Rising from Dust
CHAPTER ONE

“Are you ready, Zarafa?” Dexter asked, a small measure of gentleness in his tone that she rarely heard from him.

Keeping her shoulders back and her spine straight, she stared straight ahead, keeping an air of indifference about her as best she could. Giving him a tiny smile and nod, she turned back to face the arena before her. They hadn’t made the arena to make her feel more at home, but that was how it felt to her. The dusty, flat area had been set aside for the very purpose of training and testing. It had been cleaned since the last time she’d entered it to train. The tang of blood no longer spiked the air, and the sand seemed to have been raked nicely. It seemed a little odd to her after training on it with Dexter nearly every single day for the past year, but she was grateful for the lack of blood. Without it, she would be better able to control her vampiric instincts. Though as soon as the fights began, she always had a harder time focusing as her fangs throbbed in time with her opponents’ accelerated heartbeats. Still, this should make it a little easier on her.

Astrid, the second in command in the Higher Power, was coming today to watch over the competition. Zarafa saw her, already reclining easily in her seat, looking down at the gathering of competitors. Zarafa followed her gaze, narrowing her eyes at the competitors as well. Twelve people, armed to the teeth, stood between her and her place at Dexter’s side among the Higher Power. She was eager to fulfill the promise he’d made to her a year ago when he first took her to Lii through a portal. He promised to help her learn to control her vampire side, and she’d agreed to help out this mysterious organization led by an even more mysterious man named Dravyn. She would have followed him here regardless of their deal, though. Her life on Ponorama had been miserable. Dexter had shown her kindness she’d never known… he gave her an out in her miserable life.

Most of her competitors were men, sweating beneath the sun, the dust clinging to their muscles. They stood scattered around the outside edge of the arena, their feet planted in the dusty terrain. Dexter had coached her well, however, and she did not fear this portion of the day-long test.

For most of the contestants, today’s tests consisted of only the fight and the social aspect, but as a vampire- and a new one at that- she would have to prove her own self-mastery to be of an even higher caliber than the others’.

And that would be the fight of her life.

“Remember,” Dexter murmured at her side, also sizing up the competition under his experienced gaze, “You are fast and lithe. Dodge as much as you can. They may look to be strong as bulls; but your endurance and speed are much higher. Use that to your advantage.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, quickly running her gaze over her own armor to ensure it was up to par. After tugging on a couple of pieces of the thin black armor lined in a color that didn’t exist in Ponorama, purple, she gave a slight nod. Everything seemed to be in order. She had been outfitted with a knife in each boot, several weapons tied around her waist, a sword, and a shield that she had decided against taking out with her. She would be faster without it encumbering her every move. Everything she had had been outfitted with had purple involved somewhere. She was completely enamored by the darker, richer blue that was the color purple, and put it everywhere she could. Not to mention how great it went with her now-pale skin, green eyes, and red hair.

With so many people fighting today, she wasn’t sure if it would take more or less time than the ten minutes she heard the fighting portion of the test usually took. Still, it didn’t matter much to her- she would be the last one standing. No matter what. Getting a prominent position among this group would cement her into her new life. A life of power, confidence, and respect. Her past would be forgotten by everyone- even herself. That place among the Higher Power was hers. She’d worked harder than anyone else had, non-stop, for months. Now, nearly a year later, her hunger for the place she had been striving for was stronger than ever. She knew she would be able to secure it- especially if she was able to keep any of the other contestants from getting under her skin. That was her biggest flaw, and she knew it. They could sow doubt in her and throw her off.

She just hoped that by knowing her flaw, she’d be able to prevent it from being leveraged against her- on or off the field. She knew there were other options to get into the Higher Power- only the prominent, important positions required such testing to get in, but she was determined to enter this way. Otherwise, she’d be stuck as a foot soldier forever. She had to carve a better future for herself than that.

