Elemental Witch: Child of the Earth (Part I)

Scar Tissue

Shelby leaned easily against the arena fence, feeling the sun burning away what was left of the uncertainty from the day before. He had slept well that night, the smell of a freshly washed earth, a good meal and a salvaged ending to what could have been the end of all their hopes had soothed his worries and lifted his mood by the time dawn broke. 

He listened to the young Lord Connaugh talk excitedly about the match to come and caught the man by the shoulders, holding him fast as Verana walked by them and into the arena. She was looking more distracted than he had ever seen her. Shelby wasn't even certain if she noticed the two of them and he didn't think she would do well with whatever Connaugh looked ready to say to her.

"Shh, pup. Learn to read the situation, now is not the time to distract her." Shelby murmured softly as Connaugh looked at him in askance. "You're in danger of looking smitten, you realize that, right?"

The man blushed and shook his head but stayed silently where he was though he straightened his shoulders as he watched Sencha walk by. The Fey barely glanced at them as he climbed easily into the arena behind Verana. Shelby frowned for a moment, shifting away from Connaugh and leaning over to speak to Sencha before the man turned further into the ring. "Are you actually going to fight her?"

Sencha gave him an odd look, searching his eyes in confusion before inclining his head. "Yes. It is part of her journey. I could give her the easy way, but it would stunt what she is to become. But... no matter what you see, do not think it is easy for me."

Shelby thought about that for a moment and then nodded, pitching his voice even lower. "She's your daughter, isn't she? I see you in her eyes. Her smile." 

Sencha hissed in a breath and bared his teeth, giving him a forbidding look before glancing over his shoulder. He took the time to look to Verana, who was oblivious to their conversation as she went through a slow dance across the arena floor. "You don't know how painful that question is, Lord Shelby."

"I think I do." Shelby murmured softly and offered the other man a nod, "I understand or I'm beginning to. Or maybe I don't, but I understand what you mean by today. You're a stronger man than I am."

Sencha was still as he though about Shelby's word, before nodding to him. "Let us hope not, Sword Keeper." It was not a reassuring sentiment, leaving Shelby to wonder if the man knew more of what was to come than the vague warnings Verana gave. 

And with that, Sencha turned and walked into the ring, drawing his curved blades and ushering silence into the gathering crowds. Shelby felt a shiver of anticipation falling over himself, barely daring to speak a greeting to Benchan and Lord Felix as they lined up beside him to watch. 

There was a hitch in his throat as both the fighters offered the Feyshan salute to the King, their blades ringing beautifully through the silent air and words ringing out musically, like song. Turning as one, they faced one another and saluted once another, their words softer, more intimate. Before the horn sounded, they tapped their blades back and forth three times, like children playing a game of give and take.

 And then they each fell into their own stance, different but bearing some resemblance to one another. The two fighters faced off in a stillness that seemed to stretch across time and space. He could see Sencha's influence in Verana's style but she had changed it and made it work for herself. For she was Feysha but more; different but Feysha, according to Sencha and Shaktay. As cryptic as those words were, he was learning to see what was meant by them, seeing the two of them pitted against one another.

Before the horn had finished ringing out through the air, the fight started. It erupted across the arena  viciously. The movements quick, with no testing period, no slow introduction into the fight as the Feysha had allowed their human opponents throughout the tournament. These were two fighters that knew one another quite well and this was a dance they had gone through many times before.

 Sencha was quick, almost impossibly so, faster than Verana though even her movements were hard to pick apart. Shelby saw their bodies moving, heard the whistling of the air and the clanging of the blades and couldn't shake the feeling that if he focused just a little more, he could pick out the movements and see the pattern. Try as he might, however, he never could grasp a single movement solidly, feeling them stay just beyond his reach. But he knew instinctively that there was a pattern there, somewhere.

And that was where Sencha and Verana differed, even with that unknown, Shelby could see the two forms contrast. Sencha had a pattern, a form of fighting that was ordered, beautiful, and set. Verana danced wildly, as if she were the wind itself, impossible to predict, shifting on a whim, leaving you breathless and disappearing just when you thought you knew exactly where she was or should be. 

 They were two styles that should not move so easily with one another but they did. And neither one of them gave the other any quarter, both were thrown, punched, cut. Various times it looked like one or the other had the other one down and out, most notably Sencha ruthlessly planting his foot under Verana's chin and sending her flying backwards nearly head over heels. She landed roughly on her stomach, spitting blood and dirt and only narrowly missed his follow on attack. She rolled to her back then up to her feet and scrambling back on her heels, accepting several more rough hits before she caught the momentum and turned it back around on him, launching into her own offensive, sending Sencha pedalling backwards.

Back and forth they went like that, as the sun sailed higher into the sky, their quick movements kicking dust into the air and spraying blood into the trampled dirt. Shelby swallowed uneasily as he continued to watch the fight, wincing with each punishing blow landed. Sencha didn't hold back in the least though neither did Verana who seemed to fight with a fervour, a ferocity that had possessed her.

 He saw what this was, a chance for the Feysha to show case how fierce they could really be in battle, unleashing their full selves without fear of harming their opponent or breaking the peace they respected as King's law. He heard Lord Felix mutter about being able to conquer the entire world with a couple hundred such fighters, barely able to pull his eyes away from the fight long enough to look to the man and respond. The realization hit him then, that Humans were partially responsible for creating these vicious warriors, having armed and taught them sword fighting all those centuries ago, drawing the primal violence out of those that were drawn to it.

There was a hiss from the crowd and Shelby looked back to the fight in time to see Verana flip onto her back with the force of what must have been another kick to the face from Sencha, who followed her with a foot to her throat, pressing down hard enough that it was clear Verana wasn't able to breathe. She still had her blades in her hands and by blocking his swords, proved that she was still conscious, leaving the fight undecided until Verana yielded or dropped her weapons.

"He's going to kill her." Benchan said suddenly, only hampered from climbing into the arena by Shelby, hauling him down off the fence. "My lord, he's going to kill her!"

Sencha yelled something down at Verana, loud enough to echo through the arena, though it was in Feyshan, his blade held against hers as he held his foot on her throat.

"He's telling her to get up." Shaktay, was beside them then, placing a hand on Benchan's shoulder, holding firm. "He's telling her get up or.." 

But the Feysha didn't continue the translation, shifting to lean on the fence with a flash of pain. "We can not interfere. This has been seen by the Council. Either she does or she doesn't."