The Fate: Book 1: Tournament Wysteria

by Ko, John

  “Fighting?” The Half-Orc doesn’t turn around. Instead, he bends down and picks up some dirt. “I’m fine, I can still do what needs be done.” He rubs some dirt on his arm. “There, I’m fine now.”

  “Argh! I hate you,” she screams in frustration. Unbelievable!

  “ … The Perfect Draw, Stacy Iss!” the loudspeaker proclaims. A cute, shorthaired girl skips into the ring.

  Brother Monster brings his hands together in prayer and bows. With his uninjured arm, he makes a wide flourish and slowly pushes his palm forward as if pressing against the heaviest of doors. His injured arm remains in the prayer position. “Doubting Palm Style: One-handed Prayer.”

  Why now? Why pick now to fight? “Stop! Stop this right now!” But her cries are lost among the cheers.

  She buries her face in her arms. She feels the lightest of touches on her shoulder and when she looks up with reddened eyes, there is a chipmunk trying to pat her on the head with his little claws. A comforting hand clasps her other shoulder.

  “Have faith. He knows what he’s doing,” Sense says, “But still, let’s show him our support. Stacy’s small but she can pack a wallop. She’ll save her Perfect Draw until he proves she can’t beat him.”

  The tiny girl is vicious, purposefully focusing her blows at Monster’s injury. But she can’t break through the Disciple of the Doubting Palm, Master of Stilling the Flame’s defenses. All of them wince with every jarring movement, but in the end she is forced to use it. “Unleash Stasis: Perfect Draw,” she commands in a huff.

  By the time the Half-Orc lumbers over to the sidelines, Riser is so angry she thinks it best to ignore him. She doesn’t even want to look at him, but in the end she wraps her arms around him and squeezes so hard it would hurt a normal man. He feels solid as a rock. She buries her face into his chest until his robes are soaked. The Half-Orc raises his injured arm above his head to keep from being further injured, but doesn’t protest.

  It’s her turn now.

  If anyone asked the Daughter what she feared most, her answer would of course be nothing. But the true answer unfolds before her.

  Now, because of him, because of them, she can leave her fears behind. There’s no other option. She’s learned a lot from their time together; something more than just her physical training, something she’s been missing all this time. This time I will beat him. This time it’s more than just for me.

  “Take care of the Babo. I’ll take care of this,” Riser says as she strides into the ring.

  Inside the circle of light stands a dangerous boy. The past, too painful to think of, is all she can think of.

  Five Years Ago | After The Third Loss

  “Esper, it’s just one loss,” the curly haired girl says. ‘Everyone loses, even you.”

  No, I don’t! Young Esperanza wants to yell back but instead she just says, “Delores … please just leave me alone.”

  Delores is her closest friend and always has been. And even though she’s just trying to help, there’s nothing her friend can say to make Esperanza feel any better.

  She’s just lost for the third year in a row to the boy from Gregory’s House. The First Daughter not winning Silla’s Harvest Tourney is unheard of. Coming in second three years in a row is downright unacceptable.

  For the first loss, Esperanza had an excuse. Back then, she knew she didn’t work as hard as the others—she never had to. Her natural talent was always enough before.

  That is, until that first loss three years ago. The taste of defeat had been so bitter she was forced to learn from it. She finally understood why her mother called her lazy. For the entire year after, she outworked everyone and anyone around her.

  But when the second time came around, she lost yet again. As much as she felt shock and regret from the first defeat, she felt anger in the second.

  After the outrage subsided … somewhat, she once again asked her mother for guidance. Her mother told her that she was proud of how hard Esperanza had worked, but that sometimes even hard work isn’t enough—she needs to be better prepared. That year she took the Equipment Exam. That year she acquired Ehecthal, a katana wielded by Enyo herself, a true Weapon of Legend. A sword with the soul of a Beast; she couldn’t have hoped for more.

  But when this year rolled around, she lost again. She couldn’t even face her mother after this one.

