“You are the most beautiful females I’ve ever seen,” he offered hopefully.
“Some of us less so,” Silvia mocked, staring across to Lea, who shrunk visibly at the reminder. The room exploded with heated words, a hurricane of venom between four stunning females he thought more than appealing. Lillium screamed profanities at Silvia and her suggested sleeping habits, while Roja with pointed finger hissed her disappointment, displeasure, and disgust with the line of questions. Lea took umbrage and met the challenge wonderfully, accusing all in attendance as farcical, petty, and exceedingly nasty. Lillium grew tired of Silvia’s weak retorts and took to threatening any who met her eyes, apart from Erroh who remained quiet throughout. The last words spoken were Silvia’s suggestion that one of the other girls leap into the Great Mother, but before the accused female could retort, Roja suddenly turned on Erroh.
“What are you doing here, Erroh?” she screamed. Her voice echoed around the dark room. It was enough to cease the arguing.
“Winning you over?” he muttered.
Oh Erroh.
This time Lea laughed, a delightful melody sung at the most awkward of times when all hope is lost.
“Show some respect Erroh,” growled Lillium from beside her.
“I have been shown little,” he snapped back. It was petulant but fuk it, he had tried his best all morning. He had washed his clothes and everything.
“I believe we have learned enough for today,” declared Lea, wiping her eyes. All girls agreed. They really had learned enough.
“Thank you for your honesty Erroh. Has any girl made her choice?” she asked. Erroh thought he heard a little break in her voice. It was evident she wanted the Cull to finish as soon as possible.
The silence was deafening.
Lea and Lillium both stared over at the other two girls carefully for any sign. Roja would not make eye contact with anyone. She found a spot in the floor to stare upon with as much hatred as she could fathom. Her fingers gripped the balcony like claws. Seconds passed and Lea stepped forward. She looked incredibly disappointed.
He knew how she felt.
“None have chosen, come back tomorrow,” she said dejectedly.
Roja nodded and walked from the balcony, Silvia followed quickly behind while Lillium merely stared down at him as though his appearance suddenly pleased her. She did not smile; she merely tilted her head thoughtfully and stepped into the darkness, leaving only one beautiful girl in the room with him.
“Wait there Erroh, I’m coming down,” she said to him gently, the bitterness that laced most of her words no longer present.
If He’s an Impostor, Punish Him
His body shook gently. It was just the cold, he told himself rubbing his arms briskly. Fearing another test, he watched the wooden door. After a short time, she stepped through without weapon or malice but she did catch her sleeve on the handle of the doorway, ripping it slightly. It was only a slight tear but she cursed loudly. End of a perfect day? He knew the feeling.
She stood a step away from him but up close, she was extraordinary. He almost forgot their history. Almost, but not quite.
“More of your kind arrived since yesterday,” Lea said quietly. Her face was porcelain. Flawless and delicate and fuk it but she smelled like sweet flowers. His heart began to beat a little faster despite himself. Alone at last.
“Aye,” he replied carefully.
“They need to be tested,” she smiled, flashing her perfect teeth like a predator. “By you,” she whispered sternly and let the words hang in the air for a few moments. Her warm expression was about as appealing as the room’s temperature.
“Why not use Wolves?” he muttered.
“Because we have you,” she snapped and took a deep breath. The smile returned. She was playing him and he was fine sport.
“What if I refuse?”
Fear flashed across her face, or perhaps anger. He decided she would likely be a terrible card player and such things were important if mated to Erroh.
“This is no simple request Erroh. You have little choice in the matter,” she said stepping closer with her wonderful velvet dress hanging loosely in all the right places. How could he possibly be annoyed with this creature? He resisted the primal urge to reach out and touch her hair, caress her cheek and perhaps make a desperate grab for her chest. His attempt to suggest it a compliment would fall on deaf ears, her striking porcelain deaf ears.
“How many arrived?” he asked taking a step to the side. A fine manoeuvre indeed.
