Chapter 42

PYRAMIDION

Xael’s reflexes are fairly spectacular, he also has this weird sense of timing that makes it feel like he knows what you are going to do before you do. None of that helps him now, the dark-haired boy manages to spin around just as I crash into him. I’ve already ducked down into a tackle and he goes down hard as shoulder meets midsection.

Xael is already struggling to get free before we hit the ground, but it's less than pointless. The moment my hands lock around him there is no escape. I’m too much bigger, too much stronger, and honestly, I’ve noticed he isn’t so good at the grappling side of combat.

“I’m not laughing!” I yell down into his face between very obvious laughs.

“It’s hehe, it's the hehe the curse! The curse makes me laugh I can’t”

He’s stopped struggling and perhaps more important the look of disgust on his face has been replaced with a quizzical look I can’t quite decipher.

“ I can’t help it.” I finish lamely and go right back to snickering. Not really sure what else to do I push myself off him, and sit in the warm dust that always litters the compound. He lays there for a moment before sitting up.

“You cannot control your laughter?” He asks slowly while dusting himself off. Something I don’t bother to do.

“When something is funny I can. It's when I get nervous, or angry, or I think things are going to get violent. It just kind of happens. “ I answer without meeting his gaze. I can’t quite put it into words but admitting this feels embarrassing and vulnerable.

“I can feel it coming but I can't stop it.” Weirdly after we separated the snicker almost immediately went away and my words come out easily if a little quiet now.

He seems to mull over my words for a few heartbeats.

“So the times you laugh in a fight, or at the HouseLord, this is because of the curse?”

I put my face in my hands “ I know how it looks, but yes.” I reply with a little noise of frustration.

It's then that the strangest thing happens. The GodsRing boy starts to laugh, pure and loud.

Dropping my hands I look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You should tell more people this North, everyone thinks you are quite mad.” He says still laughing. “ Also I feel I owe you an apology.”

I snort at that “ It's fine” I say unsure how to really respond. “Can we just-” The crack in my sternum decides now is the moment to inform me that tackling someone was a terrible idea.

“Ngnnhh get back training.”

He looks me up and down, his laughter dying away.

“No. Let's go find my sister and organize some ice for you.”

My first instinct is to protest and insist I’m fine. I am a pit-slave after all looking weak is a big no-no. I glance around just to make sure no one else is going to magically appear just as I admit to my soreness. Seeing that we are alone, except for a few carpenter apprentices well out of earshot. I quietly agree to find Illexa.

Locating the GodsRing girl turns out to be a little tricky. Both of the siblings have free reign of the compound and the city beyond, and unlike Xael Illexa’s schedule isn’t based around preparing for fights. It makes finding her on a whim virtually impossible. Especially since the kitchens are very much hostile territory for me right now, and there really isn’t another quick way to come and go into the manse.

We don’t actually find her and probably never had time to before Muraab rounds us up to attend the fights this afternoon. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, the foreign siblings have previously mentioned that they converse each night before retiring. My request will get passed along.

As we march beside the wagon in our assigned pit pairs, heads down against the glare of the afternoon sun. I strike up a conversation with Kalon and Tota. It isn’t exactly subtle but I do my best to drive the talk towards how easy their opposition will be today. Xael clearly knows I’m trying to reassure him, but doesn’t intervene. The general consensus from the other pair is the same as my assessment. They will be fine as of the Saffron pitters left in the Storm Herald invitational only Velorn is actually any good.

Granted He’s really good. I remember the flame blessed made it to the finals of the HighSail tournament I lost to Resh in. Obviously, The Rush destroyed him in that fight, but up until that point, the combination of his blessing and extremely sound fundamentals had been more than a little impressive.

By the time we arrive at Prime Arena Two the screeching pain of my abdomen has shrunk to a dull ache I can push to the back of my mind, with the rest of my constant bruises and nicks. There is no such thing as a pit-slave who fights completely healthy and I'm not even fighting today, so It’s pretty easy to make myself ignore the pain.

It gets even easier when I notice several homemade banners sporting the bleeding stone of BloodRock in the crowds nearest the entrance we take. And one that I am all but certain features crude drawings of myself, Xael, Kalon, and Tota.

