Tournament of Fire

by Toni L. Meilleur

  “Your Highness, this dish was handmade by me, would you like to try it? It’s cooked with tilla.” Elgia’s eyes sparkled as she put a small sample on Kegan’s plate. It smelled delicious and looked to be some sort of warm pudding. Elgia looked meaningfully into Kegan’s eyes. Kegan felt ashamed that she had not yet found the key. Elgia briefly nodded before serving the others.

  “So, my king, are you ready to resume your duties on Paa’eva?” This was asked by Lode in his loud booming voice. Another hush fell over the table.

  “I understand Ghort is as of yet undefeated, many say he cannot be defeated.” Another sly grin slid from Lekki, whose comment teetered on treason.

  “All records eventually become broken, Lekki,” came Da’raks reply as he pinned her with his gaze.

  How he could have lain with this woman repeatedly was beyond Kegan. She was merely beauty wrapped around a mula serpent.

  “Of course all in favor of Ghort winning are more than welcome to leave the castle to join his entourage. I hear he’s not nearly as violent to women as he used to be.” Da’rak smiled a predator’s smile and Kegan was glad she wasn’t on his bad side. Lekki openly blanched and got smart enough to clamp her beautiful mouth shut. Kegan guessed it wouldn’t be for long.

  “Feast tonight, my king, for the celebration of your return will make this one greatly pale in comparison,” Lode boomed, raising his rather large glass of tilla and nearly downing its entire contents. The warriors eagerly followed suit.

  The rest of the meal went smoothly as dish after exotic dish was brought out. Elgia made sure to present the dishes to Nuka first, who grunted his approval on nearly every dish. It would be too obvious to try to poison the king or his bride now. That did not mean something else wasn’t in store for them later. There was a short pause as dessert was being elaborately prepared. Kegan, feeling near to stuffed, took the moment to sip delicately at her tilla—remembering it’s effect when she had been alone with Elgia—and looked around the room. It boasted of ancient weapons, she could not understand the alien writing but was sure it told something of its history. A particularly odd weapon caught her eye. Its handle was moon shaped, the barrel somehow oval, it appeared to made of steel of some type.

  “It is a beautiful weapon, is it not, my queen?” Lekki’s now irritating voice was directed at her. She idly stroked her long white hair, drawing attention to its beauty deliberately.

  Kegan didn’t know why but she got the feeling no matter how she answered this question it meant trouble. She tried to tread carefully. “As far as weapons go, I suppose so.” She looked directly at Lekki, trying to guess her game.

  “It is a most revered early version of our Lhuraks. It once belonged to a grandfather of mine many generations ago. You would greatly honor this past king if you wish to handle it.” Lekki’s eyes twinkled with intent to waylay Kegan.

  Kegan knew if she refused it would seem an insult to the Paa’evaian council, but it seemed somehow to accept meant even more trouble… What harm could it cause?

  “That would be acceptable, Lekki,” Kegan responded, hating herself the moment she said it.

  Lekki bounced up quickly her beautiful breasts bobbing excitedly, every male—thank God, except Da’rak—followed her with lusty eyes. She deftly removed the weapon from the wall, making a big show of it. She took the long way around the table so that now every one was aware something was going on, though they were not sure what. Lekki came to stand next to Kegan, humbly holding the weapon, but there was something about her expression that unnerved Kegan. Lekki was up to some sort of trouble, she just…

  “Oh! I am sorry, my queen, I almost forgot your hand garments. I am not sure if that material will harm the integrity of a weapon as old and fragile as this one. If you would really like to handle it truly, I beg of my queen to remove the garments before you do so.” Lekki smiled.

  There it was. The bomb. Lekki might not be quite sure of what her hands could do, but she had a good idea. To refuse would be to insult, to do so would show her weakness.

  “My queen can handle it at another time, Lekki, put it away for now,” Da’rak practically growled at the wench. He could honestly kill this woman right now.

  “I do not see why removing the garments is such a big deal,” a Councilman piped in. “Is something the matter with our queen?”

  “Your questions are much too bold, Councilman Javeria. My queen’s personal attributes are her and my business alone.” Da’rak’s head whipped around at the old councilman.

