Chapter 55
Like A Candle
I guess It wasn’t just my own embarrassment making the interview I did in the makeshift cell seem to take forever. I really was in there for a long time if the party is already getting out.
Initially, I just stand my ground hoping to simply wait the flow of people out so I can get a little bit more time with Viscarra. I’m wasting my time, Xael and the BloodRock guards sweep out into the hall and I have no choice but to go with them. I don’t even get a chance to say goodbye to the girl, but our gazes linger on each other as I’m practically dragged off.
I’m basically in a daze the entire trip back to my home compound. It wouldn’t be fair to say I’ve never had a kiss before, but this is absolutely the first time I’ve had one that I wanted. And wow did I want to kiss that girl! Not only is Viscarra pretty and rich but she’s smart, she knows about fighting and she can do magic. To the best of my knowledge that is all of the categories I should care about.
These are far less wholesome thoughts about the girl are swirling around my head so much that the walls of the BloodRock compound are in sight before it even occurs to me to ask if Xael was right about the final three matches.
He was of course. The Itti’atti flame witch will face Saffron’s fire-blessed prodigy and all we have to do is watch from the sidelines, perfectly secure in the knowledge we will fight in the final match of the Storm Herald Invitational no matter what.
If only that was the conversation topic Xael was interested in. Now that I’m talking there is only one subject the foreign boy wants to discuss and it isn’t fighting.
“Viscarra BlackMist,” He says with a rueful shake of his head. “I know you have a big ego, that is audacious even for you.”
‘I have a big ego?’
“Why? It's fine, she likes me.” I ask cautiously
The look of disbelief Xael gives me lingers for an uncomfortably long time as the wagon drives into the east gate of the BloodRock.
“What!?” I eventually demand. This silent treatment shit always works wonders on me, I just don’t have the patience to put up with it.
“She’s here learning the family business with the lesser branch of her family. “
I have no idea what that means or why it's important. My confusion must be pretty as he rolls his eyes and goes on.
“BlackMist. The people putting on the tournament we are in, the people who own that giant tower with the magic swirling around it, the second or third richest house in the whole city.”
I’m frowning now.
“Yeah?”
“ Those same people are the poorer, less powerful secondary house. Rumour has it they would barely even matter if the Houselord wasn’t such a master of magic.”
I’m not sure how he knows any of this but I suppose on days we don’t fight I only see him for morning practice and at dinner. He could be anywhere and doing anything the rest of the time for all I know.
We climb out of the wagon and the guards stride off. It's always weird seeing them just leave me to my own devices but Xael isn’t a slave and I’m more forspoken stone than boy. There isn’t actually a reason for them to bother watching over us once we are back in the compound.
“I already knew she was rich” I grunt. “ Why does it matter? Rich people like pitters.”
“Do you not realize it is because she likes you that it’s a problem?
“Huh?”
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“That girl is more than a friend or a girl, she is a prize. The prize of our generation in Mordrun. Every two-bit sorcerer with delusions of grandeur wants her attention, every rich boy in the whole of the warlock city has some scheme they are enacting or a part of to get her hand in marriage. You…you are.”
“Nothing.” I finish for him. “ A nothing slave that would take the slightest effort to get out of the way.”
He lets out a long sigh. “Not exactly how I would put it, but yes.”
I understand what he’s saying. Not only will members of Viscarra’s family be watching me like hunting birds, but the more time I spend with her the more reason I give rich or magical people to want me gone. Somehow I don’t care, they can fucking bite me and they had better hope I don’t get a chance to bite back.
I can feel my eyes shining with fervor as I turn a rather manic smile on my pit partner.
“It’s not true anyway.”
“No?”
“I’m not nothing, I’m the future Storm Herald Invitational Champion.”
Two days later I’m sitting in the BloodRock viewing cage back in Prime Arena two. The stands of the place we call ‘The Killing Fields’ are at capacity, filled with fans screaming, chanting, eating, and gambling by the thousands. Even the little plateau our cages rest on is filled with groups of people sitting on blankets around us, including my entire fan club.
The One Directioners and their dog boy leader are sitting in front of the BloodRock cage with their backs against the bars. It’s just me and Kalon in here so I guess they aren’t in any danger, but getting within arm’s reach of pit slaves is generally a bad idea and I’m sure Mauritzo’s bodyguard is more than a little annoyed by the behaviour.
Down on the pit floor the final two teams of condemned men are clashing in a grand melee. This far into the event the skills these men already had are honed to a fine point, and they are hardened long past the point of hesitation. Honestly it makes me feel bad, the winners today will face one last wall before freedom. I don’t know what it will be exactly but I've seen this plenty of times. The last hurdle between them and freedom will be practically insurmountable.
The fans don’t care about any of that engaged as they are in the narrative the BlackMists are selling. The stands are packed because everyone wants to know how the match between the Flame Blessed and the Flame Witch will go. There are few among them that haven't been following the convict saga along the way. Teams of five desperate men fighting tooth and nail for the chance at freedom.
The story is apparently important even if it doesn’t compel me the way it does the people cheering. What is keeping my attention is the big bald convict who is absolutely tearing through the other team with his pit-sword. At least he keeps my attention when I’m not shooting long glances over at the BlackMist viewing box, trying to catch a glimpse of Viscarra.
It would be fair to think my excitement would grow with the crowd around me after the convict match ends, and I will admit the energy in the air is more than a little infectious. Yet I actually don’t care that much about the match between HighSail and Saffron. The red-armored Saffrons are going to get battered, and If I was allowed to place bets I would put my entire stock of hidden coins on that outcome.
I do however hope the pair from Saffron can inflict some further damage along the way. Even with liberal use of forspoken stone there is only so much anyone can recover in the two days before I face tonight’s winner.
Kalon damn near flayed the skin off the Itti’atti’s flesh so I know if the Saffron’s bring the right strategy it might happen. Of course, even if they do manage to overcome the insane offensive power of the flame witch that still leaves Klash. A challenge I know as well as anyone is a nightmare to overcome.
The announcer lady starts her spiel introducing the pair of teams, giving a brief history of their path here, their achievements, and which houses they belong to.
‘Wait!’ I spot Viscarra and her mother move to the edge of their viewing box. This far away from them it’s stupid to think I can tell she is looking back at me. I guess I’m stupid then as I’m certain Viscarra is doing her best to meet my gaze.
I snap out of it and redirect my attention back to the pit food when a single special word is uttered by the announcer. A word that when yelled never fails to send my heart racing and my nerves twitching.
“Begin!”
Velorn hasn’t let his partner help him the entire tournament that cocky little shit, but even he knows he will be outmatched two against one today. So the barbarian girl is right beside the flame blessed as he charges forward.
Klash has his spear leaned over his shoulder and is making no move to engage. If anything the Itti’atti is even more casual about the impending assault.
Raising her left hand the dark-haired flame witch brings three of her fingers together like she is snuffing a candle and Velorn simply collapses. Where normally his hair ignites into swirling flames, it and his skin are ash grey as the flame-blessed boy convulses on the sands. Beside him, his partner jogs to a halt and raises both her hands indicating surrender while a ball of fire forces its way out of Velorn’s mouth and floats its way to the witch. She cocks her head inspecting the floating fire before making a little ‘shooing’ motion. The ball vanishes, healers rush out towards Velorn, and the barbarian princess walks away laughing at her partner.
I don’t want to call it a match exactly, that suggests there was a fight or some sort. Whatever you call this level of utter obliteration I don’t know, but it is over and I have no idea what to think about it.