“One day, maybe they won’t,” he said shortly.
She knew he didn’t believe that. Mages were tooprecious in Almuria. Every species was born a Mana-Holder but not all were born a mage and even less of them actually mastered an Element or Magick. The numbers grew less and less with every generation, so to kill a mage was a huge offense against the empire, even by the empire itself.
“If I could be so lucky.” He didn’t laugh or smile, and she knew he didn’t have much more energy for the conversation, so she dropped it. “We should probably get back to our beds before someone notices us missing.”
They quickly walked the trail that led through the thin forest behind the walls of the Capital that would lead them to the back gate. The usual pain she felt whenever she left the forest gripped her, it was one of the few places that she felt the most at home. Even if the only true home she had ever known was the carved walls of the palace. She’d lived her entire life in servitude, never knowing what was further than the woods they were currently leaving. Never knowing of the world beyond. Twenty-three years she had been forced to serve the royals and each one stretched like an eternity.
Shadows from the canopy above danced across the ground as their footsteps carried them closer to the circular walls of the city. Neither of them dared to pray for safety.
As usual, the first thing that made itself seen were the tops of the polished dragonstone pillars that ran all the way around the decorated capital city and the fortified walls between them. The smooth white structure rose above their heads as she admired the gold and silver accents that lined the edges of the architecture. No matter how many times she saw it, it always managed to take her breath away. Eltoria, the Kingdom of Light, with a capital city that held the finest artistic touch adorned over an immovable fortress. Sculptures of the gods sat between the pillars—a statue for each of the ten gods, carved to be a perfect reflection of its subject. She couldn’t see that far, but Ambrose knew the effigies continued around the city.
The two of them wound their way to the back wall, careful to stay covered by the shadows. It was always moments like these that Ambrose wished she could melt into those cool dark worlds and disappear the way only a shadow mage could. Maybe then, she could escape forever under thecover of them, finally having mastered the dark. Really, she would take any Element at this point. But she was nothing more than a Common Elemental. Unable to wield the full power of an Element and a failure in the eyes of the empire that coveted mages so highly. She would just have to keep waiting for that day to come…
The cool feel of the smooth stone broke her from her train of thought as they reached the wall and her fingers splayed across it. Heart pounding, she ran her hand, searching for it… careful not to make a sound… Almost… Almost… There!
She slipped her fingers into the crack that ran down the wall only reaching up to about her waist. When she crouched, a small gap opened up just big enough for someone to crawl through. She wasn’t sure how it had gotten there, let alone why it hadn’t been found in the years they’d been using it, but she was grateful for every morning they got to crawl through it. At any moment she could slip out of this crack and never come back. Using the trees for cover until she reached the Fae Forest and be gone forever. All the while, she knew it was a dream that could never be. It was impossible for anyone to run from the empire, yet it still gave her comfort to know it existed.
Throwing a quick glance and smile over her shoulder to make sure her brother was still trailing behind, she handed him her sword, and slipped through the crack and back into the inner part of the city. The other side of the wall burst to life in circular rows of markets and homes. To blend in, she had to be quick and decisive. Adym knew what to do, he’d get back to his post and was no longer any of her concern. She had to get back to the dormitories before anyone noticed she was gone.
The scent of fresh baked cinnamon buns curled through the air, filling her with an intoxicating aroma. Her stomach twisted painfully on itself as though to remind her that she hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. As if she needed a reminder.
The first rays of light began to lighten the sky and the colorless contours of elven fae and humans already bustling about the multi-story shops swarmed the streets as they prepared for the early morning. Wood groanedas shopkeepers swung doors open in anticipation of a new day. Voices greeted each other with an excitement that only came with the start of a fresh morning. The early dawn air was still warm as it caressed Ambrose’s skin and she took note of how hot it was so late into the season. The harvest months had truly been a gift and a curse from the gods this year.
She wound her way through the back alley twists and turns of the markets, admiring its different smells and the types of people that came out to open them. Careful to keep her head down so as not to be noticed. She enjoyed the soft hum the market produced as magickal beings roused themselves for the day. Using only the most isolated streets she could find, she soon found herself outside the gates to the palace. A nearby tree allowed her just enough coverage to hide and slipping behind it, she evaluated her situation. Scanning the entrance, she noticed two guards at their usual posts on opposite sides of the tall iron gate. Neither was paying any attention and she decided to take the opportunity while she had it. Creating a mental map to the servants’ dormitories, she calmed herself and closed her eyes.
