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Revolutionary Kindle: The Initial Promise

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Kenta.....
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« on: March 06, 2013, 10:54:57 am »

The following text is an ongoing effort that has slowly developed in complexity over time.  The idea is a year and a half old: I want to write a story for teenage audiences that focuses on the big picture of why we exist.  It will follow the popular trend of the dynamic character who starts the journey with his own self-interests in mind, but has greater things in mind by the end.  The setting is cross-cultural, mixing traditional Japanese with ancient Israel.  Likewise, while the sub-stories in this book are almost entirely Biblical, concepts from popular animes and games will reappear (such as psynergy from Golden sun, the ninja squadrons from Naruto, and character personalities from Final Fantasy VIII).

I initially thought this obsession would vanish with enough time, just as several other of my projects which died halfway through when motivation ran out.  These would mostly be comics like Hoenn Insane, Craig Winn's Prophet of Doom, and Fire Emblem: Grado's Story . . . but it also includes written material like Pokemon: Corrupt Authority, and to my most recent shame, Oblivion's Joy.  This story is different for several reasons.
1. After a year of thinking and not writing, it was clear that this idea was not going away.  Even when I am loaded down with work, it continues to gnaw.
2. This is the first time I am seriously writing something that isn't a subset of anything canon.  This opens up the possibility of publication, which I may actually consider when it's over.  After all my previous reading and writing, I'm able to see what's good and bad.
3. I've been tasked with making disciples of all nations, as a Christian.  It seems I'm too much of a weasel to do it overtly, but I can at least put the messages in my writing while maintaining a (hopefully) interesting story.  Tolkein did it.  It's not impossible.
4. There isn't much time left until the world erupts into WWIII.  However, I expected it around this time last year.  While the signs are undeniable, I can't keep holding my breath.  This story will occupy me.

That said, everything I write here is a rough draft.  It is not meant to be quality writing yet.  I simply need to get down where the plot needs to lead, before I can be eloquent with my word choice.  Chapters are prone to many punctuated edits before they are complete.  Honestly, I don't know why I'm putting this up here.  Perhaps I'd like to remind my oldest friends in Aisenfield that I'm not dead, and that I never stopped craving the fantasy world that calls to us all.


***

It was very good.

A sensual buffet was open for all of creation to enjoy.  In the azure sky overhead, golden sunlight beamed down upon the land, and below, the earth was decorated with exotic flowers of every color: magenta, cyan, amber and amaranth, to name a few.  A warm breeze blew in from the sapphire waters, swirling gently through the hills and carrying upon it the sweet scent of melons, berries, and the tang of many fruit-bearing trees.

And then there was the singing.  The chorus of a million voices rose in unison, emanating from a choir of winged entities gathered in the High Places above creation.  They raised their song in adoration and praise to the One who was seated in the Most High Place, upon a throne of lapis lazuli.  None held back from singing with all his heart and being, to the Creator Of All Things who was worthy.

Except one.

A certain angel observed all the Creator's craftsmanship, but did not sing.  He was a dazzling sight, glimmering like gold, and covered with every precious stone: ruby, topaz, diamond, beryl, onyx, jasper, turquoise, emerald.  He was perfect in beauty; the very seal of perfection.  Aware of his splendor, he looked upon his Creator, the Enthroned One who shone like glowing metal, engulfed in brilliant light.  He looked upon the One clothed in rainbow, and as he stared, all else faded into darkness so that it was just the two of them.  And then he said in his heart:

I will make myself like the Most High.

And suddenly, time shifted, so that this beautiful angel now brandished a flaming bow while arrayed in decorative Bushido armor.  He, and a third of the other angels, charged the heavenly host with the intent of a war victory.  But it was not to be; as suddenly as they started, they were cast down, falling like lightning to the earth below; then further still, to the burning depths of the Pit.  And the once-beautiful angel was stripped of his splendor, and the others, of their light, so that they were no longer distinguishable because of their iniquity.

Thus began the rage of the fallen angels, a fury that has been unsurpassed since the dawn of Creation, nor would subside until the end of days.  Their anger was unquenchable, because they could not take revenge on the One who had cast them down for their rebellion.  However, things changed when the Creator made man out of dust, and breathed His spirit into him.  The fallen angels turned their hatred upon the race of man, because humans had been made in the very image of the One who had expelled them.  With no purpose left but to corrupt everything the Creator had deemed good, the fallen angels devoted themselves entirely to evil.

And the one angel most responsible for their downfall, still led the charge.

***

Kenta's eyes snapped open, and he grasped his chest with one hand while using the other to sit up in his futon.  His heart was beating so fast that he was astonished to have been asleep a moment ago.  What had started out as a good dream, had turned into a nightmare with such vivid imagery that he was sure he'd been amongst angels and demons.  Trying to quell the thudding in his chest, he looked quickly to his side, where his younger brother still lay asleep beside him on the floor.  Kenta leaned over and shook the other boy anxiously by the shoulder.

"Hey.  Yahshirou, wake up!  Something's happened!"

The younger boy stirred in the dim light, then groaned and rubbed his eye.  "Whasss . . . wrong?  It can't be time for you to go yet, it's still dark out."

Kenta felt his heartbeat slowing down, but he was also shivering uncontrollably.  "Yeah.  It's too dark.  Please, light a candle."

He watched as Yahshirou's slim outline moved to the only table in the room, where a solitary candle stood sentinel.  Yahshirou snapped his fingers and emitted a spark, then a moment later, held a tiny ball of flame in his palm.  He touched the wick with his hand, then withdrew from a fully-lit candle.  Now Kenta could see his face in the light, and Yahshirou had a worried expression on his features.  "You want it bigger?" he asked.

"Yeah.  And some incense too, if we still have some in the chest."

Yahshirou looked at the flame and widened his hand, and it grew bigger, throwing more light into the room.  It was a small bedroom even for two preteen brothers, with a polished wooden floor and wooden walls.  It featured a single window, two futon-beds on the floor, the knee-level table with two cushions on opposite sides, and a single chest which held both brothers' sets of clothing.  The room was minimalist and dull, which was just as well since everyone in the Promised Land spent their time outside, anyway.  However, there was one item of interest present, which Kenta glanced at while his brother rummaged through their chest of clothes.  It was a meter-long katana, a sword made of tempered steel, with a blunted edge.  Kenta treasured it as his prized possession, a gift from his Master which had aided him against many monsters.  Against spiritual forces, however, it was worth less than a stick; so Kenta was glad when the rich smell of frankincence wafted through the room.

"Now," said Yahshirou, kneeling in front of Kenta with a serious expression, "tell me.  What happened?"

Kenta swallowed, then relayed his dream to Yahshirou: the creation of the world, the jealous angel, the war and the fall, and finally, the demonic anger against humanity he had felt, which wasn't his.  Yahshirou's face was intense, but he did not interrupt until Kenta was done.  "It's an omen," Kenta finally said.  "I don't know if it's a good or bad one, but now I'm sure it wasn't a dream.  I forget my dreams, but I remembered everything in this one."

Yahshirou's eyebrows knitted, bemused.  "I don't ever remember anyone telling you the Origin Story of Good and Evil.  And certainly nobody but Seers- or at least, Children of Esra- even have visions.  This is very unusual."

At these words, Kenta felt a small pang of melancholy, which had become a familiar hurt as of late.  He knew Yahshirou did not mean anything spiteful by them, but he still desired to be comforted.  "Maybe," he began, hiding his feelings, "I wasn't being told by anyone visible.  But again, was it by a good guy or a bad guy?"  He gave his brother an imploring look.  "Please, can you check for me?  Use your special eyes and tell me what's there."

Yahshirou shrugged.  "I can't sense anything, and the incense would have caused any malicious spirit to flee.  But because you asked . . ."

He focused his eyes, and immediately, his perspective of the world shifted.  Before his center vision, the room imploded like crumpling paper, while his peripheral vision warped and stretched to form shapes impossible on a physical plane.  The surreal experience took only a moment, and then Yahshirou could see Kenta and his bedroom again; however, things were different now.  Yahshirou noticed every miniscule detail of everything in sight, as though he had gazed nonstop at the same imagery for ten thousand years.  Everything was colorless with varying shades of gray, except for Kenta, himself, and two winged, humanoid shapes which glowed too brightly for their features to be distinguishable.  These were angels.  Kenta did not glow, but stood covered from top to bottom in an oozing black substance which gave an impression that his very flesh was melting.  Valtor wanted to cringe, but he had learned to stay composed after several times of seeing the gruesome imagery.  After all, he too was stained with the black ooze, and so was everyone else he had seen.

This was Yahshirou's gift as a Seer: his Kaleidoscope Eyes.  With them, his perspective of reality expanded beyond the material plane, and syncronized with the spirit dimension.  He saw the souls of the living, the souls of the lingering dead, angels which walked openly amongst men, fantastic creatures unlike any seen in the physical world . . . and the epitome of evil, those fallen angels who were called demons.  Though he could use his Kaleidoscope Eyes at whim, Yahshirou did so sparingly, because the spirit plane greatly frightened him.

"Well?" asked Kenta nervously, looking at Yahshirou's distorted pupils.  "What do you see?"

Yahshirou shook his head, looking at the two angels who stood sentinel over them in the room.  A serpentine creature drifted the wall, having the body of a snake, but the head and wings of a dove.  "There's nothing malicious," he answered, watching the spirit creature slip passively through the other wall.  "No demon whispering evil suggestions in your ear, no fighting going on, no negative energy.  Just Yasotaro and Yasujiro standing guard."

Hearing this set Kenta's mind greatly at ease.  Yahshirou had never claimed to talk to their "guardian angels," nor had they said a word to him, but he had eventually become familiar enough to give them names.  Yasataro looked after Yahshirou wherever he went, and Yasujiro accompanied Kenta.  Just knowing that he had an angelic keeper like everyone else, despite who he was, made him feel more accepted.

Yahshirou closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his pupils had returned to normal.  "So," he said slowly, weighing his words carefully, "you've now seen the likeness of El, our Creator, and Helel, the bane of all creation.  Whatever the reason, you did.  I guess the question now is . . . what are you going to do with that vision?"

"I don't know.  I haven't even begun to grasp what it means for me!" Kenta responded, his voice rising to a loud whisper.

"But you know where you're going today," said Yahshirou, "and who you're trying to become.  Don't you?"  He tilted his head.  "What does it mean to be Kindle, the Savior of Yuuda?"

Kenta shook his head, and turned his eyes toward the candle in the room, the only light source.  He observed the dancing of the little flame as he pondered the meaning of what Yahshirou had just asked.  Coming up with nothing, Kenta babbled the first things that came to his mind, things he could be sure of.  "Kindle is the strongest fire user in all the land," he started.  "He has a cool set of wings on his back, as a sign to everyone else that El has set him apart for a special reason.  And he is able to lead warriors into battle against bigger armies, and always emerges without ever dying!"

As he continued to speak, Kenta felt himself getting worked up.  In his mind's eye, he imagined a tall, faceless man in gleaming red armor.  Two magnificent wings cloaked the warrior, and his hair flowed heroically as he raised a shining longsword.  However, the glorious fantasy vanished as soon as Yahshirou stopped Kenta.

"That stuff's all true, but . . ."  Yahshirou waved his arms, trying to emphasize a point.  "El doesn't give us visions for nothing.  If your dream was a sign- and I'm becoming more certain it was- then it is definitely related to the Kindle you're trying to become."  He locked his fingers together, and gazed so intently that Kenta could not look away.  "Kenta.  Everyone wants honor and respect, and that's fine.  But that's not the reason El ordained Kindle and the other Saviors.  You've now seen good and evil in their purest forms.  When you go on your journey, think about what it means to be good or evil.  To really know the big picture, and still choose to be good . . . that is what it means to be Kindle."

The brothers sat in silence for a moment, Kenta digesting his brother's words as he breathed in the vivid odor of the incense.  "Wow," he finally said, impressed.  "That's pretty deep.  Did El tell you that?"

Yahshirou shrugged.  "I felt an urge to speak.  And once I did, the words just kept coming.  I don't think I could call them my words."

"As expected of a Seer."  Noticing the room was slightly brighter, Kenta glanced out the window.  "Speaking of which, I think I see the first rays of the day."  He swallowed nervously.  "When the forehead of the sun first appears on the horizon, that is our sign to depart to Durai's garden for breakfast.  It's . . . it's almost time."

Outside the window, the soft sound of footsteps drifted in, followed by the sudden creak of a wooden gate being pulled open.  The brothers recognized the sound.  Their father was already up, out to count their sheep and make sure that none of the smaller ones had slipped through the fence and wandered from the fold overnight.  Yahshirou beckoned with a jerk of his head.  "Abba-san's up early.  Did you want to say goodbye to him?"

Kenta shrugged and reached for his katana, feeling melancholy again.  "Should I really bother?  You know he doesn't want me to go.  He thinks I'm just setting myself up for a disappointment."

"Well, maybe.  But you know . . ."  Yahshirou stretched out his hand and clasped Kenta's shoulder, looking him in the eye again.  "He will still give you his blessing.  And so do I."

"Thanks, bro."  The brothers embraced tightly for a moment, then Yahshirou drew away and sat back down on his futon, stifling a yawn.  Kenta grinned at him.  "What's wrong, lazy-butt?  You're not even going to see me off?"

"Nah, it's too early for me.  You'll only be gone for a few days anyway, just like you always are when you train with Master Shen."  Yahshirou looked at him one last time.  "Remember.  Think about things."

