by JK Ensley
“Not cunning… Honest.”
“Call it what you will.” He bumped her with his shoulder. “Let’s go see what other trouble you can talk yourself out of.”
*****
The two tiny warriors spoke with many of the waiting combatants: Gargoyles, Imps, Goblins, Banshee, even one creature who claimed to be a Yami—a spirit god. Some of them paid her no mind, some only grunted out a few words, and some just stared at her. Just stared… completely mute and motionless.
Jenevier sighed as she plopped down on a bench against the wall of one of the side hallways.
“Looks like I’m gonna have my hands full,” she mumbled.
“I hope you weren’t expecting it would be an easy job—busting up this whole tournament thing.” Ardune leaned back against the wall in front of her. “This has been going on for years, my Lady. Many have simply grown accustomed to it. Haven’t you noticed?”
She glanced up at him.
“My Lady… many of the ones you have spoken to, they didn’t even have a clue what to do with you if they did win.” He smiled softly. “Face it, little one. Some creatures just want to fight.”
Two Goblins came lumbering down the darkened hallway, mumbling to one another. When they passed between Jenevier and Ardune, one of the oversized, grotesque creatures knocked the Drowl to the ground.
“Out of the way, dung dweller,” the Goblin growled.
Jenevier was on her feet and in their face before Ardune had even recovered his bearings.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “Watch where you’re going, you filthy Ogre!”
The Goblins growled openly.
“We aren’t Ogres, stupid human girl,” one said.
“Mind your rotten tongue,” the other hissed. “Or I’ll tear it out and swallow it whole, right in front of you.”
“Don’t waste your time,” the first one said through a twisted smile. “I’m sure her tongue will be far too foul for your liking. Look how quickly she jumped to the Drowl’s defense.”
“Yeah.” The second Goblin snorted. “She’s probably been licking all over him, kissing his filthy, disgusting mouth.”
Jenevier didn’t respond for a couple of heartbeats, couldn’t even process what she’d just heard.
“Are you talking about Ardune? You think he is filthy?” She snorted out a laugh. “You don’t get much more disgusting than a rancid Goblin. Even those smelly Tree-men are preferable company to the likes of you.”
The first Goblin took a step toward her. “Are you actually trying to compare us to a no-good, dung-dwelling Drowl?”
“Snatch her bald, Glendor,” the second hissed.
“No.” Jenevier shook her head. “I absolutely was not comparing you to Ardune, because there is no comparison.”
“My Lady.” Ardune grabbed her arm. “Come with me. They’re not worth your trouble.”
Jenevier jerked free. “There’s no comparison because there is no way—not on any layer of this universe—that worthless vermin like you could ever hold a candle to a Drowl, much less Ardune. He alone is worth more than an entire Otherworld full of Goblins.”
“He is a Drowl, stupid human,” Glendor spat. “Just look at him.”
Jenevier turned toward Ardune, and then back to the snarling Goblins.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I look at him all the time. I think he is beautiful… inside and out.”
When the two Goblins started snorting out amused laughs, Jenevier crossed her arms and waited until they were quite finished.
“Tell me, Goblin boys.” She smiled. “What is it you believe you know, concerning Drowl?”
“They are born in filth,” Glendor said. “They grow in waste—feed off of it… eternally reek of it.”
“Your ignorance is astounding.” Jenevier shook her head and sighed. “It’s obvious… you know nothing.”
“We know all we care to,” Glendor said.
Jenevier snorted. “So… you revel in your shocking lack of knowledge. Is that it? Willfully ignorant and intentionally uninformed—that’s your idea of superiority?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she scrunched up her brow. “Boys, stupidity that deep… it has got to be generational, no doubt about it.”
When the second Goblin’s threatening growl started deep within his chest, Ardune watched the muscles in Jenevier’s jaw clench as she quietly ground her teeth.
“Simply disgusting…” she mumbled, shaking her head. “…the absolute worst kind of ugly.”
“What did you just say?” Glendor hissed.
