Author's Note:
Did you enjoy the last chapter? I hope so! We're back with the regular party, and this chapter covers what I see as one of the best parts of the game. Enjoy! (Warning: Might be some blood in this one.) Also, this chapter ended up being so much longer than I thought, but I couldn't bring myself to cut any of it.
-Tangent
Seri is much more tolerable in the fall. It was a though that had occurred to the young woman several times after they had exited the palace that morning. Emma had arrived with the others the previous night, and the sultan had granted them permission to stay for a few days while they gathered supplies for the journey to Eredar.
"Aren't you cold?" Jack asked from his place next to her as they walked towards the market. The boy was shivering, clearly unused to any sort of chill after being petrified for a hundred years. Seri was in the north, so it was not uncommon for frosts to come as the summer faded away. The islands they had visited were tropical as well, which no doubt exacerbated the problem.
"Not really. I grew up in Candar, which is one of the coldest cities."
"Ryva gets moderately chilly every now and then." Rye put in with a small grin. "We might need to get you some thicker clothes for Eredar, Jack. It's all mountains, far as I know."
"We'll see." The teenager muttered. "What are we here for, again?"
"Nicholas requested that we buy more potions. He gave a lot of his supplies to the army before we left. And we are loaded, so..." Her partner let the sentence trail off, and she smiled.
"More money than I've ever stolen." Their companion said under his breath, and Emma poked him on the head. "Hey!"
The main market was bustling, as it always was. It was still a few days too early for traders to arrive, but Emma could already see that people were feeling much more positive about the situation with Shaenlir. Best of all, there were no soldiers to get into fights with, as Rye had told her.
It took only a few minutes to find the desired stall, which boasted an impressive display of remedies and cures, and purchase a suitable amount. The result was that both Jack and Rye were laden with bags, staggering slightly as they followed Emma through the market once again.
"Hey, do you hear that?" Jack said suddenly. There was a crowd ahead of them, all clustered around a single area. Shouts and cried of excitement filled the air, and there was an atmosphere of great enjoyment. As they approached, Rye turned to a nearby palace guard.
"Excuse me, but do you know what's going on?" The guard, who evidently knew who the trio was, saluted quickly.
"The annual tournament is today, sir. A great show of combat and entertainment!"
"Tournament?" Emma asked, her interest piqued. Uthar had told her of the competitions that had been held in Thais until recently, when the Snow Queen had attacked. "Like a series of duels."
"Precisely, ma'am. Since you cleared out those Shaenlir rabble, the sultan has declared it to be back on. Warriors from all over come to test their might against Seri's greatest!" She glanced at Rye, and knew he was thinking the same thing.
Doesn't hurt that the tournament probably brings in a hefty sum of cash for the sultan himself.
"And are the competitors already decided?" Rye asked, causing the others to look at him in surprise.
"Not yet, sir. There's still time to sign up, provided you do it promptly. It will begin in the afternoon, at 1 o'clock sharp. The colosseum is under the palace, and can be entered from the west side of the moat." With another sharp salute, the soldier marched off along his route.
"Rye, you're not thinking of entering, are you?" Jack said after a moment. The ranger was silent, but there was a devious look on his face.
"You know... I just might."
He was silent as they returned to the palace and delivered the goods to Nicholas, who looked relieved to have them. He and Ava were currently making sure all the supplies were present before storing them securely for transport on the dragon. The others were eating lunch in the dining hall that adjoined all of their chambers, and so the rest of the party sat down to eat as well.
"So... the tournament." Ean said when they had all finished, and were lounging in their chairs. "Jack said you wanted to enter?" The question was addressed to Rye, who nodded slowly.
"I think I do. After all, I've not had much experience fighting other people. I spoke to the officials, and deliberate wounding or killing isn't allowed."
"They'll let you use your bow?" Gavin asked, but it was Ava who answered.
"Yes, anything can be used. There's a couple of magicians that fight regularly, as far as I recall. I haven't been to the tournament in a few years." The purple-haired woman looked intently at Rye. "It'll be dangerous, though. I've heard that the same man won for the past three years. You sure?"
"I am." Suddenly, the ranger leaned forward, gazing right across the table at Emma. She flushed slightly, remembering the moments they had shared a few days prior. "What about you? Are you going to sign up?"
"Me?" The knight responded. "Well, I... I don't know. It seems rather pointless."
"There is a prize." Ava pointed out. "And it's quite spectacular. Comes straight from the sultan himself."
"You know I don't care for things like that, Ava." A sly smirk crossed Rye's face.
"I think you're just scared I'll beat you." Immediately, Emma felt her face heat up, and she glared across the table at the man, who merely grinned.
"You wish, Zoyle. I'd mop the floor with you." This kind of bantering had become commonplace for the pair over the past few weeks, and Rye fired back.
"Oh, really? Why don't we make a bet?"
"A bet?" Emma said, taken aback.
"Certainly. Whoever gets farther in the tournament wins. And they get to decide what their prize is at a later date."
"You're on." The warrior shot at him before she could think twice. "I'll go sign up right now." The rest of the party laughed out loud as the green-haired pair rose from their chairs, still mock-glaring at each other.
"I guess we'll have something entertaining to watch at the very least." Iya said with a giggle. "Personally, I'd like to bet on Emma."
"Hey!" Rye cried indignantly, and Ean laughed.
"Anybody else want to join this tournament?" The others shook their heads, and he smiled. "Then I guess it's just you two. We'll be sure to get good seats."
"Shall we go sign up?" Rye asked her, and Emma nodded. All feelings of shyness were gone, replaced only with an iron-hard will. Still, she found herself hoping that her matches wouldn't be against the ranger next to her.
I'll try not to beat him too badly.
The area beneath the sultan's palace was much larger than Emma had been expecting, and it was clean and airy to boot. Evidently, a lot of work had gone into the massive underground arena that sprawled before them. Seats for thousands of people had been carved out of the very stone, rising until they nearly met the arched ceiling. The entire room was circular, enclosing a bare pit that Emma supposed was the arena. Already, there were hundreds of people walking laughing, and shouting as they moved to find the best seats, and more were flooding in behind her. Many held food, and she realized that such a tournament was an all-day event. To her right, there was another area filled with vendors selling various snacks, trying to capitalize on their good fortune. Guards lined the arena as well, no doubt tasked with keeping order.
"The registration is this way." Rye said from next to her. Both of them were fully equipped, minus their packs. Rye had his bow, quiver, and knife, while Emma held her sword and shield Emma managed to tear her eyes from the sight and looked to the left, where there was a staircase flanked by two heavily armored guards.
"Competitors?" One asked as they approached, and Rye nodded. "Go ahead, then." Emma's armor clanked slightly as they descended further into the ground, and her partner shot her a glance.
"So... you serious about the bet, then?"
"I am. It'll be nice to have a friendly competition."
"I agree. Still," Rye said, leaning a bit closer and smirking. "That won't stop me from claiming the prize. So be prepared to pay up."
"We'll see." Emma laughed as they reached the bottom of the staircase. In front of them was a desk, manned by a shirtless, very muscular man.
"Oho!" He boomed, rising from his chair so that his arms rippled slightly. "Competitors, are we? Never seen you before!"
"We were hoping to get in. Somebody said there were slots open." Emma said, and the man let out a booming laugh.
"There are, indeed, young warriors. With you two, we can have an even bracket!" He jotted down their names on a piece of paper. "I'm Norman, the head of the tournament. I also serve as referee during the matches."
That explains his muscle. After all, breaking up two armed people isn't the easiest task ever. Emma blinked as Norman explained the rules to them. They were fairly straightforward: No killing or deliberate crippling, stop if your opponent yields, and no using potions or other restoratives. Other than that, the knight was surprised to see that the standards were surprisingly open to injury. Must sell well with the audience.
"You're both armed? Excellent! Well, mister Rye, I will have you placed in the first bracket, and young Willow in the second. More fair that way. The first half will be starting in half an hour, so you'd best get to your position. Straight down the hall, to the waiting room!" Rye started slightly, but gave Emma a quick smile before vanishing to the left.
