Fatefall - 6

Chapter 6 - Adrian

Fates - or any other “god” - can not be killed by normal means. We tried blades and poisons and fire but they seemed unaffected by all of our attacks. My friends and I spent endless hours in the library, reading ancient texts simply to search for stories of fallen gods. Apparently, we were the first to entertain the idea of killing Fates. 

“You make a terrible Cashus,” Aida muttered, handing Adrian his mask for the Tournament. 

Adrian glanced at his reflection and had to agree with his sister. 

“You’re the one who designed the costume,” he protested, tugging at the cape fastened around his shoulders. “Were the cape and the circlet really necessary?” 

Aida shrugged. “Do you want to blend in, or do you want everyone to know who you are?” 

“How many other people are going to be wearing capes?”

“Looks, it’s only for the qualifying round,” Aida sighed. “And after that you’ll be wishing your greatest problem was still the stupid cape.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Adrian grumbled, snatching the mask from Aida. 

With the mask on, he realized how much of a genius Aida truly was. 

Because the prize for the Tournament was always so high, there were always more people who wanted to compete than the Tournament could allow for. Hence the Qualifiers - a series of one on one fights designed to weed out the weak until only twenty of each Grace remained to compete. Part tradition and part logicality, anyone who competed in the Qualifiers was supposed to dress like the Fate they represented. 

Adrian’s Fate was Cashus, the Fate of Void. Most Graced of Void dressed in dark shades and strapped fake shields to their backs. Aida had taken the interpretation in a whole new direction. 

He wore the uniform of a soldier, albeit black, its pockets embroidered with golden threads and embellished with extra folds of fabric that gave the whole outfit a regal look. A golden laurel circlet wove through the dark waves of his hair. And when he placed his mask over his face… 

“You could be Cashus himself,” Aida breathed, her eyes widening from behind him in the mirror. 

“Y’know, I don’t say this enough, but you are amazing, Aida.” 

Even if it was just a costume, it filled Adrian with a swell of joy. He felt powerful, unstoppable, like the prince he was. Maybe, just maybe, he could actually win. 

“Suck up,” Aida chided, but her wide grin said otherwise. “Your mask should prevent people from recognizing you, but maybe don’t speak just to be safe.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I have everything under control.” 

“Fates, I’m going to die, aren’t I?” Adrian said, fear twisting and writhing in his gut. 

Aida brushed an invisible speck of dirt off of Adrian’s cape. “You’ll be fine, you big baby. If you think the Qualifiers are hard, just wait until you make it to the third trial.” 

“Not helping,” he grumbled.

The roar of the audience made it impossible to think, and he hadn’t even walked out into the arena yet. 

Adrian and Aida had arrived at the arena where the Qualifiers would take place nearly an hour before Adrian was supposed to complete. They’d reserved a small area in the ring that bordered the bottom of the arena so they had a prime view of the arena. He’d spent half of that time fretting about everything that could go wrong with the fight and the other observing his opponents. 

The rules of the Qualifier were simple enough. It was a glorified sparring match, which Adrian had plenty of practice with. Use a standard sword, force your opponent out of the circle, don’t get hit. First to step out of the circle, get hit three times, or surrender automatically lost. It should have been easy, but as Adrian watched the other fighters, his hope sank like a rock. 

These competitors were good. The Qualifiers were supposed to be a display of Graces in addition to fighting prowess, but most competitors chose a single strategy to focus on. Most. 

“I mean, just look at how that girl moves,” Adrian said, gesturing towards one of the current fighters. Aida followed his gaze, eyes narrowing as they landed on the girl Adrian was referring to. 

The Qualifiers pitted two people of the same Grace against each other, and in the current pair’s case, they had the Grace of Life. 

But the girl … she moved like a goddess. 

Her strategy involved a strange mixture of actual fighting and quick flashes of her Grace. She alternated between flourishes of her sword and quick hand motions that left her opponent doubled over, gasping for breath. The pale grayish-blue robes of her costume flared behind her with every lighting quick step and yet the flower crown in her flaming red curls never once shifted. Her ivory half-mask gave her the appearance of a statue come to life. She could have been the Fate Asa herself. 

Aida let out a low whistle. “She’s your type, that’s for sure.”

