Page 30 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)
Presentation Day
“ B etter to shit yourself back here than when you are on the field Presenting,” Commander Hogsmith grunts to us as we wait behind a partial stone wall that leads out into the amphitheater where the rest of the Academy awaits.
The outdoor amphitheater is carved from ancient stone and layers of earth, stepping down and down and down to a large, flat area where some of the Summit will take place.
Professor Novak told us in Intro that this place was initially a graveyard site of a thousand souls that perished by the meteor that pummeled into the earth.
Seems fitting as we wait in line to enter the crater-shaped arena.
“Thanks for the words of wisdom,” Leaf whispers into my ear.
I make a very embarrassing squeak as I hold in my laugh.
Rolling my eyes, I turn away from Leaf. Despite his easygoing attitude, I cannot afford distractions right now.
Bile had creeped into the back of my throat ever since the Underworld lords arrived at the luncheon.
I sat through the remainder of the meal in shock and now somehow find myself in line to Present.
I swallow and try to ignore the alarm bells ringing in my ears. My heart quickens. My hands shake.
Breathe. Breathe.
In a matter of minutes, I’ll be out there.
In front of everyone, demonstrating the best of my physical and Source channeling abilities, vying for a spot to be chosen as a champion by one of the royal delegates.
Snow falls gently above in the afternoon sun, only to evaporate as it nears the amphitheater, like a Sun’cher solarys shield .
To think, only hours ago I was eating lunch alongside the royal delegates, and now I will Present before them, hoping that one will be interested enough to select me as their Champion.
Perhaps Prince Ladon will find my performance worthy enough to represent the River Tribe as his champion, if those stolen glances from beneath those gorgeous blue lashes weren’t enough of a hint of—
A screech rips through the air.
Above us, five rocs fly so low overhead that the wind from their wings startles the pages out of Artemis’s hands in front of me.
“What in the bloody hell are you planning to do out there? Read a book?” Hogsmith chides Artemis who is now on the ground hastily picking up the pages.
“The Roc Riders are here!” Ramona says, looking up in awe. “Holy shit, the rocs are giant.”
The crowd claps and points at the giant eagle-like creatures.
Their feathers vary in color as they speed above the crowd, talons sharp as any sword swiping mere feet above the gaping audience.
This is the first Summit for many cadets watching; only the visiting family members or staff have seen such a display once or twice before, though by the surprised faces of the crowd, none have seen the Forest Tribe’s treasured rocs.
It seems Lord Clayoq and the Forest Tribe delegates prefer to arrive with style. Just like at the luncheon, this is a game, I realize. Every moment a chance for the royals to flaunt their power.
Within a minute, screams of terror and delight come from the crowd after a distinct splashing sound. The Lady Neda and the River Tribe most likely arrived in a fashion as to not be outplayed by their Elven neighbors.
Howls surround the stadium next, each echoing off of one another in the distance until their sounds overlap in a continuous drone. The crowd gasps and hushes. Other cadets peer around the wall and confirm my suspicions. Lord Rollo of the Jord has made his entrance.
Finally, a blast erupts from across the stadium.
The earth rumbles beneath my feet for the second time today.
Screams of genuine shock and fright screech from the crowd.
The cracking and crumbling sound of rocks fills the theater, bouncing off the hard surfaces.
There is only one being capable of moving earth and stone like that: Lord Atlys of Terraguard, likely making his entrance from the depths from which he comes.
The air is filled with tiny dust particles, cloaking the entire area in a haze.
“Oy! Fix your faces. Line up!” Commander Hogsmith yells at us.
From my vantage point, I cannot see over the partial wall into the theater, but by the sound of the hushed crowd, I assume all political parties are here.
I roll my shoulders back, feeling the comfort of my staff between my shoulder blades. I cannot help but chuckle at the fact that a weapon is a source of comfort instead of a lute strap or particularly challenging stanza in a Telling. Oh, how far I’ve come.
“Humans, Elves, and Underlings, welcome!” Elder Superior Markus’s voice is amplified. “We are gathered here on the 225 th anniversary of the Northern Continent New World Treaty.
