EXALTED (An Exalted Novel) (22 page)

Now armed with the shield, Kwan is feeling more confident. He heads directly toward the tree that Cuyler is perched in. He holds his wooden shield over his head as he scales the tree one handed. He manages to climb with only one hand with an ease that even I couldn’t manage with two hands. I lose sight of the trainees. I can only see the tree foliage shaking and rustling. Suddenly, something heavy comes crashing down through the tree, causing branches to crack and leaves to fly up in the air. My eyes go wide and then slam shut as Cuyler catches the lowest limb across his chest. The air is violently expelled from his lungs. Then he slides off the branch and lands flat on his back. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe.

Finally, Cuyler lets out on big gasp. He looks around and surprisingly pushes himself off the ground. Kwan swings down from the tree. He lands in front of Cuyler with his sword raised. I notice that it’s the first time Kwan has touched his weapon since their fight began.

Cuyler looks at the ground around him. He pats his body as searches for his bow. He can’t locate it, but I can see it on the other side of the tree by a boulder. Not giving Cuyler any chance of escape, Kwan raises his mock sword and brings it down across the neck of his opponent’s black suit. Cuyler instantly falls to the ground. Kwan decapitated him.
Well, figuratively speaking.

I become even more daunted watching Cuyler recover from his simulated death. When his suit is turned off, he rakes his hands over his neck. He grabs his head to be sure it’s still there. It takes several minutes of him repeating these actions before he’s convinced that he is actually intact and alive. Once he gets to his feet, he stumbles off the course and over to the medical citizens. He’ll need to be checked out after the hard fall he took from the tree. The blow he took to his neck will most likely leave bruising if not more serious injuries.

“Kwan is the winner,” the announcer declares. “That ends the first round for the male trainees. Now for the girls . . . ”

The crowd responds with enthusiasm.

When they finally quiet down, the male announcer continues, “Our first pairing will be Bria and Neima. Take your places and wait for the alarm.” The announcer is to the point and blunt.

The two girls leave us on the benches for their chance at first place in the Second Trial. They both present themselves as fierce warriors, ready for battle. I already know that Neima will win this match by a landslide, so I don’t watch the massacre after the alarm rings. Instead, I stare off into the audience across from me. I notice that there are lots of empty seats. Only a small portion of the stadium is occupied, because there are not enough Exalted to fill them. Only when the Exalted, citizens, and Ambassadors sit in the stadium together, do we fill all the seats. This rarely happens and in fact has only happened five or six times since I’ve been born. Sometimes, when there are a large number of Takings they will hold a gathering to remind the Exalted of their promises and duties to the Republic. They make everyone attend to bear witness, thus putting more pressure on the Exalted to be even stronger and more loyal.

The alarm rings again, sounding the end of female trainees’ first match. A bird screeches overheard and flaps frantically away from the speaker next to the announcer’s box. The crowd begins beating their feet against the stadium floor, acknowledging the victor. There’s so much noise. I can’t decide where to look, but I finally settle on the arena, and I see that I was right. Bria is sprawled out on the ground with her arrows strewn around her body. Her arms and legs spread wide, like she’s trying to make the letter “X” on the ground. After her suit is turned off, she wakes up and rubs the center of her stomach. She pulls her hand away, searching for the blood that she won’t ever find. Neima must have whacked her with her spiked club, right in the center of her gut.

After the girls leave the stage and announcer deems Neima victor, he calls up another pairing. “Etana and Valesca. Take your places.”

He didn’t call my name . . . I want to get this over with.
Nervous energy is consuming me.
I can’t stand the waiting. I don’t want to watch this match either, but I also can’t bear not to. It’s Val.

As my best friend faces off against Etana and her unusually slim club, my stomach knots up even more. I want my friend to win. I want her to finish unharmed. But, I don’t want to have to fight her. I sit on my hands to keep them from shaking. I decide
that if I never felt nervous again, it would not be an emotion I would miss.

