The Cage King

by Danielle Monsch

  The heavy steps announced Beylor’s arrival before he came into view, the loudmouth guard from before with him. “Esh, how goes it?”

  “All right.” He kept himself neutral, not welcoming, not threatening, and hoped Beylor would go the hell away.

  “Good to hear. I’m expecting a great fight from you.”

  “Won’t disappoint.”

  Beylor puffed himself out, showing the gold around his neck. Esh supposed the smile was meant to be fatherly, but all he saw was full of shit. “Esh, a man like you, you can do so much better than the circuit. You’re young and with so much ahead of you. If you chose the right paths, of course, paths I’d like to help put you on.”

  And there it was, five years of avoidance gone to waste. Here was the offer that Esh knew would be made the moment he’d set foot into the Tour.

  It wasn’t the first offer he’d received, but it’d be the hardest to turn down. If he could turn it down. Offers from people like Beylor weren’t meant to be turned down. Otherwise, the people who made them tended to get mad.

  The guard next to Beylor looked at Esh with ill-disguised hatred. And there, proof even if he did accept, he’d have someone waiting to end him from the inside. Yeah, this offer was cocked from all sides.

  “I can’t think about that right now. Need to concentrate on the Tour.”

  “Absolutely,” Beylor agreed. “We’ll talk after. For now, I know my guests want only the best, and they’ve been waiting for the Cage King such a long time.”

  The excitement of the fights fell over Nalah, a wave she hadn’t experienced in five years, her one fight the night she’d reconnected with Esh not counting. The rush of adrenaline that was transmitted from the fighters to the crowd, and how the crowd fed on it, in turn hyping up each other. She was almost nauseated, and she caught her hands clenching and unclenching in nervous excitement without her directing them.

  As the crowd cheered and the announcers made small announcements until the fighters came forward, Nalah looked around the stands. No magic so far, either in the ring or out of it.

  With nothing else to do, Nalah waited. Esh’s fight was next, the last before the mid-day break. Rorth won his first match as did the albino. She hadn’t watched them, and once she heard what the albino had done in his fight, she was grateful she’d missed it.

  She was sitting in the front, the space reserved for whoever the fighters wanted. Behind her were the cheap seats. It was above, in the boxes, where Beylor and all the wealthy and powerful watched.

  “And now…” came the announcer’s voice, restrained and theatrical excitement in those two words. The crowd quieted, and Esh moved towards the fighting floor, that innate something in him glowing brighter than ever.

  The groundswell grew until it included even the highest of the boxes. Yes, Esh was a draw, no doubt about it. His legend rivaled the Tour, and it took little imagination to see Beylor’s preening face over this turn of events.

  Esh was dressed as always – no shirt, jeans, boots, and he needed nothing else to incite the noticeable hum of appreciation from the women in the audience. And if that hum brought a smug grin to her face because she knew how good he was with his tongue, well, any woman would agree that was allowed.

  Next into the ring came his opponent, a man she hadn’t run across yet. He looked to be human – a statement you could never be positive over – but this man was almost as big as Rorth, both in height and body mass. Like Esh he was shirtless, his chest a landscape of ridges and curved muscle. Take out the palpable excitement for blood, and this could be a photo shoot for some fitness magazine.

  He passed by her, and magic tickled the edges of her mind. Not connected to the death magic, but he was innate of some type. It was vaguely familiar, one she was sure she knew but learned long ago amid her studies. Damn, damn, damn, and then there was no time, because the bell rang, and the men circled each other. No weapons, only the damage done with legs and fists and heads.

  Fists met body, the accompanying spray of blood reaching the first seats, the onlookers crying out in horrified delight at the feel of the liquid droplets. Flesh absorbing blows, the rippling of skin showing the savage path of pain. The crunch as bone connected to bone, and underneath it all low rumblings of the crowd.

  Then a hard echo of magic, clear as a sun flare. The other fighter activated some type of power, and Nalah stood, hoping the magic left a physical change on the man.

