Arena Road 2 Chapter 4

When I woke up on the day we were going through the portal again, my two warriors were already up and trying on the outfits they would wear in the arena with the new additions.

“Whoa…” I muttered through a groggy yawn.

Indy was strutting around in her usual blood-orange romper, plus the greaves and corset that were made of black leather with gold swirls, along with the matching bracer and vambrace that were new to her and reinforced with carbon fiber. Her outfit was completed by the decorative golden scale-mail that covered her shoulders, and the gauzy black cape fluttered behind her as she swayed across the room.

Ellie wore her usual white, dress-like romper, but she had replaced the ribbon around her waist with her new polished, deep-periwinkle corset with its gold edges. The matching pre-battle shoulder armor was fastened onto her dainty shoulders. Combined with the corset, the upside-down flowers sitting on her shoulders accented her delicate beauty in an eye-catching way, and they betrayed a slight hint of the fact that she was a ruthless, badass warrior who could slay just about anyone in her path.

I could only imagine the looks Indy and Ellie would get in Bayalon when people’s eyes were caught by their flashy new attire. Their metal weapons, sturdy leather armor, and badass fighting in the arena had already gotten them plenty of attention on our first trip. Now they had all that, plus this new war-like but decorative finery to walk around in before the battle took place. From what I had seen, even the most famous of the legendary city’s warriors didn’t possess anything similar, and I knew it was sure to draw even more attention to my stunning, deadly warriors.

That would bring more people to the arena, more repute to my women, and maybe even more repute to me as a backer.

If all went well, it would also draw more money into the bulging pouch of winnings I would be receiving from the gray-skinned bookies after the fight was over.

After all the preparation we’d done over the last few days, my nerves about the fight had mellowed, and I could tell it was the same for my women as they shed their new finery so they could spar for a bit before leaving. They seemed keyed up and determined, but not too anxious.

I got out of bed and stretched as I watched them raining light and playful blows on each other in my attic bedroom, and the sight made me smile more than ever.

“Do not be so forgiving, Ellie,” Indy grunted as she jutted her palm into the dainty fighter’s ribs. “You are too fond of me, pretend I am your opponent.”

“I am,” Ellie almost growled, and she whipped around in a high kick that Indy easily dodged. “Stop being so tall and spry, and I will beat you properly.”

“See?” Indy huffed and dove at Ellie’s hips. “Too many compliments! Too much fondness! Beat me–”

A swift elbow to the neck from Ellie cut off my princess’ words, and she staggered away with a satisfied smile on her face.

“Much better.” Indy nodded. “Now, harder next time.”

After that, I spent some time making us breakfast and taking a few jabs at one of the human-shaped training dummies with my new tactical gloves. Then I made sure everything was packed and ready before we started off in my car and headed to the company lot to trade it for my war chariot.

When I rumbled out of the gate behind Spitfire’s wheel and waited for my two women to ascend gracefully into my cab, I felt like the luckiest man alive.

“I always adore seeing you in your war chariot, John,” Indy purred as she sent me a cat-like smile. “You exude the same brawny fierceness, and I like this.”

Ellie nodded in agreement, and she patted Spitfire’s dash in the same way I always did. “A sturdy chariot for a deserving man.”

My heart nearly cracked open at this, but I tried to keep my shit together as I steered us toward the highway.

I discussed every aspect of the leadup to their fight with them as we headed toward Portland to pick up our duckload of dead ducks. We hit on every little detail, like when and where the women would change from their decorative armor into their battle gear, plus the caffeine pills they would take about forty minutes before they were set to go out into the arena.

I was more glad than ever that my old clunker was a cabover when it came time to maneuver from the narrow city street to the cramped area where I’d be picking up my load. Spitfire’s tight turn radius and good visibility did a lot to reduce the hassle of setting myself up at a good angle and backing smoothly up to the loading dock in the cramped confines of the alleyway outside the taxidermy store.

I chuckled slightly at the awed reaction this accomplishment got from the two warrior women in my cab. It honestly hadn’t been the easiest skill to learn back when I first picked it up, and I had worked hard enough to master it that a little praise went a long way. Most people didn’t appreciate the skill, especially not the people I was picking up from. I had learned from Doug, my favorite and more seasoned trucker at the company, that those people would always take a driver’s ability to back up a big rig for granted… until something went wrong, and they thought they might have to pay for any sort of damages to the loading area. Thankfully, that hadn’t been an issue for me as a truck driver so far, and as long as I stayed careful, it probably never would be.

Soon I was waiting patiently with my two women for the feathery cargo to be loaded. As Nick had promised, the taxidermied ducks appeared to all be packed into sealed crates, and these were quickly tucked into Spitfire’s trailer with wooden planks bracing them snugly against each other.

Nick himself was nowhere to be seen, but that was what we had agreed on back when we hammered out the details of our plan. Other than the fact that he already wasn’t personally involved in this part of the process for the taxidermy store, it also seemed smartest for him to refrain from being too chummy with me here and now.

Not that there would be anyone I knew of who had seen us together in the shop enough to make the connection, other than Vero. But it still seemed best to err on the side of caution.