"You can sit in the stands for the first half, if you like." Norman told her, and she thanked him before slipping back up the stairs. She found Ean and the others sitting about halfway around the circular room, using velvet pillows to cushion the feeling of hard stone.
"Rye's first." Emma said as she sat down next to Iya. "I'll compete in the second half." To her surprise, she found that she was much more excited about the tournament than she had been at first, and chalked it up to the atmosphere in the arena.
"You think he'll win?" Ean asked Ava, who shrugged.
"Depends on who he's matched up against. He's used to having more room to maneuver, but the arena is pretty big, so..."
They chatted for several more minutes, until Norman stepped out into the center of the arena. The lanterns were dimmed, and the crowd fell silent.
"Thank you all for coming to our illustrious tournament!" He called, and the spectators cheered. "We have quite the lineup for you today, but I'm afraid that I have to explain the rules first." As the man launched into the same explanation he had given her and Rye below, Emma's eyes traced the arena once again.
Nice, even ground. No places to hide, though. That might hurt Rye's chances...
"Worried?" Iya said quietly to the knight, who jumped slightly, taken out of her reverie.
"Of course not." Emma denied quickly, but the elf merely gave her a level look. "Okay, maybe I'm a little worried for Rye."
"He'll be fine. You're competing with him, remember?"
"Doesn't mean I want anyone else to hurt him. I just feel like we're going into this tournament with too little information, you know?" She muttered, and her friend gave her a slight smile.
"Sure it's not anything else?" Emma's head snapped up once again, before she could stop it.
"W-What?"
"Well, I couldn't help but notice your new necklace." The elf said, continuing to keep her voice low. "I'm happy for you."
"It's not what you-"
"And lastly, folks, one change has come down from the sultan himself!" At the sound of Norman's booming voice, both of the women turned to look down into the arena, mirrored by every other spectator. "We normally allow our gladiators to swap out their gear in between rounds, but due to the amount of participants this year, that rule is being revoked. You must fight the entire tournament using only what you start with!" There were gasps and shouts, accompanied by lots of cheering. Iya glanced at her, but Emma's attention was focused on the stage once again.
"And now, without further delay, I present to you... your first bracket!" A door on the far side of the arena flew open, and a series of figures filed in.
They were an impressive looking crowd, with over a dozen well-armed warriors, each sporting a unique look. Emma saw three females among them as well, heartened to see that she was not the only one competing. On the far end was Rye, standing calmly next to a man who could only be described as a mountain of steel and muscle. He was a full two feet taller than the ranger, with thick, banded armor covering every part of him except his head. The cheering and shouts redoubled.
Norman began to walk down the line, calling out the names and exploits of each individual warrior, but Emma was not paying attention. Her eyes were still riveted on the gigantic man next to Rye.
He's got that look. Like he could thrash everyone in here, and knows it. Like any good swordsman, she knew trouble when she saw it. He'll be the one to beat. Another trill of fear went through her at the thought of Rye facing that mountain, but she fought it down.
"And now, the man you all know and love, and our reigning champion... Terrible Trevor!" Norman boomed, and the crowd howled with delight as the man raised his fist in the air, a smug look on his face. "He's the best warrior in Seri, and slayer of the Great Scorpion!" At this, Jack leaned over to look at Ava.
"What this scorpion?" The pirate frowned slightly.
"A huge mother scorpion was terrorizing the desert a year or two ago. I knew it was killed, but not that he did it. Must be one hell of warrior to pull that off."
"Shh!" Iya told them as Norman reached the end of the line, where Rye was waiting patiently. His bow was strapped to his back, and he wore his shining elven mail on the outside of his clothes.
"And lastly, a most welcome surprise. You've no doubt heard of the noble band of men and women bringing the fight to Shaenlir, and this is one of them! A master archer, and woodsman from Ryva! Give it up for Rye Zoyle!" There was a stunned silence before the crowd burst out into applause once more, shocked to see one of the famous heroes in the arena.
"I give you... your first bracket!" As the crowd rose to its feet, Emma saw Trevor turn to face Rye and say something, to which the ranger merely shrugged as they filed back into the tunnel. Norman let the applause continue for some time before calling for silence.
"The first match will begin in five minutes. Please take this time to prepare for the show and get into the tournament spirit!" He vanished into the side passage, and the coliseum was immediately filled with hundreds of people talking excitedly about what they had seen.
"Quite a cast." Ean said with a grin. "This could be exciting. Maybe I should have entered." Iya swatted him half-heartedly, and the elf laughed.
"Did you hear the applause Rye got?" Gavin put in. "Guess we're better known than I thought."
"I'm sure most of it is wildly exaggerated." Nicholas said reprovingly, and Iya nodded. Emma did not speak, but merely sat and thought about what she had seen. Uthar had taught her how to analyze her enemies, and this was no different.
That Trevor had no weapons, so I'm assuming he's a brawler. Still, his reach is so long you'd need a lance to stay out of his range. Rye won't have that problem, but that armor looks thick. Still... Emma shook herself.
Enough! Stop worrying and focus on your own matches.
The whetstone made a dull grinding sound as Rye ran it over the edge of one of his arrows. Next to him, a pile of similarly butchered arrows sat, gleaming dully in the dim light. The ranger was in the preparation room, waiting for his match to begin. Norman had told him that his first match would be the second of the day, and so he had come to wait.
He finished dulling the arrow, laid it in the pile, and seized another one of the ones he had purchased from a Serian blacksmith the previous day. Initially, his stock had been for the journey to Eredar, but Norman had told him that shooting or maiming his opponents with the arrows was not allowed, and so he was blunting them.
It'll still hurt to get shot, and I could even knock them out with a well-placed shot. The organizer had allowed him several real arrows, to be used only as indirect weapons. I'm not going to use my dwarven arrows on this anyways. Too valuable.
Rye completed the last of his two dozen arrows and slid them into his quiver. His knife had been secured on his waist, and his mail polished until it shone.
"Okay." He murmured. "Ready to go." Dimly, he heard a roar from the arena, and realized that the first match had ended. Not a minute later, an assistant poked his head into the room where the ranger sat quietly.
"Master Rye, please report to the arena entrance."
He stood and strode confidently from the room.
The first match was nothing spectacular, although Emma could admit that both contestants were skilled.
"Bit of an unfortunate matchup." Gavin commented from behind her. "Fighting a knife thrower with only a spear." The spearman in question had been up against a nimble fighter, a woman who threw knives with remarkable accuracy. He had tried to deflect them, but had ultimately been pushed back to the wall, disarmed, and forced to yield.
"Shield would have helped." Ava put in. "But I doubt he would have advanced much further anyways. Too fragile a weapon." Norman led the crowd in another round of cheering.
"And now, our second round. From the north, we have Ranger Rye!" Ean let out a piercing whistle as their comrade stepped out onto the sand, looking tense. Jack laughed. "And from the south, the wild swordsman Matti!" A burly, black-haired man appeared, wielding a sword in each hand. Surprisingly, he wore no armor except a leather pauldron and loincloth.
"Oh my." Iya murmured as the cheers turned raucous. "Could do with some more protection." Emma nodded slowly as the pair turned to face each other and shook hands.
"Ready? When I step back, you begin." Norman said excitedly, and both fighters nodded. Rye's hands fell to his side, ready to grab an arrow. "And... start!" The duel master leapt back, and Matti leapt forward, sword swinging down in a strike that would have ended the bout if it landed.
Instead, Rye merely swayed to one side, seizing the berserker's wrist as the blade fell. A quick yank, and Matti was sent tumbling across the sand. He was up almost immediately, but the move had given the ranger enough time to step back and grab an arrow. Even from a distance, everyone could see the lack of a gleaming point on the weapon. Evidently undaunted, Matti merely let out a ferocious yell and charged.
"That was a good move." Ava said from behind her. "Guess he's been practicing."
