The Silent Tempest (Book 2) (23 page)

There are no winners in the
arena…,
he observed silently …
only the living
and the dead. The only choice given is the choice of what to lose, your life
or your conscience.

Brigid Tolburn was next. Tyrion opened
her door, and for a moment he was caught by her baleful gaze. Ice blue eyes
framed by hair as black as his own; they burned into him with a malevolent
resolve. She looked away quickly, knowing better than to challenge him, but he
had already seen it. It filled him with conflicting emotions, of course the
sting was only to be expected when you knew your child hated you, but he also
felt relief.

She’s ready to do someone a
terrible harm.

“Remember what I taught you,” he said as
they walked to the edge.

Brigid nodded but didn’t speak.

“Whoever you face, just imagine it’s me,”
he told her. “Give them what you’ve been wanting to give me, and you’ll do
fine; just keep your head until the fight is almost won.” He put a hand on her
shoulder to propel her forward, but she flinched away at his touch.

She darted a glance at him from eyes
shadowed by her hair, and he could see a touch of fear on her face.

“Win this, Brigid,” he encouraged. “Win
this and I won’t have to punish you again.”

A faint nod and she turned away, marching
to face her opponent, another male, this time from the Centyr Grove. As the
lights changed and the chime sounded she began running directly for him,
wasting no time.

The boy had begun summoning a spellbeast
from the moment the lights had changed, but he stopped and began running as
well when he saw her charging toward him. Unable to focus, he ran full tilt,
attempting to gain some distance, but Brigid never gave him a chance to collect
his wits or focus.

She kept after him like a mad dog, her
wild hair flying behind her. She was single minded in her determination to
reach him, and despite his longer legs he failed to outpace her. He was
obviously malnourished, while Brigid’s limbs were strong and fresh with the power
of youth. He ducked and dodged, changing course rapidly, but it only made the
distance between them shorter.

At twenty feet she leveled a blast at his
feet that sent him tumbling, and then she was on him. At close range she
ignored his desperate attacks, and then she used her aythar to drive him into
the ground, smashing his shield near instantly.

“Burn,” said Brigid, with horrific
results.

Kate turned her head, unable to watch, but
Tyrion never looked away, even as the Centyr boy smoked and screamed.

Brigid walked back toward them even before
the lights changed. She already knew she had won. When the shield around the
arena went down, she walked past Tyrion, giving him a cold stare. Her lips
moved, and she silently mouthed a word as she passed him, ‘burn’.

He didn’t reply, gracing her instead with
a tight lipped look of approval and a nod. “She did well,” he said to Kate.

“That was awful,” she responded.
“Couldn’t she have chosen something less painful?”

Layla had moved closer, standing on the
other side of Tyrion now. “There is no weakness in that one,” she stated
calmly. “You must be proud. We should celebrate tonight.” The warden leaned
in, letting her hand rest lightly on his shoulder. There was no mistaking what
she meant by ‘celebrate’.

Tyrion didn’t comment, instead he moved
from between the two women, going to fetch the next one to enter the arena.

Kate looked from Layla to Daniel, and
quietly she was relieved. She had expected the female warden to be enthused by
the victory, but it made her happier to see that he didn’t revel in death in
the same manner.

Jack was next, his body tense and anxious
as he stepped into the arena. Having been in the cell, he hadn’t seen either
of the previous fights, but the sound of the crowd had made him nervous. He
walked across the dry earth and stared at his opponent, a light haired girl
from the Prathion Grove.

It reminded Tyrion of his first fight in
the arena. He had faced a young redheaded girl then, but without understanding
the rules, or knowing how to shield himself, he had nearly died. In the end he
had gotten lucky and managed to choke the girl to death just before his own
imminent demise. It was the healing skills of the She’Har that had kept him
alive.

Jack had none of those disadvantages,
though. While he was one of the newer ones to gain his mage abilities, he had
been taught to shield himself, how to attack, and he had been drilled on the
absolute rule of death in the arena: only one could emerge alive.

