Kooroo
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A mouse scurried somewhere within one of the old cabin’s walls, its feet echoing through the cracked elm boards. The dusty head of a hippogriff loomed above, its glassy, unseeing eyes gazing at the pair below; a tall, tanned fellow leaning back on a rickety chair, and a young, bright-eyed youth, standing next to the table.
“Can you explain it once more? I just want to make sure that even you understand what you’re saying.”
“Daford…”
Daford sighed and swung his legs off the table. His dark eyes met Elias’ golden ones, and Elias held his gaze as the older man got up from his seat.
“Okay, fine. I’ll summarize the main ideas and explain your plan back to you, and you can correct me if I’m wrong.”
“... If you want? It’s... It’s not exactly a recipe for triple-layered faerie cakes, so I don’t see what needs explaining.”
“Honestly, I’m just hoping that if I tell you what you just told me, you’ll realise just how stupid it sounds and change your mind about, well, changing your mind.”
It was Elias’ turn to sigh. “Fine, but let’s walk as we talk. It’s about time for dinner, and I’m starting to get hungry.”
He turned on his heel and walked from the room, listening to Daford’s grumbling as he followed. Elias went outside the cabin and stretched, admiring the setting sun’s rays from their raised position on the edge of the mountain. Trees and forest sprawled out below them. In the distance had been their destination; a fortified city, its many spires and fluttering flags visible from behind its walls.
Elias looked away from the view, and started down the mountain trail with Daford beside him. They continued walking for a good five minutes before Daford broke the silence. “Did you speak to the others?”
Elias gave a small grin. He’d been expecting that question. “I have, actually.”
“And how’d that go? The news that after two months on the road, just as we’ve paid a deposit on that ancient shed and are approaching Amberworth, you’ve had a change of mind.”
“Well, you can guess,” Elias said, the grin vanishing. “They all reacted the exact way you’d expect. Tylia asked about a dozen questions and then went to pack her gear and regents. Reuben just nodded and walked off to sharpen his sword. As for Annette-”
“Roasted you? Grilled you?”
“Grilled. Like a fish, though I managed to slow things down a bit. For once.”
“Oh? And did you use some secret carpenter technique to persuade her?”
“Uh, no. Nothing quite like that.”
“Ninjitsu?”
“... I think you need to read up on what carpenters or ninjas actually do, but I'm pretty sure that one doesn’t mediate and the other one sneakily stabs things. And i’m pretty sure that stabbing is the opposite of mediation. But nah, all I did was point out that whenever we’re doing one of her jobs and she gets cold feet we don't make a song and a dance about pulling out.”
Daford looked mildly surprise. “Not bad, kid. I was expecting her to just nail you with the spell book and drag you to the doctor.”
“Uh, yeah, that still almost happened. Like I said, I managed to slow things down, but,” Elias grimaced at the memory, “I don’t think she was particularly happy. She thought about it and then said ‘but I’ve never thrown away two months of hard work’, and then she threw the book at me and I ran out of the room.”
“Well that’s more like it! Keeping with tradition.”
“Oh shut it. Weren’t you going to give me a poetry recital or something?”
“Well, you can call it a poem if you want, but if I have to read up about ninjas then you have to read up about poetry. But anyway, the new plan. As proposed by Elias Iivonen,” Daford said, kicking a stone on the path. “Step one, leave Amberworth.”
“We technically aren’t in Amberworth, but-”
“Step two, travel to Brin.”
“Bren, actually. Brin is only a short trip over those mountains. From what I gather, Bren’s a bit further away, so there might be-.”
“Step 3, you enter the annual free-for-all tournament with us cheering you on from the stands.”
“You don’t ha-”
“Hush, Elias! Let me finish.”
Elias held his tongue and trudged on. The remaining daylight in the sky was fading fast now, darkening rapidly as a small village came into view.
“And step 4, you win, or hopefully win, and say it for me… What do you win?”
Elias gave another sigh. “A wish.”
