Chapter 17: Boethia Stadium

Boethia's shrine took a day and a half for Elyon, Nightshade, Ice, and Crow, along with Silver and Richu. It seemed Ice had forgiven Crow when he saved him from the jaws of a brown bear. However, they didn't spend the night in the Heartland wilderness; they reached Cheydinhal once again by nightfall. They spent the night in the same place where all the inebriated dunmer cheered upon their arrival, one patting Nightshade rather hardly on the back and saying, "How's the hero business?" With a little asking around, they found out the exact location of the shrine on their map. By morning, they were back on the road with a bit of a hangover and reached the statue of a man holding an axe by noon.

"I hate rough terrain," Ice stretched his legs. Ignored, he looked around to see the three worshippers, all of them pretty unhappy by their presence.

"Who are you? Do you wish to please Boethia?" A Redguard with a rather large afro glowered at them.

"Uh, sure," Nightshade extended an arm of welcome. "I'm Nightshade and my companions are Crow, Elyon, and Ice."

"I'm Haekwon, Boethia's worshipper." He looked at them and studied them. "Yes, I think He will be very happy with you, but He will not speak to strangers unless they bring Him an offering."

"What kind?"

"The heart of a daemon from the heart of Oblivion's planes," Haekwon sneezed. "Leave it on His alter and He shall come."

All eyes turned to Elyon, who, in turn, approached Silver and rummaged through her supplies. She had a very small, black heart, the last she had, and placed it on the altar at Boethia's feet.

It took a few seconds before his half hissing half growling voice shook their minds.

"Well, well, more warriors who feel they are the warriors for me. I'm bored of stupid little knights like you people, and I'm even bored here because no one feels they are up to the challenge. I miss the breaking of bones and the problems of mortals are boring, especially those guilds. Hmm," the God of war thought. "This gives me an idea. Mortals fighting with mortals are much more entertaining than mortals fighting with Daedra. Why not settle feuds here?" Another pause made Nightshade tense up. "Yes, yes, I have the perfect idea. Which warrior is the best: the mage, the murderer, or the thief?" He sounded excited by his malicious idea. "I welcome you—you warriors to my plane. You may only bring armor and your weapons of choice."

Ice jumped back in surprise as a large, whirling, sky blue portal appeared next to him. A soft chuckle sounded, and the God was gone.

"Ok…" Crow looked at the portal suspiciously.

"Yeah, let's go to Boethia for our artifact," Nightshade hissed at Ice, who shrugged.

They got themselves ready, Elyon unpacking herself from all the potions on her. Crow didn't know whether to pick his bow or sword. Nightshade frowned upon her still sore arms. Ice looked at his daggers. "This can't end well."

The group looked at the portal and Nightshade touched it. In an instant, the green, lush scene twisted into darkness, but she could hear voices, cheering voices, rising from the gloom. One was louder than the others.

"Welcome to the fight you've all been waiting for! Until today, you have seen fights in this arena between mortals of different races, mortals between Daedra, and beasts against mortals. Now, this is a unique mortal-against-mortal combat fight. In this fight, mortals from different ways of living will fight. These mortals work as different people, fighting and earning a living separately. They specialize in different areas of fighting, and some even have grudges against each other. Boethia sure has outdone himself this time, hasn't he, folks?"

A cheer erupted that was somewhere between human voices and animal cries.

Nightshade's face suddenly turned pale. Memories of watching fights when she was little came back to her. The blood was too much, and yet she could never stop staring. It was so horrific…

"This event will take place over the course of two days. Each fight will be a one-on-one, winners will fight winners, but we guarantee blood or we'll kill them ourselves!" Another cheer pounded her ears. It was so loud.

"Our contestants have been chosen. Some may not be the best of the best, but we're here for bloodshed, not fair fights! Now, our first contestant, representing the Blades, that hero we all hate for ruining the Kvatch attack, the run-away should-be outlaw, Nightshade!" Suddenly, a bright light shined on her, and she could see her surroundings.

