Chapter 3 #2
“And each time you have brought her home to Blackwood, she has shown your father and me the respect given to worms. I do not trust her. What did you say her surname was again?”
Footsteps echo in the tunnel, and her father appears. His arms, nearly black with ink, are fully displayed with his fitted armor.
“My little Queen!” His usual cold gaze has a way of softening around the family. “I fucking hate when you are out of my sight.” He growls before kissing her passionately, forcing Aura to avert her gaze.
Once he has sufficiently rattled her poor mother, he turns to Aura. Dammit, did his face not tug into a wide smile amidst his long braided auburn beard.
“Kid!” Sigvid pulls Aura into a bear hug. “Are you fucking ready for this?”
“Sig,” Avina interrupts, “we were just discussing how this is her decision and hers alone.”
“Of course, Kid. But I know you got this!” He claps her on the shoulder. “Thora is gracious enough to allow me to place your medal around your neck once you complete your Trial.”
She fidgets with her fingers, churning over Issie’s words. “Pops, is it possible someone would choose a Death Match?”
“Why? Has someone said something to you?” His calm demeanor shifts into a gruff voice that promises retribution.
“No, no!” she hesitates, knowing he can sniff out the hint of a lie, “I understand it’s an option.”
He cracks his neck, and she is amazed he doesn’t hurt himself. “No one has ever opted for that.”
Her face must betray further discomfort because he tugs her into his chest, pressing a grizzly kiss to her cheek. “Death Matches do not happen.”
Aura feels on the verge of tossing last night’s meal.
Sigvid walks her to the starting gate, which now seems to represent the mouth of some monster of the Abyss. Her mother gives her a final peck on the cheek before climbing into the stadium seats.
Echoing across the field, she hears the Gothi, who uses his Sacred Stone ability to elevate his voice and announce her name and Trial.
“Pops…” She begins to admit the truth pounding in her head.
I can’t do this. I wish to go home!
She grabs the gate's rusting wrought-iron bars, hoping they can steady her feet. A light, familiar tug on her braid draws her attention to her father’s proud smirk.
And that is all the encouragement she needs.
There is no going back.
“WHEN THE GATE CLOSES, THE TRIAL CANNOT BE STOPPED…” The announcer’s voice rattles in her mind.
“Sis!” Bjorn’s suavely dressed form appears behind her father just as the gate creaks open. With a quick hug, he offers the most reassuring expression she has received today.
Uncertainty.
With a crash, the gate locks behind, sealing the Princess inside until the Trial is complete.
“AURA SIGVIDSSON-REDWOOD! FINAL TRIAL!”
No more second thoughts.
To wear the crown and lead someday, they must look to her as the true daughter of Sigvid and Avina and not a weakling.
Once the horn bellows across the field, she tears off across the stadium, exiting the opposite gate and beginning a timed run up the slope of Fjell Mountain.
She has taken the path since her father could put a small axe in her hand.
Overhead, the sky opens up, delivering a torrential downpour of cold, sideways rain.
She plunges ahead, grateful her long curls are braided out of her face. Along the path, Drengr are strategically concealed in the woods, clad in dark cloaks. They will track her progress and report back to her sister and the Lady Commander of the Drengr, Thora.
Eventually, she reaches the halfway point of the slope, only to be struck by a club against her thigh.
Aura drops to the muddy ground, gasping as a mountainous warrior roars against a jagged lightning strike in the black sky.
She rolls to the side, withdrawing a dagger just in time to embed the blade into the attacker’s calf.
Her challenger staggers back, allowing her to leap to her feet and assume a block. They grapple back and forth until he becomes wary, allowing her to slide to her knees and, with a vital hit, take out his legs.
Without accepting her time check, she begins her trek back down the mountain. The exertion burns her lungs, and the cold rain chills her bones.
A thunderous wave of applause erupts as she bursts back into the stadium through a back gate, the energy electrifying the air around her!
Aura bends over, her hands clutching her knees as she takes a well-earned moment to catch her breath.
I deserve a hot bath after this.
She jogs to the lone imposing tower in the center of the field.
When she reaches the uneven wooden ladder built into the side of the structure, she practically slams her palms against the rungs slick from the rain.
As she begins her ascent, the announcer’s voice rings out the type of challenge she will soon encounter.
“AURA SIGVIDSON-REDWOOD HAS BEEN CHALLENGED TO A DEATH MATCH.”
What? Her whole body seizes. In that moment, she can hear the relentless pounding of her heart, drowning out the cheers of the crowd.
She should turn back.
A Death Match?
To challenge a warrior in their final Trial, Drengrs must submit an anonymous request. The confrontation is never revealed until the final moment, creating tension among the viewers and the recruit.
What would Pops do in this situation?
He would confront this asshole head-on.
With shaky hands, she pulls herself to the summit of the tower.
When she reaches the top, pain explodes along the back of her head. Her opponent drags her forward by her braid.
“Hello, Aura, welcome to the end.” A familiar feminine voice cuts through the storm.
Her instincts kick in before she can fully process the sound of steel singing through the air as she struggles against the tower floor.
The thunk that follows the blade also releases the tension on her plait.
When she fumbles along the back of her head, she gingerly touches her new split ends to find her braid is gone.
She shivers, clutching her short curls. Her blood boils with anger at the injustice, a borderline sacrilegious action—the physical representation of her dedication to becoming a warrior and honoring her Guardian bloodline.
Aura grinds her teeth as she focuses on the worn floorboards of the tower’s summit. The knuckles of her fists whiten before she pushes to her feet to confront her betrayal.
