Chapter Eleven
‡
The party to celebrate the end of the first round of fighting took place in Beylor’s home. The décor of the huge pile of bricks was loud, ostentatious, obnoxious – in short, exactly what Nalah had expected.
Of the sixteen fighters left, one was Rorth. The huge half-orc stood in the corner. He was quiet, watchful, not disrupting the party but not part of it either. Esh might have dismissed him as a threat, but she still couldn’t shake the unease.
Yet Esh was Esh, and he went straight for that corner, calling out, “You’re still alive.”
“Not surprised to see you either,” the not-literally-but-almost-a-giant replied, giving a smile that showcased teeth with a slight tuskish quality to them.
“Wasn’t going to get beaten and lose the opportunity to fight you.”
Something in Rorth’s eyes shifted, and his smile went from genial to almost approving. “So, you’re that.”
Damned if Nalah could make out the meaning, but Esh only smiled a rare smile, his tone conspiratorial as he replied, “Hells yeah.”
“Well then, you and I, we’ll give them a show.”
“Would have it no other way.”
With a half nod to Rorth, Esh grabbed her hand and left the half orc to his corner. The moment they were out of earshot, Nalah asked, “What was that about?”
“Finding common ground.”
“Don’t be cryptic. What did you two mean?”
A man gave Nalah a once-over, and Esh scowled at him, pulling Nalah close and putting his arm around her shoulder. “It means he’s like me, even if you don’t see it. That’s why I’m not worried about him. The reason he fights is the reason I fight.”
The reason Esh fights? She always thought it was something he fell into and was the only thing he could make money from that was at least a little aboveboard.
Esh’s statement crystallized something in her, a back-of-the-head musing that started with their reunion. She didn’t know Esh, not really. Yes, in some ways she knew him better than anyone alive – meeting at seven and ten and then spending the next decade in constant proximity assured that.
Still, because of that, she became lazy and assumed so many things about him, assumptions this re-meet challenged on a daily basis.
Tiffany bounded up, breaking into her musings, her smile wide and white and directed at Esh. “I heard all about what you did today! For the first time I actually wished I was at a fight! I’m Tiffany. Me and Nalah have been hanging while you boys do your fighting thing!”
In other times Esh’s dumbfounded expression upon being confronted with Tiffany would have Nalah doubled over, but her attention was focused on the ring on Tiffany’s finger, bright red, the color looking foreign and wrong against the paleness of Tiffany’s skin versus the warm brown tones of her mother.
Tiffany must have noticed her focus, because she asked, “You like the ring, Nalah?”
“It’s stunning,” she said, at least she thought she said it. The ring held her enraptured. She shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t give so much info away.
“I’ve never seen you wear jewelry! You totally should. Your man should have enough winnings to get you a piece or two!”
The ring called to her in a way it never had before. Its magic was sharper, clearer, a song that she had forgotten the lyrics to, but if she kept humming the tune, it would come to her. She would know everything.
Beylor was approaching now, his eyes going first to the deep cleavage Tiffany was displaying before coming to look at Esh. “Quite a display, Cage King.”
“Didn’t want to waste my time.” And Esh, the magic in him was growing as well, slow and subtle, and now his magic jumped in the presence of the ring. His eyes grew more alight every hour, and Nalah still did not know what to attribute it to.
The ring was singing again, and Tiffany kept talking. “With your coloring you just need deep, rich colors, like emeralds or sapphires!” As Tiffany went on with a fervency that would make a street-corner preacher proud, all Nalah could see were the exclamation points that surrounded each of Tiffany’s excited utterances. The woman didn’t seem to know how to speak in anything less.
The ring sparked, the song lyrics became clear, and magic around it grew and enveloped, ran through her…
Here was sunshine and humid air, all lush foliage and earthy scents, a haven of comfort. It was green and good and warm, rich soil, the scent of which perfumed the air, earthy with a hint of floral.
