Chapter 25: Terra

Jesse smiles at me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I must not have lost quite yet. I turn back toward Flynn just in time to see the staff I dropped, the one Jesse gave me, arcing toward my face. Without thinking, I Bind it in place, too. Flynn's body jerks at my abrupt halt to his momentum.

He drops the staff and comes at me with his bare hands. His fist is less than an inch from my face when it occurs to me to Bind that into place as well. His eyes bug out from his head when he realizes what I've done. To his credit, he doesn't give in. I should be hitting him, slamming him, or better yet, I could grab Jesse's staff and repay some of the damage he's done to me. I can barely move my right arm, and my legs send a pulse of pain upward with every heartbeat.

I've never hit anyone before, other than Thomas, and every time I struck him, it was an accident, an error in executing our choreography. I've never intentionally damaged another person, other than the men who were chasing me yesterday and Robert, who was hurtling a dagger at Martin.

But when Flynn brings his other fist up to punch me, I forget that I don't want to hurt him. I forget my guilt over harming another person. I release the Binding on Jesse's staff and Lift it into my hand. I slam it squarely against Flynn's chest with all the force I can muster. With his right hand Bound in place, there isn't much he can do about it. That's when I feel it. Flynn's eyes light up with gold and he shoves. I feel a push, as though someone's pushing against a door I'm holding shut. I may be untrained, but I know Flynn's trying to undo my Binding on his fist.

I laugh. I feel the shove, but it's pitiful, a half-hearted effort at best, like a kitten pawing at a ball of yarn. There's no chance he'll break through. He tries to swing at me with his free hand.

So I Bind it in place, too.

Flynn's face falls, and his eyes change. They dart back and forth, and then turn to me, and I recognize what I see. Fear. I release the Bindings on his hands and slam the staff into his right shoulder as hard as I can. I sense him perfectly, so my blow lands with precision. When he reels back, it occurs to me that I have the means to simply end this now. Easily.

I kick him in the chest and he falls backward. I Lift his feet, and this time he slams into the mat. I barely use any force at all when I Bind him into place. Slowly, so slowly, the seconds pass and the man who was counting earlier makes it to three. And I’ve won.

Easy peasy.

The crowd pauses for a moment, unsure how to react, but Jesse leaps onto the platform and puts his arm around me. “Well done, Alora. Well done indeed.” Scattered groups of people erupt into applause. It’s hardly a ringing endorsement, but I’m just getting started.

“You have a five-minute break before the next fight.” He frowns. “And it looks like you dislocated that shoulder.”

“I can’t move it—that’s for sure.”

He cringes. “I’ve been trained in basic first aid—I can reduce it for you, but it’s going to hurt.”

I nod, and he positions his arms around me. . .and then wrenches it into place. The pain is sharp, but it’s quick and then it’s done. Other than the dull throbbing, obviously. I cradle my right arm in my left.

Jesse waves for a blonde woman with a tray of wine glasses to come closer.

“I’d prefer water,” I say.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

I nod.

He looks doubtful, but doesn’t argue. Once I have a glass of water in my hand, Jesse starts talking in a low voice. “You fight Henry next. He's a good guy, only a few years older than I am.”

I glance over while I sip and notice Flynn standing in the corner, talking to the woman in the yellow gown. “What happens to Flynn now?”

Jesse glances over at him. “You need to focus on your next fight.”

That doesn’t reassure me. Actions have consequences, and I’d like to know the result of mine. “Yeah, but what happens to him? You said he came from nothing, and now I've beaten him. His emotion shifted up there, from angry to afraid. I need to know why.”

“Well, it depends on what you do next. If you defeat Henry, then Henry will get a five-minute break and then fight Flynn.”

“And the loser?” I ask.

“The loser goes back to his family.”

“So I may have ended Flynn's career. . .and his livelihood?” I whisper.

Jesse looks away and then back to me, but he doesn’t meet my eye. “Look, it's not your fault, okay? Yes, someone will have to leave now that you've Ascended, but that's the way it works. Not everyone can be a leader, and you defeated him, so you advance and he doesn’t. You can't start feeling bad for the men you're fighting. All of the men's strategies will change at some point during your match, because if you know you're going to lose, you want to minimize injury and conserve your strength for the next fight. If you use up everything you've got on one you lose, you won't win the next one. Flynn still has a chance. . . if you win. He's probably your biggest fan right now.”

But no matter what, someone is going home thanks to me. I can’t quite help my guilt. I know every action has consequences, but I don’t like causing someone pain or suffering.

Duncan climbs up in the ring behind me.

“Time's up already? I didn't even tell you anything yet. Okay, so Henry's a classic fighter, but he lacks creativity. He's—”

“It's okay.” I stop Jesse. “I have a plan for this match already.”

I limp toward the ring, and Jesse grabs my left arm. “You're limping. How badly are you injured?” My shoulder’s definitely dislocated, and the backs of my legs have begun to swell.

I try to shrug, but that motion sends shooting pains down my arm. “Does it matter?”

“Not really. There's no Healing until after the Ascension ends, but in your next break we can wrap your legs, at least, or get you a sling if you need one.”

I snort. “Fear me, the bandaged warrior.”

His face turns serious. “I think they're plenty afraid of you.”

