The Trials (The Elite Series)

by Jonathan Yanez

  Orion led the way with Laren and Connor following behind. “Connor, you know you don’t have to do this?”

  Connor looked over at Laren, the worry she had tried to hide for so long was finally showing. “You don’t think I can do this?”

  She reached over and interlaced her slender fingers through his. “It’s the exact opposite. I know you can do this but at what cost? I know that you won’t give up, and you won’t back down, that’s what worries me.”

  “I’m going to be fine,” Connor said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to win.”

  The trio could hear drums as they entered the courtyard. The monks had set up a makeshift ring, with the palace courtyard’s large stone walkway as its floor. It seemed like every monk in the palace was present for the fight. Three large drums were being pounded in unison as Connor, Laren, and Orion made their way to the ring.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Every eye was on them and Connor could practically feel their hate. The drums stopped as Connor entered the ring, Orion and Laren taking up residence in one of the far corners. All was quiet.

  Then the drums started again, this time faster, and a cheer arose from the crowd. Monks jumped up left and right, clapping and shouting as their champion approached. Zheng appeared in the courtyard. But this was not the Zheng that Connor remembered from the night before. Gone was the quiet, reserved man who sat on the simple wooden chair. Gone was the kind face and almost regretful attitude—in its place stood a lion. Zheng was also wearing shorts. His ankles, wrists, and fists were covered in white wraps and more tattoos than Connor could count. His hair was still pulled back into a ponytail and his athletic frame, once hidden by his robes, stood bold and intimidating.

  Zheng entered the ring and the drums and cheering stopped as his arms rose. “Connor Moore has challenged the Zhanshi King for claim to The Island’s crown. Now I answer that call!” A huge cheer erupted from the monks. “Let the challenge begin!”

  A gong sounded, signaling the start of the first of ten rounds. “Who wants it more?” Orion shouted from his corner.

  “You can do this!” Laren yelled.

  Connor and Zheng met in the center of the ring and circled one another. Connor could hear Orion’s voice replaying in his head, offering him advice on Zheng and his fighting style. He’ll try and wear you down, don’t look for an explosion of power from him right away. His power comes from his holds and submission moves, don’t let yourself get caught in a bad position.

  The two gladiators met and exchanged a series of blows, Zheng landing strikes to Connor’s face and a kick to his ribs, Connor’s fists finding Zheng’s nose and left temple. The two circled, picking their moves and shots with surgical-like precision. The first three minutes ended without either one of them taking any serious damage. Connor walked to his corner, breathing evenly and steady. “Good round, Connor!” Laren said, offering him a ladle full of water.

  “Keep on him, Connor. This was just a test. He still has nine more rounds. He’s studying you right now, don’t get confident,” Orion advised.

  Connor nodded, sweat dripping down his face. The gong sounded, and Connor would later look back on the next seven rounds as a blur. Orion was right, Zheng had been studying him the first round, remaining patient as he learned how his opponent moved and reacted to strikes and kicks. Now he pushed the pace. It was brutal; Zheng was a god in the arena, not because he was faster or stronger than Connor. He just had so much more experience and his conditioning was amazing. After the first few rounds, Connor could feel himself sucking in breath, his lungs were burning, and the beating his body was taking was excruciating.

  During the fourth round, Zheng managed to take him down to the stone floor with a bone crushing tackle. The two men fought there for a few minutes, Connor relying on every ounce of training he had received in high school wrestling as well as his training since being an Elite, but it wasn’t enough. Zheng managed to isolate his left arm, and with both his legs across Conner’s chest and face, turned his lock into an arm bar. Connor screamed in pain as Zheng drew and pulled on his shoulder, threatening to rip it from its socket or break his arm if he didn’t tap in surrender.

  Connor screamed in pain over the sound of monks cheering for their king. It was only the sound of the gong signaling the end of the round that saved Connor. Each trip back to his corner, Laren looked more and more worried and Orion told him different versions of the same thing. “This is the time you show him you want it more. You break his will to fight by not stopping. Take from him any idea that he can beat you!”

