Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 8: The Heroes Return: Dynat

 Dynat pushed his hands in opposite directions with all his might. He felt slippery fur sliding under his fingers, and at last he heard a snap as the slink's neck broke. He held the limp body of the animal for a moment, then thrust it aside, sagging against the wall of the narrow tunnel, exhausted. He drew deep, heaving breaths. Sweat dribbled over his skin, stinging where it was broken by the slink's claws and teeth. One big gash on his forearm was bleeding too much, and he held the cloak over it, trying to staunch the flow. It would heal. He had defeated death once again.

 It was not enough. Still adrenaline raged in his blood, still the fury of the Fire Spirit screamed in his head. The tremendous battle with the slink had done nothing to quiet the roaring flames. Snarling, Dynat kicked the feline's body, but it was dead, useless now. He knew he should bring it back to be skinned and tanned, to add another pelt to his collection. Instead, he turned and marched briskly down the tunnel toward Chraun. He needed something but he could not imagine what. Something had to satisfy his anger and passion, had to quiet the burning rage in his head.

 When he reached the bottom of the Spiral Tunnel and his Guards began again to shadow his every move, Dynat did not return to his rooms to draw his lava from the crucible. With great effort, he did not drink in T'Jas from the hot air, though it tried to seep into him. He went instead to the caverns where the Semija games were held.

 It was a long march to reach them. Dynat was already tired from his trek up the Spiral, and his fight with the slink. But the fire in his mind kept him going, through the mine shafts and past the fungal caverns and the stock dens, through the Semija quarters, all the way to the outermost tunnels of Chraun. The Semija games were illegal, and so they were held as far from the center of power as was possible. Dynat visited them occasionally, just to let the Lords of Chraun know that he knew what they were doing and allowed it; another King might not.

 He did not intend his visit today to be political. In fact, it might hurt him politically, but he did not care. He was the Chosen of the Fire Spirit, what were politics compared to that?

 At the end of a narrow, dark tunnel, a dim flickering of torches shone through the doorway, silhouetting a stout common Flame in brass plate-cloth, who held up his hand and muttered, "Private party, invitation only." Then he saw Dynat's Guards, and recognized his face, and his eyes bulged.

 The Flame kneeled in haste while Dynat brushed past him and entered the room. The gaming cavern was a round, high-ceilinged cavern with only one entrance. Stone step seats had been carved in the downward sloping floor, to the pit at the center, ringing the cave. At first, no one saw him, and he was greeted only by the familiar roar of laughter and applause. Flames, both common and Noble, sat on the stone seats, looking down on a wide, open space in the middle of the cave. Metal cylinders focused the torchlight toward that space. The air was thick with the sour smell of blissi and the rich smoke of powderlux. Nobles lounged on cushions beside the center ring, and commoners sat and stood higher up. Even amid the roar of the crowd, the click of zirc coins could be heard as bets were placed.

 In the center of the ring stood Dynat's objective. Two giant Semija, naked but for small loincloths around their waists, faced each other. Their meaty muscles gleamed with oil in the torchlight. Dynat's adrenaline surged when he saw them. When the gong was sounded and they gripped each other in a fight to the death, Dynat fought the urge to rush into the ring that very moment and attempt to strangle them both at once.

 Both at once. In spite of the furnace in his mind, Dynat smiled. At the same moment, a Noble looked across the cavern and recognized him. Lord Binch was his name, and he stood and bowed, shouting over the noise of the crowd, "Greetings, Majesty!"

 The spectators went into a quiet, slow motion panic. Nobles pulled hoods and veils over their faces. A few commoners in the highest tier edged out the door; Dynat could hear them pattering down the tunnel. The Semija continued to fight, oblivious to the danger; they were pulled away from each other with T'Jas and held on opposite sides of the ring, panting and straining to reach each other again. Slowly, the gasps and exclamations died away to silence, and Dynat walked down to stand before the ring, surveying a room full of terrified, kneeling subjects.