Delanor and Maria sat beside me in the bath. It was a large porcelain pool sunken into the ground; accessible only through a small changing room connected to the second floor by a ladder. A smooth step below the water allowed us to sit comfortably. The water itself was biting hot at all times, but I had grown used to it. It was no hotter than the hot spring I had bathed in some time ago. Delanor’s face was red from the heat. Her ears, normally fluffy and perking up in the direction of the nearest sound, drooped downwards.
The light pitter-patter of footsteps were little warning of the human boulder plummeting into the water at full speed. The captain, in the green bathing suit she had kept with her for the whole journey, surfaced and shook out the water in her ears. The rest of us, who were granted the pleasure of having hot water thrown in our faces, looked at her with disdain.
“Wearing clothes into the bath. I see.” Delanor observed. “You needn’t be so modest, captain.”
“What are you talking about? Isn’t this normal?” the captain rebuffed. She looked around at the three of us. Besides a wet towel to keep our chests warm, none of us were clothed.
“This is a girl’s bath. There are no men to steal a peek at your bare body.” Maria said.
For that matter, the captain and Maria had figures that I found enviable. Thirty years had aged the captain’s body like wine. Her waist was thin, but had enough fat such that it merged nicely with her hips, and her chest was in perfect proportion with her head and shoulders. Maria was a good deal younger, but her natural athleticism was apparent in the lean muscle on her arms and legs. There was nothing wrong with Delanor, but as she was around my age and had a similar body, I had little to say about her. I was surprised at the lack of fur on her body; her feline nature should have given her hair somewhere besides the ears on her head and the tail coming out from below her back.
“I felt odd going out with no clothes. That is all.” the captain said. She took a seat next to Delanor and flicked at the water with her hand.
“Those hot springs in your village had no walls. I understand.” I said.
“Damn right. It was hell, trying to have a good time while some guy and his friends brought a keg of beer and they’re sitting ten feet from me. It was even harder to refuse a mug for myself.” the captain recalled.
“The men in your village, were they kind to you?” I asked.
“Of course. I was not home often, but they were quite good to me when I was.” the captain said.
“That’s good to hear. Unlike some of the men we have on our hands.” Maria snickered.
“Oh, is this about the emperor?” the captain narrowed her eyes and smiled. “I had a feeling you didn’t like him.”
“The former emperor. He has a way with words. He has an ego the size of a mountain, and his prattling about respect when he has done nothing to deserve it is equally irritating.”
“He saved us. At least we can appreciate that.” I said.
“By abandoning his own men. I can’t say I like it.” the captain responded.
“He’s doing his best! Even if it is slow, he is trying to make up for past mistakes.” I argued.
“How do you know that?” Maria asked.
“I saw him. Every night, he and Canary go out to train together.”
“He is a murderer.” Delanor said it plainly. “It hardly matters what he does now; there is no way for him to wash the blood off of his hands.”
“I-” I paused. “I am sure he has his reasons. Soldiers have to kill sometimes, right?”
“There is no use in defending him, Anastasia.” Maria said.
“If we are saying all these things…then why do we even go on this journey? If at the end of this, you do not acknowledge him, then who sits on the throne? Who are we fighting for?” I asked.
“We are fighting to shut the rift and take back our land, not for that former emperor’s seat. When the time comes and we are standing in the capital victorious, we may decide what will happen to him.” Maria said.
“That is not fair. Are we not using him now only to cast him aside, then?”
“Yes. We are treating him the way he treats others. With contempt and disregard.” Delanor’s words burrowed into my head like a worm through an apple. It wasn’t fair what she was saying.
“I understand. He’s been a poor leader, a man with no sense with words. But I’d like to believe that there is a way forward for him. We are all seeking a way forward for ourselves. Even if he might be different from us, if he has been awful, as long as we continue to support him, I believe he will become a better leader. A great one, even.”
“Well said, Anastasia. We can give him a second chance, can’t we?” the captain asked the others.
“I wouldn’t, but since you’ve asked so nicely, I suppose I have no choice.” Delanor relented. Maria remained silently blowing bubbles with her head half-submerged in the bath.
—
“Speaking of which, Delanor, why do we still have the keys to our inn rooms? Did we not purchase two nights’ stay?” I asked. As we stared down our opponents from across the dirt arena, the fact that we had not checked out of our rooms popped into my mind.
“The innkeep is a kind man. After I told him we were fighting in the arena, he offered. He said it might help business to house future champions.” Delanor said.
“Our first fan. How flattering.”
“He will soon be our last if we do not focus on the battle at hand.” Maria said.
Two enemies stood on the other side from us. They appeared as two, but it was soon clear that two small felines, wearing pointed green caps which covered their ears, rode atop two giant beasts. With a broad frame and thick brown fur, they looked like bears standing up on hind legs. As they lumbered forward slowly, their circular eyes and bone-colored beaks were quite avian for bears.
“What are those creatures?” I shouted loudly to Delanor. The sounds of the crowd were deafening.
“Owlbears. They are sometimes used as heavy cavalry in wartime. That is all I know.”
“And…Begin!” A loud horn played, signifying the beginning of our match.
The ground beneath our feet began to shake. The owlbears charged forward, and the felines atop them raised two wooden staffs to the sky. Brown branches erupted from the ground below Maria’s feet, curling around her body. They tightened around her limbs, restricting her movement.
