Chapter 14
Clarke sat on the bench. Her armor was already on. She could hear the crowds cheering and hollaring for their favorite fighters. She realized as she entered into the bowels of the Pits that some of these warriors fought for pride and fame, and if they won they were handsomely rewarded for it. Others were criminals and rebels that Nia had thrown in the Pits to see what they were made of. Clarke didn't think that the woman would have had a problem throwing them to literal wolves out on the Ice Fields, but she believed in a show. This way they were dealt with and the spectacle made others think twice before defying her.
She was in a room by herself. Echo had taken her in and made sure that her armor was all in place before she had to leave. The last words that she could give Clarke were to keep her head up, be proud of herself, and select the best weapon that she could from those offered before she entered the ring. Echo didn't seemed worried for her and that helped Clarke's trepidation some, but not all.
No longer able to keep still, Clarke got up and began to pace in the cell she was in. It was rock and ice. It was smaller than her room in the palace, but it was about the same size as her cell in the Skybox. And, after being on Earth for five months, it was a little claustrophobic for her. The pacing was helping her ease her mind. She didn't realize that she'd started stretching to make sure that she would have full range of movement and that she was as limber as she could be in her armor. It was also to keep herself warm.
While the weather was improving, it was still bitterly cold out. She didn't have on much under the armor. The blue leather under armor was tight to her body, helping to keep what body heat that she was producing closer to her under the armor itself. Other than that, she had no other furs to keep herself warm. She wasn't really layer to be still and not fighting. It didn't matter, though, she still had to wait her turn. The Pits were were still covered in ice, but she hoped for the sun and not a completely overcast day. In all honesty, she wanted to see something other than snow and ice.
Cheering erupted again. She figured that one of the Gladiators of the Pits had won their match. They must have been a fan favorite by the noise. She was glad that they had fought well enough to fight another day. And, then she wondered if those warriors that chose to fight in the Pits could ever retire, or did they just fight for Nia there until they had no more blood to spill for her entertainment, disguised as for her honor. She turned to look out the the bars of her cell towards the loud din and could see nothing. Hearing the shouts only made it all the more real for her.
She was so wrapped up in her head that she didn't hear the cell door open. She knew that Echo would berate her for it later, because the spy had trained her better than that. And, honestly, Clarke wasn't proud that Ontari got into the cell without her noticing before the dark haired Night Blood was in her face.
"Why are you here?" Ontari demanded.
"Because Kwin Nia wants to fight," Clarke replied.
She knew it wasn't the answer that Ontari was going for, but she wasn't sure that she had an answer that she would like no matter what she said. The other woman got in her face. Clarke could see the flecks of warm mahogany in her dark coffee colored eyes. Ontari was just slightly smaller that Clarke, but that didn't mean that her ego wasn't twenty times larger. What Ontari didn't have in stature, she had in bravdo and fighting ability. Clarke knew that Ontari could slay her in three moves if she wanted. The question was: why hadn't she?
Ontari balled her fist as she circled Clarke. The blonde woman was very much aware of where Ontari was as she moved, but she didn't let Ontari know that she was both intrigued and frightened by her presence. Clarke knew that she should provoke, so she opted to stay still and follow Ontari's movements with her eyes. She had nothing to defend herself with besides her body. She could already see at least three knives. She knew though, if she was to go for any of them, Ontari would punish her. It didn't matter that she was going to be going into the Pits. Ontari would see her fighting injured as a real test.
"Your armor is good," Ontari said as she reached up and grabbed the pauldron on her right shoulder.
"I am thankful that Nia allows to me to have it and wear it," Clarke replied, hoping that her stating that she was at the mercy of Nia would help her somehow.
"I don't understand why. She wants you to bleed. She wants you to die, so that she can have your power."
"She wants the power of Wanheda. That is true, Ontari, but she knows the law. She can't strike down a natblida without true cause. And, since I haven't broken any laws of Azgeda or the Kongeda, she can't explain my execution. She needs my legend in order to help you take down Heda Leksa."
"Well, I don't."
"I never said that you did, Ontari. I know that you are good fighter. I am sure that Nia knows it as well. Why else would she keep you so closer to her?"
