The Book of Ominiue: Starborn

by D. M. Barnham

  ‘Children of Kéaran, welcome to my city,’ he called out to the crowd, quelling their cheers. ‘Today we hold the tournament of Elió. This contest is more than just a championship of strength; it is a battle of character and spirit. Its origins lie in the dark years of war and horror, held so warriors could prove themselves and to strike fear in the hearts of our enemies. Great is the strength of an Elió warrior, who is said to be worth fifty ordinary Orians. Today we uphold the tradition as sign of friendship and not war. To all our competitors, I welcome you and may you prove yourself a worthy warrior today. May the mightiest fighter win!’ He then sat back down and the crowd erupted as the first fighters walked out into their rings.

  The Earthmen became immersed in the spirit of the competition. The general at first seemed disgusted at the idea of duelling to the point where people could die: and people did die. It was a fierce battle between two individuals and often they were lost in the adrenaline of combat. Any disapproval faded as the Earthmen were drawn into the danger, all hanging on the edge of their seats willing their chosen fighters on. Dominic and Omar sat in the outer edges of the UeVarda’s pavilion where they cheered the combatants closest to them. Kíe’arathorne was also with them and he too cheered on but he managed a level of restraint compared to them. Most of the members of the Board of Stewards were also present, with the exception of the Trade Master Líol’flend, the priest Tellin’marda and UeShádarn Dun’karter, who had no love for the games. Fagin’daulor the Master Armoursmith Chancellor was also hanging from the rail. He refrained from shouting but his body was taught and his dark eyes held an excitement he could barely contain. The other main members of the royal entourage all displayed dignified restraint, showing their interest in a calmer manner. The UeVarda and Níurthan looked keenly upon the competitors, watching carefully. The king often commented upon good form and style; approving of the quality of the fighting.

  The first rounds of the elimination stages saw some very quick and rather painful battles. Despite the fear the Earthmen had for the safety of the human combatants many of them were able to hold their own. The warrior monks did exceedingly well, with a large percentage of them making their way through their first battles. Some of the other humans also proceeded, including the only female human fighter; who hailed from Isradia. When she succeeded in her round the crowd cheered all more loudly. The matches did not follow a time constraint, some of the fights lasted up to an hour and others lasted only moments. Once someone was defeated two new contestants took the stage and began their duel at the bell of the referee.

  Upon the third round, on one of the main fighting rings, a large Nakádanese warrior stepped onto the stage. He was extraordinarily tall even for lionmen standards. He was a tower of muscle with thick arms that rippled with anticipation. His fur, which was thicker than the eastern lionmen had tribal patterns shaved into them while other patterns were dyed with blue ink symbolising his clan and his rank. He wore only the most basic armour; covering the vital parts of his body. The most elaborate piece was the helm upon his head; denoting him as the Nakáda Champion, but even that seemed plain compared to the fancy armour of the other fighters. His fame as a gladiator was echoed by the cheer of his arrival. As he entered his ring he arched his back and brought his arms before him as he stretched. His primal looking lion-head stared intently upon his opponent; a heavily armoured female lionman from Bohaníde. They chose to fight with twin duelling blades; the national Nakádaese weapon. The massive lionman brought out his duelling swords, specially made and polished for the event, they glistened as the sun hit them. His opponent looked small in his frame but she showed no fear as they began to fight.

  As the crowd cheered them on Shayne noticed the intensity in which Níurthan watched them.

  ‘That is Da’forlongdinda,’ the Venra leaned over to talk to Shayne. He observed the taller lionman’s skill which was more than just brute strength, there was calm in his movements and skill in his hand. The power behind the Nakádanese fighter was too much for the Bohaníde warrior and she found herself defending the onslaught. Shayne recognised the words of this name: giant and warrior; simple and appropriate.

  ‘He is winning,’ Shayne replied.

  The Venra casually dismissed it, ‘It does not surprise me. He is a great fighter. Crowned champion of Nakáda, whereas the female is not crowned champion of Bohaníde. She was unlucky to draw with him so early, but she will continue on in the lower levels and may prove herself there. Da’forlongdinda is tipped to meet Níurthan in the finals. That should be interesting.’ She gave Shayne a knowing smile, her blue eyes twinkling with shrewdness. Shayne once again glanced across to the masked human. It was strange to think of him as a champion. The myth surrounding him spoke of his extraordinary talent but it would take more than the extraordinary to defeat that beast.

  The battle ended with Da’forlongdinda tripping his opponent and holding his short blade down towards her; signifying her defeat. The crowd roared with applause. He then held out his hand to her, a faint smile crossed his large and otherwise hard face. She accepted the gesture and when he helped her up he laid his hand upon her shoulder in respect and they walked off the field together.

  ‘He is admirable,’ The UeVarda applauded his actions.

  ‘And I must say that is the first time I have seen a Nakádanese smile,’ The Venra agreed as she clapped. Níurthan remained passive as he continued to watch those below them. Deep in thought with his elbow on the armrest while his hand covered the bottom half of his face. The battles raged all day; with the contestants dramatically dwindling. Da’forlongdinda won all his fights with relative ease, the most difficulty he had was in his last fight against a Tower Shytarda. They fought long but the Nakádanese seemed to possess resilience and stamina that was uncommon in their species. They exchanged blows until the Sentinel Guard was worn down allowing him to deliver the final strike.

