Chapter 5. The Invitation

It only took Finnigan five minutes to pack everything. On his belt was a series of leather pouches. He grabbed the second from the left and opened it on the small table. It expanded as it opened and inside was a boot rack holding several pairs of leather boots. He switched the boots he was wearing with a softer, more comfortable pair. After fastening his old boots to the rack he scooped the entire thing up, feeling it lighten in his hands as all the contents shrunk down.

A knock at the door was accompanied by a man's voice saying, “Master Finnigan, I’m to accompany you out to the arena to receive your reward sir.”

“I’ve got somewhere to be,” Finnigan said through the door.

“I’m sorry Master Finnigan, but if you don’t come now, you forfeit the opportunity to duel for the title at the start of next season.”

Finnigan looked to Gulliver who nodded and said “Five minutes.”

“My match could have gone ten more minutes!” Finnigan complained. “Don’t act like you’re out of time now!”

“This was your longest match by a mile!” Gulliver rebutted. “You average under thirty seconds total.”

“Wait,” Finnigan said. “How do you know that?” He sent the family passes to Gulliver and his grandfather every duel, and neither had ever attended.

“I might not make it to your duels, but I still watch the matches later,” Gulliver said.

“Really?” Finnigan asked.

“Well yeah, you’re my brother Finn,” Gulliver said sheepishly.

“Five minutes then,” Finnigan said simply.

Finnigan rushed out the door to find a small magician with a receded hairline and a pointed nose waiting for him. “Right this way master Finnigan,” he said, stepping forward. The scrawny man marched back out into the stadium where the audience was still applauding Kench. Who stood kissing...was that Valera?

“A tournament official?” Finnigan said aghast.

“I am sir…” said the short man next to him.

“Not you, the...nevermind,” Finnigan said.

The official raised an eyebrow and gave Finnigan a sidelong glance but said nothing. The two reached the man in flowing purple robes, who turned to Finnigan, looking miffed. From the flowing lavender folds of his cloak, he drew a wand and pointed it to his mouth like a microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” his voice boomed, silencing the adoring fans. “It is now time to present the duelist champion of La Semana De Los Gladiadores with his prize!” A portal opened in the center of the arena and out walked eight magicians in pure white robes carrying a litter. The scene behind them was the inside of a cave, dimly lit with torches disappearing into blackness. The portal snapped shut, and the men set the litter down in front of Finnigan. Slowly the door opened, and a wrinkled old magician stepped out. He was dressed in flowing crimson robes, emblazoned with two intertwining golden dragons.

The powdered magician in purple robes moved forward with his head held high and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, leaving his homeland of China, allow me to introduce Renzon Song, the premier of the Magicians Republic of China!” Hushed whispers passed through the audience. Had the leader of the largest group of magicians in the world just appeared at La Semana De Los Gladiadores? Finnigan reminded himself to continue breathing. Gulliver had told him about China after his visit to Hong Kong. He went to overthrow a cult, and committed his fair share of crimes while there. This very man had been the one to pardon him.

“Finnigan Higginbotham,” the old man wheezed in a thick accent. “You have won La Semana De Los Gladiadores. As the season of duelists ends, please allow us to offer you this gem.” He waved his wrinkled old hand and a silver-laden strong-box shimmered in the air in front of him. The man’s ability to use magic without a fulcrum sent shivers down Finnigan's spine.

“Thank you, Premier Song,” Finnigan said, leaning into a slight bow.

“This gift,” Song continued. “Represents an invitation of peace and openness between our two worlds,” he motioned with his hand and the box opened in the air. A small white gemstone glistened within the box on a red cushion. “Attach it to your wand and know true power.”

Finnigan was speechless. It was well known within the global dueling community that world tournaments did not include any duelists from Asia. The reason for this was, frankly, they were too powerful. Well, powerful with their gemstones. A simple magic dampener would even the playing field, but those were few and far between. It wasn’t reasonable to have a dampener at every duel involving someone of asian descent. The source of their power was derived from magic undiscovered in the west, gemstones. Each gemstone endowed some gift or another upon the user. The white gemstone was known as the power stone. It was said to make your spells unstoppable, he’d not be able to use it in official matches, but this gift was truly priceless.

