32
(The Offspring- You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid)
Adam
I got used to spending summer days in the armory cleaning armor with Alwen. He was a good guy, and one I probably would have been pretty good friends with back home. Our conversations were frequently interrupted by the tonal clicks and chirps coming from the west gate. Tensions had been rising for a while apparently, as small groups, small protests of yeffen gathered outside the gates. The yeffen here were much younger than Geren, seeming like a different race entirely. Their feathers were lush, beaks were made of bone or gilded plates, they were far nimbler, and less hunched. I couldn’t understand what they were saying or singing. I was just in the armory unbending dents and passing them to Alwen to buff the scratches out. Despite hearing them all day long, the Viscount and Simira never did anything about it, so Captain Zev or some other guards would get fed up with the noise and disperse them, only for them to move to another gate. Apparently, due to a legal arrangement the yeffen had with Lord Hallax, they were protected from being harmed or imprisoned by Amien guards unless they caused any direct damage. And the protests couldn’t technically be called protests, which would have made them a crime. Nobody spoke yeffen, and the yeffen would only say they were “singing songs of praise for the Amiens,” so they were by all accounts toeing the line of legality perfectly.
“Alwen, do you know what they’re all doing out there?”
He stopped cleaning as he thought. “I don’t know. The yeffen haven’t ever really liked the Amiens, I think.” He began wiping again.
“Huh, I couldn’t imagine why.”
“Me too. My parents and my grandparents tell me stories about the Amiens all the time. The yeffen and the Amiens should be close friends. Like allies. The Amien family liberated the yeffen from a cruel tyrant. The tyrant had been controlling the minds of the yeffen for centuries. They called it the Taker. The Baron Amien, several generations of Amiens ago and before they were viscounts, fought the tyrant and defeated it in the caves that they used to live in. The yeffen wanted a fresh start, so they found a new land, to get away from the terrible place they had been enslaved forever. That’s how the Amiens got this manor and became viscounts instead of just small barons. Things have been peaceful forever here. And then when the yeffen were inducted two years ago, they started trying to slander the viscount because of the accident those years back.”
“What do you mean, inducted?”
“Oh, right, you’re from the sticks. The yeffen got inducted into humanity two years ago. They’re the most recent humans.” He leaned in like he had some secret knowledge. “I heard they barely managed to show enough smarts to pass, and the ones who passed were the smartest. Most of the regular yeffen are actually as dumb as animals, still. They can talk and act like people, but they ain’t got nothing to contribute.”
“Uh huh, sure. What was the accident?”
“Right. Viscountess Amien made a deal with the yeffen about twenty years ago. The yeffen offered fealty if the Viscountess let them visit the tunnels and collect some historic paintings or tablets or whatever they were looking for. Since nobody had been down there in so long, I guess the rocks were loose and the group of them were killed in a cave-in. Them and the Viscountess. Apparently everybody liked her, a real crowd pleaser, fixin’ a lot o’ things. I only seen her once, but I was still a kid. We were closer to her and the rest of the Amiens when I was younger.”
“Huh, damn. I’ve only ever met one yeffen, and he was a nice older guy living alone in a cabin.”
“Well, there are plenty out the gate if you wanna meet more. I personally hope I don’t have to talk to them ever again. I ain’t much of a conspiracy man, but I think they’re the ones that caused the cave-in. Look at how big and clumsy they are, probably screamed and banged into the rocks to make ‘em fall. Just as stupid as they are ugly. They can’t even speak proper Triali ‘cause it ‘hurts’ to talk like us, over there screaming like cubbins instead.”
“Is that what everyone here thinks?”
“Thinks?” He laughed. “You live with those animals long enough and you’ll see it for yourself. A jinian like you acts like a regular person even if you don’t look like one, why can’t they?”
The fuck is that supposed to mean?
“Uh, are jinian typically not normal?”