  “Esper, everyone understands. Styles make fights. And no one sword is great enough to match six. Daisho’s on another level. Everybody knows it but you.”

  Esperanza shakes her head in denial. That’s not true, she thinks. I’m just doing something wrong. I need to try harder …

  She looks up at her best friend—always as tough and rugged as she is becoming. Delores is the second most popular Daughter of their generation. Delores has always been there for her. She’s the only one I can really trust and really talk to—the only one who truly understands.

  Young Esperanza gets up and says, “Whatever, I’ll beat him next year.”

  “How, by cheating?”

  What? “No, of course not. I’m going to figure out what I’m doing wrong and if I can’t I’ll … I’ll just try harder.”

  “That’s not enough.”

  “It is,” Esperanza says. “ I’m just missing something. I just don’t know what. But I’ll figure it out.”

  Her best friend throws her hands up in exasperation. “Just face it, he’s stronger. He’s just better. No matter how hard your work, he will work just as hard. You’ll never catch up.”

  Esperanza doesn’t understand. What’s wrong with Delores? Why is she being like this?

  “What’s wrong with you?” Esperanza says. “I’m the one who lost. Why are you acting like this?”

  “Come on, Esper, you know it and I know it. You’ll never beat Sixblades,” Delores says. “It’s just the way it is, just like you’re on another level from all the other girls. Why can’t you just accept it? We all had to.”

  “No, I’m going to beat him. Never has the First Daughter lost to a boy from Gregory’s House. And I’m going to make things right.”

  The friends sit in silence, neither understanding the other. Finally, Delores says, “If you had a secret, one you never told anyone, you’d tell me, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “So you’ve told me everything, right? It’s not like you have some deep dark secret you’re keeping from me …”

  Esperanza nods, wondering what her friend is talking about.

  “You can just tell me, you know?” Delores says, confusing Esperanza even more.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Esper. Everyone knows,” she says. “Ehecthal is the singing serpent. All of his previous wielders were Bladesingers, they all sang in battle, but you can’t sing.”

  “So?”

  “Just admit the truth; you can tell me. We’re best friends, right?” Delores asks. “I would never tell anybody. I just want to know how you did it. I want a Weapon of Legend, too.”

  “What? I know I can’t sing, that I can’t use Ehecthal the way his previous owners have. Is that what you want to hear?” Esperanza says, full of confusion and anger. “But I didn’t do anything except exactly what the examiner asked.”

  After a long moment of silence, her oldest friend says, “Fine. Be like that. I really thought we could tell each other anything …”

  That was the last time Esperanza talked to her friend. The next day, Delores finally took her Equipment Exam. She was caught cheating and expelled from Silla forever. As she was escorted to the borders of their homeland, she shouted, “It’s not fair. I just wanted a Weapon of Legend, too. Esperanza lied and got herself one. Everyone knows it. Just because her mother is High Priestess, she can get away with it …”

  Four Years Ago | After the Fourth Loss

  “Hello, First Daughter,” the annoying boy says to her after her fourth defeat. Esperanza knows him, but has never really talked to him before. He’s like the
great-great-grandson of Old Claw or something. The two of them are the only two males allowed within the borders of Silla.

  “Go away.” She wants to be alone right now.

  “That was a great match. Would you like to go a couple rounds against me?”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I said, go away,” she yells, reaching around for something to throw at the smiling boy. She finds a twig and hurls it in his direction.

  He ducks out of the way. “You got him to draw four of his swords. That is pretty good.”

  Esperanza finally looks up at the annoying kid. His smile is too big for his face. “I don’t care. Go away.”

  “Please spar with me?” he asks. “Sitting there is not going to make things any better.”

  She shakes her head and buries her face back between her knees.

  A long while later, the annoying kid asks, “I wonder why we have two eyes right next to each other.”

  Esperanza tries to ignore him. She doesn’t have the energy to listen to the babo things coming out of his mouth right now.

