by Anna Webb
“A challenge, once issued, cannot be refused or reversed, so think carefully before you decide to challenge another pair.”
A girl sitting a few seats down from Allyra raised her hand.
“Yes, Miss Tremaine?”
“Can you give us a bit more detail about what a challenge entails?”
High Master Zhuang nodded. “A challenge takes place in a place that you are all familiar with—the Tunnels of the Second Trial.”
“So, we won’t remember?” Miss Tremaine asked.
“No,” High Master Zhuang replied drily. “Aren’t you lucky—another opportunity for you all to feed your bloodlust with zero oversight.”
Another question shot out from the crowd. “But why would we risk challenging anyone?”
“Any winning pair from a challenge will be given an advantage in the next Final. You won’t know what form that advantage will take. It might be negligible, or it might just give you the edge to win. It is up to you to decide whether it’s worth the risk. And believe me, there is risk. The losing team is instantly eliminated, and every challenge must be completed within a set time. If no pair emerges from the Tunnels within the given time frame, then both teams will be eliminated. And the challenge is only deemed to be completed when both members of the pair emerge.
“Allow me warn you—this is not something to take lightly. Because no one remembers what took place in the Second Trial, no one knows how the Tunnels might test you. Think carefully before you decide to issue a challenge, and make sure your judgment is not clouded by overconfidence.” High Master Zhuang focused his gaze on one particular person sitting at the front of the crowd. “Yes, Mr. Lee—I’m looking at you.”
Laughter ran through the Competitors, and even High Master Zhuang managed to crack a smile as he waved them to silence once more.
“Those are the rules of engagement, and all that’s left are a couple of practical issues. We’re currently in the Training Room—this is where you will spend your mornings. A Training Master has been assigned from each college, and they will be available every morning to assist and oversee your training. In the afternoons, each pair will be given time in a private sparring room in which to train. How you make use of that time is entirely up to you.
“Finally, after the Second Final, those still in the competition will be given some time off and again after the Fourth Final. Other than that, you will be confined to the Training Grounds.”
High Master Zhuang stopped and looked over the crowd. He sighed and suddenly appeared much older than he actually was—worn out from seeing so many people so determined to rush toward death.
“That’s everything you need to know about The Five Finals,” he said. “All that’s left for me to do is to wish you luck.”
* * *
The Five Finals Competitors were separated into five groups, based on which Great College they had competed in. The Training Master for the Elemental College turned out to be a small man with a bored expression. He introduced himself as Master Akerman and impatiently ushered the five competing pairs from the Elemental Trials into one corner of the Training Room.
“So, let’s get this out of the way,” he began. “I don’t want to be here. I’m not a fan of watching young people do their best to destroy each other. I think this practice is barbaric and completely pointless in these modern times. However, my feelings on the subject are completely beside the point. And seeing as you lot seem to be utterly determined to pound on each other, I would at least prefer to see the winning pair come from the Elemental College. So, take a look at everyone in this group. While I can’t stop you from challenging each other, I would strongly discourage you to do so.”
“That’s ridiculous. The weakest person in The Five Finals is sitting in this group. Why shouldn’t we challenge her and gain ourselves an advantage for the First Final?”
The question came from one of the older members of their group. He was tall and solidly built with dark brown hair cropped close in the classic army style. His size was definitely intimidating, and even from the back, Allyra could see the bulk of his muscles were threatening to tear apart his shirt.
A retort ready on her lips, Allyra made to face him, knowing full well that she was the subject of his question. But she wasn’t quick enough.
Jason stepped out in front of him, with one eyebrow arched. “Please allow me to explain why you shouldn’t challenge her,” he drawled slowly. “Because she’s already survived the Between. But mainly because a challenge to her also means a Challenge to me. Think carefully whether you want to meet me in the Tunnels, François.”
François narrowed his eyes at Jason. “Are we supposed to be scared of you?” he asked, his voice almost a growl. “You might be favored by Marcus, but the truth is that you’re just some pathetic orphan that Marcus found wandering the streets. You have no family, no lineage. Nothing. And when it comes down to it, you were beaten in the Trials by an Atmospheric. I don’t see anything I should be scared of.”
Jason clenched his fingers into a fist until the tendons in his forearms tightened rigidly. She reached out instinctively and touched his wrist, afraid that he might start a fight and get them thrown out before The Five Finals had really even begun.
Jason jerked his arm away, almost as if her touch burned him. He spun around and shot her a glare of utter loathing, his dark indigo eyes seething with barely contained fury. Whatever hurt and anger François had awakened in him, Jason had now focused it fully on her.
Allyra refused to flinch under his gaze, but she couldn’t help the tiny spark of empathy flaring into life deep within her heart. Jason had told her that he was an orphan during the week they’d spent together preparing for the Final Trial. He’d thrown out the comment as if it was of no consequence. She hadn’t believed him then, thinking it to be just another ploy to try to throw her off her game. But François had thrown the fact at Jason like an insult, one that had clearly hit its mark. It became all too clear that Jason had been nothing but truthful, at least on that point.
