by T. C. Edge
He nods, and turns away, heading towards the assessors, the Fire-Blood candidates dispersing soon after. I turn my attention straight on Marlow, and begin making my way towards him.
I'm halfway there when Elian's voice comes from behind me. "Nice job, Fringe girl," he says, stepping up to my side. "I reckon you'll make a good Primary Fire-Blood when this is done."
I consider walking away, but can't help but bite. "A...what? Primary Fire-Blood?"
"Sure. As with all types of Children, there are ranks here in Olympus. The rank of the primary Children is, of course, that just beneath the Chosen and Heralds. It pertains to the most powerful and gifted among us. You may do well there. Perhaps join the military, or become involved in certain ceremonial duties."
"Like burning innocent men alive at the stake?" I ask flatly.
"Oh, don't be like that," Elian says. "I think you're missing the point. I'm trying to point out that you're not going to become the Chosen. I thought that was obvious enough?" He grins mischievously, though I can see something, a flicker perhaps, of concern within his golden eyes. This is all just a mind game to him. I'm not seeing him trying to psych-out the other candidates, not even Hestia. He's worried about me. He's worried what I may become.
"Eli, you couldn't be more obvious if you tried. I don't think subtlety is your strong suit."
"Perhaps not. I've never had to be subtle to get what I want."
"Good for you," I say. "Now run along and go bother someone else. I have no time to waste on you today."
My words have the desired impact, causing that casual smile to fade off, ripple of anger to flow across his face. His nostrils flare subtly - oh, so he can be subtle in certain respects - and his eyes tighten just a touch. It's a brief change, and quickly morphs back into his usual relaxed expression. Clearly, he doesn't want me to see that I'm getting to him more than he's getting to me.
Good, I think, rather enjoying the game. Keep at it, Eli, you're really helping me out here...
I return to Marlow, who applauds quietly as I arrive, appearing more delighted than I am by my performance.
"Oh, bravo, Lady Amber," he says, grinning broadly. "You're learning so fast. And the sparks." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Wow."
"Sparks? What sparks?"
He frowns. "You didn't notice? You didn't feel them?"
"No. What are you saying, Marlow. I was actually creating fire?"
"Yes. At least, that's what it seemed to me. I saw sparks running up and down your arms. Not fire, exactly, but certainly something. The High Worthies were highly impressed. A great deal of murmuring went on."
"Well, that's good."
"It's better than good, my Lady! You heard what Master Elian said yesterday evening. Few Fire-Bloods can originate the flame. And after so little time practicing with your powers. It's mighty impressive."
I dwell on that as the Overseer returns from his discussion with the other assessors, telling us that the following test will be done in no particular order.
"The first name I call," he says, "isn't the worst performer from the first test. We will not give anything away to you regarding your performances in any particular trial today. I will be selecting you arbitrarily. Do not think too much into it."
As if to make his point extremely clear, he decides to call up Elian first of all. The smarmy young Fire-Blood saunters off with the Overseer into the desert, a couple of the older Fire-Blood assessors going with him. Perses, meanwhile, wanders about casually, his great fingers gripped behind his back, looking over the candidates as if assessing them purely by sight alone. He doesn't venture among us, but stays around the edge, his presence setting a general sense of nerves and anxiety within the group.
I split my attention between him and Elian, who's taken off quite some way before the second task begins. It's a safety precaution, obviously, intended to make sure the marquee doesn't spontaneously combust from the heat. They seem to venture off at least three or four hundred feet, the Overseer stepping behind a fire-proof barrier of some kind, the other assessors not needing the same protection, and gathering instead beside the temperature gauge.
The test begins, though I can't see much. All I see is Elian's robes burning to a bright red, the suggestion of fire raging around him. A general pulse of heat spreads from all the way out there, gusting over on the wind that the sudden rise in temperature creates. Being new to all this, I can't exactly judge the performance.
