The Legend Of Black Eyes 172 Blitz

The Flaming Birds housed women and men whose sole purpose is to provide pleasure for the rich and poor alike. The heavier your purse, the more beautiful, learned, and sophisticated your escort will be.

It was past sundown when Osgar and I finally got to our seats, followed by two beautiful maidens, wearing tight dresses that emphasized their extra large chests and ample legs. The invitation the officer handed me came with its own escort.

Osgar was grinning from ear to ear as he pulled a chair for his lady. She had chestnut hair. Freckles spread over her round cheekbones. Her hazel eyes twinkled every time she laughed. She smelled of jasmine, and walked about as though she owned the place. Osgar was beside himself every time the lady smiled or laughed at his lame jokes.

"I could kiss that officer of yours," Osgar told me as he settled beside me.  

I smiled. We were sitting in a balcony that overlooked the entire arena. Everywhere around the fighting pit, there were balcony seats. They were distributed in five levels, each one hosting a dozen private vewing s.p.a.ces. We were on the third floor. This underground fighting pit was insanely huge.

We had two ladies beside us, and venomous stares from every man we pa.s.sed by. That officer must have made a mistake by handing me that letter, or did he? My paranoia struck again. Perhaps he handed me the invitations for free, because somebody else had paid him to. After all, I started making some noise in the dark streets.

I looked at my own escort. Her beauty was breathtaking. She had long raven hair. Her large, wide, pitch black eyes, mixed with her tanned, brown skin, added a tint of exotic, wild beauty to an already stunning woman. She kept her words to herself as well. She'd only smile and answer me courteously every time we spoke. She was well trained.

Something was fishy about this whole situation though. I didn't think we'd get ailse seats, didn't even think we'd get an escort, let alone choose the one we wanted. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It got me restless.

I looked at the arena in order to calm my paranoid thoughts. There was a circular ring down below. Around it, tall walls, twice as tall as a regular human, were erected. Atop the walls, barbed wires were tied to long poles, as long as the walls themselves. There was no escaping the ring, no trying to murder your masters either.

It reminded me of the Crucible. I found myself thinking about my upcoming fight, about my incentives. I was no longer Zedd Darkstar, the man trying to uncover the secrets of the Holi Wars. I was Myles Stalwart, the condemned. I thought of the pain and suffering I endured to get here.

I thought of my chance encounters. The path I've taken so far was full of struggles and betrayals. I made many mistakes that should've cost me my life. I was sure I'd make many more in the future. There was no knowing what the future held for me. I just hoped I wouldn't repeat the same mistakes like a dumb bloke.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," a male announcer's voice boomed inside the arena.

All the chatter died down, and I was back in my seat. The arena looked far from reach then, like my distant memories.

"Tonight," the announcer went on. "We have a treat for you all."

To this, excited chatter filled the place. Osgar leaned in closer then said.

"I heard of these nights for so long," he told me in a squeal. "We're lucky we got invites for tonight's battle."

"Why?" I asked, my eye darting left and right at all the aisles.

"Tonight's a Blitz," he said.

"Blitz?" I asked.

"Four champions of Aella, honorable ladies and n.o.ble gentlemen," the announcer answered. "They fought together, went through thick and thin, destroyed the Orcs of wicked witch of the night."

The audience cheered. The underground arena shook as thousands of voices united together, calling for the champions. Igor, Erwin, Siegfried, and Alma were called in succession. The gate by the far right of the arena started vibrating. Then it was opened in a loud rattle of chains.

Three men and a woman emerged. They were all wearing brown studded leather armor beneath ringmail. On their chests, a burning sun was sewn in golden threads. Its rays slithered about like a snake, trying to reach for the edge of the armor.

"My money's on Siegfried," Osgar said. "Look at his poise, his confidence!"

Siegfried was a monster in man's clothing. He was about eight feet tall, and half of that in width. He held a giant sword, as big as he was. It was a slab of metal really, attacked to a hilt and strapped across his back. He had long blond hair and a steely look on his face.

"He is a slab of rock with feet," I said. "He can't move properly even if he lost the sword."

"Don't be so prejudiced," Osgar said. "Give him a chance first."

I snorted. "I'm watching," I said then.

"These champions," the announcer resumed his speech about the story behind this fight. "They have sought the wicked witch for far too long. Tonight, they'll finally get their chance at fighting her. After a long pursuit through the jungles of Heram, the misty mountains by Lorraine, they finally cornered her in the forgotten dugeons of Ithyl!"

The audience went wild, again. This time, instead of cheers, people screamed curses and jeers. The gate on the opposite side of the fighters creaked itself into life. It opened in a whiny complaint of rusted steel sliding against steel that hadn't tasted oil in a long time.

