Stefan did a complicated maneuver and slid the puck right between the goalie’s legs. The buzzer went off, signaling we were tied.
“Beautiful, man!” I shouted. Stefan and I bumped our helmets together as our teammates crowded around us in a massive huddle— except for Elijah, who spat on the ice.
“You’re not the only one who can deke and shoot a five-hole, bud,” Stefan commented.
The next play began. The other team nabbed the puck, but the player got a little too eager. He crashed the net, and ended up slamming into our goalie— it looked like it’d been on purpose. The puck didn’t go in, but the goalie struggled to get back up. He’d been hit in the groin.
A groan went over the crowd as a couple of players helped our goalie up. They aided him in skating to the boards, where our backup goalie took his place in net. The referee whistled, but he didn’t give the player who hurt our goalie a penalty.
“Are you kidding me?” I shouted, but the referee ignored me. That had been interference, if not roughing, but the refs were clearly playing favorites.
Stefan had a glint in his eye that signaled he planned to dole out some justice. The player that hit our goalie got the puck early in the next face off, but Stefan wasn’t going to let him get away with it. Stefan was the biggest guy out of all of us, and known as the enforcer on our team. He skated toward the player that had assaulted our goalie and checked him into the boards.
The player crumbled to the ice, then curled into a ball. The player forced himself upright and winced as he skated slowly to the boards.
The referee blew his whistle and gave Stefan a penalty for charging. Stefan scowled, but dutifully went to the penalty box.
Great. Now we were down a player. But it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle. I faced the Team C player during the face-off— he was big for an alicorn, and fast, but I lashed out my stick and stole the puck away just as the referee dropped it onto the ice.
I was a wolven, which meant I was faster than the other Factions, even on the ice. I easily slipped between two dragon players as the opposing team’s net drew near. My line to the goal was blocked, but Yan was waiting. His stick was at the perfect angle, ready to shoot the puck in.
I passed the puck, but before Yan could grab it, Elijah snaked out and took it for himself. Elijah took a shot, but he was in a bad place, and the puck bounced off the goalpost and into the glass surrounding the boards.
My mouth dropped. I’d sent the puck to Yan! He’d been wide open, and it was an easy shot! We almost got a goal. If only Elijah hadn’t been obsessed with getting all the glory to himself!
I couldn’t take it anymore. Someone had to put this snitch in his place. I skated up to Elijah as the game continued around us.
“What the hell was that?!” I screamed. I shoved him— the audience gasped, but I didn’t care. Elijah wasn’t a king yet, and out here, he was just another hockey player.
Elijah gritted his teeth. “Your pass was shit! If you had been faster, I could’ve scored!”
My temper burst free. If no one else on this ice had the balls to hit him, then I would. I threw off my gloves, and delivered Elijah the hardest punch I could muster, straight on the jaw.
He reeled back, stunned for a moment before he tossed off his own gloves and grabbed me, wrenching me close.
The game came to a stop, and whistles were blown, but I hardly noticed. I drew my fist back again and again, clobbering Elijah in the nose, then the cheek. His face was bloody— he responded with punches of his own. One of his blows connected with my jaw, and I thought I felt a tooth come loose, but it didn’t phase me. I pushed him to the ice and climbed on top of him, resisting the urge to choke him out.
At that moment, I had so much hatred for Elijah. I wanted to kill him. This went beyond today’s game. His actions constantly showed that he cared more about himself than doing what was best for everyone else, and that was the worst kind of ruler there was.