Chapter 20

For some reason stepping out into the arena felt completely different than before. The first step was met with the crowd's deafening roar, and the bright sun that blinded Lycurgus forced him to shield his eyes. His senses all seemed to be in a heightened state as he could even taste the salt from the sea in the air. It dried his throat and parched his lips. He could feel the sandy ground beneath his sandal shift with each step as he neared the center of the arena. But there was one thing he felt more than anything, and it boiled his blood. His father's eyes watched his every move, studying him as if he were prey.

He didn't need to look up and see him, but he did. They haven't locked eyes in the waiting room, in fact, it seemed as though they were avoiding the altercation entirely, but now it was free reign. Lycurgus let his emotions flow throughout his body as he closed his eyes and took in everything with a deep breath, and when he exhaled, he let it all go.

He finally faced Hana, his face solemn. Before they signaled to start, he walked up to her. "You want to make things interesting?" he asked her.

Hana smiled curtly, confusion breaking forth from her eyes "Sure I guess." A smile formed on Lycurgus' lips as he said, "Let's see if you can beat me from range."

Before even seeing her react, he walked away to the wall of the arena. From this angle, he couldn't see those behind him, and the wall muffled out their sound. It allowed him to focus, his father still could see him however as they were positioned right above the entranceway.

Lycurgus finally took weaver's spindle off his back and removed the protective wrapping. Its spine and body were a bluish black, the blade edge of the lance the sangria red of the fish. He held the lance in his right hand and extended straight while resting his left hand across his shoulder. He slowly moved his left hand up his arm to his right hand. As he pulled his left hand back, he widened his stance, to mimic that of a wide-based archer. Holding his left hand as if he was holding back a drawstring of a bow.

Hana had done a maneuver similar with her bow, except a cascade of electrified reddish-purple energy took the place of where an arrow should be. The arrow arched with immense power, condensed to such a point that the core of the arrow was pure white. The arrow was strong enough to destroy not only the stadium but possibly the entire island of Tiziano. Hana twisted her hand slightly to confine the arching further, taming the erratic display of power. The screeching and chirping of the energy were toned down to a low hum only audible to Hana's ears. It was her ultimate technique, The arrow of God.

The crowd was completely silent, watching with anticipation as if all held their breath. It was understood that this battle would be a one-move, first-draw decision. The seconds ticked by, neither even budging. They sat there holding, focusing, and maintaining their positions of power. And as if the universe's breath could be held no longer, release came.

Only a few had the ability to even track the attack, faster than the thought could even occur Lycurgus' lance was at the center of Hana's forehead. Thin as a needle, it extended all the way from his reach to her. Hana slowly released her breath and power as the arrow vanished.

The entire crowd was robbed of breath as Lycurgus, without sweat or great effort, defeated Hana.

******

Lysander sat down and rested after finishing his daily training, muscles aching from the pain. He had to change his schedule slightly and began fishing to create a stockpile for the Malunod. For now, though he sat down and daydreamed.

His mind was filled with various wonderings. He wondered about what his brother was doing at the Great Hunt Festival, and who was all there. He dreamed about slaying great beasts and conquering the seas just like his father. He pictured his family whole again.

That he wanted to focus on that, he closed his eyes and simply imagined. Pictured the cool ocean breeze touching his skin and whipping through his short kinky hair as he played with his siblings and friends waiting for supper to finish. He heard Le call out to them, telling them the food was ready. Her sweet voice, carried by the breeze along with the aroma of fish and veggies.

He saw himself sprinting to the hall, beating all his sisters, and arriving to see his mom, lady Le, lady Sylla, lady Farma, and lady Joyle setting the table in that strange unison they moved in. He then saw his father, giant and intimidating walking in with Lycurgus, who looked so small compared to him. The night was filled with laughter and merriness as they ate and afterward, the children gathered around father and listen to his stories. He would tell Lysander's favorite tale of his journey to the legendary floating mountain, Mt. Caborkat, and the magical minerals found within the land.

It all seemed so perfect, so surreal. Then it ended with the call of his name. "Lysander." It was so soft; he almost didn't hear it. He slowly opened his eyes and saw his mother at the foot of the hill he rested on. Her long jet-black hair was wavy. Oftentimes called the black ocean, accompanied by the sandy-red skin she had and those soft sea-green eyes. As far as Lysander could remember, they always had such a longing look in them.

She walked up and sat next to him "Are you okay Sandy?" she asked as she placed her arm around his shoulder and brought him in for a hug. Her soft full lips, met his cheek gently, bringing a smile to his face.

"Yes mom, I was just taking a little break from training."

She pulled back her arm slowly, placing her hand in her lap. She took a deep breath and stared up at the sky. "Are you thinking about your brother?" she asked him.

Lysander stared at her face but only for a moment, before turning to look off to the distance, "No, I know he's fine. I was thinking about the ways things used to be."

Shezira didn't say anything for a moment, her eyes went from the sky to the ground. "The way things used to be… I'm sorry I took that away from you Lysander."

Lysander turned his head toward his mother. "Don't worry by tomorrow things will be back to the way there are supposed to be."