by E B Rose
Beast’s heart was racing. He had to try talking to her again, but didn’t know what to say. Demon’s words echoed in his mind; when you don’t know what to say, listen.
When he listened, all he could hear was the creaks and rustles of the dry tree branches as they surrendered to the wind. Olira had already chomped down half of her bread, as if hurrying to get back on the road. He didn’t have much time left, and he hadn’t even figured out what to say yet. Even if he had the perfect speech, Beast feared she would not permit him to speak if he requested.
He noticed a dry stick lying on the floor and his face brightened with a better idea.
Putting his food aside, Beast picked up the stick and sat down on the floor on his knees. The soil was cold and hard, but he found a spot where it was still soft with mud. He brushed the dead leaves aside and cleared it as best he could. Then, he started drawing with the stick.
Olira had stopped eating and was watching him. Her eyebrows met in a fierce scowl. Beast drew lines connected with dots. His hand was trembling with cold and with excitement, so his lines were squiggly like worms. Proportions were probably off as well, but it was roughly accurate. He was labelling the dots with single letters when Olira finally stood up and looked over his shoulder.
She didn’t say anything at first. She crossed her arms, cocked her head, and squinted hard at the scribbles in the mud. When Beast sat back and looked at his masterpiece, he was disappointed at how little it resembled to what he had in his mind.
“What’s that?” Olira asked with a sigh.
“It’s a map of Chinderia, Owner,” Beast replied. He was surprised with the unfamiliar rush of embarrassment.
“Huh.” Olira cocked her head the other way. Her eyebrows shot up.
Beast leaned forward and drew a large circle around the dot with the letter E next to it. He sat back on his haunches and waited for her to ask.
“What’s that circle?”
“It’s the independent city of Euroad, Owner.” He bit his lips, waiting for the next question. He hoped he guessed it right.
Olira hesitated. She chewed inside her cheek, reluctant to know more. She sighed again. “And what’s in Euroad?”
“Twilight of Infinity.” Beast paused to steady his voice. His mouth felt dry. He took a deep breath. “It’s a tournament held once every four years. The champion’s Owner receives a great sum of money... Several thousand Blues I believe.” He turned around to face her and ambushed her eyes with his as he continued: “Winning beast gets his freedom.”
Olira blinked, not understanding at first. Then, her eyes grew large. Dismay bloomed on her face, gradually. She regarded him as if seeing him for the first time.
“The next tournament is only four months away,” he said softly. He couldn’t say it louder if he wanted to; his voice was about to break down with excitement.
“You... Are you asking for your freedom?”
“Let me buy it from you at Twilight of Infinity.” He swallowed. “Please.”
Olira covered her face with her hands. She faced away from him, muttering to herself.
Beast stood up. “You’ve seen how I fight. I can win it. You can earn so much more. I know you need the money...”
The Demon Lord shouted in his head to stop talking. Surprised, and a little scared to hear his voice in his head, Beast snapped his mouth shut, but he was too late.
Olira turned to him, her eyes glaring with fury. Beast took a step back.
“Do you think all I care is money?” she glowered. “Do you think I’d do anything for money? Huh?”
She had asked him a direct question, and Beast believed the honest answer was yes, but Keder hissed him to keep his mouth shut. Beast pressed his lips together. Olira curled her fingers into fists, turned on her heels, and stormed off.
“What?” Beast whispered. “What do I do now?” He wanted to follow her, but Keder instructed him to wait. She had left her shoulder bag on the ground. She only walked to the other side of the cluster of trees and stood there, crossing her arms and staring at the distance.
Beast paced back and forth. The map he drew on the ground got smudged under his feet. He rubbed his neck, bit his lips. “I should go after her,” he muttered. “Say something. Convince her.”
The Demon Lord firmly repeated his instruction, then went quiet.
When Keder spoke again, nearly an hour had passed. Beast was sitting on the ground with his head between his hands. Olira was still frozen in the same position, looking into the distance. She hadn’t moved a muscle.
