by KJ Harlow
I want you and Kai to participate in the final round of the tournament. The opponents are tough, but not unbeatable. You have proven to yourself that you can defy the odds and defeat foes that are several levels stronger than you.
I don’t know what it is about you, but I sense something great sleeping within. Don’t tell Kai I said that. Sure, he’ll make a great chief someday, but he’s still got a long way to go. Maybe it’s because you’re not from our world. Maybe it’s because you can’t die. But there is a darkness that extends beyond Dresham. I can’t explain it, but I feel like Fetter might be able to.
Keep fighting, Callahan. May we cross paths again soon.
Javal
Mayor of Bracewell
Katrina slid a plate of stewed meats across the table as Cal read the letter a few more times. “I didn’t want to tell Kai. He’s sweet but a bit temperamental.” She glanced back over her milky shoulder. “What do you think we should do?”
Cal dug into the meal, suddenly feeling ravenous. “I don’t know,” he confessed. Javal sounded like he knew what he was doing, but he was really good at making people feel at ease. Somehow, Cal didn’t think that ability would extend to the King of Dresham. “Does anyone else know about this?” He eyed the letter.
Katrina shook her head, her straight, red locks grazing her neck. “Only me and you.”
“Good. Keep it that way.” If there was one thing Cal knew, it was that it was pointless letting too many people know about big things. The more people got involved, the higher the chance of misunderstandings. It was like a wildfire: a spark on its own wouldn’t go far, but fanned by an almighty gust of wind would give it a life of its own.
“What day – I mean, what moon phase are we in?”
“It’s 13-Karst.” Seeing where he was going with his line of thought, Katrina continued. “The final of the tournament is a half-moonshift away.”
Cal still didn’t know how long that was in ‘real life’, but he assumed it wasn’t much time. He looked back towards the hall that led to his resting chambers. He needed to talk to someone, but it couldn’t be Kai.
“Katrina, maybe you could give me hand with something.” Cal got up, leaving his bowl of food half finished.
“‘Give me a hand’?” She cocked her head to the side.
He smiled grimly at her. “I need your help.”
“Hello Kai.”
“It’s Cal, Keizen.”
There was a pause from the amulet before it pulsed again. “Callahan?”
“Don’t worry,” Cal said quickly. “He got up and closed the door, drowning out the animalistic love-making sounds from across the hall. “Kai’s fine.”
“Good to know.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have time to chat. I need your advice about something.” The amulet glowed in his hands as he relayed the information in Javal’s note to her.
Keizen sighed. “That boy hasn’t changed one bit.”
Cal smiled wryly. Only Keizen could have called Javal a boy and gotten away with it. “The tournament is really soon. I can see people making their way there now.” People streamed past Cal’s window towards Bracewell’s eastern exit.
“When he left the forest all those cycles ago, I was worried sick. It took him 20 moons before he sent back his first correspondence. Do you know how many he sent back altogether? Seven. The last one I received was over 30 cycles ago.
“It’s not that I stopped caring about him. He’s my little brother, how could I not? But I realized that if someone wants to do something, there’s little you can do to stop them. That’s true for everyone, but particularly for us werejaguars.”
Cal regarded at the amulet, imagining Keizen’s wise face shining through it.
“It sounds like this Fetter character is dangerous and a lot stronger than Javal is, but Javal has always faced beings stronger than he was for his entire life. That’s the only way that he could have become this strong in the first place.
“You need to trust him on this. He knows what he’s doing. You will see him again, as will I.” Cal put the amulet on the bed and heaved a deep sigh. The groans and shrieks from the other room had thankfully stopped.
“Thanks Keizen, I’ll do that.” The bed groaned as Cal got off. “Oh, how’s Gram doing by the way?” The snowy werejaguar hadn’t crossed his mind since he arrived in Bracewell. Her luminous yellow eyes, brimming with questions unasked pierced through Cal’s mind.
