The Firedragon

by Mary Fan

  US copyright ©2014 by Mary Fan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

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  Published in the United States by Glass House Press, LLC, 2014. GLASS HOUSE PRESS and colophon are trademarks of Glass House Press, LLC.

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  ISBN 978-0-9749096-4-6

  Library Of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication is on file with the publisher.

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  Cover by White Rabbit Designs and Creations

  Formatting by Inkstain Interior Book Designing

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  First Edition

  Aurelia stepped into the light. Though she’d fought hundreds of vicious supernatural beasts during her two years at the Academy of Supernatural Defense, she’d never faced stakes this high before.

  The judges of the International Challenge, the first worldwide monster-fighting competition ever, stared down at her from one of the arena’s boxes. If she impressed them, they would let her enter the contest. And if she made it past their screening, and then through the qualifying round, and ultimately took the prize … her life would never be the same. She’d have the chance to do something much, much bigger than just taking home a trophy.

  She could change the world.

  Suddenly, a man’s voice boomed out from above. “Aurelia Sun. Age: Fourteen. Classification: Norm. Nation: Triumvirate of North America.”

  Aurelia inhaled sharply and walked forward, trying to keep herself from jittering with excitement. Her shoes, light and flexible, barely made a sound against the arena’s stone floor, but even if she’d been tromping around in heavy boots, she didn’t think she would have been able to hear her own footsteps. The eager pounding of her heart was far too loud. This was her shot at everything she’d ever wanted. All her life, she’d been told that those with magic – Enchanters – were superior to those without – Norms, like her. Now, finally, she had the chance to prove everyone wrong.

  Enchanters ruled the Triumvirate, or what was left of the United States and its surrounding nations. They had always done whatever they could to keep their own kind separate from everyone else, and Norms got the short end of the stick. Aurelia had lost count of how many times she’d been reminded that this division was fair, because the Enchanters – specifically, an elite class known as Sentinels – kept the people safe from the monsters prowling the areas outside of the protected cities.

  She knew the history as well as anyone. Almost a hundred years earlier, the Lord of the Underworld and his hordes of supernatural beasts had escaped their fiery dimension and overrun the entire earth. The Sentinels had managed to destroy the Lord, but the monsters had remained. Now, Enchanters around the world were engaged in a never-ending war against the creatures. If they lost that war, the monsters would invade the cities, and consume every last human being.

  But Enchanters were a small minority of the human population, and there weren’t enough of them to fight the monsters. Their solution: A special Defender class of Norms – non-magical humans trained to fight the supernatural. One day, Aurelia would join their ranks. She’d been preparing for it her whole life, dreaming of the day when she could finally fulfill that destiny.

  Thanks to the International Challenge, that day could be closer than she’d thought. If she won, she’d automatically graduate from the Academy and be granted full-fledged Defender status. But more importantly, the Challenge featured both magical and non-magical contestants. Which meant that if she won, she would show the world that a Norm could beat an Enchanter, and that someone who’d been born without magic could be better than someone born with it.

  She walked toward the center of the arena, the red and gold highlights that streaked her black hair glinting at the edge of her vision. Someone had laid out a table there, and covered it with weapons. Knives, pistols, bows. A pair of light swords with silver blades.

  Aurelia smiled at the two gleaming weapons. My favorites.

  She reached toward them, then drew back. She wasn’t supposed to touch any weapons until after her interview began. Once the first question was asked, though, anything was fair game. She couldn’t wait to prove herself worthy of competing against the world’s best professional monster fighters, even if she was still a student.

  Her eyes shot up toward the box in front of her. Although she couldn’t see the faces of the judges, she could sense their skepticism. And she understood why; a five-foot-five teenager – and a girl! – wasn’t anyone’s idea of a monster fighter. It probably didn’t help that she looked every bit as young as she was, with her round black eyes and full cheeks.

  But many a monster had learned – the hard way – how deadly she could be. Staring up at your own headless body, in the moment before your life ended, would do that to you. Though none of them ever saw it coming. They didn’t believe such a small girl could do anything like take down a monster. Just like the judges didn’t believe it.

  They didn’t know who she actually was. What she lacked in strength, she more than made up for in skill and agility. She’d been snapping sidekicks since she could walk and learning to twirl double swords when most kids were being taught their ABCs – always training, training, training, transforming herself into the lethal creature she was today. She’d been born for this. And she was good.

  It was why her fellow Cadets had nicknamed her the Firedragon. And it was why the Triumvirate, the most powerful government in the world, had strong-armed the International Challenge Council into lowering the minimum age of contestants to fourteen.

  But even they didn’t know just how skilled she was. Better than any Enchanter – I’ll show ‘em, she thought with a smirk.

  The Challenge itself had taken over a decade to set up, and there might not be anything like it ever again. This was her one chance to shine, and to prove to the world that you didn’t need magic to be the best. It wasn’t going to be easy. The rules had changed so many times, she still wasn’t sure exactly what would happen after the qualifying round. She did know one thing, though: She was going to kick some monster butt.