The sight fills me with a pleasant sensation that is reminiscent of how it felt to stand on the pit floor with hundreds of people chanting my name. It doesn't quite compare, I don’t think anything can compare to that feeling but this is born from the same parents. It's like the way a smell can remind you of a memory.

Maybe it's because of the fans supporting us but Muraab starts our pre-match chanting early, whilst we are still within the walkways that host food and stores. The former King on the sands evidently knows what he is doing, as when he shouts “Who rules the pit?!” It isn't just us slaves who scream “BloodRock!” back at him. I’m honestly a little awed, they don’t really understand what it means or why we are so enthusiastic. I don’t care, a lot of fans support us and it feels good.

It’s weird but the trend continues all the way through the stands to the platform that hosts the viewing cages. Most of the love is clearly directed at Xael and Kalon, perks of being human and handsome I guess.

We yell a few insults at some of the other cages we pass before settling into the one marked for House BloodRock. As with every other day at the Storm Herald, there are BlackMist guards patrolling around the cages to make sure we don’t attack the crowd, or vice versa. They once again set Xael up a little shaded throne thing since he can come and go as he pleases.

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Muraab exchanges a few words with an important-looking guard and is about to rejoin the BloodRock family members when I call him over. The head BloodRock guard raises an eyebrow yet does saunter over.

“I’m not getting you food.” He teases. So I make a rude gesture at him but there isn’t any venom from either of us, not really.

“I just have a question,” I say looking around at the crowds beginning to drift towards us.

“Mmm?”

“It's just,” I gesture at the fans “ What the fuck is going on? Since when do we get this kind of support?”

The old former pit-save laughs at my ignorance which I don’t appreciate. I do however manage to hold my tongue. Muraab likes to rib me a little, but as long as I don’t start showing him real disrespect he’s usually happy to tell me what I want to know.

“The fans are like that, they only care what you have done lately, and BloodRock is the only house that didn't lose anyone in the melee.” The mockery leaves his grin as it turns into something genuine. Pride maybe? That can't be right, why would he feel pride right now? I'm bad at reading people anyway so I give up the analysis and just let him continue.

“Plus the BlackMisters have been covering the city with new versions of those pamphlet things, keeping everyone up to date with how the event is going.” He says with a tiny shake of his head. “ Which is a genius way to get people to watch I might add, the most recent one mentioned how you and Xael beat that DockSide pair in less time than it takes to saddle a horse.”

I can't help but return the old pitter's smile at that.

“ I guess they liked the sound of that huh?” I beam at him. This prompts a snort from Muraab and a glance at the line forming to see us BloodRock slaves. It's still small compared to the number of fans who swarm around the flame witch, but it's a lot more than a single curious dog boy, and the occasional problem gambler.

“Yeah, I guess they did.”

I appreciate the support, I really do. It’s just the common people say the exact same stupid shit and ask the same stupid questions that we get when It's a smaller show for the entertainment of just rich people. Also, there are a lot more of them.

I do my best to be friendly, smiling and waving, and trying to keep my tone from showing how annoyed I get at the repetitive nature of the questions.

It doesn’t work very well. Almost everyone who speaks to me keeps a noticeable distance compared to the way they push against the bars to harangue Kalon, or crowd in close around Xael. It almost feels like these people want to be afraid of me. I know it’s a stupid idea, but I can’t shake it.

‘Why would someone want to go see a thing they are scared of?’

My knuckles are turning white from the balling of my fists and I am genuinely considering spitting at someone again when the day’s festivities finally begin to kick off, prompting a mass return of the crowds around us to their seats.

Down on the pit floor, a secondary lesser tournament is beginning. The men and women competing aren’t pit-slaves, In fact, they aren’t pitters at all. What they are is condemned prisoners facing a drawn-out execution to rile the crowds up. They would have been told if one of their five-man teams can make it to the end of the event they will go free. I’m sure it’s even the truth.

I and everyone else watching have seen this before. We all know it doesn’t matter, none of the criminals in this thing will survive it. Even the team that defeats all of their opposition will end up facing some utterly insurmountable challenge in the final match before their freedom.

