Chapter Eleven

Fighting With Fire

"Clearwater's Nidoking is unable to battle! The match goes to Cody Ferris!"

The clang of a bell pierced the air above the arena, signaling the assembled audience to break into raucous cheers and deafening applause.

From the bench in the wings of the Stadium, Cro clenched his fists and rose to his feet. A tug on his arm forced him to sit back down.

"Don't get up yet!" came the shrill voice of Himeka the Eevee, Cro's young Master. "We aren't supposed to go out until the other team comes back in! Remember, 'member, 'member? Now sit down, down, down or you'll make me look bad!"

Okay, okay, OKAY! Cro wanted to shout back. As it was, all he could do was obey silently. Sparkacus, seeing its teammate's surly-looking face, ambled over and placed a paw on Cro's arm.

"We'll be out there soon enough," the Pikachu reassured him calmly.

Himeka's high-pitched cry broke in once again. "Hey, hey, hey! No talking before the match!"

"As you wish, Master," Cro muttered underneath his breath. Sparkacus gave the boy a nudge, as if to remind him of his manners, before retreating back to the other side of the bench. Over there, Cro could see the Ringed Pikachu nodding absentmindedly at an indignant Himeka, before moving down to where Candledandel, a pudgy Ringed boy of no more than eight years, was perched.

Brimming with anger, Cro watched Sparkacus making whispered, easy conversation with the young Human, Himeka never once bending over to chastise them. Candledandel, or Dandy as Himeka fondly called him, was the Eevee Master's current pet among the Ringed. He was also too slow and stupid to last his own in even a single round, yet it was a matter of pride for Himeka to send Dandy out in every Stadium battle she entered. The little boy would be knocked unconscious after two seconds in the arena, which, in the case of a three-on-three match, meant the remaining two Ringed had to work extra hard to defeat the additional opponent.

Cro was usually one of those two Ringed, but that wasn't the only reason he disliked the younger boy. From his wide blank eyes to his exceedingly docile manner, Dandy was the perfect picture of subservience. There was no question why Himeka favored Dandy above all of the other Ringed. He followed the Eevee around like a fawning little Mareep calf. To Cro, who'd spent his entire life yearning to prove Ringed equal to, if not better, than Masters, Dandy's behavior was revolting.

How can you just talk to him like that, Spark? Cro wondered, still glancing over at the lean Pikachu. If there's one thing worse than a Master, it's a Ringed who enjoys being a slave to one. As the Pokémon Trainers, we were the real masters. Theywere the traitors, the ones who turned and beat us down to this. Theyhave no right to call themselves 'Masters,' and before I die, they're going to eat their stolen title piece by stinking piece.

I'll make sure of it. I know I will.

Because I am the last heir, descendant of the Martyr. Descendant of the Martyr, summoner of Ho-Oh, and the foretold savior of the Ringed.

Aren't I?

For long as Cro could remember, he'd been certain that the path of last heir was his own destiny. Sure, there'd been fanatics in the past who had claimed the exact same thing. Cro's knowledge on the topic was meticulously detailed, and he could readily name a number of unsuccessful Ringed revolts led in name of the Martyr. But all those so-called messiahs were fakes. Some were even Pokémon, which anyone could've seen was impossible, since the Martyr's descendant most definitely had to be a Human.

From the alleged reports of the Martyr, Cro knew that they already shared an uncanny likeness. Both he and the Martyr had the same unruly black hair and eyes dark as Murkrow wings, not to mention equally stubborn dispositions.

But most importantly of all, Cro was different. He had proof of his identity.

Though Cro had few recollections of his long-ago past, his earliest memories were of a beautiful rainbow feather, given to him by persons or Pokémon unknown. For all of the seventeen or eighteen years (he couldn't be sure of the exact number) of his life, he'd obsessively hidden that feather from prying eyes. He'd never even shown it to his fellow Ringed, for the fear that it might be stolen.

He still had it now, of course, hidden close by. Cro knew, without a doubt, that this feather belonged to the Martyr's ally, the legendary Ho-Oh. The bird of the seven feathers had endowed Cro with its gift, marking him as the rightful heir to its cataclysmic powers.

