The tension of the moment was somewhat undercut by the twenty minute wait we had to endure to get an arena. The time wasn’t wasted, though. No, we needed every extra second we had for strategizing and preparations. Drake had told me that our opponent would be a fresh capture, but there were some strong wild Pokémon out there.

  Plus, even if my knights were stronger than Drake’s dragon, I wasn’t arrogant enough to think that the difference in trainer skill wouldn’t matter. No, this was going to be a tough battle, and we’d need to break out all the stops.

  When the time finally came, we were as prepared as we could be.

  My name appeared on the board, directing my knights and I to battlefield three. My opponent was apparently ‘Captain Genji,’ which opened a whole can of Wormadons as far as Drake’s actual name. Was Genji an alias? His first name? His last? Was Drake a title? It sounded sort of dragony.

  My mind was wandering. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “We’ve got this guys,” I told my partners. “When I release you next, we’ll be having our first official battle against another trainer,” they nodded, and I recalled them back to their ball.

  The warehouse was hardly a stadium, and the small pockets of sailors weren’t legions of screaming fans, but even still, my heart felt ready to beat out of my chest.

  I slipped my way through the crowd, making my way towards battlefield three. Somehow, the old sailor beat me there, in spite of his starting from the other side of the warehouse. In fact, I could see the wake he’d left behind him, waves of people and Pokémon closing ranks like the surf behind a ship’s stern.

  Once I was in the arena, the barrier flared to life, muffling the noises from the rest of the building. We hadn’t drawn many spectators, most experienced battlers probably didn’t have much interest in a training match, but I did wonder if the few watching were part of the old captain’s crew, or if they had another reason to focus on this fight.

  A few moments passed, and I realized with a start that there was no referee in the arena. A heckling cackle came from the other side of the arena (this time he was definitely laughing at me, not with me), and Drake explained, “No refs for a training match, lass. These kinds of fights are the kiddie leagues, no need to waste someone’s valuable time on ‘em.”

  The words were inflammatory, but I couldn’t tell if the old master was trying to rile me up, or if it was just his nature to instigate.

  But, didn’t I know? He’d been polite enough, when we’d been talking earlier. Certainly, he hadn’t been dismissive, or made fun of me. He’d afforded me respect that he wasn’t showing now, which meant he was testing me again.

  He’d as much as admitted to the habit. He was evaluating my every action and reaction, trying to understand me. Surely he’d be doing the same during the battle. In fact, he was facing us with a new capture. He’d called it an opportunity, probably to test his new partner. Maybe that meant we had an opportunity too. A chance to exploit this old monster, and his tendency to try to find people’s limits.

  ”I know I said there’s no ref, but we still shouldn’t waste time. People need this battlefield. Release on zero,” the old sailor started counting down, and I squeezed my hand, feeling the cool metal of my knight’s ball. Our first real battle. All our training, all our preparation. It all led to this moment.

  Two snaps followed by hisses heralded the arrival of our partners, forming two pools of glowing light on the battlefield. As they coalesced, the combatants squared up on either side of the arena. My knights assumed their standard formation, while an Axew appeared in front of Drake. The diminutive Dragon-type stretched, and let out a little belch of blue flame. His eyes were fixed on us the whole time though, never losing focus.

  I didn’t know a lot about Axew, but Drake’s looked small to me, perhaps a sign of youth? We might have a better chance in this battle than I had thought.

  “Alright Cutter, first battle of the many I promised ya. I’ve held up my end of the bargain, now you do yours. Impress me.”

  The little green dragon let out a tiny squeak that might have passed for a roar if I was three feet smaller.

  Actually, even my knights didn’t look intimidated, so I guess not. “I know he looks small, but don’t lose focus, guys. Remember who Cutter’s trainer is.”

  I couldn’t make out his mouth at the distance, but I thought I saw Drake’s mustache raise up. “Red side ready,” he called out

  I noted the red outline around Drake’s trainer square, and looked down, to find my similarly surrounded in blue. “Blue side ready!” I shouted back.

