Her body had gone numb with nerves as she waited. She nibbled on her lip as the spectator's distant roars and cheers grew louder from above. Horns blared, and the pounding of their drums amplified, thumping in sync with her racing heartbeat. They were getting restless. It wouldn’t be long before she was called forth. Before Alex would have to climb those steps to the arena and face the unpredictable, lightning fast Lioden Thyme.
“Come forth,” a man's coarse voice ordered. “Spread your arms wide. Quick now, girl, don’t be afraid.”
The gold cloak had beady brown eyes and a bristling white handlebar moustache. Alex felt all he needed was a top hat and a cane, and he would have been a spitting image of Mr Monopoly. She must’ve had hysteria, because, despite her nervousness, she giggled at that thought.
Following the man with the ridiculous moustache’s demands, Alex thrust both her arms outward. His palm beamed an iridescent white as he hovered it cautiously over her armour, his eyes scrunched in concentration. He was searching for something.
After several minutes, his luminous hand faded, and he began patting Alex down from her feet up. Her face must have given away her surprise because he said:
“Checking for any armour enchantments or concealed weapons. You carrying any banned blood I should know about?”
“Blood?”
“Yes, blood,” the man spat as if she had rocks inside of her head. “Gorlac, bhorgal, and dragon blood vials are banned in the arena. It’s for the spectator's safety. Think the crowd wants to endure the unpleasant, head-splitting howls of a Squealer, do you?”
That’s when Alex clicked—the branch of magic called Shifting. Bloodshifters would often carry vials of the creature’s blood to later drink and morph into. Nasty little freaks.
“I’m not carrying any blood except my own, sir,” Alex said, laughing nervously.
The man's lips didn’t so much as twitch.
Another gold cloak emerged from the opposite arched door then.
“Valencius,” Alex said, recognizing the guard that had Sherlock Holmed them outside of Iralda’s gates. His blond hair was tied in a topknot and he was wearing a suit of burgundy leather armour with blood red borders.
“Taytora.” The eagle-eyed man lowered his head respectfully, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
“You know my name?” Alex asked, startled.
“I needed to, in order to place a bet on you.”
“You what?”
“I’m a man of my word. I said I would put coin on you if you made it to the Golden Gauntlet.” Valencius smirked. “And here you are.”
“You, sir, have a gambling problem that needs addressing.”
“That I do,” Valencius said, his smirk deepening. He ushered Alex through the next archway and into an armoury.
The wall to Alex’s left was covered from top to bottom with weapons. Longswords, short swords, rapiers, and greatswords—all of them as blunt and dull as her brother’s best friend Kenji.
“Pick one,” Valencius said. “Or two. Whatever your preference.”
Alex stood on her tippy toes and pulled some of the smallest swords she could find off the rack. She practiced with each of them, testing out their weight, balance, and their overall comfort. She ended up choosing one that closely resembled a katana, seeing as the light weighted weapon would better compliment the game plan she and Link had devised—and because she also thought samurais were kick-ass.
The drums above were beating faster now, the horns resonating through the room even though she had to be fifty feet below the arena. Alex wondered what the Gauntlet’s architects had in store for her up there. It was their job to prepare each of the arenas before every single battle. Only the crowd knew what awaited her. She just hoped there was a body of water she could manipulate. Although Lioden was a natural Waterwielder, Alex felt he had nothing on her insane skills.
If only Link could be here to keep me calm, she thought.
He had fought in the match before hers. Alex still didn’t know whether he had won or lost yet, seeing as she had been shunned underground for the better part of an hour. She figured he was either in the hands of the academy’s Healers, or he was up in the crowd with not a scratch on him, nervously waiting for her to set foot in the arena.
Alex turned to face the armoury’s right wall now. It was gleaming with shields. Bronze, wooden, steel-plated, it didn’t matter. A shield wasn’t part of her game plan. They were too clunky. The Wards Zudane’ had been teaching her would be protection enough.
Finally, the wall farthest from her was covered in armour. Some sets were plated, some boiled, and almost all of it worn out and unappealing. Link had made a good choice in picking her snow-white set. Every piece of it had fit like a glove except for the two front airbags.
Alex had originally planned on picking a helmet from this rack for the extra protection, but Link had talked her out of it. Her brother thought she needed all the degrees of vision she could get when facing the sporadic Lioden and wearing a helmet would restrict her sight. It was one of those rare occasions where he was right.
“Ready?” Valencius asked.
Alex nodded.
“Then proceed up the stairs.” The drums quickened from above. Valencius raised his head at the noise. “Your audience awaits you.”
