by T. C. Edge
"No Krun today?" I whisper.
Marlow guides his eyes further down the hall, where I finally spot the brute. Of course, he's beneath an archway. The thought actually draws a smile.
Gathering in the centre of the temple, the Overseer steps up ahead of the Eternal Flame, ever tended by the young Worthy girls assigned to keep it lit. His penchant for drama and setting is rather good, I'll give him that. Framed by the large fire blazing within the basin, he turns towards us all with arms outstretched.
"Good morning to you all, formidable Fire-Bloods of Olympus," he begins, voice carrying through the great hall. "Today, the Trial of the Chosen begins in earnest. Today, we discover the extent of your power and control."
I flick my eyes around the group, reading their reactions. Some eager eyes are displayed, no more so than Hestia, chief murderess among the group. Some seem less enthused, perhaps knowing that they're out of depth within such company. Then there's Elian who, of course, presents that usual expression of utter self-confidence, as if he believes that all of this is nothing but a formality.
"Now, we all know how destructive your particular gifts can be," the Overseer goes on, his robe slightly different today than it was the day before. If anything, it's more flamboyant, some green and yellow added to the blue, red, and gold he previously wore. "As such, we shall be venturing north of the city, beyond the outer walls, where full demonstrations can be delivered. Outside, we have carriages awaiting us. Please, head there now and we shall be on our way. There will be food and water available. Make sure you stay energised. It shall be a long day."
We begin moving off, my stomach rumbling with the prospect of a good feeding. When we reach the carriages, I climb into one with a couple of the more mellow contestants - thankfully, Elian and Hestia gravitate towards others - and am immediately greeted by an assortment of foods and water jugs, set out in the middle of the carriage, with seating either side. Essentially, it looks like a dinner table on wheels, a mobile dining room and all-you-can-eat buffet.
The interior looks like it's designed for about ten or so, though only the six of us enter - three contestants and three High Worthies. My fellow candidates take little notice of me; clearly, their brand of showing their disdain for me is just to ignore me, which is just fine as far as I'm concerned. I'd rather that than suffer the awkwardness of being eyeballed for the entire ride.
Both appear nice enough in appearance, in their late twenties, one a man and the other a woman - the only other female candidate aside from myself and Hestia - and both immediately begin to gorge as soon as the carriage begins moving. Once more, it does so by the pull of a telekinetic driver, sitting in a seat at the front of the carriage.
I reach forward and, far more tentatively, begin enjoying a nice piece of bread. It's soft, warm, and mouth-wateringly delicious. I can only assume that there are Worthies here who have found their niche as holy bakers.
As the other candidates and I enjoy our hearty breakfast, the High Worthies refrain. I ask Marlow if he'd like to partake, but he merely tells me, as if it wasn't obvious enough already, that he isn't permitted to do so.
"We have already eaten this morning," he informs me. "Eat up, Lady Amber. You will need the energy, as the Overseer said."
He eyes the food hungrily for a moment, before forcing his gaze away. I look to his religious colleagues and notice them doing exactly the same; eyeing the food with covetous glances but desperately trying not to.
It seems, while they're willing to forgo a great many things here, the simple allure of delicious foods remains something few can ignore.
I continue to eat, though with a little less enthusiasm, and quickly feel full despite the desire to sample more. It doesn't really dawn on me until I've satisfied myself that most of this will have come from the Fringe, some of it perhaps even from Pine Lake. Did my own parents, I wonder absently, bring some of it as tribute? Who will be burdened with bringing our family offerings to the collection ceremony, now that both Lilly and I are gone.
My appetite flees with the thought, imagining how my parents must be right now, bereft of their two daughters. I spend the remainder of the journey gazing forlornly out of the window, peering past the fluttering curtain that covers it, watching the streets pass by as we venture to the northern walls.
I see much, but take in little, my thoughts elsewhere and far beyond this place. Before I know it, great ramparts are appearing ahead and looming above, a grand gate grinding open, a drawbridge falling down beyond. I snap back into the present, though see that the walls here aren't quite as magnificent as to the south, nor as well defended. Outside, the bridge extends over the moat, which is also far less dramatic in width and depth.
