The Fate: Book 1: Tournament Wysteria Read online

“A Calling?” the Fate asks. “I have never performed one of those.”

  “It is what it is. I’ve never heard of it being accomplished in recent times, but the old stories make mention of the ritual. From what I understand, a Calling is a truly unique Technique, one in which a Tear-User applies thought and desire to attract a kindred spirit. The ritual would be performed daily until attracting a compatible soul. This could take years to complete and even then many a Calling went unfulfilled. Which is of course why it fell out of favor generations ago,” the Elder explains. “Boy, you say he found you on the cliff. That is a place you go to daily, is it not?”

  “Yes, Ieiri and I go up there when we are done training for the day.”

  “What do you and Ieiri do up there?” asks the Elder. “Daily?”

  “Sit?” The Fate shrugs. “It is quiet and big up there. We go together, but we do not really speak much once we are up there. I feel alone, small, but if I hold up my hand, I can block out the whole sun. Then there is only one voice, my voice, and I listen to it for awhile.”

  The Elder looks at him with sad eyes. “Perhaps you have been meditating on the whereabouts of Old Claw? Has your usual unwavering confidence blinded me of a troubled heart?”

  “No, Elder, I do not worry over my Old Man. I know he is fine,” the Fate tries to explain. “It is just that … he should be here for this. At least, I always thought he would be. But I cannot wait any longer.”

  “It was thoughtful of you to try, but really you should have reported months ago for the Tournaments with the others who turn seventeen this year. Instead, you’ve been going to the same spot at the same time every day and wishing for the return of Old Claw. Perhaps the chipmunk mistook this for a Calling.”

  “But I never called for a pet or even wanted one. Especially something so useless …”

  “Squeeeeeak!” The pile of cloth comes to life revealing an angrily chattering chipmunk.

  The Elder chuckles. “I think you’ve upset him.”

  “He has been like this since we first met,” says the Fate, covering his ears.

  A few moments later, the old man says in surprise, “Oh my, this is not just some random chattering. He is performing a ritual vow.”

  “What …” The Fate starts to say before the Elder waves him off. The chipmunk scurries back and forth, continuing his shrill squeaking.

  “This is serious, boy. He is performing a Death Vow,” the Master Level Trainer says. The chipmunk stops and stares at the Fate. He uncurls a tiny claw and points it first at the Fate, then at himself. The chipmunk squeaks loudly once and is quiet.

  “I do not think he likes me very much.”

  “It’s much more than just that,” says the Elder. “You have to be more careful with your words. Now, you’re stuck with a pet that just took a Death Vow to never fight by your side. Though I’m not quiet sure what the single claw meant.”

  “A Death Vow? But why?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, but it is almost as if he did it in response to our conversation.”

  “So you think he understands what we say?” asks the Fate.

  “I wouldn’t go that far; the most intelligent within my herd may learn up to a hundred commands. It is a rare animal indeed that can follow a conversation,” the Elder replies. “He has obviously received some sort of training. Even more so than that, good fortune seems to shine down upon him.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “If he had shown up even a day later, you would have already departed for the Tournaments. Speaking of which, we better get going. You can’t very well be late to your own Farewell Feast.”

  “I am sorry for not understanding you,” the Fate says to the chipmunk. “It is just that I have been preparing a very long time for tomorrow and you are not part of the plan. But I am thankful that you answered my Calling and you are welcome to accompany me, even if you will be of no use.”

  The chipmunk takes a deep breath as if to unleash another slew of squeaks, but instead holds his tiny tongue and disappears back into the bundle of cloth.

  “Are you fine with this?” the Elder asks.

  “It is what it is. It changes nothing,” the Fate says.

  “But you will not be able to bind another. Were you not always planning to someday make Nalda your mount?”

  “I was, but that was for Nalda, not for me. I was not going to bind her until I returned from the Tournaments,” the Fate says. “I am sorry, Elder. I was planning on leaving Nalda behind. I have left 1,460 molasses drops individually wrapped in wax paper in a wooden box at the stables. If you would be so kind as to give her one each morning, I would be most grateful.”

