Emperor's Shadow (Elite Book 1)

by Yi Zhu

  “Now I know how Katherine felt,” Zed said with a smirk. Without consideration to the fine clothes he was wearing, the academic recruit plopped himself down comfortably on the ground. “I’m just a poor orphan from the South,” he continued.

  Vince’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had never heard of Southerners being accepted into the Academy before. But something was in fact different about this richly dressed boy currently sitting on the dirty floor, scratching his butt vigorously. Barbaric! But kind of reassuring, Vince decided. “That’s new,” he replied, his voice muffled by the sheets. “What do you want?”

  ”I want to satisfy my curiosity, that’s all.”

  “And I want food. We both want many things, what a coincidence.”

  Vince heard a gentle thud on the bed and picked his head up. A small wrapped object landed next to his head, undoubtedly thrown by the amused boy on the floor. Wrapped always meant edible, Vince’s stomach rationalized, and before the Wolf could stop himself, he took a hearty bite out of the gift.

  The crunching sound echoed around the room with each bite, as Vince made short work of the compressed food bar. Aside from the peanuts, there were so many other flavors he couldn’t identify. Within seconds, he realized the delicious snack was gone.

  “What’s in this?” Vince asked, and regretted not examining the food before devouring it like an idiot.

  Zed replied with an innocent shrug. “I don’t know, rich people stuff. I stole it from a girl who’s too wealthy to miss it.”

  Vince scrutinized the Southerner’s face for a few moments. “Nice. What’s the strange hard-to-chew part?”

  “The wrapper.” Zed laughed.

  A flush sneaked its way onto the Wolf’s cheeks as he realized just how hungry he had been. Carefully, he scrounged up all the crumbs that fell over his cloth, and popped them into his mouth.

  “Wow,” Zed commented with a whistle, “you make it look quite delicious.”

  “What do you want?” Vince repeated, albeit in a better mood, now that the walls of his stomach weren't in contact with each other.

  “I wanted to see you in person. Someone placed a bet on you under my name, hoping to get my hands dirty. But it seems to have worked out in my favor. If you win, I’ll make a fortune. A huge fortune, considering how much teeth the bookmasters have been flashing me,” Zed answered while staring up at the stone ceiling.

  Someone bet on me? The thought flashed across Vince’s mind. He then immediately got annoyed at himself for being so surprised. Of course, the Wolf Gang is full of winners.

  “If you win, I win,” Zed explained. “I will share some of the winnings with you.”

  “And I thought the academic recruits are supposed to be smart.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Vince stood up and paced around the room. “I already have all the reasons in the world to try to win. There’s nothing in it for you to offer me anything.”

  “I’m not doing it to motivate you; it’s more to make myself feel better. I don’t feel like I deserve the money.” Zed shook his head. “Well, I’m going to keep half of it anyway. I don’t hate money.”

  The orphans looked at each other’s faces.

  Finally, Vince chuckled. “Who hates money?”

  Vince listened for hours as Zed shared the tales of the South. Though the boy was hesitant to trust a stranger, he found himself enjoying the other boy’s company quite a lot. More importantly, should he stand victorious, Zed could be a potential ally in the Academy.

  “Wow, don’t get me wrong, but you talk a lot,” Vince teased good-naturedly.

  “Do you not?”

  “In the streets, talking too much can get you killed.”

  Zed mulled over the statement for a few moments. “I guess since I left home, I haven’t really opened up to anyone.”

  Vince gulped down the rest of the drink the soldier had left behind. It had gotten quite cold at this point, but it was still wonderfully sweet. It would appear being a crowd favorite had its perks. He turned his attention back to his guest, and shrugged.

  “Don’t you get lonely, too?” the southerner asked.

  Vince would be lying if he said there weren’t times when he longed for his parents’ reassuring touch, but all things considered, the gang provided him with ample companionship. “I have the Wolf, and my sister. You said your sister’s name is Sawyn?”

