Trials

Roughly 9000 words. A young man must face several trials to achieve a prestegious postion. They test his mastery of Terror magics and the last trial is the unknown and impossibly demanding.

Trials

By Quinn Roels

“Disciple Jarin,” Ülaf spoke with his voice raised so it boomed and echoed around the chamber. “You will now face the trial of combat mastery. The Wizens will observe and intervene if any of you are in mortal peril. However, this may prove lethal,  but this trial is necessary. The Wizens are practitioners and scholars of the Terrors, but we are also the protectors of this land's people. The magic of the Terrors is sacred and daunting. It is our solemn duty to ensure that terror does not befall and ruin the common folk we swear to protect.”

His voice trailed off and the room suddenly became silent. Anxiety knotted in Jarin’s chest, but he breathed deeply to calm himself.

“Close your eyes,” Ülaf boomed again. “And we will begin.

Jarin took in a lung full of air and breathed out a long and slow breath. As he did his eyes closed and his head bowed. Ülaf nodded to a pair of other Wizens that positioned themselves behind Jarin. They both threw down their robes revealing a tight wrapped cloth uniform underneath as well as an array of blades. Knives were holstered in belts and bandoliers along with a pair of thin saberes strapped to their backs. After they had unsheathed their saberes and fell into a fighting stance they nodded back at Ülaf who had cast off his robes to reveal a similar array of weapons.

Immediately Ülaf threw a small dagger at Jarin’s head. Jarin, who had begun a battle meditation, could feel the magic well up inside of him as death shot towards him. He focused on it and sensed the direction. He opened his eyes, flung his hands out, and let out a sharp breath. The Terror of blade death gave him the focused ability to attract and repel metals. He used this to alter the knife’s trajectory towards the Wizens advancing behind him. It passed a hair's breadth from his cheek. Jarin used just enough to escape the immediate threat but tapped vitality and impact before the Terror subsided. He used his vitality to spin and leap towards the Wizens at an unnatural speed and he shot a burst of gravity towards the one on the right. It did not force him too far but enough to separate him from his partner which Jarin advanced on. 

“SEN!” Jarin shouted, signaling for Ülaf to attack him again. He continued to run, unarmed, towards the saber wielding Wizen. Each Wizen was trained to be a master swordsman among other martial arts. The man he approached, Master Tielaf, did not simply wait to be attacked. He rushed Jarin who had closed his eyes once more to feel for the magic. He already felt the Terrors swelling inside of him from his approach on the Master. However, it came in a sharp burst as he felt the danger from Ülaf’s next blade darting towards his neck. Opening his eyes he used the same technique as last time. He deflected the blade to pass just by his head and towards Master Tielaf who was bringing his saber to bear on Jarin in a wide horizontal swipe. In addition he tapped more blade death to ready a block against the impending blow. Now Jarin tapped heat death, a very difficult Terror to grasp without feeling a burn, and reversed its power. He simultaneously moved Master Tielaf’s blade up and just above his head while beginning to sap the heat from Tielaf’s hands. The sensation would feel much like plunging one's hand into freezing water, only much harsher. 

The move was effective as he could see his opponent’s grip falter. Perhaps too effective as the Wizen tapped the same Terror and performed a reversal on the attack. This too was a high level skill where the defender deflected a Terror magic back at the attacker. It only worked if the attack posed a real threat and required a deep attunement with the Magic. Jarin was astonished at how quickly he started to feel his face burn. Panic welled up in his chest, but it was washed by excitement as Jarin devised a counter. He could use this attack.

“SET!” Jarin shouted, now signaling Ülaf that he would lock in on his opponent. 

Now Jarin would continue to reflect lethal blows back and forth between him and his opponent until one of them faltered. The trading of blows would sustain each other’s Terror magic sources. As Ülaf rushed past him to continue the separation of the opponent fighting pair Jarin tapped his Terror from the burning on his face. Tielaf had already begun to spin around to bring his saber back but Jarin tapped the Terror of heat death to cool himself and then tapped impact once more. Grasping this magic desperately he let out a powerful push of gravity towards his opponent's leg. The Wizen deftly transferred weight turning his spin into a tight roll and coming up to throw a knife at Jarin’s chest. Just as Jarin hoped.

Jarin stilled his mind in that moment and focused hard on not letting the Terror of Blade Death overcome him. He tapped just a little bit of Vitality and moved his hand to catch the flying dagger. He barely got his hand to it in time and the blade bit into his skin about a half inch. Pain seared through his veins but he continued to focus. Continuing to fight off the fear of blade death he focused on Impact once more for an even greater push of gravity. This wave sent his opponent flying towards the line of spectating Wizens who stepped out of the way, not wanting to interfere with the trial. Jarin quickly turned to Master Ülaf and the other Wizen, who looked like Master Rertic. They appeared evenly matched. Jarin wanted to uneven the odds before the fighting pair regrouped. Ülaf did not shout for a Sen so Jarin simply joined the attack with the blade he captured. 

Rertic was tapping vitality almost solely in order to keep up with two different attackers. This may have been an intentional strategy to ensure Jarin and Ülaf received no Terror magic of their own and then surprise them with another attack suddenly. Jarin watched for the switch and continued to press the Master with Ülaf at his side. They pushed him back quickly with Ülaf making strong strikes that required a parry and Jarin cutting in from the unprotected sides. Only the additional vitality kept the opponent alive. With the opponent master overwhelmed he called out. “SEN!” Rertic yelled. This was the switch Jarin had waited for. Trusting his gut he yelled out a simultaneous command,

“SEN!” Jarin yelled. He saw no hesitation in Ülaf’s eyes. A fighter pair had to trust each other completely. While swinging his sword toward Rertic’s neck Ülaf threw a knife straight for Jarin’s chest. Another knife was headed for Rertic’s back. With both blades so close to the opponent Master, Jarin knew this was going to be an impressive counter. He closed his eyes and felt the danger approaching. Continuing to focus he also felt the Terrors rise to Rertic’s aid. Jarin tapped vitality. Just a little more than last time to avoid another wound. He caught Ülaf’s dagger perfectly and started to feel a veritable tsunami of gravity come from Wizen Rertic. At the same time Jarin tapped his remaining Terror from Ülaf’s attack and combined it with a reversal of Rertic’s wave. It was almost too much to concentrate on and he could feel himself start to waver.