Down on the floor, Matti unleashed a series of ferocious swipes, and Rye was forced to dive out of range. As he fell, an arrow spat from his bow and hit his opponent in the leg. The swordsman howled in pain and staggered. Then Rye was back on his feet, and the dance continued. For a minute or two, it seemed neither could gain the upper hand. Rye was unable to get close enough to his enemy to take him down, while Matti could not sit there and let the ranger shoot at him unopposed.
And then, Matti slipped, his injured leg faltering for a crucial moment. Immediately, Rye was upon him, driving a blow into his stomach that was audible even from the stands. His foot came around and swept the berserker off his feet, and Matti toppled to the sand. His swords flew from his hands, and Rye placed a knife to his throat.
For a moment, there was silence.
"I yield!" Matti said, speaking for the first time. His voice was low and rough, and the spectators burst into applause. Norman stepped forward again, and a grin split his face as Rye helped Matti back to his feet.
"And your winner is Rye! Well fought, both of you!" Both fighters waved to the crowd, and Emma felt Rye's eyes lock onto her. He smirked, and she heard his message clear as day:
Not even a challenge.
"We'll see." She said, smiling as Rye and Matti vanished back into the depths of the coliseum.
The next few matches were somewhat interesting, but nothing she hadn't seen before. The contestant were certainly skillful, but not enough to pose a threat to Rye under the conditions.
And then, the final match of the first round came, and an air of anticipation filled the arena.
"He's coming!"
"The champion!" The words shot around the arena just as the southern gate few open, and Terrible Trevor advanced out onto the sandy floor. He was wearing the same armor, and bore no weapons that Emma could see. Nevertheless, he towered over his opponent, who looked visibly uncomfortable at having to fight such a large foe.
"And lastly, folks, the match you've been waiting for. Our champion, Terrible Trevor, and his opponent, Zion the spearman!" Norman gave the usual platitudes, gave a countdown, and stepped back.
It was over before it started. With blinding speed, Trevor merely smashed his armored arm into Zion's chest, sending the man flying several feet. He crashed down to earth, stirred once, and lay still. Another moment later, and pandemonium ensured as the crowd went wild, deafening even Norman as he tried to shout over them.
Emma was still stunned by the speed Trevor had exhibited. He moved like man many time smaller than him, yet struck with all the strength.
"How's Rye going to beat that?" Jack breathed, but nobody spoke. Finally, Ean broke the silence between them.
"I'm sure he'll find a way." But his tone conveyed his doubt, clear as day. Emma knew, because the same emotions were swirling inside of her.
Can he win?
It took several minutes for Norman to regain control of the arena, announce the winners, and set the matches for the second round of fights. The crowd was still amazed at Trevor's feat, and Emma could hear dozens of people around her constantly talking about it.
I even heard somebody talking about a betting system. Truth be told, the warrior was deeply concerned with the power Trevor had exhibited.
That's not going to be easy to overcome.
"Oh, it's starting." Gavin said, and Emma glanced up. Sure enough, the muscled referee was walking out onto the sand.
"Apologies for the delay, but the second round will begin now!" Norman called, much to the delight of the stands. Emma readjusted herself in her seat, but her mind was still racing, considering possible strategies against the humongous man. His armor was thick, but there had to be some gaps in it... The knight shook herself angrily and settled down to watch the tournament once more.
The second round of matches was a little more exciting than the first, due to the fact that the weakest fighters had been weeded out. Rye's match was first this time, and he walked out to face the knife thrower with a grin on his face.
It was not much of a contest, although the woman certainly put up a valiant effort. Rye out-ranged her, and so she had no choice but to press in and try to subdue the archer at close quarters. Unfortunately, her opponent had been expecting it, and merely backed away, firing arrows into her abdomen and legs at will. When she finally collapsed, Norman called the round for Rye, who received another thunderous round of cheers.
Then came two more matches, both of which ended as expected. In one of them, a fighter slipped, causing him to be badly cut by his opponent's sword. Orderlies came and carried him off, and his opponent claimed victory. When it came time for Trevor to take the field once more, the audience now had a thirst for blood. Cries and taunts rained down on the champion's opponent, who tried his best to look undaunted. Try as he might, though, the result was the same: A single blow knocked him cold, breaking his sword in the process.
As Norman announced the four remaining competitors, Emma was relieved to see that Rye did not have to fight Trevor just yet. Instead, he and the armored man would each fight one more competitor before potentially facing off. Although, based on what she could hear from the crowd, it seemed all but a guarantee that the two men would be fighting each other.
After a short break, the third round began, and Rye began to demonstrate the full scope of his abilities. His opponent, a fully armored knight, had displayed considerable skill thus far, and Emma knew it would be a tough match. In addition to a sword, the armored figure also had a pike and shield strapped to his back.
Right out the gate, the warrior lunged, sword coming around to slash at Rye, who sidestepped and parried with his knife. The ranger lashed out with his foot, but the rounded shield of his enemy absorbed most of the blow. He pressed, but was forced to leap backwards as the knight switched to his spear mid-blow.
This continued on for some time, with neither enemy willing to give their opponent the space they needed. Rye fired arrow after arrow, but they were either blocked by the shield or deflected by the haft of the spear. A particularly powerful blow knocked the knife from the ranger's hand, and he rolled to one side as the sword plunged into the sand. Rye came up with an arrow nocked, and the knight laughed, confident in his approaching victory.
A split second later, the projectile struck the man's spear. Weakened by the blows, the head snapped off and fell to the sand, leaving the knight holding a wooden stick. He struggled to draw his sword, but Rye was already upon him, seizing him by the hauberk and executing a brutal throw. His opponent struck the floor hard, and did not move.
There was a moment's silence before the crowd deafened Emma temporarily with their screams and cheers. Norman was similarly excited, declaring Rye the winner of his bout. As the archer exited the arena, Ean turned to look at the rest of them, eyes gleaming.
"Well, only one fight to go. That bit with the spear was like poetry."
"Agreed." Emma said with a small smile. "It was a good plan."
"Do you think that Terrible Trevor will win?" Jack asked. His question was answered minutes later, when the fighter in question defeated his opponent in a series of powerful blows that she swore made the coliseum tremble.
"Well, I can't say that I expected it to go differently, but we have our finalists!" Norman shouted. "Ranger Rye will take on Terrible Trevor in the last match of the first bracket! Get your bets in, folks, and prepare for what is sure to be a long fight!" Emma gazed down at the north door, where Rye was surely waiting to be called. Making a decision, the young woman rose to her feet and left the stands.
Nervousness was not a feeling Rye was a stranger to, but it seemed to be particularly persistent right now.
Who wouldn't be nervous, fighting that Trevor? Once more, he checked to make sure all of his gear was in order. Arrows, knife, armor... It was all ready to be used. So why did he feel as though he was unprepared?
The creaking of the door alerted him, and Rye's eyes shot up to see a figure he knew almost as well as his own. Emma stepped in, looking at least as nervous as he felt.
"Rye."
"Emma." He responded, a smile touching his lips. "Here to give up and admit defeat? After all, I've only got one match left." The words seemed to strike her right where she was vulnerable, and the words came spilling out:
"Rye, you shouldn't fight Trevor. He'll hurt you."
"Him?" Rye said, genuinely surprised at her approach. He would have thought she had come to tease him. "I have to, Emma. He's the next match."
"He's too strong. I don't want you to get injured because of some stupid bet." Her voice was low and worried, and the man frowned.
"I know he's skilled, but I can win. I've got a pretty good plan, I think."
"In a real fight, you could. But not in a tournament. Rye, please, don't fight him." He stepped closer, enough that he could see the fear and concern in the woman's eyes.
"I have to. Not because of you, or because of the bet, but because I made a promise to see it through. And I will, Emma." Her name seemed to get through, and she nodded slowly.
"I know. But still..."
"But nothing." He said with a grin. "I'll give it all I've got, as long as you cheer me on." A smile spread across his partner's face, and she nodded.
"I will." Emma opened the door again, and as a consequence, he almost missed her parting words.
"If he hurts you... I'm going to take it out of his hide."
The bell rang, and Rye stood, securing his equipment on his belt. Then, without looking back, the ranger strode into the arena once again.