  There were also two very notable human monk fighters, supported by the skill of their marital arts they fought off some of the strongest and most difficult challengers. Their tactics fell under two categories: defeat them as soon as possible and if that failed play defensive and wear their opponent out. Their superior stamina and speed allowed them to take down frightening foes.

  By the end of the day they were down to the eight finalists. The two human monks and the rest lionmen: The Nakádaese champion, three Kérith-Árim shytarda’s, the Bohaníde Champion and the Kíbraroth Champion; all Formidable warriors. The eight stood before the king’s pavilion at the end of the fighting. Tired and worn they bowed to the King who declared them the Elió eight. The crowd cheered. That night was followed by feasting where the Elió eight were held up as the honoured and ate with both the UeVarda and Níurthan. The monk feasted well that night. It was the first time the Earthmen had seen him eat anything, all other events he only drank with them. He favoured green food over meat and steadily made his way through practically every plate laid before him, even putting the hefty and hungry lionmen to shame.

  Shayne retired early that night and spent the rest of his time sitting on a stone bench by the balconies edge of his room, his arms folded he looked out across the lake. He had no view of the full moon but it reflected and shimmered off the water. He turned his attention to the tower. It seemed impossible for an ancient race to build such an enormous thing. The Earthmen sometimes called it the Tower of Babel, but Shayne did not know the reference and after querying one person he discovered they did not know either, though they acted as if they did.

  He turned his attention to the top of the tower. The Oxford could be seen almost directly above; shining near the edge. He saw something dark fall from the building; diving down into the lake. He watched it descend, pulling its wings back just before it plunged into the water with a faint splash, it then rose out again; a fish glinted in the moonlight as the great bird pulled it up and back towards the top. His focus drifted back to the stars, his thoughts wondering for the first time to his purpose on this colon
y, to the point of life in general. He had been settled into the new environment for just over a month now and it all seemed pointless to him, constantly striving with no clear goal. Once he was content, but now he seemed restless. As he looked at the tower a growing desire to enter it flooded him. What was hidden there, not seen by intelligent eyes since it was first closed up well over a thousand years ago?

  ***

  He awoke with a start, with the very real impression that someone had awoken him. He sat upright in the bed breathing heavily, but the room was empty as he sat in the darkness. The blinds softly moved in the breeze from the open balcony, he recalled the endless passageways as he followed someone; only ever catching the glimpse of their retreating robes as he tried to chase him forever up the stairs of the tower. Shayne rose and stood out on the platform. It was too dark to see the building other than a black silhouette against the Milky Way; the Sagittarius arm shined brightly in the night sky. The clarity reminded him of the Astronauts and their undisturbed view from space; the blackness between the countless stars and the various colours that were much paler planet-side. He looked upon the stars while the dream faded. The pattern and the nature of the dreams disturbed him. The Oxford speculated, as a remote possibility, that there was a wavelength interfering with his sleeping pattern, inducing the dreams. If that was so, then everyone should experience it. Shayne was sceptical but found himself pondering its scientific plausibility. He found the more time he spent in the world of the lionmen the more he was unable to explain the events around him, cause and effect shifted from location suggesting that something was inducing the dreams, but what it was he could not even begin to guess. He looked again up at the Tower wondering what normal people would do. He drifted in the darkness, letting the quiet night and faint breeze calm him. He relaxed and rested against the stone of the bench, fading into a half dream state.

  ***

  Morning held a buzz as the finalists prepared to duel. The Arena had been restored to its original setup. The entire ring was now opened to the fighters, including the poles and raised platforms. The gladiator entrance held armour and weapons of various kinds which the contestants could choose, and there were also other weapon racks scattered in places allowing quick changeovers and selections if possible.

  They reached the stage of open battle, where instead of choosing the rules which they both obeyed they were able to fight with whatever weapons they wished. The Elió Eight were displayed on a great board, randomly drawn they were given their slots and battle partners. Each fighter was represented by their given crests: the cross-dual blades behind a lion of Nakáda, the red and white winged lion of Bohaníde, the prancing steed of Kíbaroth and finally five dragon crests dominating the board for the Kérith-Árim fighters: Two held the runes of the Kerwin monk within their crests and the guards held their respective clan variations.

  The fighting commenced and was fierce from the start. The first two contestants were the Kíbaroth Champion and an Imperial Guard. The battle was long and bloody, where the Kíbaroth soldier chose a sword and shield and the guard a flexible spear, which she wielded with frightening skill. As the battle played out the Kíbaroth warrior gained an advantage, from a slight mistake on the guard’s part and he was able to win. The defeated warrior was helped off the ground with a bloodied and bruised face after receiving the full force of the shield in the unprotected part of her face. The crowd cheered in excitement. The winning fighter then stood in the middle of the arena and brought his large lion-hands together; one hand closed over the other he first bowed to the UeVarda and then to the current Elió Champion. The king and Níurthan stood and returned the salute.