Astrid’s magically enhanced voice boomed around the arena, drawing the attention of all the spectators and contestants. “Greetings, everyone. Those of you competing, you know the rules. Try not to kill anyone. If you do, we will still proceed, though it will be marked against you that you cannot control yourself and your bloodlust. Needless to say, it will diminish your chances of consideration for the position. Assume your positions and begin when you hear the boom in ten seconds.” She didn’t stand as she made her announcements, but remained firmly seated, her eyes burning holes into each competitor. Her gaze landed on Zarafa’s last, and lingered there. Though the others had been cowed by her obvious power and status, Zarafa felt bolstered by her lingering gaze. At worst, she believed Astrid was curious about her, and at best... she was silently rooting for her.

That was all she needed. Smirking at the other contestants, Zarafa readied herself, slipping easily into the memorized stance. Her sword felt lighter in her hand than ever before. With all the training Dexter had put her through, strengthening her vampirism, her connection to the strong magic of the realm, her emotions, and her social poise… developing fighting skills was by far her favorite thing. She excelled at it, thanks to her burning passion and newly enhanced strength.

Staring down her opponents scattered across the field, she picked out the weakest links. Those who fumbled as they drew their weapons, those whose sweat was concentrated on their face- displaying their inner fear- and those whose eyes darted frantically around, as though unsettled by the number of opponents. They would be her first targets... likely the first targets for everyone.

Quickly changing tactics, she moved her gaze to find those nearest her, taking in where their focus lay. Six seconds left. Most everyone seemed to be sizing up either those closest to them or everyone, but... there. One of the biggest guys on the field, with a heavy mace clenched in one meaty hand. His gaze was focused entirely on one of the weakest on the field, a small nervous girl. Bending his knees, he braced to rush the girl, who noticed his stance and shook violently.

Two seconds...

Zarafa copied the man’s stance, ready to rush him as he pounced on the girl. Eyes darting around one last time, she was assured that everyone had picked their first target- and none of them were looking at her or her victim.

BANG.

A bright light flashed in time with a resounding boom, shaking a good number of the contestants. Zarafa, however, had timed it perfectly and closed her eyes at exactly the right moment to not be blinded. This was something she and Dexter had been working on the past few days, and she was already grateful for it. She now had a leg up on the rest from the start. Dashing toward her chosen victim, her feet left their position less than a second after the starting sound, carrying her easily over the hot, loose sand. Flying up beside the man, she found that he was exceptionally slow, having taken only a step by the time she reached him.

He also hadn’t been paying attention to everything as he should have. He had no clue that anyone was ready to attack him so early on, and kept his gaze fixed on the quivering girl, who had dropped her rapier. Zarafa ignored the urge to smirk as she lifted her sword, feeling light as her feet carried her just a little past the man. Stopping, she moved quickly, slicing the man’s main arteries in his sword arm, then his other arm. He went down, wide-eyed, with a small, surprised gasp. Spinning, she knocked the small girl in the back of the head with the hilt of her sword, sending her to join her original attacker in the sand: the first two in the field to drop.

Looks like this will be a quick fight, Zarafa decided, her feet preserving her momentum and taking her toward a man with a shifty gaze who had just felled another of the weakest competitors. The arm holding the sword still held across her body, she pulled it forward with magically enhanced strength, letting the flat of the blade hit the man straight in the forehead, knocking him flat on his back. She didn’t bother to look- he’d be knocked out for hours from the strength of the blow.

Turning, she quickly took stock of the field. Half the contestants lay unmoving in the sand, many of them with spreading pools of blood. We’ll have to make this quick if we don’t want any deaths marked against us, Zarafa realized as she took in the remaining five people. One other woman, and four men; two with average build, and two nearly the size of her first victim. The six stopped for a moment, taking each other in. Ten seconds into the battle, and they had narrowed the playing field by half. The people in front of them were the true competition. From this point, they’d need to be cautious and smart about their actions rather than simply quick and powerful.

