“My name is Smetchen. I am a first-class mage from Ourobanal. Do you know where Ourobanal is?”
The man stands at the bottom step, staring up at us with fury in his eyes. His black curls and his robe are covered with sand. And a bruise is forming in the middle of his forehead. He’s young, likely in his late teens.
Behind him, Lloyd is fiddling with the man’s metal staff.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Suella says.
“It’s far away!” Smetchen barks. “I came here to compete! To be the hero to slay the Demon Lord!”
Olexandrya and I share a look.
“You don’t seem very up to the task,” Olexandrya says, leaning against the doorframe. Something about her has shifted, as if the absurdity of the situation has brought some of her humor back. “It looks like Lloyd beat the shit out of you.”
“He—” Smetchen pauses to dust sand out of his hair. “He took my staff! And he jumped on my back! What was I supposed to do?”
Suella cackles.
“What did you mean by teammates?” I ask, squeezing by Olexandrya.
“For the competition!” Smetchen snaps. “If you were in the capital, you would’ve heard! I’ve been assigned two teammates! Aerida and… Pa…pe…nino…nuyun.”
“Oh,” Olexandrya and Suella say at the same time. “Pepper.”
Pappeninonunyn. I remember Pepper claiming it to be her ‘true name’ back in Wettes. I thought she’d been joking.
“They’re assigning teammates?” Olexandrya says, backing up. “Why?”
“Where are they!” Smetchen demands.
“I’m Aerida,” I say, pushing past Olexandrya. I scowl down at him.
“You’re…” Smetchen’s blue eyes narrow. “A demon?”
“Pepper is as well,” Olexandrya says.
Smetchen glances over his shoulder at the staff in Lloyd’s hands.
Lloyd looks up and purses his lips.
“Can I have this?” Lloyd asks.
Smetchen scowls at him.
“You’re a first-class mage?” I ask, descending the stairs. “That means you can cast first-class spells?”
Smetchen takes a step back, despite the fact that he’s a head taller than me. The reaction satisfies me.
“Assuming I have my staff,” he says.
“You can’t cast without a staff?” Suella pipes up. “You’re not a mage! You’re a cripple!”
Smetchen straightens, turning his scowl onto the woman. His tone turns to steel.
“Needing a staff makes me no less of a mage.”
“Cast a spell, then,” Suella says. “Right now.”
Smetchen shrinks slightly, his gaze falling. He clenches his hands into fists and releases them.
“A mage who can’t cast a spell isn’t a mage,” Suella says. “Simple as. Without the staff, you aren’t a mage.”
“Are we allowed to use weapons in the competition?” I ask, tilting my head to look up at Olexandrya.
She shrugs.
“Last time we could,” she says. “Rakel had enchanted gauntlets.”
I wonder if I could get my hands on a dagger before then. I’ve felt incomplete fighting without one.
I watch Smetchen’s face as his eyes search the sand.
“Well,” he says. “The Queen is accepting the last of the challengers. She gave me two names. And she’s actively making teams as we speak.” He produces a piece of parchment and crumples it. “You and… ‘Pepper.’”
“It isn’t too late?” Lloyd blurts. He looks at Suella and Olexandrya. “I have to go, then! I want to be a part of this?”
“Lloyd,” Olexandrya says. “We’ve got to—”
“I can’t go back to Alleport,” Lloyd cuts in with a sudden bite in his tone. “My own father was ready to take my head. You saw that. This is my chance.”
“He’s certainly strong enough,” Smetchen mumbles, shifting his weight on the sand.
“See?” Lloyd throws an arm over Smetchen’s shoulder. “The first-class mage says I’m strong!”
“I don’t want you going into the Capital alone,” Olexandrya says.
“I’ll take him,” Suella stands and cracks her neck. “I’ve seen enough of this joke mage.”
Lloyd’s face lights up.
“Come on,” Suella says, walking over to the boys.
“Lloyd,” I stick out a hand. “Can I have the staff?”
Lloyd begrudgingly turns the staff over. It’s heavier than I expected and looks odd. It’s just metal that ends in a bulbous tip.
Suella takes Lloyd’s hand and they vanish with a pop.
“Here,” I say, offering the staff to Smetchen. “Show me a spell.”
Smetchen takes the staff and clutches it with both hands. His eyes meet mine.
“If we’re going to be working together… Smetchen,” I add, glancing over my shoulder at Olexandrya. “We’ll have to know what you’re capable of.”
“Smetch,” Smetchen says, smiling at me for some reason. “You can call me Smetch.”
I stare.
