The Red Warrior: The Warrior Race, Book Two

by T. C. Edge

She listened to his advice this time without question and filled her lungs with a long, slow breath. Rufus had, after all, been through his all himself. He'd fought his way to victory against powerful foes. He'd had to endure this sort of wait, this sort of torture. She looked at him and he gave her strength. She looked at him and, in this faraway land, saw a friend.

  "I, um, wanted to ask you something," she said.

  He nodded.

  "Go ahead."

  "It sounds weak I know. But...is submission permitted. If I know I'm going to die, can I kneel and submit?"

  She looked into Rufus' eyes and saw them shape with pity. Then he simply said, "I know you never would. You're too strong, Kira. When you're out there, you'd never give in."

  He told her what she was with conviction. Perhaps Dom had read that in her mind, and passed it onto his instructor. Perhaps it was merely Rufus' own judgement. Whatever the case, he was right. Kira would kill or be killed out on the sand. She wouldn't kneel before the Empress. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

  Somehow, knowing it wasn't an option, she felt her determination soar. Above, the crowd had begun to cheer once again, and she knew full well the clock was ticking. In minutes only, she'd be stepping to meet her fate. Now was no time to be doubting herself. She needed to draw up her confidence, the trust she'd always placed in her own abilities. Sure, she'd had her resolve tested here so far, particularly after the fight with Shadow, but since then she'd proven herself more than capable in the cull. Why shouldn't she be able to defeat Redmane? With Rufus' guidance, why shouldn't she?

  She nodded to herself several times, and heard her instructor speak again.

  "Good," he murmured. "That's the face I want to see."

  Time was speeding fast now. With too much nervous energy coursing through her, she stood and began to pace. Before Rufus could reprimand her, she explained her need to get moving, to get her muscles warmed up.

  "If it helps you stay relaxed, so be it," said Rufus. "Nervous energy can be useful when channelled correctly. It can keep the mind and body primed."

  Kira stopped in her pacing and faced him.

  "Anger can too," she said. "At least, it helps with me."

  "Then use it out there," said Rufus. "Think of those you hate the most, and unleash that on your opponent."

  Kira could think of several people she despised. And though her primary foe back home in Haven should be top of the list, she found the podium taken by another. Her lips curled with thoughts of Vesper. And her blood began to boil.

  The bout above was now concluding. The tremors through the stadium, and the roaring crowd told her that. Shadow, in his corner, peeked through a thin slit in his eyelids as Kira continued to move about. She caught him looking, and felt her hate burn brighter.

  "OK," said Rufus. "Gather up your chosen weapons. You know which are best."

  Kira removed her gaze from Shadow and moved to the weapons stand nearby. Her choice would be the same as before. Curved scimitar blades, set in sheaths that she attached to her belt, and a series of lightweight but razor sharp throwing knives that she could use to lethal effect.

  "Redmane will no doubt come with heavier weapons," Rufus was saying as she armed herself. "He'll have a broadsword, most likely, with a very long reach. His range will be dangerous, but he'll be slower in his strikes. Wear him down, Kira. Use the conditions to your advantage." He looked to the stone ceiling, as if he could see through it to the open air above. "It's hot up there, and the crowd are brimming. They'll be cheering you after the cull. Use that energy. The people can do wonders for you in the heat of battle."

  Kira was completing her preparations. Her nerves were setting her insides into knots, but she maintained a steady rate of breathing, and focused on keeping her pulse in check. Her life as a spy and assassin had involved many close scrapes before. Yet this sort of thing was still quite alien to her. It was artificial, a scheduled bout. It gave her too much time to think.

  She paced again, keeping her mind occupied. Thoughts of home rushed through her head, of the war she left behind. If she failed today, she'd never know what happened. She'd never get the chance to return. She looked at Rufus, and her emerald eyes were lit. She wasn't going to fail.

  "I'll be up there watching," Rufus said. "If you need a friend, look to the gallery. I'll help you through this, Kira. You're going to win. I promise."