“We are fortunate. Two during the night and one this morning,” she said happily. He decided not to be terribly offended at her obvious delight. The real Alpha males had arrived, it would appear. Still though, he had never fought another mature Alphaline outside of his bloodline. The taste for competition was appealing. He knew he was good. But could he be great?
“I can’t fight all three,” he said evenly concealing his trepidation, excitement, and bloodlust. He was the son of the greatest warmonger to ever live, after all. Best not leap headfirst into their expectations.
“That would be too much for you,” she replied gently, patting his hand. He liked her touch despite the mocking. Like his own they were freezing. They had been in this cold room far too long. She obviously thought the same and beckoned him to follow through the doorway, down an ill lit corridor with a solitary glass ball lighting the way. His feet touched dreary stone, tiled thousands of years ago. It probably hadn’t been polished since. This route was probably only used a few times every year, when the season was right for young Alphalines to fall in love. At the end of the passageway was an old wooden staircase that travelled up into the upper echelons, but she directed him onto into a small dark cell as big as his bedchambers and just as luxurious. She flicked a switch with the skill of a girl who had illuminated rooms most of her life. He resisted the urge to flip the light a few times, as he walked in after her. The room was the same grey stone as the city. Most of the glass bulbs were shattered leaving a solitary flicking light above their heads. A long stone bench jutted out from the wall that was cold to the touch and just about wide enough to sit. The closest thing to water was a pipe that dripped some peculiar, discoloured fluid into a metal bucket in the corner. Various pieces of black armour hung on the wall while some sparring clubs lay discarded in a small wooden chest in the corner. Lea took a seat and waited for him. “It could be a while Erroh, you should check your armour,” she suggested quietly while examining the rip in her dress’s sleeve. He thought about sitting across from her, sitting down beside right her, sitting as far away from her as possible but instead he settled with inspecting the armour. He pulled the heavy body of metal from the wall and grunted under its weight. Its perfect glossy finish held a strange beauty to it; he looked into the jet-black steel and ran his fingers along the edging. Not to be trusted.
“This will never do,” he hissed to himself. “I won’t be able to move,” he said to her.
She rolled her eyes. “You have to fight in the armour. It is protocol,” she muttered and he knew not to argue so he simply nodded his head. His father would not approve.
There was a flicker of movement at the door and Lea stood up suddenly. Erroh turned to see the Primary standing before him. Face to face without the grandeur and excellent lighting, she appeared less than exceptional, as though a beast had drained the essence from her body, leaving a thin layer of bone and membrane behind. Aye, she was delicate, but there was still fire in her eyes. He bowed deeply and Lea greeted her graciously. She did not return the gesture, as if she knew how poorly the Cull was going, and though she may have blamed Lea, her suspicious eyes focused on him. It was an unnerving feeling to have someone stare into your soul and find little within.
“So he agreed to help us then?” she asked quietly.
“Aye Mydame, he is honoured to fight,” said Lea. She did not meet Erroh’s eyes lest she give anything away. Erroh was too shocked to say anything.
“That is pleasing. G
et him anything he needs. There is no great hurry just yet. The Alpha males can wait,” the Primary said before turning from the doorway leaving an uncomfortable silence behind her. Thankfully this was quickly replaced by the terrible sound of at least a hundred wanton females filled with excitement and uncontrolled giggling, as they began their judgemental march from their chambers to the arena of the Cull. Some passed the doorway, as they made their way somewhere up to the darkened rafters above, eager to catch a glimpse of their possible mate. All but one that is. Lea sat back down and tended to her ripped cuff. She looked a little ashamed. He took a breath to calm his anger. What point would it be to lose his head with her now? He might have agreed to the duel; if nothing else, than to vent the frustration from his weary mind, and who wasn’t a fan of breaking from endless conversation and breaking into some wonderful violence. Still though, it was the principle of the matter.
He was also quite certain she was a bitch.
“Why did you tell me I had no choice?” he snarled.
She bit the side of her lip as if caught thieving a sweet cake. A forbidden sweet cake with some cream and sugared almonds on top. He really wanted that cake and he certainly wouldn’t offer her a slice.