This girl was a bit stronger than the one
Tyrion had faced however, and Jack was still a little unsure of himself when it
came to trusting his magesight or using his other abilities. He was still
stronger than his opponent in terms of absolute aythar, but of Tyrion’s
offspring he was the weakest so far.

The Prathion mage vanished as soon as the
chime sounded.

Jack spun, looking behind himself and
nearly lost his focus on his shield.

Damnitt,
thought Tyrion.
He doesn’t trust his senses, he’s still
relying on his eyes first. Even worse, he’s confused the Mordan and the
Prathions.
The boy had obviously thought the girl had teleported.

The girl reappeared in a new location, but
a flicker in her aythar told Tyrion that all was not what it appeared to be.
Even he couldn’t be certain, but he would have guessed that she had gone
invisible again, leaving an illusion of herself behind to throw off her
opponent.

When the Prathion mage didn’t move, Jack
leveled a potent blast in her direction. Naturally it passed through her
illusion without affecting it in the slightest. Jack gaped at it, unsure what
to do next.

Move boy!
screamed Tyrion mentally, wishing he could project himself to the
teen.
She can’t see you while she’s invisible, but if you stay in one spot
she’ll ambush you for certain.

“He was smarter than this during the
training,” noted Layla clinically, “but some can’t keep their wits once the
battle-fear strikes them.”

“It doesn’t look like anything is
happening,” complained Kate. To her eyes the only events to occur had been the
girl’s vanishing and sudden reappearance.

“The boy is about to die,” announced
Layla.

The girl appeared again, this time
closer. As before, she vanished immediately after, leaving behind a second
illusion of herself. Once again Jack took the bait, sending a powerful attack
at her illusory self. Still confused, he spent his time looking back and forth
between the two visible representations of his enemy.

“Damn his stupid ass!” swore Tyrion.
“She’s close now, and he still hasn’t moved.”

Layla shook her head, “Why doesn’t he use
that clever ground trick you taught them, to detect her feet against the
ground?”

“He’s forgotten,” said Tyrion. “He’s
forgotten everything.”

The next time the girl appeared, it was in
four places, each of them in close proximity to Jack. One image appeared a
split second before the others, focusing his attention in that direction. He
sent a desperate attack in that direction, while letting his concentration on
his own defense lapse slightly. His shield weakened just as the other three
images appeared, one on either side of him and one directly behind.

Whipping to one side, he sent a second
attack at the one on his right.

The Prathion mage was to his left, and her
attack came at close range, a focused lance of power that tore through his
neglected shield and went completely through his chest. A second and third
attack struck before he could finish falling to the ground.

Jack was dead.

“That girl has promise,” said Layla
admiringly, but Tyrion wasn’t listening. His world had narrowed, his vision
spiraling into a small tunnel. All he could see was Jack’s broken body lying
on the dry earth.

Kate looked at him in alarm, she was upset
as well, but she could feel a strange humming beside her. Staring at Daniel,
she could see the air shimmering around him, like heat waves seen from a
distance. Layla had backed away a step or two, alarmed by whatever her
magesight was showing her.

Tyrion felt as though he was being
smothered; he couldn’t seem to draw enough air into his lungs. His heart was
pounding out a furious rhythm in his chest. Death had never affected him like
this before. Jack had been ill-suited to the arena, a sensitive child, and
Tyrion had been reluctant to treat him as harshly as the others.

This is my fault.

Byovar was there now, saying something to
him, but he couldn’t seem to hear the words. Looking up, the sky was a deep
blue, uncluttered by clouds. He could feel it calling to him. There was no
pain there, only emptiness, a vast airy space devoid of the suffering that was
inflicted on those who walked the earth.

Kate touched his arm again, and he looked
into her eyes. She was suffering too, but there was more than just that. He
could see worry there, an abiding concern, for him. Unlike Layla, unlike
Lyralliantha, or any of the others, she could understand the turmoil in his
heart.

