The Magister Princess

by Captain Ben Brazee MD

I took the couple from opposing factions concept from Romeo and Juliet. This is my first attempt at the George. R. R. Martin perspective switch. For Stephanie.

"My grace Father, I shall go." The magister-princess exclaimed before the court. There were no gasps of shock; no one was surprised that Shalarah Shah had volunteered to attempt diplomacy with the barbarian people of the north coast. Shalarah Shah had been jumping at any opportunity to leave the court since she came of age three months ago. It was not for an overwhelming amount of suitors she wanted to flee the court.

Being born with a wealth of magic potential had been as much a curse for Shalarah as her homely appearance; no man would love a woman who could defeat him in combat. Of the few honorless men who would have loved her despite her great spiritual power all were turned away by her lowborn appearance. She wore the metal plates of the alchemist magister in the place of royal garb, by choice and tradition of the magisters. She took no grief at her lack of live; she only furthered her study of magic. Her skills were great, proven when she could illuminate the Imperial Palace within her first week of study; they had only sped in growth since then.

"Shalarah, my emerald daughter if I must remind you before the court of a position of a princess than I will have to send you away for shame." Her humorous father joked. The king did his job adequately, but he would not be remembered for his great advances of the kingdom. He was the third Shah to rule since Uoros the Great had begun the dynasty, he inherited the throne from his father before him, being the eldest of his siblings. "Sir Petyr Valenheart and Sir Gregor Loras will go with our interpreters. Do you have other desires my good knights?"

"My grace Father, I speak the tongue of the Northshore, might I go as an interpreter?" Shalarah inquired to her father. He smiled his broad, warm smile. His eyes lit up in a blaze of white fire as his magic power leapt out in inspiration. The nobles, knights and ladies of the court declared their interest as he kept a devious smirk on his face.

"My Imperial Daughter, I shall send you with a thirty man guard in the emerald carriage if you wear the dress made by the Diamondcutters guild." He was speaking of a gown made from emeralds cut extremely thin, it was a marvel of craftsman ship for its light weight and beauty. Shalarah thought for a moment, she had been impartial to the gown and only worn it on direct visits from the master of the diamondcutters guild. The court was taken aback by the risks involved, any Northshore team of brutes could easily dominate thirty guards and two knights, it was too little to adequately protect the princess.

"Very well then my clever father, I shall wear that precious gown if I may go."

Atsurak sniffed the air as he hurtled over the crags, staying low. The wind had changed, the smell of smoke and pine needles filled the wind now, a sign of the Ryukans coming. Atsurk leaped over a chasm in the mountain top and slid down a gravel slope, his friends leading the way on the hunt. They hunted for wealth now, hunting as the Burning Souls hunt.

Three days passed before the Emerald Princess entered the carriage carved from a four gargantuan emeralds found deep beneath the sea. Six white horses pulled the carriage, the Imperial Guards riding all around the wagon in seamless precision. Ser Petyr Valenheart rode at the front, he was an honorable and straight forward man well suited to the front position. Sir Gregor Loras was a formidable fighter, a man the Northshore clansmen would respect.

A familiar face approached Shalarah as she sat in the carriage, waiting for the convoy to move out of the palace and to the northern coast. It was her elderly instructing Magister, Halarn the Untouched. He carried rolled up scrolls under the crook of his left arm, in his right he had a staff. He used it to walk, but did not lean too heavily on it. Halarn wore metal plates over his robes, his made of gold to signify that he was a master of alchemy. Alchemy was not his only school of magic, but one of his favorites, he was always fascinated by change similar to the changes to matter in alchemy. He stepped into the carriage and sat on the bench across from Shalarah and smiled, leaning his staff against the emerald walls of the extravagant carriage.

"Good afternoon your Imperial Majesty, I have been tasked with giving these invitations to a tourney to the Northshore tribes."

"A tourney, in who is to grant the champion's favor?"

Halarn smiled. "Your dear father, he believes that by allowing the northshore men a chance to fight us outside of war that we will bond with the brutes in their strange manner." Shalarah gasped. Her father, on the sands of the Ryuku arena? It was tradition for those who held tourneys in their name to fight the champion themselves, if the champion beat them than they would be able to ask one thing from the facilitator. Nothing could be held back in this favor, it was the champion's wish to be granted by the facilitator. For a king to hold such a tourney, he must be quite sure of his fighting ability, King Uoros the third had never been a man of violence. He claimed that "My sharpest weapon is my wit, my shield is kindness. I eagerly await the man who can cut through that shield!"

"My father! Do you jest Magister Halarn or is this the truth?"

"This is the truth, he hopes that one of his most faithful knights, say Gregor Loras at the back there or Sir Rasmen the Unbroken will win. Anyways, the entry fee is five thousand chains, these Northshore men could never enter. I would not fear for your father, perhaps this is all just one of his great, all encompassing jests."

"There are times when I wish my King would be less like his jester and more like what he should be." The carriage lurched into motion Shalarah was too concerned for her father to notice.

"You should be happy Emerald Princess, that you live in times when a man might have the spirit to jest." Shalarah sat in silence despite this, head down and looking at the city roads passing beneath them quickly. "Here, do not linger on the thought of your father in the arena, tell me what you have studied of the Northshore tribes." Shalarah looked up and smiled.

"The Northshore men descended from the Dragonborn, who's blood gives them magical ability. For many years they cultivated this ability while on the move, running from the Corrupted Dragonborn as they sought to destroy any with the sparks of magic power. They found refuge in the northern harbors and fjords that they inhabit to this day. Over time they found a magic powered civilization to weaken them uncomfortably, and willingly stopped breeding for magic. They are the first known civilization to have cultivated enough magic power that life in their society became too easy, a great achievement. But any good Magister knows that their choice was regrettable, for if they had maintained that level of magical enhancement, they would have been able to make great developments in understanding magic." Shalarah took a pause as Halarn nodded in agreement. "Instead they choose to live their lives fishing, hunting and pillaging for food and supplies. Because of this choice the Three Arcanocracies have declared war on them, to no avail. The fjords are still filled with sea monsters once used as guards during the times of great magic, now they are rampant and just as deadly. An assault by land is useless, the mountain passes are too easily held by the magic resistant warrior tribes that roam the crags. Because of this, the armies have fallen back to fighting each other according to the orders of the kings back home." Shalarah concluded as the carriage sped through the kingdom of the Serpent Dynasty to the north. The road was getting gradually worse as the horses sped northwards. They were already far from the capital; the horses were strong and enduring at the breakneck pace.

"Very good Shalarah, that is the truth of the predicament in the north. But not the whole truth, I am sure you can tell me more than that. What are the northmen good at, how do their species function?" Halarn inquired to Shalarah as the carriage driver cracked at the horses with his whip.

Shalarah thought for a moment then began to speak again. "The northmen are hardy folk, their exposure to magic and steel has made them tough. Their swordfighting is not artful or deft, but rather the kind one would expect of a people with their staggering height. They throw axes for sport and hunting, which diversifies their fighting force. They only heal themselves with magic when combat is finished, it is a thing of honor. Only a shameful man would mock his opponent's skill by undoing the wounds he caused before the combat was finished. They live in scattered tribes where the men fight in tightly knit warbands while the women secure food for the tribe. The men only raid for supplies they could not gather without their primitive tools, but more and more they raid for the thrill of fighting. For that reason we intend to ally with them to use them as our own soldiers. That way their fighting will cease to cause harm to our outlying villages and only hurt our opponents."

"Also correct Shalarah. Take note of the terrain we've entered thanks to our magical steeds." So that was why they were so fast Shalarah mused as she gazed outside the carriage. The road had completely disappeared as she spoke; they were surrounded on both sides by rocky crags. There were thin, tough grasses growing next to the mud path that the carriage rolled through. The grasses grew in clumps all the way to the rock walls on each side, where grey rock met golden grass. "Acclimate yourself to your surroundings Shalarah, we are in the land of the Northshore clans now."

