The Crown Tournament [Chapters 9-10]

Hey peeps!

This is getting cleaned up, and some changes were made. I want this all out on Patren before the end of Feb...

Hopefully you enjoy!

Shami

CHAPTER NINE

It was time to leave the desert.

I thought this day would never come.

Master Elias clambered up onto Hyperion’s back. Then he motioned to me. I mounted Roux, and Wren got into my lap. Roux was slender and delicate, but she managed to hold us both. The moment Hyperion took to the sky, Roux raced across the sands after him.

She pushed herself to her limit.

Wren watched Hyperion sail through the desert air. Then he turned his bright eyes to me. “You’ll be able to fly on me in just a year or two,” he boasted. “It’ll take me a bit longer to take Roux, too, probably. Unless I grow faster with her empowerment?”

“Amir,” Roux telepathically said. “Tell Wren that isn’t the case.”

A kirin never spoke to anyone but their arcanist—not even the arcanist’s second eldrin. Roux couldn’t speak with Wren telepathically, so any communication between them would have to go through me.

“Wren, Roux wanted me to tell you that she will only increase your strength, not your growth rate,” I said.

Wren clung to me and frowned, his pouting on full display.

When Hyperion flew closer to the sands, he kicked up a bit of storm behind us. The gigantic syrocko drake soared mere inches from us, his body snaking about. With a smile that showed his fangs, grinning down at Wren.

“You’re so tiny,” Hyperion said, his voice being carried away by the winds.

Wren flared his scales. “Not for long!”

With a laugh, Hyperion returned to the sky. Roux panted as she ran, her beautiful scales shimmering in the desert sun. I patted the side of her neck, encouraging her to continue. She was majestic and wonderful. Nothing would stop us now.

After a few hours, we took a break to rest.

Hyperion and Master Elias flew down and brought us lunch. We ate rice, prickly pears, and drank cactus water until Roux had recovered long enough to ride again. Then we returned to the trail, blazing our way closer and closer to civilization.

It had been a long time since I had seen anyone other than Master Elias and Hyperion. I remember the orphanage, and House Mother Mila… Or was her name House Mother Melona? My memories were fuzzy. It had been so long ago.

An hour from town, Hyperion swooped down and landed in a sand dune. Master Elias hopped off, and he motioned Roux over. Then he gestured for me to dismount. Confused, I did as he instructed.

Master Elias grabbed my head wrap. He secured it tight over my head, and pulled the cloth down over my forehead, hiding my arcanist mark.

Unlike Elias, who had a seven-pointed star with a syrocko drake laced in the points, I had two creatures. Both the kirin and the drake were in my marking. It was usual. Arcanists didn’t normally have that—or so Master Elias had said.

“You can’t let anyone see your mark,” he said with a huff.

“Okay,” I replied.

Then Master Elias withdrew a horse blanket from a saddlebag on the side of Hyperion. He threw the blanket over Roux, hiding her beautiful white scales. “No one can see her, either.”

“But—”

Master Elias shot me a glower.

I swallowed my words. This was important, apparently. I just didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t he take the time to explain it?

Without another word, Master Elias grabbed some reins out of the saddlebag as well. The reins were for a fancy horse of some kind. The top of them had a leather strap meant to go onto a horse’s head. Once Master Elias fixed it onto Roux—careful to put her horn through the leather fastening—it looked like her horn was part of the rein’s decoration, rather than part of her body.

“She’s just a normal horse,” Master Elias said. “With some fancy reins. Understand?”

I nodded along with his words. “Right. Okay.”

Roux shook her head and snorted. “How demeaning.”

“I’ll still talk to you like this,” I replied telepathically.

That seemed to cheer her up. She lifted her head and swished her tail.

Wren scurried over to Master Elias’s boots. Then he sat on his back legs and reached up with his front claws. He made little grabbing motions. “Where’s my blanket? And my headdress? I want to look fancy.”

“Fun fact, true fact: you’re not a horse,” Elias quipped.

“Yeah. I’m better than a horse. I can fly.”

“Someday.”

Roux stomped the sand next to him. Wren flinched and then drooped his head. With a frown, he stared up at Roux. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not a horse. You’re a majestic kirin.”

Master Elias carefully observed me and Roux for a moment, then crossed his arms. “Not quite good enough.” He pulled a bigger piece of cloth from his saddlebag, then threw it at me. “Use this. Around your shoulders. If anyone gets to close, pull it over your head as well, so they don’t even get a glimpse of your arcanist mark.”

