Chapter Eleven - The Tournament Begins

A wave of relief washed over everyone when they heard there were no more entries. They no longer worried about being crushed before the first fight. Despite limited room to move, Ailith couldn't keep still. Body throbbing. Blood pumping. She squealed every time the sturdy door opened and a man in smart attire emerged with a slip of paper in hand.

A collective breath was drawn from all the competitors while the gentleman smoothed the slip of paper and called out two names, the opponents for the next match. Neither name was Ailith's. She groaned while two figures squeezed through the packed room and out of the door before it sealed shut. Ailith was deterred, but only for a moment. It would have been too perfect to be the first called. Her time would come. She just needed had to have patience. Though, if her racing heart gave any indication, that would soon wear thin.

Soon, a chorus of noises from outside drowned the competitor's conversations. They heard the cheering of the watching spectators, loud enough to rattle their bones. Ailith mused on how many people would be watching. She was looking to amaze everyone. The room shook as a loud bell reverberated five times before the sound of a fight overwhelmed everything. The clash only lasted a few minutes, not even enough time for Ailith to imagine the battle before the crowd cheered.

Not long after, the gentleman returned to call out the next two. Still, Ailith had to wait. For the next hour or so, this motion repeated itself. The battles lasted for various lengths, but Ailith could memorise everything in order.

The gentleman would butcher the pronunciation of two names. This earned juvenile snickers from fellow competitors. Five booming bell chimes signalled a new battle with the crowd applauding.

Through the mass of potential rivals, Ailith hoped to find Jozi. She felt uneasy about leaving their debate open-ended and on frosty terms. But, to her confusion, the woman was nowhere to be seen. Carrying a massive weapon with her, even if concealed, should have made her easy to find in a crowd. Had she already been called? Ailith couldn't remember hearing her name. If she had been, Ailith silently prayed that she made it through to the next round. She carried the hope that they would face each other, that is if Ailith's name were ever called...

''Ailith Natia of Arsalan?'' the gentleman announced. ''Am I saying that correctly?''

Her heart stopped beating. Ailith twisted her body so quickly she spun around twice before sprinting towards the door. The wind created by her momentum almost swept the gentleman off his feet. ''I'm Ailith! I'm here!'' she gasped wildly.

The gentleman readjusted himself, striking a poised look before reading the second name. ''Turrock...'' he paused and pulled the paper closer to his face, narrowing his eyes at the writing. ''Just...Turrock of Arsalan?''

Ailith felt the hairs on her skin catch fire as she glanced over her shoulder, waiting for them to emerge. The herd of bodies parted, allowing for a tall figure draped in shadow to approach. They weren't Human, nor Snakor or Krilleg.

A Majan. A finely dressed one too.

On top of a stylish white shirt, with a fairly deep v-cut, a black jacket wrapped around their muscular body. The sleeves were short, the hem at the triceps. Running down the length of his green-skinned arms were tattoos, patterned smoothly and differently. Strapped to an elegant belt was a small dagger. The pants copied the colour and pattern of the jacket, covering their legs, knees bent backwards at the joints. A pair of lavish, horsebit loafers drummed across the room as they strode forward coolly. Two small tusks protruded from the corners of the mouth.

Whispers passed amongst the other competitors. Smirks plastered on their face gave the impression that they already had a winner in mind. Was this Majan that strong? There was only one way to find out, and Ailith couldn't wait any longer.

When he reached the door, the gentleman turned and steered them in the right direction. Through an unblemished hallway ornamented with more chandeliers and framed paintings. Down a flight of stairs, they were escorted deeper into the castle. Ailith examined Turrock's tattoos, following the blank ink and hoping to find a recognisable pattern. Doing this, she almost missed the smirk he flashed her way.

''You hail from Arsalan as well?'' he inquired. His tone and delivery were equable.

''I do,'' she replied. ''Though, I travel with a camp. I came back to enter this tournament.''

He snorted. ''A wasted trip, then?''

Ailith threw him a roguish glare. ''Are you that confident you'll win?''

''Are you?''

''I wouldn't have come this far if I didn't think I could win,'' she stared at him with eyes of fire. ''And I will win.''

He released a low sigh. ''Oh, such audacity. Please, don't be too heartbroken when you are defeated.''

''Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you,'' she countered.

Banter was expected. Ailith had her fair share of it. However, the pressure mounting on her felt greater than anything she'd experienced. She swallowed hard, as the thought of what was at stake seeped into her subconscious. Her thoughts travelled to her Mama and Papa. They masked the truth from her, hiding the dire state their home was in.

