Kings Game

Chapter 19 - The reaper (5)

Blood. Why was blood always so warm? Roran remembered the first time he'd been soaked in blood, when Gress had been writhing beneath him, the shard of steel stuck in his neck. He remembered the hot droplets of blood spilt by his fellow combatants as they fought each other for survival. He remembered the satisfying feeling of Murrin's blood smearing on his fist as he unleashed a lifetime's worth of rage on the councilman's face.

His blood was also warm. It had been warm when it trickled down his arms from small cuts and scratches. It had been warm when it oozed out of his palms after training with Kell. It had felt hot and sticky when it leaked down his face after Duran had backhanded him. It felt hot now as it leaked out of his neck and his abdomen. But Herda's blood was hotter, gushing over him from the sword wound in her belly.

It had been painfully easy. He figured it out when training with the hounds. They always left their underbelly exposed when they attacked. It was rarely a problem because few people survived an attack from a king's hound. Chase even defended against it, covering the hounds in armor before sending them out to join the military.

All Roran had to do was let Herda attack him and push him to the ground, gravity had done the rest. Roran simply had to put his sword in the right place and Herda had impaled herself on it.

He continued to lay on the ground. Herda lay on top of him, no longer moving, no longer breathing. He ran his fingers through her fur one last time, thinking of the times he had done it before, thinking of the times she had panted at him and wagged her tail. It was different this time, there was no movement. Herda was gone.

Roran stared up into the sky, the small floating square that was the King's landing hovering at the edge of his vision. He could barely see the King looking down at him. Was this what he wanted? Was this what made him happy?

The King made a gesture and Chase's voice rolled through the arena once more.

"Hounds, break! Return!"

Roran heard movement but didn't see anything other than the sky and King looking down on him. Kell's desire to kill those bastards made more sense to Roran with every day that passed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the hounds have been called off and the judges are still making sense of the chaos, but it looks like this could be it. The Iron Gauntlet may have finally come to an end. Has the cruel swordsman maintained his place at the top of the Crucible?"

Barely moving, Roran glanced over. Morena was still standing, a pair of hounds lying in pools of blood nearby. He was breathing but otherwise unharmed, his blades dripping blood into the dirt. Anger flared through Roran, lighting his chest on fire and pumping adrenaline through his veins. After everything that had happened, he was not letting Morena walk away alive. After watching so many people die, he was not going to let the one person that did not deserve to live walk away victorious.

Rolling Herda off himself, Roran rose to his feet. The crowd above roared to life.

"It's not over! I repeat, it is not over! Roran Aurandale is still alive and fighting! And he's heading straight for the cruel swordsman!"

Roran discarded the shattered remnants of his shield and gripped his sword with both hands. Morena licked his lips and flashed Roran a half smile.

"Damn, I've have to give it to you kid, you-"

Roran swung with all his might. Morena parried and scrambled away, the raw force of Roran's blow startling him.

"Hell kid, no need to take it personally-"

Roran swung again, aiming for Morena's sword this time. Morena winced as the blow connected and sparks flew. He backpedaled some more and examined his sword. Roran's blow had left a deep notch. Morena's blades were thin and sharp, not made for defending against a heavier sword like Roran's.

Roran advanced again. "You're a coward!"

"Don't test me kid, I'll skin you alive." Morena moved to the offensive, swinging at Roran.

Roran ducked away and returned with another heavy blow, bashing Morena's sword again. Morena winced. His swords wouldn't survive a fight like this.

"You're a coward," Roran said again. "That's why Herda went for me instead of you. She could smell your fear."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I'm the best damn swordsman in this place. I'm not afraid of anything."

Ignoring him, Roran swung again and again, forcing Morena back.

"You're a conman and a liar. I've never even seen you fight before. Your only real weapons are your words. You scare people and back the weak ones into a corner so you can play with them. Whenever you can't beat someone, you get others to gang up on them for you. You're nothing but a coward."

Pivoting his body, Roran swung with all his might. His blade crashed into Morena's and it snapped in half. Morena swore and dropped it, shaking his hand from the pain. As Roran recovered from the blow, Morena turned and jogged away, getting some distance between them.

Roran took a moment to catch his breath.

"I figured it out when I was fighting Jorgen," he said. "That cowardice is how you survive down here. It's how you navigate the chaos. It's how you stay on top. You're clever, I'll admit that, but you're weak. Nothing more than a bully that gets off on torturing people."

Morena licked his lips and tossed his good sword into his main hand, pulling out a skinning knife to fill his off hand.

"You're sure full of hot air today, kid. Of course, that's all it is."

He sounded brave but he was pale and sweat was dripping down his face.

"If it's nothing but hot air then why are you scared?"

"I'm not scared," Morena said as he took another step backwards.

"Careful, you'll run into the spikes."

Morena glanced behind him, checking the distance between him and the barriers. He had plenty of room but Roran took the opportunity to charge him, swinging his sword viciously. Morena parried and danced away, his swordsmanship easily deflecting Roran's attack despite their banter.

Roran swung again, dipping his sword low to gouge the ground and fling bits of dirt into Morena's face. Morena snarled and staggered backwards. Roran attacked again, slashing his sword across Morena's forearm.

The cruel swordsman cried out in pain and his skinning knife clattered to the ground. Blood flowed from the wound and Morena clutched the arm close to his chest.

"Not used to the pain?"

"Fuck you!"

"That scratch is nothing compared to what you've done to others."

"You're no better. You kill just like I do. We all do it. It's the only way to survive in this world."

"Maybe, but I don't enjoy it."

Roran attacked again but Morena dove out of the way, hitting the dirt and quickly rolling back to his feet. He scuttled away a few more steps, buying himself time to clear the dirt out of his eyes. Roran followed after him, adjusting his grip and gathering himself.

"It's over."

"No! I refuse to die here."

"I'm going to kill you, Morena."

Gripping his sword with his good hand, Morena snarled at Roran, his eyes wide with fear.

"I don't want to die!"

He swung at Roran with all his strength, trying to overpower him and cut his neck open. It was a powerful and precise blow, but one that Roran was ready for. He stepped back, just out of reach, and the blade whistled past him. Then, stepping in, Roran slashed Morena's thigh, severing the hamstrings.

Morena cried out in pain and fell. His blade clattered to the ground and out of reach. He gasped for air as Roran stood over him.

"Wait," he said, "Please don't kill me. I don't want to die."

"How many people have said the same thing to you?"

"I...I...please..."

Gripping his sword with both hands, Roran raised it high before driving it through the cruel swordsman's heart.