by O. J. Lowe
It was nearly over, about the best he could do was try to take the elephant down with him. He gave the command, Bish steadied himself on the ground, digging toe claws down into the ice for extra grasp and levelled the blade point first towards the oncoming elephant. Wilsin’s reactions had to be good, it was better to overestimate an opponent than to do the reverse, but by this point Chydarm was moving too swiftly across the ice to be easily manoeuvrable, sliding wildly out of control…
… Face first into the blade, a sickening sound emerging about the arena followed by a bellow of agony as blade went through bone and into brain, Chydarm’s momentum carrying it forwards, straight through Bish who was press-rolled straight underneath it, bones breaking and snapping, the arm bearing the blade misshapen as it tore free amidst a shower of gore. Bish was down, defeated, dead but on the field ahead, Chydarm was struggling, rampaging blindly around in its death throes and Nick felt no satisfaction. He brought the garj back to the container crystal, pondered his next move as the struggles became less and less frenzied, fatigue and blood loss finally catching up with the injuries. Ice shattered beneath the great furred frame as the elephant keeled over and hit it gracelessly.
Empson came out next, just at the same time as Wilsin brought out his veek whose name was Scales if Nick remembered right. A twee name but surprisingly accurate. Normally he liked to save Empson for last. Right now, the penguin felt like a good choice. It never did to make your tactics too predictable. If the opponent could make a reasonable guess as to what you would do, then they could prepare to counter it. Tactics thought out long beforehand were usually more effective than ones concocted on the fly although it could be a double-edged blade. You couldn’t plan for every contingency, try as you might and a plan made up as you went along might be more effective for the situation at hand. Scales was starting to stalk around in listless circles, Empson puffed up the feathers on his chest and tried to look self-important. It was a look the penguin could pull off with aplomb, the look of casual disdainful arrogance.
And then they were underway and the veek continued to stalk, Wilsin unwilling to make the first move so Nick made the decision to force it for him, Empson’s beak clacking open and the water bullets erupting out from within. Five, six, seven, eight blasts of water shot out in the direction of the opponent, each packed with enough concussive force to deal some serious damage.
At least, they would have if they were to land. Scales lunged sideways, evading the attack with almost smug ease, claws snicking down into the ice to halt its movement. From motion to motionless in half a second. The furred tail swept about lazily, Scales bared pointed fangs in a low growl. Neither of them were intimidated. It looked like Wilsin wasn’t wanting to attack, maybe he didn’t have the confidence in a close in fight, much the way Nick had had the same reservations in the previous round when Bish had faced Chydarm. Keeping a safe distance across the ice, Scales looked contended enough, like the caller knew he’d be okay if he kept out of range across inhospitable terrain. Either he was playing some game or he really hadn’t considered the full implications of the opponent he was facing.
There was a reason Nick had chosen Empson. Empson was a penguin. On an icy battlefield. About as close to home as you could get in a tropical clime. He grinned and suddenly Empson belly flopped down and shot across the ice like a feathered blaster bolt. Suddenly surprised, Scales sprang straight up into the air, hoping to evade it. And the veek might have on another day, in another bout where that hadn’t been predicted. When their paths intersected, Nick already had a plan in place, the beak opened again and the water crashed out at point blank range. Suddenly the normally flightless penguin was propelled up into the air, thrown up by the momentum. They were in close, Scales letting out a yowl of surprise as the razor-sharp flippers came sweeping up to try and deal a deadly blow.
Surprise turned to pain, a fresh streak of crimson hit the ice, gore staining Scales’ stomach. Both came down at the same time and Scales was suddenly on Empson, leaping in to bite and scratch the enemy spirit. The flippers came up to block but while they might be tougher than normal penguin flippers, the only modifications on them really had been to enhance their sharpness across the edges and the tips. Nick heard the squawks of shock and pain and tried to avoid wincing. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Instead he chose to counterattack, the beak coming down to viciously jab at the scale ball in front of him. Scales flipped back, evaded the poke but swiped out with a fortuitous blow from the paw. Suddenly Empson recoiled, blood suddenly billowing from the crunching blow that had caught him about the face. Nick caught the faintest blowbacks of pain, he winced but urged Empson on and the penguin obliged, dancing forward across the ice. Talons dug deep through the frozen water, clutching hard and the shredded wings flailed about, injured but still capable of dealing a potent blow should they land. Scales went back on the defensive, weaving back and forth, always threatening to slip on the icy surface yet always retaining footing just at the last momentum to avoid a fatal mistake. The once flawless sheen of the icy surface was starting to look uglier by the second, pockmarked and shattered by dozens of repeated penetrations and glancing down at it gave Nick an idea.