  The barriers flashed, and numbers began counting down from three on each of the semi-opaque walls of energy.

  Two.

  One.

  “Charge!” I called at the same time as Drake calmly ordered, “Dragon Rage.”

  I knew Dragon Rage (blue light collected in front of the Axew’s mouth). It was a move that some Dragon-type Pokémon learned at a young age (my knights were nearing the halfway point in the battlefield). It was one of the reasons they were so feared (the light was almost blinding now). One or two proper Dragon Rages could take out anything at a young dragon’s level, regardless of defense or any inherent discrepancy in strength.

  ”Protect!” I howled, and then everything was blue.

  I closed my eyes against the scorching rays, a rookie mistake I could ill-afford, but the light was so intense I reacted without thinking. I felt licks of scalding luminescence against my face for a moment, two, three. My heart climbed into my throat. Had my order been in time? Had I messed things up already, right at the starting line?

  The burning light dimmed, and then petered out. I blinked my eyes open, terrified of what I might find. The battlefield still had licks of blue flame propagating across it, and the Axew’s adorable squeaks were but a distant memory when compared to the terrifying howl of his attack.

  My knees almost buckled with relief at the sight of my knights, clustered behind the scraggly remains of a green barrier.

  It took all six of them, and they could only manage it a few times a day, but my knights had gotten proficient enough with Protect last week that we’d been cleared for missions.

  That training was paying dividends now, as my knights filed back into standard formation, unscathed by the burning assault.

  The Axew was heaving gigantic breaths, trying to recover after his brutal attack, which meant we had a window. I considered ordering my knights to surround the dragon, but we didn’t know what sort of AOE attacks he had at his disposal, so I decided to play it safer. “Buddy up! Then use Headbutt!”

  True to our practice, my knights took off again, Lance relaying my orders and causing the troops to scatter into two columns, and then three. They charged forwards, one behind another in pairs, glowing white energy surrounding them.

  My moment of hesitation cost us, however, as Drake calmly dictated another order. “Scary Face, then dodge.”

  The little Axew inhaled deeply, and then brought his head up, his adorable mien transfigured into a brutal grimace. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and took an involuntary step back. What kind of experiences had this diminutive Pokémon had, that he could make that sort of face?

  The effect was even more pronounced on my knights, the move’s intended target. Most of the troops slowed to a crawl, barely making forward progress as the Axew prepared to throw himself to the side. Luckily, Lance was made of sterner stuff, maintaining enough speed to clip the Axew as he tried to dodge.

  The tiny dragon spun out with a cry, sent sprawling by the glancing attack. For all his power, the little Axew seemed fragile, which meant we needed to push our advantage. “C’mon knights, back up Lance!”

  Unfortunately, Drake’s partner recovered quickly. “Dual chop, target the big one.”

  Cutter dove, his tusks glowing with dark-blue, draconic power. He laid about with the oversized teeth, slamming Lance once, and then again, and then again.

  The diminutive Axew seemed to believe that the ‘dual’ in Dual Chop was more a suggestion than a rule, but Lance was hardly defenseless. The pair lashed out at one another, glowing shields contesting blazing tusks.

  Slowly, the troops shrugged off the Scary Face, and started to charge forward to position around the Axew, but Drake wasn’t having it.

  “Dragon Rage.”

  The Axew inhaled. There wasn’t any way that my knights had recovered enough energy to manifest another Protect. Could Cutter really make another attack at the same power level he’d shown earlier?

  Drake didn’t strike me as the type to bluff.

  “Scatter!” I shouted, trying to put as much urgency into my voice as I could.

  Lance reacted, barking an order even as he dove away from Cutter. Scatter was a tricky command, and one Janine had us working on extensively. It went against a Falinks’ most overriding instinct: to stick together. Lance could get his troops to follow the order pretty consistently, if begrudgingly, but success with my direction alone was more mixed.

  Its importance couldn’t be overstated though, so we made time to train it, almost every day. Lance would dive and roll directly away from the nearest identifiable source of danger, and each of my knights would leap away from him in pre-set directions. Asking for a dodge at their own discretion was too inconsistent, they’d often all dive the same way, so for wide area attacks, we had to resort to a rote command.

