Tournament of Kings

Chapter Three: Living Legends

"It is both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness." He started walking, and Relma walked with him. "Either way, should you win the tournament, it will spread your name throughout the land. You will have a great deal more credibility. And that will help you in claiming your rightful inheritance."

So Anoa and Elranor disagreed on methods?

"What if I lose?" said Relma. "Won't that discredit me?"

"That is why you will enter the tournament in disguise," said Anoa. "Wear a helmet that conceals your face, and I will devise a spell to conceal you. Then, if you are defeated, none will know it was the Heir of Kings.

"While if you are victorious, you may throw off your helm after being proclaimed the victory. Then, you will spread your renown far and wide in one move. In this region, at least." He paused. "All creatures face a choice at some point, Relma. You can try to win. Or you can let someone else try for you. Only the former path leads to greatness.

"Here we are."

Before, they were large hillocks. It was covered in a green turf, and trees had grown around it. Was there some kind of secret passage?

"I don't see anything," said Relma.

"Of course you don't," said Anoa with a laugh. "You don't expect caches to remain untouched for thousands of years. All without being hidden?"

"Was it really thousands of years?" asked Relma. A lot could happen in that time.

"It was a large number," said Anoa. "Harlenor is not fond of specific dates, and I do not remember them. I was merely being poetic. Our calendar is a very loose one compared to other worlds.

"You've been to other worlds?" asked Relma.

"Many," said Anoa. "But I won't be talking about that.

"Open wheat."

"Open wheat?" asked Relma. That was the most ridiculous password she'd ever heard.

Anoa looked at her and shrugged. "When I made this cache, I wanted something easy to remember but hard to guess. So I'd keep a bit of wheat on me when I was walking.

"And wheat is important. It's a good way to feed your people. If a King fails to feed his populace, that King has failed completely."

"It doesn't seem to be opening?" noted Relma.

Anoa paused. Then he snapped his fingers. "...Oh, right."

"What is it?" asked Relma.

"The language has changed," said Anoa. "I'll need to speak it in the old tongue of Harlenor." He spoke something. It was a harsh tongue that hurt Relma's ears to listen to. It seemed like an excellent language for threatening people. As he spoke, the side of the hillock suddenly fell inward to reveal a great stone door. The door slid aside to reveal a dark cave beyond.

"There we go. The doors are opened now-" began Anoa.

And then two gray snakelike creatures, only with legs, rushed out of the entrance. Relma quickly scrambled up a tree as they snapped and snarled. They had crests on their heads and breathed smoke from their nostrils. Their clawed hands left no marks on the roots.

Anoa blinked, staying where he was. "Oh right, the dragons."

"Dragons?!" asked Relma.

"Well, not really dragons, more imitations," said Anoa. "They were created in the image of gold dragons. Aren made them for me."

"Well, how am I supposed to get past them?" said Relma, drawing Lightning Trail.

One of the beasts scaled up the tree, but she whacked it on the snout. She didn't feel any force, and she thought she'd missed it. But it fell backward and hit the ground. There was a crack on its snout, but it healed in moments.