The bloodied beak sprang open and another spray of brine erupted out, covering the frozen surface below Scales, some of it soaking the surprised veek. Wilsin looked surprised for a moment, not least because his spirit was apparently unharmed by the soaking it had received. All until it tried leaping back again and hit the ground gracelessly, any sort of momentum lost on the surface of the soaked ice. The crowd let out an ooh of derision and he saw Wilsin’s façade of calm crack, just for a moment.
“Cheap tricks?” he called across the field mildly.
“Always.” At the same time, he urged Empson to press the advantage and the penguin leaped up, flippers positioned down to deal a penetrating blow should he land where Nick intended him to, right above Scales. If it was a penetrating one, it would also be a fatal one.
It wasn’t. But only just. The veek managed to roll aside, the blade-like flippers cut deep into the ice and it took Empson a second to yank them free. But that was all Scales needed to leap up onto the penguin’s back, biting at the exposed neck.
Nick smelled blood and suddenly the penguin went into a frenzy in attempts to shake the veek off, only succeeding very narrowly. Scales hit the ice, rolled a couple of times and then stood up, fur caked in ice flakes. As Empson turned to round on the smaller opponent, Nick saw the mangled state of his spirit’s back, saw the deep bites and the blood and knew that he might be slowly getting into trouble. Wilsin’s veek was a lot better trained than most of the ones seen in this competition and there’d been a few, it was his main battling spirit when on Unisco duty and it had plenty of experience. That much blood loss couldn’t possibly be sustained. The problem when fighting spirits with claws or fangs. When they went in deep, the wounds couldn’t be staunched and they’d continue to be a problem until death.
He had to win fastest then. And it wasn’t like Scales had come out of the whole thing unscathed either. At least one cut had gone deep, the veek was moving a little more gingerly than it had at the start of the fight. One leg was trembling when weight came down on it, an unseen injury that Nick couldn’t remember dealing.
Penguin and lizard cat came at each other again, razor sharp claws and bladed flippers meeting mid-air, a deafening scrape ringing out as they clashed across each other. Empson withdrew, a trio of deep grazes left across the metallic edge of his flipper before slashing backwards in an exaggerated bobbing motion. Had it landed, it might have cut Scales’ head in two pieces but the veek ducked down and the blow swung away above its head. Suddenly open, it went for the stomach but Empson was already in motion, swinging his head down to meet it with a jab from his beak. A sudden screech and Scales’ face was covered in blood, a good chunk of skin missing courtesy of the deep tear. The veek shook its head, sending claret everywhere. Empson rose up proud and let loose a seri
es of water blasts from the beak, each of them hitting the target hard with deadly accuracy and just for a moment, Scales’ eyes went blank and unfocused. The veek tottered on the ice, legs almost giving way as it couldn’t hold a balance.
Nick saw the opening and took it, once more Empson shot forward on his stomach across the ice, wings outstretched in front of him like spears and this time Scales couldn’t do anything to evade. Both blade-like flippers tore into the veek who let out an agonised roar, suddenly impaled hard. Empson rose back up onto his talons, the enemy spirit still skewered, Nick urged his spirit on for the kill. He could see the muscles in the penguin’s ruined back tensing as he slowly tried to pull the wings apart. It took a lot of strength to pull a knife from a body, the natural healing tendencies of a living being meant that the wounds already tried to close behind it. Still, the penguin was strong. Scales was on its death throes, he could see the veek struggling but to little avail, the flailing limbs losing their vigour and anger more by the moment.