“Right, a wish. Genie-in-a-lamp solution, huh,” Daford scowled and stopped walking. “So what’s the difference between winning this tournament or blowing out the candles on top of your next birthday cake? I’ve told you before, Elias, there are some things out there that even magic can’t fulfil. Acts of divine intervention are few and far between, and even then I’m sceptical. And even then, what would a wish get you that money couldn’t?”
Elias didn’t break stride. “Answers.”
Daford opened his mouth to argue, but didn’t say anything and kept walking.
When it became clear that there wasn’t going to be a counterargument, Elias continued. ”I know that you’re against anything that seems like a longshot, or involves ‘hocus pocus’, as you often put it, Daford. But whenever I’ve gone with the conventional options — the investigators, information brokers, agencies and whatever — they’ve come up empty handed. I’ve wasted a lot more than just two months of our collective time by running around and throwing gold at the regular options. Surely even someone as conservative as you can see that there might be some merit in trying something else?”
“Your parents have been gone for 13 years, Elias. We’ve discussed this. Either they’re alive and out there still, and therefore leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. Or—”
“Or they’re alive, and are universal champions at ‘hide and see’, I know,” Elias yawned. “I still don’t understand how ‘ownership of insane weaponry equals amazing survival skills’. I also don’t want to know where you learnt math.”
“Magical weapons plus insane carpentry skills equals amazing survival skills,” Daford corrected. “Plus, I don’t want them to come back and find out that their good friend Daford Roze kept their son safe, but let their daughter run off on her own. That probably won’t look too good.”
“Casimira can take care of herself. She always pulled me out of trouble when we were kids.”
“Your Elder Sibling worship is commendable, considering she was the one that usually got you into trouble in the first place. And that you haven’t seen her for nearly 12 years.”
“Well I guess that’s what happens when one of your parents’ good friends doesn’t keep an eye on the rebellious child, yeah?”
“The least she could’ve done was left a note,” Daford grumbled. ”And I’m not sure how good a friend they consider me, since they apparently expected me to babysit their kids and never told me they were moonlighting as… hitmen, or whatever they actually do.”
The pair approached the town gate. Daford nodded at the guard who let them through the gate, and they trekked in, their shadows stretched by along the ground. The sun had almost set now, its last light sending a crimson flare across the clouds and the horizon. A steady stream of villagers was gathering near the town’s singular tavern; raucous shouts and hearty laughter could already be heard from the patrons within. Daford and Elias trailed behind the final few; an older gentleman in a wide-brimmed hat and a couple of young women discussing wood working.
Elias made to follow them in, but Daford put a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on, we’re not done.”
“Can’t we finish this at the table?” Elias asked, placing a hand on his stomach. “I didn’t skipped out on lunch, because… well. Annette.”
“You know I prefer to get all the serious talk done away from the dinner table. I’m almost done with you, anyway, since… Well, I guess I have to admit that you do have a point.”
Elias raised an eyebrow. “And what would that happen to be?”
Daford conceding a point was rare occasion, like a lost memento back from the beyond.
Daford was silent for a while, staring unblinkingly at Elias’ chest. The pressure from Daford’s hand increased and for a few tense moments, Elias thought the older man was having a stroke. Then Daford looked up, and met his gaze and gave a toothy grin. “Well… Let’s just say I agree with you. And it’s an excuse to have to not scale the Amberworth’s wall, but mainly because I agree with you. In part, at least.”
“... Only in part?”
“A big part,” he insisted.
Elias returned the smile, thoroughly relieved that he'd won the stubborn red of man over and that he wouldn’t have to scream for the village’s healer. “But which part?”
“Well, it involves more maths. If I’m add it all up properly, then at the rate that you’ve convert gold into proper answers and useful information, and when you put that over the number of questions you undoubtedly want answered, then by my calculations… we’d all long dead and forgotten by the time the Iivonen mystery was solved,” Daford chuckled.
“I think this might be the first time your maths has been correct, Daford,” Elias said, a smile beginning to form.
Daford snorted. “Nonsense, my maths is always correct. Well, almost anyway. So how’re we getting to Brin?”
