Iron Heart (The Gauntlet #2)

Chapter 12 - Miss Me?

Directly behind them came the ranks of other veteran fighters – second or third year competitors – and after them walked the most highly regarded rookies. She glanced over her shoulder, hunting through the sea of blue and cyan until she caught a glimpse of Leela's face a couple of ranks from the back of the group.

Waiting at a pair of double doors stood the Battlecast instructors, Bronagh Llewellyn among them. She radiated feral energy and pride, clad in a long aquamarine coat streaked with cyan, her flame-coloured hair tied tightly back into a narrow streak of fire that reached down between her shoulder blades. A vulpine smile slid across her face.

"Alright, everyone," she said simply. "Follow me!"

Then the instructors formed into two ranks of five behind her, and the doors opened.

The noise hit Codi like a mud slide and she winced as the torrent of shrieks and whoops burst over them. Then it was the deluge of light that came next making her squint as she kept in step with the others. They marched forward down a cordoned path and down either side of it a seething mass of spectators and news reporters undulated and roared like a single living organism.

"Comet dust..." she murmured. "Is it always like this?"

"Pretty much," Chris answered as they marched into the chaos. "You'll get used to it."

Codi wasn't so sure. Each glance left and right revealed a new kaleidoscope of braying individuals; men, women, young, old, rugged, smooth – it was like looking at a snapshot of an entire population. Scattered through the crowds were the bubbles of press, where cameras swung, tracking them like turrets and broadcasting every step to the rest of the planet.

She got an even more surprising reality check when she saw that some of the banners and signs being waved amongst the crowd featured her by name. There were even pictures – treating her to the unnerving prospect of having even her own eyes watching her march into the arena.

Tearing her gaze from the unsettling media scrum that raged on all sides, she instead focused on something that she could quantify: her opposition. They were arranged in the same rigid ranks as the Battlecast hopefuls; phalanxes of young men and women in brash academy colours.

The first group she recognised came from the Atlantic Academy, an establishment that rivalled theirs in size and resources but always seemed to be striding in Battlecast's shadow. Their tracksuits shone a deep aquamarine blue decorated along the shoulders by a wave-shaped blaze of white and gold. Glances were traded between groups and she could see smiles and scowls in equal measure as the Battlecast veterans acknowledged their long-time rivals. She didn't recognise most of them, except for the boy who led their fighting contingent.

Dustin Morto loomed like a blue mountain, standing easily a head taller than anyone around him. If Battlecast had any serious rivals for the title, he was certainly one of them. He ended up fourth place last time around, narrowly edged out of the final podium spot by Chris O'Leary. With some trepidation Codi remembered their brief encounter in last year's contest; she'd come off the worst in that exchange.

But that was a long time ago.

Her gaze moved on to the next divisions of the local fighters, trooping in through different shuttle entrances in the docking bay. Everest Academy's fighters shone like emeralds in their royal green livery – a group that while not setting the competition alight, held a steadfast reputation for producing skilled and reliable fighters. She knew that more than one person currently marching along with her had started their days at Everest. Next came the icy-blue contenders from Cobalt Storm, the one academy based on Luna, the fighters who'd travelled the furthest to take part in these preliminary rounds.