  Gratitude and despair welled in my chest in equal measures as four of my knights executed the command, simultaneously aborting their charge and dodging in various directions. Better than I could have asked for, considering our success rate in training, but not as good as I’d hoped. Kay and Percy were slow, reacting only when Lance conveyed my order. For that crucial second, they were pressed in close together, continuing their charge.

  They’d just started to try to change direction when blue dragonfire washed over them. My heart squeezed in my chest, as I heard exclamations of shock and pain from the pair, but there was no time to worry about them. This was our window.

  “Headbutt!” I shouted, trying to pitch my voice over the roar emerging from Cutter’s maw. “Hit him while he’s recovering!”

  My remaining knights, those not in the midst of getting engulfed in blue flame, charged forwards, retribution undoubtedly on their minds. Lance, still faster right now than his brothers, rammed into Cutter, choking the stream of dragonfire off at the source and sending the diminutive dragon sprawling once again.

  Before the rest of my knights could finish closing the distance, however, Drake gave another command. “Dive,” he calmly ordered his dragon, and Cutter obliged, sinking his little claws and tusks into the ground at breakneck speed.

  The tiny Pokémon quickly disappeared from view, leaving my knights standing forlornly around his entry hole.

  I’d seen this move earlier, that blue Salamander had used it against another sailor’s Seadra. In a few moments, Cutter would emerge, looking to ram into my knights. Maybe we could prepare a surprise for him.

  “Stack!” I shouted, marveling at how quickly my knights assembled the formation after lance relayed the order.

  Any direction that involved grouping up (unless a move was involved) saw my knights dashing thrice as quickly as anything else they did. It sort of reminded me of how two lodestones were tough to separate, but quick to return to one another. As if my knights were attracted to each other magnetically.

  In a few brief moments, I had a stack of Falinks collected in the middle of the arena. I sort of expected Drake to give his partner some sort of warning, but he just remained silent, staring at the battlefield with crossed arms. Was he confident in his Axew’s ability to break through our formation? Or would the diminutive Dragon-type be unable to hear underneath the arena? I knew most Ground-types could hear things through the vibrations they made in the ground, but Axew was pure Dragon, so maybe it lacked that ability.

  “Focus up!” I ordered my knights, as we waited for Cutter to emerge. Orange energy accumulated around my knights, far quicker than it had at the beginning of the summer. I could have gone for a Bulk Up instead, but my knights’ mastery of the newer move was questionable, at best, and trying to get it right here might distract them when their opponent made his move.

  Luckily for my nerves, we didn’t need to wait much longer. With an adorable roar, Cutter came hurtling out of the dirt, flying towards the center of the stack of Falinks. Drake and I’s next orders came out simultaneously, both of us trying to take the initiative after the brief lull.

  “Rock Smash!” “Dual Chop!”

  Axew’s tusks began glowing, as did my knights’ shields. Cutter hit the middle of the formation, launching poor Kay. My proudest knight was probably out of the battle, but his sacrifice wasn’t in vain. The diminutive Dragon-type found itself amongst a collapsing pile of angry battle balls, and my knights didn’t let the opportunity go to waste, laying about with their glowing shields.

  Drake’s partner wasn’t idle, using his tusks in an attempt to give as good as he was getting, but now surrounded, the tide was rapidly turning in our favor.

  Before I could think of a good way to close things out, however, Drake gave another calm command, “Dragon Tail. Leave the big one,” and in response, Cutter’s tail began glowing with blue energy, the same royal hue as his earlier Dragon Rages.

  I barely had time to shout out “Brace!” before the glowing appendage swung around. It cleaved through each of my surrounding knights, sending all of them except Lance flying. All of my remaining troops soared through the air, impacting the barriers on the various edges of the battlefield. They didn’t look that much worse for wear, their syn doing its job and mitigating the mundane impacts, but Lance was left alone again with the ferocious Dragon-Type.

