Wizard of Elements

by Calista Lambrechts

  We had a moment of silence, but Carlaylin’s expression soon turned solemn.

  “Come on. The sooner I sign up, the sooner we can get this over with.”

  I nodded and we made our way to the arena, which grew larger in sight as we approached it until it loomed above our heads like a giant, a god looking down at us during judgement day.

  We then carefully entered the arena through one of the arches and came across a nice, but simple, receptionist room, its comforting aura in contrast with that of the outside of the building.

  Two chairs stood at the walls, on the red carpeted flooring, with two sets of stairs at the end. One led down, the other one up.

  There was only one single wooden desk located against a wall near the entrance. A single man sat at that desk and jotted a few things down on some random piece of paper.

  He didn’t notice us at first, but I can tell that he didn’t look very welcoming. I pulled my hood down. Carlaylin and I exchanged glances and gave a single nod.

  Carlaylin cracked her knuckles and approached the man sitting silently at the table.

  “Where do we sign up for battle?”

  The man looked up and adjusted his pair of glasses.

  “Ah.” He gave smile and grasped his hands together. He shot me a look.

  “I see the boy is courageous enough to give his life for the entertainment of others.”

  Carlaylin shook her head and leaned in closer, both her palms pressing down on the edge of the counter.

  “No. I wish to participate.”

  The man bore an expression of surprise and raised an eyebrow.

  “You?” He pointed his quill at her. “But you are just a woman.”

  Carlaylin pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes into a portentous glare.

  “So?”

  “This is preposterous!”

  “I said: Sign. Me. Up.” She hammered her words with staccato precision. I could see that she tried her best to stay calm, but still bit some anger in between her teeth as she said it.

  “I am sorry, but I will not allow this.”

  He had forced Carlaylin’s hand and driven her to take desperate measures. She grabbed him by the front of his shirt’s collar and pulled him closer with such force, nose almost touching nose, her lip curled back into a deadly snarl.

  “I am not to be played with. I demand you to hand me that quill and the bloody sign up sheet or I swear I will test my skill on you.”

  The now terrified man shakily agreed and slid a piece of parchment forward.

  Carlaylin snatched the quill from his hands and signed her initials and detail, sliding it back to him when finished. The man took his time to study the papers, stroking his chin as he scanned it.

  “Hmm… what an-”

  Carlaylin rolled her eyes.

  “Unusual surname? Yes, I have heard that many times before.”

  The man finally managed to calm down and said, “Go down to the lower levels and to the training grounds. There you must speak with Jamaar. He will give you all the instructions you require.”

  Carlaylin nodded hastily and swung around, patting me on the shoulder as she passed me by, on her way to the lower levels. She kept close to the walls to help her balance.

  Just as I gave step forward, the man cleared his throat, attracting my attention. I turned to face him.

  “No spectators allowed in the lower levels, only combatants. It is strictly forbidden and not to mention against the rules. Instead you may take the stairs to the VIP skybox since you are an accomplice to one of our combatants.”

  I frowned and made my way to the stairs, but the man stopped me once again. I was starting to get quite fed up with this.

  “Firstly, I suggest you may want to pay.” I lividly clenched my fists and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer just as Carlaylin did.

  “I have a hidden dagger in my sleeve and I am not afraid to use it.”

  The man’s eyes widened with fear. He instantly nodded fearfully and told me that I may go without any charges. I let him down.

  “Thanks,” I said bitterly and walked up the staircase without looking back. I had already wasted enough of my breath on him. Though, who knew pretending to be armed could be so useful?

  Once I was up on the skybox, I noticed it to be occupied by a small amount of people dressed in formal clothing many citizens could not afford to wear. I guess this to be the ‘main seats’ of the arena where all the spectators of rich families spend their time observing the fight from this magnificent few whilst all the others sat in rows below us. The arena within was just as great as it was on the outside and did not fail to disappoint. The view I had was close to amazing.

  I saw another large skybox, more or less similar to this one, on the other side of the arena, but that one was part of a dark tower, which was connected to the arena itself. On the other parts sideways of the skybox, stood ba wide diversity of people cheering and clapping, just eager to see who gets killed next, but I, on the other hand, felt a touch of concern for all who enter through those gates.

  As my gaze scanned my surroundings, I noted a man lying quietly on his arms on the small round wooden table, not even moving a muscle. A bottle of old wine stood in front of him, half full. I raised an eyebrow and walked closer, tapping the man on his shoulder, asking, “Uh, sir?”

  Immediately, the man sat up straight and shot me a hateful look.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, just checking.” The man clucked his tongue, took another sip and fell back onto his arms.

  I walked across the platform and stood near the railing, peering down to the oval battlegrounds bellow.

  The surface was of natural grey earthly ground, but there were signs of previous battles and losses with weaponry strewn about and bloodstains yet to be cleaned up.

  I took another look at the platform opposite of ours.

  A man emerged from the entrance and appeared into sight, the crowd enhancing their rate of cheers. Their voices drilled at my ears.