Two seconds later, and the field was a haze of movement once more. The woman, singled out, was attacked by two men at once. One of the smaller men came toward Zarafa, and the last man was slow to move, seemingly confused as to who he should target now. Focusing on the man charging toward her, Zarafa stared him down, abruptly changing her eyes and allowing her fangs to show, giving in momentarily to the hunger pulsing through her veins.

Her trick worked. The man’s steps stumbled to a stop as his face, for just a second, displayed shock and fear. It was all she needed. Pulling her free hand from her belt, she let loose a small dagger into his gut, and he went down with a gargling gasp, eyes wide. The wound was fairly serious, but he’d survive, especially with how quickly the fight was proceeding. He’d get medical attention within minutes, leaving no death to mar her record. If he died after receiving medical attention, it wouldn’t be marked against her.

Already reverted back to her natural, human-like state, Zarafa charged past the fallen man toward the man yet to engage in a fight. As he readied his sword against her, she took in the other woman’s status in the corner of her eye. She was still upright, but the men were quickly wearing her down.

Zarafa’s chosen victim opened his mouth as though to engage in conversation, but was thrown off as he had to raise his blade to stop her blade’s path toward his chest. Gritting his teeth against her strength, his eyebrows knitted together and he stared at her, finally seeming to slide into the pace of battle. Their swords clashed mightily, sending out sparks, which rained down on them harmlessly. After a few seconds of their deadly dance, Zarafa began to wonder if she should use magic to quickly finish the fight. Using magic to cast a spell wasn’t against the rules, but it also wasn’t going to gain her much in the way of points. Besides, it was tricky to use during the heat of battle- she would need at least a full second of concentration in order to access and direct it, and a second was the difference between victory and utter loss. She couldn’t risk taking the time to use it. Perhaps if she’d had the ability before becoming a vampire her skill at magic would be greater, but given the one year she’d had to learn how to use it, she simply wouldn’t have the time to cast one of her memorized spells.

She also wouldn’t be able to use her face-changing trick on this man since he’d been watching her when she’d done it to the last man. The element of surprise was officially no longer her ally in the battle. She would have to rely completely on her swiftness and strength. While as a vampire she was stronger and faster than normal humans, and could use magic... if this man had any Gifts, they would be stronger than her heightened abilities. He would likely only have a Gift if he was from either the realm of Zilferia or Lii, thanks to the concentrated magic there, and that was a two-in-seven chance. Though the other way was more likely statistically, she made sure to be ready for it if he tapped into a Gift.

As though thinking the same thing as her about using a Gift, the man blinked and disappeared, his weapon vanishing with him. Narrowing her eyes, Zarafa leaned into her other senses, locating him through her predator instincts, as well as noting the disturbed sand from his passage. Continuing forward, her sword clashed with his once more. Pressing on, she watched a drop of blood fall as she felt her sword plunge into the man’s sword hand. With an anguished cry accented with surprise, the man flashed back into view, his sword tumbling to the ground. Spinning, Zarafa used her momentum to smash her sword into his ribs, shattering them. He fell to the ground with a louder scream than any of the previous contestants on the field, which surprised her since she thought she’d have ruptured a lung with that hit.

Backing up a few steps to give her some distance from the battle, she took note of her remaining competitors. The two men had finished the woman off, though one of them looked worse for wear from the battle. They turned their attention to Zarafa as she watched, sinking into their haunches as they stared at her, a challenge written on their faces. A true team-up. She would have to take them both out- they were saving each other for last.

Panting, the three of them stared at each other for a few moments longer, resting from the fury of battle. It’d only been about a minute from the start of the battle, but exhaustion was beginning to set in. Despite all her training, none of her fights had been nearly as intense as this one. Gritting her teeth, Zarafa commanded her protesting muscles to move, propelling her back into the fight. She locked eyes with the stronger of the two before abruptly spinning past him to batter the worn-down man first. Two-on-one would be unnecessarily treacherous for her, so she needed to bring one of them down, and fast.