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  I thought Drake said that he hadn’t even trained with Cutter yet, and already the little dragon showed that much expertise with a move like Dragon Tail?

  I didn’t have time to stand around confused. Lance either had to keep up the pressure on Cutter on his own or join up with his troops. A momentary glance revealed the brass heaving with exertion. He wasn’t quite on his last legs, but he was close. Best not to risk it “Knights, regroup!” I made the call.

  Lance began to fall back, even as my knights converged on him from all corners of the battlefield. Unfortunately, Falinks could charge forward far more quickly than they could retreat. Before he could make much distance, Cutter swelled up again, his throat and collar glowing blue with burning energy.

  Drake didn’t even need to give a command this time, which made my order even more urgent. “Lance, Protect!”

  On his own, without his brother's help, Lance’s Protect was weak. Far weaker than necessary to pass ranger standard. Still, Cutter had to be tired by now. That well of Dragon Fire couldn’t be infinite. I had to believe in Lance, that he could cover his brothers while they regrouped.

  Sure enough, it took longer this time for Cutter to spew his attack out. Long enough for Lance to set himself and muster up a small barrier between Cutter and himself. Close as he was to the Tusk Pokémon, the relatively smaller Protect was enough to repel the attack without getting enveloped, though the edges of the royal flames did lick around the edges of the flickering shield.

  Silhouetted against the burning blue light, I could see Lance shuddering with effort, as he tried to defend against Cutter’s onslaught. Over the roar of crackling flames, I heard a crack, and I could only watch with horror as the Protect sheared, only moments away from shattering entirely.

  At what must have been the last possible moment, Bers arrived. Quicker to recover than his brothers, he reinforced Lance, lending his energy to the faltering barrier. It bought a moment, and then another for Galad to run over. The barrier solidified, glowing a healthy green, and then Percy and Tristan came in behind, the formation’s conscious members together once again.

  The Dragon Rage continued for another moment, and then two, but then abated, unable to pierce my partners’ reinforced Protect. The flames scattered away, leaving only a heaving Axew a couple of meters away from my knights.

  No time to build up energy for a Headbutt, we had to take our window now. “Use Tackle, get in close!”

  My knights charged.

  “Fall back!” I heard the command from the other side of the arena, but it didn’t come in time. My knights slammed into Cutter, one after another.

  “Again!” I commanded, “Keep up the pressure!”

  “Fall Back!” The same command from Drake. What was his game?

  I eyed the battlefield warily, trying to understand. The old sailor couldn’t let Cutter keep taking hits like this, he had to have a plan.

  The little dragon retreated under my knights’ assault, repelling tackles with his tusks and trying his best to weather the onslaught. My eyes snapped to the space behind Cutter, and then widened with realization.

  “Lance, watch out!” I shouted, just a moment after Drake sprung his trap.

  “Jump now!” Ordered the old sailor, with more urgency than I’d heard him use all match.

  His partner moved with alacrity to match, Cutter springing into the air, leaping over Lance’s charge.

  Even in those terrible seconds before disaster, I couldn’t help but marvel at my opponent’s expertise. Somehow, using extremely limited commands, he’d gotten his partner, apparently brand new to him, to fall back to just in front of the hole he’d created earlier with that Ground move. And then he’d timed his trap perfectly, waiting until the most critical member of the formation made an assault.

  Even I would have been hard-pressed to pick my knights out of the scrum, but Drake tracked them perfectly.

  My order was too late. Lance barely had a moment to wonder what was wrong before he stumbled into the hole the Axew had left behind. The diminutive dragon type wasn’t as big as my knights, so it wasn’t as if Lance plunged down into the depths of the arena, but the opening was large enough that it caught both of his feet, leaving futile wiggling his only recourse to try to escape the entanglement.

  “Knights, free Lance!” I ordered, causing my partners to converge on their downed leader.

  Cutter was already on the move though, responding to another calm command from Drake. “Bury that ball.”

  The Axew disappeared into the earth, and moments before my knights could come to his aid, so did Lance.

