The Creators Ch. 11

"Her Holiness's temple is unguarded," Sara whispered. "Only the sedated Breytans are there to protect it."

"That's the opposite of where we need to go!"

"If you try to contact the Ofanians, my sisters will see you, and they will use lethal force," Sara replied. "Diamond is the only one they will not harm. They will kill Brandon himself if he tries to interfere."

"I didn't sanction that, just so you know," Lucilla said in my mind.

"And if they see Diamond leave Branon's temple?" I asked Sara.

"Everyone has orders to detain Diamond when she is seen."

"I did sanction that, though. I didn't want Angela fucking everything up."

"Will they try to take her if she has an Ofanian escort?" I asked Sara.

"Yes."

"But that's suicide!"

"Our lives were never our own, Master. Not since we were children," Sara replied simply.

"I've lost sympathy. Any word on Angela?" Lucilla asked.

"She still hasn't come out of Brandon's temple."

"Maybe it's better if she stays in there."

"What about Corruption?"

"Corruption won't matter if Freydis takes that shot. Right now, we need to save Willowbud's life, not her soul. Ask Sara who knows about her little coup."

"Me and my captains," Sara inclined her head to the safehouse.

"That means everyone thinks I'm still in charge. You need to get over here and cut me loose."

FREYDIS

"Shit," I whispered. A stone canopy had formed over Willowbud's box. I had the shot, but I'd hesitated, and now I was paying for it. I put away my bow, leapt from the tower I'd been perched on, and slid down the shingled roof. I swore as my calf scraped against a roofing nail, then I grunted as I collided into a chimney. Traversing urban terrain was simple for a valkyrie, but I couldn't take flight and risk exposing myself. With the stone canopy covering the box, my options had become incredibly limited. I couldn't just stand on the rooftops anymore. If I wanted a shot, I'd have to go into the stadium itself. I looked at the street below, where ticket scalpers shouted their prices, whores solicited their assets, and drug dealers stood in corners. I glanced up, and saw the top of the stadium. It was adorned with gargoyles of various breeds, one of which was of Astrid herself. From a distance, I would be hard to distinguish from the stone effigies. Getting up there would be problematic, however. The street was wide and heavily populated, and it would take quite a distraction to—a great horn blasted from within the stadium. The roar that swelled after it seemed to have a wind of its own, and it swept the citizenry below into a fervor. Betting windows slammed shut, people crowded and pressed to the entry ways, others stood on shoulders to peer through the small windows the stadium lent to the street. I leapt from the rooftop, unfurled my wings, and glided across. Not a single voice raised the alarm. I slowly climbed between the statues, moving like molasses, and I painstakingly drew my bow. The window of Willowbud's box didn't lend much. Sometimes a shoulder, sometimes a leg, sometimes a hand. I couldn't tell whose limbs they were, but I could see something, and I knew I would have my chance. She would come to the window eventually. I would wait.

TERA

Astrid grinned beside me as the gate to our dugout opened. I'd never heard the Pit this loud before. The whole stadium trembled with the teaming masses; their unified roar as physical as it was audible. Drums boomed, horns blared, and the stands sung their harmony of sixty-thousand voices, its pitch higher and more excited than it had ever been. Massive astral sunbeams illuminated the sands, creating an ethereal glow over the stadium that dulled the starry sky above. Astrid stepped reverently through the threshold, and the great beast exalted the appearance of its favorite daughter. She beamed at all of them, her face turned upward, a look of utter bliss painted across it. Her blue eyes glinted in the astral light, swimming with the emotions that swelled her chest. She reached back, tore her sword from its scabbard, and raised it high. The crowd was her orchestra, she was the conductor, and her blade was the baton that directed them. They rose in a tremendous crescendo, and her grin broadened.

FREYDIS

My head was full of sound, each rising decibel seeming to beat against my skull. It was terrible, but she seemed to endure it well. Astrid waved the symbol of our homeland over her head like a cheap trophy, presenting it to the underserving wretches of this horrific metropolis. Willowbud had made her do it, obviously. Astrid would never willingly besmirch the pride of our people, nor step on the sands of this place, nor kill for the pleasure of others. Not willingly. Astrid held the great honor of accepting dishonor for a higher cause, but... why was Astrid smiling so? Why was she raising her arms to bask in the favor of these debased revelers? Was is it an act? But valkyries could not deceive, valkyries could not hide their nature, so why was Astrid smiling when she was scarred with ink, pierced profanely, and costumed like a whore before the entire world? Because Astrid wasn't enduring the torments of a corrupted god. Astrid was reveling in them. Astrid was not stoically accepting her dishonor. Astrid had thrown her honor away with both hands. Astrid hadn't become the protector of the Earth Former. Astrid had become her whore. Astrid had betrayed us all, and it tore me to pieces.

