Bound

by Alan Baxter

  This was his territory, his area of expertise. He did this all the time and today would be no different. The faces around him, smirking and derisive, were irrelevant. He let them fade away, focused on nothing but the space inside the columns. Silhouette finished the wraps and stood. She planted a quick kiss on his cheek and slipped away. He sat alone on the edge of the combat arena. Every battle has rules, he remembered. Some are competition and have many rules, some are to the death and have none but the rules of physics. Always know the rules, know the field of battle, know everything that can be used against you or that you can use against your foe. When the fight begins, nothing exists but you and your opponent, and the space you occupy. Own yourself, own the space and own your opponent. Then own victory.

  There was nothing here but a wide circle of flagstone floor. Silhouette had told him the crowd would push them back into the circle if they got near the edge, a problem he’d try to avoid. No weapons were allowed. Joseph might stop the bout, but only Joseph could. His opponent would certainly be trying to kill him. A simple set of rules. He had tucked the locket holding the shard of the Darak into the waist of his trousers, winding its cord together with the one that held the waistband tight. He could feel its power swelling through him and he drew on it. Not a weapon, Silhouette had assured him, perfectly permissible. He was as ready as he could be.

  Joseph walked into the centre, the raised hubbub of voices quickly hushed. Alex became vaguely aware of the granite man, Isiah, and his companion, off to one side. Silhouette sat not far from them and a large chair stood empty next to them, presumably for Joseph. He let the image go. Nothing but the circle of stone floor existed. He stared calmly at his wrapped hands as Joseph spoke.

  ‘A human has come among us this day. Alex Caine. Remember that name, Clan, as it may go down in history. Or it may go down on the menu for dinner tonight.’ A ripple of laughter, with an undertone of growls, swept through. ‘There is some speculation,’ Joseph continued, ‘that Alex Caine may prevail this day. I, for one, am quite excited to see that. But I will not let him win easily. His opponent, Ataro!’ Another murmur spread through the crowd as the giant doorman stepped into the light. He wore nothing but a pair of knee-length shorts, his hands wrapped like Alex’s. His dark skin shone. He gripped his fists in front of his chest and flexed, massive muscles bulging as he roared, an animal sound. The crowd cheered.

  Alex walked into the middle of the arena, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline course through his stomach, fire through his skin. He breathed it into his muscles, welcomed it like a favourite drug. Every man has strengths and weaknesses. Every man can be beaten. And every man can lose. Step up knowing you can win. Find your opponent’s weakness and use it to defeat him.

  Ataro stood head and shoulders taller than him, towering with muscles and malice. The insipid disrespect had been replaced with a bloodlust. A primeval urge to kill. He leaned down towards Alex and roared again, his face flexing through a parody of wolf before returning to Ataro’s human visage. Alex was calm, prepared. These games were his strength. The big man’s shades were all anger and rage. He exuded a desperation to destroy as quickly as possible. Alex could use that.

  He looked into Ataro’s snarling features, pinned the man’s eyes with his own. ‘Did you finish your book?’ he asked. ‘Or shall I tell you the end before I kill you?’

  Joseph laughed and Ataro roared again. ‘Oh, I like you,’ Joseph said. ‘It’s a shame you’ll die here.’

  ‘Die here!’ Ataro snarled.

  Alex gave the ghost of a smile. ‘What are you now, an echo?’ he mocked.

  Joseph laughed again, shaking his head, bemused. ‘I think we’d better get this fight started. Step apart.’

  Alex and Ataro shifted a few paces from each other. Ataro’s face twisted in fury, his hands curled into claws, the muscles of his forearms and chest bulged. He opened his mouth wide, his teeth a forest of sharp, black fangs. His shades had colours and shifts Alex couldn’t recognise — Kin aspects he supposed. But there were others he knew all too well. Alex stood calm and relaxed, breathing deeply. This was combat, the essence of life. He would fight and prevail. If he lost, nothing would matter, so all that remained was to engage the battle. Ataro was massive, had unknown abilities, magic and shapechanging, at his disposal, but it all boiled down to the same thing. Seek out the weakness, exploit it and win.