***

Kenta found his father outside by the gate, distracted by the sheep he was counting.  The man's name was Daitan; he was middle-aged, wearing a thin goatee on his face, and a simple brown kimono for clothing.  As Kenta drew near, Daitan took notice and turned to greet him.

"Good morning, son."

"Good morning, Abba-san."

Kenta's father eyed the katana on Kenta's waist.  "So, you have readied yourself.  I am surprised to see you going in your black gi.  I thought that was your favorite clothing."

"No, Abba-san," said Kenta, as they both turned their attention to the sheep in the pen, "this is practical.  When I get bloodstains on it, they don't show."

Daitan began to sigh weightily at the response, but caught himself and refrained.  Kenta still noticed.  "My son, my son, why are you so eager to live by the sword?  There is no shame in living the shepherd's life."

Kenta tensed as soon as the word "shame" was spoken.  "You think I'm afraid of losing my honor?" he asked, feeling a twinge of anger.  "Abba-san, I've already lost my honor.  For the last ten years, I've been unable to perform any fire M.A.G.I.C. before Yuuda, and everyone in the land has come to see me as an incompetent fool.  If things remain as they are now, I will forever be Kenta the fool, the shamed son of Daitan the shepherd."

He grabbed at his gi as if to tear the fabric, but stopped midway, with clawed hands.  "But I have a rare opportunity to change that, don't you see?  Every seven years, we have the Savior Apprenticeship Trials in order to choose potential new candidates for Kindle.  Few may apply, for the cut-off age is thirteen.  I am late into my twelfth year of life; most of the competition will be younger than me.  Apprenticeship is determined by willpower, rather than mere talent.  This is my chance to restore my image in the eyes of our people!"

"I understand how you may think that," answered Daitan in a reasoning voice, "but honor is gained and lost in greater proportion when one is in a position of power.  What happens when you become the only Kindle who cannot kindle a flame?  Will our people not hesitate to accept you?  Is it not better to be a family shepherd, cloaked in obscurity?  Perhaps then, as your peers grow older, they will learn to judge you on the merits of your bravery and citizenship rather than your shortcomings."

"My citizenship?" Kenta laughed humorlessly.  "It is an empty title.  Every day that I fail to handle a flame, it is a reminder that I am not a Son of Yuuda, Child of Esra."  His anger faded, and sadness quickly took its place.  "Nor your son."

"Kenta, listen to me."  Daitan finally took his eyes off the sheep, so that his meaningful gaze was fixed entirely upon the boy.  "However things may feel now, the one thing you are not is a foreigner.  You are grafted into the family tree by right.  No matter the result of your trials, or the things some people say about you, my house is yours, and you will always be my son."

Kenta said nothing, but nodded.  Daitan smiled and rustled his hair.  "Hey, before you head off, I have a last favor to ask."  He motioned grimly at the sheep in the pen, who were mulling about restlessly.  "I triple-counted, and we're down a lamb.  I don't know when it escaped during the night, but the wolves will not waste any window of opportunity they get.  Perhaps it is already too late, but . . ."

He didn't need to say anything else.  Kenta recognized the dilemma in a moment.  If he took any time to look for a lost sheep that was most likely dead, he would be late for breakfast at Durai's.  Worse, he would miss the group altogether if they left without him.  On the other hand, sheep were the family livelihood, and nobody was better-suited for getting them back than Kenta.  In that light, little else mattered.

"Fire will not help in this situation," said Daitan, regarding Kenta solemnly.  "We must have the fleetness of the wind."

It would not take long.  More importantly, it was one thing Kenta could be proud of.  As he turned his eyes toward the nearest hill, a tingling sensation ran through his body, and his heartbeat suddenly increased exponentially.  Kenta took only a moment to let his spiked sandals bite into the ground, and then he rocketed forward in a burst of speed that no other human in all of Yuuda was capable of. 

In truth, Kenta had not been born with the power of flame.  He was adept in wind M.A.G.I.C.  The gale was his guardian, and lightning was his armor.

Kenta tore up the hill, the wind screaming in his ears, and his eyes watering from the blast of air in his face.  As the ground leveled out, his momentum continued recklessly forward, but his shoes drifted from the ground, no longer able to grip the grass.  Kenta pushed down his legs powerfully, thrusting himself skyward so that the ground was suddenly far below him.  The super jump would only last for a moment, but in his state of enhanced speed, even Kenta's perception of time was slowed.  He viewed the ground below him, scanning the dimly-lit morning hills for the white blot of a lamb amongst the green earth.

What he saw instead alarmed him.  Six large shapes appeared in his right peripheral vision, moving together at a speed faster than a running human.  With his sight blurred, and the ground rapidly approaching below him, Kenta was forced to concentrate for a moment on landing.  He came down feet first, still moving with more forward momentum than downward, then did a quick turnaround in the direction of the creatures he had seen.  Over the next rise, they came into sight again, running on four legs with their tails whipping around behind them.  Kenta recognized what they were before he reached them.

Wolves, he thought, his adrenaline spiking.  And it looks like the vermin are hot on some other animal's heels.  Could it be-?

The wolves disappeared over the hill, but a second later, Kenta cleared the top and charged down with a high-ground view of the slope.  His eyes narrowed; there it was, his lamb, running at a pathetic pace that the wolves were easily doubling.  In a matter of seconds, the pack leader would catch its quarry, and the chase would be over.  But now Kenta was within striking distance of the predators, and he had the power to end things differently.

The timing is just too close, Kenta thought subconsciously as he unsheathed his katana and leveled it at the leader.  If I'd taken any time to argue with my father, the lamb would already be dead.  I wonder- did El set this up?

Without another thought, Kenta ripped his sword through the air in a diagonal slash.  Powered by the lightning coursing through his nervous system, the attack was invisibly swift.  The pack leader never felt the pain of death, but exploded into a mess of blood and wolf fur; for the sheer speed of Kenta's strike created a vacuum in the air, and pressure on either side.  The result was a killer shock wave that traveled beyond the sword's edge, tearing any living thing in its path to pieces and scarring the earth beneath.

This was the true power of M.A.G.I.C. users, those who bent the laws of nature to do what was otherwise naturally impossible.  El had created humans relatively frail and defenseless compared to animals, and yet they were given authority to rule over all creatures.  Creativity was their gift.  Mind over matter was one of the results.  The Children of Esra, El's chosen people, were well-respected in the land for developing their creative powers to such an extent as M.A.G.I.C.  Having grown up in their midst, Kenta was a prime beneficiary of the knowledge.

The wolf pack immediately halted their pursuit in a scrambling of paws, and Kenta blew right through them, snatching up the lamb under his arm as he went.  The sudden shift of weight upset his balance, and he fell over, still moving at high speed.  At the last moment, he tucked the little lamb close to him, so that his own body absorbed the brunt of the impact on the grass.  They rolled for a few paces, then as soon as they stopped, Kenta was back on his feet, sword at the ready.  It was too risky for him to try dashing off with another M.A.G.I.C. boost, while holding the extra weight of the lamb in his arms.  A normal run would offer no chance of shaking off any pursuit from the wolf pack.  He would have to make the wolves the ones to retreat, even if it meant cutting them down to a single survivor.

On they came again, after taking only a moment to sniff the mangled remains of their unfortunate comrade.  Whether it was great hunger that spurred them on, or the carnivore disbelief that a fleshy man-child could really destroy them, Kenta could not tell.  But he stood his ground, focusing his eyes upon the approaching, snarling, bristling creatures, reduced to five.  The bulkiest one leaped at him, rising high enough off the ground to reach his throat with its bared fangs.  Kenta read its movement as if in slow motion; it was too easy.  He brought his katana over his head and sliced diagonally, lunging his leg forward in a swift movement.  The wolf went right over his head, its belly sliced wide open, dead before it hit the ground.  At the same time, a second wolf feinted left, then charged in to grab hold of Kenta's leg.  It had gone as far as stretching out its neck, before Kenta whirled his body in a circle and hewed off the head with a well-placed stroke.  The double-kill took only a second's time, but the three remaining wolves who had hesitated until now, turned tail and fled as fast as their legs would carry them.  With half their hunting party dead, instinct had finally told them that this particular human they faced was untouchable.  He had claimed their prey, and there was nothing they could do but abandon their prize and live to hunt another day.

Kenta let his sword-arm drop and watched them go, exhaling slowly.  His adrenaline wore off in moments, so that he suddenly felt tired and dizzy.  The wolves were gone, but his mission was not yet accomplished.  Ignoring the pounding in his head, and the slight tremor in his legs, he hoisted the lamb onto his shoulders and started for home in a hasty jog.  He would be late to Durai's garden now, even if he hurried.  Worse, there was an entire day's walk ahead, and the rescue had left him in a weakened state.  Sure, he had done a good deed, but it had profited him no more than if the lamb had never left its place to begin with.  In spite of his success, Kenta felt less than exhilirated.

***

Durai's garden, as the owner himself so described, was modeled after the garden of the first humans.  It was a rich museum of every possible variety of fruit-bearing plant and animal that the man could realistically keep together.  While bright in color, and teeming with life and movement, Kenta only saw it as an empty grove when he arrived.  No humans in sight.  They had already gone ahead.

"As I feared," Kenta muttered aloud, "there is no delaying for stragglers.  Not on an occasion like this."

"Can't say that I blame 'em," came another voice from above.  "I wouldn't have wanted to lag around, either."  Kenta glanced up at the rustling branches of an apple tree, and took a step back as a bigger boy around his age dropped heavily to the ground, feet-first.  He had a fearsomely-large sword strapped to his back, but his fair face was familiar and friendly.  Kenta crossed his arms, resisting the urge to smile.

"If that's true, then why aren't you up there with them, Ren?"

The other boy, who was called Ren, produced two crimson apples in his hands.  "I wasn't finished with my breakfast yet.  You can't expect me to haul this hefty load around on half an empty stomach."

Almost on the words "empty stomach," Kenta's gave a growl.  Ren must have heard it, because he sent one of his apples flying towards Kenta with an underhand toss.  "You have to try these, Kenta.  A perfect blend of sweet and sour.  It makes any road trip more bearable.  No, not now-!" he added quickly, as Kenta was about to bite.  "I said it was for the road!  Quickly now, grab what you want and stuff it into your sack."

He tries to act cool, Kenta thought, no longer bothering to hide his smile, but he actually stayed and waited for me.  If it was going to be anyone, I'm not surprised it was him.

Ren was the antithesis of Kenta in almost every way.  Kenta held his tongue in public, remaining staunchly introverted even when he wanted to comment or ask questions.  Ren unabashedly expressed his thoughts; and yet his mind moved faster than his mouth, so that he never said anything stupid or needlessly offensive.  Kenta, a secret wind-attribute, could barely light a match.  Ren, a true-born member of the Yuuda tribe, could juggle fireballs behind his back.  But most notably, while Kenta talked to nobody, Ren was popular with nearly everyone in Yuuda, adult or child.  While Kenta sometimes envied him for that, he couldn't help but admire him like everyone else.  Ren had quick and humorous wit about him, told stories that were always fresh and entertaining, and excelled at nearly everything he did- especially battle.  Of all the Kindle candidates in the country, even Kenta was certain that Ren had the best chance of becoming the new Savior.

Of course, Ren's vastly superior qualities made him a significant rival, and potentially the biggest obstacle between Kenta and his dream to be Kindle.  Regardless, Kenta couldn't complain.  Competition was inevitable, so if he had to risk losing against someone, Kenta could be glad it was Ren.

"The group was heading north, to the City of Refugees," Ren was saying distractedly, rummaging through his own sack and drawing out a cluster of honeyed oats.  "That was fifteen minutes ago.  You wouldn't have seen it, but they just crossed over the nearest hill and out of sight.  They won't be that far ahead."

"Got it."  Kenta faced Ren, standing stiffly with his arms at his sides, and bowed at the waist in a sign of respect.  "Ren . . . thank you."

"For what?" the other boy asked, but Kenta knew that he was playing down the fact that he had stuck behind for him.  Continuing to feign ignorance, Ren glanced at the cluster of oats in his fist.  "Oh!"  He slapped them merrily into Kenta's hand.  "Men do not live on fruit alone.  You're welcome."
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Recently discovered Pathfinder (modern D&D). Thanks for introducing me to the concepts all those years ago.

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Kenta.....
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« Reply #1 on: May 08, 2013, 11:10:10 am »

The group that Kenta and Ren pursued- and belonged to- were not known by any official title.  They were simply the Pupils of Instructor Durai, one of several groups who met with him on the sixth day of every week.  Durai himself was a historian, and on the side, a life skills teacher for just about anything Yuudan parents didn't know how to teach their children.  Under him, Kenta had become cultured in the lore of the Children of Esra, from their beginnings to their present-day status.  He had also become a proficient swordsman (though not nearly as much as while under Master Shen), and became comfortable enough around fire that he could mold clay into pots.  Everything else, he learned from his father.

The Instructor walked at the rear of crowd, the only adult among nearly a hundred youths.  When he came into sight over the next hill, Kenta immediately recognized him by the sienna-brown overcoat he wore, and the fact that he was a head taller than the children around him.  Durai, in turn, noticed him and Ren when they were still a short distance away.  He stopped and smiled broadly, and let the Pupils continue on while he waited for the two stragglers to catch up.  Kenta was winded from his unrelenting pursuit pace, but he checked his breathing when he reached his teacher, determined to appear tireless.  Ren spoke up for him.

"Sorry we're late, Instructor."

