Chapter 16
Challenging the wicked
They say when you're about to do something fearful, something so important and heart wrenching. Adrenaline fills your body to the brim. But that wasn't the case today. My body knew what it had to do—what it was required to do. Something cruel and dark manifested inside me...
A loud piercing 'clank' came from Klarc's sword banging on a metal gate, drawing my attention.
The cliftolights on the other hand, had their attention on me. The dark matter of their face stretched into a deep grin with jagged razor-sharp teeth jutting out. I took position in first stance, it was the first lesson I had been taught when I could walk.
Readiness.
"Daughter of death." They hummed in unison.
I stalked around them, smirking at the blade I had struck near them, it illuminated enough light to track their movements. “Try putting that off.” I wanted to challenge. I picked up a sword by my feet, that must have belonged to either Braze or Valin.
"Mora—"
"Shut it." I grit my teeth and targeted my strike at the one closest. I sprinted and leapt to shove the sword into its spiked neck and unleashed my fire blade from my thigh to slash at its face repeatedly.
I held onto one of its spikes for leverage, commanding fire without saying a word.
Its black inky blood oozed and burned through the fabric of my tunic.
I pulled onto its head with all the strength I had.
Gurgling sounds mixed with a growl escaped from it before the cliftolight and I both slammed into the ground with its head out of its body.
I wiped the muck from my cheek and eyed the last two cliftolights.
"My brothers! They need healers! Open the gates!" Klarc shouted.
The spectators gasped, and seemed to be in shock. And whether the prince and his guards were still spectating was a mystery to me, as no guard opened the gates for Klarc. I was beyond furious at the man who called himself a warrior.
The cliftolights screeched at the death of its fallen brother. And as unexpected as it was frustrating, armour shoved me into the ground. Armour that belonged to Klarc.
"This is my fight," he spat.
"How dare you," I muttered softly.
The cliftolights seemed to grin at this, their sharp jagged teeth opening more. Almost curious, and watchful at Klarc's and I's interaction.
"How dare you—" I pointed my fire blade at him, "—stand in my way," A cruel kind or darkness entered my voice.
Klarc panted, his eyes darting.
In a swift move with a kick behind his knee, I slid behind Klarc and held my blade to his face.
"You should have feared me. Not them." I lit my fire blade, ready to plunge it into his eye.
Everything was happening so fast, but in my eyes, it felt like I had all the time in the world.
"Yes, daughter of shadows. Do it. End his life. Feed us."
I licked my lips from the temptation.
"Morana!" Fala shouted.
It wasn't a shout— it was a command. With an unsatisfied grunt, I lifted the blade and struck the blunt end of it into his head, rendering him unconscious.
I have fought two cliftolights. I have killed two of them now.
I was taught that to know your opponents' next moves, you have to become them.
And this was something I found frighteningly impossible with these creatures.
It seemed like some of the arena guards had come to their senses because they began ushering spectators out one by one.
Fire erupted into my blade, prepping myself to attack two of them at once, but their voices stopped me in my tracks again.
"This is not our fight, daughter of shadows. Till we meet again."
Charred wind pushed me onto my back and I held my arms to shield my face.
I rolled over swiftly to attack... nothing.
They had vanished, gone with no trace to tell where they had exited.
I was panting ruggedly, looking side to side.
No idea what was happening. The fire on the torches came to light once more and the odd smell the cliftolights brought with them seemed to dissipate.
I could see the arena more clearly. Yet the sudden brightness was disorientating, I brought my arm to shield my face, and I was almost thrown aback by shock when loud roars of cheers came from the spectators.
Tello, the arena announcer, almost tripped as he entered the arena field.
His face and hair dishevelled. No doubt getting up to nonsense with the young lady who waved him off from the exit.
"What a show, ladies, gents, and royalty! Are you not amazed? The cliftolights feared our mighty warrior and fled!"
Tello made a dramatic flourish in my direction. I was just catching my breath as my eyes unknowingly darted to the balcony, hoping to see red eyes looking back at me. Yet, he was not there. He had left. Perhaps even escaped during my fight with the cliftolights.
"Coward." I thought, almost feeling disappointed. The crowd went wild when Tello rose up my arm. My gold sleeve looked brown with black blood.
"Your arena champion!" Tello announced and winked at me.
I ripped my arm away from his and did a bow, showing arena warrior etiquette.
I turned away to leave, needing to see Fala.
Needing to reveal all that has happened, all the words from the cliftolights, all these voices that seem to keep plaguing my mind.
"I heard they are impossible to kill," a sly captivating voice called out.
I froze.
It was a voice almost familiar. I turned to see red eyes staring back at me.
"Unless the reports from generals and scholars were false. You killed it with little effort and lack of coordination."
