A Shade of Vampire 79: A Game of Death

by Forrest, Bella

  Fenyx was not just big, he was also quite dashing, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore massive armor of silver, with diamonds embedded into his shoulder and chest plates. The leather straps were white, and he carried two scimitar-style blades with ivory handles and bejeweled hilts. He worried me. There was a high chance that he would be the one walking out of here alive today.

  The announcer introduced them by name first. “In the dark blue armor, Trev Blayne is a beacon of hope for the Rimians in the mixed tournaments of our Blood Arena. Very few members of his species have ever made it this far without sustaining severe injuries. May the fates continue to support him!” he said, and the crowd cheered and booed. From what I could tell, Trev didn’t have that many fans here today, but those who’d come to support him were particularly loud and enthusiastic.

  “Fenyx Oak has already made a name for himself among the silver guards of our city,” the announcer continued, smiling as he looked at the Aeternae. “His name has passed over many lips since his stunning victory in yesterday’s semifinal. We wish him strength and agility, for he may very well take the ultimate trophy today!”

  “That’s a little unfair,” I said. “He’s basically assuming that Fenyx will win.”

  Kalon smirked. “Most of them are assuming that Fenyx will win. Hence the spectacular odds.”

  “Yet you bet on Trev,” I reminded him.

  He gave me a faint shrug. “I have faith in him.”

  To be fair, I was rooting for Trev as well, though my reason revolved mostly around the possibility of speaking to him later about the Red Threads faction and the Darklings. The announcer motioned for the crowd to simmer down, their shouts and cheers too loud and persistent, even for his ears.

  “Now, gentlemen, you know the rules! This is a fight to the death. There are no rules!” He laughed out loud, throwing his head back for good measure. “Only one of you will leave this place alive. To he who dies today, I thank you, on behalf of our empire, for your bravery and determination. May there be fields of gold and rivers of sweet water and nights of pure bliss wherever your soul shall go next. You shall die a hero.”

  One of the referees stood up as Fenyx and Trev assumed their attack positions, eyeing each other coldly. “On my mark!” he shouted. “Begin!”

  Fenyx and Trev circled one another for a while. The crowd mostly chanted the Aeternae’s name. The Rimian didn’t seem bothered at all. I assumed he couldn’t even hear them anymore, focused exclusively on his opponent.

  My heart leapt into my throat when Fenyx came at him, wildly swinging his scimitars. Trev stood still, and I braced myself for his most violent death. At the last moment, he slid to the right, and Fenyx wound up hurtling past him.

  By the time the Aeternae stopped and swerved around to attack again, Trev had already begun his own offensive, darting toward Fenyx. Their swords clashed with a brain-scratching clang, Trev’s blade caught in the cross of the scimitars. Fenyx lifted his leg to kick the Rimian in the gut, but Trev was much faster and used his left leg to swipe at the Aeternae’s ankle. He knocked Fenyx down, shocking him—and the crowd, judging by the heartfelt gasps.

  Trev then drove his sword into the ground, missing Fenyx’s head by inches. The Aeternae wasn’t ready to die yet, but he was clearly astonished by the Rimian’s speed and agility. He’d underestimated his opponent, as brute force did not work on Trev.

  “He should’ve known he wouldn’t take Trev down with pure brawn,” I said.

  “I suppose it’s a common misconception among my people… that Rimians are physically inferior and unable to survive in the arena for long,” Kalon replied. “Even after his previous victories, there are many Aeternae who still think they can beat him.”

  Fenyx was fast as lightning, despite his size, but still sluggish when compared to Trev—which surprised me, as well. Biologically speaking, Rimians were closer to humans than they were to vampires, but Trev seemed like the athletic exception. They danced around each other, occasionally slashing with their swords, but neither drew blood.

  It went on for a while, and some of the people in the audience started to groan, rolling their eyes and shouting at Fenyx to “kill that wretched Rimian already.” It made my skin crawl, but it also amplified my own desire to see Trev win this, just to spite these elitist assholes.

  Fenyx, empowered by the crowd that favored him, began another attack.