  His faith in her was stirring. All thoughts of death and failure were discarded by his conviction. She set her eyes to green stone and flushed away all her internal conflicts. Now, there was only one conflict she needed to focus on.

  Down through the belly of the arena, the sound of footsteps came. She began moving towards the gate as the soldiers appeared, their footsteps echoing through the caverns. They opened the lock and, without speaking, Kira stepped out with Rufus alongside. And from behind, the thunderous voice of Oom rumbled.

  "Good luck," he said. "Oom believes in Kira."

  She smiled at him and nodded.

  And through the long stone corridor she went.

  Dom's nerves couldn't be hidden, despite his desires to conceal them. Following Jaeger's victory, he'd seen fit to stretch his legs again, moving off from the balcony and seeking fresh air. The thought of allowing his mother, and Lucius, the enjoyment of seeing him so strained was too offensive to consider. When he returned to his seat, he told himself, he'd do so with his composure back in line.

  Of course, the best intentions didn't always provide the desired results. Cool as a block of ice, Dom strolled back onto the royal balcony with as much equanimity as he could muster. He'd set an almost arrogant look to his face and perused the gathered lords and ladies with a smile.

  He ventured towards his seat, ignoring Lucius' prying eyes and incessant smirk, and turned his gaze down towards the sand, expecting the dead to have now been cleared and the path set for Kira to emerge.

  Yet, something slightly different was happening. All over the stands, a sea of red was beginning to form. From the large lights spread all over the tiers, a wave of crimson flowed, drenching the entire arena in a blood-red glow. And above, huge red banners fell, hanging down from poles and masts that stuck up from the highest reaches of the great structure.

  Dom looked upon the sands, to the battlefield that had seen so much death, and noted how the gold was overlaid with a red hue. Lights shone there too, giving the impression that the entire field was drenched in blood, a fitting setting for the two warriors about to march out and go to war. He looked over to his mother, whose eyes were on him.

  "Was this your idea, mother?" he asked her.

  She nodded, a self satisfied smile emerging.

  "It's quite...striking," said Dom, looking back out.

  And as he did, he saw that four of the dozen gates leading into the arena were now opening. He leaned forward, confused. Lord Pontius hadn't yet announced the final bout.

  Then he saw four metal contraptions being wheeled onto the sand, each of them about the size of a small car and with a huge fan set on the front. He recognised them as some form of industrial sized air-con units, the sort to be utilised during public celebrations when the weather got too stifling for the affluent members of the city to endure.

  He turned back to his mother with a questioning frown. Her eyes had stayed on him, awaiting his reaction.

  "What is this?" he asked, as the giant fans were set into place, equally spaced around the perimeter of the arena.

  "You know what they are," said Vesper.

  "Yeah...I do. But why the hell are they being used here? This has never happened before."

  Vesper's smug expression was grating. Dom's detestation for his mother, when she was in this sort of form, knew no bounds.

  "I thought Redmane might appreciate it," she said innocently. "He is from the icelands at the top of the world, Domitian. The temperatures we have here don't suit him."

  "So, you're making special dispensations for a particular gladiator now? I didn't realise that was
within the rules."

  "My rules are flexible," smiled Vesper. "I didn't want to see this Kira girl given such an advantage."

  "And yet you'd happily put her at a disadvantage," countered Dom. He began nodding. "I'd have thought you'd consider it low to bear such a grudge on a slave. I thought you were above that."

  The jibe struck the intended spot. Dom knew that from the twinge in his mother's eyes, though she didn't react verbally. She merely looked away from Dom and ended the conversation there, turning again to Lord Pontius as the huge fans began to whirr, drastically cooling the temperature of the battlefield below.

  Even where he sat, Dom could feel the chill begin to spread around the stadium. He was powerless to do anything, and had continued to show his hand. And as much as Kira had made herself a target of Vesper through her own actions, Dom had most certainly exacerbated the problem. His mother had an aversion to Dom's inclination to become friendly with servants and slaves. And this one, in particular, was firmly under her cruel and unforgiving radar.

