Page 16 of The Bone King and the Starling
THE FIGHTER
I sit upon the elevated square looking down at the rowdy cluster of fighters as they battle in small contests. There are pitiably few fighters here, and I regret that I cannot take more of them to train and return, but Innara, who organizes the trainees and sees to it that our ulterior motives in bringing them to the capital are fulfilled, will not allow me to bring more than six from a village as small as this.
A cartographer and expert city planner, she is responsible for aiding me in much of Wrath’s design — where new roads are built, where we must erect new dams, where cities and villages sprawl dangerously, where they need to expand and where we need to better refine our borders.
She keeps a census of the populations of Wrath’s villages and has been concerned for some years that the smallest villages will suffer from too much inbreeding. Inland villages such as these do not raid often. It is her imperative that any warrior who comes to train finds a mate, and with the help of a small, conniving team, she has a high success rate.
There are eighteen who fight now, though only eleven true contenders. The others are either too young, too old or too small, likely coerced into participating in the games, as Starling’s friend’s brother was. It is a pity that he is a satisfied farm boy. Had he a bit of bloodlust, I’d have enlisted him into my army. As it stands now, I will take him for a year and make him capable of picking up arms to defend his town, in addition to matching him with whatever bride Innara chooses.
Of the eleven contenders, I can already pick out two or three that might make suitable warriors for this village. The brother, a small male who fights with speed and cunning who I may even need to keep at my side in Ithanuir, and…Tori. It is a pity he is a rotten boy who will not survive these games. He may not even survive the day.
Yes. As it turns out, I am still a little angrier than I initially thought I was.
I glance to my left. Chief Olec sits fuming beside me, his rage almost as large a presence as his grief. He weeps like a miserable drunk every few minutes, but he never glances once to the seat beside him where his wife sits. Coward. Filthy, miserable coward. I still have yet to decide, among a short list of tortures, which one will be most suitable for him. I wonder if my queen has an idea.
I glance to the right and am surprised to see her staring straight out at the field where the young warriors are battling, her face oddly ashen. I glance at the sky. The sun is shining, glittering over her hair. But her skin seems to lack its usual light. I release her hand and gently trail my fingers across the curve of her cheek. She jumps.
“Little bird, is everything alright?” I ask her as the groups break up into pairs under the administration of Daneera, Puhyo, Fuzier and Hektor.
She nods, but she doesn’t look at me. The easy way we walked to the training field is dead. We are back to where we were two nights before, when I had my little bird backed into a corner. When she thought herself a whore.
I lean over towards her, take her chin between my fingers and force her to look at me. She sits lower in her chair than I do, and she looks utterly dwarfed by my fur, which is sure to be keeping her warm — if not hot — but when she meets my gaze, she still shivers. “What is wrong?”
She glances past me and I am immediately caught off guard. Olec and Rosalind. She is displeased. I’d have thought she would appreciate the suffering of those who wronged her, yet she seems utterly shaken by the sight of them.
“What did you do to Rosalind?” Her voice is thin as ash, brittle.
“I gave her the payment she was owed for your virginity.” I take her hand, lacing our fingers and giving her palm a squeeze. She does not squeeze back.
“You…m-m-melted the payment? And fed it to her?”
“Yes. On both accounts. First, I let your fellow former thralls repay the kindnesses she bestowed onto them using the same wire cords she took to your back. They were very vigorous.” I chuckle and then my laughter fades. I realize…perhaps, I made a slight. “I did not think to rouse you from bed to exact your own vengeance. I am sorry for that, though I would be pleased to let you take your rage out on Olec by proxy.”
Olec is clearly listening to me and shouts at my back, voice muffled and mangled through the gag he’s been fixed with. I reach over and give his shoulder a firm squeeze, one hard enough to make the grown man whimper.
Meanwhile, my hand on hers remains utterly tender.
I smile in her direction, but she’s shaking her head quickly and sputters out, “N-no. No, please no.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Thank you. Thank you, Your Highness.” Your Highness. We’re even further from Calai. She does not even address me as lord… “I just…I think I need to relieve myself. I’m suddenly not feeling well.”