Through the chaos and pain he found peace, a focus, and a drive to overcome it all. He let out a focused burst of blade death Terror propelling the dagger from his hands at incredible speeds. Jarin was being knocked back by the gravity swell as he did so but he continued to focus on the blade. Pushing it until he could no longer sense it. He did not know if it struck true because he was flung backwards towards the wall at a blinding speed. He barely had time to right his body and switch focus on the impact Terror to slow himself. It wasn't as much as he hoped and he slammed into a mosaic on the far wall of the temple. He hoped that was a cracked mosaic tile he heard and not a bone. Still, the fight was at hand. He rolled over and fought through his dizziness to stand. 

However, there was no more movement. He saw the blade he shot suspended a fraction of an inch from Wizen Rertic’s forehead. A killing blow. It had been stopped by the combined strength of the spectating Wizens. The Wizen’s strange ability to access the Terrors without being under threat had been used to intervene. Jarin let out a sigh of relief. The trial had ended and the Wizen’s intrusion on his opponent’s behalf had signaled his pass. 

Ülaf was kneeling several yards from Jarin. It seemed he had been able to completely slow himself and land unharmed. He hadn't been focusing on an attack though. He was staring at Jarin. His look showed some kind of sorrow. Jarin grew worried at this and he looked around to be sure everything was alright. Master Tielaf and Rertic were collecting their robes and joining a semi circle on the marble meditation space. They all looked on, expectantly, at Jarin and Ülaf. Nothing seemed wrong. Jarin turned back to Ülaf who’s look had changed to one of pride. He had produced a bandage and seemed intent on tending to Jarin’s wounds. Jarin allowed the Master to see to him.

“Ülaf, is everything alright? Have I failed” Jarin questioned in a low tone.

“No. No my boy.” Ülaf sighed and adopted a warm fatherly expression “You did better than we could have expected. I guess we should have expected that.” He muffled a soft laugh at his own joke and his smile grew. This put Jarin more at ease and Ülaf turned his head to focus on bandaging his wound. It didn't look too bad. The pain had already begun to subside. Jarin shook himself. Trying to shake the odd feeling Ülaf’s initial look had brought on. He closed his eyes and took an opportunity to relax. He had done it. He had beaten a Wizen Master. It was validating. So often people looked at him differently because of his aptitude. At least now he had proof it was deserved. This realization did not make him feel better. If anything it made him feel a little worse. Had he spent all this time trying to be someone just because others saw him that way? No. He told himself. He would not let inner struggle dampen his moment of triumph. The Wizens had not dismissed him. Surely they would administer the final trial and he would be a Wizen himself. This was to be his time.

He patted Ülaf on the shoulder and the older man stopped his work on the bandage. It was good enough. They both turned to the other Wizens and bowed. Ülaf went ahead of him and stood at the top of the semi circle. Jarin knelt before the Wizens determined to see this through, no matter what happened. Ülaf began to speak. “Disciple Jarin, this marks the completion of our first trial. You have proven that you have the skills to handle the Terrors with precision. There will be no reprieve between this trial and the next. You must make the Great Fall unaided. Please continue to the rear gardens and leap as soon as you're ready. Prior Merri will assist you should you make it successfully to the bottom.”

Jarin knew this was next but still he could feel a cold sweat as he anticipated the next step in his trials. Him and the Wizen’s began to walk across the polish marble floors of the temple of Wizen Ma to the large wooden doors set in the rear of the meditation hall. This hall had been cleared for the Trial and would be empty until it was complete. Behind the temple an open air garden was walled on either side touching the temple, but the side that ended in a massive cliff was unprotected. 

The curated garden had small shrubs and plants between neatly combed gravel. A few other disciples mediated by combing the large swatches of gravel in flowing patterns. These disciples bowed their heads in reverence as Jarin and Wizens passed. Jarin eventually made it to the edge of the garden that overlooked the cliff and the lower temple far below. The Great Fall was the main method of practice for the Wizens. Usually a fall was made with close supervision and a practiced Prior overseeing the training. Now Jarin would make the fall himself. 

He knew, from experience, the last step was best taken quickly. He looked back at the Wizens who proctored his trials, who bowed low in respect. Jarin bowed in return and then leaped off the cliff. The fall from the ancient cliff top temple would be short despite the thousand feet traveled during the drop. The ground rushed towards him ready to take his life in a sudden gruesome moment. The wind rushed past Jarin aggressively ruffling the folds of his robe and his short black hair. He closed his eyes and started meditating to calm himself. He did his best to ignore the sensations of fear and anxiety. The prolonged effects of falling made his body quiver and shake slightly. He stilled. Opening his eyes he could see the smaller temple at the base of the cliff. A few figures were milling about oblivious to his impending doom. In the final moments of his fall Jarin looked inward.

He focused his thoughts on the ground. The speed at which he came to meet it made his gut wrench. In that moment he took the wrenching and focused on it. It terrified him and that terror gave him power. As he focused and attuned to the Terror of falling to his death he was able to access the magic to stop it. The Terror of impact gifting him with the magic to affect gravity in a controlled area. He moved his hands against the torrent of winds to balance himself. He  focused on changing the gravity in the area around and beneath him. Like always the magic came to him in a large pool of energy. Once tapped he focused on the amount needed to help him face the current threat and he started to slow as if moving through honey rather than air.