“Well, uh, alright now, this is some old, old history. Since before Triala was founded. Actually, I think the Amiens were one of the founding families of Triala. Anyways, a long time ago, jinian ruled the world. They’re big and smart and more powerful than the rest of us. So the jorlad and everyone else revolted and started killing ‘em all. Then, one jinian leader said that he would take the jinian and keep them far away, out of the wars and politics to live alone in peace. They split, and the good jinian went away, but the bad jinian all got killed, tryin’ to kill all us jorlad. So a lot of people don’t really like jinian, which I understand, but I know that there’s only good jinian left cause all the bad ones were killed. A lotta people don’t think like me, though. I’m too ‘accepting’ apparently.”
“That’s, uh, good to know, I guess. I was raised by jorlad, so-”
Alwen patted my arm and chuckled. “That’s why you’re normal. Look at me, teachin’ you all about history when that’s all you had to say. You’re basically one of us.”
“You seem to like history a lot, Alwen.”
“Well, my kjzae and I love history, and since I can’t do much hard physical stuff, the Viscount lets me ‘n her read planks in the Amien’s archive.”
I popped a dent back into place and halted in surprise. “I didn’t know you were committed.”
He tilted his head and tapped twelve tiny copper studs running up the side of his right ear. “I know my hair covers ‘em up sometimes.” He smiled gleefully and polished with a little more pep. “Just hit twelve years. Almost thirteen. Almost our first bronze stud.” He smacked his lips and glanced into the empty water bucket next to him. “I’ve been talkin’ too much. I’m gonna go get a new pail of water.”
I watched him limp off, slight skips to his short steps as he approached the well. It was still easy to forget that I wasn’t human or the same as the people I was around. I didn’t want to stand out or be scary, but I did that simply by existing. In fact, everyone here except for Captain Zev, Vetia and I passed as normal. But most people had a hard time telling Vetia was a half breed unless they noticed her eyes or fangs. But when they did see she was a half breed, they treated her worse than freaks like me and the Captain.
Heavy boots approached me and there he was, Captain Zev. “Adam, you are requested by the Viscount.” Captain Zev’s thin eyes focused on the group of yeffen before releasing a tired sigh.
My eyes went wide. “Um, yes sir. Do I need to know anything before I meet the Viscount?”
“Oh, no. You are not meeting the Viscount, he is assessing you. Walk with me.”
He led me away from the armory, across the training grounds and to the north western wall. I hadn’t been here. North of the training grounds in the corner by the walls was a building that looked like just another storehouse, or maybe servant housing. It was connected to the wall, which dwarfed the small wooden building in comparison. We stopped and Zev put his hand on the sturdy wooden door. He held the handle still and sternly looked me in the eyes.
“Adam, on the Viscount’s orders, you are to don armor and a weapon. Once you do so, Rezyn will lead you to the arena where you will present yourself to the Viscount.” He squeezed my shoulder. “The Viscount is still skeptical of your ability and I believe he is eager to watch a jinian fight, since jinian are so rare in Triala. I admit, that is the very reason I was eager to duel you as well. But, I have no fear that you will overcome the challenge. Be alert. Be careful. Your inexperience is your greatest hindrance, but knowing your shortcomings will be your greatest boon.”
He whipped the door open and pushed me in, slamming it behind me. My heart was already racing as my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim room. The windows were blocked and the only light source was a single crystal in a room down the hallway before me. The entire place stunk like a wet dog, and I heard pounding all over the floor above me. A man’s smooth voice echoed down the hall from me.
“That you, Adam? Come right on in here.”
I couldn’t see where the voice originated, but I stepped down the hall into the torchlit room. Against the side wall was a sparse armor rack and a rickety weapon rack. The armor rack had a chain shirt with leather shirts and britches. On the weapon rack was a shortsword, a longsword, a dagger, a war hammer, and a massive battle axe.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Gotta say, you look more confident than before. A little, at least.” Rezyn swaggered out of the shadows and checked me up and down. “Glad we never had to fight back then, you seem like you’d take a tough swing to go down.”