ASTRID

The crowd quieted, but the tension built. Tera moved behind me, ready to get into Slingshot formation, while across the arena, the reigning champion sat cross-legged on the sand. Skull appeared to be an unassuming human in his mid-forties. He was bald, short, and kind of fat, but I could see the mastery in him; I could see it in the way his shoulders were set, the way his elbows flared slightly, and the way his heels pressed subtly into the sand. He had a longsword laid across his lap with one hand resting casually on the hilt. With the other hand, he drew a prayer to the Life Giver in the sand, then got to his feet with a simple flexing of his legs. He let his sword trail tip-first through the sand, and in the quiet, I could hear the steel scraping softly against the grains. Then he brought it upright with lightning swiftness, and the ring of it sung metallically against the walls.

"Finally," I smiled back at Tera, "someone worth our time."

Skull and I moved toward each other, our stances changing in reaction to the subtle changes of the other. Most battles were won before steel even clashed, and this battle was no different. Skull matched my positioning motion for motion, not revealing a single weakness in each technique we changed to. We neared each other as Tera circled around to flank him, and I watched his foot carefully, waiting for the toes to point to her and betray his counterattack. They never did. Skull let the succubus get around him until she was standing twenty feet behind him. She stopped, I stopped, and he stopped. The net was closed. I had speed, reach and strength, not to mention flight, and Tera had an open attack from behind. Why had he let it happen? I exchanged a look with Tera, and in the brief moment I broke eye contact, Skull was on me. I barely blocked the attack that would have taken my head off, and stumbled backward to avoid the swipe that would have split my knee. The crowd gasped, shocked to see me put on the defensive, then they cheered the name 'Skull.' I growled, ducked a swipe, twirled for a leg sweep, then rolled away as another unexpected strike nearly impaled me. The crowd cheered louder, the name 'Skull' on their lips. The man himself didn't seem to care that he'd gained the favor of the thing I loved. His face was a mask of neutrality, but his body was a whirlwind. He moved inhumanly fast, his speed matching my own, his fluidity even better. He changed techniques with ease, anticipated my attacks like I'd telegraphed them, and counterattacked with such graceful ferocity that I was caught between desperately defending myself, and studying his novel footwork.

"Where did you train?" I managed to ask through an exchange of blows. He didn't even acknowledge my question. He swung overhand, and I blocked it, he slid his blade down mine, and I caught it on the crossguard, he ducked my stab, moved his edge along my hilt, and almost cut my fingers off before I rapidly disengaged. The crowd roared again, and I felt the anger swell in me. They were supposed to be mine! Tera made a moved to strike at Skull's supposedly open flank, but I saw the way his shoulder rotated beneath his shirt, and I had to lunge forward to keep his attention divided. Skull sidestepped my attack, blindly parried Tera, and jumped over my sword sweep, flipping behind the succubus and forcing her to tumble forward, one of her knifes left in the dust. She came out of her roll awkwardly, and I noticed the purple blood dribbling from a long, but shallow cut down her back.

TERA

Fuck, that hurt. Not since the incident with the centaurs had I felt the touch of a blade on these sands. But because Astrid and I 'had this match in the fucking bag,' we didn't have Brandon here to heal any mortal wounds. We were on our own, and I was incredibly outmatched. Even Astrid was having a hard time with Skull.

"Why don't you just fly at him?" I asked as I got into Slingshot position behind Astrid.

"He's too fast," Astrid said, rapidly shifting through stances as Skull did the same, the two of them circling each other once again. "If I commit to a flighted charge, he'll cut me to pieces."

"So, no Slingshot?" I said.