  Zed nodded.

  “What’s happening to her, since you came up here?” Vince inquired, genuinely curious. As much as Lucia got on his nerves, he would never leave her like Zed had his sister.

  “The Embassy gave her some money, and took her to a nice orphanage in the South. It won’t ever compare to the home we built together, but …” Zed froze, lost in regret.

  “Orphanages are nice,” Vince offered. “It’s like one big family; she will love it there.”

  Zed sighed. “I should probably get out of here. Even Cil’s silver tongue can't hold off my handlers forever.”

  Though their time together had been brief, Vince was already starting to trust this curious Southerner. “How are my chances?”

  Zed stood up and dusted himself off. “Very good,” he said absentmindedly as he patted his pants with warlike intensity. The floor wasn’t exactly clean.

  “You are not just saying that? I barely get a day’s rest.”

  The richly dressed boy nodded confidently. “That is going to work in your favor; you are the only one among the group winners who didn’t engage in physical combat. Even though all of them are stronger than you are, you will have a freshness they lack. No offense.”

  Vince shrugged.

  “All your opponents will be in horrible shape; some of them even had to be carted off.”

  “I see.” Vince scratched his chin. He hadn’t considered that fact yet; his mind was too filled with the images of violence to draw this logical conclusion for himself. Maybe he is right, the Wolf pondered.

  “You will have to fight, however, and when you do, you can’t hold back,” Zed concluded and waved his hand. “Good luck, Vince.”

  “Thank you,” Vince replied as his guest calmly walked out of the room, leaving him alone once again.

  Vince sat down on the bed, and allowed himself to relax. When the food finally arrived, he devoured the simple meal in minutes. Without a word, the guard took his leave.

  The silence wrapped around the boy like a cocoon, and he drifted into slumber on top of the silken bed sheets.

  Vince woke up the next morning to the gentle nudge from an elegantly dressed man with stunningly white teeth. As the boy yawned, the man rubbed his hands together with eager anticipation.

  “What time is it?” Vince asked, surprised at all the activities happening above him in the arena. The guards told him he would be woken early to fill out paperwork, yet the soldier was nowhere in sight. “Who are you?”

  “Bookmaster Cil, at your service.”

  Vince examined the man before him. Creepy smile, disturbing amount of enthusiasm, and an untrustworthy face. Yep, just as Zed described him.

  “They wanted to wake the young master up for some trivial paperwork, but I went ahead and took care of that for you,” Cil whispered out between his teeth.

  At the moment the sketchy adult called him “master,” Vince felt goose bumps creeping up all over his body. This is so weird. “Thank you?” the boy replied hesitantly.

  “It would appear that fortune once again smiles upon the young master.” Cil bowed. Upon seeing the confused look on the boy’s face, he continued, “Don’t worry, you’ll understand. Two semi-winners have been determined, and it will be your turn very soon.”

  Chapter 20: Observation

  In the Royal seating box, Emperor Triton patted the young Darius on the head. “Go join your friends, my son.”

  The prince shook his head, causing Triton to frown disapprovingly.

  “Young man, just because you are my son doesn’t mean I’m not your emperor. I’m not g
oing to order you, but a boy should listen to his father.”

  “Why can’t I stay? Besides, I don’t like those people who are supposedly my ‘friends’.” Darius pouted, and kicked the crimson rug.

  “Why not?”

  “Because all they do is suck up to me; friendship can’t blossom under so much fear and false pretense,” Darius replied without turning around. Instead, he looked out toward the Academy recruits on the opposite side of the coliseum, and blew a raspberry through the window.

  So immature, yet so wise, Triton noted with pride. Though it was painful to see such deep-seated suspicion in his own son, Darius was no ordinary child. One day, perhaps too soon, the burden of rule would fall on his youthful shoulders. “You stayed here for the first two matches already; go join your friends.”