Jenevier matched the Goblin’s glare. “You hate the Drowl without knowledge or reason. You are prejudiced, petty fools—too arrogant and puffed-up to even open your eyes. Creatures like you make me sick.” She narrowed her gaze, quietly studying them both. “I see now… you’re scared.” She smiled sardonically. “Pfft… pathetic.”
“How dare you, human?” the second Goblin said. “How dare you call us scared?”
“I dare because it’s the truth.” She crossed her arms again. “Just look at the two of you. With all your size and strength, your tiny little brains fail you. I call you scared because that’s what you are—scared of anything you don’t know or refuse to understand.” Jenevier snorted and shook her head. “This has nothing to do with Drowl. If it wasn’t the Drowl, it would be something else. You sicken me.”
Glendor snarled up his top lip. “What are you talking about?”
“What I’m talking about is… your repulsive, ugly heart.” She moved to stand toe-to-toe with the livid Goblin. “The truth is… if the Drowl were gone, you would simply turn your hate upon another, different from yourselves, and that engrained ignorance that puffs out your slimy chests… it would live on. That is why you sicken me.”
When the Goblins drew their weapons, Jenevier confidently mirrored them.
“Glendor!” An elderly Imp came hobbling down the hallway. “If you and Jester have time to be playing about down here, get on up to the arena. They’re calling your names.”
Jenevier and the two Goblins remained as they were—hard glares locked, blades at the ready.
“Come on,” Jester finally said, pushing the other Goblin’s shoulder. “We’ll get her soon enough… teach her a lesson she will wish she had never learned.”
Glendor smiled as he sheathed his broadsword. “My mouth’s watering just thinking about it.”
Jenevier didn’t speak, only smiled and wiggled her fingers, waving at the two fuming creatures’ slow departure.
When the Goblins had finally made their way up to the waiting arena, the Imp looked from Jenevier to the silent Drowl.
“Ardune.”
“Terral,” Ardune said, inclining his head toward the Imp.
“You’ve never been one to start stirring mischief.” The Imp glanced back to Jenevier. “Perhaps you should mind the company you keep.”
“Terral,” Ardune said softly. “This is my Lady, Jenevier. Empress, this is Terral Gavane—High Elder of the Scroll Society, Master Wizard of the First Order, and one of the very first Sheol dwellers.”
Jenevier bowed in her Dragon manner. “Namaste, Mr. Gavane. My name is Jenevier Oles—”
“Yeah.” The tiny man snorted sardonically. “I know who you are. What, with a splashy entrance like the one you made, even water-dwellers have heard about you by now.”
“But I didn’t make—”
“Prancing around on the podium for all to see,” Gavane said, in a high-pitched, mocking tone. “Hi, I’m a human. I think I’m special. Everybody fight over me. Bah! What nonsense.”
Jenevier quickly clamped her hand over her mouth, but the giggles pushed through her fingers anyway. The Imp raised a single brow and eyed her curiously.
“You are a strange one, to be sure,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing really.” She plopped back down on the bench and sighed. “I was just thinking… in a different
time, in a much different place, I would have named you Brother and sought your counsel.” She glanced at the Imp and smiled. “We would have been friends. At least, I would have liked to have been. Alas, those days are now past.”
“Is that so?” Terral Gavane quietly studied Jenevier for a moment longer. “Tell me, human girl. Why are you picking fights with Goblins? Why did you even come down here?”
“That wasn’t my intent—fighting. But, they were rude to Ardune. No… beyond rude. Those two…” Jenevier glanced back toward the hallway the two Globins had disappeared down. “…they are vile creatures—hideous to their core.” She once again met the Imp’s steady gaze. “I couldn’t let their despicable actions slide… such isn’t in me.”
“I see,” Gavane mumbled. “Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. You popped out of nowhere only yesterday. But you’ll learn… soon enough. Now, if you wish to steer clear of any more trouble, you best leave this place.” He glanced toward Ardune. “A Drowl should have known better than to lead his Lady into the bowels of the arena.”
“Don’t look at me.” Ardune held up his hands. “This one goes where she pleases. I tag along to ensure her safety… back her play.”