"No, we'll do Needle," Astrid replied. I disengaged from the Slingshot position, and stepped into a wider radius than Astrid and Skull were in, making sure I stayed within striking distance of Astrid in case Skull tried to isolate me. Astrid and Skull neared each other, doing a dance of footwork, their eyes locked. I slowly moved to the side, waiting for Astrid to make her move. Once she engaged, I'd strike the flank, anticipating Skull to suddenly disengage from Astrid to finish me. I'd bluff the charge, throw my dagger, then Astrid would deliver the killing blow when Skull was stuck between committing and blocking. He was placing himself in prime position for the move, which made me warry. Once again, he exposed an entire side of himself to me, seemingly committed to Astrid. Astrid circled out to make his shoulders rotate toward her, and away from me. I slowly stepped forward, watching his back foot carefully. One shift of the heel, and I'd bail on the attack. Astrid screamed her war cry, and hurled herself at Skull. He kept his feet planted, blocked her overhead strike, ducked her following slice, then counterattacked with a stab. The motion left him extended, his shoulders high in their cuffs, his back angled above his hips. His heel stayed planted; he was wide open. I rushed him, saw his foot shift, rolled back, pivoted, threw my dagger, and my hand was gone. The wind caressed my stump of an arm, and I stared disbelievingly at the bloodless, smooth cut of meat. Then there was a flash of white, an impact, and I was thrown backward by the wind of Astrid's wings just as Skull's blade sliced the place my neck at been. I hit the ground, tumbled again, and staggered to the wall. Then the blood came, and with it, the pain. Then the horror.

WILLOWBUD

The crowd erupted as Tera struggled away, a trail of purple blood left behind her in the sand. Her hand was kicked away so that Astrid could plant her foot and deliver a series of strikes that Skull caught easily on his blade.

"Good Mother!" Sister Julia gasped beside me. She rushed to the window, exposing herself to the crowd, but they hardly cared. Death Kiss had been bested, and Angel was on the defensive. It was something they'd never seen before, and they hinged on every sword strike with bated breath, waiting to explode. I needed to help. Night Eyes would've sat back and let Astrid and Tera face their end, because Night Eyes would never deny the masses their due, but I couldn't just let Astrid and Tera die. I could be subtle. I just needed to create a small crest for one of Skull's feet to trip on, and Astrid would take full and immediate advantage. My foot touched the stone floor, and I felt the rock beneath it, traveling uninterrupted to the arena before me. Sand. Fucking sand. I couldn't get a clear picture of the combatants, and I wouldn't dare make my move with the risk of inadvertently tripping Astrid. So, subtlety wasn't an option. Time to shut down the match.

"Astrid would never forgive you if you intervened," Sister Julia said as if she was reading my mind. Her hands were planted on the windowsill, her arms straightened in tension, her posture conveying rapt attention. "You were right, Night Eyes," I heard her say in an excited whisper, "this is fun."

JULIA

My knuckles were white, my breath was short, my eyes were wide and glued to the arena. Every sing of metal, every shifting stance, every dodge and parry was a feast to behold. I understood now why this place was the heart of Drastin. This was life at its most desperate, at its brightest, at its closest to death. Any second could bring the killing blow, and so every second was an eternity. I understood why so many gladiators gave thanks to the Holy Mother. In such struggle, in such rage, it made sense for the survivors to think they'd been blessed, but this was the devil's show, and it was captivating.

I was rooting for Astrid to die. I knew that if Astrid died on these sands, if she was cut to pieces before the crowd she so adored, that it would be the final straw. Night Eyes would die with Astrid. I was so close, and the closer I got, the stronger I felt the hunger. It was raging within me, cajoling my darkness forward, making me need it more with every second I was denied. It was like Corruption was still inside me, pulling my strings, trying desperately to make me stop my conquest. If Willowbud cast Corruption out, I would never again have a taste. I was ashamed at how close the options weighed in my mind, but I stayed the course. It was my holy purpose. Diamond, Lucilla, God.

Tera tried to make herself small against the wall. She looked pleadingly up at me, but I just shook my head. I can't help you, Tera. If it's your life or Willowbud's, it's no choice at all. The Holy Mother has given me this purpose, I am sorry. You're a succubus whore, a twisted spawn of Satan, and I hope you die screaming. I turned my attention back to the action, trying to pretend the thought hadn't occurred. Astrid ducked a swipe, laid her sword across her back to block the downward strike, then twisted as she brought her arms around, throwing Skull's sword-arm to the side, and leaving the bald, unassuming man wide open. She thrusted, and he fell backward, his body parallel to the ground at the knees, one hand planted in the sand to keep him level. Astrid brought her sword across, and Skull pushed off with his plant hand, spun in the air, and landed out of range of her backhanded strike. The crowd cheered, and Astrid's brow deepened. Her steely eyes were locked onto Skull, not an ounce of fear in them. It was disappointing; I wanted to see her terror.