  “But if she is to rule Paa’eva, surely we are entitled to know of any…abnormalities of the Primitive Queen,” Javeria insisted.

  The surrounding councilmen and warriors began to mumble in agreement. There were a few who did not, but it was not enough of a protest to warrant notice. Kegan’s heart began to beat erratically. She would be Da’rak’s weak link. She would be his undoing. Da’rak began to idly scratch his chest, as his arm encircled her protectively. He knew she was in distress and was trying to find a way out of this and save his kingdom as well. She noted Elgia hovering in the serving entrance, eyeing her pointedly, and trying to get to her understand. Understand what?

  Elgia looked to Da’rak every time he idly scratched, back to her again. What did his burning and itchy brand have to do with her? Kegan felt something along that line of thinking held a clue. She worked her mind fervently, trying to piece together a five thousand piece puzzle in seconds.

  “My queen?” Lekki pushed, proffering the weapon, barely smothering her self-satisfied grin.

  “This is ridiculous!” Da’rak roared, releasing Kegan’s shoulders and banging his massive fist on the table for silence. “It is just a weapon, an honored one, yes. How important is it the queen merely touch a weapon she shall never use?” Da’rak’s one question fired at every councilman and soldier.

  “It is not the use of the weapon that is in question, King Da’rak, it is the honor. Does this primitive Earth queen find us and our history so repulsive she can’t even bear to touch it?” Javeria inquired, his brown and gold gaze deceptively humble. But Kegan felt it. The animosity, the hatred directed at her and Da’rak. Or maybe it was just her. Lode stood, his ancient, regal form commanding attention all on its own.

  “She has accepted the family crest upon her very being.” Lode turned to her meaningfully. “We all know it is a symbol of acceptance and power.” His words he directed at Kegan purposefully. “You think she would dishonor our king, knowing the full implication of its meaning? Of course she accepts our ways, our ways are now her ways.” He stared down into her eyes. Looking to Elgia, Kegan saw her nod. She now understood.

  “It is all right, Councilman Lode,” she informed him, letting him know his words were not lost upon her. “I accept the handling of the ancient Lhurak.”

  Da’rak turned to her, grief in his eyes. Somehow she knew it was not for his potentially lost kingdom, but the pain he perceived she would go through. She loved him more than she ever thought she could, which is why, though untested, she had to try her newfound knowledge—thanks to Lode and Elgia. Lekki still bathed in her perceived glory as she closely watched Kegan peel off the gloves one finger at a time.

  Taking a deep breath, she took off the second glove and put it into Da’rak’s hands without touching him. His touch would unnerve her. She was already concentrating much too hard, the thin sheen above her upper lip told her that. She focused her mind on the tattoo Da’rak had given her. Channeled her power from her hands to the tattoo, as if it were a switch. Da’rak had given her that. He had given her the means to control her power, at least that is what she believed Lode and Elgia were trying to tell her. She held her hands open for the weapon and held her breath. She felt Da’rak tense beside her, ready to catch her should she be overwhelmed from the violent history of the weapon.

  Lekki practically shoved it into her hands, satisfied like a fat cat. The weapon felt heavy and cool. But that was all. No images played in her mind. No searing pain at her
temples, not a cold sweat. It was dead in her hands.

  “It is beautiful, Lekki, you must be proud.” She grinned at the furious woman, who waited for something to happen, but seemed highly disappointed.

  Lekki snatched the weapon from her hand almost ungraciously and bowed realizing belatedly her actions. “Thank you, my family and I are most honored.” She bowed and quietly went to return the weapon to the wall.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with that woman,” Keir muttered. Disapproval stamped on his handsome features.

  “Perhaps a solid spanking?” Da’rak suggested in good humor, though Kegan suspected he meant it.

  “No, she’d enjoy it too much.” Keir sighed heavily.

  “Da’rak, I want to retire now, if you don’t mind,” Kegan whispered to him. Suddenly fatigued beyond measure. Da’rak immediately put his arm around her, announcing to the table he and his queen wished to retire early, due to the impending tournament. All the people seated wished him well, though Kegan fairly suspected some wanted to stab him through the heart.

