Chapter 9: Chapter 8: The Gunslinger (II)

-----The Wayfarer-----

The road leading to the tournament grounds was crammed filled with vendors, hawkers, journalists, and curiosity seekers. People had travelled from every corner of the continent to get a look at the competitors who had so much riding on them. Some were cheering their hometown heroes, others were jeering the representatives from rival territories, and others just stood silently, judging the competitors with unimpressed gazes.

Many of the merchants were catering to these spectators, selling food, souvenirs, and autographs they promised were 100-percent authentic from previous champions. Others were aggressively pushing their wares on the procession of competitors, claiming their weapons, charms, and gizmos would give them the competitive advantage in the coming tournament. Cai was warned by each he turned down that once they entered the tournament grounds, they could only make use of what they brought with them, so this would be his absolutely last chance to stock up.

Even if Cai had wanted to make some purchases – not that he could even guess what would be helpful in the coming battles – he was still without coin after the incident in the station. He’d just have to hope his fists and his training were enough to carry him through.

Ju-Won stopped for a moment at one of the stalls to buy two meat skewers, then offered one to Cai. Cai declined. His nerves had killed any possible appetite he might have had. Ju-Won shrugged and devoured both.

They approached the gates to the tournament grounds. An entire stretch of the coastline had been walled off, with seemingly the only way through the towering black barricade being the currently raised steel portcullis. Cai had asked Ju-Won a few questions about the tournament during the train ride, among them about the tournament grounds. Ju-Won hadn’t been able to tell him much, as the grounds were closed to anyone besides the competitors, the Tournament Commission, and official spectators. It had been set up miles from civilization, with the land it sat on and several miles of the sea beyond being considered neutral territory owned by the Commission. The trains and ferries only ran out here around the time of the tournament; during all other times it was a punishable offense to try and approach the grounds.

Which didn’t really give Cai a lot to go on in terms of what to expect. The closer he got to the imposing wall, the more unprepared he felt.

There was a small line around the gate. Two people dressed in the same kind of suit as the man who had dropped off the invitation to Cai’s father were now checking for these invitations before allowing people inside.

Cai tapped the invitation tucked in his robes to ensure it was still there. Ever since losing his pouch, he’d been paranoid about falling out or getting stolen. He let out a sigh of relief when he found it still there.

They waited in line for a short while as the strange procession of fighters were allowed inside. Ju-Won went ahead of Cai, showing his invitation to one of the suits before being allowed through the gate. But as Cai was about to approach the other, he was roughly shoved aside.

“Out of the way, loser.” A tall, bony man with slicked-back blond hair shoved past him.

“Yeah, loser,” a smaller but more muscularly built man parroted as he joined the first in pushing past Cai.

A third, weaselly looking man joined them, not saying anything but snickering as he followed the two.

It would have been easy enough to let it go. Waiting three more positions wouldn’t take too long. Maybe it was the insult, or maybe it was some part of his honor as a Wayfarer coming through. Or perhaps he had been so humiliated from freezing up when confronted by the giant at the station he felt he had something to prove. Whatever the reason, Cai found himself stepping between the blond man and the suit.

“Pardon me, sir,” Cai said. “I believe I was the next in line.”

The blond man smiled wickedly at him. He was carrying a long, thin sword, which he rested against the shoulder of his tattered leather coat. As Cai stepped in front of him, he tapped the sword against his shoulder.

“Oh? The boy who showed up in his bathrobe has something he wants to say?” the blond man jeered.

“Yeah, the boy in the bathrobe,” the buff one repeated as he stepped to Cai’s side.

The weaselly one just snickered again as he stepped to the other side.

“Yes, I do have something to say – Wait your turn.” Cai turned away from the group of thugs and approached the suited attendant, who was watching the confrontation with great interest.

Cai stopped, more from instinct than reflex, as he caught a flash of steel in his periphery vision. That long sword was thrust out in front of him, cutting the air a step ahead of Cai’s face.

“Come on, bathrobe boy,” the blond man taunted. “You don’t want to walk away just when this is getting good. I’ve been hoping someone around here would have the stones to do a little warmup with me, but I’ve been so disappointed until now. What do you say?”

“Yeah, bathrobe boy! Warm up with Tenner!” insisted the buff man, drawing another round of snickers from the weaselly one.