Isabel's narrowed brown gaze lock with hers with a determination that clenches her stomach. Her friend twirls an axe with deft precision while a round shield rests in her non-dominant hand.
“Issie…” This is not the time to consider motivation. And yet, Aura cannot help the sensation that none of what is happening is real. “Is this a jest?”
Isabel tilts her head to the side. “The only jest here is that you are Avina Bloodstone’s daughter. The brilliant Queen,” she mocks. “And here, you still don’t know who I am.”
I am going to be fucking sick. “You pushed me to train and…and… we laid together. I thought we were at least friends.”
If not lovers.
Isabel takes measured steps around the tower's square edge, forcing Aura to mirror her progress carefully.
“Can you imagine,” Isabel sneers, “the pride on my father’s face when I slay the daughter of Sigvid?”
Aura shivers at the coldness in her threat. “What is this about?”
What went wrong?
How did she miss the signs that Isabel wanted her dead?
The snarl on Isabel’s face nearly jolts Aura off the side of the tower.
“So predictable, Princess. Believing it’s all about you.
You are a means to an end!” Isabel launches herself into the air, her axe glinting menacingly in the light as she swings it downwards.
Just in time, she manages to block the incoming strike, sending her opponent reeling backward with a powerful force.
What the fuck is happening?
Her body shakes in confusion and fear. What if she could not bring herself to kill Isabel?
Isabel snarls as she slams her axe head at Aura, who blocks with her own.
“Why are you doing this?”
Isabel initiated the first kiss and insisted we spend hours training. How am I the one at fault?
“Your parents have enough enemies. Figure it out, daughter of Avina.” She spits at her feet with such venom that the Princess recoils in horror.
“What did befriending me serve you?” Aura cannot decide if she wishes to scream, cry, or attack.
Isabel shrugs. “I needed to get close to you, Aurie, to ensure you arrived at this exact moment. In your final Drengr Trial. Ready to accept a Death Match.”
A burst of deception shudders down Aura’s spine, and she tears across the tower with an axe raised at Isabel.
They meet each other in the center. The steel of their blades clangs off one another.
Yet, that does little to ease the pain in her throat or the increasingly unsteady tears, threatening to distract her.
Aura attacks recklessly, embracing the agony coursing through her veins.
Isabel laughs as she bounces Aura off her shield. “After I kill you, I will shove a stake through your pretty head and set it outside of Toftlund. Imagine your father’s expression. He will know that my family will avenge their own, even in death.”
Who the fuck is her family? Oh, gods, please do not let it be Uncle Thrain.
“Still haven’t figured me out?” Isabel slams her shield again into Aura, who stumbles backward, nearly falling off the side.
Aura throws up her axe to catch Isabel’s attack, but her weapon tumbles off the side of the tower. Before she can scramble away, Isabel cackles as her blade slices into Aura’s upper arm. She clutches her wound with a scream, using the shield to protect herself against Isabel’s continued assault.
There is no way she will succeed. Her damn overwhelming emotions are compromising everything.
And Isabel knew that.
Aura glances over her shoulder at the mud below and takes a deep breath to steady herself.
“So many ways I can watch the life leave your eyes.” Isabel toys with the axe in her hand.
Aura crawls further to the side, peering over the edge. Suddenly, Isabel stomps on her hand, wrecking out cries of shock. A boot strikes her side, and her shield yanks from her grip.
“My plans are much bigger than you, Princess.”
Aura glances over the side, and before Isabel can embed her axe into her heart, she rolls off the side and catches herself on the wooden rungs halfway down, straining her arms. She lowers herself to the ground and bolts across the field, heading for the gate.
If this is bigger than me, then I must go to my parents.
But her opponent is faster.
Aura stands just inches from the gate, her fingers gripping the rusted iron. She wants nothing more than to push through, but the weight of her wounds keeps her rooted in place, a painful reminder of her struggle.
Isabel seizes the back of her cuirass, shoving Aura onto her back.
“No one is here to save you! Sigvid would not dare interrupt a match. My family will taste our sweet vengeance!”
Isabel swings her axe above her head and strikes. Aura finds a discarded round shield next to her in the field, holding it up in time for Isabel’s axe to splinter the wood, lodging the blade. She tosses them aside, her heart thundering so hard that a ringing resounds in her ears.
Isabel drops to her knees and punches her in the face. Blood runs from her nose and onto her tongue.
“I am going to rip your fucking face off!” She screams as she repeatedly strikes her face.
Aura desperately tries to shield herself from the blows, but the pain coursing through her and the weight of Isabel make it nearly impossible.
She rolls side to side, struggling to escape Isabel’s fists.
Finally, Isabel leaps to her feet, standing on Aura’s arm.
The tip of her boot repeatedly connects to her stomach and legs.
They are so close to the gate…if her father or Bjorn are still near…
“Enough!” Her father’s gruff voice booms across the field as a blackwood-handled axe just barely misses Isabel’s head, sinking into the ground.
A shadow falls over Aura as her father appears, effectively forfeiting her Trial. He punches Isabel in the face with a loud crack, causing her to roll away.
“Open the fucking gate!” Sigvid roars over his shoulder. It is then that she realizes he must have climbed the fence.
She feels her eyelids droop under the pummeling of the rain as her wounds get the best of her, dragging her to the darkness. She must tell her father of Isabel’s crusade.
They are all in danger.
“Aura!” He abandons his pursuit of Isabel, who bounds through the open gate.
She fights against the dark haze that grips the world. Her father, the great Sigvid Thordsson, cradles her in his chest, his expression hauntingly despairing.
And then everything goes black.