Chapter 42
Just Before the Storm
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Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.
The morning was almost uncomfortably chill, the autumnal season reaching its apex and beginning towards the change to winter. Leita could feel her flesh goose pimple beneath her tunic, the brisk air made cooler by the swift motion of the carriage bearing a load of fighters from various Houses towards the arena. Beside her, Kalder seemed completely unaffected by the cold, his gaze forward, but obviously inward.
They were as prepared as they possibly could be for what was soon to come, their training having shifted from the simple tasks of a large free for all to that of preparation for a massive attack aimed directly at them. And it would be a massive one.
According to Sabrina, it was rare for more than two thirds of the houses to register fighters for the event, despite how prestigious it was to win. Most of the lowest and weakest Houses didn't bother, as they rarely had fighters on par with what the higher-ranked Houses put into the special event. This year, however, every single House had submitted a pair of fighters, including a brand new one that was announced less than two days ago. Nineteen pairs, counting themselves.
There was every possibility that Leita would find herself with far more than just a dozen people focused completely on her. And probably seeking her death, not just her defeat. As good as she and Kalder were, even she had to wonder if they were up to the task of taking on so much adversity at once. For all his stoicism, she could see concern on his face, his mind likely going over every possible tactic and move he knew.
All of a sudden, he looked at her, as if having sensed that she was thinking about him. A smirk drew up into his stony face and his eyes flicked towards the direction he'd just been looking. Following the gesture, she looked out to see a long stretch of wall across from them. The stone façade was festooned with banners celebrating events and fighters that were popular among the crowds. One of the banners caught her immediate attention.
She quickly staggered to her feet and hobbled, as best she could, to the other side of the wagon, pressing against the bars to better see the large banner bearing her likeness upon it. A rush of utter thrill surged through her at the sight of her visage immortalized as a featured warrior of the Grand Arena of Solace. It felt unbelievable to even conceive. Not so long ago, she'd been just some scrub slave, unremarkable and unknown. Now her face was presented, larger than life, for all to see.
"What...what does the writing say?" She asked back towards Kalder.
"It would pretty much just be your name, maybe a little hype." Kalder replied in a nonchalant way, as if it were nothing special. "Looks pretty new. Maybe has something about you beating that oruhk, probably?"
She looked back at him, seeing the broad smile on his face. Despite how casual his voice was, it was obvious he was aware how much this meant to her. He even looked a touch proud of her. "Don't go getting too big a head about it!" He laughed. "It's tiny compared to the ones hanging out at the front entrance of the Arena itself and this is just some side road, so probably not a lot of people see the damned thing."
She looked back at it, now retreating away from them as they approached the next turn of the road. "It's still something though." She said to herself, feeling a swell of emotion in her chest. Tearing herself away, she returned back to the seat next to Kalder, but the picture of it still danced before her eyes, exciting and inspiring her. "They should have waited until after today to make it though. Tomorrow they'll need to commission a bigger one that includes 'won the Grand Melee' on it."
Kalder laughed loudly. "Nice arrogance there, 'aiest'ja'."
She frowned at him. "Great, now I have you calling me that. One of these days, I need to find out what that means."
Kalder stared at her incredulously. "He's been calling you that since the first day you arrived and you've never even asked?"
"I always just assumed it was something like 'child' or 'rookie' or whatever." Leita said with a shrug. "Honestly, I half suspected it was something poking fun at me. Colja doesn't seem like it would be anything mean-spirited, but he can have his sense of humor sometimes."
Kalder sighed. "Well, it doesn't mean either of those. It translates literally as 'breaker of chains', but more informally would come out as 'chainsbreaker'."
She stared at him in confusion. "Why would he call me that?"
"It's a reference to an aljin folklore story." Kalder replied with a chuff. "About this warrior of his people who couldn't be restrained by any enemy. Even if they wrapped her in chains, she would eventually break them. Thus, she became known as the 'aiest'ja', the 'chainsbreaker'." He gave her a skeptical look. "Though don't ask me to explain why he felt that applied to you. That I don't get."
