~* SLAYERS: FALLEN STARS *~
Author's Note: A bit of a spoiler warning. There's a story I summarized from some of the novels that I believed was important to repeat in here, since the novels are so hard to find anyway. I've never read them myself. This information I managed to get from a great online resource and thought it would be a neat little thing to tie into my story, just so you know.
And yes, it is important to the plot of the story. I also tweaked it a bit at the end to make it work for me. You'll see what I mean eventually.
Chapter 10: Good Old Fashioned Festival Fun Part III
Gourry, Torrin, and Jean moved over to arena number seven, as it was now Torrin's turn to show what he can do, and judging by the group surrounding his ring, he had his work cut out for him.
Not only did Torrin not recognize any of them as locals, but they looked a little rough around the edges as well. Many wore what looked like well worn military armor and carried military grade weapons of all shapes and sizes. The others looked more thuggish and a bit shady with various maces and clubs that matched their personas.
"Wow, how did you get elected into the freak club?" Jean noted to Torrin under his breath.
"Luck of the draw, I guess," Torrin mumbled.
They made their way through to the hay bales just as a match was finishing up. The judges called a winner and announced the next pair. Torrin took the time he had left to get a closer look at his possible opponents. He was familiar with these types, as he had come across them during many of his travels, but as strong as the Dimos are, it required much skill to take down hardened soldiers and thugs. His own clan, like every other dragon clan, no longer concerned themselves with war or looked for a fight, and admittedly, they would be a bit rusty without using their magic, especially in human form.
Torrin would not be surprised if many of these men made it to the semi-finals.
Two matches in, Torrin noticed a slender figure in pink across the ring staring at him curiously with dark brown eyes. Nobody else seemed to notice her yet. He had to assume it was a her though he was too far away to tell if the figure was feminine. The clothing he could see he recognized as nomadic from the Desert of Destruction. A headdress and mask covered the head and face.
Jean nudged him, when he realized Torrin was not watching the match. "What are you staring at?"
"You see that woman there?" Torrin nodded towards the other side of the ring. "Over there, in pink."
Jean strained on his toes over the stacks of hay to see. "What is a woman doing here?" he said in a derisive tone.
A third match ended, and the next was called. The pink figure moved forward into the arena. Now Torrin could see clearly it was in fact a woman. Many of the men around him booed and a couple of them even threw out some cat calls.
"This is going to end quick." Jean wrinkled his freckled nose. His concern was not the woman being unable to fight but the fact that she had to end up with this bunch of 'old hands.'
"Don't underestimate a woman in a fight. In some ways, they can be more dangerous," Torrin warned him. The dark eyes still staring at him were those of a veteran.
Her opponent was one of the seasoned soldiers standing nearby. He looked more respectable than the rest but not by much. When the judge called for them to draw, the woman took out two small curved swords and took a crouched stance. The man drew his sword.
Barely a second after the judge shouted to begin the woman locked her gaze on the man before her and charged, but the soldier held himself well and did not bat an eye. The two circled each other several times taking hits whenever they could find an opening. Everyone around the ring shouted either encouragement or insults to the point where it was almost deafening.
Jean was again on his toes, now screaming his lungs out at both of them. "Come on! Find an opening! Any opening!"
Next to him, Gourry was doing the same thing but was calling out to just the woman. Torrin figured Gourry was the type who would always support a girl in any contest. He was intrigued by the woman himself, but he watched in silence, studying her every move.
A couple of minutes went by, and the old soldier finally caught the woman's right arm. She was forced to put down the sword she held in that arm, and she put the arm behind her back without any sign of frustration one would normally display being put at a disadvantage.
"Now she'll lose. The first person to lose a limb usually does," Jean noted.
One of the judges signaled for them to continue, and the soldier proceeded to aim a fatal blow on the woman's armless side. She managed to hit both of his arms at the same time with a swift under-swing before his blade touched her neck.
The arena filled with the sound of deep long O's from everyone. Jean's jaw dropped, utterly impressed.
Since the soldier lost both of his arms, the woman was allowed to strike without any resistance to officially end the round. The judge awarded the point, and both quietly went back to their own side of the ring.
"See, what did I tell you?" Torrin said to Jean, who was still staring at the woman.