  Esh struck the fighter hard in the side but frowned, clenching and unclenching his fist as he backed up, rechecking his opponent.

  And then Esh on the defense, twisting to avoid a heavy blow to his skull, not moving fast enough and a punch to his chest brought him low, had him rolling away.

  After several more turns of Esh doing nothing more than dodging, the crowd around them booed, not here to see the Cage King skulking and avoiding the fight. A kick to his ribs had Esh skittering across the ground.

  Every muscle went jittery, and her mouth went dry as parchment. This was bad. She’d seen Esh get hit before, but this was nothing short of being dominated, and Esh’s opponent was out for blood. If she couldn’t help him soon, there was a chance Esh might be brought down.

  She’d spent years perfecting her magical shields, but now she tore them down, lay herself bare to any magical power around her. She opened herself in complete abandon to any energy around her, her concentration complete and only on Esh’s opponent. Past the layers, down to the…skin?

  Concentrate, study, no shields. Skin, skin, something in the skin, concentrate, what is it, what is…he?

  No, it. There weren’t different sexes among the Skin Dwellers.

  Skin Dweller. Shit.

  Not necromantic magic, but dark enough. She dug through memories of the training she’d received on the various races, so numerous most of them had disappeared days after she’d learned of them.

  Their skin could harden until it was more akin to armor. Also, it was poisonous, enough a normal human could only endure two or three contacts before beginning to fall ill. Esh wasn’t normal, but how long before it was too much for his system?

  Their weakness, they did have one, but…what was it…base of the spine. Yes. A couple hits there started the process of weakening the skin, turning it back to normal, which led to other punches hurting them. Once the cycle started, as long as the poison didn’t kill you, the Skin Dweller could be defeated.

  Now, how to tell Esh? There were no rounds. They fought until one collapsed, and the one left standing was the winner. She couldn’t go up and say she had to speak to him. They’d kick her out if she tried to interfere.

  Somehow Esh had to come to her…

  Nalah glanced around and zeroed in on the man on her right. He was already drunk and had propositioned her as soon as she sat down, though he did back off after she told him she was with one of the fighters. Still, she’d gotten a familiar vibe from him, one that had her leaning as far away as possible.

  Please let him be as much of a jackass as I think he is. Nalah stood up at the next hit to Esh, a not-entirely-feigned gasp of shock pouring from her mouth, and put her ass in front of his face.

  The vibe was right. He didn’t go for her ass, his hand went straight for between her legs, and a completely not-feigned shout of outrage left her mouth as she turned. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing touching me, asshole?”

  It took only moments before she was lifted out of the way, Esh beside her and trying to go after the guy.

  Never let it be said she didn’t know her man.

  As nice as watching the prick get beaten might have been, there were more important matters. Nalah wrapped her arms around Esh’s neck, trying to make it look like she was burying herself in his grasp for comfort as she spoke in his ear, his blood seeping against her mouth and flavoring her words. “Your opponent is a Skin Dweller. Skin is poisonous and like armor. Kick him instead of hitting him, keep skin contact minimal. Base of his spine, hit it enough and the armor goes awa
y. You can beat on him then.”

  Hands gripped at Esh and dragged him back, shouts of outrage that he left the ring. Esh was yelling at the ref, up towards Beylor, gesturing at her, and the guy who touched her was dragged out. Hope that she was correct on how to beat the Skin Dweller, that Esh had heard her message and would act on it, curled in her stomach and lay heavy there.

  After a few tense moments Beylor nodded, and the fight was resumed. The fighters once again circled each other, and this time, when the Skin Dweller lunged forward, Esh twisted so he had a clear shot at the back of the man and kicked hard into the base of the spine. The Skin Dweller crumpled, and when he righted himself and stood, surprised fear was plain for all to see.

  Esh had heard and she was right, and Nalah breathed for the first time since that flare of magic, because it was going to be fine.