The sand had been smoothed out, erasing the marks of the previous match. Norman was waiting for him, and the crowd howled with glee as he emerged into the light of the coliseum. If the cheers were anything to go by, he was a crowd favorite.
"And his opponent, the undefeated champion... Terrible Trevor!" The door opposite him swung open, and his opponent moved into the open.
He's big. The thought was ludicrous, but it was all Rye could really think of as the armored man approaching, feet disturbing the sand with every step. Beneath the helmet, the ranger could see his eyes glittering with excitement.
The crowd was roaring for blood as Norman called them to their positions.
"The match begins when I step back. Ready, gentlemen?"
"Ready." Trevor did not speak, but merely grunted. His eyes were still fixed unwaveringly upon Rye. As the crowd fell silent and Norman began his countdown, he reached for an arrow, sliding it slowly from his quiver. His opponent did not so much as twitch.
So this is how it feels, staring him down... He's like a beast waiting to ounce. No wonder the others lost to him. In spite of himself, the ranger let his lips quirk up into a smile. But I've faced worse then him.
"And... start!"
The move was so fast he almost missed it. In a blur of motion, Trevor launched himself forward, arms swinging down to pound Rye into dust. It was only because he knew what was coming that he was able to dodge, rolling lightly to one side as the man barreled past, striking nothing but air. As the ranger came up, his bow spat an arrow into the back of Trevor's helmet, clanging loudly as bull-like figure skidded to a stop. Wasting no time, Rye put a few more feet between them and nocked another arrow, steel point gleaming.
So fast... If I get hit, it's over. Trevor turned, and he thought he saw a hint of surprise in the dark eyes.
"You're quick." The ranger said easily, beginning to pace around the mountain of steel. "Quicker than me, for sure. How do you do it?" His opponent said nothing. In the stands, a whisper could barely be heard.
When he thought he was in Trevor's peripheral, Rye flicked the arrow at him. It wasn't really an attack, but something to test his reflexes. To his shock, the man caught the arrow out of midair, snapping it in half with a twist of his large fingers.
Ah. This could be a problem. With a rapid motion, Rye sent three arrows whistling through the air. They shattered uselessly against the armored chest, and the ranger gulped. Behind the helmet, he saw Trevor smile.
The next instant, there was a blur of motion, and an armored limb smashed into him with crushing force, knocking the breath from Rye and sending him crashing backwards through the sand. He tasted blood, and his vision swam as he tried to get up.
Another movement, and he dove instinctively to one side as Trevor's foot crushed the sand where he had been.
Turn defense into offense. His skills, merely passable before, had been honed to their fullest extent, and it showed. Even as he completed his roll and came back to his feet, Rye's hands were already moving, firing two pointed arrows at his enemy. His eyesight was still blurry, and his head hurt like hell, but the arrow still managed to connect. One struck Trevor just above the eye, and he jerked back with a curse.
The audience was howling once again, and he could hear several of them calling for him to be finished off. Others roared their encouragement as Rye turned to face the champion, determination evident in every line of his body.
Can't let him dictate the fight. Need to throw him off balance, make him hurt. As Trevor turned to face him, he saw it. A small spot under his armpit, where only the lighter mail had been placed for ease of movement. If he could slip an arrow in there...
No good right now. He's watching my every move. I'll have to get him to commit to another attack first. There was only problem, the ranger mused as he and Trevor began to pace once more. One more attack like that, and he wouldn't be mounting any sort of resistance.
"You made me bleed." Trevor rumbled quietly, and blood dripped down his forehead where Rye's arrow had driven the steel into his scalp. "You fight impressively, for an archer."
"Can't always fight how I wish. Need to keep my tactics open." The helmet tipped slowly to one side, as though his enemy was acknowledging the truth.
"It changed nothing." Trevor growled, and lunged.
As Rye sidestepped, he saw the small patch of mail fly past at blistering speeds.
Too fast! And yet, it seemed that his opponent was not very imaginative, preferring to charge at his opponents and crush them with his overwhelming speed and power. I've got just enough warning that I can dodge. One more charge, and I'll have it down. Terrible Trevor spun, his arms spread wide, and bore down upon the ranger once again.
Time seemed to slow as the mountain of steel bore down upon him. Rye nocked another arrow, even as Trevor swept a massive arm down at him. Focus... See the shot before I do it. And... now! The ranger had just enough time to aim and fire before Trevor came barreling past. His arm struck Rye a glancing blow, and he staggered backwards, even as Trevor let out a bellow of pain.
Rye fell to his knees at the same time as Trevor, gazing dazedly at the arrow protruding from the man's shoulder.
The crowd erupted, as did Norman. "I don't believe this! Rye lands an arrow between Trevor's armor!" The ranger grinned, exhausted. But something was wrong, and the cheers were dying away. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up through hazy eye to see Trevor looming above him, face contorted with anger.
"A good shot, ranger. But not good enough." His fist rose, and Rye had just enough time to hear Emma's pained cry before the world went dark.
I lost.
Thankfully, the orderlies said there would be no lasting effects besides a nasty headache, as Ean told her. Just got knocked out, they said.
No lasting effects. She felt sick.
"Emma, he'll be alright." Iya said soothingly into her ear, but the knight did not respond. Her eyes were locked on the arena where Trevor had struck Rye.
I told him not to fight. And he did anyways. A flicker of anger began to burn in her stomach, and Emma rose from her seat.
"I have to get ready for my matches. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself anymore." Turning, she stalked towards the entrance of the coliseum, and Iya did not stop her.
Norman had called for a brief break in order to allow the second wave of fighters to get ready. She was already wearing her amor, so Emma took the time to sit and polish her sword. Anger was still bubbling inside of her, but she forced it down, allowing her battle focus to emerge.
Rye's counting on me. Can't get distracted.
"Willow." A deep voice rumbled from behind her, and she turned to see the very subject of her thoughts. Trevor had emerged from one of the hallways, still clad in armor minus the helmet. Her rage surged, but Emma checked it as soon as it rose.
"Trevor. What do you want?" The man's face was misshapen and scarred, no doubt from his years of battle. His short hair was dark, and his eyes glittered with hidden intelligence.
"I heard you cry for the ranger."
"He's my friend. Of course I did." She said neutrally, not meeting the giant's eyes.
"He fought well, but there was no hope for him in such a place. Perhaps you will do better." Emma gritted her teeth and did not respond. "I hope you can give me a worthy fight. Even I have heard of your group's exploits." She finished cleaning her sword and sheathed it, standing to look Trevor in the eyes.
"You hurt him. And so I'll tell you this, Trevor: Don't hold back against me, or I'll destroy you." The man looked at her for a long moment, then nodded and strode towards the stairs, armor clanking noisily as he disappeared.
What was he doing? Trying to intimidate me? With an effort of will, Emma banished the conversation from her mind and returned to her preparations.
The opening ceremony was all but a blur for her. Her competitors were a variety of warriors, including a mage, but she'd heard of none of them. Emma's eyes traced the stands until she found her friends, all of whom were clapping as Norman moved to stand next to her. Rye was still absent.
"We are honored to have not just one member of that legendary group, but two! Trained at the brutal School of War and Magic, it's Emma Willow!" There was cheering, but she thought she felt an undertone of disappointment in the audience's cries.
Is it because I'm a woman? I suppose that's not an uncommon view here. She waved half-heartedly as Norman announced the starting matches and led them back into the depths of the coliseum. Her first opponent was some fighter named Albert Percy.
Not sure what he looks like... Guess I'll find out soon. Her gear squared away, the young woman sat down on a bench to wait.
Thirty minutes and two matches later, one of the aides called her name. Rising, Emma strapped her shield to her arm, adjusted her sword, and marched out into the arena.
The crowd was louder than before, no doubt excited by the prospect of more blood. Opposite her was a man wearing steel armor, accented with a blue cape and feathered helmet. At the sight of her, his lips quirked up into a smile.
"So, you're the legendary warrior? A girl, barely out of childhood?" Emma felt her lips twitch in annoyance.
