“Eh, there was one detail that might have been left out earlier I should probably mention,” said Skinner. “Each competitor starts unarmed. Weapons, among other things, are thrown into the fighting ring by the crowd.”
“Yeah, that’s somewhat of a crucial detail,” said Ari. “Though if anything, it works to our advantage. Virgil, can you throw Azurelight within reach of me once the fight starts?”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll reposition myself after that so I’m ready once the real battle begins.”
The city began to sound more festive as late afternoon progressed into early evening, with music emanating through the streets from numerous different performances. There was a constant din of conversation, and even though Lord Ogwell’s estate was nowhere near the city center, the streets slowly became crowded with people.
“Does it remind you of anything?” Ari asked Eva the question as he watched her spying on the people below through the window. He remembered the party he’d seen in Mythril’s memory and how different Evastria had seemed from the Eva he knew.
“It does, and it does not,” said Eva, with a shrug. “I think once upon a time I was drawn to this sort of thing. Or at least, entertained by it.”
Ari mulled on her answer as they continued to wait. Eventually, Skinner came back into the room, knocking gently on the doorframe as he entered.
“It’s time,” he said. “I’ll be your escort. The costume has already been brought ahead.”
Eva shifted into her sword form, and the three of them walked through the streets in a tight group, weaving in between smaller and larger crowds of people alike. The central square of the merchant’s district was where the main entertainment was taking place, with musicians and dancers performing every which way the eye could see.
It was entertaining, but it also felt forced, like a deliberate, necessary distraction. Cliffhaven was a refuge before it was a city, a place that ultimately existed to provide protection and shelter from the dangers of the surface. It was under a new, larger threat, one that couldn’t be turned away with walls and careful observation of the weather.
It was no time for a festival, and it was the only time for a festival.
***
The central fighting circle where the Sacrifice Bout would be taking place had already drawn a crowd, despite currently being empty of anything other than sand. Tiered benches of various heights had been set up around the edge of the circle to allow as many people as possible to view the entertainment, and most were already packed full of people, commoners and nobles sitting shoulder to shoulder in places.
It reminded Ari of Etheria’s central chamber, and making that comparison drew his attention back to what he needed to do. Skinner was already gesturing for him to follow as he started off toward the small building at the edge of the circle where the competitors would apparently be housed prior to the event’s start.
“Here,” said Ari, pulling Azurelight and its sheath loose from his shoulders. “I’m trusting you with this, Virgil. I’ll need you to throw it near enough to me for me to get my hands on easily once the battle starts.”
Virgil blinked a couple of times, and uncertainty briefly flashed across his face, which made Ari scowl. It was just one more essential detail of a plan with far too much that could potentially go wrong.
“Be careful, Aristial,” said Eva through the bond.
Ari nodded and turned his attention back to Virgil. “You can do this. Just make sure you have a spot near the edge of the circle, and I’ll try to get as close to you as I can to make it easy.”
“What if…?” Virgil hesitated mid-question, shaking his head. “Right, never mind. I can do that, and I’ll be ready for what happens after.”
He puffed out his chest, and Ari grinned and slapped him on the shoulder, releasing Azurelight into his hands. He took one last look at the surrounding area as he jogged to catch up with Skinner, noting the spot where the Baron would likely be watching from.
It was an upraised platform, higher than any of the benches with stairs leading up to it from behind. A private viewing area for the Sacrifice Bout. A large tree grew alongside it, its leafy branches extending outward in a manner that might have provided some shade from the sun, had it been midday instead of early evening.
“There you are,” said Skinner, as Ari reached him and the building. “Head on inside. Be sure to keep your, uh, face up while you’re in here.”
Ari had fallen into the habit of doing it automatically after his encounter in the Storm Scouts Guild, but he still tested Miragion with his will to ensure that he was properly disguised. He’d picked one of the faces of the old men it had stored within it, which he suspected might give him an advantage if the other competitors underestimated him.
The building’s interior was a single, ill-smelling room that seemed like it might have once been a butchery or tanner’s shop. There was a second door that exited directly out into the fighting circle, a few benches where the other competitors were sitting, and dark stains at regular intervals across the floor. Two guards stood at the entrance to the main door, and it was clear enough from their posture that the competitors were not to be allowed back outside once they’d entered.
“Well, this be it,” said Skinner. “Your costume is in the corner, though you’ll have to put it on yourself, this time. Er, good luck. I think you’ll be needing it.”
Ari could see exactly what the other man meant by that as he glanced over the men he’d be fighting against. The closest one sat on one of the nearby benches, which dipped in the middle under his immense weight. He was one of the largest people Ari had ever seen, almost as tall as he was while sitting down and as wide across as three of him.
Another man, also rather tall, but thin and limber, was playing with a knife, tossing it into the air and catching its tip. His face was crisscrossed with scars, one of which seemed to run through his eye, but his hands were completely free of them. That small fact made his tricks with his small blade appear doubly threatening, though Ari assumed he wouldn’t be able to bring it with him into the actual fight.
