“Run this by me again,” Riley says, “just so I'm clear. You've got a fight at Stormhawk, but why?”
“It's a fight to the death. I'm sorry I'm only bringing this up now, but it should be quick.”
“And this is against that guy you're dating?” says Wolfe.
“Yes.”
“Last time when I asked if you kidnapped him, it was a joke,” she says. “For real this time, did you kidnap him?”
Magpie starting to giggle.
“I mean, you could sort of construe it that way.” Magpie clamping a hand over her mouth and being forced to stop, unable to hold it in. The three of us waiting for her. “But that's only because I tricked him into fighting me the first time, and then some stuff happened and we started working together.”
“This is your second fight to the death with this guy?” says Riley.
“Yeah. He's in Stormhawk, what do you want?”
“Jack's in Stormhawk and he-” Pausing. “Okay, Jack can be pretty stupid - and so can you.”
“Hey, Mac, what's the forfeit?” Magpie interjects. Impishly enjoying herself immensely.
“Nothing crazy. If he wins he wants me to spruce up my wardrobe, probably brighter colors or show a little more skin. It sounds like fun, I figure I'll do it anyway. If I win, I want us to go on vacation. I'd been thinking Ossen, hit the hot springs and volcanoes - plenty of tough monsters near the volcanoes - but maybe we'll go back to that village on Swan Lake. I'll see what he wants to do. We're both going to need a temporary schedule change for it, and he'll need to request some days off at theHouse. I figure we'll end up doing that either way, too.”
“That's actually really sweet,” says Wolfe. “But why a fight to the death? I have to assume it was your idea.”
“Kate, its,” gesturing with my hands, trying to grasp the ephemeral, “it represents a commitment. Not to be entered lightly, and taken very seriously. Afterward, we'll kiss and make up.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds romantic.” Magpie's tongue sticking out at me.
“I think it sounds phenomenally stupid,” Riley says. “You're going to win, right?”
“Sure. I mean, hopefully. But because the stakes are low I'm not really feeling the pressure. I was originally going to buy some scrolls, come in with like a hundred on spells on me. Didn't do that. I was thinking about poisoning my weapons. There's this snake over in the swamp to the west of here and I was going to use it's venom. Didn't do that, either. I've only got one trick.” Pulling out my wand.
“Mac, aren't all those, including that, specifically against the rules?”
“Tournament rules. Last time I won using this, also against those rules.” Revealing the knife with the red glow. “This time we agreed it wasn't allowed. Didn't say anything about wands or any of the others.” Addressing Wolfe. “That's another important reason for making it a fight to the death. Everyone knows the stakes so there's no arguing over each and every trivial detail.”
“But if that's the case,” says Wolfe, “what if he did any of those things you said you didn't do, or if he did something else?”
“Then he deserves the win and I have to respect him for taking the initiative.” Returning the twisted branch to its place.
Entering the colosseum plaza and heading toward the Stormhawk House. Stationed on either side of the door, balancing plates of food on their laps, a couple of guards on the morning shift.
“Evie, good morning,” says the one on the left. Glancing at the rest of us to extend his greeting our way. “You want me to get Jack?”
“Good morning,” she says. “Actually, I was wondering if we could please come in. I heard there was going to be a spectacle today.” Her eyes quickly flicking over in my direction. Yeah, yeah, Evie, laugh it up.
“Oh, you heard about that?” The one on the right spraying some crumbs with a guffaw. “It's probably not going to be for a little bit, but c'mon in, the more the merrier. Feel free to grab some breakfast, if you want.”
“Thank-”
“If we're early, I have business with Lane. I know he's in today. Tell him I'm here to see him.”
“Lucy.” Riley's warning quiet, but firm. The two guards turning their attention to me and the one on the right stabbing the air with his fork.
“Look, sweetie,” he says, “take a page from your friend, here, and learn to be a little polite. I don't appreciate you snapping orders at me. If you want to talk to Lane you're going to have to make an appointment, like anybody else.”
“Tell him Macarthy's here to see him. I'm sure he'll make the time to see me.”
“You're...?”