Up ahead of him, one of the suits looked to the other. “Should we put a stop to this?”

“Probably,” the second replied. “But how often do we get to watch these fights up close?”

With no help coming from the attendants, Cai realized he may have instigated a fight that he can’t just back out of now. He was disappointed in himself. When Master Shui had agreed to take him as an apprentice, one of the promises he had made was to stop starting unnecessary fights.

There is many a good cause to light a fire, but to ignite them recklessly is to risk burning down your home.

Cai doubted getting cut in line warranted a ‘good cause.’

Tenner held the sword level in front of Cai’s face. Cai’s eyes caught movement along the blade, like a drop of water running down from the hilt to the tip. A single drop fell from the sword, and where it hit the ground it sizzled and bore a hole.

He didn’t know what kind of enchantment was on that blade, but it wasn’t hard for Cai to realize he didn’t want to get hit with it. His body naturally found the form for the way of the fleeting flame, ready to avoid the next strike.

Tenner’s smile broadened, and he brought his sword up for an attack.

Before he could finish his attack, one of the attendants finally decided to intervene. “Alright, that’s enough you two! Don’t be stupid and get yourself disqualified right outside the tournament grounds!”

The other suit rolled his eyes, disappointed to have the show interrupted. “Yeah, you should probably cool it for now. If you want to kill each other so bad, you’ll get plenty of opportunity to do so before the day is out.”

Tenner lowered the sword, but his wicked smile never faltered. “Ah, I was just playing with the kid. Didn’t think he would get so serious. Go ahead kid, you can go first.”

Now that the intensity of the moment had passed, Cai felt foolish for causing a confrontation over being cut in line. The grins Tenner and his goons gave him, like they doing a favor for a stubborn child, only added to his embarrassment. But there was no taking it back now. He pulled out his invitation and handed it to one of the suits.

The attendant opened the envelope, pulled out the invitation, and ran his fingers along its top edge. The paper, which had been white, shifted to a silvery color.

“This checks out. One of the invitations given to the Wayfarer communities. This one to the Wayfarers of Flame. I just need your name for our rolls.”

“Cai.”

“Alright, Cai. When you step through this gate, you’ll officially be in the tournament grounds. The opening ceremony will be starting briefly. Please find a spot where you have a view of one of the four podiums set up along the pier. More about the competition will be explained there. Until the ceremony, you are not to engage in any combat with the other competitors. Commission representatives and official spectators will be watching for troublemakers, and they’re not afraid to disqualify people for breaking the rules. You can bring anything you can carry with you inside, including weapons, enchanted gear, food, and so on. No carts or pack animals, though – you have to be able to carry it. If you are carrying anything capable of destroying more than a 300-foot area of space, we ask you to inform a Commission representative so special precautions can be taken.”

300 feet? Cai wondered what his opponents could be carrying that could do that much damage. And how often that came up that they needed to make a special note of it.

The attendant continued. “Once inside, you will not be able to leave until you are eliminated or a champion has been declared, so if there are any supplies you are missing, you are encouraged to back out of line now and go retrieve them. The combat within the tournament is often deadly, and no medical attention will be rendered to your injuries by the Commission while you are still actively competing. Once you are eliminated, a good faith effort will be made to treat any injuries, but no guarantees can be made that lethal injuries can be remedied. By entering the tournament grounds, you are accepting that you might die. Be sure all your affairs are in order. Are you ready to proceed?”

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Hearing it all laid out like that, Cai was hit with a fresh wave of nerves. Nonetheless, he nodded.

The attendant gestured for him to proceed. “Welcome to the Tournament Lyris. Good luck.”

Cai passed through the gate. In his mind, he had imagined the tournament grounds as a kind of raised arena surrounded by spectator stands. Instead, it looked more like a port town. There were a number of small, single story buildings that followed a concrete path along the shoreline. A series of wooden piers stretched out across the water, occasionally dotted with what Cai took to be boathouses. But the thing that drew his attention was the island in the distance.

Though the island was quite a distance out to sea, making it difficult to make out details, there were two things Cai noted: one, the island was quite green, hinting at dense foliage, and two, there was a mountain right in its center.