Alex climbed a step and then turned to face him. “You shouldn’t have put any coin on me, you know. Lioden is paying—”
“Taytora,” Valencius interrupted, “Worse odds have been overcome.”
“You actually think I have a chance of winning?”
“I was once a slave from Bomethorg being traded for coppers and pennies. An injured horse had more worth than me. And now . . . ” Valencius glanced at his surroundings, a satisfied grin etched on his face, “I am here.”
“Worse odds have been overcome,” Alex whispered, trying to psyche herself up.
As she climbed the flight of gloomy stairs, she sliced at the air in front of her, trying her best to familiarize herself with the new weapon. The higher she climbed, the louder the sounds of the arena erupted. She hadn’t even stepped out yet and she could hear the crowd shouting obscenities, whistling and clapping, howling like they were a pack of wolves on top of a mountain.
When she reached the top of the stairs, another gold cloak awaited her. Alex didn’t even pay them any mind; her eyes were closed, head lowered, waiting for the loss she knew was imminent. She rubbed her sweaty palms on the outside of her thighs. Another horn blared. Her body was buzzing with adrenaline. Suddenly she felt like bursting into tears. She knew this wasn’t just a friendly match like it was for the other students. She was fighting for her survival. Fighting for a chance to open her eyes in the real world again.
Winning this match was critical if they wanted to be recruited into Talox’s squadron. He had shaped Taytora and Deonis into warriors, teaching them advanced Spells only he knew, assisting them through major plot points in the story. Talox was so powerful he even managed to cut off Kilaydis’ arm. Kilaydis regenerated it back, of course, but still, that didn’t make the feat any less amazing for Alex.
If she lost against Lioden here, Talox would never see her true potential and would choose another student. And if that happened, the story’s plot would be forever out of her and Link’s reaches.
Alex steeled herself as the arena doors in front of her parted. The sunlight was what hit her first, blinding her like a car’s high-beam on a pitch-black road. Shielding her eyes with a hand, she stepped into the arena, the crowd going into a frenzy as she emerged. The smell was what hit her second: a mix of soil and wet bark. Alex didn’t walk to the middle of the arena right away like all the combatants were supposed to. Instead, she did a complete 360, taking in every aspect of the landscape.
She was standing in a wide-open glade brimming with pine and oak trees. A sea of lush, knee-high grass covered the arena; boulders as big as medicine balls were dotted here and there, and directly in the centre of the green expanse was a swamp riddled with arrow-headed weeds and thick reeds. The biggest tree she had ever seen sprouted from the water, shooting into the sky and threatened to touch the clouds. Its branches stretched out and cast splotches of shade all over the arena.
She gazed up at the crowd in the tiers as she walked towards the giant tree. More than two hundred feet upwards were three tiers containing men, women, and children of all ages clutching betting parchments in their hands, leaning over the safety rails, screaming and spitting into the arena. There had to be over twenty thousand of them. And no doubt Lioden was the favourite of this match.
There’s no point putting their gold on a lost cause like me, she thought.
Positioned all around the arena’s three tiers were gold and silver cloaks, standing stoutly on guard. Alex figured they were there to protect the spectators from any wayward attacks from the combatants. She was sure a non-Gifted wouldn’t want a stray fireball hurled at them in the stands.
She splashed through the ankle-deep water towards the adjudicator at the foot of the giant tree. He was wearing a long, milk-white robe, its tip soaked in the water. His stone-grey eyes tracked her as she came to a stop in front of him. He had a nose longer than Pinocchio's and wore a silk headband to keep his long silver hair out of his eyes.
Alex knew he’d be observing their battle closely. Winstell had told her it was his job to prevent any deaths and make sure injuries were kept to a minimum. If any of the combatants yielded, or proved unable to continue the fight, only he had the power to step in and call the match off.
She gave her sword a few more practice swings before she spotted Lioden appearing from the other side of the arena. If she thought the crowd was loud before, they went completely berserk this time. She couldn’t even hear herself think as they hooted and whooped at their clear favourite. Two guesses who they have their gold on.
Lioden trudged towards her with his head lowered. Alex was shocked to see he was wearing no armour, just a padded emerald green doublet, and a longsword in his right arm.
Maybe he knows speed is his ultimate weapon, she pondered, so he made himself as light as possible; all the better to zip around the arena at light-speed?
As Alex watched Lioden advance, she was glad to see that just like her, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. He couldn’t even meet her gaze. It will all be over soon, she kept reminding herself, win or lose it will all be over soon.