They weren’t surprised by this maneuver, though her speed caught them off guard enough for her to leap onto the taller, weaker man’s shoulders, wrapping her legs around his throat as tightly as she could, cutting off the blood flow to his brain. No extra points were technically given for attacking each person with a different maneuver, but she savored the fresh feeling it gave to a fight to switch it up. Besides, she wanted to present as much of her skill set as she could. Official points or not, she was out to impress as well as secure a leadership spot among the Higher Power.

The man’s hands immediately flew up to her legs, but she was able to knock the weapon out of them, sending it spinning out across the sandy field and out of reach. Grunting, he tried to reach up for her, but his movements were limited thanks to his overly bulky muscles. Zarafa smirked and tightened her chokehold further, turning her focus back to the other man, whom she’d been watching out of the corner of her eye. He was circling warily, waiting for an opening. Ah, perhaps I’ve met my equal, Zarafa thought in satisfaction as she observed his patient scanning of her situation, perched on the wavering man he’d partnered with. Yet, he seemed unbothered to watch his partner sway and crash toward the ground, effectively knocking him out of the competition.

As the man fell, the other surged forward, but Zarafa leapt easily from the fallen man’s shoulders, tucking into a neat flip as she flew over the last competitor’s head. He spun quickly and met her as she landed facing him. They both moved quickly, the flurry of blows from their swords likely difficult for the observers’ eyes to follow. Face clenched in concentration, the man fought her with all his might. After a few more seconds, he started to overpower her, allowing a feeling of panic to settle in her chest for the first time. He had the Gift of Fighting. As superhuman as her abilities were, she wouldn’t be able to match him in hand-to-hand combat. Each second that passed, he gained more and more ground, pushing her back across the field, where she nearly tripped on the bodies scattered throughout.

Finally, she did trip, though it was half intentional. As she fell, avoiding his blade, she swept a leg out, toppling the man, who fell to the ground beside her. Concentrating, she performed a spell in record time. “Erif!” she barked, throwing out a hand to direct the flames at her competitor. She scrambled backward at the same time, barely avoiding his blade. Face torn in agony as his flesh cooked, the man pressed forward, steely determination the likes of which she’d never seen remaining steady in his dark eyes. Panicking once more, Zarafa stopped the flames spewing from her left hand and lunged forward with the sword in her other, guiding the weapon toward his stomach, but he unexpectedly crumpled from the pain of her flames, and her sword dove straight through his ribcage... and into his heart.

“No!” she screamed, dropping to her knees as the man’s corpse landed heavily before her. “No! How could you? You would have lived!” she cried in anguish, dropping her sword and beating her fists into the man’s chest. “I wasn’t going for his heart!” she continued, tears streaming as she gazed up at the medics rushing onto the field. The steady magical buzz of Lii’s atmosphere sounded louder than usual in her ears, effectively hushing the applause from the stands. Three minutes had passed since the beginning of the battle. Unbelievably short... and here she was, the victor, just as she knew she would be. She just never expected there to be a black mark by her name, which would never be washed away, even if she got the position among the Higher Power.

This man, she didn’t even know the name of, had ruined her. Completely. Utterly. Hopelessly.

Zarafa barely registered Astrid’s voice as she announced the end of the battle, declaring her the victor... and pointing out her life-ruining mistake. “The battle has come to a close. As you all have seen, this red-haired woman has emerged the victor... though at the cost of another man’s life.” After a heavy pause, she continued. “Those who are able will be attending a dinner tonight as their final test, to measure their self-control and poise outside of battle. Congratulations to our victor... and good luck going forward.” Zarafa looked up at this last statement, locking eyes with the young warrior blonde. Astrid paused, then gave her a tiny nod, which seemed to carry a message of understanding and pride. Zarafa wiped at her tears and stood, her shoulders back as she stood tall, dipping into a neat bow as Astrid strode past her to leave.

Perhaps all was not lost.

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