He had been given the Rainbow Wing, for what else could that feather possibly be? There should be no doubt that Cro had been chosen by the fates. He, and he alone, had the power to summon Ho-Oh.

Cro had to be the last heir.

For as long as he could remember, Cro had stubbornly built his life up around that one purpose, never once thinking that he could be wrong. It would have been suicide to doubt himself even once, after putting so much of himself into believing.

But what was that Eppie had said in the courtyard?

"Epiphany told me before that, today, the last heir will finally arrive."

In other words, she had been telling him, the last heir isn't you.

Cro usually endured most of Eppie's strange words and habits. He hadn't meant to blow up over her bringing that stray girl, Lynn, into the Stadium. Cro just lost his temper sometimes, and once it was gone, it took quite an effort to reign back in. He was working on better control. But what Eppie had said about the last heir would be enough to drive even the most stoic version of Cro out of line.

Which was why, he supposed, he'd turned so much hate onto that new girl, Lynn. The supposedly "real" last heir.

Lynn seemed quiet, like Eppie, but her silence wasn't one of peaceful contemplation. It was fearful and filled with confused resent. Comparing Eppie to her was like holding a ray of sun next to a hulking storm cloud. While you'd often find a pleasant smile stretching Eppie's fragile, innocent face, that Lynn seemed to wear a perpetual furrow between her brows.

Eppie, Cro thought to himself. This time you're even more wrong than usual. That scared, ignorant girl CAN'T be the last heir! If we count on her to save us, we'll all be doomed. For Martyr's sake, how hard can it be to see that! Even for you?

Of course, Cro knew he shouldn't blame Eppie. Eppie was a sweet, well-meaning girl who wouldn't dream of hurting a stray Weedle. And she hadn't always been so...what was the right word?

Eccentric?

Flaky?

Obsessed with an imaginary friend who seemed to constantly lead her into danger?

There was a time when Eppie had been the one Cro relied on, instead of the other way around. But that was in the past. Things were different now, and as much as he missed the old Eppie, Cro knew it'd be a waste of time hoping for her to return. The time to act against the Masters was rapidly approaching; Cro could feel it. Last heir or not, he couldn't afford to wait around for anyone, not Eppie or Lynn or some supposed other last heir. Not anymore.

"Hey, hey!" A sharp nudge in the shoulder snapped Cro out of his thoughts. "The announcer just called my name! We're going into the arena now, now, now!"

Soundlessly, Cro rose to his feet. Himeka bounded off the bench and shoved past him, bouncing gleefully with excitement. Cro did not say anything as the Eevee trod over his bare foot, but one of his hands curled into a white-knuckled fist.

Soon, he told himself reassuringly. Me and the others will make our move soon enough.

"And you guys better win, win, win 'kay?" Himeka's shrill voice rang in front of him. "Do whatever it takes! It's important!"

"Anything for you," Cro said with a mock bow.

It'd better be soon. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Ears flattening against the back of its head, Sparkacus hurled a luminous bolt of lightning across the arena. From where he sat on the sideline bench, Cro's body tensed for his Pikachu teammate.

The match was tied two-for-two, and Sparkacus wasn't exactly doing well. As predicted, Himeka had sent out her pet Ringed, Candledandel, for the first round. Dandy hadn't lasted a minute on the field, leaving Spark to clean up most of that battle in addition to this one. By this point in the match, the Pikachu's lean sides were heaving, its yellow fur matted dark with sweat.

Cro's eyes darted about, following Sparkacus's Thunderbolt as it went spinning past. Seconds before the attack contacted, a translucent indigo barrier fizzled up before it. The lightning streamed over the dome, deflecting harmlessly off its surface and disappearing into the ground below.

Sparkacus' cheeks sparked in frustration; the Pikachu had run out of electricity.

Beneath the curved purple wall, the serene face of a slender Human boy was thrust unseeingly towards the ceiling. The dark-haired Ringed, called Xander, often competed at the Verdant Stadium. Seated in a cross-legged position, and eyes closed in concentration, he also always hovered a good three feet above the floor, the tip of his thin black braid nearly scraping the ground.

