by T. C. Edge
He was fully mended now, of course. There were special healers in this city who could quite easily tend to such things. Yet, while his bone may have set, there were scars to his psyche that clearly hadn’t healed. For men like him, warriors and soldiers and mercenaries, pride was a big deal. To have been so soundly beaten by another man was something he clearly couldn’t stand for.
Dom didn’t see how the brawl began, although was acutely aware that Raven must have been the guilty party. He did, however, see its conclusion.
With their wooden swords discarded to the sand, the two men were throwing punches. Raven’s style was one of fury and pent up anger. Shadow’s movements were smooth, calm, completely collected. Both were blessed with superior speed – though the day’s heat and exertions had somewhat drained their batteries – and they fought with a rapidity that no normal man could possibly compete with.
As Rufus came rushing over with his whip, ready to end things, Dom heard a voice right next to him heave into the air.
“No! Let them fight!”
It was Lucius, his eyes bright and eager for blood. Rufus stopped in his tracks and quickly looked at Dom. Dom gave a little nod, and Rufus stood down.
It was a mistake.
The other trainees quickly moved in and gathered close. The guards stood by, watching intently. In the middle of the sand, Raven flung arms and legs and bellowed to the heavens. Shadow glided like the wind, avoiding every blow, toying with the man.
And then he ended it.
As Raven stepped in, panting heavily, Shadow swung around his back and caught him in a choke-hold. And before anyone could stop him, he slipped his arms up over his head, and twisted violently to the left.
A loud crack filled the air, followed by a shriek. And from the watching crowd, a girl with flaming hair flowed forward, charging straight at Shadow as Raven stood in his arms, head fatally twisted backwards.
Shadow’s eyes lifted, and lit up at the sight of the incoming girl. He loosened his grip, and Raven fell to the sand in a heap, his head rolling around unnaturally atop his body.
It all happened so fast, and Kira was suddenly upon Shadow, darting at him with her blows, a fury and pure hate in her green eyes.
Dom stared, and from his lungs a bellow rang loud across the yard.
“STOP!”
It was enough to quell Kira’s charge. She skidded to a stop in the sand, and both she and Shadow turned their eyes up to the balcony. Dom stared down at them, and one of his contenders lying dead in the sand. His instinct had been right about Raven. He was never going to cut it here.
A silence filled the square, deathly, all consuming. And then, quietly, a voice came from his side.
“Maybe I was wrong,” Lucius whispered. “This Shadow of yours, he has something.”
His eyes grew hungry as they passed to Kira.
“And this red-head too,” he continued. “She hates him. Oh she hates him so…”
He turned to Dom with a query in his eyes. The rest of the square was completely silent and still. Only the two lanistas on the balcony spoke, their conversation private, though not hidden from all ears.
“Where did you get them?” asked Lucius.
“Haven,” said Dom after a moment’s hesitation.
“Ah yes, Haven, all the way across the world. There’s a rebellion on there, or so I understand. I wonder…are these two on opposing sides?”
Dom suspected he already knew. He nodded.
“Well, how very interesting,” went on Lucius, his voice oozing malice. “How about a private bout between the two of them. Let’s see who comes out on top.”
Dom shook his head.
“You’ve just made me lose one of my contenders.” His voice was empty. “I’m not about to lose another.”
“Contender? That man?” laughed Lucius, gesturing towards Raven’s dead body. “He wouldn’t have lasted a second on the sand and you know it. Anyhow, not a bout to the death, Dom. What do you think I am? Just a friendly fight to see what they’ve got. It’ll be fun. A fight for Haven, right here, just for us. What do you say?”
Dom shook his head again. He prepared to speak, but Lucius’ voice cut straight to his ear, darker now.
“You owe me, Dom,” he growled. “Let’s see how your red-head gets on.”
It was more an order than a request. Were it anyone else, Dom would deny him. But, his guilt remained steadfast, ever after all this time. He sighed, nodding slowly, and acquiesced.
