by Billy Wong
A figure sprinted from a door which must have led from backstage, so quick Sam couldn't get a good look before it reached the side of the cage, grabbed the top, and pulled itself over to land smoothly inside. Her jaw dropped as it slowed enough to be recognized.
"Is that... Drea?" Vincent asked.
"Yes, it obviously is."
Drea wore the same leather-and-pauldrons warrior outfit she favored during practice and some of their plays. She ran to the other side of the cage, straddled the fence in one leap. The audience erupted. "You talk so much," she shouted at a group of black men standing together, "saying you bet all your savings on your boy beating me? Guess we'll see if you're poor after tonight!"
"She seems a lot more mellow at the playhouse," Vincent said.
Sam gave a small nod. "Well, she plays the role of the big sister with us. Here she's probably considered the young upstart."
The announcer waited for Drea to jump back down into the ring. "And the champion, standing six feet tall, weighing one hundred sixty five pounds, the fastest risen star in the history of our organization, the Duchess of Crushed Dreams, Dreeea!"
Drea bumped fists with Tonius in the center of the ring. "I look forward to a good fight."
He slammed his knuckles together, his humble demeanor lapsing. "I look forward to knocking you out!"
She cocked her head. "I fully expect you to try."
"She's brave," the man who had mentioned Tonius knocking out an ox said. "I mean, you know she has to be to win a championship fighting against hard men. But I doubt she'll try to stand with him. One clean shot, no matter how tough she is, and she's sleeping."
Drea stepped towards Tonius, braving his much longer reach. He unloaded at her face, a jab followed by a hook with the same hand and then a straight with the opposite. His hands were as blazingly fast as before—but Drea's head moved faster, easily avoiding each punch. She struck back even as she dodged, landing a sharp jab that wobbled him followed by an uppercut staggering him to one knee. The crowd roared.
"What?!" Tonius' supporter cried, baffled. "Tonius' chin is famed for being adamantine!"
"Duchess of Crushed Dreams," Sam said under her breath, unable to help a grin. "You give me hope, Big Sis."
"Don't think your girl has won yet! Tonius only gets stronger when he's faced with a stern test!"
"I... wasn't particularly talking to you. But we'll see."
Tonius stood up and charged Drea, swinging huge haymakers. She dodged one after another, popping him in the face time and again with her counters so cuts opened on his cheek and brow. He blinked as blood leaking into his eye disrupted his vision. But he wouldn't fall, though he stumbled a few times, and chased her even harder. At last Drea made a mistake. She miscalculated how much distance there was left between her and the cage, and suddenly found herself out of room to backpedal. As she tried to circle out, Tonius lunged and nailed her with a thunderous hook to the jaw which snapped her head violently around. The crowd gasped, waited for her to drop. Her legs began to buckle, and Tonius blasted her with another meteoric punch. Sam cringed, knowing the next thing she'd see would be her friend crumpling senseless to the ground...
She didn't even fall. Regaining her balance, she answered with punches of her own that drove Tonius back. She threw a high kick which he blocked, but the slapping sound was so loud it hurt Sam just to hear. As he winced and stepped away, she wondered if his forearm might not be broken. They circled for a few seconds, Drea wearing a confident smirk despite a line of blood leaking from her nose—then she seemed to look Sam and Vincent's way. She didn't react visibly before returning her gaze to Tonius, but Vincent asked, "Think she saw us?"
Drea attacked more aggressively, pummeling him with a barrage of punches and kicks while evading his ever less frequent return blows. "No idea," Sam said.
Tonius wobbled on his feet after eating an elbow to the temple when he tried to clinch up, hurt. Drea tried to finish him with a leaping punch, only for him to lean aside and retaliate with an overhand that hurled her off her feet and across the ring. She bounced right up, but he was already on her, hammering away. Could she lose after all? Sam held her breath with the rest of the audience. Tonius pinned Drea against the fence, murderous fists pounding her ribs, her belly, her head. Surely she couldn't stand much more.
