The Firedragon (2 page)

They didn’t know who she actually was. What
she lacked in strength, she more than made up for in skill and
agility. She’d been snapping sidekicks since she could walk and
learning to twirl double swords when most kids were being taught
their ABCs – always training, training, training, transforming
herself into the lethal creature she was today. She’d been born for
this. And she was good.

It was why her fellow Cadets had nicknamed
her the Firedragon. And it was why the Triumvirate, the most
powerful government in the world, had strong-armed the
International Challenge Council into lowering the minimum age of
contestants to fourteen.

But even
they
didn’t know just
how skilled she was.
Better than any
Enchanter – I’ll show ‘em
, she thought
with a smirk.

The Challenge itself had taken over a decade
to set up, and there might not be anything like it ever again. This
was her one chance to shine, and to prove to the world that you
didn’t need magic to be the best. It wasn’t going to be easy. The
rules had changed so many times, she still wasn’t sure exactly what
would happen after the qualifying round. She did know one thing,
though: She was going to kick some monster butt.

“
Aurelia Sun.” The judge’s
deep voice reverberated against the arena’s walls, and Aurelia
straightened.
C’mon, ask me anything.
Let’s get this party started, already!

To her disappointment, though, the judge
just started outlining the rules of the Challenge. She clenched her
fists, resisting the urge to yell, “Oh my God, I know all this!”
Besides, it wouldn’t have made them stop, and it would definitely
make her look bad.

The idea behind the competition was simple:
The judges would test the nominated contestants and, out of all of
them, select five from each participating nation – Norm and
Enchanter alike. Then came the qualifying round, where each
contestant faced off with a monster – by themselves – in the
arena.

The judge, continuing his explanation, said,
“The only rule for the qualifying round is this: No one can
interfere until either the monster or the contestant is dead.”

A chill ran down Aurelia’s
spine at those words, but then she scoffed at herself. What did she
have to be afraid of? She’d taken down dozens of beasts without any
help from anyone. One more would be nothing, even if it
was
in front of an
audience. That would just mean everyone else got to see her beat
it.

Her gaze fell on the
silver blades again, and her hands itched to grab them.
Enough talk! Let me show you what I can
do!

But the judge droned on and on about how the
qualifying round would be scored, who would take part – as if it
wasn’t obvious – and what the different possibilities might be.
“Points will be awarded based on the efficiency of your kill,” he
said. “And they will be docked for injuries.”

Aurelia bit her lip. She
hadn’t heard
that
rule before. Though she was confident in her ability to take
down whatever they threw at her, she knew how messy her kills could
get – and how messy
she
could get in the process. Only the top ten
scorers could enter the Challenge itself, and if she didn’t rack up
enough points …
But
I will
, she told herself
firmly.
I have to.

Whoever won would be set for life. They’d be
given enough money to last a lifetime, along with all the fame and
glory that came with being crowned the best monster fighter in the
world. But that wasn’t what she really cared about.

What mattered to her was
that if she won, everything would change. No more getting
everything secondhand from the Enchanters, from her tiny dorm room
to her tattered schoolbooks. No more being looked down upon by
teachers, who spoke of Norm inferiority as if it was fact. No more
putting up with the snooty attitudes of her magic-wielding
schoolmates, who thought they were so much better than her. None of
them had even seen a monster outside of captivity. Meanwhile, she’d
already gone on several official missions against the creatures
outside the city gates. She actually knew what she was doing. More
than that – she
excelled
.

If the judge would just
stop talking and get the thing
started
, she’d prove it.

As for her own life … once she became a
Defender, she’d be treated as an adult, and no longer a ward of the
state. She could do what she wanted instead of being forced to
train endlessly, and without reward.

She’d be free.

The silver blades on the
table before her blazed with the light of combat, and her blood
rushed with eagerness. Weapons like these were her ticket to
changing everything that was wrong with her life and world. The
future she wanted was so close that she could almost smell it in
the arena’s crisp air.
Now, if only that
judge would shut up and let me fight!

As if on cue, the judge said, “This
concludes the introduction. Now, let the screening begin.”

It’s about freaking
time.
The point behind her shoulder blades
was already itching with the thought of the monsters around her,
and her eyes darted across the arena, trying to locate the first
test. What would it be? Where would it come from? And
when?

The judge stepped forward, becoming vaguely
visible as he drew closer to the light. “Describe how to identify
and kill a skinwalker,” he snapped.

She almost grinned. Of all the easy
questions to ask! “Skinwalkers can take the shape of any animal by
wearing its skin, but their glowing eyes give them away. The only
way to gank ‘em is with a weapon dipped in white ash. Or you can
lop their heads off with a silver blade. That’ll work on
anything.”

“
Correct.”

Suddenly she sensed something flying toward
her from behind. Here it came: The first test of her abilities.

She grabbed a bow and arrow from the table,
spun, and saw a white sphere flying at her – a familiar training
device powered by spells. Underneath the glow, though, was the
magic of a skinwalker. If she didn’t destroy it, it would transform
into a vicious maw and rip off her skin.