Focus.In. Out. Breathe.
She focused her mana and the feeling it created in her body. Channeling it through each circuit so that it flowed evenly like a river inside her. She could practically hear the Grand Mage guiding her, telling her to visualize what she wanted her magick to do, as he had so many times. The air around her cracked and rippled as though made of water. Melting and swaying until it shook violently once… and stilled.
A grin slowly spread across her face as she looked down at her body—now rendered completely invisible—and mentally praised her accomplishment. She’d been working on this magick for weeks so she didn’t need to keep climbing the roof to get back into her bed chamber. Too terrified to even breathe she gathered herself and took a step. When she was sure her magick would hold, she locked in her concentration and walked towards the guards who were still engrossed in whatever conversation they’d been having—
“No way, you can’t be serious. Rowland has no magick and no other abilities other than his strength. It doesn’t matter if he’s undefeated, he won’t last five minutes when he enters the tournament!” The first guardwaved his hand in the air dismissively.
“He’s beaten every mage who’s challenged him in the arena and not a single fighter has been able to take him down. If anyone is going to become a Champion this year, it’s going to be him.” The second guard wasn’t backing down.
“That doesn’t mean jack shit. He won’t just be facing other warriors in battle, he’ll be facing monstersandmages. The tournament is designed to destroy a man like that,” the first guard replied, annoyed. “He’s older than the other Trial Champions, and while he might have the strength needed for the tournament, he doesn’t have the endurance or the stamina.”
Ambrose was now as close to the guards as she could be. Her heart threatened to rip itself from her chest and she willed herself to calm, reminding herself that her magick would fail with her intention.
Breathe. Focus. Breathe.
“With his strength it’ll be over before it starts, the gods won’t know what happened. He’ll be the first Champion. Watch.” The second guard pumped his chest and hit it with his gilded armored fist as though to enact Rowland’s inevitable victory.
Ambrose stepped lightly and knew they wouldn’t hear her footsteps over their conversation so she held her breath and slipped through the gate.
“No way! It won’t happen…” Whatever the guard said next trailed off and she couldn’t make out what they were saying anymore. Once she was far enough away she released her breath in silent celebration.
It worked! It actually worked!Weeks of practicing finally paid off. She made a mental note to tell Magnus when she had the chance.
As she entered the round, open courtyard, she immediately noticed why the guards had chosen their topic of conversation. Rowland stood in the center of the yard. A man that had become legend across the five kingdoms. A height that seemed impossible for any man to grow to, scarred from countless battles with now all dead opponents, with muscles that tensed and twitched as he watched his challenger through cold, black, silent eyes. A beast of a man that shocked everyone to know he was fully human. Standing taller than even the king, Ambrose would’ve thought he was ahalf giant if they weren’t just creatures of myth. Standing across from Rowland was a fighter she didn’t recognize but was no doubt one of the many warriors that had come from another kingdom for the eternal honor of becoming a Trial Champion.
The Immortal Trials came once every five years. Starting with the Champion’s Tournament, anyone was allowed to put their name down and become a Trial Champion, but once a name was given it couldn’t be taken back. Champions were fated and neither the crown, nor gods could interfere. The winner of the tournament would become a Champion and be allowed to attempt the full trials. If a Champion defeated all the trials, they’d be welcomed into Naenaros: the home kingdom of the royals and the gods and the Capital of the empire.
The only problem? No one had ever managed to win the tournament and become a Champion, let alone made it to the second trial.
That didn’t stop generations of fighters from flocking from all over the kingdoms to enter the trials to fight for a chance to be placed among the gods. Not even death could deter them from trying to get as close to Naenaros as they possibly could, knowing that even in failure, their names would be immortalized forever in history. Win or lose, it was an opportunity countless had died for.
The strange fighter was much smaller than Rowland but he didn’t let it deter him—at least not outwardly. Lowering himself into a crouching stance he shot himself at his opponent.