“Cast a spell, Smetchen.”
He nods and turns to the ocean.
Olexandrya joins me on the sand.
“Hold the staff level,” Smetchen mumbles. “And focus.” He raises the staff, leveling the end toward the water.
Mana moves. But I can’t locate it for a moment. I realize it’s coming ‘out’ of the staff.
“The staff,” I say under my breath.
“I thought it would gather the mana for him,” Olexandrya says. “But there’s a source in there.”
“Does that mean it’s limited?”
She shrugs.
The bulbous end of the staff opens, blooming like a flower. The metal gleams, vibrating in Smetchen’s hands. The surf rolls in, washing over his feet.
“First Order: Strong Fire!”
A ball of multicolored flames swirls into existence in front of the staff. Greens. Oranges. Reds. Yellows. They twist over each other like a stirring pot.
The surf at Smetchen’s feet erupts into steam as the fire doubles in size.
I can feel the heat on my skin. It’s certainly hotter than my own flames.
“That’s…” Olexandrya starts.
“See?” Smetchen turns to us, whipping the staff to the side.
The fireball zips up the coast. It skips once, spinning in the air. The second time it lands, it explodes into a cloud of sand and steam.
We stare at him.
“That was intentional,” Smetchen says, lowering the staff. The flowering end snaps shut. “It bounced. That was hard, you know?”
Olexandrya raises her chin and makes a show of tapping it.
“I mean…” she says. “I’ve seen stronger magic.”
“Huh?” Smetchen chokes on the word. “Stronger than that? That was my best spell!”
Olexandrya laughs, it’s deep and I watch her throw her head back.
It’s sort of nice seeing it. It’s nice to know she’s still there.
“How many times can you do that?” I ask, focusing on Smetchen.
“The spell?” Smetchen raises the staff. “As many times as I need to. It doesn’t make me tired or anything.”
“That’s what I’m saying. The mana is being drawn from the staff itself. What’s the source and what’s the limit?”
Smetchen fidgets with the staff, avoiding my eyes.
“Do you know how that staff works?” Olexandrya asks.
Smetchen continues to not answer.
“Great.”
“Where is…” Olexandrya waves a hand at him. “Wherever you said you were from.”
“Ourobanal,” Smetchen says. “It’s very far away. I’m not surprised none of you have heard of it.”
“I have heard of it,” Olexandrya says, stepping forward. “It’s on the eastern end of the country.”
Smetchen pales.
“This competition couldn’t have been conceived more than a week ago, how did you get here so fast?”
Oh. I hadn’t even considered that. Maybe he teleported somehow. I’ve seen plenty of people popping in and out.
“Fine, you caught me.” Smetchen’s face falls. “I’ve been on the run for years.”
Olexandrya chokes out a flat laugh.
“What?”
“I stole a staff from my family’s storehouse and ran away.”
Olexandrya and I share a long look.
“Are you…” I fold my arms. “You’re not a first-class mage, are you?”
“No.” He plants the end of the staff in the sand and leans on it. “I’ve been slimming it in the capital, working as a part-time guard. But this is my chance. My chance to make something of myself.”
I shake my head at Olexandrya. I can’t believe how quickly my opinion of this kid has whiplashed. I just don’t know what to make of him.
“We can work together, then?” Smetchen asks, raising his head.
“Assuming you’re telling the truth about the Queen’s ‘team’ nonsense,” I say. “We don’t have a choice.”
“You’d better learn how to use that stick,” Olexandrya says, turning and heading up the stairs.
I start to follow her when Smetchen clears his throat.
“Um,” he says. “Can I live out here for a while?”
“What?” Olexandrya blurts, whipping her head around.
“You see, my boss found out I was participating in the challenge. He didn’t like that. You see, my boss was housing me. So I’m homeless now.”
We stare at him. I don’t have to look at Olexandrya to see her answer coming.
“Sure,” she says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Smetchen rushes up the steps, but I turn and hold out a hand, stopping him at the top.
“What is it?” He asks.
“Give us a moment,” I say before shutting the door in his face.
“You don’t trust him?” Olexandrya asks, plopping into a chair.
“I’m sure he’s being as honest as he will be. I just don’t think he’ll be much help.” I walk up to her chair, folding my arms. “I wanted to talk to you now that we’re alone.”
Olexandrya meets my eyes.
“What about?”
It all bubbles in my chest. Worry. Confusion. Something else I’m not sure how to name.
“Jeremias. Why didn’t you fight him? It seemed like you were holding back.”