"Not at all!" Durai answered heartily, as they again made for the main body of Pupils.  "You told me you would come, Ren, but how good it is that you came with company."  His kindly eyes rested on Kenta.  "I know your spirit too well to believe it could be intimidated by these Trials.  Kenta, son of Daitan, welcome to the Exodus of the Kindle Candidates."

Such was named the traditional first task of the Savior Apprenticeship Trials.  Before Kenta's eyes was an entire army of boys around his age, all of them hardy and resolved to succeed, who would march for two days to the very heart of the Promised Land.  If it looked like a fighting force, that was only because it was.  The Savior had always been a warrior, even back to the very first one, so there wasn't a single young man in the bunch who was not familiar with a weapon.

This was Kenta's competition.  At first sight, a competitor might think that his odds of success were one in thirty-three (since three Kindle candidates would go on to become Apprentices), but Kenta knew better.  He recognized many of the faces as fellow Pupils in his own age range, and the ones he didn't recognize were mostly younger- and therefore, less experienced.  Granted, there might be a few dark horse competitors among the crowd, but for the most part, Kenta knew what his fellows were capable of.  None of the compared to Ren in battle.  He had eyes in the back of his head; his great sword always reached further than his sparring partners realized; and his fire M.A.G.I.C. was so advanced that he not only controlled his own perfectly, but negated others'.  If Kenta made Ren his standard of competition, it almost didn't matter who else was against him.

A couple pupils ahead recognized Ren's face, and shouted his name, waving him over.  Ren glanced at Kenta and nodded goodbye, before moving ahead into the midst of the Kindle candidates.  Kenta watched them welcome him, appearing genuinely pleased to see him back, even though he was as much an obstacle to them as to himself.  Perhaps they had accepted that Ren would be one of the three Kindle Apprentices, and had thus moved on from perceiving him as a threat.  Kenta almost felt inclined to do the same, but then his practical odds of becoming an Apprentice would drop from one in thirty-three to one in fifty.  He couldn't stomach the thought of even losing one Apprentice position.

"Ah, Kenta.  You made it after all."

The voice came from Kenta's right, and he cringed inwardly as he recognized it.  Next to him was a redheaded boy, wearing robes the same color as his long hair, so that they appeared to flow together.  The vain clothing didn't suit his face, which regularly featured a plastic smile with a subtle smirk behind it.  The boy's name was Silvero, and he did not wear the royal-quality robe for nothing; for he was the very Prince of Yuuda, son of King Saruman, son of the late King Selah.  But in spite of his honorable royal heritage, Silvero was not well-liked by many of the Pupils in his age range, Kenta included.  Out of all the different personalities he interacted with, not even one of them would suffer listening to him, much less befriending him.  Silvero, however, appeared undeterred.  Indeed, as long as he had just one person to speak to, Silvero would disregard the neglect of everyone else, as if to dismiss their importance.  This "one person" had long since become Kenta, as he was the only other Pupil without any real companions.  Without someone to distract him, Kenta had no choice but to humor the company that had thrust itself upon him.

"You must've had an interesting reason for being late," Silvero said, staring at Kenta's clothing with a curious gleam in his eye.  "How did you get the bloodstains on your gi this time?"

Kenta averted his eyes.  "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, don't be like that. It looks good on you." Silvero widens his arms to make himself look bigger. "Gives you a fierce appearance. They'll like that."

He must think everyone in the warrior lifestyle is as bloodthirsty as him, thought Kenta, shaking his head.  The sheer difference between King Saruman and this boy never ceased to amaze him. Everyone Kenta knew loved Saruman, because of his great wisdom, and his heartfelt devotion to El.  Then there was Silvero, who ignored many of his own father's teachings that his subjects held dear. This dishonorable display of apathy was abhorrent enough, especially in his culture; but to truly understand Silvero, one merely had to look back at his toddler days. As soon as he was old enough to handle fire, he used to spend long hours on his hands and knees, searching for anthills so that he could burn the little insects alive. Nowadays, whenever a public execution was held, Silvero would openly gripe about how it was always too brief.  He had even told Kenta that he couldn't wait to be selected as one of the bowmen, to shoot an arrow of justice at a condemned criminal.  It's no wonder, thought Kenta, that our people hope Saruman will have another son. Silvero's not right in the head. He's sadistic.

Kenta trudged on wearily as Silvero barraged him with tips on how to stand out. Let the sun glint off your sword a lot, find a way to constantly place yourself in front of the judges, get people saying your name frequently, and so on.  Eventually, as Silvero was part-way through telling me not to laugh or smile no matter what, Kenta cut in on him, tired of it.

"Look, Silvero," he said with measured patience, "thank you for your concern, but why help me? I'm a contender against you for the Kindle position, remember?"

Silvero gave a short laugh of supreme unconcern. "I'm not worried about being denied a slot," he said. "Let me remind you that my father is the most powerful man in the Promised Land. As far as I'm concerned, there are only two Kindle Apprentice positions available."

These words hit Kenta like a wall of stone.  Of course- why hadn't this occurred to him?  Only good could come of Silvero becoming an apprentice Savior. If he trained under a Savior's influence, he would learn real discipline for the first time in his life. Even if he did not, he would be expected to go into battle . . . and he would probably get killed.  King Saruman had to be aware of this. Silvero's fighting was, at best, unrefined.  He was right; one Kindle position was as good as gone.

And Ren would surely take the other.  That left only one realistic opportunity to be a Kindle Apprentice.

This revelation left Kenta so petrified of mind that he almost didn't hear what Silvero said next.  The latter proceeded anyway, oblivious.  "I hope I get Tremor or Deluge," he said, naming the Saviors of the earth-attribute and water-attribute tribes respectively.  "Just not freaking Tempest."

"And what's so bad about Tempest?" asked Kenta dully, barely even annoyed that Silvero was bad-mouthing the Savior of his element: wind.

"Didn't you know?" Silvero responded in a surprised tone, as if it were obvious.  "Tempest is a female this time.  I'm not going to suffer the disgrace of learning to fight under a woman."

After thinking about it, Kenta consented that Silvero's surprise at his ignorance was justified.  The Saviors were exceedingly well-known amongst the adult population of Yuuda as a whole, and it was probably the same in the other three regions of the Promised Land.  For six years, they traveled all over the land with their apprentices; or failing that, led armies into battle.  And in spite of the numerous surrounding enemies, the Promised Land remained protected; for the Saviors always slew many invaders, but were never killed themselves.

In Kenta's defense, his father was largely pacifist, and took little joy in gossip about the Saviors, Kindle or not.  With no real friends, Kenta had nobody apart from his brother to aid his speculation.  Furthermore, like the word "Savior," Kindle, Tremor, Deluge, and Tempest were all titles rather than actual names.  On title alone, one would be unable to guess if the Savior was male or female.  Male Saviors were almost certain, as evidenced by Kenta's troop that was composed entirely of boys.  But females were not unheard-of.

"There is another reason though," Silvero went on, "for not wanting Tempest, I mean."  He lowered his voice, almost conspiratorially, and drew nearer to Kenta.  "I'd prefer to train alongside someone I know."

Kenta raised an eyebrow.  "I don't follow."

"Oh, I think you do."  Silvero was smiling, as if relishing the power of withheld knowledge.

Kenta, however, really was lost.  Judging by Silvero's tone, the "someone he knew" sounded like it referred to Kenta.  But that couldn't be the case.  Kenta had learned from Instructor Durai's historical teachings that no people of the same tribe were allowed to be put together under the same Savior group.  It was traditionally like that, because having Saviors apprentice the potential future Saviors of other clans was supposed to promote goodwill among the elemental tribes. For instance: Tremor, the earth-attribute Savior, would host three Apprentices: one from Yuuda (fire), one from Beji (water), and one from Li (wind).  If Silvero ended up under him, there would be no room for another Yuuda candidate like Kenta.  If he became an Apprentice, he would simply be put under Deluge or Tempest.

Without warning, a disturbing thought suddenly forced its way into Kenta's mind.   What if Silvero knew that he was a wind-attribute? If Silvero actually did want to train alongside Kenta, it would only be possible beneath Tremor or Deluge.  Kenta felt his body erupt into a cold sweat as the realization hit him.  Somehow, some way, Silvero had discovered his secret.  It might not have been such a big deal, except that the tribes of the Promised Land had kept themselves segregated from each other for as long as he could remember.  Kenta was bad enough off masquerading as a failed fire-attribute; how long would his people endure him when they found out he didn't even belong?  Above all else, Kenta feared expulsion from the only home- and the only family- he'd ever known.  The fear had initially been a minor discomfort in his youth, but it manifested and intensified as he grew older, and his wind-element became ever more prevalent over the fire.  As a result, Kenta generally abstained from M.A.G.I.C. to prolong his stay in the land of Yuuda.

So how had Silvero found out?  Sure, Kenta couldn't hold a flame in his hand, but he had taken plenty of precautions to blend in otherwise.  What gave?

For the whole time, Silvero studied Kenta's facial expressions intently.  He smiled afresh, triumphantly, as if he'd read the latter's thoughts.  "I knew it.  It's obvious to anyone who bothers to look.  But I didn't say anything before now, because I wasn't sure if you'd actually try for Kindle.  Now I know."

Kenta gritted his teeth, just barely remembering to keep his response measured and level.  "What person do you know outside of Yuuda, who could possibly apprentice with you under a Savior?"

"Nobody!" said Silvero with a laugh, and then he lowered his voice to a private tone again.  "But I know someone inside of Yuuda who might.  Now, don't look so upset, Kenta!  I'm just trying to set you straight.  We both know you wouldn't make Kindle, not in a thousand years.  That's because you were never meant to."  Silvero's voice was almost a whisper.  "You're supposed to try for Tempest."

There it was- the confirmation.  Silvero would not encourage him to be the wind-type Savior if he didn't think Kenta was a wind-type.  There was no use trying to deceive him either.  Silvero was insensitive, but not stupid.

"If I'm not fit for Kindle, which I have been preparing for," Kenta said, still weighing his words, "what on earth makes you think I could make Tempest, which I haven't even considered before now?"

"Ears of privilege," replied Silvero matter-of-factly.  "I am often at hand, when my father deals with trespassers in Tsion.  Many times, I have heard the exchanges between him and that white-haired old man."  Silvero raised an eyebrow.  "You know.  The one who looks and dresses just like you.  Or is it the other way around?"

At this, Kenta could not stop himself from glaring at his companion.  "Master Shen is not a trespasser.  He is a friend to the King, and an even better one to your grandfather!"

"Ah, you'll have to forgive me then," said Silvero lightly.  "You see, I assumed he was lying to my father.  He talked about training a wind-elemental in Yuuda, and there are none."  Silvero smirked.  "Or so I thought, back then.  At any rate, I'd say you have received ample training after this long.  Maybe even to the degree that it's an unfair advantage.  One thing I know for sure: if you don't make Apprentice for Tempest, you're still going to surprise a lot of people."

"Is that what you think will happen?" said Kenta, losing his composure but keeping his voice as quiet as possible against eavesdroppers.  "You think I'm just going to suddenly expose myself as a wind-attribute in front of all the judges?  In front of people I'm going to have to go home with, if indeed Yuuda will remain my home after that?"

Silvero opened his mouth, but no sound came out, as if he was struck dumb for a second.  He apparently hadn't expected this response.  "Aren't you listening?" he finally asked, now with significant irritation in his tone.  "I'm trying to help you here, and save you from your own lousy judgment!  You think you can hide your wind-attribute from Yuuda your whole life?  My father and I already know, but it's apparent that he's overlooking it for now.  That won't last.  You know the unspoken law of the people: permit none, or permit all.  As soon as you're discovered, you'll have to go live in Li."

It was little wonder to Kenta that nobody else talked to Silvero.  Everything he feared was pouring mercilessly out of the other boy's mouth.  And Kenta had no doubt that, if Silvero really wanted Kenta to accompany him as a fellow Apprentice, he would use anything he knew to achieve that end . . . even if it threatened his residence in Yuuda.

"Do you think you'll qualify as a Kindle Apprentice without a demonstration of fire M.A.G.I.C.?" Silvero continued.  "You think you'll even have a chance at anything, without any use of your wind M.A.G.I.C.?  Folly!  The Children of Yuuda have lasted this long against our surrounding enemies, ONLY because we have learned to harness the power of M.A.G.I.C.!  There is nothing waiting for you, on your road to being Kindle.  It is so obvious that you should be trying out for Tempest."

But . . . but I don't want to, thought Kenta desperately.  I want to stay were my family is.  At least here, I know the land and the people.  What have I done?  Maybe Dad was right.  Maybe I should have stayed home, as a low-profile shepherd my whole life.  Would that have been so bad?  Suddenly catching himself, he shook his head to clear the doubt.  No!  I can do this.  However it plays out, I've made a commitment!

Silvero was staring at him, waiting for an answer.  Kenta increased his walking place, pushing ahead of him.  "I will surprise a lot of people," he said determinedly.  "That much, I give you.  Let's leave it at that."

He heard Silvero laugh behind him, amused.  "Shall I be surprised, or not?" came his self-satisfied voice.  "Oh, tomorrow is going to be a fun day!"

***

Kenta spent the remainder of the day avoiding Silvero, and keeping an eye out for the City of Refugees, in which the Apprenticeship Trials would commence.  With nothing else to do, he found himself listening in to some of the conversations shared by some Kindle candidates.  Some were insightful.  Some were flat-out ignorant.

