AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The crowd appeared to collectively hold its breath when instead of trying to avoid Jorkal, Gavin ran straight for him. As if in slow motion, and with the seconds before the next zap counting down on the giant screens, we watched Gavin bending down as he rammed into his opponent. We thought he’d only meant to tackle him to the ground, but the boy straightened instead, picking up Jorkal and carrying him with one hand over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the ball tucked under his other arm.
Everyone shot to their feet, the deafening shouts drowning the warning beeps of the seconds ticking away.
Eight… Seven… Six…
Jorkal only managed to strike his rival in the back a couple of times before Gavin unshouldered him, slamming him on the ground with bruising force.
Five… Four…
“You want the ball?” Gavin asked while Jorkal tried to get back up.
Three… Two…
“Have it,” Gavin said, dropping the ball on him.
One.
The crowd went wild as the discharge—nearly double the voltage of a standard taser—coursed through Jorkal.
“What? You don’t want it?” Gavin asked tauntingly when his rival failed to respond, too busy writhing on the ground, his body shaken by spasms from the powerful electrical discharge. “Never mind then.”
The little shit picked up the ball under the approving roar of the crowd and of his grandfather. To my surprise, instead of scoring on the nearby pillar, Gavin threw the ball to his uncle Dheran. He gave his nephew a questioning look. With a single nod, Gavin confirmed for him to proceed. Smiling, Dheran walked up to the closest pillar and placed the ball on top with plenty of time left to turn around and fight back the Arthol teammate who had desperately tried to stop him but arrived too late.
Even though Gavin largely deserved the credit for this astounding first score, by giving the ball to his uncle to place it, he’d made it a team win, not a personal one. The crowd acknowledged it and chanted “Aldriss” instead of “Gavin” as he had clearly intended. My respect for the boy went up another notch.
As expected, they quickly placed the next few balls with lower scores to significantly reduce any hope the opposing team had of making a comeback. A part of me almost felt sorry for them. Clan Arthol was exponentially better than this. I couldn’t tell if fighting Gavin or his spectacular opening move had thrown them off their game, but they never recovered. I couldn’t even call it a massacre, it was so pathetic.
That many of their teammates got severely zapped on multiple occasions during that first round didn’t help. Anything beyond a tier six zap would do a serious number on anyone. And the Aldriss team had skillfully taken advantage of their opponents’ obsession with catching up with Gavin to throw them directly within range of the pillars moments before the blast went off while keeping themselves safely out of harm’s way.
In an effort to both mollify the restless crowd wanting more carnage and likely to further rub salt into the wound, Clan Aldriss ran high scores again on the last three balls, ending the match with a spectacular score of three thousand six hundred and twenty points to zero for Clan Arthol.
As the crowd roared its approval, a few voices among them started chanting Gavin’s name, quickly emulated by everyone else. Although he bowed his head graciously at the acclaim, I knew the boy well enough to see he wasn’t quite comfortable with it. His uncles, Dheran and Gorav, both walked up to him. Standing on either side, they each took one of his hands and raised them up in a victorious gesture, making the crowd go even wilder, while the rest of his team cheered them on.
“A remarkable young man,” Raylor Caldes said pensively. “Expect to hear this chant more and more often.”
The way he stated those words drew my attention. He held my gaze unwaveringly. While our families had their differences over the years, things coming to a head when his first born son attempted to murder Anton in his own home, Clan Leader Caldes had come a long way in supporting our vision for Braxia. He, too, was someone I had grown to know well enough to read his expression. And right now, his words held an undeniable underlying warning.
“Meaning?” I asked.
He shifted uneasily on the thick, burgundy cushion on top of the stone bench he and the others sat on. I could see his wheels spinning as he carefully chose his wording.
“There’s a reason behind this record attendance for a mere match of Beikor,” Raylor said. “There are growing talks among the clans that the boy would make an excellent Magnar once Ravik steps down.”
“Gavin shows no appetite for politics or ruling,” Krygor sternly argued.
“Probably because it was never an option before,” Raylor countered. “But things have changed. Until now, no hybrid had ever displayed such strength. He’s undefeated in the arena, whether in sports or duels. Some even suggest that he could defeat you, Ravik,” Raylor added while casting a glance at my father.
“People clearly have too much time on their hands that they should waste their energy on idle gossip,” my father said dismissively. “The pup is strong, fast, and very smart. But none of that trumps experience one can only acquire with time.”
Krygor grunted in agreement while slowly nodding. Although I also agreed with my father’s statement, it was the absence of a categorical denial that stuck with me. By this omission, my sire was acknowledging that Gavin could indeed beat him—not now, but in the not-too-distant future.
“All these gossips are of no consequence,” Mercy said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Like Krygor said, Gavin has no political ambitions, least of all to rule Braxia. He spent his entire life preparing for the day he would finally reunite with his soulmate, my niece Zharina, in the Western Quadrant. He’s counting the days until his twenty-first birthday so that he can join her father’s peacekeeping forces to be with her. No crown, no wealth, no promises of power will make him stray from this path.”
“Hmmm,” Boros replied, looking both pensive and dubious. “I guess time will tell.”
“Time will indeed tell,” I replied nonchalantly. “While I highly doubt Gavin covets the crown, I will meet head on any challenger, whoever they may be. Until then, I will not waste my energy on gossip and conjecture.”
Raylor opened his mouth to speak, but the impromptu arrival of a guard named Joron interrupted him.