  Joseph retreated to his chair at the edge of the arena. He raised one hand high then let it drop. ‘Fight!’

  Ataro barrelled forward, charging Alex like a bull. Alex had seen the shades, knew he would do exactly that, and sidestepped, lifting his knee to deliver a heavy turning kick to Ataro’s thigh as the man passed. It was the kind of kick that would usually cause a significant amount of damage when landed well. Alex landed it well, but felt a shock arc up his shin. Ataro’s leg was like stone. The big man spun, grinning.

  When a technique doesn’t work, don’t concentrate on injury or despair. You’ve learned something about your opponent. Use that knowledge.

  Alex danced back, ignoring the pain, breathing it away. He watched the shades shift around Ataro, read the man’s intent. Ataro charged again, swinging one colossal arm to collect Alex. Alex dropped, planted one hand firmly against the stone floor, and swept his leg around at ground level. He connected with the back of Ataro’s ankle and swiped the man’s feet out from under him. With a grunt Ataro fell. The crowd howled as Ataro hit the ground, rolled and regained his stance with preternatural speed. Alex barely shifted his weight in time as Ataro swung again, huge dark knuckles cracking into the side of Alex’s head just above his left eye.

  Pain lanced white hot through Alex’s skull as he ducked and turned. He made a space between them, determined not to press his palm to the throbbing hurt. A warm trickle passed under his left ear and he knew Ataro’s iron hard knuckles had split the skin just behind his eyebrow. Ataro grinned. ‘First blood to me, little human.’

  Alex feinted forward, reading Ataro’s shades for timing. Even as the man decided to move, Alex ducked through, driving the heel of his hand up, letting the stone at his waist flood his arm with power. Ataro grabbed air and Alex’s palm crunched into the big man’s nose. Dark red gouted, spraying Alex. Alex leapt to one side, twisting away as the huge man roared in pain and frustration, his own strike missing. The crowd roared with him.

  The combatants kept their distance, circling each other. Ataro wiped scarlet and snot from his mouth with the back of one hand.

  ‘Second blood to me,’ Alex said. ‘You breathing okay?’

  Ataro’s eyes were wide, incredulous, as he flicked the blood away. Confidence to surprise, surprise to concern, concern to fear, fear to defeat. This was a rhythm Alex recognised.

  Alex circled, reading the shades. He would wait, let Ataro make the next move. Let the man’s frustration and anger make him clumsy. The shades shifted and Alex saw something he had never seen before. He read the movement, but didn’t know what it meant. It became clear as Ataro crouched, his legs bunched, his muscles stretched and warped. His arms and face lengthened, his hands became claws, his teeth extended to long ivory razors, all in a fraction of a second. A monstrous creature, part wolf, part man, part hideous denizen of nightmares, flew at Alex. So much for surprise to concern.

  Alex jumped to the side, twisting in the air to avoid one great, swiping hand. Talons raked four deep lines across his ribs. Hot, searing pain folded through him, forcing him to clamp his elbow and upper arm against his body as he hissed with agony. Ataro landed and sprang instantly, changing direction, moving quicker than Alex could read. A desperate duck and roll saved him meeting Ataro head on, but four more scorching tracks ripped across his back. For a fraction of a second his vision swam, panic threatening.

  The fight is not over until you are no longer standing. If you have time to think, ‘I’m beaten’, then you have wasted an opportunity to win. Only the instant exists.

  Alex spun as he landed, no longer trying to get away
from the marauding creature. He gathered his energy as he turned, whipping one foot up and out in a blur. He let all the power of the Darak shard flow through his body, let it harden his leg like steel.

  Ataro ran directly onto Alex’s spinning kick, Alex’s heel connecting with the side of Ataro’s head with a sickening crack. The crowd howled as Ataro staggered sideways, his form morphing insanely between wolf and human.

  Alex drove off from his grounded leg, sticking with Ataro as if glued there. He drew the magic up through his arms and hammered a flurry of punches into Ataro’s face.

  The monumental man whipped one elbow across even as Alex’s blows knocked his head stupidly to one side. The elbow caught Alex across the cheekbone; a numb whine of injury sang through his mind, sent him stumbling to the side.