"Your Highness, you shouldn't be—"
"Hush now, Inanov. Can't you see, we're in the presence of a champion.
" The prince smiled, interrupting the young guard behind him.
The smile didn't reach his eyes as he crouched to inspect the cliftolight's blood and then arose to kick its head towards my foot.
My stomach churned but for entirely different reasons.
The arena went quieter by the second. No doubt intrigued by the prince on the arena field.
"Unless it let you kill it, of course." The prince smirked. All eyes were on me, being put on the spot. I felt angry for him to assume that I was not capable of killing it.
And yet fearful... Of whom he was.
"Bow, Morana." Tello, who I remembered was still next to me, gritted out, already on his knee.
"Mo-ra-na." The prince seemed to be tasting my name on the tip of his tongue, it elicited a wave of goosebumps on my skin.
"That name isn't from around here. Is it? Or is that your arena name?" His voice teased in a cold way. My mouth was dry. My chest tight and fingers sweaty. I curled and then relaxed them.
"You ask a lot of questions. One might assume you know, no better." Gasps arose from those around us. I was being bold and yet so entirely foolish.
"Morana!" Tello choked out. The prince's face was blank and then suddenly chilling laughter was heard. He sounded amused.
"You sound like my father. What a bore—" He inspected the ink like black blood on his glove more and then wiped it off on his golden cloak. "It's almost a shame that I have already settled on making you my selected champion."
The crowd went silent, and then erupted into deafening cheers.
I, however, was confused. My mouth opened. And then closed. Was this a punishment?
"Is this a joke?" I gasped out.
The prince had a blank face once again. "I rarely ever make jokes. But it's okay, you will learn that. And hopefully with time how to control your mouth." My eyes widened and I was about to bite back a protest until a loud caw sounded and a burst of wind and feathers appeared on the arena floor.
Fala.
I almost collapsed in relief from seeing her.
"Interesting." The prince frowned at Fala who was human again.
"Morana!" Ezra pushed through the main gate, running to my side followed by Dezimus and Elijah. They had made a bow to the prince, acknowledging his presence.
We all stood behind Fala.
"Thank you for attending the performance, Your Highness. It seems the lone survivor of the warriors is being cleaned up in hopes you will still choose him."
"No, it seems that won’t be necessary, I will be leaving with my warrior now.
I do regret having to miss the rest of the show," the prince replied charmingly.
His olive skin looked smooth. His hair swept in white locks.
Yes. Attractive enough to make the whole women of the arena swoon.
And powerful enough to make the men of the arena look greedy.
"So you have settled on Klarc, wise choice." Fala began to usher us out.
"Why choose Klarc when our lovely Morana interrupted the performance? Isn't it code for an arena warrior to call out for help before receiving it?" the prince enquired.
Oh no…
"It is." Fala grit out.
"Rules are. If another arena performer interferes, they get kicked out or killed. It's arena law." This prince was cunning. And horrible.
"I gave her permission," Fala calmly answered.
"You can’t change the rules. Unless you want your entire establishment here burnt to the ground."
He wasn't just horrible. He was cruel. I was brimming with rage at the thought of him setting this place alight. All of our hard work.
Dritan strode in with his guards. "What seems to be the problem?"
"I am in no mood to demand it twice. The girl broke arena code. Being my warrior is not just a punishment, it is mercy.” The prince took off his gloves and handed it to his guard, Inanov, who was grim faced.
The prince remained standing where he was, staring at me with determination. Ezra held my hand tight, the prince easily took noticed of this.
"Dritan. Do something, you know what she means to me," Fala urged. Her voice not so calm anymore.
"He is right in all he said. Morana should not have interrupted the fight."
"The cliftolights were going to kill everyone!" I argued, my breathing was erratic.
"Law is law," Dritan said, not sparing me a look. Fala remained silent. No fight or conviction coming out of her. I had never seen her look so...
Defeated.
I took steps forward towards the prince. His guards inched closer and the prince held up his hand lightly. Stopping them.
"I decline your offer, Princeling; you cannot take me from my home.
I was not part of this pathetic deal or to be an option of your choosing.
" I grit out in frustration, standing my ground as all the spectators watched, amused, all staring in awe.
This was beginning to become far too interesting for the public because the guards had deemed it fit to start forcing spectators to exit the arena, ending the entire show.
The young prince came closer, so close that I could feel his heat. I kept eye contact, staring him dead in his eyes. Trying not to show my fear. I held my breath and bit my tongue to have the pain distract me from the tinge of anxiety.
"You decline as if you have a choice... As if I won't slaughter all of these freaks you call family," he whispered coldly, lightly tracing a finger down my cheek.
I stopped breathing entirely.
"We leave tomorrow at dawn, pack essentials only, " he announced, leaving the arena and taking my freedom with him.