The Rise of the Fourteen (16 page)

Faber weaves his way through the warren-like passages that are
the water town of Nanxun. The stony gray walls all look the same to him as he
ducks through archways. If it weren’t for the shop signs, he would be lost.
It’s
like a Venice in China.

His chest puffs up, his stride lengthened by his inner
self-encouragement. To his right, a man hacks and coughs, spitting a glob of
saliva at Faber's feet.
Although, somewhat less glamorous for sure.
He
shudders in disgust.
It’s a nice town to wander, though, with all of the
passages and alleys. Mother would never approve, of course, but it's her fault
I'm here, isn't it?
He grimaces at the thought. He can’t even picture her
face now, only remember her touch: firm, yet warm.

Even the mere thought of his mother induces enough guilt
that Faber begins tracing his steps back home or, rather, his aunt and uncle’s
home. In their cozy two-story house, the smell of fish from the boats is quite
pungent.
But, if you burn enough incense, it will go away for a few minutes.

He’s just walking down the final street when he sees
something glinting. He moves towards the source of light. A few doors down,
stands a short, olive-skinned girl with long wavy hair, speaking in rapid-fire
Mandarin with an innkeeper. The only anomaly is the emerald sparks cascading
off her skin.

 The second thing Faber notices about her is the bag slung
over her shoulder. Shaped like an elongated quiver, the sheer size should
surely be weighing her down. However, despite her small stature, she stands
proudly, handling the satchel with ease. He also marvels at her speech.
She
looks foreign, but her accent is flawless.
Then, with an elegant flip of
her glittering hair, she’s gone.

 With no other motivation than extreme curiosity (mixed
with some innate stupidity), Faber follows the girl. There is very little cover
on these narrow streets, and he’s grateful that she doesn’t turn around. She
eventually ducks into the doorway of a funky-smelling shop. In the heat of the
moment, Faber follows her in, not even bothering to read the sign (in Chinese
of course).

Inside, she has already had a brief conversation with a
tall, dark-haired man and proceeds to take a seat on the tatty floor cushions
as the man disappears into another room.

“What is this place?” Faber wonders aloud.

 “It's a silk-producing shop,” the girl replies in a matter-of-fact
tone. Noticing his confusion, she explains, “I'm a weaver, and I've come to
learn more deeply about my
material of study
.” Faber nods, but his look
remains blank. “Callida Interlengi,” she says hastily, sticking a hand out.

Faber shakes it uneasily, aware her hands are still
sparking. “Faber Wilson,” he chokes out, the words sticking in his throat.

“Okay, I have to tell you something.”

Why do I have a bad feeling about this?

“When I was sent here, I was meant to bring you back to the Sanctuary!”

 “The what?”

 “Don’t speak,” she says calmly, as if barely acknowledging
the interruption. “Faber, you are part of a group of twelve people meant to
restore the
gift
to the world. The
gift
is the ancient magical
force that maintains balance.” She pauses (probably for dramatic effect) then
continues. “And you are one of its keepers. You need to be taken somewhere the
guardians
can protect you. It’s not safe for you to just prance about wherever you like.”

“First off, I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Second, I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“Is that why your mom shipped you out here?” A brief flicker
of regret runs through her eyes, freezing her facial expression.
Dammit, I
wasn’t supposed to say that.

“How would you know that?”

Callida sits quietly, staring at the floor.

“How could you possibly know that my mom sent me out here
for my safety?”

Callida huffs impatiently. “Look, you’re a special kid. You
have powers that have not existed for thousands of years. I think you’re kind
of missing the point. I’m supposed to take you to where you can be trained.”

“Magic doesn’t exist, stupid,” Faber snaps. “Who gave you
the power to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

Callida growls in frustration, her hand retracting into a
claw. She sends a shower of green flames at a nearby vase, shattering it with
an incredible explosion, and leaves in a flurry, muttering to herself as she
goes.

“I told Demetri and Sorem I’m not good at being tactful. I
told
them that maybe I should have back up on this mission, but nooo,
that is just too much to ask.”

 Meanwhile, the store proprietor re-enters the room to find
a shell-shocked Faber and a very broken vase. Taking one look at the man and
the mess of shards upon the floor, Faber rushes out and runs all the rest of
the way to the house, not looking back once.

***

 “Hey! Leave her alone!”

He holds his hands up, bracing for the coming impact. What
must have once been a large golden band on his finger is now a glob of molten
metal, blistering the calloused skin of the Colossus.

