Crown Tournament [Chapters 13-14]

Hey peeps!

More Crown Tourny. This time, we get to meet a grave moth arcanist and a tanuki arcanist.

Shami

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I stood stiff and straight, my mind racing through options. Should I just run? If I made it back to Master Elias, he would handle the problem. Somehow. But that was the panicking option. I should remain calm—and handle this as a man.

Because I am one now.

“Help!” the woman screamed from the other side of the broken window. She pointed at me from the safety of the schoolhouse.

The blazing sun beat down on me like the light itself wanted everyone to know where I was.

Wren flared his scales. “Quiet, wretch! I’ll bite you!”

“He’s dangerous!” the woman yelled.

An arcanist ran toward me, his chest puffed out, a glare set on his face. I just waited, stomping down all my panic.

The arcanist was different from most people in Morrumbi Town. A foreigner, for sure. He had a rugged and angular face marred with cuts and bruises, but his eyes were blue enough that I identified the color from a good twenty feet away. His arcanist star, just as visible as his eyes, was strange.

A seven-pointed mark with a fat caterpillar between the points. What was that?

The arcanist pushed back some of his sweat-soaked blond hair. The sun wasn’t kind to him. His pale skin was red or raw in all places that the desert sun could touch it. Where had this man come from?

He wore the same outfit most people wore here. Long pants. Loose, white shirt. Easy sandal shoes. All this arcanist was missing was a hat.

“You there,” the blond man barked. He pointed. “What do you think you’re doing this schoolhouse?” He stopped once he was close to me, his hands clenched into fists. His widened his stance, and I wondered if he was a fighter.

“He set something on fire and then jumped out the window!” the woman inside yelled.

Wren flashed his fangs and breathed a puff of fire. I held out my hand, silencing him. My eldrin stopped, though it was clear from his pouting that he wanted to maul the woman in the schoolhouse for daring to challenge us.

“You set it on fire?” A dark, magical energy swirled around the man’s hand. “What do you think you were doing? Harming kids? What kind of lunatic are you?”

“Seize him, Arcanist Rosewood,” the woman said. “Please! Before he runs off.”

Rosewood?

The same as my last name.

Well, my new last name. Everyone in the orphanage always took the name of the orphanage itself. That meant…

“Wait,” I said.

Arcanist Rosewood tensed. The woman inside gasped. But neither moved.

“I didn’t mean to harm the schoolhouse,” I said, forcing myself to be as calm and articulate as possible. “It was an accident.”

The woman stepped closed to the busted window sill. “You walked in and broke our displays!”

“I’ve never been inside a schoolhouse before.” I turned my attention to the sand-covered road beneath my feet. “I apologize. I thought the weapon was real.”

Arcanist Rosewood straightened his posture and loosened his fists. He stared at me for a long moment, like I was a snake that might lash out. When I didn’t, he huffed a laugh. “Did you just say you’ve never been in a schoolhouse?”

“No wonder he’s a brigand,” the woman whispered from the safety of the building.

“My eldrin lit the fake weapon on fire.” I motioned to Wren. “And when the woman declared me a criminal, I panicked and leapt out the window.” I rubbed my shoulder. “Now that I’m a criminal, I understand what you need to do, b-but if there’s some way to become nota criminal, I would appreciate it if you told me.”

The arcanist and the woman exchanged glances.

“I don’t want to be a criminal,” I said. “I don’t want to be hanged. Or starve in a jailcell.” I had only read a handful of stories, but they were all terrible.

“Hanged?” Arcanist Rosewood mouthed, no audible component to confusion.

The woman in the schoolhouse waited for a long minute. When no one said anything, she interjected, “If you pay for the display and the window, you won’t need to be arrested.”

“Really?” I asked. “You won’t kill me for being a criminal?”

“That… was never on the table,” the woman nervously said. “But, uh, yes? You’ll be free to go.”

I reached into my pocket and grabbed the paper notes. Then I handed them all to Arcanist Rosewood. “Here. I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

The blond man stared at the paper, his eyes growing wider. “What the? Why do you have this much money on you?” He grabbed a single note and passed it to the woman. “That’s more than enough to fix everything.”

She snatched it from the arcanist and held it close. “It’s perfect! This will buy a whole new set of displays. Thank you, Arcanist Rosewood!” The woman left the room a second after her declaration.

The man handed me back the rest of the notes. “What’s wrong with you? Where did you get this much money?”

I took the notes and put them back in my pocket. “My master gave them to me.”

“Most people keep those kinds of bank notes in a safe. They don’t carry them around. You’re asking to get mugged.”

Wren snorted. He pressed up against my legs. “We can handle it. Bring on the muggers, I say.”