Keder told him it was time now. Beast stood up and walked over to Olira.
“You want your freedom,” Olira said, without taking her eyes off the horizon. “I thought purebreds don’t want to be free. I thought they never want anything.”
Beast let the demon put the words in his mouth. “You’ve heard we don’t feel anything. You’ve heard we don’t have any rhoa. That we’re empty shells.” He paused. “They’re all lies.”
She hid her face behind her palms, shook her head. “I... I can’t. I can’t do what you’re asking.”
“Have you heard what a Grand Blood is?” Beast didn’t understand why Keder wanted to change the subject, but he listened to him anyway.
Olira appeared as confused as he was. She raised her head from her palms, cocked one eyebrow. “No... Why?”
“When a former champion beast lives long enough to get old, they arrange a special fight for him. They get him to fight a young beast. When he defeats him, they send two beasts, together. Then three. Then four. And they keep sending more and more, without a break. Until the old beast falls.”
Olira listened with her eyes on the floor. She paled.
“It’s the most glorious death a beast can have,” he continued. “People love watching their long-time favourite fight until the odds are impossible. Not all are lucky enough to age and have their own Grand Blood.”
Olira was shaking her head. Beast didn’t know what that meant, but the demon was pleased. He continued. “I have twenty-two summers behind me. I’m not too far from my Grand Blood. Please, Owner, I don’t want to die in an arena.”
Beast truly did not understand why Olira would care about his death. Moreover, he didn’t believe he would have his Grand Blood anyway; Kastian would cut his own arm off before giving the Lion of Zarall a glorious death. Yet, his words seemed to have an effect on Olira.
“You don’t wanna die in an arena, yet you wanna fight in another one?”
“I’d rather die for my freedom, than die for their entertainment.” He paused. “I’m good. I really am. I can win it.”
Olira sighed. She shook her head, and sighed again. “There’s being good at it, then there’s enjoying it,” she said with a hint of contempt.
Beast narrowed his eyes. He didn’t understand where that contempt came from, but Keder did. The demon was amused. Beast listened as Keder told him what to say next.
“Do you know how purebred beasts are raised?” Olira shook her head. Beast continued: “At the age of four, younger than your youngest brothers, they would have us practice against live targets.”
“No,” Olira said firmly. “No, I don’t wanna hear that. Stop talking.”
“No,” Beast refused. “You’ll have to speak my First Word to stop me.” His heart was racing. He did not see any reason why she wouldn’t.
Olira’s eyes grew, then her face turned dark. “I said stop talking.”
“They tie old, damaged, washed-up slaves to the training posts and make us stab them. Just so that we get used to the feeling.”
“Oh, dear Alunwea,” she said, turning away from him.
“I’m sorry I don’t feel any remorse for killing men. I feel as comfortable in a fight as a fish feels in water. I never chose this.”
Olira remained quiet and the demon instructed Beast to let her hear her own thoughts.
“My father was amongst a minority -a very small minority- that believed the slave system was wrong,�
�� Olira said finally. “I thought I understood why he felt that way. But I guess I hadn’t.”
“You are different than any Owner I’ve ever seen.” And Beast meant it. However, he’d never heard of any such minority. He couldn’t see why free people would have a problem with the slave system. It would have to be about money, like Master Tholthus explained before.
“Oh, Twelve,” she muttered as she drew a religious sign with her hand in the air. “I... I’ll think about it, okay? Just let me think.”
“As you wish, Owner.” Beast turned reluctantly and walked back to where they’d left the bags. He sat down and forced himself to eat the food he abandoned earlier. His excitement dispelled any taste.
“What’s taking so long,” Beast complained impatiently. He stood up, determined to go back there and ask her to decide quicker. He sat back down when Keder threatened him to keep his mouth shut.
