After the Second Fall Pt. 03.2

"It seems our host thought we might be lonely this morning. How many more are there?"

"Two more sergeants and their men, plus a man in a fancy hat, so about thirty in all."

The referenced hat was quite fancy indeed and included a white plume to go with the owner's white mustache. The man might have looked distinguished if it hadn't been for the overwhelming arrogance he exuded in his stance and expression; the effect was instead comical, a caricature of a great military leader from before the Second Fall.

'Have you spoken with him?' asked Rachel silently.

Pip shook his head. 'I wanted you to sleep.'

Rachel expressed her gratitude with a smile. "Let's get some food -- I'm sure you haven't eaten yet, either.

Later, after consuming the last of their salted meat and packing up their belongings, they sat together again to watch the ocean. "I want you to stay behind me when they come."

"Don't be silly, Pip. You'll stay behind me, far enough that they can't easily encircle us both."

"Rachel..." he started, but she shook her head.

"We discussed this last night: now is not the time to be chivalrous."

"I feel like you did most of the discussing," Pip replied, for which he received an elbow to his ribs.

"You know I'm right. If they want us to die, there's nothing we can do to prevent that outcome. They have essentially a limitless supply of soldiers, vehicles, and whatever secret weapons they're producing. They'll bring their Adams, too. Probably the best they have left."

"You're sure?" Rachel nodded. "So focus on them first?"

"Not until you have to. If you kill more of their fighters, it's not going to delay their plans for long -- maybe a few years. Who cares if they lose a few more Arena matches."

"Rach, I don't know if I can kill more than thirty armed soldiers."

She shook her head. "There are thousands of troops in the city, Pip. Even if you could kill all of the ones here, it would still be like trying to stop the waves.

"Fatina will come, either to clarify terms or to gloat. She will have bodyguards, but if you can get to her, she should be your first target. The man you saw yesterday, Hancho, should be second, if he's here. After that, focus on the other leaders."

"Like him?" Pip asked, inclining his head toward the man with the hat.

"He's a peacock, just for show." Rachel turned to face Pip, looking up at him seriously. "When the procession comes out, it should be obvious who is in charge. If not, look for the ones that the people gravitate toward when the fighting starts."

Pip nodded and pulled Rachel back to his chest, eyes returning to the water.

Several bells later the pair were looking back toward the city. "Procession was a good word."

Rachel nodded, surprised herself at the number of people and fighters making their way down the beach: there were close to a hundred people and what had to be most of their remaining Arenagods. "If it goes badly, you'll definitely have a chance to make a lasting impression."

Pip snorted, then leaned down to give her a final hug before retreating, to the consternation of their escorts. Refusing to be dissuaded by shouted threats and brandished weapons, Pip made his way further away from the water, through the tall grass at the edge of the beach and over the crest of a small ridge where sand met rock, until he could just see Rachel. The peacock sent nearly all of the soldiers after Pip, but because of the distance and natural obstructions, messages had to be sent back and forth by runner. As for Rachel, she was left with the great man himself and four guards.

It was half a bell before the vanguard reached the point where they would choose to meet either Rachel or Pip; instead of deciding, or splitting their forces, they stopped. The city leaders arrived a quarter bell later, but it wasn't until late afternoon that a decision was finally made and the procession started down the beach once again.

"You honor me," Rachel said with a polite bow, addressing Fatina and several others as they stepped forward.

"You are a worthy adversary," Hancho said from his place beside Fatina.

"I would rather be a worthy ally."

"Enough," snapped Fatina, causing several sets of eyes among the delegation to widen in surprise. "The Supreme Council of Gracia has rejected Rieckenburg's proposal. You are to be escorted to our border immediately. Should you return, we will notify the Arena Council immediately."

Rachel smiled sadly. "Administrator, I am disappointed to hear of your decision; I am even more disappointed to find that you are once again playing word games. You should speak truthfully and call the escort what it is: an execution squad."

