Collaterals

So Very Hot

Trigger warning: violence and gore.

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The sun was harsher today, beating onto my bare arms so that I could not help but wonder just how tanned they now were.

The Empress would not be happy. That is, if ever I saw her again.

The heat proved intense enough that by noon, I'd glanced repeatedly to the glinting metal cuffs on my forearms to confirm that the rise of my internal temperature was in no way resultant of my own fire. The cuffs, Haitham had explained, were necessary to even the grounds of the duels. Haitham did not wield fire, and so, as his champion, I too would not wield it.

It was a lucky thing, then, that the air, dust-riddled as it was, had come from behind me to tickle the nape of my neck, catch onto the stray strands of my braid, and flick away at the sweat sitting heavily on my upper lip. Not for the first time this afternoon, I wiped my sweaty palms on the sides of my pants, running the fabric of my shirt around the hilt of my sword.

This time, however, when my hands gripped the leathered hilt, they did not push the sword into the ground for support. Instead, they lifted the broadsword up as I leveled myself evenly on two feet, grateful Khaled had tied my wound with enough vigor that I could not feel its pulsating pain.

Yes, it was lucky enough the air blew from behind me, otherwise the dust would've fluttered through my lashes, making it most inconvenient for my eyes as they settled on the man ahead of me.

He was large man, towering high enough above me that I had to look up to meet his eyes as I swallowed against the dryness of my mouth. He donned no brooch, no family crest embroidered on his shirt, which could only leave me to believe that he was of no noble standing. 

Good, his death would be inconsequential. 

The thought came uninvited, leaving me dumbfounded as I blinked it away anxiously. The moment of hesitation meant that he'd had time to take a step forward, and then the shuffle of our feet was prompting dust into the air. 

My sword was quick as I angled it above me, blocking his barreling blow. Only I hadn't expected just how heavy the hit would be, the clang of metal reverberating through my wrist and down my forearm as I stiffened my hold, teeth grit through a soundless grunt. What I hadn't expected, though, was his attempt at conversation.

"Hello, Princess."

One would think the pretense of our fighting to the death would have me forgive his spittle. It didn't. 

I angled my wrist just so as I took an ever so slight step to the side, allowing his full force to have his blade slide through mine before I moved further away. He grunted, stumbled forward, and pushed his torso wide open as he turned to face me once more.

The Large Man frowned as he took a few steps forward, "I liked your brother. Shame what happened. Even thought you were somehow involved."

I'd not had to put up with this with the others. What point was there in making conversation when one of us would end up dead on the ground?

"But then you abdicated..." His brows rose as I took brisk steps forward, sliding to his side and aiming into his abdomen. 

I didn't come close enough, his sword clanging against mine and redirecting my blows so I was on the defense again. It took little time for me to fall out of breath, glancing at the terrain behind me in hope that I could somehow step out his line of attack, find an opening so that—

My breath stole out of me once my back hit the hard ground, the world a blur as, for a moment, I gasped for breath. It took a moment for my sight to be more than a sac of grain, and by then a blade was hurtling toward me, someone shouting my name from the gathered crowds. In a moment I'd turned, the man's blade striking into the ground. 

Lucky, I decided. I was lucky enough to not have my brains split open, but not lucky enough to have kept my blade in hand, a realization I came to as I scrambled away on both hands and knees. I didn't get very far, the man grabbing my ankle and pulling me towards him.

"And then I heard your brother was hiding behind your skirts!" he howled.

I don't know why he hadn't used the moment to slit my throat open, why he hadn't struck his blade through my shoulder when I'd been down on the ground. I knew only that it was his mistake, and that my foot was quite horrid as it struck into his skull. He shouted, letting go of my ankle instinctively as he stumbled back a good few steps. 

In a moment I'd lunged for my sword, bending down to pick it up. This time, the mistake was mine.

Never turn your back on your opponent, the very first lesson I'd ever learned.  

And here I was, my entire right torso exposed, my face turned away from him, as I reached for my sword.

I felt his blade, a sharp line of fire that bit through skin and muscle with a scratching grind that had me know his blade had found bone. I felt it all, precisely. That pain took but a second, before it exploded through my torso; a tearing pain, one burning into me so that I could only scream out soundlessly as I looked to the heavens. My side, just where my ribs kissed my abdomen; he'd torn at it, and I'd not known such a terrible pain before. 

Specs of black floated through my vision, a cold sweat breaking down my back as I gagged, my stomach a churning mess. For a moment it mattered little that I did not know where he was, why he had not struck. It did not matter that the hardened ground had found way into my mouth as I breathed in the earth. It did not even matter that I'd collapsed entirely, unable to so much as push myself forward. 

I was going to die, I realized.

Face down on the ground, I was going to die.

My family's name would die with me, Haitham dethroned and...would they come for little Boody? Would I be buried as Princess or Hand? And Ali...had he felt this pain when the blade had struck through his chest?

All useless questions, rushing through me as I fisted my hand onto the ground in pain.

But no, he'd not allow for the courtesy of a quick death.

Instead he clutched my shoulder, turning me around before holding my other shoulder and shaking me. My neck was taught, face cringed in pain as tears fell down the corners of my eyes.

"Look at me! Look at me while I end your line!"

I forced my eyes open, if only so he'd stop his shaking. 

Breathe. I would breathe, and this would be over soon.

His livid eyes were wide open, a crazed glint to them as he came closer, "They said it was prophesied, that fire would reign!" 

My eyes fluttered as I blinked at the blur. Fire would reign? Why was that so familiar?

"Well then," he sneered, close enough that I could smell his putrid breath. I looked away, gritting my teeth as the world suddenly grew clearer. My sword, it was just in my periphery, if only I could reach for it. If only he would let go. I struggled in his grasp, the pain sizzling away so that I could move. He laughed, pushing his knee between my thighs, pushing them open as he flushed himself flat against me, "Found our fight, have we? If only we could find our voice?"

No. No, I did not want him so close. No. No, I did not want to die with him so close to me, I did not want to die with my blood seeping into the ground, I did not want to die, I did not want to did, I did not want die—

He screamed, lunging off me and onto the ground. I don't know why. I know only that my blood was pulsing, that my hand had flown to my side and grabbed my sword, and that my thighs were on either side of him as I plunged my sword between his eyes.

Hot— I realized as I panted, my weight leaning onto the solid ground below his cracked skull— it was so very hot.