  “Aurelia Sun.” The judge’s deep voice reverberated against the arena’s walls, and Aurelia straightened. C’mon, ask me anything. Let’s get this party started, already!

  To her disappointment, though, the judge just started outlining the rules of the Challenge. She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to yell, “Oh my God, I know all this!” Besides, it wouldn’t have made them stop, and it would definitely make her look bad.

  The idea behind the competition was simple: The judges would test the nominated contestants and, out of all of them, select five from each participating nation – Norm and Enchanter alike. Then came the qualifying round, where each contestant faced off with a monster – by themselves – in the arena.

  The judge, continuing his explanation, said, “The only rule for the qualifying round is this: No one can interfere until either the monster or the contestant is dead.”

  A chill ran down Aurelia’s spine at those words, but then she scoffed at herself. What did she have to be afraid of? She’d taken down dozens of beasts without any help from anyone. One more would be nothing, even if it was in front of an audience. That would just mean everyone else got to see her beat it.

  Her gaze fell on the silver blades again, and her hands itched to grab them. Enough talk! Let me show you what I can do!

  But the judge droned on and on about how the qualifying round would be scored
, who would take part – as if it wasn’t obvious – and what the different possibilities might be. “Points will be awarded based on the efficiency of your kill,” he said. “And they will be docked for injuries.”

  Aurelia bit her lip. She hadn’t heard that rule before. Though she was confident in her ability to take down whatever they threw at her, she knew how messy her kills could get – and how messy she could get in the process. Only the top ten scorers could enter the Challenge itself, and if she didn’t rack up enough points … But I will, she told herself firmly. I have to.

  Whoever won would be set for life. They’d be given enough money to last a lifetime, along with all the fame and glory that came with being crowned the best monster fighter in the world. But that wasn’t what she really cared about.

  What mattered to her was that if she won, everything would change. No more getting everything secondhand from the Enchanters, from her tiny dorm room to her tattered schoolbooks. No more being looked down upon by teachers, who spoke of Norm inferiority as if it was fact. No more putting up with the snooty attitudes of her magic-wielding schoolmates, who thought they were so much better than her. None of them had even seen a monster outside of captivity. Meanwhile, she’d already gone on several official missions against the creatures outside the city gates. She actually knew what she was doing. More than that – she excelled.

  If the judge would just stop talking and get the thing started, she’d prove it.

  As for her own life … once she became a Defender, she’d be treated as an adult, and no longer a ward of the state. She could do what she wanted instead of being forced to train endlessly, and without reward.

  She’d be free.

  The silver blades on the table before her blazed with the light of combat, and her blood rushed with eagerness. Weapons like these were her ticket to changing everything that was wrong with her life and world. The future she wanted was so close that she could almost smell it in the arena’s crisp air. Now, if only that judge would shut up and let me fight!

  As if on cue, the judge said, “This concludes the introduction. Now, let the screening begin.”

  It’s about freaking time. The point behind her shoulder blades was already itching with the thought of the monsters around her, and her eyes darted across the arena, trying to locate the first test. What would it be? Where would it come from? And when?

  The judge stepped forward, becoming vaguely visible as he drew closer to the light. “Describe how to identify and kill a skinwalker,” he snapped.

  She almost grinned. Of all the easy questions to ask! “Skinwalkers can take the shape of any animal by wearing its skin, but their glowing eyes give them away. The only way to gank ‘em is with a weapon dipped in white ash. Or you can lop their heads off with a silver blade. That’ll work on anything.”

  “Correct.”

  Suddenly she sensed something flying toward her from behind. Here it came: The first test of her abilities.

  She grabbed a bow and arrow from the table, spun, and saw a white sphere flying at her – a familiar training device powered by spells. Underneath the glow, though, was the magic of a skinwalker. If she didn’t destroy it, it would transform into a vicious maw and rip off her skin.

  She fired, praying that the judges – or whoever set up the arena – had thought to dip the arrows in white ash. Her arrow pierced the sphere, which exploded into a fine mist. It had barely made it into the arena before she’d hit it.

  Aurelia turned back to the judges, knowing she’d just passed with flying colors. Easy peasy. It hadn’t been a real skinwalker, but it would have done just as much damage if it had reached her. And she’d destroyed it without a second thought.

  If the judge who had questioned her was impressed by her speed, he didn’t show it. “And if you encounter a specter?” he asked.

  “Ward it off with silver and run like hell.” Aurelia placed the bow and arrow back on the table, grimacing at the thought of specters – spirits of the dead that managed to return to the earth. While some were harmless, friendly even, most preyed on the living, delighted in wreaking havoc, and fed on fear. But that wasn’t why they made her uncomfortable. Danger had never scared her. Neither did the monsters. No, she found specters unsettling because she had no way of killing something that was already dead. And it bothered her that they were considered the same as monsters, when they had once been people. But she couldn’t let herself get caught up in those kinds of questions. They were a threat, and dead things should stay dead.

