Doom and the Warrior

by Lexy Wolfe

  “Too bad Kiliana couldn’t kill the bastard herself,” one of the other competitors muttered. “She’d every right to it. Damned imperial laws.”

  “Where is Kiliana?” Gareth asked, looking around. “Is she all right?” He headed towards the inside waiting area, stopping short when Harther blocked him with a hand.

  “Keep out of it bard,” Harther stated. “You’re up next. Get out on the sands.” Gareth nodded with a sigh, knowing better than to argue with an arena master in his own arena.

  THE GROMEK SHUT the door to the healing room with his foot, looking at Tiwaz’s face. He kept his voice hushed as he laid her on the table. “How bad is it?”

  Hand around the knife to keep it from shifting, she growled through gritted teeth, “I don’t think it hit anything that will kill me.” She slammed the table with her fist. “But it will not heal in time for the next match. I have to forfeit.”

  He looked through the jars and grimaced. “Nothing that would dull the pain while I sew that closed.” He retrieved the rest of the implements and brought them over. He put a rag around the knife and pulled it out, keeping pressure on the wound, but his eyes were on her face.

  Tiwaz tensed, then relaxed once he removed the knife. “Pain is nothing new to me. You know that.” She looked away. “I am sorry. You were right. I was not ready.”

  Doom paused, resting his hand on her hair. “You were great, Ti. The fight was over. He was just too dishonorable to accept the loss.”

  “That is where I failed, Doom. I dropped my guard. I was tired and allowed myself to assume he would abide by arena rules.” She closed her eyes, turning her face away. “I ruined everything.”

  “Hush. You did not. Don’t blame yourself for idiots,” the gromek stated as he pulled her tunic up, examining the wound closer. He tilted his head. “It’s closing.” On a hunch, he took her hand and undid one of the bracers. The bandages were soaked to the point blood ran down her forearm. “That’s what Alimar was suppressing?” He met her eyes. “You have natural magic.”

  “No!” She pushed herself up to her elbows, then grimaced, grabbing her middle and falling back onto the table. Doom put his hand under her head to keep it from bouncing off the hard wood. “No, I can’t have magic. I’m not like him. I can’t be.”

  “Ti,” Doom began, cutting himself off and looking sharply over his shoulder, tugging his hood down. He relaxed when he saw Harther. Noting how Harther’s expression darkened with increased worry when he saw her pained expression, Doom hurriedly reassured him. “She will recover. But she will have to forfeit.”

  Harther nodded. “Rather expected that, unfortunately. Was looking forward to seeing her fight again, but can’t be helped.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I wanted you to know. I asked for a boon for you from the city leaders because you saved my arena and my reputation.”

  She turned her gaze towards him, the intense rising and falling emotions wearing on her. “What boon, Master Harther? I do not understand. I did not do anything.”

  “Exactly.” He smiled reassuringly. “Had you killed that bunghole, they could have taken my arena from me as punishment for uncontrolled fighters. You didn’t and I appreciate it, so I went to them. They agreed that the forfeited bet monies on that contest will go to you. Not as much as the purse for the champion of these bouts, but it’s a respectable amount. People are considerably freer with their coin on the first day of the festival fights, and you inspired them. So, the whole thing is not a total loss.”

  Tiwaz sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I suppose it will have to be enough.” She looked at Doom. “There is no reason to stay, now that we can buy—”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Harther interrupted before Doom could open his mouth. “Now would be the worst time to try to go anywhere, Tiwaz. The city is filled with travelers from all over the region for the festival, and you’ve garnered a lot of interest. There will be people roaming the streets all day and night for the next week. Take the time to heal. Doom can tell me everything you need. I’ll use your earnings and make sure you have it by the end of festival.”

  With a heavy sigh, Tiwaz nodded, relenting. “We will stay until you say it is safe enough to leave.”

  Relieved he would not have to argue with his friend, Doom turned his attention to more immediate concerns. “Is there a way we can get back to our room without drawing attention? I know you will need to bring others here to be mended at some point.”