“Hah!” Maria yelled. White frost spread rapidly along the branches. With a swing of her hand, the branches broke apart and fell to her feet. A similar eruption happened below Kirill’s feet, but he dove to the side and they tightened around empty air.
Delanor was not so lucky. The branches rapidly enveloped her tiny body, and in spite of her best efforts to escape them, she found herself tangled in a knot. Maria pressed her palm against the ground and the branches binding Delanor turned white and shattered.
“My hands will be full defending you all. Do not stray too far from my location. You three, think of a way to strike those beasts down, quickly.”
Kirill took a deep breath. “Delanor, if you have anything else to say about these men, now would be best. They approach our position rapidly.”
“They are the fifth seeded and won the championship some years ago. Those green hats are symbolic of another Great Tree. That is all.” Delanor said.
“Not terribly useful, but we will think of something. Anastasia, please watch over Delanor. Use your ribbons if you must.” Kirill took off at full speed, looking to meet the charging owlbears. In his left hand he held the same buckler as the one he held when we met him in the tent weeks ago, and his right hand grasped a sword the length of his arm.
“I hope he understands the “no maiming” rule. If he dismembers one of those owlbears, I will be very upset.” Delanor muttered.
The nearest owlbear met him about ten meters from our position. It raised one of its log-like paws and swatted at Kirill as if he was a bug on the ground. But as a bug would never allow itself to be hit so easily, he dove forward again, until he was just behind the beast, in a perfect position behind its ankle. In a single motion he flipped the sword and held the bladed end with his hand. With the thick hilt, he used his sword as a club and swung with all his might at the owlbear’s knee joint. It bent at an awkward ankle and buckled, forcing the owlbear to its knees.
It roared in pain and swung again at Kirill. He attempted another dodge, but as his movements were read perfectly, the tree-sized paw nailed him square in the chest. He was knocked back several feet into the air. Perhaps through a stroke of luck, or a feat of physical prowess, he landed on his feet. His left shoulder was bent at an odd angle and he clutched it with his right hand, his face tense with pain. “Anastasia, it is time!” he yelled.
“Time for what?”
“It is time for you to act!”
I thought for a moment. The ribbons on my arms and legs slithered off of my body and burrowed into the ground, twisting and turning beneath the dirt. I had never woven a creature on feeling alone without looking at the ribbons while working. But it should be the same. They were a part of me, and as one is always aware of their own fingers, I was always aware of my ribbons. They should form a sand worm, a creature born with a giant maw to devour prey on the surface. It should appear as a large tube, but ribbons forming jagged teeth to sink themselves into flesh would be most important. Its main body should be jointed and pliable. Skin was unnecessary.
The target was the injured owlbear. If it was defeated, then its rider would soon follow. At the moment the rider sought to finish off Kirill by squeezing at his neck with a bundle of branches, the rider stared face to face with a circular jaw lined with teeth, bursting forth from the ground in a cloud of dust. Its gaping maw quickly enveloped them both. I set the second part of my plan into motion. The body of the worm warped and unraveled, untying knots and releasing points of tension. They quickly rebound along the owlbears body. Its shoulders, neck, hips, and knees. Restraining those would bring it to submission. My ribbons tightened once more. The owlbear laid at the ground, its will to struggle having long left its body. The rider, fully understanding his defeat, laid down atop it. He hung his head in resignation.
“Well done, Anastasia.” Kirill walked towards Delanor and I, painfully shifting his shoulder. “The battle is not over, we have only dealt with one-half of the foes, or perhaps less.”
The other owlbear was staring at us. Its circular eyes and deep pupils contrasted strangely with its beast-like body.
“Delanor,” I said. “Can the owlbears understand speech? Or are they akin to pets, such as cats and dogs?”
“I believe their entry would not have been granted in this contest had they not shown they were capable of reason. There would be great risk in allowing an animal into this contest.” Delanor said. She closely studied the remaining owlbear. Its rider appeared older, his hair greyer, and his gaze somewhat more weathered than his fallen partner. The beast on which he rode appeared larger than the one we had felled, but perhaps that was a product of its comparison lying prone.
It released a roar. It sounded like a cross between a man’s yell and a bird’s shrill cry, but at a volume greater than either should muster. The beast shook the ground beneath our feet and silenced the crowd, for just a moment. In the brief period of silence, two wings, each as wide as a castle gate unfurled from the owlbear’s back. Rows of dark feathers lined the wings, and as the creature leapt into the air, a cloud of dust expanded from the powerful flapping of its wings.
“I did not know such things could fly.” Maria said.
“Prohibiting projectiles but allowing flight is a problem. I do not see how we should reach them.” I said.
“There is one way.” Kirill had finished feeling at his shoulder, and with a grunt, gave it a powerful pull with his other arm. “A minor injury. I should still be able to fight. Maria, can you raise a large platform of ice?”
“It should be possible, but not to that height. We’d reach half or a third of the way before I become unable to maintain it.”
“Look out, he’s getting ready to do something!” Delanor shouted.
Maria bent down and placed her hand down in a split second. A fraction of a moment later, a thick slab of ice had replaced the ground we stood on, and in the following moment, a powerful thud shook the ground below us. What appeared to be a wooden spear had nearly pierced through the ice, but even withstanding hundreds of white cracks, Maria’s barrier held against the attack from below.
“We do not have much time.” Maria said.
