Doom and the Warrior

by Lexy Wolfe

  “I returned this morning after dawn and went with Doom to meet this dragon who has been training him in flight and tutoring him in other things.” Her eyes remained on the cups as she filled them. “They are together working on his reading and writing. Father Bura’an suggested you might like some food.”

  Gareth paused to study her when he pulled his head through his shirt. A small smile touched his lips. “Ah, you want to resume our private lessons?”

  “'Want’ is a strong word.” She fixed her gold eyes on his. “If I live through facing Alimar, knowing how to read and write might be useful.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t look at me like that. Alimar is over five thousand years old, and I’m not even as old as you are. No matter how strong I may be, no matter how skilled a warrior I am, he has many years more experience than I have.”

  “You should think positive.” They sat across from each other at the small table. “Expecting failure usually brings failure.”

  “Don’t feel the need to lecture me. I have heard it all from Doom already. I will not lose,” she stated in such chill tones, Gareth shuddered. They remained silent for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts as he ate and she sipped her tea. Gareth glanced over as Ky-Lar abruptly flipped back onto his feet and went to his aceri, bumping her side with rough affection, his expression anxious.

  “Are you all right, Tiwaz?” Gareth kept his tone as mild and as unconcerned as he could manage. Her response surprised him. And concerned him.

  “No, I am not.” Her eyes never wavered from her empty cup. “I have lived my whole life expecting to die. I think…I have lived my whole life trying to die, because death was the only escape from life, and life was slavery. I never feared death. I prayed for it. Shape-shifters…do not endure captivity well. It has always been freedom or death. It is instinct.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes as she put her hand on Ky-Lar’s brow, the panther resting his head in her lap comfortingly. “The only thing I ever feared was Doom being made to suffer, and he did whenever I failed my master’s…Alimar’s expectations. So I pushed myself. I dared not fail, but I yearned for death. I cannot fail to kill Alimar, else Doom will suffer his wrath. But if I die…”

  “Doom would suffer from losing you,” Gareth finished in a gentle voice. She looked up at him and the understanding in his tones. “He would not be the only one, Tiwaz. Your death would cause many who have attachments to you to grieve. The Dramaden arena master. The people of Bralden. Even those of the temple, despite not having the chance to know you themselves, would grieve because they know you through Doom.” He smiled sympathetically at her stricken look. “I bet even that pirate magic user Simpkins would mourn your passing.”

  “They wouldn’t have to find out,” she argued, her voice more like a frightened child’s than the fearless warrior most knew her as.

  “Do you really think no one would learn the fate of the single person willing and able to bring down Alimar the Black? Or the identity of who did it?” He flinched back when she struck the table with both fists in utter frustration, surging to her feet to pace the floor. Ky-Lar kept out of her way, but his expression was still worried for her. “Is living such a frightening prospect?”

  She spun to face him, fists clenched, eyes wild. “I fear nothing!”

  Standing calmly, Gareth dared to approach her, putting a hand on her arm. “Yes, you do. You fear being the cause of pain for Doom. And you fear life after Alimar’s demise. It is not uncommon for those who have fixated on a singular goal to feel lost once they have reached it. Few have the foresight to realize what ‘after’ might mean for them.”

  “I am a gladiator! We are not supposed to have a future! We fight until we die. And we always die. That is our future.” She brushed his hand off her arm, stalking to the wall and punching it, then leaning against it with her head bowed. “I am not supposed to live, but I cannot die. What will I do if I live? I have nothing. I am nothing but Alimar’s slave.”

  “You are not a slave, Tiwaz,” Gareth stated firmly, aghast at the revelation of her heart.

  She shook her head sharply. “I know what you are thinking. If I still think I am his slave, that I might obey him if he ordered me to do anything.” She punched the wall again, leaving faint cracks in the rock. “I hate him. I obeyed him only to protect Doom. Since I can remember, I have wanted nothing more than to throw myself at him and try to rip his throat out.

  “I tried once during the first year. He stopped me. And Doom…he nearly died. Alimar kept us separated so I could not mercifully end his life nor aid him. I watched him suffer for my rebellion. He never knew why Alimar hurt him so badly. How could I tell him it was because I put myself before him?”

