Ragland wasn't a prize in personality or looks. He took pleasure in the pain of others and confessed ecstasy when he was the person inflicting misery on his victims. Ragland was a child of The Coil, warped by the excess magic. Uneven eyes sunken so deep only the sick purple pupils glowed in the shadowy sockets. Pale grey skin didn't make the toothy smile any less unsettling. His hands constantly twitched, which shook the tattered cloak and armor on the wire-thin frame.
He took a few steps forward with the grace of a great cat. Ragland's words came out maniacal, "I've heard about you. Three recruits? My, my, you are a busy boy."
Silverbolt lumbered forward. While his mask bore a cat, his grace seemed more akin to a wolf, confident, decisive, and brave.
He raised a fistful of lightning and spoke. "You aren't leaving with the child."
Gleeful laughter escaped from the assassin's mouth. Ragland raised both his arms and clapped. "And it wants to play?"
Madame Cuttle pulled me behind a rack and clutched me close to her. "I don't know if I want to be in business with you anymore. The crazy finds you," she wailed.
Her petulant words didn't bother me. I couldn't take my eyes off the situation because I wanted proof of Silverbolts skill.
Silverbolt drew a pair of batons and held them out. "I suppose there's only one thing left to do."
The assassin's nimble hand streaked toward the throwing knives. "You think you can win? How sweet." a flat blade flashed toward Silverbolt at an ungodly speed.
What happened next removed any doubt I had in the man named Silverbolt. Before I could blink, the baton thrummed with energy. The knife veered off course and clacked against it. The sound ended, and the blade clattered against the floor. He rushed forward.
Ragland's Eyes widened in shock, "Nobody is that fast." He gritted the rotted teeth and released a multitude of knives at the silver-clad attacker.
Metal rang against metal, and the thrum of energy filled the air. I couldn't follow either of the combatants. When the noise died down, Ragland dropped to the ground unconscious. The Fighting sticks had knives stuck to them. Were they lodestones?
Silverbolt placed a boot on the assassin's chest and let a charge run down his leg. "Ride the lightning scum," he said. Ragland's wire-thin body flopped around beneath it.
"I need a cup of water," the metallic voice demanded.
Madame Cuttle waved her hands at the awestruck women. "You heard the man. Hop to it," she bellowed.
Naomi vanished into the back with all possible haste and returned with a bucket. She set it next to the victorious warrior. He dumped it over Ragland.
Splash. Ragland shot to a sitting position, eyes wide in shock. Before he could register anything else, a silver fist gripped him by the armor strap and raised the assassin a foot off the ground. "Take this message to your boss. Tell him to fear thunder and flash of Silverbolt. Also, I look forward to meeting him in the tournament." He released the miscreant, and Ragland landed in a heap at the hero's foot.
Ragland rose and sneered, "This isn't over."
"Anytime anywhere," Silverbolt held up his electrified fist.
Madame Cuttle tapped me on the shoulder, "Looks like you secured my help after all. Your shiny friend is more terrifying than Rexword."
I giggled with excitement. Silverbolt had more than proven himself. I composed myself and said, "I graciously accept."
The man named Silverbolt stood motionless in the women's unmentionables shop. He didn't dare step away from the spot, not even a toe, while we waited for Madame Cuttle to return with the child. He stood there, arms crossed, head down. Not a soul dared to disturb him, least of all me.
In those moments, I did something out of character. I moved next to Silverbolt but said nothing. The mask's empty eyes gazed at me, then returned to their original position.
Had he conceded defeat on our bet? "I guess..."
"We'll talk once the kid is back with her family. You helped more than I did, and I keep my word."
Not an ounce of ego or childlike disappointment. Silverbolt held out his hand. I shook it and smiled. "I believe it was a team effort. I do have one last thing to show you. It's about your family."
"The ghost?"
"Yes."
"I'll speak to the ghost after we drop off the child."
"You'll reconsider that stance," Madame Cuttle's voice came from behind us.
"Why do you say that?" There was more to the child's story. I knew I wouldn't like it.
Madame Cuttle kept a protective arm around the girl. Her purple hair hung straight down. She gasped at the sight of Silverbolt and darted behind the older woman.
"Amara, he came to protect you. He chased off Rexword's goon," Madame Cuttle said. "However, we do have a bit of a problem. Her parents sold her to Rexword. If you bring her home, she'll end up in his clutches."