Atsurak hurtled through the air, aiming his landing carefully as he flung himself from the rock face. His friends were all around him, hurtling down towards the mud path at equal speed. From forty feet high they had jumped, throwing themselves away from the cliff wall. In an instant Atsurak hit the ground, rolled and slid through mud and grass. His whole body hurt, but nothing was broken. The pain faded quickly as he and his allies began to run again, each completely unharmed, they stayed low in the grasses as they ran, it was how they practiced. Atsurak motioned to Birrdeg to examine the road. Birrdeg was their huntmaster, a man skilled at tracking animals and people across all terrains. It was his responsibility to keep the warband fed as they searched for a target, lest they be forced to consume those who they killed. He motioned for the rest of the band to break from their positions in the grass and run towards him. Atsurak hefted his shield and ran towards him, his friends at his side.

"This is a well traveled area Birrdeg, we won't be the only warband in the area. Get on with it." Agnoman the Axe thrower exclaimed, he had never been a patient one.

"You think I don't know that Agnoman? A supply cart came through here, with a lot of guards. It must be carrying something of great worth to be this well guarded, and it only came through here today. We could easily catch up with it if we take the Eagle's path."

"We can do that, the Eagle Path has never presented us with any trouble." Curnach the Bastard exclaimed.

"Then let us take to the skies!" Bryn Rhys the Eunuch exclaimed through laughter.

"Sing and rhyme when we get home Bryn!" Agnoman roared through his laughter. Bryn Rhys never stopped his poetic speaking, but was always eager to fight.

"Then let us get on with the fighting Agnoman, so I might sing sooner, or do you fear dying?" Bryn Rhys shot back. "I fear not death, I'm interested in capturing this supply van and clashing steel with the guards!"

"Death is something to be wary of Bryn, you only fight your death-fight once." Atsurak said and smiled.

"You can't blame a Eunuch for not being as committed to life as we are; he's missing the best part of it!" The men were hysterical in cackles and roars of laughter. Whoever made the comment was lost in the laughter, the men hooted and howled as they rolled through the mud in fits of laughter. In a long moment they recovered from their laughter and began to scale the rock walls again, to get atop the gorges and cliffs that dominated the Northshore. From these they could travel faster than following a road, because they were capable of going over turns and detours rather than around them. They ran along these well into the day before they spotted their target, which was far more extravagant than they could have ever imagined.

The group assembled behind a row of boulders, marveling at the target presented to them. A carriage mad e entirely of emeralds with nobility inside it, the chance of a lifetime. The guards were a risk, but they could be handled, the risk was definitely worth it. There were two mounted knights, but Atsurak and his warband had defeated entire companies of knights before.

"Agnorman, Cethered, Etherscale, you three on the front of the carriage. Sualtaim, Adarc, Brenaiin on the back. Me,. Bryn Rhys and Birrdeg will go right for that wench in the carriage, to take her hostage. Are we in understanding?" Atsurak said before the nods of his friends. As the carriage turned around a rock, the men began to jump at it.

"All Fear Atsurak and the Burning Soul Clan!" Atsurak roared. His friends roared the same, but with their names in place. Atsurak's vision narrowed to the stretch of road that he would fight in, a simple place. There was a mud path that made the road in the center of a gorge-valley; the carriage was twenty feet in front of him on this path. The horses pulling it had panicked and were thrashing about as Cethered cut the limber of the carriage; the horses began to run free away from the combat. There was a pair of boulders that the carriage had moved to avoid next to him, but those were not his central concern. He was mostly concerned with the seven men he would have to fight to get inside the carriage.

The closest one had whipped around when he was screaming through the air and had begun to draw his sword. Atsurak put his shield out in front of him and slammed through the man and into the earth, driving the man down as he crashed into him. Atsurak drew his sword and began to clash steel with three men on horseback. One blade clanged against his shield after another, he feared he would have to kill the horses to take the advantage away from the defenders. The remorse for killing an animal was there, but it was lesser to the feeling of loss of property. A spear flew from one man's hand and bounced off the metal of Atsurak's shield. With a mighty yank he tore it from the shield and stepped back, out of the sword-reach of the mounted men. He took the spear in his hand and let his sword dangle from a leather strap attached to his wrist, with the spear he stabbed into the armor of one of the mounted riders. Blood poured out of the man's chain mail, but the rider next to him gave a mighty blow on Atsurak's right arm, it would be hard to fight on through the damage. Atsurak was reeling in pain and stepping back towards the boulder when he saw the wench in the carriage. She was a fine creature, not as delicate as he had presumed but still fragile. Like that enchanted circlet he wore. She brimmed with magic power, he could feel it deep within him. They locked eyes for a moment before he was trampled by the uninjured rider.

Shalarah watched in horror as Northshore Clansmen jumped from high above the carriage and attacked her guards. She had no concept of how they survived such impacts as the fall, perhaps they had not completely forsaken magic?

"Princess Shalarah, hide!" Halarn commanded as he stood in the doorway of the carriage facing the attacking men. She heard a blur of sound coming from the descending attackers, something about Burning Souls. The men on the side of the carriage that was not attacked drew their steel and rushed to aid their fellows, Shalarah was in awe. She watched one man crush a man beneath his shield as he landed. She was transfixed by his rage, but amazed by his efficiency of combat. He deftly blocked a thrown spear on his shield, then drew it out of the bulwark and used it against one of her guards. He roared challenges and smacked his shield, but his rage did not overcome him. He seemed to gaze directly at her, then his eyes met hers. His eyes were two swords, grey steel that could never be entirely cleaned of the blood they had experienced. They seemed to grab on to her and pull her close to him, gently. The moment was lost when one of her guards ran his horse into him and trampled him beneath its hooves.

Atsurak lunged forward with his sword, stabbing the horse in the gut as the hooves shattered his ribs. Blood and organs poured onto him as he rolled out from underneath the horse. He had tried to contain his battle fury, but the pain was getting to him. He hacked the man's head off as he fell from the dying horse, than jumped fluidly to his feet. He ignored the pain of his broken ribs, they weren't important right now. An unhorsed man came charging through the melee to hack at him with a battle axe, Atsurak controlled himself for a moment. He smacked at the man with his shield, throwing him to the side with a blow to the shoulders and head. An axe was buried in his head from ten feet away by Bryn Rhys, who promptly returned to a clash of steel with two attacking guards. Atsurak saw the wench in the carriage rise and push past an old man who was charging some of the nearby soldiers with Spirit-shields. He rushed through the melee taking two light cuts in the back as he made for the wench, who had begun to gesture and channel energy into a spell. She has no thoughts for what she is faces t he thought atsurak the wench unleashed a spell on him. Fire licked around him,. Burned at his face and pressed him back. He was knocked by the force of the inferno onto his back,, as were two guards that he had not seen. The guards had intended to kill him, but now they were dead and he was not. As he stood up again, magic arrows flew into him in hordes, all springing from the wench's hands. The arrows hit him in the gut and neck, but they did no damage. The men who would rush to attack him were held back by the flurry of arrows and fear of him; he was an undying abomination of combat.

Almost playfully, Shalarah attacked the charging Burning Soul with magic. She first tried a typical battlefield spell, a great orb of fire that burned flesh from bone and killed an area of opponents quickly. In a trance, she cast the spell, dimly aware that it might kill two of her guards if they continued their actions. The fire engulfed the Burning Heart, she could not take her eyes of the figure in the fire as he slowed down his charge and fell to the ground. It felt horrible to kill someone that bold, but he had made attacking her strangely personal. The fire faded as she ceased to make the gestures to channel the spell, but the strangest thing happened. The Northman got up from the ground and whipped about, making sure any of her guards had not snuck up on him. He then continued to rush forward through the parted men, going right for her. She screamed "For every drop shed, an arrow!" and gestured with her hands at the Burning Soul. The spell made magic arrows fly from her hands, each one the spawn of a drop of blood shed from the fighters. If the northman was resistant to fire, a more direct option must be taken. The arrows should have torn him apart, but the terrifying Northman was unscathed by her assault.

"Halarn! What is he!"She screamed in desperation. The man jumped over one of her guards and laid a gloved hand on her gown. Before he could close his hand though, one mounted guard with no weapon pulled him from her. The guard held him by his leather jerkin, men moved to stab him but all the blows he blocked with his sword and shield.