"Where are we going?" one of the younger boys could be heard whispering to another.  "This is taking forever!  I feel like my feet are about to melt."

"Weren't you paying attention, Ashitaka?" responded another.  "We're bound for that city of criminals, at the center of the Promised Land.  It takes time to pass from Yuuda into neutral territory, you know!"

"But I thought it would take less than a day!"

"It's less than a day if you're running for your life.  We're not.  Better pray that it doesn't rain, because it's camping outdoors for us tonight."

In another conversation . . .

"Ren's crazy for bringing his zanbato all this way.  That sword's got to be heavier than he is!"

"Yeah, well, you're crazier for not bringing any weapon.  Unless it's one of those concealed types."

"Psh.  Fire-attributes don't need weapons.  And anyway, my brother was a Kindle Candidate seven years ago.  He said that most of the trials are endurance and wit, not fighting."

"Really?  What'd they make him do?"

"Well, he never got past the first test, but . . . they had him swim up a waterfall."

"They what?"

 "Yeah, I know that sounds weird.  But they'd made the waterfall stand still.  I mean, there were a bunch of guys from Beji using water M.A.G.I.C. to hold it in place.  Anyway, he didn't make it up in time.  You can only stay inside the water pillar for so long, and then you have to find a place on the cliffside where you can jump out to breathe.  And it keeps getting harder as you near the top."

"That's . . . surreal.  I didn't know M.A.G.I.C. could do something that advanced."

"My brother said that's actually a pretty basic thing for them.  They just did it on a large-scale."

"Man.  They mess with your head in these trials."

Kenta made a mental note-to-self after this conversation: expect the unexpected.  Vowing not to lose his wits no matter what confronted him, Kenta turned his attention to a third conversation.

"So, a couple of us are going to spending the next six years discipling beneath a guy with completely different powers.  I wonder how that will feel."

"They're all so strong.  I imagine it will be like training under an angel.  I mean, they even have angel wings."

"Well actually, only the Earth-Savior has angel wings, if you don't consider them eagle wings.  I hear the Wind-Savior has transparent dragonfly wings, and the Water-Savior has leathery blue wings like a bat."

"What about the Instructor?  What do his wings look like?"

"Beats me.  Apparently, Kindle's the only one who can hide them.  He's never shown me or any of my friends, even after we begged him."

"Funny, that.  I wonder why he's so reluctant."  There was a pause, then: "You don't think that he can't, do you?  Do you ever wonder if Instructor Durai isn't Kindle anymore?"

"I think a lot of people wonder that.  But he was the last recorded Kindle.  Twenty-two years ago, he beat Akarusa (daughter: Shana) in the Reckoning of Kindle, and they say rainbows erupted from his back that day."

"So, rainbow wings?  That doesn't sound very manly.  Maybe that's why he hides 'em."

"Yeah, well, I think it's a little more complicated than that.  Akarusa took the Candidates to the Apprenticeship Trials last time, and that's supposed to be Kindle's duty.  Something is awry, or was, anyway."

This particular conversation got no further, because one of the boys suddenly whispered something under his breath, and the one who had spoken last turned briefly and stole a suspicious glance at Kenta.  Their talk abruptly switched to loud whispers, which conveniently remained at an audible level.

"(Oh no, it's that kid.  How long's he been staring at me?)"

"(For like, five minutes now.)"

"(Aw, gawd, that's so creepy.  Walk faster, and maybe he'll go away.)"

Kenta felt his stomach twist in anger and shame.  The truth was, he had been staying a few paces behind them, mostly just staring at the ground.  However, he'd looked up when they mentioned that Durai- Kindle- had missed out on the last Apprenticeship Trials.  This was simply bad timing, for it was right then that he was noticed, and perceived as a creep.  But we're interested in the exact same things, Kenta thought, frustrated.  Why can't I just silently take part in the conversation?  Why do you have to treat me like a snoop?

***

The first conversation turned out to be accurate; by the time darkness had fallen, the City of Refugees was still a distance off, though the Pupils had caught sight of it on a high hill before sundown.  Instructor Durai declared a cease-march, and the Pupils set about unpacking their sacks.  Ren found a dead tree nearby, and hewed it down with a single slash of his mighty zanbato.  A handful of Pupils cheered at his incredible show of strength, but Kenta privately suspected that the tree had been hollowed out by insects beforehand.  Still, he smiled in private as well.  It was pretty cool to see a child cut down something five times his size.

The tree became a bonfire in a matter of minutes, and tents were pitched in a circle around it.  Durai produced a banner from his coat, colored orange-red and depicting the face of a roaring lion.  No part of this was without symbolism.  In the days before the Promised Land, the Children of Esra had been a nomadic people, with El as their guide.  El Himself had dwelt in their midst, both spiritually, and literally.  In those days, His appearance was like a pillar of fire at night, and every tribe: Yuuda, Li, Beji, and Yusef, had also pitched their tents facing the fire.  There had been four banners as well: the lion of Yuuda, the eagle of Li, the man-face of Beji, and the ox of Yusef.  These days, no two banners fluttered in the same camp.  It was one nation divided . . . still under their god, but Kenta wondered for how much longer.

By the time the preparation work was finished, it was completely dark out.  The Kindle Candidates sat in a great circle around the fire, roasting slabs of meat, potatos, and corn, and talking about what awaited them in the morning.  Durai walked among them, saying nothing overtly, but speaking to individuals here and there.  Kenta heard none of it, for he lay further away from the group, against one of the few standing trees on the hill.  Neither the warmth of the fire nor its light touched him, but he was comfortable enough in his blanket.

Eventually, the Pupils at the fire began getting up to leave, and boys passed Kenta's tree on both sides as they headed for their tents.  Caught up in this thoughts, Kenta paid no attention to them, and it wasn't until one shadow stood over him that he looked up.  It was Durai.

"Instructor?"

"Kenta, there you are.  I didn't see you at the fire."

His teacher knelt down, and Kenta heard clink noises in his coat.  Just what kind of stuff does he carry in there? Kenta wondered, looking Durai over.  The instructor certainly didn't have the look of a mighty warrior.  Without the overcoat, he was tall and thin, probably not much heavier than the typical adult woman.  Underneath the coat, he always dressed neatly and formally, like a scholar.  His face usually had a serene and gentle expression, his voice level, and he typically avoided talking about himself, even when the conversation steered that way.  The man was likeable enough, but if Kenta had never known he was Kindle, he wouldn't have guessed.  Durai had never done a thing to suggest just how powerful he really was.

"I thought you might be sick or hurt," said Durai, shifting aside as a couple other boys bustled past.  "A few of these fine young gentlemen were unfit for travel this morning, yet they wanted to come so badly that they forced themselves.  I could only fix up a little something to subdue the pain.  This happens every time . . . they're in for a rough night."

"I give them credit for their spirit," said Kenta.  "I feel fine, but even if I hadn't, I would have come anyway."

"I know."  Kenta detected a smile in Durai's voice.  "I meant what I said this morning.  It is good to have you along for the experience."

The sincere tone of Durai's voice was striking.  Talking to him, even for a little while, awoke a desire in Kenta to be transparent.  In that moment, he remembered that Silvero had guessed him out as a wind-attribute, and he wondered if Durai suspected the same.  Until today, he was certain that he had kept the secret well enough, but Silvero's words reverberated cruelly in his mind.

It's obvious to anyone who bothers to look.  I didn't say anything before now, because I wasn't sure if you'd actually try for Kindle.  Now I know.

How many people knew, but weren't saying anything?  As Kindle, Durai had spent at least twelve years personally discipling two unique Tempest Apprentices.  If anyone could recognize one, it was him.  Yet Durai was permitting Kenta to try for the Kindle position, so how could he know?

"You really think I could do it?" Kenta asked.

"Become Kindle?" Durai asked.  He paused for a moment.  "You commit to the journey, and now you're doubting yourself?"

"Never!" said Kenta sharply, cutting his hand through the air.  "But I want the input of one with experience."

Durai sighed heavily, as if lothe to respond.  "What do you want me to say?  You have precious little aptitude with fire, and yet your willpower is remarkable.  It's apparent that you know something I don't, even after all the years I've taught you."  He shook his head.  "I know this isn't what you wanted to hear.  Please understand, you ask a hard thing of me.  At least ten other Pupils have already asked me if they are Kindle material.  I believed they all were.  Yet of the hundred Candidates, all but three will go home.  That is why I want you to savor the experience, and not let any rejection ruin it for you."

What if it's the wrong experience? thought Kenta, feeling suddenly more panicked than before.  What if I really was stupid, to think I could be Kindle?  Oh, why did I wait until now to ask?  Why didn't I think this through ahead of time?

He opened his mouth, having every intention to blurt out the truth-

NO!  Tell the current Kindle that you're a wind-attribute, Kenta, and you can kiss your family and home goodbye.  Surely you're not THAT stupid!

But I have to know.  I have to find out if he suspects me.


"If I fail tomorrow," Kenta said, "I will never get another chance at this.  That's why I need to know everything you can tell me about my prospects.  Instructor, what would you do if you were me?"

Durai was silent for a few seconds.

"You are relentless," he said at last.  "What would I do, if I were you?  I would play my strengths, no matter how unothodox they might seem.  I became a Kindle Apprentice by giving the Trials everything I had.  Your full capabilities may line up with what the Judges want in their Savior, and they may not.  But the more determined your display, the more decisive their 'yes' or 'no' will be."

Kenta frowned thoughtfully in the dark.  Another honest-but-vague answer.  Well, it's a fair one.  What was I expecting him to say?  "If I were you, I'd tell Kindle that I'm a wind-attribute, and I'd be better off being the Wind Savior"?  That would be way too direct for him.  But . . . "play my strengths," huh?

"I would converse with you more," said Durai, climbing to his feet, "but there are still a few Pupils left that I mean to talk to before they sleep."  He glanced at the distant bonfire, then back at Kenta.  "Quite the minimalist, aren't you Kenta?  Will you be okay, lying where you are?  The Spring is still early, and the fire cannot curb the night's chill from here."

"Yeah, no problem.  I don't get cold easily."

Durai paused for a moment in his departure.  "A curious gift for a Yuudan.  But convenient to have tonight.  Sleep well, son of Daitan."

Does that mean most fire-attributes aren't adept to cold? thought Kenta.  Actually, that makes perfect sense.  Funny how the obvious things escape you, until you think about them.

It was also remarkable, how quickly a mind so full of bottled-up fear and anxiety could be quenched by the exhaustion of a full day's march.  Kenta dropped off in a matter of minutes, with the stars high over his head, and the tents of tomorrow's competition close all around him.
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(Holding space. Don't mind this)


It happened without Kenta knowing how. He found himself standing before a very tall desk, where five hooded judges sat veiled in shadows. Their eyes were hidden, but Kenta could feel their stares all the same. He felt small, and tried to straighten his back to make himself taller. It didn't help.

"Kenta, son of Daitan."

The judges hadn't moved. Kenta couldn't tell who had spoken, but they may as well have all spoken at once.

"You have reached the final stage of the Savior Apprenticeship Trials. Your stamina and skill have been measured. Now you must bear your soul for scrutiny."

My soul? Kenta wondered, befuddled. What do you mean?

"Tell the truth," the judges spoke in a deep, bass voice that seemed to echo, though Kenta saw no walls. "Why do you want to be Kindle?"

That question! It was the one Yahshirou had asked him just before they had parted ways. Kenta opened his mouth to answer, but no words came. His mind had gone blank. He couldn't think of a reason.

"Your soul hesitates!" the judges suddenly roared in a booming voice. "You have an answer, but you withhold it. You are not fit to be Savior!"

The room blurred and faded, even as Kenta was overwhelmed at the sudden shock of his failure. Then the experience was over, and he was standing before the judges again. He remembered what had happened, but not the sharp stab of disappointment. It was as if time had gone backwards a few seconds.

"Tell the truth," the judges said again, just as before. "Why do you want to be Kindle?"

This time, Kenta didn't try to think. He spoke the words that he hoped they would want to hear. "I want to bring honor to our people," he said as firmly as he could, "and keep our lands safe, while securing victory over our enemies."

"Liar!" the judges shouted, even as the final words left his mouth. "Your words are hollow as a skull. You are not fit to be Savior!"

Kenta didn't even have time to wonder how they were so certain, since even he hadn't thought about his response. The room warped out of view again, then he faced the same scenery a third time. The judges repeated their question in the same tone and volume as the first time.

"Tell the truth. Why do you want to be Kindle?"

He could not hesitate, but he could not make something up, either. Under these unyielding circumstances, only one thing could still come out. It was the same something that he had known all along, but it had been with him for so long that he was desensitized to it. It was the truth.

"I am a foreigner, adopted into the Yuudan people," he said, a painful lump forming in his throat. "And I have never truly fit in, even after more than ten years. Kindle is the joy of his people. What Kindle is to me . . . is acceptance. I have a chance to become Kindle, but my reason is selfish." Kenta paused, then hung his head. "I am not fit to be Savior."

He waited for his judgment.

"You have spoken what was required," came the answer. "And acceptance is not assured even by being Savior. Even so, you must be a savior. You must save."

Kenta's puzzlement broke out afresh. I'm not Savior material, but I must save?  What kind of judgment is that?

With a sudden jerk of his body, Kenta snapped awake. He was still among a sleeping Yuudan camp, leaning up against his tree. But something was different; his eyes detected movement. Crouched figures darted past him, moving swiftly and deliberately toward the center of camp where the bonfire still blazed. Kenta watched them, not daring to move, hardly able to believe his eyes. Midnight intruders, now of all times? Surely these raiders had to realize who they were invading. What could they possibly want with a group of a hundred preteen boys?