“She’s well. We all are.” Cal let the silence seep into the room. Was Keizen hiding something? Had Rawdriad been under attack?
“How is Kai?”
That’s right, he wasn’t tagging along just for kicks. “Kai’s been well too.” Sounded like a lame answer but he was hardly going to tell her about a suicide bomber blasting him across an arena. “There’s been danger, but he’s risen above each time.” This time it was Keizen’s turn to analyse the silence. Cal shifted around, trying not to make too much sound.
“Thank you for continuing to look after him, Callahan. I do appreciate it.”
“Not at all. We look after each other.” The amulet glowed a bit brighter than usual, as if hinting that the old werejaguar was smiling. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Kai and I are going to bring home the bacon.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you are. Best of luck to you.” The amulet faded just as Cal’s door swung open.
“Orc.” Cal looked up. “I… hey, is that my my amulet?”
Cal slipped his hatchet and wild axe into his holster. “Yeah. I was just catching up with Keizen.”
He bristled hearing Cal referring to his grandmother so casually but said nothing. “Listen, it was wrong for me to punch you before.” Cal sat down on the bed, pulling his Featherfoot boots on. “Where are you going?”
“To the arena.” He paused midway pulling a shoe on.
“Why?”
“We’re in the finals, stupid.” He let Kai wrestle with his confusion for a moment. “Yes, I surrendered, but that coward Hector couldn’t help it and cut my head off. That automatically disqualified them.”
Kai narrowed his eyes. “Really?”
“Ask anyone.” Kai must have been knocked out and in recovery as long as Cal had been. “Everyone saw it. It was freaky as hell.”
Kai still looked confused. “So we’re in the finals now?”
Cal wriggled his fingers into the craft gloves. “Yes. You’d better get ready. I’m going to head off pretty soon.” He inspected all his equipment then looked at Kai. “Go!”
Kai turned and headed back to his room, passing Katrina along the way. “Thank you.” She winked at him. “Be careful.”
“Hero!”
Cal and Kai walked towards the town square. People lined the streets and clapped, punching the air and cheering. Cal craned his neck and looked around.
“Where’s the hero?”
“They’re talking about us.” Kai puffed his chest out and walked taller.
“Oh.” He raised a hand and tentatively waved at the crowd.
“Mother look! That’s him!” A little wearing a peach-coloured dress tugged on her mother’s dress, pointing at Cal. It was the little girl who greeted him when he first arrived in Bracewell. He smiled at her and continued walking.
Never in a million years did he think that he would be adored and cheered for. If only you could see me now, Eyre. If she were in the game, she’d probably be throwing Sibelleberries at him. He looked up into the night sky. The ‘conversation’ he had had with her in the cave was entirely a figment of his imagination, but he still intended to follow through. A promise was a promise. I’ll be back.
Cal stopped, his blood turning cold. “Get away from them!” He stepped toward the crowd and they reached out to touch him. That purple-hemmed black robe that seemed to suck in all light; he could recognize it from anywhere. After the crowd parted, the robe along with the maiden who wore it was gone. Was he seeing things?
“Hero!” Cal shook his head. He turned to the voice. A
woman with modest features and a round, rosy face stepped out from the throng. Soft, dark parchment folded up into a square sat in the middle of her cupped hands. “This is something from all of us, our gratitude to you saving the mayor and being our champion.” She blushed. “Well not all of us, but some of us…”
Cal plucked the little package from her hands and observed it. The parchment was fuzzy and unrefined, not like what Javal used. It was tied together with a simple knot of frayed string.
“We spent several moonshifts gathering the softest velvetleaf then made sure that we only found the right coloured hueseeds…” Cal daintily folded back the paper. In the middle was a ribbon of light purple.
You have obtained Ribbon of Bracewell!
Citizens of Bracewell have banded together to show their appreciation for you. This ribbon is a momento of their sentiment towards you. +2,000 points to Reputation
“Amethyst, like your eyes.” She blushed again. He let it unravel until it bounced gently a foot off the ground. Taking it in both hands, he tied it around his head. The woman’s smile reached her eyes as the crowd cheered around her. She jumped up and gave him a quick peck and hug.