“Raise a platform directly below me, with enough force to propel me into the air. Anastasia, lend me one of your ribbons, and when I approach the enemy, use it to anchor me to the owlbear. I’ll force the rider off, and I am sure our victory will follow. No beast fights without its master.” Kirill revealed an absurd plan. I thought it was absurd, but as no one else voiced any objections, I reluctantly nodded. I took the last ribbon, the one wrapped around my neck, and bound it around Kirill’s outstretched arm. It was shorter than the others, but for this purpose, it would work.
“Ready yourself.” Maria said. “Now!”
The ice below us melted away, leaving us stranded on the pulverized arena. It was dotted with cracks and holes, but we kept our footing. A single icicle, with Kirill standing at its tip, extended upward with tremendous speed. Maria stood almost upright. Her focus was taken entirely from extending this spike as far, as high as possible. She cringed in discomfort as she neared her limits. “Brace yourself, emperor!”
The spike came to an abrupt stop, but Kirill did not. He shot through the air, as if fired from a slingshot. Thirty meters away, no doubt. Ten meters. He was too high, he was going to miss his target. I sent my ribbon straight at the owlbear, targeting a harness strap on its shoulder. If I could anchor him to that, I was sure he could manage. The ribbon wrapped itself tightly around the point of contact. Kirill, his body still hurtling through the air, hit the side of the owlbear with a great amount of force. After the momentary shock of impact he sprang into motion again, launching himself to its back.
The owlbear tried swatting him away as he crawled up to his rider, but it was no use. Its elbows could not bend backwards, and Kirill was careful to scramble along an angle that it could not reach.
Kirill faced the nameless feline standing atop the owlbear’s shoulders. He brandished his shortsword, and his opponent also brandished a weapon. It was a spear of wood, but from a distance it gleamed with a metallic finish that indicated it would not fail to match the steel of Kirill’s blade.
“It’s over. A ranged fighter like him has no chance against a close-quarters fighter.” Delanor said triumphantly.
“I wouldn’t be certain. People like us have been searching for ways to fix that weakness for centuries, and I have no doubt he is any different.” Maria said.
It was as if the battle atop the flying owlbear overheard our conversation. Kirill went straight for the finishing blow, dodging under a quick jab by his opponent, swinging the flat of his sword for the enemy’s midsection. A sprawl of branches erupted from the feline’s clothing, enveloping Kirill’s entire body.
“I told you. Melee fighters close in and forget to defend themselves. It happens often.” Maria said.
I stared at Kirill’s helpless form as he struggled against the writhing branches. He had to break free somehow. I believed it.
I blinked. His form vanished from the leafy prison, only to reappear from behind. The edge of his buckler collided with his opponent’s temple, and as the feline’s knees crumpled, the owlbear quickly descended. It knew its master had been felled. The battle was over.
—
“The innkeeper wanted to congratulate you all on your victory today.” Delanor balanced several bowls of noodle soup on her arms. Her body wobbled in an awkward position, wobbling bowls of ceramic teetering on her forearms.
“Let me help you with that.” I quickly moved the bowls to our table, where we sat on the first floor of the inn. The mood in the inn was festive. A performer strummed a jovial tune on a string instrument held at their hips.
“These are on the house. The innkeeper bet a good deal of money on your win and it paid off. Five to one, you hear? The gamblers thought your odds of defeat were five to one!” Delanor exclaimed.
“It is your win too.” I said. “You are a member of our team, just like the rest of us. Even the captain, even Canary, they support us even if they do not fight.”
“Thank you, Anastasia. My apologies for being weak.” Delanor sat down next to me.
“No matter. It appears the top seed is only one fighter. Strength is not decided by numbers alone.” Maria reassured her. “Your knowledge is useful, I am grateful to know about our enemies beforehand. That is a strength we have, as newcomers. No one knows what we are capable of. Besides, it appears we have a talented strategist hidden in our ranks. I did want to ask something, Sir former emperor. May I?”
“You may. You may also call me by my name, if you see fit.” Kirill smiled. Victory was on his mind, and his normally glum demeanor had softened, if only temporarily. He was the man of the hour. Everyone had bore witness to the success reaped by his absurd plan.
“I believe we all saw when you were in a bind on that owlbear. What did you do? One moment you were facing doom, and the next you knocked that feline out cold.” Maria said.
Kirill undid one of the buttons on his black shirt sleeve. Below it he revealed a brand, red and pulsing with malice. Surrounding it was a bracelet of two intertwined pieces of silver and gold. It was a piece of jewelry far too flashy for someone like him.
“I can rewrite my past with this item. One time a day, and it exhausts me more than a full week of training, but it has saved my life on a number of occasions. It replaces what is with what could have been, and the new reality is the one you all see. A gift by none other than that Academy head herself.” He pulled the bracelet back and rubbed at the brand beneath it. “This is of no concern.”
Canary was busy slurping at his noodles. A thin film of oil covered the surface of the soup, but the noodles were light and easy to eat. The thin slices of meat immersed in the broth also came apart without chewing. It tasted far better than anything we had eaten until then. The light garnish of thin green onions were also fragrant. Canary had nothing to say, but he nodded along, his eyes perking up at Kirill’s jewelry.
“While I would like to celebrate all night, we still have preparations. Anastasia, are your ribbons still in good condition?” Delanor asked.
“Yes.”
“That is good news. We have some troublesome enemies tomorrow. They are a squadron of knights, two sarassin and two feline. They have physical abilities said to match Exia himself.” Delanor explained. “They call themselves the Thousand-tailed knights. They’re veterans of the last military conflict between the Sveshens and the Sarassin nation, so I have a feeling they will have an extra helping of distaste for us all.”