Once the trailer was loaded and I was sure everything was well in place, I drove us out of Portland and up onto SR 14 to head east.

“On the road,” Indy chanted, and her glossy black hair streamed back in the wind as she leaned down to carefully roll up the window that I had taught her the workings of.

“You are very good at that,” Ellie praised, and the princess smiled smugly as she admired the closed window.

“Yes, I have mastered this contraption,” she agreed.

The sun was just past the center of the sky as we drove along the river. Washington had been graced by a soft blue sky today that was strewn with gauzy clouds at the edges. It cast the river’s surface into a calm azure shade, and it felt almost like we were driving into a late summer afternoon as we headed into eastern Washington.

Eventually the big tree-clad slopes and rocky cliffs dwindled into lower and lower hills covered with dry yellow grass, and then they flattened out almost completely.

“Party Fowl,” I muttered to myself again as the sign of the lonely shop finally came into sight on our right. I shook my head at the pun for a second time with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

“What does it mean, John?” Indy asked with a frown.

“It’s a joke,” I explained while I drove us across the crumbling parking lot that was almost empty except for a few derelict cars. “Uh, a really corny joke. ‘Party Foul’ means doing something stupid at a party, basically. And ‘fowl’ is also what some types of birds are called. Including the ones that are in the trailer of my truck right now.”

“Foolish,” Indy whispered in a disparaging voice.

“Yeah, explaining it really kills the last scraps of humor,” I sighed mostly to myself.

When I glanced over at Ellie, though, she seemed to be fighting off a smile that threatened to appear on her pouty pink lips. I made a mental note to think up some extra-cheesy puns to shower her with at the next opportunity, because that smile was adorable as hell.

Once we had dropped off the ducks, I directed us back toward the highway and drove back west through the scrubby desert. The shadows gathered in every small hollow in the land as the sun moved lower in the sky into the cover of the gauzy clouds. By the time we took the usual exit to turn around and access the portal exit on the other side of the highway, dusk was falling in earnest.

I slowed slightly as we rolled down the ramp of the portal exit.

Then I glanced at my two warriors. “Ready to rumble?”

“Rumble?” Ellie echoed in a nervous voice. “I suppose the fog is very… rumbly.”

“We are ready, John,” Indy said with a toss of her hair, but I thought I saw her long fingers reach over to twine through Ellie’s in the faint glow of dusk.

“Let’s do this thing,” I exhaled, and I guided the truck steadily ahead into the gently swirling fog that was starting to appear on the road in front of us. Then I raised my voice slightly. “And by ‘this thing,’ I mean this, uhh, super fun journey through the enchanted fog. It’s so luminous and… swirly. Gorgeous, really.”

Either I was imagining things, or the fog’s swirling was becoming more gentle as we continued to roll forward into it.

Then, to my surprise, Ellie picked back up where I had left off. “The fog is dazzling and radiant. It is…”

“Majestic,” Indy added solemnly. “Fierce and mighty as a wild gorsican, but beautiful, glowing with the l-light of many sss-sunlit gems—”

I could’ve sworn I saw the increasingly colorful swirls of fog ruffle themselves slightly in a way that reminded me of a bird preening, or my princess tossing her hair proudly. Then the cab around us started to vibrate with slowly increasing force.

Suddenly, the truck rocketed forward into the mist.

“Shit!” I whooped. “I mean… yeehaw!”

“Shit,” Indy agreed in a sputtering whisper.

“Yeeee…” Ellie squeaked. “H–”

A snort of laughter exploded out of me, but then it turned into a choke as the truck picked up more speed, and Ellie’s statement died down.

Tendrils of flowy, glowing fog streamed past Spitfire’s windshield. I felt the same slightly unsettling loss of gravity as usual, but to me it seemed like there was less turbulence in our journey as we zoomed along. Maybe it was just the effect of me getting used to these journeys, but it almost seemed like a fun ride.

Then we slowed and drifted down with a gentleness that I hadn’t yet experienced in the foggy portal, even on our last trip home when the fog had seemed to react to my lighthearted flattery.

This time, there was only the lightest imaginable bump when we touched down on the Moonstone Road.

“Wow,” Indy whispered as we rolled out of the fog.

“You two okay?” I asked, just to be sure. “This trip was pretty fu– ugh!”

I groaned as the familiar jello-like feeling ran through my body, and the two women both shivered.

Then I exhaled slowly and urged Spitfire back into motion before I spoke again. “The question stands.”

“We are fine.” Indy tossed her hair. I saw shades of silver and pale yellow flickering through her red-gold eyes, but it looked like it was starting to dissipate already now that we’d landed.

When I reached out to trace my fingers over her hand, the rest of the silvery-yellow fragments fled at my touch.

It wasn’t as blatant in Ellie’s case, but I could see the calmness creep back into the dainty warrior’s eyes too when I was in close proximity, and it made me glad.

“The flight was smooth this time,” the doll-faced warrior observed. “Fast, but smooth. But the wobbly feeling was still…”

Indy shuddered. “Not nice.”

“Definitely not nice,” I agreed. Then I took in the gleaming white road and darkening desert ahead of us, and I gave Spitfire’s steering wheel a grateful pat. “At least we’re here in one piece, though.”