She leaves, escorted by three of my men and Hilde. It takes them a while to return and, when they do, Hilde joins my queen on the platform. She gives me a dark look I do not understand before unfurling a large black sheet and using it to cover Rosalind’s body. I don’t know why. The outline of her shape still clearly shows her golden mouth, forever opened towards the sky above. This seems to settle my young queen a little, but she still doesn’t eat when food is offered to her.
By now, the pairs have switched three times, and Tori has proven to dominate all three of his partners. My fists clench. My desire to jump down and meet Tori’s blade with my axe is strong, but that would be an insult to me, to fight one so small and pathetic.
No, I have more creative plans for Tori. I clap my hands. The fighters break for water. Those that are performing well are congratulated. One older warrior is attended to by a healer and removes himself from the battle.
“I am impressed,” I tell the crowd. My words are met with cheers. The pride of this small town is not to be dismissed or scoffed at. It is important. It is what will keep this town together when Rosalind and Olec are removed from the mortal plane forever and returned to the dirt.
“There are many among you with fighting skills strong enough to protect your people in times of hardship. There are several of you even who might make warriors strong enough to raid with me.” More cheers sound. My wife’s is not among them, but when I glance at her, I see a similar pride shining in her eyes. Even if the rest of her is clenched tight and oddly leaning away from me.
I wonder if it is the sight of Tori that vexes her. That doesn’t seem quite right, given the way she spoke back to him that very first night when my life changed forever. Still… Perhaps I should get on with Tori’s punishment, then, just to be certain it is not the sight of him breathing and winning at these games that causes her such stress.
“There is one among you, however, who has stood out to me most of all. Tori, come forward!” The cheers resume and Tori struts forward, arms outstretched. He approaches the raised dais with a broad grin and bows. He has the audacity to glance at Starling as he does. I do not dare look to her reaction. After all, I am already angrier than I thought I was.
“Tori has bested all three of his opponents. I say Tori is ready for a rally! Any who are able to draw blood from Tori will advance to the next round automatically, and Tori, if you are able to remain standing all day, you shall receive a special reward.”
Tori smiles broadly, confident boy that he is. Overconfident. This will be fun. “Bring it on!” he shouts up to the gods.
I organize the challengers, giving Tori the small man with the cunning arm first. He is ambidextrous. I wonder if Tori has realized that. In earlier battles, he fought only with his right arm, but based on the way he carries himself, I do not doubt he would be just as adept at fighting with his left.
I order their training swords swapped out with real ones and place the challengers in order of strongest to weakest. I want Tori to tire quickly. I want every challenger to draw blood from him. This is not about pain today. Today is about humiliation. There will be plenty of time for pain tomorrow and the final day of the games when I truly decide to unleash the full power of my creativity.
“Begin!”
The first challenge begins slowly and my respect for the slighter male grows. He seems to understand Tori’s fighting style well, understanding Tori’s strengths relative to his own. He never allows Tori to get him on the ground, or on his back, choosing to retreat again and again, rather than engage too strongly.
Tori is an athletic male. There will be little chance of tiring him completely so early in the bout. The smaller male knows this. I lean over as he makes his first parry, one which Tori only just manages to block, and ask my queen, “What is the smaller male’s name?”
“That’s Elia,” she whispers. “He’s Viccra’s younger brother.”
Ah. That explains much. “Viccra must have been training with him.”
She glances at me, her face creased in worry. “You think he is going to beat Tori?”
I only smile. She winces. I frown. “Do not question my instincts, little bird, not in this.” I reach out and take her hand. She is stiff. “I promise it will all work out in a way that will please you.”
She nods, her cheeks glowing pink. She turns her face forward, but…she does not watch the battle, choosing instead to keep her gaze on the cup of wine in her other hand, or on her knees.
The battle rages on and Elia’s strategy rapidly becomes apparent. He is not aiming to wear Tori down physically…but break him mentally. He taunts Tori with poor jabs and halfhearted advances. He keeps moving all the while, dancing circles around the larger, stronger male. He’s fast and Tori has to expend incredible focus to remain guarded, to counter each block and attack again and again and again.