Panting, Sparkacus sized up its Human opponent more slowly. Cro's fingers itched to grasp the hilt of his sword.

Human Psychics like Xander were rare and a notoriously difficult foe to best, making them all the more valuable to their Masters. Cro would have readily gone in place of his exhausted comrade. But Himeka was the Master, and Himeka was too proud or dense to switch a new Ringed in before the current one had fainted.

"C'mon, Spark!" Cro yelled to his teammate, leaping to his feet.

Himeka swatted him irritably on the knee with her tail. "Sit down!"

Cro ignored the Eevee. "You can win this!" he called out, before Himeka's repeated slaps forced him to take a seat.

Without warning, Xander's piercing golden eyes shot open from beneath long overhanging strands of black hair. A beam of psychic power rocketed from his upturned palms, mirroring the swiftness of the boy's earlier movement. Sparkacus dropped onto its stomach, just as Xander's attack blasted a crater in the center of the arena.

"An impressive display of Psychic abilities by Phillips's young Ringed!" the announcer, an elderly Venusaur at the far end of the stands, declared. "I don't think Himeka Madison's Pikachu made it through that one."

A thick cloud of dust filled the packed Stadium, and murmurs of anticipation rippled through the Humans and Pokémon assembled in the bleachers. Himeka gave a squeal of indignation, and leapt onto the tips of her paws to see the outcome of the attack.

C'mon, Cro thought fiercely. C'mon, Spark.

As the dust settled, a streaking yellow form could be seen darting across the arena. Golden gaze unblinking, Xander extended his hands and shot several more blasts of psychic energy at his Pikachu opponent. Sparkacus, putting on one of its last spurts of energy, dodged each one.

"Don't let that rat get the best of you!" Xander's adolescent Human Master yelled, clenching his fists. "C'mon! Aim and fire!"

A frown finally beginning to mar Xander's sallow face, the psychic Ringed released another attack. Again, Sparkacus jumped swiftly out of range. The psychic beam went streaking past its target, hitting the marble side of the arena. It rebounded off and hit Xander squarely in the stomach.

Groaning, the psychic boy doubled up in pain. The indigo psychic aura around him vanished in a sharp crackle. Before the boy's Master could call out another command, Xander thudded onto the floor of the arena.

"And the psychic Ringed is down!" the announcer boomed as a squad of medics ran out to retrieve Xander's unconscious body. "Rhys Phillips will have to choose his last Ringed carefully if he still hopes to win thismatch."

Rhys, a tousled-haired Human boy in a wrinkled windbreaker, tightened his jaw. Cro saw the young Master retreat momentarily to the sidelines. He returned to the arena shortly, followed by a muscular equine Pokémon.

"It looks like Master Phillips will be sending out Bucephalus the Rapidash!" the announcer cried as Rhys's new Ringed galloped forward, iron-hot hooves kicking up sprays of sawdust. From the center of the Stadium, Sparkacus eyed its fresh opponent with apprehension.

"Switch someone else into the match," Cro told Himeka. "Spark's taken down two opponents already. It can't last much longer."

Himeka screwed up her button black nose at Cro's suggestion. " 'Scuse me?" the Eevee said, rolling her eyes. "I know what I'm doing. You don't, don't, don't!"

Out on the battlefield, Bucephalus had already charged in a headlong Take Down. A sharp smack sounded through the Stadium, and Sparkacus's body went flying into the air.

"Hey, hey!" Himeka cried angrily as the Ringed Pikachu fell and skid limply through the sawdust. "My Ringed wasn't ready, and you just went and attacked it anyway! That was mean, mean, mean!"

Cro slammed his fist against the seat of the bleachers in disgust. There was something else he wanted to slam that fist against: Himeka's round, angelic face.

Tantrum winding down at last, the Eevee pointed a glossy paw in Cro's direction. "You next!" she ordered in exasperation. "And you'd better WIN, WIN, WIN!"

Cro moved out before Himeka had time to give him a sharp shove. Head high and back stiff, he strode towards the arena. Like a real master, not one of those sniveling phonies piled into the bleacher stands.

Like a Pokémon Trainer going off to battle.

