Luckily, the general turned his attention away from me before I could give into the urge to melt into the crowd and hide. But my relief was short-lived as he stepped into the combat ring—really just a circular patch of earth stripped of grass—and faced our group.
“Thank you, sergeant,” he said as the sergeant finished explaining the rules. “Normally, I would have Sergeant Onyx test you all today, but in light of the growing threat of the shadow creatures, I’ve taken on the responsibility myself. Each of you will join me in the ring for one three-minute round so I can assess your abilities. If I fail to land a fatal blow on you within that round, you pass the tryouts.” He paused here, for dramatic effect, then added, “and if any candidate lands a blow on me, fatal or not, I’ll commission them as an officer on the spot.”
A murmur raced through the candidates, and I stood up a little straighter. Lesser fae were never commissioned as officers—unless you were a Greater Fae, you had to work your way up the ranks. My misgivings about drawing General Slaugh’s attention evaporated—this was my chance to prove myself, and I wouldn’t back down simply because I was a little intimidated.
General Slaugh turned to Sergeant Onyx, who hastily saluted. He seemed taken aback by the general’s sudden decision, but he quickly recovered his wits and turned his attention to his clipboard. “Sandra Lockwood,” he called. “You’re up first.”
The fae standing next to me stiffened, but she stepped forward and joined General Slaugh in the ring. The sergeant handed them wooden practice swords, and I watched carefully as they squared off with each other. The match up was absurd in many ways—General Slaugh was a Greater Fae with superior strength and speed, not to mention battle-hardened, and he easily outweighed his opponent by a good hundred pounds—but Sandra used her diminutive size to her advantage, evading most of his blows expertly and weaving around his guard so she could strike at his most vulnerable spots. The rest of us watched with bated breath as the candidate darted in and out of range—she nearly landed a hit to his inner thigh, but General Slaugh was faster than her, and he blocked it at the last second with the hilt of his hand and a half sword before the sergeant blew on his whistle, signifying the end of the match.
“Well done,” General Slaugh told her, and she strode out of the ring with a triumphant smile on her face.
“Dune Terran,” the sergeant announced, and Dune stepped into the ring next. He chose a long sword from the rack of wooden weapons, and as he squared off with the General, I had to admit they appeared to be a much more even match. Dune was nearly the same height and build, and the weapon he’d chosen was similar to the General’s in length, giving them approximately the same amount of reach.
But as the two engaged, it became obvious that General Slaugh was holding back. As a Greater Fae, he had superior size and strength to everyone here, but instead of using it to crush the candidates, he matched their physical prowess and focused on testing the weaknesses of their techniques. Dune had a tendency to over commit with his swings, but he was also quick to recover, dancing out of Slaugh’s reach before he could take advantage and land a blow. Their wooden swords clashed over and over as they darted in and out of range, and just as the sergeant lifted the whistle to his lips, Dune, pivoted and slashed his wooden blade across the side of Slaugh’s ribs.
The audience let out a collective gasp, and the entire world seemed to freeze for a split second.
“Well, well.” Slaugh’s single green eye glinted as the whistle went off. “Not a fatal blow, but a blow nonetheless. Congratulations, candidate.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dune saluted, his entire being brimming with pride. The look of joy on his face almost made me forget I hated him, and I wished for a moment that I could congratulate him. I knew how much he wanted to impress his father and older brother, how much it would mean to him to come home and tell them the news.
But when he turned to rejoin the candidates, the smug expression on his face killed that budding desire. “Let’s see if you can beat that,” he said as he passed, bumping his broad shoulder into mine.
I resisted the urge to snap back, instead settling for rolling my eyes. “Adara Greenwood,” the sergeant called, and I jumped a little. Giant’s Teeth. Was it my turn already?
Swallowing hard, I stepped into the ring and selected a short sword from the rack of wooden weapons. It was around the same size and weight of the one I borrowed from Mavlyn’s father, though the hilt was smoother and a little more slippery than I was used to. I’d have to be careful not to let it accidentally fly out of my hand. Taking a deep breath, I gave it a few experimental swings.
“You seem nervous, candidate,” General Slaugh commented, watching me closely.
I immediately stopped swinging the sword and turned to face him. “No more nervous than any other candidate facing a battle-hardened soldier for the first time in their life, Sir,” I countered, aware that Dune was watching. Slaugh hadn’t addressed any of the other candidates like this, or seemed particularly interested in them.
The General barked out a harsh laugh. The bright sunlight beating down overhead cast the burns on his face into sharp relief, making him look even more intimidating. Swallowing hard, my gaze flickered away from his face, snagging on his shadow. My eyes widened a little as I stared at it—tendrils of darkness flickered at the shadow’s edges, like little tentacles. Jerking my gaze back to the general, I scanned his form, expecting to see matching tendrils, but there weren’t any.
What was going on here?
If the general noticed my reaction, he didn’t let on. “You’ve got some sass in you,” he commented. “Let’s see if you have the skills to back up that attitude.”
He struck without warning, closing the distance between us in an instant. One moment he was on the other side of the ring, the next he was only three feet away, swinging his long sword straight at my head. I barely managed to get my short sword up in time to block the blow, and the force of it reverberated straight up my arms, making me grit my teeth.
Why was the General singling me out like this? He’d let the other candidates strike first. Was it really because I’d been sassy? Or was it because I was an oddity, the only water fae in a field full of earth fae? I couldn’t imagine it was because I’d scored so highly on the other tryouts, but maybe that was a factor, too.
It doesn’t matter,I told myself. If the General wanted to be harder on me, there was nothing I could do to change that. The only thing that mattered was how I responded.
Tightening my grip on my short sword, I sprang back out of his reach, which was considerable. I was at a disadvantage, pitting my short sword against his much longer blade, so I would just have to play the game better.
So I did something that I knew he wouldn’t expect.
Absolutely nothing.
The General scowled as I lowered my sword and let it hang loosely at my side. “You dare drop your guard in front of me?” he snarled, raising his own weapon. He closed the distance and struck again, and I danced out of his reach once more. Smiling, I let him chase me around the ring for a bit, taunting him by darting in just close enough for him to strike, then blocking the blow and pulling back. We were moving at lightning speed, far faster than the other candidates, and I could see the suspicion glinting behind the general’s eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to run into anyone with my physical prowess.
“Stop running away, candidate,” the general barked as I jumped out of his reach once again. “You can’t win battles if your only strategy is to retreat.”
“I’m not retreating,” I said, smiling sweetly. “I’m simply waiting for the opportune moment.”
The General blinked at me, pausing for a fraction of a second and giving me the opening I was looking for. Raising my sword, I dashed in for a wild strike, and as expected, he reacted, swinging his sword wide to block. But because he’d grown accustomed to my feints, he reacted too slowly, allowing me to close the distance, then swing my own blade into the hilt of his sword. It flew from his armored fist, and the blow sent him spinning to his knees, back facing me, completely exposed.
The audience gasped as I touched the blade to the back of the general’s exposed neck, then retreated and bowed respectfully. Fear and triumph fought for dominance inside me, but I schooled my expression as the general slowly rose to his feet and turned to face me. Not a single person moved or spoke as he stared at me, his own expression as unreadable as mine.
