The explosion of motion rocks the earth beneath my feet, even as my own legs spring forward. Darkness, thick as fog and infinitely deeper erupts in the center of the field. Before blackness swamps over my eyes, I see Jor'Mari ahead of me, first off the line. Worrying about Samielle has cost me precious fractions of a second; I have no chance to reach the ball first. I am blind, sprinting forward toward some point I can only recall, the echo of the ball smashing into the earth still ringing in my ears. I catch the vague shape of someone in the darkness of Clarice's cloud, more of a vague impression than an actual body, and intercept.
With no chance of reaching the ball first, or even being certain that I know where it is, I judge that it is no longer my job to try for it. My shoulder collides with the outline I spot, the rattling impact snaking down my back and loosing a surprised squawk from whomever I tackle. My fingers dig into wet cloth as my momentum carries the two of us to the ground where I land atop them, one of my arms trapped underneath their body.
"Get off me!" a voice cries out, trailing off in the way that the last gasp of air from the lungs does. The voice is soft, even for someone who just had the wind knocked out of them–the boy from earlier. A clenched fist cracks across my jaw, the shock and rattle of my teeth grinding together making my fingers go slack. Hands carelessly press into my chest, shoving me sideways into the wet grass, rolling, before I can recover from the crackling white in my vision.
On my back in grass, staring up at the darkness above me, my jaw clicks as I flex it. There are lights in the darkness and not just from the nasty blow I took on the chin. Specks of light and rivulets of streaking lightning bloom in the dark, striking an eerie similarity to the scene I have seen when floating in the inky blackness, looking upon the intricacy of my soul or index. My fascination with the sparkling dark begins to fade as quickly as the pain in my jaw. The dark seems to run away, streaming like water pooling down a drain. I sit up, looking around, noticing that the whole of the dark cloud is growing fainter, easier to see through. The others appear out of the fog, each of us looking to a central point where the darkness and the stars spotting it run away to. A man stands, his hand outheld, the darkness curling into the palm of his hand. In seconds it is gone from all around us, becoming a ball of the pitchest night floating above his hand like a sinister marble. That man, Graessa stands with the orb of black floating in his hand, and with a simple motion, he closes his fingers tight around the darkness, snuffing it out.
It looks as if the man has not even moved from the spot where he started. Actually, it is exactly that he hasn't moved, him or Lady Forendous. A loud crash, like a bull hitting a wall with a meaty thump, draws my attention away from the two standing on the starting line. Behind them, about fifteen paces, Jor'Mari stands, his hand curled into a first, pummeling a wall of green energy that has been thrown up in his path. That woman, Kess, stands on the opposite side of the wall, crying out each time Jor'Mari's heavy fist slams against the barrier, the heels of her boots scrapping away grass as they slide back inch by inch. The barrier warbles as it tries to expand in encapsulate the man, but each hammering blow that he lands into it forces it to shrink back. Tucked neatly beneath Jor'Mari's right arm, is the ball, its green light steadily glowing.
Jor'Mari's eyes flick to the side as he notices for the first time that the darkness around us has retreated, his interminable smirk plastered on his face. I watch as the muscles on the man's arm swell, his form shifting slightly as he takes on the aspect of the strength specialist, the simple clothes he wears straining to contain his new bulk.
"Just going to sit on your ass?" he barks, laughing, looking directly at me before turning back to the barrier in front of him. This time, when his fist lands against the wall of green light, it shatters into thousands of splinters, the blast tossing Kess into the air to roll and scrape into the wet grass some distance away with a terrified scream.
I can't lightly take his insult and roll myself off my ass up onto my feet, boots digging into the dirt as I sprint to catch up to the man. The still forms of Lady Forendous and the man next to her flash by me, no attempt made to stop me as I spur forward. I glance at the strange woman as I pass, noting the lack of emotion in her eyes as she continues to look forward, not even seeing me.
Jor'Mari does not run down the field as I have seen him do before, fast as a bolt of lightning, with no one daring to hope to catch him. He jogs, his pace sedate, easy enough for me to catch up with given my own speed. I make it to him, seeing Kess in front of us begin to peel herself from the ground, a clod of mud clinging to her face, her once fine clothes stained green from where she skidded through the wet grass. She sneers at us as she pushes herself to her hands and knees, hate in her eyes, and something else that I might have only imagined, fear.
"Stop them," Lady Forendous calls lazily from somewhere behind us, her voice carrying through the drizzle as if she spoke only a foot away from me. I whip my head around, startled by the nearness of her voice, but find that she still has not moved from where this match began.