''I'm going to win. I have so much to gain,'' she said.

Turrock smirked. ''So do I.''

They journeyed further before coming upon a long, stone passageway. Their footsteps echoed, filling out the stretch of silence between them. At the end was a tunnel of blinding light, impossible to see what was beyond.

After keeping quiet since they started, it was jarring to hear the gentleman talk. ''Now, when you get onto the stage, you will wait for the King and Queen to be seated. After the bell chimes, that means when the bell rings...'' he enlightened Ailith.

''I know what chimed means.'' She scolded.

''Ah,'' he stammered, taking a quick glance at her makeshift armour before looking away. Turrock snorted and grinned at her while she glared back. Clearing his throat, the gentleman raised his chin. ''As I was saying, the bell chimes five times and that's when you...do what you have to do. Weapons and magic are permitted, though we implore you not to kill each other, please. That's always a messy situation to handle afterwards. A winner is decided when their opponent forfeits, can no longer continue or is disqualified by falling into the water. Are we clear?''

Ailith's brows rose. ''Falling into the water?''

They reached the open doorway, leading them back outside. A sudden burst of sunlight caused Ailith to lift her hand over her eyes and Turrock to stare at the ground. It took only a few seconds for their eyes to readjust. Their ears were working, hearing thunderous applause greet them on arrival. The distant sound of the crowd from back inside earlier was only a morsel compared to this. Ailith trembled without realising as she gazed in all directions.

This Colosseum was a gargantuan monster, magnificent and terrifying. Oval shaped and stretching for what seemed like miles. Three levels where the audience bestowed their new performers with a standing ovation. On the far end, above the third level, sat a small pavilion. It accommodated dozens of individuals, wearing the most eloquent garb. It was a far cry from the audience below. They barked at moving concessions stumbling through, and sometimes over, the aisles.

Ailith's eyes fall back down to her own level. A large cardinal walkway led towards the main arena, the centre of the Colosseum. It was also oval shaped, with stone slabs showing damage obtained from previous fights. Her gaze continued to lower until she was looking below the walkway. Surrounding the stage was a body of water crashing against the walls.

''Okay, now,'' the gentleman lifted his hands up and shushed the two towards the walkway. ''Shoo, off you go.'' He turned heel and walked back into the darkness of the passageway.

Without any further instruction required, Ailith and Turrock marched over the walkway.

Closing her eyes and clenching her fists, Ailith slowed her breathing to a crawl. ''You can do this. You can do this. You can do this,'' she murmured to herself.

''Feeling scared, yet?'' Turrock asked amusedly.

''I've been scared since I got here.''

''And you wear a smile?''

''I like to greet fear with a smile, and a good punch or two.''

He lowered his head slightly and smirked. ''I'm almost saddened that I have to defeat you. Almost.''

''I won't feel sad knocking you into the water.''

He ignored her taunt for now. Ailith understood why once they finally reached the main stage. The time for words was over.

Standing in the middle of the arena, in the middle of the Colosseum, Ailith waited anxiously with knots tightening in her stomach. The audience on the third level clapped. The second level followed and then rolling down to the first when King Kiros stepped into view on the pavilion. He dressed in red silk robes so refined Ailith could feel it from where she stood. Jewels were encrusted into the golden streaks running down his arms and chest. The golden crown atop the King's head shone brightly under the sun. He raised his arm, waving towards the crowd.His physique equalled his stature, even making Anoke docile by comparison. Only his joyful smile matched the size of his build.

''Let us begin the next fight!'' he bellowed.

Another ovation followed. The people were as hungry for entertainment as the competitors were for victory. The majestic couple sat on their thrones and their advisors followed suit. Ailith wanted to keep one eye on her fight and another on the pavilion.

She had to put on a good show. 

She had to give them a fight to remember. 

She would be remembered.

The first bell chime echoed around every corner of the Colosseum. Immediately, the audience was silenced, bonded to the edge of their seats. Ailith and Turrock turned to face each other.

Soon, the second chime thundered. Ailith took a stance, bending her knees and shielding her face with her extended right arm. The idea of using her magic from the beginning crossed her mind. However, she thought to save it for later.

The third chime struck. Turrock's dagger hissed as he pulled it from the sheath, padding the silence with the hiss of metal. His movements were slow and minimal.

Then came the fourth chime. Ailith held her breath. All of her senses were blistering. She pressed her foot into the ground, ready to launch herself at her opponent. He gave her one last smirk before there was complete silence.

At last, the fifth and final chime sounded...