He is not wearing Tori down…but frustrating the mean-spirited boy.
“Ough!” Tori shouts, heaving his sword overhead and bringing it down with incredible force. Elia slides out of the way, his entire right side lined in mud as he lies on the ground. Tori advances on him. I smile at the bloodlust in Tori’s eyes. He thinks he has him. And then…Elia switches sword hands as Tori brings his blade down.
Elia bats Tori’s blade out of the way and, shifting onto one knee, spins in towards the bigger male. Elia takes his sword in a backwards left-handed grip and sweeps the sharpened edge of the blade across both of Tori’s shins.
Tori falls back as Elia rises amidst a chorus of gasps and cheers. Tori’s defeat was unexpected. Even Elia looks half surprised to have defeated him. He raises his sword arm above his head and looks up at me. He does not see Tori rising from the ground behind him.
“Oy!” I shout, hailing his attention. He turns and jumps back just as Tori swipes for him. Tori manages to draw blood from his shin, but not as much as he had intended. Tori had meant to take the leg, that I don’t doubt.
The crowd goes quiet. Eyes turn to me as Elia falls back. “See to his leg,” I tell Hilde. She moves off of the platform and I squeeze my queen’s hand. She is sitting forward in her seat, strained.
“Well done! What a first contest,” I say, pitching my voice loud enough to be heard above the whispers. There are a few claps, but nowhere near the cheers there were before. I am sure these people are surprised I do not reprimand Tori, but there is no need for that now. “Tori, well done. Up on your feet. Your next challenge begins now.”
“Next…challenge?” He scoffs as he uses his sword to clamber upright. “You cannot be serious, my lord. I need medical attention…”
“You would not receive medical attention on the battlefield for a little scratch like that,” I say, flicking my gaze down to his shins where bloody tendrils mix with mud and weep down his pantlegs. “And it is your intention to become a raider of mine, is it not?”
Tori nods after a brief hesitation.
I grin. “You’ll be on the front lines on the battlefield, charging into unsuspecting villages. You’ll have first pick of loot and females. Perhaps, you’ll even find one that looks like my queen to make up for what I’ve stolen from you.”
Tori’s expression turns sour as he glances briefly to Starling. He cannot make sense of my light tone and I want to laugh at the trust he has in himself here. That I value his sword arm more than the disgrace he’s brought to my female, the hate he’s brought to this village. That he would dare to attack a fellow warrior in a petty contest such as this makes me wonder how he could ever think I would take him for a trainee, let alone a full-fledged warrior on a raid. Warriors must be able to rely on one another for any raid to be a success. If Tori cannot even be trusted to lose a simple challenge, then how could he ever be trusted to support his fellow warriors when the heat of bloodlust came over him?
“On your feet. Come on. There are storm clouds on the horizon and there is feasting to be had tonight, Tori. You will be celebrated for what you’ve done here today.”
Tori fights and wins the next battle, much to my dismay, but loses the next three. He is rewarded with light cuts to his cheek and left thigh, and a deeper wound to his abdomen. “Next!” I shout when he asks for reprieve.
He wins again twice, then loses every other battle he fights and by the time the sun has moved closer to the horizon, he has cuts decorating most of his body. What a beautiful thing. I cheer and congratulate him while his village’s healer takes a look at his wounds. He shoots me looks meant to scathe as I clamber down from the platform and reach back up for my wife. There are no steps to this platform, so I have to fit my hands around her waist and lift her down. Her gaze remains on my chest all the while.
She is silent as we return with the tumultuous crowd to the hall where the feast already is spread among the tables. This time, there are extra places — two entire extra tables have been laid out in the town square. It is a cold night, but there is no rain and, to ward away the chill, several bonfires blaze bright. Plates are stacked high with food across all the tables. There are no servants. Former thralls take their seats for the first time tonight.
My queen eats at dinner, but excuses herself early, claiming she’s unwell. I follow soon after, but find that she’s already asleep in bed. Something about her attitude vexes me, but I hesitate to wake her to demand answers to her mood. Instead, I lie down, foul-tempered myself, only for sleep to elude me.