Hather (Hather Series Book 1) by Prince Edan

Author:Prince Edan [Edan, Prince]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Published: 2016-12-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XII

Denver’s Knights’ arena resembled an ancient Roman coliseum. It was a circular stone building with three levels of arches. Roland emerged from a narrow tunnel and stepped onto the sand covered floor where he would face his opponent. He glanced at the seats that encircled the arena and rose toward the cloudless blue sky. A few feet away, a moderator stood with the Order’s commander behind a wooden desk. The commander, Mark Lang, was a heavyset man, broad shoulders, rugged looks, a standard military haircut, and brooding brown eyes. He watched Roland keenly then leaned toward the microphone on the center of the desk.

“Our next fighter is Roland Brody, a sixteen-year-old student from King’s Academy. He is aiming for a spot on the front lines for the upcoming attack against the Rouge Resistance.”

Roland had a hard time getting used to his new surname, and wondered what his mother would say if she saw him. God, he longed to see her. He had often thought about what he would say when they finally met. Would she still embrace him like she used to? Or would she treat him like a total stranger? Only time would tell. His main priority was getting a good score in this tournament. His hand went to his sword at the sound of footsteps behind him. A boy wearing sweatpants and a loose black shirt with the letters D.K.A. sewn in the material over his heart strode confidently into the arena and stood beside Roland.

“His opponent is Carl Hughes. Carl is also aiming for a spot on the front line. He is seventeen-years-old from Denver’s Knight’s Academy and one of the top students in his school,” Lang announced.

The crowd cheered for Carl.

Roland scanned the audience for a familiar face. Roland knew Cassandra was somewhere in the crowd, watching him, hoping he would win. He wished he could see her face, feel the warmth of her skin.

Deep breath. Exhale.

He could win. He was not completely hopeless. He focused on Carl. They had the same height and build. Carl’s pale white skin was clammy with sweat. He brandished a broadsword with two hands, gripping the handle. Carl regarded Roland with faint curiosity. Roland drew his saber and held it in his right hand.

“Stand back,” the director called.

“Good luck,” the boy taunted with a smirk and took a few steps back.

“Same to you.” Roland retreated until they were two feet apart, and spun around to face his opponent.

Kio had won his battle, and Roland wouldn’t be the one to screw up and tarnish his school’s reputation. He would fight, and he would make his opponent regret entering this stadium. He had sharpened the saber’s blade for the occasion.

“Swords ready!” Lang exclaimed.

The crowed hushed, anticipating the moment their blades would meet, probably placing bets on who would win.

“Begin!” he shouted, bringing his fist down onto the desk.

A band of students started an intimidating piece in the front row. Boys with black jackets and a feather headpiece rose and blasted their silver trumpets.

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