“Long ago, our ancestors melded a fractured society, one riddled with war and famine. Territory lines were drawn, and we agreed upon one thing: that we cannot continue our battle against one another when a greater threat lies to the south.”
The crowd responds with murmurs of agreement and hisses at the mention of the Southern Continent. For the past fifty years, there has yet to be an attack, though rumors of gathering forces keep the Watch eagerly awaiting fresh recruits.
“Today, we gather again in recognition of this treaty. As a show of good faith to our allies, we humans agreed to host the Summit Championship every twenty-five years. We believe in transparency. That one race is not superior to another. This is why we invite our brethren into our home. Delegates”—there is a pause; Markus must have turned to address the visiting royals—“in solitude of our role in the Breaking, we offer up our very best to compete for a prize. We invite you to observe their skill and select a cadet from today’s Presentation as your champion for the Summit.
Choose wisely, for the winning sponsor receives a gift far more precious than the Helios Blessing.
As per custom, the winning sponsor has first negotiation rights in the re-signing of the Peace Treaty, a treaty we deeply respect and uphold. ”
His lies grate against my bones. Markus wants the humans on top of society once again, like before the treaty, when legends of metal machinery and weapons so great were cracking open the world for the second time.
That is what created the Summit. Not good faith, but a way for the other races to hold humans accountable for their actions, check up on our military under the guise of a competition. This is all a show for power.
But that doesn’t make my need for the Helios Stone any less real.
“Today is the Presentation. Where hopefuls await to demonstrate their Source channeling skills and physical prowess.”
The crowd yells all at once, proudly cheering the names of cadets around me. No one yells my name, so I whisper it quietly to myself and pat the small piece of Marrow’s Teller cloak I put inside the breast pocket of my fighting leathers.
“Chin up. Make me proud. Gryphon, you are first, boy.” Hogsmith pats the back of a burly second-stone Moon’cher holding a longsword nearly the length of my leg. The Commander guides Gryphon around the half wall and into the main stage of the theater where the Presentation demonstration takes place.
The sun begins to set to our left, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. I hop up and down a few times to keep the chill away while I wait, though my nerves are enough to shield me from the plummeting temperature.
Every few minutes, Hogsmith returns, guiding the next cadet into the arena.
Each of my friends are escorted around the curved stone wall.
Castor has near solid myst tendrils that can rip apart Underlings twice his size and dual blade skills to match.
Leaf’s longsword and precision with archery is impressive by even Elven standards.
Ramona is downright terrifying when she starts spinning daggers in her hand, not to mention her quick throwing skills and silver tongue.
I, however, have still been struggling to keep up during Intro to Talent and Elementation, barely getting by with even the easiest of Sun’cher spells.
History of the Watch comes easy to me with my quick memory, but that won’t serve me here.
So what I lack in my Source channeling, I will amplify tenfold in the physical part of my Presentation.
I just have to stick to my plan.
My staff presses along the column of my spine, giving me no option but to stand tall.
“Akemi, you are up next.” Hogsmith leads me around the corner and into the bright orb lights of the amphitheater, full of blinking eyes hungry for action and entertainment.
Lucky for them, I’m an entertainer.
I shrug away any remnants of self-doubt and follow the commander around the half-wall out onto the field.
The ground is hard-packed and frozen under my tight-laced boots.
If not for the solarys shield above, it would be covered with snow.
The entire floor level of the arena is circled by practice targets and hay-stuffed dummies, objects likely for the cadets to use as a part of their Presentations.
The crowd cheers distinctly in the back of my mind.
My vision tunnels, honing in on the long stone table at the edge of the arena where the royal sponsors sit.
I step across a chalked white line and into the arena, now illuminated by floating orbs against the darkening sky.
A twinge of panic bubbles as the sun descends low on the horizon, making it harder for me to channel its magic.
But as the brightest stars begin to peek through the twilight, I find my resolve, pretending that I’m back in the Rose & Raven during one of my weekly Tellings.
The lights are turned down low, the audience of five—Row, Bane, Nickel, and maybe a few townsfolk that happened to stop by for a pint—waiting anxiously for me to start.
This is just another stage.