Gathering of the Chosen

  Chapter Four

  At 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.

  By the dim light streaming through the cracks of the curtains, Braim thought he saw that the assassin had four arms. Two were in the regular spot where arms should go, while the other two sprouted out of the assassin's shoulders. The assassin had two swords, each one glowing with magical energy. The assassin's eyes, however, were blank, which made it impossible t
o tell what it was thinking or who it might have been.

  “Four arms, but two swords?” said Braim, chuckling despite the pain in his shoulder from where the assassin had hit him. “Decided to go easy on me, eh? Or are you just too poor to afford four?”

  The assassin paused, as if Braim had just made a good point, and then drew two more swords, similar to the ones it already wielded, from somewhere behind it. The assassin then combined the hilts of each sword pair, creating two double-bladed lances that looked even deadlier than the assassin itself. Then it drew out four more swords and created two more double-bladed lances, effectively giving itself eight swords at once.

  “Damn it,” said Braim. “It was just a joke. I know that most assassins don't have a great sense of humor, but you didn't need to pull out all of your swords on little old me.”

  The assassin said nothing in response, but whether that was because it could not speak or simply chose not to, Braim didn't know. Nor was it very relevant, because that thing could kill him all by itself whether it could speak or not.

  Then it stepped backwards and vanished instantly. It seemed to melt into the shadows, but that made no sense, because Braim couldn't see anywhere it could have hidden itself.

  A second later, Braim heard the sound of blades whistling through the air. He jumped forward, narrowly avoiding getting his head chopped off. Then he looked over his shoulder just in time to see the assassin's arm vanish back into the shadows.

  It can shadow travel? Braim thought. What the hell? I didn't even know that was possible.

  Braim's thoughts were interrupted when the door to his room burst open. Light from the outside hall streamed in as Darek staggered inside, his wand at the ready, his head whipping back and forth as he looked for the threat.

  “Darek?” said Braim in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “Heard what sounded like fighting coming from your room,” said Darek, panting as his eyes scanned the shadows of the room. “Were you atta—”

  Braim saw the assassin's blades appear over Darek's head, causing him to shoot a burst of light from his wand at them. The burst hit the blades and they vanished, while Darek just looked up at the spot where the swords had been in shock.

  “What was that?” said Darek, looking at Braim again.

  “The assassin who's been trying to kill me for the past three minutes or so,” Braim said. “He vanished into the shadows. Don't know how he did that.”

  “He must be an adherent of the Thief's Way,” Darek said, snapping his fingers. “It's a magical path usually studied by Hollechians, or was while Hollech was alive, anyway. That must be what this guy is doing.”

  “How do we stop him?” asked Braim.

  “Watch,” said Darek.

  He raised his wand, which immediately became so bright that Braim had to raise his arm to avoid being blinded. And the light became brighter still, until soon all of the shadows in the room had been banished, allowing Braim to see every corner of the room as clearly as on a bright summer afternoon.

  This also revealed the assassin, who stood near the window, standing still like it had been stunned by the light itself. Without the shadows to distort its appearance, Braim saw that the assassin was burlier than Darek and he combined. It was clearly not human or even aquarian, though what it was exactly, Braim didn't know, because it wore dark leather clothes that seemed to absorb the light. Its feet, however, were clawed, like the feet of a horian falcon.

  The light also showed its eyes through its eye holes. They were almost human, except for the lack of sclera, making its eyes look completely black.

  “There you are, you bastard,” said Braim, holding up his wand to cast a spell. “Stand still long enough for me to—”

  Without warning, the assassin jumped through the closed window of Braim's room. The sound of shattering glass was the only sound that the assassin made as it escaped.

  Alarmed, Braim and Darek ran up to the smashed window. Braim tore aside what remained of the curtains to try to catch a glimpse of the assassin as it fled.

  But when he stuck his head outside the window, Braim saw no sign of the assassin at all. He only spotted the glass shards of the window on the ground outside, but of the assassin itself there was no sign. All Braim saw was the empty streets outside. It was like the assassin had never existed.