“The spectacle.” Riley helpfully adding.
The two guards briefly looking at each other and then the one on the left standing up and heading into the House.
“Why did you bring us here today?” Wolfe says. The girl fixated on the leftover guard. Oh, she can feel my anger but she doesn't know exactly why.
“Nico wanted a rematch and I obliged. We agreed to do it here because he's got something to prove. A few days ago I found out my deal with Sam is done.” Pointing at the guard. “Because these people can't just let things be.”
“We're here as your support, then.”
“I'm sorry to let you know like this.”
“Don't be.”
“Mac, you really should've said something before we got here.”
“Yes,” Riley says, pointedly, “you definitely should have.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” says Wolfe.
The door to the House opening and the other guard returning, breaking the ongoing staring contest between Wolfe and the other guard. “You can all come in,” he says, and then, to me, “Lane does want to speak with you.”
Filing in and being hit with the smell of breakfast from the dining room off to the side of the entrance. Members of the House, some partially geared up for the day, talking too noisily, eating too noisily, banging around too noisily, and simply existing too noisily, whole noisily going about their mornings. Breakfast trays filled with scrambled eggs, some kind of meat and potatoes. Magpie glancing around the entry, then peeking into the dining room. Riley focusing on the golden statue of the man with a confident expression, arm raised in victory, situated off to the side in the entry. Wolfe keeping her eyes on the newly returned guard.
“I shouldn't be long. I'll let you know how it goes.” Giving them a little wave.
Following the guard up the solid wooden staircase that leads to the second floor. Passing several members of the House in the hallway, in various states of dress, some with hair askew or matted, clearly having just woken up. All of them towering over me. Keeping my eyes on them as they pass, returning their curious or neutral glances with squint eyed suspicion. A door opening and a girl coming out in her underwear, giggling, not a care in the world, while holding a towel. Followed after by what has to be her boyfriend, in a similar state. Finally getting to a door, my guide opening it and then gesturing for me to enter.
The outer room of a suite. The sounds of the House completely muffled as the door closes behind me. Some boots and shoes lined up by the door, a coat rack currently occupied by several different cloaks and coats of various colors and styles. The main feature, a table covered by an unblemished, white linen cloth. Lane and a woman having breakfast together, fruit, ham, deviled eggs and toast. Almost doing a double take, the woman eating with Lane is actually a member of my Runemage group slash book club.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The flash of recognition on the woman's face quickly turning to worry, glancing back and forth between Lane and myself. Giving her a nod in greeting.
“Would you care for something to eat?” the man asks.
“No. I have something very quick to say to you and then I'll be leaving.”
“Don't be like that.” The man patting the table, “I have something of substance I need to to discuss with you. Please, take a seat.” Gesturing at the unoccupied chair next to the woman. Putting down my pack, slowly reaching over, pulling out the chair, and then taking a seat.
“Diane,” Lane says, “it may be difficult to believe, but this girl is Macarthy. The Macarthy.”
She was aware of that before you said anything, Lane.
“I'd prefer to be called Lucy.” Holding my hand out to her. “Very nice to formally meet you.” Trying to seem pleasant, trying not show my teeth. Extremely difficult. Bringing her hand up to meet mine. Releasing. Turning back to him. “Lane, after everything I've experienced I've developed an immunity to certain things, an indifference of sorts, but if you ever even dream of threatening my friends again I'm going to visit horrors on you like you've never imagined. Do you understand me?” Starting out in a normal conversational tone and ending up practically crawling across the table in order to put my hands around his throat.
“Is that how you interpreted it?” Dabbing his lips with a napkin. “That is certainly not what I intended.”
Studying his face. No tell whatsoever. A skilled liar. Or maybe he actually believes his own bullshit, making him a liar of truly exemplary skill.
“In that case, my apologies for misinterpreting.” Sitting back in my chair and trying to calm down. “If you honestly weren't threatening my friends I can let bygones be bygones, but I still have no desire to join your House.”