Fatina's eyes flared and her face reddened, her affected mask momentarily failing.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a distinguished looking bald man with a bushy white beard.

"Lies, Rancoln," Fatina said tersely without turning to him. "This woman is manipulative, as you have already experienced. She lies like the rest of the vermin from Outside."

"Then I would hear her lies for myself," he retorted, "in order to learn how to know them in the future."

"This issue is voted upon and closed," she answered, still refusing to face the man that was obviously a political rival.

"Excuse me, Administrators," Rachel interrupted, looking first at this Rancoln and then Hancho, "would you be kind enough to inform me of Rieckenburg's proposal? I am afraid that we have not been back to our city in more than a year and news travels slowly."

Fatina surged forward, seizing Rachel's arm, only to stop abruptly.

"It would be best, Administrator Fatina, if you release me and step away," Rachel said coldly. Fatina glared hatred up at the younger woman while soldiers leveled their pikes and closed in. With a final sneer the older woman hobbled back several steps, revealing Rachel's naked knife, now tipped with blood. Still staring at Fatina, Rachel wiped the blade on her pant leg and slid it smoothly back into its sheath.

In spite of a dozen weapons within a moment's striking distance, she turned back to the two men whom she had addressed. "Gentlemen, if you will allow me to be direct: I believe that the proposal made to Administrator Fatina last night was not appropriately relayed. I take full responsibility for this communication error, and if you will allow it, I will attempt to make the situation right."

The two men looked at each other, then around at their peers.

"I would like to hear the proposal," said a woman from the side.

"As would I," added a second.

Hancho looked at Rachel and nodded, then indicated that the soldiers should lower their weapons.

"Outrageous!" Fatina stammered. "I will not have some--"

"Enough!" snapped Hancho in response, his tone startling the irate woman into silence. "Administrator Fatina, if you cannot be silent, then you will be removed." He turned to look at Rachel, his eyes hard.

As succinctly as possible, Rachel explained the purpose behind the trek to Marbelo and Gracia, focusing on Pip's need for better self-understanding; entirely absent were references to soldiers, weapons, or war of any kind. "Our proposal was to remain in the city so that Piper could assist in training your Arenagods."

"Preposterous!" shouted a man from the back of the delegation, but Hancho held up his hand.

"Why would you do this? To turn upon ones homecity is unforgivable."

Rachel shook her head. "Not when the world is at stake.

"Rieckenburg is not interested in conquest." Rachel looked pointedly at Fatina. "Not anymore -- not since the appointment of the new Executive Director. All of the challenges extended since her ascension have been with a larger goal in mind: cooperation between cities rather than competition. Administrator Fatina finds this difficult to believe, but I swear this is the case, on my honor and on my life.

"However, it is my understanding that negotiations between our cities are at an impasse. Rieckenburg is committed to its goal of unification; unfortunately, there are those within the city -- we call them Expansionists -- that believe accomplishing this goal will justify whatever actions are necessary." Rachel paused, doing her best to read the audience; even the soldiers within listening distance seemed to be dreading her next words.

"As Gracia is diminished, the Expansionists' power will grow... in Rieckenburg, and in Northumberland, and in Marbello... until the entire world screams out for Gracia's fall. Gracia cannot stand alone -- it is not possible, regardless of what plans you have."

Several meaningful looks were shared between the various administrative and military leaders. After giving them time to consider what she was saying -- and implying -- Rachel resumed in a much softer tone. "Piper and I would also see unification, were it possible, but not at the cost of a city and its people. He knows now that his repeated victories in the Arena have pushed the world to the precipice of a Third Fall by tipping the balance of power too far to one side. The only way to address this is to correct the balance.

"Northumberland has already merged with Rieckenburg -- there is no fundamental difference between the two now. In Marbello, Piper sought to impregnate one of their Eves -- one of their female Arenagods."

"Ridiculous!" shouted the skeptic in the back, and this time his voice was joined by several others.

"Is this really true?" Rancoln asked in disbelief. "Female Arenagods exist?"

