Spark City

by Robert J Power

  “It was the least I could do to make myself feel better after easily beating the son of Magnus,” he said, sipping carefully on his volatile beverage.

  “It’s a kind gesture,” Erroh replied, not rising to the jest. He sipped the sine right back at the arrogant cur.

  “You look like shit. It matches the room,” Wynn said and Erroh nodded patiently. It was all he could do. That and count the breaths until he could politely ask the Alpha to leave.

  “I want a rematch,” Wynn said and for the briefest of moments, he dropped the veneer of confidence. Sincerity such as craving a fair fight irritated Erroh even further.

  “I don’t need to be battered again,” Erroh said shrugging, before leaning across and pouring the Alphaline a top-up. Wynn nodded disappointedly. Wonderful.

  They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few more breaths until Erroh was about to ask him to leave when the Alpha’s face darkened.

  “I heard about the town of the dead. I heard they burned the females. I can’t believe such a thing,” said Wynn slowly.

  “It’s all true,” Erroh whispered placing his unfinished glass on the bedside, his taste was bitter enough without the taints of under-brewed liquor.

  Wynn coughed nervously and Erroh hoped he’d finally realised that his company was unwanted.

  “The Primary met with me alone today. There have been similar attacks throughout the factions. She said there could be panic if word is spread,” he said carefully.

  “Of course she did,” growled Erroh. At least it explained her dismissal of the attack as simple lawlessness.

  “When the Cull is completed I have to ride east and speak with Magnus,” he said.

  “What do you want with him?” Erroh asked coldly.

  “I must seek proof that he’s warmongering again,” Wynn replied warily.

  Magnus had taught Erroh a fine skill when enraged, a simple trick that any hot-headed lowerline could learn as well: counting to ten as the red mist descends.

  One, two, three.

  “My father is not marching and he is certainly not butchering innocents,” hissed Erroh and Wynn had the sense to nod in agreement.

  Four, five, six.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you Erroh, but I had to tell you,” admitted the Alpha.

  Seven, eight, nine.

  “Mydame has ordered me east, so I go east,” he said and Erroh begrudgingly accepted it his apology. It was their station in life. When the Primary called, it was every person’s burden to answer. It could have been different. There could have been a king but that would have ended in tears. His father had certainly seen to that.

  Neither Alpha said anything and the wonder of silence allowed the volatile moment to pass by. Admittedly, Erroh thought it a brave act on Wynn’s part, seeking him out and suggesting the victory skewed. It was an even braver act that he’d broken the Primary’s confidence and spoken of her request, not to mention chancing the wrath of Erroh in the process. It galled him to say it but Wynn wasn’t quite as annoying as he’d originally presented himself to be.

  “When I first entered the ring to battle you Wynn, I thought it was a young girl I was facing. I didn’t really want to be seen slapping a female around. But far be it from me to suggest you cut your hair,” Erroh mocked.

  Wynn laughed and met the jest admirably “I win most fights in that way, but for the trickier bouts, I have a lovely dress,” he quipped.

  Fuker was witty as well. There were worse things in the world to base a friendship on.

  “When I heal, we will talk about a rematch,” Erroh conceded and it appeased his new friend greatly.

  “I spoke with your other combatants, Erroh. Three fights in a day?” said Wynn grimacing at such a notion.

  Erroh’s face darkened at the same notion and the unwanted record. Three costly defeats and it was likely that if Wynn knew, then the rest of the city did as well. His name would be ridiculed, no doubt. Perhaps he should have kept the helmet on.

  “Nice heroes those two, they’ll make their mates very happy,” Wynn said grinning.

  “I’m sure I did my part to rise their stock,” Erroh hissed.

  “I had the misfortune of sharing a meal with them earlier this evening. The food was splendid but not all Alphas play well together. They both got on just fine with each other. A fine female by the name of Roja hosted us. Wonderful red hair,” he said stretching.

  “Perhaps she will be in your Cull,” Erroh muttered despondently. It appeared that everybody else was invited to the table of entitlements.