The place was much like oblivion with lava and red dust, but there wasn't any vegetation. Around was an enclosed space, an arena, with all manners of creatures Nightshade could've never dreamed of. They all sort of had human-like qualities, but all of them were different, desperate for blood and violence. The arena itself was on oblivion design with brittle black stone and claw-like spikes coming out of nowhere. In the very front of her, however, was the God himself, a red giant without hair or horns. He wore armor of glistening black and a gallant outfit finished with a red cape. But what made him most menacing was the largest axe Nightshade had ever seen, completely black except for the silver blades.

Boos and hisses spat at her from all sides. Boethia grinned, enjoying himself with the excitement of the crowd.

The announcer, an imp-like violet creature with a pot-belly, continued. "Next is the infamous Mage Guild apprentice whose hands stray far from their owner to grab anything worth lots. Give a big welcome to Repice Hlaalu!"

"Enangui!"

"Whatever," he rolled his wrists and eyes in passing at the angered Ice. "For the Fighter's Guild, we have a no-nonsense fighter who refuses to be judged by her race and sex. She has overcome the boundaries of society, killed many lives in the process, and we don't even know her real name! Folks, I give you Black Night Price!"

The blue-haired Redguard hadn't changed a bit since Nightshade saw her a day ago. She glowered at the booing crowd.

"Fourthly, our Thief is a thief from Morrowind who has stolen since his childhood, so he's an expert. However, his connection to the Nerevarine and Mages Guild has made him a good guy: Ashen Black!"

The light shined on a rather confused Dark Elf man with light wrinkles on his soft, blue face. He wore a white cuirass with black armor on his arms and legs and boots of green glass. On his back was a large claymore gleaming icy blue. He looked like he was about to say something, but he changed his mind and simple crossed his rather muscular arms around his chest.

"The Dark Brotherhood has had a bunch of shady figures over the years, and our assassin is no different. Her life hasn't been easy, but she's found a family and plans to stick with it unless she starts to question their way of life. People of Oblivion, I give you Dalkai Laneth!"

Dalkai had changed from her dress from the last time Nightshade saw her. She now wore a black armor that fit tight around her and a hood that hid her eyes. She didn't even look up when the light shined on her. She scowled instead.

"Next is the church's most honorable priest who has a real future ahead of him. Your future emperor, Martin Septim!" the speaker pointed to the rather scared looking priest with an onslaught of boos and hisses much more than any of the others got. He continued, "Here to 'protect' him is the loyalist Bruma guard always trying to prove himself. Well, let's see what Yarjok Sjord's got!"

The guard was someone neither of them had ever seen. He was a Nord a little shorter than Crow in the standard Bruma guard armor. He didn't wear a helmet so his short, dusty blonde hair fell in his face. He looked shocked.

"Five more to go before the action folks! For the Mythic Dawn, the Daedric cult we all love is the woman who constantly proves how strong she is and yet no one seems to believe her. Trying to win favor of her evil father is Ruma Camoran!" Ruma sneered at the crowd who mocked a frightened stance in perfect unison. They laughed, which made Ruma's face flush with anger.

"Eighthly, our Knight of the Thorn, the naïve dunmer from Cheydinhal who started his insane troop and is voted the most likely to die in an Oblivion crisis, is Farwil Indarys!"

Another unfamiliar, Dark Elf face looked rather angry at the announcer. "I will beat them all and be the champ, you wait and see!" His shining, steel armor seemed too big for his scrawny body.

"The Blackwood Company, as we all know, is the enemy for the Fighter's Guild, and we've decided to invite them into our game. Here is a mercenary Khajiit who has failed in everything he's ever done: S'rasha J'skitta!"

Nightshade's heart almost leapt out of her when she saw the face of the Khajiit. It was the same Khajiit that was at the arena trying to kill her and Ice with Owyn. This time, however, he wore odd black and silver armor with a tree design on his chest. He had the same sword and didn't seem to respond in any way to the crowd as if he was deaf.

"For the East Empire Company—a group we never thought of adding until now—is a downcast dunmer from Morrowind who lost his sweetheart and more during Solsthiem's own crisis involving Hircine. Does he plan on saving the world? If he can survive this challenge! Folks, we give you…" he paused, "Mayinali Asawyaka, or just Crow!" There were screams as the crowd went wild. Crow seemed a little bashful, but bewildered.

