Arms of the Ocean Ch. 08

"We will need to learn more about her," Zeerae said in a tone suggesting that the end of existence would only slow her down.

"Yes," Vyla agreed.

With Yis gone, Vyla's attention flitted back to the fight. The flashes, screeches and blasts of magic had done well to drown out their conversation, now they were proving to be obnoxious and loud.

"Ooh and a sonic wave sweeps Marbis to his back!" the Announcer roared and the crowd roared with her. "Looks like he hit his head on the way down, will that be— it is! Match over, the reds have it with Sir Dalch as the last to stand! Let's hear it for him!"

If possible, the cheers from the onlookers seemed to intensify. It didn't help that the stone walls of this place carried sound so well. Vyla sank her head to the table and folded her arms over the top. She then closed off her ears completely and let time tick by.

Barely a minute had passed before Vyla felt Zeerae nudging her to attention again.

"Ronav is to be on next, if you wish to watch," she said.

Vyla glared at Zeerae for disturbing her, then sank back down. "No."

"Are you sure? They're pitting him against a Neynas, it should be amusing."

"I said no."

"Then I'll cheer doubly on your behalf." Zeerae rose and soon vanished between the tables.

Vyla watched her fellow Siren leave. Seeing the back of Zeerae brought her the faintest tinge of comfort. Then she went back to resting. A woman who had had too much to drink, by the view of any onlooker.

===

The tunnel in which Ronav had been forced to wait for several minutes lacked any torches. So long in the darkness meant that he squinted when emerging into the brightly-lit arena. The tops of the walls were lined with faces peering down at him. With quivering nerves, Ronav adjusted his grip on the wooden pole that he had chosen and looked towards the other side of the arena where his opponent was entering.

A Neynas. Perfect. And, from the lack of weapons, one who planned to use his magic to the fullest. Already the man had his hands raised, palms pointed outwards with the glassy suncrests in each poised to work spells.

Throughout his life, Ronav had had few dealings with magic. There had been the occasional trip to the healer for a bad cut or a broken bone but that was it. Never the full experience of a Neynas' abilities and never in a combat situation.

Like a lamb to the slaughter the Sirens might say. Ronav immediately forced them from his mind. Besides, they'd probably use some ocean creature for that analogy.

A minnow in a shark's maw, Ronav thought. I shall be the shark.

"We've been yearning today for a Taigin in the ring, haven't we my guests?!" the announcer bellowed.

A roar of ascent echoed overhead. Ronav tried and failed to shut the sounds out but he had nowhere to hide. The Neynas was busy regarding him with empty eyes and the long, thin scar across his forehead wasn't very comforting. Especially not the way it stood out so grimly from the man's fair skin and hair.

"And look who's pitted against him! Let us welcome Aewab of Rumbling Pass and Ronav of Ripples on the Water!" The announcer fell silent for a moment as another wave of cheering flowed down from the arena walls.

"A classic pairing," she cried when an opening in the volume appeared. "Magic against muscle. Brains against brawn. Spells against sinew. Cleverness— bah, you get the picture. Let the fight begin!"

For a moment Ronav faltered, resenting the announcer's implication that he was stupid. That implication was proven truer when he felt a tug upon his weapon and, before he had a chance to react, it pulled itself from his grip and flew towards the Neynas.

"Oho, disarmed already! C'mon, you awake down there?!" the announcer shouted amid the crowd's laughter.

Ronav again tried to shut the world out as he felt his skin flushing red. He looked across the sand to where Aewab waited with one hand levitating the stick around.

At a loss for what else to do, Ronav took a step forwards. Aewab flicked his hand and the stick lashed out, prodding Ronav painfully in the stomach before retreating out of reach again.

What am I supposed to do? Ronav wondered. He had a good fifteen meters of sand to cross before reaching his opponent and he doubted that mere levitation would be the only obstacle.

Go over there and rip his head off, he imagined Vyla saying. Or would you rather these Shaslings continue to taunt you.

Taunt they did. That last blow had earned another surge from the crowd. Ronav snarled through gritted teeth, braced himself and began striding across the sand.

As soon as he took the first step, the stick came swinging in again. He reached to intercept the weapon but it darted smoothly to the side and slapped him on the elbow before speeding away to strike someplace else.