She was there, still not having moved an inch from the starting line, not even having turned around to watch Jor’Mari’s march up the field. Next to her, Graessa moved his hands, the power emanating off of him in violent curls of midnight stopping Jess in her tracks just as she was about to bully through the man. A cube, almost perfectly matching the Dispatch that still floated over the field, erupted around Jess, casting her into darkness. The soul presence bleeding off of Lady Forendous exploded into motion in an instant, surging forward toward Clarice and Jasper as they too stood just a few paces away from where Jess had been.
A grunt makes me turn my head. Jor’Mari topples sideways, the pale man Jason Kal’Liefer holding onto him. Where had he come from?
One of Jor’Mari’s hands tugs at the man as he toddles on one foot, ripping at the fabric of the man’s fine suit as the elf grits his teeth, putting all of his strength in driving Jor’Mari into the ground. To my surprise, he manages to do just that. Jor’Mari seems just as surprised, the heel of his boot slipping out from beneath him as Jason roars, tackling him to the ground. Jor’Mari’s free hand flashes out, the glowing green ball tossed gently into the air before his back can crash into the ground, drifting almost lazily in my direction. I catch the thing by instinct, the green ball landing clumsily in my hand, its heaviness almost ripping it away from me. My arms strain as I try to keep a tight hold on the thing; it must weigh forty pounds at least, and it is only going to get heavier.
I point my feet downfield, locking eyes with Kess who is still picking herself up from the ground, readying my run. A lash of burning pain stops me, forcing a cry from my lips, and my head whips back once more, finding a burning rope caught around my arm, its length red hot like an iron out of the fire. It is that little bastard, Allann, his hands bound tight around the burning rope, a look of hateful triumph outlined on his sneering face. Anger bubbles up in me, fire curling over my fingers, almost begging to blow this idiot's face off his head, when a sheet of ice slices down from above, cutting straight through the fiery rope and cutting it in half.
“The rule was that there will be no use of magic directly on an opponent,” Arabella’s voice sings through the rain, the droplets of water buzzing in the air from the power of her decree. “That is a three-minute penalty.”
As if some invisible giant flicks Allann in the chest, the water soaking into his clothes seems to explode out of him as forcefully as the air does. His chest jerks sideways, his body tossed into the air to crash into the row of chairs set to the side of the field. He bowls into one with his ungraceful flight, smacking into it and knocking it over before he rolls on the ground beyond it.
“To your right.” Galea’s voice. I spin, ignoring the searing pain in a ring around my arm just above the elbow, barely managing to stop a meaty palm from snatching the ball out of my hand. Lord Brimman falls past me, his attempt at stealing the ball thwarted for a moment, one hand trying to hook my leg as he topples past me. I bludgeon the man in the back with the increasing weight of the green ball in my hands, earning a hearty oof from him as he falls face first into the grass with a wet slap.
I feel a bit bad for that. He wasn’t the one that burned me; he just happened to be the nearest target for my anger. Jason Kal’Liefer drops into a puddle next to the struggling Lord Brimman. Up field, Jor’Mari growls as he picks himself up off the ground, looking back at me.
“Throw me the ball,” he says.
“I can’t throw up field,” I say, noting the small gap between us.
He squints at me like I am an idiot. “Then come–”
His words are cut off by a barrier of green force springing into being between us. He jumps back a step, looking to where Kess was just a moment before, finding her absent.
“Below,” Galea says in my ear, almost lazily.
A rumbling beneath my feet draws my attention just in time to see the woman, dirt and grass plastered to her face, exploding up out of the ground with a snarl. My back foot slips on the wet grass as I try to jump away, pushing me off balance, and giving her the chance to get her hands around the green ball I hold.
The woman lands on bare feet in front of me, a clod of mud stuck to her forehead just above her right eye, the nail of her right index finger digging into the back of my hand hard enough to draw blood. “Give me the damned thing!” she snarls, hauling back with a considerable amount of strength. It is no wonder that this small woman thought she could stop Jor’Mari, she is much stronger than I am.
My boots skid across the wet ground, my dragging heels cutting through the grass, trying to dig in for any purchase and finding little. Kess’ own feet sink partway into the earth, her two legs as immobile as tree trunks as she swings me about, but my hands do not let go of the ball.
“Give it here!” she screams at me.
“I’ll bite your fucking face off!” I snarl back. The words shock her as much as they do me, and I feel her fingers loosen the barest bit on the ball. Was I the one that said that?
My forehead crunches into the center of her face, which does the trick. Unlike the big man in the first match, this woman does not fall into the mud, but she cries out, hands slapping over her face as she cries out in pain and falls back, the glowing green wall between us disappearing in an instant.