  Darius protested in vain, burying his face on Triton’s waist, his hands waving in a tantrum. After peeking up and realizing his tactic was proving rather ineffective, he sighed and strode out of the room, whining the whole way.

  Now alone again, the emperor sat down on the grand chair and let out a grunt. The pain in his side was growing more frequent nowadays. With each spasm, Triton could feel a piece of his life slipping away.

  It was always rare for him to have a moment to himself, so the emperor closed his eyes, reveled in the tranquility, and drowned out the exuberance of the Arena audience. But sadly, as always, such peace never lasted long for a man in his position.

  Triton’s honed battle sense picked up a very soft breathing noise. Calmly, he turned toward the source of the disturbance and seized Fye out of sheer reflex. Part of him knew no assassins could slip past the guards unnoticed, no matter how skilled she or he might be. But never again.

  He wasn’t surprised to find Manus standing to his right and staring out of the glass windows toward the arena below. Whenever the emperor desired privacy, the only people who were allowed in without being stopped were family members—the few that Triton had left—though it was certainly curious to find his brother in the coliseum. “I know you hate watching this.”

  The Shadow kept his gaze toward the battleground, and shook his head sadly. “It never gets easier.”

  “I’m sor—” the emperor began, but was promptly interrupted.

  “Let’s not go down that road again, my dear brother,” Manus interjected.

  Triton nodded in agreement.

  “Besides,” Manus walked up close to the window and looked at his own reflection, “the greater sin is mine.”

  “And here I thought we weren't going to talk about it,” Triton said dismissively. Oh, how often we go through this dance. The talks about the incident always somehow made his stomach pain feel worse.

  There were times Triton wished to trade places with his brother, but every time he saw Manus’s face it made him realize how foolish such fantasies were. We’re both lonely, grumpy old men.

  Manus looked down. “There are only three contestants this round.”

  A gigantic wall of alchemical ice split the Arena in half, conjured and maintained by dozens of alchemists. When a winner was decided on both sides, this divide would come crashing down, allowing the final fight to begin.

  Vince stood alone on the east side of the barrier, confused. What’s going on?

  Just then, the intercom came alive once again, and the announcer’s smooth voice flowed out. “Esteemed ladies and gentlemen, it would appear that fortune is with our lucky contestant from Zone 1409.”

  Cheers intermixed with boos of disapproval, and all of it rained down on Vince.

  “I was just informed that our Group Eleven champion passed away mere minutes ago, despite the extensive care of our medical staff,” the voice apologized. “The news came too late for us to change the structure of the contest. So our Group Twelve victor will face off against the winner on the west side.” Before the crowd could respond, the announcer quickly redirected their attention. “But on the bright side, it would seem for the first time in years, we are graced by the presence of the omnipresent, unstoppable enforcer of justice, the Shadow himself.”

  Whatever sense of dissatisfaction the first announcement had caused, it was quickly drowned under the deafening cheers and awes of amazement as thousands of heads whipped in sync toward the royal viewing box. Even Vince couldn’t resist sneaking a peek.

  Sure enough, standing in front of the emperor was the same man who frequented the boy’s dreams. First time in years? Vince wondered. What drew the Shadow’s attention from such an important tradition, year after year?

  Vince let the image of that man he associated with power once again burn into his mind. He turned back toward the barrier, and waited patiently for his fight to begin.

  A dark realization crept into Vince’s mind as he looked at his reflection. Just like the Shadow’s introduction, throughout the whole Tryout, the announcer never referred to the children by name. They watch acts of inhumane violence, and cheer for the sport of it all. But the world is afraid of hearing our names, because knowing it would make us matter.

  “Vince,” the boy uttered. One day, the world will know and fear my name.

  But first, he had to defeat his opponent, and his months of training prepared him for just this situation. Vince took a deep breath, and waited for the wall to fall.

  While he meditated, another horrifying revelation struck him. There was something eerie about Bookmaster Cil’s words earlier; for some reason, Vince couldn’t shake the thought that the shady man might have had a hand in his opponent’s demise.