One final wrenching motion and Empson tore his wings free from their confinement, splitting the veek in two with it. There was a scream from the crowd, one solitary cry of shock amidst the stunned silence as two halves of the same spirit hit the ice with a pair of dull crashes and the blood-soaked penguin let out a squawk of triumph. Even the stadium announcer had gone silent, a void that was soon remedied although the shock remained in his voice at the brutality of the kill.
“Okay… On that note, Roper takes that round. He must defeat one more spirit of David Wilsin’s to triumph. I don’t know what it is with veek, you know. We’ve seen some killed in absolute brutal fashion in this tournament so far.”
Wilsin’s last choice was a dragon.
Nick was no stranger to dragons, this one was lean and packed with muscle, the body covered with acid orange and soot black scales while the great wings were the colour of musty green leather. Unlike most dragons he’d ever seen, it had six limbs, four for standing and two forearms, each leg finishing in six spike-like claws. The forearms did look more developed but still went way short of human standards. The face was a blunt triangle shape, pointed jaws with beady little eyes. When the jaws opened, he saw the impressive array of fangs. Strangely enough, it lacked for any sort of horn array which some dragons bore impressively. Probably didn’t make it any less dangerous.
On the battlefield, Empson was panting heavily, bleeding from various cuts and breaks across his body. Although it was hard to tell which blood was his, it didn’t take a genius to realise he was struggling. The previous fight had taken a toll.
Still, the two of them would fight until the end. All they could do.
“What, you didn’t know about this one?” Wilsin asked, hands in his pockets. He looked utterly relaxed, like a man who knew it was in the hands of the fates and had ceased to care about the pressure on him. “This is Aroon. He’s a special dragon.”
He chose not to reply to that, just flexed his fingers out in front of him, felt the muscles stretch and contract.
“Prove it then,” he eventually said.
The buzzer went, giving them the signal to start and Wilsin smiled. “Okay. Let’s get this shit going then?”
“What, you mean you weren’t already?”
Even as Nick said it, the dragon was already in movement, taking to the sky with a flare of the wings. This complicated things. Fighting an airborne opponent wasn’t easy with something that was grounded, and for all Empson’s qualities, the penguin was still a flightless bird.
More water barrages tore out, cutting through the air where the dragon had been flying moments earlier, Aroon ducking down out beneath them. The dragon was agile, Nick had to give it that, but it was also a bloody big target to miss in the air. The water blasts stopped, Aroon didn’t and he gave the order for Empson to jump. From a standing start, it wasn’t a powerful jump but as the enemy flew overhead, it was still enough for the tip of a razor-edged flipper to rake across the stomach. He heard the scrape and the tear, heard the roar before Aroon reacted as Empson fell. The dragon seized on the penguin, adding his weight to Empson’s fall and the two smashed into the ice. Dragon claws tore at the smaller penguin’s body, ripping through the feathers and the muscle and the bone with almost arrogant ease. As Empson struggled, suddenly on the verge of falling, the pointed jaws opened and dragon fire erupted from within, engulfing at point blank range.
Nick’s face betrayed nothing as Empson fell in battle, he only let out a sigh inwardly. That cut had been a costly one. It had been a calculated gambit that hadn’t quite paid off. On the other hand, to deal any sort of blow with a spirit in worsening condition wasn’t to be sniffed at. Could have been worse. And now, he could focus on the finish. Sudden death, basically. Loser went out. He needed something special to beat Aroon.
He brought back Empson, smirked thoughtfully and took up Carcer’s container crystal. It might not quite be fighting fire with fire but it would be an even contest. Carcer could match Aroon in the air and take those fire attacks.
He had a good feeling about this.
“And this is it, folks, the final clash in this enjoyable bout between David Wilsin and Nicholas Roper. Neither of them have held back, both have put into it every inch of cunning and power they have behind them and it’s about to come to a head now. Dragon versus draconic-looking lizard. Wilsin’s Aroon has felled Roper’s famous penguin and now it looks as if it’s the turn of the spanner headed shark-lizard. Let’s get this on.”