"Shalarah, we must flee! Into the portal, all into the portal!" Halarn yelled with magical volume. Shalarah ran towards a shimmering blue rift in space, stepping through it boldly. Quite a feat, opening a portal in such a short time Shalarah thought as she stepped out into Halarn's conjuring chamber. Guards were coming through the portal two at a time, landing awkwardly in the summoning circle. Sir Valenheart was shortly followed by Sir Loras, then Halarn. The portal closed with men still fighting in the pathway, deep in the land of the Northshore clans.

Atsurak was pulled up by the mounted coward, he swung his sword boldly and beat at the swords of the men beneath him in a desperate defense. His entire chest hurt like nothing else, but the fight would not stop just because he was hurt. He spun in the man's grip, and hacked at his arm. The arm came off at the elbow and he fell to the ground amidst seven guards, kicking and stabbing. One lost his life to a thrown axe in the back of his head, another's chest burst forward in the impact from a warhammer. His saviors were Cethered and Bryn Rhys, the remaining attackers attacked them and gave him a moment to get up on his feet. Through the agony he stood and returned to the rhythm of fighting the remaining guards. There seemed to be considerably less guards in the path now, even with the men that had been killed. The seven remaining guards were separated in their thinking, four tried to get horses from the dead riders and escape, three fought to the death. Atsurak rested against the Emerald Carriage and began to heal his ribs. His allies had gotten the better of it than he had, except for Adarc. He was dead; the men took note of how he had died, what position he died in and what weapon he was holding when he went down. They would need that for the funeral.

"Princess Shalarah, are you unharmed!" Sir Valenheart inquired. His ally, Sir Loras stood in front of the closing portal, shield and sword ready to intercept any parting blow from the barbarian marauders.

"I am fine Valenheart, just shaken." She was, it felt as if her stomach was desperate to escape her. She was horrified at the sight of the fighting, but at the same time the exhilaration would not fade. She felt magic boil within her, ready to decimate opposing forces or create grand structures.

"Those northern dogs know not when to strike and to let pass those greater than them. This is why we must not ally with them, they kill everything in sight and have no remorse for their sins, and they tried to rape the Princess."

"If they intended to rape the princess, they would have done it." Halarn said. Shalarah cut him off before he could continue

"If they intended to rape me they would be dead right now." Invincible steel surrounded her, she put aside any concept of mocking shock and terror. Shalarah didn't fear anyone at the moment, the rush in her soul was an unstoppable force that she controlled. The guards and knights were in shock at her sudden recovery, not only was she un ladylike, but bolder than several of the guards.

"Shalarah, you know not what you speak. Did you not see how little your magic effected that leading brute? The Burning Souls, or at least what we saw of them, seem to be immune to magic. I cannot explain why at the moment, but that can be remedied. Shalarah, may I ask you to visit your grace father? He will want to know what happened to his invitations."

Shalarah knew what Halarn was doing now, he would get a flagon of spiced wine and lock himself in his study for a night, maybe five. He would not relent in pouring over every musty text he had until he found an answer to a magical problem, in this case it was the immunity of the Burning Soul warriors to magic. Halarn never ceased his research like this, he was a Magister night and day.

Shalarah began to walk to the door of the Room of Portals before the guards could catch up to her. She shoved through the door and into the garden outside without guards to block her view for a few precious moments. She smiled and felt a great uplifting in herself as she walked by the Summer's Lament flowers. The space that seemed to be made by this uplifting was immediately filled with her memory of locking eyes with that one Northshore barbarian, the one that had laid his palm on her arm, the one who she tried to kill. Guards hustled around her a second too late, she managed to enjoy a trestle of roses climbing up a tower wall just before they surrounded her.

His eyes were filled with suppressed rage, a wolf tamed. He seemed to face her onslaught with the same playful nature she had done it; but he did not have to be as detached as she was. She recalled how the attack seemed like a dream to her until she was pulled towards reality by those eyes, she recalled her father bringing a man who claimed to see the future into the court as a one of his large, yearlong jests. The man's eyes seemed to change color, one moment a dull grey, the next a cutting silver. That brute's eyes were the same, a gentle grey when his palm was upon her, but a sharp, silver sword when he was opposed.

And his palm! It was the one that belonged to the arm his shield was strapped to, never such a contradiction! She had not felt his skin through the emerald dress, but she certainly felt his heartbeat through his armor. It felt like thunder moved his blood, it was terribly frightening… but too inciting too scare her. His open palm had never closed on her arm, some deep magic sense within her told her that he did not mean to harm her. Two guards opened the palace gates, two more opened the grand doors to the throne room a moment later. She walked quickly and dutifully, as if that noble savage's hand was still upon her, pulling her towards him from far forward.

"Shalarah, that was quick. Did you miss court life too much?" Her father smiled and descended from his throne and strode towards her. Along either side in rising pews were nobles, while standing in lines to form a single aisle were the knights.

"My grace, we were attacked by the brutes! They claimed to be members of the Burning Soul clan; I shall dispatch some of my fellows to show them right from wrong for they routed us!" Sir Loras exclaimed as Shalarah embraced her father. She felt azure doublet he wore was made of velvet, her favorite fabric.

"If you and thirty guards could not defeat them then, then you will need more than some of your fellow knights to kill them. At any matter, I will not think of death before my Emerald Daugther tells me she is without injury."

"My grace father, I am fine thanks to the valiant sacrifice of the imperial guards who did not return with us. I only wish for a moment in my chambers, this has been a trying day." The king thought for a moment before he spoke. Many thought he was stupid or foolish, unable to take things seriously, but he was in fact insightful and wise beneath his joking appearance.

"Very well then, Loras, Valenheart, tell me what happened. Explain to me why Halarn the Untouched isn't with you, is it because he has grown tired of being "untouched" for so long?" The king joked and the court laughed. Shalarah heard Loras tell the king about the

"Cowardly ambush by the brutes, jumping down from a crag to strike at us. The guards were valiant fighters, but the brutes fought without honor or self preservation, I saw three of them butcher one man before they went on to the next, two striking him in the back!" The guards opened the doors in front of her as she strode out of a pair of double doors and down a hallway decorated with pictures of her. Each was framed in emeralds, her other sisters had the same treatment. Shiral was the Ruby Princess, younger than Shalarah and prettier as well, but she lacked any talent at magic. Her elder sister was Shaphas, the Diamond Princess. She had some magical power but was really just a pretty face. More guards opened the door to her expansive suite, she entered the circular room known as the "Dome of Emeralds". It had her favorite desk in it, just at the far side of the circle from the double doors that opened into the room. The desk was piled high with scrolls and tomes of magic, on a nearby table sat a grandmaster's alchemy kit. On the walls were tubes of stained glass with a single stripe of clear glass running up each of them. Within each tube of glass, there was a foot thick emerald, weighing fifty pounds. Shalarah's guards went through the room, checking for enemies before they moved on to the other rooms in the suite, Shalarah stood in the center of the circular room, on red carpet. She brought her hands up from her sides and focused her will, preparing to use magic. Slowly she began to heat the emeralds in each tube on the wall, then faster and faster. Heat flowed from her fingertips as she made slow rotations in place, pointing to every tube in turn. The emeralds began to melt in the heat of her magic as Shalarah pushed her mind and soul out, into the spell. At first it was a mere drop of liquid emerald, but Shalarah closed her eyes and put all her effort into the spell. The emeralds melted like candle wax in a fire, turning into a deep green potion within the tubes. Shalarah twisted her hands palm up and brought them above her head. The melted emeralds all rose in their tubes until they were at the top of the tub, inch by inch they rose. When the liquid reached the top of the tubes, Shalarah stopped the spell and let her hands fall by her sides, she was breathing heavily.

She left the Dome of Emeralds and entered her sleeping quarters through a narrow hallway with ten guards and three doors made of thin sheets of emeralds. From there she walked to her bathing room, where two sizable pools awaited her. One was filled with water heated by magic, the other was chilled by ice each morning. Shalarah mumbled a few magic words and drained each pool, then refilled them with water created by her own magic. She was being more reckless than usual with her magic, she had no explanation why. She removed hr emerald dress and was relived, she had not realized how heavy it actually was.

