Sol Book Four: Tournament of Fire by Samuel Small

Author:Samuel Small [Small, Samuel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-23T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

The boy’s outstretched fist remained focused on his lifeless blood spurting opponent for several seconds. The swords impaled him at all sides, keeping him upright like a series of prongs jammed into an otherwise unstable mess. Blood spattered the floor, sounding more like a small waterfall than a human body. The boy’s hand dropped to the side, scraping against the cloth of his cloak with an uncomfortable grating. The sound seemed to knock everyone out of their shock. Soft murmurs filled the stands. Kai placed his palm to his nose and shook his head.

“Uh, right. Well, I guess it goes without sayin’ that this little shit’s the winner.” He said something under his breath, which Sara assumed was profanity. “The arena’s fuckin’ dirty, so we’re gonna hold off on the matches for today. Just stop by tomorrow, ’round noonish, OK?”

Despite the fact that Kai had issued an order, there weren’t innumerable clambers of feet. Just one set of footfalls—those of the boy as he walked out of the arena.

“Well? Did I fuckin’ stutter?” Kai shouted. Some of the competitors began to leave, but Sara seemed rooted to the spot. Her eyes remained locked on the arena, the scene playing out in front of her like a phantom. Somebody lightly grabbed her wrist and led her to the exit. Dante. Spark walked beside him, keeping his head forward. There was no hesitation in their steps, no trembling of shoulders, no indication either of them just witnessed a gruesome murder. Spark, Sara could understand. He lived in this hellish country, where violence was commonplace, so it wouldn’t surprise her if he’d witnessed something similar. But Dante? She could never be sure with him.

“That type of shit happen a lot in these tournaments?” Dante asked Spark.

“It isn’t uncommon. Usually, if you respect your opponent’s strength you don’t try to kill them. It’s weak people who don’t belong who tend to get killed like that.” He looked away, glaring at the stonework of the dark tunnel they passed through.

“But Turuk wasn’t weak,” Spark continued as shadows raced over his face. “Don’t get me wrong: he wasn’t super tough; I think you or me could handle him just fine, but . . .”

“For him to be utterly devastated like that—it ain’t normal, is it?”

Spark shook his head.

“That . . . that boy,” Sara said hesitantly from behind. They both glanced over their shoulders at her, and she looked from one to the other, unsure she should tell them. “The ability he used . . . it was ice.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Dante said.

The confused way both of them looked at her indicated they didn’t understand how Sol inheritance worked. She assumed Spark had no formal education; hell, there probably wasn’t a book in the whole kingdom. But she was sure she had explained it to Dante once before.

“Ice isn’t like normal Sol abilities. It doesn’t occur at random. It’s like Pure Sol. It’s genetic. If both of your parents have it, you’ll have it. If only one, the likelihood is fifty percent, and so on.

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