by Mari Dietz
A group of people dressed in white, unlike the black clothing of the reapers, came to stand around them.
“Are those radiant?” a slender male next to her whispered to a girl next to him.
Vic could see why he’d think so, since only radiant wore white daily. The radiant were those who purified blight by taking away the ability to use magic. After a person got purified, they didn't act the same anymore. They wandered around the radiant land with vague smiles and performed monotonous tasks for their new community. Magic users claimed the radiant sucked out your soul. It was safe to say radiant and magic users didn't get along.
“Just imbs,” the girl replied. “They need to stand out, probably.”
The imbs held on to a long white rope and formed a circle around the freelancers. Then they took their wands, and magic flowed into the rope, making it glow. When they finished imbuing the rope, they lowered it onto the ground and backed away.
Xiona spoke again. “This rope will shrink and you’ll be marked as you're cast out of the circle. We will announce the meaning of the mark once there’s only one person left. You must push others out of the circle using only your strength. No killing.”
“That had to be specified?” Vic grimaced. It was her first trial, but she’d never heard of anyone dying before. Maybe they just didn’t advertise it?
“Begin.”
They all paused. Then the tall blond shoved two people out. They fell on their backs with a thud, and the ring got smaller. Those who still hadn’t registered that the trial had started ended up on the other side of the rope because they hadn’t moved. With the elimination of the stand abouts, the rope shot forward, and Vic found herself in a crush of freelancers rushing to the center of the arena. Thankful for once that she had a thin body, she darted among the rush in search of a place to make her stand.
A loud crack filled the air, but in the chaos, she couldn’t see what had happened.
“It finally stopped!” someone shouted, and Vic discerned her location to the rope.
Then someone grabbed her and lifted her above their head. Vic couldn’t see the person.
“Not today,” she huffed.
She twisted, and her skin burned where they gripped her arms, but their fingers had loosened around her. She flung her arms wide, and they dropped her to the ground. She rolled onto her feet, facing her attacker.
The blond smirked, then went on to easier prey.
Vic dashed after him and kicked the back of his legs, bringing him down. Before he could get up, she darted into the pile of freelancers. She had a feeling she would see him later.
Her basic plan was to push toward the center of the circle. Reapers were clustered in the middle, where everyone wanted to be.
If she climbed the swarming freelancers, it wouldn’t work. She would have to pull them away by force. Taking a lesson from the blond, she searched for the weak links.
A young boy struggled at the edge of the circle with a woman twice his size. It would be nothing to push them both out. Vic ran forward and grabbed the back of the woman’s shirt. The force threw the woman off the boy. As he fell back, Vic whirled around, reaching for him. Shocked, he took her hand. He didn’t have a choice.
His hand gripped hers as she pulled him toward her. Then she wrapped him in her arms, using the momentum to push the woman out of the circle.
“Blight take you! Why did you save him?” The woman cursed.
The young boy trembled in her arms.
Vic let him go, and he backed out of reach. “I guess I don’t like an unfair fight,” she replied.
The boy crossed his arms. “I could’ve taken her.”
“Sorry, little man. I guess I shouldn’t have interrupted.” Vic smiled and edged away. “Careful out there!”
“That’s right. You better run!”
Vic laughed and called out, “See ya next round.”
Poor kid would probably get kicked out soon, but she liked the fight in him and didn’t want to see him thrown out too early. After all, he might need to work for his family. Most families in Verrin, who weren’t founders, only have one relic to their names.
The circle closed in again, and the reapers packed into the center. Those around the edge gripped other freelancers and threw them out of the circle. The number of people left grew smaller. A husky man approached her, and Vic squared off against him. She had the advantage since he stood closer to the rope, but she couldn’t watch her back. That was the main problem. Though the reapers would need to work together after they joined an Order, this task required them to look out for themselves.
He flexed his fingers and dove for her. He wanted to tackle her, apparently. Good strategy—if she didn’t move. She slid right and kicked out her foot to trip him. He didn’t fall, but he lost control of his movement. Vic used his momentum and shoved him, directing his blunder to the rope. He fell out with an angry shout.
Someone landed a hit to her back. Vic stepped back and thrust her arm out to catch herself on a tall woman who'd tried to shove her out after hitting her back. She stopped Vic’s fall but stumbled out of the circle herself.
“Sorry about that.” Vic laughed. Served her right for attacking Vic's back.
She answered Vic with an obscene gesture.
Vic turned her back to the rope. Only five people were left inside the circle.
The tall blond grinned at her. “We meet again.” He tilted his head toward the others. “I think we can take on those three.”
The rope’s shrinking paused, letting them take in the last ones standing. A light coating of dust covered them all. Vic wiped her forehead, yearning to rip off the itchy hood.
“I don’t trust you.” Could she blame him for attacking the weak, though? Didn’t they all go after the weak ones in this game?
The look in his eye said he’d do anything to get what he wanted.
“Better to be second place than fifth.”
She scoffed over his assumption that she’d come in second place.
The other three—two women and one man—had wide stances. One woman had a wiry build and tired eyes. The other shifted her weight from side to side, ready to pounce in any direction. The man stood taller than the blond, and his tree-trunk arms flexed.
