Back to Yonder for Publication, page 31
She had set him up, feigning her stumble. Suddenly, she was pushing forward much faster than she had moved before—at least up to that point. Impossibly, she shifted mid-slip, avoiding the crushing blow by mere inches. Where she had just been, the orc’s powerful strike shattered the tile next to her, sending small chunks of rock flying in all directions.
At the same time she used all of that forward momentum to drive her twin blades up and under his guard and then through his armor. Her blades pierced his gut till their tips stuck out his back and he gasped in agony. She twisted the blades, and he passed out from the devastating trauma. The referee immediately raised his red flag, calling the match in her favor and summoning healers who were already leaping up the stairs into the ring.
It made me feel a bit better, seeing how attentive they were to their job. If Josie were the one to be so grievously injured, I’m not sure that I would be able to restrain myself and I might end up down in the ring, pouring one of Rava’s healing potions down her throat. None of that was necessary today, as she’d ended her first day of the tournament with two decisive victories.
We went out to dinner again that night at one of the restaurants near our apartments. Josie was immediately recognized. Little girls came up to her, asking for her autograph and gushing about how amazing she had been. Despite her attempts to hide it, I could sense through the bond how happy it made her.
Besides Josie’s matches, I’d only paid real attention to the fights of those who Rava had predicted would be in the quarter finals. None of the others lost any of their matches. I’d watched carefully whenever Narkossa fought. He was only using a longsword, but his movements betrayed a degree of mastery well beyond most of the contenders.
I wouldn’t have told Josie this, but his skill with the blade was probably higher than hers—even if he wasn’t half as fast as she could be.
Narkossa handily won both of his matches with a grace that I could easily follow, noting how he used it in such a way as to make the matches look far closer than they actually were. Each time I watched him fight, I raised my estimate of how dangerous he actually was.
After his second match today, Sema told me, “You should kill that elf tonight. He is the one most likely to beat Josie, from everything we have seen. Some of the others are capable, but he is the only one who has so completely hidden his abilities.”
I was a little shocked at her bloodthirsty comment. “And how would that be fair? Besides, that would rob Josie of the chance to prove herself.”
She snorted. “There you go with your imaginary concepts again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Simply that fairness is a concept made up by the weak to try and control the strong. Those with power do as they wish. If they restrain themselves, it is only because they have been convinced to do so by the mewling of fools.”
“Are you feeling okay, Sema? You’ve been rather dark lately. I get it, and I respect the loss you’ve experienced, but what you are talking about isn’t who I am.”
She stared at me, two large eyes on that tiny face, for a moment. There was the shadow of raw rage that flashed momentarily in the depths of those eyes, but then it was gone.
“Don’t come crying to me if she dies because you didn’t act when you had the chance and clearly have the power to do so.” She paused, before adding, “Or maybe do, and I’ll show you what a real woman can do.”
“For the sake of our friendship,” I growled, “I’m going to ignore what you just said. But don’t test me again.”
She muttered something under her breath, but with her tiny mouth, it was too quiet for even my enhanced hearing to pick up. I decided just to let it go—but she was definitely starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I had to ask myself if even the advantage of her illusions was worth putting up with such comments, but another part of me felt bad for her loss and wanted to cut her some slack.
Even that part of me, though, was coming to the end of whatever slack I had left to let out. I couldn’t fully shake the feeling that things with Sema would get worse before they got better but then we arrived at the restaurant. The hostess recognized Josie as one of the contenders in the tournament and led us to a less crowded room in the back of the restaurant.
The table next to us had only a single patron, who I recognized as Betsy Clemson. I kept glancing over at her, which led Rava and Nimeera to filling Josie in on my supposed crush on the cowgirl.
High on her victories, Josie stood up without any warning and took the step over to sit down at Betsy’s table. Then, she invited the woman to join us for dinner. “My husband keeps staring at you, so you might as well join us. Besides, we women fighters need to stick together. We’re definitely in the minority.”
Betsy looked over at me with my orc illusion and gave me a thorough appraisal—like I was a side of meat . Surprisingly, I couldn’t say I didn’t like the feeling. There’s just something about a hot, confident, beautiful woman checking you out that feels so damn good.
“Hmm, an orc, huh? I tend to like my men a bit prettier than that, but it’s hard to find them both manly and easy on the eyes. I suppose it can’t hurt.”
Then she joined us, and we started talking. Most of the conversation was taken up by Josie and Betsy sharing memories of their fathers, and what it meant to them to fight in the same tournament that their father’s had won.
I asked Betsy, “Is your father still around to watch you?”
She got silent for a moment, and I thought I might have stuck my foot in my mouth. But she replied with a smile, “He’s around. He is proud of me, and I felt that pride today, even if he can’t quite tell me in words.”
The answer confused me, but I let it go.