Another guy who thinks he's better because of how he was born. I've already met enough people like you. Albert was armed with a longsword, and had a shield upon his back. As Norman started the countdown, he unsheathed it in an unnecessarily flamboyant twirl, aiming the blade at her.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you too much." The man winked, and the warrior narrowed her , she could hear the crowd chanting in the background. But now, nothing mattered except her and the arrogant knight in front of her.
I've had enough bullies in my life already. But now I'm strong enough to deal with it myself. In spite of herself, Emma smiled.
You've already lost.
"Fight!" Norman cried, and Albert bounded forward, sword thrusting out at the armored figure in front of him. There was a devastating impact, and the man found himself flying through the air before he crashed down to earth. His sword had flown out of his hand, and he scrabbled around for it desperately. There was movement, and a sword blade seemed to materialize at his throat. The girl smiled grimly, but it never reached her eyes.
"Give up?" For a second, the man hesitated, and she applied pressure to the sword.
"I give! I give." He shouted, and she pulled away from him, a look of disgust on her face.
"If you're going to look down on someone like that, make sure you can back it up with talk." She said, and was gone from the arena.
He lay there for a moment more, physically and mentally destroyed.
Emma did not wait around long enough to hear the cheers of the crowd. Slipping her shield onto her back, the knight made her way back through the tunnels. It had been easy to avoid Albert's clumsy thrust and slam her shield into his ribs. Evidently, she had hit harder than intended; the warrior had gone down heavily.
One win down. I can do this. She stopped outside of a door, suddenly feeling very awkward. I don't know if this is a good idea, but... Coming to a decision, she pushed the door open and entered the infirmary.
The large room was airy and clean, thanks to vents that funneled air throughout the coliseum. Several beds were spaced along the wall, and one of them was home to a very familiar green-haired man. As Emma approached, Rye glanced up, startled. When he saw her, he began to smile, but stopped as he saw the frown on the knight's face. She marched up to his bed and stood there, daring him to break the silence.
"Well... I heard the crowd yelling about some female warrior trouncing a knight handily. I'm assuming it was you?"
"I'm still mad at you." She informed him coolly, and Rye winced.
"I figured." He looked up at her, eyes every bit as intense as her own. "I had to try, Emma."
"Why?" The words burst out. "What was so important you had to go out and fight a battle you couldn't win? I just don't understand, Rye." She tried to keep her voice angry, but all the fear and worry bottled up inside began to leak out. "Was it the bet?" The ranger shook his head wearily, his bandages shifting.
"I just... I wanted to prove to myself that I could keep up with the rest of you." Emma sat down in a nearby chair, eyebrows raised.
"What do you mean? You're plenty capable."
"I know that, but when I see the rest of you fighting... I just get the feeling that I might be slowing us down during battle. That's why I've been working on my hand-to-hand." She felt a stir of surprise. Rye, incapable? Nothing could be less true.
"I don't see it that way." She murmured. "You're always holding your own in battle."
"But..."
"Rye." His name stopped the man mid-sentence, and he looked at her tentatively. "We don't have you in the group for your formidable skills. You're our friend, and I think they'd like to keep it that way. I won't have my partner doubting himself like that." He said nothing. "I think the same sometimes too, you know. But I think it's fair to say that Ean and Iya are in a league of their own. I mean, there's no way we could measure up to that." Emma laughed, and Rye smiled.
"I suppose so." His eyes fell upon the jewel at her throat. "You're wearing it."
"I... Yeah, of course. It's supposed to protect me, isn't it?" Emma said, flustered at the sudden change of topic.
"It looks good on you."
"I thought I was in here to scold you." She protested, and he laughed. "It was reckless and dumb... but I guess it was necessary for you to do it. You fought well, Rye." His eyes lit up, and the pair did not say anything for several seconds. Then he coughed, and Emma blushed, shifting in her standing position.
"Thanks." He muttered.
"Trevor came to see me, you know."
"He what?" The ranger's head snapped up, eyes boring intently into her, as if checking for injuries. "Why?"
"Not sure. He said he wanted me to give him a good fight, but I feel like there's something else going on."
"Huh." Rye said. "Didn't even know he had emotions. You think you can beat him?" Emma's eyes hardened into something like steel.
"I know I can. If he thinks he can look down on me because I'm a woman, he's got another thing coming!" Rye edged away from her imperceptibly, but her eyes caught the motion, nonetheless.
"Running away, are we?"
"I'm sorry!" The man cried as Emma loomed over him.
Suffice it to say, it was a terrifying few minutes.
"Round 2, begin!" Norman shouted, and Emma leapt backwards to avoid a dagger that had come flying out of nowhere. She regained her feet, but her opponent was... gone?
Her senses screamed at her, and she raised her shield just in time to intercept a fierce kick that came from behind it. Even though the foot was clothed in nothing but cloth and padding, it left a visible dent in the forged metal.
The Shadow. I don't know anything about him, and if Norman's banter is anything to go by, neither does he. He opponent was man dressed entirely in robles that were such a deep purple, they neared the color black. A dagger was balanced lightly in each hand, and the knight could see instantly that he knew what he was doing.
"Sneaky." She commented, thrusting out with her blade and forcing the mysterious man to move out of range. He said nothing, but merely kicked a cloud of sand up at her, forcing her to cover her face. A flicker of movement, and a dagger thrust towards her liver. She parried it and smacked the figure's hand with the flat of her blade, sending the knife pinwheeling into the far wall. He hissed at her aggressively, and lunged.
He distracts me and follows up with attacks at my blind spot. Not a bad strategy. But he's not the only one who can move fast. As soon as I get your timing down, you're mine!
They fought silently, each attempting to use their skills to gain an advantage over another. Emma pressed forward, swinging her swords in glittering arcs that the shadowy figure had no choice but to avoid. In a matter of seconds, her opponent lost his other dagger to a particularly powerful cut, and he staggered backwards.
The move was so fast she almost missed it. With the speed of a snake, the veiled man flicked his wrist, sending a cloud of powder where her face would have been. But that was only if she was still there.
As the cloud of dust expanded rapidly, the man did his shadow-walking technique again, seizing a hidden dagger and lunging for the young woman's neck.
"Sorry." She murmured as she yanked him back and drew her blade across his throat. "I'm a little bit faster." He froze, dropping his dagger as the smoke cleared. When the audience saw the knight holding a sword to her opponent's throat, they burst into cheers and applause.
"I don't believe it!" Norman howled over the uproar. "In a stunning move, Willow, forces her opponent to yield! Your victor: Emma Willow!" The sound redoubled, and Emma release her grip on her opponent.
"You fought well." She commended him. "Nearly got me with that last move." Reaching up to his face, the man pulled his mask down low enough that she could see his eyes. They twinkled with amusement, and he bowed to her. She returned the gesture, and they exited the arena once more.
Two wins in a row. I'm coming for you, Trevor. Much to her dismay, but not quite surprise, the armored champion swept his round as well. Emma sat down and leaned against a wall, content to catch her breath for the time being.
When she stepped into the arena for the third time, her opponent was waiting. A striking woman with bronzed skin and dark blue hair, Lidia Lana did not appear to be somebody she wanted to cross. Her hands flicked and twisted a spear, an impressive display of coordination.
"Oh, well this is a surprise." The older woman said, eyes wide with delight. "Always a pleasure to meet a fellow woman in a place like this."
"Same to you." Emma responded with a smile.
She must be from Candar, using that spear. I don't recognize her, though.
"You're quite a legend around here. Thought you'd be older, I must admit." Lana said as Norman shouted for the match to begin. "What do you say we show these men not to underestimate us?" The knight felt an off-kilter grin stretch across her face.
"Sure." Lana chuckled and lunged forward with wicked speed.
They battled for several minutes, up and down the length of the arena. Emma initially tried to hold back, but Lana's reach and deadly skill with the spear soon deterred her otherwise. For a few minutes, it was all she could do to defend herself.
She sharpened the edges of the spear too. Very tricky. Makes it so she can slash and stab at the same time. Indeed, the fearsome woman would often spin, using the immense reach of her weapon to execute vicious cuts that Emma deflected by thin margins.