“Fine,” he said. “Have it your way.”
And, as he always did, he searched for a silver lining and quickly found it. It would be a good opportunity to see what Kira was made of, and a good chance to better determine her seeding.
So, looking over the square, he called for the body of Raven to be removed, and for Shadow and Kira to line up before him. The rest of the occupants of the training yard stood back, and the two competitors took position in the middle.
“Give them swords,” he called out. “Wooden.”
Rufus came forward and handed them their weapons. Kira looked confused as to what was going on.
“Master Lucius here has requested a bout,” Dom called out. “You will fight until one is unconscious or seeks mercy. If you wish for mercy, kneel to the ground, bow your head, and lift your index finger into the air to submit. No killing, no broken bones, no serious injuries. This is a friendly bout and a test of skill. Shadow, Kira, face each other. On my call, the fight will begin.”
The combatants turned to each other on the sand, ten paces between them. Dom prayed that they’d follow the rules he set, and glanced at Rufus with a stern look. His instructor understood. He’d be ready to step in if needed.
And with a hush falling, and a sense of anticipation building, Dom’s voice rang out into the square.
“Begin.”
20
Kira stood ahead of Shadow, her heart-rate bursting, her chest pressing at her breastplate as she filled her lungs to the brim.
She took a second to compose herself, rein in her anger. But how could she? How could she not hate this man, this emotionless slave, this agent of chaos. She’d just watched him snap Raven’s neck as everyone else just stood and watched. Where she came from, that sort of thing didn’t stand. Her sense of duty, as much as her loathing for the man, had forced her to act.
She hadn’t expected this, though. Her brief brawl had suddenly mutated into something more organised. Up on the balcony, the young man who looked so similar to Dom, Lucius, clearly had a lust for blood today.
She didn’t like the way he looked at her. She didn’t like the shape of his face, or the curve of his eyes, or the sneer of his mouth. She didn’t like him at all.
Around her, the rest of the trainees had retreated to the sides, and she noticed Finn staring at her with an expression of concern. She didn’t like that either. He didn’t need to be concerned for her. She didn’t want that sort of negative attention.
She forgot him, and forgot everyone else. And as Dom called, “Begin,” she felt her hand grip tighter at the handle of her wooden sword, and her weary body fill with a fresh dose of adrenaline.
She hoped it would be enough.
The day had, after all, been long. She’d struggled to grow used to her new clothing and armour, the heat relentlessly oppressive. The sun had gone, and the clouds had gathered, and all that had done was make it worse. Sticky air wrapped her up tight, and the entire yard had filled with a blanket of humidity that had brought a terrible ache to her head.
But now, she cast all that away. This was her chance to mete out some justice, to take herself home for at least a while. Here, ahead of this Stalker from Haven, she’d think only of her war, the fight for her city. Nothing else mattered right now.
For the first few moments of the bout, nothing happened. Shadow stood, tall and detached, draped in his black robes and armour. He was waiting for her to make the first move, she knew that full well. So she decided to do the same, and a short stalemate
began.
Up on the balcony, the man called Lucius was getting restless. Kira read him like a book: a spoiled brat, some rich aristocrat who always got what he wanted. It gave her a new appreciation for Domitian, making her thank the heavens that it had been him who’d captured her, and not his rival.
It was an odd thought to have really, mentally debating which would be the better kidnapper…
“Come on, get to it. I don’t have all day!” called the brat.
Kira looked up and spotted Dom suppressing a smile. He even dropped her a tiny little wink, as if to say, “Keep this up, let’s piss him off.”
She was happy to oblige until Lucius’ voice rang out again.
“Dom, what the hell is this?! Have you only gathered a herd of frightened sheep? Fight, goddamnit!”
This seemed enough to goad Dom into action. He looked down again at Kira and Shadow.
“Enough delaying,” he said calmly. “You heard Master Lucius. Give him a good show.”