“Here to make the crater arena shake with the cheers of the crowd,” my princess declared with renewed fire flashing in her eyes.

Ellie nodded vigorously in agreement, and I smirked as I thought of how well our preparations would pay off in the arena.

No matter who my women faced.

I made sure we were regularly referencing the map Indy had been making as we headed back to Bayalon, partly to keep us on track and partly because I figured it couldn’t hurt to check the times against each other and make sure it was as accurate as possible. I didn’t see us getting lost out here at this point, but then again, it never hurt to be careful in this scorching desert land where gorsicans were the sole life form outside the oasis cities.

When Bayalon’s fiery balls of light swam into appearance on the horizon, I slowed the truck to a momentary stop so my women could don the new decorative armor they would wear before they entered the arena.

The gold scale-mail that covered Indy’s shoulders glinted brightly even in the dim yellow overhead light of my cab, and combined with her gauzy black cape, it gave an impression that was both regal and fierce. The polished pink twin flowers that sat on Ellie’s shoulders and the gold-edged, deep periwinkle corset that enclosed her waist made my pearly-skinned warrior look like some divine warrior sculpture that had just escaped from an art museum.

I gave them both a look of deep, silent appreciation before I coaxed Spitfire into motion again.

My warrior women were equal parts stunning and badass.

The fireballs that lit the walls of Bayalon got brighter and closer as we drove along. The sandstone walls towered over our heads as we approached, and soon we were close enough for the writhing motion of the red-orange light to become visible.

When we pulled up beneath the patterned shadows that danced across the ground around the city, I didn’t hesitate to split the night air open with a deep, baying honk of Spitfire’s horn.

After a few seconds, the small, high-set door in the stone wall opened halfway, and I saw the shadow of a head dart out for the briefest of moments. Then the door swung shut.

A few seconds later, the hollow, metallic sound of a chain-winch could be heard, and the big brass gate started rising up into the wall above. I glanced at my two women to make sure they were following my lead as I made sure all my gear was in place, and I prepared to exit the truck.

By the time our feet thudded to the dusty desert ground, the last of the gate was retracting smoothly into the wall overhead, and we strolled right in through the entrance of the legendary city for the second time.

We were approached by the same broad-shouldered, skinny-legged guard I remembered from our first trip, and his fierce hawk-like face was full of excitement and recognition. His yellow eyes lingered on the new additions to my warriors’ clothes with a look of appreciation that bordered on awe.

“I knew you three would be back,” he swore. “My brother bet me twelve creds that we’d never see you again. Sucks to be him.”

I snorted, but I allowed a small smirk to creep over my face. “Well, here we are.”

“Hell yeah,” he chortled. “Can’t wait to put some tokens in my pocket betting on your fight tonight. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” My smirk deepened as the roars of the distant crowd almost drowned out my reply. It sounded like it was already a lively night.

My warriors’ weapons clinked in my duffel bag as I led the two stunners between the black domed buildings of the Old Town that rose out of the volcanic stone ground like bubbles. I kept a sharp eye out as we passed by the shadowy buildings and their yards full of ominous, toxic-looking plants. Some of the glowing foliage shifted threateningly as we walked past, and I saw a row of plants that looked like giant Venus fly traps lining the edge of the road. The plants silently yawned their mouth-like traps open wide when we passed, like they were hoping one of us would trip and fall inside, but otherwise they made no movement toward us.

I cast a wary glance up at the spiky, javelin-like branches of the creepy head-tree I remembered from our first venture here, but the branches just glowed in pulsating silence while the strange mist that cloaked them swirled around.

Still, I quickened my pace slightly, and my two warriors hovered a little closer to me while we walked. I gave their wrists a reassuring squeeze as we continued on with no sign of the creepy, head-harvesting old lady we had seen before.

The cheers and roars of the crowd rang out intermittently, and they got even more audible when we left the town with its bubble-like buildings behind. I allowed our pace to slow, and we walked through the moss-strewn landscape with the volcano island in our sight ahead. The slopes were dark, but a steady white light spilled out of its open top.

I took the same simple route from back when we followed the now-dead Barsava and her traitorous, sallow-skinned friend who had pushed her to her death in one of the invisible pools on the offshoots of the main path. There was no one in sight here this time, and the offshoot where I remembered the poor racoonish woman disappearing looked flat and empty in the ruddy light of the fireball lanterns.

It seemed like the incident was on my two warriors’ minds, too.

“I wonder if the evil, greasy-haired backstabber is still alive,” Ellie said in a small voice, and she drifted even closer to my side.

“Maybe the lake-beast decided to devour him,” Indy suggested hopefully.

“He’d deserve it,” I muttered. “Oily, double-crossing, human-sacrificing bastard.”

Well, I guessed Barsava technically hadn’t been human, but still, she had seemed to trust the greasy-haired man.

“Anyway…” I said briskly. I was planning to change the subject as I decided it was best to pull my warriors’ minds away from the gloomy memory, but a sound from behind us made me freeze in place. I pulled the two women over toward the edge of the path and glanced back. “Are you two getting the feeling that we’re being… followed?”

