by Ivy Cross
“And with that!” Gellis trills. “Let the challenge commence!”
I say a silent prayer for Regar to be so inept that he trips and skews himself on his own spear, but my hopes are quickly dashed.
Regar twirls his long spear deftly and stalks toward Dekkar. With each step, Dekkar draws back until he’s almost right up against the surrounding spectators.
At least he knows not to walk right into Regar’s spear… I guess that’s something.
“Nowhere to run,” Regar taunts. He pauses a moment, clearly waiting for Dekkar to react in some way, but all Dekkar does is wobble in place.
Regar shrugs, slides in confidently, and thrusts his spear at Dekkar. The motion is fluid and graceful, but it doesn’t look like Regar is trying to go for a kill shot—it looks like he’s toying with his prey like a cruel cat with an injured bird.
Still, the spear’s tip slashes across Dekkar’s shoulder with a spray of bright red blood that seems to float in the harsh sunlight. Dekkar spins and staggers back, finally coming down hard on his hands and knees just inches in front of me.
“Dekkar!” His name is a hopeless scream on my lips. I start to run to him, shelter him with my body. It would just mean that both of us would die, but that would be better than watching this… and then have to live through whatever Regar has planned for me and the others.
The muscles in my legs twitch, just moments from flinging me on top of Dekkar. But something catches me and hold’s me in place—something in Dekkar’s eyes. No, not just his eyes, his whole expression has changed. Gone is the vacant, half-drunk look and thousand-mile stare. There’s life there again. And strength.
Dekkar smiles up at me.
He gives me a lingering, loaded stare, then climbs back to his feet. When he turns to face Regar, he is still swaying a little, but I understand something as though he just spoke the words to me.
I don’t know how, but he’s faking how bad his injuries are.
Dekkar hefts his spear and moves in the direction of Regar, his legs still seemingly unsteady beneath him.
Regar’s harsh, booming laugh echoes through the crowd. “It would have been easier on you if you had just stayed on the ground. I would have put you out of your misery… eventually.” He backs away slowly, drawing Dekkar farther into the center of the circle.
When he’s satisfied with Dekkar’s position, Regar flashes forward and brings his spear down like a club straight at Dekkar’s unguarded face.
This time, there is no stumbling or sluggish movement. Dekkar sidesteps the attack with as much speed as I’ve ever seen from him, and the blow whiffs past him without a remote chance of connecting.
The surprise on Regar’s face is a beautiful sight to behold. His missed swing sends him bumbling so far past Dekkar, it’s like he still can’t believe what’s happening and isn’t bothering to recover and get back into a position.
Dekkar spins with Regar. His spear lances out and finds the meat of Regar’s upper arm.
It’s no glancing blow.
Regar screams as the spear’s tip drives through his flesh. Dekkar holds him in place for a moment, staring into Regar’s wide white-rimmed eyes, then tears the spear back out of him. Blood spurts like a fountain from the wound, the dry dirt below drinking in every last drop.
“How!?” Regar’s voice is shrill, and he almost slips in the pool of blood beneath him.
“How?” Dekkar repeats, his voice no longer slurred and dreamy. “How am I not succumbing to the poison you had your Calji lackey drive into me? Is that what you are referring to?” Dekkar’s voice is strong and carries to the whole crowd.
Regar stares at Dekkar and then the crowd, his head swinging back and forth like the pendulum of a clock.
“Your brother’s poison coursed through my veins only days ago,” Dekkar says, pressing forward and moving Regar back a step at a time. “The same lailae berry poison you just had pumped into me so you could win this challenge without a real fight… I guess you brothers were even more alike than it seemed.”
Dekkar feigns a thrust with his spear, and Regar trips over his own feet attempting to scurry back.
“My Talia saved me with the healing muds from the banks of one of our streams but, as you well know, lailae berry poison is stubborn, and I had to continue fighting it by chewing vella root—which was still in my body when your coward guard poisoned me.”
Regar doesn’t wait for Dekkar to make another move. He backpedals as far as the ring of warriors will allow, then turns his pleading eyes back on several of his subjects. “Seize him! His lies go too far! I will not stand for a challenge that has been sullied in such a way.”
No one moves to his aid, not even the rowdy warriors who were catcalling at the start of the battle.
Regar’s desperate eyes move to Gellis. “Surely, this cannot stand. We must call this challenge to an end. I demand it!”
Gellis’s milky gaze slides over and past Regar like the old man doesn’t see or hear anyone standing there in front of him. He folds his arms across his chest, and the message is crystal clear.
Regar will not get out of this battle on some bullshit technicality. If he wants out of the ring, he’s going to have to fight Dekkar for real.
Chapter 24 – Dekkar
Regar makes a loud, irritated sound and turns from the crowd. “Fine! I am not afraid of this murdering stripling.” He takes a few wary steps forward, before casting one final glance back toward Gellis. It is clear he is more than afraid of me. He is terrified.
I stride into place in front of Regar. My movements are fluid and sure, but I still have to favor my left side because of the wound inflicted by the Calji weapon. Poison or not, being stabbed through the side is still enough to hinder me from full form.