  He sat back and took up his wine as Pontius stood tall. The hush around the stadium was immediate, the entire place now bathed in red and cooling fast.

  "And now, a special bout to conclude this wonderful day," came his smooth voice, spreading around every inch of the stadium. "You saw her during the cull, and she gave you a real show. Let's hope she can do so again. Please welcome, The Red Warrior!"

  The applause was quick to rise, and Vesper's glower was formed in equal haste. Without the big screens around the stadium presenting her expression to the world, she could display her displeasure with a little more freedom. Perhaps, Dom wondered, that was why she passed on the announcing duties to Lord Pontius for the day.

  Yet while her distaste for Kira was written across her face as clear as a single black cloud in a bright blue sky, the crowd seemed enamoured by the girl, cheering and chanting her name, looking upon her with sparkling eyes. That alone set a smile to Dom's face as he looked down to the gate and saw Kira step out. His pulse quickened and, from behind him, he felt a presence join him by his side.

  He turned and saw Rufus return, creeping in covertly during the distraction.

  "How's she doing?" Dom asked anxiously.

  Rufus's brow was furrowed as a shiver ran up his spine.

  "Strong," he said. "But this cold changes everything..."

  9

  Kira felt the cold before she stepped onto the sand. A breeze seemed to have picked up, one that reminded her of the briskest winters back home. Her armour and robes were no longer a burden. They were, in fact, quite necessary.

  Through the gate, she could see several large machines set in place, blowing a fierce chill into the arena. A sudden blast hit her and she shivered. Rufus hadn't mentioned any of this. She knew full well this was Vesper's doing.

  Though the cold swept through her, her blood was burning like the sun, matching the colour of red now pouring from lights all over the arena. This was a trick and nothing more, a devious ploy to give Redmane a set of conditions that he'd thrive in. The odds were stacking up against Kira, but she was no longer thinking about them. She was no longer beset by any form of concern.

  As the gate opened, and she marched out onto the sand, she barely heard the raucous cheers and screams that accompanied her arrival. Her focus had narrowed to a single objective, and there was no space for anything more.

  Moving towards the centre of the arena, she shaped her hands into fists to shield her fingers from the biting chill, keeping her eyes away from the Empress as best she could. Already, her breath was appearing before her in a fog, and her cheeks were beginning to blush. She glanced to the balcony and saw Dom sitting to his mother's left, and beside him saw Rufus looking down upon her.

  His lips seemed to be moving, ever so slightly. He was much too far away for any normal person to notice, but Kira's augmented vision spotted it without trouble. She stopped and took close note, now sifting through the din and searching for Rufus' voice using her powerful auditory senses. It quickly grew clear to her ears, and she realised that his whispers were intended for her, and her alone.

  "Take a grip of your sword handles," she could hear him say. "Make sure the blades aren't sticking to the sheath."

  She did so immediately, uncurling her fingers and gripping the hilt of the blades. Both were cold now to the touch, but a quick pull revealed that each would still slide from their coverings without trouble.

  Rufus nodded to her up in the gallery. No one, not even Dom, seemed aware of their private communication.

  "This cold is unexpected," Rufus said. "Don't let it get in your head. Don't lose focus. Stick to the plan, Kira. Redmane will not tire as quickly in these conditions, but he will tire eventually. Be sure to stay clear of him in the early exchanges. He may have other ways to utilise the cold that we haven't yet foreseen."

  As he spoke, and Kira listened, Pontius announced her challenger. Focused as she was on Rufus, she barely noticed when the giant from the north stepped out, his armour the colour of ice, red beard and thick curls of flaming hair standing out magnificently against his white robes.

  As he marched heavily towards the centre, stopping a dozen or so metres from where Kira stood, she finally turned her gaze upon him. And lost her breath.

  He was bigger than she thought, well over seven feet tall and physically augmented by the layers of armour covering his frame. She'd spent plenty of time around giants back in Haven, and had been cellmates here with one too. Redmane wasn't as big as Oom, but he was sure big enough. Across his back, Kira could see the handle of a mighty sword sticking out, with two smaller blades fixed to his front belt. To him, they were barely daggers. To her, they'd be full sized swords.