Bowing even further Finnigan said “I can’t thank you enough.”

“With this gift, also comes an invitation to participate in the Far East Martial Federation,” Song said.

Finnigan felt his jaw drop open. The competitors in the Far East Martial Federation didn’t just use spells like duelists, all forms of magic were welcome there. Sure, there were magical competitions outside of the Far East Martial Federation that did the same thing, but the Far East Martial Federation was renowned for its exclusivity. They were the best of the best. Gulliver had entered it all those years ago when he was in Hong Kong. Actually, that was his cover to get into the country. He had told Finnigan how intense it was, that even with his wards he almost died several times.

“I will consider it,” Finnigan said.

The old man nodded his head to Finnigan. He then spoke quickly in a hushed voice only Finnigan could hear, “You are a brother to Gulliver Higginbotham; I need him. There is a threat in China, a threat to the world…” the sound of an explosion cut the old man off. Screams from the arena sounded on all sides. Finnigan cast his eyes to the stadiums to see what was amiss. His heart skipped a beat as he saw something he couldn’t quite understand. In the audience was a figure, completely shrouded in black energy that warped the air around the being.

“Aaaaaahhhh!” the figure let loose a tormented cry and launched itself at the nearest audience member. Its motions were unnatural, too fast, too powerful. Grabbing the audience member, the figure lifted him up into the air and, did it evaporate the person? A red mist hung in the air where the audience member once was.

More screams let out as five more of the dark figures appeared throughout the arena, all letting out that same tormented howl. They scrambled and writhed from person to person, evaporating whoever they came into contact with, each leaving a trail of darkness wherever they stepped.

“Protect the premier!” yelled one of the men in white robes. The eight of them pulled out their wands and began casting spells at the dark beings.

“Sludge-demons, wands out!” yelled a familiar voice. Gulliver! He’d fought one of these before. Obeying his brother, Finnigan pulled out his wand and began casting a series of spells at the nearest sludge-demon. A single one of those spells would have killed a man, but the sludge-demon merely absorbed the blows and kept leaping from magician to magician, evaporating everyone it touched.

Finnigan tried a knockout spell, nothing happened. He conjured a small nimbus cloud surrounding the demon and lightning cracked within the cloud, striking the demon repeatedly. The demon let out a howl and lept from the cloud, arcing high into the air. Finnigan worked a barrier spell, and the sludge-demon stopped in midair, colliding with the invisible wall.

“Barrier spells!” bellowed Finnigan. He looked around the Premier, who was encircled by the eight white clad magicians. They were incanting jets of flame and force at whichever sludge-demon came closest.

One of the sludge-demons hit an invisible barrier directly in front of the group, and they all turned their wands on it at once and bellowed “Impellio!” Their spells collided with the sludge-demon and slammed it into the ground, crushing its chest completely. It flailed for a few more moments, clawing at its collapsed chest, flesh melting away leaving a sludge coated skeleton.

Finnigan turned and blasted the same spell at the nearest sludge-demon, doing nothing more than staggering it and redirecting its attention his way. It saw the man in the purple robes first however and leapt on him. Up close, Finnigan could see what it was doing. It held the man by the shoulders and screamed into his face. The sludge-demon looked like it was pleading. The man had gone rigid in the sludge-demon's grasp, veins bulging and drooping precariously. The man's skin began to boil, his face agonized in a silent scream. In a short moment, the man burst into steam and mist, comprised of blood made vapor.

Turning back around Finnigan grabbed the white gemstone out of the floating box and pressed it to the base of his wand. It hissed lightly as it fused itself in place, fitting perfectly so as not to affect his grip. Immediately, warmth spread through the wand and into his body. He could feel the immense power emanating from the gemstone.

He turned back to the sludge-demon, which was mid stride, bearing down on him. “Impellio!” he bellowed, pointing his wand at the creature. The blast of kinetic energy hit the sludge-demon in the gut, sending it back into the stands where it convulsed violently for a few moments. It then rolled to all fours and jumped atop a nearby magician.

“Finnigan,” said Gulliver, shimmering into place at his side. “Do you remember the stances”?

“What? Uh, yes,” Finnigan responded.

