The Arena

The black raven

Alera didn’t say another word and Tellor left her alone. There were no other words he could say to soothe her anger and disbelief and there were no words she could say that could explain her reaction. So they both fell asleep, hand in hand, in silence. And when morning came, Alera found it even harder to speak to him again. He had been there for her, trying his best to console her, yet she lashed at him simply because he chose to believe in something she couldn’t.

The silence lasted between them until the next day, when their eyes met across the arena, from their cells. As usual, she showed him her daggers. Even after a week since Asendriel was taken away, she still hoped she would get to fight and, to her disgust, she realised it was the first time in her life when she was so eager to. It didn’t really matter who it was, as long as it wasn’t against Tellor. 

But as the day went by and the sun was going down, she was more and more infuriated and frustrated by the situation. She sat down to avoid pacing in her cell and stared at the arena, where the current fight just ended with one fighter spilling the other one’s guts all over the ground.

The crowd cheered while the victor covered his face with the blood of his presumed enemy. She understood the need to offer a show to the viewers, but even to her, this was too much.

‘My friends, this day is rapidly reaching its end!’ came Baruing’s voice above the general noise. ‘But for you, I think we have enough time for one last fight! Will our champion  keep his hard earned victory? Or will there be another fighter who rises above him?’

Alera looked at the winner, a dark skinned night elf with white eyes and green spiky hair. She felt sorry for him. After fighting with all his might and emerging victorious, he was probably hoping to live longer, but it seemed Baruing had other plans and wasn’t ready to grant him peace just yet.

‘Do we have a challenger?’

His words didn’t even circle the entire arena, when one of the cages was opened, following a loud metallic sound. As soon as she heard the cell, she knew it was Tellor and her heart climbed in her throat as she got up and grasped her cell bars.

‘I challenge him!’, Tellor said, clearly, walking towards the center of the arena. He was carrying a long sword.

For a second, Baruing didn’t say anything. Was he surprised? Or was he expecting this? Alera’s thoughts were rolling in her mind, each giving way to more and more horrible outcomes and when Baruing finally spoke, Alera realised she was holding her breath.

‘Commence the fight!’

Be it out of despair or courage, the night elf didn’t waste another second and, screaming his lungs out, he charged at Tellor with all he had. He held his weapon high above his head, a heavy mace with a rounded head full of blooded spikes, and as soon as Tellor was in his range, he swung it with all his might.

The weapon described a curve in the air, missing Tellor by the inch, but he wasn’t done and the next swing drew blood, as one of the long spikes left a red line on the blood elf’s chest.

And Alera watched in horror as more and more wounds started appearing on his body as the fight progressed. But it was odd. She knew that Tellor was far more skilled than this, yet now, he was almost always on the defensive side. He was starting to breathe heavily and his moves were slowing down as the night elf was gaining more and more ground with each hit.

Seeing the blood elf covered in more and more blood, the night elf seemed to be more and more confident and even a small smile appeared in the corners of his mouth.

Alera gripped the cell bars as if hoping to bend them and get out. Looking at the night elf’s bloodthirsty white eyes, terrible thoughts surfaced from the back of her mind, covering every bit of ration she had left: will Tellor die?