"Last, and perhaps least, is a Morrowind rival of the Dark Brotherhood. The Morag Tong has killed legally for generations ever since the Great Houses were established, often going for criminals and exiled persons. Here, a retired assassin from her youth is Elyon Esrila!" the speaker looked rather pleased with himself as Nightshade's look of horror met Elyon's sheepish gaze.

"Ok, Daedra of all type, it's down to the fighting. First match—"

"Hold it," a loud woman's voice rung over his. Black Night was scowling even more than ever. "What if we refuse to fight?"

Boethia grinned. "Then I'll kill you, simple as that."

"Well, what if we forfeit before we kill each other? You still see blood," Elyon spoke up, causing a sneer from Farwil. "Coward. Afraid you'll lose?"

She ignored it. Boethia frowned. "Hmm, it will save me energy and spare your pathetic lives. I mean, if Septim dies, who knows what will happen. Mehrunes Dagon will rule forever…" the more the Daemon thought, the more he looked unhappy. "Fine, but that's your decision. If anyone refuses to fight, they die, understood?"

They nodded, or at least most of them did. The speaker looked at them, perhaps waiting for another interruption, and then went on. "As I was saying, the first match is between Farwil Indarys and Yarjok Sjord! The other contestants can either watch or wait in their bunks, their choice."

Suddenly, a swirl of blue magic enveloped Nightshade and the others, and a moment of light revealed into a small room, complete with beds. Nightshade was dazed and confused, as was Martin in the bed next to her. The first thing she did was look for Elyon.

"What the hell? I can't believe you're an assassin!" Ice was amazed at her. She, however, frowned. "I'm not an assassin." Crow, too, looked shocked.

"Then what were they talking about?" Nightshade joined them and at Ice's words, she put on an even angrier, wrathful scowl. Elyon flinched.

"Look, it was a long time ago. We needed the money. But I quit, alright? It was a mistake."

"How long ago?" Crow asked.

"I don't know, teenage years?" she sat down. "The job taught me about life, especially when I almost lost it. No one ever knew I was the one behind the murders. I was anonymous. I quit about two years after."

"Why?" Ice was curious now. This put a new light on Elyon.

"I almost died on a mission. I realized that if I did, no one would ever know how or why I died. I'd just disappear. I couldn't do that."

"Weren't you in the Mage's Guild at the time?"

"Yeah, but my training was over. I had free time."

"And they never found out?"

"Nope."

"And you were angry at me for being a necromancer. Look who's not using brains now?" Crow took his opportunity for payback.

Elyon hissed in an explosion of anger, "I was a fucking brainless teenager! Everyone's done something they regret as a teenager, and that happens to be mine!"

"Umm, sorry, but, what's going on?" Martin had come over to her bunk. "Why are we in Boethia's realm?"

"Because Ice wanted to come here for a Daedric artifact," Nightshade nodded to him, who had a look scolding her of being a snitch.

"What?! You came to Boethia? What were you possibly thinking?"

He frowned, and then took out his daggers. "I was thinking about killing Boethia."

"That's an even stupider idea! You can't kill a Daedric God!"

"Says who? He killed my parents, so why can't I kill him?"

"I thought you said a group of worshippers killed your parents," Nightshade was tired of Ice's moods.

"Yeah, well, they were Boethia worshippers. They called upon his power and used it to kill my parents. Now I want revenge!"

"Ice, revenge isn't a good thing—" Elyon was cut off by a slight chuckle from Crow. He stood up and patted him on the shoulder. "Good luck killing him with two daggers. You want to kill Boethia; you'll need something a bit more… powerful, something like a Daedric artifact."

"Crow! Don't encourage him!" she stood up. Nightshade and Martin decided to let them fight over it.

"Why not? He wants to kill him, so let him."

"He'll die! You can't kill a God!"

Nightshade grew weary of the conversation after about five minutes as did Martin, and quietly they slipped away only to run into Nightshade's archenemy, Dalkai Laneth.

"Well, looks like you got away safely after ditching me!" Nightshade hissed.