I did as he said, though I still felt confused. Clearly, my master wanted me to hide my identity while walking into the town, though I didn’t understand why. How would anyone recognize me? I was just a orphan who hadn’t visited town a long while.

Once I finished wrapping myself in a blanket, Elias nodded in approval.

Wren coughed up a ball of embers. “Everyone gets a blanket but me!”

Master Elias patted me on the shoulder. “Excellent. If anyone asks, you’re a new member of a mythic seeker organization. We’re hunting baby mystical creatures. We found one baby syrocko drake, and that’s it.” Elias glared down at Wren. “A normal, not that powerful, baby syrocko drake. Can you keep that story straight?”

With all the pouty energy of a child, Wren flopped onto the sand. “Why should we hide our power? Don’t you want everyone to know that we’re big powerful arcanists?”

Master Elias grumbled something under his breath. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose.

But… wasn’t Wren right? Hadn’t I been training for years?

“If you’re worried about trouble, isn’t it better to appear strong?” I asked. “People are already afraid of arcanists to begin with. Nobody is going to mess with somebody with twoeldrin.”

Elias shook his head. “You’re thinking about it the wrong way. If you walk in with Roux and Wren by your side, you’re right. People will be afraid of you. But the people who want to do you harm will also know where to find you. And we can’t have that.”

“Who wants to harm me?” I asked as I tilted my head.

“Assassins. Mythic seekers. People who hunt rare eldrin to make into magical items. Your kirin will attract a lot of unwanted attention, and until we get through your magical training, I don’t think we should risk it.”

Wren just continued sulking. He didn’t even move. He was a lump on the dune.

“But maybe if I’m reallypowerful, no one will mess with me,” I said.

“Never play an ace when a two will do,” Master Elias barked. He pointed. “Don’t tell anyone.” Then he hardened his expression. “Remember the East-Sea Raiders? Some people think might means right. Don’t let them think they can take something valuable from you.”

I shivered.

The East-Sea Raiders would definitely kill me to take my eldrins. Dying was bad enough, but leaving Roux all by herself again? That just wasn’t right. I grabbed at the cloth around my head, and tied it a little tighter just to be safe.

Master Elias had taught me a lot about martial arts, but he still knew a lot more about dealing with evildoers. It would be best to keep his advice in mind.

“You’re right,” I said. “I should hide myself. And Roux, too. What do you think about keeping her at the stable at our inn? That way, people will think she’s just a horse. That should keep her safe.”

“Are you alright with that?” I telepathically asked her.

“Your wish is my command, my partner.”

Wren grumbled. “I say we just attack everybody who looks badly at us. With our kirin powers, we could do it.”

I knelt and patted his head, trying to cheer him up. From the sounds of it, he’d been looking forward to picking a fight and proving himself. “Don’t worry. It’s like Master Elias said. This is just to keep the assassins and raiders from messing with us. If thugs try bothering us, I’m sure we’ll take them down in no time.”

After a little more pouting, Wren finally got to his feet and sulked to my side.

With me and Roux appropriately disguised, Master Elias and Hyperion pointed to a road at the edge of the sands. We all walked together—no flying, no riding—until we came to a wooden sign that pointed down the path.

To Morrumbi Town

“What’s in Morrumbi Town?” I whispered.

“It’s where we’re going to train,” Hyperion replied. “And it’s where the first regional qualifiers will be held.”

“What’re regional qualifiers?”

“The Crown Tournament is massive, and enjoyed by many arcanists from different nations. Too many arcanists, really.”

Master Elias scoffed out a laugh. But he didn’t add anything.

Hyperion continued. “Hundreds and hundreds of arcanists want a chance to fight and compete for the massive prize. All those coins and star shards… Everyone is eager, but most are untalented.”

“That’s harsh,” I said.

“It’s true.” Wren held his head high. “Because we’re the only ones talented enough to win.”

Hyperion swished his tail a bit. “You need to win in the region qualifiers to prove your talent. If you can demonstrate skill, you’ll be allowed to advance. If you fail to win, you’ll be barred from entering the tournament.”

“And since it only comes around every ten years, we need to get this right,” Master Elias stated.

Every ten years? If I failed this now, that meant I’d have to wait a whole decade before I could ever try again.

When we reached the edge of town, I couldn’t control the excitement of my heart. Morrumbi Town had a little wood wall, a small gate, and two guards dressed in leather armor. One was old, and the other was probably my age. They both held spears, but the weapons looked older than even the geezer.