“You’re the fastest of us, you need to lead a power stance.” He grabbed Finnigan's shoulder, and Finnigan felt himself become light, lighter than air. The density of reality hit him again and staggered his breath slightly as he shimmered back into existence with Gulliver. Andromeda was right beside them, blasting jets of fire from the tip of her wand at a nearby sludge-demon.

“Power stance on Finnigan!” Gulliver shouted to her. Finnigan opened himself up to join a stance just as his dad had taught him all those years ago. He took a deep breath, focused on the arena around him, and centered his mind on his magic. It clung to him, and he pressed it away, opening it to create and aura around himself. Andromeda jumped quickly behind Finnigan as the sludge-demon she was fighting thrashed violently in place. It slowly turned to look at them. Suddenly, it made a mad sprint toward them, switching between running upright and on all fours. It leapt into the air as Andromeda and Gulliver each placed a hand on Finnigan's shoulders.

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Magic rushed through Finnigan, livening him in ways he had all but forgotten. The world seemed to slow down, he could see more men in white running from the tunnels to assist the premier. He could see all five sludge-demons, two in the stands, two attempting to break the line of defenders surrounding the Premier, and one about six inches from Finnigan’s own face. He looked directly into its eyes, it was still moving in slow motion, closer and closer. It seemed to be sucking in the light, corporeal darkness dripping thickly from every inch of its flesh. It looked like a human covered in tar, but its eyes were black and frenzied. Its expression was pain and fear, mingled with enraged lunacy.

He pointed his wand at the demon and blasted it in the chest with raw power, kinetic energy from the impellio hex. The monster shot backward, embedding into a stadium wall. It let out a painful wail as its flesh melted around its crushed chest. Finnigan turned his attention to the stands where there were still two sludge-demons. He incanted and created barrier spells and entrapped them both. He compressed their newly created prisons, twisting his wand as he did so. The barriers reached their auras which seemed to resist his power. He felt the surge of magic from Gulliver and Andromeda and the power from his new power stone, and seized even more of it. He channeled it through his wand and gave it one more sharp twist. With a final turn of his wrist the barriers imploded on the demons. They cracked loudly as their skeletons gave way.

By Finnigan’s count there should be at least two more sludge demons in the arena. He turned and looked for them; Andromeda and Gulliver shadowing his motions. He found the last pair assaulting the white-robed magicians guarding the premier. Finnigan stopped, something was wrong. There were five men, unconscious on the ground. The premier still had a full guard with him, but five of the men were unconscious. On the ground. Finnigan moved closer, trying to piece together what was wrong. A sludge demon broke their ranks and grabbed one of the men, vaporizing him.

The premier stepped toward the demon, power radiating off the old man. He moved his hands around in the air, tracing the outline of an invisible sphere. The sphere began to glow, dimly at first, then incredibly bright. The old man launched it into the demon, sending it back into the stands.

Wait, that was it! The sludge-demons don’t knock men down, they turn them to vapor. He saw one of the white robed magicians point his wand at the emperor's back. With a small flash of light the emperor fell to the ground, unconscious.

Finnigan pointed his wand at the traitor but a sludge-demon lept between them. He cast another barrier spell around this sludge-demon and began to put pressure on it. It resisted harder than the other two had. It let out another earsplitting wail and climbed the invisible wall. It leapt out the top of the containment field that Finnigan had created. He cast a tripping spell, making it land on its face. He threw another barrier, this one a dome, trapping the sludge-demon within.

He looked over and saw Kench, clubbed wand spinning rapidly, firing a beam of golden spells at the final remaining sludge-demon. The spells must have been breaking through the monster’s defensive magic, as wherever the beam hit convulsed, disabling it. Finally, its entire body succumbed to the barrage of spells, curling up and releasing one last moan.

Finnigan redirected his attention to the traitor within the premier's guard. He had created a portal and was dragging the premier through it, when he was attacked by one of the loyal guards. The guards broke into two factions, the loyal guards standing between Finnigan and the traitors. The traitors forced the old man through the portal, then attempted to snap it shut.

“For the Shadow!” the traitor yelled.

“Flagellum Laqueum!” Finnigan bellowed. A long electric whip shot from his wand and wrapped itself around the edge of the portal. The portal tried to snap shut, but Finnigan pulled on his whip and held it ajar. The magicians who had passed through the portal cast spell after spell on the whip charm. Finnigan could feel their feeble attempts to break his magic, but they weren’t even close to matching his power.