Suddenly, Indy stiffened in my grasp. I glanced over and followed to exactly where her smoldering gaze was fixed on the area of the path behind where we’d been walking.

Then I reached into my jacket to rest a hand on the grip of my pistol, just in case there were any fuckers around here who were unwise enough to choose me and my women as targets to sacrifice to their evil Cyndrigon creatures.

Something roughly the size of a Great Dane was shuffling down the path in our direction. From the strange, awkward way it moved, I could see that it definitely wasn’t a dog, or at least not one like any I’d seen before.

When it got closer, I realized the creature was something that looked like a shrunken dragon with a spindly body and huge, leathery wings that jutted out from the backs of its arms. The beast seemed like it wasn’t accustomed to walking on the ground, and the movement clearly didn’t come easily to it. The backs of its folded wings poked awkwardly up in the air as it used its arms to help it shuffle down the path.

“Spectrid,” Ellie whispered from my side.

I heard a soft ringing noise that seemed to accompany the dragon, and I couldn’t figure out what it was coming from until I saw the fiery light twinkle off something on its long, sinuous neck.

Then I realized it was a bell. The dragon-like creature, or Spectrid, or whatever it was called, was wearing a bell around its neck like a damn housecat.

The three of us watched in silence as it scuttled past us without looking in our direction. Afterward, it took a left to skirt around the lake.

The soft tinkling of the bell faded from hearing, and I turned to the dainty warrior next to me.

“Spectrid?” I repeated.

“We had them in Gavahna, too,” Ellie explained. “You talked to one, back when–”

“When we were leaving the Diamond Gap?” I guessed. “Interesting. Do you know, uh, why it was wearing a bell? Are they kept as pets, or something?”

“No…” The doll-faced fighter looked hesitant. “As you saw, they can talk very well, just like people. Their memories are flawless, too. So… they are spies, usually.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Spies that wear stuff like top hats, and tinkly bells around their necks?”

“If a Spectrid is owned by a person, that person is required to have them wear something that makes it obvious.” Ellie pursed her round pink lips thoughtfully as she stared after the Spectrid with her wide blue eyes. “I think it’s so people will realize there’s a chance they’re being observed when they see an owned Spectrid nearby… but also because it’s against the laws to capture a Spectrid that’s owned by another person, since their secrets might be discovered. Or… those were the laws in Gavahna, anyway.”

“Interesting,” I muttered. From the obviousness of its approach, I was doubtful that the little dragon-like creature had been spying on us.

But even if it had been, it wasn’t like the Spectrid could’ve learned anything that would work against us. In the desert cities, it seemed like spying would be something reserved for an enemy who wouldn’t be leaving at the end of the night. If someone here meant us harm, they basically only had until sunrise to see it through.

Still, I was doubly on the alert as we headed to the lake shore so we could cross over to the volcano arena.

But we arrived there without incident, and soon I saw the faroff silhouette of the ferry against the light of the fiery lanterns on the volcano-island’s shore.

Soon the fire lantern on the ferry’s prow swung toward us, and it didn’t take long for the little craft to make its way to the shore we stood on. From the cheers and roars that thundered out of the volcano crater again, it seemed like most people from the city were in there, but a small trickle of people showed up to take the ferry alongside us.

One of them was a stooped-over old man with frazzled, flaming-red hair. He was pushing some squeaky wooden contraption along in front of him that looked like it was part wheelbarrow, part medieval-style hotdog cart. Clouds of steam and conflicting pungent smells wafted out of the cracks in several sealed compartments in it, and there was even a little glass case on one side that rose up to display some sort of wares that the red-haired guy was selling. A post of scarred black metal jutted upward out of the one corner of the cart, and it had a small version of one of the fireball lanterns hanging from it to illuminate the vendor’s wares.

I did a double-take when I saw that the things displayed in the glass case weren’t food at all. They were vambraces and greaves just like the ones my women wore in the arena.

Well, they were supposed to be just like them, I thought. But as I looked at them more closely I saw that they were an incredibly poor copy. They were painted to be the same shades of the fawn leather of Ellie’s armor and the black of Indy’s with its gold swirls, but they were misshapen and poorly-shaped, and they definitely didn’t seem like they were made out of leather. I thought they might be crafted from some sort of tree bark.

I nudged my two warriors subtly and tilted my head toward the cart, and I saw both of their eyes widen when they realized what the wares were.

Indy opened her mouth with her eyes flaring, but I squeezed gently on her wrist. “Shhhh.”

The princess looked at me like she was going to ask why, but then her eyes flicked back to the red-haired man. I could tell it was because she had seen the ominous red glow that spilled out from his throat onto the hand he used to shield his mouth when he yawned.

Indy’s full lips closed, and she nodded slowly at me before she folded her hands in front of her and stood completely still.

When I glanced over at Ellie, I saw the red-hot glow from the man’s mouth reflected in her big blue eyes as she stared at him in silence.

The crew on the ferry seemed a little reluctant to let the hunchbacked old vendor onto the craft, but once all the other passengers had gotten aboard, they allowed him to push his creaky wooden cart up the ramp and squeeze into the remaining space on deck.