  Light on his feet, Trev was more than ready. He vanished out of the Aeternae’s way and quickly turned around, swinging his sword. The tip of the blade cut through a leather strap, drawing a spring of blood from Fenyx’s side.

  “Argh…” the Aeternae grunted. He went after Trev again, but failed once more, getting cut a second time in the process.

  The more he fought, the more tired and angry he got, and the Rimian played on these emotions with a smile on his face. He was enjoying this, watching the fighter before him descend into the very weakness that might secure his survival.

  Fenyx brought his scimitars down simultaneously, and Trev once again avoided the hit. This time, however, he managed to drive his sword into the Aeternae’s side, where he’d already cut him earlier. Fenyx cried out in pain, and Trev punched him in the face, breaking several teeth. The move also made the Aeternae lose grip on his weapons.

  With remarkable speed, Trev caught one of the scimitars before it fell to the ground, without letting go of the sword he kept pushed into Fenyx’s side. Before the Aeternae could even react, Trev swung out and cut off his head.

  Only then did he pull his own blade back and drop the bloodied scimitar. The arena went quiet all of a sudden. I held my breath, for a moment fooling myself into thinking that maybe none of this was real. That I’d imagined it.

  But as Kalon’s hand covered mine on the armrest, I knew… it was all real. And Trev Blayne had just won the tournament final. As Fenyx fell backward, his head rolling into the sand, the people jumped to their feet. Many were upset, cursing and frantically waving their hands around. They’d lost plenty of gold coins, it seemed. The few who’d bet on Trev, however, were absolutely ecstatic, cheering and whistling and clapping their hands so hard that it made their palms red.

  “Well, then,” Kalon muttered, a satisfied smirk stretching his lips. “I guess I’ve made a small fortune today by simply having faith in my friend.”

  “Congratulations are in order, then,” I replied.

  He looked at me, and there were unspoken thoughts in his cold blue eyes. Unanswered questions. Wandering ideas. All of them converging on this particular moment, as time stood still around us. Trev was covered in sweat and Fenyx’s blood, but his gaze was bright as he grinned and raised his sword in the air.

  “The champion, Trev Blayne!” the announcer said, his voice shaky. He hadn’t seen this coming, either. They’d all expected Fenyx to win. Maybe this was a lesson they would all finally learn—to never underestimate the “little guy.” Those with a clear disadvantage had more to lose and more to win, so they trained twice as much and fought thrice as hard. Trev had proven himself, beyond the shadow of a reasonable doubt.

  “I think we should go down into the fighter pits and give Trev our congratulations,” Kalon said, and I nodded enthusiastically.

  We weren’t really going there to tell the Rimian man, “Well done.” We were going there to get him to answer some questions—if Kalon was right, and Trev were to ask to be turned into an Aeternae, then he would be compelled to cooperate with our investigation.

  After seeing him fight, I didn’t find it far-fetched that Trev could be associated with the Red Threads. He clearly had what it took to go against pretty much anyone. But if he was a traitor, if he’d had anything to do with Nethissis’s death, there wasn’t a single thing or a single soul on Visio that could protect him from me. From my wrath.

  Esme

  Not long after Trev was awarded a sculptural gold trophy and a leather bag filled with precious coins, he retreated into the fighters’ pits. The
day was coming to an end in the Blood Arena, as most of the fights took place in the morning and into the early afternoon, so we also had the benefit of a nonexistent audience down there.

  Few people had come to congratulate Trev, so, by the time Kalon and I entered the pit, he was on his own, wiping the blood from his armor plates and occasionally smiling at the trophy and leather bag.

  “I knew you’d win, but still, congratulations, my friend!” Kalon said, surprising him.

  Trev shot to his feet, dropping the armor and oiled cloth. He was beaming with pride and sheer joy, his breath still ragged, the adrenaline still bursting through him like wildfire. I could certainly understand the flurry of emotions that Trev displayed—after all, he’d just survived a most vicious fight in the Blood Arena without even getting hurt. Unlike the Aeternae, the Rimians and Naloreans took longer to heal, and from what Kalon had told me, Aeternae blood was not readily available to help with the recovery. It was, in fact, illegal to provide Aeternae blood without the high priestess’s authorization.

