870 P.C, Middle Rithel (Fall), O'siaris Itrea.
The tournament was in full swing, and in fact, it was almost over with. Katerin watched Lugaria and Agrata in the ring, and it looked as if they were winning with ease. The pair were known as the best in Sahn-Raidar, and that was for an excellent reason.
Mordai slept in a bed not far away, with half a dozen clerics tending to his wounds, all of them thanks to a very large, happy Uhma'zarhin man. Koi'mu wielded an axe with the grace of a dancer and the power of an avalanche. It seemed the luck of the draw had been against Mordai, for this tournament. Kindra sat on the edge of a similar cot, staring at the drink in her hand. Her loss was also thanks to Koi'mu, though their fight had been a much closer thing.
"Katerin, stop pacing. You're going to end up tired before we even have to fight them," Fykes said.
She paused and turned to face him. Faint bruises still showed on her cheek, a reminder of their hard-won victory in the past matches. "I'm nervous! It's the last match..."
Lugaria and Agrata were an intimidating pair. They were both astounding fighters, and Lugaria was the only person she had met that terrified her, despite the fact that he held no ill will against her. He was deadly and serious, letting nothing get in his way.
Agrata was his match in skill, though far less intimidating. He was quiet, never saying more than a few words, but he was kind, and still she thought he looked far too innocent to be as good with a weapon as he had proven to be. They worked together better than anyone she had ever seen, and she knew without doubt that they would win this match. She had gotten to know them both a bit better in the last few months. And was glad for it, even if it had made the thought of fighting them in this tournament that much more nerve-wracking.
"It's just a competition, love," Fykes told her, grinning.
"I know. But I want to win."
Fykes laughed, and Kindra snorted. "So you can claim all the prizes?" He raised his eyebrows.
"No... " she said.
"So you can rub it in their faces?" His smile widened.
"Maybe if I kick his ass enough, he'll stop calling me a nitwit, at every opportunity," she said, annoyance coating her words as she thought of Lugaria's annoying expressions and countless insults.
Kindra laughed, downing the rest of her drink. "If you weren't such a nitwit, he probably would," she said, grinning.
Katerin sighed, shaking her head, and resumed her pacing.
Katerin stood alone and tired in the arena, staring down Lugaria and Agrata. Fykes was some distance away, unconscious, and normally she would have worried for his safety, but all the warding had come from Graiden himself, and she had no time to worry right now. The wards kept the pain from being anything akin to its normal level, kept them from any danger of dying in these fights, but it still hurt like hell.
They had started off strong, but they had been unable to catch Agrata, and she had mistakenly left Fykes to face Lugaria alone. He held his ground well and nearly had Lugaria out of the fight at the start, but Agrata had a few tricks up his sleeve. He healed his friend just in time to let him knock Fykes from consciousness, and despite Katerin's attempts, every time she got him on his feet, bolts and that damn sword of Lugaria's knocked him out again.
She had no more time to try to get him up and fighting, again. She would lose for sure if she did.
So now here she stood, glowering at a smug Lugaria. Gods was she thankful that she had upgraded her armor. Her tactics so far had been to let Lugaria approach, drawing him further away from Agrata, then flee with magic before he could actually land a blow, but it had not worked this time. They were a match for her cunning, after all. She swung her staff towards him, but he easily dodged. Despite how easy it looked, she knew he was working hard at it. He was serious, instead of mocking, and that meant it was taking quite a lot of effort on his part. She ignored her swelling pride, and freed a dagger from its sheath at her side, swinging her staff again with one hand. He parried it and left a cut across her thigh. She stepped inside the range of his sword and slid her dagger through a gap in his armor, aiming for a lung.
*
He cursed and pushed her away with a knee to the stomach that left her coughing
*
She avoided his next swing, but not the crossbow quarrel that came after it. It struck her wrist, and she lost her grip on her staff. Which she was forced to leave behind as Lugaria's sword thrust forward. It was her turn to curse, and she changed her grip on her dagger.
