Chapter 67: Chapter 67
The day after the wedding, the most powerful castes sat on folding seats erected for the occasion. A wooden structure accommodated the most imminent of them, and the whole formed a semi-circular arena. Most of the other guests had to leave the castle later in the evening, and attended the event standing, placed in a semi-circle facing the arena; mostly telepaths, or castes whose abilities weren’t developed enough to protect their own lives. The others, if they were volunteers, took part in a selection process which was to enable us to assess the extent of their abilities. The events were organised outdoors, and luck smiled on us since a hot sun greeted us at the end of the afternoon. It must have been around twenty degrees, an exceptional temperature for this winter season.
Carmichael and I sat high above all the guests. This elevated position made me uncomfortable at first, but I quickly got used to it, realising that it was indeed the best place to admire the spectacle. Because we quickly discovered that the event, which initially was intended as a simple aptitude test, was going to be transformed into a festival of demonstrations. The competitive spirit of the volunteers gave more the impression of attending a gladiatorial tournament than an evaluation.
Salomon, Prisca, Chun, Eric, Thomas, Connor and Caleb supervised the trials. I thought to myself that it wasn’t going to be easy for the volunteers to shine in front of so much power. They showed up, however, in large numbers. Many didn’t realise the danger they were exposing themselves to, and launched themselves against any opponent without having first assessed their skills. Also, some were injured from having overestimated their abilities, and many of them had to be treated.
Among all the participants, two particularly caught my attention.
The first was named Henry Capshaw. An Englishman, whose face reflected perfectly the nature of his origins. His appearance showed the image of a perfect gentleman, and when it was his turn, he presented himself like a dandy, in an impeccable three-piece suit. Penetrating brown eyes, he regarded his rivals with a hint of disdain and a smirk. Faced with so much assurance, three castes decided to compete with him. And in the end, he was the one who had the most opponents to fight, because, once he had swept them away one by one, others took over as the proud attitude of the Briton irritated them. But Henry remained motionless in the middle of the circle that now formed around him. He shrugged, firmly convinced that he was going to beat them all. I felt his certainty and shared it, because I discerned in him something that others didn’t always have: a warrior spirit. There was no room for defeat in this man’s head, so I watched this new fight carefully. Two powerful people threw themselves on him and wanted to strike him with their devastating fists directly in the face. He stopped them by blocking their attacks with his hands and ejected them with something other than strength and speed: telekinesis. He was therefore powerful and telekinetic, an extremely rare combination of gifts. Four other competitors threw themselves at him, but they ran into an invisible wall. Henry wasn’t done yet. He froze his assailants, grabbed two by the throat and used their skulls to knock out the other two. In the end, they all fell at his feet, lifeless.
Prisca, who had already assessed the potential of this man in his late forties, stood up and touched his skull to deepen her inspection. Henry looked her in the eyes and said with a hint of sexy sassiness:
“You are sublime, madam.”
“And you, bold,” she replied, yet not insensitive to the elegant attention of this man.
Salomon stood as well.
“What are your motivations?” he asked, probing the Englishman’s mind.
“I want to end this war. I lived these last days at the castle, and the bliss that I found in this place makes me want to settle here until the end of my days.”
He smiled, looked up, nodded, and waved at Carmichael.
“I present to you your teacher for your combat training,” Carmichael said to me, with a smile on his face.
“Him? Do you know him well?”
“Oh yes, very well. He’ll be perfect.”
I took a better look at Henry. I returned his smile while promising myself to place him soon in a position worthy of his powers.
The trials continued, the battles sometimes resembling pure magic. The majority of the volunteers, apart from a few telekinetics, were powerful. Except for Henry, no one seemed to stand out, even if the fights intensified as the events unfolded, as if it took an escalation of action not to let weariness win over the spectators. I thought we had seen the most extraordinary thing when a young woman, with tanned skin and long black hair, came forward. Ahead of her, the earth heaved and vanished into the air in two parallel lines, creating a corridor of dust before her steps. Her feet brought her to the level of the judges, but her eyes, outlined with a thick line of kohl pencil, remained frozen in my direction. Nothing else interested her, and her contempt for the rest of the world intrigued me. Her nerve immediately attracted my sympathy.
“She was the one who warned me that Althea had destroyed an entire city,” Carmichael whispered to me.
“What’s your name?” I inquired loudly, addressing her.
“Sonia Akhem.”
“Where are you from, Sonia?”
“From Algeria.”
“Show me more about your telekinesis.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The wooden building, erected for the occasion of the tests, began to move. Cries of amazement escaped the guests accommodated on the bleachers when they realised that they were levitating above the ground. In front of the bewildered eyes of her peers, Sonia gave a triumphant smile and delicately ended her demonstration. After her mental examination, she returned the way she had come, and the trials continued. But, just as we were getting to the end, Abigael and Nicolas Hanlon stepped into the middle of the circle of volunteers. I didn’t expect to see my proteges on this occasion.
“We are pre-cogs,” Nicolas declared. “We don't have the power of most of you, but our gift is the rarest. When it comes time to fight the Six, you’ll need our visions.”
“No way,” I said firmly.
I cherished Abigail and Nicolas more than any of the guests here. This was probably linked to the fact that I had recruited them myself. But Nicolas was barely eighteen, and his sister was two years his junior. There was no way they were going to the battlefield without any defensive powers.
Nicolas didn’t insist and turned his gaze to his sister, he took her hand. Their eyes rolled back like every time they were about to have a vision. Their faces, tormented by the images they captured, sent back to those who observed them an unexplained fear. Each time they were seen, I had the impression that a dark halo surrounded the two pre-cogs and came to envelop all those present at their side. The reaction of the crowd proved to me that I wasn’t the only one to be overcome by this feeling. Small cries and a certain agitation confirmed it for me.
The image of Magnus flashed into my mind. The former Master Hand couldn’t have dominated his peers for so long if Egeria hadn’t stood by his side. Her visions ensured the success of his enterprises and gave him a power that many envied. It said a lot about what awaited us with his powerful siblings, whose full extent of abilities we still didn’t know. The Hanlons’ proposal no longer seemed so stupid to me, and I turned to Carmichael, who, I expected, guessed my thoughts.
“If any harm comes to them, I…after Ethan, I couldn’t stand it,” I mentally told my husband.
“We can protect them.”
“Nothing is less sure.”
The Hanlons finally opened their eyes. An uncontrolled sigh of relief passed through the audience. But no sooner had they come to their senses than their heads swivelled a little further to my left. They were both staring at someone in the audience.
“A traitor is among us,” they declared together.
Surrounded by the other guests, the person identified by the Hanlons appeared clearly to me. It could only be him. Connor Burton Race.