  By the sixth round, Connor was exhausted. This is when he turned to the Elite power within. His vision turned from clear to red and he ran a slick tongue across a sharp set of fangs. As he approached his opponent, the sun was casting its final rays on the crowd and the moon was beginning its dominance of the sky. The sixth round went in Connor’s favor as he pulled deep from his reserves and put the pressure on Zheng, striking him multiple times in the face and body. Connor managed to throw a powerful right cross that connected perfectly with Zheng’s nose and he heard a satisfying crunch as blood began to pour freely from both of Zheng’s nostrils.

  By the eighth round, both contestants were a bloody mess. Connor seemed to be bearing the worst of the beating. It seemed like for every blow he managed to land, Zheng was landing two. Once again they met, both men dripping sweat and blood.

  Connor had to make sure he was seeing right. Zheng’s amber eyes were gone and in their place were a pair of white orbs. Zheng bared a set of violent looking fangs, embracing his own Elite gene before he rushed in, once again taking Connor to the ground. His power and speed for the eighth round was amazing. He seemed as fresh as he had been the very first round. Raining down blow after blow on top of him, Connor tried to weather the storm, but he knew he couldn’t.

  Blood was running down his head from a gash on his right temple and his lip had been split. “Connor, get up!” Orion screamed. “You have to get out of there!”

  But there was no escaping this demon’s grasp. When Connor was finally able to make his move, Zheng managed to put yet another arm bar on him and this time they both knew there was plenty of time left in the round for Zheng to work his shoulder clean out of its socket.

  With his left arm threatening to break, Connor had two options—submit, or bring his right arm across his body, pick Zheng up off the ground, and slam him down on the rock floor in hopes of breaking his grasp.

  “Get up, Connor, get up!” Laren shouted.

  Hearing her voice added strength and urgency to his cause. Rolling his right arm over and locking his hands in a tight grip, he made his way to his knees. Zheng grunted and strained to break his hold, but Connor was able to make it to his feet. The crowd that once roared stood stunned as Connor, with a roar of his own, lifted Zheng’s entire body over his head. As Connor brought the king down to the unforgiving stone floor, his arm finally gave in to the pressure and he felt a snap. At the same time, there was sickening thud as Zheng’s body hit the merciless rock floor. The palace courtyard was quiet for the first time that night as both Connor and Zheng lay quivering on the harsh stone ground.

  The gong sounded, signaling the end of the eighth round. His left arm hung loose by his side as Connor struggled to his knees. Orion and Laren rushed into the ring to help him to their corner, as did a group of monks for Zheng.

  “Connor, you can’t keep going—you have to stop,” Laren yelled.

  “She’s right,” Orion said as they half supported, half dragged Connor to the corner, making sure to steer clear of his left arm. “You won’t make it two more rounds.”

  To their surprise, Reap stood wide-eyed in their corner, just outside of the ring. “Reap!” Laren shouted at her little brother. “You can’t be here. You shouldn’t see this!”

  “What’s going on? Connor are… are you okay?”

  Connor was beyond words as he focused on not letting the pain consume him and carry him into
unconsciousness. Lack of oxygen and loss of blood was making it hard to think or concentrate on anything.

  “Reap,” Laren shouted again, “Go inside. Mom’s going to kill you if she finds you out here.”

  “No!” Reap shouted back. “Connor needs me! We’re friends. This is his fight, he has to win.”

  Connor remembered their conversation the night before. The way he told Reap that he was strong enough to win his fight, to beat his sickness. What would it look like now to the small boy to see Connor lose his?

  The gong sounded, signaling the start of the ninth round. “You have to stop, Connor,” Laren insisted.

  Connor looked at Orion as he stood up on his own, legs wobbling, “I have more to give, he can break my body, but he can’t break my spirit.”

  Orion, grim-faced, nodded and held Laren back as she continued to scream for Connor to stop.