“They are typical close-range fighters, are they not? I can spear them with my ice. Non-lethally.” Maria said. “The same as in the first round.”
“That is the problem. Their last bout was a one-sided domination of the third seed, a group of scholars from Aya’s tree. It is likely they can nullify whatever you throw at them, based on what happened.”
“Please, tell us then.”
“This is what the captain told me. No barrier could stop them, no attack could pierce their armor. They simply penetrated whatever defenses their opponents had with overwhelming speed and pressed the points of their swords at their opponents’ throats. If we cannot match them in a physical contest, I fear we will have no way to win.”
—
“Anastasia! Wake up! We have a problem.” Delanor knocked loudly on the door. Something was wrong. It was earlier than our typical waking time. I straightened out my nightgown and opened the door. A worried-looking Delanor stood in the hallway.
“Ah-hah.” I yawned. “What is it? We are bothering the other patrons.”
“I believe it is better if you see it for yourself.”
“Guh.” He sputtered a pained breath. Kirill was lying on the ground of his room. Most of his body was covered in a blanket, but the droplets of sweat on his exposed face and contorted expression was enough to indicate he was in extreme pain.
I knelt down beside him and removed the blanket. His left shoulder and chest were a deep blue-purple, and the muscle that gave him his typically broad figure looked swollen and displaced.
“Disgusting.” Maria said while looking at us from the doorway.
My heart began to beat faster and faster. It soon hopped its way into my throat, making it hard to breathe. I took a deep breath. This was undoubtedly the same injury as yesterday. After sustaining something serious, Kirill continued to fight, looking almost unimpeded, but he must have been suffering.
“I am not versed in medicine. Do you know what is wrong?” Delanor asked.
“It is likely the hit he took from the owlbear yesterday. He needs some binding to force everything in place and rest for at least a few weeks.” Maria said. “Many girls at the academy would hurt themselves without telling anyone, and soon they ended up like this as well. The rush of the day likely allowed him to persevere through the evening, but that is all gone now. I am surprised he isn’t wailing like a baby.”
“I can…still fight,” he said through pained breaths.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“You most certainly cannot.” Maria dismissed him. She looked at Delanor. “Are substitute fighters allowed?”
“I am afraid not.” Delanor said.
“Allow me…into the arena with you all. If it appears I am in danger, I will submit.” Kirill suggested.
“You are a far greater liability for us. Are you saying you want us to protect you?” Maria asked.
“We already protect Delanor while we fight. There is no harm in one more, is there?” I said.
“There certainly is. Protecting an agile feline from ranged attacks is different from being a caretaker for a man who can barely walk.” Maria said resolutely. “Stay here, or hobble your way into the stands. I will not have you holding us back.”
—
Kirill sat to Canary’s left, from a distance aways. As we had established ourselves in the semifinals, Delanor had haggled with the red announcer to get better seats for our friends and now-injured teammate. She had also procured a strange-looking curled green leaf tea to ease Kirill’s suffering for some time. The captain even sipped at an unknown liquid from a mug and munched on a spherical fried snack on a wooden skewer.
The three of us found ourselves back on the floor of the arena. Our match time, in spite of the number of matches being cut in half each day, had remained the same through the event. The newly-repaired arena ground felt far more solid than the cracked, pothole-dotted surface from yesterday.
There was no question to our enemies of the day. Four suits of silver armor, glistening in the bright light of the arena, stood silently across from us. The metal was curved and ended in a sideways-pointing spike at the shoulders and elbows. In each of their hands was a thin rapier of the same metal, held upright at their waist, at the midpoint of their bodies. The one to the very left began to move. He walked almost to the center, and motioned for us to join him. The visor pulled up revealed the face of an aged man, certainly no younger than fifty. His greying features and wrinkles around the eyes were worn with years of hardship.
“I would speak to the one of highest rank among you.” He said, his voice showing no more feeling than his face. He used none of the bodily mannerisms that we had seen were typical of felines in this city.
Delanor looked back to Kirill, who was bent forward, staring at us. A sling supported his left shoulder. She then looked at me. I hesitated for a moment, but Delanor’s fidgety glance compelled me to step forward.
“This is her.” Delanor said. “You are our first opponent who has shown interest in speaking before the bout.”
“You are outsiders, after all. Foreigners, natives of a territory of whom no one would call friends.” he said. “If she would like to say something, please pass on the message for her.”
“I will.”
“The War of the Central Valley is etched in our hearts. Many of us fell, those we would call friends, those we might call family. A war begun only to sate the lust for power of your people. The thought that you might come to our home, wave your swords, and sing your magic spells has earned the ire of some.”
“For what reason do you say this to us?” I asked. A pit in my stomach, unlike the nervousness I felt in the past two matches, began to open up. Delanor repeated my words, trying her best to imitate my tone.
“I swear on my sword. And the swords of my fallen brothers and sisters. We will never forget that day. We thirst for blood. Blood of your kind. Blood that may quell the flames of vengeance that eats away at our hearts. Prepare yourselves, subjects of the accursed Sveshen line.” The man covered his face with his visor and turned his back to us before returning to his position on the other side of the arena.
“He-he intends to kill us, does he?” I asked Delanor as we returned to our side.
“I would not imagine ‘thirsting for blood’ to mean much else.” she said gloomily.