“Bren. Uh, what about Annette?”
“Don’t worry about Annette. She’ll see reason when she hears what I think. I’m a persuasive guy, after all.”
“But it’s Annette?”
“It’ll be fine!” he insisted. “She’s the only one that hasn’t agreed to going, right? Majority of the group is for it anyway, and she’s a fair woman.”
“I’m not sure we’re talking about the same Annette,” Elias said, confused. He was honestly unsure who Daford was trying to convince at this stage. The older man was beginning to sound as unsure as Elias felt. Maybe senility was catching up with him.
“I’ll wear a helmet, it’ll be fine! So hurry up and tell me when how we’re getting to your Championship before I lose my nerve. Lords, that woman is scary when she’s annoyed.”
She’s always annoyed.
“The Championship starts in the middle of next week, so we only have one real op-”
“Are we flying?” Daford interjected, losing what little composure he had left. “Please don’t say flying.”
“Well, there’s not really any other choice. I mean, do you know have any clue how far away Bren is? You won’t find it on a regional map, that’s for sure” Elias explained, clearly amused.
Daford said nothing. And then he cursed, and pushed the door open into the hubbub. Elias laughed, and followed him in.
“No, I’m sorry. After what I’ve heard about the Championships, your parents would probably kill me if they knew what I’m letting you enter.”
“Are we heading back then? Sightseeing over?”
“Wait, now you’ve changed your mind? You were the one who convinced me to come along to this, old man!”
“Daford…”
The shouts of merchants and bustle of the crowd drowned out the arguments from most of the group, while Daford merely raised his arms in an effort to calm them down. Not that any of the citizens of Bren cared that a rag-tag group of foreigners were bickering outside the Arena complex.
After all, the Championship was about to get underway.
The group of companions had arrived just a mere day earlier due to a few setbacks.
The first and most obvious problem had been Annette. Either convincing Annette had been as difficult as Elias had thought, or Daford wasn’t as persuasive as Daford himself had thought. Regardless of the reason, the tall-in-stature, but short-in-temper cleric had finally given in after another two days of hurling both verbal abuse and her tome at Daford and Elias. Though to be completely truthful, it had been the diminutive Tylia that had gotten through to her after a single attempt.
The second major obstacle was getting to Bren. A single day’s journey had been sufficient to take them to the nearest city with a dock. Boarding fees were generally quite cheap at this time of year in the region that they had been in, but the main issue was finding an airship that was fast enough to reach Bren before the Championships started, and also heading in the same direction as Bren.
Not a single ship in the city had been suitable. Most were heading in the wrong direction or just not as far up. The few that had been going in that direction were either too slow or, in Elias’ opinion, unfit for a single person, nevermind half a dozen.
He’d just been about to give up hope of reaching the fabled tournament when Daford found a suitable vessel on their second day in the city. Or more precisely, he’d found the captain of such a vessel — a white-haired fellow who wore red glasses, a scarf around his face, and an heavy aura of self importance. Daford paid him an extraordinary sum of gold and the man welcomed the aboard after reciting an extensive list of do’s-and-don’ts. “Just don’t say I never do any favors for you, kid. Now you might have to do me a few, and buy me meals for the next few months,” Daford told him, as they boarded the ship. ”Oh, and please find me a sick bag.”
The trip to Bren had been a fast one. A very fast one. Much faster than he had expected. Elias had been expecting a three day journey at least, but the sleek, black vessel they had embarked on had managed the trip in a single night.
“I thought Bren was far? How’d you manage a single night?” he’d asked the captain as they disembarked.
“It is. Extraordinarily far, actually. But the price was right, my ship is fast and the crew is just that good,” he’d replied, turning and high fiving a crew member.
Elias hadn’t liked him very much.
After arriving in Bren, Elias had signed up for the tournament and the group had then spent the next few days wandering around the city, taking in the sights; watching the repairs being carried out and all of the oddities within the town. Nothing unusual had happened, though Annette had nearly gotten into a fight with what appeared to be a giant, sentient avocado.