She fired, praying that the judges – or
whoever set up the arena – had thought to dip the arrows in white
ash. Her arrow pierced the sphere, which exploded into a fine mist.
It had barely made it into the arena before she’d hit it.

Aurelia turned back to the
judges, knowing she’d just passed with flying colors.
Easy peasy.
It hadn’t
been a real skinwalker, but it would have done just as much damage
if it had reached her. And she’d destroyed it without a second
thought.

If the judge who had questioned her was
impressed by her speed, he didn’t show it. “And if you encounter a
specter?” he asked.

“
Ward it off with silver
and run like hell.” Aurelia placed the bow and arrow back on the
table, grimacing at the thought of specters – spirits of the dead
that managed to return to the earth. While some were harmless,
friendly even, most preyed on the living, delighted in wreaking
havoc, and fed on fear. But that wasn’t why they made her
uncomfortable. Danger had never scared her. Neither did the
monsters. No, she found specters unsettling because she had no way
of killing something that was already dead. And it bothered her
that they were considered the same as monsters, when they had once
been people. But she couldn’t let herself get caught up in those
kinds of questions. They were a threat, and dead things should stay
dead.

“
Silver slows ‘em down,”
she went on. “But the only way to actually get rid of one is with
a
spiritum evanescet
banishing spell. Which I can’t do because I’m not an
Enchanter.”

“
Correct.”

Now there were others in the arena. Three
targets this time, the first coming from the left. Aurelia grabbed
the double swords and waited for the white sphere to get closer. It
didn’t take long; specters were faster than any of the other
monsters, since they didn’t have to bother with the ground. The
moment it was in range, she swung her right blade and sliced
through it. The sphere dissolved, just as a real specter would have
when hit by silver. A specter would also need to spend at least a
few moments rematerializing, so she whirled to face the other two
targets.

The second sphere came from behind, and it
came high. She swept her right arm over her head, drawing a circle
in the air with the blade, and hit it without turning around. Her
left blade shot out in a swift backhand, nailing the third target
over her shoulder.

She waited, glancing around rapidly. Would
those spheres reappear, as real specters would? Or were the judges
done for now?

After a full minute of nothing, she decided
the latter was probably true. She turned to the judges, but kept
her senses alert in case they weren’t finished with her yet.

The judges’ faces were
carefully blank, but the fact that they had come close enough to
the edge of the box for her to see them told her that they were
impressed and wanted a closer look. She flicked her wrist, casually
swinging one of the swords.
I know, guys.
I’m awesome.

“
Tell us what you know
about fangbeasts,” one of the judges intoned.

She grimaced again, even
more disturbed by these than she was by specters. “Fangbeasts are
the
worst
.
They’ve got sharp teeth and claws like any old wolf, but what makes
them scary is their ability to multiply. You never face just one.
They can teleport to any place they want, and they’re practically
invincible. Spells, bullets, blades – they all bounce right off.
You can try beheading them, but unless you get the original beast
and not a clone … you’re dead.”

It wasn’t the most academic answer, but it
was true. She’d never had to face one, and she thanked her lucky
stars for that every day. It had been fifty years since anyone had
seen a fangbeast, and most thought they were extinct. She’d always
assumed the same. Suddenly, given the judges’ question, she wasn’t
so sure.

The judge nodded. “Correct.”

The sound of dozens of flying spheres
whipping through the air filled her ears, and her heart nearly
stopped. She’d never seen training spheres used to represent
fangbeasts before. If even one got her, she’d end up a bloody
mess.

But she refused to let
them scare her, and a moment later her blood was rushing through
her body, fresh with eagerness. Once she passed this test, the
judges would have
no
reason to doubt her abilities.

She swept her gaze across
the arena. Already, she could see four spheres zooming toward her,
and she knew from the whooshing sounds that several more would
follow. But which would represent the
true
fangbeast? That was the one she
had to destroy. If she didn’t, it wouldn’t matter how many of the
others she got.

She raised her blades, ready to strike.

Aurelia raced out of
the
arena and down the Academy’s stone
corridors, her heart still thumping with excitement from her test.
Or was it thumping from worry? It didn’t matter; she didn’t have
much time before it was Connor’s turn to face the judges, and she
needed to tell him what he’d be up against.

She wove through the
crowded hallway, irritated by the presence of so many bodies. Since
the Academy was hosting the Challenge, the school was full of old
people…well, non-teenagers, at least. Challenge officials, judges,
representatives from participating nations, other potential
contestants, and coaches had all been put up in the Academy’s spare
dorm rooms and given access to classrooms and student lounges. Many
of the other students were awed by the international spotlight
being shone on their school, but all Aurelia could think about was
how annoying the visitors were. They were
slow
, and
old
, and insisted on clogging up the
hallways.

She pulled up short behind a group of
middle-aged Enchanters and danced impatiently, wondering what
exactly would happen if she just went crashing through them. Before
she could decide, a voice rang out through the hallway, distracting
her.