  “I have met my lovely females and she is not one of them, and I doubt a fine goddess like that would enter a Cull for little old me anyway. She is to rule the city someday,” he said shrugging. Easy come, easy go. “She has a terrific sense of humour though,” he added thoughtfully.

  “Probably at my expense no doubt,” spat Erroh and was annoyed at himself for it. It shouldn’t have hurt but it really did.

  Wynn looked at him and frowned. “Your name didn’t really come up,” he said quietly.

  Of course it didn’t. He was just an afterthought wasn’t he?

  “They mentioned a skilled Black Guard testing them and when Dia mentioned your lineage after our bout, it wasn’t hard to discern what happened. I’m smart like that,” Wynn, said grinning. “I imagine the heavy armour got the better of you. If that ass Aymon got the better of you in a fair fight, and I could barely beat you as you are now, I would imagine our masters would be terribly disappointed in the pair of us. Perhaps when you are healed we could settle it in a fair contest?

  “If I agree to fight you, will you stop asking?” Erroh said shaking his head.

  “Absolutely friend,” Wynn said wonderfully.

  “I’ll keep that in mind so,” Erroh said.

  The night moved on and neither mentioned the reason all little Alpha males journeyed to the city, but it was ever present in the air, like a crushing boulder hinged delicately upon a precipice, and it was Wynn who tipped it.

  “How’s your choosing going?” he asked late in the night when Erroh had once again begun to falter.

  “I hate them all and I think they hate me right back,” replied Erroh squeezing the bridge of his nose. He could have said more but he left it as it was. He wasn’t particularly interested to know exactly how well Wynn was charming his potentials on his first day.

  “It sounds as bad as mine,” Wynn admitted. Wonderful news. It wasn’t going terribly well for his perfect comrade after all. It should have made him feel better, and it did. It really, really did.

  “It only gets worse my friend,” Erroh suggested carefully. It seemed far easier to break the rules this late in the night but still, speaking of the secret event with another went against his upbringing.

  One simply does not speak of the Cull.

  “I have them all, right where I want them,” Wynn laughed.

  “I have them a step from the door,” whispered Erroh and began laughing with him. With it came a wonderful surge of relief. For the first time since he’d arrived in the Spark, he didn’t feel quite as alone.

  “They are as tough as stone but they are beautiful,” Wynn admitted wiping his wistful eyes.

  “They really are,” agreed Erroh, thinking back when each stunning girl entered the arena.

  “There is one I like one in particular,” Wynn admitted and stood up to leave. The hour was late and the Cull was calling.

  “Same time tomorrow?”

  “A bit earlier, around noon.”

  “Splendid, we’ll meet in the tavern upstairs, win us a few pieces in cards.”

  “You speak my language.”

  Wynn stepped from the room and flicked the light switch a few times with undisguised glee. It was always good to make a new friend on the road.

  Not Going Home Yet

  She wore dark blue today. It was regal and fetching but he thought better than to compliment her. Dia tapped her finger on the high podium as she spoke, each word accompa
nied by an irritated drumbeat. He had expected to meet four vindictive females, instead he faced just one, and the orders she was giving him were disappointing.

  “You want me to travel all the way to Conlon to deliver a letter?” Erroh asked again. The snow-covered region of Conlon was deep in the south, inhabited by barbarians who barely answered Samara’s call. There was no region more hostile to Magnus and his kin than the south and Dia was sending him regardless of his protestations.

  “Mydame, with all due respect, I intend to return home after this,” he pleaded but Dia was not listening.

  “There is a tavern in Conlon named “Little Rose.” Enquire after a man named Gemmil. For two decades he has been my eyes, my ears and voice in the south and he is a trusted friend,” she continued.

  “Please Mydame,” he interrupted. It was too far. At least two seasons walk or two or three months on a charging mount. She was sending him to the bottom of the world on a whim. It was called the Southern Faction, but it was like the other three in name alone. For most seasons, it was covered in snow and many a wanderer had disappeared attempting to walk its inhospitable roads. The cold or one of the many aggressive tribes who inhabited the region likely took them. Regardless, few people dared to enter the territory, and Erroh thought no differently.

