Domains of the Chosen 02 Bloodlust: Will to Power

by C. P. D. Harris

  “Sounds like a lot of work to me, little brother,” said Ravius. “Marching was never my style.”

  “No surprise there,” said Omodo, grinning.

  “Too bad Ravius,” said Vintia. “The women in Ithal'duin are probably hot.”

  “Then I may visit you once all the work is done,” said Ravius.

  “I'm just glad we could get together and say a proper goodbye,” said Vintia.

  “Your father will be proud, Vintia,” said Sadira. She laid her hand on her friend's shoulder. “I know I am. Ancestors watch over you.”

  Vintia smiled. Her father was not that easy to please. The Bright Company was unlikely to see much more than skirmishes against Pirates and Monsters. The trek would certainly be dangerous but not glorious. Her father was a decorated hero of Pershing's Gap, one of the most famous battles in the history of the Trials. Still, perhaps the Ninth would be reassigned to more honourable duty after helping Chosen Brightloch establish his distant Domain. She met Sadira's eyes. They left Karmal unspoken and then embraced. Sadira felt oddly soft without a layer of metal between them.

  “We do this too often these days,” said Gavin.

  “I will miss you, my friends,” said Vintia.

  They each embraced her, exchanging their farewells. Then they parted ways, hearts heavy with the sorrow that comes with separation.

  o-----

  They were making love with the frantic, desperate passion of those who do not have enough time, when it happened. It was their last day together in Balvuk's Triumph. Although Gavin knew he could look forward to staying with Sadira in Brightsand Halls, having won Chosen Giselle's approval, it would be some time before they were together in the flesh again. And so they lost themselves in each other. Hands caressing soft curves and hard muscles, fingers tracing the infinitely complex map of the other's body; so familiar and yet so foreign. Tongues tasting the sweet sap of their exertions, each battling to render the other helpless with pleasure. It was their game, and neither ever gained the upper hand for long.

  Aside from knowing lips and well-honed bodies they each brought other weapons to the game. Gavin could sharpen Sadira's focus, allowing her to reach new heights of ecstasy without breaking. Each orgasm he gave her was thus a revelation, a wave of pleasure so powerful that even Sadira could not resist it, only ride it for a while until she sank into moaning, writhing, joyful oblivion.

  Sadira's magic was even better for sex. She could control blood flow, replenish fluids, banish fatigue from tired muscles, and create unearthly stimulation with a mere touch of her lips or fingers. She had always taken an avid interest in the tantric applications of her magic; more so with Gavin as a partner. Her lover was often tense and notoriously hard to please; he cared too much for her pleasure and not enough for his own. Sadira saw this as a challenge, and she was always finding new ways of teasing him into letting her fulfil him perfectly. She enjoyed experimenting on him.

  Of course as much as each enjoyed taking turns pleasing the other, they both longed for the times when their desires aligned, allowing them to move and reach joy as one. They were in the midst of just such a moment when their strange connection was born.

  Gavin's phallus, engorged with blood and magic was quivering between Sadira's lips and dancing tongue. He was on the edge of erupting, using every ounce of willpower to resist. Sadira could sense the pressure building, and suckled greedily, wanting to taste his sweet surrender before he got hers. It was difficult, and she moaned into his manhood as his cunning licks and probing fingers brought her ever closer to glory. The lovers both summoned magic, more than they ever had before when making love. So much so, in fact, that their amorous weaving alerted others, though they were beyond caring.

  Then they ceased caring about themselves, blissfully entwining physically, mentally, and mystically, and became one. It was a feeling both old and new. Their magics had joined before in the arena, to great effect, and now they did so again. Each could feel exactly what the other felt, both in body and in mind. At any other time Gavin would have pulled away from such a sensation, fearful of losing his sense of self, but he was too far gone in joy and pleasure and thus welcomed it.

  Afterwards, as they lay together on the floor, spent and aching but glowing with satisfaction they realized that they were still connected. Each could sense the other's thoughts to some degree, and feel what the other felt. If they concentrated they increased the sensation.

