by Rachel Angel
She carefully unpinned it from the tree.
“Can’t take the heat, bitch!”
A satisfied grin on her face, she rolled up the drawing and brought it to her room. It would serve as a reminder of who they really were, who they thought she was and of what she would ultimately show them.
They had decided to wage a war against her instead of taking her in as their comrade, then a war they would have.
Chapter 6
The day had finally arrived. Diamond Trial. Ally rose from a surprisingly sound sleep. She’d expected nightmares and hours of tossing and turning. Instead, she’d slept through the night like never before.
A she walked to the dining hall, she questioned whether she should have her usual breakfast or perhaps have something light. Something that wouldn’t make her queasy during battle.
The chef looked at her as she walked in and made her way to the counter. “The usual,” he called out. He was a pleasant man who offered her one of the only smiles she saw every day.
“Yes,” she finally decided.
“Good luck, Miss,” he said as he set her plate on the service counter
Her plate was piled higher than usual with eggs and ham, as if the chef considered it her last meal. She ate every bite, reveling in the simple pleasure of eating, of breathing, of being.
But on this special day she opted not to run after the meal. She wanted to conserve her energy. So she sat in the empty dining hall and waited; waited as the first early risers entered, quietly took their platters of eggs and sausage, or bacon, or ham to the distant corners of the hall.
Their usual disdain, however, seemed laced with something she was not accustomed to. Pity, perhaps. A certain degree of concern? She doubted it. Or was it simply a thirst for blood? Surely they had mothers, sisters, cousins whom they would never want to see in her position, to whom they would never speak as they had spoken to her.
Finally, the cruel princes were at the doorway, scrutinizing the dining hall.
She remained surprisingly cool as Razor and his troop slowly sauntered in, though when she realized Flint was not among them, she grew slightly concerned.
Could it be?
No. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.
From a distance, Razor shot her a deadly glare, while Tar offered a slightly sympathetic glance. Jasper didn’t bother looking her way at all.
She half expected them to come to her for their last chance to demean and humiliate her, but they turned away. Surely the battle to come would humiliate her enough, if she lived long enough to actually feel any humiliation.
“It is time to prepare for the Trial,” Headmaster Jerrod said as he quietly came to her side.
There was something so solemn and sad in his demeanor that Ally was tempted to reassure him that everything would be all right. Instead, she rose and followed him to the stadium where she was offered a shield and an assortment of weapons.
Many of the swords were far to heavy for her to lift, much less wield. Even the shield was overweight and cumbersome. She huffed at the poor workmanship and swore if she survived that day, she’d show the Academy’s blacksmith a thing or two about strong yet light alloys.
“We’ll leave you to prepare mentally for the battle ahead, Miss Ally.” With a deep bow, Headmaster Jerrod retreated.
Left alone with her thoughts, Ally prayed. For the next hour she went over the few short years she’d been on this earth, in this kingdom. She had so much to live for, so many things she wanted to accomplish, so many dreams to fulfill.
Fighting the darkness and the creatures within had never been a part of those dreams, but today, it was the only dream that really mattered; her ability to fight and get out alive.
“It is time,” Headmaster Jerrod said as he pushed the door ajar and poked his head in.
Immediately, Ally heard the shouting from the crowd in the stadium. Shouts for blood. Shouts for a good show. She grabbed the large dagger she’d chosen as well as the smallest and lightest shield they’d had. As she followed Headmaster Jerrod through the dark and dank corridor under the stadium, the shouts grew louder and louder until they were deafening.
The glare of the sun at the end of the tunnel was blinding, and the closer they got, the less she could see. Outside, the field was drenched in sunlight. A beautiful day for a picnic, a stroll on the beach, a walk in the park with a loved one; not a day to kill or be killed.
At the threshold, Headmaster Jerrod stopped. “I wish you good luck, Miss Allotrope.”
“Thank you, Headmaster Jerrod.”
Pulling in a long, deep breath, she emerged onto the sun-drenched field and walked to the center.
Immediately, the shouts and cheers of the crowd changed to jeers.
“What?” one student shouted as he stood to point at her. “A girl?”
“Ah, what a waste of time this is going to be,” another one added. “She’ll be dead before she can figure out how to use that dagger.”
A few of the men surrounding him chuckled, but Flint, standing in the center of the field held his steady gaze on her.
So she’d been right. Her opponent was indeed Flint. How incredibly cowardly of them all to pit her up against one of the largest, most muscular students on campus; and one with three years of training no less.
He licked his lips as she approached, and a sensual gleam in his eyes. Bloodlust.
Should I lunge at him? she wondered. Or do I wait for him to make the first move? He seemed completely relaxed and unprepared, bored even.
Twenty feet away. She clenched the dagger, while he whistled a tune.
Fifteen feet. She flicked the dagger over so that a downward strike was possible, while he looked down at his fingernails.
Ten feet. The element of surprise is always the best option, she decided. She lunged at him, jumping high into the air and landing both feet into his rock-solid chest.
To her amazement, he barely budged. Instead he smiled and waved at the already bored crowd.