When Lioden arrived, the adjudicator recited the Gauntlet’s rules which Alex had heard over a thousand times no thanks to Winstell. She gazed up as the adjudicator talked. Right above Lioden loomed a bronze gong and an hourglass the size of a giant filled with pure white sand. Directly above that were nine withered men and women who she immediately recognized as The Nine. They were all seated in a row of polished wooden chairs with backrests that branched outwards like peacock tails. These nine legendary mages ran the entire Order of Mist, and if the sand timer ran out and no victor was apparent, it was up to them to determine the outcome of the match.
After the adjudicator had finished his long-winded speech, Alex turned her back on Lioden and headed to the outskirts of the arena. The crowd quieted as she placed one hand on the coarse two-hundred-foot-long stone wall that surrounded the entire arena. As per tradition, both the combatants had to have a hand placed on the stone for the match to commence.
Everything happened at once then. The adjudicator raised both hands in the air. The gong reverberated through the arena. The crowd was out of their seats and roaring at the top of their lungs. The hourglass was turned by two mages. The sand trickled downwards. Alex’s throat tightened. The match had commenced.
Gripping the smooth leather hilt of her sword firmly with two hands, Alex edged warily towards the swamp, her head darting from side to side. She knew Lioden was liable to pop out of thin air, so like she had practiced, she used her heightened senses to stay sharp and pick up any potential disturbances in the environment: a change in air current, the crunch of his boots atop the grass, even his irresistible sage and rose petals scent wafting through the air. She had to be prepared.
Alex circled around the swamp as she approached, glancing around the giant tree to where Lioden was standing when the battle had commenced. She was shocked to see he hadn’t moved. For some reason, Lioden was peering up at the crowd. What’s he playing at?
Lioden didn’t so much as glance at her. He stabbed his sword softly into the earth and then let it fall, hilt first.
“I yield” he shouted. Or at least Alex thought he did. She could barely hear him over the deafening screams.
“The match is over,” the adjudicator's voice boomed through the arena as if he had a microphone. “Lioden has yielded. Taytora progresses to round two.”
The crowd immediately fell silent, whispering and murmuring to one another in confusion. And then they erupted all at once, spitting, booing and throwing their losing betting parchments into the arena. Alex was too stunned to even react. All she could do was stare at Lioden helplessly. But he only gazed defiantly into the crowd. She followed his line of sight and found out why.
A man stood in a sectioned-off part of the stands, scowling at Lioden; a man who could only have been Winstell and Lioden’s father. He wore a silver doublet with patterned golden roses, had Lioden’s sandy-coloured hair and chiselled features, but Winstell’s round belly and almond-coloured eyes.
The Coinskeeper looked as if steam was about to blow out of his ears. He turned on his heels and stormed off and out of sight, a dozen of what Alex presumed to be his gambling agents and guards scurrying after him.
****
Alex tugged the hood of her cloak down as she elbowed and wiggled her way through the throng of people. The air was thick with the stench of ale, dirt, sweat and urine. As she passed the disgruntled spectators, the outcome of the battle was still on everyone's lips. Not one conversation she eavesdropped on was a pleasant one, which was why she couldn’t let any of them see her. She knew they would no doubt hold her responsible for losing their gold.
As soon as the match had finished, Alex had returned underground and changed out of her boiled armour. After she had changed clothes, she took a flight of stairs to the first tier where she was greeted and congratulated by her brother and all her friends. Phen was the only one missing from the welcoming party. He was having a power nap back at Baylor’s before his fight commenced.
After Link had finished bear-hugging her, he told Alex he had breezed through his match almost effortlessly, until the end that was. He had gotten a little overconfident and charged at Geradine, to which his opponent replied by sending a vicious arc of his Spiritwielding energy at her brother. A deep gash had emerged down his forearm. It was nothing the Healers hadn’t seen before, though.
Zudane’ hadn’t even used a single Spell in her match. She overwhelmed her opponent with her swift sword-skills and had him yielding within the first few seconds. Winstell, on the other hand, had to use every Spell in his arsenal to defeat his opponent. The sand timer had run out in the end, but luckily The Nine had named him the victor by a points decision.
Alex didn’t stick around for chit-chat, though. As soon as she had found out the outcomes of everyone's matches, she had practically sprinted to the other side of the arena, hoping to find Lioden before he fled. She didn’t just have a bone to pick with him; she had the whole skeletal system.
It wasn’t hard to find him; Alex just had to follow the commotion. Lioden was up in the first tier near the north entrance within a circle of iron-clad guards, each of them trying to ward off the hostile crowd as they tossed scrunched-up parchments and shoes in his direction.
“Where’s me gold, ya thief!” a lady shouted. “Give me back me gold.”
