‘We have contenders from across the continent representing their countries and territories to win this Trial for the glory of their people. One team will be victorious, but only those that survive will pass to the next Trial. There are three Trials in total, three for the competitors to prove their worth. Who are you supporting?’
There’s a cacophony of voices, cries of Skylan, Middenwilds, Arnhem, Leicena … all melting into one deafening note.
‘Now there can only be one victor. One territory or country that will triumph over all others. The contenders will win acclaim and honour as well as a bountiful prize bestowed by the ruling council of Arnhem. Three Trials! May the best pair win. Are we ready?’
I cringe as the noise of thousands beats in my chest.
‘I said, ARE WE READY?’
I glance at the other contenders, the guards at their backs, every face betraying a spectrum of emotion. It’s the first time it occurs to me to wonder if they allwantto be here? Are any of them being forced to compete, like Kell and I are? Then Sember locks gazes with mine and she winks. I wink back, then turn to face the sunken arena. I was born for this, monsters or no. I will get us through.
A hand grips my arm and in the short lull before the Trial begins, Kell whispers frantically in my ear. ‘Mira, I have to tell you. I can’t swim.’
My eyes dart to his, finding the panic, the terror filling them. The ruling council can’t have known. I open my mouth to respond, but my voice is drowned out by the commentator once more.
‘The rules are simple: contenders must find a piece of treasure in the sinking ship and bring it back to shore. At least one member from each pair must search for and secure a piece of treasure. Once the treasure has been found, each pair must return to their circle at the edge of the arena. They must both reach this to progress to the next Trial. If a pair fails to find a piece of treasure and bring it back to their circle …’
The voices all around us rise and fall.
‘… then they will not go through to the next Trial, but, not only that, each contender must enter the water. Sending just one contender to retrieve the loot is not permitted. So straightforward, so simple … is it not?’
I look again at the churning water and catch another flash of scales.
‘Of course, there are creatures of myth guarding their horde. Contenders, take your places.’
Before I can scan the water again, discern what it is that lurks in wait, we’re shoved across to the right, separated into pairs, and Kell and I find ourselves in a marked circle on one side of the arena. Each pair is spread out round the edge in similar circles, the crowds at our backs and before us, all facing the arena in an oval. The drop down into the water isn’t far, and I stare over the edge, finding that the sides are rough rock, perfect to climb. If it was just me, if it was just my life I held in my hands … I look at the other contenders, assessing them in turn. They’re all focused, an air of fear about them, and I wonder what they have at stake. What they have to lose if they do not win this first Trial, or all of them. After Sember’s flippant comment about Prince Heath being married off, I can see what awaits him, the endless maw of a life of unhappiness and duty. But what of Sember? What of the others?
‘When you say you can’t swim at all, Kell, can you get into the water?’ I turn to him, breaking my gaze from the others and see that he is shaking.
‘I can stay upright, but that’s it. I can’t swim a length.’ He blows out a breath, looking at me. ‘Am I going to die?’
‘Not today,’ I say fiercely, keeping my eyes on his. ‘You are going to get into the water, then stay by therock. They said each contender has toenterthe water, not swim through it. A pair need to find a treasure, not each individual. We can still do this.’
Relief spreads through Kell’s features. ‘Thank you. I will make this up to you. I will.’
‘Our only aim today is to survive, remember?’ I say. ‘Let me deal with the technicalities.’
As the crowds quiet, the sun still a heavy orb hanging overhead, I take a moment to scan the rows of people, searching for a cascade of red hair. I’m sure I see a flash, but it’s too difficult to discern and I wrench my gaze away. Instead, I pick out where the Skylan contenders, Heath and Sember, are standing – directly across from us. I raise my hand, as though in greeting, and Heath raises his back.
Then as a mighty horn blasts through the arena, signalling that the Trial has begun, I dive.
Bubbles stream past my face, my blood igniting in the waves. I’ve been starved of this connection to half my very self, and, for a moment, I close my eyes and feel the water as it undulates between my fingers. Then I break through the surface and wait as Kell splashes down, before nudging him gently to the edge.
‘Thank you,’ he breathes, fear marking every flail of his limbs as his hands grasp the rock. It’s only when he’s clinging to a handhold, head and shoulders above the water, that I turn, surveying the waves, and find Sember and Heath treading water, waiting for me.
‘Stay here, Kell. I’ll be as fast as I can. Don’t movetoo much. Don’t attract attention. We’re not alone in this water.’ Then I dive again, aiming for Sember and Heath like an arrow.
When I emerge, they eye me warily, Sember already clutching a silver spear. ‘Game plan?’ she asks.
‘We swim to the ship, you guard, I seek treasure for us both, then we get back to our circles,’ I say. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘She’s annoyingly resourceful,’ Heath drawls. ‘Is Kell not joining us?’
‘Can’t swim,’ I say, watching as the other contenders strike out like us, or edge towards rocks, where various weapons gleam temptingly. ‘You’re stuck with just me on this one, Prince.’
‘Lead the way,’ he says, and I grin at him before heading in the direction of the ship. I’d give anything for a blade right now, a weapon, in case I get too close to another contender, but they’re too far off course, and I need to get back to Kell. He’s too vulnerable all alone.
As I reach the ship, checking Sember and Heath are still swimming behind me, I scan for the other contenders. No one else has quite reached the ship yet, most have hauled themselves on to rocks and are now fastening weapons at their hips. But a flash of movement makes me gasp. A contender from Stanvard, one of the two girls I saw at the ball, has a rock. She moves swiftly, pouncing on to the back of a Middenwild contender, a boy named Pascha, as he swims past. He gurgles, disappearing underwater, and she raises the rock to strike.