"Because I am the best she has in her armies," Ontari hissed at her.
"But, is that the only reason?" Clarke quipped back in question.
She knew it was the wrong thing to say. But she hoped that if she continued to say it, one day, Ontari would actually hear it. Today might not be that day, but she was nurturing and planting the seeds of doubt and hope in Ontari every chance that she could. Her body paid for it somedays, but Clarke couldn't find a reason to care. The more she could make Ontari doubt Nia's true reasons, the more she could try to sway Ontari to her own line of thinking.
"I am also one of her royal guards," Ontari replied as she stared deeply into Clarke's eyes.
Clarke saw it, though. It was brief and only there for a milisecond. Ontari was starting to doubt Nia. If she had to take daily beatings to keep feeding that doubt, Clarke would do it without reservation. The more she watched Ontari, the more she learned about it.
"Do you know why I hate Leksa so much?"
"Because Nia taught you to?" Clarke inquired.
"Because she took my family from me. She lead the armies of Trikru against my village and burned it to the ground. She killed my family, but somehow I was spared. I will have my vengeance against her. I will kill her and wipe her family from the Earth."
"She has no family save the Natblida that shares her blood. Her family is long gone. Dead from the wars between the clans. And, Nia took her only lover, tortured her, cut off her head, and sent back to Leksa without the body, knowing that the Trikru believed her soul would be trapped for all eternity. Leksa would never have her back in another life. Nia did all that, and Leksa still didn't raise a sword against her. Instead, she welcomed Azgeda into the fold of the Kongeda and started trade agreements with the other eleven clans in Azgeda's favor."
"That doesn't matter when Leksa has my family's blood on her hands," Ontari countered.
And, that is when Clarke saw it. There was her break. The one flaw in all of Nia's careful planning. A wound that Nia purposefully let fester and not truly scab over so that she could control Ontari from the start. It made Clarke wonder at what age was Ontari taken in and the brainwashing began.
"How old were you when your family was killed, Ontari?"
"What does it matter?"
"How old are you now?" Clarke inquired.
"Not that it matters, but I am just now nineteen winters. Why? What does that prove?"
"Leksa is barely twenty-two summers, Ontari. She took the mantle of Heda at twelve. She's been in power for roughly six winters. She was in Polis training with Titus and the rest of the Fleimkepas from the time she was three summers and was found out to be a natblida. If she fought in any battles against Azgeda it was that the previous Heda's permission and because it was deemed warranted. So, I'll ask you again, how old were you when Leksa attacked your village and Nia came swooping in to save the day? If you were still a child, so was Leksa. And, she would have been in the safety of Polis being trained. There is no way that she would have been leading troups at such a young age against Azgeda," Clarke explained.
She saw the fury building in Ontari's eyes. She wasn't sure if it was directed at herself or at Nia at this point, but it didn't matter. She'd planted that seed so deep into Ontari that her brain was about to explode. She really wasn't trying to sway the girl to join their cause. She knew that Ontari was too far gone for that in her brainwashing by not on Nia but all the generals of Azgeda. She just wanted her to think and put the pieces together to see the whole picture of what Nia was actually doing. She wasn't the best warrior that Nia had, but she was the only natblida...until Clarke showed up and was also Wanheda.
Ontari stepped back. Her eyes squinted as she tried to make Clarke back down. She didn't. Clarke stood her ground, knowing the truth was hurting the other woman. She had a right to know. Clarke made a mental note to tell Echo about this little exchange after the fight. Nothing good could come from it, but she would rather be proactive than be caught off guard should Ontari come to them trying to press some issue with it.
"Nia knows what she is doing, Klark kom Skaikru. She knows that you really aren't the legendary Wanheda. It is your blood that keeps you alive now," Ontari told her as she backed away from Clarke and back to the cell door. "She's picked out your opponent especially for you. He has become one of her favorites."
There was a sinister way about the way Ontari spoke about the person she was going to fight. Clarke knew that Ontari knew something about the fighter that would either be bad for Clarke or bad for Echo. She wasn't sure how sadistic Nia really was. She knew that hurting Echo wouldn't really affect Clarke as much as if it was something that would hurt Clarke. Whatever it was, Clarke knew that she was in for a surprise regardless. She didn't know who she was going to fight, but she could tell that it was someone that Nia prized. It didn't matter the reason, but Clarke was going to have to fight them and win.
