The Xenoworld Saga Box Set

by Kyle West

  Amalia closed her eyes, her honey brown hair falling past her shoulders. She was a beautiful woman, and every eye seemed to be on her. I wondered what she was doing, just standing like that. As the seconds passed, she seemed to become calmer, more still, more focused. As her breaths slowed, I realized that somehow she was recovering her strength. Garin seemed to notice, too. He snarled, and the outburst surprised me, given how calm and serene he always was during lessons.

  He charged forward, assuming Flameform once again, hoping his wanton aggression would completely break Amalia. He held nothing back, swinging wide and going straight for Amalia’s abdomen, still exposed.

  But Amalia opened her eyes and stepped back at just the right moment, Garin’s blade missing her by inches. Even as it passed, she stepped forward, scraping her blade on Garin’s side while holding it behind her. Leveraging her entire body and digging her feet in the turf, she swung the blade, the force of which threw Garin to the ground. Had it been a real blade, I had no doubt the move would have rent him completely in half.

  Garin blinked, as if not believing what had happened. Amalia’s expression seemed to say the opposite. To her, the outcome had been inevitable.

  She reached a hand to help him up. Despite the bruise already welling up on his side, he smiled and congratulated her.

  “And that’s why I think Amalia is the greatest Champion of the Order.”

  Isaru had spoken, and I didn’t realize he was beside me because I was so focused on the fight.

  “I hadn’t seen her fight until now,” I said. “I didn’t recognize any of the forms she was using.”

  “She was only using one, until she switched to Tree,” Isaru said. “Waterform.”

  “I don’t know that one, yet.”

  “None of us do. It’s hard to master. I’m still trying not to be horrible at Tree.”

  Hearing Isaru say that made me feel a lot better, although I suspected was trying to make me think he wasn’t as good as he actually was.

  “What forms do you know?” I asked.

  Isaru shrugged. “A little of this, a little of that...”

  I smiled. “All right. Be that way.”

  “You don’t think I’d give my secrets to the competition, do you?”

  “Maybe I don’t think it will matter.”

  Isaru raised an eyebrow. “Confident, are we?”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Well, you’ll need it.”

  “Maybe we can see who’s the stronger right now.”

  Isaru waved that notion away. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ll wait until tomorrow, when the eyes of hundreds are on us.”

  That many people watching and judging me made me a little nervous, but I remembered why I was doing this in the first place. It wasn’t for glory, as with every other initiate. I needed to learn how to fight if I was to ever enact my plan of returning to Colonia to find my parents.

  At some point, Isaru and Fiona would need to be let in on that plan, but for now, I wasn’t confident in my abilities. If I could win the Initiates’ Crown, though, it might be enough to convince them both.

  THAT NIGHT, MY RESTLESSNESS caused me to get up and head for the walls. I had made it halfway around the ramparts when I saw a shape swoop overhead.

  I hid within the shadow of a tower, realizing that it had to be a dragon. I didn’t think it saw me — either that, or it hadn’t been interested in me.

  I watched as the dragon circled around and glided down toward the northern wall, where it perched on two crenellations. I squinted my eyes, seeing that there was a shadowed figure facing the Radaska.

  The person, I realized, had to be Isaru, and the dragon had to be Jorla. Being there, I felt as if I was infringing, but for some reason, I couldn’t make myself walk away. Instead, I watched. After a minute, Isaru climbed on Jorla’s back. I ducked low in case they came back my way, but thankfully, they headed north toward the river.

  I stood, watching Jorla’s form get smaller against the star-filled sky. If Isaru was ever caught doing this, he would be in serious trouble. I continued walking until I reached the northern wall, until both were lost to the night. Where could they be going?

  It was a question I would have to save for later.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHEN ISA AND I WENT down to breakfast together, the anticipation of the day’s events was palpable. The Great Hall was filled with an excited buzz, and was much louder than usual. The Festival would start this afternoon, and would even go on into the night.