  “You saw the fight,” Trev replied.

  Kalon walked across the pit and threw his arms around the Rimian, hugging him tight for a good minute before he pulled back and patted him on the shoulders. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Well done. It looked almost effortless.”

  “It wasn’t.” Trev chuckled. “I’m just thankful to be alive. This whole tournament thing is a lot messier than I remembered it as a child.”

  “Well, it’s one thing to watch it from the stands, all starry eyed and with no understanding of true physical pain, and something else entirely being the one wielding the sword,” Kalon said. “But you pulled through, nonetheless. I’m proud of you, Trev.”

  “I owe it to you and the master commander. I doubt I’d have pulled through without your training and guidance.” Trev paused to look at me. “I heard about your witch friend. Please accept my condolences.”

  Nodding slowly, I cut right to the chase. “And I heard about your affiliation with the Red Threads. We should talk.”

  The good mood was spirited away in an instant. Trev’s smile dropped, replaced by a cold scowl as he moved his gaze between Kalon and me. The air thickened, tension rising, as I’d clearly struck a nerve.

  “You can’t say she’s not efficient in communicating.” Kalon chuckled nervously as he looked at his friend with a guilty half-smile. He wasn’t comfortable in this position, but there was nothing either of us could do about it. This whole moment was like a band-aid. It had to be pulled fast. There would be pain, but we’d all feel better about it in the end.

  “What is this about the Red Threads?” Trev asked, his tone clipped.

  “A Rimian faction known to be associated with the Darklings,” I said, unwavering and determined to get to the truth today.

  Trev frowned at Kalon. “I’m loyal to the Visentis dynasty. I always have been. To accuse me of consorting with anarchists is downright insulting.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, and neither is Esme,” Kalon replied. “But we did hear that you are connected to the Red Threads. I just need the truth, Trev. I will not punish you for it. I only ask that you do not lie to me. For the sake of our friendship and your loyalty to my house.”

  Trev shook his head. “I’ve heard about the Red Threads, but I promise you, I’m not involved. I’ve kept my head down, sticking to my tournaments, fighting and training for the past five years.”

  “Then why would a fellow Rimian mention you as a Red Thread associate?” I asked.

  “It’s funny.” Trev scoffed, looking at Kalon. “You say she’s not accusing me, but the words coming out of her mouth sound more and more like accusations to me.”

  “We just need to know,” I said. “I’m merely relaying another Rimian’s account of you. With all due respect, of course.”

  Trev straightened his back, clearly insulted. “Who is it that speaks such things about me, then?”

  “You know I can’t tell you,” Kalon replied. “The information was given under the condition of anonymity.”

  Kalon was telling a half-truth here. The gardener had not specifically requested that his name be kept out of such conversations, but he was terrified. The need for anonymity was implied by his body language, far more powerful than words.

  I wanted to believe Trev, but I couldn’t. His heartrate was frantic. I could hear his pulse throbbing in my ears. However, I doubted we’d get much more out of him today. It dawned on me that surveillance might be a better option in his case, and I was eager to suggest it to Kalon, as well.

  “Then how can I defend myself from such accusations,” Trev said, “if you can’t even tell me the name of my accuser?”

  “No one accused you of being part of the Red Threads, specifically.” Kalon sighed, hands resting on his hips. “Someone simply heard a rumor about you being in cahoots with them.”

  “Well, I’m not!” Trev snapped. “I would never betray the empire, and you know it.”

  “I do,” Kalon muttered, stealing a glance at me, as if I’d made him do a most horrendous thing. It was an interesting dynamic for me to follow—Kalon softened visibly when he was around Trev. These two really were thick as thieves, and this whole line of questioning made Kalon extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t like causing Trev such distress. I could almost sympathize with his torment, had it not been for the deception I was clearly capturing from Trev. Then again, Kalon should’ve been able to sense it, too. After all, his hearing and smell were as good as a vampire’s, if not better.