Carcer lunged, went for Aroon with claws outstretched, going into a dive under a stream of incoming flame. Nick felt the air heat up around him from the blast, felt a wave of exhilaration flood through him as Carcer hit Aroon in the sides, the claws punching against dragon scale. The dragon let out a whoomphing sound, lashed out with fang-filled jaws to try and rip Carcer’s throat out. Both had serpent-like necks, Carcer lunged back to evade it and hit the dragon with a uniblast at Nick’s mental command, the attack throwing sparks up across the scales as the black glowed orange under the intense heat. Some of them melted, struggling to hold up under the force and the heat.
Aroon responded with another stream of white hot fire, Carcer weaved away from the blast, unable to keep his own attack up under the threat. In a flash, Aroon was homing in on Carcer, the dragon’s bigger bulk bearing down. It would have been on him had Nick not given the order to kick it up a notch. Aroon might be larger, Carcer was faster. If it was an open aired battlefield, it might have been more of an advantage. Here in the Ice Hall, as large as it might be, it was still negated. The Ice Hall was still as large as most mainland stadiums, small by the standards of the others on this island. He’d once fought atop a volcano with Carcer and that had been something to behold as the shark-lizard had used the sky to full advantage.
As it was, it took a few moments to cross the extent of the battlefield, Carcer turned, flared his wings and let out a challenging shriek towards Aroon who bellowed back in response. He felt a simmering of dislike burning through him, surprising him a little. Spirits normally didn’t feel emotions like that, maybe dislike was the wrong term. But there was clearly some sort of pride thing going on there. Maybe Carcer saw the bigger dragon, the more majestic one as some sort of insult to his presence, and was determined to put it down.
Something we both have in common then, he mused. Who am I to hold you back?
Carcer shot forward through the air, evaded the cumbersome snap from Aroon’s jaws, the dragon looking a little sheepish at being so easily embarrassed, before raking his own claws across the back. He was going for the wings, Nick urged him on. Knock Aroon out of the sky and it’d be a lot less dangerous. The dragon twisted out the way, swiped out with the powerful tail and caught Carcer a glancing blow across the chest. Nick winced as Carcer screeched, temporarily halted by the blow before resuming flight. Any hope of going for the wings was forgotten for the moment. The scales across Carcer’s chest were bent and scuffed by the attack but there didn’t appear to be too much
damage.
Then let’s carry on, Nick urged silently. Carcer hissed angrily, a sign of complicity and then shot up into the air, almost to the roof and certainly to the extent of the protective field that ensured the audience weren’t in any danger. He saw Aroon’s eyes follow the lizard up into the air, tracing out the path up before Carcer fell, only gaining acceleration as he shot down through the air to smash into Aroon’s right wing. Powerful claws shredded against leathery flesh and Aroon howled, entire body twisting around to try and grab at Carcer like it had with Empson. Only Carcer wasn’t there to be gotten at, claws clawed at empty air, suddenly the lizard was at Aroon’s throat and clawing and biting away, the surprise thick in the air not just from the spirit but from the caller and the crowd as well. Wilsin looked surprised, the scales were holding up under the assault for the moment and Nick wasn’t so shocked. It only made sense that a beast as majestic as a dragon would have stronger protection in the areas that were more exposed to be damaged.
It was all entirely natural as well. Dragons were mystical creatures and like most in that category, they were resistant to any sort of genetic modification. Something about them prevented it. Maybe some higher power had decided they were as close to evolutionary perfection as could be gotten and so couldn’t be changed.
It wasn’t important right now. All that happened was that Aroon didn’t even try to twist around to attack, just pushed out forward through the air on only half a wing-set and hit Carcer with a body check that looked like it hurt. The weight differences between the two suddenly became painfully obvious, it wasn’t a fatal blow but it was a stunning one for the moment. Carcer took a few seconds, head shaking back and forth as he sought to recover…
A recovery that never came as Aroon’s jaws snapped open and a stream of fire struck him head on, the blast engulfing completely. Suddenly Nick was worried. Carcer’s scales could stand up to high temperatures. The problem was, that fire was beyond hot. It was a beautiful shade of blue white, probably would have been more impressive had it not currently been swallowing up his spirit.