  It didn’t start until the afternoon, so I still had to go through my morning lessons. I was glad to get instruction from Seeker Garin, and I practiced my dueling with Isaru, Samal, and Ret. I got the feeling all of them were not showing their true strength — Isaru most of all. Samal, while he dueled, wore a superior smirk that said that he fully expected to beat me because I was a girl. Ret seemed to take me seriously, but like the others, he seemed to be holding back, only sticking to basic Treeform sequences.

  Seeker Haris had us practice our writing by transposing some new texts. He had us working at such a pace that I was worried he’d ruin my wrist. My penmanship was decent, but it was nowhere near Isaru’s in quality. With the anticipation of the festival, I found slaving for Haris wasn’t as bad as usual. He seemed to be particularly spiteful, as if it were his mission to make a great day as bad as possible, but even that didn’t sully our spirits.

  When the bell rang, he instructed us to continue working well into lunch. When he finally allowed us to leave, he smiled in victory.

  It was only when we reached the Great Hall that anyone said anything.

  “Gods, I hate him,” Samal said.

  “Have you heard that he’s in the Seekers’ Tournament?” Isaru chuckled. “I hope he gets clobbered.”

  “Me, too,” Samal said. “There’s no way he wins. Someone has to hand him his...”

  Both Elders Draeus and Aurelius walked by, cutting Samal short.

  We sat at the table, eating a hearty meal of roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables before busing our plates. All initiates were required to stay after and clean, that way everyone could leave the Sanctum in a timely manner. All that was done in a half hour, and before we knew it, there were just a couple of hours left until the festival was slated to start.

  With the extra time, Isa and I decided to go out and practice in the Grove while the boys went off to do their own practice. She’d agreed to be my training partner that day since Aela was busy with her own preparations.

  We didn’t do anything too grueling. I practiced Flameform sequences, finding that they came much more naturally today.

  Isa watched me, seeming impressed. “And you said you just learned Flameform yesterday? Gods, you’re better than me!”

  “Aela has practiced with me a lot.”

  “Even so...” Isa shook her head. “I’m impressed.”

  For some reason, I felt as if my quick learning of Flameform wasn’t just due to talent. As Isandru had predicted, was this Anna coming back?

  I pushed the thought out of mind. “Let’s go again.”

  We dueled, purposefully going slow to conserve my strength as well as perfect my form. Like anyone who has been in the Sanctum for long, Isa was strong and fit, a requirement of every initiate and apprentice, no matter what Sect they aspired to. Even if Isa wanted to be a Scholar, she was still very capable of holding her own.

  And then, everything just started to flow for me. Before I knew what I was doing, I wasn’t even thinking about the movements. It seemed as if I were gliding, that no matter what I did, it was the right move. Isa broke into a sweat, starting to fight back harder. Even so, I could see how I’d best her in just a few more moves.

  Suddenly, she broke away, lowering her sword. “What are you doing? I thought we were going easy!”

  I blinked, and like that, the spell was snapped, and reality returned. Everything returned to normal speed — I became aware of the bright sunshine, the
warm air, the wind through the trees.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Your Flameform was perfect,” Isa said, looking at me as if she were seeing another person. “It’s like you’ve been training for years.”

  My cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “I don’t know what to say. Aela is a good teacher.”

  Isa, thankfully, seemed ready to drop the subject. “Whatever the case, you should do well in the tournament. Are you sure you don’t want to enroll with the apprentices?”

  She’s said it as a joke, but something in her tone told me she was serious.

  “You really think I could take them?”

  “Some, definitely. You couldn’t beat Aela, or maybe some of the others. It would at least give you a challenge.”

  “Sounds like I have nothing to be afraid of, then.”

  Now that I thought about it, it was rather strange that my Flameform had been so effortless. I shouldn’t have been this proficient at it. The thought that I wasn’t the one who was fighting returned to me, and it wasn’t at all comforting.