  Connor couldn’t feel, much less move, his left arm. It dangled, useless, as he approached the center of the ring for the ninth time. His opponent had recovered, a fresh pool of blood running down his face from the violent gash in his scalp. Later Connor would find out that Zheng had actually been unconscious for a few seconds after the blow.

  The ninth round was brutal for everyone to watch, Connor doing his best to guard his left arm, Zheng still in a daze, punching and kicking in slow motion. The ninth round ended with only a few blows landed as both men tried to recover from their injuries. There was an unspoken agreement that they were both going slow now to give everything they had in the tenth and final round.

  The gong sounded and Connor stumbled back to his corner. Laren was beyond words as she looked at his bloody face. Connor’s left eye was swollen shut, blood and sweat covered his entire body, and his left arm was useless.

  “You can do it! You can do it, Connor!” Reap yelled, jumping up and down, rooting for his hero.

  Orion smiled grimly, “One more round, Connor. One more round. No matter what happens, your father would be proud.”

  Connor tired to make rational thoughts come to mind, tried to say something. There were tears in his eyes as the final gong sounded and the last round began. Not tears of pain or sorrow, tears of intensity and rage.

  Zheng managed to do it again. He came out in the start of the tenth round with a flurry of punches and kicks that forced Connor against the ropes. Every punch was like a sledgehammer colliding with his body. The punches that landed on his left arm were painful beyond words. Then it happened. With a hard right kick to Connor’s legs, his body finally broke like Orion had warned and he fell.

  The world was spinning as the monks roared for their king. Everyone was yelling but one voice in particular reached his bloody ears—it was Reap. “Get up, Connor! Get up! You said we all have a fight! This is your fight! Get up!”

  His body was broken, but Zheng hadn’t snapped his spirit. More tears came to Connor’s eyes as his vision blurred, but this time not from blood. His vision, already red, turned almost black as the animal in him lent him its strength. But this wasn’t like before. Before he felt in full control of his power, this feeling was consuming. Power pulsed through his body in a way he didn’t know was possible. He made it to his knees, breathing heavier and heavier as he embraced the rage and let the beast within have its day. He stood, baring fangs, consumed by the feeling.

  The moon shown down bright now on the palace courtyard. Zheng had his back toward him, oblivious to Connor’s resurrection. He turned when everyone stood, stunned and quiet. A roar ripped its way through Connor’s throat as the animal instinct deep inside forced his body towards Zheng.

  Zheng’s white eyes were huge. Before he could react, Connor was on him. Left arm dangling useless beside him, he made good use of his right fist and elbow.

  The pain was gone now and in its place was only a tingling sensation of rage and power. The animal that had possessed Connor’s body struck Zheng over and over and over. Zheng tried to cover up, tried to fight back, but he wasn’t fighting an eighteen-year-old Elite any longer. He was fighting a Judge.

  Then Zheng’s body broke. He wasn’t fighting back anymore, just trying to shield himself, and then after a few more blows, not even that. Zheng’s eyes shifted back to amber. Arms at his sides, he leaned against the ropes, the only thing supporting him now.

  Connor, or rather the beast within Connor, stood in front of Zheng and roared victory, reading the final blow that would send Zheng not only to the stone floor but most likely to his grave.

  Shouts and yells were tuned out as Connor cocked his right fist, aiming for Zheng’s exposed throat.

  “Connor, no! This isn’t you! Stop! You’ve already won!” Laren yelled.

  Her voice made him hesitate, hesitate long enough for the gong to sound and Laren and Orion to jump into the ring and separate the two combatants. Connor struggled to free himself from Orion’s grip, snarling and gnashing his teeth.

  “Connor, stop. It’s okay, it’s us,” Laren reassured him.

  The last thing Connor remembered was Laren’s worried face over him as he finally submitted to his broken body’s demands and fell to the ground, into the blackness of unconsciousness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Connor woke to darkness. He was on a rough half-dirt, half-rock surface and the temperature around him was almost unbearable. Sweat formed on his brow and the back of his neck as he got to his feet. He knew it had to be a dream, his left arm was working fine and none of the pain he remembered from the fight was present. He started to walk through the darkness, hand out in front of him to keep from running into anything.