  Tense moments passed. I shouted orders at Lance, to try to climb free, but after a few seconds, relaying squeaks came from my knights as they clustered around the hole their leader had disappeared into, telling me that my demands were impossible.

  I transitioned into encouragement, telling Lance to do his best, to give Cutter as good as he got. My knights followed suit, calling encouragement down to their buried leader.

  The ground moved, earth spilled and overturned as the two combatants waged war beneath the soil. The underground brawl continued, going for five seconds, and then ten. My knights shuffled their feet anxiously, clearly eager to try to help Lance, but I shouted them down. I knew that sending in reinforcements would just make the situation worse, not better, in the tight confines of the tunnels made by Cutter’s digging.

  “Focus Energy,” I finally told my knights, more in an attempt to get them to settle and stay calm than with any real hope for the efficacy of the move. It took a few moments, but they reluctantly set themselves, and began glowing with orange energy.

  To my surprise, even without Lance guiding them, they had time to get off a full Focus Energy, and then half way through another, before the situation changed once more.

  A small pool of dirt began churning. My knights and I watched with bated breath, while Drake just stared impassively from his end of the battlefield. The ground raised, and yellow carapace showed from underneath the soil, pushed up by the final burst of syn exhaustion.

  I suppressed a groan as Lance’s unconscious form surfaced, followed by a tired looking Cutter. The dragon was clearly worse for wear, but still just as clearly ready to continue the fight.

  I wasn’t sure I could say the same for my knights, who were looking increasingly panicked at the sight of their unconscious leader.

  “C’mon guys, your opponent’s exhausted. We just need to finish things off, for Lance and Kay!” I tried to rally my knights, but my words weren’t having much effect. In a few moments, Cutter would marshal his remaining strength, and then he’d be on my knights like a Sharpedo among Magikarp.

  Frankly, the battle looked lost, and even as I felt bitter acid rising in my gut at the prospect of defeat, I seriously considered forfeiting to spare my knights the rest of the battle without Lance.

  Before I could resolve myself to make the call, however, urgent squeaking came from the rear of my knights’ formation. Tristan, his small frame vibrating with repressed energy, let out several encouraging cries.

  I couldn’t make out much of his meaning, he abandoned the pidgin my knights had developed to communicate with me in favor of my partners’ natural, more complicated language, but the result was clear, as my remaining knights nodded resolutely, and fortified themselves.

  “Looks like we've got a battlefield promotion, Cutter. Get in there and show them why I don’t like backline commanders.” The tiny dragon let out another cute growl, and stalked forwards, tusks glowing blue.

  Drake wasn’t ordering his partner to bombard us with Dragon Fire while we were disjointed, so maybe the tiny Dragon had fully exhausted his stores. That meant we still had a chance. “Tackle!” I called, hoping that the simple order would be more successful with Lance’s leadership.

  My knights shuffled about a bit, not moving, and then Tristan cried out, relaying my order. Unfortunately, his translation was far slower than Lance’s, and Percy, Bers, and Galad’s reactions to the command were delayed as well. When the attack finally did come out, it was sort of half-hearted, and far more disjointed than it would have been with their brass in the lead. Cutter easily dodged Percy’s charge, retaliating with a Dual Chop that sent the former sprawling. The diminutive Dragon was able to get out of the way of Bers’ strike too, but couldn’t get a blow in before Galad forced him to dodge again.

  Disorganized as my knights were without leadership, they couldn’t achieve the proper coordination to overcome the natural speed and maneuverability difference between themselves and Drake’s partner.

  As both sides of the battle reset, my knights worse off for the exchange, I wracked my brain for an answer, for some kind of out of this situation. I needed a way to communicate clear instructions to my knights, to micromanage them so they only had to worry about the barest amounts of independent action. Something they’d understand, that we both knew by rote.

  “Advance,” Drake’s partner began stalking forward at his trainer’s behest, but the old sailor abstained from more complex orders. I felt another pang of incredulity, that my opponent could give such sparse commands, and let Cutter operate under his own authority to such efficacy. If my knights were Nidoran that could only move in limited ways, one square at a time, then Cutter was a Nidoqueen, able to effortlessly cross the entire board, and act independently of any other pieces.