He gave another cavernous yawn as the craft pushed away from shore, and when a small belch burst from his lips, a wave of heat washed over the whole boat, and the glow from his mouth brightened. The nearest passengers all shuffled nervously away, and the red-haired vendor covered his mouth apologetically.

Other than the two-hundred-degree bastard who I had punched after my warriors’ first fight here, this was the most blatant sign I had seen of a possibly harmful form of magic from these fiery volcano beings. For the most part, the magic had seemed a part of their appearances and temperaments, and definitely something that shaped their identities and politics, but there hadn’t been many signs of magic that could be deliberately used against others. This stooped-over old vendor seemed mild-natured enough, but the magma-like glow that emanated from his mouth was just another reminder for me to be on the alert with these beings.

I shot another glance over at the wares visible from his wooden cart and reflected on the fact that the “armor” in the glass case there was unmistakably meant to be a replica of my warriors’ leather armor. Some of the other passengers on the ferry even did a double take to look at the replicas more closely, too, but from their lack of interest afterward, it seemed just as obvious to them that the wares were poor copies.

In any case, it was clear that the two gorgeous warriors who stuck close to my sides were a far more exciting sight to the people around us, and to my surprise, I even thought I was getting some looks, too.

My women were undeniably eye-catching and impressive as hell. The light of the fireball lanterns winked off Indy’s scale-mail shoulder armor and the gold leaf trim on Ellie’s polished corset. The princess’ gauzy cape streamed behind her as the ferry picked up speed. The closest backer, who was a short, stocky man with plaited copper hair, raked his eyes over my two women from head to toe with a hungry expression.

My warriors definitely seemed aware of the guy’s aggressive stare, and they moved slightly behind me in a way that gave me a little bit of a rush. It was the same feeling that tended to sweep over me unexpectedly whenever I saw signs of how much the two fierce and flawless warriors trusted me to protect them outside the arena.

I gave the copper-haired backer a deadpan, stone-eyed stare until he finally turned away with a slight flush on his face under the light of the fireball lanterns.

He turned his attention back to his own warriors, who were three slim, bow-legged women with pale green skin and moss-like hair. Their copper-haired backer was clutching three wooden javelin-like weapons that I assumed must have belonged to his women. The javelins looked like they definitely could’ve come from the creepy head-tree back in the Old Town. Other than the obvious lack of impaled heads on the weapons, the only differences were the lack of any ominous, pulsating glow or swirling mist. The weapons looked like they were layered with dark bloodstains, though.

Indy scanned her eyes over the weapons with a look of disturbed respect in her red-gold eyes, and I knew she was remembering the javelin-branched tree, too, with the human heads that had adorned it like fruit.

Ellie was focused intently on the open top of the volcano crater we were approaching. When the red-orange light spilling out of it flashed back to white, it made her pearly skin and blue eyes luminous. The faint bloodthirsty expression that flitted across her doll-like features made me smile. I could tell my dainty warrior was dying to get in the arena again and show her stuff.

I was feeling pretty damn stoked myself, and I drummed my fingers against Indy’s wrist that was still in my grip as I shifted my weight from one foot to another. The princess was vibrating slightly in my grasp now, and a small shiver like an electric current ran through her at the movement of my fingers.

Then the ferry bumped against the stony shore of the volcano, and the wooden ramp splashed down to provide a path off the craft. I was the first to exit with my two warriors, and the crew gave me a respectful nod as I passed.

As soon as we were off the boat, I pulled my two warriors to the side and allowed the other passengers to pass and head up the steps to the Caldera stadium. Indy and Ellie followed me unquestioningly, and they hovered next to me while I released my grip on their wrists to unzip my duffel bag and rifle through it.

I shifted the womens’ weapons to the side to access one of the thermoses I had stashed in the duffel bag. It was slightly cold to the touch, and the ice cubes inside it clinked around as I pulled the thermos out.

“The frigid, icy water of Earth,” Ellie whispered reverently.

I chuckled. “Yup. I figured it’s about time for you two to take your caffeine pills, like we discussed, and make sure you’re hydrated.”

“Yes, John,” the two women said together in a way that I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of.

I popped two caffeine pills out of the plastic packaging and handed one to each of my shieldmaidens. Then they passed the thermos between them, and they both let out a blissful sigh as the chilled water passed their lips to wash down the caffeine pills.

I let them drink their fill after, then took a small sip for myself before I slipped the thermos and remaining caffeine pills back into my duffel bag. I pulled out the two warriors’ weapons to sling them over my shoulder before I zipped the bag shut. Then I led the way up the black volcanic stone stairs toward the source of the fresh onslaught of roars and cheers that was filling the night.

At the top of the staircase, I paused for a second to take in the sight below.

The crater arena was just as cavernous as I remembered. Every inch of the stone benches carved into its slopes were packed full of people, and they were all perched on the edge of their seats as their screams died down. Another hush fell over them as they watched the fight that was taking place, and for a brief time, the only sound in the arena was that clash and scrape of weapons that echoed around the crater.