The sun was setting the sky aflame marking the end of the day, when Olira finally came back. The weather had gotten colder, and Beast had pulled one of the blankets over his travel cloak. Beast didn’t know how to light a campfire - they didn’t teach purebreds survival skills in the wilderness - but he had gathered a small pile of dry sticks.
He stood up, holding his breath to hear Olira’s decision, but she didn’t even look at him. She worked quietly, making a bed for the campfire. She produced a flint and steel from her bag and lit a handful of dry moss aflame. She blew on them until the flames were strong enough, then fed them with dry sticks one at a time. Beast watched it with interest.
Olira prepared some dry meat, bread rolls, and fruit for dinner. The stress and excitement had unsettled Beast’s stomach, making him nauseous. He balanced his plate on his lap, forcing himself to take a bite, but couldn’t eat.
Deep down, Beast didn’t believe he could ever get near Euroad. Therefore, when Olira explained her decision, his mind froze, struggling to catch up with what she just said.
“We’ll still have to go to Kilrer,” she was saying. “I need to send a message to Gilann, explaining to him why I’ll be late. I’m afraid Master Tholthus will confiscate the farm while I’m away.”
“Does... that mean...?”
She sighed. “We can make some money protecting convoys, like Master Ashin suggested, until we get there.”
“Get... where?”
Olira rolled her eyes. “To Euroad.”
Beast stood up, knocking the plate down by accident. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Twilight of Infinity. We’re going to Twilight of Infinity?”
“Yes,” Olira said with a tired smile.
Beast turned around, both hands on his head. His heart was beating in his throat. He wanted to jump up and down, but his legs felt weak. He chuckled, covered his face with his hands, and found tears.
“You better be as good as you claim to be,” Olira warned him. “Because my farm and my family’s future rely on you now. So, you better win.”
“As you wish, Owner,” Beast complied, smiling ear to ear.
*
That night, curled up next to the campfire, Beast couldn’t sleep for hours. His cheeks ached from smiling. He hadn’t felt this happy, this hopeful, since the time he’d spent with Saradra. When he finally managed to close his eyes, the demon was waiting to celebrate their victory.
*
“That was incredible!” Beast exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. He was walking back and forth in the flooded cave, splashing water at each step. “How did you know what to say? I’d never have thought...”
The black fog swirled proudly inside the cage. He didn’t have a face, but Beast could feel him smiling.
“I mean, what was it with my Grand Blood? Why would she even care about how I’ll die? And the thing about enjoying myself in a fight? What’s wrong with appreciating a good fight?”
“She was afraid of you,” the demon explained. “She thought you were a mindless weapon. A monster who liked killing.”
“I...” Beast screwed up his face. “I don’t take pleasure in killing. I enjoy the fight itself. When I picked up that sword that night, I felt complete. It was as if... I don’t know how to describe this.”
“You felt free.”
“I... I suppose.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. And now, she understands you.”
Beast dropped his shoulders. “But how did you manage that? I thought telling her about the money would be enough. I thought all free folk were greedy.”
Keder made a scratchy noise that Beast only assumed was cackling. “They indeed are. They just don’t like confronting it.” The black fog swirled inside the cage, and approached at the silver bars eagerly. “Now that I’ve proven I’m your ally, I’d like to see how much you trust me. Drink from that water.”
Beast’s face darkened with distrust. He eyed the water suspiciously. “Why?”
“Like I said, I want to see how much you trust me.”
“What’s in the water?”
“There is nothing in the water,” Keder said patiently. “Drink it.”
Now that Beast had stopped moving, the water had stilled. It was pitch black; he couldn’t even see his ankles in it. He bent down, cupped his hands together, and filled them with water. He sniffed it; it smelled like nothing. Even the little amount in his hands were pure black; he couldn’t see his palms. He let the water spill between his fingers and wiped his hands on his shirt.
“You don’t trust me,” the demon accused. The black fog swirled and retreated far back inside the cage. “I see.”