  “Would it not be better if we had one eye on the back of our head and one in front?” he asks. “That would be much more useful.”

  She wants to ignore him, but can’t. “Why are you still talking?”

  “Because I wish to fight you,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “Because I think it will do us good.”

  “If you want to fight someone, go fight Daisho,” she says.

  “I already did. Now I want to fight you.”

  Esperanza goes back to trying to ignore him.

  After another long while, the boy says, “I think I have figured it out … “

  “What?” Esperanza can’t help but ask.

  “We have two eyes up front because all that matters is what is ahead,” the kid muses aloud. “Being able to see what is behind us would be nice, but it is not worth splitting our focus.”

  Esperanza thinks long on his words. When she finally looks up, she’s not surprised to see that he’s still there. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll spar with you. If that’s what you really want.”

  “Daebak!” he says.

  Present

  “Esperanza, current First Daughter of Enyo, Wind Dancer of Ehecthal, I request this match be a formal Engagement of Silla.” The annoyingly gallant boy bows before her.

  By Enyo, I hate him. She bares her fangs. He knows I can’t refuse without looking the coward. “Very well, I accept.”

  Unlike every battle she’s been in until now, if she loses this time, she’ll have no choice but to submit to the victor, to become his student and he her master. Unthinkable!

  He actually has the audacity to smile. He really takes this whole Alcendor thing way too seriously. She studies her hated foe for the first time in four years. She can see why all her sisters are always talking about Daisho Sixblades. But to her, there’s absolutely nothing attractive about the boy.

  Fanned out across his back, he wears his six swords, all of them on a level with her own blade, but each as soulless as their master. As he bows, she spies a seventh strapped straight down the middle. That’s new and why is it so heavily wrapped?

  He notices her eyeing the new blade and says, “Forgive me should I draw that one.” I really, really hate him.

  The blacked-out auditorium murmurs with excitement as the Kings take the field. She draws Ehecthal and he draws Floe, a sword as cold as Ice. The horn blares.

  They clash in the middle. The crowd screams for more as their swords dim in and out of view. The clangs of their blows are the only way to keep up with the fury of their strikes.

  Twice the speed of the previous Criers—up, down, left, right, above and beyond—their selected blows start to whirlwind faster and faster. After a final exchange so fierce they’re each thrown back by the clash, they relent for the slightest of moments, only to dart forward with no respite, swords a blur like the wings of a pair hummingbirds vying for the same sweet nectar.

  “The level of your improvement stirs my heart,” he says between blows.

  She replies with a glare so fierce it would keep any ordinary man’s heart from beating.

  “I only do what I must,” Daisho Sixblades says. “Shall we end introductions and proceed to the next act?”

  Riser grunts her approval and lowers her sword. They slowly walk back to opposite sides of the ring.

  The Alcendor In-Training draws a second blade—in his left, one as cold as Ice, in his right, one blacker than its name, Night. Together they are the twin edges of NightFloe. They assume their stances once again. His form is perfection, but so is hers.

  Esperanza knows those blades all too well. Now is her best chance for victory—before they’re fully released. Daisho’s father left him six such weapons, all of them quasi-sixth ranked weapons, meaning they could cut even the incorporeal of a certain type. One Crier possessing more than one blade of such a rank is unheard of, and of course now he has seven. But Esperanza wields Ehecthal, a true sixth level blade.

  She charges and he waits. It’s her turn to lead. For every step she takes forward, he takes one back or to the side. When he takes two in an attempt to circle, Esperanza executes a pirouette so perfect it shames the battlefield for not being a proper stage with curtains and an orchestra to match.

  This is going nowhere. But she knows she cannot rush; a misstep here would add to his legend and mean an end of her own. There is no choice, however. For every second that passes, the twin edges of NightFloe grow in power.

  She pivots on her supporting leg and arches just out of range of his next blow. Floe comes for her and she drives it back with Ehecthal, pinning it to the ground. But Night returns, slicing at her from the shadows. She barely manages to greet the blade with her gauntlet. Before he can pull away, she tightens her grip around it and smiles at him, full-fanged. I got him now.

