Tina decided to deal with him. He had the look of someone who waited for his buddies to start the barfight, then snuck up on you with a kidney punch once you were focused on someone else.
“Sephith’s Bane is heading for combat with Quartzfire!” the Master of Ceremonies boomed. “The battle is joined immediately, a good showing from our newest team here at the Insea Arena.”
She tuned the voice out and made herself focus only on their opponents. They scrutinized her openly, clearly interested to see what a short, fairly scrawny woman would bring to the match.
It’ll be a surprise to you and me both, she thought and shook her head. They were close, only a few seconds away from one another, and her heart pounded. “Uh, Justin—”
Her sentence remained unfinished.
“Stoooooooooout!” Lyle yelled and increased his speed dramatically. He drew both daggers, which burst into black flames, and vaulted upward in a flash of silver and purplish-black.
He took both the brothers by surprise.
Idiots. They’d had three people advancing toward them for the express purpose of combat. What did they think would happen? Tina didn’t stop to think, however. She dropped back, circled behind Justin, and noticed a path that dipped down and to the side. As her friend followed Lyle with a battle cry of his own, she lingered in her position for a moment.
As she suspected, the redhead had settled into a crouch and waited to see who would slip up and create an opening first. He was armed with a sword, which gave her pause, but there was nothing she could do about it.
She could fight him now on her terms, or she could fight later on his. And, of course, they had another team incoming.
He wasn’t stupid and he hadn’t reached the Finals of Season three by being unobservant. When he heard her circle behind him, his gaze zeroed in on her in a flash.
“What’s up, fucker?” Tina asked. She was a little surprised at the words as it wasn’t what she’d have said if she’d thought first, but they were what they were.
Amusingly, he didn’t seem to know how to interpret the slang and his moment of confusion gave her time to attack. She drew her blades as she moved, threw them out to the sides to counterbalance herself, and found out abruptly exactly what it meant to have a water charm on a dagger.
The blades pulled away from her and followed the momentum of a wave before it swept back.
“Ohhhh,” Tina whispered. “Oh, motherfucker, you are in so much trouble.”
Without giving herself time to consider the possible outcome, she threw the blades straight up.
They yanked her along with a smooth force and allowed her to pick both feet up and punch them forward. The redhead, still trying to gauge her talents, began to raise the sword but the attempted defense was too late. She had already bowled him over and tumbled away by the time he held it in front of him. Of course, by then, he was flat on his back.
She was fairly sure she bounced to a stop. “Ow, ow, ow, fuck.”
With no time to think about possible injuries, she rolled to her feet, imagined the tidepools and eddies at Bolinas Beach, and allowed her thoughts to guide her movements. She’d never fought with daggers but she’d surfed storm swells. As a result, she knew the pound and momentum of water and the sheer liquid force of it.
Once or twice, she came close to a lethal blow. Redhead McGankpants—as she had nicknamed him in her head—had a longer reach with his weapon and a wave, of course, didn’t fear a sword. A blade like that would pass through water without damage in the way it wouldn’t with a human head, for instance.
Things improved, however, when she let her blades be the wave. She and her adversary danced across the boulders, his gaze focused entirely on her and hers on him. Justin and Lyle could be seen moving out of the corner of her eyes, but she heard no shouts of alarm or warning.
This one was hers.
He drove forward in a sudden rush, his mouth compressed into a thin line. From what she could tell, he hated it more and more every time he stumbled or one of his blows failed to land. Now, instead of slashing down or sideways, he went into a heavy lunge and stabbed directly at her.
Tina laughed. She brought her hands together and raised them so the blades crossed and caught his. The sword twisted and spun out of his hands, the two waves of her daggers collided and swirled, and she landed hard on his chest with her blades against either side of his neck.
Pure hatred burned in his eyes as he held his hands up in surrender. His form froze, encased in magic. He had surrendered and so was out.
Tina stood and took a few steps back. Her chest heaved. She didn’t know quite what to do now and she was so tired she couldn’t hear the stadium.
It took a few moments for her to realize the crowd had gone silent.
She looked around. Justin and Lyle were seated on boulders, kicking their legs. Around them, each of their opponents lay frozen. Some had clearly suffered wounds, although the magic seemed to protect them against death.
“The other team reached us while you were still fighting,” Justin called, “so we took care of them.”
“An’ ye,” Lyle added in appreciation, “put on quite a show, missy!”
With a long, slow breath, she looked at the waiting crowd. A grin crept across her face and she stabbed both daggers into the sky. The spectators erupted into applause.
“Sephith’s Bane wins the match!” the Master of Ceremonies shouted. “With, I must say, the best one-on-one match we’ve seen in quite some time. Insea, give a cheer for the champions of Match One.”
He hardly needed to tell them. The audience stamped and whistled as they cheered.
“There,” Justin said and hurried forward to clap her on the back. “Tina Castro, legendary warrior.”