"I'm an assassin, what do you expect?" she had a dark tone, not like what she had that night. She seemed more confined. "I look forward to finally killing you." She walked around her, and out into the arena.

Black Night was watching, amused. "Wow, they said she was young, but not this young." Nightshade turned to look at her. She brushed her blue hair out of her face and stood up. "I take it Baurus introduced me to you when I went to the Cloud Ruler temple. You must be the hero of Kvatch, Nightshade. And you are Martin. Yes, I saw you two, but didn't know who you were. It's an honor."

"I'm not the hero of Kvatch. I did it with some help. All I did was take the Sigil Stone."

"That's not what I heard. I was in Bravil the other day and there were rumors about you everywhere. They said you were the youngest swords-master that killed hundreds of Daedra and that you gallantly saved the Emperor from the clutches of Mehrunes Dagon himself."

"Now that's just exaggeration. Elyon and Ice really did all the fighting. There really wasn't much excitement."

"Well, I suspect one day those rumors will become true. And I also heard you two were spotted together in Skingrad. But I won't say anything more," she stopped after seeing the looks of confusion and fury. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," Martin replied, and Black Night swiftly bowed to each of them.

They looked around. S'rasha, the Khajiit, wouldn't talk to Nightshade no matter how many times she sarcastically tried to get his attention. He did, however, shake his head when she asked if he was deaf, which was a start. She left him to sulk in his bed.

Ruma had left when they past by her bunk, and it wasn't like either of them wanted to see her. She was, after all, pure evil. Nightshade told Martin all about her.

This left the Thief's Guild's member, whom was on the other side of the room. It seemed Crow and Elyon's argument had ceased and now they weren't talking. Ice, however, seemed in high spirits. "Can we please go talk to him? Please?"

"Who is he?"

"Who is he? He's one of the most famous Thieves in Morrowind and no one can prove it was him who ever did any of it!" Ice was grinning. "Come on, we have to go talk to him!"

Elyon was listening in on their short conversation. "You want to talk to him?"

"Yes!"

She got up from her bunk and motioned for them to follow her across the room.

Ashen was lying on his bed, reading a thin book without a title. He looked very relaxed and grinned at the sight of them. Ice looked rigid and scared. At first, Nightshade thought he was smiling at her, but Elyon walked past her and went to embrace him. A sudden look of shock flashed across Ice's face.

"Elyon! Wow, I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Same here! You're looking good. I'd like to introduce Martin, Ice, and Nightshade."

Martin waved. Nightshade smiled. Ice was dumbfounded.

Ashen smiled back to them. "It's an honor to finally meet the Heroes of Kvatch. I'm Ashen Black, professional thief."

"How do you two know each other?" Martin seemed puzzled.

"Do you remember Lyze? Ash is her husband," she grinned, and a booming voice rung around them.

"Our winner is Yarjok Sjord over the sniveling Farwil Indarys! Our next battle will be between Ruma and Nightshade!"

Nightshade was shaking as she walked out into the arena, gripping the hilt of her Sunderblade with her right hand. This was the exact thing she had feared for years that she had participation in such a fight.

Ruma was on the other side. She had a large staff on her back and a silver dagger on her belt. She still wore the red robes of the Mythic Dawn.

There was no way Nightshade could win this. She was weak; up to this point her victories were from luck. Ever since she killed that assassin at Weynon Priory it was all luck.

"We've just been entertained by Indarys and Sjord, but we still want some bloodshed. It's Camoran and Nightshade now!" There were cheers of boos from the crowd. "Let the fight begin!"

Nightshade was immediately hit by a strike of lightning. She stumbled back; her chest feeling like it was on fire.

Ruma didn't waste a split second. She ran, her hood in her face, and fired another shot. This time Nightshade stepped to her side with great pain and unsheathed her sword. Another strike hit her opposite shoulder, but she ran at Ruma, who was now taking out her dagger. They clashed blades; the Sunderblade was glowing more than ever.

Ruma grinned, her white teeth showing. This was a fight to the death.

"Ok, do you know where we are?"

Ice stood next to Crow in a long hallway that curved slowly to their left. There was a door every few yards, but most of them held nothing of great importance. Most of the rooms held bodies or weapons or books.