  Of course, a Nidoran could take out a Nidoqueen, if they were just positioned correctly…

  My eyes widened. “Tristan, you’re on D6!” I shouted out, inflecting my voice with as much urgency as I could. “Relay my orders! Percy on D4!”

  There was a moment of confused silence, and for a second, I was worried that my plan had fallen through, but then, with gratifying swiftness, Tristan barked an order, and Percy moved to match, trundling a few steps forwards of the formation. “Ready Rock Smash! Attack Cutter when he’s in range!”

  My voice carried across the arena, and Drake and his partner no doubt heard me clearly. The little dragon hesitated, but the old sailor overwrote his trepidation with another simple command. “Overwhelm them, before they set up.”

  Now Cutter wasn’t just advancing, he was charging.

  I shouted with urgency to match, brain working overtime to get my knights into position. “Galad E4, Bers C4! Ready to attack!”

  Cutter charged forwards, and swept out with his glowing Tusks, sending Percy flying before he could retaliate. I noted distantly that the second Dual Chop was too much for Percy after the earlier Dragon Rage, and our second-in-line was out cold, but I couldn’t focus on it. Not when we had our opportunity.

  Galad and Bers were both right there, almost on top of the tiny Dragon, ready to close in. No further orders needed, they lashed out with glowing shields, letting loose a glorious cry as they scored two good hits on our opponent.

  “Break through!” Drake roared, at the same time I called, “Hold him back!”

  Each time Cutter tried to maneuver around my knights, I’d order the further one to intercept him while he tried to get around the closer, cutting the dragon off before he could get too close to Tristan. Every time he tried to break through the front, his Dual Tusk would hit one of my knights, and the other would retaliate.

  Slowly, my littlest knight retreated, gradually giving ground as he relayed my orders frantically.

  Bers and Galad were mostly fresh, and Cutter was exhausted. They were taking his Dual Chops well, but our formation was getting compressed, slowly pushed to one end of the arena. Still, the Tusk Pokémon was trading ground for damage, and as worn out as he was, maybe we’d come out on top of the exchange?

  Drake put my hopes to rest with one more command. “Dragon Rage, one last time,” the unspoken demand was clear, Cutter was to give everything he had left.

  Some distant, optimistic part of me believed that there was no way that the little Pokémon could muster another Dragon Rage, but Drake knew his partner, somehow understood the Dragon-Type’s limits without ever having trained with him. The diminutive dragon leapt back, and his throat swelled.

  I palmed my partners ball, moments away from recalling them to spare them the pain of syn exhaustion. Before I could though, Tristan called an order of his own volition. Bers and Galad moved to match, hopping backwards to stand in front of my littlest knight. They were still fighting, they still believed they could win, I didn’t have the right to take that away from them.

  Blue fire erupted forth, flying towards my knights. My knights who were at the edge of the battlefield, right in front of me. With mounting horror, I realized I had been focusing too much on the battle, and not enough on my own positioning. I was in the line of fire. Desperately, I crouched down, arms up instinctively, for all the good it would do in the face of the Draconic Flames. I felt heat lick at my face, and my eyes made out flashes of blue through my closed eyelids, but somehow, I didn’t feel the bone-weary exhaustion of my syn getting depleted, nor the burning pain of actual injury.

  I peeked my eyes open, and had a moment to watch my three remaining knights, straining against the attack, the faintest green barrier sparing them and me from Cutter’s assault. Then, the barrier cracked, and licks of flame washed through, singing Bers and Galad.

  The barrier collapsed with the sound of shattering glass, almost at the exact moment as Cutter’s Dragon Rage petered out. Bers and Galad were down, insensate from syn exhaustion, but Tristan was still standing. Across the battlefield from him, Cutter, stood heaving, for a few seconds. Then, the dragon fell to all fours, barely able to stand.

  Somehow, I found my voice. “It’s just you Tristan. He’s almost done. You can do this.”

