“It’s just the way things are in Meldence, Hal,” whispered Laurel. “It’s another part of the reason why I don’t enjoy life here in court.”
Somewhere outside, Hal heard a window being smashed. He forced himself to stay calm. Zoria was already settling into one of the room’s corners, using her cloak as a makeshift bed.
“We should all sleep in the sitting room tonight,” said Hal. “I don’t think it will be safe for us to be on our own.”
“The Maxim has the threat under control, I’m sure,” said Yua.
“If you think so, then feel free to take the risk,” said Hal.
He returned to his room briefly to change into unbloodied clothes, and then brought blankets and pillows out for all of them. Laurel was next to him on the floor, and almost no sooner than he’d started to close his eyes did he feel her sliding in closer to him.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she whispered.
“Of course not,” said Hal.
He put his arm over her, unsure of how much protection it was really worth.
CHAPTER 29
Hal did not sleep well that night. He managed to get a few hours before the sun rose in the early morning, but it wasn’t nearly enough to offset the deficit he’d accumulated over the past few days.
Shortly after sunrise, he awoke to the sound of a group of town criers, carrying a message from Maxim Cedric through the city.
“It’s safe on the streets,” shouted the criers. “And the tournament will proceed as planned. The threat has been identified and cordoned off. You may come out of your houses.”
Hal hadn’t stopped to even consider the tournament since the end of his fight the day before. He wearily pulled out his heartgem and examined the essence inside of it. There was barely enough for him to cast a few spells, and maybe push into a Ruby Trance, if he was lucky.
He rubbed his temples and looked toward the corner of the room, where Zoria had been sleeping. She was gone, and a sudden surge of panic took hold in his heart.
“She said she had business to take care of,” said Yua, who’d noticed his expression.
“Ah,” said Hal.
Is she fearless or just stupid?
“Hal, you should eat something,” said Laurel. She looked only slightly better rested than Hal felt, her blonde hair a mess of tangled tresses. Hal sat down at the table and silently ate the dried fruit she set in front of him.
“Are you worried?” asked Laurel.
He shook his head, sighed, and then shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he said. “We’ll just have to see how things go. I have to imagine that most of the other fighters in the tournament are also going to be worn out after last night.”
There was a soft knock at the door. Yua opened it, and Zoria entered. She had a secretive smile on her face as she pulled back her hood. Her brown hair was loose and messy, like Laurel’s, but her eyes were sharp and alert.
“I placed a bet on your fight, master,” she said, taking a seat next to him.
“You… what?” Hal frowned.
“I placed a bet on your fight,” said Zoria. “It was all I could think about after the attack last night. With the city in such a turbulent state, the betting market has become a fair bit more profitable.”
Hal massaged his temples, unsure of how to react.
“You bet on me winning,” he said. “Right?”
“Of course,” said Zoria. “All of the money that I have. The odds on you are very long.”
“Alright,” he said. “But why? What’s the point for you? I didn’t think you were planning on settling down here, on the surface.”
Zoria stared at him blankly, holding her mischievous smile.
“So I can pay you for finishing my tattoos,” she said.
“You don’t have to do that,” said Hal. “We already have a deal.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” said Zoria, quickly. “Surface money is worthless to me. There is no sentiment involved in this.”
Hal frowned, feeling curiosity and suspicion over her true motives. He nodded, noticing her relief at his reaction.
“Of course,” he said. “That makes perfect sense.”
There’s more to this than she’s letting on, but I don’t see a reason to press her over it.
He ate more food, mostly at the insistence of a very concerned Laurel. Hal took his pistol off his belt, left it in his room, and then headed out, joined by Zoria and Laurel.
There were fewer signs of the husk attack from the night before than Hal was expecting. It was mostly just the occasionally broken window, or patch of blood on the ground. What did seem off about the city was the tension in the faces and body language of all the people they passed.
It made sense to him. They’d been attacked, and from a foe that managed to get around the city’s walls and defenses. It was a different kind of danger than they were used to. He’d gone through a similar change after Aangavar had attacked his family’s estate. It was a sudden shift of perspective, the realization that death could come at a moment’s notice.
Every smith and armor dealer that they passed by on the way out of the city was crowded with nervous looking men. Likewise, the tournament grounds were packed with people, a good number who were presumably only there due to the knowledge of how many well-equipped warriors would be present in the waiting tent.
“I should head to the combatant’s tent,” said Hal.
“Good luck,” said Laurel.
“You’d better win your fight, master,” said Zoria. “I’ve got a lot riding on it.”
Hal nodded and tried to smile at them confidently. His body felt heavy and bruised, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed and get another night’s worth of sleep.
He slipped into the combatant’s tent and headed straight to the tent overseer. The chubby man smiled when he saw Hal, giving an approving nod.
“I would have figured you for one of the tournament deserters,” said the overseer. “Glad to see you have some stones, after all.”
“Deserters?” asked Hal.
“Close to a third of the total participants,” said the overseer. “The monster attack last night sent them scrambling. It’s understandable for the ones that have families to protect or lords to serve, but the rest are a bunch of stinking cowards.”