A minute or two later, she saw it. Lana's spearpoint dropped slightly as her exertions caught up with her, and Emma went on the attack. To the awed spectators, her sword was a wheel of light, never staying in one place for more than a fraction of a second. Lidia fell back, deflecting the blows, but the knight knew she had the upper hand. For the span of a few moments, it was only her and the sword, drawing gleaming arcs upon the air. No sound reached her, and her vision seemed to fade, yet remained focused. In the back of her mind, Uthar's voice came to her from months before:
Most people think the sword and the hand are separate. But to me, true swordsmanship is when you can't separate the two any longer.
The spear clattered to the ground, and Emma blinked. Lana had been disarmed, and she was holding her sword to her throat unwaveringly.
What was that? Her opponent smiled slowly.
"You really are as good as they say, and more. It was an honor to be bested by you, Emma." She raised her voice. "I yield!" Norman stepped forward and called the match, but she was still too stunned to do much more than sheath her sword and walk back into the depths of the coliseum.
"What happened?" She murmured for what must have been the fifth time. The sounds of battle resonated dimly through the deserted corridors, and she knew the next match must have begun. Emma felt drained, as though she had fought much longer and harder than she had. Her fingers twitched slightly on the hilt of her blade, which she was holding out in front of her, trying to channel the same feeling she had felt only minutes prior.
I felt a rush of energy, and then... nothing. Like I was weightless. Like the sword was weightless. Uthar had never prepared her for such an occurrence, save for vague references of battle philosophy. Unfortunately, she had never paid much attention during those times.
Did the sword become one with me? Is that what he was speaking of? It seemed she had defeated Lana without realizing it, which only made the whole thing more confusing. How could I win without effort? Emma attempted a few practice swings, but they felt normal, not... whatever that other sensation had been.
After a few more minutes, she accepted that the feeling would not return, and settled down to await her next match.
Two left.
When they called her name, she jolted from her reverie and rose hurriedly, slipping her shield over her arm once again. As Emma entered the arena, she knew something was off. The air smelled odd, like it did when lightning struck too close. The audience seemed subdued as well, whispering and pointing down at the other figure in the ring.
Ravensong Starlight. She heard the name several times, flitting throughout the arena faster than thought. Norman approached, but he seemed similarly wary of the woman opposite him.
Ravensong was a beautiful woman by all accounts, with the darkened skin of Serians accenting her green-and-blue dress that shimmered in the dim light. She held no weapons, but the glint in her eyes was enough to make Emma's senses go on full alert.
"In round 4, we have Ravensong Starlight, our resident battlemaster, facing off against the legendary knight Emma Willow." The balding man glanced between them. "Remember that maiming and killing are strictly forbidden." Emma nodded and flicked her sword from her sheath, readying herself for the coming battle. Ravensong did not move, save for her hands that twitched slightly.
"Ready... and begin!" A flash of light filled her vision, and Emma felt her feet leave the ground. Sound howled around her for a moment, and the knight crashed back to earth, stunned.
How... She made to rise, but her limbs were heavy, and only her head was capable of any real movement. Smoke was rising from her armored limbs, and her shield was scorched and blackened. Twenty yards away, Starlight was standing with her hand outstretched. A nimbus of flickering light wove around her arm, and she smiled.
Magic? But how? Her opponent flicked her arm, and another bolt of lightning shot towards her, faster than anything she'd seen thus far. Emma barely had time to rise her shield before the blast impacted directly upon it. There was another tremendous boom, and the knight was sent flying from the concussive force. Her shoulder hit the wall, but she instinctively rolled aside as a third bolt smashed into the hardened stone, pulverizing it.
They're just electricity, but they hit harder than almost anything I've ever faced. I need to close the gap. Emma pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly, and Ravensong raised an eyebrow.
"You're still standing. Guess you're tougher than you look." Her tone was condescending, and Emma fancied she could feel the spite rolling off of her opponent.
"Just getting started." She replied, rolling her shoulders, and charged.
She's not like Iya. She can only throw one spell at a time, and she's probably limited in what spells she knows. If I can figure out her timing, I might be able to get close enough to win. Much as I hate it, I might have to injure her to win. Her opponent seemed to have no such qualms, hurling spell after spell in the form of fire, ice and electricity in her direction. She managed to dodge the first two, but was forced to catch a spike of ice on her shield. It shattered on impact, but left a deep gouge in the hardened metal, which was rapidly being bent out of shape.
"Why... are you... here?" Emma panted as a fireball grazed her leg. "Don't you work for... for the sultan?" Starlight grinned cruelly, preparing another onslaught of magic.
"I'd heard your group was in town, of course. I thought that elf," And here the woman grimaced with disgust. "might fight, but instead I get you."
"And what did Iya ever do to you?" The battlemage roared and sent a wave of ice in her direction. Emma cut the block in half with a flick of her wrist, spun, and hurled it directly at the sorceress. It struck her in the chest, and Ravensong staggered.
Now! She leapt forward, sword swinging down, but her enemy dodged. There was a crack of thunder, and Emma was hurled bodily across the arena. Her sword flew from her hand, and she crashed to the ground with a painful thud.
My ribs... Blood dripped from her mouth, and she saw Starlight approaching through her hazy vision. A second later, a foot planted itself on her chest, restricting her breathing.
"Your precious friend was born with her powers. I had to struggle for every inch of magic I possess!" The woman spat. "I despise her. She claims she's trying to save us, but she's useless! The Snow Queen will kill us all, and I bet she'd do nothing about it."
Useless? Emma felt her jaw clench. Dimly, she recalled Iya's story. Ostracized by her peers, captured by false promises and fairy tales. No, that's not true. Iya has never been useless a day in her life. She tried to rise, but her opponent stomped down on her chest. With a small clink, the amulet around her throat slipped out from under her armor, exposing the emerald mounted inside.
"What's this?" Ravensong said softly, and her hands touched the necklace. "A gift from a lover, perhaps? Who would ever call a girl like you their own?"
"Don't touch that." Emma snarled, glaring up at the mage. "You aren't worthy to hold it."
"Struck a nerve, did I?" The woman smiled, and lightning blazed in her free hand. "Say goodbye, Willow." The hand fell, and Emma closed her eyes.
The woman made a choking, breathy sound, and she felt the foot leave her chest quite suddenly.
She was pushed back? Emma opened her eyes, and saw the mage standing a few feet away, astonishment and anger in her eyes. The emerald at her neck had begun to glow, pulsing with soft light as it finished absorbing the last of the stray magic surrounding her.
"Wha- How did you-" Starlight began, but Emma was already upon her. Wild strength surged through her, and she slammed her armored shoulder into the woman's stomach, knocking the sorceress off her feet.
It protected me, just like he said.
"Pathetic." Emma said quietly, picking her sword off the ground as Ravensong struggled to her feet. "You think you're the only one who's worked hard to get where they are. None of us have lived a life free of hardship." The necklace pulsed again, as if in agreement.
"I don't-"
"Iya is the kindest soul I have ever met." Emma pronounced, and her opponent froze. "She has endured more torment than any other creature I know. That elf is a far better person than you!"
"Enough." Ravensong hissed, gathering electricity in her hands once again. "I have heard enough!" She thrust her hands out, and lightning enveloped the knight opposite her. The crowd gasped in horror, and Norman shouted for her to stop. Emma was driven back, her feet skidding through the sand, as she blocked the stream of magic with her shield.
She loves everything in this world. Even Ishtar. And I will not let you insult her! Emma felt the amulet shine even brighter, and the knight began to advance, pushing back the lightning bearing down upon her. Her shield began to twist and melt, but Emma would not stop.
"How can you do this?" Ravensong cried.
"Because somebody has to show you the truth. And I never..." With each word, she advanced closer to the hateful woman. Panic began to show on Starlight's features, and she took a step back. "...I will never let you dishonor the sacrifices they have made!" The magic failed, and the sorceress collapsed to her knees. Emma raised her sword and placed it at her throat.