Aewab moved the stick against Ronav like a swarm of bees stinging a bear that had intruded upon their hive. Blow after blow to the gaps in his armor. Twisting, turning, darting in and out and occasionally delivering a slap to the back of the head.

"Gah!" Ronav cried. The strikes weren't especially painful but they were so numerous and fast that he felt himself slowly succumbing to the barrage. In a fit of desperation he lashed out with both hands and, by some twist luck or fate, caught the stick between his forearms.

Ronav hesitated for a moment, stunned at what he had managed to accomplish. The weapon jerked around like a floundering fish. Without pausing to think, he took it in both hands and snapped it over his knee with a roar.

Only once Ronav looked at the two pieces of wood did he realize his error. Two sticks for this Neynas to get his magic into. He looked at Aewab who stood poised in anticipation of his opponent's next move.

Then let him have them, Ronav thought. He shifted both sticks to his right hand, drew back and hurled them across the arena with all his strength.

The broken bits of wood sped towards Aewab who had barely a fraction of a second to dodge out of the way. While the Neynas was distracted, Ronav stomped forwards as he bent over and scooped a handful of sand from the arena floor.

A cloud of yellow grit greeted Aewab when he turned back from evading the projectiles and his hands flew up to shield his eyes.

Ronav dove the last few meters, one hand pulled back and clenched to a fist. He landed in the fading spray of sand and brought his punch up under Aewab's chin. Hard.

"Guh," was all that Aewab managed. His feet left the ground, teeth clacked together as he flew up and backwards, nearly flipping over.

A fwump greeted Ronav's ears when the body of his opponent hit the ground. He realized then that the cavernous room had gone silent with the tension. Seconds later, the announcer's voice cut through.

"Wow! I don't think Aewab will be getting up after that one! A true blow if ever I've seen one!" she paused for the crowd's chatter and whoops to rise and fade. "A lesson to us all, don't catch yourself in hand to hand with a Taigin after you've made it your life's quest to piss him off! Our friend Aewab should count himself lucky that all his limbs are still attached!"

Ronav looked down at the tangled, unconscious body of Aewab and found it floating several feet above the sand. Barely a second later he felt a force grip him and he too began to rise from the arena.

The referee, his hands outstretched with suncrests glowing, carried the two of them upwards and released them upon the stage. There the judge approached Ronav, smiling.

"A bit short but not bad for a couple of virgins to the pit," the judge said as he gave Ronav a firm pat on the shoulder. "Which table's yours?"

"What?" Ronav asked. The adrenaline leftover from his fight still pumped through his body and made it difficult to think.

"Winners' tables eat free for the day."

"Oh." Ronav turned around, squinted across the hall and pointed to where Vyla lay halfway sprawled across the table. "That one there."

"Right, sixteen, isn't it?"

A nod from the announcer.

"We'll get that sorted," the judge continued. "Looks like your friend's been enjoying herself."

"Yeah," said Ronav, his mind elsewhere. "Something like that."

===

A scraping of chair legs and a thump upon the table roused Vyla but she didn't look up to see who had joined her. "How did he do?" she asked.

"A victory. Not that I would call it that," Zeerae replied.

"Mmm?"

"Let us wait till he arrives. How are you managing?"

"Fine," Vyla lied. She lifted her head, faced the other way then lowered it to her arms again.

"My absence hasn't lessened your stubbornness I see. We should leave soon. Get you someplace with water that you can relax in."

Vyla clenched her teeth at those words and the meaning behind them. Not relax as in lay back and put your feet up. The kind of relaxing where she stopped the tension on her shapeshifting muscles and allowed herself to dissolve into a puddle of ooze. It would speed the healing process, true, more so with water to float in, but to enter such a state at the behest of another? "A bed will do."

"You're only hurting yourself."

"I will recover."

"How quickly? The plan is that we fly tomorrow. Will you be able to hold your grip by then or will you plummet to the ground?"

Vyla said nothing but she cursed herself internally. A curse for Zeerae too. Bad enough that she act in charge, worse that she be right. "Very well. If you must insist," Vyla said with a tired sigh.

Another scraping of chair legs shook Vyla back to attention as she was just getting relaxed. She looked up this time, again aware of who had returned.

"Why weren't you watching?" Ronav asked.

Vyla answered his question with an icy stare.

"If you're hurting that bad we should go. Where's Yis?" Ronav looked up and scanned the ceiling.