Lugaria's dark eyes held more than a little humor in them, now. He had wanted to see how well she could truly fight for a long time. And in truth, she was very good. A far cry better than he ever expected her to be, though he would never tell her that. He swung again and she rolled away diving behind him.
*
"I'm sorry," she said, grinning like a loon. "You're not gonna win." She drove the dagger through another gap in his armor. Wincing as a bolt jammed into her hip. It was a risk, she supposed, of exposing her back to an archer as skilled as Agrata.
*
Lugaria wanted to laugh despite his anger. Her damn magic was the only chance she had to beat him, and she used it well, even though he knew how to counter her techniques. She thought ahead of her every move and could counter him, as well.
He was proud of her, too, and that pissed him off just as much. Her combat up close was far improved, it seemed she had listened to every bit of help he had tried to give her. He cursed at her, as the warding spell took effect and his vision faded into darkness.
*
Katerin's heart was pounding. Not because this was terrifying—but because she had done it. She'd beaten him! And sure the fight was not yet over, as Agrata could easily best her if she was not careful, but she had beaten Lugaria and she hoped it stung his pride, a little. Lugaria's arrogance really was mightier than his skill, by only the smallest fractions, it seemed.
*
Agrata watched with surprise as Lugaria fell, laughing to himself. He would hear a rant later, he was sure. He cleared his head, remembering to focus. Lugaria had not held any excitement over the tournament, forced into it by Graiden as they were, but Agrata saw no problem with making a good show of this fight. Regardless of the winner, it was not a waste of time.
*
She locked eyes with him and they both smiled. Agrata was the best archer she had ever seen. He was rumored to never miss his target. And that was not much of an overstatement. The many wounds and bolts in her armor proved it.
He had missed a total of two shots. One she had blocked with a spell, and the other had not been intended for her, though the hole in her hand surely made her question that decision. None of his shots had been deadly, yet, but it was easily possible he was only toying with her. She retrieved her staff, rolling around a broken half wall of stone, to keep sight of him, and keep cover.
Now all she had to do was get close.
He fired, and the bolt grazed her shoulder before her spell even took effect, but then she stood beside him.
Her staff hit his arm hard enough to force him to lose the bolt he was dropping into place. He grinned, and stepped off the side of the twenty-foot tall pillar without any hesitation, grasping for his cloak. The magic activated and deposited him safely in the sand—far from the pillar, near the other side of the arena. She watched as he fell and disappeared and cursed at him. People were cheering and screaming, but she could barely hear it. She scanned the sand for him. Slippery son of a—A bolt sliced into her arm, another slicing across her cheek. He was running for cover on the other side of the arena.
She was there in another moment, throwing an orb of ice towards him. Hoping to slow him down.
It hit but did not seem to be nearly effective as she needed it to be. He was going to cut her to pieces at this rate.
She dove behind a short wall as three bolts arced for her. She could almost tell exactly what he had been aiming at.
She prepared her spell, with a laugh she rose from her cover. "I need a second!" she said, releasing her spell.
A loud popping sound wrung in her ears. Where Agrata had stood a second before, was now a tiny, white kitten. With disheveled hair and distinctly angry eyes. Roaring laughter came from the crowd and Katerin held her knees, casting a spell of healing. Forcing as much air as she could into her lungs.
Her eyes widened as the tiny kitten charged forward. It bounded off her leg and slapped her across the face, leaving a perfect set of cat claw marks from the edge of her eyebrow to her jaw. She yelped and batted him away. Cursing herself as she realized she ruined her own spell.
Agrata gave her a smug laugh, as he leapt gracefully back to his feet, looking smug. "Don't you know I never miss?"
They stood about ten feet apart, both looking worse for wear. She was getting desperate—she knew if she moved he would riddle her full of holes and that would be it, but if she did not, he would riddle her full of holes. She heard the click of his hand crossbow and shook her head, pointing a finger at the sand between them. Making the decision in an instant. An explosion rocked the Colosseum, and the fire was all she could see. It was like looking through a thin satin curtain. She wrapped the spell around herself, and almost felt bad for ending the fight this way.