When the alarm sounds, Val sprints in a wide circle around the perimeter of the course.
What is she doing?
This is a new approach we haven’t seen yet today. She grabs an arrow, strings it up, and lets it fly—all while running at full speed. Etana, surprised by Val’s behavior, fails to block the attack. The mock arrow strikes her calf. Even if she didn’t have the computerized suit on, the force of the hit would have been enough to cause her leg to buckle. She falls to her knees. Val is still running in a wide circle. She sends off another shot, but Etana dodges the arrow this time. Val’s opponent ducks and rolls away.

Val runs for the safety of a tree, just like Cuyler did. I silently yell, “No! Didn’t you see what happened to Cuyler?” I hope she has a better plan than he did. Unfortunately, she never makes it up the tree. Etana uses the momentum from her roll, to stand and launch her club at Val. It flies through the air, somersaulting as it goes. I hold my breath as it moves toward my friend in slow motion.

Etana’s club lands right in the middle of Val’s back. It sends her face first into the ground. I wince and fight to control my urge to go help her. I also realize what the smaller club is good for. It’s light enough to throw at someone.

As Val falls, she loses hold of her bow, and her arrows fly out of her quiver. Fortunately, the blow doesn’t seem to cause too much injury, although I’m not sure how that’s possible. Val rolls over and grabs for the closest weapon within reach—Etana’s club.

They stand only a few feet apart, Val with Etana’s club and Etana weaponless. This doesn’t stop Etana from attacking. Thinking Val is useless with a club, Etana tries to tackle her around the waist, but Val cracks the club down on the top of her back. She swings and hits her again. Etana drops to the ground after the second hit.

I want to jump up and cheer and laugh for my victorious friend. Val just beat Etana with Etana’s own weapon! Etana is going
to regret that after the instructors get a hold of her. Her scores will not be good for this round. The irony is too much for me, so I cover my smiling mouth with the sleeve of my nanosuit.

Once again, the same monotone voice comes over the speakers. “Valesca is the winner. Exit the course and take your seat among the other trainees. Our next match will be between Mena and Trudi! Take your places.”

Jolted out of the cheerful moment, I realize that my name was just called. So was Trudi’s. I stand because I know that’s what I’m supposed to do. I look around at the stomping audience. They are pounding their feet, but I can’t hear any of it. I can’t hear anything, except the pounding of my heart and a bird screeching again. My feet feel like they’re stuck in thick mud, sinking deeper with each step. I have to force them to move forward. I step into the arena where I will face my first opponent of the day. Hopefully, she will not be my last.

I glance back into the audience. Ethan and Az are stomping along with the crowd, watching me as I take my starting position on the course. My feet are planted firmly in the sand. They are shoulder width apart. My core is tight, and my hair is slicked back under my nanosuit away from my face.
I may look like I’m ready for this, but my insides are disagreeing.

The bird no longer screams, the air is still, the sky is clear, and Trudi stands facing me, ready to strike with her long sleek mock sword. Her hand hovers just over the hilt as she stares into my eyes. She grabs the weapon and pulls it out with one fluid movement.

The alarm must have gone off. I didn’t hear it.

Around me, the world slows for a moment. Trudi and I are the only ones here. I block out all sounds, including the internal drumming that starts at the center of my chest and radiates outward. I take one deep breath. That’s all it takes.

Everything speeds back up. I’m ready for this fight now. I’m a trained killer. I am confident. I am strong.

I pull out two daggers. I hold one in each hand as I walk toward the flame haired Trudi. She patiently waits for me. I throw my daggers at her, hoping to surprise her. She blocks one, but the second brushes her upper arm. I’m surprised to see that she doesn’t even flinch. I quickly replace the daggers with two fixed-blade skinning knives.

