Read The Fifth Vertex (The Sigilord Chronicles) for Free Online

some weak, pathetic little creature who couldn't handle the news.
    Worse, his uncle had taken the time to personally select his best friend for service in the First Fist, but still couldn't even finish one conversation with his own nephew.
    "I'm not going to apologize for my achievements, Ury."
    "I've never asked you to, but you could've told me. We're supposed to be friends."
    "We may be friends, but I've wanted this all my life and I'm not going to let you hold me back."
    The air went out of Urus's lungs, pressure squeezing in on his heart like a hammer-blow to the chest.
    Goodwyn's eyes bulged wide.
    "So I hold you back, do I?" Urus signed. He snatched up the shackles and clamped them around his wrists. They were props, but looked real enough to complete the illusion that he was a prisoner of war.
    "I didn't mean it like that," Goodwyn signed.
    Urus held up his hands, rattling the shackles in front of his friend's face. "I know what you meant. Being shackled to someone like me could ruin your chances to be the hero you were meant to be."
    Goodwyn glanced over his shoulder back up the ramp, his head cocked to one side. Someone must have been calling him.  
    "It's starting and I have to go. Look, Ury, I'm sorry about what I said. Maybe after the ceremony we can—"  
    Urus cut him off before he could finish. "You go on, hero . Go and listen to the crowds cheer your name. Don't let a culled like me hold you back." Unable to hold back the tears, little rivulets carried salty dirt down his cheeks.
    Goodwyn opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He shifted his weight, lifted his hands to sign something, and gave up on that as well. He stood there looking sorry and angry and even a little guilty for a few moments before finally running back up the ramp.
    There Urus stood, covered in dung and chained to the back of an elephant, given the role of playing a prisoner of war in a ceremony to honor those talented enough to have graduated. All the magic that had somehow saved his life the night before hadn't helped him as a warrior, hadn't helped him pass the gauntlet or avoid being culled.  
    What good is a magic you can't use? Urus thought.
    When they were younger, he and Goodwyn had dreamed of standing on a hilltop, overlooking a battlefield as victorious generals. Now Urus figured he would be cooking stew for the soldiers while Goodwyn stood alone on that distant hilltop.
    He wanted to be happy for his friend. Goodwyn deserved the honor of being in the First Fist, and there wasn't a Kestian alive who could match him in single combat. But right now all Urus could see was a mundane future helping negotiate worthless trades. He would rather clean up elephant manure on the battlefield than be a translator miles away from the action.
    The procession started, thankfully giving him something to do other than think about his future. He made his way up the ramp, following the lumbering elephant through the maze of landings and corridors. The first performers were already a few minutes into their routines before daylight hit him.
    The stadium held more people than Urus thought possible. Nearly every citizen of Kest and every visiting trader or diplomat had crammed into seats with barely enough room for their drinks in oversized ceramic mugs made just for the occasion.  
    The smells of roasting meat, spices, and mouthwatering pastries filled the city. Most holidays could come and go in Kest with little pause or concern, but Kestians started preparing for the next graduation ceremony before the debris from the previous one settled. Were it not for the stench drifting up from his clothes, the aromas wafting into the tunnels would have made him hungry.
    The younger warriors went first, giving combat demonstrations to show off their rapidly growing skills with training blades and staffs. Kestians didn't use shields, seeing an unarmed hand as a wasted attack. Instead, many of their sword hilts had defensive metal plates that were so big