Bloom waved her away, “No-no child, I couldn’t have told you that.”
“I could have sworn—” broke off Amelliea. In the distance they heard a wolf howl.
Bloom swallowed hard, and glanced behind them. They picked up their pace. By midday, they had reached the city gates. Two guards crossed their spears before the travelers, blocking their entrance.
“What brings you here?” asked one of the guards. He wore a brown uniform with a felt jacket for warmth.
“I have come to compete in the challenge,” said Amelliea without skipping a beat. She handed him the invitation.
The man carefully read the words on the parchment and looked at Amelliea with a sizing glance. He jutted his chin at Bloom. “And who is he?” he asked.
“Why, this is my father!” said Amelliea. “Surely you don’t expect me to travel alone? We have come a great way, and require food and lodging.”
The guards parted their weapons for them to pass. Bloom shot Amelliea an impressed glance.
“Take them to the inn,” said the guard to a young page who was standing nearby. The boy nodded and bowed first to the guard and then to Bloom and Amelliea.
“Right this way,” said the page. Like the guards, the boy was also dressed in a brown uniform, though it was of a different shade. As Amelliea and Bloom entered the Citrulene city, they immediately noticed that the majority of people had blond hair and brown eyes. In fact, Amelliea fit right in with the crowd, and the townspeople responded to her as though she were a local they had known all their lives. Only Bloom stood out from the rest, embodying a foreign appearance that actively drew the curious eyes of strangers. They followed the boy until they came to an inn that was called The Warriors Roost. A rooster with a sword and shield was carved on a wooden plaque above the entrance. The page left Bloom and Amelliea in the care of the innkeeper. The innkeeper was a short man with thinning hair and a welcoming smile. He showed his new guests to their rooms, and informed them that since Amelliea would be participating in the tournament, food and lodging was to be entirely free of charge for her and her father. The competition would take place in two days time, and warriors from many other regions had already filled up most of the rooms at the inn.
“You know, I once competed in a similar competition when I was about your age,” said Bloom, sitting down at one of the tables in the dining area. Amelliea took the seat across from him. The café was on the first floor of the inn.
“You are full of secrets!” exclaimed Amelliea. “Please, hold nothing back. You simply must tell me everything!”
Bloom twisted one end of his mustache, “It was a long time ago.”
“What was it called?”
“It was called the Determination Tournament,” said Bloom. A waitress came over to take their order, interrupting their conversation. After the woman wrote down what they wanted and moved away to the kitchens, Bloom looked about the café and shuddered.
“What is it, father?” asked Amelliea.
“I can’t help but wonder which of these warriors you will have to face.”
Amelliea looked around. They were not in the friendliest of company. Large men and a few stern women were scattered about the café, most of them sitting alone hunched over their food. They were all muscles and tan skin. Some of them had visible scars on their faces or hands.
“Do you think any of them have competed in this contest before?” asked Amelliea.
“I would assume so,” said Bloom.
Their food was brought to them, and no longer in the mood for talking, Bloom and Amelliea ate their meal in silence.
The next two days flew by like the pages of a great book captured by a swift breeze. In the rush of sightseeing and visits to the library, armory, and various art galleries, Amelliea and Bloom barely had time to recover from their journey. The Citrulene city was a place of noble architecture and curving cobbled streets. The people were known for their mastery of working with wood, and the buildings, gates, doors, and fences lacked no detail that could feasibly add to their perfection. There were wooden toys for sale in shops, finely carved music boxes, furniture, ornate carriages, and many other things for Amelliea and Bloom to curiously study. The crown jewel of the Citrulene city was the magnificent castle built into the side of a cliff on the north side of the mountain. The main body of the castle was stone, but the upper portions of the spires, towers, and rooftops were all made of wood. The stones at the base of the castle were rougher in texture, and they became smoother the higher they got to accentuate the illusion of height. The city was built atop a good sized mountain, and for this reason, the view was spectacular from every single window in the stone wall that securely hugged the entire city.