  Gareth forced the tension out of his shoulders. “You have never told Doom?” He looked at Ky-Lar. “And you kept it from your aceri?”

  Gold eyes flashed in simmering anger and despair. “You barely know me and it upsets you that I still consider myself a slave. Doom’s life has been focused on our freedom. Especially on my freedom. This…inability to accept freedom. It is my failure, not his. Not Ky-Lar’s. I do not want them blaming themselves.” She looked at her bondmate apologetically. He rubbed his head against her hip. She grimaced, turning her face away from both panther and man. “I don’t even know why I am telling you.”

  The bard quirked a wan smile. “It is a gift from my parents. Our presence draws the deepest pain and fears from those around us. So we may try finding a way to ease it.” His smile faded. “There is no weakness in sharing such burdens. Keeping these kinds of feelings locked inside erodes our strength. You cannot afford to be anything but strong for the battle you will face.” He paused. “Please. Tell us what distresses you.”

  Tiwaz remained silent, but both man and panther waited patiently, knowing it was not easy for her. “I have lived my entire life with only two purposes. To keep Doom alive and to see Alimar dead so no others will suffer and die. But…once I kill my master…if I live through killing him…what then?”

  “I don’t know,” Gareth replied with quiet gravity. “But I do know this, Tiwaz.” She looked over her shoulder at him when he rested his hand on her back. “You will not be alone to face ‘after Alimar.’ Ky-Lar is here for you. I will be here for you. Doom has always been here for you. And my father, aunt and uncle will always be there for you. For now, just focus on the task before you.” He let his hand drop. “You are the Warrior, legendary gladiator. The only living person to have confronted Alimar the Black and survived. You cannot afford any distractions in the coming battle.”

  After several minutes, she finally nodded, straightening away from the wall and taking a deep, cleansing breath. “Yes. You are right. I am allowing myself to be distracted. Distractions only benefit Alimar.” She turned her golden regard on him. “Do you know where that ogre mage is?” At Gareth’s unspoken question, Tiwaz stated, “I want to minimize how many might be harmed with Alimar’s death. Maybe…even survive the confrontation. Simpkins is the only magic user I trust with our lives. We will need his help.”

  WITH A GRACE belying its size, the Stone Dragon slid into place alongside the longest of the piers in Crossroads’ harbor with the aid of magic users trained to maneuver the massive ships in the chaotic port. As the motley crew, composed of a myriad of races common and uncommon, tossed ropes to the dock hands to secure the vessel, the dwarven helmsman locked the wheel in place and stomped into the navigation room.

  “So, what in the bleeding hells are we doing back here, Captain?” the dwarf demanded of the ogre bent over a thick book and papers spread out on the map table. “You know the boys and girls get restless if they don’t get to play a bit and this is one of the few ports we don’t take liberties at.” He crossed his arms with a harrumph. “We need a few safe harbors, Simpkins.”

  The ogre mage made a few notes before straightening up. “I’m well aware, Baldar. But Elyssia’s vision has always been true and when a high elven woman bec
omes distraught over her visions when we don’t heed them, I figure it’s better a few days back in port than a lifetime on the bottom of the ocean.”

  “Bah. Seers. Though I suppose you’re right about distraught high elves. Didn’t know anything ever flustered her, old as she is.” He unfolded his arms and moved to stand on the low step that let him stand at the map table and lean forward on it. “But you can’t keep putting the crew off, lad. They are loyal so long as you let them off their leash ever few years or so and it’s been nearly five since that fool quest of yours.”

  “You mean the ‘fool quest’ that netted us more money than we’d have made in that time?” the ogre asked in droll tones as he bent back over the papers.

  “Damnit, Simpkins, you know it ain’t about the money! They don’t fargin need money. Excepting the handful of mages who keep the Stone Dragon whole and hale, ain’t a one that has family outside of this floating rock. They’re loyal, but you’re pushing their limits. And half of them can’t enjoy the brothels because they don’t cater to their races’ particular needs here.”