She rolled her eyes and gave a mirthless laugh. "I know. You still don't think I belong here. I know. Still think it's all just been luck."
He didn't immediately respond, but finally blew a sigh. "You know what I hate most about you, Leita?"
"That I'm too short?"
He gave a burble of honest laughter. "Besides that. What I hate most is that it's so hard NOT to like you. I do still think that first fight was just luck. I still think you should have died that day, but you managed to get in one lucky throw. However, I honestly believe that everything else you've come through has been all you. You're not 'good' at this, Leita. You're a gods-be-damned natural-born warrior. Part of me wants to hate you just for that alone. And another part of me hates that I have no doubt that you're eventually going to become the House Champion." He shook his head and sighed. "Probably even before winter gets here."
She stared at him in shock. "You actually think I'm that good?"
"No. I KNOW you're that good." Kalder said with a sigh. "You practically soak up fighting techniques and skills. What takes most people months or years to master, takes you only days. What makes you truly impressive though is that you never stop getting back up. That's probably why Colja calls you 'chainsbreaker', because you can't be held back or knocked down. Even I recognized that on the very first day. I never expected you to get back up after the first punch I threw, much less after a third. You've outclassed every other person in the stable already and I'm pretty sure you'll be better than me..." He grinned sourly. "Probably by the time the day is over, knowing you."
"I'm pretty sure I have a long way to go before--" She began.
He looked at her sharply. "No. You really don't. This cursed body gives me certain advantages, ones that barely seem fair to most people. Those advantages make my particular set of skills a lot more effective, and I am very good at my style of fighting. However, those skills pale in comparison to Colja's. The truth is, I'm only House Champion because he doesn't want to be. He learned how to swing a sword before he could fully walk. He's more skilled than the rest of the stable combined, me included, but even he expects you'll get better than him within a matter of seasons. He's completely mastered his style, but he sees that you're a better all-around fighter."
She stared at him, honestly surprised that the two of them felt that way, much less that he was admitting it so openly. "I still think either of you could kick my ass into the sand, but thank you, Kalder. I appreciate your confidence in me."
He gave a loud chuff. "It's not 'confidence', it's just honesty. As much as I want to believe it's only ever been that same luck as your first fight, I can't."
She turned her gaze to look out the bars across from her. "I was maybe five or so when I was bought and brought to the Baroness' estate as a new houseslave. One of the first chores I was given was peeling vegetables for the cook. I'd sit on the back stoop, just outside the kitchen's rear door, with a pile of potatoes and a paring knife, for hours. Being still a child, I often got bored with it. Nobody really supervised me, so, one day I got the idea to see if I could throw the little peeling knife into one of the potatoes from a couple feet."
She grinned, picturing herself standing a couple paces from the stoop, a large potato singled out from the pile, trying to line up her shot. "First couple times, I missed it completely, but got closer with each try. Finally managed to hit the damned thing on maybe the seventh throw, but had to stop because someone came out and I was afraid I'd get in trouble if I was caught not actually working."
She looked over to see Kalder looking at her, brow furrowed, likely already seeing where this was going. "Every time I found myself out back peeling, I took a little time to practice. By the time I found myself standing on those sands, I could reliably put a paring knife into a potato the size of my palm from two dozen steps away." She raised an eyebrow at him.
"It wasn't luck." He said with a sigh.
"Only that there was a knife there at all." Leita replied. "That part I agree was luck. The dagger was a lot heavier than I was used to and I'd never tried to hit a moving target before, but even as I threw, I knew what it was I was trying to do. I put it in his throat with every intention of doing so. I didn't kill him by 'lucky accident', I meant to kill him."
Kalder gave a dry laugh. "You know, the only part of that story that seems hard to believe is that it took you years to get that good at throwing a knife."
