33. LION
33
LION
Fight well. Die well. Give them a good show.
Laswen was Raged. He sprung out of his gate on a dead run, his face distorted in fury. He was stripped of any emotion, anything that made him human. A purebred beast.
Was this what freeborns saw when they fought Lion at this arena?
Was this what those Vogros men and Zarall traitors had seen when the mage unleashed Lion on them?
Was this what she had seen before she died?
Lion stepped aside to avoid Laswen’s first attack. Although he’d rather greet the blow with his neck and end it, this wasn’t what Kastian wanted to see.
Fight well.
His orders rang in his mind.
Get it done, Badimar had ordered before Lion took Saradra in his arms for the first time. The warmth of her body as they snuggled in his tiny bed was slipping out of his memories already, as if a lifetime had passed.
His head throbbed painfully.
Lion blocked the next attack with his shield and swung his lor’qas at Laswen’s side. He jumped back and brought his sword down to meet his. Lion withdrew, raising his shield up.
Fight well.
Fighting well came natural to him. His body craved a good fight. It acted on its own, a primitive hatred boiling out of his muscles. He set himself free, and he fought.
Give them a good show.
Laswen was good. In his Raged state, he acted without thought. There was no hesitation, no fear, just pure instinct. But this was not a simple battle fever. Laswen’s eyes saw everything; he saw how Lion shifted his foot before starting a counterattack. He saw how Lion slightly ducked his head between his shoulders before raising his shield up. He perceived everything, yet he didn’t waste any time analysing any of this information in his mind. His body did that for him, while his mind stayed out of the fight.
Lion’s did too, but it was different for him. His thoughts were a tangled mess. The memory of Saradra’s dead body haunted him. He could still hear her screams and pleads. A weight pressed down on the crown of his head. The headache and the hollow pain in his chest became unbearable. He wanted to end this.
Die well.
It was time to pick the strike that would end his life. He decided the next blow would be as good as any.
He compelled himself to stand still and take it, but his body slid to the side. His sword went up just in time to meet Laswen's, throwing him off balance. Laswen recovered instantly and launched another attack.
Die well.
This one. This one was going to be the strike to kill him.
The headache became a blinding throb behind his eyes. He could feel the pressure mounting, pushing him to the edge of sanity. The crowd's roar intensified, but the sound was distant, as if underwater.
Stand still and die well.
He stood still, but his arm raised his shield up, deflecting the attack. Then his lor’qas lunged forward like a snake and gave Laswen a gaping slash on his side. An unstoppable chuckle rose from Lion’s throat. The sight of first blood erupted into a roar from the spectators, which drove Lion’s headache to a white-hot intensity.
Laswen, not even noticing his wound, lunged again, and something inside Lion snapped. The headache disappeared abruptly. Lion almost heard the sound of something tearing inside his mind.
He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the descending sword. A deranged laughter burst from his lips. His laughter was wild, unhinged, as tears rolled down his cheeks, concealed under the lion mask.
Give them a good show.
Lion laughed harder as he parried Laswen’s next strike.
He will defile her body.
That was the threat Kastian had made. His head felt light and fuzzy now. No more headache.
She was dead.
She was gone.
He had killed her.
Laswen hurled a series of attacks and each one elicited another sob mixed with laughter from Lion. He met them all and followed up with his own sequence.
He killed her. And now, Kastian was going to…
Screaming something between a taunt and a laugh, Lion slashed inside Laswen’s upper arm. Blood spurted at Laswen’s breastplate. This wound had killed Laswen; he just didn’t know it yet.
“Come on!” Lion yelled; his voice buried under the crowd’s wild cheers. “Make me bleed!”
His rival’s taunts didn’t reach Laswen’s ears, nor did his wound give him any concern. Any other fighter would have shown a flash of emotion after taking a deadly injury, but not a Raged beast. Laswen feigned a blow to Lion’s left and sucker punched him with his shield. A sharp pain and the taste of blood inside his mouth told Lion he had gotten what he wanted.
He grinned. “That’s it!” he said, deflecting a testing blow. “Make me bleed! Make me bleed! Come on!”
Laswen moved in and Lion swung his lor’qas to parry the next blow.
He had killed Saradra.
No, Kastian had killed Saradra.
They had killed Saradra?