  Grimly, my littlest knight set himself, and then charged forwards. He was slow, so painfully slow. Before he could reach the exhausted Dragon, Drake called out, “Scary Face.”

  For all his draconic reserves were exhausted, Cutter had the energy remaining for this attack. If anything, his gaze was even more fearsome, more ferocious than it had been the first time. We’d pushed the little dragon to the edge, and now he made his displeasure known, his adorable roars replaced with a low, threatening grow.

  Tristan’s charge grew slower, and then almost stopped entirely, my littlest knight looking like he was trying to wade through molasses.

  “Scratch. Finish this,” the old sailor called. Slowly, begrudgingly, Cutter stalked forwards, moving heavily on all fours.

  I could see Tristan’s entire body shaking. For a moment, I thought it was fear, but then I heard his cry, forceful squeaks not of terror, or submission, but sheer frustration. The bitter fire roaring in his heart, from being so close to the finish line and finding himself unable to cross it. My littlest knight was practically vibrating with the intensity of his efforts to free himself from the Scary Face’s effects. He trudged one foot forwards, then another, but Cutter closed the distance far faster.

  Drake’s dragon stopped a few paces away from my struggling knight. Slowly, painfully, he levered himself up on his hind legs, his foreclaws glowing white. With one last effort, he brought them sweeping in, crashing down against Tristan’s carapace. They skittered across my knight’s yellow shell, cleaving through his syn, and then, with a horrendous screech, they were through. Cutter lived up to his name, as his claws wore a superficial furrow through the top of Tristan’s carapace.

  With one last exhausted, embittered cry, my littlest knight collapsed like a puppet with strings cut.

  Laboriously, Cutter stepped back, and then let loose a furious roar. Behind the adorable, high-pitched cry, I could hear the distant roar of his Dragon’s Rage. For a moment, I could envision the monster the little Axew might become. And then, he too collapsed, not quite unconscious, but too physically tired to stand any longer. Silently, Drake and I both recalled our partners.

  I found myself emphasizing with the little Dragon, as his form melted into white light. I hadn’t even been fighting the battle, and I felt completely washed out. Beyond exhausted.

  And past that, the same bitter frustration that Tristan had been expressing, right before the end.

  We had lost. Our first real match against another trainer. Our debut battle. We’d been so close. But we’d lost.

  And it was my fault. My knights were stronger than Cutter, more trained and experienced. The difference then, was in the trainers.

  Drake had figured out our weakness after the very first exchange, and had set up every move since then to exploit it. If I had just understood him better, if I had only seen his plan coming.

  Maybe things could have been different. Maybe we could have won. Maybe Tristan and I wouldn’t feel this way.

  “Bitter look on your face there, Lass.”

  I looked up to find Drake standing a few feet away, arm extended. My gaze went down to the proffered hand, worn with innumerable wrinkles and scars. Absently, I reached out my own and shook it, doing my best to keep the grip firm.

  “Thank you for the match,” I ground out. My tone was even, as I forced the words from between gritted teeth.

  To my complete surprise, the old sailor’s gaze softened. I wouldn’t have expected the imposing man to have a soft spot for sore losers.

  I almost punched him on reflex.

  “Let’s clear the field Fe, and get our partners checked over. Then, after that, would you be willing to hear an old man’s advice?”

  Part of me, a far larger part of me than had almost refused this battle entirely, wanted to turn him down. To blow off this old master’s experience and advice in favor of my bruised ego. Because a moment ago, we’d been enemies across the battlefield. Because he’d beaten me, and had caused me to feel this way.

  I don’t know if I could have fought past those impulses on my own, but the ball in my hand shook minutely, maybe one of my knights listening in after having awoken, or maybe just a random twitch.

  Either way, the reminder was enough. I wasn’t in this alone, and I owed it to my partners to take any advantage, any way forward, no matter how bitter the pill.

  So I swallowed my pride, my resentment, and my bile, and forced a smile. “Sounds good,” I told him.

  By the look in his gimlet eye, I wasn’t fooling the old sailor for even a moment.

  So why did he seem so gratified?