Here was desert. Here was arid, a dry that cut deep, that sucked out the moisture through your pores and a dry you could not get rid of, no matter how much of the very precious water at your side you drunk.
Here…dear fucking gods…here was an abomination. This ground, this wasn’t soil – this was flesh. The desiccated flesh under the mortician’s knife, the dry flesh of death not yet decayed. This was tendrils of evil masquerading as life, as foliage, of…of…
“Nalah?”
Esh’s low, worried tone broke through, and the magic receded, quieted, the song waning. Her focus came back to find everyone looking at her. “I’m sorry. What?”
“We lost you there for a minute,” Tiffany said. Her smile was tentative, the lack of her usual exuberance telling how lost Nalah must have appeared.
Training took over and Nalah pasted on a smile without thought. The magic still sent an occasional pang through her. Even in the warmth of the room shivers ran through her body, and Nalah huddled a little closer to Esh to disguise them. She couldn’t unpack this, not yet, not in front of them, so she had to keep marching through. “I’m so sorry. So much has gone on these last few days, I think it caught up with me in a serious way.”
At least Tiffany accepted the excuse, because her voice and movements grew loud again. “I know! Us too! Oh, and you didn’t hear this, it happened after you left, but we found out one of the guards was actually a thief, can you imagine? How scummy can you get, coming here to steal from us! Isn’t that low?”
Tendrils of ice slid down Nalah’s spine, freezing her as she stood before Beylor. Esh’s voice, low and hard, carried through the air. “He didn’t do anything that could hurt the fighters or those with us, did he?”
Beylor scoffed, raised his hand through the air in a dismissive motion. “Don’t be ridiculous. He was after our guests and their wealth. What could the fighters have that would interest a thief?”
“Wanted to make sure,” Esh replied. “I’m not leaving Nalah alone if your security is so shitty.”
That caused Beylor to go red, and Nalah swore she could hear his blood pressure raise. “My security is top-notch. He was found, wasn’t he?”
“Think I’ll go to my apartment, look around to make sure.” Esh’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Come on, Nalah.”
“Night, Tiffany.” Nalah’s parting was automatic, but Esh didn’t linger for any reply. With quick steps he took them back to their apartment.
The next several actions happened in blinks. Blink and she was sitting in the chair in their room. Blink and she had a blanket over her lap and a water glass beside her. Blink and he was crouching in front of her, his eyes steady on her. He raised the glass and pressed it in her hand. “Drink. You still look in shock.”
She grabbed the water, aware of a disconnect between her body and brain, but not quite able to break through and correct it.
Taking the glass away after she had a sip, Esh set it on the table beside them, then fisted his hand through her hair and pulled her head up for a hard kiss.
One moment, two, and then fire raced through her body, shattering the ice and she kissed him back, tasting whiskey as his tongue battled hers.
Another minute before Esh pulled away. “You with me now?”
“Isn’t a slap across the face the usual way shock is handled?”
He smirked. “Smartass reply. Glad to have you back.” The smirk disappeared. “Probably your guy, huh?”
“Probably.” She didn’t know what el
se to say about that. Beylor had him killed, no doubt, but she didn’t even know his face. “I’m horrible. I’m more upset I have to figure out how to do this without him than the fact that a man is dead.”
“He wasn’t your friend and you’re amongst enemies. You’re thinking how to get safe. The mourning will come later.” He spoke with full certainty, and even if it was self-serving, Nalah hung onto the words and let them comfort her. Esh continued, “Even before we found out about the contact, you were acting strange.”
“Did you notice-?”
“Tiffany wearing the ring? Yeah.”
Distant notes played through her head. The ring calling for her, or the memory of such strong magic. “Tonight the magic revealed itself to me. I know what it is.”
Taking the ring would be easy. Living with the consequences, not so much. Words she once thought were only an excuse to thieve the one physical item of value to her, but now she knew their prophetic nature.