She entered the heated pool as that brute entered her thoughts again, the warm water on her skin was like the warm memory in her heart. She did not know why that… thug had stayed with her, but he had. The heat of his touch and the gentleness of his eyes was so juxtaposed by his merciless slaughter and undying assault. What was he doing now? Did he survive the rest of the fighting? That was a frightening thought, the death of that touching brute, but at the same time it seemed impossible. He had survived being trampled and burned with ease, death seemed to pulsate from his weapons, never touching him. Did he have a name? That was a big question, he must have yelled something when he was dropping from the crag… A dangerous, unrelenting thought rose through her mind: did she love him? Her heart skipped beats at the notion, but she could not force it from her mind. Did he love her? Did he know what love was? What was love? She bit her lip and hid under the heated water, but all she felt was his touch.

"Ihal Riskaral mantath "Atsurak said, the ancient words healed his ribs and legs over a moment, it left them sore but intact. "I owe you two Bryn Rhys, that was good throwing"

"You owe me more then two Atsurak," the eunuch joked "many a foe fell before you saw them, just before they hacked you in two." Atsurak looked for the opponents he had killed, searching their bodies for anything of value. The kills made by his friends went untouched, it was not his right to loot the body of a man he did not have that grim connection with.

"We lost Adarc and the wench, this was a poor choice. Too well defended and the bitch had magic." Etherscale said grimly as he worked on his own wounds with magic. He held his palm over a deep cut in his shoulder, when he took it away the wound was gone and clean flesh took the place.

"Were you blinded by the beauty of the wench Etherscale? We have a carriage made of solid emeralds and Birrdeg can grab us magic horses to pull it. All will know us as the fearless warriors who took the Imperial Princess's carriage, from the hands of knights!" Cethern yelled as he hoisted a bloody warhammer in the air. He was always a man of glory rather than wealth, and the warhammer was his method of acquiring such glories. He took a shirt of chainmail from one of the guards and drew it over his own piece of mail, it was a goal of his to gain enough Imperial Chainmail till he could cover the walls of his cart-home with it.

"What are we to do with a carriage made of emeralds, we can't sell it to the other clans, and no empire would buy it, they know it is stolen." Birrden said. Atsurak rummaged through the carriage's chamber to find five scrolls on one of the seats. He read it, it had been written in dragontongue, the language of half-magic. To the people of the Northern Shores: Do you fear fighting? Do you seek wealth and glory? Is your home behind your blade? The king of Ryuku, Urous the third invites you to a grand tourney in his name. The winner of the tourney shall win the favor of the king, good for all the wealth you could dream of. The tourney will be held from the posting of this at the mid of spring to the middle of summer, travel to Ryuku with ten thousand crowns to enter the tourney. Atsurak was interested. He had heard of the grand tourneys of the Ryukan people, he could win much glory there.

"Listen to this message my friends, the king of Ryuku has invited us to a tourney, in his name! If we give him ten thousand crowns we can show them our steel and prove that no man may touch a Burning Soul!"

"Where do you intend to get ten thousand crowns Atsurak, people are rarely want to part with their gold." Brenaiin retorted as he drew a knife from A dead foe of his. Atsurak smiled and patted the emerald carriage. Birrden was off rounding up the horses, in due time he returned and they hitched them to the carriage. Birrden drove the animals through the path they had come through just that morning, Atsurak crammed with his battle-companions inside the carriage. It was strange to be in the place of the prey, rarely did Atsurak stay in the valleys of the Northshore Mountains for this long. As the carriage lurched swiftly forward he found his thoughts returning to the wench, no…lady from earlier. The one who had attacked him with magic, the one who was so beautiful. Slowly she became more then a simple wench to kill or take hostage, she began to develop a personality from his memories. She became an innocent creature fighting for her life as a deer flees for its life. She did not know of the unstoppable strength of a burning soul's spirit, how magic rarely rendered on them. Such a creature she was, so beautiful but calm in combat for a lady, surely that was her first fight. He must see her again, she must be a ryukan, so it wouldn't be hard to find her in the capital of the Ryukan empire.

As the carriage passed out of the Ryukan mountains, traveling quickly thanks to it's magic horses, Atsurak saw the land that fine lady hailed from. He saw the patchwork farmland stretch on for miles and miles before hills took the land. And settled within those hills was the great city of Ryuku, though he could not see it now. Yet in due time he would fight in the arena there, and win that beautiful lady.

Shalarah sat in her father's lavish box overlooking the arena sand, sipping honeyed tea and listening to her elder sister with that damned fiancé. He was some powerful knight, his voice was high and his sword dull but he insisted to fight in the tournament "for my wife-to-be's honor" he declared. Shalarah was thoroughly bored with the tourney, no one was fighting yet, just the king's jester making a grand speech before the audience, pretending he was a valiant knight. At the end of the speech, intended to be a dramatic moment, he drew a sword with no blade, only a hilt. Shalarah smiled, but she was in fact woeful. She had the glimmer of hope that the brute she had encountered so intimately would fight in the arena, but it now seemed to romantic. If that brute of hers was to fight, he would have fought already, it had been a week since the incident in the gorge. Chances were that he and his allies had sold the Emerald Carriage and gambled and whored the money away in a single drunken night. She had needed to develop a spell to keep her from crying, she was so strangely attached to that man, that incarnation of rage that she could not let him go. Perhaps this is what widows and the abandoned feel like… Shalarah thought. The king's jester left the circular arena out of one of the four gates to the tournament pavilion. It was done in the classical style, a circle of seating with a sandy ring in the center, great canvas tarps flapped overhead, providing everyone with shade. At the bottom of the ascending rows of benches were the peasants, dirty but honorable people screaming for the popular knights unaware of the intrigue behind each one. The spectators got richer as the seats got higher, eventually there was the Imperial Seating in the cabana Shalarah shared with her sisters, father and mother.

The gates closest to her opened, she had to crane her neck to see those leaving the preparation pits beneath the coliseum. She toyed with the lace of her verdant velvet gown, sweltering in the spring heat. The herald of the coliseum shouted something clearly after a blaze of trumpets, but she was deaf to him. There were eight men emerging from the pits, Northmen by appearance. The crowd was booing them; word had spread of the Burning Soul attack on the Emerald Carriage. Shalarah took it as good news that the people hated her attackers, it meant that they loved her. Shalarah gasped and almost fell in shock as one of the Northshore brutes turned and looked to her face. It was the one, the one from the attack. She stumbled back to her seat, eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. What if he had come to finish the job? Would he survive the tournament? Of course he would… he was an undefeatable warrior. Wasn't he, wasn't he undefeatable?

"Are you alright my Imperial Daughter? You are not breathing…" King Uoros said to her as he placed an arm around her shoulders. Shalarah nodded that she as alright and took five deep breaths. Her father's eyes were glowing lightly with white fire, he had some wicked idea to unleash on her.

"Do you recognize someone in the crowd? A noble that you take fancy to? Please tell my daughter, no one but my spies can hear you here. Or is it a knight you realized would fight today?" Shalarah knew he was toying with her, forcing her to admit it was the Northshore brute and his companions that had attacked her earlier. She was still breathing heavily, too many questions were whirring through her head for her to speak. Her heart fluttered in her chest, all of a sudden that beloved damnable Northman of hers seemed very, very mortal."Or is it the heat, serving man, get her more honeyed tea, posthaste!" a servant rushed from the booth with all possible speed. "Please, speak my daughter!"

Shalarah realized that her father had her cornered. "It is that brute, with the shield and broadsword!" She exhaled greatly before regaining her composure.

"Ahh, was he the one that attacked you? Or was it some other shield and sword wielding brute?"

"It is him, I know it!" Shalarah exclaimed, she did not know what to do. Her grace father was silent as the herald began to shout again.

"These are the fearless warriors of the Burning Soul clan; they will be standing against one of the age old enemies of their race! These fearsome beast-men are some of the oldest creatures alive, many have tried to kill them, but all were turned to ash under the unrelenting, unshakable assault of the DRAGONMEN!" The crowd cheered as the herald projected a mote of history into the masses. "Since the Dragon's Purge, the dragonmen have sought to kill the Northshore people after they gave them magic. To this day the two races will not relent from the other's throat, and here we have both! Here we have a battle for the ages! Here we will prove which is superior!" The Northmen were unshaken, perhaps they did not understand Shalhearten, the language of Ryuku.

