The Rise of the Fourteen (18 page)

“Listen up kids.”

Sorem laughs as her brother hopelessly tries to gain command
of the chaotic dining room. Nuntios and Armifer are having a food fight, Nuptia
is yelling at Ámpelos (again), and Anima and Faber have divided the rest into
teams for a heated debate on whether or not the ending of
Champion
was
good. “Oi! Listen up!” The room suddenly falls quiet, except the dripping of
splotches of jam on a far wall. Sorem gives her brother a smug look.

In return, he blows a raspberry and continues with his
speech. “There’s one last
mahi
we have to retrieve, but we need all of
you to help us.”

“Ugh, there’s more of you,” Nuptia says. She instantly claps
her hand over her mouth as the room dissolves into snickers.
I just said
that out loud, didn’t I?

Ámpelos slyly puts an arm on the back of Nuptia’s chair and
whispers “This my girl” to the rest of the room.

Nuptia, upon hearing the comment, indignantly exclaims, “I
am not his girlfriend!”

Demetri sighs exasperatedly as the room dissolves into
titters once more. “So much for briefing them on the mission,” he says to his
sister. Together they make swirling motions with their hands, conjuring a large
portal beneath the dining room rug.

“Bon Voyage,” Demetri calls as the squabbling gang falls
through the floor, table, breakfast, and all. Demetri and Sorem jump through
the portal after the screaming teenagers, laughing with wicked glee.

***

 The table lands with a bang on a grassy hill. All are
rocketed out of their seats into the meadow, except Nuntios, who has somehow
landed on the table, his head in a plate of eggs.

“Bloody hell,” Luna says as she brushes dirt off her pants.

 “I’ll say,” Callida adds. She turns to face a smirking
Demetri and Sorem, who have just landed neatly on top of a nearby horse cart. “Don't
you think that people are going to notice that a table of breakfast has just appeared
in the middle of the French countryside?” She asks sharply.

“How do you know it’s the French countryside?” Faber
snarks.

Callida rolls her eyes and launches into a full explanation.
“Well, that sign over there is in French,” she says pointing at a rusty
signpost. “Those are snow drop flowers, common in the countryside of southern France,”
she says pointing at clumps of white blossoms scattered about the hillside.
“And they,” she states, gesturing at Demetri and Sorem, “have been studying up
on French maps, so it's a reasonable assumption we're in the French
countryside.” She has a smug look on her face as she receives a number of
surprised stares.

 “You know what,” Faber says, “do you have to be such a
smartass all the time?”

“At least I actually have enough smarts to be a smartass,”
she says with a disdainful huff. Faber hisses through his teeth in frustration.

“Burn.” Nuntios whispers to Armifer.

A sharp cough interrupts their exchange. A thoroughly
ruffled Sorem has stepped down from the horse cart and now addresses the group
from a clump of tall grasses. “We have
a goal to accomplish
if
you’re
not all too busy squabbling.” Sorem haughtily turns her head and makes her way
down to a nearby dirt road. “We keep walking until we reach a bakery.”

Demetri brings up the rear, ignoring the confused looks of
the kids.

“A bakery?” Callida whispers. Faber simply shrugs his
shoulders and together the group moves down the path. “Sometimes I wonder if they
tell us half of the stuff they know,” she mutters.

Eventually, the group enters the town, and Sorem wastes no
time in directing them down specific back streets. “We’re here!” she says
brightly as the group approaches the blackened shell of a building.

“We’re here?” Nuntios asks, an eyebrow raised.

The gang cautiously enters the building, very aware of the
wreckage. The bakery stinks of various rotting food items and the entire top
floor has been roped off with caution tape (probably due to the collapsed
roof). Charred thatch decorates the surrounding street like a dark moat, and
the whole place has an eerie feel to it. And Sorem wants them to repair it.

“And you think we can do that?” Anima asks sharply, eyeing
the decaying building. “It’s not my
prima
magic,” she adds with a
mocking tone. Sorem recalls the scene in the training room and curses her past
self.

“We,” she says, gesturing at herself and Demetri, “will help
you, provided you don’t snap at us the entire time. We need this place to be
spic and span by the time Erus gets here. If, and only if, we can accomplish
that do we have any hope of getting him to come to the sanctuary.” She looks
around at the circle of determined faces. “Are you ready?”

“We better start work then,” Lacria says and makes her way
up the stairs and into the rubble.

***

Erus walks down the main cobblestone street in silence. His
golden eyes shift from side to side, his unease clear. Only a few days ago, he
would have strutted jauntily down this street, commanding the walkway with
ease, but no more. His jacket is wrinkled, and his trousers have suspicious
stains on them. There are dark circles beneath his aureate eyes, and his jet-black
hair could do with a good comb. He has a cold beauty to him as he continues
down the street, oblivious to the life around him.

He’s going back to the bakery today, the first time since
the incident just to fetch a few things before repair work begins on the house.
Ever since Mémé
had to be hospitalized after the fire, the Babineaux
family has been living on futons in Mémé’s
hospital room.