I looked at him puzzled for a second, and then it dawned on me. “You’re the one who held the sword to Tells’ throat on the wagon.”
“Good to see you again too.” He had a casual, cocky air about him, but his eyes were clearly sharp. “That was just me doing my job, nothing personal. Wasn’t actually gonna kill her, y’know, unless I did.” He chuckled.
“That happen a lot? Cutting random wagoneers’ throats?”
“Can’t say it does. Not how we usually operate. And you know, that little gift from Andris was actually courtesy of me. Keeping people quiet isn’t just about cutting their tongues out or throwing a collar on them. The Lady has trouble remembering that sometimes.”
“Gift? Huh?”
Rezyn chuckled and paced toward the armor. “You got some really generous friends, dontcha, Adam?” He pulled a padded tunic down from the armor stand. “Alright, strip big man. Let’s get you geared up.”
“You allowed to tell me who I’m gonna be fighting?”
“Who? Good one. No. It’s better if it’s a surprise anyway. All I’ll tell you is just keep your head on straight and you’ll be fine.”
“Shit, I was planning on falling on my blade the second I picked it up.” I threw my shirt on the bench and grabbed the padded gear from him.
“On the Skin, what gave you that gnarly set o’ scars?” He raised an eyebrow at my abdomen, which I’d completely forgotten about.
“Before we got to Poikla, we got ambushed by some nasty bugs with massive pinchers. I fought one solo. I cut his head off, but he almost cut me in half. Wouldn’t have survived if Vetia didn’t go overboard healing me.”
“Is that its name? Huh, whatever. It’s a nice cut for a shazgadj, lonsu half aside. I see how it got to Tarynn’s head.”
That just made my blood boil. Fuck this gu- no… no… I just have to keep going along with this bullshit. This guy’s above me, and I need to gain influence.
“What, did Simira tell everyone about that already?”
His face went from carefree to angry in a flash. “That’s Lady Simira to you.”
I froze. “Uh- s-sorry, I didn’t-”
He slyly grinned. “Take it easy, champ. I don’t give a shit whatcha call that stuck-up prude. But yeah, that smear story spread faster than fluff through a whore house. Funny enough, I never knew why Simira was always such a cunt about us using the serving girls, even ones she hates, ‘til I found out about how half her first squadron was a lil too frisky for her. Didn’t even do nothin’ but touch her and she left a pile of dickless charred corpses, the crazy bitch.”
I sighed, really trying to bear with this.
“I thought they’d hate you more, honestly, but I guess they’re just interested in seeing the big green beast fight. Shame you don’t have more scars, or you could show ‘em off and people would love it. I expected more on a jinian of your age.”
“Of my age?” I couldn’t help snickering at him saying that. “I’m only 21, what are you talking about?”
“Right, right. My mistake. Middle-aged is the new young. Here.” He laughed to himself and tossed the chainmail to me.
Middle-aged? I was in the prime of my life on Earth, but in this place they think I’m middle aged? Huh?
I slid the chainmail over my head and fastened my boots. “Wait, what? What do you mean, middle aged?
His smile faded as he was tightening my gloves. He looked up in disbelief and I wasn’t able to hide the worry on my face.
I clarified for him. “I was, um, adopted and raised by a jorlad family with my friends. Am I actually old?”
“Well shit. It’s rare to see a jinian past 40. But you’re a big guy and you seem plenty healthy. I doubt you’ve hit halfway yet.” He tried giving me an awkward smile, but the atmosphere was slowly bearing down on me with the realization that I was so low on time.
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“You don’t have to try to make me feel better about it.” I let all the air out of my lungs and filled them back up slowly.
I can’t worry about dying old right now. I have to worry about not dying at all. I’ll leave my prime when my body gives out.
“Gimme the hammer and the axe.” He passed them to me one at a time. I rested the hammer on my right shoulder and held the axe close to the head in my left hand, letting it swing as I walked. “Show me the way.”
Rezyn led me down a set of stairs beneath the ground to a dark hallway. It seemed like we were still heading south before I saw daylight from beyond a metal gate. He grabbed onto a wheel and pushed it, raising the gate.
