The Rise of the Fourteen (12 page)

“I’m certain that you’re crazy now,” Luna remarks, inching
away from Demetri. Arden and Ámpelos nod in hearty agreement.

Terrance leans against the wall, arms crossed.
Why does
it matter?
he thinks.
We’re still trapped here.

“Even if it is true, how does your ‘history’ relate to us?”
Callida asks darkly. Demetri’s eyes flare with anticipation.

“That’s just it. You are the first of the twelve. When all
of you are assembled, we will perform the ritual with the arrows you recei
—
”

“I don't ever remember receiving an arrow,” Luna quips.

Terrance looks down at his sleeve, almost guiltily.
If I
say nothing, I can forget. I can go home. Pretend these things never happened.
But it would not be right.
“I’ve got one,” he says, his voice barely more
than a whisper.

Demetri nods appreciatively while the others look with
raised brows. Sighing, Terrance rolls up his sleeve to reveal intricate black
lines, tracing the form of a shimmering arrow. With no hesitation now, he
grasps the skin firmly and pulls at the tattoo. The arrow rises out through his
skin, as pristine as it was the first day. The golden fletching sparkles in the
fading light.

Demetri grins. “That is the first, the first seen in many
decades.” He holds his hands up in benediction. “You have given me hope.” Terrance
nods, a wary smile glued on his face. “Luna, Arden, we have yours,” Demetri
says as he pulls two arrows, one silver, the other gold, out of his pocket.

“Uh, gonna tell me why?” Luna asks.

“Sorem and I were the first,” Demetri says with a thin
smile. Luna remembers how she and Sorem controlled the moonlight and nods
slowly, but is not entirely convinced. “Ámpelos, I would suggest checking your
jacket pocket.”

“You think something ‘magically’ appeared in my pocket? Yeah,
right,” Ámpelos remarks, making mocking air quotes. “Fine,” he says when he
realizes Demetri is still looking at him, “I’ll just reach into my jacket
pocket and
—
" He breaks off
mid-sentence as he feels something cool and metallic.

He pulls out an intricate chrome arrow. It has all sorts of
etchings, patterns, and symbols across the body, the only anomaly being a
single clump of grapes on the head. Ámpelos casts Demetri a sideways look,
scandalized. Demetri is smirking, clearly trying to hold in the inevitable “I
told you so.” The others laugh silently into their hands, enjoying the
shattering, albeit a brief one, of Ámpelos’s cool demeanor.

Demetri then casts his gaze towards Callida. She crosses her
arms, a stubborn frown on her face. Demetri leans forward, his lips pursed.
Callida doesn't budge. Only her eyes dart from side to side. After a long
silence, she uncrosses her arms in resignation. She pulls a ring off of her
finger, a plain golden band with a single owl ornament in the center. The ring
unfolds into an arrow. Silver and golden olive branches twined together. The
owl is on the arrowhead, glowing a pale yellow. “Happy now?” Callida snarks.

“Very much so,” Demetri replies, not in the least dampened
by her sour mood.

“I have one as well,” a weak voice calls from the doorway.
The injured boy, now up and about, holds an arrow of his own. It’s a nice light
glossy maple with winged fletching and two golden serpents intertwined around
the body.

“Glad to see you're up and about, Nuntios.” Demetri says.

Luna makes a questioning face. ‘
Nuntios?
’ she mouths
to her brother.

He raises his hands in a placating gesture,
‘Just go with
it.’

Luna turns to look at the boy again. Bandages are wrapped
around his shoulder, but his face looks fine,
now
. There is still a
sallow look to his face. His skin has a yellowish tinge to it. His startlingly
blue eyes stand out in contrast to the dark circles beneath his eyes, and his
hair looks as if he just took a shower. His eyes move in and out of focus, like
flashing lights.

“So what burned off half your skin?” Callida asks, a
perfectly innocent smile on her face.

“Callida here is known for her tact and sincere commentary,”
Ámpelos says sarcastically. But as he says it, he laughs, and Nuntios laughs
too.

Then a shadow of fear crosses over Nuntios’s face. “Armifer!
Is Armifer okay?” No one sees him move, but he is now clutching at Demetri’s
shirt in agitation. “I heard him screaming!” Nuntios is yelling now, tears
welling up in his eyes, “I heard him screaming when I was down.” He steps back,
twisting his hands. “But I couldn’t help him.”

“It’s okay,” Demetri says, pulling Nuntios into an embrace.
“Armifer is fine. You’ll see him soon, don’t worry.” Nuntios nods, his
shoulders still shaking with sobs. The group looks on with awkward pity.
Demetri points for them to go out into the hall. “Sorem will show you to your
rooms.”