Those last few days had gone by rapidly; the past week had practically vanished at the snap of a finger.
And then the day had come. The morning of the tournament. Elias had gotten out of bed, dressed, brushed his teeth and gone to breakfast. After a hearty meal of porridge with cranberries, the group had gone to the Arena complex to see Elias off and throw some last minute encouragement, advice and jibes when Daford had gotten second thoughts.
Which had then them to their current impasse.
“Daford. Explain. Now, before I ram my tome right into your—” Annette shook the leather-bound volume in front of his face. The spellbook was a watermelon-sized monstrosity that most of the crew unintentionally used for dodge practice.
“Okay, just… calm down, Annette. Please.” The older man sighed. “I was just in a bar last night, meeting some of the locals and seeing if I could suss up some hints for Elias tomorrow.”
“Was one of the hints something along the lines of ‘you can’t get hurt if you don’t enter’, or something stupid like that, old man?” The auburn-haired cleric growled from between gritted teeth.
“Well no, but I heard stories about the previous games and I thought… Well.” Daford sighed again, and turned to Elias.
“Listen, Elias. One of the other reasons I decided to let you have a run at the tournament was I felt I owed it to your parents to at least help their little boy achieve his dreams.”
“I’m 25 years-old, Daford.” Elias bluntly pointed out.
“You’re still pretty young though. And little ain’t putting it that far off the mark.”
“Hey, I resent that!” Tylia piped up. Elias looked down and smiled at her, catching the mage’s eye and earning himself a wink in return.
Daford continued, ignoring the interruptions. “Some of the stories I heard didn’t exactly sound… pleasant. Apparently a couple of years ago, an armored tundra bear tore a hole through one of the other competitors. Last year, somebody was split in half by an angry orc, or something. I don’t know the exact details, but the horror stories don’t sound pleasant.
“Horror stories aren’t meant to be pleasant. That’s the point of a horror story,” Tylia countered. ”Plus I’ve been doing a bit of digging myself. Apparently most of the participants survive? I’m sure Elias will come back to us in relatively one piece; hopefully complete enough for Annette to heal at least.”
Annette punched her tome in emphasis whilst continuing to glare at Daford.
“Tylia has a point as usual. Plus a bear doesn’t sound too bad. I’ve fought monsters, people and even monsters wielding people before,” Elias reminded.
“You’re definitely making the last one up,” Tylia remarked.
“Well okay, maybe not people. But I fought that one guy with a chainblade. Surely that’s as dangerous as an armored bear?”
“That bear went on to be a dual-victor that year, Elias,” Daford said exasperatedly.
“I promise to stay away from bears then. Come on, Daford, it’s almost time to enter. If I’m late they might even send a bear after me.”
“I don’t really think so,” Daford doubted.
“I’ll make like a bear and tear your arms off if you don’t let him go compete, old man,” Annette threatened.
Daford was respond to her when a deep, baritone spoke.
“Just let the boy go, Roze.”
The voice had come from Reuben, their resident swordsman. Usually seen but not heard, the gargantuan man only usually spoke when he had something of worth to say. Elias smiled at him in appreciation.
Daford groaned. “I’m clearly outnumbered here, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” everyone else practically shouted, save Reuben who had gone back to silently leaning against the wall.
Daford was silent once again, then took a deep breath before speaking once more.
“Fine, then. Sure, go on ahead Elias. We’ll be right behind you. Metaphorically, at least.”
Elias made to go, but a dark hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“But stay the hell away from any bears or any of the… weirder looking ones. It’d probably reflect poorly on me if you got your lungs punched out or your skin flayed off by any psychopath that got ahold of you.”
The soon-to-be Wind entrant rolled his eyes, and pushed his way into the crowd surging into the Arena, his companions and their well-wishes trailing behind him.
Though Elias had wanted to abide by Daford’s wishes for the his own well-being and the older man’s peace of mind, he soon found that promise broken. For it was effectively a bipedal bear in a uniform that led him to his Arena entrance.
