Izdahl held his head in his hands, momentarily lost as waves of sharp pain cascaded in his skull. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. When his eyesight stopped blurring, Metienne was the first person he saw. She loomed over him and grinned. She casually touched his shirt with one index finger and it burst into flames. Smoke curled off Izdahl, as he used his water elemental powers to put out the fire. As steam rose off him, he took a deep breath, to get his temper under control.
“I hate you so much right now,” he said.
Metienne patted his cheek. “I’m shaken to my core.”
“You are consistently awful.” Izdahl flinched, as he got to his feet, his back and thighs aching from the early morning workout. “Last week was so much easier. Can I go back to the cabin?”
He’d just regained his balance, when Metienne hooked a leg behind one of his and sent him tumbling again.
“How dare you complain?” she asked. “I should burn a hole through your chest. I allowed you to take a break and you returned with this sloppiness.”
“You don’t have to be so rough.” He gave her a mock scowl and took the hand she offered him.
“Still glad you brought your boyfriend?” she asked, mischief in her eyes.
Izdahl glanced to his left, where Armando sat cross-legged. He was sitting in a protective transparent box, to keep him from being hurt, in case any stray powers zoomed in his direction. Izdahl tried to give Armando a reassuring smile. He wanted to go over to the edge of the training area and smooth the lines of worry from Armando’s forehead. Instead, he forced himself to refocus on the sparring.
“You’re acting like you don’t have any honor to defend,” Metienne said. “The Amasis didn’t get where we are by losing. That applies to business, to politics and to the Elite Nakra Hein. And even more to love.”
“I know, Meti.”
“You don’t date losers, do you?” Metienne called out to Armando.
Armando shook his head and laughed. “No.”
Izdahl pointed a finger at him in warning. “Don’t you start.”
“I believe in you, my love,” Armando said.
“He’s teasing you with that exaggerated passion.” Metienne flicked Izdahl on his nose. “You need to earn adoration.”
“I can do better.” Izdahl flexed his neck and shoulders, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let’s go again.”
The gleam of competition appeared in Metienne’s eyes. She beckoned at Izdahl with one hand and they began another round of sparring.
~~50.1~~
After a grueling three hours, Izdahl sat on the training floor. Sweat streamed off him, his body cooling from the demanding exercise with Metienne. He felt more confident in his techniques than he ever had. His lips curled into an arrogant smile, as Metienne lay a short distance away from him, struggling to catch her breath.
“Need some help there?” Izdahl asked, his tone impish. “Who’s unworthy now?”
Metienne laughed, while she continued to recover from Izdahl’s last volley. Her skin knitted itself back together, healing from burns that had just ended the match. She sat up and shook her fist at him.
“Don’t let this win go to your head,” she said.
Izdahl glanced over at Armando, whose face was a mixture of admiration and concern. “How did I do?”
Armando gave a long whistle. “You were fantastic.”
“This time, you deserve your praise,” Metienne said, getting to her feet. “The small vacation did you well. Everything I taught you needed to solidify and sink into your mind.”
Izdahl smiled, glad to have his cousin’s genuine approval. “So you think I’m ready?”
“As much as you can be.” Metienne laughed softly. “At least now I don’t believe you’ll shame the family.” Metienne tousled his hair. “But in about two weeks, we’ll know for sure.”
~~50.2~~
Izdahl looked up at the large screen on the wall in his dressing room. Rather than mingle with the other Elite Fire Sparring competitors, he preferred to remain in solitude, trying to calm himself for the experience ahead. He was just beginning to feel the full weight of his decision to participate, now that he was in the basement of the stadium where the competition would happen. He tried to balance his anxiety with excitement, by looking at the earliest opening festivities, knowing that millions were enjoying the spectacles that were leading up to the competitions.
On the screen, Izdahl could see the long parade. Elaborate floats represented the family of each of the athletes competing. The enormous floats made their way down the main street leading to the stadium, chaperoned by humans and Nitelge. This was a new feature of the games that many welcomed, enjoying the spirit of cooperation.
The first float for the Amasis was four stories tall, decorated with holographic displays of the five previous Amasi Elite Fire Sparring winners. A second float was dedicated to Izdahl. He laughed at the holograms of him flexing and making other poses. Most of his holographic actions were from his previous Nakra Hein fights. He hoped he could build on his sparring record and have an impressive win at this competition with much higher risks and stakes.
Even in the basement of the stadium, Izdahl could hear the roar of the excited crowds ready for that afternoon’s events. As much as he wanted to watch the rest of the procession, he needed to finish dressing for his part in the opening ceremonies. He went to the metal platform against one wall, where he’d arranged each piece of his outfit. It was based on the armor Amasi warriors had worn into battle against the Basheil hundreds of years ago. While the armor was much lighter than what had existed during the war, owing to the advancement of technology, it was still an impressive show of Amasi design. Made of baltium, it was constructed of pieces molded to his head, torso, arms, and legs. He especially liked his helmet, which was modeled after the one that belonged to Gasira, a highly admired general. She’d been instrumental in helping the clan not only gain victory but also rebuild at the end of the war. The only differences between her helmet and Izdahl’s was that his was a little larger and he’d had the crafter etch “Armando” inside it.