  “Silver slows ‘em down,” she went on. “But the only way to actually get rid of one is with a spiritum evanescet banishing spell. Which I can’t do because I’m not an Enchanter.”

  “Correct.”

  Now there were others in the arena. Three targets this time, the first coming from the left. Aurelia grabbed the double swords and waited for the white sphere to get closer. It didn’t take long; specters were faster than any of the other monsters, since they didn’t have to bother with the ground. The moment it was in range, she swung her right blade and sliced through it. The sphere dissolved, just as a real specter would have when hit by silver. A specter would also need to spend at least a few moments rematerializing, so she whirled to face the other two targets.

  The second sphere came from behind, and it came high. She swept her right arm over her head, drawing a circle in the air with the blade, and hit it without turning around. Her left blade shot out in a swift backhand, nailing the third target over her shoulder.

  She waited, glancing around rapidly. Would those spheres reappear, as real specters would? Or were the judges done for now?

  After a full minute of nothing, she decided the latter was probably true. She turned to the judges, but kept her senses alert in case they weren’t finished with her yet.

  The judges’ faces were carefully blank, but the fact that they had come close enough to the edge of the box for her to see them told her that they were impressed and wanted a closer look. She flicked her wrist, casually swinging one of the swords. I know, guys. I’m awesome.

  “Tell us what you know about fangbeasts,” one of the judges intoned.

  She grimaced again, even more disturbed by these than she was by specters. “Fangbeasts are the worst. They’ve got sharp teeth and claws like any old wolf, but what makes them scary is their ability to multiply. You never face just one. They can teleport to any place they want, and they’re practically invincible. Spells, bullets, blades – they all bounce right off. You can try beheading them, but unless you get the original beast and not a clone … you’re dead.”

  It wasn’t the most academic answer, but it was true. She’d never had to face one, and she thanked her lucky stars for that every day. It had been fifty years since anyone had seen a fangbeast, and most thought they were extinct. She’d always assumed the same. Suddenly, given the judges’ question, she wasn’t so sure.

  The judge nodded. “Correct.”

  The sound of dozens of flying spheres whipping through the air filled her ears, and her heart nearly stopped. She’d never seen training spheres used to represent fangbeasts before. If even one got her, she’d end up a bloody mess.

  But she refused to let them scare her, and a moment later her blood was rushing through her body, fresh with eagerness. Once she passed this test, the judges would have no reason to doubt her abilities.

  She swept her gaze across the arena. Already, she could see four spheres zooming toward her, and she knew from the whooshing sounds that several more would follow. But which would represent the true fangbeast? That was the one she had to destroy. If she didn’t, it wouldn’t matter how many of the others she got.

  She raised her blades, ready to strike.

  Aurelia raced out of the arena and down the Academy’s stone corridors, her heart still thumping with excitement from her test. Or was it thumping from worry? It didn’t matter; she didn’t have much time before it was Connor’s turn to face the judges, and she needed to tell him what he’d
be up against.

  She wove through the crowded hallway, irritated by the presence of so many bodies. Since the Academy was hosting the Challenge, the school was full of old people…well, non-teenagers, at least. Challenge officials, judges, representatives from participating nations, other potential contestants, and coaches had all been put up in the Academy’s spare dorm rooms and given access to classrooms and student lounges. Many of the other students were awed by the international spotlight being shone on their school, but all Aurelia could think about was how annoying the visitors were. They were slow, and old, and insisted on clogging up the hallways.

  She pulled up short behind a group of middle-aged Enchanters and danced impatiently, wondering what exactly would happen if she just went crashing through them. Before she could decide, a voice rang out through the hallway, distracting her.

  “It’s unacceptable!”

  She whirled around, her gaze searching for the woman. It was Mrs. Miller, supervisor of the Secondstringers – orphans under state guardianship, who attended the Academy on a work-study program. She was scolding a sandy-haired boy, telling him he had to work double shifts as punishment for the mess he’d made.

  Sucker! Aurelia thought, holding back a snigger.

  It wasn’t a nice thing to do, looking down on the orphans, but she’d started off as one of them and gotten herself promoted from Secondstringer to Cadet status less than six months later. She’d not only climbed out of the low-class pit she’d been born into, but had also taken her place among the elite. To be a Cadet at the Academy of Supernatural Defense in the Triumvirate’s capital, studying alongside the children of Enchanters … well, you had to be the best of the best. And now, she had the attention of the Triumvirate’s bigwigs. How many people could say that?

  Once she won the International Challenge, she would also be a hero, and would be remembered forever as the girl who’d proven that Norms could do anything Enchanters could … and beat them at it. That was her future.

  So it wasn’t arrogance for her to think she was better than that sandy-haired Secondstringer boy, who’d probably spend the rest of his life scrubbing walls. It was simply the truth.