Ember turned off her headlamp, emerging in a spray of dirt with Morgan by her side. Despite their sore arms and ruined clothes, they were both smiling. In forty-five minutes, they had successfully documented three weak points in the tunnels beneath the dining hall and reinforced them with a temporary plaster solution. It had been Ember’s idea to add glowworm mucus to the mix, marking the compromised areas for the repairmen. All in all, for the first time, one of Hickory’s practicals had gone off without a hitch.
The young women handed in their documents, receiving a pleased nod from the professor. Morgan dusted off her hands, elbowing her partner in the ribs. “We did it! Exam week is OVER!”
Ember smiled, slightly embarrassed by her enthusiasm. As they turned to leave, Hickory cleared his throat. “Ember, would you stay behind?” She exchanged a concerned glance with Morgan, then walked back to where the professor waited atop a protruding tree root.
He folded his arms, accentuating his sizable belly. His moist, round eyes lazed from side to side as he considered his words. “Don’t worry,” he croaked, noticing her increasingly concerned expression. “Your work is excellent, as always. I just realized that we had not had the opportunity to talk after the incident during the first exam.”
Ember swallowed. “Sir, it’s really not a problem.”
“Simply put,” he said, ignoring her, “I feel as though an apology is in order. You should not have been the one to make that gruesome discovery. It was my responsibility to thoroughly search the area.”
Ember shuffled to one side, a little taken aback. For someone who frequently put his students’ safety on the line, he was surprisingly earnest in his apology.
There was a moment of awkward silence, in which she realized that it was particularly difficult to have a conversation when both parties were reticent. “Thank you,” she replied stiffly.
“Well, if-” croak “-if you ever need to talk about what happened, my door is open.”
Ember paused. “With all due respect, professor, I prefer to keep these matters close to the chest.”
“Oh yes, I understand,” he replied, looking relieved. “That’s all unless you need something else.”
Ember was mid-head shake when an idea bubbled up from her subconscious. So far, her training had yet to bring her any closer to contacting her father, while assholes like Roland were climbing the ranks. Perhaps it’s time to act beyond the rules, as Corax suggested.
She decided to take the risk. “Actually, there is something. Would it be possible for me to stop by the Saline Lake again? I’d like to visit a friend, but I’ll need a raft and some air.”
He leaned forward, looking at her carefully. “Usually I wouldn’t do this for a first-year student,” he said, and Ember feared he would deny her. “But… on account of your performance in my practicals, I’ll write a note. I’m trusting you not to do anything dangerous.” He ripped a page from his clipboard, scribbling a permission slip. She took it nonchalantly, slipping it into a dirt-stained pocket. Looks like good grades can be useful, after all.
“Thank you, sir. Have a good weekend.”
***
Ember slumped a couple of inches in her seat, leaning closer to the person next to her. With his trunk-like limbs and plated shoulders, he was by no means a small man, and she hoped that she’d be swallowed up by his presence. Unfortunately, he noticed the maneuver and looked down at her with a bewildered expression.
She mumbled an apology and pulled her hood over her forehead, feeling sheepish. What would my friends think? She could just imagine Carn mimicking her, sneaking around with a hunched back and tip-toed steps like a petty thief. She’d conveniently forgotten to invite them in order to avoid the spectacle.
The arena was smaller than the hippodrome, but if Ember hadn’t been waiting to watch her rival debut, she would have found it more compelling. It was entirely outdoors, with only a canopy of woven vines to protect it from the weather. In the center was a flattened oval about one hundred fifty feet long and fifty feet wide. Hard-packed white sand had been laid over the soil, presumably so that it was easier to follow the fighters’ movements. It was already stained with fresh, bright red blood from the day’s previous fights.
On the ground around the arena’s rim were a handful of medics, referees, and journalists. The rest of the patrons were seated—or making their way toward—stiff, bridge-like aisles suspended between the trees that circled the perimeter. The rows were stacked vertically in sets of three, accessible only by spiral staircases snaking up the trunks. There were twenty chairs in each, about half of which were filled, housing a substantial crowd.
Ember listened carefully to the patron’s excited whispers. “I heard he trained with the Circling Eagle, master of the Apex Association,” a woman speculated. “It would explain his explosive growth.”
Her partner shook his head. “That’s just a rumor. The masters don’t usually get involved with new or low-ranked fighters.”
Ember swallowed uneasily, hoping that the man was right, and turned her attention to Roland’s opponent. The fighter was already in the center of the arena, stretching out her legs—of which there were many. They dangled in rows along her torso, spindly like a millipede’s. Her skin was armored with overlapping, brightly-colored plates, and antennas sprouted from her skull. There was an odd bulge around her armpits which Ember couldn’t make sense of from her position in the stands.
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As she glanced in Ember’s direction, Ember waved slightly. I’m rooting for you.
Like at the hippodrome, as the time for the fight neared, an announcer mounted a wooden platform near the back of the field. He was dressed sharply in a bright blue suit, and dense brown fur sprouted from the sleeves around his wrists and ankles.
He brushed off his clothes, shuffled his feet, and opened his mouth widely. “Hmm hmm,” he cleared his throat. Ember jumped in her seat: his voice was unnaturally loud, comprehensible even over the sound of the crowd and the rustling of the forest.
“I’m Howler, your announcer for ranked fights,” he began. “Next up, we have our fifth match of the day. Let’s hope it ends better than the last one!”