Kenta counted as twenty of the cloaked figures passed him, not one of them taking notice of him. They moved along in a straight line, then separated as they drew near the fire. The figures formed a circle around the flames, and-

Suddenly, two more figures appeared, blocking Kenta's view of the fire. They were much closer to him than the others, and they stood at full height, so that Kenta could make out their proportions. Both seemed to be sizable adult males, wearing hoods to obscure their faces even more than the darkness of night. As Kenta watched, they looked at each other and nodded secretly. Then, rather than joining their companions at the fire, they hurried off into opposite directions. It was the last thing Kenta saw clearly before the bonfire went out.

Come on! What are you doing? his conscience suddenly protested forcibly. Your camp is under attack! Get up and do something, damn you!

There was no time to think.  Kenta shot off the ground and hastened to the right, following the direction that one of the cloaked men had gone.  Now that the camp was dark, his night vision was just barely kicking in, and it was all he could do to keep up with the movement of the cloak ahead.  Kenta’s ears picked up the soft pattering of the intruder’s sandals against the grass, and instinctively, he matched the footfalls with his own so that the other person wouldn’t detect a pursuer.

After a short time, the cloaked man stopped, and Kenta dropped to his hands and knees, keeping silent and still.  By now, his eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dim night, and he could make out the form of a tent beside the cloaked figure.  Kenta recognized it by its size; Silvero owned the largest tent of any Yuudan boy, and here it was.  As he continued to watch, the cloaked man reached down to his waist and withdrew something long and pointy that gleamed in the moonlight.  With his other arm, he reached for the tent, and in one motion, ripped it away from where it stood.

An assassin!

Kenta was moving forward before he realized it, spurred on subconsciously by the thought of Silvero’s imminent death.  The gleaming point had just started to fall when lightning bolted through Kenta’s nervous system, causing the world to appear as if it were slowing down.  His sword-arm darted out, already clutching his katana.

Clang!

The dagger spun out of the assassin’s hand, whirling off into the night.  However, he was only disarmed for a moment, then two more kunai knives were produced from his sleeves and clutched in his fists.  He made two quick swipes at Kenta- one at his face, and the other targeting his stomach- which Kenta respectively ducked and blocked with a flick of his sword.  Upon impact, the second knife shattered like glass, and both combatants retreated backward a step in combat stances.  The assassin turned over his knife in his hand, bending his knees slightly.  Then he spoke in a cold, stern voice.

“I have no quarrel with you, child.  Do not make me kill you needlessly.”

“There’s no need for anyone to be killed,” Kenta replied in a flat voice, his heart pounding wildly.  “Now get out of here before Kindle comes.  He’s with us.”

The assassin made an impatient noise and bent his knees lower.  “There is a need for this boy to die.  But not you.  Be reasonable, child, for you cannot beat me!  You are an inexperienced adept of fire, whereas I command the water.”  As the words left his mouth, something slithered out from behind him; something fluid and shape-shifting.  Kenta had never seen water M.A.G.I.C. like this before, but even as he acknowledged it, other thoughts barraged his mind all at once.

Are these people of the Beiji tribe?
Why is he trying to kill Silvero?
Why did he offer to spare me?
How is he making the water cling to him like that?
Am I really about to fight another human being?

“This is your last chance.  Get out of the way!”

Kenta’s eyes narrowed.  “No.”

A fraction of a second later, a trident exploded out from under the cloak, targeted at Kenta’s chest.  He twisted to avoid the sharpened points, but one of them still managed to graze the threads on his shirt.

I nearly died just now, thought Kenta, returning the attack with a counter-stroke that was deflected.  He could feel himself sweating profusely, and the taste of fear welled up in his mouth.  I’m terrified for my life.  But no-!  I must set it aside for now!

The assassin’s lethal cuts and stabs came in quick succession, and constantly missed their marks only by a narrow margin.  Kenta was unused to mortal combat with other humans, but he kept his focus and watched his enemy’s movements.  His battle style affirmed his Beiji affinity, for his arms and legs flowed like water, allowing him to make the most of his movements.  While effective in utilizing energy, the style was predictable and avoidable for those who could react in time.  At length, Kenta began to hear grunts of frustration coming from the aggressor.

I doubt it’s fatigue, he thought, but this man meant to make a quick kill.  He may only have limited time to work with.  He felt his arms tremble slightly, even as he continued to move.  I’m worse off.  My heart feels ready to explode.  If I don’t finish this fight soon, my body will quit on me.  He forced his sword up between a cross-cut from the assassin’s twin knives, which blocked the scissor attack but forced him back a step.  I’ve never killed a human before, and I still don’t want to.  I must find a way to disable him.

All four tribes of the Children of Esra possessed unique fighting styles based upon their elemental affinities.  Earth attributes were the most resilient fighters, able to maintain their strength even after significant fatigue and injury.  Fire attributes, such as Ren, had a tendency to become increasingly aggressive as fights dragged on, but they would burn out more quickly, too.  Water attributes practiced a limber and graceful style of combat, almost like a dance, allowing them to endure even the longest battles without getting tired.  And finally, there was Kenta’s secret attribute: wind.  Though people could feel wind, there was no telling where it came from, or where it was going.  Likewise, wind adepts fought with such speed and unpredictable attacks that no untrained eye could tell what was coming until it was too late.  Each of the latter elements possessed advantage over those which they followed.  Wind was stopped by earth, earth was scorched by fire, fire was doused by water, and water was churned by wind.

Kenta recalled that his enemy perceived him as a fire attribute, with an elemental disadvantage.  But the opposite was true.  If he was going to incapacitate the man, it would have to be by that surprise.  He moved in.

There was no way Kenta could have foreseen what happened next.  An enormous sphere of water expanded from the cloaked assassin, out of nowhere, submerging everything within its field.  Kenta had experienced swimming in a lake before, but nothing contained this water.  It was held together by some invisible force, caging both him and his foe in its drowning prism.  With his movements significantly slowed, Kenta watched in horror as two more knives protruded from the assassin’s sleeves to skewer him.  He tensed up, focusing all of his energy upon his inner lightning.  A moment later, the water prism was set aglow with shocking forks of light.  They pricked Kenta a thousand times over with numbing, burning pain, but then the water cage collapsed around him, dissipating into a harmless puddle.  The assassin dropped too, falling face-first into the water and lying there, twitching.

“Im-p-p-p-possible,” he managed to grunt, lifting his chin weakly.  “I h-h-had you.  How c-could you have channeled l-lightning?”

A foot swung out of the darkness and thumped against the man’s ribcage, causing him to gasp and curl into a fetal position.  “Isn’t it obvious?” came Silvero’s taunting voice in the darkness.  “Gosh, but people are stupid sometimes!  Pain remains the only thing we all recognize immediately.”

Kenta heard a snapping of fingers, and then Silvero’s face was illuminated by the fireball he held in his hand.  He had an insidious sneer on his face; the kind Kenta recognized from whenever the boy would incinerate ants or watch criminal executions.  Sheathing his katana, he stepped in front of Silvero, getting in between him and the downed man.  “Wait.  Whatever you’re about to do, just forget it.  I put everything into that last attack.”  Even as he said it, he felt his body sway from a dizzying exhaustion.  “He’s not getting back up.”

“You’re damn right, he isn’t.  I’m going to cremate him, starting with the head.”

“But he can’t do anything now!  Let’s just let the Instructor handle it from here.”

Silvero looked at him.  Kenta inwardly cringed at the shock and anger in his eyes.  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.  You want me to spare this wretch, who goes around stabbing children in their sleep?  Have you forgotten that he just now tried to kill you, too?  I’m your friend; I’m your prince, for god sakes!  An attack on royalty is a capital offense.  How could you even presume to hold my judgment back?”

“No, look, I just-” Kenta put a hand to his forehead, feeling a wave of nausea coming over him.  “I just don’t want you to burn a man to death right in front of me, okay?  Please?”

“But he’s guilty!  On multiple levels!  He deserves death.”  Silvero lowered his voice on his last statement, apparently aware that he had been shouting.  “Besides,” he whispered urgently, “now this guy knows that you’re really a wind-attribute.  We can’t let him live, knowing that.  I’m doing us both a favor.”

The assassin coughed hard, and managed to roll himself up on one shoulder, facing the two of them.  “Just listen to him,” he said thickly, staring Kenta intensely in the eyes.  “Listen to how he speaks!  People are stupid, and pain is the only thing we all recognize?  I’m to be cremated alive?  And now he’s finding reasons from your personal life, to slay me!  Well, despite how it may look, I am not some villain who takes pleasure in stabbing children.  In fact, I fear for the welfare of all our children!”

His hard gaze turned to Silvero.  “I’ve suspected for years that you were a bloody child.  There are many who share my opinion.  If you do not die here, you will one day be crowned as a bloody tyrant!  Ah, but Helel is a crafty adversary, sending a lightning-user to protect the instrument of Esra’s destruction.”

“I will not stand by and suffer this abuse!” Silvero cried angrily.  He held his arm over his head, and the fireball in his hand increased in size, brightness, and intense heat.  “You’re the evil one, here.  You and Helel deserve each other.  Go to him in pain!”

Just then, something invisible whistled past Kenta’s face, making him jerk back in alarm.  Less than a second later, the blazing form of an enormous orange bird swept past him and Silvero, causing the latter to lose his balance and drop his fireball.  It went out with a hiss, leaving nothing but a live coal lying in a black patch of grass.  Kenta looked from the coal back to where the bird had been, but now he could only see two standing figures by a tree.  One was shoving the other up against the trunk, pinning him with an arm to his throat.  Presently, the pinned man dropped soundlessly, and the other turned.

“Are you two all right?  Are you hurt?”

It was Durai’s voice.  Kenta relaxed.  “We’re okay.  Instructor, the camp is under attack!”

“Not necessarily.  Only you truly are.”  Durai snatched the toppled folds of Silvero’s tent and pulled the prince to the ground with his other hand.  “Stay there.  Do not make another fireball; it only draws unnecessary attention.”

“Instructor, listen to me!” said Kenta urgently.  “I’ve seen them!  There must be about fifty guys!”

“Precisely.  This is supposed to be the unannounced first Trial.”  There was an edge in Durai’s voice, one that Kenta had never heard before.  He almost sounded fearful.  “Kenta, go and find Ren.  He set up tent near the eastern side of the bonfire.  I must remain here, so listen closely; I have a favor to ask of you.”

***

When Kenta found Ren, he nearly lost his leg.  The other boy had his sleeping bag undone, and appeared to be sprawled out on top of it.  However, the vulnerable position turned out to be a façade when Ren’s hand suddenly snatched the zanbato by his head and brought it sweeping around at Kenta’s ankles.  Kenta managed to jump in the nick of time, but Ren was on his feet a moment later and shoved him forcibly to the ground. 

“Ren, wait!” Kenta whispered loudly, as his friend reared to strike.  “It’s me!”

Ren relaxed his stance.  “Kenta.  Geez, I thought you were one of them.”

“Experienced fighters from Beiji were to come in the night, masquerading as common kidnappers and thieves,” Durai’s voice now repeated in Kenta’s mind.  “They were not to use water M.A.G.I.C., or any weapon with a lethal edge, for the safety of the Kindle Candidates.  The worst they could do is knock you out and tie you up.  Of course, those under attack wouldn’t know the difference.  The candidates would fight them off as though it were an actual life-or-death situation.  Normally, Beiji warriors could handle anything that mere children throw at them.  However . . .”

“You there!”

One of the cloaked intruders had spotted them.  He was an exceedingly tall man, and advanced dauntingly upon the boys with a thick rope in his hands.  “So.  You’re already awake.  No matter.  Surrender your weapons, and I’ll let you live.”

“Like I can really trust you to do that!” retorted Ren, raising his enormous sword.  “Kenta, I’m taking this one.  Watch my back.”

“Ren is a legitimately serious threat to them,” echoed Durai’s words.  “I don’t think any of them will realize this until it is too late.  We have already taken two from their numbers, so you must keep him from causing any greater potential alarm.  Among these pretenders were actual assassins.  Maybe they were all in on it.  If he should end up outright killing someone, they may just drop the act and come out full-force.”

“Ren, to your right!” yelped Kenta, hoping he sounded convincing.  The other Candidate didn’t hesitate for a second, but ducked and rolled to his left.  To Kenta’s unexpected luck, the cloaked invader glanced sideways in search for the perceived phantom threat.  In a second, Kenta closed the gap between them, using his supernatural speed to gain the edge.  He brought down his sword upon the man’s head while it was still in its sheath, clubbing him down and stunning him.

“Where’s the other one?” asked Ren in a loud whisper, glancing around furiously.  “Do you see him?”

“No, he vanished.  Ren, look . . .” Kenta paused for a moment.  The ones who were knocked out look just the same, dead.  I may have ended up making things worse anyway.  “There’s a lot more of them than the two of us can handle.  But if we keep out of sight and arouse the camp, we can force them out with numbers, right?”

Ren pondered silently for a moment.

“Okay.  But the more kids we awaken, the less stealthy this will get.  When do we go on the attack?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” answered Kenta truthfully, crouching down on all fours.  “I guess we’ll have to make it up as we go.”  He paused, remembering why he had come, and looked into the face of the boy who was kneeling at face level before him.  “Hey, there’s something I need to tell you first.  But you need to promise to keep it sec-”

A high-pitched battle cry suddenly pierced the air, causing both of them to turn their heads.  “Tell me later!” hissed Ren, rushing forward while maintaining his ducked posture.  “We may have to rescue someone first.”