"The dragonmen? Pitted against the Northshore brutes? I will have to complement my organizer of tourneys on that one, it is a well made match. Who will you rally for Shalarah, the northshore men?"

"Father, of course I would not rally for my assailants, I shall root for the dragonmen, they taught our people magic after all."

"If you take after your mother, you would rally for your assailants." The king projected his voice with a spell to the entire arena. "Your mother enjoyed a bit of assailing!" He roared to the audience before the fight began. The crowd broke into cackles of laughter as the queen blushed; Shalarah hid her face in her hand and peeked out at the Northmen with magic. One of them had turned around and given a congratulatory point at the king's box, it was not her northman however…

The two demon-men charged for them, pumping their wings as the crowd roared with laughter. They blew up sand as they jumped into the air, one of the two drawing a bow from his scaly back, the other ready with a lance and tower shield. They had deep red-black skin with occasional scales, the sign of a child between dragon and humanoid. They had two legs, two arms, a tail and wings, all in all a perfect combination of human and dragon. Atsurak couldn't help but hate them for the way they had chased his people all around Southeros before chasing them to the northern mountains, they had killed many of his ancestors and stolen land from what should be his people.

"Atsurak for the burning soul clan!" Atsurak roared as he charged forward, ready to break the lance of one of them to force it onto the ground. It could not fight from the sky if it had no means to strike from it, couldn't it? Bryn Rhys, Cethered and Sualtaim all took throws with axes against the demon-man with the bow. He was a great threat, for he flew high out of reach from the swords and axes of Atsurak's companions. Birrdeg drew his own bow to counter the flying archer's method, but before he could loose an arrow, a shot pierced his neck and he fell to the ground. The men did not give him heed, they all knew that he accepted the risks when he continued with them on this adventure. Atsurak slowly narrowed his vision to only the lance bearing demon-man as he, etherscale, brenaiin and agnorman took him from four sides. The demon could not use his lance effectively, for if he lunged too greatly he would risk getting it broken by the northmen beneath him. Atsurak saw an opportunity to grab the demon-man's foot when he hovered low over the circle of northmen, He jumped high to the roar of the crowd and reached for the clawed foot, only to miss it. The claws struck out and raked his extended arms as he hit the ground, bleeding. The demon fell on him as he tried to get to his feet, plunging his lance into atsurak's chest. Blinding pain shocked through atsurak like lightning, he thought he would die. He leaned his head to the side and tried to drift quickly into death as Agnorman hacked through the lance before him. Etherscale yelled his praises as he faded into darkness.

"A true hero, his sacrifice will be the end of you dragon-man, your kind has killed it's last Northman! Burning Souls cannot be touched! Burning Souls cannot be broken, and Burning souls cannot be stopped by death, Atsurak will kill you in the next life!" Atsurak lost the pain sensation blissfully.

Shalarah lost her breath and fell from her chair, leaning over the railing of the Imperial Seating to see if her beloved was turely dead. He could not be dead! That northman was a force of spirit, not a mortal man! But Shalarah was proven wrong, the brute was not returning to his feet. Shalarah began to cry, melting in her arms as she longed for that touch of his one last time. She sobbed deeply, inhaling unevenly as servants and her father rushed around her. All her life she had felt so powerful, cooped up in court like an eagle tied to a root, but now she was powerless. Now she was a sunflower lost in a land of eternal darkness, that unnamed brute her only sun. She glanced up from her tear streaked eyes to see the northmen fighting for their lives, how she wanted to help them! Shalarah's heart was mixed with anger and grief, her half-love was dead and she had considered it sport! She ignored the words of her father and sister, her mother's speaking was only noise as she closed herself in a bubble of magic, she only wanted to watch this horrific bloodsport play out and cry to herself. She watched as three northmen were entangled in a dragon-man's fire, dying slowly to his blade after. She watched as others tried to take down a flying dragon-man with axes, the shots almost hitting the peasants in the bottom levels of the coliseum.

Shalarah hid her eyes from the world, she did not want to watch the fighting anymore, her briefly beloved was dead. No victory in the world would redeem this insufferable defeat. She lowered her head in woe, her love and his companions were done for, her tears were shed like their blood.

The cries of his companions brought Atsurak back. He was between life and death, that much he knew. He watched from his body, seeing more than he should be able to of the battle. He saw each of his companions, all of them surrounded by a great layer of flames. He saw the dragon-men, terrifying incarnations of magic, fire and greed. He looked inside himself and saw a living man, a wounded man but still alive. He saw great rage In his heart, accompanied by greater love. His spirit rallied itself and looked beyond again, to the outside world. He saw that beautiful lady in a wooden box high above the arena, sitting with what must be her family. She was crying, her fair face deeply red and glistening with tears, There was never a fairer creature than she, deep brown hair on pale skin with touching blue eyes. She was surrounded by a powerful aura of brilliance and spiritual strength, her soul was the sun compared to the torch light of his own soul. His heart leaped at her, it was for her he must live, he must hold her in his arms, he must feel her great spirit with his, for that he must not die now.

Atsurak saw the opportunity immediately, the demon-man's back was to him as he butchered his friends. ATsurak picked his sword up from beside him and readied his swing. AS the demon man whipped around to meet him, atsurak swung his broadsword with one mighty cleave and took the head from the demon-man's shoulders. He made eye contact with agnorman as agnorman died, cuts all over his body deep and wide. Agnorman smiled at him and nodded, he nodded back.

An arrow whizzed past Atsurak as the moment ended, he watched in awe as Bryn Rhys turned the tables of the battle. Bryn saw that the archer was close to the wall of the arena, where his back was safe from the projectiles of the northmen. Bryn made him pay for this by jumping on and off the wall to tackle the creature. He dragged the demon-man to the ground as sualtaim hacked it in pieces with his battleaxe, the creature screaming as blood splattered sualtaim's face.

"Cethred for the Burning Soul Clan, Our fallen comrades will gain their vengeance in the land of night!"

"Sualtain for the Burning Soul Clan, My friends will never die in my heart!"

"Bryn Rhys the Eunuch for the Burning Soul Clan, glory to those who will not rise again!"

"ATsurak for the Burning Soul Clan, I salute the my dead companions, it is their blood that keeps me alive!"

Shalarah hardly noticed that the voices and hands had left her, but she remembered they were gone when her father patted her on the back. She turned to him, silently he gestured at the coliseum floor. Her beloved, Atsurak was alive! She watched in ecstasy as he roared his victory call, she knew he could not have died! Shalarah jumped from the railing of the booth and squealed in delight, Atsurak lived! Shivers rolled through her spine as she celebrated the victory of that precious brute, no feeling in the world compared to seeing her love stand again. His sword was bloody, his shield unused and his torso bleeding horribly, but he lived!

"Looks like you take after your mother after all my sweet daughter, though we must speak privately later."

In a moment the combat was over, pain rushed into Atsurak. Since his recovery he had been fortunate not to feel the pain, it was the battle-rush for sure. But now Atsurak fell to the ground in agony. He murmured his healing spell with the greatest of difficulties, but eh was motivated not to die when no enemy of his lived. "Ihal Riskaral mantath" atsurak cast his spell and his wounds began to close. In the end it took three castings as he walked out the arena with his still living companions in order to heal all his wounds.

It was later, outside the Royal Banquet Hall that King Uoros spoke with Shalarah, his typical lightheartedness put away. "Shalarah, it is to my understanding that you feel for that Northman."

"I don't know what you're talking about father, I am adamant towards the northmen that fought today, I even fear that they might be my assailants."

"I commanded Halarn to tell me everything that happened that day, he tells me that you were assaulted by Burning Soul warriors. This information is confirmed by Sir Loras, and the warriors that fought today claimed to be of the Burning Soul clan. Now unless the Burning Soul clan has a great many fighters, these must be the same warriors who attacked you." The king was speaking slowly and deliberately, drawing Shalarah out of her argument as was his classic method. Shalarah in the meantime could not help but race to the consequences if the warriors who attacked her and the Emerald Carriage were brought to justice, surely a slow and painful death.