When the gate had finally quieted down, mist spread out into the arena. Thick and white smoke veiled the fighting pit. People whispered angry rants, while others screamed at the coward witch, asking her to come out.

I leaned in on the rail of our private balcony to have a better look. I saw a shape come onto the gateway and amidst the thick smoke. I recognized the shape of a woman with long hair. She was carrying a long weapon, perhaps a staff or something similar. As she hit it on the ground, the smoke swirled furiously around the champions.

People in the audience started yelling at the evil witch. More and more voices joined them. Soon after, the entire arena was booing the witch. I felt sorry for the la.s.s. She was the underdog here. She didn't have anyone to cheer on her. She somehow reminded me of myself, in more than one way.

She tapped the floor once more, and all the smoke vanished in a wild explosion of wind and defening sounds. People screamed and covered their faces. Osgar jumped on his escort and covered her with his body. I kept my eye on the evil witch however, despite my escort's alluring whines and moans.

"What kind of sorcery is this, honorable ladies and n.o.ble gentlemen?" the announcer asked.

"EVIL WITCH!" the audience replied in a chorus.

The voice of the announcer seemed as though it came from everywhere. If you spend enough time listening in on him though, you'll be able to pinpoint his location. He was sitting in an aisle by the fifth floor. I made a mental note of asking Osgar about him.

"Honorable ladies and n.o.ble gentelemen," the announcer said. "Join your hands together for our champions, for tonight, evil shall not prevail!"

People joined hands and stood. The champions, as well as their enemy, could see thousands of people, standing side by side, joining hands, and cheering against the evil witch. They begged the champions to hack her to pieces, to show them blood, as their ancestors would have done before them.

"This is sickening," I said under my breath.

"This is amazing!" Osgar screamed beside me. "I never thought I, Osgar Murkwaters, would one day come here, to watch a Blitz, a f.u.c.king Blitz!"

If I felt any disgust toward Osgar's excitement, I didn't show it. The world was cruel, but evidently not to everyone. Some could still hunt, wh.o.r.e around then come watch people slaughter each other. This was their typical, daily routine.

Others will have to wake up early every morning, eat little then train endlessly in order to stay alive. This was life. There's no good or bad in life. There's no luck with life. You play the cards you're dealt, and you play them right. I was offered a second chance when Utar threw me to the pits. I did a lousy job with it, but I still managed to get out alive.

I found myself disinterested by the fighting champions down there now. They had their lives to save, I had mine. I scanned the place for the people I needed. Osgar was biting his nails as the evil witch almost rested the tip of her staff in Igor's eye.

The dance they began down in the arena was beautiful, but I didn't have time to worry about their lives. I had three people to locate. I only had vague descriptions. That was why I brought Osgar along. I pulled his sleeves as I spotted a woman, three balconies away from us.

"What?" Osgar asked, annoyed.

"We didn't come here to watch the fight," I hissed at him. "Or have you forgotten your promise?"

He lowered his angry eyes and whispered something I couldn't hear. "Show me then," he barked. "Make it quick."

I pointed at the woman then looked at Osgar. "Do you know her?" I asked.

"The Baronness of MilkWeed," Osgar said. "Nasty woman if you ask me. She's worse than the evil witch." He then turned to follow the fight and moaned as Alma died and he didn't see it.

I kept my watchful eye on the Baronness. My escort had her eyes on me. I could feel her stares with the corner of my eye. I shot her a sideglance, and she acted as though she was watching the fight below. She was beautiful, but she was nothing compared to the Baronness.

My eyes reverted on the woman, and her head slowly turned toward me. Her eyes fell on mine and she winced. I saw her lift her chin up then her eyes fell on the arena below. I forgot how ugly my scars and eyepatch made me look. That was probably why my escort couldn't help but stare.

I leaned backwards and shot her a venomous look. She met my eye for a fleeting second then looked away.

"You fear me, don't you?" I asked.

Her eyes were fixated on the arena. Her neck nervously twitched. She was trying to avoid looking at me, I could tell. I chuckled.

"Don't worry my dear," I said. "I don't f.u.c.k those who don't desire me. Sit there and smile until the end of the night. You shall run to your lover or your bed then. I don't care."

Her shoulders slouched and she looked a bit more relaxed. I smiled as I diverted my gaze into the arena once more. Down by the front seats, I saw a man staring in my direction. I s.n.a.t.c.hed the binoculars from Osgar and directed them at him.