Kira’s eyes swung back on Shadow. She took a pace forward. He didn’t move. She took another, and still his posture remained fixed in place. Her sword lifted, his hovering by his side, and she closed the gap further.
When she was only a few paces away, the sky burst with a sudden crack of thunder. It rumbled down across the yard and through the city, and all eyes instinctively lifted to the heavens as the first drops of rain began to fall.
But not Kira’s. And not Shadow’s. They only had eyes for each other.
The thunder was like a bell to begin the bout. As it faded away, and everyone’s eyes lifted, Kira decided it was time to act. She mustered her speed and flung herself forward, swiping with her sword across Shadow’s neck, one of the few areas on his body that was partially exposed.
The tip of the wood grazed his skin, drawing a faint line, but nothing more. He leaned back just enough for her to miss full contact, and he drew up his own blade and swung it in retaliation. Kira saw it in time, lifted her sword, and stopped his swipe with a cloud clunk just before it connected with her head.
And so the bout began in earnest.
The speed of Shadow’s movement was enough to take Kira off-guard. From that cool, detached pose, he exploded with a vicious flurry of blows and strikes that had her reeling. He’d lured her in as he desired, and the sudden contrast from his calm posture to furious barrage was shocking, even to someone of Kira’s experience.
Stepping back, her super-sight was forced to work to the max, just about catching his attacks as they came from high and low, right and left, slashing and prodding and exploding like a violent volcano. And with it, the wind seemed to pick up, the sand swirling around at her feet, kicked up as the two combatants engaged. And the thunder boomed in the heavens, cracking the sky in half, following behind the lightning as it zigzagged down in electric blue and white.
The trainees and guards around the square sent their eyes back and forward, scanning the sky and then back to the fight. The soldiers in particular, fitted in metal armour, knew better than to linger too long outside during a lightning storm. Up on the gallery, those with rifles retreated a little beneath the awnings. Down in the yard, the rest stepped as close to the walls as they could.
But Kira wasn’t aware of any of this. All she saw was the black form of her opponent, her enemy, swirling in a cloud of dust like a spectre materialising from a yellow fog. He moved with a speed that outstripped her own, his body half a blur as he built to a crescendo.
Kira grew quickly tired. On the defence, and unable to attack, what energy lingered in her body after a long, hard day, was quickly depleted. Shadow’s reserves must have been greater, his methods of energy conservation giving him deeper pools on which to call upon.
And so, as with Raven, Kira found herself quickly overpowered. Within what must have been only half a minute – although it felt so much longer to her – she was losing her grip on the bout, her first attack the only one she managed to deploy.
From that point on, he came at her like a force of nature, and she was caught in his whirlwind. He was built for the very purpose of hunting hybrids like her, a killer of killers, an emotionless machine with a single directive installed into his mind – to destroy.
She dodged and parried as best she could, but his power and pace were too great. Slipping, she fell backwards in the sand, the rain now falling in thick, fat drops from the sky. Her back hit the ground and punched the air from her lungs, and her sword-wielding arm connected fiercely, weakening her grip as the weapon – her only defence – escaped her grasp.
She arched her eyes up now, and saw him loom. Stretching, her fingers reached for the handle of her sword, and his lifted to the sky, ready to come down upon her head. The swords were wooden, yes, but thick and heavy and capable of dealing a great deal of damage. And in Shadow’s eyes, the desire – no, the need – to eliminate all those who opposed his real master lit like a burning flame.
In that moment, she knew that his mind had been lost to his purpose, to the reason for his very existence. He didn’t care about Domitian’s rules. He didn’t care about his warning. He cared only about settling a score, about destroying this rebel girl at his feet.
And with the sky cracking and rumbling, and the rain falling, and the trainees and guards and lanistas watching, Kira lay sprawled on the floor with her skull the target of Shadow’s wooded sword. His face and eyes showed hate, his detachment cast off, and his arm prepared to swing at such a speed as to crush her head right into the dirt.