  “Are you all right?”

  I made myself nod. “Yeah. I just got cold, all of a sudden.”

  Isa laughed. “It’s warm outside. You’re acting very strangely.”

  I forced myself to smile. “Sorry.”

  “Let’s try again.”

  “You still want to keep going?”

  “I’m just getting warmed up.”

  We kept practicing, but I couldn’t get into the flow like I had before. Maybe I was thinking about it too much. The majority of the time, I scored a hit on Isa, but there were times where she got me.

  After a time, we went inside to prepare for heading down to Nava Village.

  I MADE SURE I WAS WEARING a clean initiate’s robe before joining the stream of people heading down the path. The village below was laid out, and on its central green was a ring of tarps and tents. Even with the distance, I could smell meat cooking and the sounds of laughter and the jangle of guitars, flutes, and drums.

  By the time the road evened out and we were entering the village, it was clear it wasn’t just the villagers who were putting on the celebration. There were farmers and homesteaders from miles around. There was cooking, eating, dancing, and games. The Sanctum-dwellers filtered among the crowd, going from tent to tent and game to game, smiles already stretching across their faces.

  It was a little strange losing myself within the crowd. The Spring Festival was something that happened in most places across the Red Wild, and something like it even happened in Colonia, although a bit earlier in the year. At least as far as Colonia went, it had grown out of a need to beseech Annara for a good crop, and that was the source of the surreal feeling. No matter where I went, or how hard I tried, I couldn’t not be reminded of Anna. She permeated every facet of Elekai culture, and was completely unavoidable. And I couldn’t just shut my eyes, because I was constantly reminded of it internally, too. Whether it was strange thoughts forming, excelling at a sword form I’d only known for a day, or dreams and memories returning — I couldn’t avoid who I was and why I was placed here. It was so overwhelming that all I could feel was numb. Even if it had only been a couple of months, coming to grips with the past seemed impossible, even if the reminders were incessant. I always felt balanced between accepting it, and denying it.

  It helped to think of Annara as a different person — a non-entity, almost. I still found myself thinking of the gods as real, until I remembered that they had just been people once. And for that matter, I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure I truly was Anna. In my mind, that still needed further confirmation. I would hold on to any hope I could.

  The initiates’ duels were first — the Seekers were the real show, and as such were saved for last. The apprentices would fight in between.

  I went to find Apprentice Martin, who would be officiating the initiates’ matches. I found him easily, as his tall, lanky form made him visible in a crowd halfway across the green. I noticed that a crowd was clamoring around him, and as I neared, I saw that there were the initiates who had all enrolled to fight. There were eight in all, and among them I was the only girl.

  “Right,” Martin called out. “I believe we’re all here. Each bout is a best of one. Each of the four beginning matches will be determined by random draw. There will be three rounds of fighting, given that there are eight initiates.” He nodded. “May the best man...” He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at me. “Err...or woman...be crowned.”

  The initiates crowded around eagerly as he held up a sack containing the assignments. I drew last, picking up a wooden chit that had the number one carved into it.

  “Does that mean I’m going first?”

  Samal sidled up to me with a chuckle. “Looks like you’ll be up against me. That’s perfect; I need someone to warm-up on.”

  “Really? I was thinking the same thing.”

  Isaru, who was nearby, chuckled at that.

  “We’ll see, darling,” Samal said. “I was hoping it would be you. I’ve got some special things planned.”

  “So do I.”

  Presently, the field cleared and a roped-in enclosure, roughly circular, provided the field of play. If I had to guess, it was perhaps fifty paces across. The dueling swords were already in place, encased in stands on either side of the ring. The field grew more crowded as people made their way toward the ring, wanting to catch a sight of the first bout.