The last two rounds did not last as long, but each time Torrin noticed the woman would always allow herself to lose an arm or leg before finishing the man off. He also noted that she must be somewhat of an acrobat because her movement when she dodged a swing or whipped her blades around towards her opponent was more like dancing than straightforward fighting. Torrin guessed the first round was just to test out the soldier's skill.
Jean was watching her closely as well like a kid watching a magic trick for the first time. He had never seen moves like that used in a swordfight before.
When it was over, the crowd around him shouted crude complements at her (if saying you wanted to know what kind of moves she used in the bedroom was considered a complement).
"That wasn't very nice," Gourry commented to Torrin, who nodded.
Jean wrinkled his face in disgust at the vulgarity. "Nothing compared to a sailor's mouth, but still…there's girls present!"
"Some men just don't care," Torrin said, agreeing with him. "You're talking about a group that's too used to being around only other men anyway."
"Excuse me," said a smooth female's voice with an accent, "Am I interrupting anything?"
All three stared at the woman in pink who walked over during the applause. She took off her mask and headdress revealing her brown tied back hair and a sweet smile that contradicted the cunning look in her dark eyes.
Jean spoke up first. "You're a very good fighter!…for a woman, that is-"
Torrin pushed head down into the hay to cut him off. "-He means its impressive that you held your own against a well experienced soldier. It would be difficult for anyone to tell what skill you have, just by looking at you."
Gourry put his two cents in. "I was rooting for you the whole time, miss! A girl needs all the support she can get!"
The woman let out a small thoroughly amused giggle. "I'm glad to find such fine young gentlemen amongst this riffraff."
Jean popped his head up out of the hay. "Where you from? I've never seen your style before."
"You must be from where Mr. Dragon came from, right?" Gourry asked, recognizing the accent.
The woman turned to Torrin. "I've seen you before. You're the dragon man everyone has been talking about. You and I have a similar accent, but," she studied his clothing. "Your outfit is only vaguely familiar."
"The desert is where my clan was originally from," Torrin explained. "We moved to the Northern part of the peninsula in Kataart centuries ago."
"Yes, I remember the stories of desert dragons who fled to safety from an ancient war. Nár lagaí Rangórt do lámh!"
Torrin smiled at her kind words. "Do you really want to grace a possible future opponent with good fortune?"
"To defeat an opponent with such fortune would be a great honor," she replied.
"Well said." He lent a hand to her. "Torrin Ru Egan."
"Samira." She took his hand firmly. "From the Northern crest of the Desert of the Destruction. Though I don't actually share your tongue, but I spent a great deal of time amongst the nomads."
"What are you doing so far from home then?" Torrin asked.
"My family are merchants, and I have been sent by my husband and father-in-law to look for new trade routes. Us desert people have been a little slow on the uptake in trading with the Westlands since the barrier came down. Most of our focus has been on the lands South of the desert." Samira took out her family seal she had around her neck stamped on a small gold medallion. The seal also indicated the merchant guild her family belonged to.
"My family are merchants too!" Jean dug out his own seal that was stamped on a fine piece of leather. "See!"
Samira took a good look at it, then smiled. "I've met your mother. You must be Jean."
Jean grinned widely.
"She said you only think of sword fighting," she added.
Jean frowned. "Its for good reason!"
"He's fighting in this contest for a girl named Miranda," said Gourry.
"Hey! You don't have to go and tell everyone!" Jean snapped, now blushing.
"Oh, a girl, is it?" Samira's interest piqued. "Is she very sweet and lovely?"
"Y-yes," Jean stammered, looking at his feet. All the gusto he regained at his first match suddenly left him. "But she won't come and watch me."
Before Samira could say anything else, a judge called out Torrin's name. He excused himself to take his position in the arena, and the others moved to a better place to watch.
Torrin's opponent was a large man that looked a lot like a troll holding a metal spiked mace. The man did not have any metal armor, but wore mostly leather from head to toe including his helmet. He gave Torrin a toothy menacing grin, like a dog ready to chew someone's leg off.
Jean leaned on a stack of hay and set his head down on arms as if he had lost interest.
"I appeared to have upset the boy," Samira said in a low voice to Gourry.