Each of the rest of the competitors had a similar ambience, or at least one physical feature that justified their presence. They were all convicts, chosen by the high lords of the city to fight for a pardon and entertain on their behalf. Ari hadn’t taken the time needed to really consider what that meant when he’d agreed to be a part of Ogwell’s ridiculous plan.
Two of the men were already in their costumes. One was dressed as a form of Weatherblight that Ari had only seen once before, a lumbering wight with fur the color of snow. It was a simple costume, without the extra adornments that Ari had on his, limiting his movement.
He fixed that as he started pulling on the fisher costume, untying a few of the painted wood panels meant to represent the monster’s carapace and carefully setting them aside. He put on everything but the mask and tried not to feel as ridiculous as he was sure he looked as he sat on one of the benches and waited for the Sacrifice Bout to begin.
CHAPTER 39
“You’re gonna get eaten alive.”
The humongous competitor that Ari had seen when he’d first entered the building had stood up and walked over to him. Ari still had his mask off, and leaned back on the bench, flashing a smile that was equal parts amused and acidic.
“Is that so?” he asked.
“I’m going to be the one who eats you,” said the fat man.
Ari eyed the man’s considerable girth and shrugged. “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you tried.”
He could tell from the man’s expression that his reaction wasn’t the one he’d been fishing for. Ari had doubts about his chances, sure, but intimidation and threats had always had the opposite of their intended effect on him.
“Is that some kind of joke, pissface?” snapped the fat man. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Oh no, I won’t start making fun of you until I see you in costume,” said Ari. “Mud and blood, that�
��ll be entertaining.”
The fat man snarled. There was a single guard near the door that led to the fighting circle, and he blew a small whistle just as it seemed like a fight might break out prematurely. The fat man spat on the floor and made his way over to the other side of the room.
Ari waited impatiently as the sound of the crowd’s excitement began to grow louder. Someone began clapping, and an odd rhythm developed, two claps followed by what sounded like a heavy boot stomp.
Ari looked over at the guard. “Is this some sort of tradition?”
The guard nodded. “You should ready yourself. The Sacrificial Bout will begin as soon as Baron Luka addresses the crowd.”
The clapping and stomping accelerated, eventually reaching a fevered pitch before dissolving entirely. Someone blew a horn, and the crowd fell silent.
Ari could only dimly hear the shouted address Baron Luka gave to the crowd, but he doubted there was much that would have been of interest to him. He caught a few snippets of him shouting about “Cliffhaven staying strong” and “repelling invaders,” but most of his attention was on his increasingly sweaty palms and pounding heart.
The other competitors had pulled on their costumes, and almost to a man, they all seemed more dangerous than Ari rated himself. It wasn’t just a matter of some of them being larger than him, as the fat man was, or visibly scarred. There was an element of simmering, barely contained violence in the way they stood, the expressions on their faces, and even their small, unconscious mannerisms.
He was tempted to ask the guard if he knew what crimes the others had committed in the past, but he was unsure if it was a question that he truly needed or wanted the answer to. The crowd broke out into applause beyond the curtained door that led to the fighting circle, and as soon as the sound of it died down, the guard waved a hand at the competitors, ushering them into line.
Ari was fourth, behind the thin man with the scars and two others. The fat man was next behind him, which he didn’t like, but it seemed as though the Sacrifice Bout’s imminent start was enough to dissuade him from further instigation.
“When I blow the whistle, you go out the door,” said the guard. “One at a time. No violence until you’ve made it into the circle, you hear?”
A few grunts came from the men in line. The guard pulled back the curtain hanging in the doorway and blew the whistle. The crowd let out a booming roar as the first competitor rushed out into the open.
The man only managed to take two or three steps into the circle before being pelted with a hail of rocks and rotten fruit from the crowd. A few small weapons also clattered to the ground nearby him, mostly daggers and basic clubs.
“Well, that’s just wonderful,” said Ari. He pulled his mask on, hoping it would at least keep the deluge of thrown debris from getting into his face and eyes.
For the thousandth time that evening, Ari silently cursed Lord Ogwell for managing to convince him to go along with such a stupid plan. He knew that it would be impossible for him to back out at that point, given how many guards there were watching the building.
The thin man with the scars went next. He was dressed up like one of the vodakai, and he waved to the crowd as the onslaught of rotten fruit assailed him, causing one of the trailing ribbons from his arms meant to imitate the wings of the monsters to flail through the air.
Ari felt he understood the appeal of the festival and almost felt a stab of admiration for the core concept of it. There was something visceral about the idea of the Weatherblight fighting against each other, monster versus monster. Knowing that the people inside each costume were convicted criminals slated for execution only enhanced the entertainment, along with the appeal of crowd participation in the form of throwing whatever was at hand.
The fight had already begun, with the scarred man facing off against the first competitor, who wore a dark costume that could have passed for either a fisher or a lurker. The scarred man had a short sword, while the other competitor only had a rock, but both were as busy with each other as they were with dodging the constant stream of projectiles.
The third competitor ran into the circle, tentacles from his fisher costume trailing in the wake of his movements. He paused a few feet out, finding a sharpened stake on the ground the length of Ari’s forearm. He grinned and turned back toward the curtained doorway, apparently intent on ambushing the next competitor in line, which would have been Ari.