“Back her play, eh?” The Imp snorted. “And just what play were you planning on making, little lady? Did you come down here intent on stirring up a ruckus?”
“Quite the opposite,” Jenevier said. “I came down here to finish all this nonsense. I have no intention of waiting around like a proper Lady.”
“Yes…” Gavane mused. “Being proper wouldn’t suit you, would it?”
Jenevier shrugged her shoulders. “Not in Sheol, no. If there is an established etiquette in this place, I have yet to see it.”
“The Troll brothers have dropped out,” Ardune said.
The Imp narrowed his gaze. “That doesn’t sound like Raegar and Guntra to me.”
“She talked them out of fighting.” Ardune motioned toward Jenevier. “But that’s pretty much where her luck ran out. These other creatures haven’t been nearly as receptive.”
“So…” The Imp eyed her again. “You’re trying to halt the tournament, are you?”
“No. I’m trying to bring it to an end. Not just halt it.”
“I see… Well, you may somehow get these bottom dwellers to stop fighting over you.” Gavane glanced at the passing Banshees. “But you’ll not divert the Angel so easily.”
“I’m not worried about Ahriman,” Jenevier said. “He’s the one who put this idea in my head in the first place. He said, they had agreed to give me the opportunity to redeem myself back from the victor.” She shrugged her shoulders again. “I thought… Heck, I’ll just go down there and be the victor. Kill two birds with one stone, ya know?”
“…Yes.” Gavane continued eyeing her over. “Alas, Ahriman isn’t the Angel I was speaking of.”
A rather large Gargoyle approached from the darkened end of the hallway and sat down on the same bench as her, nearly tipping Jenevier’s end up in the process. She looked his way, but didn’t speak.
“Why are you in this place, tiny one?” the giant creature whispered, not making eye contact with her. “Do you need assistance?” He looked then from the Drowl to the Imp. “Come with me. I will see you safely back outside.”
Jenevier furrowed her brow, but didn’t answer him. He held his hand out, palm up, toward her.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “Come with me now.”
Jenevier sent Ardune a questioning look. The Drowl smiled with only one corner of his mouth.
“If you tell him to go, he will.” The Gargoyle glanced at Ardune, then quickly over to her. “They listen to Ladies.”
At that, Jenevier had to smile. “What’s your name?”
The Gargoyle looked troubled, then turned his head.
“They call him Hunter,” Ardune said. “He is a formidable one, to be sure. Most creatures steer clear of him.”
“Although…” the Imp mused. “I am surprised by the fact he is shy…”
“My thoughts match yours, Gavane,” Ardune said. “I had no idea.”
“I’m not shy,” the Gargoyle snapped, yet did not turn back to face them. “If the human girl needed help, I only wished her to know I was here to assist her. I heard those Goblins up there in the arena—Jester and Glendor. They mean her grievous harm. I just came down to check on her. That’s all.”
“What are you saying?” The Imp moved closer. “Are you offering to be her fighter?”
When Hunter didn’t answer, Jenevier lightly touched his arm.
“Gratitude, Brother,” she said softly. “I am honored. But… I can take care of myself. Well, most times.”
“How can you even say something like that?” He turned to look her in the eye. “You either don’t understand what’s going on here, or you’re simply blind to the danger. Come with me. Please.”
Jenevier gently took his still proffered hand. “I didn’t realize I would meet someone in Sheol with such a noble soul.”
When she smiled again, Hunter blushed a deep crimson.
“You offer me kindness I have not earned,” she softly said. “I am in awe of you, my friend. Alas, if I find myself in a tight spot, Ardune has vowed to come to my aid.”
The Gargoyle then looked to the smiling Drowl. “You mean… a Drowl is joining the tournament?”
“I have placed my name in the box, yes,” Ardune said. “I will fight for my Lady.”
“Your… Lady?”
Ardune gave the Gargoyle a gracious nod. “She has honored me thusly, yes.”
“I see…” Hunter swallowed hard, lightly squeezing Jenevier’s hand. “Do the rest of them know?” He glanced at Gavane. “Have you informed the others, concerning Ardune?”