But it does not matter, judging by Regar’s expression, I could defeat him with a spear dangling from my chest. Fear is a tool, certainly. That notion is pounded into us from childhood. But the emotion has to be harnessed and used to the advantage of the warrior—used right, it can quicken the step and sharpen the eye.
Regar, though, is letting his fear spill over and control him. His movements are frantic, his eyes wide and darting. Fear such as this will lose him the battle… and his life.
He slashes wildly at me with his spear, then whips the weapon out in front of himself, holding it as far back on the shaft as he can to keep his distance.
It only holds me back for a matter of moments.
I step into an opening left by Regar’s sloppy footwork and dart a jab toward the man’s ribs. The blade of my spear grazes across his glistening skin, drawing a bright line of blood but doing no real damage. I mostly want to gauge his reaction and maybe spark some of the fight back into the man. As strange as it may sound, the anger in my breast wants this to be a real fight, not a slaughter—I deserve that much, and so do the warriors in attendance.
Regar drops back from the light blow and moves a hand to his side to examine the wound. His hand comes away red and shaking, and that does little to remove the cast of fear I see in his eyes.
A warrior in the crowd hisses in disapproval, and the sound seems to remind Regar to get his guard back up. Again, he whips his weapon out too far in front of his body. The swing throws him off balance and is simply horrid form, something any trainer would have whipped out of him in his youth… had Regar not been our former leader’s son.
I use Regar’s poor grip to my advantage, bringing the shaft of my spear down hard against Regar’s and knocking it out of his hands. The weapon kicks a plume of dirt and dust into the air as it flies to the feet of the onlooking warriors on the opposite side of the circle.
I shake my head somberly, disappointed to see so little fight in my opponent. I may not like the man, and I may not have agreed with his ways. But, for these last few moments, he is our leader, and the Vanthae people deserved a better showing than this from him. “If you would like to say anything before—” I begin.
“I—I yield!” Regar shrieks
and flings his hands out in front of his face.
Almost as one, all of the warriors gathered around gasp. It sounds like the air of a large bellows being blown out all at once.
The tip of my spear wavers and dips from its position at Regar’s throat, and my mouth falls open just like the rest of the warriors around us.
This simply cannot be.
“I yield!” Regar says again, dropping to his knees to plead before me.
Regar’s words are like a punch to the throat. I search the faces of the warriors around me, finally connecting with the mostly vacant gaze of Gellis. The old man only shakes his head sadly.
Part of me wants to sling my spear to the ground—to hand it over to Regar, even. But, no, there is nothing I can do to salvage this debacle. With his cowardice, Regar has brought us both dishonor. But, most importantly, he brings dishonor to the whole tribe with this display.
For a moment, I search his wide eyes for some clue for how he could have done this. But there is no explanation to be found—only fear. Not even shame shines there.
Sadly, there is nothing to be done now. I raise my spear and drive its tip through the cowering man’s neck. I make the blow as quick and clean as possible, and Regar drops to the dirt with only a last, sullen gurgle.
It is a mercy killing, but I feel soiled by it just the same. I let my spear drop with Regar’s body and turn to the silent warriors around me. For a moment, I only watch them as they watch me. This should be a moment of cheering and celebration, but now it is nothing of the sort.
Even in defeat, Regar has managed to rob me of victory.
“Are you okay?” Talia’s voice breaks the spell, just as she is the first to break the circle and enter the field. Her voice is hushed, and it is clear that she too can sense the somberness of the moment.
“This was meant to be a farce from the start,” I say, matching her hushed tone. “But I could not have imagined something like this. Regar was our leader. The leader of the Vanthae tribe. For him to taint us all with such a showing of cowardice…” I shake my head with disgust. The image of Regar groveling on his knees flashes before my eyes with every blink.
“Hey.” Talia’s warm hands close around my face and turn my eyes toward hers. “You won. This may not have been how you imagined it, but you won.”
I move my hands to hers. The warmth there brings me comfort despite the horror that just unfolded.
“The cost of my victory was much higher than I imagined,” I say. “Regar has brought a shame upon us all that will be hard to dispel. Above all, a Vanthae warrior is expected to face his or her death with grace and bravery—to die in battle is the greatest of honors. What he has done as leader—”
Talia pulls me down to her and stifles my words with her lips. Her kiss is rough and urgent and wet with her sweet flavors. Her passion stirs my manhood and pushes all thought of Regar to the back of my mind.
“Regar isn’t the leader anymore,” she says, her lips still brushing mine. “You are. Don’t worry about what he did—the dishonor he brought on himself. Think only about the kind of man you are, and the kind of leader you are going to be. I see it. Now they need to see it too.”
Her words hit me just as hard as Regar’s pleas did. Only in the opposite way. She is right, the only way to dispel the shame of Regar’s rule is for me to lead my tribe to prosperity—to show them the honorable path and to help them walk it with me. And I will do that with my queen by my side.
I kiss Talia deeply again, relishing her softness against me, then pull away to cast my eyes over the warriors around us.
These are my people—the warriors I have grown and played and fought with my entire life. Now, all their gazes turn toward me. And I can read in those eyes the same emotions that just moments before ran through me—fear, disappointment, disillusionment.
