Everyone within hearing distance stated loudly, “Let it be.”
The man turned to her again and asked, “Do you enter into the first trial of your own free will, Raina Jacobs, highest daughter of the Blood Moon Pack?”
“Say I do,” Blaine instructed.
“I do,” she answered meekly.
“Then let the first trial begin,” the man yelled causing the crowd of onlookers to cheer wildly. “Challengers step forward.” At those words, three people moved forward.
One man the size of a minibus, wearing a hooded cloak over his extra-large, extra wide frame stepped forward first.
“Arsayas, of the Foothills Pack…challenges you to the death.” The mountain-sized man smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes.
Next, an ebony-skinned man came to stand beside him, his mocha eyes sizing her up. His studious gaze traveled unhurriedly from the top of her head to the soles of her feet then back again, scowling disapprovingly the entire time. Great!
Finally, the man spoke. “Javon, of the Nubian Pack…challenges you to the death,” Javon hummed with a cheeky smirk.
But it wasn’t until the third challenger stepped forward out of the shadows that Raina felt true fear. True surprise. True betrayal.
On cue, Raina’s heart began to thump wildly. The sound, she was positive, could be heard by every pack member in attendance. It was a woman. A woman she knew extremely well. Then again…maybe not as well as she thought.
“Janet, of the North American Clay Fields Pack…challenges you to the death.” The tall, lanky, redheaded female smirked. The feral action made her even more intimidating than the other challengers.
Janet? Janet Tate? Her boss. What! The! Fuck!
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You’ve got to be kidin’ me,” Raina mumbled below her breath.
The sight of her boss, the woman she had worked with for an entire month, the person she would have never guessed was pack, stood leering at her like she was a lioness ready to chase down a weak gazelle. Unfortunately, she was the gazelle.
“Do you know her?” All three men asked in unison, the din much too loud within the cavern of her mind.
“I thought I did,” Raina wheezed, feeling that painful tightening in her chest again.
“Miss Jacobs, choose your weapon.” The official swept his hand in the direction of the enormous wall of weaponry.
A low whistle escaped as she took in the sight of hundreds of devices on display. Everything from long curved swords from the Middle East, Medieval European daggers with elaborate hilts, razor-sharp throwing stars, feudal Japanese katanas and Okinawan sais, a graceful bow with a quiver of silver-tipped arrows, several maces with protruding silver spikes, and a variety of things she had no idea what they were.
“Which one should I choose?” she asked all three men.
Blaine spoke first. “Pick something lightweight since you’ve never trained with swords before.”
“Wouldn’t the bow and arrows be better? That way I could defend myself without having to get too close to my opponent.”
“These are not humans you are dealing with,” Nicolae reminded sternly. “They are faster, stronger, and more deadly than anything imaginable. Arrows would be easy to avoid.”
“What about a dagger? That’s lightweight,” she grumbled letting her eyes wander over the wall of incredible weapons.
“You’ll have to be directly in front of your target and in close proximity to use it,” Antonio added. “Are you ready for a close kill using hand to hand combat?”
“No,” she sighed, “but I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?”
Examining the wall one more time, she spotted a small, unadorned cylindrical object the length of a ruler with four long lines engraved in the center that reminded her of the engravings on her locket, box, and journal. The object was all the way at the very top of the wall. It looked unassuming and unthreatening, but for some reason it spoke to her soul.
“I want that one,” she said, pointing to the object.
The man’s brows hitched in confusion before asking, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a more tried weapon?”
“I’m sure,” she replied confidently, over the chuckles she received from the onlookers. Ignoring their catcalls she restated, “I would like that one, please.”
“Very well, Miss Jacobs,” the man conceded, motioning for his assistant, who fetched her nondescript weapon with an extremely long ladder.
“Stupid woman,” Arsayas laughed. “This should be easy. Drinks are on me when I finish with her,” he announced arrogantly to the other challengers.