The crowd laughed sympathetically, and Ember grimaced, remembering the blood on the arena floor. Howler checked his notes. “Our debutant, Roland, has challenged Amina Lafleur, ranked 376th. Both are university students. If he succeeds, he will enter the ranked, and if he fails—and survives—he will have to wait another year!”
Ember narrowed her eyes, looking at Amina more carefully. There were around four hundred rankers between the university and the city’s population. Since Roland had chosen to challenge her specifically, it meant that he was confident that he could counter her skills, and she would be at a disadvantage having never had the opportunity to spectate one of his fights.
“Amina is at center field,” Howler added. “She’s a fairly new fighter, and the only known Linnaean with her source species, the mantis shrimp!”
Ember raised an eyebrow incredulously. That explains the legs… but how can a shrimp defend itself from a raptor?
The crowd cheered, and Ember turned to see Roland emerging under one of the suspended aisles. He was dressed in a simple pair of training shorts and a loosely-fitted shirt, but even she had to admit that he had a regal air about him. His intense, orange eyes looked into the crowd, and the black feathers around his head stood erect like a crown. His wings, broad and densely feathered, hung down to his calves.
“Here’s our challenger, fashionably late, it seems. He’s a black hawk-eagle, and only eighteen years old! This is our chance to see how he fares against a more experienced fighter, so place your bets now.”
The announcer continued on, belting out the rules, which were the same as the division one match: no eye gouging, no puncture wounds through the heart or neck, no ripping of limbs, and no fatal envenomations. The fight would be won when either fighter forfeited, became unconscious, or could not continue due to their injuries.
Both fighters agreed to the rules, shook hands, and took their places at the center of the arena.“You may begin!” Howler yelled.
The opponents paced around each other. Roland’s wings sprang open, ready to carry him out of danger at a moment’s notice. Amina was the first to move, scuttling diagonally to close the gap with her many legs outstretched. She was faster than she looked, and Roland only managed to dart out of the way at the last moment.
His talons glinted as he slashed at her, but they slid off of her armor with a screech. She pressed forward, dropping down onto her stomach to move even more quickly. Ember grimaced; the sight was distinctly reminiscent of a rainbow-colored roach.
For a few seconds, Roland managed to keep Amina at bay. He slipped to the side of her attacks, battering her with his wings just before she could seize him with her legs. He aimed several crisp punches and kicks at her torso, but they bounced off uselessly, throwing him off balance.
Seeing an opening, Amina reared up onto her two human legs again. Almost too quickly for Ember’s eyes to follow, two heavy, hammer-like limbs thrust out from under her armpits. Roland threw himself to one side, rolling as he hit the dirt. At the same time, Amina’s limbs smashed into the ground with a boom that shook the entire arena. Leaves and nuts showered the forest floor.
The crowd broke into hysterics. “Holy shit,” Ember muttered.
“There it is, folks!” Howler shouted. “The mantis shrimp’s most powerful attack! If our challenger gets hit with that… well, let’s just say he won’t be getting out of bed any time soon!”
Amina righted herself, looking put off by her failed strike. She beelined toward Roland, and the two picked up the cat-and-mouse chase once more.
Why would he challenge her of all people? Ember leaned forward, trying to pick apart the match like Carn would have done. Roland is fast, and he’s well-trained. His kicks and punches are clean, even though they’re not landing. On the other hand, Amina looks like she’s relying on her armor and that monster strike…but how does he intend to gain the upper hand?
Bit by bit, Amina closed the distance. She backed the hawk up until they were at the far reaches of the arena, almost underneath one of the suspended aisles. He stopped, hesitant to give up any more ground, and they exchanged a couple of superficial blows. Then, as she had done before, the mantis shrimp lined herself squarely in front of him.
Ember held her breath. Here it comes…
In the instant before her legs thrust out, Roland leaped into the air. His wings beat down twice, struggling to keep him above the ground. He landed on top of Amina, gripping her shoulders with the talons on his hands and feet. She flailed, and his wings opened up to their full capacity as he fought to hold on. Then, Amina tipped over, and both Linnaeans fell into the dirt.
In the scuffle that followed, Roland managed to readjust his grip so that he was holding onto Amina’s back with his hands. His talons slipped between her armored plates, finding purchase in the flesh beneath, and blood sprayed onto the sand. Twice she tried to attack him with her powerful legs, but he kept close to her side so that none of the hits landed.
He bent his legs and pulled her flush against his body. For a split second, he was suspended in time, a coiled spring with his wings stretched high over his head.
His wings pulsed downward, sending a blast of sand over the crowd. No one breathed as he teetered above the ground. But then, his wings caught something in the air, and the leap carried him high enough to land on the railing of the nearest aisle.
“This is highly unorthodox!” Howler yelled. “The referees say…” he paused. “They’ll allow it!”
Patrons threw themselves out of the way as Amina tried to wriggle from Roland’s grasp. Ember gripped her knees with white-knuckled hands as she realized what he intended to do. He didn’t choose Amina for some secret reason, but because she’s lightweight.
The hawk adjusted his position on the railing and leaped to the next aisle, struggling to keep his balance. Amina froze as she came to the same realization as Ember. She began to reach for his body, desperately trying to hold on.
Roland looked down at her. Without hesitation, he shook her from his talons, sending her plummeting the thirty feet back down to the arena floor.