“Go get ‘em, youngblood.”
I walked through the stone brick tunnel, passing under the gate. Details were hard to make out in the bright daylight before me as my eyes adjusted, but I heard a voice like a plucky showman announcing to the booming crowd.
“But alas, the Lady’s consort- rather- contender, is emerging! Masters and Mistresses, behold the beast of the far, far east. A creature few on this continent have seen. Gray as ash and green as bile, a giant! A jinian!”
I slowed in the tunnel as the audience broke out into laughter.
Fuck. I’m horrible in front of people. What am I gonna be doing exactly? Fighting? I haven’t ever done it while being watched by hundreds of people. I’ve barely done it at all! Ohhhhh, fuuuuck… I can’t even step fully out of the gate.
“Oh, he’s being shy! I fear he may need your hands to perk him up! Everyone, stroke his ego with me, for he is Adam, the Mountain Crusher!”
This character before me looked like a jester of sorts. He had ridiculous striped orange and white robes that were tucked into bright yellow skin-tight overalls. A half-eaten piece of fruit dangled in front of his face from his droopy pointy purple hat. He seemed human, but he had tan wings, tail, and horns that were all heavily pierced and adorned with gems, brass, and gold. His pale, youthful face had a line of tan scales up each cheek and his skin in general seemed rougher than a person’s.
I walked out, nervous and trying not to look at the crowd. He was chewing on a bite from the fruit and directed the audience’s attention toward me as he spoke with a full mouth.
“Well well well, give me some of what those mountains are getting. Ladies and lords of the audience, shield your eyes and your hearts if you wish to remain loyal!” He danced up to me and put a finger on my chest. “Oh, Adam, won’t you swing your hammer for me and the audience? We’d all love to see how you pound!” He leaned in, still loudly speaking. “Maybe a little private show for me afterward?”
I didn’t really know what to do. He seems like he’s trying to be a showman with everything, but I can’t calm down because of all the laughing and yelling. Are they laughing at me? His raunchy jokes? Do they think I’m a joke? Is this just a circus and I’m the lion?
Sweat sprinted down my head and I couldn’t utter anything as every word evaded my mind, a grossed out expression taking hold of my face.
“The hammer is for fighting. Am I fighting you?”
The jester recoiled dramatically, resting his hand on his head like he’d been defeated. “Oh! And I thought the worst he could say is no! I’ll be thinking of a way to win you over, so let’s all think extra long and hard about Adam tonight, and about the wild rumble we’re about to see!” He threw out his arms and his voice boomed, invigorating the crowd wildly.
The jester climbed a ladder up the edge of the arena, and I followed him with my eyes, seeing the whole arena for the first time. It was like a medieval jousting arena, with an awning and throne for the Viscount, who was happily chuckling and watching along. I couldn’t see him well in the shade, as the sun beat right down on me. Simira seemed as miserable as ever next to him, but still seated upright with dignity, while Tarynn was slumped and leaning on his fist, uninterested and distant. Captain Zev was just taking a seat down behind the Viscount and Simira. There was an empty seat next to Tarynn.
I locked eyes with Tells, who was seated below the Viscount’s little booth. She was leaning on the wall, wide eyed and grimacing at the jester. The seats of this arena were packed. I hadn’t ever seen this many people in the manor before until I realized we weren’t in the manor. I saw the edge of the wall, and this was outside the manor, where the public could come to watch bloodshed. The jester sat on the wall and hushed the crowd.
He moaned into a sigh. “He can crush mountains, but can he take the beast of the day. Behold, the rare, the raging, the ravenous river rizumir!”