The younger one straightened his posture when we approached. “May the sands be kind, arcanist.” Then he glanced at me and nodded once. No words.

His skin was tanned by the sun, just like mine. I waved to him. The guard didn’t reply. He just stared at me with a lifted eyebrow. I wondered why.

When we entered the city, I spotted several citizens going about their daily life. One woman was beating a rug to rid it of dust. A man rolled a cart through the street selling fresh stone bread. A few kids stood by a well.

It was so exciting!

There were so many peoplehere. So many. At least twenty! That was… almost too much to comprehend. And there were probably more in the buildings—all of which were made of stone and clay bricks.

“How many people live here?” I asked, my voice filled with awe.

“I dunno,” Master Elias said with a groan. “Too many.”

“I suspected five hundred,” Hyperion casually remarked.

Five hundred?! That was intense! Did they all know each other? How could they keep track of everyone? Why didn’t they live underground, like Master Elias? This wasn’t the desert—it was more scrubland—but wouldn’t it be colder under the dirt?

I had too many questions. My head spun.

Wren giggled excitedly. “All five hundred of these people will be talking about us once we win! You, me, and Roux!”

Elias glared at him. “What did I say before we got here?”

Wren sighed. “Fine. Fine. I’ll downplay it.” Then he turned and his drake eyes grew huge. “Is that… a sign about the tournament?” He scurried over to a billboard in the middle of the town. It had pieces of paper pinned to the wood. Wren pointed to one of the posters. “Is that for the Crown Tournament?”

There was a picture of a crown, and also a picture of stars, and flames. I walked over, glanced at the words, and smiled. “It is.”

But before I could read all of the details, someone snatched the poster off the billboard. I flinched and turned to find a giant man in leather armor. He was bald—his skin glossy and smooth, practically sparkling in the sunlight—and his gut was trying to escape his leather chest piece.

“I need this,” he said with a grunt.

“I was reading it,” I replied.

“Well, we need it down at the pub. We’re taking bets, ya see. We need to remember the rules of the tourney.” He tapped the poster and then offered me a smile. “You gonna be makin’ bets, lad? Do you have a favorite arcanist?”

I shook my head, a smile creeping onto my face. “Do people have favorite arcanists?”

“A few tournaments back, the Red Wind was everyone’s favorite.” The man ran a hand over his smooth head. He chuckled to himself as he said, “Ah, yes. Everyone was disappointed when he lost. I, myself, want to see the Red Wind return and claim the prize.”

“Who is the Red Wind?”

This strange man just sneered and snorted all at once. “I just told you, lad. Get your ears cleaned. He’s a legendary arcanist.”

“Does he have a normal name?”

“No around these parts remembers it. They just remember his skill with a sword, and his way with flames.” The man tucked the poster into his trousers and then headed for the pub. “Keep your ears open, lad. Don’t be so deaf.”

I waved to him, happy to have a conversation like a regular person. He even called me deaf. That was probably a good sign.

Arcanists lived a long time, according to Master Elias. I hurried back to him, Wren following me the whole way. When I reached his side, I smiled. He just stared at me with a frown.

“What?” he practically barked.

“Do you have any idea who this Red Wind is?” I asked. “Will we need to worry about him? Like, what if he enters the tournament this time around?”

Master Elias shook his head and half-smiled. “No. Don’t worry about that nonsense.”

I should have known that Elias wouldn’t care about some martial artist with a grand name. My master was a no-nonsense man who never got intimidated. He would focus on winning, no matter what.

Elias gestured to a tent at the edge of town. It was made of blue fabric, and stood out more than anything else. At the top of the tent was a large sign with flowing script—CROWN TOURNAMENT REGISTRATION.

There wasn’t a line, but the tent looked worn and used. The footprints outside of it told me plenty of people had come and gone.

“When is the regional qualifier?” I asked.

“In a few weeks,” Hyperion muttered. “We should register, and then get to training. We don’t have long before your first real combat.”

“Come on,” Master Elias said. He headed for the tent. “Let’s hurry. Hyperion is right. We need to start training right away.”

CHAPTER TEN

The sleepy streets of Morrumbi Town were easy to navigate.

I loved this place. It was so massive. Five hundred people! I still couldn’t believe it. I asked everyone their name whenever I went anywhere. How did everyone remember them all?

There was Abal, the baker.

Haatim, the farmer.

Rokus, a street cleaner.

So many.

But I didn’t have time to meet and greet everyone, even though I wanted to. Master Elias wanted me to learn my magic, and that was probably for the best. We went to the edge of town, away from everyone else, and took up a spot for training by an acacia tree. The long branches created a canopy of shade that shielded us from the oppression of the sun.

