Champion Kevintor Neverloss's Arc

Chapter 38 of 42

Kevintor stood on the road with his hands open at his sides. The pressure inside him had not left. It sat under his ribs like a held breath he could not release. He turned back toward the clearing because he did not know where else to go. The altar was the only thing in the world that had answered him. He climbed the rise again and saw what he had missed at dawn. A hall stood at the south edge of the clearing, set back among the pines. Carved dragons ran along its roof. A wide stair led to a closed door. He had knelt with his back to it and never turned. He walked to the foot of the stair and stopped. He did not go up. He went back to the altar. In full light the stone was not weathered. It was carved. Gold-tinted script ran down both sides. A dragon's face crowned the top, jaws open above a panel of old champion marks. He knelt on the base and set his hands on the panel. The pressure under his ribs answered. It moved when he moved his hands. It went still when he went still. The dormant thing inside him was waiting for him to feed it through the stone. He tried what he had. He spoke the seven words again. Nothing came. He pushed his weight against the panel. Nothing came. He emptied his mind the way he had emptied it for the third art in the crystal cave. Nothing came. The thing inside him sat and waited and would not move. He had the calling and the altar and no idea how to join them. He stayed on his knees until his legs went numb. A boot scraped behind him. He turned. One of the killers stood at the tree line near a stone marker carved with a guardian dragon. The man had come back alone. He had a short blade out and a wrapped face. He looked at the altar and at Kevintor on it and stepped no closer. Whatever had turned him away at dawn still held him at that stone. He waited for Kevintor to step off. Kevintor stepped off. The pressure under his ribs went quiet at once, like a door pulled shut. The killer moved. Kevintor had no art in his body and no weapon in his hand. He took the first cut across his forearm and went down under the second on his shoulder. He rolled and came up against the altar base. The killer set the blade at his throat and said a name Kevintor did not know, then said he would be paid more for the head than the body. Kevintor put both hands flat on the carved stone behind him. He did not know how to call the seventh art. He knew he could not do this without it. He closed his eyes and waited for the cut.