The crowd didn’t seem to like that. The rocks and rotten fruit focused on the man, foiling his ambush after only a few seconds and forcing him to run closer toward the center of the circle. The guard by the doorway nodded to Ari and blew the whistle to announce his entrance.
He took a page out of the scarred man’s book as he ran forward, pumping a fist into the air as though he was a valiant champion. A mushy onion struck his arm, and a rock skidded across the ground a few feet away from him. It was less than the others had received in welcome, though with each additional fighter in the circle, the crowd’s attention was spread slightly thinner.
Ari alternated between keeping a wary eye on the other men and searching the crowd for Virgil’s face. There were at least a thousand people crowded into the benches, enough to make the task harder than he’d expected it to be. He needed Azurelight if he wanted to stand a chance at victory. It would be a simple matter of forcing the other men, who were mostly wielding makeshift weapons and cheap daggers, to yield.
He briefly looked into the face of Baron Luka, who was watching the chaotic event with a solemn, but satisfied expression. With his mask and the illusion of Miragion still up, was there was no chance of the Baron recognizing him yet. Even still, it was slightly unnerving to know he was being watched by a man who wanted him dead and—at least for the moment—still had the power to make it happen.
Ari blinked as he noticed something completely unexpected. Baron Luka had a sword, one that he recognized from the flawless ruby hilt. Jarvis’ old sword, Bloodrose, a construct that was a twin to Azurelight in function if not personality. A twinge of guilt ran through him as he realized that the only way Jarvis would have parted with that sword was in death, one that Ari likely caused with his finishing blow during their last encounter.
One of the other competitors let out a grunt from his left, and Ari was hit with a tackle an instant later from the same direction. He cursed his poor strategy in letting himself get distracted so easily. Mourning an old enemy while surrounded by seven new ones.
The two of them hit the sandy floor of the fighting circle hard. Ari reflexively pulled his opponent into a clench, but the action was made awkward by the bulkiness of their costumes. An elbow slammed into his ribs, followed by a grazing fist that caught him across the forehead.
Another punch came, but he was ready. He dodged upward, catching his opponent’s arm just above the elbow and levering it to the side with an armbar that elicited a hideous crunch. He would have never put so much force into the movement while wrestling back down in the Hollow, but he’d always been aware of what would have happened if he did.
The man he was fighting was incoherent with pain, leaving Ari room to scramble back to his feet. All of the other competitors were in the circle now, and all of them were sizing each other up. Only a few had managed to find a weapon, but Ari was wary of the possibility that some might find a small dagger to conceal within their sleeve to surprise their opponent with.
He stood with his back as close to the fence as he could get it and resumed his search for Virgil. The process would have been easier if the crowd wasn’t so loud, leaving Virgil with little chance to shout out to him to get his attention. Was he even in the crowd? Had something already gone wrong within the process of their shoddy, half-baked plan?
Another competitor sprinted toward Ari, a stocky man old enough to be wrinkled but young enough to still have nice hair. He got his guard up in time to block the man’s first punch and throw a quick jab of his own. The man started circling, and Ari was cursing him as a distraction unde
r his breath when another fighter joined the brawl, this one with a dagger.
The man with the dagger slashed his blade at Ari and then spun and drove the point of the weapon deep into the wrinkled man’s stomach. Ari hopped back and then started running, staying near the edge of the fighting circle and scanning the crowd for Virgil again.
He finally spotted him. Virgil was in the second row, holding Azurelight above his head with the sapphire pommel glinting in the light, which was a pretty smart strategy for drawing notice. Ari hoped that it wouldn’t also draw the notice of Baron Luka, who’d seen Lord Stoneblood carrying Azurelight before, but he somewhat doubted that the Baron noticed the details in weapons in the same way he did.
Ari waved his hands, and Virgil nodded his head, relief flooding over his face. He pulled the weapon loose from its scabbard, nearly poked the eye of the man sitting behind him out as he drew back his throw, and then hurled it forth.
It went wide, by a distance that was rather unflattering to Virgil and inconvenient for Ari. He saw Virgil cringe and run a hand through his blond hair before sitting back down heavily. Ari sprinted toward Azurelight. It was a bit more than thirty feet away, but if he could just…
The fat man who’d been taunting him earlier was closest to the sword, and he leaned over to scoop it up with surprising urgency. Ari slid to a stop, too close to retreat unnoticed. He saw the fat man’s features twist upward into a cruel smile.
CHAPTER 40
Ari had a couple of options, and none of them were great. As tempting as it was to summon Azurelight to his hand, as he would have normally done after dropping it, the act would draw too much attention. Particularly the attention of Baron Luka, who might not be able to notice a sapphire pommelstone from a distance but would recognize the trick for what it was and immediately connect it to the wanted criminal Lord Stoneblood.
He could try to fight unarmed, but even assuming that the fat man had no sword training, Azurelight was a razor-sharp greatsword. The range and deadliness it offered were second to no other unenchanted weapon Ari had ever wielded before.
Reborn Raiders (The Weatherblight Saga Book 4) Page 25