On the night before the tournament, Amelliea barely slept. Before it was light, she dressed in her gator robes, and fixed the burgundy armband around her left bicep. She wore the silver cap over her missing arm, so she could use it to attach her shield, and she fastened her weapons belt around her waist. Amelliea slung her shield across her back. She could hear Bloom stirring in the room next door. It appeared she was not the only one who had slept badly. Amelliea and Bloom ate a small breakfast, and headed out to the arena.
With a sense of unshakable déjà vu, Bloom walked his daughter to the giant stadium built not far from the main square of the Citrulene city. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they reached their destination. Amelliea and Bloom had made it in time to see the stadium open its many doors. Citizens poured into every entrance, first as a slow but steady trickle, and then as a raging river. Bloom and Amelliea were ushered inside, and taken to their seats in a special area designated for warriors only. From their seats, they would be able to clearly see the events taking place in the arena in precise detail.
“What advice do you have for me?” asked Amelliea, turning to her father.
“Advice?” he asked.
“Yes, you know, some super important advice that will help me in the coming competition?”
“Forget about the prize and focus on not getting killed,” said Bloom, remembering the wisdom his own master had given him long ago.
Amelliea made a face. There was the racing thunder of drums, and soon the competition was under way. The first pair of fighters were unevenly matched, and the larger man won with ease, knocking his competitor out cold within a few minutes by punching him in the jaw.
“Yikes,” whispered Amelliea.
Bloom only sighed beside her.
The larger man from the first fight won the next match also, and it looked like he was going to move on to the second half of the competition, and compete among the finalists, until he faced his third opponent who was an archer from the Finklefoot region. The slender Finklefoot huntsman easily defeated the previous victor by shooting enough arrows around the large man’s figure to pin him to a hefty wooden pinwheel that was one of the obstacles in the arena. The large man was mostly unharmed due to the flawless aim of the huntsman, and he complained loudly as he was rolled from the battlefield right on the wheel he was pinned to.
The Finklefoot warrior did not last through the next fight, and was defeated by a Hexitore Chemist who took the strength from his opponent’s limbs with a bubbling yellow potion. There were apparently no rules of any kind in the competition, and anyone who managed to incapacitate their opponent by any means was instantly pronounced victor. Some of the fighters were cruel, clearly aiming to harm one another, while other warriors were noble enough to win without maiming anyone. One by one the warriors fought each other. Those who had lost were relocated to another section of the stadium. They grumbled and justified their loss as they collected their belongings, and moved away, their shoulders sagging. Some of them nursed painful-looking wounds or sprains.
The seats around Bloom and Amelliea became more and more vacant as the competition progressed. Each time a fighter was announced, Amelliea’s stomach became tight, nervous that it would be her own name that was called. Finally, well over two hours into t
he competition, Amelliea was suddenly introduced. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it really be her turn? They called Amelliea the one-armed lady-warrior from the Sapphire region. Amelliea swallowed hard and stared at Bloom. “I’ve got this,” she said trying to console him. She smiled weakly. Bloom looked a little green. “Don’t help me no matter what happens,” she instructed her father, as she left the bleachers.
Amelliea was to fight a thick man from the Coalsmith region. The swordsman had won the two previous matches, and was eager to succeed in the third. If he won his third match, he would move on to fight among the finalists. He smirked when he saw that his new opponent was a young woman with a missing arm. His temples were soaked with sweat, and his brown beard jutted out a good ways beyond his chin.
Amelliea faced him, rolling back her shoulders and switching her weight from one foot to the other.
“I’m not going to take it easy on you, so don’t even dream of it!” warned the man as they squared off.
“Dido,” said Amelliea. She looked past the swordsman at the royal balcony, noticing for the first time that the Queen was watching the competition. Even from afar, the Queen reminded Amelliea of someone the girl could not exactly place.
“And—fight!” commanded the head judge.
