news. Only Dani could put it into words. “Alone? You mean me verse an entire other aerie?”

  He had a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat. “And that within a week’s time, you will compete first.”

  “First?”

  “I wished to tell you myself, as it would not…upset you.” He said the last part as if he were savoring chocolate.

  Ethan stepped forward. “The laws state that once she is informed of her trials, she also has a right to know her competitors. Who will she face for the first Trial?”

  Heman grinned. “It will be Corona and Crux.”

  She felt Ethan stir at her side. “Corona and Crux? Only two aeries should compete within one trial. It has never been three. We spoke with the Council of this.”

  “Yes. You were correct that one Novice against twelve would be unfair and we heeded your advice. She will face two.”

  “That is not what we meant. She will still be at a disadvantage. The two aeries competing with her will most likely ally against her.”

  Heman, for his part, simply shrugged, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “This should have been brought up to us during our conference with the Elders.” Ethan seethed.

  “Are you suggesting that the will of the Council should be dependent upon the wants a single Guardian? Or two? I find it difficult to think that is within our laws.”

  Ethan didn’t back down. “This cannot be your decision.”

  “It is. And Guardian, if I do not mistake myself, as an Elder of the Council and an Arbiter of the Trials, I would caution you against using such a tone.”

  “Why?”

  Heman growled. “Do you forget yourself, Guardian?”

  “I do not. Do you?”

  For the first time, Dani noticed that Ethan’s hand rested on the pillar, inches from the hilt of his sword. The Powers at Heman’s back likewise had their own weapons at the ready.

  “You pled your case before us.” Heman told him sternly. “This is the will of the Council.”

  “The will of a few, you mean?”

  The anger in Ethan’s voice was easy to hear. She knew Ethan, like Mastema, never spoke this way to an Elder. Ever. She learned that law the hard way.

  But before anything could happen, Mastema stepped between them. He guessed Heman’s intention of bringing soldiers—intending to provoke her or him in a fight with a dozen bodyguards, no doubt—but didn’t want her friends or his fellow Guardians sticking up for her like that.

  “That is fine, Elder Heman.” He said, bowing. “Thank you for informing us. Novice?”

  Her eyes widened. Did he want her to follow his lead? But seeing everyone with swords at the ready, she didn’t have much of a choice.

  “Yes. Thank you Elder.” She sounded very diplomatic. It left a bad taste in her mouth.

  He sneered to Ethan. “Take a lesson from this Novice, Guardian. She knows her place.”

  She wanted to kick him in the nuts hard enough to knock them behind his eyeballs, but resisted the urge.

  “Now,” he turned his eyes on Roxelana, Airlea and Korë, “you, gifted. I expect to never find you near this or any Novice again. If I do, you may find yourself outside the safety of Empyrean’s walls.”

  Roxelana bowed her head, afraid. Airlea just looked angry.

  Heman turned and snapped his soldiers into formation. Taking the lead, they marched away. Only when they were out of sight did everyone let go the tense faux-nonchalance. Kleos sagged visibly. Mastema cursed something in Arabic.

  Dani turned to Roxelana. “I’m sorry.”

  But Airlea stepped up, her arm around Korë. “I knew coming here was a bad idea.”

  “Airlea!” Roxelana protested.

  “No! There is a reason we do not associate with Numen, Roxelana!” She scolded. “You just jeopardized our lives here. We need Empyrean and because you were friends with her,” she leveled an angry gaze at Dani, “we almost lost it. You want to endanger your place here? Fine. But me? Korë? It’s time you understood: that girl is trouble.”

  Indignantly, Dani was about to say something, but Roxelana nodded. She shamefully looked away from her. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Roxelana!”

  “This isn’t Earth.” Airlea said coolly. “Do you not understand that everyone around you could have their lives ruined?”

  Dani bit back her next words in shame. “I’m sorry.”

  “Come.” Airlea took Korë’s hand. “Roxelana?”

  “I’m coming.”

  The three gifted departed. As she walked uphill, Roxelana turned back once with an apologetic expression, but then she left. Dani felt her heart sink.

  “What the hell was that?” she demanded, spinning on them.

  “We told you to get rid of the gifted.” Mastema grunted.

  “They’re my friends. Or were! What did Heman want?”

  “To upset you, clearly. I told you: allies are a weakness.”

  “They were friends, you—you sarding bloodhole! Te odio!”

  “Dani!” Ethan scolded. “He came because he saw Elder Heman coming. He brought us to make sure nothing happened.”

  Dani fumed, but tried to calm down. “I hate Heman! He’s got no brains and an ego the size of a Mack truck. He’s—He’s—!” She cut herself off. She couldn’t bear looking at Ethan or any of the others.

  “We knew he would try something.”

  “Yeah, and he did! I have to face a Trial on my own.”

  “He can’t do this. He can’t make you compete on your own.”

  “He can’t?” she asked cynically. “Because I’m pretty sure he just did.”

  “We told the Council that the Trials would be unfair to complete in alone against another aerie. They agreed. We left under the assumption that the matter had been settled.”

