Tournament of Kings

Chapter One: Heroes' Return

Ajax was in a foul mood today, despite the beautiful clear skies. But the wolf boy had never let a bad mood stop him from victory. So he continued to practice his stances with his sword, hour after hour. Unfortunately, no one else had been interested in teaching him, so Relma had to be the one to give him an understanding.

Relma had only been practicing with a sword for over six months. So things weren't going well. A breeze blew through the long grass near them and flowed through her golden hair and Ajax's silver.

"I hate this," snapped Ajax.

"Complaining never solved anything, Ajax," said Relma. "Though if it did, you probably would have fixed every problem in the world by now."

Ajax glanced up, his silver hair flowing behind him as he snarled. "How can mortals fight like this? Just practicing stances and rehearsing moves. Like I'm learning to dance."

"What did you think we did to learn to fight?" asked Relma, curious.

"I fight using the berserk fury of my heritage," said Ajax. "The instinct and powers ingrained within me from birth allow me to tear my foes apart easily. I have the blood of the Alpha in me, after all."

"That's nice," said Relma. Ajax had told her about the Alpha, and she'd read a bit. It was a werewolf belief in a deity that had taken on the form of a human peasant and fed itself willingly to five wolves. Each wolf then gained kinship to humanity and the intellect and strength that came with it. "Unfortunately, we mere mortals don't have instincts on that level. So you'll just have to learn to fight like everyone else who doesn't have a heritage." Ajax looked at her in surprise. Then he narrowed his eyes. Relma shifted beneath his gaze. "What?"

"You are the last person in the world to say that," said Ajax, lowering his sword.

"What do you mean?" asked Relma.

"You are the Heir of Kings. The last descendant of Anoa the Bright" said Ajax. "You are literally wearing the sword of a god at your side. Until you have a child or kill Baltoth, destiny will conspire to ensure you survive."

Relma glanced down to Lightning Trail. It didn't look like the sword of a god at the moment. If she had to pick two words, they would be aggressively ordinary. But then, that was the point, wasn't it?

What was all that about her being destined to survive, though? "I don't think it works that way," said Relma after a moment. "I think if I did something really stupid, I would get killed. Aunt Pan wouldn't be so protective of me if I were immune to everything."

Ajax shrugged. "Prophecies always come true. At best, you can twist them to fulfill the letter of the prediction while ignoring the intent. That's one of the reasons father broke up with Baltoth. He didn't want to end up on the losing side."

"Well yeah, but how do we really know that I am the last descendant?" asked Relma, lowering her sword. "Maybe Anoa had a mistress who was written out of the history books. Or maybe Anoa's reincarnation had a family, and they count as well. Or maybe Anoa could return from heaven and sire new descendants."