"He's been on a bumpy emotional ride since yesterday, but I'm sure he'll be fine when its his turn to fight again," replied Gourry.
Samira left it at that and changed the subject. "I haven't asked your name yet."
"Its Gourry Gabriev," he answered. "And you are…Samuel?"
Samira blinked at him, then laughed. "Its Samira, but close enough!"
Gourry shrugged. "Just as well. Samuel is supposed to be a boy's name anyway."
The judged shouted for the match to begin. Neither Torrin or the troll-man bothered charging and instead slowly circled while inching closer to each other. Torrin had his axe in his right hand and a large knife in his left blade side down and was slightly crouched. The man before him hunched over holding his mace out in front of him and looked bowlegged as he walked sideways around the ring.
Yelling from the spectators grew louder as they got within arm's reach, then finally the troll-man took a big swing. Torrin deflected it easily and came down with the knife to hit his arm. The troll-man stepped back in time to avoid a critical hit, then came forward again with a few more well-calculated swings before falling back again.
Torrin went on the offensive and used each swing to test where a weak spot could be found. The troll-man deflected several hits before Torrin noticed he would keep his left side a little too forward sometimes like he was used to carrying a shield. Torrin swung low with the axe to push the mace away from the troll-man's left and crossing his own left arm under the other arm, aimed for the side of the troll-man's abdomen.
A judge awarded Torrin with a point. He heard Gourry shouting in approval amongst the cheers and turned to him to give an assuring nod.
In the next round, Torrin expected it to be tougher now that the troll-man was aware of his mistake. He walked over after the judge gave the go-ahead and did not hesitate to lock the troll-man's mace down so he could have an opening at the neck. Again, the troll-man was a little too quick and swung his mace under and over to release it from Torrin's axe and attempt a blow at the head. Torrin dodged, using his knife to help push it away. He purposely stepped back into a defensive position and took a few more hits as he tried to figure out his next move.
The troll-man was now swinging harder either out of excitement or frustration. Torrin could not tell. One particularly strong swing almost made him spin as he tried to deflect it properly to the right to keep the mace from touching any part of his hand or arm. He mentally thank the Earthlord for the strength to keep him from losing his balance.
That gave him an interesting idea. Two more hard swings later, Torrin repeated the action, and this time he let himself swing around right and turned his knife outward to make a mock-slice to the stomach.
Torrin was awarded again with a point. The other participants and spectators cheered and chanted to show their appreciation for such an entertaining performance. Torrin and the troll-man walked back to their own sides for one last round. The judge made them wait until the crowd settled down. The crowd itself began clapping in unison when the signal for round three was given.
The troll-man went on the offensive first, but Torrin decided to give his new trick another try, along with a twist to throw him off. On the third hit, Torrin swung around like he did last time knowing the troll-man would dodge, then another three hits later, he swung the other way two times to catch the troll-man in the back with the axe.
Clapping turned into frantic cheers again as Torrin was declared winner. He walked over to Gourry, receiving numerous praises and slaps on the back. Jean was still staring into the arena, not moving from his spot.
"Have any comments or criticism I could use?" Torrin asked Jean as he leaned over.
"That troll guy relies on his strength a little too much," Jean answered dully. "You could've used your dragon strength easily on him."
Torrin did not bother to mention he was holding back to prevent injury. "His swings were well-aimed, and he was quicker than he looked. It threw me off a couple of times."
"I thought it was a fine performance," said Samira.
Jean rolled his eyes. "No need to rub it in."
"Well, while you were staring out into space, Gourry was just telling me about how your first match went. You exceeded everybody's expectations. That certainly isn't something to turn a nose up at." Samira did her best sound encouraging.
Jean still did not move but his face was turning a little red. "I guess."
"How about we take a look at the other matches?" suggested Gourry. "We won't have another match until the next round."
"Good point. We're probably barely halfway through the first round. You up to it, Jean?" asked Torrin.
Jean finally got up from his haystack and stood over by Samira. "Will you teach me some of your moves?"
Samira let out a small laugh. "Only if you're determined not to give up winning this contest for your girl, whether she's here or not. I don't teach quitters."
