thought. He aimed his blade towards Rikar’s chest, but somehow Nikulo had managed to get up quickly, and drove right through Talis and Mara, his bladed staff spinning wide. Talis jumped back, only to feel Rikar’s sword grating along his ringmail chest, issuing a shower of sparks. Talis retreated fast, smelling metallic smoke from the sparks.
Grinning, Rikar pressed his advantage, slicing and pushing him towards the arena’s edge. Just when Rikar was about to land a blow on Talis’s neck, Talis felt a dizzy sensation. All movement around him stopped, and the light in the arena went gold. The sky was filled with dancing stars.
Like the world had frozen, Talis could see the entire scene at once. The weakness in Rikar’s defense. Rikar’s frozen face shone with hate and bloodlust and madness. Talis felt a wind whirling inside his chest.
He knew suddenly where he had to strike.
Before time rushed on, Talis danced aside and landed a blow hard on Rikar’s hip, breaking through his armor, sending blood spurting, a red stain on his leg. Rikar sank, gripping the wound. That was it. The pain shot up to Rikar’s eyes and across his face. He bit his lip hard and sank to the ground.
The healer cried out and raced forward. He placed his hands on Rikar’s hip and the armor glowed white-hot, and Rikar’s face was filled with light. Rikar’s reddened eyes glared furiously at Talis.
“The winner of this year’s Blood Dagger is Talis of House Storm and Mara of House Lei.” Master Jarvis lifted Talis’s and Mara’s arms, and nodded to the victors.
Talis found a smile coming to his face. They’d won. They really won. Father would finally see him as worthy to carry on the Storm family lineage. He couldn’t wait to run home and tell his family. They’d won the Blood Dagger and won the right to fight in the Arena of the Sej Elders, in front of all the crowds that gathered to watch the fights. Talis remembered his father’s beaming face after his older brother Xhan had won his first Blood Dagger competition.
The healer finished casting the binding spell to close Rikar’s wounds. Talis offered a hand to help Rikar to his feet, but Rikar slapped his arm away. “Don’t touch me.” He picked up his weapon and limped down the tunnel.
Talis looked over at Mara, and gripped her hand. “I didn’t think we had a chance. But you were so amazing.”
Mara blushed, and waved the idea away. “You finished him. What got into you anyways?”
“It was nothing. I got in a lucky strike.” Talis could feel a redness wash over his face.
“You’ve improved.” Nikulo stared at Talis, as if puzzled. “That was an incredible move at the end.”
Master Jarvis Numerian tromped up. “That was a good fight. They outplayed you both at first”-he studied Talis-”but your final blow…deadly fast and accurate.”
Talis bowed to Master Jarvis, still feeling lightheaded over the win. After Jarvis left, Talis turned to leave with Mara, noticing the air was somehow warmer now. Mara reached out and held Talis’s hand, and they strode down the narrow cobblestone street, tall shops pressing in from either side.
“You did amazingly well, Talis.” Mara glanced up at him, pride and wonder in her eyes.
Talis squeezed her hand and grinned at her, his head bobbing from side-to-side. “I’m starving.”
The air smelled of sweet pies from the baker’s oven, with wafts of apple and honey and pear stirring in his nostrils. His stomach complained.
As they rounded a corner, a small, dirty boy in shoddy clothes ran up to Talis.
“Please sir, have pity on an old lady and her grandson.” The boy gestured to a frail, wrinkled woman crumpled against a stone house. Her hair looked windswept and tangled, and her skin was sun-burnt and dry.
Talis wanted to go home and celebrate with his father, but the boy wouldn’t let him pass.
“Wait,” Mara said, and held Talis’s shoulder. She turned to face the boy. “Where are you from?”
“We’re refugees…from the city of Onair. Please, sir, just a few coppers?”
“Onair?” Talis said. Father was from the western coastal city of Onair.
“She looks hungry,” Mara said.
“I wouldn’t ask for myself,” the boy said. “But my grandmother is so cold. I’m afraid for her life.”
“We should help her… Give her some coins.”
Talis nodded, glancing at the woman. She cringed as they approached.
Mara put out her hand. “Please, we mean no harm.”
The woman blinked, breathing in and out haltingly.
“You see,” Mara said, “my friend here has a few extra coins…we wanted to share them with you. It’s cold out.”
Opening her mouth as if to speak, the old woman coughed several times instead, wincing as if something hurt inside. She took a long breath, lifting her moist eyes to stare at Mara. “It is cold outside. Cold, cold, so cold…” A tear spilled down her cheek, but she remained motionless.
Talis placed some coins in her hands. They were like ice, as if nothing could ever warm that flesh. The woman stared at the coins for a while, then smiled at Talis. “You’re a kind boy. I’ve not had such kindness since”- she glanced off-”since before…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes glazed over.
Turning to the boy, Talis said, “What happened in Onair?”
“We came with the others that escaped. All is lost now, lost to the waves.”
“To the waves?” Mara said.
“Aye, to the fury of the sea. When our rulers refused to yield to the Jiserians, their sorcerers sent a tide such as has never been seen to destroy our walls.”
Jiserians? Naru was allied with the Jiserian Empire. He thought of his father telling stories of his childhood in Onair, along the beautiful sea. What would Father do if he knew that Onair had fallen to the Jiserians? Surely Naru would break the alliance.
“And then the necromancers came, sending hordes of undead into our city, killing the innocent and foolish. We were all fools for not leaving earlier.”
A cold shiver swept through Talis as he imagined an undead army. He’d seen drawings of them inside books of legend and myth. Ghosts roaming the frozen forests to the north, animating slain humans and animals, their lifeless bodies filled with demonic spirits. Those stories still terrified him.
“You must come and stay with my family, until you’re well-”
“We cannot. I thank you, I do. But we cannot bring curses upon your house.”
The old woman gazed at a shadow scarring the cobblestone street, her head shaking like she was possessed by a fit of terror.
Despite any words Talis said, she just stared at the ground, ignoring the world around her. The shadow of darkness did seem to cast over her, and nothing could lift it.
“I want to go,” Mara whispered. “Take me away from here…”
As they left, Talis stopped a moment, watching the spot where the old woman looked. In the dark form, where the shadow merged with the light, he swore he noticed a shape: a wraith. Its eyes seemed to pierce his soul.
6. THE ANCIENT STRUGGLE
In the fires of the great kitchen of his house, Talis pictured the image of the wraith he’d just seen. Although the room was warm, he felt a chill so strong his arms trembled. He gazed at the flames, remembering the story of the siege of Onair. His mind drifted off, and all he could see was hideous scenes of his nightmares. The ones where fingers gripped his neck so hard he’d wake up coughing. Darkness and fire intermingled. The sound of wicked laughter ringing in his ears.
“Are you alright?” His mother, Nadean, ran her fingers through his hair.
Talis snapped his attention back and smiled at her. What was he worried about? He’d just won the Blood Dagger competition. He couldn’t wait to tell them the news, but he had to do it right.
Mother was preparing dinner: roasted pheasant, walnut and pear cake, spinach and garlic, and chicken bone soup. The delicious smells and the warmth of her smile made him relax, and he slowly felt the heat sink into his body.
Father stomped into the room, his silver and black Elder’s robes swishing, dark eyes gazing at the floor, and