“You crazy bitch!” she screams through her fingers, a trickle of blood peeking out between her hands. I can’t exactly disagree. She probably deserves it, but the worst thing the woman has done to me is remind me of Coriander with that sneer on her face and the look of hate in her eyes.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
After three steps down the field I feel my fingers slipping from around the glassy exterior of the glowing ball in my hands. Exeter, the thing must weigh more than I do now. My shoulders strain to hold onto it, and I feel the muscles down my arm stretch, veins I didn’t know I had bulging against my skin as I clench the thing as hard as I am able. I manage two more steps before I feel strong arms wrap around my waist from behind. There is just enough time for me to glance down, finding sodden white sleeves and pale fingers curling around my stomach, before my feet leave the ground. I yelp as Lord Brimman picks me up bodily, before smashing me into the ground with bone-shaking force.
The glowing ball sails into the air overhead as it slips from my fingers, not all that high, but high enough to make me cringe as it begins to arc downward. Standing over me, Lord Brimman spins, looking around, a bit of fear showing on his face. He too likely does not wish for a deadly ball to fall from the sky and bludgeon him to death.
But it does not fall. At the height of its arc, its menacing glow standing out against the imaginary gray turmoil overhead, a set of hands appear in the air, strong fingers clasping tight the heavy orb. Samielle grunts, straining as his palms smack into either side of the ball with the sound of reverberating grass. He sinks in the air immediately, the sudden strain too much for him to soar away with, and skids into the grass, stumbling forward, somehow able to keep his feet.
“Run, Birdman!” Jor’Mari yells, snatching the collar of Jason Kal’Leifer’s collar and hurling him to the ground. “Run like you mean it!”
Run he does. Propped up on my elbows, the grass turning to mud beneath me, a dull pain pounding in my shoulder, I watch Samielle run through the rain. Lord Brimman makes an attempt to chase after him, but I catch the man with my foot, tripping him up too much to even make a real attempt. The green orb is tucked underneath his right arm as he sprints down the field, , the man’s muscled legs pumping. It is not a far run, but I can clearly see by the time that he reaches the end that the ball has gained its full weight.
Samielle crosses the line at the end of the field, a flash and crackle of tremendous lightning booming around him the moment his foot crosses the threshold. The green ball tumbles from his tired fingers, sinking halfway into the soft earth, as Samielle looks back on us, a smile gleaming on his face. The lightning crackling around the end of the field continues its display, celebrating the first point of the match for some time, long enough that Jor’Mari is able to race down field and pick up Samielle in a bear hug, swinging him around in his own celebration.
“Here.” I look up, seeing Lord Brimman standing over me, the scar down his face standing out against the mud that smears it. He offers his hand to me, a somewhat sheepish look on his face. “I will not apologize for manhandling you so roughly, we are in competition after all, but know that I do not enjoy hurting women.”
Breath puffs out of my nose as I snort, grabbing the man’s hand and jerking myself to my feet. “It will take more than that to hurt me,” I say, taking care not to move my shoulder too much.
“Clearly,” he says, glancing back toward his teammate, Kess. The woman glares at me, one hand still held over her face. “If you wish…”
“Keep your hands to yourself,” she snarls, the words somewhat garbled. She turns, hobbling back to the starting line for the next round.
“A pleasant woman,” I say.
“You have no idea,” Lord Brimman remarks, shaking his head. He looks at me, his expression somewhat hard. “We will win this match you know.”
I look back toward the end of the field where Jor’Mari busies himself by tossing the green ball into the air, back toward the Dispatch, the ball disappearing into the solid black surface of the cube. “You have a funny way of doing it.”
The man shakes his head. “You will see.”
It does not take long for the team to reset themselves once more on the starting lines. Jess stands next to me on the line, staring out at the tall elf opposite her, Graessa. I would not say that the lizardkin woman looks pale, but there is something in her eyes that is clearly disturbed, and she seems entirely unable to catch her breath. She shakes off my concern when I offer it, so what more can I do other than pat her shoulder and turn my attention back to the match.
Neither Graessa nor Lady Forendous have moved even a step from where they first began the match. Lady Forendous no longer looks bored. Her gaze moves up and down the line of her team, each cringing and looking away rather than meet her eye when her stare falls on them. To call them scared of the woman would be an understatement, and honestly, their fear begins to water a seed of fear in my own chest.
“Not too difficult,” Jor’Mari calls across to the other team as the Dispatch begins to float into its new place overhead. “Will they all be so simple?”
“Not too difficult,” Lady Forendous echoes, her voice dripping venom. Her eyes turn to the side, falling on Allann who sits in one of the chair on the side of the field. “Not too difficult,” she says again, a weary sigh falling into her voice. “And the pinnacle species of the dry thinks they even hold a candle to us. Yet, when given the chance to show their worth, it has been my experience to find them…lacking. Save for you, Graessa. You have been stalwart.”
