Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (21 page)

“Can we really?!”

“Look at me! I’m Jacob! Elder Grimlar in Organization anti-magic!

             
“I wonder what else could be in that storage room?”

Without any concern or care left in the world, I slowly drifted off to sleep and didn’t even bother to carry myself to my own bed.

             
Chapter eight

Dragons and Heroes

Doeth a leader lead by making mead
              Throwing beads or giving cheese?
              Nay, to lead you must begin at last
              Moving through the ranks quite fast

A marching drum of  footsteps come

and the leaders know their job’s begun

“The distortion trainees did what!?” Professor Wenchenberg exclaimed, standing up from his office desk. The indecisive weather outside suggested a fair amount of rain which the Professor had graciously sheltered me from. I bustled about the room with a rag, dusting the various shelves while explaining my first impressions of the school to the professor.

“They cleaned their common room.” I proudly repeated for the second time. The Professor seemed to be at a complete loss for words.

“I’ve tried to get them to clean that pigsty up for years. It’s unbelievable that you can just waltz in on your first day and take command like that.”

My cheeks turned scarlet, however the professor didn’t seem to notice.

“Perhaps it’s all for the best though,” he continued. “It’s good that you’re gaining followers.”

“Yeah but, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remember their names.” I admitted without a great deal of enthusiasm.

“In my age, it’s a wonder that I still can,” he said, scrunching his face up in deep focus. “There’s Sebastian, Adam, Igor, Luka, Pasha, Robert, Vadam, Vanya.” He suddenly froze. “Oh no! I’ve forgotten one!” Professor Wenchenberg groaned, pounding a clenched fist on his desk. He began to grumble to himself, desperately trying to remember which trainee he had left out. “Argh! I remember his face but not his name!”

I tried not to chuckle at the professor's apparent distress.

“Nestor! That’s it. I’m forgetting Nestor!” the professor trumpeted after a moment in thought. “But aside from names, I suppose there are more pressing matters at hand.” he said gesturing to the sword sheathed to my back. “Tomorrow is the first day that you start your training, yes?” I nodded and slowly handed over my sword to the professor who began to examine it with great care. His fingers trembled slightly as they ran over the name of the sword, fumbling blindly at every crevice of every letter. “F’anger the beast,” he whispered before chuckling slightly. “My my Jacob that has to be one of the strangest sword names I’ve ever heard.”

“It feels like everyone’s been telling me that,” I grumbled, feeling my face sag down into a heavy frown.

“Strange doesn’t mean bad,” the professor responded lightly. “Strange means different and unusual.  I happen to like your choice a lot.”

“It was Umber that named it actually,” I stated, carefully taking the weapon back.

“Was it now?” The professor seemed pleasantly surprised. “Speaking of Umber, how are you feeling now that you’re one of the Quenched?”

I shrugged a bit. “I’m doing alright I suppose, but it’s weird having another thing moving through my head. I’m still not quite used to it.” The professor produced a notebook out of his pocket and began to take note.

“Is that a good idea?” I asked, uncertainly gesturing to the black pocketbook in his hands.

“It’s for scientific curiosity Jacob,” he said without looking up. “There hasn’t been a member of the Quenched for a couple of centuries now. It may do people a lot of good in the future to know what you’re going through now. As a safety measure, I’m also writing entirely in code.”

Ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach, I tried to shift the conversation elsewhere. “What am I going to do today?” I asked, tossing my dusting rag off to one side and taking a seat by the fire.

“Today you shall rest, for tomorrow is when you begin your classes.” The professor said, folding away his pocketbook. He bit his lower lip tentatively and stared gravely out the window for a moment before continuing. “Do you know why I brought you in here today Jacob?”

I braced my back and stiffened my neck, not expecting this question. I shook my head and stared at Professor Wenchenberg with apprehensive curiosity.

“I brought you here to talk, because unfortunately for us, it seems like our old friend Caterwaul
Lozenge
is catching onto our plan.”

“You haven’t actually told me your plan sir,” I pointed out quickly.

Professor Wenchenberg considered this, looking out to the sky and at the small bit of rain bubbling down from the clouds. “True,” he admitted after a while.

I slunk back in my seat, and nervously scratched at my head.

“Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of Jacob,” Professor Wenchenberg said, as if in direct response to my embarrassment. “It’s the foundation of innovation, and it’s been my fault for suppressing  it for so long. Professor Wenchenberg paused to rummage in his coat pocket. He gave a small ‘aha!’ as he found and removed a large pamphlet. “Go ahead Jacob. You’ve earned it.”

I nervously took the paper from his fingertips before excitedly opening it up and beginning to read.

THE ULTIMATE KNIGHT

A new age has emerged within the camp as for the first time in history, The Legion of the Grimlars are allowing one chosen trainee to leave the concentration camp, in an attempt to find and kill the malicious dragon Orthonus. A great number of trainees from all walks of life and all skill levels will try out and compete in a series of three events, in the hopes of becoming
The Ultimate Knight
. 

