NaNoWriMo-vel Chapter 8

Chapter Eight - Beautiful Ones

The arena, as it turned out, was what remained of a coliseum before it fell beneath the Edelberton’s property. The estate and most of its extensions and gardens were built directly on top of it and the family had left most of the ruins as it was. Of course they also remodeled certain portions in order for people to actually be capable of getting in the arena. And such, several passages were built to connect the arena to the manor.

The facilities were improved upon, and despite the decrepit appearance the spectator’s seats, they were well lit, and proved to be far more comfortable than what one would have expected of cracked, lichen-covered lime and marble. Several winged creatures whose spherical shapes served to amplify both sounds and images fluttered throughout the arena. They landed by people who were seated far away from the main ring, those who were dismayed at the thought of getting blood on their garments. Still, others fluttered into the warriors’ area to give the participants a visual account of what was happening.

Blank smiled upon recognizing the little creatures as worbles and reached out to stroke one between its gossamer wings. The worble ducked and bobbed, burbling in amusement as it teased the scribe. When the creature saw others of its kind zoom past, it took chase, promptly forgetting about Blank. Which left him to return to his task at hand. He weaved his way towards the fighters’ area and was promptly blocked by large, burly, masked guards. “Non-fighters are forbidden to go any further.” He was gruffly told.

“But I have to talk to Surge.” Blank explained.

“Non-fighters are forbidden to go any further.”

Once more, the scribe tried to explain to the guards his reasons but was denied with yet another declaration that “Non-fighters are forbidden to go any further.”

Oh well, Blank couldn’t say he didn’t try. He certainly wasn’t about to risk his neck for something he wasn’t being paid to do. Besides, injuring his writing hand would have put his real task in jeopardy. Sighing, he turned back to find a seat when he spotted Narche standing by the closest possible location to the arena itself.

Curious, Blank carefully made his way towards Surge’s friend. “You’re pretty good at sneaking up on people.” Narche uttered, a smile across his face. “For a non-warrior that is.”

The scribe canted his head, he wasn’t really sneaking around was he? “I, uh, thank you?” he blinked. “Pardon me for asking this but what are you doing out here? I thought you were going to take part in the games? I mean, being a warrior and all.”

Narche looked quizzically at Blank, “You thought I was a warrior?”

“You did say, and I quote “Last I recalled you were the one who ended face-down when we met.” After all.”

The amber-eyed man suddenly began to laugh, “Oh you misunderstand. I’m not a warrior, at least not like the others. I’m the healer, the cleric if you will. Surge was in need of a patch job after he finally ran out of steam when he went berserk.”

“B-berserk?” Blank gawked.

“Yes, I thought everyone in the Edelberton circle knew that Surge had the uncanny ability to tap into a berseker’s rage without completely losing himself.” Narche quirked a brow.

“I believe that is due to the fact that I’m not part of the so-called circle you speak of, Narche. I’m just a hired scribe who is starting to feel quite the wide-eyed country bumpkin at a slave market.” As Raoul had put it earlier.

“Ah, don’t be too hard on yourself.” Narche cheered, lightly slapping the scribe on his back. Blank found himself winded despite the larger man controlling his strength. “Oh, did it hurt?” Narche asked, though he wasn’t being intentially mean about it.

The scribe was glad his pride was in his abilities and memory rather than in brute strength or unimaginable endurance, this way he wouldn’t feel as slighted whenever he was bested time and time again. Even by other women, but Blank thought better than to think about gender roles and whatnot.

“Just a smidge,” Blank honestly responded, secrets were safe with scribes, but their emotions need not be secrets. They had far too many of them as it was. “In any case, would it be alright for you to, um, relay the battles to me? I mean, my eyes are trained to follow words and my ears are more attuned to voices rather than the ringing of metal and such.”

Narche wasn’t certain if he found Blank an utterly pathetic, spineless wimp who would most likely have ridiculous hobbies such as knitting and needle-work, or a man who was comfortable and secure enough in his manhood to admit such things to a complete stranger. Luckilly for Blank, Surge had vouched for him so Narche was more inclined to believe the latter.

“I guess it would help me develop my focus even more.” The blonde thought, “Alright, why not? You’ll have to forgive me if I make some remarks now and again. It’s nothing against the contestants.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Blank nodded, he could easily note Narche’s comments as they came. Again Blank slipped into the trance, aware of the almost tactile sounds erupting all around him as the first fight began. He weeded out the noise, filtering out all other voices save for Narche’s. The blonde man spoke with passion, with excitement whenever his companions won and Blank found himself smiling as if he too shared the victory. The blonde man spoke with resignation whenever one of his friends lost and Blank became solemn as he wrote. And there came a moment when the blonde man didn’t speak at all.

