The Proving of Champions, Chapter 15

The leaders sent scouts up to camp ahead of them with orders not to say anything except that Alexei could not open the gate. As soon as the lift bearing the scouts disappeared in the leafy shadows, they had a heated and only partially muted argument over the next steps.

"With sorcerers holding the gate, we can't simply sit back and wait for help!" Bertram burst out, some loud hissing sounding in response a hundred yards out.

"Remember your surroundings," Marina said softly. Her face was calm, but Fleta felt something emanating from Undora's first disciple. It was a muted mix of too many things to parse, like several distant overlapping conversations.

"Indeed, this changes almost everything," Terrel replied quietly. "Let me be clear: that was no one from the order of Thorgarick. That they wear our colors is troubling and implies a well-prepared, coordinated effort to hold the gate. With the top-ranking and gifted Thorgaricks here, there will be few to oppose them from the temple, and the other Skalds and gifted may either be already en route to find seeds or ambushed by sorcerers."

"Or in league with them," Bertram said.

"Is that your judgment of your own High Skald, Ramirus?"

"No," Bertram muttered.

"I imagine that Valcot, Undora, Baltri, and Karatuk were just as blindsided as Thorgarick—"

"—but Mett and Luthfen chose not to participate in this Proving," Bertram said.

"Yes. That raises disturbing questions. Questions that will need to be addressed when we return."

"What about the disciples and swornmen of Thorgarick?" Daralis asked. Fleta nodded quietly. "Did the sorcerers butcher them to steal our colors and occupy our gate?"

"I am also worried for their sakes," Terrell said. "But again, we have to focus on getting out of the Jungle before we can help them or deal with sorcerers and traitors."

Marina surprised them all by raising her voice—albeit from quiet to normal—and abandoning her typical indirect speech patterns. "Yes. We have two options for getting home. First, we raid the colonies with no clue where they are hiding our Gate seeds—if they have not destroyed them—and flee the Jungle harried by who knows how many mushrooms or beasts under their influence."

"Indeed," Terrell said. "And the second?"

"We negotiate with the colonies for the seeds, perhaps even some aid on our return. I would vastly prefer to return with help than with an army of monsters at our heels."

"Yes," Terrell said. "It sounds quite nice. Except that the main point of negotiation is likely to be us killing the tarasque."

"Yes, they will want us to kill the tarasque," Daralis said. "But maybe learning about their elder's connection to the tarrasque will soften them up a bit. And who knows? We might have some other things to trade besides killing the tarasque. They don't think much of us, but the chance to explore a new realm with new plants might be interesting to them. Or willingness to end the Proving—which is something I think many here would support anyway." Daralis shrugged, then turned to Fleta. "Any thoughts?"

"If I knew where to run to grab the Gate seeds, I would," Fleta said softly. "But if they live and build their towns inside the trees, it could be literally any tree in a realm full of trees. Alexei keeps telling me we can't hide or run from the tarasque. I believed that last night, and I still do."

"Then it sounds like Marina, Daralis, and Fleta are leaning towards negotiation and most likely killing the tarasque. Bertram, where do you stand?"

"I'd love to bunker down and ride this out, but I don't think it's an option. Let's hunt this monster before we find ourselves fighting the tarasque, the colonies, and the sorcerers at once."

"Now, we just have to figure out how to break this news to our people." Terrell led them towards the Valcot lift, where they could signal for a ride up. Daralis, however, reached out a hand to stay Fleta.

"Can we talk a moment?" Daralis asked.

"Okay," Fleta said. "Sure."

"You were awful quiet for someone who got exactly what they were asking for last night," Daralis said.

"It's not like I wanted to fight the tarasque. I just thought that we had to," Fleta looked around the forest, pretending to scan for beasts.

"And you were correct. You realized it before anyone else."

Fleta snorted, kicking at fronds of ferns young enough they did not yet reach her waist or shoulders. "Every time I think I'm correct, I guess I screw things up and everything goes horribly wrong." Fleta paused, but Daralis did not fill the silence. "I volunteered to attend the Proving alone because Terrell thought I wasn't up to muster as a champion. I figured, I can't win with Terrell, I'm no champion, but the least I can do is make sure I don't throw away anyone else's life. Then I nearly get eaten by the tarasque, and Terrell brings you and the others here anyway. Last night, I thought we had to face this tarasque, and everyone—including you— votes no, and then we go to the gate only to get attacked by a sorcerer who's doing who knows what to the Thorgarick temple as we speak."

Daralis gave Fleta a side eye. "That's not you screwing things up," she said. "That's just you trying to make the best decision in a no-win situation. That's exactly what champions do. But tell me, you really thought that in coming to the Proving, you were throwing your life away?"

"Yes? No?" Fleta lifted her shoulders in a tense shrug that rippled down her body. "Terrell said so, or as good as. He said I was undisciplined and worried I would get someone killed in the Proving."

"Really? When did he say that?"

"I overheard him talking to someone in the library a few weeks before the Proving before he had to announce the Thorgarick Champion," Fleta turned away from Daralis, staring at the toe of her boot. "He's told me before that if I'm not more careful, I'm going to get people killed. And that I hesitate too much."

"Fleta, even if he had his concerns, there's a big difference between a normal Proving, where perhaps a few people die or are seriously injured, and this year's Proving. The watch party and the entire Baltir camp disappeared. Undora and Karatuk are all dead except for two survivors. No one knew about the colonies. No one could have predicted the tarasque or the sorcerers." Daralis gently pulled Fleta's chin up until their eyes connected. "None of this is on you."