  But he returns her look with smiling eyes. When she follows his gaze, she realizes Ehecthal is trapped beneath his boot. No matter how hard she tugs, she cannot free her blade.

  “On one, shall we?” he asks.

  “Fine,” she growls.

  “One.” She releases his blade and he hers, the both of them leaping back and away. She activates her boots and dashes forward. He meets Ehecthal’s kiss with Shadow and Ice.

  “It really has been too long, Esperanza,” he tells her, his blades locked with hers. Their faces are inches apart. “I’ve missed you.”

  She answers him with a headbutt. He falls backwards, but as he does, he slices the blade called Night at her legs. Even as she leaps clear of the blow, she knows it’s too late. Esperanza watches Night cut at her shadow and cringes in pain.

  The boy from Gregory’s House picks up the shadow of her foot and feeds it to his dark blade. In some small way it takes away from her and adds to him. The difference is not noticeable yet, but …

  She charges, almost dragging her sword along the ground. When she gets within striking distance, she pulls the blade upward with all her might. Her cornered opponent has no choice but to block. The force of the blow lifts him up, and he lands with a loud thud. As he stands, he reveals another piece of her shadow in his grasp.

  When she looks down, she sees that only half of her shadow is left. Fail him. He blocked with just Floe and used the other to carve my shadow in two, she realizes. That’s enough for him to …

  “Release Night, Black Summon: Shadow Twin,” Daisho says, letting go of his dark blade. Before it hits the floor, his Shadow comes to life and grabs it mid-fall. The boy and his Shadow reach behind him as one, each drawing a new blade. The Shadow of Sixblades wields a flaming sword, one too hot for any mere mortal to wield. Daisho draws a shining sword, Sun’s Edge, and his Shadow grows darker, stronger.

  He’s already at four, and I’ve barely scratched him.

  A hush falls over the crowd as they marvel at the boy’s exquisite style. The cheering begins. “Sixblades!” Up until now, all they knew of Daisho Sixblades was that he was the
one chosen to replace Kase Shake himself as King. But now they are beginning to see just why.

  It’s not over yet. You can do this, Esperanza tells herself. She knows she can handle four blades for a short while; it’s only when all six are out that she has no chance.

  It’s his turn now. She has no choice but to defend. “Air Block,” she commands before leaping behind it. She can keep dancing away as long as she avoids getting cornered. But she’s already breathing hard and worst of all, she can see her breathe. Which means Floe is almost ready too …

  The two Daishos attack in unison. She leaps high, landing on her Block of Air. He shatters it and she dashes away. All she can do right now is avoid check and mate, her one king against his two. I have to find an opening, some weakness.

  The Daughter creates another Air Block and scrambles behind it. As she does, she finds herself staring at her teammates. They’re still cheering, they’re still smiling … they think she somehow still has a chance. What’s wrong with me? she wonders. Of course I have a chance. I will not let the past predict the future. They believe in me and they don’t even know what I’ve been practicing on my own.

  She forgets how tired and cold she has become and stands tall. It’s now or never, and it may as well be glorious.

  “You might as well draw all six of your swords. You’re not going to beat me with just four. As you like to say, time for the Final Act.”

  He studies her carefully and inclines his head. “Very well.”

  He holds the Ice Blade high above his head and drops it before him. As it falls, he stares at his reflection in the blade. “Release Icefloe, Blue Summon: Reflection Twin.”

  The chill in the air subsides and icy crystals coalesce all around him and form his mirror image in frost. His cold reflection grabs Floe before its tip pierces the ground. It leans over and draws a crimson sword from his master’s back—a true Blood Blade, one that boosts the user temporarily at the price of future health. By having his Reflection bear such a weapon, the cost has no consequence for the power gained. Daisho himself draws a sword that crackles and snaps with bolts of blue and silver, Lightning’s Edge, a sword that cannot be blocked.