I guess they're not so frightened of attack from this direction, I think idly. Whatever threats exist out there - and surely there must be some, given the grand defences - they're clearly to the south.
The strange weather effects that also marked the southern passage to the city are also absent. No thick fog, and few statues adorn the rough landscape. Ahead, I see the lands extend out, mostly flat but with little rises here and there. Rough grasses grow, and little thickets of vegetation mark the scrubby earth. As to the south, this expanse of land is characterised by lengthy plains and little life. A hint of mountains stretch away to the distant west, but my eyes can make out little more than that.
We rumble over the desert plains for a time, the city walls soon turning to a blur in the distance as we go. Gradually, I notice the shape of something ahead, a lonely structure out on the plains. As we near, I see the shape form into that of a tent, large and offering covering from the warm sun above. Beneath it, in the shade, I see seating areas, tables covered in further assortments of food and drink, and a number of people awaiting us.
"They're most likely adjudicators and advisors for the Overseer," Marlow whispers to me. "Along with their attending Worthies."
He turns out to be correct. Parking outside of the grand tent, we exit the carriages and find several Children of the Prime already in attendance. I quickly scan them and am quite surprised to find one particularly eminent figure among them.
Perses, Herald of War.
I see him standing there, taller than the rest, draped in his jet-black, almost skin tight garments. Beside him, several other men stand, all of them watching as we leave the carriages and are led into the spacious marquee. The Overseer speeds towards the pre-gathered residents of Olympus, hurrying up to them and greeting them each with a gesture of respect. One by one, he grips hands with them, nodding his head. When he reaches Perses, he dips his head a little lower, bending into a slight bow at the single man who outranks him.
I get a sense of trepidation from the other candidates as we move past them, heading through and onto the open plains on the other side. The two candidates from my carriage whisper to one another words I don't hear fully, but get the gist of. Clearly, they didn't expect the chief Herald of War to be here. It is a clear indication that the trials aren't going to start slow or take time to build up.
No, today we're all going to be severely tested.
And I still have no idea what I'm doing.
Passing briefly beneath the shaded marquee, we reach the warm morning sunshine on the other side. I notice several finely carved chairs set up, looking out from the tent towards the rugged desert beyond. There seems to be an area cordoned off by vague markers; a large area likely used for assessing us. Turning, I regard the group of adjudicators once again, noticing a couple of older Fire-Bloods among them, given the light shimmering effect of their robes.
Krun, too, appears to have ventured towards the gathering, though stands back as the Overseer performs his greetings. Only once he's completed them does the giant step over towards Herald Perses, bending low - despite the Herald's great height, Krun still towers above him - and speaking a few quiet words in his ear. As he does, I find both men turning their eyes up to me.
I'm the subject of the update, clearly. Perhaps i
t was even Perses who assigned Krun to watch over me?
As Krun continues his update, my attention is taken by the Overseer, moving from the group and back towards us. He stops under the shade at the edge of the great marquee, looking out over us in his usual grandiose manner. His thin lips work into a smile, his lengthy nose turning left and right as his keen, penetrating eyes peruse us.
"Well, here we are," he says, smooth voice working out over the silent plains. "As you can see, I have some company today, who will help me determine your viability to remain within the competition." He lets his words sink in a moment. "Yes, a number of you will be returning to your regular positions later today. I am not willing to waste time on candidates that simply don't pass muster. The wheat shall be separated from the chaff, so to speak." He smiles once more. "Now, we shall begin with a simple display of your elemental control. Spread out, please, and we shall begin. High Worthies, step back. It's going to get rather hot."
I turn sharply to Marlow, who gives me a look of 'good luck', though can offer no real words of advice. The High Worthies move off, heading for the shade of the marquee. The Fire-Blood candidates disperse, moving about four of five feet from one another as they line up in front of the Overseer. The other assessors, Perses included, move to the edge of the tent where they take their seats. Perses, interestingly, chooses to remain standing, narrow eyes surveying us from the shadows behind.
