Ava the Brave

By Jules Adrienn

Sixteen-year-old Ava Phoenix's unlikely defeat of the grand praetorian's son in a fighting contest triggers her father's murder and an official decree to destroy her village. Together with her first love, Beau, she races across a post-apocalyptic landscape to save her village while being hunted by her dystopian world's deadliest teenage warriors.

Heart-rending loss, romance, and an unjust world combine to create a heroine who rises above violence even as she dispenses justice. Ava the Brave shows how a warrior's heart can be lost and rediscovered even in the most savage of lands. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: Mar 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393226451

Book preview

Ava the Brave

Jules Adrienn

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

IF YOU PURCHASE THIS book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this stripped book.

AVA THE BRAVE

Copyright © 2019 Jules Adrienn

All rights reserved.

ISBN: (EBOOK): 978-1-949931-46-4

Inkspell Publishing

207 Moonglow Circle #101

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

EDITED BY AUDREY BOBEK

Cover art By Najla Qamber

THIS BOOK, OR PARTS thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Dedication

When you want to stop because it seems like you’ll never make it, there’s always someone who tells you to keep going. This is to all the someones out there. Nothing would ever get down without you guys.

Chapter One

P ick up your sword , get your knives, get your butt in the saddle, and get rid of the attitude—it’s time to go.

Ava looked up into the barn’s rafters and exhaled in frustration. But why do I—

Her father held up his hand. We’re not going over this again, Ava. You’re sixteen. You should’ve gone last year.

Ava pressed her lips tight. She shifted her gaze to the rest of her team, the Braves, hoping for their support. They stood next to their horses and stared at the ground. Her father was their coach, so no one was going to say a word, even though she’d told all of them she didn’t want to fight in the champion contest. She set her jaw, wishing she didn’t have to go. But wishing hadn’t changed a thing in the past, and it wasn’t going to change anything now.

The days would still be unbearably hot.

Drought would still plague the world.

Rain would still be as rare as a cool breeze.

And the most dangerous teenage fighters from every team in the Reserve would still battle every year in the champion contest.

She shook her head. Water was the reason. Or more precisely, the lack of it. That was why they had this stupid contest—to protect the water of their homeland, the Reserve. The champion contest was where they crowned the best teenage fighters, inducted them into the Reserve’s Elite Guard, and then sent them to lead the defense of the border wall. According to her father, it had been going on ever since the water wars started generations ago, and it all made sense. If the wall fell, the people of the world would come pouring over like locusts to suck their land dry. The contest, the wall, and protecting their water were all that stood between life or death for the people of the Reserve. She had no argument with any of it.

Except for the part where she had to fight the Reserve’s best teenage warriors.

That part made her stomach clench and her heart pound. It brought on a cold sweat.

She wasn’t ready. No way. But her father had an answer for every excuse she threw at him.

Dad, I’m not experienced enough.

You’ve been training since before you could walk, Ava.

I don’t know the fighters. I’m not prepared for their styles.

They don’t know you or your style either.

I’m scared.

Of course you are. Only crazy people aren’t afraid of fighting.

She huffed, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at her father. Why wouldn’t he listen?

He returned her stare, narrowed his eyes, and pointed at the horse stalls. I’m serious, Ava. No more talk. Now go get your horse.

The low rumble of his voice put a period on the end of their argument. He wasn’t messing around. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to fight in this year’s contest.

Dirt crunched under her boot heel as she turned and walked toward the horse stalls. The horses’ snorts and hoof scuffs filled the barn as the rest of the Braves turned their attention back to packing their saddle bags.

She grabbed her sword off the top of a bench outside the stalls, strapped it on, and then lifted the top of the bench. After taking out her knives, she tossed them on the floor. She slammed the bench shut and busied herself with getting ready. Her knives went into her calf holsters as she cursed under her breath. Then she put on her leather Braves vest and tied her long, shiny black hair into a single braid that hung below her belt. She’d do what her father wanted. She’d go to Aragonia and fight in the contest. But she didn’t have to be happy about it.

Finished tying her braid, she stood, grabbed her saddle, and walked toward the gate that opened into the stalls. A voice stopped her in her tracks.

This is my first time too, Ava. Even if you lose, it’ll be good experience. Just do the best you—

Ava whirled, looking at the Brave who’d walked up behind her. She dropped her saddle and stepped toward him. I’m not losing, Marlon, so shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.

Everyone looked over except her father, who ignored the commotion and led his black horse out of the barn.

Tommy, the trip wire of their team—always ready to fight on a moment’s notice—grinned at the drama. Josie, the only other girl on the Braves, ran over, stepping between Ava and Marlon. Beau, their brooding, dark-haired heavyweight, and Marlon’s older brother, shifted his gaze between Ava and his sibling. He held his stare on Ava for a long moment and then he turned his attention to Marlon.