Esh remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate. “It’s called a Realm Jumper. It’s rare. In fact, I never thought they really existed.”
His eyes never wavered, and no, she hadn’t been mistaken. The flame in them was more intense, more defined, even from this morning. “What is this not-myth Realm Jumper?”
“The Great Collision came about because two Realms collided, and instead of destroying each other, somehow they merged together. Well, that old bitch librarian always called them dimensions and not Realms when I asked her any questions about it. You remember any of that?”
His level stare told her what he thought of her question. “I’m not the brain you are but I know that.”
“Sorry, I never knew when you were listening or not. I only got your attention for sure if it was connected to fighting.” She drew a deep breath, loosened her shoulders to try to fight the tension. “Anyway, when you think about it, if there were two Realms, there’s got to be more out there, right?”
He shrugged, small annoyance across his face. “I guess yeah, makes sense…” Esh trailed off and the annoyance faded, his gaze locking on her throat, the spot where once a red ring rested upon its chain. “You called it a Realm Jumper.”
She spoke quick and short, wanting to get it out before he could interrupt. “There are eight known Realms beyond this one. It’s mixed what you find on them, but a couple of them, the phrase hell on earth couldn’t be more fitting. They’re a necromancer’s wet dream.” Pictures of the last world the ring had showed her skittered across the front of her mind, and now that she knew what she was seeing, that it was real…
“Nalah.” Esh’s voice was a whip crack, hitting and banishing the image for now. His hand cupped her cheek, forced her to stay present. “Finish telling me. What can this ring do?”
“Magical travel is possible between the Realms, but accomplishing it, we’re talking multiple high-level mages and very exacting conditions and even for the most powerful, it’s a dangerous spell. With a Realm Jumper though, it still requires powerful people, but so many of the variables won’t matter, and it’ll be much easier to access the other Realms.”
“And? So some necromancers get to take a vacation. Why’s that matter?”
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the scenarios that were fighting to bury themselves in her brain. He never saw…he didn’t understand. “It’s not them leaving. Don’t you see, what’s terrifying is what they can bring here.”
Chapter Twelve
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Round two began in one hour, a two-part extravaganza where the real fighting started.
Esh stretched, limbered up. He wasn’t fighting either Rorth or the albino today, and none of the other fighters worried him. He wouldn’t underestimate anyone, but those were the only two who had his palms itching.
Still, he worked his body, more to get the mental game going than the physical ready. Everything was turmoil in his life right now, and not shaking it off could have him lose real quick.
He’d gone from the high of tasting Nalah for the first time only to plummet, learning about the ring and having their contact here get captured. If Nalah thought she was horrible for not mourning the guy, he better not tell her all he felt was pissed the idiot got caught.
Back to Nalah. They weren’t alright, despite yesterday’s making out and last night’s holding onto each other. Nalah pressed herself close to him even in sleep, like she trusted him to keep the boogey-men away. It was nice, it was flattering, but it wasn’t quite real.
He understood her, though. Nalah was a creature of black and white, and he’d introduced a lot of grey into her world. She never took change well.
Closure his ass.
He ran his hand over his face, through his hair. On top of all that, he had himself to deal with. There had always been a burn in his gut, a flame that rattled its chains trying to get free. He didn’t know what it was and never tried to find out. He never even mentioned it to Nalah. She was obsessed with finding his heritage, that’s what she called it, and he had no interest in that.
He wished he looked into it now, though. Whatever it was, it was getting stronger here. The proof was in his eyes, in the strength of his body, the quickness of his reflexes. He had been stronger last night than he had been yesterday morning, and today he was stronger than he had been last night. His body was his weapon, and even though it was improving at an astonishing rate, he didn’t like not knowing what was happening with it.
The heavy steps announced Beylor’s arrival before he came into view, the loudmouth guard from before with him. “Esh, how goes it?”