My heart flares with a sudden flurry of nerves as I find myself at one edge of the line of candidates. I glance down the line and see Elian in the centre, Hestia alongside him. It's as though they've taken position depending on their rank, the middle reserved for the favourites, the rest fanning out in either direction.
Seems appropriate that I'm right at the end.
"OK, excellent," the Overseer goes on. "Now, this is just a simple test, one of speed and control. We shall start at one end and move down the line. All you have to do is light up and cool down as quickly as you can, with an emphasis on effective heat control and vibrant colouring. We wish to see a nice, bright red colour to your cloaks, and a similar, though slightly darker crimson in your veins. Pull up your sleeves to better demonstrate your vascular blazing. Do you all understand?"
I look down the line and see a series of nodding heads, several of the line-up offering verbal confirmation. My chest tightens as I whisk my eyes back to the Overseer, who once again turns his own up and down, lightly scratching his chin, trying to figure out which end of the line to start on.
My mind thrums with a single thought - please don't be me.
"Hmmmm," he says, perusing us, offering a lingering smile that seems like it's just for me, "I think we'll start..." His eyes stay on mine for a while, before suddenly turning off, "over there." He turns to the other end of the line. "Please, Kendall, would you begin."
I draw a sharp breath of temporary relief as I look down the line at the youngish man named Kendall. I recognise him as the guy who shared my carriage on the way out here.
He nods, pulls up his sleeves to show his arms, takes a breath, and then flings into action. Though, action is probably the wrong word, given he doesn't actually move. All he does is stand there, his limbs firing from within, his cloak lighting up into a glorious shade of red. He seems to do so extremely efficiently, before quickly lowering his temperature once more, dousing the flames in his body. The colour of his cloak returns to normal, shimmering gently under the yellow sun.
Once completed, he performs a tight bow, his face showing little sign of nerves.
"Thank you," says the Overseer, giving nothing away about his performance. His eyes turn to the next in line. "Yes, Pentecost. Go ahead."
I watch once more as the next Fire-Blood performs the same display. I can hardly make out any difference in the colour of his robe or the vibrancy of his 'vascular blaze', nor the speed with which he completes the task. No, it seemed mighty similar to me, though the whispering between the assessors, all pursed of lip and with lightly nodding heads, suggests that it was a marginally better rendition.
As the third candidate's turn arrives, I decide to turn my attention away, looking over at Marlow as if he can offer me any advice. Off in the shade, I can barely even see him. I look to, of all people, Krun instead. He merely stands beside Perses, both of their attention taken by the current candidate being assessed.
No, I quickly realise. There's no one here to help me.
It's down to you, Amber. It's sink or swim time.
30
My mind clicks into gear, reviewing the rare times my flesh has burned from within. I mentally scan through each occasion as the Overseer works down the line, quickly coming towards Elian. Though I'm not watching, I know for certain he'll light his flesh brighter and hotter than the rest, and perform it all with greater efficiency.
I can't think about that now. No, I need a commonality. I need something to cling to. I ball my fists and think hard, reviewing my flesh-flaming experiences, trying to figure out what triggered them...
The answer comes swiftly.
Rage.
Anger.
Fear.
All such emotions trigger the response. Any time I've had my back against the wall, I've found my nascent powers flaring to life. When Krun dragged me away from Jude. When my cramped cell was invaded by rats. When I suffered the terror of my purification, listened to Raymond and his allies shriek and cry out as they were horrifically burned to death.
On each occasion, I felt a strong emotion. The terror of losing Jude and never seeing him again, anger at Krun for dragging me from the boy I love. That fear I felt when the rats marched into my cell, and the resulting feeling of anger that fear drew. Rage at seeing Raymond's face finally crack, his stoic attempts to perish in silence splitting in two like his fire-scorched skin.
I think of those occasions, and try to bottle the feeling. My eyes work again to my left. Only a couple of candidates remain.