Eventually, as we were ordering dessert, Betsy looked at Josie. “Normally, I’m not into orcs because they tend to be domineering. They all act like their women are either fragile toys or simply their possessions, which is rather annoying. But you seem to have your husband well trained, so I’d being willing—if you want to extend the offer.”
Rava snorted and Nimeera choked on the wine she was sipping.
Josie held it together a bit better. “Who can say what the future holds? My husband is quite the fighter. I have yet to see a stronger man than him. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but he does tend to be a bit repressed—and I don’t think he would be up for me randomly sharing an evening with him and another woman.”
Josie winked at me before turning back to Betsy. “He is an amazing lover, I will happily admit,” she explained, “but part of that is because he wants to be emotionally attached to any woman he’s with.”
Betsy looked at me and then at Josie as though she was waiting for a punch line. When none came, she shook her head. “Hmm… will wonder’s never cease? An emotionally sensitive orc. I swear, if you were just a bit more handsome, I’d petition your wives, right here and right now, for their permission to court you—especially if you can actually fight like your wife suggests.”
I was blushing under the illusion. Olimeran customs had struck again and, no matter how quickly I tried to adapt, I found myself struggling to keep up. But, I’d learned a trick or two during times like this--sometimes it was better just to act instead of overthinking things.
I reached down and grabbed the leg of her chair, lifting her up in it before balancing it on one finger. “I can’t show you my skills in a fight in here, but at least you can see a sample of my strength.”
I saw her trying to do the math, working out just how strong I’d have to be to balance her weight on a single finger. It was far below the amount of weight I could lift, but her hundred and eighty pounds or so, along with the solid wood chair—all balanced and held aloft on one finger probably equated to my lifting a ton with one hand.
She might not have been able to break it down that quickly, but she was suitably impressed. When I set the chair back down, she stood up and said her goodbyes before adding, “If you change your mind, working off stress from a day in the arena is something I’d be very interested in.”
She patted her axe and said, “I think even my father approves.”
Josie nodded and said, “Don’t I know it. I’m looking forward to my stress relief tonight. I doubt he’ll get over his bashfulness anytime soon,” she nodded at me, “but I’ll work on him.”
The two of them clasped forearms, and then Betsy left the restaurant.
I didn’t even think about it until after she’d left, but the cowkin had stuck us with her bill. Apparently, she was at least a little crafty.
All of the sexual tension which dinner raised only made bedtime a wonder, as I helped Josie relax in preparation for the next day… repeatedly. The way Lina had rubbed off on my other wives was a blessing—one which I hadn’t initially appreciated quite as much as I should have. My fiery foxkin was more than eager for everything I did to and for her, and I was reminded again of how good my life had become.
Chapter 38 - Not Gonna go Easy on Ya
The next two days of the tournament went by relatively uneventfully. By the fourth day of the tournament, the winner’s bracket was down to the final four undefeated fighters. These had quickly become the odds makers’ favorites—though I could see that much more money was being won and lost on Narkossa’s fights than those in the winner’s bracket.
Josie remained undefeated and was in this final four of the winner’s bracket. With her was Betsy, which made both of them proud. The cowkin had taken to eating dinner with us each night, though Josie teased her unmercifully about taking off before the bill showed up every time.
The first time Josie teased her about running off after our first dinner, Betsy turned a bright red and changed the topic. The second time, though, Betsy winked at me and told Rava to put it on her tab—which the muscular woman said she’d gladly pay up after she won the tournament.
Each time, I rolled my eyes at the two of them, and said that it was my treat. I was happy to pick up the tab. I suspected the cowkin came from modest means, but appreciated the good food and good company too much to pass up such a generous offer.
She not only made friends with Josie, but also got along very well with both Rava and Nimeera. The cowkin was gruff, buff, and a little rough around the edges. She shared the most camaraderie with Josie as a fellow fighter, but had a clear respect for Rava’s alchemy, though she seemed a little puzzled by Nimeera’s place in our little family.
The cowgirl was easy on the eyes, too, with just about the most impressive rack I’d ever seen. To be that well-endowed and still move like she did in the fighting ring? Well, that was a feat in and of itself. Her thighs were thicc, her ass toned and full, and her arms muscular—but not in a way that took away from her beauty. Her skin had just a slightly darker color which made her seem almost exotic to me.
She seemed to take endless delight in teasing me—and I’d be lying if I said I hated it when she leaned forward to give me an eyeful of her bountiful assets. I knew I needed to focus on Josie for the rest of the tournament, but I would gladly have hired Betsy as a deputy if I thought she’d be willing. She got along really well with the rest of us and was obviously a talented fighter. She had yet to be forced to resort to using her Earth Mana in a match.
