by Garry Ocean
He let out a disgusting short laugh. And then, turning to the Supreme One, added, “It’s time to reconsider the supply policy for our brave soldiers.”
Cleo thought that the Guard was having a heart attack. He turned purple red. He must have forgotten that he was not wearing his dress uniform because he started to search for his scabbard with his hand.
“I’m just joking, just joking!” the Judge decided to give him a break and added, “By the way, I am also rooting for our warriors. If a steppe dweller wins it will damage the reputation of our Great City as well. However, let’s hope for…” he probably wanted to say “a miracle,” but saw the Guard’s look and quickly finished, “our victory.”
Then he still couldn’t hold himself and said with a fake sigh, “I am afraid to even think about what kind of the Highest Request may come from a steppe dweller.”
No one knows how it would all end up, but right that moment they started to draw the names for the last contest. Cleo searched and found the layman with her eyes. He was sitting on the sand, with his legs crossed in an unusual way. Something about him made her feel uneasy, but at that moment the Guard shouted Brand’s name. She looked at Gunn-Terr silently. He nodded in response, silently as well. The warrior and Gunn-Terr belonged to the same clan and Cleor knew how important it was for them.
Nothing could have predicted what happened next. The Chief Guard asked the traditional question of whether anyone would like to leave the Arena in disgrace. Before the name drawing anyone could do that. It was considered to be a great honor to get to the final stage. But to quit after? That simply never happened before. In any case, Cleo never heard about anything like this before. To disgrace your name when you are already one of the best? This she could not understand. And she was not alone. The spectators exploded with the curses for the cowards. Even usually indifferent bodyguards standing on the sides and at the back of her pew stirred a little. She could understand them. The four alvars remaining on the Arena was doomed to death. It was quite possible that some of their relatives were among them. The clan ties were very strong with these brave and proud people from the mountains.
No one noticed at first that together with them stayed that very Nick of the Westgeyers. His ridiculous gear was not noticeable at the background of the bright red tunics and shiny bronze armor of the four alvars. Cleo noticed him only when he came up to them and joined their line. For some reason, she felt pity for this arrogant young man. He was the one who could have left the arena with a light heart. His name was not known at all. And if some knew it, they would have forgotten about him soon after the Ritual. Besides, warriors braver and more experienced than him refused to fight in the next stage.
And when Brand ordered his armor-bearer to bring the armor for the layman, the bodyguard row produced quiet sounds of disbelief. Gunn-Terr even had to raise his hand calling them to order. However, even he himself clanked his sword several times as if making sure that it comes out of the scabbard just as easily as it did before.
Cleo knew how rare were the cases when alvars gave their armor to outsiders. And the matter was not even that the best masters of the White Rocks had made the armor, but that it was equal to invocation of the outsider into their clan. Cleo felt that the opinions of the guards about Brand’s act were divided. Some were strongly against it, others were not so categorical. In any case, the outsider’s determination to die shoulder to shoulder with the alvars gave Brand the right to make this decision.
When long horns signaled the beginning of the fight, Cleo threw an accidental glance at the Judge. His eyes were filled with strange triumph. “What is he so happy about?” she thought, but the metal banging of a dozen clashed swords attracted all her attention.
Just like many others from the many-thousand mass of people observing this fight, Cleo could not tell exactly how long it lasted. At some points, the time stopped, and then her memory would take in everything to the last and smallest detail. At other points time galloped mixing everything that was happening into the vortex of disjointed events. When everything ended, Cleo was still sitting frozen for some time until she felt Gunn-Terr’s hand on her shoulder. The warrior looked into her eyes, clearly concerned. Cleo herself could not understand what caused her stupor. She pulled herself together and smiled at him, letting him know that everything was all right now.
The Central Pew turned into a scene of dramatic passions. The Guardians forgot about their greatness for some time and started to share their impressions about the fight, interrupting each other. Only the thirty alvars maintained their calm, keeping their sharp eyes on the perimeter. But Cleo did not have to assess them with her inner eye to understand that their hearts were filled with pride for the today’s winners. Even the former skeptics now supported Brand’s decision to share his brother’s armor.
“Father must be pleased,” the girl thought. “None of the noble clans of the Great City could boast such close relations with alvars as the Hilds.” For more than three centuries now representatives of her kin were playing an important role in maintaining and enforcing good relations between the City and the warrior clans of the White Rocks. And today this fight added another gold nail to their already strong union. It meant that the credit for the victory in the Ritual was due to both sides equally. And given that it was literally taken away from the steppe dwellers, who had already decided they’d won, from the political standpoint the victory was priceless.
Meanwhile, the chaotic joy of the spectators gradually turned into a more orderly demand and very soon everyone was chanting like one, “Request! Request! Request!”
Everyone was eager to know the Winner’s Highest Request.
Cleo saw Nick of the Westgeyers completing the traditional circle of honor around the sandy edge of the Arena. He was accompanied by the boy armor-bearer and some old man. The spectators were throwing at them petals of various flowers prepared in advance for this very moment. The many-thousand crowds cheered the Winner. The tribunes were rolled with loud applause that became even louder when Nick and his companions reached the wide stairs leading to the Central Pew.
