The crowd cheered. The sun in sky burned brilliantly. And all of it was lost to Sat.
She stood, ankle deep in sand. The temperature was high, enough to make a sheen of sweat shine on her face. Her arms ached, from the heavy, double bladed, three foot long sword in her hand. A kite shaped shield hung from sturdy leather straps on the other.
Sat shifted her stance. Suddenly, the noise of the crowd increase. It was now a very loud roar. She had been trained to ignore it. Forget everything except the fight. It had been beaten into her, with cruel, metal barbed whips.
A door had opened, and a figure moved into the amphitheater. Sat watched, her trained eyes picking up the weaponry. A trident and a weighted net. Must be from the Sea.
The figure moved closer. It was a lithe, graceful woman, a Denizen. She moved slowly, because of the cumbersome net.
Sat stood silently, watching the woman approach. When she was about ten feet away, Sat darted forward.
Speed and flexibility had always been easy for Sat. She put her skills to good use. With a few quick thrusts, the iron weighted net lay useless, cut to shreds.
The woman dropped the net. She held the trident is a purposeful two-handed grip. It would make her attacks stronger and faster.
Sat held still. She was going to let her opponent make the first move.
With a cry, the woman twisted forward, the eight foot trident swinging dangerously. It glanced off the edge of Sat's shield.
While the woman was withdrawing her trident for another stroke, Sat moved in.
With some devastating slashes, she hit the tines of the trident, careful not to get her sword stuck.
And with another quick thrust, she twisted the trident right out of the woman's hands.
The woman gasped. She had lost.
And Sat knew it. She didn't hesitate, going for the kill.
Soon the pale golden sand was stained with red. It was quickly absorbed.
The audience was cheering louder, enjoying the violence. It held no enjoyment for Sat. She had seen too many fights, too many lost.
She looked up. A man in the imperial box of the amphitheater caught her attention. He was garbed in the finest clothes, and extremely tall Denizens accompanied him.
I have no use for those lousy idiots. Sat looked away. But before she did, she noticed that the fancy man was not smiling, unlike all of his companions. He did not approve.
A loud, hoarse call woke her up.
"Sat, get back here! Your turn's up." It was Madame Roiseour, her mistress.
Sat walked slowly to her, grateful that her fight was over. She wasn't scheduled for another until two weeks.
She passed under a heavy wooden gate. Into the cool stone rooms under the amphitheater seats. The darkness closed over her.