I’ve reached her in no time. We engage in a sword on knife fight, my two shorter blades to her one lengthy blade. I have to weave and duck more than she does, but I’m able to block her. I even get off a few slices to her forearms. In return, she grazes the flesh on my abdomen. It hurts, but I can tell it’s only a surface cut. I push the pain aside and tell myself it isn’t real.

We go for a few more minutes like this, before I trip over a crate. It appears out of nowhere behind me. Trudi takes this opportunity to swing at my tangled up legs. I manage to pull them out of the way, but not soon enough before she slices the side of my thigh. Pain shoots through me like I’ve never felt before. This cut is much deeper than the previous one, and it feels more real than I can believe.

I snap.
Screw this! I have something she doesn’t. Emotions! Anger! Rage!

I heft myself off the filthy floor with a loud grunt. I drop my two skinning knives on the ground and duck from Trudi’s next swing of her sword. As I’m crouching, I pluck two mock daggers from my belt. I flick one into Trudi’s stomach as I lift back up into a standing position. Then I stab the other dagger into her heart before she even finishes the full swing of her sword. I beat her, and she didn’t even get the opportunity to attempt her lame predictable shin kick and right hook combination.

I leave Trudi dead on the ground without a second glance, because I know they will turn her suit off in a few seconds. It’s also not proper behavior to hang around and make sure your opponent is okay. I do hope she is okay though. I selfishly think about myself.
What if it was me, lying there defeated? I don’t know if I would be so lucky to walk away unharmed.
This gives me pause, and I have a hard time not turning back to check on Trudi.

Reluctantly, I return to my seat without showing any concern for my opponent. I join the other girls in the stands. We listen to my meager acknowledgement of victory from the male announcer and wait for the last two girls to be called. My pulse remains slow and steady for the time being, but I know this feeling will not last long.

The next pairing is so unfair that once again I find myself not wanting to watch. But I find that I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the arena floor. Adira is up against the beast, Kinah. Of all the fights so far, this is the most unevenly matched—even more so than Az against Garrison.

If Adira had feelings, she’d
be scared—VERY scared. That not being the case, she stands firm and confident like the rest of the trainees. I can almost see smoke billowing out of Kinah’s nostrils like she’s a bull ready to charge.

The alarm rings. Adira shoots an arrow at Kinah’s chest, but Kinah blocks it easily with her spiked club. It bounces off the mock weapon’s surface and lands at her feet. Kinah speedily stoops down and grabs the discarded arrow. After she has it clutched in her hand, she launches it like a spear straight f
or Adira, who is sending another arrow toward Kinah. Kinah easily deflects Adira’s arrow again, but Adira is not so lucky. She was unable to block the arrow Kinah threw at her. It slams into the crease where the thigh meets the torso. She doubles over instantly.
I know that has to hurt.

Kinah is already running toward her victim. Her feet are pounding against the ground. They send sandy waves up behind her. When she gets within a few feet of the injured girl, she jumps in the air with her club held high. As she descends, she brings her club down on Adira’s exposed back. Sand billows up around Adira as her face and body slams into the ground. She’s definitely going to feel that tomorrow. Kinah put everything she had in that hit.

The medical citizens have to take Adira out of the arena on a stretcher. I’m worried because I haven’t seen her move yet. I hope she’s okay.

Round one is over. Half of the trainees are already eliminated. We will all receive a 15-minute water break, and then it’s back to the arena to finish this.

After our short break, we file back into the stadium for round two of the Second Trial. The crowd has grown considerably. Everyone has shown up, wanting to see the better fighting now that the weaker trainees have been weeded out. They are already stomp
ing and demanding action—demanding blood.

I sit among the remaining girls. There are
only four of us left.

Millie’s voice projects over the speakers. “Welcome back Exalted and trainees. We will now be commencing round two. Strength be with you all!” Her voice is airy, while still being firm and commanding. “We will start with the girls. Up first, let’s have Ne
ima and Mena on the arena floor!”
Me? Already?
“Once again, begin when the alarm sounds,” Millie instructs.