Kitera
She ran down the narrow stairs, people shouting their complaints as she unceremoniously pushed her way past them. She jumped down the remaining four steps and landed in a half-crouch, before she harshly elbowed and shouldered her way to the spiked iron fence that circled the pit.
Nothing filled her mind or body save for a newfound raging energy, coursing wildly and making her move. As if sensing this, people slinked out of her path almost like they would a rabid dog.
Hey, whatever works.
The weariness from the day's hard riding, the soreness in her thighs, the dull ache from her sunburns, the heat that made her swim in her boots, that made her riding pants and blouse cling to her skin – all of that dropped out of existence as Kitera stepped onto an iron crossbeam and grasped up at the spikes just under their sharpened tips.
With a determined grunt, she hauled herself all the way up until her boot reached the upper crossbeam, and she leapt over to the other side, landing hard.
It occurred to her then that, shockingly, she still carried her stuff. How in the gods' names did I even—?
Anyway, she let it all go thumping into the dust – save for her sword. Which she unsheathed fiercely, blade's edge capturing the sun. Meanwhile, the confused crowd gasped, and basically wondered out loud what the fuck was going on.
Kitera tossed away sheath and strap, wielding her Felleran sword right-handed, and she paid the crowd no heed because—
Dharkan lay collapsed across the sand, his hand clutching the upper right side of his face, blood everywhere. An agonized moan escaped his lips, instilling unparalleled fury into Kitera's heart.
Her gaze slanted lethally up to the Azurian man who loomed over Dharkan. He'd been about to strike again – but now he, like the rest of the stadium, stared instead wide-eyed at the approaching woman that probably looked completely, utterly mad.
She couldn't see well, because he was slightly curled on his side and his hand hid part of it, but it seemed Dharkan had suffered a nasty slash from cheek to forehead, going through the eye. The roaring anger inside Kitera teamed up with a stone-cold, battle-hardened focus, as she strode purposefully to a striking distance from the tall, bulky man.
"Kill the bitch!" someone shouted from the crowd, and others jeered and hollered in agreement.
It startled the Azurian warrior out of his shock. Which was good – for him, that is – because Kitera didn't exactly have the patience.
She sliced across the air, aiming, as Dharkan had earlier, for the gap below his armor. Her blade came within a hair's breadth, but he parried it with a downward arc. She easily anticipated his next move; his other arm loomed from the side to hit her with the shield.
Kitera was faster, kicking savagely at his knee. He screamed out in shocked pain and lost his momentum. She spun, dashing around with momentum of her own, and slashed across his back – same weakness, below the breastplate. This time it hit home; she felt her blade sinking into flesh.
The crowd was booing her, she knew, and had never cared less about anything her whole life. The rush and tingles of battle's high thundered in her chest as she didn't waste a breath, aiming her next strike upward at his neck. She was tall enough to make it, her sword's tip reaching up . . .
Despite his fresh lower back wound, her opponent proved more resourceful than she'd anticipated; from the corner of her vision, she saw his shield swing toward her unprotected ribs, too late to evade—
The shield's edge slammed hard into her right side. A choked grunt rasped out of her as she flew sideways and sprawled across the sand. Thank the gods, she'd managed to maintain her hold on her sword's hilt.
Pain rippled from her side, bringing water to her eyes and making her grit her teeth. Probably a broken rib, or two. She rode the pain, clenched her jaw against it, and rolled up to her feet as the crowd cheered for their champion.
Kitera barely heard them, focusing instead on Dharkan's labored breathing. It amplified her strength, the hot jabs of outrage outweighing even the agony in her ribs.
She met the onrushing Azurian long sword with her own, smaller blade. The metal of both weapons gleamed blindingly in the sun as Kitera pushed wildly against him. First to pull back her sword, she leapt into a lunge, placing her strength into a violent arcing strike. Her opponent blocked it, but clumsily.