At least the health care is nearly free,
Erus thinks.
The repairs will cost a fortune, not to mention the cleanup.
He
continues trudging down to the familiar side street that opens up to the
bakery, a weight on his shoulders.
It’s so hard to try and help this family
when I’m so scared myself.

He has not forgotten how the lightning froze in the air
above him. He has not forgotten how he came face to face with death itself. He
has, however, apparently forgotten the way to the bakery.
No, it’s definitely
this street.
He backtracks slightly.
No, that’s definitely my house
.

The bakery is as good as new. The collapsed roof has been
reconstructed, the shattered windows repaired, and the open sign has been
polished. Erus enters cautiously.
The bell even rings as I walk in,
he
thinks. He marvels at the freshly scrubbed floor and the gleaming countertop.

“Who did this?” he wonders aloud. He did not expect to find
his little kingdom so well repaired.

“We did,” a voice says flatly. Luna emerges from behind the front
counter, her mixed companions trailing behind her. Erus is shocked by the
appearance of the strangers and fights to regain his composure.

“And you are?”

“We are the eleven
mahi
who seek our twelfth member,”
Anima says. Her voice is servile sounding and quavers slightly. It would not
have been amiss had she curtsied and said “Mi lord.” Callida elbows her sharply
in the ribs.

“Why are you so timid?” she hisses. “We’re trying to impress
this kid.”

“I don't know,” Anima whispers back. “He just feels so …
intense.”

Callida nods in agreement. “I feel it too.”

Before confronting Erus, Sorem had warned them about this.
Pure,
raw,
power is his prima magic. He can charm and manipulate. He can
command you with his mind by simply looking at you. It will take all of your
strength to resist his ways.
As Anima and Callida look around at their
compatriots, they see quivering lips and ashen faces. All, however, except for
Luna.

“What are you doing here?” Erus asks. He is greeted with
silence. “I want to know what a bunch of strangers are doing
traipsing
about my home!” His voice rises in a fiery crescendo, flaring with anger. Most
of the group has shrunk back against the counter, but Luna stands her ground.

“Who do you think you are?” Luna asks, her head cocked to one
side. “We just spent a good chunk of time on your bloody bread box so, God help
me, I’m not going to sit here and listen to you asking impertinent questions in
your damnably prissy French!” Erus is shocked into silence, his eyes flashing
in disbelief. Ámpelos on the other hand, nods in appreciation of Luna’s
outburst.

“How dare you speak to me like that,” Erus snarls, “in my
own bakery.”

“At least, I don’t abandon old ladies in the hospital.” Luna
retorts.

Erus freezes.
How could she possibly know about Mémé? And
how dare she say that I would … that I would abandon her! My own grandmother!
“I
never did that!” Erus has made his way across the room, and he stands mere inches
from Luna’s face, shouting at her. “How dare you accuse me of such!”

“Prove it,” Luna says coolly, in a voice lined with acid.

Erus has no response to that and his cheeks begin to flame.
He opens his mouth as if to attempt to say something more, but he is stopped. A
golden bolt of light hits him from behind, and he keels over, eyes still glazed
with rage. Everyone turns to look in the direction the beam came from and find
themselves gazing at a sheepish Arden.

“What?” he says pointedly, “none of you had a clear plan.”

“And this was your idea of a clear plan?” Lacria asks
sharply. Lacria and Terrance grab Erus’s feet, and Armifer and Nuntios grab his
shoulders.

Besides,
Arden thinks,
no one gets that close to
my sister. Nobody.
He brings up the rear as the rest of the group files out
of the bakery, closing the door behind them.

“You are so bad at this,” Callida says, half laughing, as
she takes Faber’s
second bishop. “It’s upsetting.” She leans back
into the plush chair, snickering.

“Not everyone is as smart as you,” he retorts.

 “Too true,” she replies smugly, tucking a strand of dark
brown hair behind her ear. The pair had begun playing chess in the drawing room
while the group waited for Erus to wake up. Since then, they had played five
games, all of which Callida had won (rather easily). “Checkmate.” Callida
knocks over Faber's king with a dramatic flourish and then proceeds to reset
the board.

 “I don’t get it,” Faber states, “I had all of my strongest
pieces out. How did you get to my king so easily?” His incredulity is only too
apparent.

“You gotta use tactics.
You can’t just have your
queen run amok across the board and expect to win.” Her tone is matter of fact
with maybe the barest trace of pity. “You have to treat every piece equally,
except for your king of course.”

“Smells like communism,” Faber quips.

Callida looks up to see Faber grinning cheekily, his eyes
sparkling. If she feels a faint tickling of butterflies in her stomach, she
doesn't show it. Instead, she gives him a hard look.

“Not amused, chess girl?”

“I give up!” she says throwing her hands up in frustration.
“It is physically impossible for you to learn chess.”

“You just have to give me more tips, that’s all,” Faber
urges.

“Alright,” Callida says grudgingly. She points at the board.
“What would your first move be?”

Faber pushes a white pawn forward one square.

“Not bad,” Callida says, nodding thoughtfully.

“It’s not good though, is it.”

“No, not really.”

“What then?”

“Move your pawn out two squares,” Callida says impatiently.
“If you want
to control the game, control
the center of the
board.” She reaches out to nudge his pawn a space forward.