Hal nodded, wondering if he would be doing the same with Laurel if not for the issues with the ownership of the homestead.
“Anyway,” said the overseer, “We had to change a few of the matchups to make to accommodate the thinned brackets. Your opponent for today is over there.”
He gestured toward a tall man wearing spiked armor and polishing a long spear on the other side of the room.
“The spearman?” asked Hal.
“No, the one behind him,” said the overseer. “The Golden Warrior.”
Hal flinched with surprise. He looked back in the direction the overseer had pointed in in time to see Golden Helm step out from behind the spearman. Emotions surged through him, numbing him to everything else except his memories and his revenge.
“Hey, you okay?” asked the overseer.
“I’m fine.” Hal’s hand had wandered down to his sword hilt. He was thinking too fast to keep a single track of thought.
Should I attack now? Should I wait until we’re both in the arena? If I kill him, won’t I be disqualified? What about waiting until after, surprising him once the fight is done?
Can I win in a fight against this man? Will I even be able to fight against him, the man that murdered my family without hesitation?
“You look like you need a shot,” said the overseer. “Here. Normally there’s a rule against it, but with what happened last night… we decided to relax it.”
The tent overseer pushed a wooden flask into Hal’s hand. He took a sip of it, tasting a strong, minty liquor. He passed the container back and took a deep breath.
“You won’t have to wait long. Your fight is after the next one. Don’t go a
nywhere, Just Hal.”
Hal nodded and took a seat in a chair, his eyes never leaving Golden Helm. He wondered if it was wise to make his interest so open, but if Golden Helm recognized him, he didn’t let it show.
CHAPTER 30
The sounds of the current fight, along with the cheers and roars of the audience, were barely a murmur to Hal. He thought of Lilith as he stared at his quarry. He scanned over the man’s armor, considering which spots would allow for a sword thrust, and whether his fire magic would be effective.
“Get ready,” said the overseer. “The announcer’s about to call your name.”
Hal nodded. He was sweating, more nervous than he’d been the first time he’d been preparing for an arena fight. Golden Helm’s battle name was called first, and he walked by Hal on his way into the sand circle without sparing a glance in his direction.
The announcer called out “Just Hal”, and he made his way out into the arena, his stomach twisting into knots over what would happen over the next few minutes. Golden Helm stood across the sand circle, face obscured by the helmet that Hal knew him by. He wasn’t sure he’d been able to hold the man’s gaze, if it hadn’t been.
“On the left side of the arena, we have the mysterious Golden Warrior!” called the announcer. “He’s fought opponent after opponent with barely a word. He’s told us nothing about himself, but made it clear in fight after fight that he is here to take the grand prize!”
The crowd cheered. Golden Helm lifted his sword and turned in a complete circle before giving a mocking bow in Hal’s direction.
“And up against him, we have one of the most interesting surprises of the tournament,” called the announcer. “A warrior from imaginative origins, with gem talents that rival any of the Temple’s disciples. Give it up for the underdog… Just Hal!”
The crowd cheered louder than it had for Golden Helm, though Hal was barely listening. He drew his sword, the hilt almost slipping from his fingers as he unsheathed it. The announcer waited while the crowd finished cheering. Hal’s heart thumped against the inside of his chest, and the lump that had formed in his throat throbbed in time with it.
“Without further ado,” shouted the announcer. “May your blood seed the harvest!”
Hal stood where he was, frozen in place. The weight of what he needed to do was too much for him. Golden Helm had begun twirling his sword in basic, albeit entertaining circles, showing off for the crowd during the minute-long entertainment round.
He thought of Lilith. He saw her back in his father’s ballroom, her face pressed up against the window amidst the crowd of curious people. He saw the flames ripping through the glass, immolating everything and everyone, reducing lives to ashes in the blink of an eye.
He thought of Mauve and his father. He thought of how much had been stolen from him on that hideous night, and how much the man standing across from him was to blame.
Hal entered a Ruby Trance without consciously deciding to. He gripped his sword tight as he charged forward, the red hues making Golden Helm’s armor look as though it was already covered in blood.
“You’re a monster!” shouted Hal.
The sound of the crowd drowned out his voice. He didn’t care.
“Is it just what you do?” he screamed. “Kill people? Destroy families? Is that all you can do?”
Golden Helm was still flourishing his weapon, seemingly oblivious to Hal’s internal strife. His Ruby Trance pulled at his emotions like a riptide, sucking him out to sea. He was shivering with anger, and grinding his teeth so hard that his jaw cramped.
Fire exploded into existence along the blade of his sword as he cast Flame Strike. It was what Golden Helm deserved. A fitting punishment for an unforgivable crime. Hal screamed as he slammed his sword forward, putting all his pain and hatred into a single thrust.
Golden Helm was caught off guard. He made an attempt at blocking the strike, but it came too late. His sword was knocked aside, while the fiery point of Hal’s continued forward. Hal stabbed his blade through the stomach of the man who’d taken his entire family from him, and watched as he writhed in pain from both the impalement and the heat.
“Disqualification!” shouted the announcer. “For both the use of deadly force, and for violating the minute-long grace period. Just Hal is disqualified.”