Kate was afraid, not merely
of him,
but
also
for him.

Concentrating, he slowed his breathing,
bringing his attention back to the here and now.
I feel nothing,
he
told himself.

“I’m sorry, Byovar,” he responded to the
She’Har lore-warden. “I was lost in thought. Could you say that again?”

“Koralltis is calling for the next one,
Tyrion,” said the She’Har.

“Of course,” he replied, automatically
moving toward the holding cells.
Next will be Sarah…

Sarah’s fight went smoothly, as did
David’s, Abby’s, Ryan’s, and finally Emma’s. Each of them faced their
opponents and dispatched them without major incident, their training and
superior strength being more than enough to make up for the random surprises
they encountered.

With each fight, Tyrion found himself
holding his breath. With each victory his dread increased. He knew they
couldn’t all win. The odds against that seemed greater with each successful
kill. Surely one of them would make a mistake, it was impossible that he would
escape the day without losing another one.

When Emma cut the head from her opponent,
he felt as though a weight had been lifted from him. It was over. They had
made it. No more of his children would die that day. With their first
traumatic kills behind them, they would be even stronger in the future.
Another week would see them better, more experienced, and more importantly,
ready to kill.

They were past the most dangerous part of
their arena careers, the uncertainty of the first fight.

Koralltis was back in the center of the
arena, projecting his voice with magic and announcing the next fight, but
Tyrion was hardly listening—until he heard the words, ‘Gravenna Mordan’. That
was Haley’s new name.

The master of the arena was looking toward
him now, calling for the Illeniel contestant to step forward.

Confused, Tyrion sought help from
Thillmarius, “What did he just say? We’ve already finished our fights for the
day.”

“He said there would be an extra fight
today. He has arranged an extra fight with the Mordan Grove—with one of your
newly blooded fighters,” the Prathion trainer informed him.

He gaped at Thillmarius, “That’s hardly
fair. She’s had five or six fights now, while mine have barely recovered from
their first kills.”
And no matter what happens, I will lose another child.

Byovar intervened, “I should have
explained better before we arrived. The feeling is that since you have so many
of the newly prized children from Colne, and because you have been training
them personally, that Mordan should be given the opportunity to test one of them
before your position of strength has been fully solidified.”

“You mean they want a free kill,” said
Tyrion bitterly.

“That is far from certain, Tyrion,”
countered Byovar. “Your offspring are powerful, and your training has proven
more effective than anyone thought possible. No one believed that so many of
your entrants would survive their first-blood fights.”

His temper was threatening to overwhelm
his self-control. Scanning his immediate vicinity, he found himself
unconsciously planning his killing spree,
Thillmarius first, then
Koralltis. Byovar could wait, unless he tried to intervene. The krytek would
appear soon after, unless I could create another windstorm like the last one.
Maybe I wouldn’t stop this time—how big would it become?

He closed his eyes, trying to clear his
mind. Those thoughts weren’t productive. No storm would be big enough to
cleanse the world completely, and nothing else would satisfy him. He would
only be killing the people he cared about, and the She’Har would remain. They could
recover from any damage that didn’t completely annihilate them.

“Should I bring him out, Tyrion? They are
growing impatient,” said Byovar, sounding concerned.

Not Gabriel,
he thought,
he’s the only one who doesn’t really hate me.
He
didn’t think the boy could handle Haley either, nor was he sure he wanted him
to.
She’s almost like a sister to me, aside from being my daughter.

Brigid was the best choice, if he wanted a
chance to end this tragedy today, but he had already named Gabriel earlier.
And
she’s Kate’s sister—how would she feel if I sent her only sister out and she died?
He looked at Kate, who was looking back with puzzlement in her eyes. She
couldn’t understand Erollith so she had no idea yet what decision he was
considering.