"Yield." The battlemage grimaced, but did not speak. Despite herself, Emma felt a twinge of sympathy. "You don't understand what we've been through. What we're facing. So don't judge us. I truly am sorry for whatever you endured, but this isn't the way to make yourself known." Turning, she made to walk out of the arena.
"How dare you." Spat the woman, rising to her feet and pulling a blade from some hidden crevice. "You don't have the right to-"
"Oh, shut up." Emma told her wearily, and hit her with a perfect right hook to the jaw. Ravensong Starlight twitched once, then toppled over, unconscious.
"Th-The winner by knockout is Emma Willow!" Norman called, stunned by the sudden turn of events. "And that leaves just one round left!" At the mention of the final match, the crowd seemed to be re-energized, and a hum of conversation rushed through the room. "In your grand finale, it will be the reigning champ, Terrible Trevor, versus the famed swordmaster Emma Willow! And what a match it will be. Be sure to place your bets, folks, and come prepared for an all-out battle!"
Emma glanced down at herself, only to understand why the crowd had been so muted. Her armor was singed head to toe, along with her hair and face. It looked as though she had walked through a fire. On her arm, her shield had all but melted completely away, leaving only a husk of its former glory. Unstrapping it, she tossed it into the sand next to her fallen opponent.
"Remember what I said." The knight said softly. "Your life can change." Turning, she tucked her necklace back into her armor and made for the tunnels.
There was an hour-long break until the final match, so she took the opportunity to clean her armor and rejoin the rest of her friends. Rye had been released from the infirmary with a clean bill, and he shot to his feet the moment he saw her, followed closely by Iya. Ava looked alarmed as well, but she managed to hide it a little bit better.
"I'm fine." She said with a smile. "Just a little singed."
"A little?" Jack burst out. "That was the craziest fight I've ever seen! You blocked a bolt of lightning!"
"All it takes is a little practice."
"I thought I heard that witch say something about a necklace." Gavin mused, gazing down at the arena, where her former enemy was now being carried off.
"Oh, I, um... I-It was nothing." Emma stammered slightly, and Ean raised an eyebrow. Their eyes met, and the elf winked very deliberately.
"I'm on to you." The gaze seemed to say. She averted her gaze to Iya, who looked equally concerned.
"But how will you fight without a shield? Yours got melted."
"I'll manage." The knight said easily. "It's not like it would really help against Trevor anyways. He'd just break it again."
"Well, let me know if you want me to shoot at him from the stands." Rye joked, and they all laughed. Nicholas handed her a potion which he had pulled from his bag.
"For your general well-being." The prince murmured as Emma downed the entire thing. Her wounds immediately felt much better, and her vision seemed to clear slightly.
"Thanks, Nicholas. That's much better." Around her, people were starting to point and stare at the group of legendary figures, and she gestured towards the entrance to the coliseum. "I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to go somewhere a little bit quieter."
A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead, but the green-haired woman ignored it. Opposite her, a muscled, heavily armored man was gazing intently at her, as if trying to discern her next move. Emma's gaze bored into him with equal intensity, and she heard the crowd murmuring as Norman raised his arm.
This is it, then. The final match. But my opponent is nothing like my previous ones. She knew that if she gave him the chance, he would shut her down with extreme prejudice. Trevor's eyes glittered, as if sensing her turmoil, and she tossed him a feral grin.
"Your final match will begin in three..."
"I'm going to enjoy this, Willow." Trevor rumbled.
"Two..."
"Same here." She tossed flippantly at him. "Hope you've got a good doctor on hand."
"One..."
"A woman has no place in the arena or battlefield." Trevor said simply. "It is a fact."
"Then I guess I'll have to prove you wrong." Emma heard herself say, and flicked her sword free of its sheath.
"Start!" The crowd howled, and the pair lunged at each other. Instinctively, she guessed that Trevor would lunge, and stepped to one side. As he passed, she slashed at his helmet, but the larger man was able to partially dodge the attack.
At that speed? Impressive. Instead of exposing his neck, the blow merely sheared one of the horns off of the war helmet, cutting through the thick steel like it was paper. An inconsequential first blow, but all that mattered was that she had landed it first. There was a series of cries from the crowd as they noticed the damage, and Trevor scoffed.
"Your aim is poor, Willow."
"Try me." The man grunted and swung an armored fist at her. The moves weren't particularly skilled, but the speed and power of them was more than enough to flatten her if she were to get hit. For a moment, she was ducking and dodging around him, but found no more openings to strike.
She had just leaned away from a cross-punch when a second blow came out of nowhere and slammed into her side.
Ouch... Emma was knocked to one side, diving away as an armored boot pulverized the earth. Was he feinting? As the knight regained her feet, she saw that Trevor's stance had changed. His eyes, still shaded by his helmet, were gleaming with the anticipation of victory.
"Hiding your true fighting style?" She said boldly, even though her ribs hurt like the Goddess herself had hit her. "Sneaky, Trevor."
"I never claimed to be to otherwise." He rumbled. "I hope you are not done yet."
"Never." She smirked, and charged. Trevor tried to kick her, but she rolled nimbly between his legs, thrusting with a move that left a deep gouge in his armored left leg. Trevor started, but managed to turn and swing, forcing her away once more.
"I realize now that I must treat you seriously." The man growled. "Have it your way." Abandoning his headlong charges, the man advanced slowly upon her, fists raised almost like a boxer.
The first punch was so quick it did not register, crumpling the pauldron on her left shoulder and sending Emma to the ground. She tasted blood, and spat it out as a second hammer-like fist descended upon her back. Not wasting a moment, Trevor seized her by the ankle, spun, and hurled the limp woman across the entire arena. She hit the wall hard, the breath forced from her, and stars flashed in Emma's vision. Thankfully, she hadn't let go of her sword.
His whole fighting style changed... And yet, she had been hit many, many times during her training, and if Emma knew how to do anything in a fight, it was how to roll with a punch. She had time for a cursory inspection of her gear before Trevor was upon her again, raining blow after blow upon her guard. He pursued her down the edge of the arena, and the panic began to mount.
Think, Emma, think! What could take this monster down? One of Trevor's punches went slightly wide, and she took the opportunity to dart away from him, leaving a space of ten or fifteen feet between them.
"Why don't you think I belong here?" She asked, trying to buy time to find a weakness. "I might be a woman, but I worked for this." Trevor gazed at her intently, as though trying to guess her true intent.
"Because for thousands of years, men have done the fighting. Women kept the home happy and safe. It is a necessary role."
"So we should keep doing it that way?" Emma demanded, slowly circling around the champion. He turned with her, but did not make a move to attack. "Limiting each other on what we can do?"
"It is all I know." Trevor admitted. "But here in Seri, it seemed to work. At least, until your group came along. Now the women of this town all seem to want to be warriors. But if they do so, our city will fall apart."
"And you think the Snow Queen won't destroy it anyways, if we lose this war?" The knight said quietly. "We don't have time to be infighting, Trevor. A man like you could make a difference in this war and save lives."
His left arm... is he holding it at a different angle?
"By myself, I will achieve nothing. But no others will come with me. Celia-" The giant hesitated for a fraction of a second, and Emma felt a flash of understanding.
"Ravensong. Is her real name Celia?" Trevor's eyes gleamed dangerously, but she continued. "So you don't want her to fight and get hurt?" For a second, she feared her opponent would charge, but he merely continued to watch her mutely. "You can't make that choice for her, Trevor."
"She will die if she goes." The words felt as though they had been torn from his lips unwillingly. "Celia was the only person who could stand up to me in battle before you came. I do not wish her to suffer."
"Then fight with us." She urged him. "Fight, Trevor, and bring her with you!"
"The matter is closed." The champion said ominously. "We will speak no more of it."
Of course... Rye shot him under the arm! His armor is weak there!
"But-" Trevor roared, and in his anger, charged her once more. As he did, Emma slipped to one side, and with three consecutive slashes, opened a gaping hole in the steel armor. Her sword licked out a second later, cutting deep enough into Trevor's side that he cried out at the unexpected pain and stumbled, falling awkwardly to one knee. Norman was screaming something to the crowd, but Emma was not listening any longer. Her gaze was fixed on the stream of red flowing from Trevor's side, coating his armor in crimson blood. Drops of it fell to the sand, marring the uniform surface.