"She left soon after you were taken away," Zeerae explained. "Don't give me that face, it was her choice. I imagine she will be back soon enough. She seems quite interested in you, for some reason."

"Enough talk," Vyla cut in as she stretched her back. "Let's be quit of this place."

"It's too bad you didn't see me win," said Ronav as he moved around the table and offered his hand to Vyla.

"I'm fine," she hissed and waved his hand away. "Besides, Zeerae tells me that it wasn't much of a win."

"Aewab was a cocky little worm who deserved far worse than you gave," Zeerae explained when Ronav looked at her, his insult visible. "Besides, you let yourself be disarmed in the first few seconds."

"Maybe that was the plan," Ronav said with a smile as he puffed out his chest. "Maybe I wanted him to get overconfident."

Zeerae raised an eyebrow.

"No, you're right." Ronav's shoulders sagged. "Well, that buzz is dead for me. Back to the sewers?"

Vyla grimaced. "I would rather not breath in that stench. Perhaps our newest host might accommodate us?"

Ronav frowned as he looked at Zeerae. "But I thought—"

"What? That I live in that place? And you were so close to dispelling the announcer's slights."

===

The chamber that the outside world entered into looked befitting of any noble's home. Fine, dark timber made the banister of a stairway leading to the second floor, as well as several bits of furniture that looked to serve a more aesthetic purpose than an actual one. A large tapestry on the left wall, adjacent the landing above, depicted the canopy over Shadetree Fold, complete with dots of Chayli in flight.

"You own this place?" Ronav asked, his tone filled with awe.

"The Shasteless do. We share as circumstance demands," Zeerae explained. She moved straight to the second floor, clearly familiar with the houses layout.

"I would have preferred if you'd brought me here to begin with," Vyla said with a faint groan.

The climb to this place, built in the trees atop the northern hill, must have taxed her, Ronav thought. Yet, as with the previous journey, Vyla had refused any help.

"If I'd done that, Tomateless, there'd have been no space for us to enjoy ourselves," Zeerae called from the landing. "Come, allow me to see you settled."

"As if there haven't been enough stairs already," Vyla muttered as she trudged after their host.

Ronav soon found himself alone in the entry chamber. Alone in a place that might be used, on occasion, for the most secret of Siren operations. Surely not, he thought. But now curiosity gripped him and he felt compelled to explore.

The sense of nobility that oozed from the walls didn't wane as Ronav went from room to room. Paintings, tapestries, curios and all manner of superfluous furniture littered the house. A huge, crystal chandelier hung above the mahogany table in the dining room. It alone had to be worth more than the majority of his possessions.

The problem with the house was that it hardly felt 'lived in'. There were no books left open, half read. No glasses with a trickle of wine at the bottom nor plates with a scattering of crumbs that awaited clearing away by the servants. No servants at all, for that matter, though Ronav wasn't surprised by the fact. Even the kitchen seemed devoid of life. A display unused. As though the house hadn't been expecting company.

Ronav stopped by a window in the parlor and peered outside. The view overlooked the northern slope of the hill that the house sat upon. Not many signs of civilization out that way.

The evening gloom was setting in on what had been an unusually clear day. The far north regions of Ka's empire tended to be overcast and gloomy much of the time, a remnant of the dark creatures that had formerly claimed the land as theirs.

"Wandering the house, I see?"

Ronav whirled around to find Zeerae standing in the doorway. "I was... Heh, looking for the armory."

"We don't keep that here," said Zeerae stone-faced.

"What? There really is an armory?" Ronav asked. It had been a joke. Perhaps it was foolish, but it struck him as odd that there would be a cache of Siren weapons in town someplace.

"Of course, though it houses more than mere tools of war," Zeerae explained as she swayed, step by step, into the room. "But, as I said, it is elsewhere. What if we were to find ourselves entertaining a guest who took to wandering and discovered something he shouldn't."

With his back against the window, Ronav couldn't avoid Zeerae as she came dangerously close and traced a finger down his chest. He swallowed. "Uh, what exactly are you... seeking?"

As quickly as she had moved in, Zeerae pulled away again and shrugged. "Company, perhaps, nothing more. Here, sit with me and let us talk." She took a seat on one of the sofas occupying the parlor. Like every other piece of furniture in the house, the aesthetics of these looked as though it would impede upon the functionality.