  “Nalda’s a special filly, but I always knew that she was not special enough for you. I’m sure she’ll miss you greatly, but the molasses will be sure to make it easier on her.” The Elder’s eyes twinkle at the thought before another comes to mind. “Is that why you built the fish pond?”

  “No, I do not think horses likes fish. Perhaps she use it to swim, but …”

  “No, no, boy. Did you build the pond to honor your Old Man’s promise? The one he made when you two joined the Clan?”

  “My Old Man brings fish to those who cannot get their own, so I do so when he cannot. But who will when I cannot?”

  The teary-eyed Elder laughs loudly. “I should have known the most unusual boy that I have ever met would become a truly remarkable man.”

  “I just wanted to ensure you old folks kept getting your fish.”

  “You can leave us all the fish in the ocean, but I promise you, it won’t keep us from missing you. The world is in for a quite a treat …”

  “That is good; everyone likes treats.”

  The Elder laughs again before remembering one final thing. “There’s something I almost forgot, have you heard of Natural Kindred?”

  The Fate shakes his head.

  “It is a theory that everyone has a perfect, complimentary soul, a Natural Kindred. It is said when Natural Kindred fight together that they have no weakness. Each of the three Beast Tamers to have sat upon the Conqueror’s Throne, including the Three Kingdom’s own Lady Seo, are said to be Natural Kindred. And it’s believed that a Calling would often produce this type of match.”

  “Natural Kindred …” says the Fate. “Is it because we both like the same type of rocks?” He reaches over to pet the pile of cloth the chipmunk is hiding in, only to quickly pull his hand away.

  “Did you see that? He tried to bite me, again!”

  The Elder wipes away a tear and asks, “Who will make me laugh when you are gone? I know how much you hate it, but may I give you a hug, boy?”

  “If you must,” the Fate says with no joy in his voice.

  “I must.”

  Chapter 2

  RISER

  [The Road to Greenwood]

  Flanked by silvery fields, a girl with ill intentions blocks the path. It’s the one day a year these pale wildflowers bloom, blanketing the hills as far as the eye can see. It’s like being surrounded in storm clouds, she thinks, watching the blossoms whip back and forth. A perfect day for a revolution!

  Esperanza Enyo double-checks her bindings, ensuring each section of her leather armor fits skintight. Although, today it seems her armor is just not fitting as well it should. And she knows just who to blame: Ieiri Skyshadow.

  Her stomach growls. “Nuts and berries are not a proper meal,” she grumbles, recalling last night’s dinner and today’s breakfast. “I’m a warrior in training. I need a real meal, a hot meal. How about a little meat? A fish, a hen, some pork chops, even! Can’t a growing girl at least get some eggs? I should’ve walked right past that girl yesterday.”

  Upon seeing the slight figure on the road the day before, Esperanza actually thought her youngest teammate had come to welcome her. She should’ve known better. Just like she should’ve known better than to accept that girl’s innocent-sounding challenge. Unforgivable!

  But that was yesterday and tod
ay she would be using the very same trick on the Captain. Giggling uncontrollably at the thought of it, she fails to hear the approaching footsteps.

  “Riser, is that you?” calls out the Fate, his head cresting the low hill ahead. Silhouetted by the early morning sun, he rumbles closer, pulling a handcart packed past its brim.

  Off guard, she wonders aloud, “Oppa?” The Daughters are the oldest clan, and he is the only person in the whole world she would call Oppa, or big brother. As for what he calls her, Esperanza has always been honored by her goddess-given name, but she doesn’t mind being called Riser by her teammates. After all, it does describe her quite well.

  “I did not know if that was you laughing or some devilish fiend,” the Fate says, making an impish face. “What are you doing out here? Why did you not come to the village as you were supposed to?”

  “I was catching up with Ieiri, but that doesn’t matter. You know why I’m here,” says the green-eyed warrior as she tightens the straps of her gauntlet. “I, Riser, Esperanza, current First Daughter of Enyo, Wind Dancer of Ehecthal challenge you, The Fate, Terrantius of the Slate, for leadership of the Team.”