She did not attempt to answer.
Perhaps he would offer a slice and shove it in her wonderfully painted face.
“Answer me,” he hissed. All around them the noise began to grow as more and more females gathered like a hunting pack. He only noticed the female sitting in the corner of the room.
Her eyes narrowed. “It made you look good in front of the Primary did it not? Stop acting like a whelp and try on the armour,” she hissed. Then she covered her face in her hands and stifled a scream. It was an effective counter on her part and he returned to the armour. He thought about the little boy in the dead town. No matter how many times he inspected the armour, it never seemed to improve. It looked fine but it was far too heavy for his frame and there was no protection on each side.
“Why do I have to wear this armour anyway?” he asked after a time when he could no longer take the awkward silence.
“It won’t hurt if word were to emerge, that a humble Black Guard could handle a fine young Alpha male in battle,” she said.
Admittedly, it was a sound tactic.
“What of the four I fought?” he asked hopefully.
“They were just humble Black Guard,” she replied brightly. You weren’t that impressive Erroh, her eyes suggested. “This time he will be armed when you enter,” she warned pointing not to a finely carved sparring sword, but to a crude set of clubs hanging on the wall. He thought again of the black armour and worried aloud.
“I will break a rib,” he said sliding the chest piece over his head.
She watched him struggle with the armour in silence before disappearing out the door. Off to steal a glance at her potential mate, good riddance, he thought reaching for the helm. Menacing and black like the rest of his suit, he slipped it onto his head but a little protruding shard of metal scraped sharply against his brow. Though it looked fine, there had been a lazy touch in its creation. He took it off and inspected the damage, cursing the blacksmith as he did. One direct blow and it would tear his face right open. When Lea returned a little while later carrying a tray with some provisions, she placed it down beside him and returned to her seat. Somehow, she managed this simple task with wonderful disdain.
“This pretty piece is not suitable,” he said picking at the metal jutting out above the eye. “Can you get me another one?”
She shook her head.
Of course she did.
“You should eat,” she said, just cold enough to discourage any suggestion of conversation. That was fine with him; he’d spoken far more in the past two days than in the last few seasons combined. Even if he wanted to speak, it was likelier that he would just make matters worse between them and there was probably a rule against engaging in secret conversations anyway. Still though, he had words he needed to say to her.
He broke the hard bread in half and bit into the smaller piece, leaving one slice on the plate. Chewing slowly he reached for the carafe and poured some clear liquid into the goblet provided.
“It isn’t mead,” she muttered under her breath. Touché my dear. He drank the water and chewed on the bread, stopping only to break a creamy piece of cheese from the wedge and smear it on top. A few freshly picked grapes finished off the meal. He popped one into his mouth and found himself pleasantly surprised with the combined flavours of the juices clashing. It was much better than pigeon.
“I’m sorry for the first day,” he said.
She looked at him in surprise, with beautiful eyes wide open.
“I don’t want to talk about it Erroh,” she said glancing at the doorway, lest there be listeners. The noise of a wave of excited females still echoed through the building. Nobody would be listening. It is just you and me.
“It had nothing to do with you, I was nervous, my mind was elsewhere,” he whispered, shrugging and daring an apologetic smile. She slid up beside him. So close, far too close. Her perfume struck his senses again, like wild flowers from somewhere far away. Somewhere exotic. He inhaled deeply.
“Fuk you Erroh. It’s easy to apologise when it’s just the two of us alone with no one else around,” she whispered in his ear and it might as well have been a screech. Her beautiful lips were inches from his. They were wonderful and enthralling and lush and incredible and so many more things. He could feel the warmth in her breath and he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her.
He did not however. He listened to her harsh truths instead and felt her shame, felt just how deep the embarrassment was, that his misstep had caused.