***

 
“Move, boy!” A rather pushy woman who is eager to
get on her boat shoves Faber out of his dreamscape. He has been sitting on the
bridge for hours, thinking about what Callida said, what happened on the bus, even
why his mother sent him away. Melting rings and olive sparks dance through his
head against the backdrop of fishing boats and marsh birds.
Way too much
weird stuff has happened lately.

He flicks a glob of black crud stuck to the railing and
watches it sink into the water.
But at least Callida has an explanation.
He
rubs his palms together anxiously.
Her story is cracked, though.
He
picks at a nail, ignoring the pain in his cuticles.
But what little boy
never wanted adventure?

He remembers the concern and urgency in her face. The
exasperation when he wouldn’t listen.
She meant something, whoever she is.
He
has no time to think, however. A shrill scream echoes through the commons,
piercing the air and, across many building tops, he can just make out an aura
of olive flame.
Callida!
He breaks into a run, sprinting through a back
alley.

The scene he encounters upon arriving at the side street to
rescue her is more alarming than he could have imagined. A faceless mist
strikes at Callida. It is constantly in motion as a black haze with knives that
simply dart out from the mass, unexpectedly and without warning. Callida wields
a broadsword against the hazy attacker.

She parries and swipes and sometimes simply leaps aside to
avoid a deep belly shank. The sweat already dripping from her face is a
telltale sign: she cannot win this fight. She knows this, but it will not stop
her all the same. She notices Faber pressed up against the wall.

“Faber!”
Clang clash crash.
“Get out of here! Find
the guardians. They’ll get you somewhere safe!”
Smack crack thwack.
“It’s
not safe for you here.”
The steel rings and rings, like church bells.

“What about you?” he yells over the cacophony.

“Just leave!” she shrieks. A knife has caught her blade. She
presses hard, but the steel fog pushes her to the ground. Gently and tenderly
yes, but with the clear indication that she must die.

“Callida!” Faber screeches. He remembers the warmth that
coursed through him, the day he melted the ring.
It’s time for that to come
again.
He rushes forward in a blind charge, not having a plan. He comes
into the fray and grasps the blades of the warring forces, the steel shifting
in his hands. The metal is fiery beneath his touch.

The two enemies split apart, flung backward by the sizzling
of their weapons, now liquid. Before Faber can react to Callida’s crumpled form
or the parallel cuts on his palms from the blades, a firm arm wraps itself
around his torso and pulls him into a tunnel filled with intense light. Faber
doesn't even have time to question before he blacks out, leaving Naxun as
quickly as he came.

In truth, Armifer was glad to be gone. He had been looking
forward to the holiday break for some time. Yes, it did mean spending time with
his heinous family, but at least the walls of his home would not remind him of
Nuntios.

Nuntios.

Ever since the incident in the hall, Armifer had been
haunted by memories of the fair-haired trickster. He would wake up at night in
a cold sweat over and over, after countless dreams of seeing Nuntios’s limp
body being carried away. Armifer is never able to do anything in his dreams. It
was the same feeling of helplessness every time. To top it off, everyone blamed
Armifer for what happened. Sir Eric never openly accused him of murder, but
whispers of foul play had followed Armifer through the halls.

 So, he was glad to leave that behind him, but he soon
realizes his new fate may not be much better. The first face to greet him is
that of his cousin Adrienn. Adrienn, being a whiny temper-tantrum-prone
nineteen year old, is probably one of the things Armifer despises the most (that
and biting into a raisin cookie thinking that it’s a chocolate chip cookie).

 “Hey, cousin!” she embraces him with one of her
bone-crushing hugs that smell like false sincerity and cheap perfume. “So glad
to see you back from your exile!” She receives a harsh elbow in the ribs from a
woman beside her, presumably Armifer’s aunt Flóra.
Well, she’s gotten fat.

 “She meant to say boarding school, nephew,” Flóra says
impatiently. “Now, we need to get going! There's lots of traffic and the flight
was late.” She gives him an accusatory glare as if it was his fault that the
plane wasn't on time.

As they walk towards the car park, his aunt continues the
stream of misconstrued faults while his cousin regurgitates more sugary fluff
as if she actually cares. Armifer twists the leather bracelet on his left
wrist, trying to block out their words with his fidget. There is already a worn
spot from previous visits.
It’s time to make it bigger.

 At some point during the car ride, the nauseous talk of his
aunt and cousin get to Armifer. He tries to keep down his rage, but it fizzles
up, burning inside him.