There were four fighters down in the flat, black stone arena. Two of them appeared to be the type of slender, nymph-like beings I had glimpsed on our first journey to Bayalon. One had a mane of emerald-green ringlet curls that were tamed into a low ponytail, while the other had fine tawny hair that was cropped into a short pixie cut. Both of their skin was a light-taupe color, and the same fawn-like white spots were patterned across their cheekbones and temples. Each one of them had a short sword that I thought was made out of deer antlers.

The third warrior in the arena was a prowling, sharp-limbed woman with a pale gray complexion. Her skin didn’t look stony in texture, like the skin of the bookies. It was perfectly smooth, and it had a faint but noticeable layer of dark smoke that hovered close to its surface.

This gray-skinned woman was unmistakably some sort of volcanic being, although at this point there was no way to tell whether the smoggy smoke that clung to her was a sign of some sort of magic that could be used in combat. As far as I had seen, that sort of thing seemed like it was against the rules here, and most of the city’s inhabitants didn’t seem to have that type of magic in the first place.

The smog-veiled woman also had wings. They looked more dragonish than fairy-like, and she kept them folded tightly against her back as she and the two nymphs fanned out to approach the fourth warrior in the arena. From the way the three of them were moving together, it definitely seemed like a team battle.

But this meant the fight was three against one.

That didn’t make sense.

How the hell was that fair?

The fourth warrior had wings, too, but they weren’t at all like the smoggy fighter’s leathery, dragonish pair. Instead, these wings reminded me more of a phoenix. They were covered with white feathers at the base where they met her shoulder blades, but the feathers’ color darkened toward the edges of the wings.

She had long hair that was black on one side and platinum-blonde on the other. It was bound back in a single Viking-style braid that ran down the center of her head and trailed down her back to rest between her wings. She pursed her lips to blow a stray strand of hair out of her eyes as she faced her three opponents, and then set her tapered jaw in a grim, focused expression.

Other than her eye-catching appearance, I couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that the black-and-white-haired warrior really had no one on her team whatsoever.

I looked everywhere for another warrior, but this was it.

It was genuinely three against one.

“Bold,” Indy whispered, and I glanced over to see that her red-gold eyes were fixed intently on the outnumbered warrior.

The smoggy woman was approaching her from the front, while the two nymphs were set to angle in toward her right and left shoulder. When her opponents rushed her, the outnumbered woman showed no sign of backing away, and her pale silver eyes looked entirely unruffled as she surveyed the three warriors who were about to confront her.

I was watching closely, but she moved so fast that I still almost missed it.

First, she darted forward like she was going to meet the smoggy woman head-on, but at the last second she jerked to the side just enough to brush past her. Then she brought her spear into a hard backward thrust, the sort of movement she might use to elbow someone standing behind her.

The motion sent the butt of her spear hurtling directly between the smoggy woman’s leathery wings.

A strangled screech burst from the gray-skinned woman’s lips when the wood rammed into her upper spine. The sound was somehow both high-pitched and guttural, and her eerie voice was thick with pain.

She was sent into a headlong flight away from the spear-wielding warrior’s back. Her bat-like wings unfurled in a way that seemed like an instinctive attempt to slow herself, but it mostly just succeeded in entangling her with the tawny-haired nymph who had been approaching from the other side.

Even as the two allies tumbled to the ground together behind her, the black-and-white-haired fighter flowed forward again and pulled her spear into a sharp forward thrust at the red-haired nymph she was now approaching.

The spearpoint jabbed hard into the delicate taupe skin of the nymph’s shoulder, and a small rivulet of blood immediately appeared there. It trickled down to join another wound near the crook of her elbow, and the nymph let out a squeak of pain that was soon eclipsed by the crowd’s roar of approval.

The tail of the spear-wielder’s black-and-white braid spun behind her as she tucked her wings and threw herself into a graceful spin in the other direction, back toward her remaining two opponents who had just scrambled to their feet after giving each other an irritated shove.

I knew enough by now to realize that baring her back to her multiple opponents even for a second was risky as hell, especially with wings thrown into the mix, but the spear-wielding warrior seemed fast enough to mitigate the risk, even with the slight drag created by her wings.

I only took my eyes off the fight long enough to keep from tripping while I navigated the stone benches. I led my women over to the area I remembered from our first visit, near the bottom of the sloped stadium just above where the bookies clustered near the backers’ lounge.

Another backer yanked his jet-haired warrior to the side to clear a spot for us in the second row, and I felt my jaw tighten slightly as I took the seat with my own two women.

The other backers seemed to consider themselves above the way the rest of the crowd was leaping to their feet and bursting into a fresh chorus of cheers at every blow, but a glance around showed me that they were deeply respectful of the spear-wielding fighter, if in a reluctant and wary sort of way.

I didn’t understand the reluctance quite yet, but I shared every ounce of respect as I watched her complete her spin and skip toward the tawny-haired nymph.

The nymph hacked at the spear shaft with her deer-horn blade like she was hoping to lop the head off the weapon, but the spear proved sturdy enough to weather the blow as the black-and-white-haired warrior allowed it to scrape harmlessly against the wooden shaft.