What did he just say? Raina felt her cheeks darken with fury and her sweaty palms suddenly dried. Stupid woman? She’d show him who was stupid.
“Arsayas, choose your weapon.” The man stepped forward, immediately taking one of the long curved swords.
“Nice sword,” Raina joked.
With an annoyed frown, Arsayas snarled, “It’s a scimitar.”
“Sorry,” she whispered, unable to find a witty retort.
“Javon, choose.” Javon chose the bow and arrows.
“Janet, you are next.” Janet strode forward and grabbed a jeweled handled dagger with a ridiculously sharp point.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Janet smirked.
Gulp!
“The first challenger, take your mark.” Arsayas took his position on the knoll. “Miss Jacobs, take your mark.” Uneasily, she did the same. “Let the trial begin.” The official bowed low to each of them and then left the Battlefield for a safer vantage point.
Arsayas leered at her for a few seconds before asking, “Are you ready to die, little girl?”
“Are you, you big oaf?”
“You have spirit,” he chuckled, “but let’s see how long it lasts. I am the Eastern European Pack Champion five years in a row. Undefeated. And I’m gonna rip you to shreds.”
“Put your fists where your mouth is, moron,” she heckled, her anger growing stronger than her fear.
As they walked toward each other, Raina took in his over 6’5” frame compared to her 5’4” one. Bulky muscles resembled inflated basketballs when his arms flexed, neck the size of a small watermelon and fists that reminded her of sledgehammers. Holy shite! How was she supposed to fight that?
“With your brain that’s how,” Blaine reminded. “He’s large, but he’s slow and awkward, look at his stance. He always leads with his dominant side. Use your smaller stature to your advantage. Aim low. He’s a man first and foremost. Don’t let his size intimidate you.”
“Too late for that,” she mumbled.
Before she could come up with a plan of attack, Arsayas lunged at her. His right fist landed on her left cheek sending her careening backward. Shockingly, she remained standing.
“Do not let him hit you again,” Nicolae reprimanded.
“Really? You don’t say,” her words laced with sarcasm at the Romani. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Always with the jokes, Miss Jacobs.”
“Since I’m probably going to die tonight on this field can’t you call me Raina?”
“No.” Another punch landed on her back sending her catapulting face down into the dry dirt. “Pay attention, damn it!” Nicolae yelled.
“This isn’t a fight,” Arsayas chuckled. “It’s gonna be a bloodbath, little girl.”
Fear dissipated and was replaced by fury, while her blood began to boil as she staggered to her feet. As she stood, Arsayas’ fist came barreling toward her once more, but instinct kicked-in and she managed to leap to safety. When the next punch was thrown, she jumped, shifting into her wolf in midair, landing on his back near his broad shoulders. Instantly, clamping onto his throat with her teeth, feeling as the sharp points sunk into soft flesh.
Loudly, he roared, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, pulling at her coat with all of his strength. Still she held on. Fangs and claws digging deeper into his body. Warm rivulets of blood were streamin
g down from the gashes, causing her body to slide, furthering Arsayas’ torment. Suddenly, her animal took over as her mouth filled with his blood. Clenching her jaws, she shook her head, feeling as the man’s flesh tore away from his body. With a deafening roar, he fell onto the dirt rolling in agony clutching his neck. Slowly, she released him.
“Finish him,” Nicolae urged.
“Damn it, Raina! It’s to the death!” Blaine bellowed from his position at the top of the embankment.
“I can’t do it,” she barked. Unable and unwilling to complete the deadly blow needed to move on to the next opponent.
“Watch out!” Nicolae yelled inside of her mind. The sound almost ruptured her eardrum.
The blow that struck her cranium was powerful to say the least. Like a pup, she whimpered and fell to the ground, head swimming in confusion.
“Get up! He’s to your left! Move!” Blaine shouted this time.