  There was a screech and flap of wings as he ducked and felt air whip past his head and lift his hair. Panic seized his heart. They’re just bats, calm down. They’re probably more afraid of you than you are of them. More of the creatures babbled to one another as they flew through the air. Crouching, Connor continued forward, his left hand quickly making contact with a hard rock surface he assumed was a cave wall.

  Soon Connor could make out a faint glow. As he approached the light, the heat grew.

  Sweat running freely down his face, he made it to an area where the cave opened into a large room occupied by a tall figure in a black robe. The figure stood a few yards away on a precipice, with its back towards Connor. It was looking down.

  Connor hesitated, fearing who the cloaked person could be.

  “It’s okay, Connor.” Connor recognized the voice. “I’m not here to kill you.”

  Hands clenched, Connor searched the chamber for some kind of trap.

  “Come look,” the man said, “it’s beautiful, really.”

  Connor slowly made his way to the man’s side. The man he knew to be Vercin was wearing a long cloak with a deep hood. Even when Connor stood next to him, he couldn’t make out his features. Instead, Connor looked down the cliff at a gigantic ocean of molten rock and lava. The cavern they were in was huge; besides the cliff, there was no other land mass. A hundred or more feet below them, the lava boiled and rolled like the foam on a rough ocean. Connor had to look away after a few seconds, the heat stinging his eyes.

  “Why did you bring me here? What do you want?”

  Vercin turned to him and lifted the hood. Whatever Connor expected to see, whatever he remembered from the man before; burned flesh, one black eye, one red, and a set of sharp teeth, was gone. Instead he saw a rather handsome older man. His short black hair worked well with his clean-shaven face and a smile, Connor almost took as friendly, played across his lips. Vercin’s eyes, however, still held a shocking look. One was brown like Connor’s, the other a bright blue like Katie.

  “I wanted to show you my prison.” Vercin opened his arms in the large cavern. “I wanted you to see the lake of lava that I contemplated throwing myself into every day for the past century. I wanted you to feel the heat as I did, see the bats I ate to stay alive, and truly understand the side you are choosing in the coming war.”

  Connor crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow in defiance.
“I’m not joining you, Vercin. I already told you.”

  Vercin smiled and chuckled. “Connor, I don’t know how much of a choice you have in the matter.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and I are much more alike than you would like to think. Two Judges from the same bloodline should stand together, not fight one another. The power you felt when you fought Zheng—”

  “How did you know about that? That just happened!”

  “Connor, did you think you were the only one with sorceress friends? How did you think I escaped the spell that held me here in the first place? But that is another conversation. That power that drove you to win, the anger inside that manifested itself when you fought Zheng, will consume you. You cannot control the rage, few Judges ever could. I can teach you how to embrace the power.”

  Connor shook his head. “No, I know what power you offer. I know where that leads.”

  “Where it leads? It leads to greatness, Connor. It leads to invincibility. No one will be able to stand against you, no man or Elite can equal the power of a Judge when we let our beast consume us. Hindering this would only be a waste.

  “Connor, the day we meet in person is quickly approaching, and I would much rather welcome you as a friend, as a brother, than an enemy.”

  “I’ll learn to control it myself. I’ll be ready to meet you when the time comes.”

  “So you choose this? You choose imprisonment and death by the very race you seek to protect? They have a use for you now, but they will throw you away when they’re done with you, as they did to me. Not to mention your father, but we’ve already had that conversation.”

  Connor fought back the urge to ask him about his father. There was a devil on his shoulder telling him how wonderful it would be to let go, to give in to the call of his inner beast and let the rage consume him.

  Vercin picked up on his hesitancy. “Conflicted, I see? Well that’s a start. I only hope you have changed your mind by the time we meet. But now our time is over. Think about what I have said.”