Septifiria; The Becoming

Chapter 3

    “Are you alright?” Mesmer asked Septi quietly. They were standing just outside the arena, talking. It was ten minutes until Septi was to face Steppe in battle, and her fears were back. Septi answered Mesmer’s question with a sharp nod thinking that if she tried to speak she would throw up. Mesmer gently rubbed her on the back gently, and sighed quietly. Shy of lies she had nothing more to say, which worried Septi more than Mesmer’s usual chatter. Just then, Raram ran up, breathless.

   “Steppe wants you to battle him now,” she gasped, terror and perspiration on her face. “He wants to fight you now!” She was shaking, and tears were quickly joining the sweat on her face.

   “What?” Mesmer stared at her in shock, disbelief on her face. “But Steppe said seven!” The initial shock on Mesmer’s face was now slowly being replaced with her indignity of the highest degree.

   “But he changed it!” Raram said, frantically looking from Septi to Mesmer and back again.

   “That may be,” Septi said, her lips quivering slightly. “But I refuse to go into the arena until the set time, which is seven. He will not tell me what to do! He’s lost that right. He lost it when he killed Angel and Danae.” A single tear ran down Septi’s marble pale cheek. Mesmer and Raram were both staring at her, eyes wide.

   “You’re defying Steppe?” Mesmer whispered, her dark face going pale.

   “According to some of his milder rules he should be setting the date of my execution already,” Septi said dryly. “Mes, do you really think it matters? He’s going to kill me any way you look at it.”

   “Not necessarily,” Raram said, calming down a bit. “If you win, he won’t be in any condition to do anything to you.” Septi laughed, a haunted, bitter sound that echoed in the hallway.

   “If I win,” she said, stressing the ‘if’. “If I win, then our problems will be over. However, chances of me winning aren’t very high now, are they?”

“Is that the kind of attitude to have about this fight?” Mes asked reproachfully.

   “Yeah,” Raram said, looking at Septi. “It’s hard to have faith in the outcome we hope for if the champion doesn’t have faith in it.”

   “Look, I’m sorry to bring you guys down, but maybe there’s nothing to have hope in.” Mesmer slapped Septi gently across the face.

   “Snap out of it,” Mes said, a little angrily. You will win. You have to.” Septi looked at her, and laughed at the fierce look on Mes’s face.

   “Alright, alright,” she said with a little sigh. “I’ll do my best. I’ll try.”

   “Trying isn’t good enough,” Mes said. “You must succeed.”

   “Mesmer’s right, Septi,” Raram said quietly. “There are no ‘if’s or ‘but’s involved in the matter. You have to, for us all.”

   “Nothing like adding to the pressure,” Septi said sarcastically.

   “Sorry,” Mes said, looking at her anxiously. “Septi, you what’s at stake. You just can’t lose. And Raram, shouldn’t you have taken Septi’s message to Steppe?”

   “No,” Septi said. “Leave him wondering. Besides, I only have two more minutes till the time set this morning.” Mesmer shrugged, and an intense silence fell.

   “Septi, it’s time,” someone said in a hoarse whisper. Septi whipped around, and then relaxed when she saw Oracle.

   “Alright,” she said, surprisingly calm. “Mes, Raram, like I said before, if I die, tell Jade that I’m sorry.” Taking a deep breath she stepped into the training room arena.