Ronav confirmed his suspicion when he sat upon the sofa at a corner with Zeerae's. The cushions felt stiff and hardly bent to the contours of his back. Even the fabric felt abrasive on his skin. But they looked elegant and, as far as nobility went, that was all that seemed to matter. "Are you—"

"Why do you suppose Vyla is assisting you?" From Zeerae's tone it was clear that this had turned to an interview rather than an innocent conversation.

Ronav thought back over the past two days and the exhausting, myriad events that had filled them. "She's never really been clear on that."

"Then how can you be sure that she isn't trying to trick you?"

Ronav frowned at the odd question. What did one Siren care if another tried to trick him? "Could I ever be sure?"

Zeerae shook her head.

"Besides, she's had plenty of chances to trap me or kill me or whatever it is she might decide to do," Ronav continued, as much to satisfy his own uncertainties as Zeerae's questions.

"Not necessarily. Sometimes we will entice a Shasling along if we must travel far, then kill them later. Think of it as a way of preserving the meat on a journey," Zeerae explained as carefree as one would share an old recipe.

Ronav blinked. "Did you really need to tell me that?"

Zeerae answered with a razor-toothed smile.

Silence crept over them for several seconds before Ronav sought to break it. "What do you really want here?" he asked. "I doubt there's anything I can tell you which you haven't considered or realized already."

"True." Zeerae nodded and her aqua hair bobbed. She then leaned over and placed a hand on Ronav's knee. "I just wanted to know you better without your companion around."

"Uh... huh," was all Ronav managed as he stared at the Siren's hand. He kept expecting claws or knives to grow from her fingers.

Nothing like that happened. Zeerae instead rippled and flowed as a ribbon of water to sit next to him upon the sofa. Through the liquid motion her hand never left his knee. "Do you know what I went through as I followed the two of you here?" she asked.

Ronav didn't answer. He could have sworn that, during the Siren's movement, the cut of her shirt had come a little lower. While not as substantial as Vyla, Zeerae still managed to produce a supple valley upon her chest.

"It was a taxing journey, I hope you realize," Zeerae chattered on, pretending to be oblivious to how close she now sat. "The mud, the cold, the tediousness and not a thing to eat the entire time. And do you know what I got to listen to throughout? The sounds of your friend and the lady tumbling around for hours."

"Where were you?" The perplexity of it allowed Ronav to totally overlook the other elements of Zeerae's words.

"Beneath the carriage, of course. Hooked into the wood, camouflaged and spread out like a stingray. A perfect vantage point to hear every moan and feel every thump." Zeerae hung her head and her hand at last came away. "I wouldn't say I was jealous or some such nonsense. But it's hard to listen to something like that for so long and not want to join in, wouldn't you agree?"

Ronav could empathize with that story perfectly. He gave a momentary nod before stopping himself as he realized what the Siren was doing. Ronav looked at her and held up a hand. "Wait, Vyla and I..."

Zeerae cocked her head when Ronav didn't finish. "You what?" she asked innocently.

In truth, Ronav didn't know how to end that sentence either. Vyla and I have a thing? What thing? That one, drawn-out session yesterday?

"You know, Ronav, monogamy is a concept that barely appears in Siren society. Only a few, strange, individuals follow it, mostly because they're the lowest of the low and have no other choice."

"But—"

"Besides," Zeerae continued mercilessly as she cupped Ronav's chin in her delicate hands. "Vyla has already betrayed any trust of single partners. Twice, I might add. And since seeing you in the arena, I've been intrigued to try and taste what she did."

"I... thought you said my win didn't count for much," Ronav managed as his resolve steadily waned. The fluid way in which Zeerae moved, her breathy voice, the curve of her figure, the exotic, aqua hair and the softer-than-Vyla advances. Everything came together to bring a spark in Ronav's heart and a rise in his pants.

"It didn't." Zeerae's voice snapped him back to attention. "But it's nice to see my prey squabbling before the meal."

Ronav laughed nervously. "Meal in the metaphorical sense, right?"

Zeerae looked away as she thought for a moment. "Things might go that direction, yes."

As soon as Zeerae finished speaking she pressed in against Ronav's body and pushed her lips to his. What few inhibitions he had left melted away at that moment. This was an exotic and attractive creature that wanted him. Besides, she was right about Vyla. And the journey here had been rather taxing.