The Fall of Shadows

Chapter 5: Renna

The air is hot as I pull myself out of bed. The Combs typically have good filtration, but sometimes during heat waves temperature control gets forgotten about. I swing my legs out of the bed and stretch.

Good luck tomorrow. The words replay over and over in my head. I meander my way over to my dresser and pull on my uniform. Armor will go on after breakfast, before the Trife. For now, I opt for black shorts and a fitted black tee shirt. My usual pants and long-sleeve being left behind due to the oppressive heat.

Before leaving I check my reflection in the mirror next to my door. Oof. I've been told many times I'm not a pretty sleeper, but this one takes the cake. My eyes are puffy, my hair sticks in all different directions–and I reek of the grunge that coats the Combs. No matter, Eenick's assistants will fix me up. I head down to breakfast.

I don't eat much at breakfast. I never do. Especially on Trife mornings–not out of nervousness, I know I'll survive. It's just the unknowing of how long I'll last that throws me off. I opt for an apple and take a seat across from Ep. She smiles–her auburn hair lightly curled at her shoulders. She's wearing dark red pants and a matching dark red tunic–too nice for a Trife.

"No Trife today?" I ask, smiling slightly, taking a chunk out of my apple.

"Unfortunately I'm still on probation," her smile falters, but I know she's probably glad she doesn't have to fight today, especially in the heat. "Kela says my buyers are still worried about how the public perceives me," Ep rolls her eyes, "hence the new outfit."

I nod, "What about the hair?"

"Oh this?" She gestures to the coils hanging at her shoulders, "Since I'm not fighting today Kela made me get up extra early to get ready, so that I wouldn't get in the way of the 'actual fighters prep'," she uses air quotes in the last sentence and I let out a loose laugh.

"Speaking of," she pauses, glancing at me up and down, "Don't you have to go soon?"

"Trying to get rid of me so easily?" I throw back, she laughs. A pang lurches in my chest. I feel Eenick's presence hanging over me. I hear him yelling at me. My smile falls and I spring up, a little too abruptly. Eenick will be expecting me at the Prep deck soon. I start to walk away–leaving the half-eaten apple at the worn down table.

"Hey Renna," I turned my head back around to see Ep, her full smile replaced by a serious look, "I heard about your events today–and I just wanted to wish you good luck. If anyone can handle what the Trife throws at them, it's you."

I pause and give her a small smile. My heart filling with gratitude, my eyes threaten to spill over at the sentiment, "Thank you," I say quietly. Ep beams and nods her head, more people are filing into the dining hall and I really need to get going. I walk quickly. Out the hall and through the halls of the Combs. Do not cry. The sentence that plays over and over as I walk–the hot air of the Combs eating my tears away.

Eventually I reach the prep deck for Eenick's fighters. I take a deep breath, composing myself for the team. As I go to lift my hand to knock the door swings open, and I'm greeted with two smiling faces. The faces I've looked at since I was 12 years old.

"Right on time!" Vita and Arick grin as I stride in attempting to radiate confidence as if I didn't just hold back a waterfall of tears coming here.

"I try," I give a proud smile, and allow myself to be fully swept into Vita and Arick's stylistic plans.

An hour later I'm standing in front of the armor rack. My face has been generously de-puffed with an ice-treatment by Vita and Arick has done my hair into two long braids, starting at my hairline and ending hanging at my mid-back. Brown kohl lines my eyes and gives them an intensity that makes me uncomfortable, even just looking in a mirror. My lips have been brushed with just a hint of red– "To remind the audience that you're out for blood," Vita had said, "But not too much blood."

The underclothes I came in have been removed–and I'm now wearing a kilt-like skirt made of a light fabric to help filter the heat, and a corset that will allow the armor to sit closer to my skin.

"What set are you thinking of?" Arick says, standing beside me. Usually I would go for my bronze breastplate and matching thigh and shin guards. But today isn't my usual fight. Alep won't be difficult. But the animal. Gods–what could that even be? I shudder. Then the third duel? They won't even tell me who my opponent is for that. Literally how should I prepare for this?

I scan the armor that lines the wall. "Mehlar loves you." That's what Eenick had said. Audience support is what's keeping me around–keeping my buyers from selling me to the nearest brothel. My eye catches on a set of armor at the end of the hall–it's pure white. With gold armbands and leg bands to contrast–the Lathinian colors, minus the red. I walk over to it.

"This one," I breathe.

"I think that's an excellent choice," Arick offers a subtle smile in agreement.

He lifts the top-half of the armor off the wall and slides it over my head, careful to not mess up my hair. It covers my front and back perfectly, the shoulders of the top half of my armor taper slightly up, and its top stays on through gold clasps on the sides–connecting the front and back. Next is the skirt–if that is the word. It's made of alternating white and gold metal feathers that go down to my mid–thigh. Since the top half of my armor leaves my arms bare, gold armlets are placed on my upper and lower arms, and are engraved with violent images of war. Gold guards are also wrapped around my shins reaching down to the given pair of white combat boots–which seems haven't yet been broken in yet due to the constant rubbing of the back against my heel.

Now it's time for my weapon. A smile grows on my face as I examine the weaponry wall, filled to the brim with anything a fighter could want: swords, maces, axes. My eyes settle onto an axe wedged in-between two long-swords. It has an arms-length gold handle, and is topped with a curved steel blade.

"It matches your armor," Vita says, coming around the corner from where she was washing the make-up tools.

I smile–lifting the axe, it's balanced, and although it's not my usual double-sword, I think standing out in this Trife will be in my best interest. 

"Perfect."