Drea rallied again, splitting Tonius' lip with a pair of hard shots. She ducked under a hook and tackled him, pushing him backward before lifting him into the air. Sam yelled in excitement, making Vincent glance her way as Tonius was slammed down hard. He rolled quickly to all fours, whereupon Drea climbed on his back and slipped an arm under his chin. Sam thought he wouldn't struggle much to stand up with her weight on him, but the pressure on his throat must have been immense as his face was already twisted grotesquely with strain. He lurched upright with a great effort. Then he took a few stumbling steps and flipped himself desperately forward, in a last ditch attempt to spike her on the top of her skull and dislodge her hold.
She tucked her head, mitigating the impact, and when they landed her arm was wrapped around Tonius' neck tightly as ever. Finally he slapped her forearm to signal his submission, and she released him. She paraded around the cage briefly basking in the adulation of the fans while he knelt there gasping for breath, then turned back to wrap him in a hug when he gained his footing. "Good fight, big boy," she said. "Maybe we'll do it all standing if we ever rematch."
"Congrats, champ. Was an honor." Sam slightly admired the sportsmanship, but it was hard for her to understand how they could be so calm about it after trying their hardest to smash each other moments earlier.
"I hope your friends didn't really bet their life savings on you."
He laughed, though clear disappointment showed in his eyes. "Naw girl, just talk to get under your skin."
Drea turned to the crowd. "Thank you for watching me fight! Tonius is a great fighter, so I hope you won't let this loss affect your appreciation of him and will continue to marvel at his superb knockout power and lightning hands. I'm truly grateful to you all and to have this place, because without it my boredom would be, uh..."
"You seem distracted, champ," Tonius said.
"Sorry everyone, something's come up. Thank you again, and I look forward to the next fight!" She turned in Sam and Vincent's direction, hopped over the fence and walked straight towards them.
"I guess she did see us," Vincent whispered.
Drea stopped before them with a flustered look. "The hell are you two doing here?"
"So that's why you wear heavy makeup sometimes," Sam said sheepishly, taking in the swelling of her face.
"I asked, what the hell are you doing here? You had better swear not to tell Director Jon about this!"
Regaining her bearings, she replied, "Oh believe me, we have much more pressing matters to deal with than you fighting in some barbaric contest."
She wiped blood from her nostril. "What?"
"Eli has been taken by the Paladins."
"The Paladins. That's serious indeed."
"You sound a little off," Vincent said. "Are you okay?"
Drea shook her head as to clear it. "I just took a lot of punches from a man who could kill most people with one. But I'm lucid enough, so let's go somewhere more private and continue."
They left the tavern and ducked into a nearby alley to talk. Constantly glancing this way and that for eavesdroppers, Sam and Vincent told their story. When they had finished, the champion didn't seem so exuberant anymore. "This is really bad," she muttered. "The Paladins... I don't know if I can... Are you absolutely sure you want to go against them?"
That even Drea showed wariness towards this disturbed Sam, but didn't break her resolve. "If that's what it takes to get Eli back, of course."
"I'm with her," Vincent said after a moment. He had stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"I'll ask again. Are you absolutely certain? Actually, I have a better question. What's your plan if you do rescue him? You realize the Pa
ladins won't just concede defeat and allow you to hold onto him, yes?"
Sam fought back tears welling up in her eyes. Why did Drea have to make her face reality when it was so daunting... but she knew she did it for their own good. "We'll take this to whoever gives their orders—all the way to the Council if we have to! This unjust captivity of Eli, and whatever awful things they plan to do to him, will not stand."
"Spoken well. And you understand, I may not be able to go the whole way with you?"
She gulped at the implications of that. Even girls who appeared the very incarnation of a fighting god could die, and opposing the Paladins, not to mention whatever else they might have to face... "I understand we may not see the end of our journey either. But we'll try. We have to." Though he'd turned pale, Vincent nodded his assent.
"Are you ready to shed blood if needed?"
That gave Sam some pause. But then Vincent said, "The Paladins have killed numerous people anyway, so why would it be so unjustified for us to go all out to save our friend?" and she agreed.