The crowd roared, but everything he said just made my chest pound and twist with anxiety. I jumped from the sound of grinding metal to my right, where a creature slowly emerged from the shadows of a massive gate. It looked like some kind of bird with bright cerulean feathers. Numerous talons protruded from each of its feet, so much that they resembled massive cages of bone when they drew in each time it lifted a foot. Its body was thin, having jagged fins of bone emerging from its back and webbed arms. The serrated hooked beak shrieked, flexing its claws. There were trickles of blood flowing down its abdomen, turning the feathers glossy and slick. Those rivers of blood weren’t stopping, and squirted out as it attempted to flex whatever was once attached to it, whimpering from the pain of its hacked-off limbs. A lizard-like tail whipped behind it, razor bones running down the length.
I can’t speak. My throat’s locked up and my body's gonna follow if I can’t steady my breath.
Fear.
Its tail slashing my head off.
Claws gouging my organs out, shredding my abdomen.
Or will it just pin me down and rip me apart with its beak? How the fuck am I supposed to kill something like this? I’ve never fought, fuck, seen, something even remotely similar to this before.
The chains around its neck stilled and its fluorescent green eyes locked on me. I felt it for a moment, we were two trapped animals forced to fight just to preserve our right to survive. It blinked emptily for a moment, then the chains released, the servants ran back inside, and the rizumir charged me.
The crowd raged in excitement, the weight of their voices threatening to crush me. The rizumir closed in and something broke in me. Everything disappeared except for the monster I was about to be gored by. It was all I could think about. My hand tightened around the handle of the hammer, awaiting its rush.
It leapt like it was trying to take off, but stumbled back into running. Its long neck was perfectly still and level despite the speed it ran at, completely trained on me. I felt like I was at bat. I dropped the axe from my left hand and readied myself to swing with the hammer.
It rushed closer and closer. I wasn’t sure exactly of the range I needed, but I couldn’t afford to miss. Finally, it lunged with its beak wide open, closing in on my head. I hurled the hammer around out in front of me as hard and as fast as I could. I missed its face with the hammer head, but caught its beak in the handle on my way around. I managed to deflect it from chomping on my head, but its beak ran a deep line down my left arm. I gritted my teeth through the searing pain and spun around, following all the way through with my swing and keeping my eyes locked on it. A ripping pain shot through my back as it passed by, its tail whipping blood into the dirt behind it.
My back contorted. I could barely hold back the screams from my shredded muscles and slashed rear rib cage. Feeling was slowly disappearing from my lower body, but adrenaline had consumed me too much to care.
I picked up the axe, shifting the hammer back to my left hand. I wanted to be more armed for its second attack. Just lifting the weapons strained my white hot lower back, which was only cut so shallow because of the armor. I locked in on the creature, waiting for its next move, but it was doing the same for me.
Fine, I’ll make the first move.
“He misses the impact and it catches a nice whack on his ass! Can Adam the Mountain Crusher win with his back blown out?!”
The jester’s voice. It broke my focus on the fight and I halted, finally hearing the yelling crowd all around me.
All of the eyes, like thousands of judgemental whispers at the back of my mind. The crowd, the people, even kids watching me fight. How could they-
The rizumir’s massive body slammed into me, throwing me back to the ground. Its arm cut a line across my ass. Its other claw tore into my left shoulder as it ran through me and disappeared out of sight. Its tail barely passed over my face in a secondary attack, seeming to anticipate that I would have tried to stay up. I landed flat on the ground, and quickly rolled to my feet. The crowd gasped and I screamed through the recovery. My axe tumbled from my grip. My shoulder wouldn’t budge. My left arm was fully out of commission, but the rest of me felt considerably decent after being crashed into so hard.
If I don’t get a clean hit in, I’m fucked. I’m not sure how strong I am exactly, but it had to be enough that getting a good swing in to slow it down considerably.
I only had one good arm and the hammer. Hacking up blood, a sharp pang jabbed into my back, like my lung had been pierced by a broken rib. It was hard enough already, but every jab pushed more air out.
I can’t labor on the pain. I just gotta fight. It’s all I can do.
The rizumir’s charge began once again. I held the hammer, dragging it in the dirt, and readied myself. I’d go for a body shot, the head was too small and nimble. Twenty paces. Ten paces. Swing!