Maria met us part way back. “What was the matter?”
“They are going to try and kill us. This time, if we lose, we die.” I told her.
“The usual, then.” Maria said.
Delanor sighed. “That is quite different from your past battles. In any case, I doubt they will try to hurt me, as I’m not really a foreigner, so the real problem is you two.”
“Can we not ask them to stop the match? Surely this should result in a disqualification.” I asked.
“Those knights likely do not care if they get disqualified. The moment we try calling someone, anyone, over, they will use that moment to skewer us with their rapiers.” Delanor sighed again. “Try not to die. If things are looking bad, even retreat into the stands, or something. It is better to run away in shame than fighting and dying for nothing.”
The announcer’s cabin, raised by a large wooden support, reached its peak, far above our heads. “Rrready, begin!” The same deafening horn sounded to begin the match.
Maria wasted no time. She stomped hard into the ground, sinking her foot slightly into the dirt. A wide line of rose blooms burst from the ground. They had an icy sheen, and I had no doubt that their petals would shred flesh like a knife through butter. The roses grew larger and more fierce as the trail extended from Maria’s feet.
The two sarassin, identifiable only by their thick, scaly green tails, mirrored each other as they raised a wall of golden earth to block Maria’s attack. As Maria’s roses collided with their barrier, it produced a loud screech, like fingernails against ice, and the roses shattered to pieces.
The two remaining knights darted to the sides and started on a quick sprint to both sides.
“They’re looking to surround us.” Maria said. I will deal with these two, find some way to crack their defenses. May I borrow a few of your ribbons?”
“Of course. What do you intend to do with them?” I asked.
“I have been thinking for a long while about what physical feats one might be able to achieve with those ribbons as their arms and legs, how quickly they might run, how hard they might strike. Today we will discover if this is of any use. Can your ribbons block a sword?” Maria asked.
“As long as you avoid the point of their rapier. A hard thrust may puncture it.” I replied.
“Just as I thought.”
The ribbons on my right arm unwound and quickly tightened around the arms and legs of their temporary master. Two for each of Maria’s hands, two for her arms. Two for her thighs, and two for her calves. Her fists would have the hardness of steel and the speed of a scatter-cannon’s shot. To outrun a rabbit, one might need half of Maria’s speed. To finish her preparations, Maria’s body grew white with a thin layer of frost, turning her into a perfect specimen of close combat. Even so, she called forth a storm of rose petals, which circled in a deadly blizzard around her body.
She leapt at the knight to our right. I did my best to keep up. Controlling the contractions and applications of force across two people was difficult; the mismatched tempo of Maria’s footsteps with mine felt unwieldy. As our distance with the knight closed, Maria dove low, and forced her petals through the gap in the visor, the hairline chinks at the elbows and groin. At the same moment, the knight’s armor burst in a golden glow of its own petals, and the knight’s right hand, clutching the silver rapier, thrust straight at Maria’s heart. She blocked it with her forearm, but the puncture left behind a wound that flowed with red blood for just a moment before freezing back into Maria’s armor.
This knight was fast. Maria was barely able to fight as his equal, and as the second one closed in from behind, I knew we would not be able to continue like this. The roses that Maria had called forth had also vanished, and the two Sarassin opposite us also began to encroach. Our encirclement edged closer and closer.
“This won’t do. You are an amateur.” Maria taunted.
The knight before her remained silent. He went for another killing blow, but Maria was ready for it. Or perhaps not. It fully speared her forearm, the tip of the rapier poking out at an angle near the elbow. Maria grimaced. She then managed a pained smile. In a swift movement, she grabbed the hand holding the rapier and grunted with effort. The knight shook his head in what I could only think was fear as the same frost began to spread along his hand and up his armor. He stopped moving entirely a second later; flower petals poked out from beneath his visor and between the plates of his silver armor. It was as if the armor itself housed an ice sculpture.
“Maria! He will die!” I shouted.
“Trust me. He lives.” she calmly stated. She wiggled the fingers on her injured right arm. “What a gamble. He missed the bones and tendons. Anastasia, behind you.”
I had just turned my shoulder when the knight who’d professed his desire to take our lives was within an arm’s reach. As the tip of his rapier entered my side, I quickly spun to the side and moved out of the way, just in time. He had missed. I had been hit, there was no doubt, but the wound was no deeper than a scratch one might suffer from falling down a rocky slope. Regardless, it stung badly. I clutched at it tightly, looking to stop the bleeding.
“Hah!” Maria raised a ring of spiked tree roots from the ground, looking to impale the knight from all sides. His armor, bathed in a similar golden glow, easily repelled the blows. He stood still, no more than two strides from us, easily within range.
“It is no use. Your power here is weak, ours is strong.” Punctures appeared all over Maria’s body, one on her neck, three or four on the front of Maria’s jacket, several more on her back. She cried out, but no sound left her mouth this time. She gritted her teeth and stood between him and I.
“You may flay my skin and spread my bones across this arena, but you shall not lay even a finger on this girl.” Maria said. Her eyes glowed with hatred. Within her normally dull yellow pupils burned a brilliant golden flame.
“Here we do not speak the language of brutes! You will die here.” His silver sword, his palm turned upward, poised for the killing blow flew straight at Maria’s exposed neck. I thought I heard a half-hearted laugh as the hard snap of a blade breaking bone filled my ears for a moment. It was an instinct, perhaps. Or maybe a stroke of fate. The ribbon on Maria’s left fist had formed a blade, burying itself in the neck of this man. He let out a final gasp before the last of the life in his body left him.