He stepped forward, then before he could react, everything unwound. Magic seemed to evaporate. He could feel Gulliver and Andromeda’s hands on his shoulders, but that’s all it was. No magic flowed from them. He looked at the enclosure of the sludge-demon, and it seemed to have vanished. The demon just lay lifeless on the ground. The magicians in white were bellowing spells, but nothing shot from their wands. Finnigan looked up at the feathered serpent, but its eyes had turned to hard stone, it had been turned off.

There was no explosion, no quake, just a cessation of magic. “What happened?” Andromeda asked.

“He’s here,” Gulliver said. “The man from the ravine!” His eyes widened and dashed to Andromeda. “It’s cracking more, the memory!” His voice was shaky, even afraid. “Andy!” he said pleadingly. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spoke directly to her. “When I forget, I need you to remember! I can’t go to the ravine, but you can. Please, promise me you will.” Finnigan had never seen his brother crack like this, well, not since the day they heard about their father’s death.

“I promise,” she said, voice quivering slightly. “Gulliver, it...it’s going to be okay.”

He stared at her for a brief moment, before turning and marching toward the men in white robes. “Can we trace where the portal went?” he asked. Magic seemed to have returned as the men in white robes were pointing their wands and working in hushed incantations.

“We must alert the general,” one of the men said. He pointed his wand into the air in front of him and said, “Faceum tempus.” A small silvery bubble appeared in the air.

“Send word to the wizen. I’ll summon the initiates.” Andromeda said. They both pointed their wands to the air and sent jets of light into the sky.

“General Yang, I am sorry to disturb you, but the premier has been taken,” the white-robed man said. Finnigan looked over, and within the silvery bubble was a man’s face. His stare looked as though it alone could kill. His eyes flooded with rage as the silvery wisp vanished.

A series of portals opened behind Gulliver, and out came stewards of all shapes and sizes. At their front was a man with a thick, well-trimmed mustache with flecks of grey. His haircut was equally well trimmed, with grey there as well.

“High Marshal,” he said. “Initiate Krell, reporting for duty. The initiates are all present and accounted for. Jasper is organizing our ranks, with what would you have us tasked?” Finnigan couldn’t help but wonder if this man was a robot. Everything about him said he’d been in the stewards guild for life; but he was an initiate, and no initiate was that old.

“Create a defensive perimeter. I expect we’ll see a show of force from the Magicians Liberation Army,” Andromeda said.

“Yes, High Marshall,” Krell said. The man strode away and yelled at his fellow initiates “Thor’s hammer, formations of fifteen, keep them tight. Parameter around the top of the arena. Blue and geen, go!” the man took one look at the sludge-demon and shuttered.

Another portal opened and out stepped the wizen himself. Finnigan had only met the man once, but he was sure this was him. He was wearing brown robes, with golden pauldrons on his shoulders fashioned into feathered wings. There was a tall blonde man at his heels, was that Garen? Finnigan hadn’t seen him since he was a child, but recognized Garen at once.

“What happened here?” Zedekiah asked, fire in his voice. He looked around at the carnage in the arena. The black trails of the sludge-demons had begun to smolder, and in some places completely ignited. The red mist of vaporized magicians had settled to the ground, leaving pools of blood mixed with dirt where magicians had once been. The old magician flinched when he saw the sludge-demon.

“The premier of the Magicians Republic of China was here,” Andromeda said, widening Zedekiah’s eyes with shock. “He was abducted by a group of magicians who claimed to be a remaining fragment of the shadow’s forces. Six sludge-demons were summoned, and some of the premier’s own men betrayed him.

“By the creator!” the Wizen cursed.

“Defensive perimeter!” Garen barked at the initiates, who were already in position. To Zedekiah, he said “Gao Yang is the Chairman of the Magicians Liberation Army. He’ll blame us. Even though Gulliver was pardoned in Hong Kong by Song, Yang still wanted war.”

“Thank you, Garen,” he said. “Six sludge-demons Andromeda?” he asked. “There hasn’t been a single sludge-demon summoned in over a decade.”

“Yes sir,” she responded. “They distracted us while one of his own men pulled him through a portal.”