“You should have just rejected me outright instead of fumbling your words so spectacularly. Now I have to sit through this disaster with my head held high pretending I belong here. Pretending it was no great matter. Pretending I don’t hear the jests at every meal. Pretending about any feelings I have for you Erroh,” she spat and turned away. She shuddered for the slightest of moments as if she fought a tear, and won the day. This was a good thing. He couldn’t see her cry. That would have been too much.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked quietly. It was all he could say. How could he ever put into words how ashamed of himself he was? And even now, he had attempted a pathetic apology and made matters worse.
She remained silent, folding her arms but at least she faced him once more. Perhaps he should tell her he thought her most beautiful of all. Would that help? Perhaps in the next day of questioning, he would share this revelation with them all.
“Why don’t you back out, Lea?” he asked instead.
“Oh, I want this Cull to be concluded as soon as possible. Maybe if you weren’t such an idiot, you would have won a mate by now. I’m certainly not going to add more fuel by being the first to step away. Oh no, my dear Erroh, I will stay and see this one through.”
“I don’t understand,” he said.
She looked at him. Of course, he didn’t understand.
“In easy to understand terms Erroh. If I stepped away from you before any girl chooses you, it would be confirming how little character I possess.”
“I’m sure you have character,” he said weakly.
“Can you please stop talking to me?”
“As you wish,” he took a grape and swallowed it. It was frustrating being unable to form any meaningful sentences with his words. How poets and bards composed such epics was beyond him. He offered the food again; it seemed like the thing to do. This time, she accepted and broke a bit of bread and took a small bite. It was the best part of his day. Eventually the footsteps began to slow and finally they came to a silent halt.
“It will be soon enough,” she whispered looking out through the doorway. Erroh rose to his feet as quietly as he could. It needed to be said.
“You are incredible Lea, I am truly sorry for my stupidity. You deserve someone far greater than me,” he said. It
was a better apology. For a moment, her beautiful sharp features cracked and she almost smiled. Instead, she nodded acceptance and finished her meal. This was just as good.
“If you happen to take a few bruises in this bout; that will be fine by me,” she said and he finally understood his penance for her shame. It was only fair. A young girl appeared at the doorway, timid in the presence of Lea. She whispered something to the most beautiful girl in the world and fled from the room as quick as she had arrived.
“It’s time Erroh,” Lea said, a strange tone entering her voice. It was colder, capable, and just a little unnerving. “I’ll come back and collect you whenever you’re finished,” she added in that same tone as if there were other things on her mind. Darker things. And then she flashed him a look that may have been concern. Or regret. Or a little shame of her own? He couldn’t tell.
“If he’s an impostor, punish him,” she said, and disappeared out the door.
He did not hesitate at the door to the arena. Why keep his opponent any longer than was needed. War was in the air and Erroh felt alive despite the burden of armour. His heart pumped rapidly in anticipation with each pulse sending him deeper and deeper into a wonderful frenzy of competitiveness. He needed to win and he’d do whatever was needed to win. Maybe it was true what the females thought of him and his bloodlust.
It was a small matter. Did he really care what they thought of him?
He did.
He opened the door and attacked.
Erroh’s opponent was ready. Perhaps it was the club on the ground that warned him. He was taller than Erroh, his long unkempt hair swept out behind him as he countered Erroh’s opening strikes, and with each counter, he displayed fierce strength. He hid his youthful face behind a beard but there was no mistaking a grimace of anger and unnerving composure. He was no impostor and he too was intent on victory. It only took a few moments for Erroh to realise that the weight of his armour was a bigger problem than he had initially thought. With the piercing scream of metal joints clashing in his ear, he wondered how clumsy he must look to the silent females above. Clumsy but still deadly. His opponent thought so too and slipped away from their engagement. He weaved a few times and began circling Erroh like a hunter would a vicious animal caught in a snare. Erroh knew he was beaten. He could hear it in his laboured breath. He could see it in the misty air too. On a fair day with proper weapons and lighter armour, he might best this man but as it was, the fight was over and both of them knew it. It was only a matter of time before a heavy blow came. Erroh changed his stance; he held his right hand out in front of him and held the second tight against his chest. The world slowed and Erroh heard nothing but the beat of his heart and the stalking footsteps of his vanquisher.
Spark City Page 11