“I appreciate that, my lady,” he says, inclining his head.
Lady Forendous turns her eyes back across the field, her vision settling on Jor’Mari. “We have a saying in the depths. Menial tasks are best delegated, but quality work can only be done with one’s own hands.”
Overhead, the Dispatch begins to whine, power swelling inside of it as it readies itself to release another ball. As the pitch inclines toward crescendo, its wail piercing through the constant plopping of the rain, green light shines like the radiance of the sun from Lady Forendous, so horrible and awfully powerful that I have to squint or be blinded by it. To my horror, I realize that I am the only one that even notices it.
The flood of green light expands out from Lady Forendous, encompassing nearly the entirety of the field in the blink of an eye. The Dispatch thunders, letting loose its great shot, the yellow light of the Scoreball streaking down from above like the shot of a cannon. It does not smash into the ground like all the balls before it. No, the world itself seems to still, the sloshing of the rain all around us freezing, suspending in the air as tiny droplets, tens of thousands of beads of water tiny and hovering in the air. The Scoreball, the orb of yellow light, hovers three feet above the middle of the field, suspended in the air as surely as the rain around us is, held aloft by a bed of ebbing water.
A second ticks past, all of staring at the ball and frozen rain. It is only when Lady Forendous takes a step forward, pale green toes alighting on the soft grass as she walks through the frozen rain, that I realize my heart is still beating, that my breath is still hissing through my clenched teeth. I try to move my arm, but a sudden pain stops me dead. I try to look down, but a sudden flash of heat across my face makes me freeze. Moving my head back just the tiniest bit, I see a dot of liquid standing in the air just in front of my face, a bead of pure water no larger than a pear seed, a drop of crimson clinging to it but not mixing with the perfect sphere.
A hiss of pain to my side draws my eye to Jess; she is so hard to see without turning my head. Three rivulets of blood run down her neck and the side of her face, seeping from small holes. Hovering just in front of her bleeding wounds are three orbs of rain, each dripping crimson, so tiny that they are barely visible. I realize what it is that Lady Forendous has done as I turn my eyes back toward the woman who continues to plod lazily toward the floating ball in the center of the field. She has turned the beads of rain into a prison around us, drops of water suspended in the air made as unyielding as iron. Any move we make will spear us on them as certain as an arrowhead.
Lady Forendous reaches out, allowing the water to carry the Scoreball into her waiting hand. She cradles it in her arms like a babe, looking up at each of us in turn as she rests her chin upon it. “Such small creatures,” she says. “Even the barest touch of the depths is deadly to you. I do not blame you for your weakness.” She pads forward, the drops of rain standing in the air sliding off her body like water might a stone. Lady Forendous stands in front of Jor’Mari, tapping a finger on his chest, running her black nails down the front of him. “After all, true hardship does not touch this world above. You are soft animals, made of pulpy material.”
She laughs at the look of rage in his eyes, the droplets of water pressed so tightly to his face that he cannot even move to speak. She slaps a wet hand into his chest as she begins to walk past, past me and him, though I doubt she even knows I am there.
Rage starts to bubble up in me, this arrogant little woman’s laughter seeming to tinkle off the suspended drops of rain around us like light of a chandelier. I am not the only one seething. I watch Jor’Mari’s body begin to shift, only to startle to a stop a second later as bits of water slice into him viciously from the involuntary spasms the shifting puts on his body. Lady Forendous’ wet feet slapping against the ground next to me as she lazily moves past echo as disdainfully as her pealing laughter does.
Steam rises, smoking around my eyes, as I strain to look at the woman. I flex my hands, realizing in a second that I can move my fingers freely. Fire roars over my forearms, orange and hot, turning the tiny motes of water to steam with its barest passing. I try to make the fire climb higher, to ring me like armor, but I can only manage to get it to my elbow. That is fine, I just need a little.
I roar, screaming mad, a wide ball of fire blooming in my hand, steaming the rain around me as I swing my arm. Pinpricks of stabbing pain score through my flesh, though my muscle, even tearing tiny holes in bone as I turn on the surprised Lady Forendous, a startled expression on her face as she spins to face me. She moves, evading the burning crimson of my fist that punches for her face, but the movement puts her on the backstep. I ignore the torturous pricks of pain scoring my leg like a cheese grater as I turn, slamming the back of my leg into the back of her knees. The delight of surprise as she smacks into the wet grass, the sound of the suspended rain around us clattering down to the earth, its staccato returning, is more than enough for me.
I pluck the Scoreball out of her hands before her surprise can turn to anything, and I run for everything I am worth, pouring gouting fire out in front of me. The quaking of the green surrounding me is more than enough to clue me into the mood of the woman without even seeing her. She is angry, very, very angry.