  “Now would be the best time. After that idiot, everyone’s out watching the matches to make sure there are no more…incidents.” He frowned when Tiwaz pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the table. “Should you be—?”

  “I can manage,” Tiwaz stated. She leaned on Doom’s support heavily, pressing her hand against her side, but otherwise stayed upright. “You better go back out there, someone may come looking for you.”

  Harther quirked a wan smile. “It is too bad you can’t stay here in Dramaden. The crowd took a real liking to you. Doesn’t happen often with the amateurs.”

  “I’m not an amateur,” she pointed out as she hobbled to the door.

  “No, you’re not, but they don’t know that. They’ve been asking after you. Not often anyone remembers people from the early rounds of these bouts.” Harther smiled sadly at their alarm. “Which is another reason it’d be best to stay here. They won’t be forgetting you anytime soon but time will dim quick recollection of your appearance if anyone happens to catch sight of you.”

  Harther escorted them to the first hall door, locking it behind them as they made their way to their room. Doom paused helping her to lie down, both looking up to the sounds of cheering and combat. Doom stretched up to close the inner shutter.

  “No. Leave it open. I like the sunlight.” She threw one arm over her eyes, but he saw the tear track on her cheek. “And the fresh air.”

  “Ti,” he began, his voice as gentle as his touch on her arm.

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Ti, you are my friend. I will always worry about you.” She uncovered her eyes and looked at him. They were red and wet. Without a word, he helped her sit up and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against him. “You were right about coming here. We needed supplies I could not make myself. And Harther is a good man. I learned a lot from him.” He felt her relax at his praise. “We’ll have to make sure we have enough supplies to last us for a while. We won’t be able to go into another town where you could fight again for some time, if people might recognize you. And we will have to seek out fights that do not need known sponsors.”

  “I did not know freedom meant we would be running and hiding forever.” she murmured tiredly.

  He rubbed her arm. “Not forever. I will figure something out, I promise.”

  She snuggled against him, relaxing into his warmth. “I’ll follow wherever you lead, my friend.” As she fell asleep, he looked up towards the patch of blue sky visible from their window.

  “Thank you for still trusting me, Ti,” he whispered.

  THE TWO LOOKED back as Harther shut the iron gate of the arena, the securing bar falling in place with an ominous thunk. With a glance around the empty streets, Doom tugged leather gloves concealing his green hide on more securely before looking at his smaller companion. “Let’s get going. The sooner we are well beyond Dramaden’s limits, the better I’ll feel,” the gromek rumbled. He looked her over. “Are you going to be all right with that backpack? Your injuries may heal faster than normal, but they’re still tender and too much exertion—”

  “I’ll be fine,” Tiwaz stated acerbically. “I can walk for as long as we need. Just lead the way. We have wasted too much time in one place as it is.” Doom scowled but acquiesced, tugging the cowl of his cloak more forward. Keeping to the darker streets and alleys, they found the road leading to the forest to the south.

  They were about to cross into the forest when a shout startled them. “Hey! Kiliana!” Doom�
�s grip on his staff tightened, but he refrained from attacking because of Tiwaz’s stalling gesture. Gareth emerged from the shadows, his smile not quite concealing his concern as he looked her over. “The arena master said you had departed shortly after that match, but no one ever saw anything. Glad to see you were still in the area.”

  “What do you want?” she asked bluntly, her displeasure apparent.

  Gareth opened his mouth to reply, then shut it when his eyes were drawn to the massive figure looming behind her. He frowned slightly, appearing confused, then shook his head and looked back at her. “Well, I wanted to make sure you really were all right.” He looked her over pointedly again. “You seem to still be favoring your side.” She just scowled at him, prompting him to explain his interest. “Few people ever win the Dramaden arena master’s favor. It made me curious about the one who accomplished it.”

  “Who in the hells are you and what does Master Harther’s favor or lack of it matter?” Doom demanded, his face well concealed in darkness.