  Braim looked at Darek with uncertainty. “Uh, you saw the big, four-armed assassin carrying those double-bladed lances, right? I'm not losing my mind or anything, right?”

  “I saw it,” said Darek, nodding, a troubled look on his face. “I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Who was that guy and why was he trying to kill you?”

  “I don't know,” said Braim. “Until today, I didn't even know that I had enemies.”

  “Maybe he mistook you for someone else?” said Darek.

  Braim looked at Darek with disbelief. “There are exactly four humans on this island, five if you count Raya. And we all look completely different from one another. I think it's pretty obvious that the assassin was after me.”

  “But why you?” said Darek. “I'd understand King Malock, seeing as he's the leader of one of the most powerful nations in the entire Northern Isles, but what's so special about you?”

  Braim was about to state the obvious when Jenur appeared in the doorway. Unlike Darek, she looked quite tired, with her hair messed up and her robes haphazardly pulled over her pajamas. She waved her wand hither and thither, like she thought that the assassin was still here.

  “What happened?” said Jenur, yawning as she spoke. “I heard fighting. What's going on?” She then spotted Braim's bleeding shoulder and gasped. “Braim, what happened to your shoulder?”

  Braim glanced at his wounded shoulder, having entirely forgotten about it in the excitement of the moment until just now. “Uh, I should explain to you guys what happened from the beginning.”

  So Braim briefly explained to Jenur and Darek how the assassin appeared and tried to kill him, including Darek's arrival that saved his life. Because the story was so short, he was able to finish it quickly, and by the time he did, Jenur was wide awake and looked quite worried.

  “An assassination attempt in the Throne of the Gods?” said Jenur. She shook her head. “I thought we were safe here.”

  “Guess we're not,” said Braim. “Or I'm not, at least. Did either of you two hear anything unusual before the assassin attacked me?”

  “No,” said Darek, shaking his head. “In fact, I was about to go to sleep before I heard the assassin fighting you.”

  “And I was already deeply sleeping during the battle,” said Jenur. “That's why I didn't come right away. I only awoke when I heard the assassin smash through the window.”

  Braim looked at the smashed window and frowned. “Do you think we'll have to pay for the window repair? Because I'm broke as hell, so …”

  Darek simply waved his wand at the window and the glass shards flew back into place. In less than a second, the window was good as new.

  “I doubt it,” said Darek. “Anyway, I'm still troubled by that assassin's attack. It leaves us with far more questions than answers.”

  Jenur nodded and then raised her wand and pointed it at Braim's shoulder. “Braim, you should let me heal your shoulder. Look at all of the blood leaking out. It's stained your robes.”

  Again, Braim looked at his shoulder, this time watching as Jenur's healing spell closed up the wound until the skin was whole once more. Though Braim could feel pain much like anyone else, he didn't pay as much attention to it as most people did, even if the injuries were serious like his shoulder. It was probably due to the fact that he had lived a pain-free life as a ghost, so most of the time he barely even noticed his injuries unless they were too obvious to ignore or caused him an unusual amount of pain.

  “Thanks,” said Braim, looking at Jenur again as she lowered her wand. “I'll wash my robes later. Right now, I'm still confused about that assassin.”

  “I think we should
contact the others and find out if they were attacked as well,” said Darek. “I'm especially worried for the Carnagian Royal Family. They're a prime target for any assassin.”

  “I'll send a gray ghost to Mal later,” said Jenur. “And one to Yorak as well, informing them both about what happened. We should also see about contacting the gods and letting them know that someone just tried to kill Braim.”

  “I think it was a katabans,” said Braim. “It didn't look like a human or an aquarian to me, and it probably wasn't a god, either, otherwise it would have killed Darek and me without even thinking. Someone must have hired it.”

  “Probably a god, I bet,” said Darek. “I mean, I don't want to accuse the gods of evildoing, but the katabans only listen to the gods. That means that there is a god out there who wants you dead.”