I brought the hammer around violently, my shoulder popping out of place from hyperextending on the swing. Surely it couldn’t miss. I couldn’t afford to miss. I put everything into the swing. And then, what little confidence I had disappeared. The rizumir twisted its body to the left, spinning and turning on a dime, avoiding my swing before I had any time to correct. Its tail whipped around, traveling faster than I could track. It sliced from my temple across to my forehead, narrowly missing a lethal blow. Blood rushed down my face and I couldn’t see its spin before it threw its full body weight into my right side. That hit knocked my shoulder in place, but I was on my back, the rizumir right on top of me.
It raised its foot to gouge my core and I instinctively kicked up. I hit directly into the center of its much flimsier leg, snapping it outward. The rizumir screeched, clenching its talons around my leg as I pulled away, slashing deeply all the way from my knee down. It stumbled aside, unable to stand up straight or run on its broken leg.
“Oh Mountain Crusher! We didn’t know you loved getting whipped so much!”
Fuckin’ jester!
I glared angrily at him through a sheen of red and he was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
No! I can’t keep focusing on him! His whole job is to get in my head, where I can’t get out of.
In that moment, I was in a stand off with the rizumir, awaiting its next attack which would probbaly kill me. The crowd raged and the jester laughed maniacally. The pressure became overbearing, my body finally starting to slow from the strain.
Then, Tells’ fervent voice broke through the crowd. “Adam! Grab his dick and twist it!”
Her face was intense with worry, but it brought me a moment of calm, like I didn’t need to think about the jester and the mocking crowd. No, it wasn’t calm. I wasn’t smiling, but a chuckle escaped my panging lungs. I had one person rooting for me. One voice holding back the crushing weight of the crowd. I just needed to listen to her.
“The ol’ dick twist!” She yelled out, motioning like she was grabbing something and twisting it.
I tossed the hammer to my left hand and pointed it at her. I clenched through the nausea inducing pain with a smile creeping onto my face and a fierce chuckle breaking through my worry.
Holy shit, I think I’m finally losing it. Hah!
She smiled and nodded back. I dropped the hammer from my hand, not even paying mind to the jester making some remark about it. The rizumir was already charging, albeit slower than before, and it hit me. A memory of when we were playing football in the elementary schoolyard and a goose was chasing me. Brenden grabbed that fucker by the neck and flung it over the fence. We were fast friends after that, all it took was a little courage and a trip to the principal’s office.
I can try that.
I readied my hands. It was making a charge to drive its beak right into the center of me. Perfect. That’s just what I wanted. Charging, and charging. I leaned to the right as it snapped in and wrapped my hands around the base of its head. Its feathers were slick, but my deathgrip wasn’t going to break. No matter how much its struggling arms clawed at my back, I wouldn’t let it go. I wrenched it up and over my shoulder, gritting my teeth and straining every muscle in my body to smash it on the ground behind me as hard as I could.
A cloud of dust surrounded us. Cracks and snaps echoed throughout the arena and as it collided with the packed sand. It was still fighting back just as much as I was. Its arm weakly dragged cuts at my back, but it only caught on the armor tears from before. I dragged its flailing upside-down body around and spun with as much force as I could toward the wall of the arena, smashing the shrieking rizumir’s body into the stone wall.
Its neck went slack, so I let its head fall to the ground. Its legs were both broken and its front arms dangled from busted joints. The arena slowed down as the screams of the crowd roared around me. All I heard was the labored breathing and gasps of the beast in front of me. It was a beautiful creature, stripped of its wings and forced to fight. Up close, seeing it so docile, I realized how its feathers flourished in the wind, gently swaying in deep greens and blues like the ocean.
