Chapter Thirty-Four – The Magistrate Crewel

  They chose the biggest of the sand pavilions for their fight with Pinch.

  Gray insisted on going first. It was after breakfast, and his ironbite wasn’t sitting well, but the fae squad didn’t care at all about his physical comfort. Their sharp faces were emotionless under their black hair.

  Mama Cinders was there, of course, but Gray was surprised to see the Dame Hekla Blackpaw walk up with a tall man, gaunt and sour-faced. He might’ve been the oldest man that Gray had ever seen in his life. He had deep wrinkles thinning white hair. From the whispers, it was clear he was important.

  Pinch stood on the sand with a long bloodless blade in her hand.

  Gray smiled at her. “I’ve been in hurricanes that are more welcoming. I think the deal was to first blood, but I say why limit ourselves? Let’s go to second blood. Whoever bleeds the other twice wins.”

  Pinch raised an eyebrow. “You want to learn a bloody lesson?”

  “Always.”

  The ancient man spoke. “Who is going to proctor the fight?”

  Mama Cinders answered, “I was going to, Magistrate, but if you would like to be the one, it would be your prerogative.”

  Other recruits began to filter down to the pavilion, and soon there was a crowd, including Freek’s orcs and Froggy’s squad.

  “Yes,” he said in a strangely strong, crisp voice. “I will proctor. It seems the fae squad has come into my school with an agenda. It is always interesting when such a thing occurs.” He then raised his voice. “I am Malcon Crewel, the Magistrate of First Field. You are only here because I allowed it.”

  He glided onto the sands. The Magistrate moved like a panther, a hungry one.

  Gray hadn’t known very many old people. Cradleport hadn’t had magic and healers, but the few elderly people had seen had been weak and fragile. Compared to the Magistrate, Blind John would’ve been considered a young man, and yet, Crewel radiated power.

  He turned to Gray. “Are you sure you want second blood?”

  Gray nodded.

  The Magistrate glanced over at Rynn, who stood there, her chin high but her face pale. “Then let us use the traditional orc salute for this. I will change it, Miss Sereph, if that is all right with you.”

  She nodded, face expressionless.

  Gray didn’t hide his surprise. “How did you know that Rynn and I used the orc salute for our sparring?”

  The Magistrate fixed his eyes on Gray. They were a light blue, almost gray, so very pale, in the wrinkles of his face. Those eyes shined with such power. “There is nothing that goes on at First Field that I don’t know about. All is Testing, and all is the test. We test our recruits to find the best.”

  “So you know about the murder.”

  The Magistrate nodded.

  Gray kept on. “And you know that Rynn’s trunk was stolen. You also must know that we’re not going to be sleeping in Third Barracks anymore. Finally, I don’t have to tell you that Pinch and her fae squad have been shaking down the other recruits for their shekels.”

  The Magistrate spoke in a firm, powerful voice. “All is the Testing and all is the test. We bloody our recruits to find the best.”

  Gray grinned. “I’m glad I don’t spend a ton of time in the Pleasure Markets or this might get embarrassing. Do you know you where Rynn and I go in the market?”

  “I know of your cup game.” The Magistrate’s eyes never left Gray’s face. “And your sponsor is no stranger to me, despite her mask. This year’s Testing will prove to be very interesting. It is a shame your magic is limited, which must pain your sponsor to no end. I do not think you’ll make it, Mr. No. Isn’t that what Miss Yes calls you?”

  Anger hit Gray like a hammer. “She gets to call me that. You don’t. I’m Grayson Fade, but you know that. You know everything it seems.”

  “Everything,” the Magistrate said.

  He turned to Pinch. “They must be paying you a great deal to undertake simple bullying and extortion.”

  The fae didn’t respond.

  Gray took a moment to try and see the Magistrate’s core, but he couldn’t see a thing. There was a darkness inside the man that shrouded everything. Gray remembered his dream from the night before, blood poisoning the water, and the faces of the dead, eyes the same color as the Magistrate’s.