Master Elias and his drake positioned themselves near the trunk.

I stood ten feet away. Wren accompanied me. He scurried around my boots, more energetic than normal, his crimson scales flaring with fire. But Roux didn’t join me. She trotted over to Elias, her “disguise” hiding most of her body from view. It was shame, because she was so beautiful.

“Are you okay?” I asked telepathically.

“I am.” She replied. “Please focus on your training.”

Master Elias, who couldn’t hear our conversation, stepped closer to me. He widened his stance and raised his fists.

I understood what he wanted. This was our usually ready stance before we trained. I mirrored his position, my own fists raised. Wren stared up at me, watching from between my legs. He would get in the way if I moved around, but I’d address that later. Perhaps Elias didn’t want me to move?

“It’s time you learned the book facts of my fighting style,” Master Elias said, no games, no humor—he was all serious. “This is Ginza Aggression Fighting Art. A rare form of combat taught to dragon and king basilisk arcanists from lands far from here.”

I held my stance, my breath half-held. “Really?” I whispered. “Wow.”

“This fighting style utilizes powerful hand and leg movements. Fast strikes.” Elias punched and then kicked to the side—a common form he taught me. “A master of this fighting art never relents. All strikes are fluid, and they build into the last. They are like a razor wind. Constant. Unforgiving. Dominating the foe by never allowing them to breathe.”

I clenched and unclenched my fists. “I… uh… I never really fought anyone, though? I’ve only practiced with you.”

“You’re ready now. You have the stances and forms engraved into your muscles. You should be able to perform them with little thought.”

That didn’t reassure me. “How am I supposed to be unrelenting? I don’t feel like razor wind.”

“That’s where your magic comes in.” Elias smiled. Then he dropped his hands and his stance. “A syrocko drake evokes fire. You will evoke this while you punch and kick. The flames and the heat will bother most opponents who aren’t familiar with your eldrin. You need to use this to your advantage.”

I tensed, readying myself to start.

Master Elias continued. “First, you will start with the striking stances I taught you. Punches. You want fire at the eyes of your opponent. You want to steal their sight, and make them afraid to get too close.” He held up a finger and pointed to the arcanist mark on his forehead. “Aim here. Most opponents will duck after.”

“That’s when I follow up with a kick,” I said, remembering our training. “To catch them when they’re off balance.”

“Excellent.” Master Elias actually sounded happy—which was rare. “But let’s start with the strike. You must visualize your magic flowing through you. Evocation is when the magic in your body takes physical form and leaves from your extremities.”

Master Elias resumed his stance. He punched forward, and a flash of fire lit up our impromptu training area. The blaze died off a moment later, but it was enough some nearby leaves and grass were charred.

“Now you try,” he said.

Wren scurried away from my feet. He stood a couple inches away from my left foot, his eyes wide. “You can do it, my arcanist!”

I rotated my shoulders and then readied my body. After a quick breath, where I visualized the fire, I slowly extended my arm. I was practicing the motion of the punch, but also trying to feel the flow of the magic in my veins.

It felt…

Tingly.

It was hard to describe. But it was pleasant. Warm. Powerful. It reminded me of Roux. It was then that I knew—I could do this. I had technically been an arcanist for years. Sure, I never used any kirin magic, because it was best used in conjunction with other eldrin, but magic wasn’t something new to me. I had been an arcanist for a long time.

With a smile, I brought my arm back and then punched as hard as I could. I visualized the fire in my arm, jetting outward after the blow.

A flash of embers left my fists, lighting up the area. It was much less than Master Elias, but that didn’t diminish my excitement. I dropped my stance, turned on my heel, and then smiled.

“Did you see that?”

Wren clapped his little clawed hands together. “You did it! I knew it! We’re amazing!”

Master Elias and Hyperion weren’t as jovial, though. My master just stared at me, a slight frown at the corners of his mouth. “Look, you can’t celebrate every little accomplishment or else we’ll never get anything done.”

“But it worked! You saw!” I jumped and spun all at the same time, too energized to stand still. “The first try!”

“Careful,” Roux warned me through out telepathic link. “Try to keep a low profile, my partner. We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention.”

I gulped down some air, my smile wide. Then I forced myself to stand still, even though a giggle was bubbling up in my chest. Maybe it wouldn’t take me too long to become the most powerful arcanist of them all!