“The match was fixed,” another man screamed. “Fixed I tell ya; they planned this from the beginning.”
“There’s no honour in yielding!” a frail man snapped. “None whatsoever! Gutless!”
The guards stopped and stood watch outside of a windowless room as Lioden passed through. They shoved the crowd back, threatening them with force whenever need be. After what felt like an hour to Alex waiting behind the crowd, they disintegrated, most due to losing their voices, others hurriedly rushing off to place bets on the next match.
Her mind was reeling with hundreds of questions as she stood by. What could Lioden have possibly gained from yielding? He was the favourite to win the tournament, for goodness sakes. Alex knew she should’ve been happy, seeing as how she now progressed through to the next round and the toughest competition had been knocked off. But the truth was she felt cheated. She wanted to deserve the victory, win it by her own merit, not have the match handed to her before they had even exchanged blows.
Alex could hear muffled shouting from inside the room. Lioden and another voice were yelling at one another. She could only make out bits and pieces. Was it his father?
“Did you hear them all just then?” The unfamiliar voice bellowed. “They think I planned this. That I made you forfeit so I could take their gold . . . Do you have any idea the position you have now put me in now? . . . Tarnished my reputation . . . How could you be so naïve? You are no son of mine, that’s for sure.”
“I told you I wanted no part in this,” Lioden screamed back. “Forcing me was going to get you nowhere.”
The rest of it could barely be made out. After the screaming match was over, Lioden’s father shoved the door open and stormed away, taking to a flight of stairs that lead up towards tier two. The guards outside the door sprung to attention, their metal ringing as they joined the sides of the Coinskeeper and thwarted off the aggressive passers-by.
Lioden emerged from the room tentatively then. Alex was pleased to see that just like her, he had some common sense, and was wearing a loose-fitting hooded cloak. She had originally planned on throwing Lioden against the wall and letting loose, but after listening in on the scolding he had received, she simmered herself down. She knew a thing or two about fatherly scoldings.
When Lioden’s turquoise eyes caught sight of Alex from underneath his hood, his body immediately turned rigid.
“Shall we go somewhere private?” he asked nervously.
She agreed. Lioden took her all the way up to tier three, went through a few deserted passages, then led her to a vast, varnished balcony overlooking the city instead of the arena. The area was practically deserted except for a few men and women wearing ribbons in their hair, embroidered doublets, and patterned tunics. They all reeked of wine, perfumes, and upperclassness. They didn’t pay Alex or Lioden any notice as they ventured towards a mahogany table with hand-carved chairs.
Alex twisted in her chair and gazed out at Iralda. The radiant sun was breaking upon the capital, every structure looking as small as Lego buildings, every nook and cranny of the city’s streets on display. As there were no cameras readily available, Alex settled on taking a mental image of the jaw-dropping sight.
If Lioden wasn't the Coinskeeper’s son, she thought, I’d bet my bottom dollar he wouldn’t have had access to this area.
A gentle breeze tugged at both their cloaks as two serving girls dressed in plum-coloured silks approached her and Lioden with a platter overflowing with food and drinks. Lioden dismissed them politely, even though Alex was craving a cold goblet of water to give her dry mouth some moisture. She turned to Lioden and glared at him, prompting him to begin.
“Where should I begin?” Lioden asked, wiping a lock of hair out of his eyes. But the persistent winds kept blowing it back.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Alex said, scowling at him, “preferably the part where you forfeited the match?”
Lioden pursed his lips and glanced at Iralda in thought; he then turned to her suddenly. “Did you ever wonder why I was in the Sleeping Willow that night you passed through Vardis?”
Alex shook her head, sensing a story coming on. It hadn’t even crossed her mind as to why someone as renowned and wealthy as the Coinskeeper’s son would be dwelling in an inn outside of Iralda.
“I was on the run,” he said.
“From who?”
“My father and his men,” Lioden explained, looking longingly at the capital again. “I was planning on getting as far south as I could, to the Kingdom of Meadows. To dine with the Mhorokai, study their music and culture, their way of life. They say, among other things, that the Mhorokai are the best musicians.” He chuckled, the dimple on his left cheek showing. “But kind of unfair when they have four arms, don’t you think?”
“If you were on the run then why did you come to the academy?” Alex asked, trying to get him back on topic.
Lioden stirred in his chair uncomfortably. “I was enrolled at Baylor’s before I met you. But the truth is it was a future forced upon me by my father. Why would I want to join the Order of Mist? Partake in a war that has butchered thousands of innocent lives? And all over what? Kilaydis and Queen Enrah having a family dispute?”
