The Shadow

e l e v e n

A/N: Happy Reading!!

The first duel was between a two Senior students of the Phrontistery. Every contestant was given a scroll with their schedule. Saerah's first duel was the seventh duel. If she won, she would play the thirteenth match next. And if she lost her first match, she would play the eleventh match. If she lost her second match, she would be disqualified. If she won her second match, she would play a third one. If she won her third match, she would be ranked in the top fifteen.And if she won all her matches, she would be ranked in the top five. The matches weren't extreme. No one had to kill anyone. In fact, the exact opposite. These matches were designed to see how a warrior could defeat his opponent without having to kill them. In case of any injuries, healers had put up their tents on the sidelines.

The first match commenced and the clangorous sounds of clashing swords rang in Saerah's ears. But her mind was in a different realm. Time elapsed and duel went by. Saerah noticed the way swords clanged and the swift movement of limbs. And then it was her turn.

Her opponent was a young boy. She had never seen him before and thus deduced that he wasn't from the Phrontistery. His head was bald and adorned with black, swirling shadows. Courtesy of the Ashaha flower. His eyes were stark black and unyielding. Even his regalia was black. Saerah took her stance. As did he. And the bell was rung. The boy advanced, thrusting the sword at Saerah's abdomen. She leaped away and cut through the air with her own blade. The boy's eyes bore into hers as he went ahead to try and strike another blow. But Saerah warded off his sword with her own. He examined his opponent and decided to strike low, at Saerah's feet. The blow took Saerah unanticipated and she tumbled to the ground. Her sword skidded. The crowd gasped. Saerah heard a few cheers. She got up swiftly, before the boy could strike again and lunged for the sword. The blades clashed and the crowd cheered. Saerah struck, but the boy was swift and commanded his blade finely. Their swords clashed for a few more minutes. The boy was skilled and his sword moved apace, sending Saerah's skittering away. The boy locked Saerah's dominant hand behind her back, his blade pointed at her. And that was that. The trumpet sounded, gloating Saerah's defeat. She was disappointed, but still rather pleased with the way she had performed. 

She went to the stalls on the sidelines and drank a glass of cold, zesty juice of the angelfruit. It was said that it gave you commendable strength. But what Saerah needed was agility. If all her opponents were like the boy, she would need to speed up. And this was just a competition. In real life, who knew what would come her way. Better to be ready than regretful. 

Saerah watched as the contestants fought. She watched how swiftly their limbs moved and how the anticipated blows. Many of them were trained. That was one advantage they had over her. She was a good warrior, she believed. But she had never in her life been trained. Before she knew it, four matches had passed and she was up for her second one. Her opponent had long, purple hair that was braided stiffly. They were wearing yellow harem pants and a red vest. Their eyes were pale purple and their lips set in a thin line. The match began.

They weren't as swift as the previous boy. The two blades engaged in a clashing session that ended when Saerah struck at her opponent's feet, making them lose their balance and giving her time to plan her next move. Saerah struck her opponent's sword hard, causing it to skitter away. And then her opponent cartwheeled to the place their sword had skidded to and briskly grabbed it. Saerah was taken aback and the crowd broke into cheers. Even Saerah smiled in good spirit. She liked the aura surrounding her opponent. But she needed to win this match. Or she would be out of the game. She struck again. Blades clashed. A new air of determination took over Saerah as she moved her blade deftly. Her opponent retaliated, equally determined. But one of them would have to lose. Saerah's heart raced. And she struck again. The impact of the blow caused the sword to fall from her opponent's hands. They sighed, lifting their hands up as the trumpet sounded for the eleventh time that day. Saerah gave a sad smile to them, her sympathy authentic. She only hoped that this was their first match. She would like to see them advance in the contest. Both the opponents shook hands, smiling at each other in good spirit.

***

There was a lunch break of about an hour. Cleisha and Dane had immediately run up to Saerah, congratulating her for her victory. No one talked of the defeat. The dining hall was blooming with exuberant cheer. Laughter and giggles echoed all around. A mouthwatering feast had been administered. Saerah was ravished. And famished. She ate more than she perhaps ever had and her friends accompanied here. Music floated in the air. Everyone was rejoicing.

And then the Contest resumed. Saerah had a lot of time before her third and final match. But that time glided away like a flower in the breeze. And then it was the moment of her final and determining match. Her opponent this time was a girl. Her hair was stark white and her eyes pale gray and gold rimmed. Determined. The hilt of her blade was ornate. And soon the two blades were clashing. They sonorous sound of steel clashing echoed in  Saerah's ears. All common swords in Trousse were made of Broshea steel. But swords belonging to higher warriors were made of shadowglass, the bark of the shadowfruit tree. When blazed in moonfire, the bark turned into a strong substance. Somewhat of a cross between steel and glass. Unbreakable. Saerah fought skilfully, but lost to the girl. 

She sighed. She had lost more matches than she had won. But she was yet to show her skill in archery.

***

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Love,

Aarna.