  Slamming his fists on the table, Simpkins stood to his full eight foot height. Despite towering over the dwarf no taller than five feet, Baldar was undaunted by his captain’s irritation. “My job is to keep the crew alive and the ship afloat, Baldar. I took an oath to that when I accepted the mantle of captain. Would you trust me to let me do it?”

  “You know what will happen if—” The helmsman’s words were cut off by a loud rapping on the door. “What?!” he bellowed irritably. A man with four arms and an array of weapons about his body peeked in the door. “What is it, Ronin?”

  “You need to come see this, Captain. The boys are about to fall off the side of the ship in a swoon.” Despite the dire meaning of the words, the ship’s weapons master sounded more amused than concerned.

  Both captain and helmsman paused in shock to see the crew lining the port side of the ship, the shorter members climbing the ropes to look over their taller shipmates. The running commentary only added to the pair’s bewilderment. “I don’t believe it. Is it really her?” “Haven’t seen her in years, but there’s no mistaking it. It’s how she carries herself, see.” “Halley’s tits, she is gorgeous.” “Bet I could beat her for a tumble.” “You couldn’t take her in a fight if she’d both hands and a foot tied behind her back,” was followed by a loud smack and howl of pain. “I heard she was dead.” “Bah. Knew nothing could keep that one down.” “What’s with the giant cat, though?”

  Simpkins’s scowled. “What the hell is going on? Move, you louts!” he bellowed, smacking the back of one of the minotaurs’ heads to speed things along. The muscular being barely noticed, chuffing with amusement at the ogre’s irritation. The crew laughed as they obliged their captain, clearing a way to the railing.

  Four people stood on the dock by the ship. Gareth Tavarius’s grin reflected his vast amusement at the ogre’s shifting expression. Ky-Lar sat by a handsome, muscular man he did not recognize. In front of them with her arms crossed and gold eyes flashing in the sun was, “Tiwaz?” Simpkins’ scowl evaporated into shock, then delighted surprise. “What the hell are you doing here? And where’s your partner in crime?” The unknown man laughed heartily, more when Gareth punched him in the shoulder.

  “I don’t have time for pretty chitchat, magic user. Just let us on your ship,” Tiwaz returned acerbically.

  Simpkins did not even have time to open his mouth when his crew all but fell over themselves to lower the gangplank for her. “Well, that answers why Elyssia wanted us to come back here so urgently. I keep forgetting she’s a devotee of the Dragonway gods.” He glanced down at Baldar, feeling the dwarf’s glare. “That temple I found during my fool’s quest? Belonged to them.”

  “Yeah? Huh.” Baldar watched as the crew respectfully made a path, allowing Ky-Lar and Tiwaz to step onto the deck. The crew ignored and forgot about the two men following the pair as they surrounded Tiwaz, males and females alike fawning over the gladiator. “Well, suppose I can forgive you then. Never seen them act like excitable noble girls near an eligible prince over anyone. Remember when we had that little ‘princess’ on board?”

  Simpkins snorted as he walked over to meet Gareth as the bard came up to the navigation deck. “They just liked tormenting her. If she’d held her nose up any higher in the air, she’d have drowned in a driving rain.” The two men clasped hands. “Welcome aboard, Bard. Never thought I’d see Tiwaz without Doom by her side.”

  The muscular man chuckled from behind Gareth as the bard glanced over his shoulder at him in amusement. “She isn’t,” Doom rumbled in his familiar voice. Baldar laughed heartily at Simpkin’s drop-jawed expression. The disguised gromek shrugged. “I learned a few tricks while you were gone.” He looked towards the city. “However, the sooner we’re away from shore, the sooner I can shed this façade.” He rolled his shoulders. “I feel cramped.”

  “We just got into port. Quite literally, in fact. We should probably take the opportunity to get our supplies topped off, especially since it’s obvious you four plan on staying on board,” Simpkins stated drolly.

  Baldar laughed at Gareth and Doom’s expressions when they looked over towards Tiwaz. “I’ll go send Chen to get supplies and you boys go chat. Even if you could convince the woman to leave, the crew might mutiny.” He explained to the pair, “One thing the crew loves as much as a good fight is watching someone else fight a good fight, and your girl there had many of them dreaming of meeting her.”

