And there it was, five years of avoidance gone to waste. Here was the offer that Esh knew would be made the moment he’d set foot into the Tour.
It wasn’t the first offer he’d received, but it’d be the hardest to turn down. If he could turn it down. Offers from people like Beylor weren’t meant to be turned down. Otherwise, the people who made them tended to get mad.
The guard next to Beylor looked at Esh with ill-disguised hatred. And there, proof even if he did accept, he’d have someone waiting to end him from the inside. Yeah, this offer was cocked from all sides.
“I can’t think about that right now. Need to concentrate on the Tour.”
“Absolutely,” Beylor agreed. “We’ll talk after. For now, I know my guests want only the best, and they’ve been waiting for the Cage King such a long time.”
The excitement of the fights fell over Nalah, a wave she hadn’t experienced in five years, her one fight the night she’d reconnected with Esh not counting. The rush of adrenaline that was transmitted from the fighters to the crowd, and how the crowd fed on it, in turn hyping up each other. She was almost nauseated, and she caught her hands clenching and unclenching in nervous excitement without her directing them.
As the crowd cheered and the announcers made small announcements until the fighters came forward, Nalah looked around the stands. No magic so far, either in the ring or out of it.
With nothing else to do, Nalah waited. Esh’s fight was next, the last before the mid-day break. Rorth won his first match as did the albino. She hadn’t watched them, and once she heard what the albino had done in his fight, she was grateful she’d missed it.
She was sitting in the front, the space reserved for whoever the fighters wanted. Behind her were the cheap seats. It was above, in the boxes, where Beylor and all the wealthy and powerful watched.
“And now…” came the announcer’s voice, restrained and theatrical excitement in those two words. The crowd quieted, and Esh moved towards the fighting floor, that innate something in him glowing brighter than ever.
The groundswell grew until it included even the highest of the boxes. Yes, Esh was a draw, no doubt about it. His legend rivaled the Tour, and it took little imagination to see Beylor’s preening face over this turn of events.
Esh was dressed as always – no shirt, jeans, boots, and he needed nothing else to incite the noticeable hum of appreciation from the women in the audience. And if that hum brought a smug grin to her face because she knew how good he was with his tongue, well, any woman would agree that was allowed.
Next into the ring came his opponent, a man she hadn’t run across yet. He looked to be human – a statement you could never be positive over – but this man was almost as big as Rorth, both in height and body mass. Like Esh he was shirtless, his chest a landscape of ridges and curved muscle. Take out the palpable excitement for blood, and this could be a photo shoot for some fitness magazine.
He passed by her, and magic tickled the edges of her mind. Not connected to the death magic, but he was innate of some type. It was vaguely familiar, one she was sure she knew but learned long ago amid her studies. Damn, damn, damn, and then there was no time, because the bell rang, and the men circled each other. No weapons, only the damage done with legs and fists and heads.
Fists met body, the accompanying spray of blood reaching the first seats, the onlookers crying out in horrified delight at the feel of the liquid droplets. Flesh absorbing blows, the rippling of skin showing the savage path of pain. The crunch as bone connected to bone, and underneath it all low rumblings of the crowd.
Then a hard echo of magic, clear as a sun flare. The other fighter activated some type of power, and Nalah stood, hoping the magic left a physical change on the man.
Esh struck the fighter hard in the side but frowned, clenching and unclenching his fist as he backed up, rechecking his opponent.
And then Esh on the defense, twisting to avoid a heavy blow to his skull, not moving fast enough and a punch to his chest brought him low, had him rolling away.
After several more turns of Esh doing nothing more than dodging, the crowd around them booed, not here to see the Cage King skulking and avoiding the fight. A kick to his ribs had Esh skittering across the ground.
Every muscle went jittery, and her mouth went dry as parchment. This was bad. She’d seen Esh get hit before, but this was nothing short of being dominated, and Esh’s opponent was out for blood. If she couldn’t help him soon, there was a chance Esh might be brought down.
She’d spent years perfecting her magical shields, but now she tore them down, lay herself bare to any magical power around her. She opened herself in complete abandon to any energy around her, her concentration complete and only on Esh’s opponent. Past the layers, down to the…skin?