He could feel Bucephalus' blazing eyes zoning onto his face and smell the hot smoke the Rapidash snorted from its nostrils. Deliberately inhaling the smoke, Cro set his jaw and stepped into the arena.

A cheer and scattered bits of applause rang out here and there, but Cro paid them no mind. Someone handed him a sword and a fireproof shield. Cro accepted them wordlessly and took up position across from his opponent. At the far end of the arena, he could see Sparkacus's small body being carted off to the sidelines.

"Both Phillips and Madison are down to their last Ringed," the announcer called out. Rhys nodded grimly; Himeka let loose a high-pitched squeal. "Battlers ready? Begin!"

"Fire Spin, Bucephalus!" Rhys commanded, throwing out an arm to point at Cro. With a snort, the Rapidash braced its hooves against the ground and released a scorching blast of flame.

"Dodge, dodge, dodge!" Himeka screamed to Cro, bouncing about on the bottoms of her paws.

Cro leapt to the side as the fiery attack came barreling his way. Roaring, the Fire Spin arched downward. It split in two and went racing across the ground in opposite directions. Within seconds, the entire arena was surrounded by a ring of roaring fire.

Skin slick with sweat, Cro moved away from the flickering orange-red inferno. Flames raced after him, licking up sawdust at his heels, and the metal sword in Cro's hand was becoming too hot to hold. Without ceremony, he tossed it into the blaze behind him.

Somewhere in the background, the announcer was yelling and the crowd was gasping. But the crackling of the conflagration behind him had completely filled Cro's ears. As he stood in front of the fire, eyes narrowed in concentration, the crackling seemed to grow more and more intense. Soon, all the Human boy could hear was the thunderous roar of the arena bonfire, backed by the ragged, rasping sound of his own breath.

The announcer may have said something more; perhaps it was Rhys calling out to his Ringed or even Himeka screaming at Cro himself. All Cro was aware of was the sound of fire in his ears, the unbearable heat against his skin...

Pain stabbed through Cro's throat. Instinctively, his free hand shot up to the Ring around his neck. The scorching surface forced Cro to withdraw his fingers at first touch. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he fastened his fingers around the Ring again, ignoring the metal that charred his skin. No matter how hard Cro wrenched and pried, the Ring would not, could not, come off!

Bucephalus pawed at the ground, embers flying from its hooves. With a snarling battle cry, the Rapidash barreled forward.

The Ring seemed to contract, its searing sides crushing in on Cro's throat. Somehow, it seemed even hotter than the sword Cro had tossed aside so easily before. And its suffocating hold was squeezing the last bit of air from his windpipe.

Rearing up, Bucephalus aimed its flailing hooves at Cro's head.

Before they could contact, Cro's shield shot out, backed by all the force the boy could muster. The shield's edge caught the fire horse Pokémon in the throat, sending it staggering to the side. Grunting, Bucephalus regained its balance and made to attack again. But with a short flicker, both its fiery mane and tail dwindled away into a wisp of smoke.

"A clever move on the part of Madison's Ringed," the announcer said approvingly. "Looks like he slammed right into the Rapidash's fire sac. It'll be a minute or two before Phillips's Ringed can use any more Fire attacks. But I doubt that will make it any less formidable!"

"You can pull through, Bucephalus!" Rhys called out encouragingly. "Take out your opponent with a Take DOWN!"

"No, no, no!" Himeka was yowling at the top of her voice. "You can't make me lose! You can't, you can't, you can't!!!"

The mane-less Rapidash tore headlong in Cro's direction. Before Cro had time to react, splintering pain burst through his shoulder. One moment he was flying over the ground, the next, landing heavily in the sawdust. His arm twisted awkwardly underneath his body as he fell. Getting to his feet sent a nauseating wave of pain through his body.

Looking up, Cro saw Bucephalus in front of him, preparing to attack again. From behind, the flames of the Fire Spin snapped tauntingly.

Himeka's wail rang through the domed Stadium. "I told you not to lose!"

As the Rapidash charged, Cro's body tensed. Above Himeka's shrieks, he could hear a lilting voice echo through his head, again and again like a faint, scratchy recording.

I'm not exactly sure how I can do it. But maybe you can try it, too. Just close your eyes and imagine yourself doing it the way you want to, over and over. Then open them again and try it for real. It's always worked for me.