"I have to get stronger," Jean said determinedly though he still felt his doubt clawing at the back of his mind. "So, no, I won't quit."
Filia took a late lunch, so she would not miss the semi-finals. Janna had taken her aside earlier that morning in order to talk to her, but Filia said she had already made her mind up to go. Part of her was getting excited though Torrin had already made his intentions clear. It did not matter. She wanted to be there for him.
Lina barged in, right in the middle of lunch, with a bag full miscellaneous goodies and a very satisfied grin on her face. Jillas, as usual, reprimanded her at the door for her rudeness, but Lina let it roll off her back and went upstairs, dumping her bag on the kitchen table to show Filia.
"What exactly is all of this for?" Filia asked. She was in the middle of feeding mashed peas and carrots to little Val when Lina came in.
"This," Lina gestured to the pile on the table, "Is my quarterly income."
"Your quarterly-what?"
"My income. Just as you make pottery for a living, I make charms, amulets, and other magical items and sell them for profit." Lina picked around her pile and pulled out a couple of ring-sized gems and a necklace. "See these? I can make them into powerful protective talismans…or if someone's into something a bit more devious…"
"That's awful, Lina," Filia scolded.
"Hey, that's my business," Lina replied. "Normally I get this sort of stuff off of bandits and pirates, but I couldn't resist! Anyway, I'll be pretty busy after the festival. I wanna get this done before we head over to Amelia's."
Val was reaching for some shiny red fabric at the bottom of the pile and almost pulled some of the objects off the table before Filia took his hand away. "No hun, that's not for you." He started to fuss.
"I still can't believe it," said Lina as she stared at Val.
"Believe what?" Filia asked as she attempted to get Val to finish his peas and carrots.
Lina pointed to the hatchling, who was now spitting his food back out. "That he was Valgaav."
She would not say it out loud, but Filia still had a hard time believing it herself. Her first few months watching over Val's egg was plagued by nightmares, the most common one was of Valgaav literally squeezing the life out of her, and she would wake up in the middle of the night breathing hard and sweating all over. Seeing Val's innocent face each time he looked at her lovingly provided some hope that he will never become that monster again.
But somehow, it also made her feel a little guilty…and a little frightened.
"Hey, Filia. You okay?" Lina asked.
Filia gave up feeding Val and set him in the middle of her lap, holding his tiny hands. "I'm fine."
Lina was not sure she was but let it slide this time and began separating her treasures.
"Um, Lina."
"Hmm?"
"The pendant you gave me. You said you bought it off a friend before they died, right?"
Lina looked up at Filia, a little more somber now. "Yeah, I did."
"Who was it?" she asked.
Lina took a deep breath. "Remember the time I told you about Milgazia traveling with us for a while?"
"I remember."
"There was this guy, Luke, who traveled around with a girl named Milina. We fought a few monsters together, and he helped us defeat Dynast and one of his generals, Sherra. I wrote you about that whole episode not too long ago."
That did not make sense to Filia. "Wait a minute. You said you fought monsters while you had the pendant?"
"I didn't say that, though it would have been useful at the time." Lina continued on with her story. "A while later, we ran into those two again before they were hired as bodyguards for a high priest in Sellentia. That's when I bought the pendant off of Luke. It must have been something he pick off of a bandit 'cuz that thing isn't a common item."
"Sellentia? Isn't that where Ceifeed and all four Dragon Lords have a shrine?" Filia asked.
"Yup. The shrine to Ceifeed was destroyed, along with its high priest, and the other high priests claimed they heard Ceifeed's voice telling them they were the new high priest of his shrine. So, they started hiring bodyguards and assassins to kill each other."
"So…How did Luke die?" This was a hard question for Filia to ask.
It was even harder for Lina to answer, so she took a moment before she replied. "He…his friend Milina…was poisoned by an assassin. He ran to one of the other high priests at another shrine for help, but they refused because she worked for his rival. Milina…didn't make it. We weren't there when it happened."
Filia held Val closer to her, freeing up his hands to try grabbing another object from the table. "I can't really imagine how that must have felt, having someone you care about die because nobody wanted to help."
"Yeah, that poor guy was so in love with her, he went berserk after that," Lina said sadly.