  The Fate drops the handles of his small wagon and scans the area. “Going up and down all these hills sure is hard work. They were getting rather boring, however, since I already knew what would be on the other side. At least up until that last one …”

  “Fate,” growls Riser, cutting him off before he can prattle on anymore.

  “Riser, you do not turn seventeen for another week. You cannot challenge me yet,” he says, trying to knead a kink out his shoulder. “It is easy for me to remember; we have the same birthday, after all.”

  “Just because you were born a year earlier is no excuse. Today, a couple days from now, what does it matter? Stop avoiding the inevitable, Fate. We’re going to fight for the right to be captain, right here, right now.”

  “If you insist, I will fight you. It seems I already have my Terra Boots on,” the Fate answers, tapping his metal plated Battle Boots. “Please try not to hit the cart, all my things are in there. Esperanza, current First Daughter of Enyo, I accept your challenge.”

  She pounds fist to palm and grins. “Count it off.”

  The Fate begins to raise his hood, showering himself with cracked shells, nuts, berries, and an angry chipmunk.

  “What is that?” she asks, annoyed at the delay.

  “A chipmunk.”

  “And just why do you have a chipmunk in your hood?”

  The Fate shrugs. “Because, sometimes he glows.”

  “Are you telling me, you bound that thing?”

  “I did not do anything. He did,” he says, pointing at the chipmunk scurrying through his hair.

  Unbelievable, she thinks, wondering just how she let the fool boy become her captain. At least that’s about to change. “Just be careful with him. A Tournament is no place for a creature like that.”

  “I will see to it that he comes to no harm,” he says.

  She almost feels sorry for him. It takes many years of training with the right pet for it to be worth sharing your Spectral Armor with. At least he doesn’t have to use the chipmunk in battle.

  “Enough stalling.” She grips the sheath hanging from her skirt of blades. A Light Blue stone glimmers between her fingers like a piece of sky paled by cloudy whites.

  “Very well, three,” he says, brushing the remaining debris from his hair.

  “Two.”

  He pulls out his Stick. The switch trembles in anticipation.

  Riser grabs the handle of her best friend, Ehecthal. A centuries-old katana, he is one of the Fabled Five Instruments of the Champion of the Fight, Enyo, the Delighter of Discord.

  “One.” The Fate closes his eyes, and his ever-present smile widens into something else. He presses the Earth Aspect Tearstone on his wrist activating a golden glow. A brilliant yellow line shoots straight out of the spreading light and splits in two. The glimmering lines climb up his arm and past his shoulders. As the faint golden light grows to envelop his entire body, the gleaming yellow line continues to multiply until fully tracing out his Spectral Armor.

  Now she can hit the fool boy as much as she wants. The glowing armor surrounding him represents his Life and will absorb attacks by another Crier. He’ll still feel it, but at least his flesh will know no harm. Pain will do just fine.

  At her touch, the Light Blue Tear on her sheath blooms. An azure glow encases the Daughter in her own ethereal armor.

  When she opens her eyes she sees a whole new world, The Color World. Between her and her opponent flow beams of light of every color. Prismatic Lines they are called, streaking lights that connect all things living. Ranging from blue, yellow to red and every color in between, they fly past her at incredible speeds, so fast that she can barely distinguish one from another. Except for the Light Blue ones: those she can pick out with her eyes closed. After all, she is a Tear Fighter—or Crier, as they like to say—with an affinity for Air, and Light Blue is more than just her Color, it is her birthright.

  “Go!” The Fate snaps his eyes open. The way he leans forward makes it seem as if he’s looking up at her. But it feels more like he’s looking through her. It takes all her will to meet his stare—eyes so sharp they cut away everything but the moment. The past is forgotten; the future unwritten; all that matters is now. Her hairs stand on end and the blood rushes through her. It feels good.

  “Thank you,” he whispers, just as he does before every match.

  “Rise,” she grunts in response. Wind gusts from her boots and she is lifted off the ground. A few inches are all the Wind Dancer needs to execute her first form.

  From twenty paces, he charges. Riser closes her eyes in concentration and spins down into a crouch. The blades of her skirt slice outward before quieting like chimes after the wind. Kneeling in midair with her back toward her charging opponent, she waits.