“Fine,” she replied.
The blond would betray her; she would need to take care of them fast and then face him. Her muscles tensed as she faced the other freelancers.
The blond stood beside her, and Vic shifted. He could shove her out of the circle.
The tired one glanced at the others. “We can take them.” She pointed at Vic. “I got the scrawny one.”
Vic blanched. “Hey now!”
She shrugged. “Let’s get this over with.”
Tree Trunk growled. “No. I’m alone.” He charged at the blond, maybe seeing him as the biggest threat.
The blond skirted wide, then rolled under the man’s grab. Vic hooked her leg around his ankle. Tree Trunk grunted but didn’t fall.
“Not an original move, Sticks.” The blond bounced away from the larger man.
“Worked on you,” she retorted.
Vic flanked the large man. If he hit her directly, she would be done for. While they took on Tree Trunk, the two women approached them.
The blond nodded toward the women. Vic got the hint: keep them away so he could keep fighting.
Tired Eyes swung at Vic’s face. Vic easily blocked the punch, grabbed her arm, and pulled the woman toward her. The woman shouted in surprise, and Vic kneed her in the stomach. The bouncy one rushed in with a kick to Vic’s hip. Vic didn’t have time to dodge, so she tackled Tired Eyes to the gravel. The woman gasped as she hit the ground. Bouncy’s kick landed on Vic’s rear.
From the ground, Vic pushed away from Tired Eyes and swung her legs at Bouncy’s feet. Their shins connected, making Vic flinch, and the woman fell back onto the rope.
Vic let out a breath and pushed herself up, the rope only inches from her head. Lucky.
&nb
sp; “Behind you!” someone shouted.
Vic turned. Only the blond stood there.
They were the last two standing. The circle shrank, and they had about five feet to move. It continued to inch forward but at a slower pace.
“Nice working with you, but I’m sorry, it’s time for me to throw you out of the ring.” He cracked his neck and smiled.
“Do you think we’ll need to save our strength for the next two trials?” She brushed the dirt off her clothes.
The man paced in the circle. “What of it?”
“What if I told you we could both win and save our strength?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Lift me on your shoulders.”
“You plan on making me that tired?”
Vic slid her foot across the gravel, ready in case he attacked. “I don’t fight fair.”
The rope contracted, and they stepped closer.
He extended his hand. “Get up, then.”
Vic thought he might grab her and shove her out, but she wanted to keep up her stamina for the next two trials. She didn’t know whether they would see this as cheating or clever. She took his hand carefully, and he pulled her toward him. He bent his leg, and Vic used his thigh as a step to swing onto his shoulders.
The white rope snapped in, and a number appeared on the back of her hand.
1.
She glanced at the blond’s hand. He also had a one. Vic unhooked her legs, but he grabbed them.
“What’s your hurry?” He saw their matching numbers. “Looks like your plan worked. I don’t mind sharing with a cutie like you.”
Vic sighed. “Just let me down.”
He shifted under her but didn’t stop her this time when she unhooked her legs and jumped down.
“Name’s Yaris. You?”
“Vic. Thanks for the teamwork. I think.” She understood the need to look out for oneself. Everyone did that daily in Verrin. If she got in the same Order as him, she would have to trust him to watch her back.
Before he could reply, Xiona stood. “This ends the first trial. If you are numbered one to twenty, you may stay. The rest of you leave. Try again next quarter.”
As the reapers left, Vic faced their glares. She didn’t blame the freelancers for fighting for a better life. Unless you were an imb, your only other option was to freelance, and that didn’t pay well.
A hand tugged at her sleeve. “Thanks, lady.”
She recognized the boy from earlier. “You too.” She smiled. “I hope you try again.”
“I have to.” He pulled on his harness, the folded scythe still too big for his small frame.
Vic nodded, and he left. He didn’t need to spell it out. She wished he would have made it further, but joining an Order that young would have been more dangerous. She hoped he didn’t hunt alone.
Twenty-one dusty reapers stood in the arena and held out their hands to be checked by an imb dressed in white.
Xiona didn’t react when she realized they had double ones. “It makes no difference.” Her gaze rested longer on Vic. “We will move to the next trial. Come to the front.”
They all stood under the balcony where the different leaders stayed. The side doors opened, and a flood of people dressed in white wandered into the arena. They stilled with their backs to the freelancers. The imbs placed blindfolds over their eyes and turned around.
“We scored you on your last round. After all the rounds, we will combine your scores. In this round, be the first to claim a low-level corrupted soul. You must find them without any eye gear.” Xiona gestured to a man wearing white in the corner of the arena. “Time starts now.”
With his wand, the man flipped a large hourglass.
Vic supposed she could use her scythe to nick them and see if it picked up any blight, but that might fill the gicgauge on her scythe too soon. She might need every bit of it for the final trial.
A person dressed in white jumped as a reaper drew blood. Guess she wasn’t the only one with that idea. With a low-level corruption, they might feel cold. Vic rubbed her hands together. Her hands might not tell her much if they were too cold.