  For minutes, the boy struggled to clear his head as the crowd cheered and booed, then, when the applause began, Vince knew the time had come.

  Chapter 21: Battle

  The crackling of the barrier echoed throughout the arena, and in seconds, the huge alchemically created wall crashed downward and knocked up a cloud of dust several feet high. Half a dozen nearby alchemists let out collective sighs of relief. One of them slumped back in exhaustion. One.

  Several large chunks of ice bounced off of the ground, and splintered again into smaller chunks. Shards ricocheted dangerously off one another. Two.

  With each impact, the ice broke down into finer fragments. The cloud of dust kept rising as showers of crystalline remnants completely carpeted the ground. Three! Vince’s mind cried out, signaling him to push off of his feet and surge forward. With every step, he was rewarded with a crunching sound as his shoes crushed the ice underneath.

  In half a second, he disappeared into the dust cloud, far from the center. That’s where they’ll expect me to be, dead center.

  Bits of still-flying solid sliced through his skin, leaving numerous small wounds as he charged forward. Vince closed his eyes and recalled his training.

  A little more than a month ago, when the order to ambush him weekly spread among the Wolf, Vince had fought off every person in the orphanage in the course of six days. Even little Isha came screaming at him wielding a large frying pan. She then tipped over and fell flat on her face. Of course, it still counted, despite her pitiful performance and inconsolable crying. That night, Vince realized the only person left was perhaps the most dangerous, Derek.

  Through the course of the next day, Vince had tread especially carefully, staying alert for any possible ambushes. When he was passing through the marketing zone, he walked by a large factory with smokestacks protruding off the sides as well as on top, each at least two feet off of the ground. Vince kept his eyes intently upon the smoke, expecting to see Derek jump out in a surprise attack at any moment.

  Unfortunately for Vince, he slowly backed away from the suspected site that day, right into Derek’s fists. While the large enforcer was beating Vince senseless, Derek kept shouting, “Consider a different angle of attack; when you shatter your opponent’s expectations, it takes a few seconds to mentally adjust.” Needless to say, that particular lesson was one solidly embedded into Vince’s mind.

  The cutting sensations faded away, and Vince snapped himself back to the
present. He was past the cloud of dust and debris, and his opponent was now within sight. Sure enough, the tall, muscular orphan stood defensively, still unaware of Vince’s presence. Vince’s opponent was facing the center, expecting to strike at the earliest opportunity. That position limited the field of view, and gave Vince a few seconds to close the gap. Four seconds was the magical number, if Derek’s teachings could be trusted.

  Four. Vince arched around his opponent’s blind side, and picked up his pace. All the training with Lucia began kicking in, and the world became a blur as he accelerated to a backbreaking pace.

  Three. Audiences on the opposite side of the arena spotted Vince first, and cried out warnings simultaneously. Perfect, Vince thought to himself, as his opponent whipped around toward the direction of the commotion reflexively, turning the back of his head toward the real danger.

  Two. By now, Vince’s mark must have realized the mistake, and would turn around at any moment, but it was too late. Vince pushed himself off of the ground after taking a final step, combining the conditioned strength with the accumulated momentum.

  One. The tremendous force of the tackle rocked Vince’s entire body as muscles collided. The unfortunate opponent staggered back from the impact, and landed with a large thud as his head beat the rest of his body to the ground.

  Pain shot through Vince’s shoulder, and coursed throughout his body. He used all of his strength, and managed to stay up on all fours. Shaking his head to regain focus, Vince looked over at the apparently motionless body of his opponent, and let out a sigh. Though undoubtedly horribly injured and unconscious, the tackled boy was still alive.

  “AMAZING! It was over before I even knew it. And we have our third semifinalist! The boy from Zone 1409. What a decisive victory!” The familiar voice flooded the stadium, and was quickly drowned out by the privileged cheers.