  Esh would never lose a fight.

  After the initial blow, the Skin Dweller faded in quick order. Esh owned him, and at the end Esh used his hands several times to deliver the final, body-dropping blows, but didn’t seem susceptible to the poison.

  The Skin Dweller fell and didn’t rise, and Esh was proclaimed winner. Without thought or intent, Nalah ran to the ring and threw her arms around him, light-headed and happy, pressing kisses over his face.

  He stopped the small kisses and captured her lips in a deep, drugging kiss, and the catcalls and rude remarks faded from her ears, and all Nalah knew was Esh, alive and whole and victorious.

  And then he pulled his head away and turned, growling at something. Nalah followed his gaze, and there was Lian, his hand on Esh’s arm and a cruel smile on his lips. “Beylor wants to see you both.”

  Chapter Thirteen

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  This must be how being called to the principal’s office felt.

  Not that she’d know firsthand since she’d never stepped foot in a school, but there was a vague sense of dread compounded by exasperation she was put in this place to begin with.

  Beylor was in full-on rant, which he’d been doing for several minutes and still looked nowhere near done. “…and I’ll have you know a fighter has never stopped and stepped from the ring! Where the fuck was your mind? I should kick your ass out for that.”

  Esh hadn’t spoken since Beylor had started, but now his voice, cool and bored, came through. “Go ahead. Kick me out.”

  “Esh,” she protested, though hopefully Beylor assumed it was because of her not wanting him to give up the Tour.

  Esh’s look to Nalah said Let me handle it, and though rebellion ran strong through her, she shut her mouth and sank into her seat.

  After watching her a moment, Esh turned to Beylor. Esh’s voice was low and sure and sharp enough to cut through steel. “Let me get something straight. I’m here for the prize, but I can say fuck you and walk away and not think twice, and if you think I’m going to let some limp-dicked asshole touch my woman and not tear off his face so I can have the privilege of being here, you never met me. Now, kick me out of the Tour, or let me recover so I can give a damn good fight this afternoon.”

  That was the longest she’d ever heard Esh speak at once, and even she didn’t want to upset him any further and bring that buried wrath in his tone down on her.

  And the way Beylor made an abrupt change to his tune, his hands coming up to placate though he strained to keep his voice firm, he must have agreed. “Fine, I can understand. I would never let anyone touch my, ah, Tiffany.” The little stutter before the name didn’t bode well for their long-term relationship, and Nalah hoped Tiffany’s next rich boyfriend was nicer and did legal things. Beylor continued. “But she’s banned from the second match today. I can’t have a repeat.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Esh agreed, and she was about to voice her opinion when he added, “But she’s at the final match.”

  Beylor gave a quick nod, probably deciding the final match was safe and that he didn’t want to push Esh again. “Fine.” He turned away, the move obvious dismissal.

  Esh led her out and put her on the path towards their temporary home. “Get back to the rooms.” He leaned down and gave her the softest kiss possible, and when he would have pulled away she held on to him.

  Something had shifted in the ring. She was the one who helped him, protected him. Because of her training, Esh escaped with little damage.

  Giddiness suffused her, had her pressing deeper into the kiss. She had been valuable to him, and in return, he protected her from any consequences. Inside her some heretofore unknown part unfurled, opened up to him, and basked in the glow he provided.

  They separated, not easily, but he brought his head back and smiled down at her, a half-smile that still had her heart pounding in that airy way he introduced with the kiss. “We’ll talk, and I might have to thank you too.”

  “Damn straight.” And she winked, because she could, and the widening smile on him was everything she’d hoped.

  Esh breathed through his mouth, broken nose useless for the task. Cracked ribs, shoulder that had been dislocated and shoved back into place, stomped on foot… all in all, not too bad for the night.

  The roar of the crowd started to penetrate his fight-fueled brain, going in seconds from the light buzzing of a fly to a volume wave that could knock him over if he didn’t take care.