I glance into the ring, where a man who must be Henry is already standing. He's young, like Jesse said, and he's tall. Jesse helps me climb up so I don't tweak my shoulder. Henry has dark hair that’s pulled back into a queue, but a few tendrils escape and fall in soft curls around his face. I bet he has good luck with the women in Sterling, with his chocolate brown eyes and his well-defined muscles. Even his calves are perfectly turned. I know he's part of the Unit, so presumably he can fight, but he reminds me of a puppy.

A cute, overeager puppy.

And I’m the monster who’s going to kick this sweet little puppy out of a job. Ugh.

As the challenger, I apparently always choose the weapon. When I choose to forgo a weapon in favor of a hand-to-hand fight, people seem surprised, but this time, when the flag falls, I have a plan. I Lift Henry and then shove him down on the mat. I Bind his entire body down. He struggles, physically, and he Lifts against the Binding, so it takes a lot more effort than I expected. Nothing has ever pushed back against one of my Bindings. I wasn't even aware it could be done. Henry's eyes flash and he clenches his fists and growls.

But it's not enough.

I'm much, much stronger than he is, poor little muscled puppy.

After the count of three, I glance around at the crowd. There's no applause this time, just shuffling and nervous whispers.

During my second break, Jesse calls for bandages. He wraps both my calves tightly, over my pants, to minimize the swelling, but I decline his offer of a sling.

“You have the Sterling pride.” My brother smirks.

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.” I can’t imagine wearing a sling will help people to fear me—or see me as an asset.

Jesse glances over at Duncan. “Actually, it kind of is. Look at Dad. He's proud of you—one manifestation of our pride in a positive manner. He just can't be seen to interfere during an Ascension, not as the Leader of all the Followers of Isis.”

Duncan Sterling's not even looking our direction—he’s talking to someone who looks important, but as if he can sense my gaze, he glances over at me several times. When he notices I'm facing him, he smiles broadly.

Maybe Jesse’s right. Not that it matters, of course.

There's no pride in Duncan’s voice when he announces the next round of fights a moment later. “In Ring One, we have Alora and Adaniel. In Ring Two, we have Flynn and Henry.” When the flags drop, I repeat the process I developed with Henry. I Lift Adaniel, a tall, lanky guy who looks around thirty, into the air, and slam him into the mat. I Bind him in place until the count of three. His eyes flash bright blue and I feel a real shove against my Binding, but it holds.

This time, the crowd is less surprised. The scattered cheers resume, mostly from women again, but I feel a little better about my win nonetheless.

“Do you even want to hear my tips for fighting Adaniel's twin brother?” Jesse asks. “Or were you planning to just shove Nathaniel down to the mat and Bind him with brute strength too?”

“Here's the thing,” I tell Jesse. “Back home, I Lifted things all day long. I Bound things into place, sometimes permanently. One of the wagon wheels is still held together by one of my Bindings.”

Jesse scoffs. “Doubtful. You might not feel it, what with all your vast power or whatever, but even though Binding something requires less maintenance than Lifting and holding, it's still pulling on your power. I can't Bind something for very long, and if someone else is shoving back, I usually drop pretty quickly. Once you rode far enough away from your encampment, your Bindings failed.”

“You're saying everything I fix in place, everything I Bind, is drawing strength from me without me even realizing it?”

Jesse nods. “Without a doubt. It's staggering that you don't even feel it.”

“I felt them push against my Binding, but I just pushed back.” My eyes widen as something occurs to me. “Why didn’t any of the citizens ever realize I could Lift? If these warriors can push on my Bindings?”

“It doesn’t work like that. You never Lifted any of them—or Bound them in place. You can’t sense someone else’s work unless it’s shoved against you.”

That was lucky. I’m beginning to see just how vulnerable I was in hiding—without any real knowledge of what I could do or how it worked.

A man climbs into the ring.

Jesse looks up at him pointedly.

He’s much larger than his twin was.

“Well, if it's working, I guess you can keep doing it. Are you tired yet?”

I shrug. “Sure. If my fight with Flynn is any indication, I don't stand a chance once my strength runs out, so I may as well climb as high as I can doing what I feel comfortable doing, right?”

He nods. “Take that sucker down.”

My method works for Nathaniel and to varying degrees of success with four more men: Francis, Beren, Quincey, and Seth. Although, with Seth, it’s a lot less graceful. It feels like I’m fighting an octopus, with all the wriggling and pressing on my Bindings he does.

The length of my breaks increase, because the other fights triggered by my Ascension take a lot longer to complete than mine do, and the next round can't begin until they all have five minutes from the end of their match to rest. I might be imagining it, but it feels like the swelling in my legs diminishes, and my shoulder seems less tender, too.

“How are you holding up?” Jesse asks.

I gulp. “That last one was harder.”

“I noticed you were struggling.”

I’m reaching my limit.

Through it all, Jesse has had my back: bringing me ice, food, drinks, and anything else I need. The gathered men may look at me like I’m a bug, but not him. My whole world may have fallen apart in the last day and a half, but I’ve gained one thing—something I already value more than anything else in the world. A big brother—a real, blood family member who seems to care about me just for who I am.

“Who's next?” I ask.

Jesse compresses his lips. “Actually, your next fight is against me.”