Chapter 88

Mario’s voice boomed. His posture shifted. He was shifting from nonsense rambling to something more pointed. The crowd detected the shift. The restlessness and murmuring that had been growing as Mario prattled on suddenly receded.

“Today, proud citizens of Boston,” Mario began, pacing with theatrical flair, “you are about to witness a contest unlike any other. The rules of this sacred rite are as follows: Three teams, three forts, each led by our three remaining contestants. No orbs will fall from the heavens as they do in the wilds. No, here in our arena, they will emerge from the very floor beneath their feet at random intervals. These orbs will contain a simulacrum of the precious Flows, the same power source that fuels our very city and our future.”

The crowd waited expectantly. Mario smiled widely at their silence.

“Our pseudo-Griidlords must absorb the Flows contained in these orbs, just as they would in the wilds. But absorbing a Flow is a lengthy process, one that leaves the Griidlord defenseless—open to attack from all sides. Once absorbed, the Flow must be returned to their team’s castle. And here’s where it gets interesting: these orbs will vary in size, just as they do in the wilds. Some will be worth more Flows than others. The first team to secure 100 Flows within their castle will end the competition. However, any team with less than 50 Flows at that point will be eliminated.”

The crowd was growing excited. With twelve suits on the floor, this would be a day with a lot action.

“If two teams reach 50 Flows each,” Mario went on, “then the day is over, and the third team will also be ejected. This is a trial of cunning, of strategy, and of leadership—qualities that will define our next Sword of Boston!”

I nodded to myself, taking in the rules. This was yet another opportunity for one of us to claim the suit today, though I doubted that was truly a possibility. The powers that be wouldn’t deny the crowd their grand finale—a head-to-head match that would conclude the Choosing and proclaim a new Griidlord.

But I wasn’t naive anymore. I expected the scales to be tipped. I intended to move according to that expectation, to try and anticipate it and use it for my own advantage if I could.

My objective was clear. I wanted 50 flows. I wouldn't think about 100. And, I needed to do my best to stop Lance of Gideon from gaining 50 before I did. If they were each worried about at least making themselves safe, then they would be unlikely to abandon their own ambitions for that of a collective. If either of them passed 50 then they could turned their full attention to me.

Mario’s boomed once more.

“And now,” he said, “it is time for our nine redeemed souls to be equipped!”

Twenty or more priests flooded onto the arena. They were followed by young, strong attendants. The Mystorium cylinders glistened in the light.

The voice spoke to me. It was sneering in its tone. "You know, Boston doesn't have that much Mystorium."

I thought back to it, what? What am I looking at then?

Stolen novel; please report.

The voice said, "Mystorium is held by the priesthood of each city. It's sacred, the hands of the layman, even the noble layman, cannot touch it without the blessing of those doddering white coats. Thems the rules. But The Choosings are so sacred, so vital, that the priesthood facilitates them in ways that might surprise you. This much Mystorium must be on loan from a dozen cities."

I thought, Never. A city would never lend Mystorium to another...

The voice said, "The cities have nothing to do with the decision. The mystorium does belong to the city, and the priests take account. But they have the right to use it for ceremonies like The Choosing. Oh, you know how it is, there are treaties and agreements between the dithering old men in the white cloaks and the dithering old men who sit on the thrones."

Still, I stared with new thoughts flooding me. I should have wondered at the quantity of the precious material that was arranged before me.

The Msytorium flowed to the bodies of the vanquished nine. Suits formed around them. It was breathtaking to see so much happening so quickly. SHIELD suits formed around their wearers, taller and heavier than the others by far. Arrow suits enveloped those chosen for the role, clawed hands forming at the ends of their arms. And the Axes took shape, bulkier than Arrows or Swords, diminutive compared with the SHIELDs.

For the first time I realized how poorly most of the others reacted to contact with the suit. Most of them shivered or winced as the suits formed around them. It was not the uncurling ecstacy that I expected to see, the exuberant power that I felt each time the suit took me. Only Olaf seemed to swell as the suit enveloped him. The others, if anything, looked uncomfortable.

Mario's waited for the transformations to complete before he spoke. "The contestants may now proceed to their forts. As this is a challenge that measures strategy as much as their skill with the suit, we will allow a few minutes of consultation for the Swords to plan and instruct their teams."

Lance, Gideon, and I walked down the steps that joined the platform to the arena floor. Attendants met us at the bottom of the stairs to bring us to our new teams. As I descended, I could see Lance being guided to a fort with blue markings, Gideon to one with green. My team and I were led to the fort adorned with red.

The forts were crude enough, but built of sturdy heavy lumber. They were really just a facade for the crowd. Inside each, a large metallic device dominated the center, a massive orb embedded within it. This was the point for Flow delivery. It would be by delivering Flows to these receptacles that we could increase our score.

I glanced up and noticed that each fort had huge banners hanging above them. Right now, the banners above each fort bore two zeros. I understood, these were our scores. As each team delivered Flows to their fort, the banners would be replaced or altered to reflect our new scores.

I reached my three new teammates and the attendant moved away.

Olaf stood, glowering at me. He had always been big, but now, in the SHIELD suit, he was a titan.

"Olaf," I said... I felt an urge to speak to him, to tell him something... But I struggled to find the words.

"Olaf, you were the first one to lose your place in the Choosing," I said, and immediately regretted it as I saw him recoil slightly. Damn it, that wasn’t what I meant to say.

I took a breath and tried again, forcing myself to focus. "Olaf, they didn’t value you enough because you exited early, but I promise you, the only reason I didn’t pick you in my first selection was because I knew they’d make that mistake."

He straightened a bit at that, regaining some of his composure. I pressed on, hoping to reach him. "I truly believe you were meant for the Shield. Today, you have the chance to prove the doubters wrong. You’re still young, Olaf, and you might yet get a chance at the Shield in the future. But right now, I can’t imagine anyone being a greater asset to this team."

I stepped back, looking at the three of them—Olaf, Zara, and Leona. Each of them had been cast aside by the Choosing, their dreams dashed, their hopes dimmed. But here they were, standing with me, ready to fight once more.

"I bet when this whole thing started, none of you ever imagined being in this position," I said, my voice steady. "Backing me for the Griid suit…”