  The following battles were just as harsh. Both humans made it through their rounds, this thrilled the human side of the audience, the rarity of making it that far made them instant celebrities. Unfortunately for the two they faced each other in the semi-finals, but it also meant that one was guaranteed to make the Challenger final.

  Da’forlongdinda won his round against his Imperial Guard. It was a tough fight, but his last battle before being named one of the eight was tougher. With the ending of his fight the semi-finals were announced. The Nakádanese was to fight the Kíbaroth Champion.

  The two monks began their battle. They both chose to fight with no weapon or armour. To the Order it was the ultimate form of challenge. Their battle was the shortest, but also the most intense, with them exchanging blows and blocks. They elegantly moved and attacked around each other, it looked more like a dance than a battle. Both knew the other fighter intimately. They periodically changed their fighting styles and often mingled them together trying to gain advantage. The winning blow finally came in the form of a side kick which one of the monks failed to block; it connected with his head; the force of the impact flung him to the ground, where he lay motionless. The healers ran to the fallen man, where they lifted him out of the arena. The winning monk did not do the traditional salute to the king; his thoughts were lost in the wellbeing of his opponent and he followed him out of the arena. Níurthan shook his head.

  Da’forlongdinda and the Kíbraoth Champion battle did not last long either. The Kíbraoth fighter unfortunately suffered a freak injury while they duelled that the Nakádanese had no part in. Da’forlongdinda was about to bring the butt of one of his dual swords down upon the helm of the other fighter to finish the battle, but he saw that the lionman had already crumbled from his injury and he stopped his attack; stepping back and allowing him to forfeit. The Kíbraoth warrior looked ashamed of the outcome, but the UeVarda rose from his seat and bowed slightly to both lionmen in respect.

  There was an hour break before the final two faced-off for the Challenger title. The small monk in his black uniform looked fragile compared to the giant lionman. The monk chose the standard Kerwin long blade; Da’forlongdinda as usual had his duel swords. The human gave an involuntary quiver as he stood before the giant.

  Níurthan shook his head again, clearly displeased, ‘The battle is already won,’ he said.

  ‘Have faith in your apprentice,’ the king encouraged.

  ‘He shall be given firm discipline regardless of the outcome,’ the monk softly spoke. ‘No member of The Order should ever display fear.’

  ‘Given the opponent, I forgive him.’

  Once the battle started the monk did recover his nerve, fighting valiantly, but his efforts seemed wasted upon the large lionmen who stood as a rock against a reed. The unnatural resilience of the lionman meant the monk had to work twice as hard to have any kind of impact on the lionman. Not that Da’forlongdinda was outclassed by the human’s martial arts skill; he also held speed and he did not rely solely upon his strength. He watched each of his opponent’s actions carefully and he altered his style of fighting to accommodate. He knew the monk would try and incapacitate him early on and he knew he had to defend hard early on, forcing a battle of wills rather than strength. The human’s fight turned from constant attacks to defence as he changed tactics; hoping endurance would triumph but the advantage was lost with this seemingly tireless opponent. The monk used the wooden pillars as a defence as he grew tired, weaving around them and keeping the lionman at bay. He even scrambled over them at times and looked as if he was gaining his strength, but it always faded and he found himself always on the defence.

  The lionman prevailed in the end. The monk used his cape as a last desperate attempt to free himself from one of the lionman’s blocks, but the Nakádanese anticipated this from observing previous fights and used the monk’s own cape to tangle the human and knock him to the ground.

  Níurthan was partially pleased with the human’s efforts but he was also gravely disappointed, spotting the young monk’s mistakes. He wondered if he should spend more time with the students. They seemed to be failing at utilizing their surroundings and a monk’s advantage lay in his use of his environment. The Order leader was a great fighter in her day, but she was old now and he wondered if it was time for a new leader.

 
Da’forlongdinda saluted with his victory. He was crowned as the winner and given the white sash of the Challenger of Elió. The UeVarder stood in his presence and bowed slightly.

  ‘Congratulations warrior of Nakáda. You have been crowned worthy of challenging the Champion. When do you seek the battle?’ for the champion of the final could request up to a week’s respite to recuperate.

  ‘Before the night falls,’ the warrior said in his harsh accent. The crowd murmured in astonishment and excitement.

  ‘Very well then,’ the UeVarda waved. ‘The battle shall fall at the Evening Moon, rest and be well.’

  Lunch was served in the palace’s busy and noisy main dining hall. The Earthmen all sat together with their guards while Kíe’arathorne went back to his Teaching Halls where he spent time with old friends.

  The air vice-marshal turned to his companions, ‘Don’t you think it’s a little unfair? That big fella had to fight to the top of competition, while last year’s champion just sat around watching.’

  ‘They can choose a week before fighting,’ Hanniver corrected.

  ‘Still biased.’ The general agreed.

  ‘I’d expect some probability ranking in the early stages,’ Lieutenant Rae Wong bravely added. They might be there in a semi-professional manner but it was always intimidating talking to the general and air vice-marshal.

  ‘If they did that we’d be here all week before they came to the eight.’

  ‘And it’s brutal,’ Rae added. ‘I’m surprised no one has died yet.’