“I have not,” the Imp said.
Hunter sort of snorted. “Of course you haven’t. Too curious to see how it might play out, huh, Imp?” He slowly stood then, reluctantly releasing her tiny hand. “Very well, then… I shall keep my silence as well. Withdraw my name from the roster, old man.”
“You’re going to sit this one out?” Gavane asked.
“I am no fool.” Hunter looked back to Jenevier. “Good luck to you, human girl. I will be in the stands… rooting for you.”
And with that, he left.
“How very curious,” she mumbled. “I didn’t even try to talk him out of it.”
“You didn’t have to,” Gavane said, glancing at Ardune before winking. “Now, tell me.” He moved closer to Jenevier. “How is it you plan on redeeming yourself? Hmm?”
“I plan on winning the tournament.”
“And how’s that? Hmm? With this enchanting bobble upon your hand?” He reached for her fingers while still talking.
“No,” she said. “With this blade upon my back.”
“A single blade won’t do,” Gavane said, his attention still upon her giant ruby ring.
“I carry two.”
“Yes… is that so?” Gavane said absently.
“Yes, it is.” Jenevier tried to politely withdraw her hand.
“Where did you get such a treasure?” Gavane asked. “I know your Dragon didn’t gift you with it… greedy monsters,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.
“Dragons are not greedy. They are loyal and beautiful and perfect.” She jerked her hand free. “How did you even know about Nilakanta?”
“Ahh, Nilakanta, is it?” Gavane smiled. “The biggest hoarder of them all.” He ignored Jenevier’s growls. “And, I knew you were Master of Dragons because you greeted me thusly.”
“I am not their Master. I am their Guardian.”
“Not so with the old blue one, eh?” Gavane smiled knowingly. “Your fire burns hotter with him, does it not?”
“He is my Dragon. We are bonded.”
“Yes, and I bet nothing made him happier… a sparkling, shiny little thing like you riding about upon his back.”
“We are mutually enamored with each other. Nilakanta cannot possibly
love me more than I love him.”
“Oh, to be sure, Guardian… to be sure.” Gavane narrowed his gaze. “So… did he gift you with this ruby?”
“No.” She glanced down at the ring. “Father did… a long time ago. It was my angelic mask. Michael withdrew it… formed it thusly and fastened it to my wrist.”
“Michael? Hmpft.” Terral Gavane stood up straight then, huffing as he adjusted his cloak. “Well now, sparkly little human girl, with friends the likes of the ones you name so easily, how is it you find yourself here?”
“That damn soul-eater,” she grumbled.
“Ah, yes. The one who gave you the idea to redeem yourself.” Gavane chuckled. “Rely not upon that Prisalyn strapped across your back, tiny Dragon-girl. Seek your redemption via the ruby adorning your dainty little hand.”
Jenevier furrowed her brow. “How can a ring redeem me?”
“By releasing the power within.”
The Imp turned to go.
“Wait,” Jenevier said. “How am I supposed to do that?”
Gavane didn’t answer, just hobbled away… mumbling to himself and occasionally chuckling.
Jenevier rolled her eyes and then looked to Ardune. “So what’s the deal with you and the Gargoyle?”
“We both hail from ancient races.” He casually shrugged his shoulders. “We go way back.”
“Don’t be vague with me, Drowl. This is my soul we’re talking about here. I shouldn’t like to play games with it.”
“I would never play games with you, my Lady. Remember when I told you… that a Drowl had to prove himself worthy of a Lady? That a Drowl was not only her caretaker, but her protector as well?”
Jenevier only nodded.
Ardune smiled. “I know how to fight, my Lady. I would never have been given charge over one of King Thacius’s daughters, were that not the case.”
“So then… you’ve fought with the Gargoyle before? With Hunter?”
Ardune shook his head. “No, my Lady. I didn’t have to. No Drowl has to prove their might thusly. Not among the ancient races.”
Jenevier tilted her head to the side. “Sooo… you’re handy in a scrap, huh?”
He smiled softly. “I can be, yes.”