Callida looks back briefly as the others file into the hall.
Demetri is still holding Nuntios. He strokes his hair, murmuring comforting
words to him.
You would have thought that they were brothers the way Demetri
talks to him, not strangers who met some hours ago.
Her eyes swim as she
thinks back to a certain riverside dinner not so long ago.
At least they
have each other.
She trudges down the hall, following in silence.

“Tell me again why these rooms are so special,” Luna says exasperatedly.
Sorem gives her a harsh look but continues to lead Luna and Arden down a
corridor. They'd just spent the past few minutes climbing a cramped, dusty
staircase that wound all the way around the back of the building to reach the
attic space of the mansion. It was nothing like a typical attic, however, with
high ceilings and clean brick walls. There are no torches, but the corridor
seems to emit its own light, despite the pointed scarcity of windows.

“These are the rooms designed to strengthen the powers of
the
Arte
and the
Apol
,” Sorem says. Arden gives her a blank
stare. Luna gives her an incredulous stare, her eyebrows arched. “Those gifted
with the powers of the light of the moon,” she says, pointing to Luna, “and the
powers of the sun,” pointing to Arden. “These rooms were
made
for you
two. It's important that you use them to focus your powers.” Luna rolls her
eyes but continues walking.

The trio reaches the end of the corridor and approaches two
doors. Both are a plain ashen color. They are smooth and unmarked, save a black
circle, about the height of a peephole. But neither door has a handle.

“How are we supposed to open doors without handles?” Luna
asks sharply.

“Observant as always, Luna. Now what you have to do is
—
”

“What do you mean by always?”

“I mean just
—
never
mind.”

“Have you been spying on me?” Sorem refuses to meet Luna’s
gaze. “Well? Have you?”

Arden tries to catch Luna’s attention. ‘Don’t make a scene’
he mouths. Luna pointedly ignores his comment. “Tell me, or I’m leaving,” she
says, putting a hand on her hip.

“Luna, you have to try and understand
—
”

 “No, I do understand. All you've done is told us some
crackpot story and expected us to buy into it. For all we know, you could be
pedophiles or something!” Luna smirks triumphantly at Sorem’s stricken face.

“She’s got a point,” Arden quips.

“Not helping,” Sorem spits. “You can’t leave anyway,” she
adds in a matter of fact voice. Had the setting not been so ridiculous, they
could have been two sisters arguing over which movie to go to.

“Really?” Luna snarks. “I can’t leave?” she says with faux
innocence. “I’ve been practicing.” She points to a nearby window, just large
enough for some pale light to come through. “Leaving people on their own can be
dangerous,” she says with a wicked grin. She raises her finger and fires a beam
of light, shattering the window. “I’ll see you two in hell.” She takes a
running start and leaps out the opening, disappearing from view.

 “Of course Luna is the difficult one,” Sorem mutters. She
brushes her hair out of her face angrily. “You stay here,” she orders Arden.
Without further thought, she vaults over the glass fragments and out into the
warm night.

Arden sits down with a sigh, resting his back against one of
the doors.
The problems really did start on my birthday didn’t they?
As
the muggy air blows in, Arden shakes his head yet again.
What mess did I get
myself into this time?

***

Luna loves her dramatic exit. She considers it fitting
seeing all of the creepiness that was in that house. What she did not consider
was the fall. A green-brown hillside rushes towards her at an alarming speed.
She hits the ground with an unceremonious thud.
Shit.
A wave a pain
shoots through her ankle.

She had never been the most athletic girl in school and
probably got injured the most. Not the best quality when jumping out of a
building you didn’t realize was three stories tall. She hears a swishing above
her.
It’s probably Sorem coming after me.

Ahead she sees a craggy stone pillar. She half crawls, half
hops towards it, taking shelter behind it. Satisfied that she is sufficiently
hidden, she rolls up her pant leg to examine her ankle. A purplish hue has
begun to creep up her foot. Out of all the things that have happened recently,
a sprained ankle is perhaps the most mundane, and, therefore, the most
ridiculous. But the pain is the only thing to remind her that it’s all real.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Busted.

“Now are you gonna yell at me again, or will you at least
let me fix your ankle?” Sorem admonishes.

“Yes, please,
Mom,
” Luna says savagely, still bitter
at her failed defiance. Sorem crouches down, wrapping Luna’s ankle in silvery
strands.

“Stop moving so much!” Sorem snaps.

“Well, I’m sorry, but it tickles in an annoying fashion,”
Luna says, thoroughly ruffled.

“Well, you like to jump to conclusions in an annoying
fashion but that hasn’t exactly stopped you has it?”

