Chapter 7
The Flame Witch
Being a Pit Slave is strange. Even I who have never been anything else can tell that. We are around the lowest rung of society. Treated no better than criminals. Matter of fact I've heard of prisoners volunteering to work ships or mines rather than become one of us.
Yet we spend a lot of time interacting with the richest, most powerful people in all of Far Mantys. There is something about us they like. I don't really understand it, but they love to have us as guests at their events or have us talk on behalf of their businesses. Well, not me. Usually, they just want to watch me eat a live animal or something…..else equally demeaning.
In the case of today, we are sent over to the sides of the cages so they can inspect us before betting amongst each other. Fortunes enough to change the world will pass between hands today. Bet on fights between children.
Waiting for the rich people to get their fill of looking at us takes a while. They all have their own stupid ideas about what makes a good pitter and want to gauge information they think will matter.
'How much does he weigh? How tall is he? What weapons does he use? How much does he run? Can he dance?' As though this bunch of merchants and debutantes really think their own knowledge of the pit could be comparable. If they weren't idiots they would just pay a former pitter to bet for them. Or just always bet on House BloodRock of course.
Today is at least quick. An advantage of the more personal nature of the event.
The first match of the day is a free-for-all between the little kids. I see Morean giving our own tiny representative some advice beforehand. Hopefully, he listens. Morean might not be good enough to beat me alone, but he’s what we call ‘smart on the sands’. If I’m being honest I’m not sure there is a youth pitter in the whole city with a better understanding of tactics.
Then the pit side door of the cage is thrust open. One kid from each house makes his way down. There is a call from the judge and they start scrambling around for weapons on the walls. Three-way matches almost always go the same way. Whoever looks the strongest will get teamed up on. Not today though. The little six-year-old human we brought to make his debut has obviously recovered from pulling the wagon since he flies at the other two with reckless abandon. Smart. Don’t give them a chance to actually start colluding. He emerges victorious maybe a twentieth of an hourglass later. One of the other boys has to be dragged off the sands, the second just gives up and accepts the loss. I don’t pay much attention. Still, I give the kid a pat on the back like everyone else when he strides back into the cage. He's bloody but grinning. His eyes are wide like he can’t quite believe he won.
The next set of boys is getting ready when Tota sits down beside me. I grunt as some of his spines jab me in the arm. He makes a self-conscious face. “Oooo Sorry”
“What do you want?” I growl. Checking to see if he’s broken skin. He hasn’t. Unlike the BlackMist girl, he actually answers the question.
“I’ve been watching the other houses and I think I have some idea who we are fighting”. I repress a sigh. I don’t want the company but we are supposed to be a team. Also if he has figured out who we are fighting he might prove a little useful after all. “What have you got?” I lower my voice and ask. No one outside of the BloodRock benches can likely hear us. I’m still careful though. You never know what weird gifts one of the cursed might exhibit. There are all sorts and most are more useful than ‘eat stuff good’. “So I asked Harrk and he said our match is straight two versus two. No third team, and no weird nonsense. “ He means traps or monsters. It makes sense. This isn’t even a tournament. We are entertainment for a luncheon. They aren’t going to want this to take all day. “Alright,” I say glaring at Morean as the dark-skinned boy takes a seat on the other side of Tota to me. Does he really think he needs to protect his friends from me just randomly mauling them? As if it hadn’t been them who attacked me. “ you're trying to spot a duo”. I go on glancing around.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Exactly and I think they are from Saffron or HighSail. “
“Why?”
“Numbers” He replies tapping a finger to his eyebrow. “ There are only five from BlackMist here.” At the mention of House BlackMist, my eyes drift across the pit to where my friend and his ‘sisters’ are sitting. Resh is gesturing wildly. Relaying some story to women around him. It seems to be going over well as they look like they are laughing. Well, not Viscarra. The girl is….still glaring at me? She is! I’m in the midst of trying to figure out why when I’m snapped back to the moment at hand by something I’ve never heard before. Morean swearing.
“Saffron’s golden balls!”
Both Tota and I stare at the stone-blessed boy in surprise. "what is it?” hisses the spine-bearing cursed. Wordlessly Morean points into the pit. Following his gesture my eyes go wide. “Gods above and below! where did they get her from?” I exclaim.
Tota looks from the pit to Morean, to me, back to the pit. The spined boy doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. “ What? What?”
Morean Replies. “ just watch. We are in for a show”
He’s right.
In the Pit, they are starting another three-way match. One Saffron, One BlackMist, and a girl from HighSail. Thankfully no BloodRock. As HighSail is going to win this. The girl in question has been handed what looks like a metal staff by the judge. A house-supplied weapon. Not just any weapon though. The staff is actually a hollow tube. With grating near the centre of it where your hands go. It has some fancy name. But everyone I know just calls them fire sticks. And only one kind of person uses a fire stick.
Itti’atti. Not even a fire blessed like BloodRock can actually use the thing. He has fire inside him. He can’t make or control fire. The girl who I had first taken as Far Mantyian can. She’s a flame witch. I see the difference now. Her skin isn't quite as tan, her hair is darker. Itti’atti look human. They aren’t though. Where a fire blessed has an ancestor from another world. The Itti’atti are a species from another world. The world of fire. Their ancestors were changed so that they could survive on the world of humans. I don’t really understand it. Something about their goddess wanting them to live here. But everyone knows they don’t get thirsty, and are in fact terrified of water. That's how you know they aren’t human. No matter the blessing or the curse, everyone needs water.
Even before the judge calls to begin, the HighSail slave is twirling the metal tube around her. The other slaves are picking their weapons but I don’t care about them. I’m about to see some magic in action, and I don’t want to miss a moment of it.
The call comes. All three slaves are moving. Fire lashes out from the ends of the flame stick. My mouth hangs open. The fire isn't moving like fire. It's more like a pair of corded whips extending out from the weapon. No, that's not quite right. It moves like some combination of a weapon and a living thing. Going from twirling about the Itti'ati or licking out to scorch the other pit slaves with no notice at all.
The Saffron and BlackMist boys don't have an answer for it. I can't blame them. The fire has more range than any weapon in the pit. Which means you have to get close. Getting close means getting burned horribly before even getting a chance to deal with the girl's whirling metal stave.
The whole fight is over in the time it would take someone other than me to eat an apple.
As far as I know, there have only ever been three flame witches to compete in the pits ever. Four now I guess. All three went down as Icons. Handing out losses and flame-related deaths with joyful abandon. One was even king on the sands. She is going to be trouble.
When the Itti’atti returns to the pen the HighSail slaves cheer. The rest of us are dead silent.