  He stood and stretched, and his eyes gave another involuntary once-over of the front seats for Nalah. Not that he wasn’t used to that. Five years apart, and he always looked over the crowd for her.

  Well, it worked, didn’t it? It was why he’d seen her that first night.

  Beylor came up to him, unearned swagger in his walk. The fuck annoyed him more every time he saw him. Every negative thought he’d ever had about Beylor didn’t add up to the truth of the pissant.

  “Excellent show. Will you be well enough to attend the dinner tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, we’ll be there.” Great, he got to be on display for the guests. It was supposed to be a night of relaxing before the final fights, but it was a freak show for the rich and powerful to look over the fighting beasts before they bled their last.

  Nalah would want to be there. Good chance that Beylor’s blonde would be wearing the ring again. After all, when else would Beylor have a chance to show everyone his victory over the Guild?

  Not that he knew what to do even if the woman was wearing the ring. Fucking Guild. For all Nalah’s talk, there wasn’t any plan B he could see. She kept assuring him something had to be planned, but the lines that appeared between her eyebrows when she said the words spoke volumes. Still, all Esh could do at this point was keep moving forward. Outside of a body bag, there was no way he was getting out of the end of the Tour.

  Lian kept close to Beylor like always, his beady eyes not leaving Esh for any other. Once things were settled, he and Lian would need to have a discussion with their fists.

  From the ring, Esh walked straight to their apartments, doing his damndest to keep any hint of limp out of his gait. He didn’t need Lian or anyone else going for him, thinking he was weak. Yeah, there was the rule of no fighting outside the ring, but strange how easily that could be forgotten by someone when they saw easy prey.

  Nalah was sitting on the sofa, once again reading. She glanced up with half-smiling eyes that widened with worry as she took him in. The book was down, she was up, and he was sitting in less time than it took to open his mouth to explain. “I heal fast,” was all he got out before the gauze was brought out and her fingers skimmed over his skin with healing intent.

  Touch was always good, and if he had to sit around and accept it, sure, why not?

  “This is worse than from your fight with the Skin Dweller.”

  He shrugged. “Guy knew how to fight. That thing didn’t, relied on his armor. What is a Skin Dweller, anyway?”

  “It’s probably more accurate to call a Skin Dweller an it than a he, and they’re small league baddies, more a race that follows orders than does anything on their own.”

  It was hard to
concentrate on mundane conversation when she was so close and smelled of comfort and sunshine. His body still buzzed with adrenaline, and though he was beaten enough it was muted, it along with the promise from that earlier kiss had him ready for other activities. Long experience taught him, though, that until he was patched up, Nalah would not let herself be distracted. “The ring?”

  “Yeah. The only question I have is if it’s connected to the evil I’ve been feeling or if it was sent from someone else.”

  “I really wish the Guild had given you a clue what was going on. I’m going to have a serious talk with someone.” Her eyebrows rose to her hairline and though she didn’t comment, it was plain what she thought about that possibility. Esh continued with the earlier conversation. “Once I got the armor out of the way, it had no defenses and nothing was left but destroy it.”

  A soft, wet cloth was run over his skin, and he stayed still, obeying her to turn this way and that. “Lian give you any grief today?”

  “Yeah, he was watching me.”

  “I wish I knew what that was about.” Ointment was rubbed into his knuckles, her touch tender and sure. “In our one conversation, the contact said Lian had an obsession with you even before I stirred up trouble, but he didn’t elaborate. Don’t know if he didn’t know or he ran out of time to talk.”

  “Don’t worry. Guarantee he’s not the only one. The title brings lots of those types to my door.”

  She hummed in vague agreement as her hands continued to work medicine into his skin. The buzz was getting stronger, harder to control. He loved that she wanted to heal him, but right now, healing took second place to getting his hands on her and getting her under him. He needed the taste of her again, wet and ready against his tongue.

  She picked up the bandages and started to place them over various cuts. “Beylor took it easy on you.”