“All right.” He kept himself neutral, not welcoming, not threatening, and hoped Beylor would go the hell away.
“Good to hear. I’m expecting a great fight from you.”
“Won’t disappoint.”
Beylor puffed himself out, showing the gold around his neck. Esh supposed the smile was meant to be fatherly, but all he saw was full of shit. “Esh, a man like you, you can do so much better than the circuit. You’re young and with so much ahead of you. If you chose the right paths, of course, paths I’d like to help put you on.”
And there it was, five years of avoidance gone to waste. Here was the offer that Esh knew would be made the moment he’d set foot into the Tour.
It wasn’t the first offer he’d received, but it’d be the hardest to turn down. If he could turn it down. Offers from people like Beylor weren’t meant to be turned down. Otherwise, the people who made them tended to get mad.
The guard next to Beylor looked at Esh with ill-disguised hatred. And there, proof even if he did accept, he’d have someone waiting to end him from the inside. Yeah, this offer was cocked from all sides.
“I can’t think about that right now. Need to concentrate on the Tour.”
“Absolutely,” Beylor agreed. “We’ll talk after. For now, I know my guests want only the best, and they’ve been waiting for the Cage King such a long time.”
The excitement of the fights fell over Nalah, a wave she hadn’t experienced in five years, her one fight the night she’d reconnected with Esh not counting. The rush of adrenaline that was transmitted from the fighters to the crowd, and how the crowd fed on it, in turn hyping up each other. She was almost nauseated, and she caught her hands clenching and unclenching in nervous excitement without her directing them.
As the crowd cheered and the announcers made small announcements until the fighters came forward, Nalah looked around the stands. No magic so far, either in the ring or out of it.
With nothing else to do, Nalah waited. Esh’s fight was next, the last before the mid-day break. Rorth won his first match as did the albino. She hadn’t watched them, and once she heard what the albino had done in his fight, she was grateful she’d missed it.
She was sitting in the front, the space reserved for whoever the fighters wanted. Behind her were the cheap seats. It was above, in the boxes, where Beylor and all the wealthy and powerful watched.
“And now…” came the announc
er’s voice, restrained and theatrical excitement in those two words. The crowd quieted, and Esh moved towards the fighting floor, that innate something in him glowing brighter than ever.
The groundswell grew until it included even the highest of the boxes. Yes, Esh was a draw, no doubt about it. His legend rivaled the Tour, and it took little imagination to see Beylor’s preening face over this turn of events.
Esh was dressed as always – no shirt, jeans, boots, and he needed nothing else to incite the noticeable hum of appreciation from the women in the audience. And if that hum brought a smug grin to her face because she knew how good he was with his tongue, well, any woman would agree that was allowed.
Next into the ring came his opponent, a man she hadn’t run across yet. He looked to be human – a statement you could never be positive over – but this man was almost as big as Rorth, both in height and body mass. Like Esh he was shirtless, his chest a landscape of ridges and curved muscle. Take out the palpable excitement for blood, and this could be a photo shoot for some fitness magazine.
He passed by her, and magic tickled the edges of her mind. Not connected to the death magic, but he was innate of some type. It was vaguely familiar, one she was sure she knew but learned long ago amid her studies. Damn, damn, damn, and then there was no time, because the bell rang, and the men circled each other. No weapons, only the damage done with legs and fists and heads.
Fists met body, the accompanying spray of blood reaching the first seats, the onlookers crying out in horrified delight at the feel of the liquid droplets. Flesh absorbing blows, the rippling of skin showing the savage path of pain. The crunch as bone connected to bone, and underneath it all low rumblings of the crowd.
Then a hard echo of magic, clear as a sun flare. The other fighter activated some type of power, and Nalah stood, hoping the magic left a physical change on the man.
Esh struck the fighter hard in the side but frowned, clenching and unclenching his fist as he backed up, rechecking his opponent.
Entwined Realms Volume One Page 38