Without breaking stride, she darted another half-step closer and snaked the spearhead out to hook it deftly around the deer-horn blade’s ornate crossguard. Then she spun the spear in a small, swift loop that sent the nymph’s blade flying from her grip.

The deer-horn weapon was still spinning through the air when the black-and-white-haired fighter drove her speartip into the nymph’s upper kneecap in a place that almost perfectly mirrored the dried-up wound on her other leg.

The black-and-white-haired warrior moved on and left the collapsing nymph without wasting a second. Now she and the smoggy-skinned fighter moved to face each other again.

I saw the spear-wielder’s bright silver eyes flicker around to take stock of the two nymphs. One was still collapsed on the ground off to the side, while the other was hanging back warily behind the gray-skinned warrior.

The smoggy woman shouted something as she advanced. I couldn’t understand the words, but their tone had the jeering ring of mockery in it.

Whatever the statement was, it made the small, sharp taper of the spear-wielding fighter’s jaw tauten, and her silver eyes bored into the smoggy woman’s dull, flint-gray gaze.

Then a pale golden glow started to flare out from the black-and-white-haired warrior’s skin. It wasn’t evenly spread. Instead it was purely concentrated into a tracery of thin lines that looked almost like glowing scars. It reminded me of something I had only ever seen in documentaries, where there were cracks in the surface of volcanic stone that reveal the golden glow of magma lurking just below the surface.

The sight was just as startling to me as the smog that swirled on the skin of the bat-winged woman, but this was somehow both stunning and slightly ominous.

Any signs the two nymphs had shown of wanting to reenter the fray suddenly vanished, but the gray-skinned fighter had a savage, mocking smile on her face as she bounded forward to meet her glowing, black-and-white-haired opponent. A husky, crazed laugh burst from her gray lips as she swung her axe, and cords of wiry muscles bulged from her otherwise-gaunt arms.

The more fights I had seen in the desert cities, the more I had noticed that axes seemed to be more common than swords. I thought the reason might’ve had something to do with how impossible it seemed to give a precise shape to the lumpy black metal, much less get it to hold the type of edge and balance that I now knew made a sword truly effective.

My warriors’ fighting master had also mentioned some of the advantages of axes during their training, when we had discussed their opponents’ weapons. I knew now that axes could make up for the lack of sharpness because of the extra blunt force they possessed.

The smoggy-skinned woman in the arena now seemed to be well aware of this advantage, and she was putting it to good use, or at least trying to.

Just from seeing it in motion, I already thought the axe might’ve been capable of hacking through the slender wooden spear-shaft in a way that the deer-horn blades weren’t, and the black-and-white-haired fighter seemed to have come to a similar conclusion. She made some quick, sharp feints with her spear to keep her opponent at a distance, but otherwise she ducked and danced deftly away from the storm of axe-blows. As she did, she kept all her opponents in her line of sight in a way I appreciated more now that I was learning things from my own warriors’ lessons.

The gray-skinned fighter shouted another jeering comment, lunged forward, and hacked savagely down toward the spear-shaft with her axe. Her mocking laugh rang through the crater with renewed glee as she finally succeeded in lopping off one end of her opponent’s spear.

But she had fully committed herself to the blow in a way that provided a tiny opening before she could raise her axe again. Her eerie laugh turned into a hair-raising shriek as her silver-eyed opponent took advantage of this gap in a way that no one quite seemed to expect: She arced the now-bladeless spear down in an overhead, axe-like blow that brought the flat of it crashing down on the gray-skinned woman’s exposed knuckles.

The smoggy woman’s husky shriek dropped down into a pained snarl as her bony hand spasmed visibly. The axe slipped from her grip and clanged to the ground. The mocking smile on her face curdled into an ugly mixture of rage and fear in the split second before the jagged, broken end of the spear-shaft rammed into her vulnerable shoulder in a quick and savage thrust.

The black-and-white-haired warrior’s gold-patterned skin flared to the sort of blinding white glare I associated with lightning as she put her whole body into delivering the blow. The splintered wood bit deeply into the fleshy region of her opponent’s skin in a place that was close enough to the smoggy woman’s jugular that the whole crowd cringed reflexively toward each other.

Then the silver-eyed warrior jerked the spear free. The flaring, criss-crossed lines in her skin ebbed back into their previous shade of luminous gold, and the crowd realized that a rule-breaking mortal wound hadn’t been made.

But from the way everyone shot back to their feet and erupted into a new level of screaming, the blood that was now gushing from the gray-skinned woman’s shoulder must have been the fifth and final wound required to win the fight.

There was a loud, gong-like boom from the bronze arches above the arena, and the gargoyles crashed to the ground on their metallic feet.

“Artemn the Abandoned is our victor,” the lead gargoyle boomed.

The backers around me were silent, but in the rows above us, I could hear some of the crowd talking amongst each other. They sounded slightly breathless from screaming, but their voices were still full of energy and admiration.

“They need to give her a better byname,” one of them complained in a deep croak. “Like… ‘Artemn the Undying,’ or something.”

“‘The Undying Tempest,’” a squeaky voice suggested.

“That’s too long,” someone else grumbled. “‘Golden Tempest’ would be better.”