He chuckled while tears streaked down his face. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Sir Gwodd hadn’t killed Saradra.
He laughed so hard he almost got his head detached from his shoulders.
“He’s gonna defile her body, you know that?” Lion asked. “That’s what he said. He’s gonna cut her… He’s gonna…”
A wild laughter strangled the rest of his words. Tears blurred his sight. Laswen stepped in with a feign again. Lion raised his sword and Laswen dropped his, pivoting and attacking from the other side. He landed a clean slash on Lion’s right thigh. Blood gushed down his knee.
“Attaboy!” Lion cheered, raising both arms up in celebration. The crowd shared his joy, screaming with excitement. Their screams reminded him of Saradra’s. He still heard her voice in his head, begging, pleading for him to stop.
“Who’s your favourite Owner, Laswen?” Lion babbled. He stumbled backwards while noticing Laswen’s movements had slowed down, too. The wound on Laswen’s upper arm had painted the side of his breastplate in red, and he was struggling to lift his shield up.
“They never found my map,” Lion laughed. “Why did she have to look under my bed?”
His face still twisted in a mindless fury, Laswen stumbled forward, initiating another series of attacks. Lion greeted them clumsily.
“What’s under your bed, Laswen?” Lion wondered. He stepped back and pointed a finger at him. “What secrets do you hide?”
He dropped on his haunches and chuckled as Laswen nearly took his head.
“Come on, beast!” Lion yelled, stretching his arms at his sides. “You gotta finish me off, friend. Or he’s gonna defi—” Another giggle swallowed the word. “He’s gonna def—” He didn’t know what was so hilarious about that word, but he couldn’t get it out.
Laswen, still completely indifferent to his wound, forced him to retreat against a series of quick moves. Lion’s leg hindered him and he fell backwards.
That’s it , he thought frantically, watching Laswen raise his sword over his head. Die well.
He didn’t even have to do anything but lie still, and it would all end. Her screams would finally end. He would find peace.
Lion swung his shield from left to right and nudged Laswen’s sword aside. He didn’t deserve peace. He didn’t deserve to be buried with Saradra. He reached for his lor’qas, but Laswen kicked it away.
Die well. Lie still.
Bury together.
I will see you in Farhome.
Do whatever it takes to win!
Lion flinched. Saradra’s voice sounded so clear in his head.
Laswen threw his shield aside and grasped his sword with both hands. The next blow almost broke Lion’s arm as he blocked it with his shield. He felt the violent tremors spreading from the shield all the way up to his teeth. His fingers curled around a handful of sand. When Laswen raised his sword again, Lion threw it at his face.
Do whatever it takes to win, do you hear me?
Lion lunged forward and jammed the edge of the shield against Laswen’s kneecap. Without a single scream or a grunt, Laswen stumbled backwards, blinking the sand from his eyes. Lion didn’t pause to see if he had broken his rival’s knee or not. He rolled sideways and leapt to his feet.
Lion pulled his mask off and tossed it aside. He wiped the tears off his face, smearing blood all over. He didn’t want to win. But he didn’t deserve the peace of death, either.
Laswen stood — barely — between Lion and his lor’qas. He hopped on his good leg, trying to find his balance. He was almost done. Even the crowd knew this; they were demanding Lion to finish him off.
When he imagined how Kastian would be watching this right now, Lion couldn’t contain another chuckle. He wondered if the King was secretly hoping Lion would lose at the last second, just to make it a bit more dramatic.
“You have to kill me,” Lion begged. “Fight! Even she put up a better fight than you!” He lifted his free arm to show him the scratch and bite marks Saradra had left. Tears blurred his vision.
Laswen stumbled on one leg. A mindless fury was still etched on his face. He blinked at Lion’s arm with unseeing eyes.
With a scream, Lion charged behind his shield. He knocked Laswen on his back, straddled him, and bashed his face with the shield.
The crowd had already started cheering for ‘Lion’. That name Kastian had been trying to bury was being heard amongst the cheers as well.
Lion threw his shield and picked up his lor’qas. Then he grabbed Laswen by the scruff of his neck and dragged him towards the balcony where Kastian and his family were seated.