  “Well, it looks like Heman and his friends unsettled it.”

  “Elder Heman.” Mastema corrected from his place in the pavilion.

  “Oh shut up!” She spat in his direction. “I don’t give a multi-colored unicorn crap what rank or position he’s in! Did you hear him? He knows pretty damn well what the other two aeries are going to do to me. He practically sang about it! And you did nothing to speak up in my defense.”

  “And what would you have me to say? I did what I did to keep you safe.”

  He aggravated her so much she stomped her foot into the ground, making a dent in the dirt. “You’re my Guardian for God’s sake! You didn’t even try to stop him!”

  Mastema frowned, not saying anything. He left to check his equipment.

  “Codpiece!” she cursed. She turned to Ethan and Kleos. “What do I do?”

  “Nothing.” Kleos told her. “I doubt Elder Heman’s presence here today was an accident. If he is telling you, he has an ulterior motive.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that if he tells you about who is in the first Trial, then he must inform the other aeries. And unlike when the announcement is made next week, he can speak privately with them. Did you notice one of the aeries you’re competing against?”

  “Corona.” She recalled, and then cursed. “That’s Nazir’s aerie. I’ll be competing against Michael.”

  “And if Heman can speak with them privately, I wouldn’t put it past them to make a plan against you.”

  “Zounds.” She cursed under her breath.

  “‘Snails.” D ink agreed.

  She muttered, “So I’m screwed?”

  None of the Guardians spoke. Nathaniel and Dink were silent.r />
  “So,” she paused, unable to look at any of them, “so I guess that’s it, huh?” She felt like something sat on her chest. It was tight and hurt. She didn’t want to cry in front of them.

  “I think you should go.” She told them. “I don’t feel like returning to lessons. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “We can stay.” Ethan offered.

  She shook her head and stepped inside her door. “No, I really wish you wouldn’t.” She slid it closed just as the first tear dropped. Thankfully, no one saw.

  ______________________

  She ended up on the edge of her bed, stroking the feathers of the large white hawk. The bird didn’t nip her fingers or do that air-explosion thing. It was as if it knew she needed something comforting and obliged her.

  “A caladrius,” Ethan remarked, sliding open the door. He grimaced. “Sorry. Everyone’s gone except me.”

  “Even Mastema?”

  He nodded. “He said you wouldn’t want to train tonight.”

  “How did he come to that astounding conclusion?” She asked sarcastically. It irked her that Ethan ignored her request to leave, but she was too tired to fight him. “What kind of bird is this?”

  “A caladrius.” He repeated, stepping inside. “I didn’t think one lived in Empyrean.”

  She glanced at the dovewhite bird of prey. “I saw it once in L.A. before I became a Numen. What do you know about it?”

  He leaned against the door frame. “The Greeks called them a dhalion, but Romans referred to them as a caladrius. They’re a supernatural bird like a phoenix, but rarer and solitary. They’re known as the ‘bird of kings.’”

  She knew something was different about her fowl friend. The pun made her smile. “Because the feathers look like a crown?”

  He shook his head. “A caladrius was said to live in kings’ homes because it could sense the greatness of certain individuals. To have one visit you was a great honor and a sign that you should rule.” He extended his hand to the bird and it screeched, startling him. He jumped back. “But that’s more ego than anything else on the kings’ part. They called it the bird of kings because they assumed they were important. The name stuck.”

  Dani giggled. “I don’t think she likes you.”

  “She?”

  “I just assumed she was a girl. She felt like a girl.”

  “Felt like a girl?”

  Dani shrugged. “I can’t explain it. She just seems female to me.”

  He kept his hands raised. “Does she mind if I come into the room and sit down?”

  Dani stroked the bird’s feathers along the neck. “Maybe. Got something for her?” Dani took to feeding her. She assumed she ate whatever it wanted when she was gone, but she didn’t mind the treats.

  Ethan reached into a pouch on his belt and removed something, holding it out. “Keresh jerky?”

  The bird dipped its head.

  “That means yes.” Dani translated.

  He tossed the meat and the large bird snatched it out of the air, gobbling it down. As if still deciding about Ethan, she cocked her head to the side in thought while she chewed. When Dani nudged her gently, the bird made a very human gesture and flicked her beak to the bed.

  “I think that means you can sit.” Dani told him.

  “You think?”

  “Well, sit or don’t. That’s up to you.”

  Ethan warily stepped around the bird. It watched as he gave her a wide berth until he was finally around the foot of the bed and sitting on the mattress next to Dani.

  “So it followed you here?” he asked.

  “She.” She corrected, petting her. “Maybe.”

  “It must sense something important about you.”

  “Is that a line?”

  “A line?”

  “I mean flirt—.” She stopped herself again. Deciding against saying anymore, she asked, “I thought I told you to go home?”

  “Fat chance.” He said, and then grinned. “Sorry. Nathaniel is rubbing off on me.”

  “It’s nice to hear people talk like they were born in this century.”

  “Hey, I was. Well,” he grinned, “technically, I guess last century.”

  Dani flicked back some of her hair nervously. “Are you here to talk about Heman and the Elders?”

