Omen: 11, 18

‘I should increase my bets,’ Adam thought. ‘If I split some of the winnings between everyone, even two hundred gold will be too little. I should at least give them all a tiny bit, but Nobby and Brittany should get the most since…’ Adam wasn’t sure why they should get the most. ‘Since they were the first to believe in me?’

Adam sighed. ‘I can’t bet too much, can I? Won’t the arena get annoyed with me? I wonder what the biggest bets amount to. There’s no way we’ve broken that when the Duchess can swing around tens of thousands of gold with ease.’

“Chief Executive Officer Kitool!” came the shout from one side, before it was repeated.

“Chief Executive Officer Jaygak!” came the shout from the other side, before it was repeated.

Adam furrowed his brows. ‘What?’

‘What?’ Jaygak thought, frowning as she stared at Kitool opposite her. She gathered they’d have faced each other like this, but to think it would be so soon. ‘I should have guessed since my luck had been so good.’

Jaygak and Kitool circled around the arena, while everyone was beginning to place their bets.

‘Probably Kitool, right?’ Adam thought, feeling the gazes of his companions sear into his soul. Adam crossed his arms, and did not make a motion.

A worker passed by their table, pausing. “Are you not wishing to bet?”

“No,” Adam replied, simply.

Rick met Remy’s eyes, and the pair remained silent, not moving to bet their coin on either Iyrman.

“Who do you think will win?” Vonda asked.

“The Iyrman,” Adam replied, simply.

Vonda smiled, wondering if she should tease Adam more, but she decided against it.

Jaygak and Kitool met in the centre of the arena, while the bets had been placed. The bets were fairly even, with a slight edge towards Kitool, since she had faced against plenty of opponents wearing heavy armour, though none had been Iyrmen.

Jurot crossed his arms as he watched the fight from the wall. He had essentially forced him way into the wall to watch it, the same as Timojin and Amokan, who stood on the opposite side. They each thought against who was going to win, instead focusing on the pair ahead of them.

Jaygak held Stormdrake in hand, gripping it tight, tighter than she had ever done so before. Kitool held Tigerstaff, pointing it towards her best friend. She inhaled sharply, before letting out a soft breath.

The guards shouted for the pair to begin, but neither moved. A second passed. Two seconds. Three seconds. The three seconds felt almost like an eternity, and the entire arena was eerily quiet. The sounds of distant fighting from the arenas could barely be heard.

The tension snapped.

Jaygak exploded forward, forcing her body to move as quickly as it possibly could, swinging Stormdrake down, trying to cut her best friend in half. Her blade stopped, frozen, mere centimetres from the ground, crackling with lightning. Tigerstaff pressed firmly against the Iyrman’s neck, and though Jaygak tried to force her body to react, her entire body was seized by Kitool’s blow.

The lithe Iyrman inhaled and exhaled tiny breaths as her staff showered against her best friend, denting her chain armour. Kitool slammed the quarter staff into the earth, hoisting herself up as she kicked Jaygak against her gut, forcing the Iyrman into the air, the young woman still frozen in her position as she landed against her side. After a moment passed, Jaygak’s body slumped to the side as it caught up with her mind, which had fallen unconscious.

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Adam stared at Kitool, who exhaled, holding Tigerstaff in both hands in front of her as she bowed her head over Jaygak’s unconscious body. ‘She showed no mercy what so ever.’ Adam’s brow became wet with sweat as he thought about how terrifying Kitool was with her staff. ‘No,’ Adam thought, remembering the last time they had fought. ‘She was terrifying before too.’

The crowd revealed its shock through its wild roars and whistles. Kitool, however, did not circle around the arena, instead she waited for a Guardian to arrive to heal the Iyrman slightly.

Jaygak came to, under the shadow of Kitool’s form, which blocked out the blinding sun. Jaygak sighed, staring up at her closest companion, who had so brutally beaten her. “You couldn’t even allow me a single blow?”

“I was afraid of your strike,” Kitool admitted. Even if Jaygak was considered the weakest of the four, she was still a force to be reckoned with. Even Kitool wasn’t confident in facing Jaygak, especially when she possessed Stormdrake.