“What’s going on?” Pepper stumbles out of the hallway, drenched and panting. She looks a bit disheveled, as if she got dressed in a hurry. “I felt a spell!”
I fix an annoyed look at Olexandrya, hoping it communicates my intention to bring this up later. The spell happened awhile ago, why come out now?
“We’re being slotted into teams,” I say, turning to Pepper. “Kids outside. Me, you, and him.”
“What about Rakel?”
I shrug.
“I guess we’re lucky to be on a team together at all,” I say.
But Pepper purses her lips and mumbles something to herself. She’d rather have Rakel. She could at least pretend to deny it.
The air thickens.
Pepper’s head snaps up.
Olexandrya stands.
I stare at the floor.
Queen Remrey’s magic. It moves like a massive cloud passing overhead.
Smetchen beats on the door.
“Hello?” he calls. “Something is happening!”
I throw the door open and the boy shrieks, staggering back to dodge it.
Streaks of color plume across the sky. I track them as Smetchen lands on the sand.
“It’s coming from the Capital!” Smetchen blurts.
“It’s the Queen,” Olexandrya says, following me as I descend the stairs and round the house.
“You okay… sir?” Pepper asks, helping Smetchen up in the corner of my eye.
Beyond the fields of crops, the streaks source back to the shape of the city in the distance. They rise like a colorful tree before scattering across the sky in every direction.
A few high above turn, zipping towards us. Three green ones and a red one. They move like columns of smoke and spears at once.
“Aerida!”
Olexandrya grabs my blouse and yanks me out of the way of one of the green ones. The smoke turns, slamming into my chest.
No pain. Just mana rushing into my body.
Another green one hits Pepper in the chest. She hardly reacts, just stares at her chest. One hits Smetchen as well, but I’m not sure if he notices.
The red one whizzes by us, shooting through the open door.
I raise a hand to my chest, feeling the foreign mana pulsing.
What is that woman doing?
“Are you okay?” Olexandrya demands. “Aerida!”
“Teams,” I say almost under my breath. The red one is likely going after Rakel. We’re being marked for the competition. This must be new, just like the teams. Which is also why Olexandrya wasn’t touched. She isn’t a part of this.
In the distance, the lights slowly fade and the sky clears.
“Can you hear me?” The voice rumbles in my head. I recognize it immediately as Remrey. “If I performed that spell correctly; which I did, everyone who has received my blessing to perform in the Hero’s Trial should hear my voice.”
“Oh,” Pepper says.
“The Queen!” Smetchen sits up. “I hear you! Did I do something wrong?”
Olexandrya looks at me, eyes wide.
“What’s going on?” She asks.
I watch as a ring of green forms on wrist. It glows faintly beneath my skin. I show it to her.
“She’s marked us.” I wonder if Lloyd made it to Remrey in time to get himself ‘blessed’ to compete. A part of me hopes he hasn’t. But he was determined, so he probably did.
Rakel pops out the door, holding a towel over herself. I spot the red ring on her wrist.
“I can’t hear you,” Remrey goes on in my head. “If you’re trying to speak back to me, it’s pointless. You can hear me, but I can’t hear you.”
“I’m sorry!” Smetchen whines. “I thought you could hear me!”
“Now,” Remrey says. “I will take this opportunity to explain exactly what the trial will entail.”
Olexandrya takes my hand, staring at the light in my skin. Her expression is grim.
“What’s she saying?” She asks.
“Hold on.”
“There are only twenty-seven competitors in this trial,” Remrey says. “It’s a shame, but it can’t be helped. We had such short notice, after all.”
Nine teams of three? Last time there were a hundred people. I doubt that the Queen couldn’t have assembled a hundred people willing to slay the Demon Lord. This is intentional.
Rakel marches down the steps, looking at the red mark on her wrist and comparing it to the green one on Pepper’s.
“Despite your teaming,” Remrey says. “There will only be a single winner. Keep this in mind: your allies are a means to an end. These bonds are a trial in themselves.”
“Me,” Smetchen says under his breath. “It has to be me.”
“You will have a week to prepare for the first trial. The markers on your wrist will help you find your companions. I suggest you gather and plan around each other. In a week, you will be transported to the first arena.”
Transported. Just how deep is this magic? Is she aware of our every move? Of the flow of our mana? Of my thoughts?
“Some may see this as mindless spectacle.” Remrey’s voice is low. “But with the fall of the Demon Lord, a new era is rushing forward. That era needs a hero we can all stand behind.”
Olexandrya’s hand tightens around mine.
“That’s why this has to happen. One of you; you are my hero. Prove it to me. Show all of us exactly who you are.”