“Hero!” Kai’s barked. “Our challenge awaits us!” A wry smile twisted onto his feline face. Cal jogged up toward the werejaguar. He was shaking his head.
“What?”
“It’s just… I would have never had people give me a gift like this. I… we’re not heroes.”
“Why not?”
“We’re fighting in a tournament. It’s sport, not life or death.”
Kai snorted. “Try telling that to Hector and the Karst-forsaken eryn.” He had a point there. “Besides, you did rescue Grand Uncle.” Cal kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead. The conversation with Keizen kept replaying itself in his head. As reassuring as it was, he couldn’t shake the dread. Every step he took towards the arena was another nail in Javal’s coffin.
Since the rendezvous with C, he hadn’t given much thought to what he would do at the end of the tournament. The most logical thing would be to go Thaylia as originally planned, though if Javal was right, it would be too late by the time he arrived. He passed the last of the smiling faces and came out into the open air of the fields. Silhouettes of half a dozen Dandyflyins flew across the moon, their passengers clinging on.
Cal put his hands on his hips and stretched. Everything was probably going to be fine. Javal would have a civil discussion with Fetter and the tyrant would leave Bracewell alone. He would come back to the city he built with his own two hands, live out the rest of his life peacefully and happily. It didn’t work; the sense of dread that gripped him when he read Javal’s letter refused to let go.
“Kai.” The werejaguar was walking ahead of him. “I can’t do this. I’ve got to… I’ve got to go somewhere.”
“Kai bounded towards him, putting his hand on his shoulder. “No you’re not.” Cal gazed into his deep red eyes, letting himself be searched.
“What?” He said, narrowing his eyes. “What is it?”
Cal looked away. “It’s nothing. I’m just getting cold feet.”
“I can help you with that.” He pulled his blood lance out and with a flick of the wrist, it came alight.
Cal smiled wryly and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant… I’m fine.”
If it was the worst case scenario, that letter would have been Javal’s dying wish. All he wanted was for them to participate in the final of the tournament and win. Maybe there would be a clue there that would help them defeat Fetter. A secret prize, perhaps? A portal that reserved only for leaders that would allow him to step straight into Fetter’s kingdom? Cal hadn’t known Javal for that long, but he didn’t strike him as the subtle type.
Cal drew his axe and swung it through the air, feeling the power ripple through his orc body. I hope you know what you’re doing, Javal.
“Good moonshift to you.” The man held out a blue, gauntleted hand to him. “My name is Orson. I am… a mercenary, of sorts.”
Cal took his hand. “Cal. Nice to meet you.” Examine.
NAME: Orson
CLASS: Mercenary
LVL: 38
HP: 420/420
MP: 395/395
He was decked out in sky-blue armour. Each plate looked like it weighed 30, 40 pounds each but the ease with which he moved made them seem weightless. Like Marc, he had a stern expression like he always meant business, yet his greeting was genuine and warm.
“It appears that we are competitors in the final of this tournament.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Cal echoed. He looked around. “Where is your partner?”
“Marsh is over there, speaking with the officiators.” Orson gestured to the middle of the waiting room. It was a lot barer now that it was the finals. Besides the officiators, referees, Orson, Cal and Kai, there was one other individual. Marsh wore an olive green robe, hood over his head. He turned and looked towards Marsh. He inclined his head curtly to Cal.
“He’s a…” He didn’t want to say it in case he was wrong.
“A werewolf,” Orson said. “Both of us hail from Qestia. Have you been?”
“I have not. Been in Dresham all my life.” Wasn’t 100% true but he wasn’t about to share his life story with someone he had to try and defeat in battle.
“It’s curious,” Orson said, his armour clinking as somehow, he crossed his arms. “An orc who speaks Common Tongue and has somehow befriended a werejaguar. From the forests of Rawdriad, no less! I hear that they are particularly unfriendly.”