Fire and force wrapped Agrata up, and threw him several feet back, heating his lungs and stealing his breath as he faded to unconsciousness. His last thoughts were of shock and surprise.
Katerin sat at the edge of her cot, staring at the hole in her hand, while healers bustled about. "This is the strangest injury I think I've ever had, " she remarked, and Lugaria snorted.
"You shouldn't have tried to catch a bolt, nitwit. "
She laughed. "I was running out of ideas! Acting as a shield was my best one, at the time."
Fykes sighed, shaking his head. He shook Lugaria's hand. "Well fought."
"You, too."
Katerin grinned, and all the smugness in the world was held within it.
"Maybe next time I won't throw the fight," Lugaria remarked, raising one eyebrow at her.
Her smug expression fell away, into a hellfire glare. "You didn't!"
Agrata snorted, eyeing Lugaria. "No, he didn't. He's too upset to have thrown it."
Lugaria gave him a slight glare.
"Did you really turn him into a cat?" Fykes asked, unable to contain the humor in his face.
Now it was Agrata's turn to scowl.
"Yes," they said, at the same time. Both with entirely different tones. Agrata's full of annoyance, Katerin's hinging on giddy.
Katerin shrugged, "It worked, though." She rubbed a hand across the scabs on the side of her face. A perfect set of cat claw marks that still stung. The healers had refused to heal it, and had laughed when she had asked. "I can't believe you did that."
Agrata cracked his knuckles. "It was oddly satisfying."
The healers tended their wounds, and not long after that Graiden appeared in the doorway. His arms full of long cloaks. "Come on. It's time to award our winners."
Fykes and Katerin stood, while Lugaria lounged easily in his cot. Watching them with the eyes of a man who had no responsibilities
"You, too," Graiden told them, with a stern expression.
Lugaria sighed and his contented expression vanished.
Graiden handed her and Fykes each a heavy weighted cloak. Katerin's was so heavy she had to fight to stand straight. Graiden gave them a scheming smile, as she looked it over. "The best of us carry the heaviest responsibility," he said.
"That's not usually taken so literally, Graiden," Fykes remarked, grunting as the weight settled on his shoulders.
Graiden eyed him with a no nonsense kind of look, and walked out the door to a platform Typhon had created, forming it from magic in the middle of the arena. He stood in the middle, with a number of items sitting on around his feet.
He waited for all the fighters to gather, then he took a deep breath and glanced at Typhon, who gave him a quick nod.
"Thank you all!" he said, voice booming magically as he addressed the crowd. "For coming to witness some of the finest fighters ever beheld on Itrea!" He stepped forward, "And now we show them our appreciation. Our prizes, and the titles they shall be known as from today on!"
He picked up a small bundle of items and stepped up to Katerin, then placed a beautiful mantle over her shoulders and an intriguing metal staff in her hands. He moved to Fykes, placing a circle around his head, and a beautifully crafted blade in his hands. "To our winners—the best of the best, I name the first nobles of Itrea! Katerin Moonshadow, the hammer of nightfall, first Lady of O'siaris! And I name Gregorio Fykes, the Prince of the Crescent Moon, first Lord of O'siaris!" He turned to the crowd with a smile.
Katerin paled, and she looked at Graiden with wide eyes.
The crowd cheered, and flowers were thrown down into the sands, thumping toward her feet, their petals falling like vibrant rain.
Her heart stopped and for a moment her mouth hung open. Lady? she thought, with horror.
Graiden smiled at her. "These very two people and their companions have done many a great service for O'siaris, and all of Itrea! May the champions of the Torrent Skies continue in their ways and bring peace to us all! May they hold high their responsibilities and care for the people as they do their own blood!'' Graiden moved right along with awarding the other fighters. Never giving her morphing expressions any notice.