Tina laughed. The adrenaline made her shaky, but she already wanted another hit. “When can we go again?”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Lyle said in satisfaction. “And the answer, I’ll have you know, is after a beer.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she told him and clanged her blade against his. The three of them moved to the dais at the end of the arena. Nearby, medics rushed to attend to the various members of other teams.
“Are you okay?” Justin asked her. “You’re limping.
She panted slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I feel great. There’s slight chafing, though.”
“You said, I remind you, that you wanted to choose based on aesthetics,” the AI told her.
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “I’ll go find a healer. In a city full of warriors in leather, someone must have an anti-chafing balm.”
Zaara lingered in the shadow of a column and watched the winning team approach the dais. She had maintained this trance for longer than she should have and could feel her energy flagging, but she had not been able to resist the desire to see her friends.
It hadn’t taken long for Justin and Lyle to find someone who fit with their team, and she clearly already had an easy rapport with both of them—as well as a fighting style Zaara had never seen in her life. She’d cheered along with the spectators in the stadium, even though she knew the other would never hear her.
There was a strange poetry to the way she moved, something natural and powerful. She wondered what it was but accepted that, of course, she would never have a chance to ask.
The team walked to the platform, where the Master of Ceremonies stood in his deep-blue robes, his arms spread. Before him were two golden bowls, one piled with coins and the other with swirling blue power—an illusion, she could see. There was nothing truly there. She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer.
“A hearty hello to our first champions!” the official cried. “Sephith’s Bane is the first to choose from our new prizes. Would you like to see them?”
The crowd roared. Huge images of the two bowls flashed above them.
“Should the team desire riches, they shall have them. In the first bowl, there is a hundred gold pieces for each member of the team!”
/> Zaara’s jaw dropped. As a throwaway prize, it was ludicrously big. The grand prize, of course, was always worth thousands—but this was only a skirmish. What else could match that gift?
“In the second bowl, however…” The Master of Ceremonies beamed broadly. “Is perhaps a greater treasure—an advantage for the winners’ next match. Although neither they nor their opponents shall know what that advantage will be, I assure you it is worth having.”
Zaara leaned back with an intrigued quirk to one eyebrow. An advantage. That was clever. This was an intriguing set of skirmishes. She knew which Justin would have chosen once and she now waited to see what he would do.
He didn’t disappoint her. A close-headed conference with his compatriots resulted in nods, and he turned to the official with a smile.
“We choose the advantage,” he called and raised a fist into the air. His voice was amplified as well. “Although the best advantage would be to have this crowd cheer us on again.”
“Kiss-ass,” she muttered but smiled broadly. He seemed to realize how much a crowd’s favor could mean. Having ten thousand people screaming your name tended to bring confidence that nothing else could match—and certain high-profile patrons might come out of the woodwork for favorites.
Her attention, however, was caught by the Master of Ceremonies. To her surprise, when he turned away from the team, she realized how false his smile was. He was sweating and rivulets trickled into the collar of his robes, and he looked pale.
To her keen study, he didn’t look like someone who basked in the glow of a successful plan but like someone who was still on the edge of failure.
The stadium began to flicker in her vision, and Zaara gritted her teeth as she brought all her energy to bear on the trance. If there was danger, she had to know about it. Justin and Lyle, as well as their new friend, might be at risk somehow.
While the crowd was focused on the winning team—who now did a victory lap around the edge of the arena—she ran through the maze of staircases and corridors and tried to find the Master of Ceremonies. She almost lost him, especially with her vision flickering, but eventually she caught sight of his robes swishing out of sight. Hastily, she checked for anyone watching and raced after him.
He didn’t go far, thankfully, but into a room full of couches and refreshments nearby. That kind of careless luxury still boggled her mind, even after seeing Sephith’s tower and the king’s treasure rooms. The couches had gilt trim, the wine that stood freely available was better than any she’d have in her lifetime, and sugared pastries were going stale.
Her mouth watered. Next time, she would have Kural teach her how to teleport and she knew exactly where she’d come first.
On the plus side, focusing on those pastries had kept her trance strong.
The Master of Ceremonies stripped his outer robe off and dropped onto one of the couches. A clerk in plain black came to pour him wine.
“It sounds like an incredible success,” the attendant said with a smile.
The official did not return the smile. He drank all the wine in a few long swallows and held out his glass again. “They like it, but what if the other teams don’t stay?”
“Quartzfire and the Twins will make a good final match,” the clerk said soothingly.
“Numbers have fallen.” He put his head in his hands. “Adventurers are leaving. A spectacle means nothing if we aren’t preparing.”
That must be it, Zaara realized. They needed people there who were learning to fight. But why?
Her vision began to fade. She tried to hold it but exhaustion crept in and before she could counter it, the world tilted crazily and transformed into her bedroom. While she managed to get the scrying orb out of her pocket and onto her desk, she couldn’t finish the spell to contact Kural before she slid onto the floor.
“Fuck,” she said succinctly. “Well…as long as I’m lying down…”
She woke sometime later to her mentor’s voice emanating from the orb. “Zaara?”
“I’m here,” she said from the floor with as much dignity as she could muster. “I’m lying down.”
“Not on your bed.”