Suddenly a loud crackling sounded through the arena, and on all sides portals burst into existence. Out ran men and women wearing black armor, plated like scales on a reptile. Each carried a spear with a white gemstone fastened to the base of it. The Armored Guard: China’s elite military force. The men immediately attempted to corral the stewards out of position, but the initiates were ready and erected barriers against them. Finnigan turned to see one of the men with a spear dashing toward him, and he erected a barrier of his own.

“Fire no offensive spells!” bellowed the wizen. He turned as another, more massive portal opened five paces from him, black on the other side. Gulliver, Garen, and Andromeda positioned themselves between the old man and the portal.

Finnigan saw Gulliver quickly absorb a handful of small spheres into the tip of his wand: Gulliver's wards. Finnigan had always been jealous of Gulliver's innate ability to weave magic into constructs. Now he was glad his brother had put in all that work. Gulliver flicked his wand innocuously. Finnigan knew that he had just launched several wards into the air, he was ready for a fight! As of yet, the inside of the portal was still pitch black though.

Two women stepped out of the darkness. Each was wearing a gold fitted dress that had short sleeves, revealing slender arms that looked incredibly smooth. Finnigan believed the dress was called a qipao. The dresses had a single red dragon up the side, ending in a tattoo on each woman's right cheek. Finnigan looked to Gulliver for a reaction. To anyone else, his brother may have seemed unflinching, but Finnigan noticed his older brothers grip on his wand tighten. The women had angular faces and eyes that looked dispassionately around the scene.

Each of them held a slender black wand loosely in their left hands. Through their open grips, Finnigan could see a rainbow of gemstones, at least three of which were white. The stewards would need their defensive stances to even stand a chance against these women.

From the darkness of the portal behind them strode a man, the same cold face that Finnigan had seen in the silvery wisp.

“General Gao Yang,” the wizen said, stepping from behind his stewards. “Please tell me it was merely an oversight that saw your premier here without informing the Stewards Guild. Further, was it your men who took the premier back to China?”

“Kill those who failed us,” the man said, looking past the wizen at the remaining men in white robes. Without hesitation, spells shot out of the tips of the armored guard’s spears, hitting the white robed magicians before they could react. Even Finnigan was too stunned to react in time, and all of the men fell, dead before they hit the ground.

The wizen strode past the two women, who were now staring at the gemstone on Finnigan’s own wand. The old man stood nose to nose with the younger Yang and said, “Let me make myself very clear. I recognize that these men you’ve slaughtered welcomed death for their failure. However, if you kill another person on soil under the protection of the Stewards Guild, I will have my stewards crush your armored guard where they stand. Do I make myself clear?”

Yang didn’t move, his eyes remained where they had been before Zedekiah confronted him. Had he turned to stone? It was several moments before his eyes flashed briefly with rage before returning to their emotionless state.

“Wizen, you have failed to protect our premier in your lawless lands,” Yang said. His voice was high and sounded nasally.

“You didn’t send word! It’s in the Sorcerer's Pact! If you want our protection, you have to tell us you’re coming!” Zedekiah replied hotly. The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Yang looked away.

“We sent word of his coming, and you say nothing was received? The stewards have failed to open a simple letter and lost our premier! What will you do to get our leader back?” Yang said, glaring into Zedekiah’s eyes.

Zedekiah must have been satisfied as he moved away and said, “Can we trace the portal?”

“No sir,” said Andromeda. “No magical trace was left at all; however, I know that the Chinese have a more effective way of checking,” she added, eyeing Yang.

“Regalia,” Yang said.

The two women who came with Yang lifted their hands and began circling them back and forth. They muttered something Finnigan couldn’t hear, and their wands glowed slightly as they walked through the arena. After a few minutes, the two women returned to the sides of Yang and spoke in unison, “No portals were created here General.”

“We will exhaust every resource to return our premier to China, where he belongs,” Yang said.

“As will we,” said the Wizen. “We have a lead in custody at the Golden Dome already. You’re welcome to join us there with your regalia.”

The General looked around, considering the armored guard, then nodded. “I will accept your invitation,” he said. “Provisionally.”

Zedekiah looked at the General, “We’ll discuss it at the dome.”