Lioden paused and took a composing breath. “I tried everything to get myself kicked out of the academy. Using magic outside of class; not studying or partaking in the lessons. But seeing as my father is the Coinskeeper, and has webs all over Baylor’s, that made it impossible for me to sabotage my place in the academy. So, seeing as I couldn’t get myself thrown out, I did the next best thing: I ran.”
Lioden pursed his lips together, opening his mouth then shutting it. Like he was too nervous to say what he was thinking. “When I saw you at Vardis, I—” He let out a deep sigh, then bit his bottom lip. “This is what I struggled telling you that day in the cave. If I haven’t already scared you away, this will sure do the trick.”
“Tell me, Lioden,” Alex said, trying to sound empathetic. But the truth was she was dreading what he was about to say.
“At the Sleeping Willow, I overheard your brother talking about the Golden Gauntlet. So, I assumed you would be, uh . . . .”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she came to the realization. “You followed me to Baylor’s?”
“Not followed in the true sense,” Lioden said, chuckling nervously. “I more or less just happened to be at the same academy you had intentions of joining.”
Alex’s stalker radar was going berserk at that moment.
“Why?” she asked. “Why follow a random girl back to the academy you had just run away from?”
“I can’t say.”
“I deserve answers.”
Lioden’s face relented. “Because when I inevitably age and possess a face as leathery as Master Nenwir's, I don’t want to look back at that moment with regret. I believe life is one big, harmonious song, and if we don’t open our ears and truly experience every melody, every chord, every lyric, we are just cheating ourselves.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out, trying to look unimpressed but not quite pulling it off.
“I didn’t?” Lioden asked.
“You didn’t.”
“You were a note I couldn’t bear to let slip away,” Lioden said without a moment's pause.
Lioden’s confession, as cheesy as it was, had drawn the air out of her lungs, making it difficult for her to speak. “B-But didn’t you think my brother and I were lovers?”
“Call me crazy,” Lioden said as he bit his bottom lip, “but I had a feeling you two weren’t destined for each other. I had never witnessed two ‘lovers’ fight as much as you and your brother did.”
Alex folded her arms as she gave Lioden daggers. He could try, but no amount of smooth words could simmer her down.
“So why did you yield?” she asked, trying to get to the crux of the matter.
“I could say I yielded as the ultimate act of defiance against my father,” Lioden said, lifting his eyes from the table to find her. “But then I’d be lying. Because my real reasoning was I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I harmed you.”
“Why, because I’m a girl?” she blurted.
Lioden looked genuinely taken back. “No, of course not. Because I . . . .” He paused and scratched the tip of his nose. “Because I have feelings for you, Taytora.”
Alex’s throat constricted at his words. Admittedly, she had known this moment would come. Sure, she was new to the whole “flirting” thing, but she wasn’t oblivious to it entirely. She had seen enough rom-coms in her time to learn a thing or two. And she knew she and Lioden had definitely been flirting since the very first day in Vardis. But even if she had predicted this moment would come, she was nowhere near prepared for it.
Alex was glad the hood of her cloak concealed most of the shock on her face. She needed to get off this topic ASAP. She was supposed to be cutting this boy out of her life, not making him fall for her. But then again, Alex was still a bit lost how exactly she made him fall for her.
She wasn’t tall or slender like the girls she had seen swoon over him; her hair wasn’t silky and her skin wasn’t flawless. Either this guy was one of those rare unicorns that could see past a girl’s looks and actually fall for her personality, or someone had dared him to court her. Alex hoped it was the former.
As Alex dwelt on everything Lioden had said, a realization suddenly struck her, making her hairs bristle.
“So, you made me train every waking second of the day, in preparation for a fight that would never happen?”
“Not exactly,” Lioden answered, smiling at her with that lone dimple. “You could say that, in a way, I was preparing you for your round-two opponent.”
“Or,” she snapped, “you could say that you were manipulating me.”
“What do you—”
“You could have told me about your little plan, Lioden.”
“Well, to be fair, we weren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Lioden said. “And if I did tell you, could you honestly say you would have trained as hard?”
As much as Alex hated to admit it, Lioden did have a point. The last week of training had been so strenuous she had barely eaten or slept in preparation for their match. Muscles had emerged on her body she didn’t even know she possessed.
“I hate you,” she said playfully. “You know that?”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” Lioden said, flashing his teeth. “Now, how about we drink some win—Some iced tea,” he quickly corrected. “In celebration of your marvellous victory.”
“You call that marvellous?”
“Well, you did defeat the favourite in record time,” Lioden said as he beckoned a serving girl to their table. “A spectator said so, right before he hurled a chicken carcass at my head.”