  Gavin was alarmed at first, and Sadira could sense this. So she pulled herself against him, revelling in the aching afterglow, kissing him and whispering. “This is how I've always felt about you; I knew you were meant for me.”

  Their bond had grown. This new connection did not diminish even when they parted. From then on each carried a part of the other, always.

  o-----

  The Qualifying Tournament, put forth to all ranking Green faction members, took place in Frostbay, the largest city north of Krass. The city sat on the southern edge of Lost Kingdom Bay, a vast body of water which was once the centre of a nation so thoroughly destroyed in The Reckoning that not even The Chosen could agree upon its identity. The grand docks of Frostbay were the best known architectural remnants of that Kingdom. They jutted hundreds of feet out into the bay, and could accommodate ships of almost any keel depth for their entire length. This made Frostbay the collection point for the resources of the north and the west; anything that could be moved by ship went through the Frostbay.

  Rail lines had been added to the city in recent centuries, bringing elemental powered steam engines and the newer artifice engines as well. Coal, oil, iron, silver, gold, timber, ironwood, mithril, and other goods flowed into the port. Trading houses and great factories sprang up to take advantage of the port and rail.

  Frostbay was a free city, like Krass, beholden to no single Chosen. As such, it attracted the support of people from all over the Domains.

  o-----

  The Frostbay arena was remarkable in its simplicity. Much like the superlatively functional city in which it was built, the arena was made to suit a particular purpose, which informed every stone and column, seat and grate. It jammed as many spectators as possible into rows of efficient seating surrounding a broad flat fighting ground. It reminded Gavin of a super-sized version of some of the first arenas he had fought in on the Campus Martius.

  As he waited Gavin checked his bond to Sadira, as he did often since their strange joining in Balvuk's. He could sense her, distantly, like a point on a compass in his mind. He could even make her aware of him if he concentrated. He wondered what they had done.

  The Frostbay tournament was a single elimination event, pitting individual Gladiators against randomly drawn opponents. A single loss knocked any fighter out of the event. The top three fighters would represent the Greens at the Dun Loryn tournament.

  Gavin was matched against a Quickling fighter who went by the name “Green Sting”. Lightly armoured in green plated leathers and bearing a spear similar to his own, Green Sting sported a shock of bright orange hair. Gavin guessed that his opponent would rely on speed. Most Quicklings and light fighters do. Training in the Thousand Step School would complement that, teaching fighting techniques that took advantage of quickness and mobility. The use of the spear in two hands, signified a disposition towards attack, and Gavin guessed that Green Sting was likely versed in at least some of the techniques taught by the Seeking Spear school simply from the way the Quickling held his spear. He guessed that the Quickling used some form of Druidic magic, but this was based more on instinct than reason.

  Both Gladiators saluted the crowd and then each other. Gavin did not want to banter and said nothing, hoping his opponent would do the same.

  “You haven't got a chance, boya,” said the Quickling. “Me spear will find its home in your guts soon enough.”

  “Easier said than done,” said Gavin.

  “Shut your gob, boya,” sneered Green Sting. “Yer nay funny and yer breath stinks from all the arse l
ickin' you done ta get into this arena!”

  Gavin shook his head. He had little desire to banter.

  “Arse-licker, fuck-tongue, armodon-sodding scab!” a string of invective flowed out of the Quickling. Gavin lost track of the insults and the trumpets sounded soon after.

  Gavin moved forward slowly. Green Sting did not charge him, but rather moved in at a slow jog. Gavin could sense the Quickling channelling. Waiting meant that his opponent was likely readying an attack spell, not an enhancement.

  “Luchadaemon thirsts, scab!” snarled Green Sting, brandishing his spear. Gavin guessed that he meant his weapon.

  “Feel free to make the first move,” said Gavin. He wove the pattern for mind grasp. “We'll see if Luchadaemon has bitten off more than he can chew.”

  “Eat dirt, arse-licker,” shouted the Quickling, darting forward.

  Gavin, anticipating this, braced himself to defend. As he did so, green tendrils burst from the sand to hinder him. It was a spell that Sadira used often, and Gavin quickly shifted to compensate for his lack of mobility. Even so, Green Sting's sharp spear rang off his shoulder plates before Gavin could drive him off.

