Shield of Fire
Hope

Crini was feeling like a bag of aching flesh. After Xepo’s warning, she spent most of the night thinking of what he meant. Who is the guard? Do you know him well? Any weak spots? However, none of these questions was answered as Xepo remained silent.

Very good Xepo. Nice to warn me just before I closed my eyes.

When the first rays of the sun pierce the darkness above their heads, Crini sits up, stretching her arms wide on each side of her. A series of soft cracks echo early in the day as her spine straightens. Thankfully, today they’ll reach the first checkpoint of the tournament. Encree, the city of the golden tree.

She experiments with the movements of her legs and surprisingly she doesn’t feel the wounds on them. Lifting the fabric of her trousers, she watches with awe at her fully repaired skin. Incredible! Both spots are fully recovered with a light scar as a memory of her once-open wounds.

The sky gets brighter and more are starting to wake up. Soft groans and sighs break the silence on this bare land as they stretch and get up, facing another day of survival. Tadal is inconsolable, Turning towards him, Crini sees deep dark circles under his eyes and his face is the personification of sorrow. He looks like life has left his body, leaving him an empty vessel of bones and muscles, Tadal drags his existence around, keeping some distance from the rest of the group.

He’s grieving. During the night, Crini could hear the sobs of the prince interrupting the soft crisp snapping sounds of the woods surrendered to the fire.

Poinary and Kroniaak take some of the flasks they made, containing water from the luminous cave, and circulate them to the rest of them. Crini catches Triana as she lifts her eyes, studying the sky before she walks closer, preparing to speak.

“Time is of extreme essence,” her voice causes everyone’s eyes to focus on her. “Prepare your things, get some water to fill your stomach and let’s head to the outpost. We need to be in the Encreean sector before the sun is directly above us.”

None is willing to speak beyond the necessary. The climate is heavy from the loss of the two members. Though the rules were clear, the winner will be one, it was evident that none had considered the part of death. Now, closer than ever, it puts everyone in deep thought. They shouldn’t cooperate, the most logical thing was for each one to take their own path. Or at least split into teams according to their subspecies and make sure their bloodline makes it first to the finish line. But subconsciously, they formed a team, including Crini in it too, coming from a species they would most easily dispose of her presence.

With everyone ready, the group of eleven takes the path near, heading for the forgotten outpost. Crini - as usual - tries to catch their pace as their tall forms allow them to take larger steps. “What’s up with the outpost?” Crini asks as she reaches the two Sopolian scientists/scholars. “I bet there’s a story for that, to be part of the tournament.”

The corners of Moiki’s lips tug up, forming a reserved smile of pride that someone’s giving him the chance to share some of his knowledge. Zoiki throws a knowing side look at his cousin.

“The forgotten outpost was a huge line of defence during the Great War. Unfortunately - like all the rest - it fell under the rule of Exalos and his minions. Now, it serves as a checkpoint for the tournament. They told us that the outpost may have some kind of weaponry we can use for the rest of our journey, although none knows for sure.”

“And let’s not forget about the guard,” Zoiki adds from beside Moiki. “a creature that died after taking a vow to keep watch of the borders for eternity. The stories say that he was resurrected in another form, though none has seen it or stayed alive to tell us what he looks like.”

Zoiki’s words make Crini momentarily stop in her tracks and a cold shiver runs down her spine. Maybe that’s the one Xepo warned her for. Regardless, she makes a mental note to keep her eyes open and her reflexes sharp.

The sun burns brighter than ever but Crini is determined not to bring down her spirits. The goal is near, the new city awaits them and they are closer than a day’s road. The cylinder is dangling in her pocket giving her a steady tempo as she moves up the slight slope of the vast dried cracked land ahead. One by one, the group slips by her.

***

During their long walk, very few words were exchanged between the group. Most were just focusing on the road ahead. From one side, it was good as they were moving faster and they needed that to make it to Encree before noon. But a frozen atmosphere between them would definitely affect the progress of the tournament. It feels like walls of ice have raised around each of them.

Being focused on the path and her stamina reserves, Crini didn’t notice that the rest of the contestants had stopped and she bumps against something fleshy before she takes a couple of shaky steps back. Thankfully, Lura’s hand launches forward, catching her on time. “Thanks” Crini breathes out stabilising herself.

There’s something new. Something that makes Crini’s eyes grow wide and her eyebrows lift sky high. The soft echo comes from afar, resembling something Crini had to listen for over a decade ago.

Birds?

“Listen,” Triana spits lifting her head up and closing her eyes to concentrate. In a perfectly synchronised move, all close their eyes and stay silent, focusing on the sound.

“Roleans?” Poinary smiles enthusiastically.

“Ozmons” Helion calmly smiles. “Home.”

Turning her eyes on him, Crini sees his face - perfectly calm and painted with a light coat of rejoice. Like a part of his soul was replaceing, at last, the sanctum it was searching for. There’s no place like home. It appears that Encreeans were exactly agreeable to that.

With newfound strength, the contestants pushed themselves harder. The goal was near. Lura thought he could see the outline of the forest in the distance. And it was true. A dark shadow slowly appears in front of them, causing cries of excitement from many of them.

However, things are not turning as they were expected.