“Wait . . . Ren, wait up!”

It’s astonishing how he can move that quickly and quietly with that massive sword on his back.

Kenta caught up with Ren behind a bush, where there stood a small clearing of tents just beyond.  As the two of them watched through the leaves, a young Kindle Candidate with a flaming sword advanced upon a man twice as large.  They appeared to be locked in combat already, but this time the Beiji combatant was wielding nunchakus.  Every now and again he would spin and swing the corded sticks, but it quickly became evident that the boy with the fire sword was dominating the battle by his swift blocks and counter-strokes.  Ren raised an eyebrow.

“That kid’s all right,” he observed, “but only in his blocking form.  That swordsmanship is little more than rapid swinging.  The big guy must be half-blinded by the light or something, because there are plenty of openings for him to strike a decisive counter-blow.”

At that moment, the swordsman youth stumbled forward, his momentum off.  He quickly righted himself and ducked a swipe from the nunchaku.

“There- like that.  Did you see it?  His shoulder was exposed.”

Ren spoke the truth.  Now was as good a time as any to explain the situation.

“This is a mock battle,” Kenta whispered, taking his eyes off the fight to look at Ren.  “The intruders are holding back.”

“What?”  Ren turned and looked Kenta straight in the eyes.  “How do you know that?”

“I heard it straight from the Instructor.”  As quickly as he could, Kenta filled Ren in on how the Beiji warriors weren’t a real danger, and yet were.

“And he told me to come stop you from slicing anyone in half,” he finished, glancing at Ren’s zanbato.  Kenta’s shoulders slumped a bit.  “Durai believes you’re the only one who actually can face them in true battle,” he said dejectedly.  “It figures.  He knew all along you’d be Kindle.”

A clang sounded in front of them.  The swordsman had scored a hit, knocking the Beiji man to the ground and striking him on the arm.  Apparently, he had on armor beneath his cloak, which had saved him from being cut.  The intruder hastily rose and fled into the night, gone so quickly that his opponent didn’t even attempt pursuit.  The young boy leaned on his fire sword and panted for breath, trembling all over.

“So they run when they ‘lose,’ and tie people up when they ‘win.’  Interesting,” Ren mused.  He turned back to Kenta, his face set.  “Alright.  I’ll play the game their way.  Kenta . . . look, I’m sorry if I’m standing in the way of your dream.  I’m sorry that you had to be the one to tell me so.  I can feel how awkward this is.”

Of course you do, thought Kenta glumly.  You’re the prodigy.

“But I want you to know something.”  Ren reached out his hand, and in a move that surprised Kenta, clasped his shoulder.  “Just a minute ago, I saw you knock one of them out cold.  That’s not supposed to happen, right?”

“I know, I’m sorry-”

“No, Kenta.”  Ren smiled fiercely at him.  “It means that you can really beat trained adult warriors.  Durai’s message is for you, too.”

Kenta looked at him, daring for a moment to hope.  “Really?”

“Probably.  But now, there is business to take care of.”  Ren shouldered his zanbato.  “I will gather as many other Candidates as I can.  If I must fight again, don’t worry; I won’t alarm our enemies.  Will you come with me?”

Kenta nearly complied, but then remembered the young boy who still knelt on the other side of the bushes, struggling for air as he leaned on his sword.  “I’ll stay with that guy for a bit.  I don’t think he can take a second attack; not yet, anyway.”

Ren nodded, giving a grunt of approval.  “Hm!  If we split up, we can more stealthily rally two smaller forces and make a swift and sudden counterattack.  I’ll scour the eastern half of camp!”

With that, he disappeared into the darkness.  Kenta watched him go, dumbly.  It hadn’t occurred to him to suggest this new plan, but he supposed he should feel good for inspiring it in Ren’s mind, however unintentionally.  For now, he turned his attention back to the winded Candidate, and rounded the bush in cautious approach.

“Easy now, don’t strike at me.  I’m a friend.  Are you okay?”

Kenta spoke these words quickly, for the other Candidate had raised his fire sword again the moment he had begun talking, and the flames illuminated his face.  Kenta stopped and stared.  “Wait.  You’re a-?”

It was a girl.  Barely below the teenage years, her features still resembled a boy’s for the most part, if somewhat more slender.  Her hair was long and thick, but it was tied in the same fashion as the traditional male ponytail.  Her attire was also neutral rather than feminine: a samurai gi similar to Kenta’s, complete with a sheath on the waist.  If the firelight had not brought attention exclusively to her face, Kenta would have never noticed her among the crowd of boys he had journeyed with.

The girl’s countenance displayed fierce resolve.  “I am Shana, daughter of Akarusa, the last Kindle.  If you are a friend as you claim, step into the light slowly!”

Kenta obliged, moving forward while holding his katana loosely at his side.  Shana’s eyes narrowed then widened, as if she almost recognized him, but could not quite place him.  “What is your name?”

“I’m Kenta, son of Daitan, the shepherd.”  He didn’t remember ever seeing her before, so he doubted she would know anything about him.  Still, he elaborated, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind.  “I’m the guy who nearly burnt down old Elchanan’s house.  You know, the cooking fire incident?  And by the time my father arrived, the old grump had already tied me up and was preparing to lower me into a great pot of boiling water.”  Stopping suddenly in horror, realizing what he had just shared with a complete stranger, Kenta squeezed his eyes shut.  Why did I recount that story, of all things?

“Oh.  Oh!”  Suddenly, Shana’s face softened in recollection.  “ . . . Oh.  Has your, uh . . . have you healed since then?”  All of a sudden, her sharp demeanor was completely gone.  And not without reason.  Kenta’s face pinched tightly.  “My rear end is better now.  Thanks for reminding me.”

“Well you brought it up.”  She sheathed her sword and crossed her arms.  Kenta shook his head.  “Whatever.  Looks like you’re okay now, but your fire sword was glowing in the dark.  We should get moving before more enemies check this spot.”

“Alright.”

The two of them ducked behind the bush at hand, and Shana glanced at Kenta.  “Now what?”

Kenta paused to think, finally having a moment’s reprieve to do so.  If they just snuck around blindly in the dark, they would waste what precious little time they had looking for people they may not even find.  But if they drew attention to themselves, more foes would converge upon them than friends.  As if to confirm this last point, someone issued a battle roar in the distance, and a bright spot of flame appeared in the eastern section of the camp.  Kenta recognized the voice, and the silhouette lit in the flames, as Ren’s.  So much for stealth.

Wait.  Stealth was the enemy’s game plan.  If everyone were exposed to light, perhaps the field would be a little more even.  Kenta’s gaze shifted to the center of camp, where the bonfire had still been burning brightly before the infiltrators snuffed it out.  He glanced back at Shana, who was eying him inquisitively.  “You said you were the former Kindle’s daughter, right?” he said hurriedly.  “How good are you at manipulating the intensity of a fire?”

***

A minute later, there was a miniscule glow in the fire pit, which illuminated Shana’s outstretched hands.  Kenta hastened toward it with an armful of sticks, dropping them collectively upon the kindled flame before he turned around to get more wood.

“Easy!  Can’t you be more delicate?” hissed Shana angrily.  “You’re going to put it out before it can catch!”

“But you said every second would count after we lighted-”

“I know what I said!  Just . . . stack the wood like we learned in fire-starting training; don’t just dump it on haphazardly.”

“It’s too dark.  I could do it in the day, but I can’t remember how without seeing what I’m doing.”

“Are you for real?!”  The edge was back in Shana’s voice.  “That kind of thing doesn’t require sight.  You could do it with just your sense of touch.”  The glow of the flames grew bigger and brighter.  “Can’t remember how to start a fire . . . what kind of Yuudan are you?”

Kenta bristled at her last remark, but chose to ignore it.  He released another armload of sticks onto the fire.  “I thought that lighting a giant flame didn’t even require a delicate arrangement of wood.  Not for our tribe.”

“It’s a little more challenging when they’ve soaked the wood with water,” grumbled Shana through her teeth.  “This was a terrible idea.  By now, every soul in the camp can probably see me, and this stubborn flame is taking all my concentration.  If I get attacked now . . . come one, you stupid- come on!”

In spite of Shana’s complains, Kenta noticed a considerable increase in light and heat as she continued to speak, growing at an ever-greater vigor than the second before.  The heat drove back the dampness in the wood; in just another minute, the blaze would surely be as great as it had first been when the sun had gone down.

Then it happened- Kenta saw an adult silhouette outlined in the growing light, lunging downward upon Shana with a great, drawn-back fist.  “Shana!” he cried in alarm, “Move over, now!”

Instinctively, the girl tucked her body and rolled forward just past the great flame she was nursing.  Her attacker’s arm hit the ground behind her and exploded outward in all directions, as if someone had dumped out a large bucket of water all at once.  Bursts of the substance landed in the fire, causing it to fizzle.  Kenta’s eyes widened in understanding; it was water, and this man was controlling it just like the assassin he had fought earlier that night.  This time, the water took on a cylindrical shape, so that it acted like an extension of his arm.  Even as Shana rose to her feet, the water arm recollected itself, and its owner prepared to strike again.  This time, his target was Shana’s fire.  Shana, seeing his intentions, yanked her sword from its sheath and dove forward to stop him.  A second later, her legs jerked backward with such force that, for a moment, she hovered perfectly horizontal in midair.  Then she fell heavily, and her sword clattered to the ground beyond reach of her outstretched arm.

Kenta saw the movement of flexible liquid ooze around Shana’s ankles.  It was water in the form of a rope, and this one belonged to a different hooded figure that he hadn’t even noticed sneak in behind them both.  In the midst of his growing panic, he had to grudgingly acknowledge how impressive the Beiji control of water M.A.G.I.C. was.  This was beyond making a waterfall dormant, as the other Kindle candidates had spoken of earlier.  This was refined skill.  He knew the only way to break the spell over the water would be to break the wielder’s will over it.

“Don’t let them quench the fire!” Shana cried urgently.

Right- rescue the fire first.  Rescue Shana second.  I’ve been standing here too long!

Kenta had barely started forward when a blast of water collided with the side of his head like a liquid cannonball.  He felt the world twist around him as his body flipped over in midair, and as he landed hard on his side, little lights danced in the corners of his vision.  For a moment the side of his head was numb, but then a blinding pain assaulted him with such intensity that he thought he would black out.  Whoever had sniped him with the water projectile might have easily killed him, but had held back because of the test.

Without thinking, Kenta pushed himself shakily back up in a kneeling position.  A second water missile bulleted into his rib cage, knocking him gasping upon his back.  “You stay down!” came a man’s voice, with a tone of mocking laughter in it.  “And don’t you try to get back up this time.”

The bonfire went out with a hiss.

This is it, thought Kenta bitterly, completely winded.  If this had been a real battle, this is when I would have died.  I might have failed the test just now.

Without warning, the darkness was suddenly banished once more.  Squinting his eyes, Kenta found himself surrounded by almost sixty miniature suns, all held in the palms of determined-looking young boys.  Within the circle of light-bearers, twenty cloaked figures raised their arms to their faces, having been suddenly blinded by the burst of light.  Half-blind himself, Kenta could barely see a familiar figure with his great sword, marching in to meet them.

Ren!  How did he manage to rally so many of the Kindle candidates so quickly?

“Invaders, you are surrounded,” said Ren, in such a commanding voice that Kenta might have forgotten he was only twelve.  “Surrender and let those two go, because you are in our hands now!”

There came a laugh from amongst the Beiji men, and one of them raised himself to his full height: a mighty six and a half feet high.  “Are we indeed surrounded?” he challenged, striding right past Kenta and toward Ren.  “Is a lake compromised, though fire should burn around it from all sides?  Come, then, summon all the power you can muster, and we will see who is in whose hands!”

For a moment, Kenta tensed, feeling as though he would be caught in the middle of an all-out war.  Then Ren shook his head and pointed a finger behind him.  “How many of your men remain standing at your side?” he asked pointedly.  “Not, at least, the four who stood guard over the Yuudans you’d gathered and tied up.  Here they are now.  And here . . .” 

Four limp cloaked bodies were tossed into the circle of flames.

“-are your men!”

Ren swung his zanbato with a loud swishing noise.  “We are not as incompetent as you suppose.  If all of us were to brawl now, both sides would suffer heavy casualties- mostly from chance strikes and stray fire.  There are more honorable ways to settle matters, at least among the Children of Esra.”

Kenta knew exactly what he was talking about.  Ren proposed to challenge a Beiji champion to a one-on-one match, which appealed to the nation’s honor code.  If the aggressor won, the defenders would surrender without further fighting, on condition that their lives were spared.  If the defenders won, the aggressors would collectively retreat, on condition that their representative would become a prisoner.  Past experience had taught the Children of Esra that surrounding nations could not be trusted to uphold the deal, but among their own people, honor meant more than victory.

This is supposed to be a test, Kenta reminded himself.  The other side isn’t aware that Ren knows, and he’s taking advantage of it.  More than that, they think he’s playing right into their hands, but the opposite is true.  They cannot say no.

The big man glanced down at Kenta.  In the firelight, Kenta could see that a mask with decorative wave patterns covered his face, except for two narrow eye slits.

“You.  Boy.  Pick up your friend and clear the center.”