The swordsman lunged forward aiming to cut Amelliea in half, but the girl hit his blade away with a powerful strike from the right. With a yell, she came slashing at him with rapid cuts making him back away. The man was taken by surprise at Amelliea’s level of skill, and it took him a minute to recover. He blocked and then swung at her neck, making Amelliea duck. Nimble and strong from all her recent training, Amelliea jumped toward him in a second fierce attack. Every time the man slashed at her, Amelliea easily deflected, matching her opponent’s pace with ease.
Up in the bleachers, Bloom jerked his shoulders this way and that, unwittingly shadow boxing alongside his daughter. His palms sweaty with nerves, he watched the events unfolding in the arena on the edge of his seat.
Amelliea blocked a strike with her shield, and came at her opponent with a fresh attack. She swooped her blade around the man’s sword, disarming him. His weapon slid away across the ground out of his reach. With a yell the man charged Amelliea with his bare hands. Amelliea dodged out of his way while simultaneously tripping him. He fell to his knees. Amelliea came up behind him and placed her blade on the back of his neck. She was instantly announced the winner. Cheers erupted from the massive audience as they thundered their admiration for their new favorite hero.
The swordsman was escorted from the arena, and a fresh fighter was announced and brought fourth to fight the girl. This time, it was a woman. Amelliea had seen her new opponent dine in the café. The woman was in her late twenties and she had fiery red hair. She wore brown leather armor over her back and shoulders that was imprinted with intricate patterns. The woman was armed with a whip, and was announced as a Citrulene Priestess. Her simple fitted robes were deep turquoise in color and covered the majority of her body.
The woman said nothing to Amelliea as they faced each other, and only stared at the girl with cold, grey eyes. Amelliea felt intimidated by the silence of the Priestess and the centered way the woman held herself. The command was given for the combat to begin, and the Priestess cracked her whip through the air. Amelliea tumbled out of the way and kept her distance, as the red-haired woman rushed to close the gap. She lashed out at Amelliea, catching her at the ankle. The whip wrapped several times around Amelliea’s leg. The Priestess yanked on the whip, toppling Amelliea to the ground and dragged the girl across the dirt. The crowd wailed in horror as the Priestess pulled Amelliea toward her. It seemed the end of the match was near, and the battle was about to be won by the red-haired woman. Suddenly, Amelliea cut through the whip with her sword and jumped to standing. The audience cheered for her recovery, obviously preferring her to the other woman. The Priestess lashed out again, and Amelliea dodged behind a pinwheel just in time to shield herself. The whip cut a deep hole in the pinwheel, sending woodchips flying in every direction.
“Don’t you hide from me like a lowly coward!” yelled the Priestess, as Amelliea darted from behind the pinwheel, sending it rolling the opposite direction to mislead her opponent. The woman cracked her whip at her side before sending it flying at Amelliea once more. Amelliea dove out of the way, rolling on the ground to avoid it, her sword still firmly in her hand. The whip left a gouge in the dirt where Amelliea had been only a moment before. The girl rose to standing and watched her opponent, her feet active and ready to move out of the way. The next time the whip came at her, Amelliea slashed at it with her sword before it could rap around any part of her body. Again and again she cut at the whip, reducing it in length with every strike until the weapon was rendered useless. The redheaded woman discarded the ruined whip and charged at Amelliea, who sheathed her sword to even out the odds. In the last one hundred days, Amelliea had come to prefer hand-to-hand combat to virtually any other form of fighting. It wasn’t but a minute more before Amelliea had pinned the Priestess face-first in the dirt. The audience exploded, and Amelliea was once again proclaimed the victor.
Amelliea felt warmed up and ready for her third fight. She tried to remain humble and avoid the pitfalls of becoming blinded by arrogance, a mistake she had seen other warriors succumb to, costing them the victory of the third round.
Her third opponent was a famous young Gatornamed Gareth Sorenson. As the youth walked into the arena, Amelliea noticed with unease that the band wrapped around the upper portion of his left arm was green in color. Not only did he outrank her, holding the highest possible position among all Gator warriors, but he entered the arena unarmed, signifying total confidence in his mastery. Amelliea took off her own weapons belt and cast it aside along with her silver shield. In this fight, having only one arm would in deed be a great disadvantage, yet she could not bring dishonor to her combat master by fighting an unarmed man with a sword.