He had timed it just right. He twisted his body as he fell and his feet hit the ground with little more than a soft pat. Prior Merri was there waiting for him at the side of the large flat courtyard that made up the landing platform from the Great Fall. A place for the practice of magic and meditation. Though it was mostly cleared a few other Commissioned Disciples were meditating or observing. The Commissioned, as they were called, had completed their training but either did not have the aptitude for higher power or did not yearn for it. They served as Lectors or Sacrists for the order or were sent out beyond the city for various missions. Prior Marri, a matronly woman who taught most of the younger disciples and made a point to watch all the higher trials, placed a tender hand on Jarin’s shoulder and they both knelt. They were to wait for the Wizens to make the Great Fall themselves before continuing

“Cutting it a little close, aren't you?” she said with a conspiratorial smile.

“You know me,” Jarin said with mock arrogance “wanted to keep you on the edge of your seats.”

“Terrors lad” Prior Marri said “the lords know you're already doing that. You're the youngest man to ever take the Wizen Trials.”

Priors were the distinguished leaders among the order and usually had special skills but were still not the masters of the Terror Magics like the Wizens. A few of them had attempted the trial, even kindly Marri, but they had either failed or dropped out. Within moments the fluttering of robes signaled the descent of the proctoring Wizens. Ülaf had made his way to Jarin and rested a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. He regarded Jarin with those dull but wise blue eyes. The man towered over most which only added to the bald man’s imposing glare. 

Jarin looked up at the cliff top temple of Wizen Ma and contemplated the trials. With his successful and unaided landing from the Great Fall he would now be presented with the final trial to prove his mastery of the Terror Magics. He knew the risks he took and the audacity of his actions already had made waves through the other magic disciples. He was a prodigy and he felt a pressure to rise to their unspoken expectations. Wanted or warranted those expectations had divided him from his peers and pushed him to this point.

“You know, my boy,” Ülaf said in a low tone. “You don’t have to do this. You are a talented Disciple. You don’t need this title to prove that.” Jarin was taken aback by this. True, Ülaf had been reluctant to let Jarin take the trials, but he never expected him to be against it. Doubt stirred within him. Ülaf was more than just his teacher. Jarin considered him a close friend. Jarin had worked hard for this. For many years. A lot of it was done with Ülaf. Surely he didn't object. It must just be a friendly worry. Jarin thought to himself. Ülaf meant well.

“I have to, Master Ülaf.” Jarin stated with his eyes still on the temple. “I have to prove I’m worth this attention and this innate skill.”

Ülaf said nothing but looked at Jarin with concern and something that bordered on a knowing sorrow. Jarin grew concerned that the elderly Wizen knew something he didn’t. That something in these trials was beyond Jarin. But Jarin had a lifetime of exceeding expectations behind him and tradition keeping the Wizen elders from stopping the trials. Ülaf’s eyes suddenly focused on something behind Jarin. He turned to see five dark robed figures begin ascending the staircase back towards the cliff where Wizen Ma sat, out of view. One of the older Wizens, it looked like Rodin, quickly moved to stop them. The steps were to be kept clear during any trials despite what writs of passage Miur Superior had given them.

The cloaked figures were undoubtedly Sumu from the east. Their sect of Terror Magic had appeared no more than ten years ago but had quickly risen in popularity due to their unique use of deadly gasses to create prolonged and, more importantly, unprompted sessions of Terror Magic. Tensions between them and the ancient Wizens, who’s sect had thrived for nearly three hundred and fifty years, was at an all time high due to the Muir Superior's acceptance of their advice in recent politics. Ülaf’s hand tightened on his shoulder as he watched Rodin shoo them out of the temple grounds towards another path of ascension to the city.

“Comfortable fools.” Ülaf spat. “The temple stairs may be a proper path to Wizen Ma and the city for others, but they should know better than to step on our grounds.”

“Come Master Ülaf. Let’s continue.” Jarin said as he began to move. “Those men can not hamper my day of trial.” 

Ülaf allowed himself to be distracted and he fell back in line with the other Wizen’s. He took a deep breath and continued the ceremony that started with Jarin’s plummet from the top of the cliff.

“Disciple Jarin.” Ülaf began “Your lone decent and safe landing from the Great Fall marks the end of your public trials. These Trials of the Wizen are designed to test your resolve, your powers, and your self.” He added the last trial somberly. “The  final trial will be unlike any of these and will require a clear and focused mind. Please ascend the stairs towards the temple and reflect on your lessons and training that built the disciple you are today. May Muiren Primus give you guidance and power.” With that the five Wizens preceding over the trials bowed their heads and let Jarin begin ascending the stairs.

During the hike, designed as a sort of meditation, Jarin did indeed reflect. The Sumus and their unorthodox methods of Terror Magic pulled memories of Jarin’s first lessons to his mind. He was taught that their god, Muirn Primus, protected all through the magic of the Terrors. When anyone was confronted with something that could cause their death they were given access to a wealth of magic powers that was focused on their immediate threat. The first Wizen’s had learned that, despite the Terror faced, a multitude of other powers were accessible as well. When one tapped the writhing wealth of power offered to those close to death they could attune to specific abilities. At least for those who learned to work with it. This dangerous power was always balanced by the brief time in which the user had to work with it and the mortal danger they were in.

A Wizen, the masters of his order, were completely in tune with this power and could use dualing pairs to simultaneously trigger another’s Terror magic and manipulate their own. The Sumu, however, had no such limits or checks. Through the use of a controlled dose of a deadly gas from the Moonsnake flower they could access the magic of the Terrors for much longer whenever they pleased. Not only that, their powers were somehow different. The magic one had access to was also linked to the impending death, or Terror, they were facing. The Wizen’s sect mainly used blades, blunt force, and falling, along with a special power only the Wizen Masters had access to. There were multiple other Terrors such as sickness, asphyxiation, and poisoning that were still not well understood.