One of the others in the winner’s bracket was Rhaegeth, the hawkkin. He had won a tight battle with the former champion, Tensa. Both had been severely wounded, but an acid rain attack that the hawkkin pulled out at the end had won the match. It was likely his trump card—which I’m sure he had been hoping to save for the finals, but he seemed unwilling to take a loss, and used it early.
The final spot in the winner’s bracket belonged to Balru, last year’s champion. His name was probably called out more often than not, and currently the oddsmakers had him as the favorite to win the tournament, with a projected fifty-five percent chance.
And why not. He had cruised through is matches without facing any significant challenges and while only limited displays of what his force mana could do.
The loser’s bracket was down to eight fighters and four of them were on Rava’s list, so I was feeling pretty good about my chances of winning my bet with Nimeera. Sussor was a wolfkin with Illusion Mana who had taken a loss to Balru, despite seeming to pull out all stops with his tricks, using a bevy of illusions.
Meanwhile, Rumba the orc had lost a battle to Betsy which I wasn’t sure he couldn’t have won. He didn’t use his mana, and I wasn’t quite sure what Reversal Mana was, but it sounded odd—and odd could often be potent in a match because it was unexpected. If I had to lay a bet on it, I’d say that unlike Rhaegeth, he had opted to save his trump cards for later in the tournament.
Now, we were ready for today’s action. They first had the matches in the loser’s bracket, where Sussor won a narrow victory against a very fast foxkin and Tensa won his match against a cowkin, easily. For the first time, Narkossa seemed to have to push himself just a bit against another elven fighter, who also happened to be the last unarmed fighter in the tournament. In my opinion, it was quite the accomplishment, that he had made it this far.
Narkossa’s match was going as expected until the elven monk suddenly exploded forward. He let out a burst of power which covered half the arena. Narkossa was picked up by the force and was halfway to being thrown out of the ring—I was sure of it—but then he was suddenly standing behind the monk.
He thrust his sword into the man’s lower back. The monk tried to resist the pain, which was proof of the training he had undergone, but Narkossa showed his brutal side as he twisted the blade and then landed a kick in the monk’s side. The wound after Narkosssa’s blade sliced out the monk’s hip was wide and gaping, but the swordsman didn’t leave it at that. Instead, he rapidly slashed deeply into both of the man’s hamstrings, leaving him unable to rise. The referee called the match at that point, lifting his red flag high to summon the healers.
The final match in the loser’s bracket was Rumba and a fighter not on Rava’s list. I probably should have paid attention, but I was becoming so confident in her abilities that I had already written off the other fighter. They put on a good show with mace versus staff, but in the end, Rumba won with his mace and a bit of magic which suddenly sent the other fighter’s staff careening back into his own face.
Next up was the semifinal matches in the winner’s bracket. The first one was Balru versus Rhaegeth. The orc was heavily favored to win, but I still planned on watching it closely since whoever won this bout would face Josie tomorrow—assuming she won her match against Betsy.
The battle ended up being sadly boring. I was hoping for some excitement, but hope doesn’t make it so. Rhaegeth took to the air almost immediately. He then fired off squirt after squirt of acid at Balru. The hawkkin should have had the advantage as his racial cap on the magic stat was 70 versus the orc’s cap of 40.
Despite that, it quickly became apparent that the hawkkin was running out of juice faster than his opponent. I spun my core up and reached out with my senses to gather as many details as I could, using my Parallel Mind skill to focus half my mind on each of the two fighters. That was when I realized that Balru’s warhammer was a mana receptacle, which was how he was able to keep going. I didn’t know how potent it was, but it felt strong.
When Rhaegeth ran out of mana, it was all over, he just didn’t know it yet. Balru shot up a concentrated blast of force at the hawkkin. It took three attempts, but the translucent magical attack finally clipped and broke one of the hawkkin’s wings. He came in for a hard, awkward landing, but managed to roll—even with the broken wing—out of it and popped up in a fighting stance with his spear extended.
Then, they began to dance back and forth. Balru never made wide sweeping gestures with his hammer, almost treating it more like a pool stick. His physical might was so great, though, that he kept pushing Rhaegeth back. His broken wing obviously hindered the other man.
Rhaegeth set up a pattern, and it became apparent that he was biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to cut loose with one last strike. He triggered some ability in his spear which caused the tip of it to glow bright white with power, and then thrust it at Balru. The orc’s hammer swung up to block the strike, but despite the orc’s superior strength, his hammer was blasted out of his hands.
He stumbled back as Rhaegeth let out a battle cry and summoned all his remaining power. The white tip of his spear struck a barrier of Force Mana which Balru had erected at the last second.
Unfortunately for the orc, the hawkkin had maneuvered his foe such that his back was to the edge of the fighting platform and that force was just enough to send him toppling over the edge. It felt like a cheap way to win, but a small portion of the crowd burst into wild applause. If I’d had to guess, those were people who had taken bookies’ longshot odds on the hawkkin.
