Burning Wildfires (Abandoned)

~9~

Dorian cursed.
"Aelin owes me ten gold coins. I told her that he would find out." he muttered.

Chaol's brown eyes held a fire that he had seen only once in his entire life. He knew that the Captain would not stop till he received answers."Well? Do you have an answer for me Dorian?" His arms were crossed, an eyebrow raised in challenge. 

"I do actually. Quite sure you will not believe it. You might want to sit down for this one."

The brunette stared at him incredulously. "I thought it would be more of challenge to get answers...." he said as he sat on stiffly on one of the comfortable chairs. 

The prince shrugged. "I know how to admit defeat Captain." The ravenette gestured wildly towards the dying fireplace. 

"So it began when I discovered I had magic....."

~

Just as Aelin was about to reach the Captain, someone stomped a spear on the ground and called the room to attention. Chaol sent her an odd look as if he was trying to look into her soul. She faced the voice that had spoken and found a stocky, balding man standing beneath the mezzanine.

"Your attention now," the man repeated. Aelin looked to Chaol, who nodded, taking the knives from her as they joined the twenty-three other competitors encircling the man. "I'm Theodus Brullo, Weapons Master and judge of this competition. Of course, our king's the final judge of you sorry lot, but I'll be the one determining every day if you're fit to be his Champion."

He patted his sword hilt, and Aelin had to admire the beautiful woven gold of the pommel. It reminded her of Goldryn and she felt a pang of longing when she remembered the lovely sword. "I've been Weapons Master here for thirty years, and lived in this castle for twenty-five more than that. I've trained many a lord and knight— and many a would-be Champion of Adarlan. It will be very hard to impress me."
Beside Celaena, Chaol stood with his shoulders thrown back. The young queen remembered the tales the Captain would tell about Brullo and the harsh training he had been given. He certainly lived up to his title of the Weapons Master. 

"The king's already told you all there is to know about this competition," Brullo said, holding his hands behind his back. "But I figured you lot are itching to know more about each other." He pointed a stubby finger at Cain. "You. What's your name, occupation, and where do you hail from? And be honest about it—I know none of you are bakers and candlestick makers."

Cain's insufferable grin graced his face. "Cain, soldier in the king's army. I hail from the White Fang Mountains." She remembered that, remembered the tales of the brutality of the mountain folk from that region and seen several of them up close, seen the fierceness in their eyes. She gritted her teeth.

Brullo, however, either didn't know or didn't care, and didn't even give a nod before he pointed to the man to Cain's right. "And you?" A slender, tall man with thinning blond hair surveyed the circle and sneered. "Xavier Forul. Master Thief of Melisande." 

One by one, the twenty-one other competitors introduced themselves. There were six more seasoned soldiers—all of them thrown out of the army for questionable behavior, which must have been truly questionable, given that Adarlan's army was notorious for ruthlessness. Then there were the three other thieves—including the dark-haired, gray-eyed Nox Owen, whom she'd been happy to see again, as he was the messenger of Terrasen and a good friend of hers. The three mercenaries looked ready to boil someone alive, and then there were the two shackled murderers. As his name suggested, Bill Chastain, the Eye Eater, ate the eyes of his victims. He looked surprisingly plain, with mousy brown hair, tan skin, and average height with a scar flecked mouth.

The other murderer was Ned Clement, who'd gone for three years under the name Scythe, for the weapon he'd used to torture and hack apart temple priestesses. It was a wonder they hadn't executed either man, though from their tanned skin, she guessed they'd spent the years since their captures toiling under the sun in Calaculla, the southern sister labor camp to Endovier.

Four assassins came in, none of whom would gain a place as even a stable hand in the Assassin's Guild. 

Then the last assassin stepped forward. Grave. The mere mention of his name caused a fiery anger to rise up in her and seeing him in person with the prospect of having to seem inferior to him, when he brutally killed Nehemia... Aelin snapped. 

Grabbing the hunting knives she threw them at the smug assassin with practiced ease, the knife barely hitting the mark. Chaol immediately took hold of her hands restraining them while she hurled insults of the worst kind to Grave. 

"Lillian stop!", the Captain hissed in her ear.  "You do not understand! He killed her!", she growled back. She could almost feel her fire escaping, her fury overtaking every sense. An odd look came over his face before he shook his head. "You have to keep a low profile, you know that!"
"Not if I have to deal with him!" Her eyes shot daggers engulfed in fire at the large assassin, who actually gulped at her fierce gaze. 
The brunette's face seemed to be in conflict before he said four words that made her blood run cold. 

"I know Aelin Galathynius."

It was like Rowan had managed to calm her down since she felt as if all her anger was snuffed out at once when she heard those words. A pang went through her as her mate came into her mind. She had no time think about him right now. Those words were said quietly enough that only she could hear. All her movements stopped and she allowed herself to be placed back into position, a stunned silence descending upon the training area.