  “I’m here to see if you’re okay.”

  “That’s Mastema’s job, which he’s doing terribly.”

  “If it makes it any better, he is concerned; just in his own way.”

  She couldn’t stop the sarcasm. “Invisibly? Silently?”

  “Cautiously.” He told her. “He knows that if Heman put him in shackles, which he could have done today, then he wouldn’t be able to help you. No one would.”

  “I wouldn’t want that.” She confessed, looking him in the eye for the first time. “I’d feel awful.”

  “Me too, I imagine.”

  That got her to laugh a little. It felt good. “Well, I’m fine. Honestly. There isn’t anything I can do about the Council.”

  “Well, if anybody could survive the Trials alone, it’d be you.”

  “You’re sweet. Thanks.” Then she kicked herself. You’re sweet? Thanks? What am I, in middle school? She quickly changed to anything remotely unromantic. “So, the Trials: what am I up against? You and Mastema told me that I have to compete against the other aeries. How does that work?”

  “Well, it’s not to the death.” Ethan assured her. “That normally doesn’t happen. It’s more like to the…I don’t know how you would describe it…”

  “To the pain?” she smirked.

  “Not exactly, but close. And good Princess Bride reference.”

  “You’ve seen the Princess Bride?”

  “I became a Numen; not died. A few of us watch movies.”

  “How? Does it have to do with this ‘vespertide’ you all secretly talk about?”

  “Maybe, but let’s stay on track.” He said. “To the pain would be pretty accurate. The Trials are run by the Arbiters. There’s three: the Vale, the Training Grounds and Earth. The Arbiter’s job is to judge them. What they choose to use and who assists is up to them. Numen warriors, gifted, maybe Hellions; it’s different each time.”

  “Great. More cynocephali threatening to eat me.”

  “Well, you can at least be thankful they won’t use the Tigris. I know it is hard to believe, but he’s actually a big pussy cat.”

  “You’re right. It is hard to believe. What’s a Trial like?”

  “There are some similarities. Vale is the first one. It’s meant to test your ability to endure under harsh conditions. It’s also pretty popular to watch.”

  “Watch?”

  “The Trials are used as entertainment by the gifted. They watch, take bets; things like that.”

  “How very Hunger Games of them.”

  He smirked. “Except you won’t die.”

  “Do I have to make it down the river again?”

  “Any of the pair—or in your case, trio—who does passes the Trial.” “I didn’t make it last time.”

  “But this time you know the object is to get downriver, not fight. Which means—.”

  “It’s not about killing anything.”

  “It’s the first lesson everyone learns: when to run and when to fight.”

  “Okay, so the second Trial: it’s at the Training Grounds? What is it?”

  “It’s a duel. Again, its run by the Arbiters. And it’s pretty popular to watch, as well. You’ll use your combat training and abilities to face another opponent. The Arbiters will judge the bouts.”

  “So, like fencing?” Seemed simple enough. “And the last Trial?”

  He licked his lips nervously. “That’s where I have to stop. The final Trial is one that all Guardians are not allowed to speak about.”

  “Why?”

  Ethan seemed genuinely pained to not tell her. “Some laws just can’t be broken. It’s why I was so upset when they told me you were fighting alone. I can tell you that the
final Trial is the most difficult. It is also the one where you will use a real adamantine weapon.”

  That was enough to give her a cold chill down the back of her spine. A real weapon? There wasn’t any situation she could think of where that was good. “Great.”

  “You’ll do fine.” He promised her. “I have faith in you.”

  She got through a training session with a broken arm and not cried like a baby. There was that. “Thanks, but I don’t feel like I’m doing well.”

  “You are.” he assured her. He didn’t mean anything by it, but he put a hand on her arm. She flinched and he quickly snatched it back. “Sorry.”

  “No.” She told him hurriedly. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t think—.”

  “I should go.” He stood.

  If she could, Dani would have smacked herself over the head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It wasn’t like she didn’t like Ethan’s touch, but she definitely didn’t mean to insult him or stutter over herself like an idiot. Romance was the last thing on her mind. And yet? She got jitters every time he was around.

  “I’m sorry too.” She said before he got to the door. “It’s just…this is all kind of strange for me.”

  “Strange how?”

  Strange how? She was a celestial demon-hunter in a city that existed but didn’t exist above the city in which she grew up. And she was attracted to a guy she didn’t want to be attracted to since she spent most of her time fighting for her life, or reputation, or both.

  And above everything else? Because men. Men were complicated. She had a hard time with complicated.

  “Never mind.” She said. There was no way she could explain.

  Trying for some kind of normalcy, he said, “You know, if your friend,” he gestured to her bird, “is going to stay here, you should give her a name.”

  She glanced at the caladrius. “It would be nice call her something other than ‘bird.’” The hawk regarded her with steely, blank eyes. “What do I call her?”

  He thought for a moment. “How about Caesar? If it’s the bird of kings, why not name it for a great king?”

  “Caesar is a boy’s name.”

  “I don’t recall you being a bird expert.” He made it playful.

  Equally playful, she asked, “And you are?”