Gathering of the Chosen (8 page)

“Tournament of the Gods?” Carmaz said. He
looked down at Saia, who looked just as mystified as he felt.
“Saia, have you heard of the Tournament of the Gods before?”

“N-No,” said Saia, who seemed far more
intimidated by Tinkar than Carmaz was. “Never heard of it.”

“The Tournament of the Gods is a
competition in which the five winning mortals will ascend to
godhood and take on the roles of the gods that were slain by Uron
not long ago,” said Tinkar. “It is my job to gather up the godlings
that are destined to ascend at some point, which includes you, my
heathen friend.”

Carmaz looked at Tinkar again. “You must
have me mistaken for someone else. I care not for the gods that
abandoned my people. You can take your offer and choke on it.”

“You mortals are very good at acting like
you have any choice in matters as important as this,” Tinkar said.
“What makes you think you can reject my offer? It is your destiny
to accept it.”

“Why should I enter a competition to join
a group of beings who have treated my people as if they do not
exist?” asked Carmaz. He gestured at Saia. “Besides, my friend here
is injured, as am I. We have to return to Ruwa to assure our
friends and family that we are still alive.”

“We can heal you,” said Tinkar. He nodded
at Carmaz's broken arm. “I am not a healer like my sister Atikos,
but I know some basic healing spells.”

Tinkar waved his staff at Carmaz's arm. In
a second, the pain in Carmaz's broken arm was gone, causing Carmaz
to twist it experimentally just to make sure that it was indeed
healed. While it was somewhat stiff, there was no sharp pain
anymore.

“I … thank you,” said Carmaz, rubbing his
arm. “I—”

“You do not need to thank me anymore than
you already have,” Tinkar said. “Anyway, I could even take you two
back to your friends and family on Ruwa. Under the condition, of
course, that you agree to come with me to World's End, where the
Tournament will begin, afterward.”

Carmaz was about to tell Tinkar to shove
off when Saia, who now seemed to be getting over his initial fear
of Tinkar, asked, “Uh, Lord Tinkar, you said the winners of the
Tournament are supposed to become gods, right?”

“Correct,” said Tinkar.

“And one of the open positions is the
position as the God of Martir, right?” Saia continued.

“Of course,” said Tinkar. “With Skimif
dead, the position needs to be filled by someone worthy of the
job.”

Saia nodded, then gestured for Carmaz to
come closer to him. Frowning, Carmaz got onto his knees and leaned
close to Saia, wondering what his friend would have to say.

“Carmaz, I got a great idea,” Saia
whispered, probably to keep Tinkar from hearing. “You should enter
the Tournament.”

“Why?” Carmaz asked, keeping his voice as
low as Saia's. “Didn't you hear what I said to Tinkar about taking
his offer and choking on it?”

“Yes, but think about it,” said Saia, the
excitement in his voice mixed in with the pain he was probably
experiencing in his legs. “One of the open positions is the
position of God of Martir. If
you
win the Tournament, you
could become the God of Martir, and then use your power to restore
Ruwa to its original greatness again.”

“Really?” said Carmaz in surprise. He
scratched his chin. “Hmm. That never occurred to me.”

“Yeah, but it makes sense,” said Saia. “I
mean, this is the best opportunity to save Ruwa that anyone back
home has ever gotten. Even if it means joining the gods, I say you
should take it, for Ruwa's sake.”

“Saving Ruwa would be great,” Carmaz said,
nodding. “But the gods—”

“Who cares?” Saia interrupted. “Don't you
care enough about Ruwa to make some sacrifices? This is a
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Carmaz, so I suggest that you
don't
let it pass.”

Carmaz didn't want to admit it, but Saia
was correct. This did seem to be the best opportunity that Carmaz
would ever have to actually help Ruwa return to its original glory.
Even though Carmaz didn't want anything to do with the gods, if it
was indeed his destiny to join them, even rule them, then maybe he
should go ahead and do it. He couldn't really see any reason not
to. After all, Tinkar hadn't said that he would die if he lost the
Tournament, so he had nothing to lose by trying.