“Touché”
dies, unspoken, on Luna’s lips.

Arden has never liked staying still. He switches to pacing
not long after trying to sit down.
Luna has always been the bold one.
Sitting on the sidelines must be my job.
He turns to re-examine the doors
(because the first hundred times weren’t enough).

Luna did ask a good question, though. How do you open
doors with no locks, handles, or holes?
There were no secret pressure
spots. He’d tried tapping everywhere, everywhere except for the circles.
Something had rubbed him the wrong way about the dark blotches on the doors.
They seemed to change shape or color ever so slightly whenever he put his hand
near.

Here goes nothing, I suppose.
He splays his fingers
and gently places his palm on the door to his right. A dim golden glow emanates
from the entryway. The circle morphs into a golden eagle, sparking and moving
about the wooden surface till it comes to rest in a picturesque in-flight pose.
Arden traces the carving.
Had this, only moments ago been a moving creature?
Arden has no time to think, however before the door swings open. He enters
the room cautiously.

The ceiling is a giant glass half-dome. Now the stars
twinkle overhead, but Arden suspects the room will be flooded with sunlight
come morning.
Sunlight!
He feels giddy at the thought. The rest of the
room is a rather neutral beige, fairly bland considering the rest of the house.
Then he notices the floor. It’s an ornate mosaic, set with hundreds of
different kinds of stones and gems. He can make out a semi-circle of opal, but
not the symbols scattered around the border.

“I see you’ve discovered the solar calendar,” says Sorem,
who had entered only moments earlier with a rather sullen Luna. “You should
both probably get some sleep. Tomorrow we begin training.”

Luna tries to speak to Arden.
Something along the lines
of “I wasn’t trying to abandon you” would probably be good.
But the words
refuse to come. Even as Luna tries to catch his gaze, Sorem is dragging her
into the hall. He slams the door behind them with a resounding thump.
Well,
good night to you too, dear, sweet brother.

“Good morning, good morning,” Callida says as she walks in,
bouncing lightly on her heels. “I trust everyone slept well.” Arden glances up,
then stares deeply into his mushy bowl of cereal.

“What’s it to you?” Luna snaps. Her foul mood, already
darkened by Arden’s lack of response this morning, is only made worse Callida’s
chipperness.

“I just care,” Callida replies, a wide grin on her face. She
is, of course, perfectly aware of the events that transpired last night, having
overheard the conversation Arden, Sorem, and Luna were having through an air
vent. Still smirking, she helps herself to a piece of toast from the tray in
the center of the table. Just as she is buttering the toast, a pair of voices
comes streaming down the hall.

“Do I have to go? I feel so embarrassed about … you know … yesterday
.
”

“They don’t know what happened. You can’t blame yourself.”

“I can, and I will!”

I can almost hear his chest puffing up.

“At least have a muffin or something.” Nuntios and Demetri
round the corner and appear in the doorway. Callida notices Demetri place his
hand lightly on Nuntios’s back.
Demetri’s right. Whatever happened, Nuntios
doesn’t need to be ashamed. He looks like a china set that will shatter if you
brush your finger over it.

Nuntios saunters over to the table, his arms crossed
protectively. His hand quickly darts out to grab a blueberry scone, and he eats
it with his head down and his arms kept close to his sides.

“Where are Terrance and Ámpelos?” Luna blurts, eager to
break the silence.

“They got up early,” Demetri replies. “Sorem has already
taken them down to the training room.”

“Training room?” Callida asks sharply. “Training for what?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Luna doesn’t trust Demetri’s smug attitude.

“Go back to the main hall. You’ll see a long flight of
stairs going down on the left.” Callida bursts out of the room, eager for a
change of scenery. Arden begins to run as well but trips over the edge of the
carpet beneath the table. He falls with a resounding thump, the carpet fibers
scratching his face as he goes.

“Are you alright?” Luna asks, rushing to help her brother to
his feet.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles without looking at her. He brushes
her hand away and runs to follow Callida.

Luna sighs.
It’s hard to imagine that, only weeks ago, he
was a timid boy standing in the rain. That boy would have stayed and hid. He
would never have run.
She looks up at Demetri, her eyes clouded in
confusion. Demetri nods, gesturing towards the doorway. She shuffles awkwardly
out of the room, hunched over like a wolf separated from its pack.

The most striking thing about the training room is the blue.
The walls are covered in chips of cerulean gems that glimmer beneath the eerie
torches. The torches themselves are lit with flickering blue flames, casting a
turquoise hue over the room. The floor, in contrast, is more translucent,
giving it the appearance of glass.