"Father, please do not harm them!" Shalarah pleaded, her emotions took her mind by the helm and spoke without reason. She immediately regretted saying it, it confessed her feelings for one of them, not that her father hadn't already pieced that together. The question to keep unanswered now was which one.

"Well I know now that you surely have love for one of the brutes. But the question is which one is it Shalarah?"

Shalarah kept her argument up "I don't know why you would think that I am partial to them my king father." Shalarah knew that a man's mind was dulled by complements quickly, and her father's sharp wit needed dulling.

"Shalarah, I have not yet forgotten how you lamented at the death of the one called Atsurak and your rejoice at his return. Do not deny that you are interested in him, I know these things about you. I saw your first moment of anger, your first tear of sadness and your first laugh, I have a clear conception of your emotions. While I don't know how great you feel for him or if he returns the feeling, I have a method of seeing that."

"Pray father, what is it?" Her father gestured to a nearby guard to open the door to the Royal Banquet Hall. She followed him inside as guards took positions behind them. The room was long, with four great tables in line down the hall. Fires illuminated the hallway and warmed the diners as they, held in the air by magic. Tapestries and paintings covered the walls between battle standards. At the close end of the hallway there was a throne with tall chairs beside it, certainly more comfortable than the benches that lined the tables. Each table was piled high with food, roast boar and savory buck. A bull had been slaughtered and distributed across one table, baskets filled with unleavened bread were the corner piece of each table. Beer, mead and wine were flowing fluidly as the diners ate, few among them sober.

Shalarah was used to the lavish dinners, but the dining companions were new and frankly, terrifying. They were the competitors in the tourney, dining in the place of lords and nobles. As could be expected of those who fought for a living, the men were loud, drunk and chaotic. They ate vigorously and staredwith anger at any who made eye contact, the drunker ones even reached for the serving maids. When one hand groped out at Shalarah, it fell to the ground in a flash of steel, the guards following her had seen it coming and sliced it from the extended arm. The drunk man stared in horror at the bleeding stump while his neighbor laughed drunkenly at his misfortune before falling off his bench.

King Uoros sat at the head of the end most table, looking all the way down the hallway at the diners. Shalarah took a seat next to her younger sister, farthest away from the king in her family. But it was not the politics of seating that concerned her, more her neighbor. The one called Atsurak sat sober on his bench, stealing glances at her as he tore meat from a calf.

"Father!" Shalarah called out to her king in distress, but he pretended not to hear. She considered using magic to whisper into his mind, but decided against it. She looked nervously at Atsurak as he looked nervously at her.

The flesh of the child cow was delicious, and the mead sweet and strong, but Atsurak paid little attention to the food. He suspected a plot when he, sualtaim, cethred and Bryn Rhys were seated near the head of the grandest table, but this was something unanticipated. That fine lady he had been dreaming of was seated next to him, brilliant in plates of steel and emerald velvet. His eyes at first strayed to her on occasion, but over time his eyes began to resort to her more and rarely stray away. She made sparing eye contact with him, she even smiled once. It was a wonderful moment. Atsurak had been dreaming of holding this fine beauty within his arms and hearing her speak, watching her cast great spells. Her spirit burned like no other, such great power and purpose he had never seen before.

Atsurak considered speaking to her, but he did not know what languages she spoke. If she did not speak Northern than he was doomed, his vocal dragontonge was horrible and he did not speak Ryukan. What would he say anyways, that she was a figure in his dreams and that he would be contented with his life if she would indulge her magic in his presence? Atsurak hated things like this, trying to begin a conversation. Life would be easier if people could not speak he thought, then it would take actions to stimulate social interactions. Without thinking his mouth opened and turned towards the lady. he spoke northern to the princess beside him.

"You are beautiful like the night sky dear lady. If you would have the courtesy to indulge your immense power so that I may feel your immaculate spirit rush through me I would lay down my weapons for all time so that I may not shock you with the gore of combat." Atsurak paused as his sense rushed back to him, but at this point he had to keep speaking, even if she did not understand. "I wish to envelop you in my arms and hold you close, to feel your warmth and energy course through me. If there was ever a demon who would harm such a beautiful woman such as yourself I would tear him to pieces in your name, no creature that does not respect your beauty and spirit is not a being that should share the world with you."

The lady paused, she seemed to incline her head for a second. She then slowly turned towards him and looked him deep in the eyes.

Shalarah's heart raced like a terrified horse, she dug one hand into her thigh between the metal plates she wore to steady herself. She started to breath quickly as she turned towards the northman beside her. She spoke Northern to the brute.

"You say that you would lay down your weapons for all time to not shock me with gore?"

Atsurak was terrified, the Lady spoke Northern, fluently and beautifully. Her voice was like fire crackling out life and heat to all around her."I would if it please my lady." Atsurak paused.

Shalarah's heart continued to race, her chest heaved as she tried to think of a response. She did not want to be too forward and accepting of his advances, but the Arcane forbid that she ignored him and broke his heart.

"You would lay down your weapons, but your spirit is great. I saw how you resisted my magic in your attack on the Emerald Carriage, it must have been some spell to resist my all out assault."

Atsurak laughed and sipped at his jug of mead. "It was no spell fair lady, a burning Soul cannot be harmed by magic. Spirit is meant for within the man, not outside it in our thinking. A burning soul would never cast spells as you do, altering the world around them. Instead we focus on what we can do to ourselves with magic, like give us great mobility or restore our health so that we may not die when our opponents have been silenced."

"Can your magic bring you back from the brink of death?"

"No, but you can." Atsurak said coyly. The maid beside him laughed, he smiled and exulted in the spiritual repercussions of her laughter, energy from her joy filling his heart.

"The brute's tongue is sharp as his sword!" Shalarah said in joy.

"Please, call me atsurak, at your service."

"I am Shalarah, The Emerald Princess."

Without thinking Atsurak spoke. "When I win this tournament, I intend to take you for my own."

"What do you mean?"

"Your people call it marriage. When I win the favor of the king I will take you for my own, and you will take me for your own. That way I might be with you forever."

Shalarah was frightened, but strangely aloof. "I do not believe that my people will stand for the marriage of a Northman and a Ryukan, let alone a princess."

"They do not need to stand for it, they just need to obey their king."

"That is assuming you can win the tourney and defeat my father, not an easy task even for a man who cannot die."

Atsurak chuckled and nodded. "I can die just as the next man Shalarah, but I cannot go to the next world without you. Until you die I will be right by your side, eager to defend you."

Shalarah blushed. She glanced over at her father and saw that he was well drunk by now, glancing only down her mother's blouse. Atsurak was still seated next to her, leaning in and picking from his food. In a swift, uncalculated motion she gave him a quick kiss. His lips were warm and tasted of the honey mead he had been drinking, he brought up a rough hand to her face as they shared a fleeting moment of passion. When they separated in a second, she excused herself and smiled as they made eye contact. He smiled as well as he watched her leave the banquet and exit the Royal Dining Hall.

Atsurak sat dumbstruck by the grace of his lady, the kiss was an awesome force he had never before experienced. His lips felt like they'd been taken from him and replaced with a far superior pair, one hand crafted by the beautiful Emerald Princess Shalarah Shah. He left his drunk companions and stumbled out of the hall awkwardly, deep in a trance. The last thing he had remembered was her chestnut hair enfolding his face, then her warm lips contacting his. In a flash her spirit was soaring into the night sky, dragging his along for the ride. It was as if she was a god who had the kindness to posses his mere mortal body for just a moment, to fill his heart with passion and his arms with strength. He wandered through the streets till he came upon the alleyway the Burning Souls had claimed as theirs. They were not interested in staying in an inn and wasting their money, especially if the streets here were safe and warm from the sun shining upon them. He slipped into a sleep filled with happy dreams of holding Shalarah in his arms, fighting great foes to protect her and kissing her once again. He smiled as he slept.