Blank had to force himself out of his reverie to see what was the matter. Even in his normal state, it was easy for him to sense the tension in the air. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that the pair that was about to duke it out had this effect on the spectators. After all, their little clash in the ballroom was cut short. It was time for Vrin and Rass to settle things without any interruptions.

Kairhn stood in the middle of the arena and motioned to the two men to approach. “As I’ve stated, no fatalities are allowed, accidental or otherwise. You may use whatever weapon you have at your disposal save for magick. We don’t wish to risk a cave in after all.” He smirked. “This shall be single combat, no aide allowed during the fight. But what am I telling this to you two for? It isn’t as if anyone would be foolish enough to put their lives at risk, eh Rid?” Kairhn called out to the woman seated closest to the stage amongst a gaggle of yes-men and self-proclaimed friends.

One of the winged critters dashed to the woman’s side, while the rest immediately projected her image. Rid retrieved a fan from the folds of her voluminous skirt and opened it with a resonating snap. All the while hiding the grim line her mouth was pressed in behind the furious motions of her fanning.

“I’m sure I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about, Kairhn,” She cheerfully responded while batting her lashes. “Rass luvie, show ‘em what you’re made of!” She cheered and waved. Though it was evident she was directing her attention at the person who was seated directly across her on the other side of the stadium.

Ergo sat coolly ignoring Rid’s attempts at riling her up, she had encountered the other woman enough times in the past to allow her to ignore the flamboyant woman. But she couldn’t help but twitch when she heard Rid call Rass luvie. In retaliation, she muttered an expletive that most women were too embarrassed to even think, let alone say. The men seated around her looked uneasily at each other before promptly scooting away from her. This suited Ergo just fine. She wasn’t one for causing a scene but if one were to come up, Ergo had no qualms if she had to deal with it using her fists.

“With that out of the way,” Kairhn leapt backward and landed gracefully out of the ring before declaring “Begin!”

* * * * *

It was Vrin who attacked first, launching himself headlong towards Rass. The blonde stood his ground, widening his stance to center his balance as he leaned back to avoid the initial strike aimed at him. Vrin followed with quick jabs, his face unreadable, completely devoid of emotion. It looked extremely easy on Rass’ part to dodge and avoid the lightning fast punches from so much as glancing him, though Blank would later hear Narche murmur in awe at the sheer amount of focus both Vrin and Rass were exhibiting.

Each blow thrown was blocked, each kick was dodged, each attempt at causing a near-mortal wound missed by the breadth of a hair.

“Come on, when are you going to land a hit?” Rass sneered, his fist thrusting forward as Vrin pulled back. “Or should I show you how it’s done?”

The pale-haired man looked grimly at the incoming blow aimed at his face. He made no movement to dodge. He didn’t need to, for he had waited for this moment and instead drew out his silver knife. When the gauntleted hand was but a breath away, Vrin plunged his knife deep into Rass’s wrist.

Most expected to hear metal ring against metal, anticipating that Vrin’s move would only change the direction of Rass’s attack. Blank watched in disbelief as the weapon sank through the armor as if it were made of paper, the force effectively halting Rass’s attack. The arena burst into a collection of gasps and cheers at the sight of blood dripping down the blade’s hilt.

None was as surprised or horrified by this result than Ergo.

“This blade was specially crafted to never stop unless it tastes blood.” He explained with a smirk. Smoothly yanking the weapon free from its fleshy sheath, Vrin somersaulted away to coolly slip his weapon back into his clothing. Rass didn’t so much as blink, instead he pulled his chipped gauntlet off and hurled it away. The metal glove fell with a heavy thud, leaving a clearly visible indentation on the ring’s floor.

“That all you got?” Was Rass’s snide remark, though it was evident he was quite annoyed that Vrin still kept his face a careful mask. “That ain’t enough to beat me, you pansy!” And in that instant, he charged at Vrin.

The pale-haired man barely saw what was coming and found himself nearly folding in two from pain as Rass’s bare fist slammed into his gut though it felt more akin to a sledgehammer’s strike.

“Come on, show me what the fuck Ergo ever saw in you.” Rass hissed, retracting his hand in order to deal a hammer blow to Vrin’s back. The pale-haired man quickly rolled to his side as clasped fists smashed the ground leaving a small crater where Vrin had been just seconds earlier.

“Heh, not bad.” Rass admitted, “Most people don’t ever get up after I hit ‘em.”

Vrin did not seem impressed, “Your point being?”

The blonde grit his teeth and lunged at Vrin, who merely leap-frogged out of harms way. Landing smartly on his feet, Vrin ducked as a kick soared over him and in return he lashed out with his dagger. His speed was rewarded with the sickening sound of metal piercing metal, flesh and bone. Deftly, the liaisons officer pulled his weapon free and once more rolled away as a fist narrowly missed him.