She was sorry. Logic told her there was no space for sympathy in The Five Finals, and she did her best to stamp out the feeling, kicking it to the gutter like a piece of garbage on the road. But the truth was she couldn’t help it—it was as much a part of her as the need to take every stray puppy home. By winning the Elemental Trials she’d kept her promise to Alex and secured her freedom, but she’d never stopped to think what it might have cost Jason or any of the other Trials Competitors she’d beaten on her way to the win. What it might have done to their dreams and ambitions.
Before she could say or do anything, Master Akerman had pushed his way between Jason and François.
“Okay, okay. We all get it—you’re all strong and brave and just dying to get some hits in. But I urge you all to remember that there’s no rule saying that I can’t give any of you a beating. So, save your aggression for the First Final.”
Master Akerman sighed dramatically. “Honestly, I signed on to be a professor, to teach and impart knowledge, and somehow, I ended up here—babysitting a bunch of idiots with more ego than sense.
“But I am a teacher at heart, and as much as I don’t want to be here, I do intend to teach you idiots something. The Five Finals might be about survival, but none of you will survive without your partner. At its heart, The Five Finals are about partnership and teamwork, and luckily for you—I am particularly well informed on the subject.”
Master Akerman pointed to the massive metal structure at the back of the Training Room, the one Allyra had dubbed the jungle gym in her mind. “Let’s see just how much you trust your partner.”
* * *
It was about trust—blind, stupid trust, the type that might get a person killed, faster than the blink of an eye. The task Master Akerman devised had all the signs of a devilish mind. It involved one partner climbing to the top of the jungle gym and then leaping across the ten-meter gap, where the other partner would catch the first. Something akin to a trapez
e artist performance.
At least, that was the theory.
The jungle gym had two towers. Each one was at least three stories tall, created from metal scaffolding rods and made solid with planks of plywood. Staring up at it, Allyra thought that the jungle gym had been a poor name. It was less a child’s playground and more a tool of torture and death. Most significantly, there was no safety net of any kind. If one partner failed to catch the other—a broken limb might be considered a good outcome.
“Well, people, you were all so eager to jump into action—there’s no time like the present. Decide between yourselves who will do the leaping and who will do the catching and let’s get going.” Master Akerman shouted, clapping his hands together as if he were driving a herd of uncooperative sheep. “Shall we start with our oldest pair? François and Xolani, you’re up.”
François’s partner was huge, towering over every other Competitor in the room. Both men climbed up the towers swiftly and deftly despite their bulk. Xolani hooked his legs around a metal bar, leaning out to make full use of his height and close the distance to his partner.
Xolani must’ve weighed twice as much as François, so Allyra wasn’t surprised that they’d chosen to have him as the catcher. François stood on the platform of the second tower; its small area meant that he was only able to take two steps before he launched himself into thin air.
Their hands closed over each other’s with a firm, resounding clap, the sound of their efficiency ringing through the room. Seconds later, Xolani pulled François safely onto the platform. The entire task had been completed within minutes and with zero fuss. It was clear they were the star pupils, the ones who everyone else—everyone who might have been lumped into mediocrity—loved to hate. She couldn’t help but hate them just a little and wondered briefly if that meant she was mediocre? Allyra pushed the thought from her mind—there was no space for mediocre in The Five Finals. She reminded herself that she had always been an excellent student. In fact, she was the star pupil that everyone else loved to hate.
Xolani and François climbed down the tower, and as he walked past her, François deliberately shoved a shoulder into her, sending her stumbling back a couple of steps. Such a deliberate challenge couldn’t be ignored, not if she wanted to be taken seriously. One deliberate stride forward and Allyra stood before François, fully prepared to shove him back just as hard.
François looked down at her with an icy glint of cruelty in his eyes, and it took everything she had not to step back in shock. Because—she’d seen those eyes before. Bright green eyes—the only visible feature on a face hidden behind the silver of a Cleaner’s mask. Green and desperate, begging her to help him, to take him away from that room in the Tunnels, filled with unconscious and dying Cleaners. He’d been so thin his hands were like those of a skeleton’s.
Could it really be the same person?
It was hard to imagine François, who was bursting with health and vitality, could be the same emaciated Cleaner she’d encountered in the Tunnels. François—arrogant and confident—could be the Cleaner who had pleaded for her to save him from the Revenant she’d seen in his memories.
But there was no mistaking those eyes. She could still remember the slight blemish in his right eye, like a dark drop of paint against the emerald background.
There was certainly no recognition in his eyes as he said, “Hope you were taking notes, because that’s how it’s done.” And he brushed past her once more.
François’s words had been said quietly, but Master Akerman didn’t miss the comment. “Not bad,” he drawled, “but I would expect as much when you’ve had five years to prepare. Stop gloating—it’s unbecoming.”
* * *
All too soon, it was her turn to climb the tower. The other pairs had all completed the task, some with more flair and confidence than others but all of them successfully.
They walked up to the jungle gym, and Jason turned to her. “You’re jumping,” he said with a finality that gave no room for discussion.
Her first instinct was to refuse. Never again a pawn. Give no quarter because none will be given. Seeming pliant would be an invitation for Jason to push her around. But she was smaller and lighter, so it was logical that she would be the one to jump.