"Did he kill himself then?" The thought sent chills down Filia's spine.
"Worse. First Luke killed two of the High priests because he held them personally responsible for Milina's death, then he ran off before finishing the others. By the time we met him again, the piece of Shabranigdu that was inside of him had woken up. Gourry and I…had to defeat him."
Lina was done talking. She never liked reliving such a tragic memory and did not have the heart to put it in any of her letters. Some small part of Lina was actually afraid of it. She did not even tell Amelia or Zelgadis what happened, and Gourry, out of concern for her, never bothered to mention it.
Out of curiosity, Filia had to press her with one more question. "May I ask…how you did it?"
Lina fiddled around with the talisman on her left wrist. "Well…I've told you this much already, I might as well." She took the talisman off and carefully popped the red stone out of its setting to show the underside.
Filia noticed a very distinct crack running down the backside of the stone. "Oh gods…did you break it?"
"This one only has one crack. The others are worse off. It was either this, or attempting a Giga Slave a third time." Lina set the stone back in and returned it to her wrist.
"Do they still work?" Filia asked.
"Yeah, but I gotta be careful or I can lose a piece. I have no idea how to fix them. I couldn't defeat Luke with Shabranigdu's own power and the power of the other Dark Lords alone. Gourry used the Blast Sword he found right before we met up with Dynast, and Luke's determination to get his death wish helped."
Filia found it sad that each time a piece of Shabranigdu was awakened, the living vessel of that piece had to have a strong desire for death in order to be defeated.
"But-enough-about-that!" Lina forced an unnatural brightness into her tone. "Janna downstairs said you're going over to watch that fighting contest later! Gourry said him and Torrin are participating. Mind if I join?"
"Yes, actually, I was going to ask you about it," said Filia, relieved to get away from a depressing subject.
She got up holding Val in one arm to clean him off at the sink when Jillas walked into the kitchen.
"Wut's 'tis all this on thu table!" he yelled.
Lina shot a dirty look at him. "Cool it, rat face. Its my stuff. I'm just going through it."
Jillas shook a finger at her. "Then 'ou betta clean zat up when your done! Or I-"
"-Yeah, yeah, I get it Jillas," Lina said as she went back to sorting.
"Jillas," Filia called him over to the sink.
"Yes, boss?"
"I'll need you to watch Val this afternoon. I'm going to the contest at the plaza." She finished up washing Val's face and handed him over to the fox. "Make sure he gets a decent nap later."
"Sho 'ting, boss!" Jillas replied.
He left the room with Val who decided to start pulling at his whiskers. Jillas lovingly scolded him as they crossed the living room towards the stairs.
Filia took a good look at her pendant and wondered. Lina's account did not give her any new information about where it came from. She understood the pendant's origin was the same as Lina's talismans, but she wanted to know who was the previous owner. If it passed through a bandit's hands, they would be difficult to trace for sure.
I guess there's no way of knowing, Filia thought. I'm just glad it hasn't glowed all day.
The last thing she wanted, was Xellos showing up to ruin a good day.
If you want to know what Samira said, you'll just have to wait and find out!
Fun Fact: The tournament rules mentioned in the last chapter were based off of an actual tournament I had the privilege of attending last October that gave me an idea to make the festival far more interesting. The big difference is the tournament I went to was done with blunted and padded weapons to allow the participants to actually hit their opponents, causing nothing more than severe bruising, which happened a lot (there was even a teenage girl in full armor who went up against all the guys, getting bruised and everything). And the way they did the roster was different. They did own real weapons since they do reenactments as a full time hobby and were fully capable of using them, just not in contests. The armor, shields and everything else was very authentic, more authentic than even the Renaissance Festival. They did everything with a lot of ceremony, including a big three course feast and holding court with a visiting baron (a new one is named every six months and some are reelected numerous times). These people were also very chivalrous. One of them who I met back in June gave me fifteen dollars to compensate for a brand new butterfly pin I had bought and immediately lost earlier that day at a convention, no questions asked.
And who says chivalry is dead. I'd go into more detail but it would go on a few more pages.
Comments and reviews are appreciated. Write something interesting and I might just reply, so ask questions if you got them and don't forget to sign in if you do. ~NB~