  “Keir, I will see you on the morrow. Let me thank you again for keeping a tight reign on my affairs and keeping the council in order. I will reward you greatly.”

  “No reward, old friend, I could use a couple of days off. Just try not to bruise too easily tomorrow, eh?” Keir laughed good-naturedly, then frowned as Lekki sat next to him.

  She remained silent, not offering her goodnights or well wishes. Kegan at this point could have cared less. All she wanted was to lie down. Da’rak walked her to the door of the Consumption Hall then she found herself scooped up like a child and held tightly against his muscled chest. Before she could form a sentence, his mouth covered hers swift and hard. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting its sweetness and a little tilla.

  “What was that for?” she asked out of breath when he finally released her lips.

  “For being the bravest person I know. Thank you for all that you risked tonight.”

  “A queen could do no less for her king.” She smiled tiredly. Knowing it had drained her to redirect her energy, she suspected with time it would come easier. Da’rak’s chuckle reverberated in his chest, lulling her to sleep before they even reached their chambers.

  Kegan awoke alone in the bed. She stretched her arm out and only felt the cool sheets. Evidence that she had lain alone for quite sometime. Nuka snored softly in the corner of the room, Da’rak’s boot under his heavy paw possessively. She squinted her eyes trying to find him in the room. He blended so well in the shadows, she almost missed him, sitting on the floor, his head between his hands in deep thought.

  Who could sleep the night before judgment? Tomorrow decided his fate as well as hers. He has fought for almost five hundred years to regain his crown, and now it all came down to one day, one fight, one moment between life and death. Kegan went to him on silent feet.

  “Please talk to me,” she said softly, stroking the braids she so loved at his temple. He raised his worried lavender and gold gaze to hers. “Please tell me what you are thinking.”

  “I am thinking if I fail tomorrow, I fail you, shanzah.” He sighed deeply. “Before I fought in rage and desired retribution—a winning combination when it is only bloodlust in your heart. But now you are there, and I have so much more to lose than my throne, my life.”

  Kegan felt the tears well up. She could not possibly tell this man of the vision she had. It did not necessarily mean his defeat; it just meant… She didn’t know what it meant. But she would give him all the possible reinforcements he would need.

  “You will defeat this Ghort, Da’rak. As you said all records are eventually broken. If ever there was a man to do it, it is you, shanzahn.” She made sure her gaze did not waver—he needed to see her complete confidence in him. Despite her vision, she felt he would win.

  “You honor me, Primitive one.” He laughed, knowing he had rankled her.

  “Will you use Juchon in battle tomorrow?” Kegan asked, recalling her vision, he had had no weapon in his hands.

  “Have I never told you of Juchon?” he asked, almost as if he were recalling a fond memory.

  “Nothing, except not to ever touch it.” Kegan settled on the floor next to him, laying her head on his strong shoulder.

  “My father gave him to me. He told me it holds all the honorable spirits from our clan. It is a very old weapon. I believe my father’s spirit is in it as well. When I battle, I can feel him right there with me. The weapon was designed by a sorcerer from our line long ago. It only responds to the rightful wielder. It is spelled so that anyone who touches it that have no right is injected with poison, death is immediate. I have seen it.”

  “That is quite an awesome weapon.” Kegan was in awe such magic existed.

  “As part of the tournament rules, the winner gets the spoils of the loser.” Da’rak gave her a moment to figure out what he was saying, his heart heavy.

  “You mean Ghort would get Juchon if you lose?” Kegan could feel his sorrow.

  “Yes, and since he would never be able to wield it, he would have it destroyed, such is the case for weapons like Juchon.”

  “All that family history would be lost, all those souls,” Kegan whispered.

  “Yes, though it is my best weapon, I do not want to risk it. I have decided to give it to you, Kegan.” He turned to her in the darkness. Though she could not see him clearly, she knew he was looking right into her eyes. “It will aid you in escape should I lose. You need not know how to use it properly, just hold and swing its discerning nature will protect you.”