  “So slow, brown-tongue,” said Green Sting. “I'll gi'ya a taste o'me steel, boya!”

  “Do I sense a fetish?” said Gavin. Gathering his will, he hammered at Green Sting with a mental blast, causing the Quickling to bite down on any potential retort. “You seem rather focused on that sort of thing.”

  “Bend over and find out Boya!” said Green Sting, thrusting his hips.

  Gavin lunged as Green Sting gesticulated, thrusting his spear at the Quickling's head. Green Sting ducked. The spear blade parted the air near his ear. As he straightened, Green Sting jabbed at Gavin's groin. Warily Gavin knocked the attack away with his shield, throwing his shoulder into the Quickling as he did so. The impact from the larger Gladiator sent Green Sting staggering back. Gavin followed up with a short thrust. The Quickling recovered too swiftly, twisting around, and batting Gavin's spear away with a flourish of his own weapon.

  “Seems like I have a chance after all,” said Gavin. He flashed a grin at his opponent.

  Green Sting snarled at Gavin, weaving a spell. He spat onto his spear, his saliva becoming a vicious poison as it coated the spear-blade. He surged forward, life magic lending him strength and speed. In Gavin's eyes the air seemed to grow thick with spears as a the Quickling attacked. It was all he could to avoid being skewered. A dozen weaker thrusts punctured his defences, several finding flesh instead of armour. The poison burned into him. Gavin dropped his spear, drawing his short sword and backing away from the hail of steel that was Green Sting's weapon. All the while Lionfang drew power, weaving magic.

  “Yer runnin' out of room, Boya,” jeered Green Bee, his voice full of gleeful triumph. He saw that Gavin's shield-work was slowing and his counter-attacks lacked heart. He leapt to the attack; confident that he was ready for whatever Gavin could hit him with.

  In answer Gavin called upon his spear, using mind-grab enchantment to lift it from the sands and send it flying into Green Sting from behind. The barbed head ripped through the back of the Quickling's head, emerging from his mouth in a rush of blood and gore. Green Sting struggled for a moment, foaming, wild-eyed. The last thing he heard before he surrendered to the pull of The Keystone was Gavin's voice.

  “Always mind your opponent's magic, friend.”

  Interlude Four: Immolation

  (1150/07/17 AR, The Grand Arena in Krass)

  “Conditioning is key to creating a successful Gladiator. Only repeated exposure to harm at an impressionable age allows them to overcome instinctive fear of certain sources of injury, such as fire” Training Methods, Edition CVII

  “Fire is one of our most reliable weapons. Even tainted creatures fear fire.” Warbound Tyross

  Fire washed over her.

  Sadira did not panic; she pushed forward, leaping through the flames, she felt her skin blister painfully as the wall of heat and greedy tongues of fire washed over her. The magic of life was strong in her, however, and she survived. She could no longer see where she was going, but long experience gave her a good idea of where to strike.

  Hefting her cleaver, Karmal moved in for the kill. The berserker's joy was upon her. She saw the shadow of a shape in the flames and swung. Her blade met nothing, and she was too enraged to even realize that she had struck at Sadira's shadow-play; thus she was caught off guard and unbalanced when the Shadow-Elf Gladiatrix sprang from the flames, smoking but very much alive. The two fighters slammed into each other. Karmal was larger and more heavily muscled, but Sadira was full of verdant strength and lighting fast. They grappled for a moment, each trying to trip or push the other down. Sadira started to drag the blade of one of her swords across Karmal's abdomen in a vicious draw cut. Her efforts were interrupted as the emerald-eyed demon butted heads with her. In this, Karmal's new horns served her well, and Sadira staggered back a pace. Karmal followed this up with a cut from her massive blade. The agile Shadow-Elf stepped out of the lethal arc, swinging her swords as she moved. Her attack glanced off Karmal's shoulder armour, missing her neck by a finger's width.

  Karmal followed the momentum of her blade, heaving forward into a shoulder slam. She felt the need to dictate the movement of the fight, to keep Sadira off balance until her spells took their toll. She was confident her old friend did not have the will to match her relentless aggression. She paid little heed to defence, seeing it as a losing strategy.