“Justice…” whispered Hal. He took one of his shivering hands from the sword and reached out, gripping that wretched golden helm. He pulled it loose from the man’s head.
He saw a face he’d never seen before underneath. It was a young man, possibly even younger than he was. His features were unremarkable, brown hair, patches of freckles on both cheeks. Hal stared at him, feeling the same sense of emptiness that he’d felt upon finally confronting Aangavar.
He was still in a Ruby Trance, and felt a sudden, possessive anger that now lacked a target. He hated the man for killing his family, but also for petty reasons. He hated him for dying so easily and robbing him of the joy of savoring his victory. He hated him for never having given any reason for his actions.
Hal forced himself to ease back to Baseline, letting out a slow exhalation as he did. The crowd was silent, as though still in disbelief of the fact that they’d watched someone get killed.
“Just Hal, leave the arena!” shouted the announcer. “You are disqualified!”
The words finally made it through, and Hal brought a hand to his forehead as he realized what he’d done. He had needed to win the fight, both to keep advancing in the tournament and for Zoria’s bet. He could have won the fight easily if he’d just kept his emotions in check.
How was I supposed to do that? Entering a Ruby Trance, while fighting the man who killed my family… It was like pouring oil on a raging fire.
Hal left the arena slowly, his shoulders slumping as he entered the tent. He wanted to celebrate Golden Helm’s death, but found it impossible. He almost felt like he’d traded places with the man, through killing him. Shouldered a burden of death and violence that should have belonged to someone else.
Zoria had slipped into the combatant’s tent ahead of the others. She hurried over to Hal, and before he could say anything, she clapped him hard on the shoulder.
“Good work,” she said.
Hal shook his head.
“I was disqualified,” he said. “The bet…”
“The bet was on your opponent to lose,” said Zoria. “I’ll make sure I get the money. You did good, Hal. It was smart for you to kill your opponent, with the stakes as they were.”
She gave his shoulder another squeeze and then hurried out of the tent. Hal sighed and took a moment to lean against one of the chairs.
He expected Laurel to be waiting for him when he left the tent, and she was. Surprisingly, Cadrian was standing with her. Neither of them smiled as he approached them.
“Hal,” said Laurel. “That man you were fighting…”
He saw confusion mixed with a hint of disgust in her eyes. And why not? To anyone watching, it would seem as though he killed his opponent for no other reason than because he could.
“He was the dragon rider, Laurel,” said Hal. “The one who brought me here, and took my family from me.”
Laurel’s eyes went wide with surprise. She set her hand to her mouth, and then hurried to him, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Oh, Hal!” she said. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s over.”
He spoke the words and tried to believe them. It was over, in a sense. He had his revenge. The man and the dragon who had physically caused the destruction of his old life were both dead. But the question of why still remained. Why had the man come to his family’s estate? What had been worth trading the lives of his family and friends for? And who had given the order, for surely they hadn’t been acting on their own?
“Revenge is a poor reason to kill,” said Cadrian. “But I don’t fault you for getting swept up in it, Halrin. Has it done anything to settle your heart?”<
br />
Hal felt his leftover anger from his Ruby Trance flare up in his chest, but he managed to keep it and a snide remark from slipping out. Instead, he exhaled and shrugged, and then shook his head.
“You’ve never killed a man before this, have you?” asked Cadrian.
He shook his head again.
“I haven’t,” said Hal. “But I’ve killed husks. It’s not so different.”
Cadrian smiled. It was the kind of a smile a wise master gives to a foolish apprentice, not mocking, but in appreciation of how much further they had to go.
“I am sorry,” said Cadrian. “It must be difficult.”
Hal looked away from her.
“I just feel empty,” he said. “There is so much more that I feel I know. Who was that man? Why did he kill so many people I loved? I just… want it to make sense.”
“The man said nothing to you?” asked Cadrian.
“Not a word,” said Hal.
She nodded, as though she’d expected that.
“Perhaps it would be unwise to dig too deeply into his identity and past,” said Cadrian. “What you find might sour the revenge you’ve taken.”
“Maybe,” said Hal. “I don’t know…”
Laurel moved in closer to Hal, letting herself lean against his shoulder for support. Cadrian allowed the silence to hold for a couple of seconds before breaking it.
“I’ve heard from Laurel about the bet placed on the match,” said Cadrian. “It seems as though if it pays off, you’ll have the option of returning to Fool’s Valley, soon enough.”
“I hope so!” said Laurel. She glanced at Hal, her expression optimistic outside of her eyes, which still shared in his pain.
“Yeah, I suppose that’s what I’ll do,” said Hal.
“My business in the city is just about concluded,” said Cadrian. “Perhaps we can travel back in that direction together?”
Hal nodded, and the three of them started toward the city gates in silence. On the inside, Hal’s emotions continued to surge, but not over the fight or the motives of his vanquished foe. He thought of Lilith, his father, and Mauve. He felt a sudden, desperate desire to go back to the monument he’d built in Fool’s Valley and tell them about all that had happened.
Harvest Tournament (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 2) Page 17
