"Good," Ruben says, and they all stop. "Take a fifteen minute break, then I will call you up for individuals. You will have ten minutes to demonstrate whatever expertise—Skilled or non-Skilled—you wish. You may use the other room for practice."
They break, and Allayria chunks her sword back in the bin, noting Lei's immediate reappearance as she walks into the other room.
If one's eyes would slide shut and attention drain away from the clinks and clunks and mutterings they might see a flutter of bursting, dotting light on the inside of eyelids, the frantic pulsing of Skill vibrating through every corner of the room. Most practice small things—twirling bits of rock over one's hand, directing ants on the ground—but others still use the opportunity to show off. The grinning golden-haired man from Solveig is spinning water around him in graceful, looping arcs while chatting to one of his teammates—a dour, dark-haired girl who bends tree branches without much consideration.
The other Solveig girl hogs a whole side of the room, ripping stones out of the floor beneath her and pummeling them into the wall, like the ceaseless thunder of a drum. Her blond hair swishes up and down, whipping across her face as her eyes fix on a spot, as if visualizing some unseen target. When she finally stops, she swaggers over to the water basin and joins her teammates.
Curious about what the Roften hopefuls will do, Allayria looks around and notes several of them are missing. The one with the large cat is still here—sitting on the ground, head bent toward his companion in silent communication. He looks like a distorted shadow of a friend she once knew.
But he was never really my friend, was he?
"Aren't you going to get ready?" Lei demands, and Allayria turns around.
She hadn't really thought of it, but she probably shouldn't make a complete ass of herself in front of her potential team. Still, she gives him a cool look, and then walks toward the basin to collect water.
As she pulls it out, the golden Solveig man glances over.
"One of us, huh?" he says with an easy, but impersonal smile. "The field is getting really crowded. Don't you think, Kali?"
The blond woman looks over at this, and her gaze passes through Allayria.
"As if it matters," she dismisses as she lets a thread of water trail behind her finger like a wisp of smoke. "I don't see how the level of competition has changed."
"You seem very sure of yourself," Allayria challenges and the woman really does look at her now.
She shrugs.
"Why shouldn't I be? They want the best of the best and, well..."
She looks around at the others.
The man laughs.
"Still, there will be some competition," he interjects. "They'll want a healthy mix of Skills. I'd wager the only one who has no competition is the fire kid." He nods toward the dark-skinned volunteer who sits alone on the side, simply staring into the distance.
"But how could anyone trust him?" the other, dark-haired girl interjects, glancing quickly back at the boy. "How do we not know he's really one of them?"
"Why don't you hurl some rocks at his head and find out?" Allayria suggests tartly and walks away to the sound of the man laughing.
Two Keesark girls glance up as she passes, one playing with a small lizard scampering over her arm and the other, a curly-haired slender girl with large, green eyes, sharpening a short knife. Allayria ignores them, walking up to an unclaimed dummy and slashing ice spikes at it in anger.
YOU ARE READING
Partisan - Book II
Fantasy*COMPLETE* "People don't believe in us anymore. They don't believe that in the end we will do what is right. We can't let them down. We can't let Ben win." Decisions made on top of the lonely, wind-swept cliff of Lethinor reverberate around the five...
Wolves Amongst the Sheep
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