Chapter 94 Condolences
The central arena pulsed with energy under the clear morning sky, the sand pit raked smooth and marked with chalk lines for the combatants. Tiered stone benches overflowed with wolves from every allied pack, their voices a low roar of excitement and bets being placed. Banners snapped in the breeze, colors clashing in the wind. The elders sat in their raised box, faces solemn, while Fernando stood at the edge, arms crossed, his expression a mask of control. The mate duel had begun, the first match setting the tone for the days to come.
The crowd hushed as the announcer, a grizzled wolf named Garrick, stepped to the center. "The first duel is between Princess Eliana of the southern ridges and Princess Ivy of the eastern pack."
Cheers erupted, louder for Eliana, who had arrived with fanfare, her pack known for fierce warriors. Ivy's name drew growls from some, the rivalry between south and east long-standing, fueled by border disputes and old grudges.
Eliana entered the pit first, tall and lithe, dark hair braided tightly with silver threads that caught the sun. Her eyes scanned the crowd with confidence, landing on Fernando for a moment with a smirk. She walked to the weapons rack and picked dual swords, the blades slim and balanced, perfect for speed and precision. She twirled them once, the metal singing through the air.
Ivy followed, her red hair loose and flowing like flame, her frame more muscular, built for power. She glared at Eliana as she approached the rack and chose a spear, the shaft long and tipped with a sharp point, designed for reach and thrust. She slammed the butt into the sand, eyes locked on her rival.
Garrick raised his hand. "Fight to first blood or submission. No killing blows unless the duel escalates. Begin!"
The two princesses circled each other slowly, eyes narrowed, assessing.
Eliana spoke first, voice mocking. "You should have stayed in your swamps, Ivy. The south breeds true warriors. You are just a brute with a stick."
Ivy smiled coldly, spear held low. "And you are a peacock with toys. I will send you back to your father in pieces."
Eliana lunged first, dual swords flashing in a high-low attack. The high blade aimed for Ivy's shoulder, the low for her knee. Ivy parried the high with the spear shaft, twisting to block the low with the butt. The clash rang out, metal on wood.
Ivy countered with a thrust, spear point darting toward Eliana's chest. Eliana crossed her swords and deflected it, the force sending sparks.
The crowd roared.
Eliana spun, swords whirling in a deadly arc. Ivy leaped back, the blades missing by inches. "Too slow," Eliana taunted.
Ivy laughed. "Too flashy."
She swept the spear low, trying to trip Eliana. Eliana jumped over it and slashed downward, nicking Ivy's arm. Blood welled.
"First blood to Eliana," Garrick called.
Ivy snarled, touching the cut. "You will pay for that."
She charged, spear thrusting in rapid jabs. Eliana dodged the first, parried the second, but the third grazed her side. Blood seeped through her tunic.
"First blood to Ivy," Garrick announced.
The crowd went wild.
Eliana wiped the blood. "Lucky strike."
Ivy grinned. "Skill, not luck."
They clashed again, spear against swords in a flurry of strikes. Eliana's dual blades gave her speed, allowing double attacks, but Ivy's spear kept her at distance, thrusting to force retreats.
Eliana closed the gap, swords crossing to trap the spear shaft. She twisted, trying to disarm Ivy. Ivy yanked back hard, pulling Eliana off balance.
Ivy kicked her in the chest. Eliana staggered, gasping.
Ivy thrust for the thigh. The spear sliced deep into Eliana's flesh. Blood flowed freely.
Eliana roared in pain and rage. "You bitch!"
She broke free and slashed wildly, swords a blur. Ivy blocked one, but the second cut her arm.
The fight turned vicious.
Eliana pressed, swords driving Ivy back. Ivy thrust, but Eliana dodged and kicked her knee. Bone cracked.
Ivy screamed, leg buckling. She fell to one knee.
Eliana laughed, eyes wild. "I have always hoped for a day to end that bitch."
She grabbed Ivy's hair and yanked her head back. With a swift twist, she snapped her neck. The crack echoed like thunder.