  Ataro fell to one knee, hands waving drunkenly. Alex sucked breath in as deep as he could, staying conscious by force of will alone. His vision crossed as he tried to focus on his opponent. He had to move first, had to finish this. The shades around Ataro altered again as the man drew energy from somewhere. Alex drove himself forward with one pumping leg, gathering every last bit of strength he had, and drove his other knee up and out.

  As Ataro shifted his feet, trying to stand, Alex slammed his knee up under the man’s chin. Ataro’s head flipped up, his teeth snapping shut like a bear trap, and he keeled over backwards. Alex went with him, blackness circling in at the edges of his mind like hungry vultures. As Ataro collapsed onto his back, Alex landed over him, drawing his elbow back, fist clenched, visualising his knuckles like iron bolts crashing through Ataro’s head. The bloodlust overwhelmed him, the urge to kill surged like an orgasm. He felt the book, wrapped up with his clothes, calling out for murder.

  ‘Stop!’ Joseph’s voice lashed into the room like a whip crack, clear over the roaring crowd and the surging through Alex’s head.

  Alex ignored him, drove his fist down. His knuckles pounded into Ataro’s face and clear through, crushing the big man’s head to mince. A shock ran up to Alex’s shoulder as his hand cracked into the stone beneath. The behemoth bucked once beneath him and lay still. The crowd fell silent.

  The Clan Lord strode in as Alex struggled for breath, shadows chasing each other at the peripheries of his vision. ‘It’s over!’ Joseph yelled. He looked at the corpse running red across the flagstones. ‘You should have stopped when I called it,’ he said, quietly so only Alex could hear.

  ‘You said to the death,’ Alex whispered. He felt exhilaration from the kill, but shame overwhelmed it. The influence of the book had driven him on when he had heard Joseph call a stop to it. No true warrior acted that way.

  Joseph made a strange sound, part amusement, part annoyance. He turned slowly, addressing the room. ‘Alex Caine, the human with balls of iron, has won,’ he said. A susurration of muttering and chatter swelled in the high chamber.

  Alex staggered up, backing away from Ataro’s supine form. Joseph had one eyebrow raised. Isiah nodded softly, though his face appeared troubled. Silhouette clapped excitedly, grinning. He let blackness take him.

  11

  Sounds stretched and folded over each other in thick darkness. One resolved into a female voice. It sang to him, a song of triumph. Noise melted and folded again and the voice became clearer. ‘Drink this, you fuckwit.’

  Alex’s eyelids flickered. He felt pressure at the back of his head and something cold pressed against his lips. He gave in to the reflex to swallow and tasted a familiar tingling sweet bitterness. Silhouette’s healing potion. He tried to open his eyes again.

  ‘Give it a minute, Iron Balls.’

  He collapsed back, taking deep breaths, and let the bittersweet tingle travel into his chest. Almost immediately some strength and sensation returned. His heart hammered a couple of extra beats and settled.

  ‘I only gave you a tiny amount this time, considering you’re such a lightweight for the stuff.’

  Alex opened his eyes. Silhouette’s face floated over him, her hair hanging down, almost touching him. A wash of relief and ecstasy poured through him. He’d won the fight. He reached a hand up and pulled Silhouette’s head down, pushing her lips against his, taking a long, passionate kiss. She kissed him back for a couple of seconds before moving back angrily. ‘I’ve killed men for far less than that!’

  Alex grinned, closed his eyes again. A dark shadow of shame flitted through his mind with the image of Ataro’s mangled head. What had he become? Never before would he have let a bloodlust overwhelm him like that. He had been fighting for his life, Ataro had been trying to kill him, but he had the big Kin beaten and Joseph called a stop. Alex considered himself a true warrior, an exponent not only of fighting, but of the essence of the martial arts. That included honour. There had been no honour in what he’d done.

  He let his body soak up its renewed energy and slowly raised himself to a sitting position. He was on a sofa in Joseph’s quarters. Silhouette stood beside him, arms folded tightly across her chest, face set in a furious scowl. Joseph, Isiah and his companion sat across the room in armchairs, all looking quite amused.