Clarke knew that she couldn't dwell on it though. She needed to focused. She thought back to what Echo had told her earlier that morning. She needed to find the best weapon out of those provided. She had wondered what it meant, but she knew that she was about to find out. She couldn't stay in the cell and she couldn't hide. Nia would send for her and then find a way to publicly execute, blood or not.
Finally, it was time. A large guard in height, not breadth and width, came to fetch her. He bore the white furs and armors of a royal guard. She'd come to recognize their armor above all the rest. She knew that this meant Nia wasn't just going to make a spectacle about her, she was guaranteeing it. Nia was going to use this fight to prove a point to those in Troi. She wanted the word to get out. She wanted Lexa to find out, because she wanted Lexa to come to Azgeda for Clarke. It was all a deadly ploy and Clarke was sick of it. Another reason that it was a royal guard was because of their loyalty to Nia. She couldn't let any harm come to Clarke before she fought in the Pits. And, her royal guard would make sure that no one harmed Clarke before it was time.
She followed the guard to another room. It was colder there. The shouts were louder, and she could tell that they were closer to the actual arena part of the Pits. She felt her heart beating faster and her adrenaline start to spike. She knew that her eyes had to be dialated as she tried to take in everything around her. Before she could get too far into her head and forget that she was supposed to be gearing up to fight, the guard pushed her towards a table near another door. It was then that she realized that just beyond that next door was the Pits.
There was no turning back now. She either fought or she got severely hurt. Looking down at the table she saw a pile of weapons. This is what Echo meant. Find the best and use it. Echo was warning her that they wouldn't be great, but they would serve their purpose of maiming and death.
She was a fresh fighter. And, while she preferred her bow, she knew that it wouldn't help in the arena. It was why she'd forced Echo to train her harder with a sword. She wasn't the best at it, but she was proficient enough. She was better with daggers and knives. Clarke just chalked that up to being a med student. She had to be good with her hands and a scalpel. A knife was just bigger.
Turning back to look at the guard, she inquired, "How many am I allowed?"
"Two large weapons and one small, if you wish," he replied.
She looked him over, studying him. Clarke could only wonder if he volunteered to be her escort today or if he was ordered. As she looked him over, she thought about Echo and what weapons she should select.
She tried several swords before selecting a medium sized one. It reminded her of the training one that she'd used, but it was definitely sharper. Putting into the sheath on her back, she went back to the table. She didn't want an ax. They were pick and clumsy. She needed something that would keep her agile and moving. She thought about a spear, but they hadn't practiced with it that much. Instead, Clarke picked up a short staff. It was shorter than she was, but she knew that she could use it for defensive purposes. If she could defend herself with a bow, then she could use this staff to do the same thing. It wasn't ideal, but it was what she had to work with.
At the far end of the table were a selection of knives. They ranged from small boot knives to long dueling blades. She wanted something that was long, but not too long, that she could use as a parrying weapon. She was strong with her left hand, but she would do most of her striking with her right. She needed something that would complement her sword fighting technique. And, then she saw it. There was a dagger that was almost as long as her arm.
It was beautiful in its own way. It had what looked like a custom inlay handle. There were alternating black and blue sections of wood in it. On the end of the pummel was fixed a shaped piece of blue lake glass. The grip was roughened up to help the user maintain it during a battle. The blade was black, like most of the Grounder blades, and it was sharp. It was sharper than the sword. She held it up closer to her eye to study it more.
Behind the blade, she could see the guard smile. She wondered why until she saw it. Carved into the blade, near the cross-guard, was a small "icy swirl." When she turned it over, she noticed the triquetra. This blade had been made for her and put there on purpose. So, of course, she was going to take it.
She put it on her left hip, ready to cross draw as needed. She wanted to hide a little boot knife, but she knew that she was being watched. And, even though the guard had smiled at her, she saw nothing to tell her that he was on her side of things. And, she was still looking.