"What's so special about her?" Silverbolt asked. He crossed his arms and kept the mask's empty gaze on the child.
"When Amara touches someone, she sees their possible future." Madame Cuttle's voice carried deep concern.
"Rexword will make her practice it over and over. He strives for perfection in everything he does." I added. I felt a little embarrassed for my silence.
"We'll leave her with you. The palace is too risky." Silverbolt said, "She trusts you. I'll bet you can make her disappear if you have to."
"There are plans in place," Madame Cuttle said with pride.
"Then it's settled then," I said. I strode toward the door, eager to be out in the fresh air. "Are you coming, Silverbolt? We have things to discuss."
"I'll check on you guys once in a while, okay?" Silverbolt waved and joined me at the door. "Let's go."
***
Silverbolt held his silence on the way back to the palace. I didn't feel the need to speak, either. Although, one could hardly blame me. Rexword's plot to buy children of The Coil concerned me. Amara's powers made her invaluable to anyone who possessed her, and I worried there were people out there with more destructive gifts. The city didn't need more inexperienced versions of my new ally.
I drew the mirror from the hidden pocket. "Drizella, you're on. Help him understand." I begged. I put on my best pitiful face and a little whine on the back end of my words.
The old crone frowned and wagged a finger at me, "I had the same thought myself."
I trotted over to Silverbolt's shoulder guard and knocked on it. He looked down at me, "It's not a door. Don't do that."
I held the mirror to him and grinned, "Someone wants to speak with you. Your grandmother Drizzella, former sorceress, healer, and arcane scholar..." I trailed off, "Here, just talk to the old bat." I thrust the sterling frame into his hand
"You're the ghost lady from before," he said.
"Correct," Drizella's words came out cheerful, "I wish you'd remove the mask so I can look..."
"That's not happening any time soon. I have questions that need answers. Was I supposed to die in that nightclub?"
"Yes. You couldn't be here otherwise. " Drizella paused for a moment, "Did Helen abandon you?"
"We have bigger fish to fry," Silverbolt said abruptly. He turned his head, "How long before the tournament, Constance?"
"I'll assume in a month..." I hadn't expected him to defer to me. A sense of satisfaction washed over my body. "Why do you ask?"
He turned forward and said, "I'll need a training space and isolated quarters." Silvery rays of moonlight illuminated the blue steel. For a moment, he looked like a knight of old.
"You'll be my champion?" I contained an excited shriek.
"Before I step foot in an arena, I want to see The Coil. Ragland will no doubt tell his master about our encounter."
"Rexword will tell the other nobles about you to earn their favor," I said. It was then I pondered a terrible thought. "We have no idea how many children he's acquired in the past. What if he's already trained a few and plans to sell them like weapons?"
"That's a possibility," Silverbolt said. He handed back the mirror. "I'm not ready for this, sorry."
Not a word came from the sterling frame or the glass contained therein. It vanished into the hidden pocket. "I had no idea..."
"It's okay, Constance," Silverbolt said, "Now, about that trip to The Coil."
"What is your rush?"
"We need evidence to back up any claim we make against Rexword. The Coil is the logical place to start."
"Those people won't talk to you. The Coiled hate outsiders and they hate the nobility more. After the reactor failed, people had nowhere to go. The crown refused to help them and left them to their own devices. Since then, we stay out of their affairs." I didn't want to visit The Coil in any official capacity. They didn't want a monarch, and I didn't want to rule them.
"People are selling their children, Constance. That's worth a trip."
Why couldn't he see the bigger picture? I poked the mask with a slender finger and said, "Suppose my theory is right. What'll you do when your faced with people of equal strength?"
A gloved hand shoved my finger away, "All the more reason to go. We can confirm or deny our theory."
Our verbal battle remained locked in a stalemate until we reached the palace gates. I drew the age-old conclusion we were damned if we did and damned if we didn't. Most men would've made outrageous selfish demands. Silverbolt only asked to unravel Rexword's plot further.
I knocked on the shoulder guard, "Can I have a few days to get the tournament preparations started, and then we'll go?"
"I thought we agreed my shoulder guard wasn't a door?"
"I'm sorry," I said, "I seek an answer to the question."
The lion mask nodded, "Sounds fair, I wouldn't wait too long, or I'll go by myself." A threat I knew he'd carry out.