However, I can judge the looks on the other candidates faces, all far more experienced and gauging heat and temperature fluctuations. Their expressions show amazement and defeat all at once. Only Hestia seems undaunted, though she has the expression of someone who wouldn't really be fazed by anything.
Clearly, Elian is showing how it should be done.
The next hour or so falls into a rhythm, the pace of the day slowing as the candidates take their turns. Each comes back seeming famished, immediately hurrying off to the buffet tables to refeed and refuel. The intense burning of energy causes the need for Fire-Elementals, above all others, to require constant energy influxes, Marlow tells me.
Apparently, special, calorie dense foods - condensed into bar form - have been designed specifically for that purpose, allowing them to perform for longer without the need to refuel so often. They're saved for the soldier Fire-Bloods mostly, those who may be required to use their powers regularly.
I see some of those energy dense bars on the tables, though few of the candidates choose to eat them. I ask Marlow why.
"They don't taste so great, or so I hear," he says. "If one has access to more tasty foods, then that is usually the preference."
I choose to try one out, feeling too nervous to wish to fill my stomach. Marlow's right. They taste dreadful, but seem to do the job. With just a few bites of one bar, I feel completely satisfied, without the sensation of having an overburdened stomach. It's a strange sensation, but a pleasant one. To feel like I don't need to eat again for hours, and yet light and almost empty at the same time.
My nerves begin to spike each time the latest candidate returns to the marquee. Each time, they wave the next candidate, chosen by the Overseer over to the testing area out on the plains. It isn't until only a couple remain that the hawk-faced Hestia returns from her lively performance, snarling over at me as she comes. She lifts her lips, showing her teeth, and then flicks her head in the Overseer's direction.
"Me?" I ask her, needing confIrmation.
She doesn't answer, but merely walks right past me, diverting her course to shoulder barge me as she goes. I feel a spike of rage at that, turning after her as she marches off to eat.
"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," I snap. "Jeez. What a bitch."
She stops in her tracks at that, and I see her fists balling to her sides, glowing to a sharp red. I can't tell if it's meant to intimidate me, or if she's actually considering trying to roast me alive. Or, more likely, send one of those molten fists right into my face.
After a moment, she loosens up again and moves off.
I can't resist the urge to rub it in.
"Yeah, you better run," I call after her.
Before she can reconsider launching an assault, I turn and hurry off onto the plains. As I go, I faintly catch sight of Perses, now standing to one side in the shadows, watching me. There's a light smile upon his scarred face.
I march onto the plains, the brief altercation with Hestia helping to fuel me. Elian, Hestia, two favourites for the title of Chosen. Both foolish enough to antagonise me, feed my desire to beat their Prime-damned asses. Oh, the pleasure that would give me. It's almost enough for me to want to be here...
Ahead, the Overseer waits, pointing towards a circle drawn into the grit. To one side, I see the temperature measuring device, the two Fire-Blood assessors standing beside it. Nearby is the fire-proof barrier, a little window within it through which the Overseer can view each candidates performance.
"Ah, Amber, glad you could join us," the man says. "
This one should suit you well. Step into the middle of the circle. This task is not timed, but it is about control. The task is to reach the highest temperature you can without fainting. Now, a word of caution - fainting is common in Fire-Bloods if you push your boundaries too far. Some have even been known to perish by going beyond their limits. Push yourself, but do so carefully. As you know, you fainted during your purification. It will not be in your favour to do the same today."
I step into the circle, anxiety coursing into my legs and causing them to wobble. The anger and indignation I felt during my altercation with Hestia is gone. Nerves replace them, a tension narrowing my focus.
Stay calm, I tell myself. Stay calm and in control. Push yourself, but not too far. It isn't worth risking your life right now...
I see the Overseer move off behind his protective barrier, watching through the small window. The other assessors fiddle with a couple of dials, then nod to their superior. I hear the Overseer's voice from ahead.
