Chapter 38
Calm proved hard to come by. Aemere settled for staring at the sky. The crowds were larger than at the earlier Tournament bouts, which was to be expected. They were quieter though, the events on Vorin casting a pall.
She'd been to Volthus before. Its streets had always seemed so vibrant, full of life and trade, commerce being the lifeblood of the city. The upper city, anyway.
The city of Volthus – the only one on the main island of the same name – was built around, and on, a plateau overlooking the natural port. The upper city had been built on the plateau, a hundred foot high, with the lower city sprawling around the plateau's base.
As the lower city continued to spread, the upper city quickly ran out of space and became the more exclusive, home to the rich. Her family still had a place there she could have stayed in, but that felt wrong.
The upper city had a more artistic design which she’d found aesthetically pleasing when younger. While stone was the most common building material, the upper city favoured marble, or more colourful tones of stone, whereas the lower city tended towards a utilitarian grey.
The arena lay at the base of the plateau, where it sloped down so gradually that a grand staircase had been laid – which became treacherous when wet. The spectacle remained impressive, which would be the intended effect.
These days the city’s magnificence was overshadowed in her mind by the Society’s presence, which she hadn’t understood when young. Volthus’ monarchy had been gone long before her days, but while she’d found that odd when young, she’d never questioned the situation. It was what it was.
She had no reason to suspect the Society in any way responsible for the monarchy’s demise, but didn’t think an organisation whose goal was profit could really rule. Few natives were old enough to remember when it had been otherwise.
The past days had been a dull blur. She'd gone through the motions of her training, sticking to the routine she'd developed while Augni had been with her out of fear that changing it would hasten her forgetting him. She wasn't sure how much use it had been, or how much focus she’d be able to give the fight.
The horn sounded for them to prepare. She faced her opponent, resisting the impulse to charge in and hack him to bits.
While Einari didn't seem to recognise her, she wasn't sure how well she hid the hate in her eyes. He should take it as preparation for the fight.
She couldn't afford to let her temper control her. Fuel, yes, but not control. He was possibly as good as her, and had glyphs. This wouldn't be an easy fight, so she needed to focus. If only to ensure she didn’t kill him. It might happen by accident, of course. No, she couldn't think like that. She wasn't like him.
The horn sounded, and Einari wasted no time charging. She caught a couple of blows on her shield in quick succession. They felt like they'd done damage. His sword was supposed to be sharper than normal. Judging by the blows, her shield could be in tatters after a few minutes.
She didn't give him the chance, ducking gracefully from the next thrust and knocking it wide. He danced away before she could use the gap, then in again, allowing her no time to act. He wanted control.
His next attack was a feint, in preparation for trying to knock her shield wide with his. She read the move, pulling her shield at the last moment to throw him off balance. He recovered quickly, keeping his momentum as he ran past, his shield shooting around for cover.
It went too high, and her sword swept at his boots. They were armoured, so she did little damage, but it threw off his momentum, sending him into a roll. Despite the bulky armour he found his feet before she reached him, even if he didn't turn fast enough. She slashed at the back of the neck, narrowly scraping off his helm.
He retreated, and she kept the pressure on with a flurry of strikes. None went too far, keeping him reacting as she sought a gap.
His defence was too good, too practiced. He didn't need to consciously focus.
She was the better fighter. She could see that now his moves were more open. The sword – and whatever glyph his armour had – gave him an edge, but that led to complacency. Certain skills he hadn't bothered to learn to any real degree. That was where she’d focus.
No matter how much she despised them, glyphs gave him an edge. They gave him time to recover his bearings, even under her barrage. He defended better, while pretending to be dazed. She let him think she hadn't seen it, maintaining her routine and waiting for his move.
He thrust at an apparent flaw in the pattern. She spun, swatting his sword towards the ground as she twisted and slammed her elbow into his head.
He wobbled, recovering before her next stroke. He batted it aside. And the next. As he held a defensive pattern his eyes bored into her, gaining a hint of recognition. She realised her mistake. She'd used the same move in Culvik.
Rage flared in his eyes. He ignored her next thrust, taking it on his armour as he slashed at her. His sword slammed into her side with a force that would leave a dent. The sharpness of that blade could have sliced through with a little more power. His eyes said it may soon do so.
The tempest only floundered as she sacrificed her shield, blocking at an angle which sheared its bottom edge half off, catching his sword. She took advantage of the momentary distraction, reaching over his shield to slam the hilt of her sword on his helm. It connected with a solid thud. He shoved her back with his shield.
She only went a few steps, her shield still caught on his sword. Yanking herself back in she spun her sword and leapt at his shield again. Yelling, she stabbed at his face. He spotted it and ducked away, the sword scraping down his chest as he spun her around.
Pulling his sword free, Einari shoved her away, following behind to regain the offensive.
Prepared for the toss, Aemere regained her balance quickly and closed in before he was ready. Knocking his sword and shield wide she grappled him, holding him in place. He didn't have that much on her in build, and not enough of an edge in strength to easily break free. While they were like this his sword was useless.
It was a temporary respite, while she tried goading him into something rash. His eyes burned into her as their helms scraped together.
'I know you,' he growled. The bile on his breath stung her eyes.
'And I know you,' she said.
'You work for the villain, Thjorn.'
She didn't correct him. 'You're the scum who executes surrendering men.'
Roaring, he tried pushing her. They moved a few steps, but he couldn’t shake her loose.
She continued goading him. 'And you work for the corrupting regime which has robbed this Tournament, and society, of its honour.'
'You think that anarchy before the Society had honour?' he screamed. Spinning savagely, he broke loose. His sword landed a barrage on the remains of her shield, more chips spraying over her. 'If it's so honourless, why take part?'
She spun away from his attack, twisting back to slash at his sword hand. 'I'm showing skill wins over glyphs.'
His grip held firm, despite a grunt of pain. His shield slammed her. Recovering, she was a second too late spotting his sword as he spun a complete circuit. It hit her heels with enough force to cut through her boots if she hadn't accepted the fall. She slammed back to the ground.
'No it doesn't,' said Einari. His sword slammed into hers, cutting chips out and sending it flying. He stepped over her before she could roll away, one foot either side to hold her there, and raised his sword. He didn’t care she was unarmed, and had no intention of holding back.
She grabbed the small blade sheathed at her waist, holding his gaze and calculating how to avoid the thrust.
The glyphs on his sword and armour flared and sparked, and he wobbled, as though overwhelmed by a sudden weight.
Aemere didn't hesitate. With his arms high a gap was revealed below his steel vest. She stabbed at the opening. The blade went in, fuelled by her rage as she thought of Augni.
Einari tried to bring his sword down, but his fingers
lost their strength, and their grip on the blade. He fell after it, and she pushed him aside before he landed on her.
There was no applause. Hardly surprising. He'd been fighting to kill. While deaths happened, trying to kill your opponent was frowned upon.
Discarding the shredded remnants of her shield, Aemere stumbled away. She didn't want to look at him.
Only as she approached the stands did she realise the hushed whisperings weren’t to do with the fight, but with the glyphs.
Einari's hadn't been a freak accident. All glyphs nearby had been affected. A quiet panic overtook the crowd. Apart from a familiar figure she spotted leaving.
She tried to catch Thjorn before he left the arena, but the corridors around it had too many doorways and tunnels. She chose the wrong one, and when she caught sight of him again he was ascending the steps towards the upper city.
Unlikely to catch up to him quickly from where she was, she nevertheless started to follow. Calling his name could only cause trouble if it was recognised, and she doubted he’d wait for her to catch up. But she had no intention of letting him leave the island until she got answers.