 “I got it.” They grasp for the piece at the same time, and
their fingers brush. “Sorry,” Faber mumbles. Callida is grateful for her deep
tan that conceals the blood she is sure is rushing to her cheeks. She withdraws
her hand and vigorously finger combs a strand of hair, avoiding eye contact. Faber
grimaces.
Awkward. She’s clearly uncomfortable around me.
He chews his
lip nervously.
And maybe I don’t know how I feel around her.
His murky
thoughts are interrupted when a grinning Demetri bursts into the room.

 “What's the deal, Demetri?” Callida asks, eager to change
the subject of the unspoken conversation.

“Erus has agreed to join us.”

“That’s great!” Faber chimes with strained enthusiasm.

 “But …,” Demetri pauses, “there is a catch.”

“Of course there is,” Callida says sourly.

“He wants to fight each of you in a magical duel.”

***

Callida and Faber enter the training room to join a line of
stony faces. Looking down the line, Callida can see that everyone else is also
fed up with Erus’s snootiness.
But he is dangerous, s
he admits in her
head.
When I tried to give him the finger, he nearly made me prostrate on
the floor in front of him.
She relishes the idea of going head to head with
him in single combat.

Sorem stands at the far end of the room, commanding the
space with an aura of privilege. Erus stands beside her, looking equally dominant.
Erus wears a smug grin on his face while Sorem wears a pained grimace.
Let’s
get this over with,
she thinks to herself.

“Erus,” she says sharply, “the first opponent you will face
is Arden.” Arden steps forward into the sparring ring. He wears a mask of
determination to hide the fact that his knees feel as if they will give way at
any moment. “His
prima
magic is light manipulation. His
gift
is
music.”

Erus sizes up the blond.
Ppth. Bronzed skin like that.
American to boot. Must be shallow. I can take him.
Erus smirks at his inner
thought.

“You may begin.” Sorem steps back into the doorway, and the
fight commences.

The fight is over before it properly starts. The first
minutes are spent in the typical circling, evasive movements. Erus saunters
around the ring with an easy grace. Arden can feel invisible hands trying to
force him to bow. But he refuses to submit. Every step feels leaden and heavy,
but he will not give up.

I have not forgotten how you were with my sister.
He
looks out to the side briefly and sees that Luna’s eyes are filled with
concern.
But are they for me, or for Erus? She was
the only one who
got him to talk.

Seething with new anger, Arden concentrates on the blue
light from the flickering torches on the walls. He spreads his hands out and
allows the light to flow to him, collecting it in his palms. He pushes the
aurora outward, and the glow hits Erus in a concentrated beam, blasting the
French boy backward into one of the waterfalls lining the room.

Sorem grins, proud of her
mahi.
Barely missing a
beat, she returns to the position of the announcer. “Now, Erus, your next
opponent is Anima. Her
prima
magic is wards and shields. Her
gift
is
loyalty.”

The fighting has been exhausting, but mostly for Erus. Each
of the ten
mahi
that had fought had beaten him easily. Probably the most
memorable fight was with Nuntios. His
prima
magic is teleportation, and
the fight consisted mostly of Nuntios evading Erus until Nuntios managed to
appear behind the other boy and bash him over the head.

It took Erus some time to come around, surprisingly long
considering how many times he’d been knocked out in the past twenty-four hours.

Another memorable duel was between Terrance and Erus.
Terrance took no chances and mere seconds after the duel started, springing
branches began growing out of the floor beneath Erus’s feet, ensnaring the boy
until he could barely move. Erus began to spout some nasty insults in French
but, with a flick of the wrist, Terrance had grown a branch over Erus’s mouth.

Demetri was (somewhat) dismayed, but Sorem took it as a
chance to place an
iris
at the base of Erus’s throat.
Opportunity
comes to those who seek it.
She thought ruefully. But the fight they had
all been looking forward to was about to begin.

“Erus, your next opponent is Lacria. Her
gift
includes
varied talents such as stealth and knife throwing.”

“No magic from you then,” Erus says tauntingly. “Do your
masters not think you’re good enough?”

Terrance sees a flame flicker in Lacria’s eyes.
Erus is
just asking for it.
Terrance smiles at the thought.
Watching Lacria beat
him will be even more satisfying.

Erus shrieks as a knife whistles past his ear, lodging
firmly in the wall behind him. “You missed me!”

Terrance shakes his head.
He’s less confident maybe, but
still just as arrogant.
Lacria lets loose a stream of knives coming at Erus
from all directions. Erus ducks and dives in a ridiculous fashion doing his
best to avoid being hit directly. But as soon as he regains presence of mind to
go on the offensive, Lacria is holding the collar of his shirt and pressing a
knife to his throat.

“When I miss,” she whispers calmly, “it means I’m not
trying.” Erus breathes harder, trying to think of an escape. “So, no, I don’t
need magic to prove that you’re a prat.” She lets go of his shirt roughly,
letting Erus crumple to the floor. Lacria makes her way across the room and
stalks up the stairs as Erus lies across the wood in disbelief.

He had it coming,
Terrance thinks with satisfaction.