“Five combatants left,” the announcer said. “Numbers one, eleven, twelve, fifteen and nineteen. Time to decide whether you wish to continue into the duels. If you agree to carry on, please step forward. And understand that there can only be one winner. Losing will likely mean death.”
The crowd cheered.
Celie shivered. Why would the crowd cheer that?
As the crowd noise began to die down, without any hesitation, number fifteen, the Barbarian woman, roared and stepped forward, “I will fight,” she shouted.
Mill raised his bow above his head and stepped forward shouting, “House Wendolyn will fight,” much to the pleasure of the crowd.
Lerrick shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and stepped forward to an even larger roar from the crowd.
The announcer looked at number one and Celie. Number one, a small Terron man, made a respectful bow to each of the three who had stepped forward. He then placed his bow on the ground and walked back to the tunnel.
Good choice thought Celie.
And all eyes turned to her.
The chant, “Face. Face. Face,” could be heard from one corner of the stadium and was gradually being picked up by all the crowd. Before long, Celie stood there in front of thousands of people, all chanting, “Face, Face, Face,” over and over. Unbelievable.
She stepped forward.
Four remaining contenders. She looked at her fellow finalists for a trace of fear in any of their eyes, but saw nothing. Like the way they would have seen none in hers. It seemed all four of them were prepared to die this today.
The announcer was signalling for a bowl to be brought over with four balls inside. The crowd hushed again in anticipation of the draw.
The announcer reached into the bowl and pulled out number fifteen.
“Brin representing the Juro Clan will face,” at which point he reached back into the bowl and pulled out another ball, number nineteen, “Lerrick representing House Y’Kara.”
“Therefore,” the announcer continued holding aloft the respective balls, “Number eleven, Celie representing Mabel Forest will face number twelve, Mill representing House Wendolyn.”
Celie would have to wait a little longer.
The sandy stadium floor had been cleared of all targets and two large poles were brought out and secured, vertically upwards, fifty paces apart in the centre of the stadium. They were round tree trunks, equal in width and just wide enough to hide behind, without leaving much margin for error.
Mill and Celie were escorted to opposite ends of the stadium and told to sit and wait on two chairs. It appeared the other two would be dueling first. A guard stood behind each chair to make sure they didn’t try to do anything other than sit.
Celie watched as Brin fearlessly made her way out to one of the posts. Her simple but hugely powerful bow held in her left hand. Her quiver full on her back. Celie had to admire her. She must know she is probably going to die but she walks to her death, with her head held high and with the respect of all present in the stadium.
Lerrick made his way to the other pole. Nothing showy about his display anymore. This was clearly time for business and he seemed calmly focussed on the job at hand.
With both contestants, hidden behind their respective poles, the announcer wasted no time and began counting down
“3, 2, 1, fight”.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing Sparks
Fantasy[Completed] [The Affinity Series: Book 1] The affinities are echoes of magic from a time long past, giving enhanced powers to those that have them. And for any affines that bond with a spark, their powers are increased. One such sparked affine is Ti...
