Page 34 of Wrath's Call

Corbin held his arm back out for me, but before I could take it, Sister Hesta turned and held her hands out to me, palms up in a display of respect for the recruit I may become. Taking note of Corbin’s subtle nod of approval, I stepped forward and placed the lightest touch of my fingertips on her palms.

I was surprised when her energy flowed openly to me at only the softest of touches - and my void grabbed greedily at the easy way her Patience-derived essences leached away. A cascade of bright pastels reminded me of warm tropical sands with hints of ocean breeze, coconut, and pineapple melted into me. I took a deep breath, capturing the serenity around me, its calming effects negating any of the negativity that still burned through my body from Marik’s scornful gaze.

When I opened the eyes I had been unaware I’d closed, Sister Hesta’s hard, calculating eyes had brightened, her expression more of delight from a welcome surprise than that one would give a flea found on a dog - the normal response when someone unknowingly shared their powers with me. I could have sworn I caught the slight uptick in her lips, but it was gone before I could blink, revealing a face that seemed to understand far too much.

“I am to take you to your seats. I take it you would like this -” Hesta paused, her curious gaze beginning to unnerve me, “-candidate to be permitted to sit with you?”

“Please,” Corbin answered, giving my arm a gentle reassuring squeeze. “I am most interested in having Miss Ryans join our ranks.”

“Indeed,” came a much-softened reply meant to comfort.

Sister Hesta led us down one of the two bisecting stairwells, which were carved out from the seats and bisected the stadium such that the semi-circle arrangement was divided into thirds. When we reached the benches at the base, we were led to the center, where Corbin’s viewpoint would be unimpeded so that he could view every corner of the arena below. Corbin reached out for me, his hand grasping mine to lead me past him to the seat on his left - his right left vacant for Ademi.

It was impossible to have more than a polite word or two with Corbin for the remaining time before the trials began - a constant flow of ambassadors, scouts, teachers, and even some of the more bolstered students coming to pass their well wishes and congratulations to him as it turned out he had only received his promotion a scant three months earlier. There were meaningless pleasantries exchanged and coy glances my way from some of the more lascivious guests, but Corbin’s polite introduction of me as a Xynin candidate had most turning their attention away. It was well understood amongst the ranks that Xynin was the wealthiest of the guilds and most favored by the Guild Council, so those whom they truly desired always went in their direction.

At exactly half past one, all voices quieted, and a humming wall of energy spanned the opening that divided the arena below us. All of the lights flickered out save for a few over the far stairwell, which allowed for the safe entrance of Abbess Atiana, Lord Harseth, and his retinue of advisors and Sentori guardians in their gleaming formal red battle leathers with sleek black scimitars hanging from a loop at each hip. When Lord Harseth reached his seat a few to the left of me, in a cloak of midnight silk clasped around his neck with a jewel-studded chain of purest silver over a matching black cutaway tuxedo, he remained standing, the true solemnity of the moment falling upon the crowd much the way a blizzard would on warry mountain travelers. Every light went out then, save for a single solitary glow from above him - highlighting the handsome lines of his cheekbones and aristocratic nose, along with the sharp jut of a chin that never dipped to anyone.

Lord Harseth opened his arms wide, and his palms lifted to the ceiling as he raised his face to the light and began to chant an opening prayer to both Raphael, the highest of the Archangels in Heaven whose son, Vitus, ruled all Angels on Earth, and Lucifer, the Archdemon King of Hell. Once he had finished, the ancient words rolling seamlessly from his tongue in a hypnotic rhythm meant to draw the blessings of those watching from above and below, he called out a final line that made the taste of bile and fear coat my tongue.

“Let the trials commence!”

Chapter Fourteen - Serpent’s Spike

Aeryn

The bile didn’t ease from my throat when I saw the first group of three emerge from tunnels below our seats, each wearing simple, unadorned brown battle leathers over free-flowing linen cloth that wouldn’t impede movement. I recognized all three, who had been chosen to work harmoniously as a unit in the trial.

There was Arabela, a petite Hispanic beauty from the gluttony line, who could extend her pencil-straight raven locks like a whip to ensnare her victims long enough to take them out with her lethally accurate volley of throwing knives dipped in poisons that she had learned to create after years of potions tutelage painstakingly.

Then there was Amiri, with black locks dipped in the subtlest hues of silver and golden skin that always glowed no matter the season or touch of sun, belying his South Pacific ancestry. As a caster of the diligence line, he had abnormally high stamina and strength and the ability to temporarily harness energy to create a stoney-like exterior to his skin that made his limbs lethally dangerous weapons.