—
I tossed and turned in my sheets. Darkness permeated my room except for the light of the glowflies far above our inn seeping through a crack in the window. The ribbons on my right arm ached. The one which formed the blade to cut that man down was wrapped partially along my thumb, snaking down my forearm and ending at my elbow. I could not sleep. The discomfort of the ribbons was something I had long grown used to as I slept. The final moments of our combat played over and over in my mind. My ribbon, forming a blade which took the life of another. He had stood for just a moment, blood sputtering from his lips and dripping out of the cross-shaped opening in his helmet. The droplets of blood flowing down his armor and staining the dirt. Then, as his life escaped his body, he fell to his knees, never to rise again.
Was taking a life such a burden? Maria had disposed of countless enemies, tearing them to unrecognizable shreds before my eyes. She killed one of our pursuers on our way to the capital months ago. The captain also recalled her attempt on Canary’s life, which would have been successful on any human. She could do such things. She could take a thousand lives and move on to the next day as if nothing happened at all.
The same could be said of Kirill. Delanor’s report of his inauguration had anointed him with the same title Maria held. A taker of lives. A title that I, just now, gained for myself. It was not my intention. I saw Maria in danger, and I acted. Maria’s body could not withstand another blow from the man’s rapier, I was sure.
The ending of the match was peculiar. Only after an opponent had died did a panel of judges, all green-skinned sarassin with faded scales and wrinkled faces, step in to stop the bout. After a short discussion, which was graced by the presence of the orange-red skinned Exia, the match was brought to a halt and Maria disqualified. When Delanor stepped in to ask why the only consequence of a death was disqualification, it was decided that Maria had acted in self-defense and her opponents had made a number of attempts on her life. However, the victory was awarded to our team. We had successfully incapacitated two of the enemy combatants. Besides, Maria was in no condition to fight another match. Her blue-collared traveling wear was covered in holes and soaked in blood. The blood loss was so severe she could barely stand up straight on her own. It was an interesting question which of our team was the least fit to continue.
I was the last fighter to remain on my team, and so Delanor and I advanced to the next round. We were granted a day off in preparation for the final match. Our opponent was the governor himself, Exia. His matches had all been one-sided knockouts, and quite a bore. This was based on the captain’s witness, as she had the chance to watch every match.
I rolled back on to my belly. Maria was quietly turned on her side facing away from me, as always. I reached my hand over to shake her shoulder, but stopped myself. It would be selfish to wake her to ease my boredom.
—
I carried breakfast over from the lobby to Maria’s room. While our win had again won this faceless innkeeper a good deal of money, for it to be won in this way made me uneasy. Maria was sitting up on her side of the bed. She was slowly removing the dressing on her chest. Her bare skin was marked with large blotches of dried blood. The wounds themselves were raw and red, with a darker center where the rapier’s end had pierced. Each time Maria uncovered one she winced in pain. Given how deep each one was, it was somewhat unsettling seeing Maria moving around at all.
“Uh…how are you feeling, Maria?” I asked. I placed the roasted fish fillet and rice on the nightstand beside us and pulled a hanging cord on the lamp to turn it on.
“Unpleasant. I have felt burns, broken bones, dislocated tendons. This is the worst of them all. I can barely move my right arm, and I doubt I am able to stand. We may need to contact a physician for this.” she said reluctantly. “Such people irritate me, but if these injuries cripple me for life, I’d at least like to know if there is no hope.
“It is a bad omen to say that. I have faith that you will heal.” I reassured her.
Maria picked up a utensil with her left hand. It was a pair of wooden sticks, simple to eat noodles with, but somewhat more challenging to eat anything else. She quickly gave up on grabbing anything with them and speared the whole fish fillet. She ate pieces of it while shoveling rice into her mouth, gingerly holding up the bowl with her right.
“I hate rest. A day off would have been good to explore the city, but now I am stuck here, doing nothing. And not only that, my only company is going to be that man.” Maria complained.
“He is not so bad. I am sure you can talk to him.” I said.
“How old is he? Nineteen? Twenty? I cannot tell for sure. He is older than us. What should I discuss with an old man like him?” Maria asked.
“Nineteen is hardly old.” I giggled. “What do you like, Maria? Perhaps he shares a passion with you.”
“I could do without his passion.” Maria haughtily said.
“Maria, you are so cold.” I teased her.
“Only to people I do not like.”
“Oh, and who do you like? Besides me, of course.” I asked.
“No one.” Maria pouted and stuffed her face with the rest of her rice. “If you want it so much, I will speak with him. For five minutes only.”
“Thank you, Maria.” I smiled.
“Consider it a favor.”
—
I walked side-by-side with Delanor down a main road. The midday traffic was busy as usual. The formal wear of the sarassin was sewn from neatly cut cloth, long sleeves and collars which split at the neck. Some wore hats to cover their heads, but as the feline ears would get in the way, there were few felines with anything covering their heads. It was now that I noticed the average sarassin was only about as tall as I, somewhat shorter in stature than their feline counterparts. Their bodies were longer; their upper torso leaned forward farther.
“We don’t have many options when it comes to leisure in this city.” Delanor said. “We have no money, and as much as I try and sweet-talk our innkeeper into providing us with spending money, that is the one thing I can’t seem to pull out of him.”