  And the silence. Blind John had spoken of the silence of the dead. Life was generally a loud affair, but death’s silence was absolute.

  “Take to your corners,” the Magistrate said in his powerful, crisp voice.

  Gray retreated, feeling the adrenaline make everything come alive. He couldn’t help but think what a miracle it was that he had this strong body and magic. He turned.

  Pinch charged her bloodless blade, its edge glowing with mana.

  Gray went to weapon’s rack, perusing the different swords. He didn’t want Pinch and her squad knowing he couldn’t channel his mana into anything other than his squad’s cores. There was only one remedy. He picked up his book and walked onto the sand.

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  Pinch frowned. “We are fighting to second blood. My sword will cut you. That stick will do nothing to me.”

  “You’re probably right,” Gray said grinning. “But I really like my stick.”

  The Magistrate’s eyes betrayed his momentary confusion. But then they hardened. “Use wrath wisely for patient is the victor’s blade who drinks second blood.”

  Pinch brought her weapon to her chest and bowed. Gray did the same with his stick. Both of them repeated the Magistrate’s words.

  “Fight!” the Magistrate shouted.

  Pinch didn’t move. “Without a proper weapon, you can’t win.”

  Gray walked forward, swinging his stick side to side. “You’re probably right. I also can’t use mana, and I’m pretty sure you can.”

  Pinch frowned. “Why fight if you can’t win?”

  Gray walked up to her, and she swung at him, and he blocked it. The sparks flew from the strike, and her sword made that strange buzzing sound, but it sounded so different than two metal swords. She swung again, and again, Gray parried her attack and then stormed forward. He allowed her to bring her sword around, and it sliced into his arm, but by that time, he was close enough to slam his fist into her face.

  She staggered back, completely caught off guard. She dabbed at her nose, thinking to see blood. There was nothing there. She looked at him, mystified as his blood dripped into the sands. “But you can’t win.”

  “I don’t want to win. For three shekels, I get to punch you in the face. Really, I would’ve paid double.”

  The Magistrate barked at them. “First blood goes to Thornpinch. Use wrath wisely for patient is the victor’s blade who drinks second blood. Fight!”

  Pinch took off the ground, wings whirring, but she couldn’t go that high, given the limits of the pavilion.

  Gray smacked her foot with his stick before she could pull it away.

  She hissed in pain, then circled around, before diving back down. He managed to block her sword because his trusty stick was so much faster and lighter than her blade. It should’ve broke, but it held despite her strength. With a flick back, he smacked her face, though the angle was wrong, so he didn’t do any real damage. Still, wood to the cheek never felt good.

  She winced, landed, and he had to parry a flurry of attacks. The blade buzzed and the sparks flew. Again, his stick didn’t break. He didn’t get to hit her again because she managed to get through his defenses. He felt the sharp sting of the bloodless blade slicing through his pants and into his leg. It was just a scratch, but it was enough for her to win the match.

  “Second blood goes to Thornpinch. Thornpinch wins!”

  “Pay me,” the fae demanded.

  Rynn came forward and slapped the coins into her hand.

  Mana swirled into her as she looked at the coins, a grim smile on her face. Her cheek was swelling, though, and her eye was bruised.

  Gray made a note. Pinch must’ve had a greed resonance for a few shekels to mean that much to her? It was interesting.

  It was Rynn’s turn to face her.

  Gray stood back as Cinders gave him two cloths, one for his arm and one for his leg.

  “Do you want to win, elf?” Pinch asked, gripping her long sword in a tight fist. “Your little friend didn’t.”

  “I’m going to win,” Rynn said. “I’m very good at fencing.” Mana filled her as she said the words. Her core was glowing as brightly as her long bloodless blade. “I want second blood as well. I want this to last as long as possible.”