Whoever he sent was likely to lose, but
Brigid had the best chance. He knew that from watching the previous fights.
“Send Br—no, get Gabriel,” he answered, changing his mind. He couldn’t do it,
he couldn’t send Kate’s sister.

“What’s happening?” asked Kate as Byovar
walked to the holding cells.

“They’re forcing an additional fight on
me,” he told her. “Haley against one of mine.”

“But they’re related,” she protested.
“They can’t make siblings fight one another, surely?”

“The She’Har don’t give a damn about us,
or our relations,” he replied.

Gabriel was passing by then, his features
full of questions.

“Gabriel, they want you to fight Haley,”
said Tyrion, rushing to stay abreast of him. “Don’t hesitate. I know it’s
hard, but she’s been doing this for weeks. If you don’t win, this will repeat
itself, and she’ll be forced to fight the others, one by one.”

Although Haley had grown up in the
countryside outside of town, she and Gabriel had known each other well enough,
just as everyone did in the small community that revolved around Colne. The
boy looked at Tyrion in a panic, “Haley? I can’t fight her! We’re friends. She’s
my sister!”

“No mercy, Gabriel. Kill her and end
this. Do it for the others if you can’t do it for yourself,” said Tyrion,
desperation filling his voice with urgency. There was no time to say anything
else.

Gabriel stepped into the arena and looked
across the field as he marched to his starting position. Haley stood in her
place already, a look of disbelief on her features to match Gabriel’s.

She looked behind her, asking questions of
Dalleth. It was too far for them to hear what she said, but Gabriel could
guess. She wanted to know why she was being forced to fight him. Haley was
shaking her head, arguing with the answers she was given, when the chime
sounded, and the lights changed.

Gabriel walked forward, moving slowly. He
still hadn’t raised a shield. His hands were out to his sides, palms forward
and open, the universal sign of peaceful intentions. Haley was staring back at
him with a horrified look on her face. She had a shield around herself, but
she made no move to attack. She watched him approach in silence.

“What is he doing?!” said Layla, looking
to Tyrion for answers. “She could kill him with a thought!”

Tyrion watched, unable to look away.
“He’s going to try to talk to her.”

“But why?” asked Layla.

“Because he didn’t grow up in the pens,”
he replied, “because he’s still human. He’s not like you…”
Or me.

Kate was holding onto his arm, her fingers
digging into his flesh painfully.

Layla tsk’ed in disapproval, “He certainly
isn’t like me. I prefer breathing.”

On the field Gabriel was still approaching
Haley slowly, they were a mere ten feet apart now, and tears were streaming
down her face.

“We don’t have to do this, Haley. They
can’t force us if we both refuse to fight,” he told her sincerely.

She tried to answer, but her voice was
thick with tears. It took several tries before she could get the words out,
“You don’t understand, Gabe. You don’t understand at all.”

“No,” he argued, “
They
don’t
understand. We can make our own choices.”

“I’m going to kill you, Gabe! Don’t
you
get it? That’s the only way out of here!” she yelled. “Why don’t you have
your shield up!?”

He watched her sadly, wishing he could
convince her, but even he could see the resolve in her eyes. Gabriel lowered
his head in acceptance. “Fine, we can start over, but I don’t want to do this
Haley. This wasn’t my choice. I never wanted to hurt you.” Turning, he
started to walk away, to return to his starting position.

Haley’s aythar surged violently, and a
scything plane of deadly force shot forth, bisecting Gabriel’s body diagonally,
from shoulder to hip. He barely had a chance to register the attack before he
was dead.

“Why didn’t you have your shield up!?” she
screamed hoarsely. “Why?! I told you I was going to kill you! Why?!”
Haley’s body sagged, and she fell to her knees still crying.

The crowed was silent. None of the
She’Har had expected such a sudden ending, such an uncontested fight.

Thillmarius was as surprised as the rest.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before. That was unprecedented. Why
didn’t he defend himself?”

“Because he wasn’t a savage,” ground out
Tyrion. “He wasn’t like your people.”