  “I do apologize for making you feel this way,” I said, offering a polite bow. “We just had to make sure.”

  I decided not to pursue him directly anymore. With every second that passed, I became increasingly convinced that secrecy was a better path. Kalon reached out a hand, and Trev shook it firmly, his expression mellower.

  “You got the trophy and the coins, but what did you choose for your grand prize?” he asked the Rimian.

  “You know what I want,” Trev said. “You’ll be receiving a letter from the Blood Arena with my official request, soon enough.”

  “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be glad to welcome you among the Aeternae,” Kalon replied. “You’ve most certainly earned it.”

  They bid each other goodbye, and we left Trev to finish cleaning his armor, making our way out of the arena and back toward the palace. By the time we reached the main boulevard surrounding the Blood Arena, there were barely a few souls left around, most of them uniformed staff members cleaning the steps.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said after a while.

  We walked down a side alley, flowers bursting from ceramic pots on both sides. The afternoon was settling across Visio with its bold pink and red streaks, the haze thickening in anticipation of the evening. This was powerful magic, I thought, to keep three planets blurry from curious outsider eyes. I’d often thought about its purpose, and it still reeked to me. I hadn’t brought it up again, but I did keep it in the back of my head, ready to whip it out if needed.

  What sort of nation would want to live like this, secluded from the rest of the universe? Were they hiding something bigger than our minds could even comprehend at this point, or were they simply fearful, despite their apparent prowess and evolutionary superiority?

  “My momentary discomfort is nothing compared to what Nethissis must’ve gone through,” Kalon replied, looking straight ahead.

  “You do know he was lying, though… right?”

  Suddenly, his eyes found me. “You’re quite observant, Esme. Those ears of yours are very good, indeed.”

  “It’s not news. We’ve already discussed our biological similarities.”

  “Still, allow me to marvel at all the wonderful things about you,” he said. “And yes. I know he was lying.”

  “Yet you let us leave without pushing him more.”

  He smiled. “I know you want to suggest surveillance—following him around. Or am I wrong?�
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  I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, pulling my mask off as we entered a darker, shaded neighborhood. “No, you’re absolutely right. I think he’ll lead us to the Red Threads, eventually.”

  Trees stretched their thick branches overheard, blocking the setting sun from casting its soft light upon the three-story buildings that rose on both sides of the alley. We moved slowly, taking in every detail as we walked. There weren’t many people around, mostly Naloreans coming back to their homes, carrying baskets filled with fresh, strange-looking fruit and braided breads and square cheeses neatly wrapped in thin linens.

  The air smelled of delicate blossoms, and the taste of blood had finally left the tip of my tongue. Fenyx’s Aeternae blood spill had left an impression on my senses, and I was only becoming aware of it now that I was away from it. It didn’t take long before I remembered similar sensations looming after Demetrius had been killed. It dawned on me then that there was definitely something special about the Aeternae’s blood, and it went past its ability to heal or its day-walking protein. These people were different. I wanted to understand exactly how deep this mystery went.

  “I don’t think it’s wise for us to follow him around, however,” Kalon said. “He’ll smell us from a mile away. Unfortunately, I’ve taught him well. But I’ve got a couple of people I can trust to keep tabs on him.”

  “But you’ll turn him into an Aeternae regardless?” I asked.

  “He’s earned that right. Yes.”

  I nodded slowly. “What if he turns out to be a traitor?”

  “As much as it might pain me, I will kill him myself. But not before we get the whole truth out of him.”

  “I have to admit, I’m impressed by your dedication to our cause,” I replied. “Nethissis wasn’t one of yours—”

  “But she was one of yours, and a guest here, on Visio,” Kalon cut me off. “There is no greater insult to me and my people than to defile our honor as hosts like this. Even if she’d done something wrong, we would’ve had council meetings. We would’ve discussed it before taking appropriate measures, and rest assured, none would involve killing her. What happened to Nethissis is genuinely infuriating, Esme. Justice must be served.”