  She quickly assessed him, and saw no further weapons. It looked as though he didn't favour projectiles, no throwing knives or spears affixed anywhere on his body. Yet his armour was thick, and his frame well covered. She scouted for weak spots, and saw them in the usual places where the various elements of his armour met at joints. Mostly, her focus was on his neck, face, and the thin gap where his breastplate ended at his midriff. They were the only vulnerable spots she could see.

  Her own armour was far less extensive, and made for faster movement and greater agility. She knew he'd be slower than her, and that, as Rufus had told her again and again, he'd tire more quickly. But with the cold settling, and the sand beginning to frost and crunch, Kira was all too aware that she was now fighting the man on his own level and in a climate he knew well.

  She looked back up at Rufus, who'd been performing his own assessment. As Pontius lifted his hands and completed his announcement, Kira saw her trainer's lips shifting once more.

  "His armour is too thick for your weapons," he said. "They'll scratch it and little more. His great sword will go straight through your scimitars, so use them to deflect and parry only. They won't stop a heavy blow, and you're not strong enough to hold him back. Keep moving constantly, or your muscles will grow stiff. I believe in you, Kira. Remember, they've set this up to try to help him. They're frightened of what you can do."

  His final words came at just the right time, and Kira zoned back in on Lord Pontius' voice as it filled the arena once more.

  "Now, fight and die with honour!" he called out. "To the death. Begin!"

  She had a mere moment to react as she turned to her opponent and saw him charge. His lumbering legs surged right for her, and a long arm reached quickly to his back to draw out his mighty blade. The sound of metal slicing against metal screeched through the air as it came, the sword seeming to go on forever. It was as long as she was, razor sharp on both sides and fitted with a long handle that suggested that two hands were required to wield it.

  Perhaps, with a regular man, that might be the case. Not with Redmane.

  He lifted the sword aloft in a single hand, and the crowd reacted to his roar. Charging now, his pace was swift and yet not swift enough. Kira's frame, which had already grown cold and stiff in the grow
ing mist, took a moment to thaw and launch her to the side. As the frost giant swung, he cut only air. By the time his motion was complete, Kira was gone.

  Ten metres away she stood, now displaced to another part of the battlefield. Redmane's eyes, not enhanced like hers, took a moment to catch her. He came charging once more, his sword swinging again. Kira swept left and evaded him, her own blades still attached to her waist and her hands empty.

  The crowd took it as bravado. She heard them roaring their appreciation as she seemed to toy with the man, though that wasn't her intention. With Rufus' advice ringing in her head, she'd merely sought to avoid his initial flourishes. But now she remembered, and both her blades came, glinting in the sunlight as it filtered down through the gathering white fog.

  Blades now stuck fast to her hands, she zeroed in on her foe and saw him come again. He didn't charge this time, but marched menacingly, his eyes sky blue and wild. He drew a heavy breath, seeming to suck in the freezing mist and infusing him with some dose of energy. Then, pressing it out, a cloud spread from his lips, unnaturally large and unnaturally cold.

  Kira stepped back as the fog came after her. It chased down her skin and she felt it bite. Another heaving breath flowed from Redmane's mouth, thickening the soup and obstructing her vision.

  Suddenly, he burst forward through the cloud, his great sword on the advance again. He swung once, twice, three times, Kira able to see the first coming and duck under it, before leaning back as the second swept across her. The third came closest of all, and with both her blades and all her strength, she flicked the sword away as it hunted down her neck, just about deviating its course over her head.

  Losing her balance, she performed a backward roll and launched herself back to her feet, crunching in the frosty sand as she landed. The crowd applauded again as she posed, one knee to the earth and the other set forward, her blades to her sides and ready to strike.

  And with the applause came a gathering swell of voices calling her title. 'Red Warrior,' they chanted, over and over. And hearing it, a smile rose up on Kira's lips as they began to go blue.