He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the ring. Instead of being up front, they were in their own little box, about halfway up. Nalah had a clear view of everything, including the ring, including Beylor, and including the Pale Lady, who was taking in the scene before her, and even at this distance the woman’s magic was fearsome.
The announcer stepped up, and the crowd lit up. Nalah put her hand over the gold cuff and began working on it, fighting the Pale Lady’s power beating at her shields and concentrating everything in her to figure out how to unwind this unfamiliar innate magic. Damned if they were going to use her to control Esh, and she’d make sure they regretted putting a hand on her.
*
Rorth lunged for him, but Esh shifted his body and had the half orc hitting the ground hard, the resounding thud echoing through the building. Rorth groaned in pain.
The match had lasted a while, both of them able to take a beating. They were worse for wear, but Rorth’s face was now as distorted and misshapen as any orc’s, and his skin had a decidedly green hue.
The half orc was an excellent opponent, but the way he moved told Esh he was used to handling weapons and defending himself against a large number of opponents, not cage fighting and not fighting one on one. Nalah was correct in what she saw in him.
The crowd’s roar was beginning to penetrate his brain, and a quick glance showed bets being paid out.
Esh moved away from Rorth, waiting to see if his opponent was out or would try to rise one last time.
A few boos came from the crowd when it became apparent he wasn’t going to go after the half orc when he was down, and a chant began, started from the upper boxes. “Kill him. Kill him!”
It spread through the crowd. Kill him, kill him, kill him! Fucking cowards, so willing to watch death but they’d piss themselves if they ever entered the ring themselves. He took yet another step back, to louder boos and louder chanting.
Finally, Beylor rose, lifting his hands for quiet. “Cage King, listen to the crowd. End the match.”
“The match is ended. I won.”
Beylor’s eyes narrowed, and beside him, Tiffany began to twine her hands together, her face uncertain as she looked up to Beylor. “I said kill him.”
The end game was beginning, and now he’d get through it the way he always did – he’d fight, and the gods take pity on anyone in his way. “I won’t kill him.”
Chapter Sixteen
‡
“I won’t kill him,” Esh repeated. Raising his voice, he looked directly at Beylor. “I’m not your dog, so like fuck I’ll kill on your command.”
Beylor’s rat face had a smug smile Esh couldn’t wait to pummel off him. “You think you have a choice? Kill or die.”
“Oh, I’ll kill, don’t doubt that.” Esh enjoyed the loss of assurance from Beylor’s face. The little piggy might pretend he was king of all, but he knew the truth, and that moment proved it.
Rorth rose behind him, the half orc shaking blows and soil from his body, and the movement had the smug look returning to Beylor’s face. “You handful against my army? I don’t know why, Cage King, but I always thought once you came here and saw the truth, saw what I would give you, you’d be practical and join me. I’m disappointed this isn’t happening.”
Nalah. He had to get to Nalah. He could waste his time hoping she got to safety, but she’d proven time and again she wouldn’t run if he was in danger. It was left to him, to fight, to kill. The fire in him started its journey, the small flame that always flickered in his gut sparking, a slow inferno tripping through his limbs, burning doubt and fear and all emotions, burning everything save the one truth in his world – Nalah would live, and everything that tried to hurt her would die.
Rorth started laughing, the sound from not-an-enemy, therefore the reason for it not a concern. Beylor, though, frowned and said, “Disgusting orc, it was a mistake to bring you into the Tour.”
“For more reasons than you can know, you pathetic piece of shit,” Rorth replied in his earthquake voice. He looked up to the long, flat expanse of ceiling. In quick succession Beylor as well as those in the stands copied the movement, and even Esh’s followed in automatic response.
A crack bloomed in the center of the ceiling, chunks falling in, once in a slow pulse, then a repeat of the action again and again, the cracks now with audible accompaniment. From the corners of his eyes Esh took in the actions of those surrounding him, Beylor’s men shifting with confused jerks, and the sounds of movement and vocal mutterings from the stands.
An explosion blew the center of the roof open. Screams from the stands, shuffling became the thumps of bodies colliding, and something…someone…fell from the sky, landing in the middle of the ring, legs bent and back curled to absorb the shock, in one hand the largest, most impressive sword he’d ever seen, in the other a double-bladed axe three times normal size, the metal sharp enough to decimate stone with its edges.