The Terror’s could protect but they could not heal so these Terros were much more dangerous to practice. Atleast, no one had even been able to heal with it, yet. What would this new sect of Sumu mean for Terror Magic? And what did they want with the ruler of the Western Empire, Muir Supreme? Jarin tried to quiet these thoughts as he ascended the steps. He reflected on his previous trial, but this only made him worry about matters more embarrassing. He was alone in this. Very rarely did one take a Wizen trial on their own. After all, Wizen’s had to practice magic in pairs. Jarin was only Nineteen, barely to his second passing of the Comet Yawin, and his peers were far too inexperienced to keep up. Ülaf did not want to split Jarin from his fellow students at first, but in the end the Wizen’s could not ignore the vast potential he had. So Ülaf had practiced with him the past few years.

Jarin ascended the final steps to Wizen Ma and he took a moment at the top. To the south lay the gray canyons of the Jeradi Plains. Wind moaned through the tall rock formations of the vast land. It was only occasionally broken by low shrubs and a small snaking river. Behind him was the city of Muirden placed atop a massive stepped plateau. The Jeradi Riu, the main river in the plains, originated further northward. It cascaded down a step in the plateau on the north side of the city which was practically carved from the gray rock. The river and the natural defensible location made this city one of the grandest in all of Merise. Its reaching spires and domed buildings sprawled across the massive step was a masterpiece of granite stonework. 

Wizen Ma, where he had started the trials, was perched at the southernmost point of the large Plateau step. Its grand dome was flanked by two large box-like wings of carved granite. All of it is framed by elegant columns and colorful mosaics depicting robed figures flying, falling, battling, and fighting off evil. The majesty of the ancient Epics inscribed on the walls rivaled its neighbor; the palace of the Muir Supreme which gleamed like a massive onyx gemstone. This was the only other building close to the cliff and its walls were similarly ornate but gilded with gold, silver, and jet black stonework. The rest of the city was modeled after the mastery of these buildings but could not come closer to their grace.

Jarin took a deep breath. Completing these trials would put him at the forefront of all of this. The Muir Supreme may hold the political power but everyone knew the Wizens were the true might of the city. There was something more about the elders that no one could decipher. Some kind of secret to their mastery of the Terror Magics. What would learning that secret mean for him and could he handle the responsibility of being the strength for the massive stone city. He looked inward for his determination, which had faltered slightly, and continued to the temple grounds. He heard the shuffling footsteps of the Wizens behind him and did not want to be caught hesitating on the steps.

Inside the temple, at the very center, was a yellow-white marble floored meditation hall. This had been emptied for the combat trial earlier and would remain so until the completion of this one. Green pillars of polished stone held aloft the large domed ceiling which was adorned with more mosaics similar to the ones outside. Jarin sat in the middle atop an inlaid design of red and black stone that resembled a large bullseye. The tiles of the floor were joined with a thin lining of gold. Ülaf positioned himself in front of Jarin at the edge of a large inlaid circle where the golden border widened and was worked into a design of elegant filigree. This formed the rim of the meditation circle within the hall. The other Wizens circled them on the raised platform around the meditation ring that continued into other hallways of the temple. 

 “Disciple Jarin!” Ülaf declared, as he did after the last trial, ”You have bested one of the Master Wizens in combat alongside one of your brethren. Thus, you have proven not just your skill but the trust that we must all have for each other in the face of terror. You have also called the Terrors to your aid on your own during the Great Fall. Thus, you have proven your own faith in your powers and the ability to carry the burden of power on your own.” Ülaf looked around at the Wizens before him.

“Before we continue, are there any among us that wish to intercede on behalf of the Wizens not present or speak their objection to the continuation of the trials.” The other Wizens shared glances with each other. Obviously there was some expectation that someone would mention how young Jarin was or something of the sort. But nothing was mentioned. However, each master rested their gaze on Ülaf for some time before bowing their heads and remaining silent. Ülaf, oddly, did not meet Jarin’s eyes during this, which made him want to squirm. What was going on with these trials and why did Ülaf feel so oddly about it. The silence hung for a while. Jarin did not know if this was formality or hesitancy on the old Wizen’s part. Jarin endured the quieted gaze of these elders until, finally, Ülaf broke the silence.

“Very well, disciple Jarin, are you ready for this final trial? Be warned. Pass or fail, this trial will affect you for the remainder of your life. Failure will mean you may not retake the trials and possibly your death.”  Jarin was taken aback by this. He had never heard of these clauses. The other Wizens did not flinch. This must be part of the secrets of the Wizen’s powers. Jarin felt so much anxious energy he could nearly access the Terrors. Closing his eyes and forcing himself to be calm. Jarin grabbed his determination once more.

“Yes, Master Ülaf” Jarin said in as even a voice as he could manage. Ülaf held his gaze with that look once more. But he obviously did not want to dwell on whatever was causing it. 

“Very well,” Ülaf nearly shouted, “let us…” He was cut off by a distant but distinct bell ringing. Jarin had only heard it a few times during drills. All residents of Muirden were to know this sound. The Wizens all paled and Jarin’s mind started to race. The city was under attack. 

A long moment stretched between them as the bell continued to ring in the distance. Jarin did not know how long it lasted and he feared he’d be paralyzed by disbelief. It was the Wizens who acted first. Jarin barely noticed them cast off their robes and break into a jog towards the exit. A hand on his shoulder shook him out of the daze. Master Ülaf began to urge him towards the west wing as he spoke to the other Wizens.

“Master Tielaf, Master Rertic,” Ülaf started, “descend to the lower temple. See that Prior Marri and Shudeth get the younger disciples to safety. They are to institute a lockdown.” They had made their way to a set of doors which lead to the temple barracks. Ülaf let go of Jarin, who, guessing at their direction, opened the doors and began leading them to the armory. “Master Rodin” Ülaf continued and pointed down the hall to the common area “Gather the other Wizens and the higher disciples. Meet us in the eastern square.”