Adrian blinked, Aida’s comment breaking him free of his stupor. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aida waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing.” Her attention fell back on the girl. “She’s a warrior, that’s for sure.”

Adrian noted the same thing, but suddenly the girl’s movements - their fluidity and grace - seemed familiar. He racked his brain for a memory that might give him a hint as to where he knew her from. Grace of Life. Smooth movements. Warrior. 

He cursed under his breath, the realization dawning on him just as the girl struck her opponent - a middle-aged man, by the looks of it - in the crotch, knocking him out of the circle. 

“What is it?” Aida whispered. 

“That girl was the assassin from the other night,” Adrian said. “She’s competing too!” 

It was Aida’s turn to release a string of curses. He was suddenly glad that he’d thought to put Aida in a disguise too. Princesses didn’t swear in public. 

“And by the looks of it, she’s made it to the Tournament itself,” Aida said, her eyes fixed on the man writhing on the floor of the arena. 

“Shh, she’s heading this way,” Adrian warned, elbowing Aida in the gut to shut her up. 

The red-haired assassin appeared a moment later, her cheeks flushed and her breathing slightly labored. Adrian’s heart began to race, and it wasn’t the fault of the girl’s Grace. 

“Nice fight,” Aida squeaked out before Adrian could say anything rash. 

The girl nodded her thanks, breaking into a small smile. Adrian’s stomach boiled and he thought about vomiting. Assassins can smile, Adrian, it’s not anything new. So why did the action make her seem so human? 

“Good luck out there,” the girl told Adrian. Her words sounded genuine and Adrian fought back a wave of nausea. 

“Thanks,” he said, voice gruff. 

The girl gave him a look. Fates, she was going to recognize him as her interrogator and then she would attack him or expose him or-

“It’s your turn, so if you don’t want to get disqualified for not even showing up, you’d better get moving,” she advised instead. Her voice was intoxicating. Adrian didn’t know if he wanted to strangle her or puke up the contents of his stomach. 

“Of course,” Aida agreed, giving Adrian a slight push and sparing him. He made a mental note to thank her later or he’d never hear the end of it. 

One step at a time. He took another wobbly stride, swallowing the fear that threatened to send him spiraling into unconsciousness at any moment. He’d always hated crowds, and now he was supposed to spar in front of an audience a thousand times bigger than he was used to. 

“Next fight: Cashus eight and Cashus nineteen,” called a man from the podium on the edge of the arena. “Your fight begins in three minutes. Prepare yourselves.” 

Cashus nineteen. Adrian barely had the ability to realize that they were referring to him. Only the first forty to sign up for each Grace could even participate in the Qualifiers, and those who managed to sign up in time were given an identification tag with their Fate and a random number to protect privacy. 

“Are you going to stand there all day?” shouted Adrian’s opponent from across the circle. 

Adrian swallowed once. Twice. Wiped his hands on his pants and grabbed a sword from one of the supervisors that stood on the edge of the circle. He tested its balance and spun it a few times, his worries fleeing from his mind in favor of the present. 

Breathe. 

His opponent wore black robes and a shield that surprisingly looked real. Adrian could use the extra weight his opponent was forced to carry as an advantage. Judging by the voice, Adrian guessed that his opponent was female. And while that wasn’t exclusively important, she was stocky and packed with muscles. Good for hitting, but not for moving. 

“Fighters take your marks!” 

Adrian gripped his sword with white knuckles. He could hear Aida screaming words of encouragement from the edge of the arena, but she sounded like she was underwater. 

Don’t worry about Graces - your opponent won’t be able to do anything helpful with hers, he told himself. Watch the sword. Watch her feet. And don’t lose. 

Somewhere in the distance, a single gunshot sounded to signal the start of the round.

The arena faded into a distant hum. Adrian attacked. His sword sang as it flew through the air. Metal screeched as the two blades met in midair. 

Adrian’s muscles threatened to give out, and so he ducked into a roll, popping up behind the woman. His sword sank into her ankle and she cried out. She flailed wildly, the flat of her blade striking Adrian in the gut.

He toppled backward into the dirt, a low groan escaping his lips. Fates. 

A sword whistled through the air and Adrian’s instincts took over. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a slash to the face. 