“Fine,” she said shortly and started the climb.
Allyra pushed herself to complete the climb quickly, aware that every moment was a competition. Every second an opportunity to prove herself worthy or not. But, by the time she pulled herself onto the platform, Jason was already leaning out waiting for her to jump.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Any time now…” he said mockingly.
Allyra took a deep breath, backed up to the edge of the platform, and tried not to think about whether Jason was going to catch her or not. As she trained over the past month, she’d done her best to snuff out any anxiety that dared creep into her mind. She’d stamped on it, crushing it mercilessly like a bug beneath the sole of her shoe. But, the truth was, it had a way of popping up at the most inopportune of times. Looking at Jason’s contemptuous expression, and the height and distance that lay between them, she couldn’t help but feel a knot of fear taking root in her stomach. Anxiety rose like a bubble breaking the surface of a glass of champagne.
She fell back on an old and reliable trick for quelling anxiety and started silently listing the chemical elements.
Hydrogen. Helium. Lithium.
A deep breath like it was her last, then two sprinted steps, and—finally—a blind leap of misplaced trust.
The distance didn’t cause her any issues—Gifted speed and agility saw to it that she flew through the air easily enough. Allyra kept her body rigid and her eye on Jason’s outstretched hands. She clasped her hands around Jason’s forearms, and as expected, her momentum kept her swinging forward toward the tower. Tightening her core, Allyra brought her legs forward to absorb the force. But as she swung forward, she realized that it wasn’t the only direction she was moving in—she was also slipping down.
Damn gravity and its relentless pull.
She had her hands firmly clasped around Jason’s wrists, but he wasn’t putting in a similar effort in holding onto her.
He was going to drop her.
She slammed into the side of the tower, and despite using her hips and knees to cushion as much of the impact as possible, the violence of it jolted her grasp on Jason’s wrists. In an instant, her left hand slipped through his. She tried desperately to hold on with her right, determined that should she fall, she was at least going to jerk the bastard’s arm out of its socket. But there was really no way of holding her entire body weight on a few fingertips.
It took only a split second for her to fall, but it felt like an hour, or two, or three… Their eyes met. Jason stared down at her, his lips quirked in a smile that was mostly a smirk, and then she knew—this was no mistake—he was deliberately dropping her.
She’d managed to hold on long enough that she was able to grab at the tower structure itself. But for all her Gifted agility and strength, nothing changed the fact that there was nothing really for her to hold on to. A million tiny wooden splinters embedded themselves in her skin and under her nails as she slid down the structure. It might not have been pretty, in fact, Allyra was fairly sure she was falling with about as much grace as a drunken donkey. But, it was enough to slow her fall, and by the time she hit the ground, she’d managed to downgrade her injury from a broken limb or worse to no more than a sprained ankle.
For all his professed disinterest, Master Akerman made his way to her with surprising promptness. “Are you okay?” he demanded.
Allyra nodded and forced a grim smile onto her face. Inside she was seething with anger, rage flooding through her veins, as corrosive as acid. Any empathy she’d felt for Jason had evaporated as surely as a raindrop under the midday sun. Logic and strategy be damned—she was going to kill Jason. But she managed to keep her anger in check—barely. She wasn’t ready to air her discontent in f
ront of the crowd and confirm they were the weakest pair in The Five Finals.
“It’s fine, just a sprained ankle,” she replied.
“What the hell happened?” Master Akerman demanded, directing his question at Jason who’d climbed down—slowly, without particular concern.
Jason shrugged noncommittally. “She slipped, it happens.”
“That’s not bloody good enough!” Master Akerman shouted. “You didn’t try nearly hard enough to hold on to her!”
“She’s an Atmospheric,” Jason said coldly. “I thought that she’d be able to stop herself even if she did fall.”
Allyra dialed out of the conversation as Master Akerman and Jason continued to argue over the amount of effort he’d put in trying to save her. Under her tightly strapped boot, her ankle was hot and throbbing and her flesh was starting to swell uncomfortably. But it wasn’t the pain that was occupying her mind. It was Jason’s words and the truth of them.
During the seconds that gravity had pulled her to the ground, as she’d grappled for something, anything, to hold on to, it had never occurred to her to call on the Air Element to save her. Rob and Jamie had marveled over her ability to control the Elements, how it had all come so easily to her. It’s instinct, she’d told them, and it hadn’t been a lie. Except somewhere in the lateness of coming into her Gift and training with Alex in the Between, where the Elements simply didn’t answer the call of the Gifted—she simply didn’t possess the natural instinct, or perhaps the brain cells, to call on the Elements when it could’ve saved her life. It was slow and stupid, and, worse, it could’ve killed her.
Chapter 6 – Allyra
The nurse had shaken her head sadly at the sight of Allyra’s swollen ankle and recommended that she stay off her feet for at least the next week. A week might as well have been a lifetime in the context of The Five Finals, so Allyra had firmly refused. Negotiations had been intense and sharp, and a final compromise had been reached. The nurse would bandage her ankle so Allyra could return to training but only if Allyra agreed to spend the afternoon resting in the infirmary.