When the one powerful Grimlar trainee emerges victorious, He will be granted
one year
to find and kill Orthonus, who threatens our kingdom’s prosperity and well-being. There are no restrictions as to how this champion may kill the dragon should he find him, however it must be by the victor’s hand, and it must be within the year allocated. Should the mighty victor of this competition go so far as to slay Orthonus, the high council of Zaphris agrees to grant this warrior
any three wishes
which will be fulfilled by his majesty King Esterjay Thombarr II.

              “The reign of terror that Othornus holds has lasted for far too long!”

             
              “It is time that the lands see a new, able champion!”

              Only those granted a tier within the ranks of the Grimlars may compete in the competition. Restricted to those tier one, two and three.

                            Entries must be submitted to Professor W. Wenchenberg by December the tenth.

The Qualifying competition will take place on December the twenty-seventh. location taking place to be announced

Semi-Finals will take place on December the twenty-ninth in the Etaporium

Finals will take place on December the thirtieth in the Etaporium.

             
The competition theme is magical creatures.

             
“
You want me to win this competition
?”
I asked, completely mortified. “No I can’t! This is plain stupid!” The Professor’s eyes slowly faded away as he tugged back the entry form.

              “Jacob, do you fully understand the reward?”
Professor
Wenchenb
e
rg
asked,
suddenly
striking
the paper with his fingers. It was the angriest I had ever seen him
and
f
or one horrifying moment,
I couldn’t recognize the man in front of me
. “
Just one of these three wishes will let you disband the Grimlars for good!” he insisted, slamming both of his hands on his desk. “This has been
our
dream for as long as we’ve been in this camp Jacob! Do you really want to throw away this opportunity?”

              “This... This can’t possibly work!” I protested sharply. “The Grimlars won’t just stop because of a wish!”

              “A taborthodox stamp binds these entry forms,” Professor Wenchenberg stated, fervently flipping over the pamphlet for me to examine the seal. I could see that one of the circles was already filled. “This isn’t just any ordinary contract Jacob. This mark is bound in blood by the ruler of all of Zaphris; King Esterjay.”

              “The King of Zaphris?” I asked skeptically. “He’s willing to risk his sovereignty just to get rid of some dragon I’ve never heard of before?”

The professor nodded as if he could understand my confusion. “Until these papers were given to me several years ago, I was under the assumption that Orthonus was dead. Those same several years ago, King Esterjay wanted to hold this competition, but could not convince Caterwaul Lorenzo due a lack of proof. Nobody knew if Orthonus was still alive meaning nobody knew if the competition could be held.

              “So we’re having this competition because we know that this Orthonus is alive?” I concluded uncertainty.

“The king claims he has proof this time,” Professor Wenchenberg corrected. “I haven’t seen this proof for myself, but he’s apparently convinced the Caterwaul to hold this contest.”

I scrunched my forehead, trying to make sense from all of this. “If the king really wants this dragon gone, why is he picking a single Grimlar trainee to do it, rather than gathering up an entire army?  There’s over two hundred elder Grimlars in the camp, and he only asks for a single trainee? That’s ridiculous!” I added, throwing my head back into the soft armchair

              “That it is,” The professor agreed seriously. “At the moment I don’t know what he’s thinking. Perhaps he’s as mad as everyone claims he is. Perhaps he underestimates the strength of the dragon or  perhaps he finds it sporting. For whatever reason, King Esterjay has decided to bind himself to these wishes, meaning he is obligated to fulfill them no matter the circumstances. These wishes are the best chance we have at destroying the Grimlars as we know them,”

“And this is your plan?” I asked, feeling incredibly light headed.

“This is a part of my plan,” the professor said, calmly dropping a small sewing pin in front of me. “In order for this to work I need your full cooperation. I won’t make you enter this competition but I need you to choose Jacob.”

An uncomfortable couple of seconds passed where neither of us moved. The air around me suddenly seemed to grow hot and sticky. The skin around my arms itched as they started to prickle up in sweat. I stared at the professor with unfocused eyes, waiting for him to do something,
anything
.

“Will you help me with this competition?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“I will do everything in my power to help you Jacob.” The professor assured me with a small bow of his head. “It’s stated in the contract, that I’m strictly forbidden from helping competitors, however I have ways of bending the rules.” The professor grinned mischievously and I couldn’t help a quick smile of my own.

“Can I have a minute to read over the fine print sir?”

              “Of course.” The professor responded, sitting back in his seat and politely diverting his attention elsewhere.

             
“Henceforth,

From activation of this contract, the Grimlar trainee will made to compete in the qualifying round. If he is selected to move on to the next round, he will do so, unless seriously injured, or otherwise incapable of performing to the best of his abilities. Failure to attend any round the trainee qualifies for results in instant disqualification.