Twenty minutes later, Izdahl had put on his armor, when he heard a knock on the door. It was the attendant who would help him with the final adjustments and make sure everything was secure. It didn’t take long to check everything. When he was ready, Izdahl picked up his helmet and headed to the stables.
The amount of activity there contrasted with the relative quiet of his dressing room. Stable hands rushed around, helping the other competitors with their luraga. None of the other competitors were in a particularly chatty mood, all of them focused on getting their luraga ready. Izdahl was in the same state-of-mind. Being the one to perform last, his stall was at the end. He walked to where Koraiy waited for him. Duncan, who was brushing Koraiy, looked at Izdahl and grinned.
“Thank you for asking me to help,” Duncan said.
“Of course.” Izdahl laughed softly. “Armando recommended you and I trust his judgment.”
“Mom is so grateful. When the news mentioned I’d be your stable boy for the competition, it brought us more business.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
“Well, she’s much busier now.” Duncan laughed. “We had to hire a few more people to keep up with the demand. Anyway, thanks again.” Duncan patted Koraiy’s side. “He’s really excited. Do you want me to get him ready now?”
“Yes and I’ll give him a warm up.”
After getting Koraiy ready to go into the arena, Izdahl gave him a few treats. He spoke quietly to his luraga, encouraging him to do well. Then he patted his neck and marched him out to the lineup with the other competitors. One-by-one, they paraded through the passage that led from the stables to the stadium, with the roar of the crowd getting louder.
When he entered the stadium, Izdahl took in as much as he could, while remaining calm. After the announcer introduced each competitor, Izdahl returned with the others to the waiting area. He had at least twenty minutes before it was his turn to perform. He took the time to give Koraiy more words of encouragement, quietly guiding him through each movement they’d make. When it was his turn to enter the stadium and dazzle the crowd, he took a deep breath, listening as his name was announced.
The Amasi Anthem, “Strength and Valor” began to play. The piece, with a choir and orchestra, wove through the entire stadium. Izdahl put aside his concerns, as he heard the powerful drums. He mounted Koraiy, straightened his backbone, and strode out to honor his loved ones.
~~50.3~~
Izdahl emerged into the arena, with pride etched in his bearing. He sat astride Koraiy, his back straight and his head held high. He looked to the left side of the stadium and found the box for Kelcho Amasi. He bowed his head in respect to his Great Grandmother. She acknowledged his show of respect by gracefully raising her left hand, which bore the ring of the Amasis Clan. From the ring, she released magic into the air. Golden tendrils curled out of the ring, floating into a delicate dance as they formed the crest of the Amasis. As the emblem shimmered and disappeared, those under Amasi leadership roared their support.
Izdahl found Armando sitting a few rows below Xersa. Armando gave him a wide grin and a wink. Izdahl chuckled, any doubts he had removed by his lover’s support. He looked forward again and patted Koraiy, who stomped his front hooves. Drones hovering around the Amasi box broadcasted footage of Izdahl’s family and friends. Thin screens installed around the stadium showed those who were there to support him, the images also going out to millions of viewing devices on the planet.
“We’ll start soon,” Izdahl said to Koraiy. “Do it like we practiced.”
A few moments later, the song Izdahl had chosen for his demonstration began to play. The crowd hushed, as he urged Koraiy into a strong gallop. Just as they reached the middle of the arena, Izdahl transferred some of his power. Koraiy lifted off the ground. Wings the same shade as Izdahl’s unfurled from Koraiy’s sides. The silver and dark blue feathers vividly contrasted with Koraiy’s lush black coat. Izdahl and Koraiy soared, as the crowd watched in stunned silence.
Izdahl and Koraiy circled the arena three times, effortlessly twisting, turning and diving. Then, Izdahl stopped at Xersa’s box. Izdahl honored her with his hand over his heart. Koraiy stomped to the rhythm of the music, sending silver and dark blue sparks flying. Then, Izdahl directed him to rear up in salute to Xersa.
To the additional delight of the audience, Izdahl swooped to where Armando sat. Izdahl grinned at Armando, acknowledging his lover. Koraiy knelt in front of Armando, causing the crowd to cheer even louder. Then, with a calm grace, Izdahl spiraled down to a waiting platform, landing exactly as the music finished. He dismounted and hugged Koraiy. His luraga nipped him on the shoulder affectionately. He turned slowly, basking in the crowd’s standing ovation, with his arms raised triumphantly.
