Kings Game

Chapter 5 - The deal (1)

"Oh shit," said Kell, staring wide-eyed at Roran. "I wasn't expecting that."

Roran thought he was going to be sick. Gress was warm and limp beneath him. Blood covered Roran's front, gluing his clothes to his skin. Roran was struggling to breath, he couldn't get enough air in his lungs. His eyes burned. He was on the verge of tears.

"Weapons down!" someone yelled.

Roran didn't move, he didn't have any weapons. He kept trying to breathe, he felt claustrophobic. He wanted to get off of Gress's dead body but his legs weren't working right. Roran leaned over and was sick in the dirt, tears blurring his vision as he heaved up the remnants of his childhood innocence. He was a murderer now.

"Get down!"

Roran was too busy throwing up to comply. Heavy hands grabbed him and forced him to the ground. They forced his hands behind his back and locked heavy manacles around his wrists. From the ground, Roran was able to see Kell standing not too far away. She was staring at him with a mixture of confusion and pity.

'I did it!' he wanted to scream, 'There's your answer!'

But he was too sick and his throat was full of bile. He could hardly breathe. It was a relief when they hauled him to his feet. He took shuddering breaths, forcing as much air as possible into his lungs.

Above him the crowd was going wild. In the chaos and confusion, Roran had forgotten they existed. Some people were cheering and clapping, others were booing and making rude gestures. The announcer was stammering, trying to be heard over the crowd.

"Well that was unexpected! A no name fighter has ambushed Gress the unkillable after the bell. I guess he was rather killable after all. As per the rules, this is an unlawful killing and will be dealt with as such. It's a shame to see it happen ladies and gentlemen, but tensions run high in the Crucible and these things happen. Wardens, take the murderer away!"

The wardens half picked Roran up and dragged him out of the arena. They dragged him past Sephyr and Toth, who was still crying and sobbing. Sephyr watched Roran as he went by, his gaze thoughtful rather than judgmental. Not that it mattered. Within seconds Roran was bundled through a doorway and down a narrow set of stairs, back into the darkness.

A cell waited for him at the bottom of the stairs and the wardens tossed him inside. They slammed the door and left, leaving Roran to the dark and to his thoughts. He curled up on the ground, enjoying the coolness of the stone slabs beneath him. They were a nice distraction from the fact that he had just murdered someone.

What had he been thinking? He hadn't defeated someone in combat, he had murdered a man in cold blood after the fight was over. He had jammed a shard of metal into someone's throat for the sake of his own selfish gains. Roran was a murderer and this was where he belonged.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the dark. "I'm so sorry mom. I'm sorry this is the person I've become. I'm sorry that I let you down. Oh gods I'm so sorry!"

Roran's mother was the kindest, most gentle person anyone had ever known. They'd gone so far as to pay good money to keep a sliver of that kindness for themselves. And Roran had honored that memory by becoming a back-stabbing murderer. In the cold and the dark and the quiet, Roran began sobbing.

As the adrenaline faded, and Roran's tears dried, he drifted off to sleep. He woke to the sounds of people milling about outside his cell. He didn't know how much time had passed, only that his body ached from lying on the stone floor and a string of drool was hanging from his mouth.

The latch to his cell clicked and the door swung open. A clerk swathed in dark robes drifted in. He held a small lantern that illuminated his weathered face.

"Carrick?" asked Roran.

"Aye, that's me. You caused quite the stir. I'll be filling out paperwork for hours now because of you. I hope you appreciate the trouble you've caused me."

"I don't understand," said Roran, "what's going on?"

"You're being taken back to your apartments. You're free to go."

"But...I killed someone," said Roran.

"Yes, that's what you do in the arena."

"But, the fight was over. I committed murder."

Carrick held up a hand and waffled it back and forth. "That is up for debate. As it stands, you were no more out of line than Gress was."

A warden entered the cell and pulled Roran to his feet. He unlocked Roran's manacles and retreated. Roran took a moment to rub his wrists and stretch his shoulders.

"So I'm not in trouble?" asked Roran.

"I wouldn't say that," said Carrick, gesturing for Roran to follow him out of the cell. "But you're not going to be executed."

"Why not?"

"Well, to put it simply, Gress was cheating. He was hiding focus markings underneath his clothes, which is forbidden in the Crucible."

"You mean those tattoos?" asked Roran, following Carrick down the hallways back towards his little dungeon.

"Those indeed. Tell me, do you know what they do?"

It was Roran's turn to waffle back and forth. "I have an idea. I realized we couldn't hurt anything covered by his shirt, but when I tried to cut his arm he got defensive. I figured if I struck his neck I might be able to hurt him."

"I imagine learning that made it easier to avenge your comrade?"

Roran froze. In all the excitement he had forgotten about Toth and his various injuries. "Is Toth alright?"

"I assume you mean the injured fighter from Millgrove? He's alive, though I can't guarantee how stable his condition is." A warden prodded Roran and got him moving again. "He will live for a little while longer at least."

Roran breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me, I'm just doing what I'm told. The real person you need to thank is Kell. She's the one sticking her neck out for you."

"What do you mean? What did she do?"

"You can ask her yourself. She's already asked to see you. I'll warn you now though, she's in a foul mood, and people usually die when she's in a foul mood."