"I think we're supposed to go up, but there are no stairs in here," Ice folded his arms and continued to walk. "Gods, I hate it here."

"Well, if you were Boethia, where would you put a Daedric artifact?" Crow found a door and opened it to reveal a bunch of rotting bodies. Without great interest, he closed it. "Nothing in there."

"This is pointless. Why couldn't we take the stairs to the seats?"

"Because the seats are closed off from everyone else," they continued walking. "It's so deserted."

"Well, if you were a blood-thirsty Daedra I'm sure you wouldn't be in here either," Ice's annoyance showed. Crow frowned, but said nothing.

"Maybe they don't have stairs because they have wings." Ice's train of thought had suddenly come to a halt just like his feet. Crow, too, stopped.

They had some to the end of the hall where a door, a bit bigger than the others and made of metal, stood. It gleamed a light silver color.

"This has to be it," Ice opened it before Crow could protest.

Inside was a room filled with weapons neither of them had seen before. A mace the size of a crate lied on the floor. A shimmering shield leaned on it with the design of a screaming face. But neither of these things interested Ice.

He stared, instead, at a long sword glittering and shimmering red and orange. It rested on a horizontal stand of the opposite wall of the door and looked a little Akavari.

"Now that's more doable," Ice took it by its hilt. "Do you know what it's called?"

"That's Goldbrand," Crow looked surprised. "It's an ancient sword with great firepower. I've seen it in Morrowind once. Some mage was trying to convert it to something called Eltonbrand, which was supposed to be powerful. I guess it didn't work." He took it gently from Ice. "It's dangerous, but it just might work."

"I think we should take something else; there's no way Martin's using that to make a portal," Ice took the only thing he could carry. "Welcome Screaming Shield."

Nightshade panted and leaned on a rock near the edge of a lava pit. Ruma was behind her, laughing at her. She winced because of her bleeding shoulder and leg, which both were hit twice.

But this whole battle was puzzling Nightshade. Many times Ruma could've killed her right there, but she never took the opportunity, and sometimes it seemed like she missed on purpose. What was she doing? Why wasn't she coming for her? Why was she just laughing?

She couldn't go on. The loss of blood was getting to her head. She wished Elyon was here to heal her. She made a mental note that if she somehow got out alive, she'd ask Elyon to teach her some healing spells.

Nightshade's firepower, however, was becoming rather powerful. She had burned Ruma's face and stomach, but Ruma knew healing spells that could compete with Elyon's.

"Come on, little girl, I know what you have inside you. Come on, summon those powers."

"What powers?" she yelled back.

"Don't play stupid. You've got powers. Or maybe you're just a weakling. I bet a just hatched slaughterfish could kill you," she laughed. "Without your friends you're nothing."

"At least I have friends," she retorted. Ruma laughed again.

"You're a sniveling coward. You couldn't even kill that Owyn when he was down. Owyn was such a good father-figure, wasn't he? You didn't even learn to fight like him. But you're just as bad."

At this anger flowed through Nightshade.

"Yes, how many creatures have you killed? How many deaths did you witness and yet you felt no pity for? That's the Owyn in you; no, that's the evil you were born with."

"I am not evil!" she shot out from behind her rock and hit Ruma with the largest one-hand fireball she ever made. It hit her, square at her heart, and the force caused her to fall back on the ground.

A trail of blood followed Nightshade as she charged at Ruma and put a blade to her throat. Ruma made no attempt to flee; in fact, she hardly moved. And she laughed.

This act enraged her. "What can you possibly have to laugh about?"

"You're going to kill me. You are a monster, just like me, just like Owyn."

"Take it back!" she held the blade closer to her neck, a small drop of blood appeared.

She tried to shake her head. "How can I if this act is proving me true?"

The crowd was chanting, "Slit her throat! Slit her throat!" Nightshade was suddenly thinking about that day in the Imperial City, where Ice had snapped her out of her trance. What was wrong with her? She was no killer.

She took the blade away from Ruma's neck. She, however, sneered. "You're a coward."

"No, you're not worth killing. I still win."