I... I didn't want to hurt him, but there's no other way to shake him off this path he's become so fixated on. I have to make him see the truth. In her mind, she saw her previous opponents, each so unique and troubled in their own ways. Lana had been too eager to prove herself, Starlight had become consumed with jealousy, and Albert... well, he was just a pompous fool. But they had wanted to win, just like her.
What makes me different? The answer came immediately. They were alone. I'm not. I've got the greatest people in the world standing by my side, cheering me on. With them behind me, how could I lose? Trevor had risen, and there was a look of intense rage and pain on his face.
"I will not yield to a girl who is barely out of her teens. You think you can lecture me on right and wrong?" His armored fists clenched, and she could almost see the muscles bulging underneath. "I have had enough."
"Me too." Emma said simply, gripping her sword tightly.
I think I get it now. What Uthar was saying... I have to let the sword do as it wills, just as I do as I will. Strength is useless without control. And when I fight for them, for Iya, Ean, Ava... Rye... I can focus my control to an incredible degree. Trevor's legs tensed, and he shot forward with speed greater than any she had ever faced. Emma spun to one side, bringing her blade across her body, and waited. Time slowed.
Each fraction of a second felt like forever as Terrible Trevor bore down upon her, a snarl of anger written across his face. She knew where he would step, where he would swing, where he would aim to end this fight in a single move. Emma knew that the fight was already over.
There was an explosion of movement and the tormented cry of shattered steel.
For a moment, she thought she had been hit. But her sword was intact, not a molecule out of place.
Trevor let out a choked cry, and she turned. The ruins of his helmet lay upon the ground where they had fallen after she had cut it from his head. For the first time, Emma beheld the face of the man who had intrigued her so much.
Trevor's face was a collection of scars, not ugly, but nothing that could be called handsome. His jaw was strong, and his dark hair had been cut in a militaristic fashion. As she watched, he clutched at the jagged wound she had opened down the middle of his face, from forehead to cheek. Blood spilled forth again, and Emma strode forward. Distracted as he was with the pain, Trevor could do nothing as she placed her sword at the back of neck, just hard enough that he could feel the pressure.
The entire arena seemed frozen as the current champion turned his head just enough to lock eyes with her. Pure shock was written on his face, and he seemed quite unable to move.
"Surrender, Trevor." Emma said quietly. "You know you can't reach me in time."
"A spectacular move." The man murmured. "To think one so young is so strong..."
"I'm not strong. But my comrades are, and I draw strength from them. That's why you lost, Trevor. I'm fighting for something bigger than myself."
"Something bigger..." His expression seemed to turn wistful, as though he could see something nobody else could. For several moments, he did not speak. And then:
"I yield!" Trevor called to the stands, and the audience erupted.
A warrior, fresh to the arena, had just bested Terrible Trevor. She was willing to bet that even now, word was spreading across the entire city. Several people jeered and shouted insults at her, no doubt for the loss of their bets, but the vast majority of the spectators were cheering and stamping their feet. Hazily, she thought she could see Iya applauding, a look of absolute delight on her face.
She did not hear it as Norman proclaimed her victory, or as he sent for the prize to be fetched. It was only when orderlies stepped onto the arena when Emma sheathed her sword and moved over to Trevor, who was still kneeling upon the sand. His face was a mess of blood, but his eyes still met hers immediately.
"I'm sorry about hurting you." She told him quietly. "I didn't want to." A small chuckle escaped the former champion.
"It is merely another scar. What is one more when I have so many?"
"Listen to me, Trevor. You asked me earlier why I cried out for Rye." Emma's gaze was locked into his, determined to make one last attempt at convincing him. "Because I care so much about him that I was willing to take the blows instead. I would do it for any of the people I journey with, because they brought me a new life. One where I can fight for the things I believe in. But if the Snow Queen does not fall, it will all be in vain." Her voice grew softer still. "Celia will die. Seri will be razed to the ground." Trevor merely listened, his eyes distant.
"I can't take the fighters in this tournament and make them see why they should fight in the coming war. But you could. They would listen to you."
"I-"
"The alternative is death and the destruction of everything we know and love. That's why I cried out for him, Trevor. I hope for your sake, you never have to call out for Celia that way." Emma stepped back as the doctors approached, bearing medical supplies to treat the injured man. Trevor waved them off and stood, clutching his wounded shoulder with his other arm. Norman beckoned Emma over, and she made to walk over to him.
"Willow." The knight stopped as Trevor turned to face her one last time. "Thank you."
"Good luck, Trevor." She said simply, and he was gone. It was just her and Norman alone in the arena, surrounded by screaming spectators. It took several minutes for them to reach a suitable level of volume, and even more for the quiet required to conduct the closing ceremony. As Norman launched into a description of all the many skills and virtues the audience had witnessed during the tournament, Emma felt her eyes wander over the crowd. There was Lana and Albert, one smiling broadly and the other wearing a look of deep shame. Several of the competitors from Rye's bracket were there as well, looking surly. And of course, Ean, Iya, and the rest, smiling and waving to her. But then her eyes found the ranger, leaning against a retaining wall. Rye wore a happy grin on his face, and she swore he winked as Norman laid a hand on her shoulder. His message was clear:
Looks like you win the bet, Emma.
"Emma Willow triumphed against all odds, and so it is my honor to welcome our beloved sultan to the arena, so that she may be rewarded!" With a blare of trumpets, the squat figure of sultan moved out onto the arena from the southern exit, He was wearing robes of magnificent blue, accompanied by a silver turban and six heavily armed guards. Evidently, they had little trust for the average citizens. The man waved airily to the cheering crowd, before turning to face Norman and Emma.
"Emma Willow, you have won my tournament, and thus, my favor. Due to the immense amount of mon-" Norman coughed, and the sultan startled. "Ah, yes. Due to the immense talent you have demonstrated, I, Sultan Sevinc Buldan, hereby grant you the title of Swordmaster. And as a badge, you will be given this." He snapped his fingers, and one of his guards stepped forward and handed Emma a small golden band that fit around her upper arm. "This armlet will aid you in battle. Put it to good use."
Must have made a lot of money if he's being so generous. Still, guess I'll take it. After another round of applause, the sultan turned and strode from the coliseum.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Seri, I present to you your champion: Emma Willow of Candar!" The newly appointed Swordmaster bowed low, and the cheers nearly brought the roof down around her.
It was a feeling of happiness that Emma did not think would fade any time soon. As soon as she had returned to the party, she had been hugged so tightly by Iya that her ribs felt as though they would crack once more. Ean, Jack, and Gavin had praised her skill, while Ava and Nicholas merely gave encouraging smiles. But it was Rye she sought most of all, and his praise that meant the most to her.
I was impressed, Emma. You really are the better warrior. The words rang in her mind as she watched Ean and Jack loading supplies onto Beregond's back, making sure to check the straps for any fraying. They were outside the city gates, in an area that was not visible from the main road. After all, there was little sense in announcing their departure.
"Well, you won the bet." Rye murmured in her air, and she grinned at the ranger standing behind her.
"I'll be sure to collect my payment when the time comes."
"Counting on it, partner." He gazed at her, and tension from earlier faded away into sunshine. "I never could have beaten Trevor, could I?"
"Here? No. But in the end, I think I might have gotten through to him. That's what matters." She had informed him privately of her last two enemies, and how they had felt so strongly about their own desires.
"I hope so. I have a feeling we'll need Trevor before the end of the war."
"The end of the war..." Emma echoed quietly. "We're close, Rye. After Eredar..."
"I know. Ishtar comes next." The knight glanced down at the gold band on her arm, still glittering in the fading light.
A Swordmaster's duty is to protect the people. Uthar told me that, many months ago. I guess I never thought I'd get there like I did. But still... I'll do my best to live up to the title.
"I'll be ready for whatever comes next." Rye nodded assent, and the pair watched the sun sink below the horizon and out of sight.