Upon closer inspection, water is flowing down the walls into
small pools around the perimeter of the room. Luna marvels.
They’re like
waterspouts, waterspouts from the gargoyles on cathedral rooftops. Or tears.
Yeah, let's go with that.

At the far end of the room, she hears the clack of wood on
wood. Two figures holding wooden swords circle each other in mock combat. The
swords have metal handles and leather grips, but mock blades made from hickory.
One of the figures lashes out suddenly, resulting in a cry of pain from the
other.

“Arden! That was my bad foot!” Nuntios yells, clutching at
his wounded limb.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Callida says, smirking.
Nuntios shoots her a look. Luna coughs sharply, trying to stop the squabbling
before it starts.

“Ah, Luna,” Sorem remarks, “Nice of you to join us.” Those
silver eyes could almost shatter her own.

She knows. She just
has
to know. My brother and I
shouldn’t be her business. But, somehow, we are. And that gives her power.
Power she doesn’t deserve.
“I don't understand,” Luna says sharply. “We're
supposed to be ‘magical,’ aren’t we? What are we learning ‘swordsmanship’ for?”

“What are we learning swordsmanship for?” Ámpelos repeats,
mocking Luna’s air quotes. Luna pretends not to notice the stifled sniggers of
the assembled crowd.

“Magic cannot be taught in the way books can be read,” Sorem
replies calmly. “The magic is an extension of you. And to learn magic, you must
first learn the limits of yourself.”

 “And did you learn swordsmanship when you began?” Luna
questions, the acid in her voice quite clear.
Who does she think she is with
this wisdom stuff,
Luna wonders,
the Buddha?

“I did, along with my darling brother here,” Sorem says,
gesturing to Demetri. “But this is not about me, this about you.”

Cop out much,
Luna muses.

“I’d like to have a go.” Callida steps forth, a determined
look on her face.

“Uh, you?” Ámpelos says skeptically.

“Why not,
Greco
? Is it because I’m a girl?”

“Not just a girl, a
little
girl,” he says in mock
sincerity. “You’ll be my first opponent then.” The gleam in his eyes signifies
his eagerness.

“You’re on.”

Nuntios and Arden hand off their drill swords and step away
from the sparring floor. Luna urgently tries to make eye contact with Arden,
but he brushes her off and stands on the other side of the boundary.

Meanwhile, Ámpelos and Callida stand in ready position.
Callida swings her sword experimentally. Ámpelos attempts to the same, but
nearly drops his. Callida snorts, albeit very subtly, but Ámpelos still
notices. Ámpelos breathes heavily through his nose like an angered bull.
Little
twerp. She’s in for it now.

Gripping the handle tightly, he rushes forth, his sword
poised like a skewer. And then promptly falls on his face when Callida moves
out of the way at the last second. There is no laughter, only silence. Sorem
and Demetri are cradling their heads in their hands while the others look on
with fear. They are all thinking something along the lines of
that could
have been me. We don’t know anything! This is impossible!
But all lips
remain sealed.

Ámpelos, further infuriated by the small smile creeping up
Callida’s face, leaps up with a vicious backhand. Callida blocks it easily,
almost too easily. Then the fight really begins. The hall rings with the crack
of wood on wood. Callida floats gracefully over the tiled floor, parrying with
finesse like a deadly ballerina. Ámpelos’s great strength does not break her
poise and so the minotaur and the coryphée twirl across the floor.

But strength cannot hold forever. Before long, Ámpelos is
panting and reeling from Callida’s wicked fast strikes. The others stand dumbstruck.
How is she so good?
Callida exudes confidence in her elegant blows, but
the reality is quite different.

Aim for the joints.

Wait, how did I know that?

Uppercut, knock him down.

What is going on?

Keep a good stance.

I have no idea what I’m doing!

At last the dance comes to an end. Callida gives Ámpelos a
good smack on the ankle and sends him sliding to meet the floor. His blade
leaves his hand and flies across the room. Luna grabs it mere moments before it
slaps Arden in the face.

“Good catch,” Arden murmurs, nodding appreciatively at
Luna.

“I just didn’t want to see you hurt.” She pauses for a
moment, then continues. “I don’t want to
ever
see you hurt.” Arden nods,
an awkward haze of appreciation over his eyes.

“Thanks,” he whispers. Luna sighs exasperatedly and then
hugs her idiot brother, happy to have made up with him.

“Will someone help me up?”

Demetri and Sorem look down at Ámpelos’s crumpled form with a
mixture of distaste and amusement. “I could do with a bit of ice.” The laughter
that ensues travels through the walls out into the open air, and fades into the
lingering shadows.