Cal laughed. “Believe me, it was difficult to get into their good books.” Orson’s eyes crinkled at the corners. Qestia. That was where Natasha had come from. Would they have ever crossed paths? Would Natasha have ever pleasured him for shards? Her casual approach to sex, indeed the Succubi approach to sex still made him uncomfortable.
“What brings you so far from home? Bracewell is beautiful, but surely you haven’t travelled all this way just for a local tournament.” The large Qestian’s mouth firmed into a thin line.
“I hail from Qestia but I no longer call it home.” He looked toward the gate leading to the arena. “Marsh and I are searching for something hidden somewhere in Terrafaytum.” Cal nodded slowly.
“Good moonshift, gentlemen.” The werewolf loped up to them. His fur was two-toned, dark green on top with a white undercoat. Like Cal, he had the head of an animal, but furred human hands and feet. His green robe seemed to shimmer and float a fraction of an inch away from his body. Examine.
NAME: Marsh
CLASS: Werewolf Druid
LVL: 39
HP: 471/471
MP: 520/520
A level 38 and a level 39. If they weren’t powerful enough, they also had the advantage of having never fought with Cal and Kai. This was going to be tough.
Kai came up, stretching his arms behind his head. He eyed the werewolf up and down and paid a cursory glance at Orson. “These guys are our competition?”
“Yes,” Cal said. “Orson and Marsh.”
“I’m Kai from Rawdriad Forest.” Orson extended a hand but Kai didn’t even look at it.
“May the best team win,” the werejaguar said before walking away.
Cal shook his head. “I’m sorry, he can be like that sometimes.”
Orson put a hand up. “He is right. May the best team win. We have to finalise our preparations now. Good luck.” Cal nodded at him and Marsh before they departed.
“Any idea where Grand Uncle is?” Kai yelled across the room. “Thought that he would give us a final word of advice.” Cal paused.
“He’s a judge. This is the final. I’m sure he’s got better things to do than try and help us win.”
Kai swung his lance, practicing his offensive and defences stances. With a satisfied grunt he strutted across to Cal.
“Did you see that werewolf?”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“He’s the weaker of the two.”
; The crowd roared and cheered; the MC was introducing their competitors. Cal got up, his stomach twisting in dread. “Are you nuts? He was a druid. Do you even know what sort of craft he used?”
They came out into the open. The crowd roared louder than ever but to Cal, they sounded muffled, as if they were behind a thick sheet of glass.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s unarmoured. Wait til I land one of my critical hits–” Cal glanced up to the judge’s pavilion. Two chairs, either side of a larger central one, which was conspicuously empty. The remaining four judges peered down at Cal and Kai, observing the competitors.
“Hey, where’s Grand Uncle?” Cal quickly looked back at Kai, but his eyes were already scanning the stalls. “Oh there he is.”
“What?” Cal yelled.
“He’s just coming in to the judge’s pavilion now.” Kai raised a blue, furred finger. “See? How could you miss him?” He scoffed and kept practicing lance forms.
Javal was manoeuvring his large frame amongst the judges and audience members sitting around them. Cal stared at him and continued doing so after he sat down. He had never stared so hard at someone before; Javal seemed to be avoiding his gaze. Even with the physical distance between them, Cal could see that his shoulders were slumped, carrying the burden of resignation. He was here though. Had he gone to Thaylia and come back already?
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final of the 23rd edition of the Bracewell Tournament! For those of you who don’t know, the winners of the semi-final were disqualified.” Boos rippled around the arena. “In their place are their opponents, Cal and Kai!” If there had been a roof on the arena, the eruption of cheering would have lifted it.
“Their opponents hail all the way from the eastern kingdom of Qestia. Their physical prowess and mastery of craft make them the ultimate one-two combination. Please make welcome Orson and Marsh!” The heavily plated mercenary and the werewolf were motionless, letting the broiling waves of support and jeers wash off them.
