Randomness

The Challenge

Izzy's heart pounded in rhythmic drums so fierce she was sure they'd beat right out of her chest. Her muscles tensed as she tried to stare forward and ignore the giants surrounding her. Sure they weren't literal giants, those had died out centuries ago, but they toward over her as such they might as well be. Izzy couldn't afford the luxury of looking around her because she knew doing so would open her to more ridicule than she'd already faced.

Those standing behind her were born for this moment, trained from the time they could hold an object in their hand, Izzy was the exact opposite. She didn't come from the noblest of families like Jonah to her left. He was the first born son and as such it was his birthright to join the Cora, an elite warrior regime made to defend the kingdom of Turlane. To her right was Arlean, a woman with such height she could block out the sun. As the second daughter of her noble family she was with the purpose of unionizing two noble families until it became apparent her height afforded the luxury of something more prestigious: the right to challenge for the Cora.

No. No Izzy fit in with none of the nobles towering over her. At a paltry five-foot-two and severely underweight compared to her muscular counter parts, Izzy came from nothing noble. She came from a family of cobble makers and basket weavers, judged to be worth nothing more than the spit they could use to shine a noble's shoes. As the only daughter of her family of six, it made her choice to fight for the Cora that more suspect.

She could feel the stares from the audience boring down on her, practically hear the snickers as her stubby legs tried desperately not to tremble with the nerves pulsating through her body. The sun bore down on her brownish-red skin as if mocked her. Beads of sweat rolled down the curve of her spine, a reminder that she stood practically naked in front of the audience. Cora initiates were given next to nothing during the race of their lives. Strips of cloth just big enough to cover their inappropriates, pair of leather shoes so worn with holes they were practically nothing, and a dull dagger.

The idea was if the initiates couldn't survive with the bare minimum they couldn't survive with the luxuries of the finest weapons and clothing Turlane could provide. Which is how Izzy preferred it. Growing up with nothing meant she knew how to make do with little. Her parents did their best to provide them with the basic necessities of life and that's really all she could ask for. But for Izzy, it still wasn't enough.

Izzy hated being told what she could and couldn't do with her life. Society decided the family you were born into dictated your success in the world and she couldn't accept that. Her brother Marcus once asked why she dreamed of being a member of the Cora and at the time Izzy didn't have an answer for him. She didn't have a moment where a Cora warrior wowed her with their fighting prowess, even the wood dagger she practiced with as a child didn't feel like it was a part of her, like she wasn't living without in her hand. No, Izzy could think of no real reason for her desire.

It was just a part of her, as much a part of her as the lungs in her chest and the braided hair on her head. As she got older it became apparent her reason was because society told her she couldn't. People of her status were nothing. Good enough to keep the nobles fed and clothed, but not good enough to be anything more than that. If the first warriors had ever thought, there would be a non-noble audacious enough to challenge for a spot Izzy is sure they would've created a rule against it. As such, there was no rule. Any could challenge for the Cora as long as they had reached their sixteenth year. Izzy waited until her eighteenth, knowing she needed to compensate for the physical deficiencies she faced. She'd hoped for a growth spurt that never came, and prayed for muscles that never formed. Day and night Izzy trained, building up what muscles she could and running the challenge in secrecy but every time she failed. While she stood there with the twenty other hopefuls ready to prove themselves, she had the dreaded feeling she needed more time. She still couldn't climb the rocks the way her competitors could. Those with both the favor of height and strength would likely wind up mocking her with the ease in which they could climb the first pinnacle of the challenge.

If she were smarter she wouldn't have let the tormenting voices of Elade and his twin sister Evalyn goad her into joining the challenge so soon, but she had to admit they had a point. If she didn't challenge at eighteen, when would she challenge? Was she simply making excuses for the past two years to convince herself she wasn't ready? What was the worst that could happen if she failed? Well the worst was imminent death, but still, surly death couldn't be any worse than living in a world that told her she was worthless.

It was now or it would be never. Izzy inhaled a deep breath and clenched a fist around the handle of her dagger. While she never tested it she was sure they gave her the worst dagger of the batch. The handle was warn, it's leather stripped away to nearly nothing left but cold metal. Chips in the blade turned it into more of a serrated blade. And the junk on her feet could hardly be called shoes, but that one Izzy had prepared for. She spent years running the warmed stone streets and brush covered forests barefoot. There were so many callouses on her feet that she wasn't entirely sure she even had skin anymore.

"Challengers!" Izzy straightened at the sound of the future king's voice booming over the hushing crowd. She'd been so focused on taming her trepidation she hadn't even noticed he stepped up to the podium overlooking the line of Cora hopefuls. "Today you prove your right to be among the prestigious Cora, warriors so feared among all the lands none have dared to invade Turlane in centuries!"

The crowd and Cora hopefuls cheered. Izzy raised a fist and shouted in pretend celebration, but she didn't agree with the cockiness of the future king. Her limited experience in seeing him in action told her he was a spoiled prat of a man who was lucky he was born into the noblest of families. If he had to spend on moment in the wilds like Izzy had he'd be nothing more than a toddler curled in fetal position begging for his mother. Turlane as a kingdom was over confident and it would be their downfall if the Cora shared their beliefs.

But how could they? They were trained for this. Izzy released another deep breath. The Cora were fierce and their stories legendary. She was simply trying again to talk herself out of this, to give into all the voices who called her stupid for wanting to challenge.

"You have until the sun sets in the horizon. Those who return here with their marker will be embraced into the Cora fold. Those who don't, will never be allowed to challenge again."

Izzy fought back a cringe at those final words "never be allowed to challenge again." That was it, those were the words that had her waiting, or at least that's what she was now convincing herself was the excuse. She rubbed her free hand against her side, the sweat gliding over her skin.

"The rules are simple, reach the Driskell Clearing and retrieve your marker. You may use anything you find in the forest and reach the clearing by any means. Challengers are you ready?"

"Yes, your Highness," the challengers shouted in unison.

Izzy inhaled once more and closed her eyes. This was it. This was her moment. The moment she'd waited for her whole life. She'd either return victorious or prove everyone right. If Izzy were honest, she wasn't sure she was truly ready for either result.

"Begin!" the future king shouted and everything around her became a blur. Wind brushed against her sweat stained cheeks; rocks pressed against the bottom of her feet with every pound against the soil. Her eyes fixated on the thickened forest before her as her competitors easily burst ahead of her. This was it.

Become a member of the Cora or live her life as an eternal nobody.