Fear palpitates within. Fear at failing. Fear at seeing my bargain with the Overseer severed, seeing Lilly set to a life of labour or worse, Jude branded defiant or simply executed in his cell. I hate those thoughts, but let them fill me. They bubble and brew from my core, and from within my balled fists, I sense a warmth begin to spread.
My eyes flick left again. No, not yet. I have to time it right. I have to get this right!
The Overseer moves to the candidate directly next to me. I hold my breath steady in my lungs, let those awful thoughts marinate. My legs, arms, fingers begin to tremble. The blurred colour of robes glowing brighter flashes from my left. A moment later, they're doused once more.
Faint words enter my ears, those of the Overseer thanking the candidate.
And then, my name.
I let out my breath, but make sure to do so slowly. I lift my eyes to the Overseer, staring right at me, thin but friendly smile on his lips. He nods, a gentle gesture, almost supportive.
This is a test. One he wants me to pass.
Sink or swim, Amber.
Sink or swim.
I open my hands up, splaying my fingers, and quickly pull up the sleeves of my robes. My flesh glows faintly, a trickle of crimson colour streaming inside.
Images flash in my head. Jude. Lilly. Grandma. What will become of them if I fail?
I cannot fail.
Something clicks inside me, something primal unearthed from the deep. My arms blaze with a sudden, bright fire, the vessels beneath my skin flooding with red flame. My shimmering coat follows suit, building to a vibrant red, flashing like a light switch suddenly turned on. For a moment, I lose myself to the glorious sensation, the feeling of power coursing through me...
But no...not too far, the words warn from somewhere deep. Put out the flames, Amber. Shut down the furnace...
A new memory blooms. That of the fire raging from me, spreading into the crowd upon that stage below the steps of Olympus. The burned bodies of the Worthy; my brethren, my kin. It halts the flame immediately, just as it did then. An opposing emoti
on - that of guilt and shame - replaces the fear and anger, severing the blaze at its core.
My flesh dulls immediately, my robes following right after. A temporary feeling of dizziness floods through me, though not as pronounced as before. I steady myself, my eyes turning back to the Overseer. I haul a breath into my lungs as I see the pleasure upon his face. I know, right then, that I've performed just as he'd hoped.
Just as he'd expected.
"Thank you, Amber," he says smoothly, smile upon his lips. "And...well done."
A new feeling dawns. One of pride at my success, at learning so quickly to embrace my power, harness it, if only to a limited degree. I feel a true, genuine smile begin to bloom on my face, my eyes shaping off to find Marlow hidden in the shade, grouped together with the other High Worthies. I find him there among them, hands clasped before him, face buoyant at my triumph. A small one, yes, but a step in the right direction.
I look away, eyes flicking towards Krun, and the black-wreathed figure of Perses to his side. The great Herald of War purses his lips lightly, and even manages to lower his chin a touch at my success. I see no great disdain in his eyes. Does he wish me to succeed? Or is it merely an appreciation of how far I've come in so short a time.
I don't dwell on the subject, the Overseer's voice once again lifting across the silence. As he speaks, I find my gaze switching down the line once more. Several of the Fire-Bloods look upon me in muted surprise, even recognition of what I am. It's as if my fiery display during the purification was considered an anomaly, a freak accident. Now, seeing the limited control I employ, perhaps some are beginning to accept me.
"That is the preliminary test completed," comes the Overseer's voice, carrying easily over the light, warm breeze. "Myself, Herald Perses, and the other assessors will confer throughout the day upon your performances. I must say, some of you have already disappointed me." He flattens his eyes out, that kindly expression turning sour. "The next test will begin shortly. It will be a test of temperature. The higher, the better." He points his hands out towards the desert. "We have a temperature gauge set up out there, further from the marquee. I will give you all five minutes to prepare before the test begins. Please, enjoy the shade of the staging area. Eat, if you're hungry. Drink, if you're thirsty. I will speak with my team and be with you shortly."