The Wizens were heading away and the once silent halls were quickly becoming a flurry of white robes and panicked faces. Jarin continued to the Armory and they were joined by Prior Jesshu, a gruff man and seasoned veteran, who was leading a group of a few Wizen Masters and Commissioned. 

Reality sank into Jarin the way an axe would into dried wood. A very disconcerting anxiety unlike anything he had felt before started to crack his mind. The mental trials of the day were already wearing on him. He was still reeling from the disbelief of making it to the final Wizen trial and the sudden attack on the city was so unbelievable. He could not keep his thoughts together.  To keep his grip Jarin started a mental meditation and cleared his mind to let the training take over. The next few minutes were a blur of robes, weapons, panicked voices and harsh orders. Jarin vaguely remembered the bells stopping and a battalion of the city guardians conferring with Ülaf, who must have sent for a runner. Things swam through Jarin’s vision as he reflexively responded to Ülaf’s commands and instinctively navigated the temple. His thoughts began racing behind the practiced moves though.

What was he doing? What was he going to do? Could he have been so close to actualizing his goal of becoming a Wizen only to have it taken away so abruptly? How could he practice calm control of his whole life only to have chaos and random chance take away his victory? Was he able to even choose his path or was it all subject to unknowable fate? Despite the steady movements towards the eastern courtyard he felt his insides churn with a sudden depression.

If this attack was real then he may not be able to take the trials for some time or even ever. Right? Who would he be if not the man he had trained so long to be? Who…who was guarding the palace of the Muir Supreme? Through the flurry of robes he noticed an unnatural stillness about the temple. He had done hundreds of drills like this and there was always someone to guard the temple. He quieted his internal struggle for now.

“Master Ülaf” Jarin projected himself above the disciples that were now organizing into groups among ranks of the royal army. Master Ülaf was speaking with another Wizen, a few Priors, and Captains of the army. Jarin suddenly felt embarrassed, but it was too late to worry about the impropriety of his interjection. He turned and looked Jarin up and down. Jarin glanced back at the palace and Ülaf followed his gaze. 

“We have our orders.” His voice was commanding and booming as it had been within the temple during the trials. “We will communicate by runner as much as possible until we need to reconvene. Go quickly.” As the soldiers and disciples left, Ülaf strode back to Jarin. “What is it?” he asked. Though his gaze drifted back to the temple as if to guess at Jarin’s concern.

“There should be guards outside the palace Master.” Jarin unconsciously lowered his voice as if saying his concerns too loudly would bring them to life, “something is wrong here.”

“Maybe not,” Ülaf said, failing to convince even himself. “Though we should take a closer look and ask the palace guard.” The palace’s grandeur was daunting up close. The smooth black walls etched with silver inlaid reliefs loomed over the rest of the city. The shiny black stone emanated heat which added to the imposing air the palace had. The doors, which were impossible to open without a large mechanism, were sealed shut and the silent building seemed to be holding now that the warning bell had been silenced. Master Ülaf went to a special door off to the side where you could communicate with the guards.

Jarin studied the walls and windows for signs of movement. Even the upper balcony that served as a battlement was ominously vacant. Ülaf returned with his expression worried. Before either of them could say anything they heard the quick thumping of footsteps in the courtyard. 

“Master Wizen!” A young boy yelled. “Master Wizen, the call came from within the palace.”

The runner stopped a few paces from there and bent, panting for breath. Master Ülaf placed his hand on the young boy’s shoulder.

“What of the walls?” Master Ülaf said quickly. “Is there an army?” The boy looked up.

“No.” He got out between gasps of breath. “No, the army is returning to the temple. Master Wizen the general fears the Muir Supreme is in danger.” Master Ülaf stood and looked at Jarin, then around the empty courtyard.

“Jarin,” He spoke urgently. “We can’t wait for the army. We must act now.” Before Jarin could answer Ülaf landed a powerful kick on the Palace doors that shook it within the framing. He was tapping vitality like Jarin had never seen. He shouldn't be able to do that. Another kick actually cracked the stone door. Jarin had no time to be impressed at the master's strength though. He had outfitted himself before leaving the temple so he unsheathed a knife and handed it to the message boy. 

“Throw this at me.” Jarin said casually as he turned to face the door Ülaf was still striking. The message boy was stunned and started to sputter. “There is no time, just throw it at me!” Jarin shouted as Ülaf landed another kick that started to crack the edges of the door. The boy, startled by the command and the sight of an elderly man bringing down the palace doors chucked the blade. Jarin already had his back to him. Thankfully the boy aimed true and Jarin could feel the Terror of blade death begin to well up inside of him. Jarin quickly turned it all into vitality and spun his body in a full powered kick in time with Ülaf’s. The spin brought his body just out of the way of the blade and let him connect with the door with a great force. Jarin and Ülaf’s power combined made a crack echo through the courtyard. Dust and rock chips sprayed away from the doorway. As it settled a large gapping crack was apparent through the door they had hit. It started to teeter and they stepped to the side as it came crashing down.

The messenger boy fell to his knees in awe but Jarin and Ülaf did not notice. They raced over the broken door and proceeded into the palace. Inside it was somehow more quiet than the courtyard. The hallway was dark and it made the end ominously disappear into the distance. They continued to run through the darkened halls and Jarin tripped over something on the floor. A body. No blood but the neck had been twisted at an unnatural angle. Ülaf knelt down to inspect the body as Jarin lay prone nearby. At this point he did not know what to feel. This was almost becoming too much for him to take. Ülaf brought Jarin to his feet. Their eyes were barely visible to each other but Jarin believed Ülaf could read his emotions through them. They walked several paces from the body.

“Be calm my boy.” Ülaf’s tone softened like that of a father consoling a wounded son. “This is our calling. This is what it means to be a Wizen. We are protectors. We master things others can not to bear a burden they could never withstand. This terror you feel.” He placed his hand on Jarin’s heart. “Is something we must carry with us. We are blessed with talent and that means we have a responsibility to use it. There is no greater calling than to use one’s own gifts for the benefit of others.” Ülaf smiled his warm smile. Jarin felt comforted and found his voice. 

