Kaji Warriors: Shifting Strength Read online

  “What are you doing?” Feku asks.

  Atae straightens from her fighting stance and rubs her arms, looking anywhere but at her teacher. Noticing the soreness from clenching her jaw too hard, she swallows and rubs her throat.

  “Atae, answer me,” Feku says.

  “I…uh…” Atae’s throat burns, and her voice twists into a gravelly grunt. She’s unsure how to explain her bizarre actions and blushes when she notices all her classmates staring with hushed murmurs.

  “I thought you were someone else,” she whispers.

  “Someone else? Someone bigger and stronger than you?”

  Atae sets her jaw, trying hard not to over clench it and hurt herself again, but she doesn’t like the elder warrior’s question. Still, she answers.

  “Yes, Elder Warrior.”

  “And what were you going to do, Atae? Fight me, bare-handed?”

  “It’s worked for me in the past,” she says. But Atae doesn’t like the all too familiar gleam in the elder warrior’s eyes. The predatorial glimmer reminds her of Salyn, but it isn’t quite the same. She doesn’t understand why, but instead of unnerving her, Feku’s gaze calms Atae. She’s surprised to see him grin at her.

  “So, I’ve heard. I believe that’s worth twenty points, don’t you?”

  Atae blinks at the sudden compliment. Stunned, she gapes at Feku in disbelief, along with the rest of the class. His hunter’s glare doesn’t shift from Atae, and she knows he is searching for something from her. Something all predators chase after, weakness. His smirk widens, and Atae wonders what he’s found.

  “Well, let’s not bet on that in the tournament or the Gridiron.” He pulls out a hilt and hands it to Atae. Too surprised to argue, she takes it and runs her fingers over the smooth metal. Returning her soft gaze to her teacher, Atae smiles.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “Take good care of it, Atae.” He flashes her a satisfied smile. “You should look to your newest packmates for help. Private tutoring is essential for you to catch up on the techniques you missed during your recovery.”

  “Tutoring?”

  “Yes, that’s one of the reasons I’ve partnered you two with Sloan and Marqee. With Sloan’s help, you might learn to wield that hilt with decent skill.”

  Atae glances past Elder Warrior Feku to find Sloan and Marqee pushing their way through the crowd of students. They both stand in their first form, frowning at her. Atae returns the resigned expression to her new packmates then nods at Feku.

  After the elder warrior leaves to speak with other students, Jeqi whispers to Atae.

  “What is wrong with you? Why did you act like you were going to attack him?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Atae says. She smirks at the opportunity to return Jeqi’s multiple brush-offs. But the blonde isn’t so easily distracted.

  “I’m serious. What was that?”

  “It’s nothing. I’ve got it under control.”

  “No, you don’t, Atae.”

  “What would you know about it?” Atae snaps.

  “I know that you are not okay. Something is wrong with you, and you think I don’t know or that I’m going to ignore it. What kind of packmate do you think I am?” Jeqi whispers to Atae. The puffy tail wrapped around her waist accentuates Jeqi’s frustration. Atae glances toward the two male purebreds strolling toward them and relents.

  “Fine, you’re right. We can talk, but not here. Not now.”

  “Where? When?”

  “Tomorrow, before the tournament starts. You can meet me at the palace, and I can help you and Deh move in,” Atae says. Jeqi nods and, much to Atae’s relief, drops the topic. Sloan and Marqee greet the two hybrids with absolutely zero enthusiasm.

  “This could be worse,” Marqee says.

  “Yeah?” Atae asks. “How’s that?”

  “We could be stuck with just you. At least, we get Jeqi too. She’s almost worth putting up with you,” Sloan says.

  “Are you saying I’m worthless?”

  “He’s saying you’ve fallen behind,” Marqee says. “We won’t have time to train together because we have to get you caught up on your swordsmanship. If you don’t catch up, you’ll be a liability.”

  “I hate you both,” Atae says.

  “Ditto.”