“I’m Amir Rosewood,” I said, emphasizing my surname. “Thank you for saving my life.”

The arcanist stared at me, one eyebrow lifting. “Saving your life…? Are you touched in the head?” Then he frowned. “Wait. Did you say Rosewood? You went to the same orphanage as me?”

I nodded once. “It seems like it.”

The blond man continued to frown. “I’m Finlay. I don’t remember living with a kid named Amir.”

“I was adopted when I was young. When were you adopted?”

“Never,” Finlay said, flat and cold.

“I see. You were probably one of the lucky ones, then.”

That statement seemed to change something about Finlay. He stared for a long while, his expression softening. Only people who grew up in Rosewood Orphanage would understand the fear getting picked.

Wanting to move past the subject, I asked, “Is House Mother Mila still there? Is she okay?”

“She’s old,” Finlay said. “It’s almost beyond her time. But no one wants to take on a bunch of children as their wards, so she keeps working.” He stood a little straighter, regaining some of his irritation from before. “I’ve been helping her. Sending coin and notes whenever I can.”

“Is the orphanage far from here?”

Finlay pursed his lips, the scratches on his face cracking a bit under the heat of the sun. “It’s a few days from here. Near the Pale Dragon River. I feel like… you’re not telling me something.”

“Hm?” I forced a chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like how you were hit on the hard with a rock as a child or something. You seem utterly clueless. About everything.” Finlay leaned in closer to me, his eyes narrowed. “You’re weird.”

Wren exhaled smoke. “You’re weird. Don’t talk to my arcanist that way, you bum.”

“My arcanist?” A whispered voice wafted across the wind. “Is it safe?”

Finlay turned to face whoever was talking. I glanced around, hoping to find the individual, but I saw nothing. As I searched, Finlay walked over to a barrel propped next to the schoolhouse. The sun baked everything it touched, and the wood of the barrel had paled to a dull apricot. Had the barrel spoken?

But Finlay reached behind it and picked up a disgusting creature.

A fat, blob-like caterpillar.

White hairs sprouted from its back, and its face resembled a human skull. No, that wasn’t right. It wore a human skull—the skull of an infant. The arm-sized worm didn’t have any eyeballs, just hollow sockets where eyes should’ve gone.

It had hundreds of tiny little legs, each of them squirming around as Finlay took the creature into his arms. He cradled the monstrosity as though it were a delicate child.

When Finlay walked back over to us, I took a step backward. Wren did the same, his fangs shown.

“What’s that?” Wren hissed.

Finlay held the fat caterpillar close to his chest. “He’s a grave moth. And his name is Sinsidius.”

“It’s gross.”

“He’s not an it.” Finlay glared at my drake and then sneered at me. “You should teach your eldrin some manners, ya know?”

The freakish worm turned his face to “look” at me, but without any eyeballs, I didn’t know if it could see. “Careful, my arcanist,” Sinsidius whispered. “This one is strange. He’s not like a normal arcanist.” The tiny skull creaked as the jaw moved.

I didn’t like anything that even lookedundead. This… This was unnatural.

Finlay pointed to my headwrap. “You know, it’s more of a crime to hide your arcanist mark than it is to bust up some things in a school, right? That’s serious business.”

“Oh.” I grabbed the cloth around my head. “Master Elias said I had to wear this.”

Finlay grabbed my headpiece and tore it away. He pulled some of my hair along with it, and I gritted my teeth in irritation. Why was it a law to hide my arcanist mark.

But for a second time since meeting the man, Finlay seemed baffled beyond words. He stared at the mark on my forehead, his blue eyes fixed on the image. Unlike his mark, my seven—pointed star had two creatures intertwined throughout it. “You… have two eldrin? A horse and a syrocko drake?”

I grabbed my headwrap from his hand and yanked it back into my possession. “She’s not a horse. She’s a kirin. And yes. That’s right.” I wanted to wrap the cloth back around my head, but… would that make me a criminal again?

“Oh, no,” Sinsidius whispered.

Finlay backed away, his grave moth held tightly in his arms. “You…” His grave moth shuddered. Then Finlay turned and hurried down the road. He didn’t even say goodbye.

Which was strange.

Perhaps Master Elias was right—no one would react properly once they saw my arcanist mark.

I wrapped my head again, nervous about the future.

“C’mon, Wren,” I muttered. “I think we need to get out of here.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I don’t like that arcanist,” Wren said. “He got kooky when he heard about Roux.”

I shushed him as I turned to head in the opposite direction. “Don’t talk so loudly. And we should hurry.” After a long exhale, I scooped up Wren and ran back into Morrumbi Town.