“By not many, do we have options at all? I would not like to spend my day walking in circles only.” I asked.
“I saw a particular item on the map as we walked to the colosseum yesterday.” Delanor said. “It is some public space. Perhaps a city square or some open area of that nature. I did not recognize the word, so I am unsure.”
“I would like to see it, if we can.” I said.
Canary had been walking beside the captain besides us, and occasionally the captain would say something to Canary. He burst into laughter, only to return the favor to her. Upon Delanor’s suggestion of a public park, I turned back to them. They nodded in agreement.
“I don’t mind.” the captain said.
“No money, nothing to do. We may as well.” Canary agreed.
—
“So this is a public park.” I said to Delanor. It was a large expanse of grass. An artificial pond was dug in the center of it. Paved stone paths, marked with benches and logs for sitting, crisscrossed the park in several directions. From time to time, two or three butterflies would flit past the wild flowers sprouting from the field.
I sat down at the nearest bench. It was made of the same strange stone as the tall grey buildings scattered among the city architecture. Delanor sat beside me. We watched a squirrel scurry up a tree. Its artificial shade seemed somewhat meaningless without the sun, but the cool breeze beneath its shadow was plenty to warrant its placement. We had not been sitting for five minutes before Delanor’s expression changed to one of discomfort. She held her mouth and whispered “toilet” before running back into the city.
I sat alone, admiring the cat grass lining the edge of the pond and the swarm of waterflies buzzing above it.
“This is a beautiful city, is it not.” An unfamiliar voice, speaking in Sveshen with a minor reptilian accent, spoke from behind me. A sarassin with glistening scales and a snout with two ridges above the nostrils sat in the spot that Delanor had occupied. His scales were a metallic red-orange and the remainder of his body was obscured by a grey cloak.
“That seat is taken-” I said on instinct.
“Oh. My apologies. If so, I will stand.” He stood up. “I believe this is our first meeting.” the sarassin bent over on one knee and lowered his head. “Exia, the governor of the Great Tree, at your service.”
It was a polite greeting. For one in a position such as his, I was taken aback that he might be giving the respect of a subordinate to a superior. I nodded and brushed my hand against the spot that Delanor had been sitting in. “I suppose you may sit until my friend returns.” I said.
“Thank you.” he said. From the side, his eyes were yellow with wide black pupils. He looked young. “Your team’s battles in the colosseum have been impressive. Especially you. Anastasia.”
“How do you know my name?” I asked, surprised.
“I am the host of the tournament, after all. It is always a pleasure when a newcomer enters. Things become far more exciting that way.” he explained. “I am afraid I have come here to apologize. I believe I have some idea of what was said between you and the unfortunate knight who passed away yesterday. It was wrong of us to place the fury of past wrongs on your heads.”
“It is quite all right. It is a shame what happened.” I tried my best at a neutral answer. I was wary of this Exia. His words seemed to roll off the tongue easily, and his calculating demeanor put me on edge with each of his words. “Is it true? Do many of this nation still hate us for the deeds of the past?”
“I am hoping to correct it some day, but yes. If possible, I would like to establish better relations with our neighbors to the east.” he said. “The easing of hatred only comes with time. It also comes with people like you, who fight valiantly, risking your own bodies, for our enjoyment. For that, I could not be more grateful.” he said.
“I don’t like it when you put it that way.” I eyed him with suspicion.
“I meant no offense.”
“Is that all you came here for? To apologize to us over what happened yesterday?” I asked.
“I would also like to wish you good luck in our match tomorrow.” he said.
“I see. Good luck to you too.” I said promptly.
“Next time we see each other, may it be on the battlefield.”
—
I stood alone for the final time in the circle of dirt. Alone except for the sarassin in black, far away. Golden banners bearing an emblem of a snake hung from a ring of flagpoles suspended in a ring around the arena. They flapped slowly in the breeze. The nature of being within a giant tree reduced even the most violent gale outside it to a comfortable intensity. Delanor and Maria had joined the rest of my party in the stands.
The prior night, Delanor had a private meeting with me in the bath. Maria feared her wounds would be aggravated by bathing, and the captain was likely already in bed, so it was only the two of us.
“I did a lot of scraping around about who you’ll be fighting tomorrow.” Delanor sighed. She kicked her feet up and wiggled her toes just over the surface of the water. “Have you heard of ‘politicians’?
“I know what the word means.” I said crossly. “I have been given a proper education.”
“The meaning is different here. Given that his post was won by votes.” she said. “He is a pragmatist through and through, someone who isn’t choosy when it comes to winning his people’s favor.”
“Is that not a good thing? A leader should look out for their subjects.” I gave Delanor a quizzical expression.
“If you are one of their subjects, sure. I wanted to tell you something about the meeting he had with the judges yesterday. They were not far from us, and I heard everything. I have four ears. I can hear things well.” Delanor raised an eyebrow. “He was the one who proposed limiting the disqualification to Maria.”
“I see. I spoke to him yesterday as well,” I recalled. “He is a kind man, who cares for the integrity of his tournament.”
“You spoke to him and you did not feel anything was wrong?” she asked.
“He seemed very polite,” I said.
“He wants a spectacle for the finals, no doubt. His ticket sales will certainly improve, should we give him a good show. Nonetheless, I am sure he wants to know why we are here.” Delanor pondered her next few words. “I believe he will allow us to win.”
“That is quite an assumption.” I said. “Why do you think so?”