And finally, there was Ken, with sandy-colored locks and pale skin that I was always healing during the summer due to overexposure and a lack of sunscreen. As a caster of the chastity line, few believed he could ever be of the combat class, but he had skills that were unique even to casters that proved that gifts could either aid or harm depending on the wielder’s natural inclinations. His primary ability was to identify weaknesses in an individual’s physical and psychic barriers through a sense much like echolocation, which he then exploited through either his crossbow or the perfectly crafted katana strapped to his back.

My mind immediately went to work arranging the three like pieces on a chess board. It was a game I’d begun in my teens, when as a healer trainee, I was required to work shifts at the training yard or the gymnasiums where frequent injuries occurred. During lulls, I would study the abilities of each individual present, running mock battles in my mind with different pairings to see what skills I would best utilize together. Never once had I actually imagined such a game being useful, but as I watched the three fidgeting candidates below, I hoped they had the common sense to do something similar over their years on Academy grounds.

The entire stands held their breaths as the far gate opened, the clanking of the iron bars drifting into holes in the floor, the only sound as we waited anxiously for what may emerge. Confused murmurs began moments later when the long corridor remained empty, no immediate threat emerging from the haunting blackness. Corbin remained relaxed beside me, but his careful eyes scanned the candidates, whose confused looks darted back and forth between one another in uneasy silence.

Unable to manage my anticipation any longer, I raised my sixth sense, scanning the arena below but finding it empty save for the three distinct pulsating auras I knew. As I made another sweep of the arena, my eyes caught on the growing aura of indistinguishable chartreuse green, which moved back and forth in sweeping patterns much the way a snake would slither across a floor. It lay plastered to the ground, the formless slithering shape remaining curved into a small overhang that lined the base of the arena a mere foot or so from the ground, which protected a series of grates used when cleaning blood and debris that could seep into the stone floor below the dirt.

As it moved around the circle, still tucked within the subtle shadows, I caught a near imperceptibly small whip of a tail that peeked out into the light and hissed between clenched teeth; the only sound in the arena was the beating of my own heart flooding my ears. Panic flickered as the formerly shapeless body became more detectable, the long, lean, snakelike frame now undeniable. I knew immediately what it was, even in a shrunken state with its long spiked fins glued to its back.

You see it, don’t you?Less a question than a statement, Marik’s mental voice penetrated the stillness. Part of me knew I should be annoyed at his stalking ways, but I couldn’t help but feel some modicum of comfort from his presence.

Naga. All the affirmation he gave me was a subtle brush of psychic fingers running down my spine.

Are you afraid, my Little Thief?

I released my breath at a slow, practiced pace, my eyes unwavering as the dark green serpentine creature emerged from the rim, behind the three wary casters.

Yes.

The battle hadn’t lasted long, maybe five minutes at most, but it had felt an eternity as the sound of metal clashing off scales rang through the hall in sharp staccato pangs. The first screams had echoed when Ken, who had been unwilling to wait for the other two to regroup after the surprise spray of poisonous spikes had resulted in near paralysis of Arabela’s non-dominant right arm. He had attempted to take advantage of a perceived weakness to charge with his katana, only to be swept away with a powerful stroke of the magnificent tail, three gleaming black spikes embedding in his abdomen as he fell.

The great green and brown splotched humanoid serpent had bright slitted chartreuse eyes and a tan underbelly with a serpentine lower half and reptilian scales molded over a muscular torso reminding me of a man who hit the gym with protein shakes a little too often. All of this led to a head reminding much like an iguana, save for the snake like fangs in his upper jaw which oozed a yellowish venom. The venom crystallized as it hit the dirt giving the illusion of exquisite yellow diamonds scattered across the arena reflecting a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors near hypnotic in their intensities.

Arabela had been the next to fall, the naga having gained the upper hand by wriggling free an arm from his ensnarement and using her own hair as a whip to shatter Arabela’s body against stone pillars on the far side of the arena. She had gotten off a series of volleys with her knives, one particularly ruthless blade slicing into the loose skin below the iguana-like head. However her choice of poison had been wrong, her cut appearing as nothing more than harmless scratch to the serpent shifting demon.

Amiri had fared better, having deflected the first venomous volley and even fighting back against the massive, hardened spikes built directly into male naga’s forearms acting as a naturally honed blade. But his massive expenditure of energy to keep his stoney facade over his entire body caused him to deplete quickly. As his limbs were considerably heavier in that form, he was slower and could only land one good penetrating chop to the side of the naga’s abdomen. However, to ensure he had enough power to do so, he had momentarily lowered the guard on his back, and the naga had smoothly slid in and stabbed a paralyzing spike on his elbow into Amiri’s back, the venom working almost instantaneously to leave Amiri unconscious.

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