A Stolen Crown (26 page)

“Who is that man there?” Aaron asked Malek, pointing at the black, clothed man.

“He’s the one who patches you up when you get cut. A healer, magic man of sorts,”

Malek told him. “Don't worry, he's got plenty of experience.” Malek laughed then took a swig from his flagon.

Aaron took a deep breath, letting go of the tension and willing his power to be still then he walked into the circle and drew one of his swords, the ruby-pommelled blade, its hilt wrapped in leather.

In an instant, the short man, Warg, leapt at Aaron. Aaron spun back, narrowly dodging a swing of the man’s sharp daggers. He swung his sword at Warg, flicking the blade at him and driving him back. The short man ducking easily under it, but it gave Aaron enough time to find his ground. Aaron lunged again and Warg caught his blade on the cross piece of one of his daggers and stepped under to swing his other dagger at Aaron’s ribs. Aaron stepped back and angled his sword down and over the crosspiece of the man’s dagger then he drove forward. A cut appeared on Warg’s forearm and he leapt back, cursing.

“Looks like your boy can fight a bit,” Malek observed, his eyes fixed on the match.

Carly hoped Aaron was good enough to go the distance. She had made several different bets on him, all of which meant he had to make it nearly to the end if she would see any kind of winnings.

“I told you he could fight,” she said.

Carly had not fought with her own daggers or any other weapon for a long time and, without regular practice, she knew she would not have lasted very long against the man Aaron faced. While Carly's own skills might have fallen away to some extent, she could still recognize the movements of a skilled figher and, in a different life, when her skills were sharp, she probably could have beaten him, but now she cringed as Warg's daggers swiped at Aaron, some of them coming painfully close to cutting and stabbing him.

Aaron dodged and parried Warg's attacks, getting a feel for the rhythm of the smaller man's style. In between deflecting and stepping just out of reach of Warg's attacks, Aaron made a few tentative swipes and jabs at him, testing his defenses. It was not long before Aaron began to recognize the patterns in Warg's movements and he stepped up his speed and began to attack more aggressively. Even though his opponent was aiming for vital areas with his attacks, which seemed a little excessive for a competition fight, Aaron tried to stick to attacks that would not result in the man's death. Repeatedly, he cut Warg's arms, his shoulders, his ribs, his upper legs, his blade now moving faster than the two daggers. Warg was dripping blood all over the dusty ground but he kept on fighting, attacking more and more aggressively even though he should be slowing down from the blood loss alone. Aaron was impressed with how tough the little man was but it was becoming more and more difficult to cut him without doing serious damage.

Aaron attacked with a quick series of short thrusts and slashes, then he stepped back, using Warg's aggressiveness and shorter reach against him, luring him forward just enough that the little man's face was extended forward. Aaron knocked Warg's daggers aside, shifted his grip on his sword and, with his fist around its hilt, punched the man between the eyes. Warg's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and, a moment later, he fell backwards, landing flat on the ground. Cheers erupted from parts of the crowd while others jeered. Aaron lifted his sword then turned and exited the Circle. A moment later, Warg was carried from the circle over to a bench where the man in the black robes began to heal his many cuts.

“Well done boyo!” Malek said, clapping him on the back. “Way to knock him dead, or at least out. I’ll say you’re a far cry better than the little dagger man, a far cry better!”

Aaron smiled but he could feel the pain at the back of his skull as the healer began his work and he wanted to leave.

“How long until I fight again?” Aaron asked.

“Nine other fights will happen before the next round,” Carly told him.

“Good. I'm going to for a walk.”

“I'll come with you,” Carly said.

“Don't wander too far. Some of these fights won't last long!” Malek called after Aaron as he and Carly walked away from the fighting circles.

Aaron hoped some distance between him and the healer would help. As soon as they were away from the circles, he felt the tension in his neck begin to subside. Carly noticed the difference in his expression and she also noticed a few of the minor nicks Aaron had received were also healing unnaturally fast.

“Maybe it's none of my business," Carly said, “but a few moments ago, your hand was bleeding and now it looks like it has never been cut. That's a neat trick.”

“It's a painful trick,” Aaron told her. “And it isn't something I'm doing on purpose. It just happens.”

“So you're a mage?”

“No.”

“But that's magic, Aaron,” Carly said. “There's no mistaking it.”

“Maybe it is, ” Aaron replied, “but it isn't something I know much about. Mostly it's painful, especially around people who use magic.”

“The healer...”

“The healer,” Carly said.

“Yes.” Aaron leaned against the outside wall of a tavern. “Something else, too.” Aaron had felt something when he stepped into the circle, and even though it had not been painful like when the healer had begun his work, it had thrown him off for a moment. “I don't know what it was. Something feels different about the ring, like there is a great sadness there. Maybe I was imagining things, but it was just enough to distract me at first,” he told her. “That Warg was really fast.”

“But you were faster,” Carly said, letting him change the subject. “A lot faster.”

“I guess.” Aaron shrugged. He still felt badly about how much the man had bled, just so they could get some money.

A group of men, all dressed in Ansari desert robes, walked over to where he and Carly stood.

“Please excuse us, Antal of Ashford,” one of the men said. “We observed your fight and would like to offer you our services.”

“What services would those be?” Carly asked, giving them a suspicious look.

“You might have need of things,” the man said to Aaron and ignoring Carly.

“What would I need?” Aaron asked.

“Herbs to rejuvenate you and make you strong,” one of the other men said, “or an elixer so you do not tire.” He pulled a glass vial containing a light green liquid from his robes.

“And why would I trust that whatever is in that vial would not do the opposite?”

The man took a step back.

“We would do no such thing,” he said, outrage creeping into his voice. “It is not permitted.”