Kitera feinted a second, similar blow, then at the last moment stabbed sharply forward instead. With precarious balance, he deflected with the edge of his shield, the dull clang of steel against steel ringing in Kitera's ears. But she'd seen that coming, and forced him back again with another duo of strike and stab.
He panted in confusion as he barely parried – she was too fast for him now, not even a half-second's pause between blows.
Confident in her speed, Kitera broke into a series of sweeping slashes, coming at him from unexpected angles. She'd practiced these figures at length with the best of her recruits back in Veicira, and her technique paid off now.
The Azurian warrior struggled against her, steadily backing away now, and Kitera heard fierce, roaring shouts piercing the air, before belatedly realizing they came from her own mouth.
Felleran steel rained down on her opponent, striking shield and sword tirelessly, and he cowered away before her unrelenting rage, clearly intimidated by the lethal speed of her blows. Soon, there would be an opening, he would inevitably make a mistake—
There!
Stunned after a particularly powerful strike, her sword having slammed his shield out of the way, the Azurian man didn't muster his defense on time. Leaving his vulnerable stomach clear, and she was right there, lunging, stabbing up into the flesh and deep, and she felt her sword emerging out the other side.
He uttered a single shocked, strangled scream.
Alongside it was her own final victorious roar, drowning out his scream of agony as he fell to one knee, dropping his shield and clutching helplessly at the sword like he wanted to somehow pull it out himself.
Kitera did him the favor. One boot propped on his breastplate, she drew out her blood-dripping blade with a grunt, aware of the stunned silence filling the stadium.
Her hair fell in tangles beside her face, scarce wind ruffling at it. The moment felt suddenly odd. Unreal.
She glanced down at her opponent, stepping backward. She'd pierced his liver, she knew. He'd die slow.
Should I mercy kill him?
No time. Her attention jolted back to her surroundings, where a Red Patrol officer now stood – where had he come from?
Glancing wildly around, she saw open gates in the iron fence and Red Patrol swarming in, as if they'd stood stock-still, waiting for the end of the fight to intervene.
Realization hit her like a sharp kick under her heart.
Too many of them.
Perhaps ten, maybe twelve – and more were coming.
Sword in hand, big Azurian warrior agonizing behind her, Kitera ignored the officers while she still could, and ran instead to Dharkan's side.
She dropped to her knees beside him.
"Drop your weapon now!" A nearby officer shouted harshly. "You're coming with us."
Kitera tossed her sword to the sand. Not like she had a choice.
Dharkan was still conscious – barely.
She put a hand on his shoulder as the Red Patrol surrounded her. Loud, obnoxious booing droned down from the crowd. Kitera swallowed hard. Dharkan still held his face, loosely now. Blood had spilled thickly from the slash and down into his hair and on the sand.
"Fuck, D, your eye," she said, and it ended in a near-sob.
To her surprise, he found it in him to chuckle. He clasped her hand tight – the one that held his shoulder.
"Always thought I'd . . . look good . . . with an eye patch," he wheezed out.
She had to return the chuckle, though hers sounded more like crying.
"You're such an idiot." She squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, as if that would make anything better. She lowered herself over him, almost as if to kiss his forehead.
"I'm sorry," she choked out, tears escaping her eyes.
"What for?" he rasped out, his good eye closed against obvious pain. "You . . . saved me."
True, but the Red Patrol . . .
She couldn't bring herself to tell him.
It was funny then, how her mind conjured up a memory that was many months old. Dhark and her, arguing about the family thing, back when he still lived at the castle.
'I already have so many people to protect. It's just so hard to keep everyone I love safe. With kids in the picture? I mean, they'd be so vulnerable. How could I ever make sure that they're safe?'
'You couldn't,' Dharkan had replied. 'You can't control everything. But if you really want them, you just make 'em kids anyway, and you love them with all your heart – it's all you can really do.'
She didn't know why she recalled that particular moment, but she held him in her arms closer and tighter than before, and until she couldn't anymore because the Red Patrol took them, and dragged them both away, under the unforgiving glare of the sun and the hooting of the angered mob.