So Carmaz stood back up and turned to face
Tinkar. “All right, Tinkar, I accept your offer. But only on a
couple of conditions.”

Tinkar sighed. “I should have seen this
coming, but the fate of you godlings is always denser to my eyes
than the fates of normal mortals.”

“First, Saia and I want to return to Ruwa
to say goodbye to our friends and family there,” said Carmaz. “We
also need to gather our belongings for the journey to World's End.
Second, we want you to heal us. After that, then we'll be more than
happy to go with you.”

Tinkar raised an eyebrow. “'We'? Your
friend is not destined to ascend. Only you are.”

“I'm not going if Saia isn't allowed to
go,” said Carmaz, crossing his arms over his chest. “We're friends.
Friends stick together, no matter what.”

Tinkar sighed again. “Fine. But he cannot
participate in or interfere with the Tournament, and if he does,
then we will send him back to Ruwa right away. Do you agree to that
condition?”

“Yes,” said Carmaz. He looked down at
Saia. “What about you, Saia?”

“Sounds reasonable,” said Saia, nodding.
“I'll support you every step of the way, Carmaz, even if I can't
actually participate in the Tournament myself.”

“Very well, then,” said Tinkar. He held
out a hand. “Now, let us go. The Tournament is starting in a month,
so we do not have very much time to waste.”

***

A
t this point, Braim was pretty
sure that Princess Raya didn't like him.

She didn't talk to him at all during the
dinner that the group had at the seafood restaurant on the corner
of the street (the name of which Braim couldn't pronounce due to
the fact that it was a katabans word that was essentially
impossible to pronounce in Divina). In fact, she didn't even seem
to acknowledge his existence, even after he asked her to pass the
salt. Nor did she tell him good bye after the group split and
returned to their guest rooms at the various inns across the city.
He noticed because she said good bye to everyone else except for
him, in stark contrast to King Malock and Queen Hana, who told
Braim how much they enjoyed chatting with him at the dinner.

Under ordinary circumstances, Braim might
have been offended by Raya's rudeness. He didn't like being ignored
so pointedly by pretty women, even though he couldn't remember
where he gained this dislike of such women. There was a reason he'd
called Raya 'beautiful' earlier and that was because he knew a
knockout when he saw one.

But Braim didn't feel as offended as he
normally would today. That was probably because, despite
acknowledging Raya's beauty, he really didn't care much for her as
a person. That same shadow from before kept creeping up his spine,
into the back of his mind, which made him more apathetic toward
this sort of treatment from women.

His mind was distracted, instead, by the
Tournament of the Gods. He and Darek spent a good portion of the
dinner talking about the Tournament, wondering if either of them
were going to be chosen to participate or if they would at least be
allowed to stay and watch the events. So far, none of the gods or
katabans who lived on World's End had said anything about sending
Braim and the others back up north when the Tournament started, so
Braim was of the opinion that they were going to at least be
allowed to watch the Tournament's events unfold.

But without more facts from Alira or the
gods, Braim soon lost interest in the speculation. And when he,
Darek, and Jenur returned to the inn they were staying at, he
retired to his room immediately and fell on his bed, too tired from
the excitement of the day to do much else. Especially with the moon
rising in the sky. For some reason, he was always more tired on
full moon nights than on any other nights, although he dismissed
that as more of a coincidence than anything.

Braim's room was a rather nice, if simple,
room. He had a nice, soft bed, with nice silk blankets that always
smelled fresh and clean. A dresser and mirror stood on the opposite
side of the room, while the door to his bathroom was just to the
right of the dresser. Another door opened up to a closet, though
Braim had opened the closet up maybe once since he got here. There
was a single window that he had closed for the night. Even so, he
could see through the thick blue curtains the lights of the city,
although World's End was rather quiet for a city at night.

Then again, most of its inhabitants are
katabans, and they aren't exactly the loudest people in the
world,
Braim thought with a yawn. He scratched his stomach,
which was exposed due to the fact that he had shed his robes prior
to falling on the bed.
Or maybe the gods told them to be quiet
so we could get some rest. Not sure if the gods are really that
thoughtful, though.