“No.” She did not feel the need to explain at this juncture.
“Uh…huh.” He cleared his throat. “So, did you find it?”
“Yes.” Zaara wanted to sit but was unable to. A little irritated, she settled for waving a thumbs-up in what she hoped was his line of sight. “It’s there—and I found something out about the Master of Ceremonies.”
“You stayed for longer than you should have, didn’t you?” Kural sounded amused. “And that’s why you’re so exhausted.”
“Oh, like you never overextended yourself as an apprentice.” She knew him. Even as a traveling magician, he’d been inclined to being reckless and constantly experimented with things.
“All the time.” He laughed. “It’s how we weed out the dedicated. People who always stay within guidelines and never overexert themselves usually don’t have enough interest to complete the training.”
“Really?” It was intriguing. “That’s good to know. Anyway, the Master of Ceremonies is quite scared. One team has been winning consistently and now, other teams don’t want to participate. He’s started skirmish events as a way to encourage more people to compete again. I heard him say something about how it didn’t matter how much of a spectacle it was if they weren’t preparing, but he didn’t say for what.”
“Presumably, the person he spoke to already knew.” Kural was silent, and she was fairly sure he chewed on his lip. “That’s interesting. It gives me something to work with as well. I will persuade the Master of Ceremonies to offer the key as one of the potential prizes. Meanwhile, you take care to recover. If you can find any citrus fruit, that will help. Limes are best.”
“I’ve only had an orange once,” Zaara croaked. “They don’t grow here, you know.”
“Hmm. I’ll see what I can do. With regard to the sorceress, I haven’t heard from her—”
“She came to see me,” she said and waved her arm again in the direction of the scrying orb. “I met her. It’s Justin’s mother!”
“The death sorceress?” He sounded highly skeptical.
“Yes. I’ve seen her use her power before. It was at the bandit hideout.”
“That was her I felt two weeks ago?” He sounded incredulous. “Very well, then. If she found you, well enough. I’ll let you rest, but before you do…hang on a moment…”
Several limes dropped out of midair and onto her stomach.
“Oof!”
“Sorry, sorry. I had to guess where you were. Eat all of those before you go to sleep. They’re bitter but it will be worth it. Then get some sleep. Our next lesson will be in how to grow a lime tree in your room because I sense you’ll need one.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
The winners of the match, it turned out, were given seating in a special reserved area of the stadium near the Master of Ceremonies. Refreshments were served, including overly sweet pastries that reminded Justin of baklava and some of the best wine he’d ever had.
Lyle, disgusted, went off to find beer while the other two stayed behind to watch the next match.
“So, who did we beat?” she asked as she licked sugar off her fingers.
“The one you fought was a member of Quartzfire,” he told her. “He’s a one-on-one champion…kind of. You saw how he tried to hang back while the other two charged so he could pick people off one by one.”
“If he relies entirely on the element of surprise, he can’t be shocked when it backfires,” she said with a shrug.
“Well, he’s good,” Justin replied. “I listened to some of the servants talking, see. The thing is, he’s never come up against someone who fought like you did.”
“That was, er…” Tina looked embarrassed. “I probably didn’t do things right.”
“I couldn’t watch the whole time,” he said thoughtfully, “but it looked like you used your advantages and learn
ed from your mistakes. Isn’t that doing things right?”
“Justin.” She sounded genuinely frustrated now. “You know what I’m trying to say. We have to win the tournament—the whole tournament—to get you the key so you can wake up. And it hangs on whether or not I can fight well enough to beat the champions who have won consecutively for six seasons straight. How will we do that?”
He decided not to tell her that he hadn’t realized what she’d tried to say.
Now that he understood, he had to admit it was a valid point. He had defeated Sephith with Lyle and Zaara, but both had been trained in fighting for years. His advantage had been that he’d played video games for as long as he could remember, and it had helped that Sephith clearly wasn’t prepared for three people to attack him at once.
“I’m not worried,” he said. “I’m serious. One of the things I liked about you when we first met was that you were brave about trying things. You apply that to your fighting and you’re scrappy—you don’t let a little pain hold you back.”
“What if…” Tina closed her eyes. “What if we fail and—”
“Tina, it’s a game. If we fail and we don’t get the key I’m looking for this way, the people running the game will find another way to get it to me.”
“Oh.” She looked faintly embarrassed now. “Right. I…forgot. It’s hard to remember you’re in a game when everything around you is so realistic.” Her gaze strayed over his shoulder.
“What is it?” Justin turned to look and saw a woman in the stands look away from them hastily.
“She’s watched us for a while,” she told him.
“We just won the first skirmish against two champion teams,” he pointed out.
“Ohhhh. I’m not all on my game today mentally, am I?”
“You also drank two glasses of wine.” He grinned at her. “However, the next match is about to start so I need you to—oh.” In the air above the stadium, the three team names had come up and one of them was the Twins. He elbowed her in the side and made her snort wine up her nose. “Focus, Castro. We’re about to see the Twins in action. This is where we plan our strategy against them.”
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