Magistaire Chronicles: Shadows of the Past

Chapter 8

Ayko scratched his head while Chestplate and Arzen awaited his next move, their visible frustration growing with each passing second. Sweat dripped down his brow as he surveyed the towering structure of blocks between himself and his new friends, his fingers twitching while sliding a wooden square out from beneath the others. It wobbled from side to side, causing him to clench his teeth, relief washing over him when the tower's teetering ceased.

Thank the gods, Ayko thought, sighing with relief.

Chestplate's board game hadn't made him flip the table yet, but it was still just that, a board game— one of Hazelmere's hobbies, not his. He was starting to regret entering Faehome first.

The young man darted his eyes to the cabin looming above where they sat. "She's taking her sweet time, isn't she?"

Chestplate clicked his tongue. "Eyes front, my little novice. Focus on your own ordeal for now."

Ayko frowned, turning his attention back to the game at hand. To call it an "ordeal" was summing up his experience lightly; Chestplate and Arzen eyed his crystallized fruit hungrily, the tower unmoving as they slid their blocks from underneath.

A smirk split Chestplate's face. "Your go again. Persevere and keep your fruit."

Ayko huffed, resisting the urge to slam his fists on the table. He ripped his gaze away from Chestplate and plastered it onto Arzen next. The crimson giant rested a hand on his cheek, indicating that he wore Chestplate's same shit-eating grin beneath his helmet.

"Pricks!" the young man hissed. He outstretched his hand and ripped a block from the center, the tower tumbling over and exploding.

Veins bulged from Ayko's clenched fists while Chestplate exploded with laughter, the two watching the wooden blocks scatter onto the snow.

"Horsepiss!" Ayko barked.

Arzen shoveled half of Ayko's candied fruit into his helmet's flap while Chestplate scooped the rest into his arms. "Adventurers don't have to gamble, I suppose. My advice to you is don't."

"Tch!" Ayko jumped from his chair. "Beginner's luck."

Chestplate sneered at him. "You're the beginner, you sod."

Ayko slammed a fist onto the table. "Another round, then! Best out of three!"

Chestplate placed a hand on his face. "You're a real sucker for pain, aren't you? But if you want to lose everything so bad, then I'll be glad to—"

Ayko and Chestplate turned their heads at the sound of Faehome's door creaking open, with Hazelmere stepping out and flashing the former of the two a smile. She was sweat-free, and her breath lacked the same frost as Ayko's.

Chestplate clapped Ayko on the back. "Two silver orbs."

Ayko ignored him, instead returning Hazelmere's narrow smile. "Was she bitchy or what?"

"What was your desire? She's had a fill of your thoughts, and I've had a feel for your mental fortitude. Faehome exists to discourage anyone who enters, to sway them from their desired path. Seeing as you're still standing here, you can share with the class," Chestplate said.

"My desire?" Hazelmere twiddled her thumbs. "I...told her I wanted..." She blushed when her moss green eyes met Ayko's, quickly diverting her gaze to Chestplate instead.

The auburn-haired adventurer stifled a laugh. "Keep your secrets, my dear!" He turned to Ayko next. "You don't get that luxury, though. So tell me, why do you insist on waving that blade around, and why do you want to kill a Wolfcat? A king, nonetheless? To avenge your dead ma, maybe feed your dozen starving brothers and sisters? Perhaps to sell its pelt to some charlatan passing through your humble little village?"