“Not all of us grew up with a warrior emphasis. Some of us had to fight men bigger than us for a moldy scrap of bread.”
Sigvid scratches his chin. “Pinewater… Pinewater, ah, does that have the one tavern by the entrance with the big stained glass window of a tree? I was thrown through that once. Maybe it was you?” He laughs.
“A distinct possibility. I was quite fond of my ale back in those times.” Champ’s laugh has a dark edge as if there is an untold story from those haunted nights.
Sigvid recommences his nightly pacing.
Sitting still is suffocating.
“What comforts have your sponsors given?” Sigvid wonders how a new combatant like himself managed a mystery sponsor. Regardless, the person paid for Sigvid’s private cell, daily hot meal, regular baths, and a warm bed.
“Staying alive the longest.” There is a hint of sadness in the Champion’s voice. “The better you do in a match, the more the wealthy want to keep you around for entertainment, no matter how desperately you want to move on.”
Sigvid stops pacing. “You want to move on?”
“It’s complicated,” Champion responds, and silence lapses between them.
“Lights out!” A guard hollers down their hallway just before the lit sconces extinguish, bathing them in darkness.
The following morning welcomes the Arena combatants with a bright, clear summer day and hot air in the exterior sparring rings.
Sigvid fucking hates it.Give me bleak, frigid air along the coast any day.
Champ wraps cloth gauntlets over his dark skin as they prepare for range practice. “Try to avoid any loose arrows. Killing other combatants is strongly encouraged in the Arena, but not in training.” He grabs his bow and quiver before glancing over. “You are annoyingly cranky when they chain you in punishment. Your angry screams interrupted my beauty sleep the last time you hauled off and stabbed someone.”
“What can I say?” Sigvid roughly tosses his quiver over his shoulder. “I resent being caged like an animal. Those who have wronged me should know I will find and destroy them.”
He nocks an arrow and fires. The feathers along the shaft bounce side to side, dead center of the bullseye. Sigvid breathes heavily through clenched teeth.
Queen Avina.
After answering her questions through torture, she still saw fit to sell him to this fate. He would find a means of escape and then exact his vengeance. The Timber Queen will regret every decision she has ever made.
Champ fires off an arrow that strikes true, while his second is a bit off-center. “I have to ask, how did you end up here?”
Sigvid can feel the man’s dark eyes on him.
“I remember the night you were dragged in. All the whispers and then screaming from the Assessment Chamber.”
Sigvid fires another arrow before answering, “I have been at war for two winters. I killed the King, and then the Queen continued the dance.” He sinks three arrows, splitting one atop the other before he is content. “She got the jump on me. I was locked in her dungeon, tortured, and then sent here.” He responds through his teeth as he fires faster with perfect accuracy, creating a mass of arrows in the center of his target.
She will answer for condemning me to this Abyss. And this time, shewill have answers for me. Answers for how my father fell from the top of the Sapphire Palace while visiting King Ceowald.
“Queen Avina of the Timber Province?”
He stops firing. “Do you have your own stories?”
Did he want to share anger toward her, or did he enjoy his private stewing? Why did he suddenly feel venomous that someone else might have a connection to her?
Champ shakes his head. “No, but Face will make you feel better.” He whistles toward a younger, handsome man reclining against a practice dummy. He strides over with a pearly white smile.
“Face?” Sigvid raises an eyebrow. “A bit cutesy for an Arena name.”
Champ chuckles. “We thought so, too. When he and his buddy dropped in with flawless skin and clean-shaven faces, we couldn’t help bestowing their Arena names.”
“Face, this is Beast. He’s new to the Arena.” Champion gestures between the two of them. “Face here was one of King Rendel’s personal guards. He shared some horror stories about that fucker, but I thought maybe you’d enjoy hearing how he used to torture the Queen.”
Sigvid’s muscles tense as the young man strides over like he owns the practice ring.