  Feku clears his throat to reclaim the class’s attention. He says, “Now that you’ve all had a chance to acclimate to my latest announcement, it’s time to learn about the tournament. As I’m sure you’ve already heard, the Sula Academy Tournament is different each season. But one thing always remains the same. You must advance past each round to represent the academy in the Gridiron. As I said before, this season’s tournament will consist of four rounds. You will advance through the first three rounds in packs of four, but you are on your own during the fourth round. Round one is a good old-fashioned brawl with a few twists. Half the arena will be in complete darkness with the second half lighted as normal. Fifty packs will enter, but only forty will advance. As soon as ten teams are defeated, the round ends.”

  Atae glances at Sloan and Marqee to find them whispering to each other. When Sloan glances up from his packmate, Atae flashes him a questioning expression, and he returns an overly sarcastic smile. As expected, Atae huffs in annoyance but returns her attention to Feku.

  “Round two will be very different from the first. Strategy will be most important since it will involve an evolving maze. The maze will have forty control panels. Half of your pack will work the controls to clear a path for their two maze runners. The first thirty packs to complete the maze will advance.”

  Jeqi glances at Atae, who nods at her packmate. Jeqi is skilled in the art of strategy, so there’s no doubt that she will work the controls while Atae runs the maze. But Jeqi can’t help but frown at the idea of separating from Atae. They are pack and should remain at each other’s sides in a battle.

  “For round three,” Feku says, “each team will capture flags and defend their base. The twenty packs that last the longest will advance.”

  “That one doesn’t sound difficult,” Atae says to Jeqi, but Sloan overhears.

  “It’s always harder than you expect,” he whispers into her ear. Atae elbows him, and he huffs, feigning pain at her rejection. She rolls her eyes at Sloan as Feku continues.

  “Now, round four will be the most entertaining. For me, anyway. Eighty of you will enter, but only fifty will win and earn the honor to represent Sula Academy in the Gridiron. The goal of round four is simple: Exit through the assigned gate. To access it, you must obtain one of fifty keys hidden throughout the arena. Find the key and exit through the giant gate to win. Any questions?”

  Atae, Jeqi, Sloan, and Marqee stare at each other with the same wary expressions.

  “Well, this should prove interesting,” Sloan says.

  Chapter 17

  “Well, I guess we’re all going to die,” Sloan says. He smacks Atae in the arm with the flat side of his energy blade. She growls and swings her two-handed sword toward the annoying purebred. He swats away her feeble attack and sneers.

  “You can’t even manage to hold your hilt correctly,” he says. “Did you even listen to my instructions?”

  “Nope,” Atae says. She lunges with her sword tip pointed at Sloan’s mid-section. “You’re arrogant and annoying, and I find your voice unpleasant.”

  Sloan blocks her strike with an effortless swing then twists his blade at the perfect angle to jerk the hilt from Atae’s hands. Surprised, she hesitates, and Sloan slips in close to pin his sword against her neck. Atae grabs at his arm, but it’s too late. She freezes as Sloan peers down at her over his blade. He stands close enough that his breath brushes her cheek, and she tightens her grip on his arm, forcing him to press his body against hers to maintain control over her.

  “Do you think that maybe, just maybe, it might be possible that despite my arrogance and annoying voice, I might still be the best damn blade-master at Sula Academy?”

  “No, Jeqi i
s the best.”

  “How would you know? Have you even seen her wield a hilt?”

  “Nope, but she’s Jeqi, and she’s the best at everything. At least, that’s what our class ranking claims,” Atae says. She flashes a defiant smile that falters when Sloan frowns at her, and the light from his energy blade casts an odd shadow over his face.

  “Believe me when I say this, Atae,” he says. “You must learn to hold your own with a hilt, or we will lose the tournament. And there go our chances in the Gridiron. Whether you like it or not, I am your best bet.”

  “Well, then we are screwed because you are a terrible teacher.”

  Sloan deactivates his sword and steps away with a frustrated sigh. “Maybe you’re just a terrible student.”

  Atae scoffs at the insult as she picks up her hilt. With a zing, the two-handed blade erupts from the hilt, and she holds it in both hands like a large baton. “I can do this. With or without your help.”