“Just because you say something is not permitted doesn't mean you aren't just saying that,” Carly told them.

“You do not know Ansari,” one of the men told her.

“No, I don't,” Carly said. “And maybe if we all knew each other a little better, drinking some strange potion might sound like a better idea, but at the moment, it doesn't.”

“Why are you offering to help me?” Aaron asked, trying to be diplomatic.

“We have picked you to win the next match,” the man with the vial admitted.

“So you say,” Carly interjected suspiciously but she bit her tongue when Aaron threw her a look.

“Thank you for your confidence,” Aaron said, smiling at them. “I will win the next match, but I do not need a special potion, just skill with a blade.”

The Ansari looked at each other then they smiled at Aaron, seemingly pleased with what he had said.

“You will make an honorable champion,” the first man said. “I am proud to wager on your sword. We will leave you now.” They bowed their heads briefly then the group of them turned and walked away. They passed Malek, who had come to look for Aaron and Carly.

“I see those Ansari found you,” Malek commented.

“Do you know what they wanted?” Carly asked. “It seemed like they wanted to cheat at the fights somehow, with potions and such.” Malek laughed.

“It isn't really cheating,” Malek said. “At least, it isn't considered to be cheating. It's permitted to use enhancements, potions, magic, whatever you want, to win in the circles. Many of the fighters use such things, but they are usually very expensive so they'll sign a contract with one of the merchant gamblers to keep them supplied. The problem is they'd basically be buying you.”

“Buy him?” Carly asked.

“It's a contract,” Malek said. “They supply what you need to win, and with a bit of luck you win matches and they win money.”

“What happens if you lose?” Aaron asked.

“That can get ugly,” Malek said, tipping his flagon over his mouth and drinking the last few drops. “Those potions they use are not very kind to your innards. Once you start taking them, it's almost impossible to stop.”

“Why would anyone agree to that?” Aaron asked.

“Those merchants offer a whole new level of wealth,” Malek explained. “Fighters will work for them and tour the twelve circles, Forsina being just one of them, and they'll win many a coin for their sponsors. In return the sponsors, who place enormous bets on their fighters, give the fighters a share in the profits. That share can sometimes be more money than a fighter would otherwise see over a lifetime.”

“Well, that certainly isn't our concern,” Carly said. “We just need to win enough to get out of here. Did you make enough of a bet to cover our fees?”

“Carly, you know the numbers on that fight were small,” Malek said. “The bigger money comes later.”

Malek was right. Even if she had the coin to place the maximum bet on Aaron's last fight, she would only have won enough for a good meal and an overnight stay at one of the town's nicer inns.

“How many fights are left until the next round?” Aaron asked.

“Five more,” Malek told him.

“Four matches done already? That was fast,” Carly said.

“They were all new entrants. The next five will take a might longer, but you'd best freshen up. They'll be calling for you soon. I fancy another flagon so I'll be off.”

Malek headed toward the door of the tavern.

“Malek,” Aaron said, and the man stopped for a moment. “If those Ansari wanted me to become their fighter, then why would they so pleased that I turned them down?”

“You don't know the Ansari,” Malek said with a laugh.

“What does that mean?” Carly asked.

“Old stories and legends,” Malek said with a shrug. “They have their own ways, and I don't even pretend to understand them, but I'll tell you one thing, it's a rare thing when someone turns them down and I don't think they like it when that happens.”

“Why the big smiles then?” Carly asked.

“I think they were just smiling on the outside,” Malek said. “Now I'm dying of thirst on the inside, so I'm getting another ale before the next fight. Just remember, nothing among the Ansari is what it seems. No one really knows the Ansari, except maybe the Ansari.”

Malek pushed open the door to the tavern and went inside. Aaron and Carly made their way back to the area where the fighting circles were. Aaron had thought the matches would take place in the other rings but it seemed like the fights were all in the same ring he had fought Warg, who he notice was back on his feet and gave Aaron a dark look when he saw him. They saw the group of Ansari merchants standing with a larger group of their people, watching the match. A few of them nodded at Aaron when he approached the crowd and he saw them pointing him out to the others they were with.

The twinge at the base of Aaron's skull returned shortly after they returned to the area, where the crowd had begun to thicken with more spectators. The pain subsided again once the healer had finished working his magic on one of the other contestants who had been badly injured. Even though the man had stopped using his power, Aaron still felt something tugging at his mind. There were still three fights remaining before the next round so Aaron reached out very gently with his power, listening, hoping to find the source of the energy, and a feeling of sadness cried out silently, echoing in Aaron’s mind. With his power, he could feel it like a current under his feet and it was as though he was standing in an ocean instead of on the dry dirt of the city, but instead of an ocean of water, it was an ocean of blood. Aaron looked around at the crowd and from what he could tell, every one was in high spirits. No one seemed to have noticed the underlying sorrow of the place. Even the mage in charge of healing seemed oblivious to it. Malek returned with a fresh flagon of ale. Aaron wondered if he might know any of the history of the city.

“Malek.” The pirate turned and belched. “Was there ever a different city here? Before it was called Forsina?”

Malek scratched his head.

“I heard it said once that this was the place where the western capital of the Ansari kingdom once stood. They had a bunch of different cities, and more than one king. I don't rightly understand it. Of course that was before most of them ran off to the desert and became nomads.”

Aaron remembered a few mentions of the old kingdom of the desert from his studies but it was not one of the subjects he had learned much about.

“What happened to the city?” he asked. Malek shook his head.

“I don't rightly know,” Malek said. “Maybe the desert swallowed it up. The story I heard, the cities disappeared long ago and the circles are all that's left. Why don’t you ask one of the Ansari if you’re so curious.”