Chapter 27
Bellator
The beherit is close enough to block the blinding light of the illuminating sky orb, the ring of death pulsating in its chest, ready to tear me apart if I get close enough. My swords clash against his obsidian stone skin, the jagged ends leaving more cuts into my already torn flesh.
“Bellator!” Rosie screams somewhere to the side of me.
I must be close to her now. The beherit towers over me; this one must still be young, as it stands only three times my size.
My broken leg feels like jelly, my arms losing their strength.
Blood covers my hands, making the grip on my swords slick.
Bright blue clashes with a fire orange, our blood merging like oil and water. Enemies to the end.
I should fall.
I should let the beherit have this victory.
I have wounded it, yes. It’s fast movements now slower as it tires alongside me.
We have been fighting for minutes or hours.
I do not know. The colosseum remains quiet with only the clash of metal and stone ringing out.
My neck is burning, the collar so hot I feel it singe each layer of skin away.
The weight of my eyes feels heavy, the need of my body wanting to surrender to the pain.
But not yet. Something stubborn keeps me standing in place, waiting for my opportunity to strike.
The beherit swings, its body bending as it swipes at the ground I'm standing on.
Leaping on his arm, I take three steps, almost losing my footing as my leg gives way under me, plunging my sword into one of its bright orange eyes.
I waste no time as it stumbles forward, clawing at its face, the ground shaking as it crashes down.
The first rule in war is never show your back to your enemy, but right now, I don't care. This is the one chance I might be given to get to my brother and Rosie. My legs scream as I push forward, each breath feels like hot embers, the gash to my side has reopened and is pulsing blood. Scrambling up the arena wall, I throw myself into their viewing box, finding instant relief as Rosie’s small human hands cup my face.
“You stupid, stupid orc,” she sobs, showering my face in a thousand kisses. The softness of her lips healing me with each touch. My needs are purely selfish now, the hunger raw and desperate to live with Rosie by my side.
“Bellator.” Steve’s voice is clipped, but he can wait.
“One minute,” I mumble, my shoulders sagging from exhaustion.
“Open your eyes, Bellator. You can't give in to it yet.” Cracking my eyes open, her lips are pursed, brow furrowed as she concentrates. Light fingers explore my neck, her jaw clenching as she breathes, “Got it.” A click and a swing, and just like that, the collar clangs as it falls to the floor.
“Bellator,” Steve barks, but my attention remains on Rosie.
My arm trembles as I hold her face, mesmerised by her beauty.
“Bellator!”
A shadow moves over us, the shaded viewing box further veiled into darkness.
Rosie’s eyes widen, staring above me. Steve moves beside me, grunting and pushing me forward as I tackle Rosie to the floor, protecting her head and body as I wrap mine around hers.
Bracing her in the corner, pressed against the cool stone walls, I turn back and look in horror as the beherit stands in front of the viewing box, its head and shoulders perfectly placed above the balustrade.
My brother. My kind and gentle brother gave up our way of life to live a calm existence in another Realm.
And now he stands poised in front of our enemy.
My bloodied sword in one hand, his dagger in the other.
Rosie squirms where I hold her, the pained words, “Steve, no, no!” Repeating over and over, but I will not let her go.
My other sword remains in the beherits eye, his head turned slightly so it can better see us with the one remaining.
Its breathing is slow and deep, nostrils flaring as it takes us all in.
Thick, suffocating rage surrounds it, the air coiling as steam spurts from its crown of horns.
Sparks flickering to flames. Its head dips slightly, jaw extending wider than natural.
The sound that comes next isn't just noise, it's a force.
The air shifts as it pierces through it, dust raining from the ceiling above us as it becomes dislodged.
I feel it in my bones. Rosie trembles in my arms as she buries her head in my chest. Once again, I turn my back to my enemy, completely covering Rosie's body with my own, wrapping myself around her so she is cocooned in safety.
Suddenly, the roaring stops. Replaced by a sputtering.
Lifting my head, I turn back in awe of what I see.
My brother stands, one foot on the top of the balustrade, his hand holding a tooth in the beherits' mouth, keeping it in place as he pulls it forward.
Trapping its jaw open, he drives the tip of my sword through the soft palate in the roof of its mouth, piercing its brain.
The one remaining eye rapidly blinks as Steve makes a final thrust, grunting, he pushes the sword to the hilt.
Orange blood coats his hand, a stream rolling down his arm, pooling at his feet.
The beherit stumbles back, bouncing off the Emperor's viewing box, crashing to the ground, still, not breathing, forever lost to the Devil and her Realms.
“No, no, no!” The Emperor screams. “Guards, get them!”
In seconds, thunderous footsteps reverberate around us. Growing louder the closer they get, and the velvet curtain draped across the passageway in front of Rosie, and I is flung back. A worried looking imp standing in front of us, sword drawn, nervously ready to fight.
Gathering her in my arms, my blood pumps, stronger than before, a little more healed, and I leap past Steve, landing on the beherits shoulder as we escape into the arena. Steve follows closely, helping Rosie down while I yank out my sword from the beherits motionless eye.
We race forward, advancing on the large wooden doors I came from when hundreds of guards spill forth.
Dust flies in the air as we quickly become surrounded.
We could fight our way out. At least I believe we could, but there is a difference between fighting one matched enemy to a thousand ill-equipped ones.
Steve and I have Rosie in between us, our backs to her as we face the guards.
Not one of them look as if they want to be there.
Their swords half raised, eyes lowered to the ground, when a small side door flies open, and the Emperor, with several of his inner circle, stomp across the dirt toward us.
The crowd making their first noise of the day as loud boos and shouts of hate rain down.
Each and every one targeted toward the Emperor.