  Sadira saw Karmal's shoulder slam coming. Instead of trying to dodge she ducked low, ramming her own shoulder into Karmal's ribs, and using her opponent's momentum against her. She had learned new grappling techniques since Karmal last fought her, taking up the Pit Fighter school. Now, she expertly lifted the titanic woman off the ground, using her hips as a fulcrum, drawing upon her magic for strength, letting out an ear-splitting war-scream as she powered into the lift, the muscles on her legs and arms rippling with effort. So swift was her reversal that Karmal had no time to counter.

  "Fucking cunt," Karmal shrieked in frustration as her feet left the ground. She swung her blade into Sadira. Leverage and position worked against her. The cut she inflicted was shallow and did nothing to stop her. Karmal's world turned upside down. Her vision filled with the wide blue sky and the roaring crowd. Then her head and shoulders slammed into the sands with enough force to shatter a paving stone. The world lost focus.

  Sadira rolled to her feet. She felt blood dripping down her side and smelled smoke from her charred flesh. Ignored her hurts, she snarled, moving in to incapacitate Karmal. It never occurred to her that Karmal might still be conscious and no one would have expected the flame-haired monstrosity to be able to hold a spell in reserve after such a fall.

  Karmal's head snapped up. The pain of her injury meant nothing, berserker rage and bloodlust roared through her veins like liquid potency. Sadira's blood smelled sweet and awakened old memories and new desires. Karmal regained focus. Power flowed through her, and she finished casting the dread immolation spell before Sadira could swing.

  Sadira felt a terrible pain in her abdomen; a fire conjured in her belly, boiling her stomach. Her attack faltered, blades glancing off of Karmal's armour ineffectively. She screamed and fire shot from her throat. She fell to her knees, trying madly to overcome Karmal's spell as the giant redhead levered herself slowly to her feet, using her massive cleaver as a crutch, shaking off the concussion.

  Every sane creature respects the power of fire, even a daring Gladiatrix of Sadira's calibre must succumb to a moment of fear-born panic as they are consumed by a flame they cannot fight. Agony shot through Sadira as her lungs filled with smoke and began to burn from the inside out.

  Karmal laughed as she lifted her massive weapon and stepped forward for the killing blow.

  "Time to die bitch," she sneered.

  Chapter Forty-Three: The Iron Axe

  1146/09/06 AR, Frostbay

  “If all of your weapons brea
k upon my body, what need have I of swords to defeat you?” Unknown, attributed to the lost master of the Ironskin Weave.

  “The wise hunter learns that there is a way around every strength,” Chosen Mordhawk.

  “And then I looked down and saw the bloody-thing coming out a' me gob,” said the Quickling, washing his words down with a swig of Strongbrew. “An' I thought, this be the most embarrassing way I've ever been tapped out. I'm all for messy head, but na' like tha.”

  Gavin shook his head and grinned. The motion, combined with the heavy drink nearly caused him to fall out of his chair.

  Green Sting, Billiam Fas'hans to his friends, chuckled as he watched Gavin's right himself. “Well I guess we know one thing I can beat ye at fer sure,” he said, hoisting his mug. Ravius, Omodo, and the other Greens at the table laughed. “Remind me ta send some Sky Isle Screech ta your arming rooms a'fore the rematch, boya.”

  Gavin, not trusting himself to speak, just shook his head. The motion made the room swim. He had never been so drunk.

  Green Sting, despite his bluster during the match, had sought him out later to compliment him on victory. Gavin was unsure it was simply part of the Quickling's “arena personality” to insult his opponent's, or if the man was just one of those fighters who made friends with those who proved themselves against him. Sadira often said that many of her challengers demonstrated a kind of wolf-pack mentality, once you beat them on the fighting grounds they would treat you with great respect, even seek your friendship. He hated the analogy, comparing Gladiators to animals, but it made a certain amount of sense to him now, with Green Sting. It did not cover Karmal's behaviour though, something that he wished he could convince Sadira of.