Leave Ava alone, he said, walking over.

Ava watched Marlon’s face color. But I didn’t do anything. I was just—

Beau pointed toward the open barn doors where Ava’s father sat on his horse, waiting for everyone to join him.

What you’re doing is causing a problem, like you always do, said Beau. Now get your horse, go outside with Coach, and wait. We’ll be right out.

Marlon scowled, grabbed the lead on his horse, and walked toward the barn doors.

And make sure your oilskins are full, Beau shouted after him. It’s a long ride to Aragonia and I’m not sharing my water if you forget yours, like you did when we rode along the Lake of Man last week.

Finished with berating his brother, Beau looked at Ava and smiled. Ava turned to watch Marlon lead his horse out of the barn. She took a step forward, wanting to apologize for yelling at him. Josie grabbed her arm.

Don’t worry about him, said Josie. He knows you’re worried about fighting in the contest. We all do. Just get your horse and let’s get moving before your dad really gets mad, okay? And don’t worry about anything. I’ll look out for you in Aragonia. I promise.

Ava nodded. Josie patted her shoulder and walked away. A final glance at Marlon walking his horse outside pulled a long exhale from Ava.

Poor Marlon. He’d only been trying to make her feel better, and what did she do? Challenge him to a fight. As if she didn’t have enough problems already. She looked at Beau, running through her troubles.

Beau was still smiling at her like an idiot.

Her father was making her fight in the champion contest.

And now Marlon thought she was a jerk.

Turning away from Beau, she picked up her saddle and walked into the horse stall. Brute was a big, muscled horse—most people were scared to approach him—but he nuzzled her ear as she lifted the saddle on him.

I’ll bet you don’t want to go either, huh? she whispered, laying her cheek against his. I think I could live my whole life without fighting in the contest.

Brute snorted and stomped his hooves. Ava ran her hand over his neck, stepped into a stirrup, and then mounted him.

Let’s go, boy, she said, heeling him out of the stall. We have a long, hot ride in front of us.

Joining her father and the rest of her team, Ava rode down the main street of New Moon Bay, passing townspeople who waved and shouted encouragement. The whole town came out every year to cheer for the Braves fighting in the contest. More than one Brave usually came back a winner, making their little village proud. She tightened her grip on the reins. But winning also meant never living in New Moon Bay again.

What if by some miracle she won? New Moon was the only home she’d ever known. It would be awful to move away.

She snorted and shook her head. Winning the contest? Who was she kidding? The miracle would be if she finished the contest without making a fool of herself.

While she was lost in thought, a bouquet bounced off her chest and landed in the street. She looked down at the flowers, grimacing as Josie’s horse trampled them in the dirt. A little boy ran over to pick up the smashed remains—all broken stems and mashed petals. At first, he frowned. Then he locked his gaze on Ava and lifted the sad bouquet, beaming.

Ava smiled and waved at him, wondering why he’d wasted his flowers on her. The prospects of her, Ava Phoenix, a sixteen-year-old girl from New Moon Bay, winning—or even doing well—in her first champion contest weren’t good.

She set her jaw as she heeled Brute forward.

Not good at all.

Chapter Two

Ava patted Brute’s neck as the silhouette of Aragonia’s gates appeared through the dust on the horizon. She shaded her eyes, tilted her head back, and squinted at the sun, which was nearly at its zenith. If she was home at New Moon Bay, she’d be putting Brute in his pen while her father made lunch. They’d eat, talk about practice and how she could improve her fighting. And then they’d weed the gardens, gather firewood, and scrounge something for dinner like fish or a few squirrels. Maybe they’d even kill and eat a chicken. But she wasn’t home. She was riding toward her first champion contest.

She stroked Brute’s mane, pushing down her anxiety, thinking through all the things her father had told her about why she needed to fight.

How becoming an Elite Guardsman would give her a better life.

How people all across the Reserve would know and respect her.

How the champion contest was the only way people like her from such a small village could ever get in power and make a difference.

She sighed. She didn’t want to change anything or be in power. She just wanted to go home and be with her friends and teammates, the Braves.

A group of 54s reined their horses to a stop in front of her. She angled Brute around them as they drank water from their oilskins. They stopped drinking and followed her progress with hooded eyes. Their horses stomped around a bit, making the fighting chains around their necks sway and clink.

She could feel their stares but ignored them. The Braves riding behind her could swap mean faces with the 54s if they wanted, but she saw no use in it. In all the years she’d been fighting, she’d never seen a mean look hurt anyone.

She whistled, goading Brute to catch up to her father who was about fifty feet ahead. A few fighters looked back at the sound of her whistle, along with her father. He waved, as if saying, Get over here.

