Fatefall - 17

Chapter 17 - Sage 

A week later, I led a team of Graced fighters in a charge against Dusan. We suppressed his power with the Grace of Void and easily subdued him. It was our first step towards victory. 

Despite the circumstances, Sage finally believed his team might have a shot at winning the Tournament. 

He had the right to be proud of himself, considering how quickly he’d figured out the puzzle regarding the hallways. Well…kind of. To be fair, the absence of a Grace made the puzzle impossible. 

Luckily, Sage had a good deal of experience with overcoming challenges without a Grace. 

He followed the other Graced of Soul, hanging back in the shadows. It helped that one of the competitors seemed to be slower than all of the others. They hesitated at each intersection, as though doubting the choices of the other competitors. Sage didn’t know why because it quickly became clear that the other competitors were making the “right decision”. If there even was a right direction to go. 

Still, the slow competitor gave Sage the security he needed to easily complete the first task of the challenge. 

Any reservations or fear that had originally plagued him had fled long ago. Sage’s confidence soared and he felt light on his feet as he rounded the final bend of the tunnels only to come face to face with several unconscious competitors. 

Sage’s confidence crashed to the floor. 

One competitor remained awake---the slow one---facing the door, unmoving. 

And then came the voice. Carefully measured words intended to make an impact. “You don’t have to hide. I know you’re there.”

It took Sage a moment to register that the words were directed at him. He still didn’t move, and the competitor chuckled. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid. If that was my intention, I wouldn’t have let you follow me the whole way here.”

Sage swallowed his pride. Never mind winning. Apparently, his brilliant strategy hadn’t been nearly as brilliant as he’d thought. 

He stepped into the torchlight and the question burning at the forefront of his mind spilled from his mouth before he could stop it. “Did you…kill the other competitors?”

The competitor laughed. “No, but I can see why you thought that.”

Sage waited for an explanation, but the competitor didn’t seem willing to give one. “Does the door have something to do with their condition?” he asked, taking the bait. 

The competitor shrugged, still facing the door. Frustration boiled in Sage’s gut and he clamped down on it, unwilling to lose his temper mid-Trial. 

“Are the gems in there?” 

No response. 

“Are you even listening to me?” The words sounded more petulant out loud than they had in his head. Sage silently cursed himself for being so puerile and foolish. 

And then the competitor turned around, silver eyes flashing with amusement from behind the mask. Still, he said nothing. 

What an arrogant little--

“Does your father know you’re using language like that?” the competitor inquired, voice light. Teasing, in a way. 

Sage stumbled backwards, startled. Had that competitor just read his mind?

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did,” the competitor answered, sounding way too pleased with himself. “If you knew anything about the Grace of Soul, you would know about our not-quite-telepathy.”

“You…you can read minds,” Sage stuttered. 

“Sort of,” the man corrected. “More like read souls. Think of it like your subconscious mind. And when you’ve had as much practice as I have, you can guess what the actual consciousness is thinking. Pretty cool, right?”

“I guess so,” Sage admitted. “But why are you showing me this?”

“To demonstrate how woefully unprepared you are for this Tournament,” the man stated. “You’re lucky the door took care of the other competitors. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say the door won’t pose as much of a challenge for you as it did for them. Still, the next Trial is going to be much more difficult. I’d train a little harder in hand to hand combat, if I were you.”

A dozen questions flashed through Sage’s mind, too fast for him to choose a single one to ask. The man seemed to smirk beneath his mask. 

“I can see your mind at work. Let me spare you the time and just answer for you: I’m helping you because you have great potential. You could be something powerful, Sage. Keep that in mind.”

Sage nodded blankly, his thoughts still racing to catch up with what the man had said. 

The competitor shook his head, a bit disappointed, before turning back to the door and grasping the knob. He immediately collapsed to the floor, much to Sage’s surprise. 

You’re lucky the door took care of the other competitors. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say the door won’t pose as much of a challenge for you as it did for them. The words clanged through his mind, a ceaseless chiming of a bell. 

