Kestril of Silverhill, most decorated fighter in the lower city, sat in jail for the second time that week and listened to the guards invoke a name of a god she knew didn’t exist.
“Mariel’s storm, is it really happening?” a thin guard asked quietly from just outside of her cell. He was younger than Kess— barely into his twenties, and his wide eyes and sandy brown hair were an odd contrast with his much older and much rounder companion’s features. “At this rate Forgebrand might drag the Uphill into it. I don’t fancy myself a soldier.”
Kess squirmed on the dirty floor, trying to loosen tight muscles. She had no right to complain— she’d put herself here on purpose— but the cells in Whitering were too small, even for Kess. Still, better than dealing with the Fulminant in an Uphill prison.
“You’ll be fine— you barely know which way to point the stick. No one would bother recruiting you,” the round guard replied. “Besides, Forgebrand is just a hobby. Not everyone wants to get beaten to a pulp in the arenas for fun. Gotta have something else to entertain you. Not everything you hear is real.”
“About as real as Mariel,” Kess muttered from next to the door. The younger guard jumped, and Kess smiled.
The older guard poked at Kess with his spear, though the touch was downright friendly compared to some of the rings she’d fought in lately. “Clouds, woman, don’t you have anything better to do than to scare a man out of his wits?”
“I’m in a jail cell,” Kess said. “So no, not exactly.”
“You shouldn’t blaspheme like that,” the younger guard said, fidgeting awkwardly with his spear. “We ought to haul you up for a word with Forgebrand— they respect Mariel at least.”
Kess snorted, thinking of how the men in Draven’s tavern whispered about the woman, like she was something out of legend. They respected her a little too much, by Kess’s estimation.
She leaned her head back against the wall. “Surely Forgebrand has better accommodations than a Whitering cell.”
There was a pause from the men. Doubt? Uncertainty?
“Lass, Whitering might not be the nicest district in the city, but at least you’re alive,” the young guard said, his voice careful. “Uphill they’d have you beaten for fighting outside the rings, then executed for blasphemy against Mariel.”
“It’s hard to blaspheme against someone that doesn’t exist,” Kess said, her voice lilting.
“Stop interacting with her,” the older man hissed. “She’s touched in the head. She’ll poison your mind.”
Maybe she was. It had been a long time since her decisions made sense, and an even longer time since she’d felt the need to justify them to anyone else. Though I will have to explain why I botched that last fight to Mattes, she thought, wincing.
Kess got to her feet, dusted off her clothes— still bloody in places from her previous fight— and leaned against the bars. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the guards jumped again, the younger one pointing his spear at her.
“Am I really that terrifying?” she demanded, gripping the bars. She was strong and lithe, but by no means big, and she was also unarmed. The religious man just shook his head, lowering his spear.
“Bloodcrawlers like you give me the creeps, lass.” The other guard winced a little at the term.
“What’s wrong with fighting for a living?” she asked calmly. She nodded towards the man’s spear. “Certainly it’s part of your profession too.”
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“Aye lass, but it’s not the fighting that gets me— it’s the losing on purpose. Who does that?”
“Stormsick women with a taste for abuse,” the other man spat. Kess just smiled at him. “You’d have to be stormsick to be as good as she is and not want the fame and Fulminancy with it.” He paused and eyed her red sash tied around her waist, now bloodied and dirty. It was a higher rank than Kess preferred, but she hadn’t had the chance to throw enough matches to lower her rank. As it was, her red sash drew too much attention Downhill— her guards were an entire two ranks below her with their orange and white sashes. This man would fall over if he knew my actual rank, she thought. “You could be at least red-white sash by now, or clouds, woman, you could be Fulminant. Those colors are a rank all their own— outside the law.”
“That seems to me a fundamentally flawed part of the system,” she replied. Her fingers tightened around the bars of her cell, and another low roll of thunder passed overhead. The guard snorted, leaning against the wall with his spear to watch her. They were used to Kess’s too-frequent visits, sometimes verging on friendly with her.
“She has an odd way of talking, don’t you think, Ren?” Ren— the younger guard— peered at Kess, then shrugged.
“Maybe. Just sounds different— like the folks Uphill, almost. I have to admit, though, she does well for being a Dud— or that’s what the rumor mills say anyway.”
“Everyone’s a Dud Downhill.”
“Not my cousin,” Ren replied. “He blew years ago, Mariel bless him. Got a nice house and family Uphill now. Didn’t your niece…?”
Ren trailed off, and the older man’s expression darkened. “She did well for awhile,” he replied quietly. “Got Uphill and all that fame went away. Turned out she barely had enough Fulminancy to defend herself. They sent her home but she hasn’t been the same.” His eyes met Kess’s where she stood in the doorway. “Maybe you’d be the same, lass, but you have a lot more talent than my niece did. I see a girl who would benefit greatly from not being thrown into a jail cell every few nights. Though, I suppose you could accomplish that on your own if you stuck to rings instead of alleyways.”
Kess frowned at him for a moment, her eyes darting back to the door, nearly visible from her cell. There was no point in escaping, not with her time nearly served anyway. At least she’d avoided the Witchblades for another night, even if her guards thought she had a temper that would put Fanas herself to shame.
The man was right about her ability— Kess was too skilled for her own taste. It was a constant fight of its own just to keep her rank low enough to go unnoticed— and she’d nearly failed at that even with her intentional losses. Kess didn’t want the fame or the Fulminancy at the top— she just wanted to survive, and avoid Fulminancy at all costs.
Ren finally lowered his spear, sighing. He looked like a good enough sort, for all his religious fervor. “Here now, lass, have you cooled down enough to come out yet?”
“Absolutely,” Kess replied immediately, perking up. Her legs itched to be free. The older guard smirked slightly, hands still on his spear.
“And what if we just kept you here for awhile? Would certainly give everyone Downhill a break.” Kess froze, eying the man.
“Mattes won’t be happy,” she finally said. The smirk fell from his face immediately. The religious guard sighed, moving to unlock the door, though his companion kept his spear at the ready. Kess just raised an eyebrow at him as the door opened with a creak. He gestured with his spear.
“Give it a few nights,” he said, sounding resigned. “They don’t pay us like the Witchblades.” Kess barely spared the men another glance as she jogged to the exit. Maybe spending the night in jail wasn’t the classiest of things, but she’d avoided the Witchblades, and Lead deserved being put on the ground anyway.
Kess stepped out into a dingy street in the Whitering district, one of the poorest parts of Hillcrest. Rain threatened, as it always did, but didn’t fall. Thick clouds spread overhead, and people went about their business in a tangle of shops and stalls where food, drink, and just about anything else could be found. Most were raised onto wooden walkways and stilts to avoid the seasonal flooding which would leave most Downhill streets underwater for a period of time.
Hillcrest was spread out over a mountain, tucked into the rock itself, each section of the city a sprawling plateau, though more often than not Kess found herself tucked inside the mountain itself, fighting in some of the darkest rings in the city. Each plateau was divided by large sets of stairs, with the homes growing wealthier and more impressive with each increasing level before the Uphill district began.
Kess didn’t miss the Uphill and its rules and regulations, but she did miss the height; stand at the edge of one of those platforms high on the mountain, and you’d feel like the world simply ended with Hillcrest, swallowed by impenetrable clouds that swirled around the rock.
Kess made her way up a level towards Dawnring but froze in a tangle of people as she spotted something on the steps.
Witchblades.