How had he not seen it before? Had the wall blocked the view of it? It was tall enough it should still have been apparent as he’d been coming down the road towards the tournament grounds.

He was still trying to figure it out when Ju-Won called out to him. “Is everything alright? It took you a while to come through the gate.”

“Uh – yeah. Everything’s fine. Just got distracted.”

“Then let us find one of the podiums. In don’t know what this opening ceremony will consist of, but I feel we best not miss it.”

As they made their way across the piers, Cai looked over the other competitors. They were as diverse as the regions they represented. Tall and short, men and women, muscular and thin. Some wore armor, others were simple clothes, and still others were dressed in flamboyant fashions. He spotted swords and spears being carried, guns in their holsters, and some strange objects that gave off the faint glow of Lyris enchantments.

But nowhere did he spot the stranger in the blue hood. The whole reason he had come all this way, and was putting his life at risk. Perhaps it was for the best. If he ran into the stranger now, even the threat of disqualification might not be enough to stop him from attacking.

“You attracted some fans,” Ju-Won commented.

Behind them, Tenner and his two goons followed their steps. They trailed too closely to think they just happened to pick the same direction.

“I may have exchanged a few words with them outside the gate,” Cai admitted. “But we were warned that fighting now would lead to our disqualification, so I don’t think they will attack. Yet, anyway.”

Ju-Won nodded. “We should be alert just in case.”

They found one of the podiums on a raised white platform right at the water’s edge. It was flanked on either side by wooden towers with flat observation decks at the top. Other competitors had already gathered here, and as Cai and Ju-Won found spots near the podium, Tenner and his followers took positions right behind them.

“Quite the nuisance,” Ju-Won said. “You certain we can’t deal with them now?”

Cai looked up to the top of one of the towers. He thought he could make out a person looking down on them from the observation deck. “Unfortunately. We’re being watched even now, I’m sure.”

They settled in for a wait while more tournament goers filed in around them. Cai wondered just how many competitors were in the tournament overall. There were almost two dozen now gathered around this podium, and there were supposedly three more of these podiums around the tournament grounds. If they all had a roughly equal number of people, that could mean as many as one-hundred competitors.

Their wait finally came to an end just as night was beginning to fall. As the sky grew dark, two lights appeared from the top of the towers and shone down on the platform. When the lights met, two figures appeared. They were semi-translucent and twice the size of regular people.

Cai recognized one of the figures – it was the Officiator he had met in Sallis Station. The other was a woman who wore the same coat.

“Right, let’s get this over with,” the male Officiator said. “I’m Officiator Macken.”

“And I’m Officiator Glenda,” the woman added. “And welcome, one and all, to the Tournament Lyris!”

-----The Gunslinger-----

“And welcome, one and all, to the Tournament Lyris!”

Clint watched the display from his vantage point on the other side of one of the towers. The attendant at the gate had told him that he needed to have a view of one of the podiums, but didn’t say anything about him needing to be in view as well. There were a lot of toughs gathered around the platform, all looking like they were itching to draw their weapons. It’d serve him well to keep his distance should the sparks start to fly.

Before he had taken his hiding place, he had tried to talk to some of the other competitors to gather information. In particular, he wanted to learn about Whitestone’s champion. They’d already been at the top of his shit list, but after hearing Laura’s story, he was even more determined to put a bullet in them.

From what he gathered, Whitestone had sent a convict as their champion this time. There was no low they wouldn’t sink to. The man he was looking for was supposedly gigantic, with hair like a lion’s mane. Sounded easily distinguishable. Unfortunately, nobody around the podium he had picked matched the description.

“There are a couple of things we got to go over before we get started,” the projection of Macken said. His voice seemed to emanate from somewhere atop the towers. “First – in case it isn’t obvious – we’re the authorities here. What we say goes. Now, personally, I prefer to be hands-off. I will get involved if I have to, but if you force me to, you’re probably going to regret it.”

The projection of Glenda laughed nervously. “What he means to say is – we’re here to make sure everyone fights fair, follows the rules, and doesn’t bring any harm onto the civilians acting as observers; they’ll all be wearing jackets similar to ours, so they are easy to identity. As long as you keep all that in mind, you shouldn’t have any issues.”