The entire ensemble that greeted him was exciting, to say the least. The fog, the glowing door and the name; Twilight Arena. All of those together added on to both Elias’ excitement and his nerves.
There was no denying that he was nervous, though about half of the nerves was because of the atmosphere and the other half was due to the enormity of the event. Elias had only fought in one gladiatorial deathmatch before, and he hadn’t been a willing participant on that occasion. There was also the whole magical feel about the event.
Magic was a common occurence back where Elias and his friends came from, but that didn’t mean there that weren't those without it or who shunned it. Daford was one of the latter, though as to why, Elias had never bothered to find out. He had a feeling that magic just creeped out the older man, but as tough as he might act at times, there were certainly plenty of things that creeped Daford Roze.
There was a blinding flash and Elias shut his eyes. When his vision was clear again, a few strands of mist lay where the door once was. The tendrils seemed to reach for him as Elias strode into the Arena and stood in front of his entrance, his boots squelching into the turf. Right, this is a bit more uh.. Fancier than the other gladiator pit…
The stands for the spectators loomed ahead, mostly hidden by the mists that filled the Arena. Daford, Tylia, Annette and Reuben were all probably there, unless Daford was leading. His ability to follow directions was probably on equal footing with his maths skills; which was to say, as steady and reliable as a person born without knees.
Elias looked around at the competitors around him. To his right, a figure with a coat and a face that appeared flat in the moonlight. A mask, or magical surgery perhaps.
Elias glanced briefly down at his goggles, then back up at the masked man.
Weirdo number one.
He then looked to his left, to see the robed figure with a… Was that an animal skull? Goat? A deer?
A tall lanky figure in robes with a deer skull on his head. Ok, crazy psychopath detected.
What did his mother used to say?
Never accept candy from strangers.
And what did Daford say on the airship flight?
If you’re up against a cultist, the best way to get them angry is to insult their god or their imaginary friend. Whatever it is they worship.
Was that thing even human, though? If it wasn’t, then hopefully Elias wouldn’t have to-
A menacing voice called out, signalling the start of the contest. The words went in one way through Elias mind, and then straight out the other as his natural instincts quickly went to work.
Drawing his blade in his left hand and the handcannon in his right, Elias then raised his right foot slightly and thrust it down, giving the air a slight shunt. The air rushed out into the floor and fanned out, though the fog around his ankles moved very little. Or a lot less than he had expected or wanted, at least.
So that’s not going to work without some effort.
He looked around him, watching as the other competitors around him… did very little. Then movement, as the skull-wearing figure began stalking forward. Another figure from the otherside came towards the center to meet him; a large figure that was somewhat obscured by shadows—that might be a problem later—and that rivalled Reuben in height and stature.
A glance to his right, and the flat-faced man was being rushed by a rather scarred blue woman.
... Like a really ugly elf-smurf half-breed?
Elias quashed down the distracting (and incredibly rude) thoughts as a monstrosity of bone in the shape of a wolf materialized before him, lunging at the cultist’s foe. Or not a cultist, but more of a necromancer? Regardless of what it was, it was something to stay clear of for now. Hopefully his foe put up enough of a fight so that a summoned bone minion army didn’t just flatten all of the foes in the Arena.
Everything around him was happening really fast, but Elias was sure he was faster still.
Staying still and letting the fight come to him had never been his style, and he wasn’t going to change that now. He’d never understood that anyway; being on the backfoot just didn’t seem like an especially good tactic, nor was it very fun. If you fought a lot on the job, then why not get some fun out of it?
Elias raised his right arm and took aim at the chest of the masked competitor to his right. The voice had mentioned ‘valor’, but it had never said anything about ‘honor’. An uneven 1v1 to start off the battle seemed fitting.
His left hand came up, bracing the back of the gun with the flat of the blade’s handle and he pulled the trigger.
A loud crackle filled the air, and, the handcannon bucked, and then the discharge was on its way. Elias lowered the gun and sheathed it with a click, and then he strode forward, heading for the currently empty ground between the two fights.
Well. It's back to work I guess.
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