  The Magistrate frowned at Gray. It was clear that Malcon Crewel hadn’t expected Gray’s gambit. But it worked. And in the end, it was so very satisfying seeing the fae girl wince when she put weight on the foot he’d hit.

  This time, the Magistrate started the fight with the traditional orc salute. “No wrath. Only patience. Second blood wins.”

  Rynn and Pinch bowed and repeated his words.

  “Fight!” Crewel shouted.

  The pair faced off against each other. It was an elegant fight, Pinch taking the offensive and Rynn parrying the blows, with a look of pure concentration her face. Sparks rained down and the air vibrated from the buzzing clash of the two bloodless blades striking each other.

  Rynn and Pinch danced around the sand, each testing the other, until Pinch was gasping for breath. She finally took off and fought from the air, but Rynn was able to hit her foot, the same foot that Gray had hit

  “First blood goes to Sereph. No wrath. Only patience. Second blood wins.”

  Pinch swung around, tried to hit Rynn, but she ducked out of the way, fueling her movements with mana. She bent and picked up sand and flung and at Pinch, who shrieked at her.

  She landed, and then it was the fae’s turn to use mana to increase her speed and strength.

  But Rynn was already fueled, and since Gray couldn’t use his mana in any real way, he had a full core. He gave her some, so she wouldn’t run out.

  Pinch, though, had already been using her mana. Her core was dimming, since her magic was nearly gone. Magic or not, the fae girl was a brutal fighter. She flung an elbow and caught Rynn in the face, smashing her hose. Blood dripped down her lip.

  “Blood goes to Thornpinch. No wrath. Only patience. Second blood wins.”

  The two were tied.

  Pinch was gasping for breath, but Rynn was just fine. It wasn’t just the conditioning they’d been doing. She was still filled with mana, thanks to Gray.

  The fae’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t be still on your feet. You’re not an acolyte. You’re not even a fully-marked neophyte.”

  “But I am a very fine swordswoman.” Rynn didn’t speak more as blood trickled down her lip. Her eyes were fierce, glimmering with a strange light as more mana filled her, and not from Gray this time. It as her resonance in action.

  “Liar!” Pinch hissed. She came forward, and buzzing iron rang off buzzing iron and the pair were lost in showers of sparks. Over and over they clashed, until Pinch used the last of her mana to fly over the air, and then she sliced into Rynn’s back.

  “Second blood to Thornpinch! Thornpinch wins!”

  The fae, though, didn’t look like the winner. Her wings vanished and she fell into the sand, and her squad came forward to help her stand. “Pay me.” She spat into the sand, not able to get to her feet.

  “Gladly. That was fun.” Rynn sprinkled coins into the sand.

  Freek charged forward. “I’ll fight. We heard the winner gets to know the events for First Culling Day.”

  “I’d just like to know what Culling Day is,” Gray laughed, though a bad feeling filled his day. He was pretty sure Culling Day in First Field was a lot like the Battle Royale in the Cradleport arena that had cost Carter his life. Poor Carter.

  Freek rolled his eyes. “Culling Day, my friend, is when half the squads are cut. Where is the rest of your squad, guy?”

  “I don’t know.” Gray handed a rag to Rynn so she could wipe some of the blood off her face. They exchanged worried glances.

  Pinch laughter matched her sneer. She made it to her feet but still had to rely on two of her squad mates to help her stand. “If your sponsor doesn’t make it back in time, will you two try your luck as a squad of two?”

  “A squad needs seven,” Mama Cinders said, snorting smoke.

  One of the fae touched Pinch, and the bruises on her face vanished. Her core, though, was still nearly depleted. She limped up to Freek. “You don’t get the same deal.”

  “Yes,” the Magistrate said. “All the recruits do. If you want their money, you’ll have to fight them for it. I don’t know about you, Miss Thornpinch, but I’ve found this morning very educational.”

  Crewel’s nearly colorless eyes never left Gray’s face.