PAIN!
Musa knew he had pushed too far.
What hit me? —Smash! It was the second time he had asked that question, and the second time, he found himself spinning, flailing, his body bouncing across the Trial Grounds like a pebble skipping the surface of a pond. His Shade Touch held his appendages intact, but each excruciating impact with the ground tore his flesh and pulverized his bones. Green Vigor tried in vain to heal the damage, but only succeeded in keeping the boy alive and aware of the agony that would have rendered an average person unconscious.
How far did he send me? —Crash! Musa had lost all sense of direction and reason after the hit. It was hard for the boy to keep any thought long enough to finish it. Even as a contemplation entered his mind, the next body-jarring collision with the unforgiving earth ripped it away, leaving the battered teenager senseless.
Where am I? —Bash!
What am I doing? —Crunch!
Master? —Wham!
Saul? —Crack!
Caleb? —Thud!
Mother? —Smack!
Was it enough? —SLAM!
Blood spewed from Musa’s gasping mouth when he struck the pristine granite wall of the palace! The sickening snap of hundreds of bones, all shattering simultaneously, filled the courtyard. Red Vigor coursed through the boy’s fragmented form, binding the broken pieces together and saving his life. Musa’s traumatized mind subconsciously pulled even more luminous threads to repair what it could. But it was not enough...
“I’m sorry,” was what Musa wanted to said. But all that came out was a gurgling grunt as the ragged and defeated boy from Tri-Star slid down the white wall and slumped motionless onto the awaiting soft grass at his feet.
Two minutes, twenty seconds earlier...
“Or...” Zachariah’s tone changed, and so did the immense weight that oppressed his paralyzed opponent. Musa’s ears popped at the sudden release of pressure. Like a loaded spring finally letting go, Musa stumbled forward. Only his firm grip on his captured kado kept him from toppling over.
Two minutes remaining...
“Or...” The General repeated, still clutching the boy’s wooden weapon, “You are the Heir, and by a method I can’t explain, you have concealed the King’s Sword from my sight. But my own eyes do not deceive me; if you say you are the successor, I will believe you. Just simply show me the sword. Otherwise, I will just end this farce now and leave you for the Table to deal with.”
One minute, thirty seconds remaining...
Musa frowned. The burden and stress of the last five years weighed heavily on his mind and soul. This was the conundrum he knew he would have to face this day. This was the obstacle Joseph had foretold. Musa knew who he was, or rather, what they expected him to be, but he could not prove it. And if he could not convince them today, he would die... and eventually, so would they.
Five minutes, Musa pondered. Master said that if I could last five minutes, they would acknowledge me without the proof they seek. So, what should I tell him? If I confess that I don’t have the sword, he will end me here and now. If I claim nothing, he will do the same. But I cannot lie...
One minute remaining...
“I...” said Musa, not through the Shade, but with his own mouth, “I... don’t know what I am. And I cannot show you what I do not have.”
The young man’s voice carried no weight. Zachariah raised a single eyebrow. This was not the answer the gray-haired warrior had expected. But that was irrelevant, because it was not the answer he wanted. The General tightened his grip on his kado.
“How... disappointing.” It was not what Zachariah said that sent a shiver down the young man’s spine, but how he said it. Within those two mere words, the General instilled a notion of finality. So, it was no surprise, nor was it with any warning, that Zachariah struck the blind boy!
The Sacer meant his attack to be quick, clean, and brutal. He had targeted the boy’s head with the perfect blend of speed, force, precision, and Reinforcement. After the unfortunate response from the mysterious child, there was no reason to prolong the trial any further. Zachariah wanted to end this charade immediately.
Such an impeccable blow would have demolished a regular man’s skull. But this was no ordinary man. He was not a man but a boy who had shrugged off a direct hit from the General’s Prima Visa. Granted, Zachariah had purposely held back when he attacked the young child with his First Form. But even then, a weakened Prima Visa from a Sacer general could render an entire army to dust. And yet, this boy had survived it and even laughed it off. Zachariah would not underestimate this lad again, so it was even more astonishing when Musa caught the General’s blade with his bare hand!
CRACK!
Thirty seconds remaining...
The impact sounded like a high-caliber gunshot! The concussion from the blow stirred up the dust around both opponents and pulverized every bone in the blind boy’s receiving hand! Musa gritted his teeth and held back the anguish that rushed through his small frame. He instantly wanted to pull green Vigor and apply it to his obliterated appendage but stopped himself. The nerve endings in his hand had already been severed, so the pain had numbed. If he were to heal them now, that agony would flare, however briefly, before the hand could heal. And that sudden pain would prevent him from what he had to do next. He could heal later; Musa had to speak now... while he had the General’s full attention... and weapon.
“I... was... not... done,” Musa said. With tortured and deliberate effort, he forced each of his crushed fingers to grip Zachariah’s kado. A few, including his pinky and ring finger, did not comply, the bones and joints no longer serving their designed purposes.
Musa swallowed hard and continued.
“As I said... before... No more rules...”
There it was again. The same inescapable feeling of immediate danger.
“Rule Number Six,” said Musa between gritted teeth. The last time Zachariah felt this danger was when this boy had first blocked his kado...
“Don’t play with fire.”
An icy chill ran through the hardened warrior of Heron. This was it! This was the danger he had felt! It radiated, not from the child, but from the pearl white kado!
“Forging... Flames,” Musa commanded under his breath.
The Sacer realized his mistake all too late. He tried to Shade Step but could not! Of course, he couldn’t, not while holding Musa’s kado and the boy holding his. It was impossible to enter the Veil when one was physically anchored to another.
General Zachariah Abel of Heron, Champion of Thyella, had been played by this child. And something about that thought brought satisfaction to the aging warrior.
Searing pain engulfed the General’s left hand and ran up his arm! Fire as white and pure as fresh snow consumed everything it touched, vaporizing clothing, flesh, and bones!
BOOM! Out of pure survival instinct forged by centuries of ruthless combat and war, Zachariah released both swords and kicked the small teenager with such force that the very ground Musa had stood on split open, casting dust and debris in all directions! Musa’s form disappeared from where it had stood as it skipped, bounced, and rolled violently across the Trial Grounds, only to collide with brutish force against the palace wall...
10 seconds remaining...
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