"I never called forfeit," the turn was so sudden Nightshade didn't have a chance to think. Ruma had her in a similar head-lock that Nightshade had her in, except she was standing up, and the Sunderblade fell to the ground. She grinned. "I thought you'd be much more powerful, but I was wrong. You're nothing but a scared little girl." She held her tighter. "Everyone is worth killing, Nightshade; it just takes the right person to see that. If I kill you right now, I will make sure all of your pathetic friends die too, and then burn down Cloud Ruler Temple with all those soldiers, and then make sure Martin suffers so he'll plead for death."

"No!"

A ball of fire consumed both Ruma and Nightshade. Ruma was thrown back, but Nightshade was pumping with adrenaline. She no longer felt pain as she turned around, picked up her sword, and stabbed her in the stomach.

The crowd was louder than ever, but neither of them noticed. Ruma smiled. "You are evil after all. I have completed my purpose. Paradise awaits me." Blood overtook her mouth and dripped over her lips and chin, and then she moved no more.

Pain ceased Nightshade everywhere, and everything went black.

"I can't believe you."

"Hey, at least we found two Daedric artifacts."

Nightshade's head pounded. Her leg felt numb and her shoulder was on fire. Her throat felt clogged and her eyes protested opening, but they obeyed after a few seconds.

Ice was at the foot of her bed with Elyon, both looking angry again. Crow sat on his bed across from them, reading, and Martin sat next to Nightshade in a chair with a shield with an ugly face. Only he noticed her stir.

"Hi, are you feeling alright?"

"What happened?"

"It was… weird. You killed Ruma with an injured shoulder and leg. It was quite a miracle, actually, but it seemed like you weren't injured at all when you did it. Then you just fell."

"I killed her?" her voice was raspy as the memories came back. "She said she'd make you she killed everyone."

"Well, it looked like you lost control. But one of you would've died anyway; I doubt Ruma would've let you go alive."

With difficulty she pushed herself up and sat upright. Her shoulder was in a sling.

"Oh, Nightshade, thank goodness you're awake." Elyon ignored Ice's last comment and rushed to her side. "You were bleeding pretty badly out there. I'm surprised you even survived. But I'm glad," she beamed. "Your arm and leg will heal, don't worry, in about a day or two, perhaps overnight, but there will be pain, so I suggest you stay in bed. No more fighting for you."

"Who's fighting now?"

"Black Night and the Khajiit."

"Where did that come from?" she pointed to the shield.

"Ice and Crow found it while looking for something to kill Boethia with."

"And we found our ultimate weapon," Ice bounded over. He held a gold sword with a slight Akavari style and the reddish-gold tint of fire. It was the most beautiful weapon Nightshade had ever seen.

"It's called Goldbrand," Elyon looked at it with disgust.

"Wow…" Nightshade touched it with her good arm. Her skin tingled at the blade with warmth.

"Careful. Jauffre said no handling Daedric stuff, remember?" Ice teased her. "We took the shield for Martin to use for the portal."

"So now all we need to do is get out of here."

"Yeah, but the only way out is to win, and I doubt Boethia will let us leave with his stuff." Martin thought. "What happened to Farwil?"

No one knew because none of them had been watching that fight. So they looked for the Nord that had been fighting him: Yarjok Sjord.

Elyon, being friendly, went to go and ask him. They talked for a few minutes and she came back.

"Well?" Ice asked.

"He said that Farwil was teleported back through a similar portal we used to get in. He also said Farwil was unconscious at the time."

"We should make a portal out of here," Martin thought aloud. Crow, who was listening, frowned. "Oh yeah, and then what? Do you think he'll just forget the whole matter and let us go?" He snorted. "We should just stay here and fight our way out."

"I don't know. Don't you think he'll notice his stuff is gone either way?" Nightshade sighed. "There's only one way."

"What?" Ice sneered.

"Ask him if we can take it."

"Are you mad? He'll skin us alive."

"Well, I'll ask if I can take it."

"It's worth a shot," Crow got up. "I'll come with you."

"No, she's staying in bed," Elyon retorted. He frowned, but Martin got up. "I'll go instead."

