Chapter 40
Peony
Peony gasped, surprised and amazed at the arena they flew over. She heard similar sounds from behind her from the others and she didn't need to see to know that Atem was grinning where he stood at the controls of the hover.
When she heard 'arena' she had pictured either a football stadium or maybe something like the Colosseum in Rome. Instead, what spread below her eyes looked like the cross between an amphitheater, a rope course, and a sandbox.
The trees of the area had been cleared, one of the few places that such a thing had been done, but her view to the floor of the arena was obscured by thick, vine like netting that laid across the air in a perfect grid pattern, telling her it was either fake vines or they had been forced to grow in that manner.
From those vines hung more vines that were used to hold up wooden platforms of various lengths, widths, and angles creating a three-dimensional fighting arena that was built over a thick bed of rich, golden sand that had been carefully leveled for today's fight.
She already knew, from the brief rules that Atem had explained to them over the last tenday, that falling to the ground was considered a loss.
The sand was perfectly level so it could easily be determined if someone had landed on it or not.
Since their species was evolved to climb, the climbing aspect of the challenges was heavily emphasized.
There was, hanging in the middle of the arena, a flat, circular area bigger than the others that served as the true 'base' of the fighting arena.
It had already been prepared for the day with lounging cushions, low tables, cones of beverages, and a shaded area built on one end.
Not for Atem. At least, not completely. It was more for Peony and the others – his clan, those meant to be right beside him on this important day.
Surrounding the 3D arena, strung up between the trees, were more platforms. They held individual boxes and arena style seating for the spectators.
They were already full of domini, most of them wearing camocloth or regular, non tech camouflage depending on their personal wealth.
They were cheering and roaring so loud, Peony could hear them even inside the closed hover as they floated above.
Combots were already flying around, getting views of the crowd, the arena, their hover.
On a massive holodisplay, she could see what could only be an announcer as he eagerly informed the waiting crowd that the Dominani had arrived.
They had finished the traditional breakfast feast at the palace together, but that was only something for Atem and his family.
Everyone else was either already celebrating, filling the arena seating, or challenging the Firsts so that there would be opponents for Atem as soon as he entered the arena.
That was what these people came to see, after all.
He wasn't going to be fighting non-stop, of course. There weren’t that many challengers.
So, between bouts, there was scheduled entertainment.
Both for him and those in the seats. Weapon demonstrations that would be like elaborate dances, gymnastic acts, singers, poets – the poets were going to be a big thing apparently.
Poetry was popular on this planet. The humans were warned that they likely wouldn't understand most of it since poets tended to use ancient Domtri more often than not due to its more complex word meanings.
She turned her gaze from the area below back to Atem as he passed the controls to Tilii – the only one of them not wearing traditional garb.
Instead, she was wearing a plain, gray uniform that marked her as working at the arena.
Most domini had the day off to celebrate, but there were still those that had to work the stadium and essential personnel, like healers, who couldn't stop working.
Tilii was going to be tending to Peony and the others – fetching food and the like – as the day wore on.
She would also be parking the hover and leading the others to the arena since Atem wouldn't be walking down.
He smiled at Peony as he stepped back, his grin fierce and excited. He had been looking forward to this day and, unlike her, he had absolutely no concerns about what would happen.
For him, the traditional garb was incredibly simple – though not thoughtless.
He wore only a pair of white shorts, concealing his manhood, which were tight like biker shorts, reaching halfway down his thigh, with only a single stripe of gold flower designs down each side.
The entire back of his body had been painted with a similar color with similar flower designs.
The paint wasn't camo safe and, as such, it caused his entire body to turn the same ivory, off white.
Gold bangles decorated his wrists and upper arms, but otherwise he was nude.
He didn't even have shoes. His hair was left free to fall halfway down his back.
Apparently, it used to be traditional to be completely naked, but that had been stopped for the last few hundred years. To her relief. She definitely didn't need him channeling his inner Ancient Greek to perform nude.
The painting, however, was traditional, to make sure his skin stayed white so that any injury, any blood drawn, would stand out in stark relief.
Atem wouldn't be offered the services of a healer until the sun set and his position was secure.
He had to meet each new challenger with any and all injuries incurred from the previous challengers.
Peony had declared that unfair. He had chuckled and assured her that there was no such thing as 'unfair' in combat.
Well, actually, what he said was, “There's no such thing as dishonor when fighting a stronger opponent,” but she was definitely not in the mood to appreciate the wisdom of the Omoni Otorsi right now.
He insisted, however, that he was supposed to be the greatest warrior on Turv.
If he was grievously injured in one-on-one combat, enough that he couldn't keep fighting, the failing was his.
In contrast to him, Peony, the girls, and Temnavi – his clan that would stand by him on this day – were all wearing clothing that was the same dark red as fresh domini blood.
It was traditional to represent their appreciation for the blood he shed for them.
They honored him by wearing the color of his blood.
And Peony would physically be wearing his blood as well.
If he bled while fighting, he was meant to wipe it on her. To decorate her in his honor. One person in the Dominani's family was chosen for that odd privilege and he had chosen her.
Only after warning her that he was going to ask her to do something strange – to her thinking – and begging her to keep an open mind because it would mean a great deal to him.
After he had assured her that her period blood wasn't gross, how could she say that any of his blood was gross? She had agreed and he had promised that she would be wearing little by the end of the day, but that he was pleased by her honoring him in this way.
“Ready?” He asked, offering his hand as the others gave her looks that ranged from an eager smile – Hattie – to an uneasy discomfort – Holly.
Peony knew what was expected of her here. Atem had asked her to do this, too. She was scared, but she trusted him, and she wanted to honor him and his culture. Especially on such an important day. And she could tell by the way his three red eyes gleamed that he was eager to do it.
She nodded, taking his hand and letting him pull her up from the seat.
“See you down there, Peony!” Temnavi beamed enviously, waving at her from where he bounced on his seat beside Alanna who was smiling at her encouragingly.
Atem opened the back of the hover. Three large combots were already there, recording them as he scooped Peony in his arms and put one clawed foot onto the step down.
She barely resisted the urge to put her arms around his neck as they stood over the massive drop.
She was so glad that heights weren't her phobia – though this distance was seriously pushing it.
At the sight of their Dominani, the crowd's cheers went wild. He smirked, pleased, as the wind played with his hair.
Lifting Peony higher, with both hands, he roared his triumph.
And then threw her down.
She knew it was coming, but she still barely resisted screaming as she fell through the air.
Her long skirt, her loose hair, were whipped by the wind as she kept her arms and legs in tight.
As she had been instructed. As she had practiced when Atem would playfully throw her onto their bed in preparation for this moment.
He didn't waste any time. He launched himself off the hover, chasing after her, his body perpendicular to the ground. He wasn't smirking, his mouth closed in concentration, his eyes gleaming as his tail was buffeted by the wind.
He caught up to her just as her body fell through the netting over the arena.
He grabbed her arm and yanked, pulling her around in the air and latching her onto his back.
She grabbed his neck with both arms, her thighs clenching around his hips, though they didn't wrap fully around him.
It was the easiest position for him to climb.
Laughing uproariously, like this was the finest of games, he reached for one of the near vines.
He didn't quite grab hold of it. He used it to slow his descent just enough so that, when he reached the end of the vine where it attached to the small, rectangular platform it held aloft, his could more safely sink his claws into the wood.