And down it came, and across she reached to take her weapon, used now only in a manner of defence. And tightening her eyes, she snatched up the handle and pulled it across, her instinct only to prevent the blow.
But it never came. And not because of her.
Another crack filled the air, though this wasn’t thunder. It was fiercer, sharper, that of a whip that came slashing from the fog and through the rain-filled sky. Rufus stood, watching closely, primed and ready to act when required. And now was that time.
His aim was pure and true, and the tip of his whip keen. It hunted down Shadow’s wrist as his arm came swinging, coiling him up just in time and heaving his motion away. Kira shut her eyes, her own sword still to her side, her head undefended and exposed. She turned her face just as Rufus pulled his whip back, and Shadow’s wooden sword deviated.
It slid to the right of Kira’s head, though didn’t miss her completely. She felt a crack against her temple, the wooden blade swatting her as if being smacked hard by a baseball bat. Her brain rocked within her skull, tossed about as though in a tornado, and the veil of blackness consumed her almost immediately.
Her head hit the rough wet sand. All went quiet and still.
21
Kira woke to a feeling of softness and rare comfort.
The air was cool, the light dim, the cushioning beneath her frame supple and smooth.
Her eyes broke open and the ache in her head quickly reappeared. She took in her surroundings with a frown.
She wasn’t in the dungeon, but a small, finely appointed room. The walls were decorated in artistic patterns, the cornicing elaborate, the ceiling high and floor made of polished marble. There was a bed, on which she lay, and a table with a chair. There appeared to be a storage unit too, but little else.
Her eyes swung straight for the heavy wooden door. She lifted her body and the ache in her head swelled. The instinctive movement of her hand brought fingers into contact with the side of her head where Shadow’s blow had struck. She had a smash gash, already sewn up and tended. She winced and headed for the exit.
It was locked when she reached in, her legs slightly unsteady. She shook the handle a few times, then knocked. Nothing happened. She decided to retreat to the bed once more and lie back down, shutting her eyes to sooth the throb.
It didn’t take long for the door to open. As she began to relive the fight with Shadow, her features coiling at the memory, she heard a key turn and the handle click, and then the door swung
open.
She sat up immediately, and saw a young girl come in. She held a tray with a flask and a cup, and a little bit of food – some fruit, meat, bread. Kira watched her set it down on the table near the bed. She poured some water into the cup and then, finally, turned her gaze on her.
“Drink,” she said, passing Kira the cup.
Kira did so, gulping the contents with such hunger that half seemed to spill down her clothes. She was only wearing her tunic, her red amour and robes removed, and weary body dressed only in white.
“More?” asked the girl.
Kira nodded, and she was given another cupful.
That, too, was hastily consumed.
On finishing, Kira finally found her voice.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in Master Domitian’s residence,” said the slave-girl. “The cells are in the building next door. You required personal attention and so were brought here.”
Kira nodded to herself, and felt ashamed. She’d embarrassed herself out there. There was no escaping that.
The girl took the cup back and stepped to the table.
“There’s some food here, if you want it,” she said. “You’ve been unconscious for most of the night. Master Domitian will come and visit with you soon, once he’s awoken.”
Kira had little to say. She held her head low as the girl looked at her with a measure of compassion. She looked young, younger than Kira perhaps, her hair dark and thick with curls, her skin brown and smooth. She stopped for a moment, and then smiled.
“I heard what happened,” she said quietly. She stepped closer to the bed. “Master Lucius made you fight, didn’t he? He plays with people for fun. He’s cruel and unkind and…”
She stopped herself short and glanced at the door. It was still ajar. When she looked back she’d stiffened her expression back up.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say this.”
“It’s OK,” said Kira. “I won’t say anything.”
The girl smiled and fetched a bunch of grapes from the table. She set them onto a little plate and brought them over.
