Kings Game

Chapter 8 - Going alone (1)

For the first time, the night air felt cold. It wasn't any colder than before, but goosebumps worked their way along Roran's arms and shoulders. He scuffed his feet against the ground as he walked. Behind him, Karyn's footsteps followed along.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said.

"You didn't."

"You're a bad liar."

"I know," said Roran, "but it's not your fault."

"Not my fault that you're upset or that you're a bad liar?"

Roran smiled despite himself. He stopped and looked at Karyn. "It's not your fault that-"

"I know," said Karyn, smiling back at him. "Are you going back to the dungeons?"

Roran nodded. "I have to."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." Roran dug a channel into the dirt with his foot, feeling restless but not wanting to leave yet. "Will I see you again?" He asked.

"If you hang around Kell, you will definitely see me again. Though I may be working then."

Roran shrugged. "I saw my mother greet clients. I won't mind."

"Then I look forward to our next meeting."

"Unless I die first?" Roran had meant it to be a joke, but his words came out harsh and jaded.

Karyn pursed her lips. "The death in your fortune, it's not for you."

When Roran didn't respond, she turned and left, leaving Roran alone with his thoughts.

The silence stretched out around him, becoming louder and louder until he couldn't take it anymore and headed back to the Crucible. He found the side door easily enough and began making his way back down towards the dungeons. Despite not knowing the way, Roran didn't have any trouble navigating back towards the dungeon his people called home. It was like Chase had said, there was a rhythm to the place, once you knew the general flow of the hallways, all you had to do was pick a direction and you could find where you were going.

Finding the stairwell, Roran descended quickly before he could change his mind. At the bottom, he surprised the two wardens on duty.

"Just you?" one asked.

Roran nodded. "Is that a problem?"

"Unregistered refugees aren't allowed to walk around alone," said the warden.

Roran produced his marker medallion and held it out to them. The medallion shimmered in the darkness, producing its own light.

"I'm registered," said Roran, "I was sponsored by a champion and given gladiator's rights."

The wardens nodded in approval. "We'll still have to lock you in with your people," said one of the wardens, "but if you flag us down when we're making our rounds, we can let you out."

A ray of hope shone through Roran. He could leave. He could actually wave down a warden and ask to leave, and they would let him.

"But," said the warden, raising a finger, "only you. You can't take anyone with you."

Roran nodded and the wardens let him through, one trailing after him to let him into the Millgrove cell.

The stink of the dungeon welcomed Roran home. He was tempted to turn around and leave, especially not that he could. He had gladiator's rights. He could wander the streets until daylight and spend another whole day basking in the sun. But that would just make it worse when he finally did come home.

When the warden closed the door behind him, Roran was tempted to stop him. To ask to be let free when the sun rose again. But he didn't. He was home and people were watching. Naturally, Murrin was already on his way, scowl in place, to come and yell at Roran.

"Roran," said Murrin, his calm voice surprising Roran.

"Um, hi?"

"And where were you today?" he asked, his eyes wandering to Roran's new sword and shield.

Roran thought of shopping, and of training, and of Kell's new focus markings. He thought of Karyn and her ominous predictions.

"I was out with the champion Kell," said Roran. "She bought me some new gear and had me help her with some chores."

Murrin narrowed his eyes at him, lowering them to angry little slits that wanted to pry Roran apart. Roran was used to withholding the truth from people, but this was the closest he'd come to lying.

"Was that all?" asked Murrin.

"No," said Roran, "I spent the evening chatting with one of Kell's whores. She read my fortune and walked me home."

Murrin scoffed. "Of course you would go to a whore for advice and fortune telling. Did she have any grand words of wisdom for you?"

"Only that there's death in my near future."

"I could have told you that boy. Listen, there is actually something I need to talk to you about." He stepped in close to Roran and showed him a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "I don't mean to scare you, but there is a high likelihood that you will die in the arena."

Roran blinked at him, wondering where this conversation was going.

"Now I don't mean to frighten you," Murrin went on, "I know you don't think the arena is that scary, that you can fight as many times as you like and come out unharmed. But, the truth of the matter is, you will very likely die out there in the arena. Probably very soon."

"Okay," said Roran.

"The reason I'm telling you this is that I'm worried about you. I want you to know that we're here for you, Roran. Me and Dorval and Kamil. We want what's best for you."

"Okay?"

"And it is because of that, that I must insist you hand over your weapons."

"What?"

Murrin took a step back, closing his eyes and feigning hurt. "I know this is upsetting to you Roran. I know you think those weapons belong to you, but it's in the best interest of the town that you surrender them to us. You see, Dorval is going to train Toth and Sephyr while you fight in the arena. When you tragically fall in combat, Sephyr and Toth will be able to pick up where you left off, only they will be properly trained in combat. They will be able to support and care for us. They will keep us fed. You do want us to be well fed, don't you Roran?"

"I mean, yes, but-"

"So you see, it is in your best interest to do this. You only want us to survive and live well. After you're dead, Sephyr and Toth will carry on your legacy of protecting our people."

"I'm still alive..."

"I know this is hard Roran, but this is what is best for you." Murrin held out his hands and raised an eyebrow, waiting. By now the entire dungeon was watching them. Sephyr was watching him from a corner of the dungeon, Dorval and Celine blocking him in. Toth was sat against a wall, Kamil clutching his arm in a death-grip while glaring at Roran. Roran's people were waiting to see who he would choose, them or himself.

Sighing, Roran's shoulders slumped in defeat. He unbuckled the sword and handed it over to Murrin along with his shield. From the corner of his eye, Roran saw Dorval smile and sneer.

"It's for the best, boy," Murrin said again, looking down his nose at Roran.

Roran shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it. He began heading towards his little corner where people would leave him alone. Realizing that he hadn't eaten while out with Kell, Roran paused and asked, "Is there any food left?"

"Huh?" Murrin looked up from examining Roran's sword, "oh, no. There is no food left."

Looking back to Kamil, Roran saw her shift to hide a ration's bag, that was suspiciously plump, behind Toth.

"Right," said Roran.