As soon as the sun began its descent, everyone in town packed away their things and started the process to close their shops. No one wanted to be out at night. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but from what I had heard, it was cold and some people feared the strangers who had been coming around because of the tournament.

I didn’t fear anyone in town. Not the new arcanists, or the citizens. I was afraid of being declared a criminal again, especially if hiding my arcanist mark meant I was breaking the law. The thought of angering everyone didn’t sit well with me, but I also didn’t want to disobey Master Elias.

And Finlay had acted strangely once he discovered my eldrin.

Something was wrong. I had to tell Elias.

The hot light poured over everything, even as the sun started to set. The sky shifted from bright blue to orange to red, but I didn’t take any time to admire it. I made my way down main street, avoiding everyone and never making eye contact.

“Hey, Amir,” Wren said. He craned his head to the side, embers floating from his mouth. “See that man? He looks so weak! This has to be the weakest person I’ve ever seen before. Oh! Now he’s glaring at us! Do you think he wants to fight?”

I glanced over.

A frail man with thin arms and scrawny legs stood by the door to the bakery. He frowned and glared at the same time. Obviously, he had heard Wren’s declarations.

I gave the man an apologetic wave, then lightly smacked Wren in the head. “Come on. I’m starting to think you are the cause of all our troubles today. Keep your thoughts in your head, okay? Let me do all the talking.”

“Why?”

“Because Master Elias taught me manners and how to be polite, and you lived under a desert rock your whole life.”

Wren let out a dismissive squawk, but he thankfully stayed silent as I headed for the inn.

“Hey!” someone shouted. “Hey! Wait!”

I stopped and turned around. Finlay ran down the street, jumping between people in his haste to get to me. Sinsidius remained in his arms, the fat caterpillar “staring” at me the entire time.

A woman chased after Finlay. She gulped down breaths, her face red. She, too, was an arcanist.

Actually, there was a lot I noticed about her. The woman—was she my age?—had a pretty angled face with keen and bright brown eyes. Her button nose and full lips were distinct, and her black hair was tied back in a messy bun that gave her a fresh appearance, like someone who had just woken up, or perhaps just finished bathing.

The arcanist mark on her forehead was an interesting one. A seven-pointed star with a raccoon interwoven throughout. Well, it couldn’t be a raccoon… But it looked like one. I wasn’t sure what it was officially, but it was kinda cute.

Like the woman herself.

She carried a large bag slung over back, and she wore a sleeveless tunic, travelling pants, and thick black boots. Her skin was tanned and freckled—an odd combination.

“Finlay,” she breathed. “Stop running off. Finlay!”

But Finlay never stopped. He stormed straight over to me, grabbed my forearm, and then glanced over his shoulder at the girl. “I got him! You have to see this, Sage. I wasn’t lying. He has two! Look.”

When he reached for my headwrap, I leaned away, dodging his grip.

Wren bit Finlay’s hand.

“Tsk!” Finlay jerked his hand around and shook it out. With his jaw clenched, he glared at me. “What’s your problem, huh?”

Sage came hurrying over, her breathing labored. She slowly came to a stop next to me, sweat covering every inch of exposed skin. If I had to make a guess, I would say she wasn’t very… physical. Her bag seemed packed to the brim with tomes, and she didn’t have much muscle to speak of.

“Why… are we running?” Sage asked between breaths.

Finlay pointed to my headwrap. “You’ll see. He has two eldrin.” He shot me a glare. “Anyone who bonds with more than one mystical creature dies. They’re soul is sucked up by the creatures, and they keel over. Everyone knows that. But this guy is still alive. Why?”

Sage placed a hand on her chest. She breathed in, and then out, and took several moments to catch her breath. I almost felt bad for her. Did she want water? I regretted not having any on me.

“Can I see your arcanist mark?” she asked.

“Uh.”

I glanced around. There were so many people nearby! At least ten. Perhaps twelve, if I counted the people staring out windows. But more importantly, there were probably arcanists in the inn here for the tournament. The inn was only a block or so away. What if they saw? Master Elias would be angry, for certain.

I pointed to a narrow alley between the bakery and the tailor. Both shops were closing. No one would be around. Plus, it was shaded, and Finlay looked as though he needed to get out of the light. The man was actively cooking.

We all walked into the alleyway, Wren in my arms, Sinsidius in Finlay’s arms.

Sage was an arcanist, but I didn’t see her raccoon eldrin anywhere. Where was it?

“You have two eldrin?” Sage asked again.

I lifted a portion of my headwrap up to show her my arcanist mark. She stared for a long moment, her eyes going as wide as Finlay’s had.