In any case, Braim decided that he would
go to sleep. Not that that would be easy; even though he was very
tired at the moment, Braim had found it difficult to sleep thanks
to the sense of dread and darkness that always seemed to be hiding
just outside of his reach. Still, Braim needed as much sleep as any
living being, so he closed his eyes and prepared to doze off by
counting baba ragas before he heard something scratch against the
floor.

It wasn't a particularly loud sound. It
didn't sound like it was coming from the streets outside, however.
It sounded, in fact, like it was coming from the closet itself.

Maybe it was just my imagination,
Braim thought.
Yeah, that's probably it. I mean, there's nothing
in there, right? After all, I didn't put anything in there and no
one has been inside this room since I left it earlier today, except
maybe the innkeeper Mishak.

Despite all of that, Braim knew that he
had indeed heard a sound in there. That meant that there was indeed
something in that closet. What—
Or who,
Braim thought—was in
there, he didn't know. He hoped that it was some kind of mouse,
something not very big or threatening, although he had no idea
whether World's End even had any mice on it.

Of course it does,
Braim thought.
There are mice everywhere. Even North Academy has the occasional
infestation, and that place is at the very north of the Great
Berg.

Because Braim doubted he could sleep
without knowing what was in his closet, he decided to stop fighting
fate. He sat up and stretched his limbs, then grabbed his wand off
the table next to his bed and stood up. He put his robes back on
quickly, then slowly advanced toward his closet.

Not a single sound came from the closet.
Even Braim was quiet as he tip-toed across the room. He didn't want
whoever or whatever was in there to hear him approaching. Again, he
doubted that it was anything that could pose an actual threat to
his life, but in case it was, he was determined to get the drop on
it.

Braim now stood in front of the door. He
laid one hand on the doorknob, but didn't twist it at first. He
just listened as hard as he could, hoping to discover its identity
by listening to any noise it made.

But no matter how hard Braim listened, he
heard nothing else except for the sounds of the city outside his
room. He almost believed that there was nothing in his closet at
all, but decided he'd rather be safe than sorry.

Bracing himself for whatever was going to
happen, Braim pulled open the door and thrust his wand inside.

The closet was empty. Aside from the metal
pole that he could hang clothes across, there was nothing at all
inside the closet. There wasn't even a mouse. He saw nothing in
there that could have made even the slightest sound.

Braim sighed in relief.
Thank the gods.
It must have been my imagination at work again.

Then Braim heard that sound again, that
slight scuffling against the wooden floor, and without thinking he
jumped to the side. Just in the nick of time, because as soon as he
jumped out of the way, a knife flew through the air and struck the
inside of the closet.

Startled, Braim turned to see a long, thin
sword coming his way. He raised his wand, summoning a magical
barrier that blocked the sword, but his shield cracked under the
pressure from the mysterious assassin's blade anyway.

As for the sword's user, it was a strange,
humanoid being wearing a mask that resembled the face of a baba
raga, though the tusks were smaller than the tusks of actual baba
ragas. The figure was bulkier than Braim, but he found it hard to
describe its appearance because much of its body was cloaked in
shadow.

Whatever it was, Braim was not going to
let it kill him. He increased the output of his magical energy, but
his barrier only seemed to grow weaker and weaker under the
pressure that the assassin placed on it, until soon Braim was
certain that his shield would break any minute now.

And then it broke, far sooner than Braim
expected, and the sword went flying through the air toward him.
Braim dodged the blade, allowing the sword to strike the floor
where he stood, but almost immediately another sword, similar to
the first, appeared out of nowhere and stabbed at Braim.

Because Braim had not expected the second
sword, he dodged it much less gracefully than the last one. The
sword did not mortally wound him, but it managed to cut through his
shoulder, causing pain to shoot through his body as he gasped.

But Braim had enough sense in him to
stagger out of the way of the assassin's next blow. He covered his
shoulder with his free hand, stemming the blood to the best of his
ability, while aiming his wand at the assassin, who turned to face
Braim again.