  With flourish, the man put a hand to his chest and bowed. “Gareth Tavarius, renowned bard in the Western Empire, Crossroads, and Northern Territories, at your service.” The man blinked at the pair during the drawn out silence and lack of recognition. “Neither of you knows what a bard is?” He held up his hands as the pair shifted to more hostile postures. “Keth’s tail, don’t get all touchy! Harther is known to be an honorable but distant man. Those he favors are…worth knowing.”

  “I don’t want to be known by you or anyone else,” Tiwaz stated. She turned her back on him. “Go away or I will kill you.”

  Gareth noted the sharp glance that her massive companion turned towards her. “Look, Kiliana, you’re a beautiful and talented woman. You obviously are in some kind of trouble if you are hiding yourself away like this. I want to help.”

  He jumped backwards when she grabbed the hilt of her short sword. It had not cleared the sheath before Doom grabbed her wrist. “Ti! Stop it! You are not a murderer.” She growled in her throat and shoved the weapon back and released it reluctantly.

  “Do you trust him?” she demanded of Doom, waving a hand at him. “He speaks lies and deception.”

  Gareth blinked, looking hurt. “I have not lied to you or deceived you.” He looked down briefly. “I am sorry I did not stop that idiot before he was able to throw his knife.” She looked away with a grimace, clenching her fists.

  “I looked for you after my match was over to apologize, but Harther said you had left the arena already. I suspected he wasn’t being truthful.” He managed a wry chuckle. “He was as protective as a father is of a newly grown daughter. I cannot help but respect that.” He lowered his hands. “I’m heading to Crossroads before winter settles in. My family is there. You would be welcome to join me.”

  “No,” Tiwaz stated tonelessly, arms crossed. Doom shrugged one shoulder at Gareth, uncommitted either way.

  “Very well, if that is how you want it to be,” the bard replied slowly, clasping a dragon pendant in one hand. “But if you’re trying to hide from someone, you might consider going to Dragons Gate. It’s the part of the Southern Wildlands that touches the main continent that very few people want to tempt entering. The fracture border there is closer to here than any other.”

  “Why do people avoid it?” Doom wondered, ignoring the glare Tiwaz shot him.

  “Because dragons live there. Lots of them. They are fiercely territorial, but generally ignore anyone who doesn’t threaten their nests. You’d find it safe enough there.” Neither Tiwaz nor Doom moved. He resettled his gear and lute, squaring his shoulders. “Gods be with you both and good luck.” Turning away, he walked back towards the city, heading east.

  Once they had put some distance between themselves and the city, Doom turned his attention to Tiwaz. “What is the matter? You never attack anyone without reason. And you have never drawn your weapon on someone unarmed. The bard was harmless, if irritating.”

  “He called me beautiful,” she hissed. “A sure sign he is either mad or a liar. Either is a danger to our freedom.”

  Doom moved his hood back a bit to regard her profile. “I’ve called you beautiful many times.”

  “You’re a gromek.”

  He stopped short, dropping his cowl back so she could see his face in the very dim light. “So? You have never had a problem with my race before.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t have a problem with what you are. I never have. But you are a gromek. Your kind doesn’t look like mine.” She turned and started walking.

  He quickly moved to join her. “Again, so?”

  Tiwaz looked sideways at him. “People think their own kind is beautiful and I am not a gromek. We are friends, and physical beauty never matters between friends. It is the friendship that is beautiful.”

  “That bard Gareth seems to think you are beautiful and we know you at least appear human, whether you are or not.”

  She stated in hard, edged tones, “I am not beautiful. I am a gladiator. Any interest men have in me is only because I’m a novelty. A freakish curiosity.” Her tones were so matter-of-fact, Doom stopped her, turning her to face him. “It’s the truth, Doom. There is no sense in worrying about it or denying it.”

  “Give yourself a little credit, Ti. The bard had no reason to be deceptive. He even tried to protect you when that idiot ruined your match.” He cupped her chin, turning her face towards his. “For me.”