  I stepped over the rope and headed for one end of the ring. Both swords would be identical, so it didn’t matter which I chose. The sun was still high enough so as not to matter, though by the time the initiates’ matches were over, the sun’s position would matter. Bouts, at least among initiates, typically didn’t last long, which was why there was only one ring dedicated to them. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that two other dueling rings were being set up, which would allow the fights to pass more quickly.

  Samal already stood at the other end of the ring, and had drawn his sword and was practicing a basic Treeform sequence with impeccable form. I felt a bit nervous; Samal was one of the most skilled initiates, and it was a toss-up between who was better: him, Isaru, Nabea, or Alaric. But if what Aela had told me was any indication, I had a good shot of beating him.

  Just then, I saw Aela across the ring. She gave me a single nod and thumbs up. Her face seemed to say: “You know what to do. Trust yourself.”

  I sighed, drawing the dueling blade from the stand outside the ring, giving a few testing swings. It was exactly the same size as the swords Aela and I had practiced with, and its weight felt familiar in my hand. The dull metal gleamed in the sunlight. It felt as if I had held it hundreds, and maybe even thousands, of times before.

  Was that my thought, or hers?

  I closed my eyes, seeking Silence. It came to me easily, despite my nerves, and I moved my blade to assume Treeform’s most basic stance: the blade held up in front at a forty-five-degree angle with both hands, blade pointed out. From this position, I could move either left or right efficiently. Calm settled into me, and I allowed my thoughts, my nervousness, to pass through my consciousness in a steady stream, until nothing was left but movement and awareness. I focused intently, never taking my gaze off Samal at the other end of the ring. He was also staring me down, and there was no gloating in his eyes, now. Despite his bravado, it seemed he respected my skill, and was going to take me seriously as an opponent. I was a little disappointed, but at the same time, it was all the more challenge to overcome.

  Martin approached the center of the ring, looking from Samal, and then to me.

  “You already know the rules of engagement,” he called. “One touch, to any part of the body, enough to be clearly seen by me. Clothes do not count. The strike has to leave no room for doubt. This bout will be a best of one. Do or die. If you are touched by your opponent’s blade, you are dead. If you step outside the rope, you are dead.” Martin paused. “Are the rules c
lear?”

  Samal and I both nodded to show our understanding.

  “The match begins when I lower my hand.”

  Martin raised his hand, keeping it there for several seconds. The wind blew, and the field was utterly silent. I had expected the crowd to be a bit rowdier, but I supposed there would be plenty of time for that.

  Suddenly, Martin lowered his hand, scurrying out of the way to give room for the fight.

  SAMAL WASTED NO TIME. He came forward, his posture strong and sure. I moved toward my right, holding the same form. We circled each other, mere feet apart, each refusing to make the first move.

  Then, Samal came at me with a testing cut. I easily parried while repositioning myself. He attacked again, and this time, his attack didn’t let up. I either blocked his attacks or stepped out of the way. After practicing with Aela, this was almost too easy. I didn’t even feel as if I was trying.

  Samal seemed to sense this, and he attacked with renewed vigor. I internally critiqued his stance, realizing that his posture was too aggressive for Treeform; he would have been better suited to Flame. He growled, backing away to take stock of his situation. From his tightened features and the beads of sweat coursing down his face, I could tell that he didn’t think I would be this much of a challenge. I was still calm and felt as if hadn’t exerted any effort at all. I wanted to look over at Aela, but I remembered what she had told me: when you are fighting, you always fight to win. There can be nothing else taking your attention.

  Samal switched his stance to Flameform. I remained in Tree, walking forward to let him break himself on my defenses. I knew if I became overly aggressive, I could neglect my defense, allowing the possibility for Samal to score a lucky hit.

  Samal came at me again, and this time, his attacks were furious, and I had to work harder to defend. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and I saw that he was throwing everything he had at me. Indeed, his attacks were powerful; he had a lot of strength, but Treeform was good at redirecting the energy of your opponent’s attacks, letting them go to waste. All I had to do was wait for him to tire, and then I could press my own attack.