Magecraft

by Antoine Henderson

  “Stephen Regal, and I representing the Regal royal family.”

  “Crassus Everhart, and I am representing the Everhart royal family.”

  It was now Rook’s turn, and he didn’t do well in front of large crowds and didn’t like the attention being solely on him, but he didn’t have a choice. He removed the hood of his robe and held his head high before he spoke.

  “Marques Montcroix, and I am representing the Montcroix family.”

  Every Link turned to him as the entire room gasped. Their collective gasps were so loud it echoed off the chamber walls as the crowd and the balcony rose, with some leaning over to get a closer look. He could hear chatter from above, but couldn’t make out what they were saying as his gaze was fixated on the members of the Commission leaning in groups and whispering to each other, glancing at him every so often.

  Turning to the Links, Rook saw some of them staring while others looked forward. He played close attention to Neva’s reaction when their gazes met. She looked away and focused forward. The sound of a gavel hitting the podium grabbed everyone's attention as Belgarath spoke.

  “Order, order!” Belgarath demanded, bringing the hushed whispers to a stop.

  Before he could continue, two Guides entered the chamber from one of the side doors, with one holding another torch.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Belgarath questioned as one of the Guide’s approached the podium and whispered in the old man’s ear.

  Rook couldn’t make out what the Guide was telling Belgarath, but he could hear some of what Belgarath was saying.

  “How… we counted eleven yesterday before the ceremony… where… fine, I’ll allow it…”

  The Guide exited the podium and walked to the large chamber door and exited.

  “It has come to my attention that there is a twelfth Link that will participate in the War,” Belgarath announced, as hushed whispers filled the chamber again.

  The door opened once more the guide returned, quickly shuffling back to the podium. Behind him walked a tall figure, dressed in the same robes as the Links. His right hand was exposed and bore the same mark as everyone else. He walked to the podium, standing in front of it and raised his head.

  “This is unorthodox to enter the War so late, but since the ceremony has yet to conclude, I will allow it. Reveal yourself, your name and the family your represent.

  The hooded man raised his head and slid the hood of his cloak off of his head.

  “I was born Abel G. Kane, but my name is F.U. Bishop, and I am representing the Bishop royal family.”

  10

  The 12th Link

  Rook’s mouth fell open. His 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 to Belgarath. He wanted to call out to him, but he couldn’t utter a single word.

  “This is outrageous!” shouted a man from the crowd above. He stepped forward with a woman by his side and his voice carried over the shocked gasps of the crowd. He wore a dark gray suit and had salt and pepper hair and mustache. “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 my 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 you 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 of each family can be represented in the War and your 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, Lady Kane, please take your seats, it is time for us to move onto the final stage of the ceremony.”

  Lord and Lady Kane were reluctant to move, anger crossed their features as they stared holes into Bishop. His sister Amelia was no different. While the robe encompassed her whole body, it wasn’t difficult to see 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, Bishop would say, followed by a harsh punishment he would receive for the most trivial of things.

  The Kane’s 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. The reason he was upset with Rook was that he knew what the Avatar War was. Years ago, Bishop would have competed in it, but didn’t. He left his home and his family behind and wanted to see the world. But why join the War 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’s gaze 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 against it, now wasn’t the time. Before him stood the Bishop he’d come to love. He seemed back to his usual self, not even allowing the ire of his parents to faze 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 bronze hands, thus choosing to fight alongside you during the War. Darragh Dermott, we'll start with you, please step forward.”

  A tall man with dark brown hair and tan skin stepped from his place in line and walked toward the keyhole-shaped table. His green eyes appraised the orbs. They swirled with the different colored energy 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 white glow as the orbs circled one another until finally, and orb swirling with a red energy rolled from the others and landed into the hands, causing them to rise. 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. Rook took a step back. This hadn’t happened previously as even Belgarath leaned forward 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 white energy 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,” he said with a wry smile. “Ladies and gentleman, please, give a final round of applause to your sixtieth Avatar War Links!”

  The applause 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 short black covered her forehead over narrowed green eyes.

  “Sis, how have—”

  A loud pop echoed off the walls of the outside hallway. Its source came from the vicious slap Amelia landed on Bishop. Everyone turned to see what occurred when Neva stepped in between them. Bishop smiled 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 Guides assisted her. The other Links looked on, grinning as they watched.

  “A sibling rivalry before the War even begins… this should be entertaining,” Darragh commented. 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.”

  “How is this even possible? You being in the War?”

  “Well, my father was right about one thing. I was supposed to join the War when I turned eighteen, but I didn’t want to. I left and took this old contract with me and never looked back. I kept it with me all these years and when you were tricked into joining, I had no choice but to join you, Rook. I was trained at a very young age for the War, so I know what to expect. You don’t.”

  “Thank you, Bishop—I appreciate that,” said Rook.

  “I’m not here to win, just keep you alive, remember that.”

  Rook nodded.

  “If you’d like, Mr. Bishop, I can take you to the Avatar Commission and you can file 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 gray on its sides. The gray ends of his well-trimmed black beard extended from his chin.

  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. He recognized her long black hair, hazel eyes, and bashful demeanor instantly. “It’s… Isabella… my sister!”

  Bishop snapped his head to the door, catching a glimpse of a girl standing next to the Commissioner.

  “What? 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 he 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 came to a stop by the appearance of an orange wall of magical energy appearing in between them. He crashed into it with the wall not giving way, but he did. Rook’s impact echoed in the hallway as he crashed to the floor. He picked himself up 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 orange. “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. She marched 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.”

  “Well, Commissioner Quinch, there is no one in my quarters and my butler has not left my estate Inworld, 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. 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 pulling Rook away. “Our apologies to you all, especially you Commissioner Quinch, we’ll see our 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 Bishop dragged him away. Rook’s eye met with Commissioner Archibald’s whose eyebrows lowered and gaze narrowed onto him. The last thing he saw before being taken around the corner was the grin that stretched his lips.

  11

  Mutual Hatred

  Commissioner Quinch placed her wand inside her robes and cleared her throat as the other members of the Commission stood behind her.

  “My apologies, Commissioner Archibald,” said Commissioner Quinch.

  “I understand completely and please, you need not 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.”

  Andrades sighed and shook his head as he watched Marques being pulled around a corner.

  “I’ve seen that 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 taking part after the ceremony and acted just like the boy did. He did and said whatever he could to get himself eliminated before the War began.”

  Commissioner Quinch raised an eyebrow. “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—took over his entire body, turning his skin pure black. They say it was a horrifying sight.”

  “It’s a horrifying way to die,” she echoed. “Unfortunate. Let’s hope Mister Montcroix isn’t like him. I’ll leave you to your business.”