Shalarah woke late the next morning, she smiled. She took a leisurely breakfast, she was still full from yesterday night so she only ate an egg and piece of blackwheat bread. She strode through her suite, thinking dearly of Atsurak, imagining how she would explain all the oddities of her quarters to him should he ever see them. When she came to The Dome of Emeralds, she practiced her greater energy manipulation with ease on the installed emerald filled tubes, the emeralds having refrozen and become solid at the base of the tubes again. The task that was normally difficult or impossible for her was easy to do. She sat down at her bureau and began to work out a list of spells she would have to teach Atsurak, he seemed to have the magical power to do them, just not the motivation. She would teach him how to conjure and create food and water, to lift objects with magic and to enchant the world around him into it's full potential. It was a labor of love for her, most of the spells that she took for granted he would have trouble learning. For a moment Shalarah stopped and remembered the hot pulse in his hand as he stroked her cheek when they kissed last night, she was giddy inside. Her guards were looking at her strangely, but she didn't care, she could have them silenced if she needed to.

Atsurak was reeling in pain, Bryn Rhys was dead and Sualtaim was deep in a melee with two of the Western Slayer-men. They had been fighting for hours on the sands of the arenas, four of them fighting twelve of the Slayer-men in the second round of the tournament. The fighting was fierce, Atsurak was wounded badly on his left arm and leg, but the Burning Souls were winning the fight. There were only six of them now, fighting three Burning Souls. Bryn Rhys had gone out at a high price to the Slayer-men, One lost his head and two had their intestines pulled from them when they surrounded him. It was the fourth who escaped with a great gash in his side and Bryn's head in his hand,. It had not taken long for the man to lose all his blood and die. Atsurak had killed two of them in one fell blow, cutting one in half and snapping the other's spine while the third nearly cut his hand off with a nagingata. Atsurak's sword was dull, he had realized that half way through the fight, he could be doing much better if he had a sharper one. But the Westerm Slayer-men fought only with nagingata's and crossbows, few even carried a gouging pick into combat. Cethred's battle axe was appealing, But cehtred was still using it.

A bolt flew past atsurak as he recognized one of their craven warriors reloading a crossbow across the arena. He was not steel-dancing with anyone, so he rushed across the arena, tired but determined to kill the craven. This one had been firing bolts at the Northmen, when one had gotten into steel-dancing with him he would magically jump across the arena. But not this time, Atsurak put on speed. The man was turning the winch on the crossbow to bring the string back when atsurak entered a full charge, the man looked up terrified before Atsurak slammed into him with his shield. Bones crunched as Atsruak trampled the man, his neck was clearly broken along with ribs and an arm bone. Then Atsurak was hit with a crossbow shot from behind, deep in his shoulder.

Atsurak turned and looked for the shooter, Sualtaim had already taken an arm from the man who shot him. But in the manner of the Slayer-men in open combat, death was a form of commerce. As Sualtaim dismembered the coward, A slayer-man stabbed him deep in the chest, a deathblow. In the meantime Cethred had managed to cleave his axe through the helmet of one of the slayer-men, and avoid retribution from his ally. That made it just Atsurak and Cethred left, fighting three of the Western Slayer-men.

"Cethred, I will take them into the dog's-fight, redeem me!" Atsruak roared as he ran towards a spear bearing slayer-man. The spear nicked him in the armor, but he felt no pain as he crashed into him. A man with a gouging pick landed on top of him, striking wildly. The third tried to stab at Atsurak through the wrestling melee, but Atsurak managed to grab the armor of the one he had tackled and pull him on top of him. The spear went through the ally of the attacker and stopped at Atsurak's armor, puncturing both lungs of the Slayer-man. Cethred pulled the man with the gouging pick away from the dog's-fight and pushed him to the ground. In a swift blow of his axe he had broken the man's solar plexus. The remaining Slayer-man made him pay for it with his life. Atsurak immediately felt extremely alone as he jammed his sword upwards below the slayer-man's ribs and out his torso. With tears in his eyes and blood on his hands he walked away from the dying western-slayer man, a slow death for the man who took his last friend from him.

"Your grace, an announcement from your father" a messenger declared to Shalarah after being admitted to her quarters.

"Out with it, I'm in little mood for my grace father."

"Your brute, atsurak has triumphed in the arena again, he fought with three allies against the western slayer-men this morning!"

"Why was I not informed of this! I want the tournament organizer brought before me and punished for not warning me of when my champion was in combat!"

"It was on the demand of the king, he said that it was growing too costly to house all the fighters in the city, so he hurried the tournament." Shalarah sighed and hid her eyes for a moment, she wished she could have seen Atsurak in his element again, he was so beautifully terrifying in combat.

"What were the results, is Atsurak alright?"

"Atsurak lives thanks to his magic, but each of his companions died in the fighting." Shalarah gasped, she felt sorry for her poor Atsurak.

"Where is he now?"

"I do not know where Atsurak goes after the fights, it is said he drinks and whores for a while before he goes to sleep." Shalarah had a hard time believing that Atsurak left himself that vulnerable, for unprotected a man deep in his cups, and even more unprotected was a man deep in a whore.
"Do you know who Atsurak of the Burning Soul clan fights next?"

"Most of the fighters have been too wounded today to fight for a week at least, Atsurak will likely fight the King tomorrow."

"Thank you, now away." The messenger fled the Dome of Emeralds with haste, Shalarah prepared to track Atsurak with magic. "Altarus Locatar mustan" she murmered to begin with. She gestured with her hands slowly at first, winding them about each other and forming circles with her fingers. "Ryukan tarlethu morkila Atsurak" She continued. Slowly the spell took shape. An illusory city of Ryuku took form before her, a complete copy of every building and street that made the massive city. Shalarah repeated the second portion of the locating spell "Ryukan tarlethu morkila Atsutak". Shalarah now saw where Atsurak was within the illusory city. Atsurak was a fiery mote of a person among a sea of deep blue souls crowding the city. Shalarah could tell he was asleep, in an alleyway where he was alone. All Shalarah needed to do was get out of the palace without guards to get to him.

Atsurak was awoken by the proximity of a powerful presence, just by him. He quickly got to his feet and looked about, he felt deep in his heart of hearts it was that beautiful Shalarah. Sure enough the princess appeared from under a veil of magic just down the alleyway from him. Immediately she began to work an illusion over the street entrance to the alleyway, atsurak could not tell what she had cast, but it must have kept prying eyes from seeing a princess visiting a Northshore brute.

"My lady Shalarah, this is indeed a pleasant surprise." Atsurak said as he stepped towards her gently.

"I came as soon as I heard of your companions Atsurak, I give you my deepest regards on their death."

Atsurak looked down at the silverthread slippers of the princess, and at his chain and leather boots. Sorrow filled his heart, but he did not feel lonely with Shalarah by him. "They knew the risks they were taking, and took them with force and joy."

Shalarah stood close to him, almost pressing against him as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up and saw the same tears in the eyes of her noble brute Atsurak. She leaned against him and embraced him, patting the metal and leather of his armor as the two cried alone in the alleyway.

Atsurak's emotions were in turmoil, on one hand his lifelong friends and allies were dead, and that took all joy from him. But across the board was Shalarah, that beautiful and great spirited princess of Ryuku. If all his happiness had died with Cethred, then shalarah's warm embrace was the successor to that throne. He smiled as her arms enveloped him, the tears ceased to pour.

Shalarah was terrified of breaking the silence and the embrace, but she stepped back and spoke. "Will you continue in the tourney then Atsurak?"

"For the sake of my fallen comrades I must continue, it is a matter of honoring them. But I continue for myself, so that I can take you for my own."

"That will mean you will fight my father, the king."

"Is that a problem?"

Shalarah paused for a moment, she realized that it was rather disturbing. Her love would fight her father, probably kill him as well. Of course, if he did kill him then the palace guard and the Kingsguard would execute him for regicide. And her wise and sharp witted father would be gone…

"I only ask of you not to kill him Atsurak, he is a decent king and a better father."

Atsurak understood the difficulty of weakening a foe but not killing them, but if it would make Shalarah happy… "I will take every effort not to kill him, but I intend to take victory."

Shalarah got the feeling that he would only go so far as that, she accepted his word on it. "Thank you Atsurak. When the tournament is over I will marry you, to hell with the populace."

Atsurak laughed. "Looks like the ryukans are already making progress in philosophy. We northshore men have always known that the populace mean nothing to the determined individual." He looked into Shalarah's startlingly blue eyes and smiled.

Shalarah reluctantly said her goodbyes to Atsurak. "I shall see you in the tournament on the morrow?"