Katerin stood shock still until the ceremony had finished, and everyone moved away from the platform.
She caught up with Graiden inside the arena, as he was preparing to leave. "Lady?" she squeaked.
Graiden smiled innocently. "Was my speech okay?" he asked. "I've never been good with speeches."
Katerin stared at him open-mouthed. "Lady?" she said again, staring at the heavy cloak.
"I guess I have you for speeches now," he said, mischievousness lingering in the corners of his eyes.
"But Graiden I'm not—"
"Not what? Congratulations on winning the tournament," he said, still grinning at her. A cunning sparkle in his eyes. "All awards are final and cannot be returned."
"You did this on purpose. " She scowled. "The manor."
He laughed, "Of course I did. Do you know how much you did for this place? If you thought I was going to let you get away you really are a nitwit. "
She stood in stunned silence, as Fykes strode through the door, relaxed and unfazed by all of it.
"You knew, " she said, accusingly.
He grinned, "Mhmm. "
"And you didn't tell me?"
"Why ruin the surprise?"
She gaped and sputtered as no words came out.
His face turned serious. "We need you, Katerin."
Graiden nodded. "The dwarves love you, the Uhma'zarhins respect you, and now, so do all of the townspeople."
"But I... " she stammered, sitting on a cot with her stomach twisting itself into knots. Not much time passed before the door burst open and Imeiza appeared, a giant smile on her face.
"My daughter! A Lady!" she said, hugging Katerin so tightly it hurt. "Your father would be so proud!"
Katerin glanced over her shoulder to see a rather mischievous grin from Graiden as he ducked out the door and disappeared from sight.
That evening a party was held, and everyone in the town came to give their congratulations. Katerin did her best to take it all in, trying to keep herself calm and wrap her mind around all of this. She saw Sulea briefly, who smiled and nodded to her from across the room. Brazen was attached to her hip, bragging about how well he had done in his matches, and trying to puzzle out the meaning of his own title. "The Prismatic Endeavor." Graiden really was terrible with speeches and titles, it seemed, but at least it sounded nice.
Imeiza was overjoyed and drug her back to the party every time she tried to find some peace and quiet. Mordai and Kindra were present and laughed at her the entire night. Putting another drink in her hand, insisting she dance, and generally giving her no chance to escape.
The inn stayed full and bustling as the night wore on, but her shock never wore away.
Eventually, she did manage to sneak out the door, and she breathed a sigh of relief letting the chilly ocean breeze renew her, she walked around the back of the inn, and climbed easily up the siding, to its slanted roof. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and blinked at the two forms at the opposite end of the roof.
"Running away?" Agrata asked, smiling at her.
She sighed. "Trying to." She walked toward them with ease across the shingles, and crouched on the rooftop. "You two?" She should have expected them to be up here. They might not participate in the celebration, but they were never far from it.
"Enjoying the view." Agrata said, pointing towards the moon rising over the ocean.
Lugaria snorted. "You know, if you get tired of all this fame, Anklestrap could use a hand."
"Is Beymor okay?" she asked, leaning forward.
"For now. They're finishing the tunnel through the mountain, and the orcs aren't taking it well. They're expressing their anger with endless raids on the new settlement."
"The tunnel is already done?" She blinked again. She had to give it to Beymor, he had nothing but drive, when it came to his home.
"Mhm." Agrata said. "We're leaving tomorrow to travel up there with the dwarves."
Katerin sighed, "I'm sure Graiden has plenty of things for me to take care of, now... but I'll keep it in mind."
"I figure even you'll get tired of all this attention, eventually." Lugaria said, his expression as stony as it ever was.
Katerin glared at him but before she could reply, she heard Imeiza calling for her. She let her glare linger a moment longer, before she moved to the front of the roof, and jumped easily down. She fixed her blouse, smoothed her hair, and stepped back into the room, to greet her family and friends once again.