The armor-bearer stayed at the lowest stair. The warrior gave him his sword and javelin never used in the fight. No one was allowed to approach the Guardians armed. When the warrior and the old man following him got up the stairs and stopped ten steps away, the horns blew a long signal again.
Now Cleo could see the stranger much better. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with thick dark hair. But the first thing she noticed was his stature. He was standing slightly tilting his head to the side and holding his helmet in the bent left arm. His posture expressed calm and respect, but at the same time he did not display any servility that would have been natural in this situation. Stopping in front of the Guardians, he looked at each of them attentively, with warmth and friendliness. And when his eyes met hers, he gave her a charming smile. Cleo suddenly felt embarrassed and looked away.
The tradition called for the winner to kneel in front of the Guardians and voice his Highest Request. The criers, who were many at different parts of the Arena, were supposed to pass his words further to every spectator. Just like the Guardians' decision that would follow. The Arena froze. Everyone was waiting with bated breath. But the warrior was for some reason slow. The old man standing a little behind, stepped up to him and whispered something into his ear. Then the warrior, with a little hesitation, clumsily lowered on one knee.
“Your word, Winner!” the Supreme One pretended not to have noticed the delay. “And let everyone hear you!”
“Three of my friends are in the city jail on false accusations. I would like them to be freed and a proper investigation conducted. I am sure of their innocence and I am ready to testify for them in court.”
Cleo raised her eyebrows in surprise. The Guardians were taken aback as well. The warrior had pronounced a strange request. He could have asked for a house in the best part of the City, a cart full of gold or even a small iron quarry near the White Rocks.
“Tell their names!” demanded the Supreme One.
“Ron, Sith, and Valu.”
“What clan do these people belong to?”
The old man interrupted here.
“Your highness,” he said quickly. “My nephew Nick of the Westgeyers travels a lot beyond the Rapid Waters and there he had met the people of near-Forest. He owes them a lot and now he would like to repay his debt to them.”
“Is that so?” the Supreme One seemed as shocked as everyone else. “So these people are the residents of near-Forest?”
“Yes, my Supreme One, they were arrested yesterday. They came here to receive the award for the service they had rendered to the Great City.”
Cleo leaned forward, catching every word. It turns out this Nick of the Westgeyers is a wandering warrior! She read about them in old books but she could have never thought that they were still in existence these days. And wandering not somewhere near, but beyond the Rapid Waters! Her thoughts were racing each other; the girl simply could not believe such luck!
“We need to invite him to our place immediately after the Ritual,” Cleo thought. “But why is father silent? He needs to set those unfortunate men free right away! Ah, the prison is in the Judge’s domain. And the fat man is dragging it for some reason and whispers something into father’s ear.”
Finally the Supreme One got up from his seat, raised his hand, and shouted loudly, “Is Nick of the Westgeyers worthy of his Highest Request?”
The spectators started to applaud loudly without waiting for the criers to carry the Ritual question to the farthest rows of the Arena. Even if there were some who disagreed, their yells were lost in the ovation in honor of the Winner.
“Nick of the Westgayer clan!” the Supreme One pronounced, after the applause started to calm down a little, “Your Request will be satisfied. And let the Departed Gods hear me!”
The Arena drowned in applause again. Cleo noticed that the old man touched the warrior’s shoulder and said something to him. The latter got up from his knee with relief and raised his arms greeting the spectators. Cleo could swear he was embarrassed.
The crowd went wild again for a longer time, and gradually the sporadic shouts turned into more synchronized chants of thousands of people, “Hunt! Hunt! Hunt!”
Only after the crowd got tired of shouting and started to calm down, the Supreme One raised his arm and the silence fell. He turned to Nick and said, “Observing our traditions, I am offering you to participate in the Big Hunt!”
He paused a little and added, “You have the right to refuse. You have already proven to everyone that you are the Winner!”
Cleo couldn’t take her eyes off the warrior. She couldn’t explain why, but now she wanted him to accept. This, of course, would be stupid. Saying “yes” meant he would inevitably die. And then her luck that so unexpectedly came her way would have simply disappeared. But strangely enough, she now wanted both things equally.
Cleo saw confusion on the warrior’s face first, and then – perplexity. As if seeking for support, he glanced at the old man. The latter shook the head vehemently. Then the warrior, looking at the Supreme One, said calmly but distinctly so that people in the first rows could hear him, “I am grateful that you have heard my request. I am quite satisfied. As for the last offer, I will definitely take you up on it next time.”
The Arena was completely silent. Only the criers’ shouts transferring the warrior’s words from the lower to the upper rows could be heard. Everyone was silent, as if digesting what had been said. Then people started to laugh. At first, separate short laughs could be heard in different parts of the Arena, and already in a minute everyone was laughing. Even in the Central Pew muffled snickering could be heard. Cleo could not hold her smile either. Everything the warrior said was pronounced in such an every-day leveled tone as if the man, rushing on his business, is rejecting the offer to visit out of courtesy. And not to insult the hosts, promises to definitely come by tomorrow.