Ivy slumped dead in the sand.
The arena went silent.
Garrick's voice was heavy. "Eliana wins the first round."
The crowd murmured, then clapped slowly.
Eliana stood over the body, breathing hard, blood dripping from her thigh.
Ivy's pack mates rushed forward, faces grief-stricken. They lifted her body carefully, wrapping it in a cloak.
Garrick bowed to them. "Condolences to the eastern pack. She fought well."
They carried her away in silence.
Eliana turned to Fernando and smiled.
The duel had claimed its first life.
The arena roared as the first day's second duel was called. The sand still bore faint stains from Eliana and Ivy's fight, but the crowd's excitement had only grown. The sun beat down relentlessly, sweat glistening on every face in the stands. Fernando stood at the edge of the judges' box, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The elders sat in their raised seats, faces grim. The visiting packs leaned forward, eager for the next clash.
Garrick, the grizzled announcer, stepped to the center once more. His voice boomed over the pit.
"The next combatants: Vargoth of the Midnight Wolves, and Thorne of the Ironfang Pack!"
The crowd's reaction was immediate and split. Cheers for the Ironfang pack, a well-known northern ally, were loud and proud. But the moment Vargoth's name was called, a low, uneasy murmur rippled through the stands. The midnight wolves were feared. Their reputation for brutality preceded them.
Vargoth entered the pit first. He was massive, taller than most, his black fur cloak billowing behind him like smoke. His face was scarred, one eye milky white, the other burning with cold intensity. He walked to the weapons rack without hesitation and lifted a war hammer. The weapon was brutal: heavy iron head, spiked on one side, blunt on the other, haft wrapped in dark leather. He swung it once, testing the weight, and the crowd quieted at the sound of air being split.
Thorne entered next. He was leaner, faster, with sun-darkened skin and short-cropped hair. The Ironfang pack was known for speed and precision. He strode to the rack and chose a scimitar, the curved blade gleaming like a crescent moon. He twirled it once, the motion fluid and deadly.
Garrick raised his hand. "Fight to first blood or submission. No killing blows unless the duel escalates. Begin!"
Vargoth and Thorne circled each other slowly, weapons held low.
Thorne spoke first, voice calm. "You are a long way from your shadows, midnight wolf."
Vargoth's reply was a low growl. "And you are a long way from surviving me."
Thorne struck first, lunging with the scimitar in a fast arc aimed at Vargoth's shoulder. The blade whistled through the air.
Vargoth did not dodge. He raised the hammer and blocked the strike with the haft. The metal rang like a bell. Thorne twisted, pulling back and slashing low at Vargoth's legs.
Vargoth stepped over the blade and countered with a side swing. The hammer's blunt end grazed Thorne's ribs, sending him stumbling.
Thorne recovered quickly. "Fast for a brute."
Vargoth smiled, teeth sharp. "You talk too much."
Thorne attacked again, scimitar flashing in a series of rapid cuts. High, low, diagonal. Vargoth parried each one, the hammer moving with surprising speed for its size. Sparks flew where steel met iron.
The crowd leaned forward.
Thorne feinted left, then struck right. The scimitar sliced toward Vargoth's arm.
Vargoth twisted and caught the blade on the hammer's spike. He yanked hard.
Thorne stumbled forward.
Vargoth swung the hammer upward in a crushing arc.
The head connected with Thorne's skull.
A sickening crack echoed across the arena.
Thorne's body jerked. Blood sprayed. The scimitar fell from his hand.
His head caved inward.
He dropped to the sand, lifeless.
The crowd went dead silent.
Vargoth stood over the body, hammer dripping red. He looked up at the stands, then at Fernando.
Garrick's voice was hoarse. "Vargoth of the Midnight Wolves wins the round."
A few scattered claps started, then grew. The midnight wolves howled in triumph.
Darius, sitting in the judges' box, removed his eyes in disgust, turning his face away.
Garrick swallowed hard, almost throwing up, but managed to continue. "Condolences to the Ironfang pack."
Thorne's pack mates rushed forward, faces pale,