They faced each other, and Amelliea tried to give Gareth the intimidating silent stare she had received from the Citrulene Priestess. They were commanded to fight, and the two of them moved together in perfect unison, preforming a complex series of steps. Gareth attacked, and Amelliea stepped out of the way and reversed the technique on her opponent. Gareth did a backflip and seamlessly moved into a different combination, aiming to kick Amelliea in the shin. Amelliea stepped on his toes, forcing his foot back to the ground and disabling the attack. Their arms and bodies moved so quickly around one another that all Amelliea could hear was the rustling of their matching uniforms and the shuffling of their shoes in the dirt. Amelliea did a cartwheel with no arms to deflect one of the Gator’s kicks, and he followed her, hot on her heels. She landed flawlessly and struck at his collarbone with an open hand. Gareth deflected, taking her balance. Amelliea slipped through his grasp and the battle continued. They rushed at each other, neither of them tiring. The shuffling of their feet steadily roused a cloud of dust around them, masking them from the eyes of their spectators. Abruptly, the movement ceased, and as the dust settled Amelliea appeared, standing over the famous Gator while securely holding the youth in an arm lock. The audience went wild, cheering in powerful unified bursts. “She defeated him single handedly!” yelled someone from the crowd.
Gareth Sorenson rose and approached Amelliea. After bowing to her, he humbly took off his green armband and offered it to the girl, trading it for her own. The fans went wild with applause, and Amelliea was pronounced victorious. She was directed back to the seating area that now contained only a handful of champions. Bloom smiled at her, and she matched his expression as she came to sit beside him once more.
“You see, what did I tell you?” she said.
“It’s not over just yet,” said Bloom, folding his arms across his chest and trying to force the grin from his face.
The matches continued until only eight warriors remained who had had each managed to win three consecutive battles. There was one fighter who was fiercer
than all the rest. He was a dark-haired man who had a vicious, animal-like method of fighting. He quickly beat each of his opponents, demonstrating unparalleled and unnecessary malice. His victims were helped from the arena and placed directly into the care of the healers. The final eight warriors were asked to return to the arena, and they quickly left their seats and filed into the ring one after the other.
The second half of the competition began, and the eight warriors were paired off. They would all be fighting simultaneously, forming an evenly spaced ring of action in the arena. Amelliea was paired with a warrior from the Diamondell region. The man wielded a glass-tipped spear and was dressed in the traditional red robes of his region. No stranger to handling an opponent wielding such a weapon, Amelliea moved in just as the first syllable of the fighting command left the lips of the head judge, utilizing the element of surprise. She pushed the sparkling spear aside and quickly moved beside the man, knowing the spear was no good at close range. He instinctively tried to follow her, but Amelliea anticipated his motion and spun around behind him keeping well out of the way of his weapon. She pulled on his left shoulder taking his balance and making him fall backwards. As he fell, the man swiped wildly at Amelliea with the glass spear, and there was a chiming sound as she blocked the strike with her shield. The fight was fierce, but it ended quickly when Amelliea managed to successfully neutralize her opponent by making him drop his spear and holding her blade to his chest.
It wasn’t long before Amelliea went up against her next opponent, and then the next. She felt luck was on her side as she succeeded one challenger after the other until only one unbeaten warrior remained for her to fight. It was the dark-haired man with the violence problem. The last of the other fighters were led away, leaving Amelliea and her menacing adversary the arena all for themselves. The audience went quiet.
“Amelliea Leonora Bravenheart, the one-armed lady-warrior from the Sapphire region, will now fight the four-time champion of this very competition, and none other than the Wolf Baron of the Citrulene region himself!” announced the head judge. The crowd went wild with hoots and applause as though the Barron was a local celebrity.
The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 28