Page 41 of The Sun God's Prize
That need is so great that I almost miss Kasha’s return, one of our fighters a survivor of the first skirmish.She hugs me, panting and sweating, blood on her face, but she’s unharmed.
“Made it,” she says to Brem.
“Well done.”Our leader nods to her with a grim smile.“Get food and drink and take rest while you can.”
Kasha nods, her silver front teeth flashing, before she hurries away to be hugged by the others.
“Death spared us this round,” Brem says.
Morinthi and Hloraine are in the next set of bouts, though this fight is smaller, the pair joining another four against six chosen by some grand design I’m not part of, and that Brem doesn’t explain to me.Not that it matters.I can tell right away that our two are far superior and take the field easily, emerging victorious with two others, four survivors of twelve allowed to leave the sand.
The cleanup is repeated, faster than before, with only a handful of bodies to remove, and then another twelve are called up.Each time I watch our women fight, and each time they persevere, returning to us victorious.
I spot Romouth in the stands at the front, off to one side, with some of the other Domemasterreandmistresse, though the massive seating box at the front of the arena is still empty, the sun throne devoid of its god.It’s not until the first full round of fighting is done, the bulk of all stables come together to cull them down, that trumpets herald the arrival of the ruler.
My position presents me with a good view of him, though again from a distance, his simple white robe trimmed in gold nothing special, the young woman and young man with him again.He sits in the center throne, dark hair and skin matching the pair who sit flanking him, beneath him in height, gold climbing from all three seats like rays of the sun reaching for the heavens.
“Now the fighting really starts,” Brem says.“We’ll be called out soon.”
Because the fire forbid the Sun God waste his time on the death of a hundred and fifty warriors.
I’m going to be sick.
But I have to choke back my disgust.This is necessary.I haven’t come this far to fail.And the women I fight beside deserve my best, even if I’m already done and I haven’t even begun.
When Brem is called up to fight, she’s with three others, and I’m suddenly terrified for her.I needn’t be, of course.She’s magnificent, as ever, and when the fight is done, she stands alone on the sand, the crowd cheering her acrobatics and the death she’s delivered.
I’m next, I’m sure of it, though there’s a long pause when the announcer calls out the bout.I hear three names I don’t know, from places I’ve never been to my knowledge, before that hesitation is followed by, “Facing Remalla, Princes of Heald, War Queen’s daughter!”
My feet are moving without my consent, and I cross the sand to meet the other three fighters who are looking at me and each other in confusion.The crowd has gone quiet, or is it just me?My ears feel muffled, thick, tension in my head building.And then the watchers roar, cresting in their screams at me, seeing the crown on my head, I suppose, the one etched on my chest.
I barely hear the order to fight, but I don’t need it, spotting my far opponent’s move long before he makes it.He falls under my right sword, the woman on my left going down with that blade in her throat.I’ve forgotten that I need to make a show of it and finally attempt it, offering up a flip as I double-blade my way through the final fighter in my way, landing on the sand with my swords dripping.
Their screaming deafens me as much as their silence did, and I salute them, blood droplets arching from the tips of my swords when I do.I’m glad I got to fight in the Dome of Women, to experience this before I came here, to bear the weight that is their judgement, their praise, because I’ve already adapted.
As I take a moment, like Brem did, to accept their shrieking approval, I know that Vivenne would be so disappointed by this showy display I’ve adopted.She would hate the arena, the spectacle of it, school me to stay on target.
My mother… well, I’d already established what my mother would think, especially seeing me like this, crowned and flaunting it.
Somewhere, my mother ischeering.
I return to my stable, who are screaming themselves, hugging me, taking my blades to clean them for me, while other fighters take center sand and kill one another to the roaring of the crowd.Brem makes me drink, and I do, though lightly, and I refuse food, watching the battles instead.
There are four more bouts before Morinthi is called again, and while it’s a close thing, she wins her round, limping when she returns to us.
“I’m pulling you out,” Brem says, grim and shaking her head at the deep cut in Morinthi’s leg.
“I can still fight,” she wails.“I won’t dishonor us.”
“You did us great honor,” Brem says, squeezing her shoulder.“Dying would be worse.”
I agree and nod, kissing her to calm her before Hloraine hugs her, the others murmuring their agreement.Morinthi limps off with one of the young women to be doctored and watch the rest of the fighting from safety.
“I didn’t know that was an option,” I told Brem, though didn’t Onu suggest such?
“We don’t have to die,” she says with a hint of pride in her voice.“Wounding is a reason to exit honorably.”
And now I’m relieved, because it means that more of my found family might survive after all.Unless I’ve given them just enough skills to fight to the death.