Kate was still in shock. “She killed him
while his back was turned,” she mumbled.

She made the same choice I
would have,
thought Tyrion.
She knew
the fight was inevitable, and she decided to end it right then and save herself
the risk of a real battle.

***

The return to Albamarl was a somber walk.
Tyrion’s students were silent. He knew from experience how traumatic the first
kill could be. They were still fresh from that, along with the fact that they
were walking back with two fewer than had started out.

Even Brigid, who had seemed the best
adjusted to the situation, now seemed quiet and withdrawn. Her anger had
faded, leaving an empty regret as she remembered the boy she had burned.

It was Sarah who spoke first, “What
happened to Gabe and Jack?”

“Jack panicked, stopped thinking, and
pretty soon after that stopped breathing,” said Tyrion. “Gabriel did well on
his first fight, but he wasn’t prepared for the second one.”

“He fought twice?” she asked.

Tyrion worried that telling them about
Haley would demoralize them, but he couldn’t hide the fact forever. One of
them would have to face her, possibly more than one of them, until someone
managed to kill her. There was no escaping that fact. “They wanted a special
match, between him and Haley. He tried to talk, didn’t defend himself. She
killed him.”

Brigid looked up, her interest piqued when
she heard Haley’s name. The two girls had been neighbors; much like Tyrion and
Seth had once been, since Brigid had been raised by Seth’s father and Kate’s
mother, while Haley had grown up with Tyrion’s parents. “Was she—how did she
look?” asked the dark hair girl.

He stopped, forcing everyone to come up
short. “She looked very well, Brigid, until she saw Gabriel walk into the
arena. She got pretty upset then. She screamed, she cried, and she cut him
into two very dead pieces when he failed to take her seriously.”

The look on her face was heartbreaking.
Gone was the sullen malevolence that had marked her gaze earlier, replaced by
the desperate look of a girl who needed some small hope to cling to. “But she
didn’t want to do it, right? They made her.”

“They made her, and Gabriel is just as
dead either way. Who do you think is next?”

Brigid was shaking her head, unable to
accept what she was hearing, “No. No, no, no…” She started to back away, but
Tyrion’s hand darted out, catching her long black hair, pulling her to a halt.

“Who else do you think can do it, Brigid?”
he asked her harshly, pointing at the others. “Do you think David can? He
nearly pissed himself today. What about Emma? Do you think she has what it
takes?” Twisting her head around, he brought her face close to his own.
“You’re their only hope. You’re the strongest. You’re the best killer among
them. If you can’t do it, she’ll kill all of them, one by one. Is that what
you want?”

“No! Let me go!” she shouted, pulling at
his hand, trying to get him to release her hair. “I’m not going to do it.”

“Then you’ve got two choices.” Tyrion
drew the razor sharp wooden sword from his belt, handing it to her before
letting her go. “You can shove that through your heart, or you can let her do
it for you.

She stared down at the deadly blade made
from Eilen’tyral, the weapon-wood of the god-trees.

Tyrion’s tone shifted then, becoming
softer. “I wish I could do it, Brigid, but they won’t let me. I want to
protect you, I want to protect them. I even want to protect Haley, but I
can’t. The only one who can save you, who can save the others, is
you
.
It’s your choice.” He turned then, and walked away, heading for the deeper
parts of the Illeniel Grove.

“Where are you going?” called Layla.

“To think,” he responded. “Take them back
to Albamarl. I’ll be there later.”

He walked then, wandering without purpose
until he found himself at the base of the tree that Lyralliantha lived in. She
still hadn’t returned, but it was the most familiar place in the grove to him.
Walking up the trunk of the mighty tree he ascended until he found her living
platform.

Once there he sat, pondering his life; the
choices that had led him there, the mistakes that had created his misery. He
could find no meaning in any of it. His only conclusion was that whatever
happened, much of it was his own fault.

I should have died in the
arena.