  “No, I do not accept it. Da’rak, use Juchon, you will not lose,” she cried to him, trying to erase the vision. “I cannot, it will poison me.”

  “It will not, it knows I have offered itself to you.”

  “Da’rak, please do not…”

  “We will not speak any more of this. I would like to make love to my shanzah, before tomorrow comes too swiftly.” He stood up, offering his hand to pull her up. She relented, hating to leave the conversation as it was.

  Da’rak made love to Kegan that night, slow and tender. He took his time as if memorizing every part of her body. Kegan let silent tears fall as Da’rak made her climax. Her last thought before she fell into a troubled sleep, some way she had to get Da’rak to take Juchon to the tournament.

  Chapter Twelve

  Da’rak knew today he would fight like a madman. As he made love to Kegan, his only thought was another man using her as if she were a whore. He would not leave her, he would win, he told himself. Ghort was an excellent fighter, but Da’rak knew he could be better, had to be better. He attached the new shining armor he had made and carefully inspected and knew he looked menacing. He tied his hair back in a ponytail; only the braids at his temple remained free. War braids, a declaration.

  He could feel Kegan’s soft earth-colored eyes on him, as she pulled the new thong he had made especially for today about her hips. He knew she would not want to face a crowd of thousands naked. His shanzah was modest. He even had Hara make a holder for her breasts like he had seen her wear when they were back on Earth. Only this one was much nicer with jewels to match the bottoms. Somehow she was even more enticing with the scant clothing.

  Nuka panted around, rubbing up against him, feeling the excitement in the air. He petted the beast and told it mentally to protect Kegan should anything go wrong. The beast snorted back at him.

  As if I need you to tell me that, it impressed in his mind.

  Da’rak laughed. This beast was as much a handful as his shanzah. Da’rak placed the wrapped weapon in her hand. Though she silently shook her head no, she accepted it and placed it in the bag Da’rak had given her. Tearfully, she covered it with the various fruits and breads and slung the bag on her shoulder. Da’rak reached for her hand and kissed it, then kissed her. “Come, shanzah, today I will be king in more than name only.”

  Kegan could not believe the hordes of people that came to see bloodshed. It reminded her of A
ncient Greece. Only this time, one of the warriors belonged to her. She admitted she had come a long way in her thinking of him. In the short time she had known him, she had fallen for him insanely fast. Yet it felt right and real, maybe not the running around naked, but most of it felt right, she mused. She was given a place of honor, a large padded chair with a high back, encrusted with the most beautiful stones she had ever seen. Her seat sat forward in the arena, so that she saw everything.

  Keir sat to her right, Lekki to his. Damn woman! Apparently sleeping your way to the top was not only an Earth custom. On her left was Da’rak’s empty seat, and scattered from left to right on either sat the councilmen. Each one with guarded expressions, including Lode.

  They all briefly looked at her, but for the most part ignored her, intent on the upcoming battle. This battle could decide their fates. They knew Da’rak had the right to remove any person he felt unworthy to serve in his reign. She had heard whispers that those people are put to death. They could not be trusted, so why give your enemies a chance? It made perfect sense to Kegan, yet she could not help but think how primitive that concept was. But then again, Lekki always a step behind her did not sit right; she was starting to see the beauty of the tradition.

  A strange horn sounded that silenced the mass. After a pin could be dropped and easily heard, an announcer walked in the middle of the arena, the strange horn put to his lips as he began to speak.

  “Queen Kegan of the Primitive Earth, Paa’evaian Councilman, nobility and commoners, welcome to the Tournament of Fire. Former King Da’rak of the house of Barae seeks to fulfill his sentence as established five hundred years ago by the Paa’evaian Councilman. Should he win, his kingdom and inhabitants will be returned forthwith…” A dramatic pause. Kegan rolled her eyes though her stomach was in knots. “But should he lose, my Paa’evaian citizens, the spoils of war goes to his opponent, including the Primitive Earth Queen, to do with as he sees fit if she becomes mistress to him. Or he shall grant her the right to deem herself an outcast, where she shall immediately be escorted from castle grounds and subsequently the country. The title of King shall be returned to the first in line male heir of the House of Hahn.”