“And while me and Glenda are then ones who are running this tournament, we’ve got eyes everywhere, and the other Officiators will be close by in case they need to step in. So if you think you can get away with something just because I’m not directly looking your way – think again.”

“Uh – yes, that’s true. But again, that’s all to ensure fairness in the competition.” Glenda had gone from excited to uncomfortable in record time.

Their back and forth didn’t do much to earn confidence. Clint already had a little experience with Glenda, and knew she was incredibly powerful, but not necessarily on the ball. And this Macken fellow looked more like one of the drunks who’d start a fight with the bartender for trying to cut them off than any kind of authority. Hopefully the other Officiators – wherever they were – were more reliable sorts.

Or, barring that, they were the type to look the other way as Clint tried a few dirty tricks of his own.

-----The Devout-----

“But again, that’s all to ensure fairness in the competition.”

Gulliver was only paying half-attention to the projections of the Officiators. His mind was focused on the only thing it could be since arriving at the tournament grounds: the scent of a fiend.

It was right of the bishops to send him here after all. Even before reaching the gates, the scent of fiend had been apparent in the air, and had only grown stronger since approaching the piers. Someone in this tournament was bound to a fiend – a based on how foul the stench was, it was a powerful one.

Unfortunately, narrowing down the target was difficult. The scent of fiend was mingled in the air with a plethora of Lyris effects, sweat, gunpowder, and many things he couldn’t even begin to identify, all being tossed together by a salty sea breeze. Assuming his fiend-pacted looked normal – which given the lack of panic among the crowd seemed likely – he wouldn’t be able to identify the target until he got close to them.

Which is why Gulliver was walking around the crowd of tournament competitors gathered around the platform, sniffing the air around them, while the Officiators laid out the rules of the tournament.

“The rules of the tournament are pretty simple,” Glenda said. “You’ll be progressing through a series of rounds, before each of which we will tell you that round’s objective. In pursuit of completing that objective, you may freely engage in combat with your fellow competitors. All manner of weapons and magic are allowed for these combats – though we do ask you to be mindful of collateral damage. If you catch one of our civilian observers in one of your attacks, you will be disqualified. If you fail to complete the objective in whatever time frame is given, you will be eliminated.”

“Obviously if you die, you’re eliminated as well,” Macken added.

“Right … we do ask you to try and show mercy to your opponents if at all possible. An Officiator may step in if a competitor surrenders or is severely incapacitated. But we also understand that at this level of combat, casualties are to be expected.”

Gulliver sniffed the air next to one impressively built woman. She was taller than him by a head and had a body so brawny it could have been chiseled from marble. And it seemed to be a naturally obtained physique, as the only things he smelled from her was sweat and some kind of rose perfume.

“You smell something you like?” the muscular woman asked as she noticed him sniffing her.

“My apologies. I was looking for a particular scent.” He realized how odd a statement that must be, but didn’t know how to better phrase it.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not one to kink shame. If we weren’t about to need to try to kill each other, I’d let you sniff as much as you want.”

Gulliver shuddered.

It would seem his target wasn’t among this crowd. They must have gone to one of the other podiums. No matter. Gulliver would find them eventually.

Even if he had to fight his way through the entire tournament to do so.

-----The Arcanist-----

“But we also understand that as this level of combat, casualties are to be expected.”

Lotti tried to force her way closer to the podium, giving out a number of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘pardon me’s’ as she jostled for position. Initially, she had taken a spot in the back, less concerned with the view than she was at not being in the center of a group of violent warriors. But all her self-preservation instinct went out the window the moment she saw the projections.

How were they accomplishing this effect? Was this being performed live and then transmitted to each of the towers, or had it somehow been recorded and was now being recreated by an enchantment in the towers? And how was it so clear? In her experience, projection magic only worked in dark spaces and required a solid backdrop. While the sun was going down, it was still far too bright for any of the projections she had seen used at the academy, and they were being created with no backdrop.

She received a bunch of angry grunts and mutters as she pushed past people, but she eventually made it to the front. The effect was just as impressive up close, if not more so. Based on her brief observation, she theorized that the trick involved the dual beams of light. One was projecting the backdrop, the other the images of the two Officiators. She wished she could go up the towers to study the source of the light. The Tournament Commission might have an entirely novel form of enchantment. Maybe they would let her after the tournament was over.