She figured the more people that she could identify by those symbols, the better off she might actually be. She had no reservations that she wasn't going to get hurt. She knew she was. It was one of the first things that Anya and Lexa had taught her a few lives ago. You will get hurt in a knife fight. Be ready and work through the pain. She hadn't had a choice. Echo had pushed and pushed her through the pain, the bruising, and all of her wounds. Clarke gave him a quick smile as she neared closer to the door.
He smiled back at her, standing beside her. She could hear some sort of announcements taking place, but she could't really make out what they were saying. It didn't matter. She knew that she was next. She didn't care how they introduced her. She was about to show them who she could be as Wanheda.
"He fights dirty, Wanheda," the guard told her and he grabbed her right arm with his left. "Keep this hidden until you need it. Ani Erie said that it would protect you. Onka Huron made a slot for it."
Clarke just watched as he slid a small blade like sliver of metal down the inside of her vambrace. She heard it click into place. Huron had indeed made it for her. She knew that it was on her right side as a last ditch effort weapon. It could stay hidden there like an assassin's blade. And, then, she realized that Echo was the reason that she had it. It was there for her to either end her life or whoever's she was fighting. It was hidden, so the surprise element of it would be in her favor. She hoped that she wouldn't have to use it as she watched the guard tighten the leather laces of her vambrace.
"Wanheda," he simply said when he was done and nodded.
She watched as he opened the door and light flooded her vision. The white of the snow and ice blinded her for a second with the harshness of the late winter/early spring sun. She stepped out into the arena carefully, already aware and ready. Her left hand went to her back to the sword as she continued to cautiously step further into the Pit. She spun around just once to see it all. She kept the staff on her right. As she took it all in one more time, she let go of her sword and gripped the staff tighter.
People were lined up around and looking down at her. She knew that she must be a sight with her armor and braided hair. The people were chanting, but she knew that it wasn't for her yet. She was still unproven. A few braids in her hair, new armor, a staff, and a just-better-than-a-training sword wasn't going to convince them either. She would have to prove it.
She felt another spike of adrenaline coursing through her body as the doors opened on the other side of the arena and another fighter stepped out. He wasn't that tall, but he seemed solid, rigid. He might not be slow, but Clarke knew that she was going to have to be faster.
She took up a position, ready to fight, but didn't draw a weapon. She wanted to see what this other warrior was going to do first. He stepped into the middle of the ring. He raised the spear that he was carrying. He pointed it to the ground and bowed his head in deference to Kwin Nia as she sat up in what must be the royal box. He raised his head and then the spear before chanting for all to hear him.
"For the Glory of Azgeda and Kwin Nia, I fight!"
Clarke cocked her head. The voice was familiar. When Nia turned to her waiting for her own salutation, Clarke shook her head and raised the staff instead.
Nia looked angry, but Clarke wasn't about to bow to her, in any manner. She'd already proven that in the throne room. Now, doing it publicly, it was more than a slight. It was like she was giving Nia the middle finger, if any of the Grounders understood that gesture. She smiled up at the older blonde, still refusing to acknowledge that Nia was her "better" in any way.
"You may begin," Nia called out, eyes still locked on Clarke.
The phrase took Clarke back to her watching the fight between Lexa and Roan. Titus was the last one, and the only one that she'd ever heard use that phrase. The memory overtook her for a second and allowed the other fighter to get too close. She realized too late what she'd done as she took a shot to the body.
Turning to face her opponent, Clarke squared up to him. She could tell that he was a dark man and his eyes were wild. His face was covered with a mask of sorts, but it didn't stop him from trying to Clarke's head off with his spear. She turned into him and dodged the strike. She returned one of her own and managed to catch him just under the chin causing his mask to fly up and off back behind him and onto the arena floor.
When her eyes finally took in the man before her, her body recoiled. She couldn't believe that it was him. How had this happened in this lifetime? she thought. Moving back, she hoped that her eyes were deceiving her and it really wasn't him. She didn't hate the man, but she didn't like him, either. It didn't really matter what she thought. He didn't deserve whatever happened to him in Azgeda, but now, she knew that he would never escape it.
"Pike?" she questioned as his eyes met hers and recognition was had on both sides.