  Joseph leaned forward. ‘So. You really are quite the fighter.’

  Alex gave Silhouette an apologetic smile. She huffed and turned away. ‘Thanks,’ he said to Joseph. ‘I’m very sorry, I should have stopped.’

  ‘I told you to fight to the death. I understand the nature of bloodlust and the heat of battle.’ Joseph nodded to his side. ‘Isiah and Petra here are both very accomplished fighters. They’re also rather impressed with you.’

  Petra smiled, nodding. Isiah’s expression was unreadable. ‘You’re pretty undisciplined,’ he said softly. ‘But you have remarkable potential.’

  Alex frowned. ‘Undisciplined?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It seemed Isiah’s opinion was not open for discussion. Something about the man made Alex’s teeth itch. He had a presence, a barely contained authority. There was no doubt the man was every inch the warrior, every atom of his being attuned to battle. The shades around both him and Petra were excellently constructed masks, impenetrable. ‘Perhaps you can teach me some discipline sometime?’ Alex said.

  Isiah smiled. ‘Good. Perhaps I can.’

  ‘If we’ve finished the love-in,’ Joseph said, ‘perhaps we can conclude any outstanding business.’

  Silhouette sat on the arm of Alex’s sofa, clearly still annoyed, though her eyes had softened. ‘You feeling okay?’ she asked.

  Alex felt as if he’d been hit by a train. Twice. But he was alive and fundamentally unbroken. That made him pretty okay. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ He turned to Joseph. ‘So you think you can give me some answers?’

  Joseph shrugged. ‘You’ve earned respect here, which means a civil tongue and none of this Clan will hunt you. I agreed to talk some more, but that’s all.’

  Alex’s clothes were piled by his feet. He retrieved the Darak Uthentia from his jacket, held it up. ‘I’m stuck with this. I can’t get rid of it or destroy it and it … affects me in ways I don’t like. I want to be rid of it.’ The book’s presence swelled out. Alex was shocked, realising it had been concealing itself from the others all along.

  Joseph’s eyebrows shot up as he scooted back in his seat. ‘Kid, you’re fucked. If I’d known you had that, I wouldn’t have let you fight here.’

  Alex sat dismayed, shocked by the fear he saw in Joseph’s eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘A man had it and another man asked me to read it. When I did it seemed to lock onto me. What is it?’

  ‘What were you told?’

  ‘Some kind of history of a Fey king and a stone of power. It’s called the Darak Uthentia. Apparently Uthent—’

  ‘I know who Uthentia is, child.’ Joseph seemed both angered and amused. ‘Put it away. You have no idea what you’re into.’

  Alex slumped back on the sofa, dropped the book into his lap. ‘I know. That’s why I need your help.’

  ‘Put it aw
ay,’ Joseph said again. ‘I can’t help you. I don’t think anyone can.’

  Silhouette put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. ‘Can you at least tell us what all this is, maybe help him find a way out?’

  ‘Why do you insist on getting wrapped up in the mundane affairs of humans, Silhouette?’ Joseph asked with a pained expression. He looked quickly at Isiah and Petra. ‘No offence!’

  Isiah inclined his head. ‘None taken.’

  ‘It’s my weakness,’ Silhouette said icily. ‘Indulge us?’

  Joseph sighed. ‘Silhouette, you know exactly what Uthentia is.’

  ‘I know, but I can’t explain this. My Kin history is a little patchy. I don’t really know what Alex is caught up in.’

  Joseph rubbed his palms together. ‘All right. I’ll tell you, and then you’ll leave. Both of you. I don’t want that kind of chaos in this Den.’

  ‘That’s fine. Thank you,’ Alex said, grateful for anything he could learn. Knowledge was power. Whatever Joseph could tell him must help in some way.

  Joseph pursed his lips, gathering his thoughts for several moments. Eventually, ‘Firstly, Uthentia is not a Fey king. That’s a poor translation. It’s more like a Fey god, but even that isn’t a very accurate description.’

  ‘It’s no god I’ve ever heard of,’ Isiah said. ‘And gods are my business.’