Drea took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Your hearts seem dead set. I hope they'll hold up when tested, but I won't second guess you. But, do you even know where they took him?"
"Well, no," said Sam.
"Go back to the theatre and get what rest you can while you wait for me. I'll ask around and see if I can learn where they've gone. By the way, what kind of weapons do each of you prefer?"
Vincent gawked at her. "Weapons? Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves here?"
She cracked half a smile. "Just thinking ahead. You're the ones who want to rescue your friend, you'll need the right gear for the task."
"Of all the weapons I've tried," Sam replied, "I feel like I do best with a battleaxe."
"You're not so big, but you're built fairly stocky. Fitting enough."
Vincent frowned. "I don't know what I'm good with. I barely have any training, and what I have is for stage fighting..."
"The stage fighting I teach is somewhat close to the real thing. The dodges and parries will serve you well, as will the basic motions of strikes. Just hit your opponents for real."
"I'm still not sure if that will-"
"Of course you still won't be as well prepared as somebody with more practical training or worse, actual experience. But you may not have to engage in a fair fight if you play your cards right, and I'll help how I can."
Sam hoped she and Vincent wouldn't have to fight fair against those Paladins they'd seen. "Anyway, from what I've seen, Vincent looks less cumbersome wielding a mace."
"Couldn't you have put it a better way?" he asked.
Drea chuckled. "A mace is simpler to use, so it's no surprise a beginner might do well with one. I suppose that's what we'll go with. An axe and a mace."
They split up, Sam and Vincent heading home while Drea went to investigate where Eli had been taken. "We're really doing this," Vincent said, his voice a squeak like that of a mouse, on the way back.
"Having second thoughts?"
"No! Yes. Very much so. My hands won't stop shaking, that's why I've had them in my pockets all this time. When I think about confronting the Paladins, I can hardly breathe, the fear like a noose around my lungs. But I won't cower, even if I'm so scared I feel like a coward. We'll save Eli, as long as we believe we will."
That was an optimistic way of looking at it. In reality, Sam knew it was just as likely if not moreso that very soon, they would be rotting in the ground with their parents. "I wonder what Cal, Joan and Director Jon will do when we're gone."
"Gone?"
She forced a laugh, brittle as dead bark. "As in away, silly. The theatre has been doing well lately, but if most of the actors are gone for too long..."
"Can't be helped. We'd probably put on awful performances with Eli always on our minds, anyway."
"That's true."
They arrived at the playhouse and tried to sleep, but couldn't given the magnitude of what weighed on their minds. They waited in their room for Drea, hoping their elders wouldn't awaken at an inopportune moment. One time they heard someone—most likely Cal, knowing him—move through the hall towards the latrine, but thankfully they finished and returned to sleep before anything bad could happen. Still, the amount of time Drea took grew worrying.
"If she doesn't make it back in time," Vincent said, "we might have to wait until tomorrow night to leave."
"Let's hope not. Another day before we go is another day the Paladins have to do gods know what."
His next words came out shaky. "I d-don't know if you want to hear this, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking—what if he's already dead?"
A long silence passed between them. "For everybody's sake, we should assume otherwise until proven."
The dome-filtered sky had already begun to turn lighter outside when their door opened. Drea regarded them holding a large sack in one hand. "I see you're awake. Did you two get any sleep?"
"No, we couldn't," Sam said.
"The coming day will be rough on you, but what's done is done. Here, take your weapons." She pulled a battleaxe from her bag and handed it to Sam. Polished to a brilliant sheen, its thin blades made it surprisingly light. Finding how well balanced and easy to control it was with a couple of test swings, she almost felt like a real warrior. Almost.
Next, Drea retrieved a mace from the sack, followed by a shield. "We never talked about a shield," Vincent said.
"If your weapon is meant to be used one-handed, having a shield in addition tends to be more helpful than not—and especially if you're new to this. Not so much for stage fighting since most don't find shield combat as entertaining, but we aren't stage fighting anymore." Vincent swallowed in acknowledgment of that fact and accepted the gear.