“Let’s try to make this interesting,” he muttered softly.
A chill travelled up her spine and pricked up the little hairs at the back of her neck. He intended to toy with her, prolong the agony.
Bringing one hand behind his back, he smiled at her before turning to rouse the crowd with the other hand. They cheered.
Before she even knew what he’d done, he whipped the shield and dagger out of her hands. “You won’t be needing those. This is to be strictly hand-to-hand; something along the lines of this.” He swiped the back of his hand across her cheek.
Her skin immediately heated up, while the sting of his slap affected her ego more than her face. She swung to strike him, but her first attempt at landing a blow fell flat. He was too big, too tall, too quick.
Keeping a safe distance, she assessed the situation. Aiming for his upper body was futile. She had to aim lower, much lower. Then she spotted it. She found his weak spot. As he strutted around like some misguided peacock, she took a few steps closer, spun around and kicked him in the shin. He stopped smiling suddenly and stared down at her before looking down at his wounded leg.
The cheering also stopped for an uncertain moment before regaining its fervor.
Were they now on her side, or simply excited by the prospect of a true battle of the sexes?
Not giving Flint the chance to fully understand what had just happened, she kicked him again, this time directing her full force to his kneecap. She heard the crack, saw him buckle under the pain, then heard his muffled cry of pain.
“You bitch. Training has toughened you, hasn’t it? Let’s see just how tough.” He swung and punched her in the ribs.
Stars flickered before her eyes as she doubled over, stunned by the force of his blow, but after a few breathless moments, she straightened up, much to the amazement of the crowd as well as Flint.
She saw the question in his eyes, the stunned realization that she wasn’t just some helpless girl. That blow would have easily snapped a minot
aur in two, but she was barely injured.
Striking out to hit him in the groin, she was cut short by another blow to the gut. This time she felt the full force of his blow and fell to the ground. On her knees she struggled to get up, but Flint kicked her in the face, and she fell back to the ground.
Blood poured from her nose and the crowd cheered for more. She shook her head, trying desperately to shake the pain away. Blood splattered around her, dotting the grass and soil. If she rose too quickly, he’d slice her down. Take a breath, she told herself.
“Quitter,” someone called out.
The crowd joined in the chant. “Quitter. Quitter. Quitter.”
It was enough to make Flint take down his guard. Proud of his accomplishment, he clasped his fists together and held them about his head in a show of victory.
Ignoring the blood that filled her mouth and the starts that filled her eyes, Ally reached out to grab his ankles and give them a firm yank. Flint fell to his back with a heavy thud, but before he could figure out what had happened, she pounced on him. Feeling like a rabid dog, eager to kill whatever she could get her hands on, she struck his face repeatedly. Her punches landed hard, crushing his nose and blackening his eyes.
Out of breath and exhausted, she slowed the onslaught of blows and assessed his condition. His eyes were sufficiently puffy and forced closed, and blood oozed from his nose, but he was still breathing. His hand twitched as though ready to strike.
She didn’t want to wait for him to regain his faculties. Spinning around, she sat on his chest and wrapped her thighs around his throat and squeezed with every ounce of power she had.
After a moment of stunned silence, the crowd went wild. They shouted her name and pounded the ground with their feet.
Still squeezing him tight, she glanced down to see his red face and bulging eyes.
“If you’re nice and tap the ground like a proper loser, I might let you live,” she whispered with a wink of her eye.
“Never,” he croaked.
She replied with a tightening of her hold. Flint grabbed a hold of her legs and tried to pull them apart. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, but she refused to loosen her hold of him.
“You know,” she said. “Of the four cruel princes, you’ve been my favorite right from the start. It would be a shame to have to say bye-bye.”
His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and for a moment she thought she’d killed him, but he released his hold of her thighs and smacked the ground beside him.
In a flash, she released him and jumped to her feet, a victorious grin on her lips. Not trusting that he’d truly conceded, she walked to a safe distance from him, all the while looking defiantly at the crowd who thought they’d see her die today.
“How do you like me, now?” She cried out, her hands in the air.
To her surprise many of them cheered.
But many of them stared dumbfounded, and the three that interested her most sat front and center.
She came to stand right in front of them. She wanted to see their faces close up. She wanted to see the surprise, the awe, the confusion.
She was not disappointed; Razor, Jasper and Tar sat in stunned silence.
“Maybe you guys should go help your fallen comrade.” She glanced back at Flint. “He looks like he could use a friend right about now.”
They just stared.
Ally smiled as she wiped the blood coming from her nose with the back of her sleeve. “This was fun,” she said, gleefully adding to the confusion.
Headmaster Jerrod came up behind her, grasped her wrist and held her hand up in the air, confirming her victory.
Chapter 7
In disbelief, Flint watched Ally as she was congratulated by Headmaster Jerrod. He felt a deep sense of shame and humiliation, but it somehow melted into great fascination and respect for the slight girl who’d nearly killed him.
True, he’d played the game to give the crowd a good show. He’d given her a chance to show what she’d learn since arriving at the Academy. But after that kick to his knee, he went at her with full force. He attacked her as he would any male opponent.