“We came here for a reason, entered the tournament for a reason. Sveshen nobility rarely appears unannounced at another country’s doorstep. If we lose, then we lose our means to pursue that reason. If we win, then we continue, and no obstacle obstructs our path.” Delanor said.
“I suppose that is a relief.” I said.
“Regardless, you still have to try your best. There is no guarantee that he will hold back. Win, whether he intends for it or not.” The edges of Delanor’s mouth perked up. “I believe you can.”
—
As if beckoning the crowd, Exia looked to the stands and held his arms out wide. They greeted him with a thunderous cheer, many waving small flags of the same emblem. It was overwhelming to stand in the face of it on my own. But deep inside my heart, I felt calm. Our last battle had the stakes of life and death. Nothing about this could compare to that.
The ribbon wrapped around my right thumb grew hot enough to sear my flesh as I I looked at Exia. His black armor was overflowing with power. It was the same as my ribbons, but metallic and trapped in a prison of defined shape. He stepped forward, and waved at me, inviting me to meet him at the center.
“I have high hopes for you, Anastasia,” he said.
“Don’t look down on me. I’ll surpass any expectation you might have had.” The ribbons of my arms slid off of my body to form the head of a dragon with dark voids for eyes. It let out a guttural roar directly into Exia’s face. His mischievous reptilian eyes flinched for a moment.
“Do save that for our duel.” he chuckled.
“I certainly will.” I said.
“Begin!” the announcer shouted from his perch, far above our heads. The same deafening horn blew, the crowd cheered, and the match began.
“Dance for me, Anastasia. I live to see it.” Exia egged me on.
It didn’t bother me. I had made up my mind while sleepless in my bed the night before.
The dragon was the strongest of all beasts. It commanded the laws of nature with a puff of its infernal breath. In terms of strength and anatomical complexity, it was the apex of any scholar to produce the form of a dragon. The closer it was in form, the closer in function, and the greater the power contained. Yet I was using ribbons to make my dragon. I could not conjure an ice sculpture as Maria could, or burn my vision into reality as others might. I would settle for a half-dragon. With every ribbon on my body, stretching as long as they can.
The head of the dragon soon extended with a neck, a body, two muscular front legs and powerful back legs, wings stretching ten meters in either direction, and a tail. Its eyes were spheres of brilliant gold. I gripped the ridges along its spine as it burst into the air with a single flap of its wings. Exia grew smaller and smaller beneath me, and soon he was no larger than the thousands of spectators also below. I needed to be careful. I should not leave the boundaries of the arena itself, as Delanor had mentioned that was grounds for a defeat by default.
Exia held his arms out, leaving his chest wide open. I didn’t hesitate. My dragon nested its wings close to its body and went for a dive. As we approached, my dragon quickly flapped its wings again and sought to grab hold of his tiny body with its talons.
“Eh?” I shouted in surprise. The air to my left seemed to crack for a second before the left leg, claws inches from closing around Exia’s throat, left my control. They were cut. I called the freely floating ribbons back to my left leg. Four of them had been cut, and three more were intact and usable. The cut ribbons could still be used for personal protection, but their frayed ends made them unfit for reforming the dragon’s body.
My dragon’s other leg closed around Exia’s midsection, but same as the first, the air shifted slightly and that leg also came loose. My target was unharmed. He stood still, his reptilian face staring expectantly, silently condemning me for my lack of skill.
He did not allow me any time to recover. Closing one hand into a fist, the ribbons of the right leg flew to him and wrapped themselves around his arm.
“So these are the ribbons of the famed Anastasia,” he said. “They overflow with life. I can feel you, your conviction.”
“Give them back!” I yelled. Forming a blade, I quickly sought to sever the same arm he had used to rob me of my prized ribbons. The air again shifted and he gained another two ribbons on his left arm.
“I am sorry, but they have chosen me as their new master. I have no say in the matter.” His red-orange scales glistening in the evening light felt more imposing than ever before. With incredible speed, he reached into the dragon’s chest and tore another fistful of ribbons out of its body. The dragon howled and melted away, the remaining ribbons returning to me. However, a few beckoned to him, settling in the cracks of his black plate.
“Anastasia, I am disappointed. Is this all the ribbon weaver of the east had to offer?” he taunted.
“You are making up titles! No one has ever called me that!” I snaked another armful of ribbons below the ground, but as they reached him, they lost their grip and weakly fell to the ground, only to change masters again.
I was down to a final ribbon. The one around my neck, of which I had used to anchor Kirill to the flying owlbear two matches ago.
“I suppose that is our match then,” Exia said gleefully. “Thank you. I enjoyed it a great deal.”
“Not yet.” I hid a smile from him. My ribbons still heard my call. “It was a trap, thief. You mustn’t steal more than you can carry.”
The ribbon around my neck glowed a golden yellow and soon its brothers and sisters wrapped around Exia’s body followed. They made a sizzling sound against his flesh as they grew brighter and brighter. Before Exia had the chance to realize what was happening, a tremendous shockwave shook the whole arena. When the smoke cleared, Exia laid unconscious in a heap of his own black armor, fragmented from the blast.
“They never chose you as their new master. Their allegiance to you was by my orders.” I laughed and laughed, pointing at my defeated opponent sprawled on the ground.
Exia loudly coughed. He opened his eyes. After attempting to move an arm which had been granted an extra elbow joint, he hung his head in resignation. “It was a good match.” he chuckled.