“Very well Master Ülaf.” He said with a smile. “After all, someone needs to look after you, old man.” Ülaf chuckled at the wisecrack and the hall fell silent again. Jarin felt bolstered by the purpose behind Ülaf’s words. The turmoil within him stilled and he grabbed hold of a resolution. If he was blessed with talent as Ülaf implied then he would be the person to use it wisely. He could take on this calling the Wizen’s were privileged to. They continued to move but a light up ahead made them slow their pace. A sound, like thumping, was coming from an area ahead. Jarin did not know the palace well but he believed this was the direction to the Muir Supreme’s chambers.

They rounded a corner and saw a room filled with flickering torchlight. It illuminated a dismal scene in a large antichamber of broken bodies and bloodied corpses. They were littered on an ornate red rug. The golden filigreed pattern on the floor mingled with bloody silver weapons and pools of blood. The walls, adorned with black and gold tapestries amid the dark marbled walls had an occasional spray of blood and the majesty of the pillars tried to defy the scene of horror. The red cast of the torchlight only served to enhance the gruesome scene with deep black dancing shadows.

At the rear of the room a set of golden doors defied a pair of figures standing before them. Though bent and broken the doors held against a powerful kick similar to Ülaf’s strike in the courtyard. The doors continued to hold, but just barely. The scene had just enough time to make dread and uncertainty return to Jarin before the figures turned. A pair of Sumu glared at them from behind their odd masks. Jarin quickly began the battle meditation he had just performed during his trial. He looked to Ülaf who lifted his chin which signaled that he would advance first. They quickly fell into stances and Ülaf started running towards the figures.

The Sumu immediately split which shocked Jarin at first. He was used to fighting against battle pairs or single enemies. The Sumu split, likely to single out foes and possibly separate Ülaf and Jarin as a fighting pair. Ülaf threw a pair of knives at the Sumu rounding their left side to stop them. Both him and Jarin started to close in. Hopefully, Ülaf sought to bare down on a single enemy to defeat them quickly and avoid being split up as Jarin did.

“SEN!” Ülaf shouted. Jarin already had a knife ready in perparation but as he started to throw he felt a Terror well up inside of him. He was not attuned to this specific Terror which startled him and his aim faltered. Thinking fast he tapped blade death and vitality. Using blade death he tried to correct the trajectory of the knife and with vitality he lurched to the side. He felt something rush by his leg and a deafening crack resounded through the chamber. It was followed by a crumbling sound. The Sumu was already running towards him.

“SET!” Jarin managed before he brought out one of his short sabers to defend himself. This would signal he was engaged and he hoped Ülaf was able to do the same. Worry threatened the calm battle meditation as Jarin realized that the Sumu had succeeded in splitting them. This wasn’t going well. Jarin kept his blade forward but low to allow for a lethal attack to trigger his Terror. The Sumu had closed the distance but did not present a weapon. Instead they ducked to his right side to get behind his blade and get rid of his reach advantage. They were incredibly quick and Jarin could not change his guard in time to block several blows to his side. 

Jarin buckled under the pain in his kidney, but they were non lethal blows. They were intentionally restraining their attacks to limit his access to the Terrors, and it was working. Jarin slashed in an arc toward his opponent but they were able to quickly dodge. They were likely using vitality to move quickly between attacks. They came in and again Jarin was too slow to block their hits. This time he had the wind knocked out of him. Reeling from the hit, Jarin was barely able to see Sumu suddenly leap into the air through the darkened chamber. They followed an awkward arc and they started to descend rapidly in a downward kick. How did they do that? Jarin thought. It wasn’t natural Terror welled up in him again.

Jarin flung himself backwards with a vitality fueled jump and a push of gravity. He was fast but so was the Sumu. It was closer than it should have been. Jarin could feel the rush of air as their foot plummeted towards the stone floor and made another loud crack. Jarin then realized why he couldnt attune to the Terror of the first attack. The rock floor crumbled and cracked beneath the might of the Sumu’s drop kick. Jarin must have been feeling the Terror of crushing death. A very dangerous and unpracticed Terror by the Wizens. Suddenly Jarin was keenly aware of how far he had been pushed from Ülaf.

Looking across the chamber Jarin saw Ülaf engaged in a hand to hand brawl with his Sumu who was bleeding from several cuts along his arms. Jarin had to pair up again. His opponent had reset himself but did not advance. Instead he threw a black lump towards him. Jarin sliced at it with his saber. A small squelching sound was made just before he felt two different impacts on his chest. It likely bruised him, but again was non lethal. Jarin started to smell sulphur and smoke. He realized too late that his clothes were being burned by whatever was inside the object thrown at him. 

“ROH!” Jarin shouted. It was a desperate call for Ülaf to come to his aid. As the Sumu advanced on him he didn’t know if he had enough time to regroup. He needed a Terror to harness. His opponent was more reserved in his attacks, obviously wanting whatever was burning him to take full effect. Jarin couldn’t wait for that. He had to force a lethal attack. He sheathed his saber and pulled out two knives while advancing low on the Sumu. They retreated but Jarin sent the knives towards him close to either side. This forced his opponent directly backward. 

Jarin continued to advance and pulled two more knives. The burning was getting to his skin and he could tell it would not be quickly lethal but certainly debilitating. He threw the knives just as before. He was right. The Sumu kept his distance waiting for the burning to stop Jarin. Indeed it was. Pain started to sear through his chest and his senses were being overpowered by the burning smell. Jarin threw again but this time kept it more straight. The Sumu was surprised and dodged just a little too late. One of the knives slashed through their arm. 