It was that old man from the odd museum. He was looking at me, smiling viciously. He waved his right arm then beckoned me to come to him. I removed the binoculars and pa.s.sed them to Osgar, who s.n.a.t.c.hed them from me angrily.

I squinted at the old man's direction, trying to remember how to get there. I took leave of my escort and headed out. As the door man pulled it open for me, I saw the old man waiting by the corridor outside. He smiled once more then walked ahead.

He reminded me too much of a certain creature I know. I officially hated him.

"You're attracting too much attention," he said as I caught up to him.

"Who died and appointed you my guardian?" I shot at him.

"I look after my business partners," the old man said. "I'm Drake. We didn't get to exchange names."

He stopped and extended his hand toward me. The corridor around us was empty, save for some drunken n.o.bles with expensive silk, searching for the men's room.

"Zedd," I said, meeting Drake's hand. "So we're partners now."

The old man smiled. His wrinkled face shrunk and his eyes narrowed to slits. He looked much older than when I met him in his junk shop. His white goatee didn't change though.

"I understand this is not your real name," Drake said.

"Neither is yours," I said.

Drake's eyes lost all their wartmth. He eyed me for a short while.

"I see you've done your research," he said. "I don't reckon it's your grandfather who told you about me. He wants you dead, after all."

My heart jumped out to my throat. My earlier jab was but a lucky strike. I had no idea who this old man was. On the other hand, he knew too much about me.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I'm looking for something, and someone," I said.

"I know what you're looking for," the old man said. "No amount of bribing, intimidating, or actual murdering would sway the people you're trying to identify."

"But you will?" I asked.

"For the right price," the man said in a whisper. "Aye, I'll f.u.c.king sway, but I prefer to collet my pay in advance."

"That little problem we spoke about?" I asked.

"Well," the old man said then rolled his eyes. "That, and another matter. I need you to retrieve a rare item for me."

"You mean steal it," I said.

"It's not stealing if you take it from the dead," he said.

"The dead?" I asked.

Drake looked around at the empty corridor. People were screaming and cheering in the arena. The battle had almost reached its climax.

"Come see me after you deliver on that promise," he said.

He extended his hand toward me, and I shook it once more. There was a folded piece of paper in his palm, which he pa.s.sed along to me.

"Instructions," he said then hurried toward the stairs.

I came back to the balcony, and my eye met the Baronness once more. She was the one staring at me then. Osgar was cheering for Siegfried. He was the only remaining champion. The evil witch was drenched in blood. Her staff was painted red, full of sinew and small bone pieces.

She was a wild beast unleashed. Siegfried was a fast giant, but he couldn't land a signle hit on her. She danced around his swings and thrusts, countered wide swings with her staff and retaliated. The battle was dragging, and people were voicing their complaints, asking Siegfried to finish her already.  

The evil witch started slowing down, but Siegfried didn't seem tired. He had the advantage of fighting alongside three champions. They wore the witch out, and now he was going for the finisher.

The witch countered yet another wide attack. As she advanced toward the giant to hit him on the knees, a quelching sound made the audience stand still.

The world stopped for a while as everyone realized what had just happened. Siegfried baited the counterattack, only to slide a knife between the witch's ribs. She let out a painful howl as she struck the giant's chin with her staff.

Siegfried staggered backwards, leaving the knife deeply lodged inside the witch's ribs. She heaved herself forward, grunting as she walked. Siegfried regained his composure quickly then swung his sword in a swift, downward motion. The witch dodged to the right, avoiding the devastating attack, then jumped at the giant.

The audience gasped as the witch coiled her legs around the man's meaty neck. She took the knife out of her ribs in a terrible cry of pain. Then she stabbed the man's face. The audience gasped once more as they heard Siegfried's horrifying cries for help. The wicked witch didn't stop until the man gurgled on his own blood, his face reduced to a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp.

Silence ensued, and for a long while, neither the audience nor the announcer spoke. The evil witch stood, bloodied and empty on the inside. She took her staff and brandished it in the air. She screamed a fierce, wild, victorious cry. Someone in the audience clapped, then another followed. Soon after, the evil witch received a standing ovation.

When we left the underground arena that night, Osgar couldn't stop talking about the fight and the surprising win. We walked toward the second avenue in order to leave Handels Market when a carriage stopped near us. The door opened and the baroness peeked from inside.

"You," she said, pointing her gloved index finger at us, "Come with me."

I looked at her, and around me. There were at least a dozen armored guards surrounding us. They approached us, sword in hand, and pushed us toward the carriage. Osgar looked at me, frightened then at our escort, who were at the verge of tears.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be at the bottom of the sea by now," the baroness called out. "Come now, I don't like to linger here."