With much effort, she rolled to her right, missing the edge of the blade by centimeters. The next time it came down she made certain to be back on all fours. When the third strike followed, she shifted back to her human form. Indifferent of who might see her nakedness and struck hard with a punch to the face, another to the ribcage, and a roundhouse kick to the chest.
To her relief, Arsayas lost balance and stumbled. Without hesitation, she grabbed hold of his neck and with all of her remaining strength twisted his watermelon-sized head. A loud, sickening crack of bones leeched into her soul. Tears fell as she sat, hands still clutching the man’s head, the light gone out of his eyes.
“Raina, you must get up,” Antonio pleaded, voice without heat. “Sweetheart, release his body and return to where you began. C’mon, let him go.” Nodding at the invisible voice, she released Arsayas’ form, easing him gently to the ground. A few seconds had passed before two men came to collect his body.
“Return to your area, Miss Jacobs,” the official stated firmly, features emotionless. Without protest she did, looking over her shoulders at the lifeless body being hauled from the knoll. “The second challenge will begin in thirty minutes.”
At those words, she sunk to her knees shivering, looking at the blood smeared on her hands and body. Her form naked and exposed, but she didn’t give a rat’s arse.
“Darling.” Duncan’s strong hands encompassed her trembling shoulders, the familiar touch unable to soothe her guilt or dismay.
“I k-killed him,” she stuttered through trembling lips.
“You had no choice.” Duncan held her close as Blaine covered her with his jacket. Nicolae was nowhere to be seen. “He would have killed you if you hadn’t.”
“Hold it together, Miss Jacobs,” Nicolae spoke softly through her weakening state. “Blaine, I’m ready for her. Hurry. We do not have much time.”
“We don’t have much time for what?” Her head was pounding and her stomach nauseous.
“You’ll see,” Blaine said, picking her up like she was weightless. Bombarded with pain, she snuggled against his broad chest inhaling his unique scent: sandalwood and oak with a hint of citrus.
At the far edge of the Battlefield, Nicolae awaited under a makeshift triage unit set-up under a small, white canopy. A long, portable table holding a one-burner camper stove with a boiling tea kettle was whistling while an array of gauze bandages, liniments, ice packs, and ointments lay neatly organized on the six foot folding table.
“Lay her on the cot,” Nicolae instructed as he poured the hot water into a coffee mug. “Help her sit up.” Blaine followed the request helping her to an upright position. “You have to drink this.” Taking a tentative sip she coughed down the first swallow. The steaming brew tasted like mold and grass with a hint of mint.
“It’s absolutely dreadful,” she protested, handing back the cup.
“It will help you heal faster and focus your mind temporarily. It will also give you a boost of energy and ease the pain of your wounds.” Ignoring her complaint, Nicolae grabbed a small unmarked jar with a cream-like substance inside. Carefully, he took a large gauze bandage and smeared the ointment on it in a thick layer.
“What is it?”
The scent was pleasant much like a combination of cinnamon and clove. It reminded her of Christmas time.
“It is an old gypsy healing ointment. It will numb your wounds and accelerate your natural healing abilities.”
Just as promised, her pain instantly stopped as the bandage was applied to her scalp. The skin beneath it began to tingle and she actually felt as the large gash began to close.
“Unbelievable,” she whispered, as all three men smiled.
“Here,” Blaine handed her a small pouch.
“What is it?”
“It’s some of the herbs that are in the tea. There will only be a short break between the second and third trials, so chew on it during your downtime. It’ll give you a boost.”
“Thank you,” she smiled.
“Don’t thank me,” Blaine chuckled. “Thank Nicolae. If it weren’t for his ability to think of everything, we wouldn’t have this triage station or any of these supplies.”
Turning to Nicolae she smiled, but before she could say the words he interrupted, “You are welcome…Raina.” The sound of her name uttered from those lips was better than any salve on Earth.
“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Antonio stated with encouragement. “Two more challengers left.”