"Begin, Amber," he says. "Show us what you can do."
I look out across the plains for a moment, sending them towards the marquee. The figures there are a jumble, indistinct above the haze of heat shimmering over the surface of the desert. I turn my eyes down to the circle, see the clear scorch marks upon the earth. There are footprints there, showing where the other Fire-Bloods stood, where their furnace-like feet blackened the grit and stone.
I set my own in place, finding a clear spot to stand. With several deep breaths, I gather my thoughts, dismissing my nerves. Own it, Amber. Be confident.
A strange thought arises. Be like Elian.
Gradually, I feel the heat beginning to rise within. I close my eyes, shutting myself away from my other senses. A sense of calm begins to wash though me, a strange connection to the power within. It's a serene moment of clarity, as if I'm tapping into a deep well of something more accessible than I previously thought. As if I can truly feel the fire rising, drawing up from my core. As if I can control its growth and flow, twisting the tap, feeling it pour or trickle upon command.
I feel a smile, so natural, split my face as the connection is made. Tentatively, I twist the valve, and the fire begins to build. I peek an eye open and look to my hands. Within them, the fire burns wild, my cloak rippling, shimmering, lighting up red.
I press harder, further, the sensation growing more intense and almost...pleasurable. A feeling of euphoria engulfs me like I've never felt before. Every fibre in me seems to tingle and fizz, a haze of heat surrounding me, swirling like a tornado. I open both eyes up wider, and my arms begin to lift. The heat increases, building exponentially. The rippling coils of heat grow cloudier, rush faster as they spin wildly around my frame.
And then, suddenly, I see flickers of flame with them. Sparks crack and snap, like tiny darts of lightning, red and orange and yellow in colour. They flare brighter, joining up, building into little bursts of fire. I push harder, opening the tap fully, desperate for the flames to fully wrap me up, draw me into their comforting embrace.
Something begins to change. The flames whip up, flaring off from me, raging beyond my control. I take a hurried breath and shut my eyes, trying to draw them back, to turn off the tap. I twist but have no strength. My head begins to grow muddy, blurred, my eyes rushing open once more to find a world of flame around me.
Vibrant colours heave and swirl, zipping from my body in all directions. I feel a strange sense of weightlessness, lost within the blaze of my own making. Beyond, a darkness closes in, leaving me alone with the fire. Just me and the flames. Like it was always meant to be.
31
The next thing I know, I'm back beneath the canopy, a huge figure in black looming above me.
It takes a few moments for me to regather my senses, the great silhouette coming into view and revealing the figure of Perses.
"Do you have the energy to sit up?" the mighty Herald asks, his voice heavy as distant thunder.
I nod weakly, and try, finding myself upon a table to one side of the marquee. At the other, I notice the other candidates gathered with their High Worthies. I don't see Marlow nearby. He must be over there with them.
I get half way up and drop back down, an ache pulsing through my head.
"I thought so," rumbles Perses.
He places one great hand behind my back, easily rearranging my position until I'm seated. His hand stays for a moment behind me, before slowly drawing away once he sees that I'm stable.
"I passed out?" I ask, looking over to see Krun not far off, making the most of one of the buffet tables. I shake my head, disconsolate, recalling the frightening moments when I lost control.
"Yes, and it might have been worse," Perses says. "You were moments away from melting your insides, Amber. You must learn to control and harness your gifts properly. Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage."
I raise my eyes. "You can...sense that?" I ask, not exactly knowing what powers the man possesses. A range of them, most likely. The Prime's most devastating weapon is surely going to boast a number of potent abilities.
"Sense injury?" he says. "Oh, no, not me. It was the Overseer who performed the diagnosis."
"Really?" I ask, surprised. "I thought he was only a telepath?" I turn my eyes off in search of the man, and find him speaking with the other candidates. It looks as though another test is about to start.