Beast didn’t deny it. He didn’t quite trust the Demon Lord of Darkhome. All the priests he had listened to in Castle Brinescar preached about how the thirteen Demon Lords of Darkhome were imprisoned by the Twelve Riders and how they longed for the destruction of Earthome. Beast had seen Keder’s past deeds and intentions clearly. He couldn’t let Earthome to be destroyed.
Not yet.
Still… the demon had already helped him more than anyone else did. What harm could come from taking a sip of water?
Beast’s feet started sinking in the muddy ground under water and he knew it was time to wake up. He didn’t struggle.
“Good luck at Twilight of Infinity,” Keder hissed before Beast’s head sank under the cold water. “You’re on your own.”
11
OLIRA
When Olira woke up, the campfire was still burning strong. The flames were fed recently.
She straightened up, letting the blanket fall off her. She shivered against the morning chill and noticed the slave was not where he slept last night. She stood up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She saw his shirt on the ground, and found him upside down in the air.
He had locked his knees around a tree branch three-feet off the ground and was hanging upside down, with his back to her, doing crunches. He didn’t notice Olira at first and continued pulling himself up, his arms crossed on his chest, breathing through his nose. His body gleamed with sweat and his muscles rippled under his tanned skin. Olira could see heat rising from his back. She felt her heart racing and looked away.
The day before, she had seen the slave truly for the first time. She was still trying to get used to the idea that the man was not an empty, mindless, killing tool. He wanted his freedom. He was ready to die for it. And Olira had almost destroyed his life.
She rummaged the rations bag and took out cheese and more bread for breakfast. She had already missed having a warm meal. As she worked, her eyes kept wandering to the man, despite her best efforts.
His scars caught her attention. Three parallel lines crossed his back, from shoulder blade to hip. Olira couldn’t imagine the size of the animal who could leave a mark that big. There were also pale, white echoes of floggings, some old and some newer, criss-crossing all over his back. Her heart broke and she felt like grabbing herself by the collar and shaking until her bones rattled.
She had seen those before. She had seen all his scars when she first t
reated him at the farm. Yet, she didn’t feel anything for him back then. Now, all she could think was, he had a rhoa.
He... had a rhoa.
A bitter combination of pity, shame, and guilt brought tears to her eyes. She wiped them swiftly when she heard the slave jumping down from the tree with a thud. She gave him a plate. They ate in silence and set out again. Their route was the same, towards the city of Kilrer, but the road felt different.
“So,” Olira spoke. “Are you going to do that all the time?”
The slave was carrying the rations bag in one hand, lifting it over his head then down as he walked. He paused when Olira spoke. His face darkened. “Yes, Owner,” he said quietly.
“It’s okay,” Olira gestured him to continue. “Do you need to train with an actual person too?”
“Yes, Owner.”
“How am I going to arrange that?”
The slave’s brows knitted in a frown. He looked grave as he thought for an answer. “More bandits?”
Olira laughed. She glanced over her shoulder to find the slave blinking owlishly. Not smiling. “Oh… You’re not joking.”
“No, Owner.”
“Oh, merciful Alunwea. No, we’ll find someone for you to practice with blunt wooden swords or something.”
“I can defeat bandits using a waster sword as well, Owner.”
“I’m sure you can. Hey, you can call me Olira now,” she changed the subject. That word was bothering her more now than it did before.
“As you wish, Olira,” the slave said, carefully pronouncing her name as if it was acid that could burn his mouth.
“What do I call you?”
“You’ve never named me, Ow-Olira.” He switched arms and continued lifting the bag with his left.
“What was the name your mother gave you?”
“I’ve never known the woman who gestated me.”
“Oh...” Olira walked quietly for a while. Beast didn’t break the silence. If anything, he was more comfortable in silence than he was when speaking.
It was odd, but Olira had the urge to tell him things she never told anyone -not even to Jygan. She knew the tanner wanted to marry her, for a while now. Jygan thought the reason she wasn’t keen to marry anyone was because of her farm and her brothers; she wouldn’t leave them before she paid her debt. However, she had other plans.