I do have to admit watching two teams of five rip into each other with the desperation of people grasping at their last shot at life is pretty entertaining.

We have all heard Muraab say that you never want your match to be the first physical task of the day as you will be too sluggish. So the four of us in and around the BloodRock cage spend the time alternating between relaxing and keeping Tota and Kalon warmed up.

Of course, we eventually bully Xael into buying us more food as well. I am more than a little jealous that the other two slaves don’t have problems eating before a fight.

‘Jerks’

Not long before the first Storm Herald match of the day; the one Kalon and Tota will be fighting in. Something changes in the air around the cages. Both in the way the crowds and slaves are acting and the literal air. I can smell something, no someone nearby makes my fur stand on end, and my snicker begins to well up.

I frown and look around seeking the source of the disturbance. I can tell whoever they are, they are close. Even with my excellent sense of smell, I can’t pick out one unique scent among the undulating mass of thousands that fill the stands.

‘There’

Two cages down is a figure leaning up against the outside of the Saffron bars. They are in a pose that somehow exudes both contemptuous calm and the threat of intense violence. He is dressed in a tunic of Saffron red with golden torques around his bare arms and his neck.

If the dress alone didn’t clue me in, his midnight dark skin, huge golden main, and tail ending in a little poof of fur are a dead giveaway.

“Cuirass,” I say aloud to no one in particular. It's the slave’s name, and despite his freedom of movement and fancy dress, he is a slave. Though maybe monster might be a more accurate description. The Lion cursed is the other potential SPAT among youth pitters.

I’ve never had a chance to fight him but Saffron’s Golden Balls I want that shot. As a general rule, I prefer easy fights to hard ones. I think every pitter secretly feels the same about that, but If I could beat him It would go a long way to getting me my rematch with The Rush and proving what I’ve always said. I am the best, not just in BloodRock but all Far Mantys.

Beside me, Tota jumps to his feet striding over to the cage bars.

“Oh shit.” He says, shaking his head. “North’s right that's fucking Cuirass over there.”

Xael lets out a low whistle while Kalon looks bewildered.

“Is that a person?” asks the blonde boy.

“It’s a champion.” Replies his partner. Tota looks between me and Xael nervously. “ You don’t think they substituted him in do you?”

I think about it for a few heartbeats. “No way” I reassure him “Cuirass is like Resh, he only fights in special matches and majors. He’s probably just here to motivate the last two Saffron teams.”

I hope for their sake I’m right the Lion Cursed is famous for being ranked the most dangerous of all the hundreds of youth slaves owned by House Saffron. He would tear through Kalon and Tota all by himself, let alone if he’s backed up by another pitter.

Fortunately, I am right. By the time the prisoners are done dying for the day Cuirass has already done or said whatever he is here for and headed back to what I assume is the Saffron viewing box. I try to yell out something insulting to get the Lion Boy’s attention but he either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. I suppose my plan didn’t extend past annoying the richly adorned cursed anyway.

Insolence and violence, the two tools that I have relied on my whole life seem to be proving more and more impotent of late. Well, not the violence part, that has been holding up its side of things quite well. But my attitude is either not affecting people the way it once did, or much more scary to consider, I’m changing.

‘Why am I thinking about this shit’?’ I chide myself and refocus on reality. Muraab and his Saffron equivalent are approaching their respective cages while the pit slaves do some final stretches. The Saffron pitters seem like a pair of Dog boys, one of the more common types of cursed. They look like me, but smaller, less boxy in shape, and while the occasional dog has a nasty bite most of them are a joke compared to mine.

More importantly, they aren’t from BloodRock. Some of the other houses have special pitters, blessed, rare cursed, a fucking flame witch, but none of them produce high-quality pitters that don’t rely on special powers like ours does. In a match-up of regular cursed and a human, even this pair of losers should crush the Saffrons.

“Alright kitchen boy” I grin at Kalon. Who is trying to have a tender moment with Xael without touching each other, or giving away their relationship to the crowds around us. “If anyone is going to win us another fancy dinner it ought to be you right?”

Neither the blonde boy nor my partner are amused by the interruption, but Tota thinks it's funny at least.