Chapter Two #2
A woman in a world of men.
But Athdara forced herself to stop thinking of the only other woman in the group of dregs because, one by one, men were being pitted against one another and, one by one, more winners of the bouts were joining her.
There were sixteen at this point, and as the sun began to wane over Lake Cocytus, the winners were pitted against one another by drawing lots.
Athdara, thankfully, drew the son of a farmer who was used to wrestling animals and was slow to move, so one kick to his privates and then a blow to the head sent him down.
But her next opponent wasn’t so easy.
Eight winners went down to four. Athdara found herself up against a knight who, though highly trained, was used to armor and weapons.
Hand-to-hand combat, to him, was more about throwing punches and trying to down an opponent with one blow.
Athdara took a glancing blow to her face, but when she fell, she scampered between the man’s legs and jumped on his back.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held on tightly and squeezed until he passed out.
Four winners were down to two. With two slots, there were no more battles.
The remaining two, including Athdara, had earned their spot.
As the sun went down, the muddy, mashed field reeked of blood and disappointment.
Men were allowed to remain for the night, but everyone who wasn’t part of Blackchurch had to be gone by dawn.
There was even a meal waiting for them in the area where they’d been sleeping, consisting of bread and a barley stew with carrots.
It wasn’t much, but it was plentiful, and the beaten dregs wolfed it down.
Except for Athdara.
Cutty had informed her that she’d be moving into the village proper, where the Blackchurch recruits were housed.
Trainers and other elite had homes in the village itself, but the recruits had the cloister that had once belonged to the old church.
It was simply a dormitory, a roof over their head and a better bed than what they had now, and Athdara was grateful.
She wasn’t entirely sure she could spend one more night on that rocky, wet ground.
The area where the dregs had been sleeping was lit up with torches as they returned for the night, and servants began dishing out the stew and bread to the hungry. Athdara returned to her pallet, and was bent over to collect her meager possessions when a pair of big feet came into view.
She looked up, and Marina came into her line of sight.
“You did well,” she said. “I’ve been watching.”
Athdara wasn’t entirely sure if she shouldn’t be on the defensive, considering her victory had ended Marina’s dreams. “Are you well?” she asked. Then she hesitated. “It was nothing personal, Marina. I hope you understand that. I am sorry that they put us against one another.”
Marina grinned, displaying that big smile—now with a newly missing tooth. “You needn’t worry,” she said. “I will try again. They say I can in a year’s time, so I will try again.”
Athdara felt some relief, though she also felt some guilt for the missing tooth that she had surely caused, because the gap hadn’t been there earlier. “I hope you do,” she said. “This time, you will succeed.”
“Of course I will.”
“What will you do now?”
Marina shrugged. “I have a little money,” she said.
“I will go to The Black Cock, and I will eat and drink and forget about sleeping on the ground for the past few weeks. Mayhap I shall ask for a job now that I am no longer a dreg. Come with me, Athdara. Let me congratulate you properly for your victories this day.”
Athdara was hesitant. “I am not certain that I should leave,” she said. “I was told that they would move me to the cloister where the other recruits are, but I do not know when.”
“As long as we return before they close the Eastmoor gatehouse, I say that you should come and enjoy yourself.”
“I don’t know…”
“It is the least you can do for me, since you cost me my chance to train.”
Athdara could see that she didn’t have much choice. Gazing into the big woman’s dark eyes, she relented.
“Very well,” she said. “But just for a little while.”
Marina laughed loudly and grasped Athdara around the back of the neck, practically dragging her toward the Eastmoor gate, the main gate that guarded the road in and out of the Blackchurch lands.
A stone wall, several feet high and topped with razor-sharp iron spikes, lined the nearly two-mile perimeter.
Unless one wanted to be cut to shreds, one used the gatehouses, which were heavily manned.
The gatehouses remained open until midnight before closing until sunrise.
Athdara allowed Marina to drag her toward the gatehouse that led to a road that would take them into the small village of Exebridge about a mile away.
There, a host of questionable villagers and an even more questionable tavern called The Black Cock awaited.
If Athdara could survive a day like this, she could survive The Black Cock with a woman who could probably drink her under the table.
She hoped.