  “I do. As a fighter. But I’m not what males want. They want soft, gentle, timid, weak creatures.” She narrowed her eyes in defiance and demanded, “Am I any of that?”

  “Hah!” He dropped his hand. “No, Ti. You are not soft, timid, or weak. But,” he added, “under that iron exterior of yours, you can be gentle. I know.” The rush of red to her cheeks was visible in the starlight. “One day, I hope others can know the part of you that I do.”

  “Gentility is weakness. I don’t need anyone but you, Doom.” She turned and started walking. Doom fell in step with her, silent, thoughtful and sad.

  DOOM CAUGHT TIWAZ by the elbow as the sun peeked over the mountains in the distance. “You are pushing yourself too hard, Ti,” he said, a touch of anger edging his tones. “We are stopping for a few hours. No argument this time!”

  “Fine.” Letting one knee collapse, she dropped to the grass and sat. “We stop here.”

  The gromek sighed, looking skywards in exasperation. “There is no shame in admitting to weakness! Especially to me. I have seen you at your worst! I have carried you in my arms to protect you.”

  She looked up at him, eyes flashing in the light. “And I must be strong to protect you, but I am not as strong as I must be. We cannot stop or Alimar will find you.” She turned her face away, “Us. He will find us.”

  Doom knelt in front of her, staring until she looked at him. “If he finds us, then we will face him together. Or we will one day find him. Either way, we need to be ready for that day. Pushing yourself too hard would let him win.” He tilted his head. “Why are you arguing with me about this?”

  Grimacing, she looked away. “Because you won’t leave me.” She held up her hands, looking at the bandages that peeked out from under the bracers. “I am not. I will never be free. Never.”

  He captured her hands in his, holding them tightly. “Don’t say that! We just have to find someone who can undo those spells, then—”

  “They cannot be undone!” she exclaimed in despair. His expression fell as she clenched her fists and pulled away, shaking with emotion. “Runic magic is permanent. It is forbidden from being put on living things, because it kills them. But he did not care. He put them on me. He said nothing but a god could remove them.” A sob escaped her throat as she hid her face in her hands. “And gods don’t exist,” she rasped.

  “Ti, you can’t believe anything Alimar told you,” Doom all but begged, unsure how to console her. “He is evil! We’ll get rid of these glyphs. Somehow.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “You must h
ave hope. Have faith!”

  “Alimar is evil. I will never argue that. But the worst evil isn’t in lies. It’s in the truth.” She looked up, eyes red with despair. “He taught me that. The truth makes it all worse. Even if there are gods, they do not care about me. Why would they? I am nothing. I am a nameless, raceless nothing. I have no reason to hope anything for myself. All I have is you. Your life and your freedom. You have everything I will never have. You are everything I will never be.”

  “What are you talking about?” He shifted to sit in front of her. “Ti, I have nothing more than you. I am no more than you are. Besides…” His voice drifted off as he held one of her hands in his, covering her wrist with his other one.

  She pressed his hands to her cheek, closing her eyes. “You are strong and wise and intelligent. You don’t approve of my being a gladiator. You know how to do things. You can hunt and fight and cook and make things and heal and I…I know…nothing.”

  “That is not true. I mean, sure, you aren’t as familiar with life outside the gladiatorial arena. But you are just as strong and wise and intelligent as you seem to think I am. No matter what weapon is put in your hands, you can use it. And you learn fast. Anything you put your mind to, you have learned. And you were right about going to Dramaden.”

  He leaned closer, his voice a soft rumble. “But even for you, it takes time to learn something new. Cut yourself some slack, okay? Ever since we escaped Alimar, we’ve been running. And you’ve been busy just trying to heal and properly recover your strength.” He added in a quiet, unhappy voice, “Which you have not really had the chance to do.”

  “You are…sad?” She looked up at the change in his voice. “Why…are you so sad? Did I do something wrong?”