Ren gave them an exit strategy, regardless of whether or not they already had one, Kenta thought, taking Shana’s arm around his shoulder and pulling her to her feet shakily.  And now they can test the prodigy of the candidates without any hindrances.  What’s more, if their real objective was to assassinate Silvero, this will distract all of us and buy them time.  What they don’t know is that the Instructor is with him now.

“A single match to determine the outcome of tonight,” the Beiji champion was saying, cracking his neck as he and Ren approached each other at the center of the grounds.  “A wise decision, albeit a futile one.  You speak like a man, though you are young.  Tell me, what is your name?”

“Ren, son of Rell,” Tyren replied, bending his knees and leveling his great sword in attack posture.  “And yours?”

“You may call me Kano.”  The masked man spread his hands, and six tendrils of water burst suddenly from his back, effectively giving him eight arms.  “And now . . . we begin.”

Kano’s bottom-most watery appendages stretched in length, launching him at Ren with a surprising burst of speed.  From the sidelines, Kenta narrowed his eyes and invoked his own lightning M.A.G.I.C., speeding up the processes of his own body.  In this hyper state, the world around him seemed to slow in comparison, and he noted the details of the combatants’ every move.

Ren swung his zanbato in response to Kano’s lunge, and two more water-arms extended out from the masked man to cushion the blow.  However, Ren’s heavy sword drove straight through them, and Kano was forced to raise his own arms to block the attack.  There was a clang of steel against steel, as Ren’s blade met with the armor beneath Kano’s cloak.  Then Kano’s last two water-arms snaked out from both sides, surrounding Ren and coming together to ensnare him.  Ren didn’t try to avoid them, but with and outstretched arm, snapped his fingers.  Two flint rings on his hand ignited a flame, and Ren sent a fireball straight into Kano’s face.  Immediately, all six water-appendages streaked up to quench the fire, but not before it had singed Kano’s mask to a blackened ruin.  Kano gave a cry of pain and staggered backward, raising his arms to his face and ripping the mask off.  Underneath, his eyelids had been darkened by the fire’s touch, though the rest of his facial skin was only slightly reddish-tinged.  He thrust his right arm out, and two of his water-arms shoved forcefully outward, knocking Ren away.  Ren stumbled back, fell, then regained his feet within the second.  He panted, but the light of battle was in his eyes, reflecting his vigorous strength.

Whether Ren wins or loses, thought Kenta, this battle does him a great service.  He’s already showing everyone that he can hold his own ground against someone who should be much stronger.  Even if they grudge him for it, nobody can deny that Ren deserves a spot as a Kindle apprentice.

The water-arms, which Kano had used to repel Ren away from him, dropped to the ground with a splash.  Kenta barely had time to wonder if water-attributes lost their influence of the element over a distance, when combat resumed.  This time, Ren closed the distance first, raising his zanbato over his head as he prepared to slam the blade down.  Even with armor, and multiple layers of suspended water to cushion the impact, Kenta was sure that the Beiji champion would sustain a major injury if the sword hit him.  Two of Kano’s water-arms rose up to meet the oncoming blade, but as Ren brought it crashing down, they bent at an angle, deflecting the sword sideways.  The blade buried itself a few inches in the ground by Kano’s side, and Kano sent his other water-arms straight for the now-disarmed Ren.  The latter, however, let go of his sword’s handle and rolled out of the way of the grasping hands, then charged with a clenched fist straight at Kano’s exposed face.

“Not this time you don’t!” Kano grunted, and swung his own arm out, striking Ren in the face instead.  Ren reeled back from the force of the blow, but as he did, he grabbed a hold of Kano’s extended arm.  The big man overbalanced, and as both of them fell, one of Ren’s legs shot up and kicked Kano in the armpit.  Kano gave a scream of agony; there was apparently no armor in that spot, and the shoulder may have been dislocated.  Then they were both on the ground, and Kano raised his good arm and clenched his fingers.  All of the pooling water around them swept over Ren like a blanket and cocooned him at Kano’s command.  Kenta remembered how the assassin had tried to disable him in a water prison too, only he was able to channel enough lightning to retaliate anyway.  Ren couldn’t do that, and now he was trapped.

“Enough!”

In an instant, a man dropped into the middle of the match circle, as though he had fallen from the sky.  Ren and Kano looked up at him, and a moment later, Kano’s water fell away from Ren with a limp splash.  Kenta could detect fear on the Beiji man’s face, and for good reason.  Standing over him, with blazing eyes and radiating fierce heat, was Instructor Durai.  He spoke again, and unrestrained anger transmitted in his words.  “This portion of the test is now over,” he annunciated loudly and coldly.  “Those of you playing the part of the invading bandits must leave now.”

For a moment, everyone was silent.  Then, from the other side, one of the cloaked men started: “This wasn’t-”

“LEAVE!  NOW!”  As Durai shouted the words, his whole frame lit up, so that he was enveloped in transparent flames.  Where he stood, there also stood a great orange bird, wreathed in colorful fire.  Kenta only saw it for a second before it was gone again, but in that brief moment, he was certain that the bird and the man were one.

Durai’s repeated command met with no further hesitation.  The men of Beiji turned and fled into darkness, leaving behind any of their peers who had been incapacitated.  As the last fleeing form disappeared into the night, Durai turned his attention to the stunned crowd of boys, still holding their firelight.  “Candidates!” he called authoritatively.  “As you have just heard, this was a pre-test, and none of you were in actual danger.  That said, the Apprenticeship Trials are far from safe.  I need you to now gather yourselves into parties of four, and search around to make sure everyone is accounted for.  If you find any unconscious or injured Beiji test volunteers, bring them to me.  Be careful not to hurt them.  I will answer any questions you have later; for now, move out!”

Spurred to action by Durai’s words, the boys turned their attention to their task, still wearing bewildered and confused expressions on their faces.  Kenta caught snatches of muttered conversation like “what just happened?” or “was this really a test?”  He looked around for someone to group with, and his eyes fell upon Shana, who was holding her leg with a pained expression.  His eyes traveled down to the dark stripes running down her shin.  Blood.

“You okay?”

She glanced up at him and hid her grimace.  “Yeah.  I got pulled straight down back there.  One of my knees hit a rock.”

Durai appeared beside Kenta, looking at Shana with concern.  “Show me that gash in your knee.  I’ll heal it,” he said.  As he reached into his pocket, he looked directly at Kenta.  “I did a quick check on Ren.  He should be fine, but I need you to go sit with him for a minute.  There is little time, and I must speak to you both.”

Kenta nodded absently, wondering what the Instructor wanted to tell them.  Giving Shana a parting glace and a halfhearted smile, he turned and headed to where Ren was still laying in his puddle of water.  Ren pushed himself into a sitting-up position as Kenta knelt down to see him.  It was dark again without the surrounding glows from the other boys’ fires.

“That was some impressive fighting,” he said in attempt to sound hearty, clapping Ren on the shoulder.  “How are you feeling?”

Ren rubbed his cheek.  “My face hurts where he punched me.”  He sighed, and Kenta noticed that this was the first time he had ever seen Ren in low spirits.  “That Kano got me right at the end.  He managed to trap me in his water prism like a wild animal.  If this hadn’t been a test, I’d be dead now.”

“Yeah, join the club,” agreed Kenta, remembering that he had thought the same thing.

“That was brave of you guys to re-light the bonfire,” said Ren, looking at Kenta.  “You know that everyone could see you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.  But we had to stay close to get it going, because the logs were so moist.  We were trying to rally everyone.”

“Well, it worked.  The bad guys got there first to shut you down, and then we surrounded them.”

A laugh suddenly burst from Kenta’s chest.  He didn’t even know where it had come from.  “Man, what a night.  So, to recap . . .” He counted off his fingers.  “The original plan was for some guys from Beiji to rattle our nerves by stalking our camp at midnight.  And they would grab and tie up anyone who couldn’t fight them off?”

“Right,” Ren said, nodding.  “And I managed to stumble across the place where they were keeping all the boys they’d kidnapped so far.  That’s how I got so many at once.”

“And I’m sure that wasn’t part of their plan.”  Kenta lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Ren.  “But there was more to it than just the test,” he whispered worriedly.  “At least two of them tried to murder Silvero.  I wonder how many of them were in on the plot?”

“As do I,” came Durai’s voice, and Kenta jumped; for a second time in two minutes, the Instructor had managed to sneak up beside him.  Forgetting his caution, Kenta spoke openly.  “Is Silvero safe?  Why did you leave him?”

“Ssh!  Keep it down!” Durai hissed urgently.  Kenta covered his mouth with his hand, embarrassed by his own outburst.  “To proceed,” Durai continued in a voice barely above a whisper, “yes, he is safe.  I was going to have him wear the clothing of the man who attacked him, but he was very reluctant.  In the end, I had to bury him alive with a reed to breathe through.”

Kenta and Ren stared at him.  “What?”

“There was no time to do anything else.  Don’t look so astounded.”

“When did you have time to bury him?” Ren asked incredulously.

“I dug the hole earlier that day,” answered Durai matter-of-factly.  He looked at both boys solemnly.  “That’s right, I expected foul deeds were at work.  I didn’t want to believe it, but I made preparations anyway.  And now I see it was good that I did.”  Durai’s gaze sharpened.  “To answer your other question, I had to leave the prince when I sensed that the testers had used water M.A.G.I.C.  They were expressly forbidden to do so.  I want you boys to tell me the extent to which they used their powers, so that I may know if they were applying deadly force or merely being insubordinate testers.”

Ren summarized his battle with Kano, and Kenta recalled the water projectiles that had blasted him off his feet like a hydro cannon.  When they had finished, Durai asked if there was anything else.  They shook their heads, and he sighed.

“Aside from the assassin Kenta fought, nothing in your testimony proves that these others committed anything worse than insubordination.”

Kenta gaped at him.  “Not even the water sphere that could have drowned Ren?!”

“Not with the number of witnesses present at the time.  Kano wouldn’t have drowned Ren even if he desired to.”  Durai frowned.  “You must understand, the tribes of Beiji and Yuuda are not on good terms right now, and this isn’t the first time that testers have overstepped their bounds.  Those who speak for Beiji will do everything in their power to play down this incident when I report it, and if possible, throw blame back onto me.”

Ren tightened his fist.  “Never, Rabboni-sama!” he said angrily.  “They may act irresponsibly, but I won’t let them disgrace Kindle!”

Kenta felt a swoop of hot anger in his own chest.  I feel the same way you do, Ren, he thought.  Beiji should be ashamed for what they did tonight.

Durai held up his hand at the sight of Ren and Kenta’s prickling.  “Peace,” he said sternly.  “The main reason I wanted to talk to you is that both of you now know more than all the other Kindle candidates here.  I charge you now, as your instructor and as Savior of Yuuda, neither to act upon what you know, nor speak of it to anyone who asks,
without my consent.”

Kenta stared at him with shock for a moment, appalled at the idea of knowing of such injustice and being unable to do anything about it.  A moment later, however, he relented, gazing reluctantly down at his hands.  “Yes, Rabboni-Sama,” he and Ren said at the same time.

Durai’s face softened.  “I am very proud of both of you,” he said with a gentle smile.  “You have shown great courage and loyalty this night, as well as a keen sense of justice.  I most go now, and deal with the remaining Beiji testers and the other boys.  But I want the two of you to know that . . .” He paused, then continued.  “I hope you will both become Apprentices together.”
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« Reply #3 on: April 26, 2015, 09:25:57 pm »

Hi Kenta!
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« Reply #4 on: May 27, 2015, 02:43:20 pm »

Shortly after Durai left to explain things to the other boys, Kenta felt his vision blur as the adrenaline faded and exhaustion washed over him. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, the sun was already starting its ascent in the east.
 
In his still-swimming vision, Kenta thought he detected movement just south of the dawn light.  He rubbed his eyes and looked again- and there it was.  Not one, but two cloaked figures in the distance were fleeing at a full sprint.
 
Escapees!
 
In a moment, Kenta was on his feet, but then he felt fingers nab his ankle in a firm grip.
 
“Relax,” came Durai’s voice.  “I let them go.”
 
Kenta glanced down at his instructor, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground.  There were dark spots around his eyes, and Kenta noticed a subtle slump in his posture.  Had he been awake all night?
 
Someone grunted to his left, and Kenta turned his head to see Silvero, his clothes much dirtier than they had been in the last daylight.  His face was red with anger, and he spoke in a tone of voice that mocked Durai’s.
 
“‘I let them go,’ he says.  ‘I’m Kindle, and when my enemies commit treason, I spare their lives and stuff my king’s son into a ditch.’”
 
Durai stared hard at him.  Silvero held his gaze unwaveringly.  “When you are king,” Durai said softly and sternly, “you may decide who lives and who dies.  Until then, while you are under my jurisdiction, I will determine who is guilty and who is innocent.”
 
***
 
About an hour later, the group had broken their fast and returned to marching south.  The new light of the morning had dispelled most of the Candidates’ fear, and having been reassured by Durai that this had been a preliminary test, now they gossiped excitedly about the previous night’s events.  Kenta heard everything, but said nothing as usual.
 
“-nearly stabbed me with his knife, but then I set his foot on fire-”
 
“-obviously a test!  If they’d wanted to kidnap or kill us-”
 
“-don’t want to do this anymore!  I want to go home!”
 
“-get tied up too?  I thought I was a goner, but then they bound me with ropes.”
 
