Bloodsword: War of the Leaf

Drax

As Tev stepped out into the blinding light of the pit, Joran turned to Kora with a snarl.

"What sort of magic is afoot here, Kora?" he demanded to know.  But instead of answering, the Ajanti woman waved him to silence even as she bent down to scoop up her axe.  Then she was stepping out into the pit right on Tev's heels.

As the athletic Ajanti elf maid came to a halt beside the big human, his skin already glistening with perspiration from the reflected heat of the torches, she glanced up at his impassive face.  And she found his eyes already focused on the fighter's entrance opposite as he silently cranked up his intensity while trying to forget the strange event that had just occurred.

"Any explanations?" Kora asked softly as she too transferred her gaze to the door.

"None that I can think of," Tev answered flatly, his gaze never wavering.

"Maker!" she husked in a low voice, barely restraining herself from shaking her head in confused astonishment.  

"There's magic afoot here, Tev.  I can feel it.  And I'll be burnt by the First Dragon if I can't see, . . ."

Before Kora could finish, the other members of her pit team joined them.  First was Joran, the lanky Kensarthi spearman, a protective sleeve on his shield arm and an armored gauntlet protecting his spear hand.  Beside him stood Lax Terol, the Ajanti pikeman in a leather cap and mail shirt only a head taller than his countrywoman.

To the right and slightly behind Lax was Ferol'Sath, the Dolomin whipman naked except a breech clout, his naked body compact and muscular.  His dark skin was liberally laced with scars and marks from his three long years as a pit fighter.  His whip, made from braided shark leather, hung uncoiled in his thick-fingered left hand.

Together these five had become the most lethal fighting team in the history of the pits.  So famed were their abilities that the stands surrounding the emperor's personal pits was standing room only despite the fact that only the richest and most powerful of the Mardish nobility were allowed to attend.  And for good reason: each match, even though it was only advertised a few days before it happened, was sold out within minutes of the ticket vendor opening.  So only the rich and powerful could afford to buy the hotly sought after tickets.

It was ironic that, for an elvish people whose contempt and hatred for humans was almost the stuff of legends, that all these nobles were here to see not the elves in Kora's pit team.  But the powerful human swordsman that now drove it to glory!

Tev shifted slightly, moving the bulk of his weight from his left to his right foot, the heat of the sand starting to soak through the soft leather soles of his fighting boots.  'What in the name of the Fifth is taking them so long?' He silently wondered, lifting his eyes up over the line of torches that illuminated the pit.  And then over the packed rows of Mardish that howled for blood in the stands.

It was in this brief scan of the crowd that Tev's keen eyes caught sight of a curious flash of silver.  Instantly he focused on it, narrowing his eyes to bring the silver sliver into clarity despite the torches' glare.  As he focused on the flash, it resolved into a large medallion that hung around the neck of a rather tall and broad Mardish whose eyes darted this way and that, as if nervously searching for something.

Frowning, Tev lowered his eyes.  There was something hauntingly familiar about that elf, and the hawk in flight figure in bas-relief on the medallions face.  If he could only put his finger on it,  . .

A soft cough from the other side of the pit drew Tev's eyes up once more.  This time it was a strange blurring near the one visible wall that, because of its angle, it wasn't entirely covered by standing Mardish nobility and their garish clothing.  Thoughtful frown deepening, Tev began focusing on the odd, shifting spot in the hopes of resolving it into something.  But before he could bring his full attention to bear on it, a hush fell across the crowd as they caught sight of the opponent's entry door slowly opening.