"Where did you get these weapons?" Sam asked curiously.
"I'm not without contacts made in the fighting world. The more pertinent question you should ask is whether or not I know where Eli is."
"And the answer is?"
"Sort of. They've taken him out of the city."
Sam gaped, and saw Vincent take on the same slack-jawed expression out of the corner of her eye. She had steeled herself to fight, to possibly kill, possibly die—but she hadn't really considered that they might soon leave the city they had never stepped foot out of, perhaps to never return. Her fantasies of exploring the world a few weeks before seemed silly now, when she thought about what awaited them out there. "So I assume they're transporting him in a convoy..." she said dazedly.
Drea shrugged. "He has a fair entourage. Twelve low-ranking Paladins, and their captain."
It seemed a long shot to wrest him from the clutches of such a party, but that wasn't even Sam's first concern. "If the Paladins are having as many as thirteen of their number guard him for the trip, are the three of us really equipped at all to follow?"
"The number of men's a precaution, doesn't mean they're all needed. Besides, you may not have thirteen Paladins, but you have one me."
"That sounds questionably arrogant," Vincent said.
"It's not arrogance, it's confidence." Plus, Sam suspected she was overdoing it in an effort to reassure them. "So are we going or not?" There might even have been a hint of indecisiveness in her voice just now... like she wasn't sure if she wanted to do it herself?
Sam resolved to nip that in the bud. "We go, and trust in ourselves and the spirit of justice to make things right."
Vincent nodded heavily several times, as if trying to convince himself of it. "Justice."
"You kids remind me of a certain someone," Drea mused. She handed out two canteens, then two backpacks, both with rolled up bundles of cloth tied to them and already heavy with contents. "There's food in those, and other things which might come in handy. The knives inside, you should probably wear on your person in case you need a backup weapon. Now let's go before that courage we've mustered runs out. But first, I need to get something."
They followed her to her room, where she grabbed her pack and stuffe
d some items from the sack into it. Mostly packets of food, it looked like; she had probably brought her own survival gear coming here. Then she reached under her bed and pulled out a scabbarded sword. Had it been lying there all this time? Or, Sam imagined, perhaps mounted to the underside of the bed. Drea raised it overhead and drew it for them to see, herself gazing—nostalgically? Sam wasn't sure—at it. The blade of gleaming bluish steel widened towards the tip, which bore a slight curve on the edged side as it tapered to a point.
"Is that a falchion?" Vincent asked. "It's quite a bit bigger than the ones I've seen before."
The blade alone was close to four feet long, the hilt about another eight inches or so. She turned it up and down in her hand, making the others squint as light glinted off the metal. "More weight to cleave through armor and... other things suits me." Now Sam wondered how much blood already stained her hands, and felt a twinge of uneasiness towards her. But she was helping them, so she pushed it to the back of her mind.
Drea slid the sword back into its sheath and made for the door. "One other question," Vincent asked sheepishly, "will the guards even allow us out of the city? Two teenagers and one slightly older young woman isn't the typical group equipped to travel through the wilds."
"Don't worry about it. I'll do the talking. By the way, you should leave a note for the director's family telling them you're well and not to worry."
"But we might not be well?" Sam said. "We're going on a mighty perilous endeavor."
"Obviously. They'll probably figure that out too, or at least suspect it. But I want you to write that in hopes of giving them the hint to leave things alone. If they report your disappearance to the authorities and the Paladins get wind of it, that may not be helpful to us."
"Oh. I understand."
After penning the note, they left the theatre. Because they didn't know what weather conditions they would encounter, they took their warmest jackets with them. They headed towards the mundane stone wall which encircled the city just inside the magical dome, adding another layer of defense. "Wait here," Drea said a short ways from the gate guarded by a quartet of armored soldiers, two of whom flanked the gate facing into the city while the other two looked out through it. She strolled forward, exchanged some words and did something which from a distance resembled flicking her hair back. Using her feminine charms? That seemed unlikely to work. But then the soldiers nodded, and she waved Sam and Vincent over.