  The faintest of breezes flickers through her hair, signaling the exact moment for the performance to begin. Without hesitation she picks the proper Prismatic Line and begins her assault. The Daughter unwinds, launching herself toward her opponent with the momentum of a hundred winds.

  “Earth Leap,” he answers, activating his boots. The road shakes as he dives straight for her.

  “Sing, Flying Serpent Ehecthal,” Riser screams, drawing her sword so clean it rings silent against her scabbard.

  A moment before contact, the Fate says ever so softly, “Iron Blood Block.” The enamel covering his Stick darkens to a pitch-black before absorbing the attack. With a flick of his wrist he strikes a glancing counter blow. She jumps clear before he can land another.

  His weapon returns to its more natural shade with a tiny new addition. A small sprout has sprung from its bloodthirsty tip.

  The Wind Dancer rises once again. “So you can block the first verse now? No matter, I have some new Techniques too,” she says, clenching her gauntleted offhand. Like the Fate, she only wears one, and like his there is a circular emblem inscribed on its back. But that is where the similarities end. Where his is dark and solid, hers is sleek and constructed of light blue-steel. As she lowers her hand, the wind hisses through the many small vents covering her Air Gauntlet.

  Riser knows better than to expect a response. If she’s learned anything in the last couple years she’s been on his team, it’s that the Fate doesn’t talk during a fight. He’ll name his Techs—he has to—but that’s not really talking. The only conversation that he’s interested in during a fight begins with his Stick and ends with aching spots all over his opponent.

  Quick as a shiver, he’s upon her. The Daughter reaches out and squeezes the Air itself. “Air Block,” she says, pulling her hand back and leaving a chunk of condensed Air behind, solid to the touch.

  The Fate studies the oncoming Block of Air carefully. He’s never seen one before. It’s a new Tech, one Esperanza dedicated a good portion of the past months mastering. But still, it’s too much to expect for him to simply
crash into it.

  A moment before impact he thrusts his hand down and says, “Earth Repel.” The road around him is a cloud of dust, but as the words come forth, the cloud shrinks around his gauntlet, only to explode against the ground, sending him hurdling safely away.

  Riser responds with a twirl. This time she stands tall with her katana fully extended. The flat of her outstretched blade strikes the Block of Air, sending it flying towards her adversary.

  “Earth Leap,” the boy shouts in response. Still in mid-leap, he lowers a foot close enough to the ground for his boot to just graze the dirt road’s surface. The road trembles and in a blink he is almost behind her. Not bad, but not good enough.

  “Air Block,” Riser commands, noting just how close to the edge of the road the Fate has circled to. This is too easy, she thinks, sending the block of solidified Air flying towards him.

  The Fate is forced to swerve off the path and directly into the field of wildflowers. He lands with a plop, boots sinking deep into the mud.

  Her captured prey thrashes about, but only manages to immerse himself deeper into the thick muck.

  “Ha!” rejoices Riser. “You’re best off not flailing about like that. It’s only going to make it harder to get you out later.”

  “Earth Leap” is his answer, which does nothing more than shake the surrounding flowers of their silvery petals. Riser’s triumphant grin grows as she watches the Fate’s knees disappear into the mud.

  Undeterred, he tries striking the mud with his Stick … to no avail.

  “You still don’t get it, do you? You’re trapped, it’s over,” she tries to explain.

  He pays no attention to her words. Instead, her soon to be ex-captain begins to unbuckle his pants in an attempt to free himself of the clinging mud.

  “No, no, what are you doing? That’s not going to work. That’s no ordinary mud you’re stuck in,” Riser notes in horrified amusement. Despite his ridiculousness, she forces her attention back to the task at hand. So far, so good; he’s trapped. But I still have to finish him off. He won’t be able to dodge, but he can still block and parry. Regular attacks won’t be enough, and now he can even block my first Technique with that Iron Blood Tech. But a Move like that needs a good amount of recovery time. Its cool-down won’t be up in time, and even if he is able to use it again, there’s no chance it could block ‘that.’