 “Shut up! Just shut up, will you!” he yells, unable to take
it anymore. He feels a ripple of energy reverberate through the car, a physical
release of dammed-up resentments. His aunt slams on the brakes, alarmed, yet
too calm for her own good.

“You know what young man?” she says shrilly. “You better
behave this holiday. You know why?” Armifer shakes his head, but judging by her
wicked grin, it isn’t good. “Because your mother and I made a deal.” She pauses
dramatically, savoring her power.
A deal?
“Any infractions, damaged
property, whatever, and you're done. We'll put you in a hospital ward.”

At this point Armifer is bristling with anger, barely resisting
the urge to leap out of his seat and throttle her. “That’s where they put
psychopaths, isn’t it?” Fire bubbles in Armifer’s core, threatening to consume
him in blind anger. He breathes deeply, releasing some of his pent up steam.
“So, watch yourself,” she says with a smirk.

Armifer’s hand curls into a claw and he breathes again,
closing his eyes this time. “Yes, Aunt Flóra.”

“Good boy,” she says with a smile. Armifer’s head slumps
back onto the headrest, his entire body filling with a sickly, syrupy dread.

 From the first moment, he walked through the door to his
family home it had been unbearable. There was the constant beration, the endless
stream of strange faces, and the musty smelling embraces were suffocating.

The subtle yet persistent avoidance of his presence had been
killing him. Sometimes when he went into a room, a sudden hush would fall, as
if he was a rabid dog that needed to be regarded with caution. Even his parents
were no better. The kids were worse. But, worst of all, however, was the
laughter, the sweet laughter of children that reminded him of a happier time of
pranks and scams.

He couldn't have pinpointed the exact moment when everything
started to go wrong, but he would have said it started with the lemonade.

“Oopsy!” Adrienn says with mock sincerity as a pitcher of
sugary liquid goes flying at Armifer, drenching his clothes. Adrienn had been
tasked with passing out drinks for the picnic luncheon arranged by his lovely
aunt.

And what a fine job she’s doing,
Armifer thinks as he
feels his shirt sticking to his skin.

“I am soo sorry,” she simpers. She grabs a silky napkin,
which does absolutely nothing to absorb the juice, already beginning to form a
gooey sheen on Armifer’s shirt.

“Hey, watch it,” a woman's voice calls from the far side of
the lawn. “Those are my good cloths! Don't let
Armifer
ruin them.” She
says his name like it leaves a foul taste in her mouth. Armifer feels raw
bitterness boil through his veins. He clenches his fists, though, and keeps it
down.

Adrienn tosses her hair angrily. “It wasn’t me! It was all
him!” She punctuates each of her words with a poke at Armifer’s chest.

You don’t feel anything; there is no emotion.
“I
didn’t do anything. Please don’t yell at me!” A roaring waterfall cascades past
his ears. Hand gestures and words lose all meaning. His aunt comes over, adding
more jibes to the fray. Someone is insisting he clean something or other, and
Adrienn has broken down into petty sobbing.

The entire family seems to gang up on him as Adrienn screams
and howls, pointing an accusatory figure at Armifer. Armifer can no longer hold
back and lets the blind fury wash over him, and bring him towards his fate.

The blanket is the first to go. He lifts it with a great
flourish and brandishes it outward, hurling plates of sandwiches and cakes at
the assemblage of “family.” His inner tumult grins at the sounds of shrieking
and the shattering of plates. He runs across the greens, picking up random
dishes and firing them at random targets.

Aunt Flóra is in a right state, with mustard dripping down her
lovely blouse. Armifer’s fury only burns brighter, and he doubles his pace.
Glasses are shattered. Jackets are torn from unsuspecting backs. Helpless lawn
chairs are bashed to bits.

Even the kiddy slide is not spared as Armifer picks up a
large branch and swings hard at it. The metal rings like a bell until its
eminent cracking. Armifer cackles ever more with delight, allowing his demons
to devour him utterly.
I am raw
destruction.
And none of
them
will
ever stand in my way.
He tosses the broken bits of slide into the air,
making it rain glittering blades on the horde of people.

***

 “Callida, there’s no way I’m letting you do this. You were
out cold until about an hour ago!”

“And who’s gonna do it, Faber? You?” Faber looks on in
disbelief as Callida puts her hair up into a ponytail and confidently straps
her sword onto her back. He turns to Sorem and Demetri.