  He was a portly man, wearing the finest clothes I have ever seen. He was a man for fine taste with all his rhinestones and decoration and fine and elegant and eccentric design in clothing.

  He raised his hands and the crowds died down. I tried to figure out who he was, but as soon as he started speaking, I knew it had to be the governor of Morrowburg. He was none other than Maxus du Perron himself. I must say that I felt something off about it, something not quite right. I didn’t like the sight of him. Just looking at him gave me a sense of deep loathing toward him.

  He made his announcements and let the crowd bask on his own prideful glory, but I didn’t fall for it. However, my eyes did caught something shining with a bright light, placed on a small stone pedestal next to him. It could only be one thing: the Star of Hallos.

  But I couldn’t make out the details from this far away.

  “My citizens!” he bellowed, his voice echoing.

  I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what I was about to see.

  “It is a great honour you could be here to witness battles you have never seen before! You will see deaths and survivors, all in attempt for the prize none could ever succeed in claiming before! I wish them all a fair and worthy fight and death. I will now introduce to you our first competitors!”

  CHAPTER 30

  HESITANT BORN KILLING MACHINE

  CARLAYLIN

  It wasn’t long before I reached the training grounds, a space indoors, the place where each combatant takes their last breath.

  It was rather occupied by a wide variety of combatants, training on several wooden figures and dummies, all doing it in their own unique way, practising their own strategies.

  I walked pass by and studied the area as I moved on, watching myself for any swinging swords or axes, even a shooting arrow or two. I felt so small amongst them all, but had no time to worry. Instead I saw a man with coloured skin standing on the oth
er side of the grounds. His head was shaved and he wore dark brown copper armour, shouting at these who made mistakes.

  I slowly approached the man with caution, yet my head held high and shoulders pulled back. As I came closer he focused his gaze on me and glowered. He did not look approachable at all.

  “What’s dis?” The man had a deep voice, a tone relying heavily upon his African accent. I knew that this man could be no other than Jamaar, the quartermaster. My expression turned solemn as I faced, staring straight into his detestable eyes, subconsciously telling him that I wasn’t afraid…

  “I am here to participate in battle.”

  Jamaar snorted, doubting me like all the rest, even though I wasn’t the only girl in here…

  “Fresh meat den, eh?” He leaned in closer to study me. “You won’t even last da first challenge. You might as well leave now and never return.” I clenched my fists in rage. Doubting and denying me might just be the greatest mistake of his miserable life.

  “Try me. When I say I come here to fight, I will fight!” Jamaar folded his arms and raised his head, his gaze still focused on me.

  “You are persistent. I like dat. Perhaps I can give ya one chance, but only one. But don’t tink I will be da one to clean up after your remains after battle.” I gave a smile of satisfaction.

  “Good. When do I start?”

  I gave a step towards the arena gates he was guarding, but he stopped me in my tracks.

  “Not so fast.” I gave an impatient sigh and rolled my eyes, tapping my foot restlessly on the ground.

  “What now?”

  “Light armour or heavy?” I took a moment to quickly think this through.

  “Give me the light.” Jmaar grabbed some armour and threw it atme. Luckily, I caught it, but the sudden weight made me stumble.

  “Your funeral. Anyway, you may use any weapon you like, but no magic if you are able to. Da rules are simple. Kill your opponent before dey kill you. You may take dah spoils. As you kill more opponents we will give you a change and rise in rank until you reach da rank of warrior where you will face your final trial – where you face de champion.”

  Jamaar pointed at the armour in my arms.

  “As you can see, you are fighting for the red team. The other colours will be your enemy.”

  I shot a look at the armour and narrowed my eyes.

  “What about blue?”

  “You are RED! No questions asked!”

  “Fine, suit yourself.”

  I left and studied the armour as I did. It looked similar to my red team companions’. After I found a private spot, I equipped the armour that almost looked more like a short red dress with a dark metal carcase, but I can’t lie that I looked really good in them.

  I made my way back to the big-and-meaty Jamaar to start my first challenge. The sooner I started, the sooner I’d get it over with.

  But before I knew it, Jamaar tossed me a shield, quite a heavy one in fact, but I managed to catch it, though not without a grunt and a huff.

  “What’s this for?”

  “What do ya think?” I snorted and held it out for him to take back.

  “I don’t think I’ll need this.” Jamaar scowled at me and unfolded his arms just to shove me ahead and through the gates, to the corridor of exquisite red rug.

  “Move it!”

  “Fine! Sheesh.”

  I walked up the fairly wide corridor of red carpet, blood if you ask me. For some reason I was feeling less assured all of a sudden, but turning back now wouldn’t solve anything. My legs were getting better by the second, driven to heal by my sheer willpower, or so I thought. The heavy shield didn’t help much. I was starting to doubt myself.

  You’re aiming on fighting, in this state? Carlaylin… They’re right. You’re absolutely mad!

  I took a deep breath and opened the door and exited into the abrupt cold temperatures, weather and discomfort. The frigid wind sliced through my clothes and left my with goosebumps. My wounds ached and my scars turned purple.

  Crowds cheered and went absolutely mad. I walked down the passageway, feeling light drops of rain caressing my bare skin.