"Telepath is merely a blanket term for a race of people who can master various different mental abilities. The Overseer has many gifts, the ability to perceive injury among them. He does this by entering the subject's mind and reading the signals in the brain regarding the body's state of health and wellness. Thankfully, you have no long-term internal damage. Rest is all you require."
"Rest...no..."
I try to stand, dropping my feet to the floor, but my knees almost immediately give way. Perses reaches quickly out to steady me, his hulking body moving at a startling speed. Within a blink, he's right there beside me, placing me back into a sitting position. I notice the hint of an aftereffect left behind him, his body moving so fast it seems to phase through the air.
"Fear not, Amber," he says as I stare up at him, feel the boundless power throb from within, "you will not be failed today."
His words take a moment to register.
"I...won't? But surely I..."
"You attained the highest temperature," Perses cuts in quickly, cutting my words right off. "Higher than Master Elian and Lady Hestia. But more than that, you showed the rare ability to create fire. It is a gift that puts you ahead of most of the field. You need rest and practice. Both the Overseer and I agree that you deserve another opportunity, given your potential, and the limited experience you have."
"Elian's going to love that," I say, looking over to the group. By now, several have noticed that I'm awake, sending over razor-sharp stares as I sit the next test out. Hestia, above others, seems to really have it in for me, given the dangerous look on her face.
"Master Elian has nothing to do with it," Perses says. "This is a decision beyond the remit of the other candidates. They will accept the decision or suffer the consequences."
The great Herald looks over to Elian, who is one of the few not staring over at me with those hateful expressions. In fact, he seems unfazed by everything, casually listening to the Overseer as he continues his address. I can't really tell if it's merely a facade and front, a way of hiding any anxiety he may be feeling. It certainly has the impact of making him appear far more confident and self-assured, as if the position of the Chosen is truly already his.
"You knew his father, didn't you?" I ask, drawing Perses's eyes back to mine. "How...did he die?"
Perses's gaze narrows, the shadow of a painful memory within them. I see that great anvil of a chin press out a little, thick with a coating of black stubble. The scars that mark his otherwise quite ruggedly handsome visage seem to strain and tighten as his expression reshapes so subtly, the one passing down through his right eye particularly pro
minent.
"Master Prost...was a great man," he says, his voice softening, though still deep as a canyon. His dark grey eyes stare at me a moment, then move off towards the expanse of land stretching off to the horizon. He draws a breath before continuing, filling those mighty lungs. "His death was regrettable. To lose one of such esteem..." He shakes his head, and goes silent.
I consider pressing him, but hold my tongue. It seems foolhardy to do so. The man is evidently not keen on discussing it, and I sense that I'm already overstepping the mark by bringing the subject up.
I find my gaze turning back over to Elian, still listening to the Overseer as he completes his instructions. I wonder if he knows what happened? Somehow, I get the feeling that the death of Master Prost, Chosen Fire-Blood, is something of a mystery to most.
Off on the other side of the marquee, the candidates now begin to shuffle about, the Overseer having concluded his instructions of the upcoming trial. I let out a light sigh.
"What's the next test?" I ask. "Do I have to sit it out?"
"If you value your health, yes," Perses says. "You have pushed yourself far beyond your limits. Fire-Bloods have particularly combustible gifts, and these need to be developed more slowly. It's best to learn when you're young, and start slowly. You have been thrust into the deep end, and need to be careful."
"Then how can I compete?" I ask. "If I can't go all out, then I've got no chance."
"That isn't necessarily true. As with any skill, some people take to it more naturally. Fire Elementals are more at risk than others, given the violent nature of their powers, but everyone is different, Amber. You are far more naturally inclined than most I've seen. My advice is this - push yourself, but learn fast. Practice when you can, though do so carefully." He frowns, then nods to himself. "Yes, I shall assign someone to assist you in your training. You'll need another highly capable Fire-Blood with you should you lose control." He smiles, and turns his eyes back towards the group. "Yes, he shall do just fine."