  She raised a finger and he fell silent. Her eyes didn’t burn with anger, but she was irritated and she spoke as if addressing a child. “You are as petulant as I had heard. You think it a small matter to question the Primary as if your bloodline demands it. Your father is a legend and I’m sure following in his footsteps is a terrible cross to bear, but the arrogance to walk into this city and behave with such disdain is reprehensible. My girls deserve more than that,” she said.

  His face reddened but he held his tongue. He even managed a subservient nod.

  “A seal from Spark City should guarantee you safe passage, but I cannot trust a simple lowerline with a task as precarious as this. I trust you because of your name and what horrors you have already seen. There have been more attacks and if such deeds are happening in the south, Gemmil will have answers. If the attacks have originated from the southerners, Gemmil will know the perpetrators. You wanted justice, this is where justice is born,” she said and Erroh finally saw the pain in her face. For the briefest of moments, she appeared less the politician and more human. Perhaps it was the blue dress.

  “Should we not spread word Mydame?” he suggested. Whispered words of the road travelled as fast as the wind.

  “I have no interest in creating a phantom terror across the land and having every lowerline and his whore camping at the city’s gate,” she said coldly and Erroh flinched at her prejudice. She seemed to notice. “They would flock like moths to the city’s light and with them would follow an eclipse that burns the world to the ground,” she warned.

  Was she suggesting the city wasn’t safe from attack? Again, he thought to argue but her suggestion of his arrogance had shaken him. He thought he had been quite a courteous little cub since he’d walked into Samara, but the city thought differently.

  “I can’t allow that to happen. Nobody will be told until we know our enemy. Until we know what army is marching,” she said carefully and he understood perfectly now. She was indeed accusing his father of warmongering and she was sending Erroh as far south as possible. Who knew what misery father and son could evoke if they marched together? It was painfully obvious that she was mad. After twenty years at the seat, she had lost her senses. It was time for another to take her position. Surely, someone else was up to challenging her.

  Elise would have been a fine choice.

  “If the people come, we haven’t enough resources. These walls will protect us and only us,” Dia pledged defiantly as though he was nothing more than a scared citizen clinging to survival, and she the brave leader standing against the storm. Aye, she was mad but there was little he could do but drop to a painful knee submissively. Somehow, he doubted his father would have pledged himself so easily.

  “I will travel south after the Cull,” he swore. The Primary nodded before stepping away from her podium, back into the darkness. Good little cub.

  It wasn’t long before the females returned to do battle with him. When they had settled in and enough time had passed to address the awkwardness, Erroh spoke first.

  “Is she late?” he asked.

  Lea shook her head. She loved the uncomfortable moment. He could see it in her misty cruel eyes. They were sharp, beautiful like glimmering diamonds cutting into his soul, tearing him apart, leaving him for dead.

  “So Lillium found more interesting things to occupy her time?” he asked quietly.

  “She didn’t want you to be her mate,” Sylvia informed him helpfully. Of course she did.

  “She obviously doesn’t understand what a catch you are,” muttered Roja and Lea smiled beside her. He had never thought his skin was so thin but the rejection hurt. It didn’t matter for a moment she had never looked or spoken to him with any warmth. What mattered was that she had been the first to step away. He had never liked her anyway, had he?

  Had he?

  “We should talk about why Erroh missed yesterday,” decided Silvia. Her smile was no longer warm or inviting. It was quite the wonderful sneer. Lea dipped her head in shame. She suddenly found something interesting to stare at instead of the battered wretch below her.

  “We should talk about sex,” suggested Roja, toying with her wonderful red hair.

  “Oh that’s a much better idea,” agreed Sylvia. Erroh didn’t like that tone. He didn’t like it at all. The blonde smiled at her redheaded companion nastily but said nothing. Lea refused to look at Erroh or indeed open the questions. Instead, she waited patiently for Roja to begin the battering. She didn’t have to wait long.