"Yes, although their only true function is to serve as live incubators." Voices surged to another crescendo, a mixture of excitement, intrigue, and disgust. "Rieckenburg is pushing for improvements, but like Gracia, Marbello has a proud culture and change will be slow. Piper hoped that by siring a child it would speed the change, and also lesson Rieckenburg's dominance over them."

"And because we have no females to impregnate, Piper would train our Arenagods," surmised Rancoln.

"In time, they would become as skilled as him?" Hancho asked, his scowl less intense.

"That is unlikely," Rachel responded. "Piper possesses unique physical gifts that cannot be duplicated through training." Seeing the general's expression fell, Rachel quickly continued, "But he can help them improve tremendously. The last fighter from Rieckenburg, Mars, did not have Piper's talent, but was trained directly by Piper. I understand that he fought your most talented Arenagod to a draw -- would it not be an advantage to have similarly trained fighters?"

Hancho considered for a moment, then shook his head. "It is to no effect if they will only fight him later in the Arena."

"My apologies to you all," Rachel said with a bow, "it seems I have been unclear once again. Regardless of your decision, Piper will never again fight in the Arena."

"On your honor?" asked a surprised Hancho, but Rachel shook her head.

"On his honor."

"Lies!" shouted Fatina, pushing to the fore once again. "She pulls you in with sweet words and honeyed promises, and will draw a blade across our throats as soon as we close our eyes. I demand satisfaction! I will not allow this witch to derail plans a hundred years in the making."

Rachel looked back, refusing to capitulate. "What does this mean?" she asked to the crowd without breaking eye contact.

"She has issued you a personal challenge," answered Rancoln. "She will choose a soldier -- or an Arenagod -- to represent her--"

"No!" interjected Fatina fiercely. "I will not have her bring in her own mutant. I will fight her myself."

"But Administrator Fatina..." started a large man while setting a hand on her shoulder, but the woman shook it off immediately.

"No more talking. I will kill this witch myself," she finished, standing to her full height.

"It seems," Rancoln said to nobody and everybody, "that there is more to Administrator Fatina that it would appear."

Rachel turned to him. "The rules?"

"Arena rules, of course," he said, almost puzzled.

Nodding her acceptance, Rachel unstrapped her knife and handed it to Hancho. "A gift, regardless of the outcome," she offered with a bow, then turned back to Fatina, who was deftly removing her clothing, accompanied by shocked gasps from the crowd. Rachel prepared herself as well, accompanied by a second wave of whispered comments.

In a hundred beats, the scene was fully prepared, with a ring of observers around the two women. Rachel's lighter skin was already turning red in reaction to the cold wind while her dark hair whipped wildly around her face. Her hard, lean muscles, months in the making , stood out as she prepared herself, adopting the starting pose of the kata she performed daily.

Half a dozen paces distant, Fatina's darker skin and graying hair was also being savaged by the ocean breeze, but she showed no sign of being affected. Despite being at least ten years Rachel's senior and a full hand shorter, her body showed obvious strength in surprisingly large shoulders and thighs.

Hancho looked to the two women to see that they were ready. "Begin," he stated flatly, but his eyes belied his indifference to the pending conflict.

Fatina was immediately aggressive, moving forward rapidly in the sand to engage her larger opponent. Rachel was able to manage an initial stalemate using the movements of her kata to deflect repeated strikes, but her inexperience with fighting soon became obvious as Fatina grappled her and took them both to the sand. Being heavier, Rachel was able to thwart most of Fatina's attacks, but it was clear that the older woman was taking control as the pair wrestled and rolled, eventually breaking through the ring of observers and toward the water.

Fatina finally managed to wrap her arm around Rachel's neck, grabbing the wrist with her other hand to put tremendous leverage on the younger woman. First gasping and then failing to breathe entirely, Rachel's struggling became even more frantic, driving them into the waves together.

High up on the beach, surrounded by soldiers whose attention was focused on the fight, Pip clamped down on time, surreptitiously palming his stiletto.