She imitated his gesture, mocking him.

He grinned and made a big production of rolling his eyes.

She smiled, remembering how he’d rolled his eyes the same way at their giant red-haired mayor, Fey Shey, when Fey clapped him on the back at their summer festival a few weeks ago, shouting, For the record, we are lucky that this man settled with us so many years ago. He is the Reserve’s best man in a fight, a party, or a negotiation. Raise a glass to Russell Phoenix! Everyone had cheered and lifted a cup of ferment while her father’s face turned scarlet. He hated attention.

She clucked at Brute to keep up his trot. Their destination, the two-hundred-foot-tall gates of Aragonia, loomed ahead. A shiver of anticipation ran through her as she took in the size of the gates. The logs had to be from the old forests before the drought really took hold. Each was as wide as two men. The wall was so massive it didn’t seem real. Coming from the backwater village of New Moon Bay, she knew she’d see even more amazing things inside those gates—things she’d one day tell her children about. Her heart picked up a beat just thinking about the wonders that awaited her.

Straightening, she craned her neck back and focused on the balustrade that capped the stone framework atop the gates. Beau galloped up from behind. She ignored him as she watched the Elite Guardsmen stationed on the balustrade. They stared down at the people pouring into Aragonia, crossbows in hand, ready to shoot at the first sign of trouble. Would that be her life if she won the champion contest? Standing on top of a wall with a crossbow? It didn’t look like a life she’d want. A sharp tug on her braided ponytail interrupted her thoughts.

She whirled and glared at Beau.

Stop it, she hissed, slinging her thick, black braid over her shoulder into her lap, hoping none of the other fighters saw him pull it. If she was going to fight, she needed to look tough, not like a little girl being teased.

Beau pointed toward Aragonia’s gates. Sorry, I just wanted you to see that.

She squinted through the clouds of dust kicked up by the horses. A huge block-shaped thing on wheels rumbled and belched smoke next to the gates. She heard Beau’s little brother, Marlon, yell from the group of Braves behind her. Is that a machine, Beau? What’s it do?

She turned her attention to Beau, wanting to hear what the machine did as much as Marlon. Instead of answering, Beau just looked at her with the same goofy smile he’d had back at her father’s barn in New Moon Bay. She’d known him since they were children, playing and fighting like cubs from the same litter, but he’d been acting strange this whole trip—smiling and staring at her more than once on the ride down.

Sorry I pulled your braid, he said, moving his horse so close his leg touched hers. I just thought you’d like to see that machine. He held out his hand, eyes wide and gazing at her as he said, Until the end?

Ava looked at his huge hand. Until the end, she said, putting her hand in his. It was the Braves’ slogan, and it was corny, but she liked it because it reminded her of how her dad said they were a family. Before letting go of Beau’s hand, she squeezed hard and pulled him toward her, whispering, But pull my braid again and I’ll break your hand.

Beau grinned and said, Whatever you say, Ava. Then he ran his thumb over her knuckles with a feather’s touch, sending a tingle up her arm. His dark complexion was covered in road dust, but she thought she saw his cheeks turn ruddy before he looked at Marlon who was riding up alongside them. Marlon pulled his horse next to theirs and pointed at the rumbling, smoke-belching machine near the gates.

Can we go look at it, Beau?

Sure, said Beau. He turned to Ava. You want to come?

Ava pinned her gaze on Aragonia’s gates. No. It’s too noisy.

Beau shrugged and wheeled his horse, leading Marlon through the crowd toward the machine. She watched as he pushed through the strange, exotic, and downright scary fighters riding in from every town in the Reserve. Some fighters turned with bad intent when Beau pushed by, but they lost their attitude when they saw him. At six-two, two-hundred-thirty-pounds, he was a menacing sight with his long black hair, jeans, boots, and leather vest with Braves stitched on the back. He looked like a handful, and he was, like all the Braves. But this would be his last contest. A fighter in the Reserve had to win their weight class by their eighteenth birthday to be inducted into the Elite Guard. If Beau didn’t win, he’d have to join a trade like farming, water drilling, or wall building, or he could have someone of power sponsor his acceptance into an Elite Guard training school. He hated the trades and he didn’t know anyone in power to sponsor him, so those two choices were out. Which left the last choice of being a fodderman.

She watched him and Marlon disappear behind a group of Pit Bulls standing around their horses, squirting water into the mouths of the huge-headed, muscled dogs they bred as fighting companions. She hoped Beau didn’t become a fodderman, but her father said it was the only path for most fighters. According to him, the older fighters who didn’t win the champion contest marched straight down Main Street to the grand praetorian’s grandstand after the last fight. There, they took the fodderman oath, shaved their heads, threw their uniforms in a bonfire, said goodbye to their team, and rode straight to their border