As Jarin had guessed the Sumu was already tapping terrors to retreat so they likely couldn't sense oncoming attacks as he did. Comfortable fools indeed. Jarin got his first reprieve as the Sumu backed away and looked at his wound. Jarin spared no time in ripping off his upper garment, bandoliers included, and running towards where he had last seen Ülaf. The pain lingered on his chest. It was a lot but it was bearable. Ülaf was trying to disengage his opponent to come to Jarin’s aid. It looked like his foot was smoking. Ülaf changed stance and held his ground as he saw Jarin was pairing back up with him. 

“RET SENI!” Jarin bellowed as he darted towards them. Jarin had signaled the re-pairing and an alternating attack. Ülaf quickly feigned a strike towards the Sumu but pulled back and sent a knife at Jarin’s throat. Finally, Jarin felt the familiar Terrors leap to his aid. He tapped vitality and gravity in a burst of blinding speed. The knife grazed him which kept his tie to the Terrors for a little longer. Jarin thrust his hand forward wielding the last dagger he kept from his bandolier. He did not turn it into an attack though. Instead he aimed just a little behind the Sumu and made his opponent turn. 

Just as he expected they did not know the difference between a true attack and a feint. He had the Sumu's full attention and as he landed he threw his knife just past him towards the already advancing Ülaf who had his saber extended. Ülaf simultaneously deflected the dagger using blade death and swept his blade across the Sumu’s body with such intense speed that his sleeve ripped off his arm as he attacked. The Sumu slumped to the ground and Jarin let out a breath. Ülaf coughed and blood stained his lips. Then he stumbled forward and crashed into Jain who was too shocked to respond. Jarin grabbed his master and could feel warm blood stain his hands. His fingers grazed a knife sticking from Ülaf’s back as they crashed into each other.

The other Sumu must have thrown at the same time as Jarin to mask his attack. He could see them run to their companion but he was still too stunned to process what was happening. A chill washed over Jarin’s body and the air was sucked from his lungs. Ülaf’s body went limp and fell to the ground beside Jarin amid the other slain. A new kind of terror gripped his insides like the embrace of death himself. His attunement to the Terror magics peaked. He felt something powerful and something terrible. This deep stirring was suddenly interrupted by an acute panic. 

Quickly, almost reflexively, Jarin dodged to the side as a knife flew in his direction. He was distracted though and it grazed his shoulder. The pain that emanated from the wound refocused his mind on the battle. Jarin had no weapon but he charged forward shouting out a great battle cry. He was determined not to give this Sumu any breaks. Another knife flew from his opponent's hand. Jarin felt the Terrors only slightly, not nearly enough for a proper counter, so he dodge to the side. The knife was aimed low and cut into his abdomen. The strike would not have been quickly lethal. 

The Sumu retreated, keeping his distance and prepared another knife. The speed at which he did so was uncanny. Jarin realized that he would likely tire long before he could catch up and land a strike. His opponent likely knew this too. Their constant access to the poison that sustained their Terror magics was too much of an edge in a one on one fight. How did they do it? Jarin wondered. In the flickering light he noticed a series of tubes running from the Sumu’s strange mask into their cloak.That must be how the gas is delivered, but what keeps them going? This much poison would surely be taking its toll, unless... Jarin realized that they must be getting periodic antidotes to keep themselves safe. 

It didn't explain everything but it was at least something he could try to use against them. He formed a plan. A stupid and desperate one, but a plan nonetheless. The Sumu had scored a few more non lethal but painful hits across Jarins feet and arms. He just needed a blade to do this. He had a terrible idea. As he advanced again he presented an easier target by slowing and putting his hands up to guard. The Sumu fired another nonlethal blow but instead of dodging this time Jarin kept his left hand out in the blades path. Jarin bit down and grabbed at the blade as it punctured his palm. He let out a strained gasp as the knife cut through muscle and bone. The pain coursed through his arm but he clenched his hand through it. 

Trying not to think about it he used his right hand to wrench the knife free. Blood sprayed on the floor and the pain somehow increased. Though, almost more alarmingly, he began to lose feeling in his fingers. He cried out and the Sumu seemed shocked at the move. Jarin steeled himself for the next part of his plan. He staggered forward and collapsed on the ground. He did his best to seem exhausted and close to death. That part wasn't hard. Between the blood loss and the exertion he was close to actually blacking out. He forced himself to stay focused. He crawled forward seemingly uncoordinate. The Sumu threw one more knife which was intended as a killing blow. Blade death came to Jarin and he was able to deflect the knife a little. It stuck into his calf. Jarin cried out again and retrieved this knife as well. He continued his sad shamble towards his opponent.

Either they were out of knives or they did not want to risk giving Jarin more weapons because they advanced with a saber they pulled from a hidden sheath. This was what Jarin had hoped for. He stopped crawling and breathed in and out. Performing a careful meditation. He focused on the fight and tried to access the Terrors. He thought of his botched trials. His mind raced. He thought of his anxiety towards his life's path. His stomach twisted. He forced himself to think of Ülaf, laying bloodied on the ground. His heart was wrenched. Using all of that he felt that wellspring of Terror he felt just moments before. It was just out of reach. An acute feeling of panic began to wash over him. The Sumu was about to cut his neck.

That Terror connected him with that wellspring and his body exploded with power. Vitality, gravity, blade. He used it all in a blindingly quick attack. His left hand, barely responding, pushed the Sumu’s saber to the side using one of the knives to keep his hand from being severed. The other went for their neck. As Jarin expected they were able to just keep out of the way, but Jarin was aiming just to the side where he had noticed those tubes. He felt a slight tugging as his knife severed something. 

The Sumu began to cough and gag. They staggered backwards. They looked up and Jarin could see the panic in their eyes. The Sumu started to run, but not for Jarin. They went and grabbed something from their partner’s corpse. Jarin was too worn out to pursue them. He only turned and watched them flee into the darkened hallways of the palace. Jarin stood there listening to the crackling of the torches and his own labored breathing. He listened and stayed alert until his panic finally overcame his meditation. Feeling as though he couldn’t wait anymore he ran towards Ülaf and dropped down to his knees. 