Yes, the today’s Ritual was a spectacular one! The new Winner brought a lot of joy to everyone, first by his courage and combat skills, and now it turns out that he also has wits.
The Chief Guard approached Cleo, holding in his hands a little purple pillow edged with bright green tassels. On top of it, there was a beautiful Winner wreath cast of pure gold. The best masters of the White Rocks made it specifically for this occasion. This time, Cleo had the honor to place the wreath on the Winner’s head.
The spectators were quiet, watching the scene with bated breath. The girl carefully took the wreath from the Chief Guard and came up to the warrior. So close, he turned out even taller and Cleo had to rise on tiptoe to place the wreath on his head. Their faces became very close, their eyes met each other and they both froze. Her heart, normally beating before, pounded loudly two times, stopped, and then fell down to her ankles. Quickly, while no one noticed anything, she put the wreath on the mane of his dark hair and taking two steps back returned to her seat. “This face, these eyes… I’ve seen him somewhere. But where? And when?” she thought.
********
Nick did not remember how they ended up in a spacious hall with a table full of food in the middle. He immediately collapsed on the first sofa he saw and stretched out his legs with pleasure. The tiredness was finally catching up with him. The muffled sound of the Arena was still heard through the thick stonewalls. A woman of middle age gave him a jug of cold water. Nick smiled at her gratefully and drank it all in three gulps. Now he needed to drink a lot. For his body to replenish its strength, he needed to stay hydrated. When any part of his body was wounded, his metabolism sped up. New, healthy cells were replacing the dying ones, which facilitated healing and disappearance of hematomas.
Whisperer came up to him, holding with difficulty a large iron basin with warm water and several clean towels. Then he gave him a little brown bar with a strong unpleasant odor.
“Here, take it, it’s a soap. You need to wash up,” he ordered. “I will inspect you then. We don’t need your wounds to get infected.”
Nick wanted to tell him that he had not been wounded, that it was someone else’s blood, and even if he were wounded, his wounds would not get infected. But he had no strength to argue. Besides, he indeed needed to wash up badly.
He washed himself carefully, lathering his entire body with soap and pouring the entire basin of water all over himself. It seemed to him that the other people’s blood wouldn’t wash off from his body, that it got engraved in his skin like a tattoo. “If it were indeed a tattoo, it would be nothing,” Nick thought. A one-minute cosmetic procedure would have removed it. Unfortunately, the realization that today he wounded or even killed several people will stay with him for the rest of his life. And no surgery would help with that. Except for a complete re-moralization. But then he would be a different person.
“This is the last one,” Whisperer set down the fifth basin with warm water next to Nick and grumbled, “You’ve worn me out, I’m an old man.”
“Thank you, Whisperer. There’s so much stuck on here…” Nick did not want to clarify what and where was stuck and decided to change the topic, “So, what’s the news? Did they tell you when they would let our friends out?”
“They promised tomorrow, said to come for them at noon.”
“Not possible today?” Nick was jumping on one foot, trying to put the other one into his pant. The body was still wet and the pants were sticking, wouldn’t pull up all the way. When leaving, the woman had left clean clothes for him. This was just what he needed, because his old clothes were beyond any repair.
“Not possible today. Everyone is at the Celebration, you saw that yourself,” Whisperer sighed and continued, to reassure himself more than Nick, “But it’s all right, they can hang in there for one more night. And tomorrow we will just lam from here.”
“We’ll do what?” Nick clearly didn’t know the word.
“We need to leave this place, Nick. The sooner, the better.”
/> Nick did not object. He also wanted to leave this “great” city sooner rather than later. His hope to find something useful here was long gone. He was only left with the mythical Old City. Perhaps he will get luckier there?”
“Are you hungry?” Whisperer suddenly started to rush him. “If you are, eat quickly or better yet let’s just take some food and eat on the way. I have a bad feeling about all this…”
Nick had a lot of questions to Whisperer about the recent events, but he didn’t want to discuss them now at all. He needed his emotions to calm down, then he’d be able to talk about everything in detail. Whisperer must have felt that Nick didn’t want to talk and tried not to touch the topic of the Ritual.
“All right, time to go,” the old man got up. “Very soon all these high-born and greatly-born will come here, we won’t be able to get away.”
They left the chambers and started to go down to the exit trying not to attract anyone’s attention. The wide staircase was full of people, just like the Arena’s spectator rows. This is why they had to make their way through the excited crowd. Fortunately, no one recognized Nick without his armor, and they managed to move to the exit little by little.
“Why are they not leaving?” Nick asked, surprised. Right at that moment, somewhere from below a deafening roar sounded. It was so loud that it immediately covered the cacophony of the many-thousand crowd. Undoubtedly, only a huge animal could produce such a roar. And it was clearly furious.
“Collarhorn!” Whisperer stopped in his tracks and grabbed Nick by the arm.
Nick looked down, trying to understand where this wild roar was coming from. At the farthest part of the Arena there appeared a rectangular opening, like a hole or a cut-out. Nick clearly remembered that there was nothing there during the Ritual. This is where those blood-curdling sounds were coming from.