  “Again?” said Braim. “But I just came back to life. I'd like to tell that god to wait at least a year before trying to take my life. They're just jumping the gun now.”

  “That doesn't explain why any god would want to kill Braim,” said Jenur, brushing some of her messy curly hair back. “He hasn't done anything to anger the gods. Right, Braim?”

  “Yeah,” said Braim. “Of course, it's possible that I could have done something to piss this god off in my first life. Maybe he's trying to get revenge for the time I stole his girlfriend or something.”

  “The gods may be petty at times, but they aren't that petty,” said Jenur. Her shoulders slumped. “Unfortunately, I don't know how to find out who did it. But I will contact Mal and Yorak as soon as I can and see if they might know anything about this.”

  “Good idea,” said Braim. He glanced at his open closet. “But I'm a little afraid of going to sleep again, because I have a feeling that that assassin is not the kind of guy to give up easily.”

  “I doubt he'll return,” said Jenur. “Now that we know he's trying to kill you, he's lost the element of surprise. Doesn't mean he's not going to try again. It just means that he's not going to try again any time soon.”

  “You're probably right,” said Braim. “Well, you two can go back to your rooms now. I'll wash out the blood from my robes and—”

  “Braim Kotogs?” said a voice from the doorway, causing all three of them to turn and see who had spoken.

  Standing in the open doorway to Braim's room was a short man with blue, spiky hair. He had said Braim's name with an odd accent, in which he slightly slurred the last syllable of 'Kotogs.' That meant that the man was some kind of katabans, though Braim had never seen this particular katabans before.

  The katabans looked quite surprised to see all three of them there, so surprised that he seemed to have forgotten what he had come here to tell them. That was when Braim noticed a letter that he clutched in his left hand.

  “Hey, is that letter for me?” said Braim, pointing at the letter that the katabans held.

  The katabans looked at Braim. His eyes focused on the dried blood on Braim's shoulder with horror before he looked at Braim's face, nodded, and said, in that same odd accent from before, “Yes sir. Letter for you. From Alira.”

  The katabans threw the letter toward Braim. It glided through the air toward him, allowing Braim to catch it without any difficulty. Frowning, he looked down at the letter's envelope, upon which the word Invitation was written in a neat, curly script.

  “Thanks,” said Braim, looking back up at the messenger. “Tell Alira I—”

  But the katabans was gone before Braim could finish his sentence. He looked at Jenur and Darek. “Where'd he go?”

  “No idea,” said Darek, shaking his head. “He left faster than I could follow. Think he must be scared of humans or something.”

  “What's he got to be scared of?” said Braim. “Just because you guys are two of the most powerful mages in the world doesn't mean you're scary.”

  “Just open the letter and see what Alira has to say,” said Jenur. “I'm interested in what she's written.”

  Braim nodded and slit the envelope open with his wand's tip. He then pulled out a folded letter, which he unfolded as quickly as he could.

  Reading was another difficult thing for Braim to do ever since he returned, mostly because as a ghost he had never had to do much reading. He could read individual letters just fine, but his mind sometimes had a hard time comprehending full sentences and paragraphs, even after taking several reading lessons from Darek over the past two months. It was probably a side effect of the resurrection process, though that didn't make it any less embarrassing whenever he had to read something aloud to someone else.

  But this letter was not very long. It was a single paragraph, which Braim read quickly. And he found its message shocking. In fact, he was so shocked by this message that he wasn't sure if he had read it correctly.

  So Braim handed the letter to Darek, saying, “Can you read this for me? I think I know what it's saying, but I'm not sure. It seems to me like it must be a mistake.”

  Darek took the letter and held it under the city lights streaming through the window. He then read the letter aloud:

  “Dear Braim Kotogs,

  You have been chosen to participate in the Tournament of the Gods, which starts exactly one month from today. Arrangements have been made to allow you to stay in World's End until the start of the Tournament on the first of next month. We will reveal more details about the Tournament to you in due time.

  Sincerely, Alira, Judge of the Tournament of the Gods.”

  ***