Ülaf wasn’t moving and Jarin could not tell if he was breathing. Not knowing what else to do he grabbed his old friend and pulled him close. Tears leaked from his eyes and Jarin started to weep. The worries that had started the day retreated. They were nothing compared to his feelings of losing a friend. An emptiness started to open inside of him and he feared he’d be lost in it. He was terrified of losing Ülaf and wished for nothing more than to have him back. A hand grabbed his arm. Jarin looked up sharply and he stared into Ülaf’s kindly eyes again. 

What is happening? Jarin thought in alarm. Surely this was a hallucination brought on by grief. “My boy” Ülaf muttered weakly. “My little Jarin, you did it.” Jarin decided to believe what was happening, even if he didn't understand it. He grabbed Ülaf’s hand and continued to look into those eyes. He feared if he stopped that they would close once more. He noticed a bit of color return to Ülaf’s features, but he was growing pale once more. He was still dying.

“Just…Just stay calm master” Jarin croaked out. His voice was shaky and his throat was dry. “We…I…I don’t know. Just please stay with me.” Tears stung his eyes and he was forced to close them. Blessedly, Ülaf was still looking up at him after he blinked away the tears.

“My boy.” Ülaf  started again. “You’ve grown. I’ve watched you this whole time. I feared your skill and the path it would lead you on.” 

Jarin was puzzled. What was Ülaf ranting about? He didn’t interrupt him though. Before Ülaf continued Jarin felt him bring something out of his robes and reach up to give it to Jarin. It was a small white pouch. It felt as though it had some dust or sand in it.

“This was to be your last trial.” Ülaf’s voice was getting weaker, almost a whisper, but he kept going. “These are the spores of the Mountain Fairy Cap. It is a deadly mushroom, and it is the secret to the Wizen’s powers. If you taste but one spore you will die the next day unless you taste it again. Doing this though, will shorten your life greatly.”

Jarin was stunned. After all the Wizen’s had said about the Sumu’s use of poisons they reveal that they do the same thing to access the Terrors. He tried to be mad but he was emotionally drained and still troubled by his friend's state. 

“I did not want this for you, yet. You are so young. But, you deserve this choice.” Ülaf wheezed and Jarin feared he would not continue, but Ülaf found his voice again. “We only offer this once though. Once you know the price you must accept it or deny it. Jarin, my boy, You deserve this choice, but know this.” He grasped at Jarin’s arm and used the last of his strength to pull closer to him. “I give you this choice because I want you to know you have one. I know how hard you work because everyone expects great things from you. Just know that you are allowed to make your own path. You are a good strong boy. I know you will be great no matter what man you choose to become.” His body started to sag and his voice dropped to an almost inaudible level. “Know I love you, and know that you always have a choice..”

With that his body slumped once more and he let out one final long breath. Jarin sagged and began to truly weep. His body shuddered and his throat became hoarse from it. He did not know how long he was there for. Eventually aid came. The Muir Supreme was safe and the army began searching the city for the remaining Sumu. Jarin was brought back to the Temple of Wizen Ma and allowed to rest in Ülaf’s chambers. He clutched the small cloth pouch in his hand.

He did not think of anything besides Ülaf for some time, but eventually, as night came and his tears dried he started to ponder his choice. He clearly had shown the aptitude for the Terror magics, but could he really give so much to be a Wizen. What was he even striving for by being one of them? Mastery of the Terrors? What even were they? They were sources of great power. Power that could protect? Maybe. It did not serve Ülaf in his final moments. Jarin slumped into sadness again as he thought of Ülaf dying in his arms. He forced himself to clear his mind and meditate on the positive as his early instructors had taught him as a way to calm himself. 

He realized he was happy to have those last moments with Ülaf. He was very lucky. Too lucky. Jarin thought to himself. How had Ülaf woken? Was…was that the Terror of Loss? Jarin thought to himself. It was a fable really. Still, he had felt something. And that power he had access to in the last moments of his fight. The more he thought about it the more he realized how little he or anyone really understood about the Terrors. The strange things the Sumu’s could do, the possibility of healing with the Terrors. Jarin began to realize that the questions and the training is what really appealed to him more than the heights of power.

His best memories were of training with Ülaf and he may have wanted to be a Wizen just to be closer to him. With him gone he had to forge a new path. He looked at the pouch one last time before tucking it away in his robes. I need answers. He was beyond fatigued from everything he had been through. But he left the chambers determined to find the other Wizens. 

The End

Author's Note

I am trying to work on my editing here and havemade severla versions of this. I want to kno wwhat works best. I have a different version where I switch the first and second trials also one where I have a more definitative decison at the end.

I'd appreciate notes about how well this begining grabbed yoru attention, how satisfying or complete the ending was, and any other notes on how well the story flowed.

Reviews

[LRais]

Wow what a riveting story! I find the world building to be beautifully done, and the magic system is very well thought out and intricate. I like the delineation of the known scope of what Terror magic can do, and what it is unclear if it can accomplish, and the way you tie this in at the end by having Jarin wonder if the terrors could be used for healing. I also really enjoyed the discussion of fate, free will, and the importance of making your own choices! I can tell you've put a lot of time and effort into writing this and it has really paid off!
There were just a few small things I noticed as I read this story. Firstly, at one point you use the phrase "him and the wizens." This felt a little clunky and might be worth revisiting. The only other thing I would mention is, from a medical perspective, anytime something pierces the body it is generally best practice to leave it there until a medical professional can help. It can help prevent blood loss. Just something to keep in mind as you continue to write!
You have a lot of talent, and some very creative ideas! I can't wait to read more of your work!

[QRoels]

Wow! Thanks for the high praise. It means a lot. Great suggestions. I did not know that about piercings. Can the blood loss be debilitating quickly even if the wound is minor? Or would it matter more about where you are stabbed.

I’m still going through and editing so I appreciate the comment about the clunky wording.