“Yeah, yeah, wrap it up,” Master Elias said, rolling his eyes. He stomped over to me. “Get back in your stance, and do it again. I want to see fire aimed at my face, got it?”

“You want me to use fire on yourface?” I asked, baffled.

“As a syrocko drake, I have an innate ability—I’m immune to fire. You know this.”

I laughed, way louder than normal. I just couldn’t help it. I was giddy. “Oh, right! Yes. I remember.” I got back into my striking stance. “So, fire to your face?”

Master Elias stood in front of me, frowning deeper this time. He motioned to the arcanist mark again. “Just blast fire here a few times. Once you have it down, we’ll move on to the transition for your fighting. Understood?”

“Understood,” I said.

***

The Ginza Aggression Fighting Art.

No one in Morrumbi Town had heard of it. I asked everyone who would listen. Most people here weren’t arcanists, though. And they didn’t seem interested in talking about fighting. A few individuals told me there were schools for arcanists. Academic schools… and martial arts schools.

I wished I knew of the martial arts schools. Master Elias said they were scams run by swindlers who took in young arcanists and just taught them a few tricks with weapons and magic.

Master Elias was very confident that his fighting style was superior.

It made me curious. Was it reallystronger? Or was he just puffing himself up? Either way, it was the only fighting style I knew.

Ginza Aggression.

It sounded intimidating. And I practiced it for several days with Master Elias. I had to be unrelenting. Fire had to spew from my fists with each punch, and a blaze of heat needed to cover the arena with each kick.

I already knew all the stances and physical technique… now I just had to pair it with magic.

It was like learning to dance with music after having practiced without it for years. Everything felt a little off. But having the magic—just like having the music—made everything feel complete. Like I hadn’t been a whole fighter without it.

Master Elias never really fought me, though. We had fake match after fake match.

In just a few days, we’d be in our first tournament fight, though…

And then I’d get to test my skills for real.

***

The day finally arrived.

The first regional qualifier.

Master Elias and Hyperion went ahead to the tent to sign us up. Apparently, the bouts would take place over the next two days. Hundreds of arcanists signed up! That number alone surprised me. How many arcanists were in the world? In my imagination, there was like… twelve. But Master Elias said there were thousands.

It was hard to comprehend. I tried not to think about it.

As I dressed and readied myself for the fight, Wren crowded my feet. Roux remained in contact with me from outside. She didn’t like the horse stables. I didn’t blame her.

“It smells of feces,” she complained, her telepathic voice projecting her nose scrunched. “The horse kept smelling me in odd places. It took all of my willpower not to kick them away.”

“I’ll come down and wash you before the fight,” I replied. “Master Elias said I have to put down I’m a kirin arcanist for us to be registered, remember? So maybe you don’t need to hide as much.”

“Thank you.” I could practically hear her relief in our mental communication.

Wren became so excited that he bit my boot to get my attention. I flinched and glanced down at him as I tightened my leather armor around my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“When is the time? When is the time?”

“Calm down. Remember what our master said? You don’t want to get caught up in the moment. We need to be in control at all times.”

Wren nodded his drake head hard—but only once. Then he stilled his body, tensing his muscles so that his scales flared outward. He looked buff for a moment, his eyes narrowed in a harsh glare.

“Like this?” he whispered, trying not to untense.

“Just do that when we face our opponents.” I leaned down and patted his head. “You’ll intimidate them, and that’s when I’ll go in with our razor wind strategy.”

“Perfect.” Wren exhaled and his whole body deflated a bit. “I can’t wait.”

I turned and headed for the door to my inn room, but I never reached it. The door slammed open while I was still halfway there. Master Elias barged into my room, shutting the door behind him as he entered.

His right eye was practically twitching, and his teeth were gritted and grinding loud enough to hear.

“Is something wrong?” I asked as I ran over to him.

“We couldn’t register,” Master Elias barked, his shouts spooking Wren.

My eldrin ran to my leg, his scales on end.

“Why not?” I stood my ground. “Are kirin arcanists not allow to join?”

“It’s not that. It’s…” Master Elias ran his hand down his face. After a quick breath, and moment of reflection, he slowly stated, “Normally, the Crown Tournament is a competition between single arcanists, or a team of two. I thought this year was a team of two… but I’m wrong.”

“We have to fight alone?” I asked, my voice low.

Master Elias shook his head. Then he glowered at me. “No. It’s worse than that. We need a full team of five.”

I absorbed the information for a long moment. Then I glanced around my empty room. “But… we don’t have a team of five?”

“Exactly,” Elias drawled. “That’s the problem.”