Sage reached for the door, ignoring his urge to stop and read all of the runes engraved in the wood. The knob felt like ice beneath his touch, but nothing happened. No collapse, no unconsciousness. It just felt…wrong. Like another layer of skin coating over top of him, smothering him. He itched at his arm absentmindedly and opened the door, eager to get away from its odd effects. 

The cavernous room now before him seemed all but empty except for a pedestal in the middle where five celestite jewels glittered. Faded banners hung from pillars near the walls, embroidered with the scales of Dusan. Shivers racked Sage’s body but he pushed past them and snatched one of the gems, tucking it into his pocket. 

Was that it? Was the challenge over? It felt ridiculously easy. 

Sage ran his fingers over the edges of the gem, but it felt real enough. He doubted that there would be fake jewels lying throughout the temple. It would make the Trial last way longer than necessary, and they didn’t have any source of food or water. 

He decided to trust in his instincts and wait for his teammates outside this creepy chamber. 

Just as Nakoa had predicted, the chamber opened into one main hallway that led to a set of stairs ascending towards a bright light. Sage ducked into one of the many shadowed alcoves, eyes roaming over the other chambers, searching for his teammates. 

Poppy stumbled out into the open first. Sage gave three sharp whistles---the signal they’d decided on to meet up. 

Besides a small cut on her cheek, she seemed relatively unharmed. She slid into the alcove next to Sage, breathing heavily. A few other competitors entered the main hallway, gathering in various alcoves similar to Sage and Poppy. 

Nakoa found them next, and Adrian followed a moment later. They appeared uninjured, something Sage was infinitely grateful for. 

“Do we all have our gems?” Adrian asked under his breath.

Sage fished his gem out of his pocket, holding it up. Poppy and Nakoa echoed his movements before they all tucked away the jewels. 

Once again, Sage wondered if they actually had a chance at winning the Tournament. 

Now, where was Jett? 

Several more competitors filtered out of the Grace-specific chambers. Sage watched the door marked with a snake but Jett did not emerge. 

He was about to suggest someone go to look for Jett when a small figure stumbled out of the doors, keeling over. Despite his teammates’ warnings, Sage bolted to help. 

Jett’s mask was gone and his face was a bloody mess. His eyes locked onto Sage before his knees buckled. Sage grabbed Jett’s shoulders, keeping him upright. Worry sent his voice an octave higher. “Jett? What happened?” 

Jett’s eyes fluttered shut. 

Adrian was at his side a moment later, helping Sage to heave Jett across the hallway and into the shadowed alcove. Poppy stared at them, wide-eyed, while Nakoa began methodically searching Jett’s pockets. 

“What are you doing?” Sage hissed, distraught. 

Nakoa looked up at him, her mismatched eyes gleaming with fire. “Searching for a gem. If he has one, we can get out of here now and get him help.”

Oh. Sage hadn’t considered that. He ran a hand through his curls, trying to get a grip. The image of Jett collapsing replayed in his mind. Jett slumping over after the meeting with the king. Jett dropping like a puppet with cut strings after being sedated before the first Trial. Jett plummeting into unconsciousness, his face black and blue and painted with crimson streaks. 

“He doesn’t have one,” Nakoa sighed at last. 

“Not a big deal,” Adrian decided. “We can steal one off of one of the other teams. Poppy, are you up to healing Jett? We could use the extra help.”

Poppy glanced up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. Sage sensed the terror in her words as she mumbled, “I’m afraid I’m Graceless for the time being.”

“What?!” Sage burst. 

“It was another competitor. He must’ve had poison on his ring when he punched me. So, no, I can’t wake up Jett. Or heal anyone. But I can still fight,” she argued with resolve. 

“That’s great, but let’s not start a brawl with cold-blooded killers,” Nakoa said. She looked at Sage. “You said you could pickpocket, right? That was your plan for if you couldn’t get a gem in time.”

Sage nodded. “You want me to pickpocket one off one of the competitors out here?”