They wait for my words as leader.
It is time for me to do for them what Talia just did for me.
“What you all have just witnessed was nothing short of a tragedy.” I have never been a great orator, but they hang onto my every word in silence. They need this to be explained—to be made better.
“There is no greater dishonor than meeting one’s death with cowardice,” I continue. A few voices offer outraged agreement, but most remain silent. “But cowardice from a leader is an even greater sin. Such a thing taints not only the man himself, but all who follow him—all Vanthae. Or so it would seem…”
I let them think about that for a moment while I walk over to retrieve Regar’s spear from the dirt. I heft the weapon thoughtfully, turning the smooth wooden shaft in my hand, then walk back to the center of the circle.
“Or so it would seem,” I repeat. “At first, I felt the way you all feel now—betrayed and lessened by our former leader’s actions. But I was reminded that this is not the end of the path, but the beginning.” My eyes lock onto Talia. “The cowardice you saw from Regar at his end does not bring us dishonor, his rule did, and I believe the manner of his death was most appropriate. He marked the end of a dishonorable rule with further dishonor… but for himself alone. We are no longer under his shadow, and we will all rise from this as the warriors we know ourselves to be. The Vanthae tribe is reborn!
For a moment, I am greeted by only shocked silence. But, gradually, the warriors around me let themselves be heard. It starts with a few hesitant claps, then the drumming of a few spear shafts against the ground.
But the sound builds—and builds. Until, in only moments, the cheers thunder out like great boulders tumbling down a rocky mountainside. “Vanthae! Vanthae!” is shouted at the tops of every warrior’s voice.
Talia sidles over and wraps one arm around my back. She stares up, her eyes shining with something like pride. “I think that’s a good start, leader.”
I lean down and press my lips to her ear. “To them I am leader.”
“And to me?”
I kneel in the gritty dirt until I have to look up to see into her eyes.
“Grateful.”
Epilogue – Talia
Warm cherry-red light filters through the open window and forms a perfect bright square on the wall beside our bed. Any number of the things coming through that window would have been enough to wake me this morning—the chittering sounds of the flying lizard-like creatures Dekkar calls byrnas, the mouthwatering smell of some kind of smoking meat from one of the nearby cooking pits, or even the slight chill on the breeze that signifies the start of this part of the planet’s wet season.
Any of them could have woken me but none had the chance. Dekkar is far too eager for that.
A deep growl comes from beneath our fur blankets and, less than a second later, my back arches involuntarily again as Dekkar’s skilled tongue flicks across my clit with force and purpose. This is the way he wakes me nearly every morning. He’s almost made a game of seeing how quickly he can make me come and takes great pride in his ability to bring me pleasure.
“Dekkar!” His name comes as a loud moan as he brings me close to the brink. With the hut’s thin walls and open windows, I know our nearby neighbors—and very likely the not so nearby ones—can pretty much hear everything that goes on in here. But the tribe is close and not offended by the displays of love and sex—they view the cries of passion as a joyous and celebratory kind of thing.
And, even if they didn’t, no one’s going to be complaining about the sounds coming from the leader’s bedroom.
Dekkar’s mouth and tongue slow their work, holding me at the edge of orgasm. He relishes the moments before almost as much as I do… although the anticipation is a kind of torture at the same time.
I buck my pussy against him as a not-so-subtle way of saying that’s about as much as I can stand.
He moans deeply, then his tongue lances out and the world around us disappears. I dissolve into him, the pleasure racing up through my core like scalding water poured over ice.
Moments later or days, I can’t tell which, Dekkar stands and tosses the furs
to the side of the bed. His naked body shines with the sweat of his early morning efforts, but his rock-hard cock says the morning activities are just getting started.
“Good morning,” I smile, propping myself on an elbow and giving his magnificent shaft an appreciative stroke.
“With you here, it could not be otherwise, goddess.” His voice is a deep, velvety purr that does not betray the tremor I feel pulse through his body as I continue to work my hand against his manhood.
“I bet you say that to all the ladies.”
Dekkar stiffens. “On my honor as the Vanthae leader, I would never—”
“Earth humor,” I cut in before he can work himself into a lather. “Sorry, it was just some ill-advised Earth humor.”
He grunts and narrows his eyes at me. “Earth humor is not all that funny.”
His words would be more convincing if he could keep the wide grin off of his face.
I give him a little tug in my direction. “Come down here and I’ll show you what else isn’t all that funny.”
He obliges without hesitation, straddling my waist with his thick, powerful legs, then finding my mouth with his and kissing me deeply.
“Did I ever tell you how lucky I was that you found me that day? How thankful I am?” I ask when his lips pull back from mine.
“You have,” he whispers against my neck. “Many times. But that does not make it any truer. The luck of that day flowed only in my direction.”
I smile at his words, then slide my hands down the hot flesh of his back until I reach the swell of his muscular ass. “Speaking of things I’m thankful for…”
My words are cut short by a loud rapping against the hut’s front door.
Dekkar rises from the bed and lets out an exasperated groan. “I will tear the entrails from the person who dares disturb us and use them to decorate the eves of our hut!” He raises his eyebrows and gives me a questioning look.