Crow nodded and they both left, leaving Ice, Nightshade, and Elyon alone. But Nightshade noticed that Ashen waved, his bunk nearest to the door, and only Martin returned the gesture. Crow instead looked as if he didn't see him and kept his head down. This puzzled her, so she asked Elyon about it.

"You remember how I told you Crow's love died? Well, he's the father of her and Lyze's husband. But don't tell anyone; only Mages Guild and Thieves Guild members know that, and Crow."

"Oh. But why is he avoiding him?"

At this she frowned. "Ashen and Lyze never knew him. Every letter Sayura sent them was destroyed before they reached the mainland. They never knew she was in love."

A strange silence hung in the room. Even Ice didn't say anything. But Elyon broke it. "Well, I'll leave you to rest."

"Wait, Elyon."

"Yes?"

"Can you teach me some healing spells when this is all over?"

"Sure."

Nightshade awoke to hear footsteps come down the stairs leading to the stadium. She hadn't been asleep long.

"So, what did he say?" Ice had been sitting in the chair next to Nightshade. Practicing his spells.

"Well, your plan to kill Boethia with the Goldbrand has been thwarted. He took both of the artifacts, but they're the prize for the winner now," Martin sat on Nightshade's bed. "He mentioned that after S'rasha and Black Night are done fighting, there will be no more one-on-ones."

"Geese, he changes his mind a lot," Ice interrupted.

"I can't believe they're still fighting," Elyon's stomach growled. "Well, I hope we have dinner before that."

"No, no dinner," Martin sighed. And then the announcer's voice came into the room.

"Every mortal left is to report to the stadium right now."

With groans they all got up and walked, or in Nightshade's case, wobbled, to the stadium. Elyon shook her head. "You can't fight like this."

"I thought healing potions were supposed to work fast," she complained.

Black Night was already standing out there, blood on her face and armor. She turned to see them come through.

"Did you kill him?" Elyon asked. She shook her head. "He forfeited at the last minute."

"Now, for the blood-thirsty brawl, folks. We know we said one-on-ones before, but Boethia has changed his mind! The last person standing in this brawl is the winner and will receive the prizes!" A loud cheer erupted. "Let the brawl begin!"

Dalkai Laneth was the first to attack Nightshade, taking advantage of her wounds. Nightshade brandished her sword in a block Crow had taught her. Black Night attacked the closest person, which was Elyon, and Yarjok was in battle with Ashen, who seemed to be enjoying himself. This left Crow, Ice, and Martin in a confused three-way battle, until Martin said, "Wait, why don't we help everyone else?"

Ice went to help Ashen while Crow went to Elyon. Martin helped Nightshade. Boethia didn't say anything; he didn't care; that was war.

Dalkai was the first to forfeit when Martin cornered her near a pit of lava. She instantly disappeared.

Black Night and Yarjok teamed up, causing Ice to be next; he had a scratch below his eye that was bleeding. But they, too, forfeited, which left Ashen to fight Crow and Elyon with Nightshade and Martin.

"This is just like playing war when you're a kid," Elyon was having fun dodging blades and spells. Crow got Martin, who was having fun too. No one was really trying to hurt the other now.

Ashen was next to leave by Elyon, which left Nightshade who was too tired to go on. She hadn't really been fighting anyway.

And then she was back at the shrine, lying flat on her back. She opened her eyes and turned to see Ice wake up too.

"That was awesome," he breathed, and then just lied there.

She turned and saw Elyon get up and heal herself, a small smile on her face. "That was good practice, but Boethia didn't sound very happy when we weren't really fighting anymore. I guess we're immune to each other."

Crow, too, stood up, and in his hands were the Goldbrand and the Screaming Shield. "We should head back to Cloud Ruler Temple now. Does anyone want this?"

"I do!"

Nightshade, now miraculously fully healed, took the Goldbrand from him, a look of pure wonder in her eyes. He smiled. "I had a feeling you would. I like the sword I have now."

"I only work with my hands," Elyon said. "Ice, get up, let's go."

All of them were fully healed, even Ice, and Nightshade could've sworn it was just a dream if they didn't have those artifacts. And she forgot all about Ruma and her death as they walked back with a happy Richu and Silver, and forgot there was a crisis afoot. No, now it was just her and her friends walking home.