  “Not with a blade that size. You need something smaller.”

  “Why? I’ll be fighting battle beasts and warriors twice my size. I need something big and powerful.”

  “It doesn’t have to be big to be powerful. You’re not big, but you’re powerful,” Sloan says. He reaches for her hilt, but Atae hesitates before releasing it to him. After adjusting the settings on the small device, Sloan returns the hilt to Atae, and she activates it. With another zing, a small blade, no longer than her forearm, springs to life, and the hybrid sneers at it.

  “What am I supposed to do with this? It’s tiny.”

  “So are you.”

  Atae snarls at the purebred, and he backs away with his hands held high in placation. “I have to go, but you should try it out tonight. You’ll be surprised by the power it holds within its tiny, tiny form.”

  Sloan chuckles as he leaves Atae in the royal training area. She heaves an exasperated sigh and glances down at the weapon in her hand, then she eyes the dedicated warriors bustling around her. The hybrid is amazed at the number of warriors in the palace, some of whom are no older than Atae. After deactivating her hilt and placing it in her holster, she strolls through the training area to admire the expensive conditioning equipment lined against one wall. She dodges overzealous sparring matches and smiles at their ferocity. As she reaches a corner located on the opposite side of the training area, Atae stops to watch a sparring match between two female warriors. She marvels at their speed and agility and hopes one day to be faster than they are.

  As Sul’s heat against her skin dulls and its red light dims, Atae traipses through the crowd of warriors. This time, she travels on the opposite side of the small mountain that’s centered in the training area. As the crowd thins, Atae finds herself squeezed between the steel poles impaling the ground. Deciding to have some fun, she rushes through the agility course. Atae darts between the poles with ease at first, but the deeper she runs into the course, the closer the poles gather. When she attempts to quicken her pace, the jerky speed between the small gaps forces Atae to slam against the steel beams. Still, she keeps going until she escapes at the end of the course near the entrance of the training area, just in time for the automatic lights to switch on.

  “Poor Blue,” a familiar voice says. “It looks like you still need time to recover fully. Or is that the best you can do?”

  Atae cringes as the amber-eyed brute chuckles. Rubbing her sore shoulder, she eyes the repugnant male and his two companions. With a tight-lipped frown, she wonders which of her recent visitors she despises more. At least tolerating Sloan has a purpose. She can’t think of any reason not to wipe the floor with this unnamed brute. Except Solum will be here soon, and she wants to be fresh for their first session since the attack.

  “Too scared to answer? Did you figure out my title? No, if you did, you’d be bowing,” the male hybrid says.

  Atae laughs at the absurdity of his claim, and the two battle beasts at his side growl. She glances down at them and jerks a dismissive hand. They don’t impress her, not even the silver-eyed heir.

  “I have more important things to worry about than you and your pack.”

  “As I’ve told you before, they aren’t my pack. But you’re right. I hear you and your tiny blade have a tournament to lose tomorrow.”

  How does he know about my tiny blade?

  “What did you say?” she asks. The arrogant brat rests one hand on his hip and huffs at Atae.

  “Don’t tell me that you think you can actually win. I mean, maybe your pack will drag you through the first three rounds, but the fourth round? You don’t have a chance.”

  “Argh. What is your problem?” Atae throws her hands up, and the entire training area careens to a halt as everyone stops to watch her berate the other youngling. “Why is it every time that I’ve laid eyes on you, you insist on insulting me? Do you treat everyone this way, or am I special somehow? If so, I don’t see how your pack puts up with your arrogant, self-righteous attitude.”

  “They aren’t my pack.”

  “So you’ve said. Personally, if they aren’t your pack, I don’t know why they follow you. It certainly isn’t for your pleasant company.”

  The ill-mannered male jumps in Atae’s face and growls, and she glares back at him as he speaks.

  “I am the strongest youngling on this planet. One day, I will be the empire’s greatest warrior.”

  If not for her anger and hatred toward the disrespectful brat, Atae might believe him. She’s seen the immense respect other warriors give him, but it doesn’t matter.