“Macarthy,” he says, then taking a moment to rephrase, “Lucy, I really wish you'd hear me out before closing off the entire discussion. It's not simply for your sake that I'm saying this, it's for everyone's. When you ran into Barnes a couple cycles back you really ignited something. The last time you came here you were wearing a disguise and, ever since hearing about what happened, he's been convinced you're out to do him harm. And, after what you did to Holly, it's no surprise House Koln is out for your blood.”
“I did nothing to Holly.”
“Abduction and rape is hardly nothing.”
“That- isn't what happened, at all. What did she say?”
Lane glancing over at Diane before carefully lifting up his cup and taking a sip. “I suppose the point is moot, and since you now lack the requisite equipment to perpetrate that sort of violence, I will consider it immaterial.” Placing his cup back down in exactly the same position and place that he'd found it. “Macar- Lucy. The problem isn't even House Koln, it's that you've accumulated such an extensive collection of enemies. I know you thought you were safe under Mr. Phelps, but people are starting to talk. I was hearing things that I thought may lead to very bad outcomes, for everybody, which is why I decided to step in. Sam's a charmer, a flatterer, but his background, his entire mindset, consists of wheeling and dealing. As such, he'd be incapable of dealing with what would be coming.”
“So things were all nice and copacetic and you fucked with it because you thought, never mind Sam, because you thought I couldn't take care of myself? I think you're full of shit.”
“You? I wasn't thinking about you – I'm sure you have that covered – I'm trying to think about everyone else.” The man looking out the window. “I built Stormhawk into the largest House,” by cannibalizing the Warrior Guild, “by appealing to what people need. They need stability, they crave it.” Looking back at me. “Do you know what Stormhawk spends most of our time doing?”
“You send out your members on patrol, the same areas, for months at a time.”
“Stability is not glamorous, but it doesn't have to be. Protecting farms and mines and towns and merchants and roads creates a better life for everyone here. Being good, contributing citizens of the Empire allows for everyone, great and small, to continue on with our peaceful, day to day existence. You may think that sort of work is beneath you, but please understand the value it has.”
“The Empire? The years you've spent talking with that thing sitting in your entry really has turned your brain to mush. If stability is truly what you're after, I imagine you thought my guild was an impediment to it.” His expression souring. “And because of that, because of what you did - what all of you did - contributing in any way to your so-called stability is the absolute last thing I'm interested in.”
“You're sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“You need to understand,” he says, while shaking his head, “it's not even my House that you need to worry about. There are a lot of people who don't know about your situation and, if they did, your life would suddenly get significantly more difficult.”
“I thought you said you wanted stability.” Feeling the mania starting to stir, a grin starting spread on my face.
“I do, but if you're going to be difficult the only remaining choice I have is to shine the light of day on you. I promise, it's not going to be me and mine causing you problems.”
“I highly doubt that. You already fucked up my deal with Sam, and while I'm not sure what kind of bright ideas you and your band of special children are going to drool up, I recommend you keep a lid on them. You're going to get bloodied, and you're going to look like bullies.”
“Bullies?” His face screwing up in disbelief. “Do you really think anyone is going to sympathize with you? I seriously doubt it. You've caused so much destruction and misery over the years that- or, wait, are you're planning on using your so-called friends as human shields? What am I even saying - of course you would - because you're a coward. If you truly cared about them, you'd cut them loose. I'm sure they'll be horrified to discover they've been cavorting about with some lying, murdering filth.”
“I'm hardly holding them captive, and if they sympathize with me, it'll be because of the actions of people like you. You should've left me alone.”
“Letting a cancer like you grow unchecked is an affront to everything I stand for.”
“But you're fine bringing me into your House?”
“It's the most effective solution.” Squaring his shoulders and sitting up straight. “You've proven that you need to be kept under control for the benefit of everyone else. I simply can't let a villain like you skulk about doing whatever you please.”
“A villain? Then I guess you imagine opposing me makes you a hero. You're deluded. Lane, if there ever was a hero around these parts, I think we both know what happened to that person. Arrived with the second expedition, a beacon of hope ready solve all kinds of problems, then killed within twenty four hours. Maybe if another one happens to show up they won't be so unlucky.” Lane starting to splutter, absolutely furious. “Shine your light of day on me and see if your stability can handle what happens.”