  “Have you ever had a female Erroh?” Roja asked biting her lower lip unconsciously. A fine technique to trap unsuspecting victims, he imagined. She raised an eyebrow and continued to play with her hair. It was another lure, no doubt. Wonderful hair, wonderful lips. He wasn’t certain what the correct answer was. As usual, he chose truth. It was the wrong answer.

  “I have had no such pleasure,” he replied slowly.

  “Why? Is there something wrong with you?” she asked taken aback. Beside her, Silvia sniggered and Roja hissed her to silence.

  Was there something wrong with him? In truth, it was both a fair and ridiculous question. There were countless things wrong with him, many of which had only occurred in the last few days and some things a little before that. Instead of allowing his demons to surface, he shrugged pathetically.

  “Do you even want to furrow one of us?” Roja snapped, foregoing the alluring pose. It was a crude question and there was no safe reply without sounding like a craven beast. Silly redheaded female with fantastic body. He very much wanted to furrow with all of them. Even at the same time, if they were up to such misdeeds. He wanted to kiss, touch, writhe, thrash, and hold any and all for they were still so very beautiful.

  All four were goddesses. No, three.

  He searched for a witty reply to appease her. Clever words worthy of a confident well-endowed man.

  “Aye I would,” replied Erroh, and he hung his head. He could not be himself here. Maybe if they walked with him out on the road, they would see his prowess, they would hear his charm, they may even laugh at his jokes. But in this room he was a failure in everything. What if the Primary was right and his arrogance had brought this upon him? This made him feel even worse. He wasn’t built for battling wits in the Cull.

  “Well, that’s something,” Roja replied softly. Perhaps she noticed his torment and thought it less fun striking at an injured animal. Perhaps she was as tired as he was. Perhaps they all were. Perhaps the day off had taken its toll or else there was something in the air he hadn’t noticed.

  “May I ask if there was any particular reason you haven’t been with a girl?” asked Lea. She didn’t bother concealing the cruel smile around her kissable lips
. If Roja had shown a breath of mercy, Lea did not intend to join her.

  “I wasn’t interested. I thought it would be better to wait for a worthy mate,” he admitted. It had sounded a lot nicer in his mind. Looking around at the three remaining girls, it was obvious they were unmoved by this sentiment. Like most answers, he regretted it immediately. Still, why break from tradition?

  Silvia struck the next sarcastic blow.

  “Well that’s very noble of you, but it’s a little disappointing to hear that you have no experience in pleasuring a female,” she said and Erroh recoiled. Lexi had warned him of her. There was cruelty hidden beneath her smile, albeit a very attractive smile. At least Lea wore her nastiness openly.

  So very tired.

  “I know where things are supposed to go,” he said trying to hide the humiliation and failing. Nobody said anything for a few long moments as each female silently judged him for his lack of prowess upon bedding and straw. Of course they did, because they were all whores.

  Tired and beyond caring.

  “I assume all of you are skilled at pleasuring males then?” Erroh said before he could catch himself.

  “Some of us have talents,” snapped Roja without missing a beat.

  “Some more than others,” Sylvia muttered under her breath and both females exchanged venomous glances. Something in the room changed, as if two best friends had recently had a falling out over some unknown matter. Perhaps over a male? Perhaps two?

  “I know what I like Silvia,” shrugged Roja casually but her eyes cut through the diminutive blonde. Erroh watched with grim amusement. It was all going to end in tears but for now, it was nice to see a little disharmony between the goddesses.

  “I’m sure you like many things,” hissed the blonde. She picked a loose strand of hair from her shoulder and dropped it over the side of the balcony as irritably as she could. It was something to do instead of glaring at her friend in unrivalled disgust.

  “I’m sure you like anything you can get,” hissed Roja dropping any pretence of cordiality. What marvellous event occurred on their day off to cause such hostility, wondered Erroh. Please ladies, do go on.