And then they were both on their feet again, blades striking each other in rapid succession. His own breathing was ragged, so it came as a surprise when his opponent found enough stamina to speak. “Don’t think I don’t know who you are, Your Highness.”

Adrian blinked, alarm flooding his limbs.

His momentary panic was enough for the woman to lunge forward. Adrian caught her first attack, but her second one landed a blow on his temple 

Darkness threatened to overwhelm his vision, but Adrian clutched his now bleeding head with one hand. He forced himself to stay awake through the throbbing. Once again, his instinct was the only thing that prevented him from being speared through the gut. 

“Adrian!” The voice pierced the fog of pain. Fates, this fight needed to end 

He lunged forward on wobbly knees. The woman’s form blurred, and yet he still managed to block her next attack. He threw his weight into his attack and the woman’s sword went skidding across the dirt. 

Adrian hit her once on the shoulder and swept her legs out from under her with his leg. His vision tunneled and he dropped on top of her with a heavy thud. 

“Surrender,” he slurred, pointing his blade at her throat. The tip of it grazed her skin, drawing blood. 

“Cashus nineteen takes the match!” came the announcement from the stands. 

Shock flooded Adrian’s body and the woman pushed him off of her. He slid to the ground, his head throbbing with blinding pain. He could barely think anymore. 

Adrian had just begun to climb to his feet when he heard the swish of a sword. The ribbon holding his mask in place snapped and Adrian fumbled blindly to hold his mask on. 

“Hey! The round is over,” he heard someone shouting, presumably at the woman. “You lost, he won. Please exit the premises and try again in five years. Or don’t.” 

“Do you have any idea who he is?” the woman protested. Her eyes shot from the soldiers now attempting to escort her away to Adrian, her gaze white hot with rage. “Drop your mask, you coward!”

His head felt light. 

Don’t pass out, he told himself. Oh, Fates, he was going to expose himself in front of the whole arena. 

The woman leapt forward, apparently determined to expose Adrian for herself. The soldiers hurried to stop her, but it was another figure entirely who stopped the woman in her tracks. Adrian sucked in a breath as his sister flung down her hood, holding up her hands to keep the woman back. 

“I, Princess Aida, declare this … this competitor my Champion,” Aida shouted for everyone to hear. 

Adrian’s heart skipped a beat and a curse slid from his mouth. 

“Take this woman away,” Aida said, gesturing at the woman. “And if anyone else dares to touch my Champion, I will deal with them myself. Oh, and gag her while you’re at it. Her voice annoys me.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The soldiers grabbed the woman by the arms and began to drag her away. One of them shoved a wad of cloth in the woman’s mouth before she could shout anything else. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Adrian muttered as Aida forced him to lean on her. “Now everyone will either know who I am or assume you’re having an affair.”

“Let them spread their rumors,” Aida spat, her voice thick with fury.

Together, they limped back to the edge of the arena, Adrian clutching his mask to his face. Every step sent a bolt of lightning through his skull. 

“We need to get you to a healer,” Aida said as they finally stepped out of the audience’s view. “Fates, it’s a miracle you have any blood left in your body.” 

“I’m fine-”

“Don’t even start that with me,” she reprimanded as she lowered him onto a bench. 

“Father will kill you when he finds out that you claimed a Champion at the Tournament,” Adrian said. “Do you even know what this means? You share my punishment now, Aida. If I lose, the punishment goes to you as well.”

“And if you win, I get money too,” she pointed out. “So you better win, or so help me I’ll-”

“Look, as much as I’d love to hear your next death threat, I kinda feel like I could pass out at any moment, so if you could get me a healer, that would be amazing.”

“Right. Of course.” Aida scurried away without another word and Adrian laid back on the bench. It felt like someone was driving a hot poker into his skull. This time, when his vision started to go fuzzy at the edges, he gladly let unconsciousness pull him under.

Author's Note

Another one of my weak points are action scenes of any kind. I tried a bit of a different approach with this one, but all the tips I read contradict each other so I don't know how it went.
Also, because I have five POVs that I'll be juggling, let me know if the pacing gets funky. I'll try to give each character equal page time, but some of them have more complex backstories so they might appear more often or for a longer duration of time.