See, watch this. I can walk on dirt, right? But if I concentrate very hard, I can also walk on water, on air...

Anything at all.

"Epiphany, you're something else," Cro muttered automatically, words rolling out like stones from a dropped pail. "Now, get out of my head. I've got a battle to win."

Before he knew it, Bucephalus was upon him. But this time, Cro sidestepped just in time. The Rapidash went skidding past, and as it went, Cro grit his teeth and leapt.

He landed squarely on Bucephalus's back, one arm half-clutching at the fire horse's brawny neck. The arm he'd fallen on before dangled uselessly at his side, pain jolting up its length with every one of Bucephalus's jerky bounds. Bucephalus itself pumped its neck wildly up and down, hoping both to shake Cro off and rekindle its flaming mane. It succeeded in neither.

Roaring in anger, the Rapidash's head swiveled about and snapped at Cro's hunched form. Unable to reach its opponent, Bucephalus began to buck and rear up on its back legs. The boy hung on as doggedly as ever.

Straddling the Rapidash's body with his legs, Cro leaned forward. Ignoring the red-hot pain in his arm, he reached over and planted his hands firmly over Bucephalus's eyes.

For a moment, all Bucephalus could do was continue to rear and stomp as before. But as Cro dug his nails into its flesh, the Rapidash gave a strident whinny. Before anyone could stop it, the fire horse was racing blindly across the arena, straight for the barrier around the edge.

"Go back! Back!" Rhys yelped. "No! You're going to crash!"

Cro's arm throbbed. Bracing himself, he dug in his nails deeper.

Both Rapidash and its rider collided into the stone barrier. There was a sickening crunch, followed by the thud of two dropping bodies.

The ensuing silence was broken only by the Venusaur announcer. "That's got to hurt," he said with a wince. "With Phillips and Madison both down to their last Ringed, it looks the match will go to whoever's Ringed who can stand up first."

"C'mon, Bucephalus!" Rhys shouted in a ringing voice. "C'mon, all you have to do is get back onto your feet..."

"Get up, get up, get up!" came Himeka's shrill shriek. "I won't lose! I won't lose! I have to win!"

"Bucephalus, I know we can win this!"

"Get up! GET UP!!!"

The night air was chilly, but even in her thin sleeveless shirt, Eppie paid no mind to the cold. Standing on her tiptoes, the small girl glanced again at the Stadium's many arches. Light streamed out from each one, illuminating the road outside. But save for the light, nothing else had come through in hours.

Closing her eyes and lowering her heels, Eppie gulped down her growing apprehension.

At last, footsteps clattered down the stone hall. Eppie's eyes shot open, but it was only a yawning Squirtle, waddling out and brushing past without so much as a second glance. Sighing softly, Eppie stepped back again to wait.

A second set of footfalls reached her ears only five minutes later. But these steps were much slower, much more labored than before. Spirits reenergized, Eppie rushed forward and stood directly at the edge of the light. The radiance of the illuminated arch blinded her at first, but as Eppie's eyes adjusted themselves to the increased light, she could make out a hunched, limping form making its way outside.

This time, it was Cro. His black hair hung down in long, sticky strands, hiding half his face, and there was a deep gash in his shoulder. As he came closer, Eppie could see he was clutching one of his arms gingerly to his body.

Yes, he was beaten up badly. Maybe he had lost the battle. Maybe he had lost because he was still mad at her and hadn't been able to concentrate. But he was alive, and that alone filled Eppie past the point of overflow with happiness.

As Cro saw Eppie standing there, his eyes widened. Eppie could see his mouth opening soundlessly as he struggled to place the right words in it. Maybe he was going to tell her he had won. Maybe he was even going to say that he wasn't mad at her anymore.

But at that moment, Eppie didn't really care.

Before Cro could say a thing, she was rushing up and throwing her arms around him gratefully. And suddenly, she was crying all over again, mixing tears and mucus with the dried blood on her brother's tattered uniform.

But Cro didn't seem to mind. Extending his arms, both injured and unhurt, he hugged her back.

And he found he didn't need to say anything at all.