Arena // Introduction

Written by CJ Bishop

Listen while you read

One: the queen's undefeated champion, known for his skill with a spear, which he could also wield as a staff. He was nicknamed Ollormania, meaning one who revels in glory. The other: a generic prisoner of war, her skill and fighting patterns unknown. She was called Marsuia, meaning silent one. She chose a dagger and a pair of swords, wearing no armor other than a hooded cloak that hid her eyes and shadowed her face. Upon being brought to the dungeons, she had refused to take it off.

Iron and steel clanked against each other as the fighters entered the arena. Roars and cheers rose like fire from an eagerly awaiting audience. The queen herself sat high upon her royal seat in her royal box.

Ollormania thrust his spear out, demonstrating a few twists and tricks for the crowd as he sauntered into view. Men bellowed and ladies fawned. A thundering of drums and the wave of a green and gold flag commenced the battle.

Marsuia’s small dagger deflected off Ollormania’s spear. He drove the end towards her gut and sword hand, an advanced technique used to disarm an opponent. But she caught the blow as her blade flashed to her other hand and engaged with that of the spear. Adrenaline flushed the opponents’ exhilarated cheeks. They were a blur; their weapons would clash on one side, and their fists on the other. As dagger slid against spear, Ollormania aimed a high kick at Marsuia’s head. In response, she flipped backwards, her robes spiraling about her graceful form. A blink of an eye later, she had shed her small weapon in exchange for the swords, which she held one in each hand.

Spectators leaned forward and strained to see, but their human eyes could not pick up how Marsuia fought with one blade and nicked Ollormania with the other. It is uncertain whether or not the mighty warrior was aware of this, but even if he had been there would have been nothing he could do about it. His knees buckled and he would have collapsed had not Marsuia caught him, hooking her arm around his neck. His wounds began to bleed as if time had been stopped and now it resumed.

Marsuia’s voice spoke out, calm and strong and triumphant all at once. “Your Majesty.” She addressed the queen mockingly, but when she slid her bloodied sword over where her arm gripped Ollormania’s neck, only menace could be heard dripping in her voice as she snarled, “Come get your son.”

A collective gasp shivered through the audience. The queen, looking flustered, rose slowly. “Who,” she said, her voice shaking, “are you?”

Marsuia pushed back her hood, revealing a row of bandages over her eyes. “I’m the Blind Warrior.”

Inspired by Game of Survival by Ruelle.

Drawing by Wlop.

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