Jaygak huffed. Kitool didn’t offer her hand to Jaygak, understanding that her friend would have just been annoyed by the gesture, and watched as the Devilkin flexed her body, regaining some of her strength, before she sat up. Jaygak panted for a few moments before she stood, sheathing the blade she had refused to let go even in her unconscious state. She returned back to the wall, and so had Kitool, who hadn’t completed a lap of victory as they had all done previously, much to the crowd’s dismay. The trio of Iyrmen had long disappeared from the wall.

‘I just wanted to hit you once before I surrendered,’ Jaygak thought, sighing as she returned to the group.

Adam frowned. ‘Is Jaygak still going to place?’ The tournament was a little weird in that it worked with both a bracket and point system. He was unable to wrap his head around it, though Jurot and the others seemed to understand it.

As Jaygak dropped beside Adam, she huffed. Adam wasn’t sure what to say, so instead he motioned to a worker, and ordered three bottles of wine, one for the table, one for Jaygak, and one for...

Adam glanced around, his brows furrowed. “Where are Lucy and Mara?”

“They’re watching from atop the gates,” Kitool explained, settling herself beside Jaygak.

“Atop the gates?”

“There is a small area above the gates, for special guests,” Kitool said, her voice emphasising the last set of words.

“Ah,” Adam said. “Are they safe?”

“Yes,” Kitool said.

“How can you be so sure?”

“They are with Yellow Turban.”

“Ah.”

The wine was brought, for a princely sum of sixty gold. Adam realised they only needed the two bottles, but decided against sending one back. “Thank you.” He handed one bottle to the youth, while Adam shared the bottle with Kitool and the other adults, and allowed Jaygak to drink from her own bottle.

An awkwardness set with the group as Jaygak drank and drank, while the others relaxed, watching the fights as they ate the food of the arena. Adam wondered if they should keep watching the rest of the fights. He was beginning to get burnt out on the tournament, even if many of the warriors in the other ranges were great.

‘Aren’t the fights only going to get better now? Since they’re be facing only the greatest of warriors?’ Adam wasn’t sure how it worked exactly, but he assumed that the quality of the fights were going to increase, and the fights were going to become more even.

“Whoa,” Adam said, looking at Jurot as he returned from his fight. “You look like crap.”

Jurot, whose hair was dishevelled, and was bandaged by the arena’s priests, sat down opposite Adam. “The Order of Ice Blades gave their Rage Dancer a set of magical items which almost matched Phantom and Mighty Roar.”

“Oh yeah?”

“They must have bet on Logan,” Jurot said.

“I didn’t hear any thunder.”

“I did not need to use it.”

Adam smiled. ‘Hehe. That’s my brother.’

“Logan wielded Third Ice,” Jurot said.

Brittany almost spat out her drink, wiping her mouth quickly as she stared at Jurot. “Third Ice? The sword made from the Silver Dragon Queen of the North?”

“Yes,” Jurot replied.

Jaygak sobered up from hearing the name of the blade, and exchanged a look with Kitool. Third Ice?

‘What?’ Adam thought. “Silver Dragon Queen of the North?”

“Antalia, Queen Silvari’s mother,” Jurot explained. “She was hunted down by the White Dragon Knights, though the price was their utter demise, and a great shift which rocked the entirety of the north. The King of Aldland at the time managed to assist the Blacksnow family in stabilising the region, before they were able to force their way into Drakkenlan to sack and raze much of its southern region. Drakkenlan has barely recovered since.”

“Third Ice is made of Antalia?”

Jurot nodded. “Third Ice is the weakest of the Three Blades of Ice. First Ice, Second Ice, Third Ice. Third Ice is a Greater Enhanced blade. Second Ice is a Legendary Enhanced Blade. First Ice is an Artefact.”

Adam whistled. “Damn.”

“Logan must be a candidate to become the Grand Commander of the Order, or he would be unable to wield Third Ice as an Expert.”

“And you, Jurot, son of Sonarot, have beaten him?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” Jurot replied, a shadow of a smile appearing on his face.