  “I don’t care how strong you are or how strong you grow. You will never be a great warrior.”

  “Ha. That doesn’t even make sense. But what would you expect from a weak youngling like you,” he says.

  “A warrior is nothing without a pack to watch his back. And what pack would take a self-righteous, overconfident prick like you? Some warrior you’ll be when you’re too busy watching your own back from the enemies you’ve pissed off,” she says.

  “I need no one.”

  “Pathetic.”

  “Enough.” Solum's words, although not loud, echo across the silent training area. As though someone flipped a switch, everyone in the near vicinity returns to their activities. But Solum’s sudden appearance isn’t enough to tame the two younglings’ tempers. They continue to glare at each other in silence.

  “I said enough, Atae.”

  Atae steps away from the brute but refuses to break eye contact, and her father snarls at her.

  “You will learn to hold your tongue around our prince, or I will cut it out,” he says.

  Atae spins around to face her father, showing her back to the other youngling and dismissing him as a threat. He huffs at the infuriating tactic, much to Atae’s delight.

  “The prince? Where?” she asks.

  When Solum nods his head at her rival, Atae’s heart stops. Prince Truin watches with a mountain of satisfaction as the obstinate little hybrid realizes her mistakes. He motions toward the two battle beast guards at his side.

  “I told you, they aren’t my pack,” he says. “You should start bowing.”

  Atae jerks straighter and snaps her right fist over her chest and the left at the small of her back. Her fuchsia eyes meet his amber for an instant before she averts her gaze to drown in her shame.

  “Prince Truin, I apologize. I did not…” She’s at a loss for words. How can Atae explain her complete lack of respect toward the youngling to whom she wishes to dedicate her life?

  “You did not what? Know that a prince has a higher status than even a royal advisor’s daughter? That much is obvious.” Prince Truin says. “Solum, you’ve failed drastically at educating your daughter on palace politics.”

  “I can see that now, sire.”

  “Let me know when you finish with my guards.”

  Prince Truin bids farewell to the older warrior and walks away without a glance toward Atae. Cheeks flushed, Atae wishes she could disappear. She rubs her face with her han
ds and wills the embarrassment to retreat from her mind and chest. How could she let this happen?

  …a self-righteous, overconfident prick…

  How could she speak in such a manner to Prince Truin?

  You disrespectful little shit…

  Atae can see her dream of serving as a royal guard swirl away into the abyss of her failure and shame. She peers at Solum with pleading eyes, but he scoffs at her behavior. Nope, she got herself into this mess, and he’ll leave her to drown in it. Sighing, Atae accepts the harsh reality of failure and sinks into a self-pitying hunch. Noticing the sudden change in Atae’s stance, Solum growls at the youngling.

  “Pathetic. One setback, and you are ready to accept defeat?” he says. Atae meets her father’s gaze with pleading eyes.

  “I…uh…I don’t know what to do.”

  “Are you injured?”

  “What?”

  “Are you physically incapable of fighting? Are you injured?” Solum asks.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then you train and fight. Then train some more and fight again.”

  “But he hates me. He won’t want me to be part of his guard,” she says. Solum shakes his head at his daughter’s naiveté.

  “You think Prince Truin will choose his royal guard? The Gridiron will choose many, but Queen Sula will play a heavy hand as well.”

  “Prince Truin doesn’t even get a say?”

  “Maybe, a small say.” Solum shrugs his broad shoulders, and Atae is, once again, empowered. Excitement and determination flood through her veins, and she cannot help the smile that spreads across her face. Amazed at how much a pep talk can inspire her, Solum smirks at his daughter then signals to two battle beasts behind him.

  “Let’s begin. Schinn, at attention. Trikk, at ease.”

  Schinn, the white battle beast with gray and black streaks, steps to up Solum’s right ride. He stands firm with all four feet planted, head held high, glaring straight forward, and tail swishing behind him. Trikk, more black than gray, sits to Solum’s left and stares at Atae. Her eyes widen when Trikk sniffs the air and licks his lips. The cold hunger in his obsidian gaze unnerves her, but she does not move.