Chapitre 93: "You May Begin!"
Boone ascended through a labyrinth in the canyon. A maze of tunnels, zigzagging while torches fought off the shadows.
The cavern was cold as Lone Creek on a mid winter day. Boone held his breath, a smell like boiled rats and pig snouts reeking in the air. Hard as he thought he couldn't recall a stink so putrid. Unable to imagine what could make such an awful smell.
Boone looked up at Richie. The man hadn't turned to face him. Likely plotting his next move, throwing him in a cauldron of boiling liquids perhaps. I have to stay on my guard, he thought, placing his hands on his revolvers. If he tries to attack he'll need to face me, and I'll have the upper hand.
"What is that awful reek?" I asked, waving my nose. "Did you let one loose?" Maybe if I agitate him well enough he'll show his cards …
"Likely your breath, boy," Richie snapped, "now shut it until we've arrived at the cauldron."
I knew it! Boone's mind raced. He plans to cook me and use me for one of them spells he sells."
"Here," the man slammed a ladle into the boys chest. Boone gasped. "You'll be needing this …"
He rubbed his stomach mumbling, "some reflexes you have."
Richie yanked a pair of black, lensed frames from his pocket and slid it over his eyes.
Suddenly from the blackness, an orange light poured through. The boy squinted, his eyes dilating and burning from the glow. He yanked down the brim of his hat, shielding his eyes, creating a shadow that allowed him sight.
What is that …
A sphere of orange greeted them at the end of the path; a breach in the wall that led to the outside. On his next inhale, the air was warm and then hot, growing thicker and heavier on each breath.
"Open air," Boone mumbled, unable to see anything but the flaming sky. He's planning on throwing me off—
His eyes betrayed him, Boone walked through the threshold between the cave and the outside, feeling the summer's heat, no longer on dirt, but on wood. A giant tower, thirty feet high, dwarfing all but the canyon walls that continued to touch the sky.
He scanned his surroundings, walking towards the center of the platform. Three circular cauldrons sat half exposed, the rest hidden beneath the wood. A familiar popping sound in his ears.
Boone stopped, being drawn back to that day. The day on the tower, when the screams of Professor O'hare wailed, and chunks of debri fell like cannon fire. Richie turned, staring sharply, while stones glistened from beneath his flesh.
"Get into position, boy." Richie pointed with a fingerless gloved hand, tilting the tall, black, square brimmed hat on his head. The suspicious grin and greed-filled eyes were replaced by a sinister gaze that could kill a kitten. He pulled a round, golden trinket from his pocket, popping it open, and watching the hands tick inside. "High Noon will soon be upon us …"
Boone shook his head hard enough to rid the recent memories, then took his place. On his left was a large table full of items: stem root, gun powder, red potatoes, black weed, exploding poppy. Better stay clear of that one, he reminded himself. Dune dust, molten rock, snow owl feathers, chicken feet, white herb, maggot's rot, fish eggs, pine needles, tree sap, ice bark, a strange yellowish-green leaf shaped like a pear, cow dung. Those he remembered, but there were a few new items: A golden feather, obsidian, fire leaves, swampads, wivery buds, and an abundance of black stones: glowing bloody reds, lilly yellows, sky blues, forest greens, tangerine orange, and strawberry pinks.
"Runestones," He whispered, he turned his attention to the final ingredient. A pile of purplish, posies that gave off a soft, earthy smell. "And lavender …"
Boone lifted his chin, eyes growing. "How did I miss that ���" All around him were towers, evenly spaced apart, each platform holding one judge and one contestant. His head swiveled from his left shoulder to his right, scanning one tower after the other. Fifty at least. Each person readied as he was.
From there, it was impossible to see who was who, each person like tiny ants. But what he could make out was the smoke, and two figures. And the many ladles flickering in the sunlight.
Boone looked down to the bottom of the arena where labyrinth of canyon walls met, creating a maze near impossible to follow with his finger, though he tried. "I need to remember," he whispered, pointing to the center where a blue, circular pool glowed. "Pool," he said. Boone slid his finger north to a small set of huts, "Town." Then towards the east where hilly dunes, and flipped over wagons rested, "Desert." And then finally to the west where boulders were stacked like stones. "Stone." He peaked over the edge, just below his tower. Small pointed tent sat packed together. "Tents," He said.
His eyes caught movements in the confinement. Four-legged beast, ran and drank from the pools. Their backs strapped with leather and reins.
"And horses …" He shook his head. What have I gotten myself into—
"My friends!" A voice boomed, echoing across the canyon, sending loose pebbles from the cliffs. Boone spun on a heel, his eyes growing.
"While I'll be damned …"
In the southern canyon wall were columns of benches, rising like steps, higher and higher, swarming with a sea of bodies. The crowd roared and Boone felt their energy. His tower trembling at their thunder. Above them, the Mayor stood, his red cap waving in the wind, fierce and cruel. He leaned forward speaking into an enormous coned instrument jetting from the podium, held on by a tower of iron.
"We have gathered for the greatest event the world has ever seen!" The cheers grew louder and the tower shook harder. "The Iron Alchemist Tournament!" The people were on their feet, stomping on the ground; Boone crouched, bracing himself. "The rules are simple!" The crowd silenced. "You have one hour to create three achellets or spells. Once finished, you will descend down the tower ladder, into the colosseum, where you will search for the trinket being carried by the creatures inside … whomever kills the creature, and recovers the trinket, will be our champion!" Again the crowd roared. "You may begin!"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone