Prologue
10 years ago…
The arena lights are bright and illuminate Laudna’s tall and willowy form as she stands beside the player’s bench. She’s leaning on the boards and breathing heavily, her lacrosse stick in one hand as she stretches and listens intently to her coach. Coach Dee is in a lunge position, one foot on the boards near Laudna’s head and the other foot stretched back on the bench behind her. She coaches Laudna firmly, her velvety voice isn’t loud enough for the fans to hear behind the glass, but it isn’t quiet enough to be just for Laudna alone.
“Okay Laudna, it’s up to you. I don’t want to see any ghosts around here after the game. Now if you miss this shot, you aren’t just letting me down, you’re letting the whole team down too.”
Laudna looks up to exchange solemn looks with a few of her teammates, as she stands up straight and walks confidently to the center of the arena. Over 3,500 people are on their feet, many of their hands full with clear plastic cups holdering golden coloured beer. The arena carries a smattering of different jerseys and team colours. The game was a sell-out; the stands are full, and many teams, now done playing their own games, pack in around the outside boards watching the final minutes of the third period of the championship game. Number #13, Laudna Bradbury, the youngest captain of the Dwendalian Kings in over a decade, receives the game ball from the referee. The cheers from the crowd are defeaning, at least half of the arena sporting the King’s black and grey.
Looking up at the scoreboard, Laudna takes a ragged breath in and exhales out slowly. She forces herself not to think about the pain in her neck and shoulders from the most recent hit which has awarded her this penalty shot. Not to think about the score, or how much time is left on the clock, or what a goal will mean right now. How she can barely hear the roaring crowd over the beat of her own heart in her ears, over the words of Coach Dee bouncing around her head. Each time Laudna blinks it’s like the colours in her vision are inverted, for just a split second. Her whole body aches from the repeated hits she’s suffered all tournament, and frankly all season long.
She rolls her shoulders back a couple of times, and shakes her head attempting to clear it. Sweat drips down her brow, and she uses a fingered glove to navigate behind the bars of her face mask to sweep her bangs out of her eyes. Despite her best efforts, Laudna’s vision remains slightly out of focus, the floor dipping just a hair; but she’s used to playing through the minor inconvenience.
TWT! the ref’s whistle pipes and Laudna is cradling the ball towards the net. With a slow jog towards the right hand boards, she easily twirls the stick in her left hand while the right loosely grips the bottom of her stick. She picks up the pace slightly as she crosses into the offensive zone.
Her stick moves higher in the air as she lowers her left hand along it, close to the middle of her stick and ready to shoot. Lauda is only a few steps away from the goal crease, she pump fakes once, twice as she steps across the front of the net to bait the comically large goalie across with her. At the last moment, in less than a blink of an eye, Laudna’s body arcs left as she switches hands and brings her stick up the opposite way and to the right. She releases her shot. It’s perfect – well practiced. She aims without needing to breathe. The air vanishes from the giant building, all silent for a moment.
Then, PNG! the white ball of solid hard rubber pings off the inside of where the crossbar and post meet in the upper right hand corner of the net. The ball richochettes off of the floor in front of the net before bouncing harmlessly towards the side boards. Exhales of dissapointment and cheers of amazement mix, echo loudly in the arena’s rafters. These voices Laudna will carry with her for the rest of her life. But one voice, one face in particular, will haunt her like no other. She can’t help it, but drags her tear-brimmed eyes away from her shoelaces for just a moment. And if looks could kill, Laudna knows she would have died right there that day, as her own dark hooded eyes lock with a piercing indigo pair – one scathing look from her coach, Delilah Briarwood.
Chapter 1
“Cut the crap kids!” A squeaky, old man voice, shouts from the driver’s seat of the beat up school bus. Chetney Pock O’Pea coaches the Jrusar Screeching Bells, Junior A lacrosse team. Tuffs of white hair stick out from under the bandana he is wearing as he raises a gnarled fist, shaking it at the twenty-odd hooligans behind him. In addition to a coach, Chetney is also Orym’s stepfather. Orym loves the old man, and knows the feeling is mutual – even if Chetney uses tough love a lot, and even if Orym still doesn’t call him ‘Dad’ after all these years.
Orym twists out of the headlock his best friend Ashton was holding him in, and sends a good elbow to Ashton’s ribs.
“Ouch! Those elbows of yours are sharper than my hair spikes.” Ashton complains loudly, but jokingly, as the team bus bumps along the highway to their final destination.
Ashton towers almost a whole foot higher than Orym, and while they used to be the biggest player on the team, Ashton has slimmed down since high school ended. He now sits somewhere in the middle, as far as size goes, on the team. A stand out spiky purple mohawk and sleeveless shirt displaying tattoos scream tough guy attitude, but Orym just knows Ashton as his friend with the biggest heart.
“You’re, like, way bigger than me Ash, I have to use any advantage I can get.” Orym laughs as he sits back in his seat, fixing his short brown hair and the collar of his team polo shirt.
The Bells trainer, FCG, comes shuffling down the aisle, their bright yellow hat bobbing it’s way between seats as they passed out snacks and drinks. “Okay everyone, I have some treats for y’all, but you gotta promise to stay well behaved and not distract Mr. Pock O’Pea from driving. It’s been a long day and he still has a practice to run for you fools at the end of it.”
FCG had played lacrosse with Chetney when they were kids, but didn’t keep it up as an adult. They joined the army as a medic-in-training out of high school, and when they came back from overseas they had changed. Orym remembers FCG hanging out around the box, watching games wistfully, and always seeming a little out of place. The faraway look in their one good eye FCG would get at times, the way they shuffled when walking because of an old injury. Orym felt a bit sorry for them, they seemed lonely. But despite their rough past, FCG cared so much for him and his teammates. The vet had been donating their time to the local lacrosse organization since before Orym was born, and had vigilantly looked over him and his teammates since Chetney had brought them on as the Bells trainer that first season together.
They finally arrive at the great city of Yios an hour later, in the beat up old school bus that Chetney had been driving them in for the last 10 years. The same one that Ashton and Fearne had spray painted in their senior year of high school to finally shed the chipped orange (or was it yellow?) paint and match the Bells team colours: black and teal.
Orym is off the bus first, his hair neatly slicked back again and the Bells’ logo on display etched into his sidecut. Nimbly hopping down the steps in one jump, he turns to high five or fist bump each and every one of his teammates getting off of the bus. It’s his job, as captain of the Screeching Bells, to make sure everyone is ready to go for the first tournament of the year. Sure it’s pre-season and doesn’t count towards the standings, but Orym is a man of routine and likes to run a tight ship.
A true, if not reserved smile, is plastered on Orym’s face for all of his friends and teammates. He’s been playing with many of them since they were little tykes, rolling on the ground and chasing that bouncy ball around the arena. He marvels at how far they have all come together, the group of misfits and scewups that actually might have a chance to make the championship tournament this year. But he’s getting too far ahead of himself, with thoughts like that.
Ashton is next off the bus, wooden stick in hand and a grimace on their face as usual. Ashton fist bumps Orym on the way out of the bus, “Fuckin Yios, man!”
Chuckling, Orym remembers the last time him and Ashton played in Yios. Ashton had spent more minutes stuck in the penalty box than actually on the floor playing lacrosse.
Right next, is Orym’s oldest friend, Fearne. Orym and his mom had taken Fearne with them when they moved from Tal’Dorei to Marquet, so that Fearne could move in with her grandmother. She hops down from the bus gracefully, high fiving the captain and blowing him a kiss, before quickly grabbing her gear bag and chasing after Ashton. Those two were almost inseparable, and the chaos they could get up to was more than enough to give Orym a headache. Fearne’s pastel green curls bounce unrestrained along with her.
More teammates get off the bus and Orym greets each one with a smile or words of encouragement. Opal, Fy’ra, and Morrighan with their matching custom painted lacrosse sticks. The Bells’ crazy goalie Dariax (Orym hoped he didn’t forget any of his equipment again). FCG, with their wheeled walker. The newer players from the Oderon Wilds, the Bells’ biggest rivals back in high school. The players had settled into the combined Junior team well over the last couple of years. Finally, the Bells’ star player Imogen, with her lavender hair and matching coloured tape across all of her equipment, steps out of the bus. She’s bringing up the rear with the Bells’ newest team member, Dorian Storm, who is raking his fingers through his long dark blue-streaked hair nervously. Dorian looks up in wonder at the city of Yios, its bright lights and tiered towers.
“Want to make sure this guy gets in alright?” Imogen asked Orym with a careful smile.
“Sure thing boss.” Orym nods seriously.
“Hey, you gotta’ stop callin’ me that, you’re our leader remember?” Imogen laughs and gives Orym a playful shove before going to gather the rest of her equipment.
Sighing, Orym grabs his gear and the team ball bag, and walks into the arena complex.
Each visiting team would get one practice on the arena’s funky wooden floor before the tournament starts. Apparently the original floor had been replaced for the Tal’Dorei Cup last year, but they had wanted to keep it traditional with wood instead of switching to the standard concrete. Game one would be early the next morning, against an unfamiliar team, and Orym knew Chet would want them coming out of the gate strong. Chetney was strict with the team and had been coaching the Bells since they were 10 years old.
What probably started out as some ploy to impress Orym’s mom, had now turned into a decade long passion project. The grizzled man had been a skilled player when he was younger, but there hadn’t been much opportunity for the sport of lacrosse where Chetney grew up in Wildemount. So Chetney Pock O’Pea had built up skills as a woodworker and master craftsman, traveled a ton, but never lost his love for the game. Chet’s taught Orym almost everything he knows about lacrosse.
Chetney calls the team over to start practice, wearing his tournament weekend powder blue velour tracksuit. He holds a whiteboard in one hand and the dry erase marker in the other. “Alright everyone, I hope you’re getting those travel kinks out. I know two days driving in the bus ain’t the most comfortable, but we came here to get a nice baseline for our season. See what we’re up against.” Chetney takes a moment to look each and every one of them in the eye, pausing before starting again. “When we sat down together last month and decided on our goals for this season, it was unanimous that this year you want to make it to the Tal’Dorei Cup final four. I told you that there would have to be some changes from previous years.”
Orym and his teammates are all silent, watching Chetney speak. A few of them nod encouragingly. Chetney continues, “The biggest change so far, is that I will be stepping down as head coach…”
At that, the silence is broken. “What?” Ashton gasps. “No!” Fearne exclaims. Orym’s eyebrows rise to his hairline in shock, this was not what he was expecting.
Chetney holds his hands up to try and settle the group back down. “Hey, hey! Shut up and let a man finish! I ain’t going anywhere. It’s just, I’ve taught you all pretty much everything I know, and in order to make it to the Cup this season ya’ll are gonna’ need someone behind the bench who’s actually been there before. Someone who knows what it takes to be a champion.”
The idea of a new coach hadn’t quite settled in for Orym. He hadn’t known Chetney was planning on stepping down, and tries to convey such with a shake of his head as Imogen catches his eye mouthing “did you know?”
“Now,” Chetney kept on talking, “I’d like to introduce you all to your new head coach. She’s come a real long way, even longer than we have, to be here tonight. Again, I’m not going anywhere, I’m still with you, but this is her practice and her team now.”
With that, Chetney hollers over his shoulder. “Hey, Coach! We’re ready for you.”
A tall, haunting figure of a woman steps onto the floor, her jet black hair tied back in a high ponytail cascading down her back. Her appearance reflecting the opposite of Chetney in every way. She looms over him as they shake hands, both smiling. Chetney’s smile close lipped and all-business, the new coach grinning widely and showing almost too many teeth. Her all black outfit of shorts, court shoes, and a high collared polo shirt with the Screeching Bells logo stitched over the left breast contrasts with Chetney’s valour tracksuit and bandana. Where Chetney uses a brand new one-piece carbon fiber stick, this new coach has the strangest looking lacrosse stick Orym has ever seen. The stick, again all black, doesn’t have a pocket just a near flat netting stretched between the plastic sidewalls. It’s also shorter than anyone elses despite her being quite tall.
“Everyone, this is Coach Laudna Bradbury.” Chetney begins the formal introduction. “She’s a two-time Tal’Dorei Cup champion and former Dwendalian National Team member. She won Junior A rookie of the year when she was only 16, and coached her last minor league team to back-to-back national championships! She’s played a higher level than I ever did, and is a standup citizen from what I can tell. The floor is yours, Coach.” With that, Chetney hands over the dry erase pen and whiteboard to the Screeching Bells new head coach, and Laudna begins setting them up for drills.
Orym, Fearne, Ashton, and Imogen gathered in Fearne and Imogen’s hotel room after dinner. Orym just finishes convincing his friends that he hadn’t had a clue that Chetney was stepping down, let alone bringing in a new coach all the way from Tal’Dorei.
“I mean, she seems great so far.” Imogen ventures. “No offence to Chet or anything, Orym, but he’s right – if we’re gonna’ win this year, we need someone who’s got a little more up their sleeve.”
“Definitely,” Ashton nodded in agreement. “Plus, she’s super hot.” Orym can’t help notice Imogen blushing at that comment.
“Alright,” the captain declares, breaking the awkward silence that had ensued. “We have a big day tomorrow, we should hit the crib.” Orym and Ashton leave the girls’ room and start down the hall to theirs. Two larger men in baseball caps are walking their way. Just as they were about to pass each other, one of the two leans in and bumps shoulders with Ashton, so hard they’re knocked off balance. “Hey watch where you’re going!” Ashton shouts.
But the men keep walking, one shouting back in jest, “Better rest up, buttercup! or tomorrow’s going to be tough!” The two pause briefly outside of Fearne and Imogen’s room, causing Ashton and Orym to pause defensively as well. But then, the men keep walking without another word towards the elevator.
Only then does Orym notice the little Lacrosse Marquet logo tatooed on the back of each man’s left calf. Eventually settling in for a full night’s rest, Orym hopes for a bit of payback tomorrow if they end up playing those goons.
Chapter 2
Orym’s pre-game routine is sacred. He is always the first one at the arena. Gloves in hand and stick in gloves, tossing the ball against a wall repeatedly to wake up his reflexes. Once everyone on the team is ready, he leads them through their warmup. They make sure to stretch out and loosen up anything that needs to be. Next, Orym tapes up his knee and wrists. Always the knee first, then his wrists, left then right. Finally, he pulls the game jersey over his head. He lightly kisses behind the ‘C’ for captain that is stitched to his uniform, and tucks the jersey into the left side of his shorts.
Grinning at Dorian next to him, Orym taps the other man’s foot with his. “Ready for your first game in the big leagues?”
Dorian looks nervous, but is grinning excitedly. “I sure hope so, Orym!”
Orym glances around at his teammates, knowing he’ll have to make a short speech soon. He notices the bags under Imogen’s eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday. Clocking it as a little odd but doesn’t let his thoughts linger there. It’s game time.
The score is tied 2-2 after 2 periods, a relatively low scoring game so far. But Orym knows never to underestimate how many goals can be scored in a short period of time in a lacrosse game. Sure enough, the two big goons him and Asthon had ran into the night before were on the other side. They were just as mean as they were last night. To no one’s surprise they’re equally as skilled as they are tough. No one gets a Lacrosse Marquet tattoo unless they’ve actually played for the national team. The Bells’ goalie Dariax has been standing on his head, and Orym knows they need to produce more offence quick. As the intermission clock winds down, Orym’s sitting next to Imogen on the floor. He takes a small sip from his waterbottle.
“Hey, you doing alright?” He asks, softly.
Imogen turns to him, he can really see the redness of her eyes and the heavy bags now up this close. “Just tired is all.” She responds curtly.
Usually the Bells could rely on a couple of goals from Imogen, at least, on any given night. She’s always been their top scorer, and best player in Orym’s opinion. Always has been kind of a protégée. Her mom being a lacrosse legend probably helped. But Orym knows that for as much natural talent Imogen has, she matches it and more with her work ethic.
The only person who works harder on the team, is Orym himself. But Orym doesn’t have the size or the natural talent that his friends Imogen, Fearne, and Ashton have. He has to make up for it somehow. This morning though, Imogen hasn’t scored at all. She’d had a few outside shots on or towards the net, but nothing like her usually threatening self. Orym wonders if Chetney would have a word with her. Then catches himself, remembering his old man isn’t the head coach anymore.
The buzzer sounds briefly, letting both teams know the third and final period would be starting in 30 seconds. The Bells take their cue to return to the bench.
Coach Laudna is staring intently at her clipboard, tapping at it with a pen. She hurriedly scrawls 5 names onto the dry erase board, to note who is starting the period. Orym takes his usual spot at the center of the floor to take the faceoff. He nods at a familiar Fearne and Morrighan lining up on the defensive side. Opal on the offensive side. But then feels a bit lost when he sees Ashton line up instead of Imogen. Fearne would be the only lefty out here. It seemed like an odd choice, but he doesn’t have time to think more on it.
The final buzzer sounds. The Bells all jump to the floor to congratulate Dariax on opening up the tournament with a well earned win. A final score of 4-2 and a W in the books. Orym is pumped to see his best friend Ashton receive the most valuable player of the game award. They deserved it, stepping it up with 2 goals in the third period. Orym guessed this new coach did know her stuff, if she was getting Ashton scoring goals on her first game. He couldn’t be more proud of his friend, and lets Ashton know as much as they watch the next game from the stands.
“Just luck, dude.” Ashton, ever humble when it comes to their own talents. “There’s a lot more space to play with when the other team takes stupid penalties. Plus, getting a chance to jump up on the first line power play always helps.”
“Hey Ashton,” The team’s trainer, FCG is shuffling towards them, “Great game kiddo! I was wondering if you could give me and Pock O’Pea a hand at moving the team’s equipment?” Orym and Ashton look to see Chetney gathering up everyone’s sticks and gear bags. Ashton heaves themself up off the bleacher seat to go follow FCG and help.
FCG was always looking out for Orym and his teammates, and especially for Ashton. Orym figured they could relate to some of the tough times his best friend had been through. FCG is a bit of an enigma, though. None of them know much about FCG’s life before the Bells, other than a couple of stories from Chetney. Orym remembers asking the older fellow once, and FCG had given him the most pained smile. “I don’t remember much of my past, Orym. And what little I do remember, I think I’d rather forget.” But despite all that, FCG was the brightest, smiliest, of everyone on the team.
Orym smiles to himself as he watches FCG nudge Ashton into moving equipment around. Ashton wouldn’t have time to make up reasons why he didn’t deserve the MVP now. Orym’s thoughts wander again, is this the latest attempt FCG was making to protect Ashton from their typically self-destructive self.
Watching the next game with his teammates, Orym makes a bunch of mental notes about the top players from each side. He wants to be prepared when the Bells face them later today or tomorrow. He notices Laudna taking the time to pull players aside one by one over the next hour. Orym anxiously awaits his turn. Finally he gets the call a few minutes before he needs to start his warmup for the next game.
“Orym,” Laudna greets him with a toothy wide smile. He can’t help but notice her pointed canine teeth. “It’s lovely to chat just you and I, one on one.” She leans towards him at an awkward angle, her eyes wide and dark. “I’ll keep this quick, since I know you have your pre-game routine. I wanted to make sure we chatted before the next game starts.”
“Of course coach.” Orym nods at her dutifully.
Laudna motions for Orym to sit down on the bench a few feet away from where she is sitting. “Now Orym, I want to start off by saying I’ve watched a lot of the video from your last season.”
Orym sits down on the bench, looking up at his coach with respect.
“I’ve been even more impressed with seeing how you lead on the floor, in person!” Laudna gushes.
Orym’s ears turn red as he blushes, turning his eyes downward. “It’s not really anything special.”
“No Orym, it is. The way you twist and turn around your opponents, and set up your teammates for chances to score. Not to mention how good at defense you are despite being about half the size of everyone out there. You’re able to somehow make your smaller size an advantage, getting at angles the others aren’t able to.”
Orym hadn’t ever thought of his small size as an advantage like that. But he couldn’t really argue with what Laudna was saying.
“And besides all of your physical prowess, you’re a smart player. You lead by example, and the team trusts you. You’re like, the team’s conscience, in a way! Keeping them grounded, focused.”
Orym could see that, but he supposed somebody needed to be the conscientious, responsible one. He loved his friends, but they were all messed up and ticking time bombs.
“Anyway, I don’t want to keep you. As captain, I believe it will be important that you and I are on the same page.” Laudna clasps her hands in front of her. “We can help each other to keep the team focused on the right path. Which means, I hope you’ll feel comfortable letting me know if you or your teammates have any issues with my coaching style, decisions, et cetera. I have an open door policy. I hope that over time you’ll all feel comfortable enough around me to use it.”
Orym nods and looks his new coach in the eye. He sees an interesting mix of emotions on her face. Sincerity in her words, and excitement in this moment, but a ghost of something like apprehension behind it all. Orym doesn’t usually bring about apprehension in people, so he’s not sure if he should be taking this personally or if there is… something else going on. “Yes, coach. I’ll let you know if any of your methods ever seem…” he shrugged, “off putting? not in sync with the rest of the team?”
“Excellent, I appreciate it Orym. I appreciate you and your leadership!”
With that, Coach Laudna waves Orym off and he happily graps his stick and gloves to start his warm up.
It wasn’t until he was about to lead the team in dynamic stretches that he notices Imogen is missing. While she will often start her warmup with and a bit of wall ball with Orym, she doesn’t always. Given how tired she had been that morning, Orym isn’t surprised that she would skip the pre-warm-up. But being late to the team warmup is unheard of. “Anyone seen Imogen?” Orym asks his teammates as he tosses the ball up in the air.
They all look to him, slight worry and confusion rising. “I think she was getting her stick checked.” Dorian finally pipes up from the back. “Should I go check?”
“No, but thanks Dorian,” Orym flashed a quick smile at the younger man. “I’ll go check. Ash can you start the warm up? You know the drill.”
Ashton can be a loose cannon, but Orym also knows they are good at stepping up in times of crisis. The warmup routine hadn’t changed too much over the years, and Ash knows it like the back of their hand. Plus they had been playing recently, and Orym thinks it’s a good opportunity to let his friend take on some more spotlight and leadership time. With Ashton calling the Bells over to start the warm-up, Orym bounces back inside the arena looking for his other friend, Imogen.
He finds her quickly, sitting on one of the medical benches head in her hands. “Imogen! What’s wrong?”
She turns to him, her violet eyes full of tears. “I’m just having the worst day Orym.” She gestures to where Chetney sits nearby, Imogen’s stick in his hands as he works quickly to install new netting, shoelaces and weathered strings on the ground in front of him. “It’s the weirdest thing. My sticks were with everyone elses, but somehow the rats only nibbled through mine. I’ve been working that pocket for years, and it was just perfect, but now? I’ve gotta’ start all brand new.”
Orym sighed, he knew the feeling. His last stick had been his baby, until he had cracked it against a too-big opponent in an exhibition game a couple of years ago. A lot of his teammates got a new head (the basket part of the stick) each season, but Imogen liked her well worn-in one.
He reached out and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I’m really sorry Imogen. If you want, you can use my spare this game. It probably shoots a bit better than a fresh net, and we have a pretty similar basket style.” The only problem would be the ball releasing a little differently out of Orym’s, him being a dominant right shot and Imogen being a dominant left shot. But he doesn’t raise that now, he just needs Imogen in better spirits before starting the game. He knew that once the adrenaline starts flowing, she’ll be fine, as long as she starts the game in a decent enough headspace.
“Thanks Orym, but I- maybe, that would be great.” Imogen never likes accepting help, but she has gotten better at it over the years with Orym and Fearne encouraging it.
“Come on then, Pock O’Pea will fix yours up for later, but now let’s go get warmed up.” Orym grabs his extra stick on the way back outside and him and Imogen join in as Ashton leads the team’s stretches.
Orym is having a great game, Ashton kept up the goal scoring streak, and Dorian scored his first goal. Imogen was able to score off of a rebound. Dariax wasn’t having to work too hard because the Bells defense is locked down. He was noticing that Imogen’s passes were going a little low, but he knows his backup stick has a slight hook to make shooting easier for him. After Imogen’s third pass in a row goes straight into someones’ feet, Orym apologizes and suggests a small tweak she can make.
“It’s not your fault I’m a sorry mess today,” Imogen retorted. “Ugh, and in Yios of all places.”
“Ya, isn’t this where your mom played in the World Cup all those years ago?”
“Don’t remind me…”
They easily beat their opponents 12-3 and guarantee a position in the semi finals. The game tomorrow will determine which team they’ll be facing off against.
Chapter 3
“Good game everyone.” Laudna congratulates the team after their second win. “Now you have some down time this afternoon, but I want everyone to take things easy. It’s hot out, and you need to keep yourselves hydrated and rested for tomorrow’s games, which will be against tougher teams.”
A series of nods went around as FCG passed out sports drinks for everyone.
Laudna continues, “This evening, I want us to meet up before dinner for a bit of an icebreaker of sorts. Now I know you all know each other quite well, but I want you to get the chance to know me a little bit more too.” The genuine smile that never seems to fade from her face is something else, and Orym can’t help but see a bit of that apprehension well masked to anyone less perceptive than he.
Orym gets to the hotel lobby, expecting to be the first one, and is surprised to find Imogen and Laudna are already there chatting. He smiles as he makes his way over to them, seeing Imogen’s serious face from earlier replaced with the most carefree he’s seen on her in a long while. If a coach can help his friend relax, even just a little bit, in one day – she’s a keeper in his books.
“Hey,” Orym announced his presence, startling both Imogen and Laudna out of their conversation.
“Hey Orym,” Imogen turned to her friend, “we were just discussing style of shooting strings, and – thanks for earlier.”
Laudna was bubbling with excitement. “I’ve suggested that Imogen try out a little design that I used to use when I was a player – I think we have many similarities in play style and since she’s working in a totally new basket it’s a good time as any to try out.”
Orym is smiling too now, “I think that’s a great idea! And, Imogen, you can always use my spare this weekend, while you work in your stick.”
“I appreciate that Orym.” Imogen gave him a half hug. “Maybe this day doesn’t have to be so horrible.”
As the rest of their teammates and coaching staff show up, Laudna places a series of objects on the table in front of them. “Now, there are as many random objects on this table as there are people on the team – coaches and trainers included. Each of you is going to select one of these objects, that you identify with. Then, we’ll each go around and explain, in one minute or less, why this object is important to you!” Laudna explains the game in a delighted manner, her eyes full of expression.
She certainly talks with her hands a lot, Orym notes. Scanning the objects on the table, he furrows his brow, they are a real odd assortment of items. He sees a ball of red yarn, a pair of scissors, a… is that a taxidermied rat? Orym settles on a wooden board about the length of his arm, it has the cycles of the moons beautifully carved into it. The carving reminds him of a story his mother used to tell him when he was little. The story of the big moon and the little moon, how everyone always saw the big moon as the one protecting the littler moon. “But in the end, it was the little moon that had to protect the big moon all along.” He can almost hear his mother’s voice. The story resonates with Orym, for a few reasons.
Imogen goes first, explaining to the team why and how the oddly shaped taxidermied rat speaks to her. “I don’t really know, but for some reason I really like this rat. He’s odd looking, and doesn’t really fit in with the rest of this stuff, but he looks real well cared for and loved. Like, this bow tie he’s wearing, looks custom made! I think I identify with him because I think I’m a bit weird and off-putting, but I do feel real loved and supported by ya’ll. You’re my team, but more than that, you’re my family.”
Orym feels a tear or two come to his eyes as Imogen finishes speaking, and is glad when Fearne gets up to hug her.
“I’ll go next.” Fearne explains why she chose the clay fire monkey figurine. “This just exudes chaos, and well, anyone who knows me knows I just love a little bit of chaos!”
“Only a little bit?” Ashton chides. “Okay, I’ll go next. I chose this rock, because it’s like me. Beautiful and purple on the outside, and hard AF on the inside.” They grin smugly, and a few of their friends, Orym included let out a laugh.
Once everyone was done, Laudna explains, “So I’m a bit of a collector of things, and these were some of the things I’ve found or made or bought over my life.” She then offers the players to keep the items, if they’d like. “I know some of them are quite odd, so please don’t think you’re offending me if you don’t want to hold on to them! But they have been part of my collection for a while now, and if it’s what you wish, I’d be happy to give them new homes.”
The next morning, Orym wakes up with a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he has no idea why. Things seem normal… Ashton takes a lot of pillows being thrown at them to finally wake up and to head to breakfast. The team is all on time, and it looks like Imogen had slept much better last night. His teammates are playfully bantering back and forth as they get ready to board the bus and head over to the arena.
“Well the godsdamned air conditioning unit finally started workin’ proper.” Imogen complains aloud when Orym asks her how she’d slept.
“I didn’t think it was an issue the first night.” Fearne quips.
“Well, that’s because you have otherwordly temperature thresholds, Fearne.” Imogen doesn’t miss a beat to retort.
Nothing seems amiss, and yet, Orym just can’t shake the funny feeling like something is wrong.
Warm up and pre-game preparations are going well, until Imogen goes to put on her helmet and the face mask falls right off. “What in the-?!” She huffs.
Chetney hussles over to take a look. “That’s weird…” he commented, gaining Orym’s attention. “Looks like these bolts sheared right off.”
“It’s a new helmet this year Chet.” Imogen frowns. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re right on that.” Chetney looked around. “Anyone else have any equipment issues? Helmets falling apart?” A series of negative head shakes and a couple of quiet ‘nope’s answer. Orym shakes his helmet before putting it on, to confirm everything is still attached properly.
He looks up to meet Imogen’s gaze and half-hearted smile. “I don’t suppose you’ve got an extra helmet too, Orym?”
Coach Laudna enters the room for the pre-game chat, humming to herself. She looks around, taking in the scene. “Everyone ready for a tough game?”
Chetney is busying himself in the old spare goalie gear bag, muttering under his breath. The room is quiet otherwise, players either looking towards their head coach or assistant coach. Chetney surfaces after a moment, with the silliest looking helmet Orym has ever seen. The helmet is blue, but a couple of shades lighter than their uniforms, with a bright yellow peak and chin piece. It must have been a field lacrosse helmet, and an older one at that.
“Sorry coach,” Chetney shuffles over to Imogen, handing her the spare helmet. “Equipment emergency.” He mumbles, before jogging to the back wall of the room and leans back, like he’s trying to blend into the wall.
“Right.” Laudna’s face is full of concern, she looks towards Imogen, but the Bells star player doesn’t look up to meet her gaze. “Well then, hopefully that’s the only bad surprise of the day. I have a fun suprise for you all!” Their coach seems to be trying to change the mood in the room. “So, this might sound a bit childish, but I always found it quite fun – even when I was playing for the Tal’Dorei National team!”
Laudna pulls a bright pink construction hard hat out of her bag and sets it on the table at the front of the room. While most of the Bells look on, slightly confused, Dorian is now grinning knowingly.
“This will go to the hard-worker of the game! At the end of each game, the coaching staff will choose one deserving player to receive the award. You’ll sign the hat, wear it around – as much as you’d like – and then return it to me at the start of the next game!” Laudna is beaming, and much to Orym’s suprise the smile is contagious. He looks around and sees all of his teammates in slightly better spirits, even Imogen.
“I love it. Orym announces, smiling wide himself. He likes the idea, but he loves that it has risen his teammates’ spirits even more.
“Now.” Laudna’s tone turns more serious. “This game is going be tough. Your opponents are ranked #2 in the league this year, and after watching them play yesterday, Chetney and I have decided to try a couple of changes. You’re all a very capable bunch, so I’m not worried at all about figuring it out.”
She ran them through a new warm-up that started with Dariax making passes into a shortened breakout drill. The Bells were a fit team, so running the ball had always been one of their strategies. But Laudna was suggesting changing that up a bit. “Make the ball work for you.” She explains, while drawing lines all over the dry erase board. “Now, this is only a minor change and we’ll work on the system as a whole once we’re back home in Jrusar. But for now, I want you six always lining up on the defensive side of the bench, while everyone else is on the offensive side. We’ll do our changes like that from now on.”
Orym considered the new arrangement, he’d be on the defenive side with Imogen, Fearne, and Opal. Laudna finishes up the explanation, and as they all head to the bench to start the game, he notices Laudna offering Imogen a bandana to put on under the helmet and help her tighten the chinstrap.
“FCG!” Laudna calls the trainer over. “Would you mind running over to the shop across the street and getting some spare helmet parts? I think Imogen is best sitting out the first little bit, rather than to try playing with this thing.”
As Orym heads out the door, he hears Imogen start to protest. He can’t get into this though, he has his job as captain to do.
The new arrangement is going surprisingly well, Orym thinks as he gets back onto the floor for a shift. He’s the first one back in the defensive zone, as Opal changes after another good offensive shift. Fearne joins him quickly, and the two of them break up their opponent’s advance before they can get a shot off on Dariax. Fearne and Orym quickly turn the ball around and towards the offensive zone. Orym loves playing with Fearne and Imogen, because they are highly skilled left shots. He tosses the ball to Fearne, then sprints down the left side of the floor. Fearne runs up the right side and let off a cannon of a shot from, admittedly, pretty far out. It slams against the boards behind the opposing team’s net, and bounces towards the front of the goal.
Orym was just in the right place at the right time, as he comes screaming in, he catches the ball on the second bounce and nets an easy goal! The Bells are up 7-4 with only 2 minutes left in the game. If they can keep the foot on the pedal, winning should be no problem.
Orym and Fearne stay on for the faceoff, and Orym wins the ball straight to Ashton who was lined up on the offensive side. Ashton muscles his way into the offensive zone, slowly but surely. There are only about 10 seconds left on the shot clock, but the Bells know the drill. They want to burn down as much time as they can before going to the net. Ashton holds onto the ball between the left crease and the corner, leaning into his check and making eye contact with Orym. With closer to five seconds left now, Orym cuts in towards the net hard. His stick is raised and ready for the pass. But when he’s hit hard, he spins gracefully and places a pick on Ashton’s defender. Ashton takes the opportunity to bump their shoulder into Orym’s, pinching off the defender behind him.
It all happens in a matter of mere seconds. Positioned for a perfect shot, Ashton gets one pump fake in before bouncing the ball between the goalie’s legs for another goal. The red of the goal light flares and cheers ring from the stands as Orym hugs his best friend to celebrate.
One and a half minutes to go. Orym jogs off, gladly taking a break after that hard hit he just took. He watches on as Fy’ra takes the faceoff, smartly trapping the ball in the middle of the floor so the clock has time to wind down before the shot clock starts. Unfortunately, the loose ball is picked up by a player on the other team and ran down towards Dariax. But Imogen is there defensively to slow them up.
Then, she makes her move, and Orym smiles knowingly at what is about to happen next. The opponent is checked back by Imogen, and in that split second where they are just a tad off balance, she leaps forward. Her stick is brought overtop of them to knock their stick and subsequently the ball backwards. Then, Imogen sprints behind her check, scoops up the ball with one hand and is off to the races. Once she gets going, there are very few people in the league who can catch her.
Imogen takes the breakway in stride, cradling the ball on her off-hand side. Now, less than ten feet away from the left crease, her stick moves higher in the air as she lowers her right hand along it, close to the middle of her stick and ready to shoot. She’s only a few steps away from the goal crease, she pump fakes once, twice as she steps across the front of the net, baiting the goaltender across with her to the right. At the last moment, Imogen switches hands and tucks the ball over the goalie’s right shoulder into the top left hand corner of the net. It’s a beautiful goal, and Orym celebrates loudly, banging his stick on the outside of the boards, along with the rest of the team.
The final thirty seconds of them game are left to the Bells top defensive players, and Ashton and Morrighan grind the ball into the corner where it bounces around harmlessly until the final buzzer sounds. They’ll get a nice rest now until tonight, where they play in the semi-final game against the team who finished second in the other pool.
“Was that a little triple deke action?” Chetney ribs Imogen after the game.
“Yeah, I learn from the best.” Imogen laughs, nodding at Laudna as the two women make eye contact.
Despite not playing for most of the first period, Imogen is awarded the tournament’s MVP of the game. Orym gets the hard hat, even though he doesn’t think he deserves it. “I, uh-” he takes it in one hand, the other hand holding the back of his neck. “Thank you.”
“Of course you deserve it.” Dorian encourages him. “You deserve nice things. And you played amazingly out there, you’re an inspiration.” Dorian pats Orym friendly on the shoulder.
The Bells cool down with their sports drinks. A few of them watch the next game, but the rest of the team disperses to take advantage of their down time. “Just remember to stay hydrated, and to stay out of the heat!” FCG calls to them as they run off towards the shuttle leaving for downtown Yios.
Chapter 4
Orym, Ashton, Fearne, Imogen, and Dorian find a shaved ice place in the city. Fearne convinces Ashton it’s a good idea to play some slots, but Orym doesn’t like the idea. “We’re not even legal gambling age, Fearne.” He warns.
“Um, you, Orym may not be 21 yet…” Fearne winks.
Orym considers this for a moment. None of them are 21, what is she talking about. He knows Imogen and Fearne turn 21 right after the season ends, Ashton and him are 20, and Dorian is 18.
“You kids can stay outside, or, go play in a ball pit or something.” Fearne rearranges her tank top a little, grabs Ashton’s hand and walks over to a worn-looking door with a cheesy poker logo pasted to the front.
“When in Yios!” Ashton calls back over their shoulder.
When Ashton and Fearne don’t return right away, Imogen sighs. “Why do I always think she won’t get away with stuff like that, when time and time again I’m proven wrong?” She shares a laugh with Orym.
Imogen has her whole equipment bag with her, including her newly strung lacrosse stick. “You know,” Orym starts. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that your shit’s being fucked with.”
“You don’t say.” Imogen rolls her eyes.
“What if we set a trap for the perpertrator?” Dorian suggests. “I can leave my phone, recording, in your bag. We can leave it out somewhere that’s obvious, but not too obvious.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Dorian.” Orym smiles grimly. “Any thoughts as to who it might be?”
Imogen and Dorian exchange looks with their captain, both shaking their heads.
“Come on, why don’t we go find a ball pit or something to play in.” Orym leads them down another street that feels less seedy. “Oh, look! It’s a games shop. Want to check it out?”
Dorian shifts his feet, uncertainly, but Imogen’s eyes light up. “Yes, let’s!” And the three head off into the shop with board games, cards, and miniature figures on full display in the front window.
Orym keeps watch as Dorian and Imogen set up her bag, back at the arena, with Dorian’s phone tucked inside. He’s slightly hidden from view, and if anyone cared to look he looks intent on fiddling with the netting of his lacorsse stick. Orym repeatedly tosses the ball into the net, forming the groove in the pocket that he prefers. It’s been almost an hour, and they’ll have to go warm up soon, Orym is just about to give up his watch when he sees FCG amble over. FCG takes one look at the black bag with purple stripes down the side, picks it up, and starts to walk back the way they came.
It would be like FCG to accidentally ruin their trap like this, Orym shakes his head and jogs off after them. “Hey, FCG! Hold up!”
“Oh, hey Orym,” FCG shuffles awkwardly. “I just – um – saw Imogen’s bag on the ground over there, so I’m going to bring it back over to the team’s stuff.”
“Actually, FCG, I was kind of watching it there.” Orym starts. “and, well, you know how weird stuff has been happening to her? First the AC units in only her and Fearne’s room are busted, then her equipment. Anyway, we just wanted to see if anyone suspicious tries anything else.”
“Oh, I see.” The wrinkles on the older man’s face crease into a frown. “Well, then by all means!” They hand the bag back over to Orym, and Orym gently returns it to it’s spot. “But don’t let it distract you, you gotta start warmup soon, and this is a must win game – only making that final tomorrow morning if we win tonight!”
“Don’t worry FCG, I know!”
“Hey, Orym, I’ll keep watch for you – I’ll let you know if anything funky happens, okay?”
Slightly relieved, Orym agrees that’s probably the best approach. The two sit awkwardly for a few minutes, watching as some little kids run around the arena. There’s no game going on right now, so the keeners have taken the opportunity to bounce the ball around the wooden floor.
“Alright, I should get going. See you soon!” Orym waves to FCG.
None of Imogen’s equipment seems off this time, as they get ready to play the semi-final game. Chetney had the jerseys washed in between games since it was a long enough duration, and he now hands them out.
“You have gotta be jokin’ me.” Imogen face is deadpan as she looks at Chetney like she might kill him.
“I swear, I had all of them at the dry cleaners!” Chetney’s voice rises an octave as he defends himself. “I have no idea why yours isn’t here now! What the fuck!” Chetney screams that last phrase to the air and not at anyone in particular. “Okay, everyone check your bags, just in case I’m crazy!”
“You’re definitely crazy.” Ashton calls out the old man.
“Shut up!”
Great, Orym thinks. Chaos is not what they need right not. He checks his bag, but only finds his own jersey, lucky number 7.
“Mother fucker.” Chetney proclaims. “The spare jerseys are both so big!”
Imogen frowns, Orym knows she’s very particular about all of her equipment. From the way she tapes her sleeves to her arm guards, to the amount of jersey she tucks into the side of her shorts. Orym is less particular, he’s used to his jersey being a bit of a dress on him.
“I think this might be your size.” He offers his jersey to Imogen.
“I don’t want to take your jersey, you’ve been too good to me during this whole ordeal Orym.” Imogen shakes her head, the frown not leaving.
“This is the logical decision, Imogen.” Orym looks at the “C” stitched onto his jersey.
“He’s right.” Chetney, sighs. “Here, gimme.” Chetney takes Orym’s jersey and a roll of white tape. When he was done, a little “X” was over the “C” and a piece of tape across the back had turned the 7 into a 9, Imogen’s number. “And Orym, you have a choice between being number 99 in XXL or number 1 in XXXL.”
Opting for #99, Chetney starts taping a “C” onto the front of the jersey for him.
The new jersey was a bit annoying to play in, but he knows it doesn’t hamper his play style much. He’s on the receiving end of more short jokes than usual, curtesy of the other team’s trash talking. But Orym is used to it, and lets the mean comments roll off of him.
“I don’t know how you do it man.” Ashton mentions as the two take a rare break together on the bench. “Hearing what they say to you has my blood boiling, and I’m sure I’m not even hearing the worst of it!”
“Hey, it’s fine Ash, I’m used to it.” Orym really was. He had been short his whole life, and kids are mean. If anything, it made him work harder. “But if it is going to make you angry, at least funnel that anger into beating the other team, okay?”
Ashton grins at that, getting ready for another shift. “Oh don’t you worry about that!” They slam their stick on the outside of the boards as Fearne makes a big hit, laying her check out across the floor. Picking the ball up, Fearne trots to the net and makes her breakaway goal look easy.
“Did you two actually win anything earlier?” Orym asks over the goal’s cheers, suddenly curious.
“Nah.” Ashton is grinning as he hops over the boards to congratulate Fearne on the goal. “But it was worth it!”
The game is neck in neck, but the Bells hold off their opponents in the end, winning the game by a single goal. The post-game was tame, they all know what they need to do for their own preparation tonight. Tomorrow, they’ll be playing the team that they had beaten in game one of the tournament, the Sruwargas Peaks. Orym had learned recently, that the Peaks were a newly formed team and so far unranked in the Marquet league. As he heads back to the bus, Orym notices a strongly built woman wearing a coach’s uniform.
This woman is eyeing them all closely as they leave the arena. Her styled short white hair and chiseled jawline matching a snarl that sends an uncontrolled shiver up Orym’s spine. The logo stitched onto her black polo is a red circle behind a white snowcapped mountain, matching the jerseys of the Sruwargas Peaks. The same team with the two big thugs with Team Marquet tattoos on their calves. He realized this woman must be one of their coaches. He feels his body tighten in a mess of nerves, thinking about tomorrow’s game against them.
Orym waks with a jolt, hearing yelling outside of his hotel room. After blinking a few times, Orym realizes he recognizes the shouts, and blindly reaches for a shirt to put on. Ashton is still fast asleep, and good thing! Orym looks over at the hotel room’s digital clock. Midnight.
Stumbling in the dark, Orym finds his way to the door, sliding his room key into his pocket. For a few moments, Orym stands by the door and listens.
“What the actual fuck, FCG!” What could only be Coach Laudna’s voice can be heard through the door. “What were you thinking?!” Orym hasn’t known the coach that long, but he thinks this is the angriest he’s ever heard her.
“Calm down alright.” FCG’s voice, closer to Orym, is heard through the door. “It’s not like anyone was gonna get hurt.”
“Someone could have been very hurt. Someone could have died, FCG!” As Laudna’s voice gets a bit louder, Orym hears footsteps approaching.
“I was just doing what I thought was best for the team, you don’t know ’em all like I do!” Things seem to be escalating instead of de-escalating, so Orym takes that as his cue.
He quietly opens the door a crack, pokes his head out, and whispers. “Hey, everything alright out there?”
The scene is awful. Laudna wearing a dark nightgown, her hair tussled and menacingly covering half her face, her sleeves rolled back, a wooden lacross stick held threateningly in one hand. She looms over FCG, and Orym is terrified. FCG is shaking, their walker fallen on its side at least 5 feet away from the two of them. In one hand FCG is holding something- is that a saw? In the other hand they clutch a shiny white court shoe with a sparkling purple heel. The shoe was shredded, looking beyond repair.
Immediately, Laudna seems to shrink slightly, with Orym’s interuption. Blinking and shaking her head, she takes a step back from FCG. “No Orym, everything’s not alright.”
Orym steps out into the hall, in his boxers and a t-shirt, and quietly shuts the door behind him. He looks from Laudna to FCG and back.
“I’m so sorry.” FCG sobbed.
“Sorry you did it, or sorry you got caught?” Lauda, still seething, but seemingly in more control of her emotions now than a moment ago.
“I just- there are scouts here, Laudna. Not the big time ones, not the international ones or nothin’. But, I just thought- Imogen already has her next season lined up with the Starpoint Conservatory team, and an invite to the Marquet National team tryouts at the end of the season! But Ashton, Ashton ain’t got nothin’ after this season.”
Orym’s thoughts were swimming through his mind, but he was beginning to understand. So FCG had been sabotaging Imogen’s tournament. It was so out of character! But, then again, they had a soft spot for Ashton. Orym knew FCG would do anything to protect that punk. Even if it meant FCG’s own destruction.
“That’s never an excuse to mess with another member of the team.”
“I have to agree with Coach here, FCG.” Orym starts. “Give me the saw.”
FCG begrudgingly hands Orym the blade, and Orym closes the serated knife, ensuring the safety is functioning. “I just, I worry what Ashton will do once this season is over. What kind of trouble they’ll get into without something anchoring ’em, without a purpose.”
Orym hadn’t really thought much about that. He had always been playing lacrosse with his best friend. Even the years where Orym and his mom lived somewhere else, he’d come back to the Hellcatch to play on the team. For Orym, he knew he’d be going to university next year and probably wouldn’t be good enough to make the varsity, but that was okay. But for Ashton, maybe FCG had a point. What would they do if they didn’t have lacrosse to go back to?
“There’s senior league, some of the teams are real competitive.” Orym suggests, but even as he speaks the words, he doesn’t really believe that’s what Ashton’s future looks like. They had never really talked about it, but Orym knows Ashton. If they were going to play after turning 21, Ashton would have to play pro. They wouldn’t be able to afford it otherwise.
The thought sinks in, as Orym takes Imogen’s shoe out of FCG’s remorseful hand. “I don’t have the same shoe size as Imogen.” He looks to Laudna then, who is holding out her hand for the shoe.
“Let me fix this one, Orym. But thank you, you’re an excellent captain. Now go and try to get some rest. The gold medal game is only a few hours away.” Laudna bids him goodnight, promising to not punish FCG anymore than they seem to be punishing themself, the realization of what they’d done finally dawning on them.
Chapter 5
The tournament bronze medal game is first, and is just getting underway when the Bells arrive at the arena that morning. The bleachers are more full today than previous days, probably over a thousand people are already in attendance. It’s too early for beer, Orym thinks, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping a section of fans from indulging.
Coach Laudna had pulled Orym aside earlier, as he had waited for the rest of the team to board the bus. She spent a few minutes updating him on the situation with FCG and how she wants to proceed once the tournament is over. Laudna hadn’t wanted to blow the whole thing up right before the final, she also understands that whatever FCG did must have come from a place of love, but she also doesn’t trust them on the bench right now. FCG will sit on the sidelines, outside of the players’ bench, but available if needed. Once the game is over, and before the long drive back to Jrusar, they will have a team meeting and decide together how to proceed. Orym agrees with this approach. It seems worthy punishment for the deeds done, but not too harsh. Not yet at least.
The Bells captain sighs, silently shouldering the burden alone, he leans on the boards to watch the bronze medal game for a bit before starting his pre-game routine.
Thirty seconds and a fresh shot clock remain in the first period. Orym watches on from the bench as Imogen gets the ball at center court from the referee. Ashton and Fearne are already set up on either side of the crease, leaning into their checks on the opposing team. The bells are down four goals to none, and morale is not great.
“Come on Bells!” Dorian’s voice rang out from near Orym on the bench, a youthful hopefulness to his tone.
Orym smiles at that and adds shouts of encouragement too. “Let’s go Bells!” He bangs his stick a few times on the outside of the boards.
The referee blows the play in, and Imogen jogs up the floor. Her court shoes are, somehow, holding together with purple and black duct tape. You wouldn’t be able to tell that her shoes were falling apart with the way she faked and danced around her check easily. Then, hanging her stick out in the open, Orym winces as one of the big Team Marquet players steps up. But like Imogen knew what he was about to do, she deftly pulls the ball back in towards herself, switches hands and takes the wide open lane to the net.
Despite the practiced, patient defense the Peaks had put on all period, this move forces them into panic. The Peaks’ defenders collapse in on Imogen. And again, like she has the whole thing planned out, she looks to Fearne who is open on the crease. The Peaks’ goalie tracks Imogen’s eyes, but she flips the ball behind her head in a perfect pass to Ashton, who wastes no time in one-timing the ball into the net for the Bells first goal of the game! The buzzer sounds a short faceoff afterwards and the Bells end the period in significantly higher spirits than just a few minutes ago.
As Orym leaps onto the floor to congratulate his teammates on a textbook perfect play, he can’t help but notice the people with clipboards a few rows up. Dressed in variously coloured polo shirts, and almost all wearing black baseball caps, he assumes these are the scouts that FCG had been talking about.
Laudna doesn’t waste any time that first intermission. She has a quick play she wants the Bells to run right off of the start of the second period. “That was a great way to end the period, and we need to keep our momemtum going!”
She has the team’s attention captured. Eyes are glued on their coach’s face, heads nodding, breathing heavily but otherwise silent.
“I want the same line that ended the period to start the second.” Laudna explains. “They know how good you are, Imogen, and I’ll bet they’re going to keep big number 24 on you whenever they get the chance. But Fearne, is a wildcard they don’t know much about.” She nods at Imogen and Fearne in turn. “Pock O’Pea.”
Chetney moves up towards Laudna, with the dry erase board. Laudna hands him the pen, and Chet drew up a play the Bells were painfully familiar with. “But we’re gonna switch it up a little bit.” The older man explains as he draws Fearne taking the ball down the right side of the floor instead of the usual Imogen. “Ashton, you’ll line up on the right crease, just engage your check a bit. Imogen, you’ll be lined up on the left crease and probably won’t need to do anything to get your check to stick to you like glue. ‘Gen, you’re gonna take a hit or two while in here, so remember you gotta be fast and try to spin off of ’em!”
Chetney draws a line showing Imogen move across the front of the crease, where she’s supposed to call for the pass from Fearne. But the tricky part, is that Ashton will be moving around the back of the net, to their preferred shooting spot beside the left crease. The first option is for Fearne to get a pass to Imogen for a quick shot out in the open, but that option is highly unlikely. The second option is a slick pass, over everyone’s head, to Ashton as they crept up from behind the net. But the third option, if Imogen and Asthon aren’t open for the pass, is just for Fearne to unload her cannon of a shot through all of the traffic and chaos that the rest of the team makes in the offensive zone. Ashton will be there for a rebound if there is one.
The Bells ran this play 3 times in the second period, and each time they resulted in a goal different from the last. Orym notes the mounting frustration on the Peaks’ bench. A waterbottle kicked onto the floor, a clipboard slammed down in anger, and even a helmet smacked by the menacing coach with the styled white hair. Orym lets himself sneak in a smug grin, it was working.
But the Peaks were far from out of the game. Each time the Bells score, they mount an even more aggressive counter-attack. Big number 24, whose teammates keep calling ‘Rat’ or ‘Ratty’, is a force to be reckoned. The big man reminds Orym a little bit of Ashton, similar style of charging in like a bull. None of the Bells could stop him, not on their own. The other Team Marquet player on the Peaks, ‘Rocky’, isn’t as skilled as Ratty, but is just as powerful on defence. None of the Bells were good enough to take him one-on-one.
As a result, the Bells are down by three goals heading into the third period.
Chetney ushers the players into the dressing room for the second intermission, before turning the floor over to Coach Laudna.
“Okay Bells, I want you all to take a deep breath with me.” Orym notes that Laudna’s version of a deep breath, is actually not that deep, but he gulps at a full breath regardless. “Very good, hold… and out, now.”
They did this a few more times. Laudna’s dark and serious gaze piercing each and every one of them.
Orym physically feels a bit lighter, a bit more refreshed, and all he had done was take a few deep breaths. He ponders idly if the coach had some magical powers or something.
“You’re playing well out there,” Laudna continues. “And the reality is, this other team is better than you. They’re bigger, more skilled, and their coaching staff has much more experience than ours does.” She smiles at that, despite putting herself down. “No offense Chetney!”
Chetney snorts a quick laugh. “None taken, coach! I know where I stand in this game.”
Laudna’s lighter expression encourages a few chuckles from the rest of the team, as she continues on. “I’m so proud of how you’ve all played this weekend, and going home with a silver medal is an admirable ending to a wonderful start to the season. But I know we all play this game, at this level, because we want to win. And we are so, so close to a gold right now. I want you to start this period like it’s the first period, of the first game of the tournament. Think 0-0 score. Zero expectations.” Laudna nods to Orym. “Anything to add captain?”
Orym nods affirmative, and stands up from his spot. “Coach is right, we’ve played a great tournament so far. I think all that’s left to do here, is play our best period yet. It’s all uphill from here on out, so we better just enjoy it while we can.” He gives them his reserved smile of confidence and two thumb’s ups, leading the Bells out to finish the game.
“You know, I think I like the colour silver a lot better than gold anyway.” Ashton slouches in their seat on the old school bus as the Bells slowly make their way back home, after a long weekend of play. A silver medal hanging around his friend’s neck, overtop of a tournament MVP t-shirt, that Ashton has already ripped the sleeves off of.
“I think the team that scout is from has silver jerseys.” Orym starts, thinking about the scout who’d approached Ashton after the game.
“Oh yeah? That’s cool, I guess.”
There’s a moment of silence, Orym reflects on how the team handled the FCG incident. Imogen, surprisingly forgiving despite what Orym knew about her history with trust and holding grudges. Ashton, not surprisingly the most upset with it all. And Laudna’s assertive decision to let FCG stay on as the team trainer, because she knew his “heart was in the right place.” When ten seconds pass, Orym continues. “Have you even thought about going pro, Ash?”
Ashton looks down at Orym and gives him an ‘are you kidding me’ look that Orym is all too familiar with. “No, you?”
“Of course.” Orym gives his own ‘are you kidding me’ look right back. “That was many years ago, but I still thought about it. You know you could, right?” Orym is all business now, and he’s sure Ashton can tell.
“Okay, for one – not a chance I’d ever be good enough. And for two, what’s the point in playing on some faraway team, for some rich asshole, with these nobodies I don’t care about, and still having to work two other jobs? Sounds like home, except I won’t have you fuckers to keep me from going to jail.”
Ashton makes some good points, maybe they have thought about it. But Orym isn’t ready to give up on this, he will give it a few days before bringing it up again though.
As the bus rumbles on down the dirt road, Orym looks out the window and watches the big city on a gliterring sapphire lake fade into the background. He has a good feeling about this season.
This is a fan fiction piece, characters are not my own. It takes place in a non-magic Exandria and draws inspiration from Critical Role characters, the Screech Owls book series by Roy Macgregor, The Mighty Ducks, and real life stories.
One response to “Lacrosse AU: Mystery at Lake Korron”
[…] 3, 2024 «Previous Critical Role […]