Chapter 2b

What do I do? What do I do? Her eyes darted back and forth. She had a myriad of offensive and defensive strategies. And yet, none of them came to mind. She bit her lower lip in frustration.

            She looked to inquire from Marissa and Cassandra, her coaches, whose help she had never asked for mid-game. No, she fought the desire to ask for help. But what choice did she have. Ariel’s eyes blurred briefly. That Marissa and Cassandra were so motionless on their feet told her just how bad this all was. Ariel wasn’t sure what to do next. So, she pointed her elbow in front of her while glancing at Marissa, pretending to stretch. It was a sign they both came up with. A question: permission to continue on offense? Marissa turned to Cassandra who didn’t respond, and then Marissa nodded helplessly.

            Ariel glanced at Manny Jackson, Demetrius’s coach, the current director of Gladius. He was seated in the front seats. His stare, devoid of emotion. What would he have gained from attacking her reputation? She’d been certain he wouldn’t have dared put Demetrius up to this. Then there was Luke Ereith. The boy with the hair dyed white. The assistant coach to Manny. His hands worked the flat computer. His expressions unfazed like this wasn’t a surprise at all. These just seemed a conflict of interest.

Did someone want her to lose? Someone had to be behind this, probably training her brother offsite, preparing him to fight her. But for how long? Her face contorted in torment as she mused. She had no stats about his prior training. She’d checked before accepting this challenge. There was no way in all of Eos that Demetrius could be this good.

Her heartrate heightened, double-time, clobbering her chest as she thought of the Blademaster challenge. Losing to an amateur would destroy her chances. Now her prospects at the challenge: at the chance of fighting her mentor to win it was slipping. This would dampen her dreams of becoming a Blademaster. She sighed, sweat pouring down her face.

            “Ariel!” Marissa screamed.

            She blinked away the tears that had accumulated in time for her eyes to catch the glint of a blade, held by Demetrius, headed straight for her. Her arms almost didn’t move. An instant panic had weighed them down. But within a blink of an eye, she managed to deflect that one sword. Then came Demetrius’ dominant hand—his right hand—bringing down a tremendous force against her weakened left arm.

            Despite her vox suit eating most of the force, her left arm jolted up to her rotator cuff. She looked up helplessly at Demetrius. She cried out, dropped one sword, and leapt back. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she got down on one knee. sound of the vox suit spat back excess energy.

Ariel cupped her mouth, locking the pain, and restraining the tears—fighting to maintain some appearance of strength. With a sweeping glance she beheld the audience. Flashing cameras and awestruck stares added to the pain rolling down her arm. Edna was so far from her mind right now. Surviving this was priority. Damage control she murmured.

            “She’s hurt,” cried Cassandra.

Ariel wished they’d come help her if doing so didn’t mean forfeiting the game. She squinted hard against the burning sweat. Her lungs worked to their full capacity. Demetrius stood there, breathing a little less than she was. She reasoned that he was enjoying this. It was his moment. Not only that, but he’d also been toying with her. She hated this desire welling up inside her to just have him finish her off and get this all over with.

But to lose? Never! But she couldn’t deny what she felt.

 Can I still turn this around? Ariel wondered. She could no longer see Demetrius Spica past the curtain of tears, this undulating, liquid veil shimmering in her vision. Frustration had ruptured her façade of strength. A pin drop could have been heard all over the muted arena. When she’d wiped her eyes, she didn’t fail to notice wide-open mouths nor clasped hands resting on scalps throughout the arena

Ariel knew Marissa was ready to step onstage and take her to the Medical Department. In fact, Marissa jerked a little, but was impeded by Cassandra’s restraining hand. Marissa’s face said it all. The outlook was not good at all.

            “Ariel,” said Cassandra, with a voice tinged with fright. “Can you go on?”

Attempting to move her left arm caused her to hold back tears. She grunted, sealing her eyes, and sucked air through gritted teeth. She slouched, trying to stabilize that limb.

She had no choice. If she couldn’t go on, she’d forfeit. And a forfeit was a loss.

“Yes,” said Ariel. “I can.” It hurt. Really bad. Not just her arm, but what Demetrius was doing to her.

Her future as a blademaster was at stake and she was fresh out of options.

Ariel lifted up her head to Demetrius who now had the advantage. She wanted to turn this grim match around. Why her brother was here, she was yet to figure out. But he’d rue the moment he wielded those blades.

Closing her eyes to the stage, to her coaches, to the crowd, and to the whole Arena, Ariel became still. Her thumb pulsed on her hilt. Her shoulders fell and rose slightly with each breath. She drowned out the noise of a concerned crowd with a deep inner silence.

“Shhh,” she whispered to herself.

In the wide-open space, she would end this humiliation. Rage roared through her as she kicked hard against the ground, propelling herself, and dragging her blade along. Demetrius met her head-on, and the crash filled the arena with a blast of steam.

The shockwave sliced through the air carrying a force to the audience. Ariel covered her face at the shrill screech of the billions of vox cells on her suit. They tightened up, spilling out excess energy. It took seconds for the air to clear. Everything had stilled. The stadium. The audience. Time. She awaited the familiar voice of the computer announcer.

“Draw!”

Ariel sealed her eyes and lowered her face. She took measured breaths. Her whole body remained tense. Each vox cell of the body suit, distributed and redistributed the force of the absorbed blow, quietened. She fixed her eyes on his exhausted sneer and shivered, realizing that somehow her brother—who had little to no training—had managed to bring her down. Her thigh burned from where the vox units of his sword had splayed effectively.

Pressure rose in her upper thigh, becoming more and more unbearable. She’d been staring into his dark brown eyes uncomfortably. Now she looked down at his hands. His dematerializing sword thrust into her thigh, fired up pain receptors. Ariel returned her shocked gaze at his face. He grinned.

He did it?Ariel pried the wiry blade from her brother’s stomach. And she grunted as he pulled the vox sword from her leg. The audience remained silent. Ariel, on the other hand, was afraid again. Next to losing was the dreaded stalemate.

Ariel sealed her eyes and lowered her face. She took measured breaths. Her whole body remained tense. Each vox cell of the body suit, distributing and redistributing the force of the absorbed blow, quietened. She fixed her eyes on his exhausted sneer and shivered, realizing that somehow her brother—who had little to no training—had managed to bring her down. Her thigh burned from where the vox units of his sword had splayed effectively.

“Guess you’re not as strong as they say,” said Demetrius, retracting his blade.

“What has gotten into you”, was what she wanted to say. She felt that the last four years of blood-pumping and sweat-dripping all came to nothing that evening.

Ariel balled a fist as she imagined Edna, her mentor, watching all of this. Speechless, she rose up, caught the mercilessness in his gaze. He chuckled and limped away to his coaches. Supporting him on his sides, they exited the stage in all the excitement and bewilderment. The crowd roared over and over, but not for Ariel. She let her hilt swallow the blade as her cold gaze lingered on her bother.