Yet, there she stood, bloodied, but standing upright and smiling at the crowd. She followed Headmaster Jerrod back into the tunnel to the showers.
Left on his own, Flint cringed from the pain. He tried desperately not to limp as he headed back into the tunnel as well. How was he ever going to live this down? The guys would never let him forget he’d been beaten by a girl.
“Sissy,” a spectator called out as he threw a rotten pear at him.
Somehow, he’d have to get used to that. He entered the darkness of the tunnel and followed the sound of flowing water. Turning into the shower room, he saw her in the distance.
Naked under the rush of water, blood seemed to pour from every part of her body. How could she still be standing? Those blows should have left her dead.
“You put up a good fight,” he called out.
“Shit. What are you doing here? Can’t you see I’m in the shower?”
“No, actually. Let me get a little closer.”
“Flint,” she lamented.
“Oh, yes. Now I see quite well. I dare say you’re even more impressive now that you were out on the field.”
She turned off the water and grabbed the towel from the nearby hook. “In addition to being a loser, are you going to prove to be a jerk as well?”
“Hey, I just stopped in to take a shower myself. And…” He hesitated as he took in the sight of her body. She was fit, that was for sure. But there was also something warm and soft about the gentle curves of her hips and the swell of her breasts. A rush of blood reached his groin area and he fought to remain cold in her eyes.
“Truth is, I wanted to congratulate you. You really did put up a good fight. I didn’t expect that. No one did.”
“Thank you. That’s really big of you,” she said sincerely.
“But it’s not over. You may have beat me in this battle, but there will be more.” A part of him wanted to tell her what to really expect; warn her of the relentless attempts there were sure to continue to be to bring her down. “Look at you. You barely made it out of this battle alive. How much blood do you think you’ve lost?”
She cocked a silly brow at him. “Less than you.”
He smiled briefly before regaining his cold front. There was something about her. Something that made him want to hold her, help her. Have her.
“Look,” he said gently. “Consider how injured you left the field, despite winning. Things are not going to get better. They’re not going to get easier.”
“Aren’t you the biggest and baddest warrior?”
“Well, yes.”
“And I beat you. So how can it get worse.”
“It’s not that simple, believe me. The next time there will be weapons, or multiple opponents. Anything and everything to…” He stopped and simply looked at her.
“Look,” she said as she secured the towel around her. “As far as I can tell, I’ve been summoned here to help. Help with what? I don’t really know, and I don’t know why I was the one chosen. I didn’t ask for this, you know. I didn’t ask for any of it. The least you guys could do was show some degree of appreciation.”
He glanced down at her bare shoulders, still glistening from her shower. Then his gaze slipped to the thick towel that clung to her breasts. Only the corner of the towel tucked in held it on. A flick of the wrist and she’d be naked in front of him.
It was a tempting thought. He wanted a good look at her. A good long look.
“I better get going,” Ally said as she grabbed her clothes and walked away.
“Don’t forget what I said.”
“I won’t”
Chapter 8
Ally stayed in her suite the remainder of the day. Not only did she feel she deserved a quiet day to relax, but she also needed time to recoup. As Flint had pointed out, despite winning, she’d been seriously injured.
&nbs
p; Her cracked ribs kept her from taking in deep breaths and her face was swollen and tender. There was also the considerable loss of blood to think about. Though she didn’t feel weak, she certainly wasn’t bursting with energy.
She pulled out her old, leather suitcase from under the bed and plopped it on the mattress. Remembering how Kate had cried as she’d helped her pack some suitable clothes, she’d also insisted Ally bring her alchemy book. Even though she’d studied alchemy for years, and knew so many remedies by heart, she lifted the thick winter jacket that lay on top and found the book.
If nothing else, going through her suitcase reminded her of the people she’d left back home. She missed them terribly and tried not to think about it. Resolutely, she snapped the suitcase shut and slipped it back under the bed.
With the book in hand she sat on the chair by the window and opened the book to the index.
“Chapter five,” she said aloud. “Heavy bleeding.” She turned to the chapter that dealt with blood loss hoping the list of ingredients wouldn’t be too extensive.
“A salve to stem heavy bleeding,” she read on the first page of the chapter.” She examined herself and noted that all the bleeding had stopped. A salve wasn’t what she needed. She turned the page. “Replenishment of lost blood. That’s more like it. Dried chokeberries, a scraping of cedar bark and a sprig of oregano. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
She took a quick walk around the dorm and found the berries and bark, then snuck into the kitchen for some oregano. Back in her room once again, she placed a kettle of water on the fire and waited for it to boil. As the water warmed, she added the berries and as it started to boil she threw in the cedar bark. After a minute at full boil, she set the kettle aside to let it sit a moment, then sprinkled in the oregano.
The soothing scent rose to her nostrils as she poured the concoction into a cup. She sat in the comfy lounge chair with her herbal tea and sipped on it slowly. It was a moment to cherish. The cool breeze fluttered through the curtains, bringing with it the scent of aspen and pine. The campus was virtually silent save for the distant sound of conversation and the footsteps of a few passers-by.