"Yeah, that's not what Alexei says," Fleta took a step back. "He calls the tarasque the sum of all sins. He says we have to fight it because we all helped make it."

"What? How did you make a beast as tall as any 5 temples stacked on top of each other?"

"Well, that part was the colonies. But it's appearing and disappearing sorcery came from our gate seeds. And Shaw's beast-repelling smoke is what convinced the colonies that we were at war."

"None of that was you."

"No, I just found the gate man who killed Alber, who was the only person strong enough to possibly pierce the Tarasque's hide. I helped kill the real champion. And I couldn't hold the sorcerer long enough to get us a way out. It's my fault we're stuck here with no hope of defeating the monster."

"You play a part in this because you're stuck in this mess trying to figure it out like everyone else. There are a lot of reasons we're stuck here. The colonies took our seeds, and Terrell was overconfident as a fail-safe and didn't provide a backup. Although to be fair, Mett really shat upon this Proving since both the watch part and Terrell failed to reopen the gate. And there are sorcerers, apparently." Daralis sighed, her willowy limbs sagging. "I wouldn't put too much stock in what Alexei says. He's a bloodthirsty bastard, and he's clearly cursed."

"Cursed? Like, seriously?"

"Yes. The Market of the Damned isn't just known for magical items. There are stories of evil or cursed items. I used to wonder who was crazy enough to create magic items only to curse them. I can't imagine the process is easy. Then I saw Alexei, and I understood."

"Sure, he looks..." Fleta searched for the word, then frowned. "Monstrous. But he's only ever acted with honor. Even in the duel he fought, he was trying to find us a way back through the gate. He just... didn't understand what first blood meant."

"That's exactly the point! He's not human, he doesn't bleed, and he can't understand what it means to be human. This is not about his looks or his shape-changing; that's the least of it. He argues with people who are not there when he thinks no one is watching, and he comes from a realm where things like time and death are fairy tails. He barely eats, sleeps less, and looks haunted all of the time. And—" Daralis furrowed her brow, but then she started to laugh.

"What is it?"

"Bernia told me last night that by his best reckoning, he's two—maybe three—years old. Like I said, I wouldn't put too much stock in his words."

"He was right about us needing to fight the tarasque."

"Do you think being a champion is about being correct?" Daralis asked. "What do you think it's about?"

"No, um, it's about being the best. Overcoming all obstacles."

"Being the best at what? Many, if not most, gifted are the best at something. And some obstacles can't be overcome. Plenty of champions die in the stories, too."

"So what do you think it's about? What am I supposed to do here?"

"Look, it's not about being correct; it's about trying to do the right thing regardless of the obstacles. It doesn't mean you will be correct, and it doesn't mean you'll win. When you volunteered for the Proving alone, I thought you were spoiled and arrogant, but I was wrong. You did it for exactly the right reasons. And even though some of us ended up here anyway, do you think that soldiers like Esmond won't remember that you saved them a couple of days of this hell? And when everything seemed lost, you brought three camps together and saved us from the tarasque.

"And even last night. You didn't try to get us to fight the Tarasque because you wanted glory or you felt we were forced to. You wanted to fight it because it was right, because the colonies are worth saving, and because, if we survive, the colonies will be a historic discovery that could grace generations of our children."

Fleta did not respond.

"You are a champion right now, Fleta," Daralis said. "You've been told you don't measure up for so long that you're starting to make up reasons why it's true. Because you can't stop the biggest tarrasque anyone's ever seen, or because people have died and chances are more will die, too. Or because you're a shit leader. That last one's true, but you can be a good champion and a shit leader."

Fleta laughed, relaxing after a deep breath. "You sound like Shaw. Somehow, I feel better, even though you insult me."

"It's a trick I learned from him," Daralis smiled back. "He would probably be saying the same thing. He was... unique. He saw right away that my gift would bring some balance to the Thorgarick temple."

"Is that your smug way of saying I should agree with you because Shaw approved?"

"You should agree with me because I'm right."

"Okay, so I agree with you. You didn't answer my question. What am I supposed to do?"

"As a champion? Trust your gut, it's working."

 "And as a leader?"

"Look, you don't have to be a champion and a leader, but some people might look to you anyway because of what you've done and because you took a stand last night. They'll wish they'd agreed with you for the glory of the Marble Halls and future generations. After they are done freaking out about sorcerers."

"So, what do I do when they look to me?"

"You've got three great options that require little or no skill."

"Thanks for the confidence. What are they?"

"First, tell them you're not a leader. Direct them to Terrell, Hereward, or Bertram. Or hell, even to Lorens. She's something else. Clever for an appointee with no permanent title, but I suppose she is Valcot."

"Easy enough. Option two?"

"Second, call me over and I help you out."

"I appreciate the offer. What's the last one?"

"Do what Terrell does when he's out of ideas. Ask someone else to come up with ideas." Daralis scratched and stretched her neck. "Did you see what he did last night? He had no clue what to do with you telling everyone we needed to fight the tarasque, so he got other people talking. Through sheer dumb luck, he stumbled on the idea of getting Alexei to open the gate. That doesn't work, but it puts us exactly where we need to be to discover the sorcerers on the other side of the gate. I wish someday I could be half as good at leading without knowing what I'm doing."

They laughed and chatted after they called up to the camp and waited for the lift to lower. As the creaking ropes of the lift drew them towards the canopy, they began to hear sounds of fighting... and cheering.