“Be quick about it,” Nakoa said, which was confirmation enough. 

Sage looked to Adrian for permission. He shrugged, glancing worriedly at Jett. “Do what you have to. Holler if you need any help.”

Poppy began to protest but Adrian cut her off. Sage noted that the prince refused to look at her when he cut her off. He could practically taste the tension boiling between them, and he pitied Nakoa for being forced to deal with it. 

A moment later, he hurried towards one of the other slowly accumulating teams. 

The nearest one consisted of four people, holding out their gems as if comparing them. Sage just needed to get close enough to snatch the gem. He could bolt for the exit and hope his limp didn’t get in the way. On second thought, maybe he wasn’t cut out for this job--

Jett needs medical attention, he reminded himself. 

Sage shot a look back at his teammates, who watched him with wariness. He gestured towards the exit, a hint to run. Nakoa and Adrian nodded, lifting Jett between them. Poppy clenched her fists, ready to defend them at a moment’s notice. 

Here goes nothing. 

Years of watching pickpockets hadn’t exactly taught Sage the grace he needed to be successful. But he’d also seen enough botched attempts to know what to do if you failed. Run like there’s no tomorrow. 

He mimicked their stealthy approach. All pickpockets had their tells. You could tell who was looking to steal in a crowd by their shifty eyes and measured steps. 

He fixed his attention on the moonstone gleaming in the farthest competitor’s hands. The whole team was engaged in conversation, oblivious to their surroundings. Sage took a step closer, and another. His breathing came rapid and shallow. Two more steps. 

Sage leapt, miscalculating the distance between him and the moonstone. He ended up barreling into the nearest competitor and shoving him bodily to the floor. Sage caught his balance, but the Graced of Deceit had already closed his fist, wrapping his gloved fingers around the moonstone. 

Doesn’t matter, Sage told himself. 

He threw a wild punch and the competitor ducked to avoid it, giving Sage the distraction he needed to knee the competitor in the gut. The moonstone clattered to the ground. Sage’s fingers wrapped around it a moment later and then he was running. 

His feet pounded against the ground, a frantic and familiar rhythm. His stiff leg threatened to buckle but he pushed on regardless. Adrian, Nakoa, and Jett appeared in the corner of his vision. They raced towards the steps, Poppy right behind them. 

Faster, Sage. Faster. You can do better than this.

He pushed ahead, his ankle catching on the last step. He rolled to the ground, somehow managing a clumsy somersault as he crossed a line painted in the sand. 

Sand? 

Sunlight burned his vision but Sage let out a gasp of relief. Fates, he’d made it. A glance backwards told him his teammates had made it as well. 

“We need to see all five gems,” said one of the judges from under a nearby canopy. “Then we can get you all fixed up.”

Adrian gathered their gems. The five jewels glittered in varying shades of silver and blue as he handed them over to the judges, who inspected them for a frustratingly long time. Sage wrung his fingers, his gaze drifting to Jett and then back to the judge. Couldn’t they hurry this up? 

“Congrats. You’re the third team to cross the line,” the judge announced. He checked their bandana color and told them they could use the tent with the identical hue. “Once the Trial is over, you’ll be notified and you’ll be free to go. Follow the path back to the city. Tomorrow evening will mark the first Elimination.”

On that happy note, Sage and the others found the maroon tent and laid Jett down on the cot inside of it. 

“We made it,” he whispered, not realizing he’d said it aloud until Poppy smiled at him. 

“Of course we did,” she said, as though she’d never doubted them at all. Sage stifled a laugh. It seemed impossible, unreal. Was this a dream? 

“We’ll have to exchange stories later,” Adrian said. He flopped over on the ground, hands folded neatly behind his head. “But for now? I say we should sleep for the next ten years.”

Author's Note

Just as a follow-up to the last few chapters (13-17): Was it too much action in one spot? Were there any inconsistencies between character injuries, appearances, timing, etc? Any comments are welcome!