My adrenaline began cooling off when I walked away from the bird to pick up the axe. I dragged it through the dirt, too tired to raise it with one arm. The rizumir’s eyes followed me the whole way. I laid its head in my lap. It couldn’t move, it was done fighting. It had to be paralyzed after I swung it, three noticeable bends in the neck before the flow of blood from a tear at the base. Its emerald eyes exhaustedly peered up to me, silently crying out for mercy, for release. An animal forced to fight and die for blood sport. I found a kindred spirit in that dying rizumir, a wordless empathy between us beasts. I wrenched my bloodied left arm, gently resting my hand on its head, lightly patting the feathers back and trying to comfort the creature in any way I could. I brushed my hand over its eye and after a fidget, it relaxed, its breathing calmed. The overbearing crowd disappeared into a roaring river. Its legs pulled in, its head rose, and its arms gently swayed as if gliding. Its pained heaves became a broken, beautiful call, like a songbird finding melody in the death cheers around it. And I was with it, in its final moment, stroking its head feathers as I brought the axe through its battle-weakened neck.
I let the creature’s head go and rose. The audience exploded in applause, screaming madly. I turned around, to Tells, who was smiling with relief, her eyes welled up with tears, but not bursted. I couldn’t help returning a wry smile her way, trying to forget the fight I just endured, but a sense of melancholy took hold of me, my victim’s successor.
The jester jumped down into the arena again. “Swinging the neck and beating that head! Adam the Mountain Crusher doesn’t miss a single stroke when he drops the hammer!”
A raspy assertive voice spoke up from the shaded balcony. The Viscount stood for the first time, a pleased smile on his wrinkled face. He was a decrepit old man, older looking than his actual age let on. Graying black hair spindled down the sides of his thin face and his wiry frame would probably snap from a stiff wind. Even with a smile, misery adorned his farce. He started to speak and fell into a coughing fit while trying to cover it up as him clearing his throat, a wheeze somewhere between a laugh and a cry.
“Why, any other warrior may have fallen against such a beast, which required nine to restrain and three falling to it. I surely thought the rizumir would prove an insurmountable champion, as it has been for the past three seasons. Though I suppose only a beast can fell a beast alone. You are hereby admitted to the guard, to serve the manor under the direction of Captain Zev.”
He looked to Zev and sat down quickly to his obscurity in the shadows, grimacing after the formality. Zev’s long form unfurled from his seat and stepped down to the side of the arena. He slid down the ladder and flipped his dagger out, spinning it in his left hand. Striding up to me, never breaking eye contact, he sliced into his right hand and scooped a handful of sand. Without hesitation he slammed the bloodied earth into my torn shoulder. I winced, but held strong, barely fighting back the spots of darkness blotting my vision.
“So long as we bleed, we bleed for the land we call home. This sand is your home. The people who live upon it are your kin. The battles you fight upon it are to the end.”
The silent arena suddenly screamed out. I was confused and staring into Captain Zev’s eyes which, through clear domes, shimmered like oil slick rainbows on the deep black beneath. He showed a relieved and proud smile, giving me the overwhelming sense that he had been seriously stressed about that fight.
Proud.
Of me.
It was new to me, seeing somebody look at me with pride. He released me and I spun, looking at the crowd, at all of the people cheering for me. It was intoxicating. I found Tells again, who was cheering with them, screaming something I couldn’t hear. Even Simira stood and stepped to the edge of the balcony, clapping. She and the guard saw me differently, all of the city did. In one fight, I’d risen from beast to warrior.
The jester jumped back into the spotlight. “Thank you all for coming today! And, thank you all for visiting to watch the magnificent battles in Viscount Amien’s Court of Blood!”
“Maybe you do still have some youth in you.” Rezyn’s voice startled me as he approached from behind.
“I ain’t old til my body gives out.”
“Shit, kid. You’re all fucked up.”
I hadn’t realized it, but my shoulder was bleeding even worse and I couldn’t feel my left arm much anymore. That thing dug a sizable chunk out of me. It hurt to walk with the slashes on my ass and back. I could barely see through the blood on my forehead. All of it crashed into at once, the energy I had before quickly dissipating.
I just chuckled and let Rezyn and Zev walk me off, because I knew that a particular healer was about to have some very choice words she couldn’t say to me.