“Come on, show me what the fuck Ergo ever saw in you.” Vrin taunted, for the first time throughout the battle. Despite the ease in his movements, Vrin was hurting from the sole blow that Rass managed to connect. He didn’t dare touch it, using every ounce of control he possessed to keep himself from so much as wincing each time he breathed.

If I can frustrate him enough, Vrin planned. He knew the barbarian had too short a temper but he also took into account the fact that Rass was a veteran among veterans. If he weren’t, Vrin would have defeated him minutes ago. Rass was aware of the liaison officer’s intentions to rile him up, to make him careless enough to be defeated.

I’m not going down that easily, pansy, Rass spat before charging again. He was slower this time, the wound in his leg was seriously compromising his speed and both men knew it. It was a chance Vrin wasn’t about to let slip through his fingers.

The dagger, aimed at Rass’s shoulders, flew through the air. But before the blade could pierce armor, Rass made a clean swipe at the hilt, effectively changing its course. Vrin’s eyes widened, not because his opponent had so easily redirected his weapon but because the dagger was now hurtling towards Ergo.

“No.” the pale-haired man whispered before making a mad dash for his blade. He hadn’t even intended to avoid the tackle Rass had halfway positioned himself in; all that mattered to Vrin was that Ergo would remain unharmed.

“Come back he- oh fuck.” Rass realized just why the pale-haired man suddenly turned tail. Grunting, he took chase, not after Vrin but the weapon. He wasn’t about to let the pale-haired man upstage him by saving Ergo twice in one night.

Those seated near the brunette gasped and scrambled out of the way. Except for Ergo herself. The same intense concentration Rass and Vrin had been openly displaying to the spectators was now clearly seen on her face.

And while the rest of the crowd was watching Ergo, Blank found himself curiously looking at Rid. The scribe shivered at the manic glee on the woman’s face. It was obvious earlier that evening that Rid despised Ergo, but still, shouldn’t she show some measure of concern for another human being? Then again, compassion and mercy seemed such unheard of concepts when you were seated in an arena watching two people beat each other senseless. He stared at the bright-haired woman until the stunned gasps called back his attention.

Three hands had reached out to grab at the dagger; two grasped the hilt, one the blade itself. Blood seeped from the wound, down to the razor sharp edge and dripped thickly onto Ergo’s skirt. A gauntleted hand drew back, unharmed, unbloodied.

“Vrin...” Ergo whispered, relinquishing her grip on the hilt to reach out to the carmine-eyed man. “I can’t believe you’re using the blade I forged for you.”

The liaisons officer chuckled and pulled his arm to his side, “My apologies for placing you in danger.” He murmured.

Before Ergo’s fingers could brush against his face, Rass’s fist beat her to it. His punch sent Vrin flying back into the center of the ring.

“VRIN!! Rass, that was uncalled for!”

“We’re still in the middle of a fight and we ain’t done yet!” Rass growled, enraged that Vrin had showed him up once again. With his injured leg, he stomped down hard agianst the fallen Vrin’s sternum. The sound of bones cracking echoed as his ribs fractured from the pressure. Rass lifted his foot once again and motioned to finish him off when Kairhn’s voice suddenly interrupted him.

“Remember, no fatalities. Especially not when it involves someone currently under Edelberton employment.” Though the mad glee on his face seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Fuck, you’re lucky there was someone here to save your hide.” Rass spat at the still form of Vrin. He turned to walk away, assured that Vrin wouldn’t be capable of getting back to his. He was proven wrong when shadow loomed from behind him and instincts caused him to face the incoming danger. Vrin’s dagger sank deep into the armored man’s flesh, inches beside his heart while missing any major organs.

“If I were to pull this out, you’ll slowly bleed to death.” Vrin uttered calmly, ignoring the fire burning in his own lungs caused by his broken ribs.

“N-no fatalities, you dumb fucking pansy.” Rass snarled, keeping himself still lest he unwittingly kills himself.

“It’s not fatal since if you get patched up quickly enough you will live.” It was Vrin’s turn to sneer. “Admit it, Rass. I’ve beaten you three times in the span of one night.”

“Three times? What the fuck you talking about?”

“The wine glass, stopping the dagger, and this. I’ve bested you at all three and you know it.”

The blonde’s expression turned ugly at Vrin’s demand but eventually became resigned, “I yield.” He said, barely above a whisper.

A worble had flown in close enough to allow the others to project Rass’s declaration and the arena burst into cheers.

“Call a druid or cleric. Rass requires healing before I can retrieve my dagger.” Vrin instructed to the worble. The pale-haired man himself needed the restorative powers of a healer, but he was currently taking comfort with the memory of Ergo’s voice calling his name.

Rass appeared deeply troubled. It was not so much as the fact that he lost to Vrin but over the way Ergo looked at Vrin when he had saved her from the dagger by grabbing the blade. Not to mention that it was Ergo who had forged the dagger the liaison officer had been using. Was there still something between them?