“How do you feel?” Duncan gently applied some ointment over her scrapes and bruises. Instantaneously, they began to fade. “By morning you should be as good as new, unless…”
“…I’m dead,” she finished.
“I wish you would stop completing sentences in the negative.” Nicolae poked one of her bruises with an irate finger. The pressure caused her to flinch.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, giving him a stern stare.
“Sorry,” he said with a hearty chuckle.
“Focus,” Blaine butted in, an irritated frown on his otherwise flawless face. “You fight Javon next. He’s small and wiry and won’t be easy like Arsayas.”
“Easy,” she huffed. “If that was easy, I’d hate to see difficult.”
“Listen,” he chastised. “You are equally matched except he’s had more fighting experience.”
“How do you know?”
“He was once a member of my mother’s pack in Morocco.”
“I thought your pack members supported the Covenant.”
“Most of them do, but others who disagreed left the pack and joined with a rogue pack. Javon was one of our most feared fighters. He was also an Enforcer, so don’t let his average stature fool you. He’s even more deadly than Arsayas.”
“Great.”
“He does have weaknesses though,” Blaine continued. “During our training, he always shifted his weight before striking. He is also easily angered, which makes him highly erratic and unfocused. Another thing…he likes to attack in his wolf and has a tendency to injure his victims on their legs in order to immobilize them.”
“Ok.”
“One more thing,” he continued, “Don’t let him get a hold of you.”
“Why?”
“I’ve seen him literally squeeze the life out of someone. He’s stronger than he looks.”
“Got it.” Smaller opponent…greater chance of death.
From the direction of the knoll, a high-pitched horn sounded announcing the return to the trials.
“Put these on.” Blaine handed her another tank top and a pair of yoga pants.
As she redressed she asked, “I usually like to fight in sweats.”
“Sweats have extra material that an opponent can grab hold of and use against you. Yoga pants are form fitting, stretchy, and have no superfluous material.”
“I never thought of it that way. Thank you, Blaine. Not only are you easy on the eyes, but you’re quite the fashionista as well.” The man blushed.
“You’re doing great, darling.” Duncan smiled warmly, giving her another bear h
ug. “Make me proud.” She nodded saying a silent prayer as she began the walk back to the knoll, followed closely by her entourage.
“Okay,” she said, rubbing her hands together like they were cold, “let’s get this show on the road.”
*****
Raina stood in her previous spot staring at the drying blood of her former challenger. It was all that was left of the once mighty Arsayas. Her heart clenched, but she steeled her emotions and prayed for the fortitude to continue the trials. After winning the first match, she felt more confident than when she had started.
“Again the trial is to the death.” The official directed his statement at her.
“When I finish with you, they won’t be able to recognize your body.” Javon was wearing the quiver of arrows and his bow was held securely in his left hand at this side.
“I’m shaking in my boots,” she chuckled, trying to sound flippant, but didn’t.
“Begin.” The official announced for the second time, backing away from the match.
As soon as the announcement was made, the sound of rushing air sounded past her left ear. A warm trickle of blood ran down the side of her face where the first arrow had grazed her. I guess we’re going straight to it then.
Ducking in time to miss the second arrow, she somersaulted using both feet to kick out. The blow landed to Javon’s abdomen. As his body hit the ground, she straddled his torso pinning his arms to his side landing several quick jabs to this chin, nose, and temple. Javon growled, shifting into his wolf as he lay beneath her. The bite to her wrist made her roll from her position. With lightning speed, Javon stood, snarling, growling and baring his fangs…long, white fangs that were tinged with her blood.
“My turn,” he barked.
Sprinting toward her, he slammed into her with the force of a VW Bug. In his wolf, he was only a few inches shorter than her, but his slender frame could hit with the might of a power forward. All of the air left her body in a rush. As she lay on the ground gasping for breath, she saw when Javon shifted back to skin. Evilly, he laughed as he went to retrieve one of his fallen arrows.
Lup Teren (Wolf Land Series Book 1) Page 19