  Somehow I didn’t feel protected enough.

  Probably because I wasn’t.

  Light armour… idiot!

  Was plan B still an option?

  I made my way up the stone corridor, trying to keep my courage and withdrew my sword with trembling hands. I swallowed as I approached a large metal gate situated in front of me. I could hear the speaker announcing the battle in a deep voice that echoed throughout the whole arena, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. It was but only a disembodied voice to me, ready to send me to judgement day.

  I felt like I was being tested. I felt like a pet. I felt like an experiment. I felt chained, like I was little more than a guinea pig for the entertainment of others.

  It was a hollow, empty feeling.

  I saw as the arena grounds stretched out in front of me. It was somewhat oval shaped with a single circular stony platform indicating the middle of the fighting grounds. Steep walls rose up until reaching the seats where numerous spectators sat and cheered.

  A coliseum.

  What looked like a dark tower rose up in front of me where my opponent would be exiting at. I saw a balcony with a slightly overweighed man standing and staring out across the whole arena. I think he must’ve gone all out on the creampuffs, but looked rather fit and positive.

  He must be that idiot of a governor who took one of Ysellian’s most powerful artefacts and turned it into a prize, using it for his own pleasure and perseverance. It looked like a good spot to check things out though.

  I saw my competitor approaching the circle the soon as her gate opened. My heart thumped against my chest, hammering at my ears. My legs felt frail. I had never been so panicked in my entire life. It was hell. It just felt like I couldn’t. I swallowed what seemed to be a marble.

  To be honest, I actually envied her spot on the blue team.

  Anyway, after her introduction, my gate slowly opened, sliding down into the earth. I didn’t pay much attention to the announcer’s words. I was too much in thought of my worries and possible failures.

  Okay, I can’t lose this otherwise I’ll not be able to perform my task to retrieve the star. Probably because I’ll be dead at the end.

  I stepped beyond the lowered gate and nervously entered the battlegrounds. I walked until I met my opponent face to face. We stood so close that the tip of our noses almost touched. I could see her brown eyes as it pierced through me, trying to read my movements and techniques. Vapour left our mouths.

  I gulped, but managed to say, “Uh, good luck?”

  “Thanks. I’ll be sure to use it.” I could hear the hatred in her voice.

  “May the battle commence!” announced the presenter.

  Instantly, my competitor withdrew her sword and gave a sudden strike, but I gave way and managed an attack of my own, but was blocked off by a parry. She pushed me back with such a force that I stumbled back. Immediately thereafter she swung at me again and I leapt out of the way. She swung repeatedly in hope of finishing me off the soonest she most possibly could, but I managed to get out of the way of that sharp blade of hers. I wasn’t so keen on being shredded anytime soon…

  I blocked with my shield every time as she struck, battle cries and grunts mercilessly drilling at my ears with every hit. My feet were sent shuffling back.

  I couldn’t get the chance to strike back as she didn’t give me a break.

  Absentmindedly, her strikes let me move backwards with every single blow I took.

  Something told me that she wasn’t exactly fond of me…

  She’s going to kill me…

  As we approached my end of the arena, my back hit the gates, now raised, keeping us locked in. I took a quick step to the left and heard metal clash on metal as her sword hit the gate’s bars.

  I’m going to die.

>   I took action and kicked her, letting her stumble backwards.

  What did you get yourself into?

  This was my chance. I took it. I landed a few blows to her as a form of good payback. I violently swung my sword and fended her off as our swords hit. As she came in too close and her sword struck my shield, I gave one dynamic push forward and the shield sent her falling back. I was breathless.

  She hit the hardened soil, flat on her back. I pressed the tip of my sword to her throat in relief that I had managed to make it this far, but I just couldn’t bring myself to kill her. It just… wasn’t me.

  Couldn’t they just call it a win?

  I could see nothing but a glint of absolute trepidation flashing across her eyes. Her durability had gone, far gone, and left nothing but a pleading victim at the mercy of my blade.

  Kill her? I can’t… kill her? I’m not a killer. I’ll never be a killer.

  The crowd called out that I should end her life and drove me closer to giving in. I knew I couldn’t linger, for she would most surely end my life in just the blink of an eye, yet again, I just couldn’t.

  You can’t expect me to-

  The cheering and curses of the masses only grew louder and yanked me from my own chain of thoughts. It drove me from my morals, all that I knew and believed in and drove me closer to doing something I would regret for the rest of my life. I tried fighting, but their roars were too loud.

  Make it stop… Make it stop!

  My throat was dry and I felt like breaking.

  Shut up!

  I bit down on my teeth, closing my eyes tight.

  SHUT UP!

  The roaring voices of the crowds only grew and shook my whole word.

  I felt as my blade cut through skin, pierced bone and slid through. My blade went in deeper and deeper until it penetrated the ground.

  I gasped and instantly opened my eyes in a flurry. I couldn’t control my breathing.

  What…?

  Stains of dark red crimson stained my blade and no more than the woman’s blank eyes stared back at me from where she lay in the pools of her own blood.