“Wait,” a wheezy, older-sounding voice interrupted. “Why’s she called ‘the Abandoned,’ again?”

“Because she’s so good that no one wants to fight her,” the squeaky voice responded irritably. “Try to keep up, grandfather.”

“Didn’t you see how those nymphs were playing hide and seek out in the arena?” another person added with a snicker. “Great balls of fire, I can’t wait to see who faces her in next week’s fights.”

“They will find a way to keep her out of the arena,” the deep, croaky voice replied in a knowing tone. “Or the backers will all manage to bow out–”

“Remember the year when they decided to draw straws?” the squeaky voice giggled. “Poor Scakri.”

“Screamie, you mean?” another voice cackled. “I’ve never heard anyone holler like that.”

The wheezy voice scoffed in reproach. “You would, too, if someone hit you right in the dumplings with a…”

The people dissolved into a babble of impassioned arguments.

I turned to my two fighters and spoke in a low voice. “That was pretty damn impressive.”

Both of my warriors nodded vigorously, but before they could say anything in response, one of the stony-skinned bookies I recognized from our first visit was waving energetically at me as he approached.

“Would you and your warriors like to come to the lounge now?” he asked, and he had to seize the head of a frizzy-haired man in the front row to avoid crashing into him completely. The bookie ignored the man’s furious string of curses as he addressed me over the top of his frizzy hair. “You’re next after the fight that’s about to start, and trust me, that won’t take very long.”

“Sure thing,” I said. I stood and grasped my two women by the wrists to lead them out of the stands and follow the bookie into the closeby lounge. I leaned closer to the bookie as we walked inside and lowered my voice slightly. “So, uh… You probably have some knowledge of who exactly my warriors will be facing, right? I mean, I sort of got the impression that Zenia and Mavra were going to be joined by a third fighter.”

I only allowed a small hint of displeasure to creep into my normally easygoing tone, but the bookie picked up on it immediately.

“Ah…” The rocky gray skin of his face creased into a nervous smile, and his eyes darted around the lounge. The bald backer was nowhere to be seen yet, and the backers for the fight that was starting now were already striding out of the lounge to take their place in front of it, right on the side of the arena. The bookie seemed to draw courage from the emptiness around us, and he took a step closer to me to speak in a hushed voice. “Master Freyos has done some, ahh… rule-bending, you might say…”

I folded my arms and fixed the bookie with an unblinking stare that made it clear it was in his best interest to tell things to me straight.

He cleared his throat and glanced around again before he obliged. “Well, this week of fighting is the one that allows outnumbered fights, but there are certain rules in place that prevent them from being too uneven. But Master Freyos requested for skill to be taken into account, and, well… Your warriors are excellent fighters, it couldn’t be denied. And Master Freyos can be most, ah… persuasive.”

“Interesting.” I was thinking fast about how to handle the situation. A glance at my women told me they had heard this loud and clear, and they both gave me eager nods when our eyes met, so I turned back to the bookie and spoke with less frostiness in my voice. “So, that means it’ll be three against two, just to be clear? And that’s because my women…?”

“Have been established as high-level fighters,” the bookie finished. He still seemed slightly nervous about what my ultimate reaction would be, but he didn’t flinch away from the no-bullshit stare I sent him. “Master Freyos’ reputation has taken a bit of a dip because of that, but he believes it will be outweighed by the glory and wealth that would come to him if his warriors win the fight. It will be to six-blood, so it’s double the risk and double the reward, you see.”

“Right,” I snorted. “So, has he not considered the fact that they might lose, or…?”

I was a little surprised, but not much.

The bookie shrugged. “Master Freyos… does not truly entertain the idea that his warriors may lose, I think.”

“But you do?” I asked with a slight smirk.

“We take all possible outcomes into account.” The bookie’s voice was solemn, but he tossed in a barely noticeable wink. “That is why we’re willing to open a line of credit for you if necessary, as we have with Master Freyos. You are both, ah… highly respected.”

I allowed myself to feel smug for a brief moment about the fact that I was already as respected as Freyos, but then I took the time to mull this over before I nodded evenly.

Most of the tension cleared up from the bookie’s expression when he determined that I wasn’t going to wring his neck or something for the last-minute discovery.

I dismissed him with a wave and stepped into a close huddle with my women. “Are you sure about this, my shieldmai–”

“Yes, John,” they immediately chorused, and both warriors took another step to bring themselves even closer to me, like they needed to communicate the strength of their agreement with a touch.

I gave them both a long look.

“Alright,” I finally said as I pushed away a slight flutter of nerves.

As soon as I had fully committed to going through with the increased risk for my warriors, I felt calm and focused.

I ran a hand through my hair as I exhaled. “I guess we were sort of prepared for something unexpected.”

“And our reputations will soar even higher when we best the three fighters of the cruel bald wizard,” Ellie said with a feverish look in her big blue eyes.

“The heavens will shake with the cheers of the crowd,” Indy agreed with a nod. “The very stars will rattle with their awe.”

I thought of what the bald-headed backer’s face would look like when my women triumphed despite his best efforts to make it impossible for them, and I smirked slightly at the image. “I’m counting on it.”