Demands of death filled the arena. Lion glanced at the armed men positioned on the outer walls of the arena. Some of them had their bows aimed at Lion, but he knew they weren’t going to shoot. He didn’t care if they did, anyway. But if they stripped the crowd off their champion, Kastian was going to have to deal with a lot more than the embarrassment of losing against Lion of Zarall for a second time.
He dropped Laswen underneath the balcony. Kastian watched him with a tight mouth. Even from a distance, Lion could see the King’s knuckles were drained white as he grasped the arms of his chair. His queen displayed a forced smile on her face. Sitting next to his mother, Prince Dienus’s face had turned an ugly tone of red. Prince Lotheris on the other side was better at hiding his anger. Their half-witted Princess’s chair was empty, like it had been at every feast. They hadn’t invited any guests or lords to sit with them today. Just the Vogros family, enjoying a pleasant day in the arena.
Laswen started blinking and moaning. His nose was broken. His face was completely covered in blood. He rolled to his side and coughed.
“You fought well, beast,” Lion said, grinning at Kastian. “Stay down and I’ll see you in Farhome.”
Laswen looked around, disoriented. He started groaning from his injuries now as he noticed them. Lion kicked him on his back and stared at Kastian expectantly.
Grudgingly, Kastian raised his fist and turned his thumb upside down, signalling Lion to finish the fight.
The spectators roared their appreciation.
Lion’s grin widened. He raised his lor’qas over his head. His blood rushed with the same unruly energy that possessed the crowd. He craved for blood. Death was what he had been bred for, raised for, trained for. Death was his sustenance. It was the only purpose of his miserable life.
Victory dissolved like ash in his mouth.
He threw his weapon aside.
Consumed by his injuries and on the brink of unconsciousness, Laswen didn’t even realise Lion had spared his life. Although half of the audience sighed their disappointment, the majority of them found humour in Lion’s disobedience. Kastian’s face turned a glorious red.
Lion stepped closer to the balcony and without even thinking about what he was doing, he took his member out of his pants and started pissing.
Kastian was going to castrate him for this!
The thought hurled him into an uncontrolled laughter. The crowd howled with him. He laughed so hard, more tears flowed down his cheeks and his aim started to become an issue. With every burst of laughter, the dark patterns on the sand became more intricate.
Oh, Kastian was going to defile his member for this.
He doubled over, holding his stomach and wiping the tears off his face as he yanked his pants back up. His ribs hurt from laughing. His chest hurt even more. He wanted to cut his chest open and rip his heart out.
“Where’s that mage when you need him?” he mused, though his voice was lost within the turmoil.
The audience was loving it! This was becoming their favourite moment in Switchblade Arena.
Oh, Saradra…
“How did I hurt you? How…” He sobbed uncontrollably and fell to his knees.
The audience’s joy turned into angry protests, and Lion knew the guards were coming for him now. He jumped up just in time to dodge the first attacker: a young man, very eager to get to the unruly slave first that he had outrun his comrades, leaving them behind. Lion stepped out of the man’s way with a clumsy half-turn, grabbed his cloak, and threw it over his head. The young man flapped his hands, trying to untangle himself from his cloak. This elicited more laughter from the audience.
Give them a good show .
The other guards spread around him cautiously. Instead of swords, they were wielding clubs. Lion taunted them, raising his arms to the side.
The crowd was cheering for him to fight. Moreover, some of them were attempting to climb into the arena. Sir Gwodd and a group of knights were escorting the royal family out of the balcony. The air in the whole arena was tense, only moments from exploding.
“Like a boiling pot,” Lion explained to the nearest guard. “It’s gonna explode!”
The guard scowled, glanced at his comrades, uncertainty paling his face.
Lion chuckled and sidestepped to dodge an attack from behind. He smacked his elbow just over the attacker’s ear, sending him to the ground. The next club met with the back of his skull and stars flashed in his sight.
Lion went down under half a dozen clubs, landing on his head and legs.
People booed and hooted at the guards and at the name Vogros. Guards with spears entered into the arena. Covering his head against the clubs and kicks, Lion watched as someone from the crowd threw a rock the size of a fist at one of the guards. Someone else jumped into the arena, followed by others.
The riot erupted fast.
It almost looked like somebody had Raged all these people. An odd sense of satisfaction grasped Lion. This was exactly what Kastian had been trying to avoid.
Give them a good show .
He laughed like a mad man until they beat him unconscious.