  Doom looked troubled. “Ah, Tiwaz is not exactly—”

  The dwarf made a sound, waving off the thought before it was spoken. “Gods, no. Girl is a celebrity. Hells, one of the gods could step on deck and they’d not act like children seeing their hero come to life like they are now. If she’d agree to a wrestling match with Ronin Dar, they’d probably be over the moons.”

  Simpkins pointed to the man a head taller than the tallest sailor. “Him there, tall guy with the four arms. He’s the ship’s senior man-at-arms. Best physical fighter aboard.”

  Gareth and Doom considered him and said in unison, “She could take him.”

  Simpkins grinned, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Ronin! Two gold says you can’t out-wrestle her!” The crew went silent, looking between Tiwaz and Ronin. The man barked laughter at the idea, then looked astonished when Tiwaz was slipping off her backpack and weapon belts to hand to Ky-Lar. The crew cheered and whooped, a flurry of odds, bets, and taunts to each other ensuing.

  “She doesn’t fight fair,” Doom pointed out.

  “Neither does he,” Simpkins replied, waving the pair to the navigation room. “It’ll keep the crew’s attention while Chen gets supplies and we talk. When it’s high tide in a few hours, we’ll set out again.”

  ONCE THE SHIP was underway, Tiwaz and Ky-Lar took up residence on the forecastle deck, refusing to budge from the base of the fore mast they sat against. The panther slept while his aceri rested against him, watching the sky. She glanced up when a shadow fell across her. Ronin Dar stood there, a bowl of food, cups, a wine skin and a small hunk of bread in hand. She squinted up at him, shading her eyes. “You did not need to bring me food.”

  “You do not need to abstain from eating. Your friends offered to bring some when Cook insisted you be fed when you did not come to the galley, but I claimed the honor for myself. Least I could do for the first half-armed, half-sized person who handed me my ass in a wrestling match.” She couldn’t help but smile at his description of her. He lowered himself to sit, handing her the stew and bread. “Eat. Captain’s orders.”

  Hesitating a moment, she accepted the offering. “I am surprised. I have been waiting for Simpkins to tell me how much passage to Griffin Isle will be, but he has been talking with Gareth and Doom more often than not.”

  “You came here seeking his aid, didn’t you?” the large man asked as he poured wine for them both.

  She snorted softly as she tore a piece of bread to dip
into the stew. “He does nothing if it does not profit him.” She paused a heartbeat, remembering the potion he once gave her that saved her life, then continued to eat, eyes on her food. “Most of the time.”

  Ronin chuckled. “You’re not too far off with that, really. But he usually reserves his ‘pay first, work later’ rule for the self-righteous asses.” He raised his cup to her. “Or those he doesn’t know.”

  “Suppose I should be grateful he doesn’t consider me a self-righteous ass.” She glanced at Ky-Lar, and picked out a chunk of meat, popping it in the panther’s mouth. Thus fed, he put his head back down, eyes half-closed.

  “Hardly. When he told us he’d not only met you, but fought by your side, the crew couldn’t get enough stories about his adventures.” Ronin pointed a finger at his temple with the hand holding the cup, squinting meaningfully. “The others are too dense to notice subtle difference in our captain, but I could tell. You touched him. More than anyone has in a very long time.”

  Her expression reflected her skepticism. “Simpkins? Sentimental?”

  Ronin did not let her cynicism ruffle him. “He doesn’t get close to many. Keeps a certain distance from most of the crew. Oh, he’s good to us. Probably better than we deserve. But he’s not close to more than Baldar.” He leaned back to look towards where the dwarf bellowed at several crewmen, sending them scurrying into the ropes to adjust one of the sails. “Unlikely pairing, a dwarf and an ogre, I know.”

  “I thought dwarves avoided bodies of water deeper than their waists. Since they sink like rocks.” She looked to the prow of the stone ship and amended, “Well. Most rocks.”

  “Baldar isn’t a normal dwarf. Oh, he would still sink if he fell overboard. But he’d trained as an acrobat in his youth. Serves him well on board ship. And the crew keeps a sharp eye out in case of any mishaps.”

  Tiwaz looked up to stare. “A dwarven…acrobat?” She shifted to look back towards the helmsman, disbelief writ across her expression.