LUCILLA

The closet door burst open, and Justina's slender silhouette appeared. Sara's more curvaceous form slid behind her, and between the two of them, they managed to saw through the coil of ropes that held me fast. My arms and legs were like jelly when they were finally free, filling with feeling as the blood rushed warmly into them. I barely found the strength to get to my feet, and punch Sara in face. In my weakened state, the punch was hardly an aggressive graze, and in her enslaved state, she only thought it was a sexy little game. She giggled, got on her knees, and presented her other cheek with a hopeful smile. I knocked the bitch out.

"We could've used her," Justina scowled at the splayed elf.

"Doubtful. She told you everything she knew, and she'd be no use as a slave," I said as I shook the pain of my hand. I was getting good at punching people.

"What now?"

"I go to the Pit, and stop Freydis."

"And me?"

"Stay with the Breytans," I replied. "They're all drugged up to their eyeballs, but you'll be safe with them." I took a few stumbling steps forward before I was confident with my footing. I made to run, but stopped, and turned around. "Thank you, Justina," I said to her. "I'm sorry I've been such a bitch to you."

"You were just being yourself," Justina shrugged with a smile. I offered her one in return, then sprinted away.

ASTRID

Step right, pivot left, jump, feign the stab, block the slice, duck the jab, parry the strike, dodge left, bluff right, swing left, feet forward, blade down, blade up, duck, jump, and roll away.

"Shit," I breathed. The crowd roared my retreat, and Skull advanced slowly. There was no flaw in his technique, not a single chink in his armor. Sweat stung in my eyes and wetted my limbs, my muscles were on fire, but my mind was steady. I watched him position himself, square his shoulders, and ready his blade. His face was a mask of impassivity, not a single drop of sweat glistening from his shiny pate. I had reach, strength and flight, but he had conditioning. If this was going to be a fight of attrition, I would lose. I planted my foot in the sand, digging my toes down, resting my weight on the balls of my feet. Skull advanced methodically, matching the stance changes I offered, calling all the bluffs and anticipating every angle. His positioning mirrored mine perfectly, each technique countering the one I offered. He came into my kill range, and I struck. He blocked the swipe that would've decapitated him, let the blades glide down each other, then stepped right into my radius. We were open to each other for just a moment, then we both attacked, grinding our blades to break free and strike the exposed body. I was stronger. I had him. My blade pushed his backward, the steel shearing and screeching, forcing his arm outward, leaving him hopelessly exposed. I just had to get my edge off his, and I'd cut him in half before he had a chance to right himself. He suddenly disengaged, rolled left, and blocked the downward strike I delivered mid-roll. It was an impossible move. Then he countered with a sudden shot upward, launching himself from a squat and flinging my sword-hand skyward. I was wide open, and I flapped backward as the point of his weapon sung beneath my breasts. The wind of my wings buffeted him, and he made himself thin against the force, the point of his blade acting as a break for the driving medium. The crowd erupted in applause at our performance, the cheers for both names sounding clearly in the night.

We circled each other again, the crowd growing tensely silent, sixty-thousand breaths held in as many chests. We stepped in time like dancers, then moved together. He lunged for a stab, and I sidestepped him, bluffing a parry and risking his blade at my ribs to deliver an overhand. His weapon stayed right where it was, but he moved around it like a wheel about an axis. My sword struck the sand where'd he'd been, but his sword stayed, and I grunted as I felt his twisting blade dig into my leather armor. I summersaulted away, feeling hot wetness under my left arm, and when I landed, there was crimson splattered against my pristine white bodice. The crowd gasped again, having never seen my blood before, and the cheer for 'Skull' grew louder still. I set myself, and winced. I was hobbled, and I couldn't conceal it. Skull rounded on my left side, not letting me put my right shoulder first, making sure I had to face him squarely. He jabbed, and I blocked it, then he swiped, and I stumbled, then he sliced, and I rolled away. He came at me again. Stab, stab, slice. I barely blocked his attacks before I was forced backward again. Slice, stab, cut. I grunted, dropped, and flapped backward, buffeting him with my wings again. I'd taken the first two strikes on my crossguard, but the third, I'd taken to my thigh. Pink muscle shown clearly beneath cloven flesh, then the blood began to run. The crowd grew louder as Skull approached, and I retreated, not able to match his stances anymore, but limping backward. Across the arena, Tera was clutching her stump of a hand, looking hopelessly at me. When Skull killed me, she'd be next. If the man knew his victory was imminent, he didn't show it. His face stayed as dead as his moniker as he advanced. No grandstanding, nor showmanship, nor passion; he would kill me with the same emotionless efficiency as he'd fought me, and I didn't doubt that afterward, he would stand as still as a stone before the adulation of his triumph. What meant everything to me, seemed to mean nothing to him.