“Better than nothing.”
Starting with the first line, she grabbed the strangers’ hands. They each jerked in surprise, then calmed when they realized she wouldn’t stab at them like some of the other reapers. She avoided the ones who were already bleeding since they likely weren’t corrupted.
Cold. Cold. Cold.
Vic snorted. This wasn’t going well, it was cold in the arena without the pack of freelancers. She hoped her score from the first round helped her out. New to the field, she didn’t recognize all the signs of corruption. Mogs were easy. They were beasts and beyond saving. The sand in the hourglass dwindled, and she felt the skin of all the imbs. She tried to think of something clever, but her brain offered no clues. Her stomach growled.
“That isn’t helpful,” she whispered.
No other reaper had found a corrupted soul yet either.
Vic paused. No one else has found one.
She glanced at the blindfolded faces. Surely it couldn’t be that easy. She continued to touch hands so as not to give away her theory. The sand trickled lower. Some reapers pulled forward a random person and stood in front of the commanders.
The last grains of sand fell, and an alarm sounded. Vic came to the front without a person. The blond didn’t have one either. His brow was furrowed, and his arms were crossed. He must not have liked this trial. Although he perked up when he saw she was empty-handed too.
Xiona glanced down the line. “Remove your blindfolds. Now tell us, reapers, why did you choose them?”
They gave various reasons. Those who didn’t have a person gave excuses, such as, “I didn’t have enough time.”
From the pull of Xiona’s lips, that excuse didn’t go over well.
Xiona looked at Vic. “What is your excuse?”
Vic gave a showy bow. “There are no corrupted souls here in the arena.”
“Really? How did you come to that conclusion?”
“This was a test of personality, not skill. If you cared about us spotting the corrupted soul, you wouldn’t have covered their eyes. You wanted to see who would lie or make excuses.”
“Interesting theory,” Xiona responded.
She went down the rest of the line. “There will be a short break. Find a door that leads into the arena and wait outside until it opens again. Only one person per door.”
Vic sighed.
“Clever excuse,” Yaris said, standing over her.
“I went with my gut. Excuse me.”
She felt his gaze boring into her back as she strode out of the arena and to a doorway with no other freelancers. Outside the door, she leaned against the shaded wall, thin stone pillars held up the small overhang next to the cobbled street. Verrin citizens chatted as they walked down the road or stepped into a water taxi. After a moment, the arena door shut behind her. The outside air refreshed her, and she blinked against the afternoon sun, though she stood in the shade.
“Proud of yourself?” a harsh voice asked from behind her.
She flexed her fingers and turned. The man in front of her wore an expensive tailored suit. His crimson hair was combed neatly to the side, and his wand peeked out from under his suit coat. Founders liked to show off the gems at the end of their wands as some sort of status symbol that said, “Look here, I have a first-generation relic.” The sneer on his face had become familiar during this last year.
“Why hello, Father.”
4
William
William brushed an invisible piece of dirt from his white uniform. Waiting outside the holding cells on a purification day had him grinding his teeth. Instead of preparing to help the souls lost to this sick world of magic, he’d been tasked with babysitting. Every muscle in his body clenched, and he twirled the ring relic around his finger.
If this makes me late…
He sighed. Nothing would happen. His mothe
r and father had raised him to protect the reputation of the radiant, and so he would. The officer finally came out with a young man who could have been William’s mirror, if that mirror had been covered in grime. The light brown hair was unkempt, and the smell of vomit and sour alcohol reeked from the young man. Dark circles lined his bloodshot eyes, which squinted at William in the daylight. Served him right for overdrinking.
William sighed again. “Really, Sammy? Why do you do this?”
Samuel flinched at the nickname, but his light blue eyes met his. “I can’t take it, Brother. All we do is sit in the dark without magic. If I could get a wand, I could at least live some sort of life. What you do isn’t normal, Will. Even if our family had another ring for a relic, I wouldn’t want it.”
Nothing new with this argument. They didn’t need to have another spat in front of the officers. They both shifted, and Samuel faced away from him, a glob of something stuck in his hair.
William backed away from his filthy brother. “Let’s go. We have to get you cleaned up if we want to make it to the ceremony on time.” William walked to the door.
“Yeah, it would be horrible if we missed the soul-sucking ceremony.” Samuel groaned but followed William to the door, only staggering slightly as they left.
William eyed his brother. His nose scrunched at the yellow fleck of what could only be vomit on Samuel’s shirt. “You know that we purify them.” He raised his hands in frustration over the old fight. “Why do I bother? Once they’re purified, they can no longer get corrupted or turned into mogs. We’re saving our city, but they won’t accept it! There are monsters out there that eat humans, but we keep using magic and adding to the blight.” Despite being in public, William couldn’t stop his voice from rising.
Samuel walked next to him. “Whatever you say, but you can clearly see those afflicted aren’t normal after you purify them.”
William sighed. “We aren’t normal. One day, we too may be purified, once we save them all. Then we’ll discover the mysterious plane they exist on.”
To no longer have to worry about money, or being eaten by a mog, or getting the blight… it would be wonderful to exist in such a place.