Ren’s status as a hero was renewed and magnified in the eyes of his peers.  Yuudite boys on every side pressed him with questions about how his night had gone, how many invaders he’d taken down, how he managed to find the kidnapped boys after they’d been tied and gagged, and so on.  Nobody seemed to remember that Kenta and Shana had rekindled the camp bonfire, abolishing the cover of darkness that the Beiji proctors had depended upon for stealth.
 
Shana . . . I wonder where she is now.
 
Kenta looked around, sweeping the sea of boys with his gaze.  Even with a clear memory of her face, it took him almost five minutes to spot the nondescript young “boy” marching in the back of the crowd with downcast eyes.  Kenta slowed his pace until he was even with Shana, then waited until she looked up and noticed him.  Even after they had exchanged glances, neither spoke as the chattering continued around them.  It was Shana who finally made the first remark.
 
“Don’t you have anyone else to hang out with?”
 
Kenta noted the irate tone in her voice.  “No.  I just listen.”
 
“Well then, you won’t get much out of me.  I don’t talk to anyone either.”
 
“Why not?  Because people ignore you?  Or are you trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself?”
 
Shana laughed humorlessly.  “Either-or.  From my youth, I’ve known almost everyone here, but I still feel like I’m among strangers.  It’s just as well.  As of now, they are all competition, and I don’t need to make friends with people when I’m about to step on their heads.”
 
Kenta found himself liking Shana considerably more.  In just a few comments, she had voiced his own general feelings about all the Yuudite boys in his age group.  Perhaps he had been thinking about himself when he’d asked.

The City of Refugees rose into view, upon reaching the clearing through a short bout of woodland.  For a moment, Kenta just stopped and stared, astonished at how massive the place was.  From the outside, it exhibited the likeness of a pen for holding giants; the walls were at least ten meters high, and every corner had a regal watchtower.  Under a section of wall rushed a mighty river, and surrounding the settlement lay an expanse of fertile grassland.  Kenta found that it reminded him of Tsion, the capital municipality back in Yuuda, with the beauty of the countryside complementing the majesty of the city. 

He had expected it to be shabbier.  After all, as the name suggested, this was a place inhabited by men who had to run for their lives from their homes, because of something they had done.  The Children of Esra were far from a perfect people; throughout his time in Yuuda, Kenta had heard stories and seen various incidents of their vengeful culture of mutual retaliation.  If a man killed someone else’s family member, even if it was a complete accident, that person was honor-bound to kill the man in return.  According to the ancient scrolls, El answered that tradition when he established the City of Refugees as a maens of shelter.  Any convict who fled there would be given a fair trial, and if found innocent, could live safely within its borders for the rest of his life.  If someone tried to kill him after that, he would be charged with murder, regardless of tradition.

In afterthought, Kenta decided it only made sense that the city keep up appearances.  If El’s had really was on the city, it would be filled with innocent people who just had a bad experience.  As to the guilty, a well-maintained wall worked just as well to keep them in.

A canine howl issued from the gate area, causing all eyes to search for the source.  There, at the base of the gate, sat a solitary brown dog, straight-backed and alert.  Its keen posture indicated that it was a trained animal, which was a signature of Yuuda’s presence.  It wasn’t the only one.  Amongst the Kindle candidates, someone shouted and pointed at the sky, and Kenta tilted his head back to see a winged bird of prey circling at a height beyond the reach of most arrows.  He recognized it as a hawk, the signature pet of the wind tribe, Li.  He wondered if the clans were using their animal companions as sentinels to alert the city’s occupants when each party of candidates arrived.  As if confirming his suspicions, a rustle in a line of trees ahead caught his attention.  Following a pattern of shaking branches, Kenta made out an occasional hairy arm, and a foot that looked like a hand; a monkey hauled its way to the City of Refugees- no doubt to alert Yusef.

That left only the creature of the water clan.  Kenta scanned the banks of the river to his left, and after about a minute, his diligence was rewarded.  A furry head briefly popped up out of the water, looking in the direction of the troop of boys before ducking back under the current.  It was Beiji’s pet: a weasel.

For a moment, a vision flashed in Kenta’s mind: the image of a girl with flowing hair and blue robes, the weasel perched upon her shoulder.  It was the only other time in his life that he had ever seen a weasel: when he had glimpsed her speaking to Instructor Durai at the village outskirts.  In private, assumedly.  He had been eight years old then, and she, not too much older.

Kenta snapped himself back to the present, shaking his head.  He needed to focus.  In the small timespan between his search for the four tribal animals and his flashback, the City walls had suddenly loomed large before him.  A subtle gasp issued from the boys around him as the mighty city gates swung inward, as if pushed open by a giant invisible hand.

Through the enormous threshold they marched, a hundred pairs of eyes gazing in every which direction, and hundreds more staring back at them.  The City was lined with two-story huts on each side of the street, whose occupants now stood in the chill of the early morning, watching on as their guests paraded in.  The variety of clothing styles signified their appearance: former men of Yuuda stood dressed in various tones of scarlet robes, Beiji tribesmen had wrapped themselves in azure cloaks, clansmen of Li were adorned in mostly violet outfits with the traditional capes, and those from Yusef all had on emerald-green ponchos.  Normally, there were no distinctive differences between any of them- not even hairstyle- but today, they celebrated unity and proximity of the various tribes.  The Children of Esra, all represented in one city, would stand witness to a potential new generation of Saviors.

At the very center of town stood a great structure: an enclosed, yet open-air building housing stands with hundreds of seats.  Kenta found it reminded him of an arena, similar to those the surrounding pagans used to battle their prisoners against monsters they captured.  However, once he had passed through the archways, he saw that there was a great stage on the opposite side of the stands.  He would find out later that this place was none other than the High Court of the four tribes, where the most difficult cases were assessed by a panel of judges representative of each clan.  When not in use for justice, the building served as a theater for putting on performances of stories long past.  For both occasions, all source material came from the Scrolls of the Law, dictated by El himself.  Before he had turned around and taken his seat with the others in the stands, Kenta noticed that the back wall was covered in words- all chiseled into the concrete.  He recognized some of the lore:

When you were born unwanted, thrown without pity upon the road,
I walked past, and I saw you, a newborn, kicking in a puddle of blood.
I said to you, “Live!”
And I took you and made you mine- cleaned you, clothed you, and nurtured you . . .

Some architect had gone to great lengths to carve the entirety of the Law into the building.

The noise around Kenta swelled to a crescendo as the multitude entering the stands continued to increase.  On the opposite end of the circular seating area, far across from Kenta’s group, the Deluge candidates stared at them, having already filled their section to the max.  Their faces were far from friendly.

“I wonder if they heard about last night,” someone muttered from behind him.

The middle section filled in with Tremor candidates in the father seats by Deluge, and Tempest candidates placing themselves next to the Kindle crowd.  Kenta felt a mild sympathy for the Tempest folk, as they were the only ones who had to sit by a hostile element- earth.  Tension existed between the four tribes, and a significant part of the reason was the subtle knowledge that each lived in the presence of a superior or inferior elemental force.  The Kindle candidates of Yuuda were fire-elemental, and it gave them power over Yusef: fire scorches earth.  Yusef’s earth-power blocked wind: Li’s attribute.  Li’s wind churned water: Beiji’s attribute.  And Beiji’s water quenched fire: Yuuda’s attribute.  The seating was staggered as neutrally as possible, so that Yuuda and Li (fire and wind) were closest together, Yusef and Beiji (earth and water) had nearest proximity, and Beiji and Yuuda (water and fire) stayed well away from one another.  That left Li and Yusef (wind and earth) uncomfortable shoulder partners.

Once there were no more children on the center floor, having taken their seats, a solitary man mounted the stage.  A hush fell over the crowd.  Kenta blinked, rubbed his eyes, then stared in disbelief as the figure turned his face upward to behold the crowd.

He knew this man- if it was even proper to call him a man.

His stature was great in height: not necessarily bulky, but at least a head taller than any average man.  His head was crowned with long, white hair that came down to his waist, and an abundance of wrinkles in his face marked his age.  Even so, his posture was upright with powerful authority, and his build was like that of a thirty-year-old athletic champion.  He had enormous ears that were webbed and acutely pointed in three different places- and the fact that they were half the size of his head was most distinctive in giving strangers the impression that he was not quite human.  Most remarkable, however, were his eyes.  His irises were a dynamic spectrum of colors, though from time to time, one color would dominate the others.  His pupils, opposite to the blacks of human eyes, were intensely white, to the point that they almost glowed against the surrounding colors.  They were not circular, but slits in the shape of four-point stars.

Aside from an abnormally pointy nose, the rest of him was human in feature.  Like Kenta, he wore a loose-fitting black gi, and baggy pants that were held up by a velvet belt.  If not for his eyes, he would have been entirely black-and-white.

“Candidates!” he boomed, his voice amplified by the half-dome structure above his head.  “Thank you for traveling all this distance to be here today.  My name is Chalcedony.  Let me be the first to welcome you to the Savior Apprenticeship Trials!”

There was a round of applause from some of the spectators in the highest seats, but the children sat in absolute silence.  Chalcedony’s countenance was fierce, and his voice, while amiable, carried a tone of weighty authority to it.

“For those of you who are not keen to the ways of the world,” he continued, “we are living in turbulent times.  I should know- I am a khokodo.  My brothers and sisters and I are the first and last of our kind, and we have walked the earth for many centuries.  We have seen the world at peace, and infinitely more often, at war.  And let me tell you . . .” Here, he paused for effect.  “War is drawn to your race.  Not just you, the human race as a whole, but you.  The Children of Esra.”

Chalcedony paused again, and took a long look at the young faces, whose eyes were locked upon him.  For a moment, his gaze stopped on Kenta, then passed.

Did he see me?

“Saviors,” he went on, “have long kept you from your untimely destruction, both from without and within.  El has provided you with Saviors from the early days of King Satoru, because you are the apple of his eye.  But let me warn you now: if you continue your present course of infighting because you could not agree on El’s law, he will withhold the power of the Savior, and leave you to your own defenses.

“To counteract the enmity you have nursed against each other, El has always first dedicated Candidates to the apprenticeship of another Savior.  Kindle candidates-” here he turned again to Kenta’s crowd- “three of you will become Savior apprentices under Tremor, Deluge, or Tempest, but NOT your Kindle.  So it will be for you other three tribes, until each Savior is charged with three of four possible apprentices.”

In Kenta’s mind, he envisioned Durai, the fiery Kindle, surrounded by three faceless children: one in a green earth poncho, one in an aqua-blue cloak, and one wrapped in the white cape of wind.  They would be kin, and yet complete strangers, learning from one another to temper their powers.

Chalcedony took several steps backwards, until his back was pressing the stage wall.  Then, at once, he bellowed:

“Children of Esra, behold your Saviors!  Tempest!”

All at once, in a flash like lightning, a figure burst onto the platform, seemingly out of the blue sky.  She danced and whirled across the stage in a frenzy: a woman clothed in white and purple, with two transparent wings like a fairy’s protruding from her back.  Gasps of amazement ran through the crowd, and there was applause from the Tempest candidates.

“Tremor!”

The gasps renewed as another winged human, this time a man, hovered across from the right of the platform to the far left, making a heavy landing.  Kenta’s first impression, apart from the enormous eagle wings, was the insane amount of muscle mass that bulged through his body-tight suit; everything about him was huge.  He even had a giant sword strapped to his back- not a zanbato like Ren’s, but a buster blade.

“Deluge!”

A third human flapped down upon the platform, this one with leathery wings like a bat, or a dragon.  He was a man of about average size, but his hair and water-blue cloak seemed to somehow flow with movement.  On both of his hands were translucent orbs that seemed to constantly morph in shape.  Now they were spearhead points- now they were spiked gauntlets- now they were scythe razors- and on it went.

“Kindle!”

Amidst the applause, Kenta leaned forward in anticipation to see how his instructor would make an entrance.  To his dismay, Durai simply appeared at the edge of the platform, ascended to the stage, and took his spot amidst his peers: the only Savior without wings.  Compared to the majesty of the others, he looked to be completely out of place, and his cheers died down quickest.
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« Reply #5 on: May 30, 2015, 09:22:39 am »

Sounds like you've been pretty busy, Kenta. I'm also on Skype if you want to talk (just search for Cieluscian), but I'm fine talking here, too. I felt that my stories do tend to drag out a lot, because new ideas keep coming up as time went on, and we do take a while to make each post, so that meant that I had even more ideas crammed up in my head then. Sorry about that, although you'll probably say that I have nothing to feel sorry about, but I digress. I did notice your dropping enthusiasm back then, but I didn't say anything about that until the end.

So uh, what have I been doing these days? Attending university's one, although now it's the holidays and I'm on an internship, so I've been pretty busy with IT security stuff. I don't really get a chance to practice creative writing properly, although I do have an RP here with Tyren that's going by really slowly (mostly because he takes forever to make a post and tends to forget to come by here unless I reminded him). I also do IM roleplays with him daily over on an instant messenger (QQ International Messenger). Unlike you, I guess I'm not really worried about ideas being done before. I have no qualms about using unoriginal ideas if they're fun to play with, or it served a purpose to an end for me. Doesn't make for an amazing story, but it doesn't matter to me as long as I'm enjoying it, since no one else but Tyren is seeing what I'm writing, anyway.

If you're finished with Fate/Zero, by the way, you should probably watch ufotable's Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works. It's still currently ongoing, but it's so much better than the movie version made by Studio DEEN years ago. I have a few other shows I'd recommend, but I'm not sure how interested you'd be, or how busy you are. In any case, it's good to see you again.

And don't worry about droning on. This is a place to let your thoughts out.
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