"You shall see me on the sands of the fighting, champion of Ryuku." Atsurak said to her as she disappeared. Atsurak returned to sleep, concerned. He remembered Bryn Rhys standing outside the whorehouses they would visit, making sure that none would strike them with their swords in whores. He remembered the times it seemed like Birrden would not return from a hunt, only for him to emerge from nearby bushes moments later carrying multiple slain deer. Agnorman, always an agitator that one, no one was ever good enough in combat or at running for Agnorman.

Atsurak was running across the mountains and gorges of his homeland, beside him ran Sualtaim and Cethred, each of them on fire. Behind them were Agnorman and Bryn Rhys they too were coated with bright flames. he saw Birrden herding mountain goats through a valley far ahead of them, a figure alight rushing them towards traps. He did not speak, he just ran. He felt the ghosts of his allies pressing him onwards; they recognized him as the last of the Burning Soul warriors and saluted him for it. . The memories of his allies gave him confidence, redemption.

Shalarah sat in the luxurious Imperial Box, accompanied by the Diamond Princess and her fiancé. Shalarah watched the sands intently, waiting for her love to fight her father. She waited for a full hour, nervously drinking five honeyed milks without tasting them. It was high noon when the herald declared the contest to begin momentarily

"Citizens of Ryuku, it is today that two great titans shall clash! It is before your eyes that sophistication will fight barbarity, that a gentleman will fight a brute! Today we see the combat of that fearsome champion Atsurak of the Burning souls against our Grace King, Ouros the Third, the Jester King!" Shalarah's eyebrows rose when they called her father the Jester King, it was often used as a derogatory nickname for him. She watched in nervous glee as Atsurak exited one of the gates of the arena. He stepped onto the sands with the dignity of a knight, but a wild look in his eyes.

"Atsurak has lost all of his compatriots in this tourney, he is all that remains of the Burning Soul clan's warriors, who entered this tournament with the tribute of the stolen Emerald Carriage. First he and his allies fought the Dragonmen in a remarkable battle. It looked as if Atsurak was dead early in the fight, only fro him to experience a second wind and defeat the Dragonmen. In the second round of combat, Atsurak and his remaining allies fought the Western Slayer-Men, those elite soldiers of a fallen empire! Against them all but Atsurak died, he left one of them in the arena, bleeding to death in vengeance for his fallen allies! It was a great fight, truly one of brutality and great stamina. Yet now he faces an opponent he surely cannot defeat…" The herald trailed off as the King of Ryuku stepped out of a gate opposing Atsurak, his armor glinting in the sun. He wore a tabard with the shining hand of Ryuku emblazoned on it, made of cloth-of-gold. He waved at the audience, his magic rapier at his hip. He carried a crossbow upon his back, it was the only weapon he prided himself on.

"He faces now our wise and clever King Ouros the Third! Our bold king holds this very tourney in his name, and whoever may defeat him after beating the contestants he is put against will be granted one favor. With this favor comes any variety of services, anything that may be done by the Ryukan Empire may be asked in this favor. Of course, our mighty king is not likely to be defeated by this mere brute, for his rapier is sharp as his wit!" Shalarah got the feeling that her father had put that line in for the Herald. The crowd was cheering for her father loudly, he smiled and waved to his subjects. My father regards this as a mere show of force, even if Atsurak does not try to harm him, he may grievously wound himself Shalarah thought.

"Let the battle begin upon the count of three!" The herald yelled. "One!" Shalarah took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Two!" Atsurak raised his sword and put his shield before him. "Three!" The king screamed "Ryuku!" at the top of his lungs as he drew his crossbow.

Atsurak ran for the king, still wondering on how to defeat him without killing him. He knew the best strategy would be to break his bones, a man could not fight if he could not move his arms, but his sword was more likely to slash through the appendage rather than merely shatter the bone. A crossbow shot came flying from the king's crossbow, it's head punctured Atsurak's shield but stopped there, The king deftly side stepped atsurak's charge, but could not fully capitalize on Atsurak's slow turn around.

The steel of two men clashed, Atsurak almost cleaved the king's arm off with an overhead strike, but the king channeled the strike onto the thick steel of his gauntlet with an angled resist. As Asturak made a slash at his side, the king ducked and spilled Atsurak's blood with a deep puncture. Atsurak didn't feel the pain, he just kicked the king of Ryuku dead in the face. The king's fine nose was broken and bleeding bad as he rolled away from Atsurak. Atsurak pursued him, but the king jumped to his feet and made a powerful lunge with that rapier of his. Atsurak slid the blow off his shield, it struck harmless on his armor. He hacked down at the king's hand, if the blow were true he would cut off the king's hand and he would be unable to finish the fight. But the king came from the Serpent line, who were not named that for being ponderous. He whipped his hand from the path of the sword, but his rapier was caught in the strike and driven into the sands of the arena. Atsurak took advantage of the king's temporary loss of his sword by letting his own weapon hang on a leather strap attached to his glove. He used his now open hand to grab the king's wrist and wrench it out of it's socket, from there he picked up the rapier and threw it away from the two of them.

When Atsurak next glanced, the king was not before him. He had teleported next to one of the walls of the arena, where he fixed his shoulder with magic. Atsurak was angered that his opponent broke the rules of honorable combat by doing that, but he knew he couldn't let himself become too enraged. Uoros still did not have his sword. Atsurak ran towards him, reclaiming his own sword from swinging in limbo on the leather strap. Uoros fired a crossbow shot at Atsurak, it him deep in the shoulder as Atsurak closed the distance with Uoros.

Atsurak swung his sword at the king, a horizontal, sweeping strike. Uoros dodged the attack and fired a strange spell at Atsurak's weapon.

"Diamatro!" The king roared at him, Atsurak felt his sword go flying out of his hand, breaking the leather strap that held it in place. It landed ten feet from him, but atsurak had a new plan. He grabed the exposed king about the neck with one great hand, then hoisted him off his feet. He looked to where he thought he Imperial box was, and saw that he was almost directly across the arena from Shalarah. He knew the king would pass out before his heart failed to beat, but he never saw the king draw his gladius. With the gladius the king stabbed at the Arm Atsurak was using to hold him in the air, slicing at the wrist. ATsurak was blinded by pain, he became enraged. All that mattered was killing this man now, for too long had he fought with mercy!

Atsurak disregarded the wounds on his arm and threw the king with all his strength. The king was smashed against the wall of the arena, his back and neck taking the force of the impact. He crumpled against the wall, lying on the sands of the arena. Atsurak noticed that the audiences had gasped as the king did not rise. It took an eternal moment for the king to raise his hands in surrender as he tried to draw himself up agains the wall of the arena. Magisters and doctors rushed from the gates of the arena, ready to mend the king. ATsurak pulled the crossbow bolt out of his shoulder with great pain, and smiled. One of the Magisters gave a signal to someone in the audience, and the herald began to yell.

Shalarah watched in horror as the Magisters blocked her view of her father, she needed to know if he was going to be alright. She watched desperately as Halarn turned to her, she held her breath as he gave her a signal. He made a circle of his forefinger and thumb, she sighed her relief. She smiled as she realized Atsurak had fulfilled his promise, she was giddy. She laughed and applauded, which set off a wave of applause and congratulations for the Champion of Ryuku.

Atsurak brandished his sword in the air as he roared for the burning soul Clan. He was proud through his pain, he had redeemed himself for his friends and fulfilled their mission. The king of Ryuku was getting to his feet, Atsurak awaited him. Kin Urous smiled at him, he patted him weakly on the back as the two stood on the sands of the arena before the cheering crowds. The king's wounds had been fixed with magic, atsurak let the magisters that had attended the king heal his own wounds. He looked to the Imperial booth and saw Shalarah smiling and applauding his victory. He pointed at her with his shield arm, she blushed. The king of Ryuku spoke, the crowd became silent.

"I submit to you, Atsurak of the Burning Soul Clan. You take the title of Champion of Ryuku, and earn one favor from me. Is there anything the Ryukan Empire can give to you?"

"I want my sun and stars, Princess Shalarah." The nobility gasped, the peasants booed, everyone in between displayed disapproval. The king nodded somlemly, it was a high price for failure in combat. Shalarah smiled, Atsurak smile back at her.