Standing up. The woman looking at me out of the corner of her eye as Lane visibly works to compose himself. Walking to the door and then turning around.
“Diane,” the woman regarding me with a flat expression, “please try and talk some sense into him. I'll try not to blame you if you can't.”
“Don't you dare threaten-” Lane stands up, upsetting his neat, orderly breakfast table while getting to his feet too quickly. Closing the door behind me and the rest of his words thankfully muffled. Walking back down the hallway toward the staircase.
Lane, you've got a huge blind spot because you haven't lived it. Tell everyone you want, but just because someone knows, it doesn't mean they'll believe. And then, assuming they do believe, it doesn't mean they're going to stick their neck out. Here's what happens. A person drinks down some liquid courage, makes some noise, and then - oops - an eye gets ripped out of its socket. The people sitting nearby are upset, but they're too concerned about their friend to really do anything. The other people across the way also get upset, but what are they thinking? Glad it wasn't me. And then what happens? Wheels start to squeak, and some get grease, and some end up getting greased. Everyone grumbles, or snickers, or shrugs, and then life goes on, and everyone goes about their business. And the five foot tall Runemage? Sympathy points for being attacked on all sides, and for being so darn cute.
Stopping at the top of the stairs. Being so darn cute. These people, on the other hand, it doesn't matter, now does it? Probably going to be more than one or two of them there, probably the first time seeing me. Checking the time, half past. Should be plenty. Turning around, bathroom, bathroom, there's got to be, here we go.
Walking in and one of the showers currently running. Several sinks, one in use, some random guy in a towel, shaving his face with a straight razor. Going to the sink next to him and getting to work. Cloak and left glove off. Tracing, both hands. Running my hands over and through my hair, changing the color to black. Pulling the braid forward, doing the same thing. Turning in the mirror, making sure to get the back and sides of my head.
“What are you doing?” The guy glancing over.
“I've got a thing I've got to get ready for. You see any spots I missed in my hair?”
“Uh,” spending a moment to look, “yeah, a spot in the back.”
Bringing the braid back forward, making sure to get everything this time. Hair done. Face and neck, making it putrid grey, the same color Flesh Golems. Closing each eye to get the eyelid. Lips black, continuing horizontally past, adding vertical and diagonal lines to emulate stitches. The shower turning off, a guy and his girlfriend walking out in towels, glancing at me on their way out. Underneath the right eye, dark red, and a trickle down the face. Left side from the cheek, around the eye and onto the forehead, drawing a Rune Trap in red. Cleaning it up and redrawing a piece. Taking a step back. Straight out of the graveyard. Oh, ears, that same grey. Inside the ear. Lifting up the braid, back of the neck. Teeth, black. And my right hand, in black.
Looking in the mirror, turning this way and that. Everything is colored in. Looks good. Blinking my eyes. Still normal, not colored in. Hold on - how did it take so long to realize? - this is huge combat potential overlooked. Holding my eyes open and putting a black blot on my eye. Dammit, no difference, my sight in no way obstructed. That seemed like it would've been really effective in a fight to blind people. Aesthetically, however, definitely unsettling. Different color. That dark red, coloring in both eyes. No, can sort of see the pupil and iris. Doesn't work as well. Changing back to black. Much better.
“How do I look?” Turning to him. “I think the eyes and teeth really sell it.” Showing him my teeth.
“That's definitely... do we have a costume party today? Did I miss a couple cycles, or something?
“Nothing like that, but thank you, you've been a big help.”
Checking the time, quarter to nine. The guy finishing up his shave and leaving the bathroom. Wiping down the cloak, changing the green to Stormhawk blue. Putting on the cloak with my braid secured underneath. My final step. Filling in a big cartoon sun on the cloak in Stormhawk yellow. Fast, fast, the sloppier the better. Little sun lines all the way around. Googly eyes, circle and a large dot. One looking one way, the other off kilter. A stupid grin. Glory to the Empire! Hahaha! Perfect. Cloak hood up. Doing a last inspection in the mirror and inspiration striking. Putting my cloak hood back down.