“I told you,” Finlay hissed. “What’s going on? Explain. You know everything about this stuff.”

“He probably is a kirin arcanist,” Sage whispered. “They can bond with one additional mystical creature and not die. That’s the kirin’s special ability.” She placed her backpack down on the sandy ground and then rummaged through the many tomes. Once she withdrew a small book, she held it aloft. “Here! This will tell us everything we need to know about kirin.”

“I know everything,” I said.

Both Finlay and Sage glanced over at me.

I shrugged. “I am a kirin arcanist. But I’d prefer if you kept quiet about that. My master doesn’t think it’s a good idea to spread that knowledge around.”

Sage fingered her tome. She glanced between me and Wren and then frowned. “You bonded with kirin and then a syrocko drake?” Before I answered, she tucked the tome away. “Odd. I heard that kirin arcanists always wanted powerful dragons as their second eldrin.”

I fixed my headwrap over my head. “Well… I could’ve bonded with one. But I thought the syrocko drake was more fitting.”

“Oh. Um.” Sage bowed and then stood straight. “I’m Sage Unna. Pronounced sah-gay. A lot of people call me soggy for some reason…”

I copied her bow. “I’m Amir Rosewood. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She patted her messy bun. “Uh.” Then she gave me the once-over. “You know, now that I look at you… Are you some sort of knight? Or martial artist? I mean… You look very fit. Are you here for the Crown Tournament?”

I nodded once. “That’s right.”

“Having two eldrin is cheating,” Finlay stated matter-of-factly.

Sage shook her head. “It’s not against the rules. I checked.”

“It feels like cheating,” Finlay grumbled. He placed his grave moth on his shoulder and then crossed his arms. The freaky moth “stared” at us all, his skull-face unmoving.

“Do you have a team?” Sage asked. Laced her fingers together. “To celebrate the tournament’s tenth year, this time around, everyone needs a team of five, so the fights can be varied.”

“Varied?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. You see, the Crown Tournament was originally started to entertain the dragon arcanists who ruled over the nations around the Sunset Desert. After the first two tournaments, special rules are always added to spice things up. Last Crown Tournament, specific arcanists were excluded… The tournament before last, specific weapons had to be wielded.”

I set Wren down by my feet. “Really? That’s interesting. Master Elias didn’t tell me that.”

“Finlay and I wanted to participate in the tournament, but we didn’t realize we needed a team of five arcanists.” Sage tilted her head to the side. “If you wanted to join us… we’d be a little closer to—”

I grabbed her hands and held them in mine. Sage stared at me, her eyes wide. Then her cheeks grew pink.

“I’ve been looking for arcanists to join my team,” I said, smiling. “This is perfect! Master Elias and I need three more arcanists.”

“Uh…”

Finlay grabbed Sage and pulled her from my grasp. Then he stepped between us and glared. “Hey! First of all—it’s our team. You can join if you want, but we’re not joining someone else. Secondly, we’re not taking you until we lay out some rules.”

“Rules?” I asked.

Wren hissed at him. To his credit, he didn’t speak, either. He was letting me do all that.

“We split the prize,” Finlay stated. “Equally. Two hundred star shards to each member of the team. That’s final. I don’t care how many eldrin you have.”

“Oh.” I waved away his comment. “I don’t care about that. You guys can have all the star shards.”

Sage and Finlay both inhaled as though I had slapped them. Was it really that surprising? Why did they care so much? Master Elias was right—this was the perfect way to get people to join our team.

“All of it?” Finlay repeated.

I nodded. “Yeah. You guys can keep the star shards, but Master Elias and I keep the crown.”

“The ceremonial crown?” Sage leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. “You understand that, right? That it’s for pomp and circumstance? It… doesn’t have much value. It’s more of a symbol. A trophy. And you have to give it back in ten years, when the next tournament rolls around.”

Finlay jabbed her in the side with his elbow. “Shh! Sage! If he wants to keep the ceremonial crown, and nothing else… Let. Him. Have it. We need the star shards, remember?”

With a frown, Sage slowly nodded.

Master Elias never actually told me what the crown did, but both Elias and Roux were convinced it was filled with magic—something only a kirin arcanist could access. Everyone else only thought it was a ceremonial crown. It was their loss.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I know the crown is just an ornament. But I don’t care. You two can have the star shards. Well… You two, plus whoever the fifth person of our team is.”

“A three-way split?” Finlay exchanged glances with Sage. “You’re sure?”

“Definitely.”

Then I felt something moving through my pocket. I whirled around on my heel, and Wren turned as well, his scales flared. Something had taken my bank notes. But when I caught sight of it, I almost couldn’t believe what I was looking at.

A chubby raccoon?