“I can’t believe you’re hiding in the shadows while Callida
faces that … that thing,” Faber says, pointing at Armifer lighting a tree on
fire. He gestures urgently at the rising column of smoke.

“Faber,” Demetri says in his best attempt to placate the
boy, “Callida’s combat magic is the only thing that will convince Armifer to
come with us. Armifer is … very stubborn at times.”
As are you,
Demetri
thinks
.

Faber eyes the scene worriedly, not too impressed by his
latest chaperones
.
Callida tenses, ready to spring from their hiding
place (a convenient bush). Faber grips her arm in a final attempt to stop her,
but she shakes it off gently and, without missing a beat, vaults over the
shrubbery and into the thick of the chaos.

All of the people have left by now, but Armifer is still
having fun destroying, burning things, and letting the world go to pieces.
After ages of bottling up his feelings, he is realizing them in a vibrant
maelstrom of fire and smoke. And he is content until a certain dark-haired girl
enters his domain.

“What do you want?” Armifer asks coldly, displeased at the
intrusion.

“To take you somewhere safe.” She pauses then adds as an
afterthought, “Actually, I don't give a flying fig about where you go, but my orders
come from higher powers.” Faber is surprised that the sound of Sorem’s face palm
isn't more audible. Armifer’s stance shifts uncertainly.
Taking kids places?
A horrible flashback ripples through his mind
—
a
memory of a
limp body being carried by a strange man.

“Nuntios,” he spits, barely aware of his words, “Where is
Nuntios?”

“Nuntios?” Callida says confusedly, “probably eating. Why?”
Armifer goes into a furor, the world bathed in a haze of red.

“You took Nuntios!” He grabs his discarded stick from earlier
and advances on Callida. Callida smiles grimly and draws her own weapon, the
steel gleaming in the flames.

It’s not a fight that begins; no, it’s a deadly waltz.
Callida ducks and strikes with the grace of a ballerina, her steel ringing true
each time. Armifer hacks and swipes, whirling about with great speed, as if he
is dancing the Trepak. Neither side is gaining. Callida’s tactics make up for
her lack in size and wisdom and strength dance on, even as the sun begins to
set.

“You fight well for a little girl,” Armifer snarls, making
an uppercut at Callida’s face. She parries it deftly and makes a strike of her
own.

“You fight well for a whiny boy.” He lunges again. His
approach is faltering, but he refuses to give up. Callida parries again, moving
softly, on the tips of her feet. “But how will you know for sure unless you
come with us?” Armifer nearly stops dead, barely raising his sword in time to
block a wicked backhand from Callida. A tiny spark of hope flares inside
Armifer’s core.

“Will you let me see Nuntios?” he asks cautiously, his
sword still raised.

Callida raises an eyebrow.
What’s with Nuntios?
“Yeah
sure, I guess.” Armifer lowers his weapon slightly but keeps a guarded stance.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“How else would I know he puts jam in people’s milk for fun
at breakfast?”

That does sound like Nuntios,
Armifer thinks. He
stands still for a moment, unsure of himself.
This is a trick, a trap, don’t
do it
.
She’s lying. Liar liar liar.
He breathes in sharply.
But this
is my only lead that he could be alive.
With a sinking pit in his stomach,
he plants his ‘blade’ point in the ground. “Then take me to him.”

From behind the bush, Sorem opens a portal and Callida leads
Armifer towards the beacon of light.

“They're back!” Anima calls from her lookout position at the
top of the stairs. The group races down to the marble foyer, eager to meet the
newcomers. Faber and Armifer look around in a daze, attempting to take in
everything at once.

“Armifer?” a voice calls. Armifer looks up to see Nuntios
running towards him.

“Nuntios!” Armifer grins at the sight of the twin sapphires
approaching him. They embrace each other fully, their arms wrapped so tightly
around the other. “Nuntios,” Armifer whispers, running his fingers through the
boy's blond hair. “You’re alive.”

“I didn’t know if you were,” Nuntios replies, drinking in
Armifer’s essence. Tears begin to stream down Nuntios’s face as he feels
Armifer’s cheek caress his own. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. Ever. No
almost dying on me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” They laugh, in spite of themselves,
each happy to be back safe with his fellow prankster. They hold each other for
a long time, wanting to savor this beautiful moment.

At least, it could have been beautiful, had Arden not been
mouthing ‘no homo’ in the background, even as his sister elbows him forcibly in
the ribs.