Oh, right, the tournament! She should probably be listening to what the Officiators had to say. Hopefully she didn’t miss anything important.

“Now, it’s time for us to tell you what the first round’s objective will be,” Macken said. “There’s an island across the water. You should all be able to see it from where you are. Your first objective is to reach that island. You have until morning.”

“You are free to use any method of crossing the water you choose; however, it is not recommended that you swim,” Glenda added. “There are a number of boats hidden throughout the pier. They have a limited number of seats, and their captains will depart when those seats are full.”

“There are civilian boats with civilian captains!” Macken aggressively warned. “They’re nice enough to lend us their vessels and their time for our competition, let’s not spoil it. The boats themselves are non-combat zones, and causing damage to one of the boats or harming one of the captains will lead to disqualification. Get your fighting done before you take your seat.”

“Or find your own way across! We know that those gathered here represent a diverse skillset, and we look forward to seeing some creative solutions to this challenge!”

Macken waved his hand in a gesture of farewell. “That’s it. All we got to say. You’re on your own now. The first round has officially begun.”

The lights disappeared and the images faded.

A heavy silence fell over the entire tournament grounds. Everyone was trying to process the same thing that Lotti was: this is how the tournament starts. No fanfare. No warmups. No warning. They were just suddenly thrust into the first round.

They were in the first round.

Oh, shit, Lotti thought as the realization dawned on her.

And then the chaos began.ff it, sitting atop a makeshift furnace that seemed barely able to support its weight. He’d been working on it for a while, and every time Clint visited it got bigger and more complex looking.

“How’s the big project coming along?” Clint asked.

Doc looked over, as if not recalling what Clint was talking about. “Huh? Oh, the mechanical steam engine! It is coming along at a good pace. Going to require some field testing to tune it right, but I’m confident once its done it will be just as good as a source of propulsion for boats and trains as the current Lyris engines. And with the prices for Lyris continuing to rise, there will be demand for a cheaper alternative. Once I get it working right.”

“Hard to imagine a train moving along without magic,” Clint replied.

“It won’t be quite as easy, mind you. The furnace will need to be consistently fed to keep the water in the boiler at temperature, which probably means a car dedicated just to fuel, and more hands to move it.”

“When you say it like that, sounds like a mighty hassle. Might make folk consider sticking the Lyris engines, even if it costs more.”

Doc sighed. “I’m sure they will want to, but it won’t always be an option. People rely on Lyris for far too much, and it’s not an infinite resource. We have far less mines capable of producing the stuff than we did just one hundred years ago, and that number will continue to shrink. One day we’ll have to learn how to get along without it.”

Clint wondered what a world like that would like for places like Sandwell. People only lived out here because of the Lyris mines. Without the mines, there’d be no coin flowing, and thus no trade. It’d be impossible to survive. But many of the families here had been here generations. Where else would they go?

Well, that was a problem for whoever was sheriff tomorrow. Today, Clint had to get control of those mines.

“You find anything?” Clint asked.

“Just these.” Doc pulled out a leather pouch and opened it up to reveal three small, black orbs. “Smoke pellets. They’re shock activated, so be careful when transporting them if you don’t want to ruin everything in your pack. When they are trigged, they’ll start spitting out a thick black fume for about thirty seconds. Won’t kill anyone, but it could make it hard to see if you need to turn tail and tun.”

“Could certainly come in handy.” He took the pouch and gently put it in the front of his pack. “It’s been a real pleasure, doc.”

As he started to leave, Doc called out to him, “Now hold on – how are you planning to pay for all that?”

Clint grinned. “Just send the bill to Percy. He’s got it covered.”

He stepped back out into the desert sun. That was about all he could think he could do to help him prepare. From here on it, he’d be relying on his wits, reflexes, and his revolver.

Clint had never been fond of goodbyes, so he chose to walk around the outskirts of town instead of straight through it. By this point, the gossip mill of Percy and Grant had probably spread the word about what he was planning. Folk would be upset with him, but that was nothing new.

When he reached the stables, he took a moment to look back at Sandwell, unsure if he would ever see it again. It was a shithole, but it was also home. And he’d do whatever it took to help its people.

No matter how many bodies he had to drop.