Treasure of the Fire Kingdom (The Elemental Phases Book 4) (9 page)

“I’m
not a human!”  Hope shouted up at the loudspeaker.

She
was feeling more confident about this part of the fight.  There was no way a
Fire Phase was losing to two guys in Pampers.  Especially since Jom had helped
her find her lost sword.  Prying it out of his body was going to be kind of
gross, though, and she really needed her medication.  Still, things were
looking up.  The announcer had listed five names at the beginning of the match,
so only four more guys to stab and she could go talk to the monster.

Icky
or not, she wrenched the sword from Jom’s body.  It took most of her strength
to pry it loose and it made a squishy, tearing sound that Hope preferred not to
dwell on.  Plus, the hilt was wet and sticky, Jom’s blood still warm on the
grip.  This was
so
her second worse day ever.

And
it just kept sucking.

Vessar
lunged at her, his spear aimed straight for her heart.  Classic maneuver,
poorly executed.  He wasn’t seeing her as a threat, so he was playing to the
crowd.  The spear twirled in his hand so the razor sharp blade caught the light
and he added a showboat flourish to his jump.  Frankie would have had his ass
in a sling if he pulled that crap on the training field.

Hope
didn’t actually think about her response, it just kind of happened.  Suddenly,
she was back in courtyard of the Fire Palace, again.  Dodging slow and easy
sword swipes from Oberon, while Frankie counted off Hope’s footwork to the tune
of Tin Pan Alley waltzes.  For one heartbeat of time, countless hours of
practice overrode her general awkwardness.  Countless falls in the dirt. 
Countless sad head shakes from Frankie.  Countless afternoons of trying not to
cry at her own clumsiness.

All
of it finally paid off.

Muscle
memory took over, the ONE, two, three, ONE, two, three beats of
After the
Ball
played in her head and Hope just moved the way she’d been taught.

One…
She stepped left.

Two…
She spun towards the attack.

Three… 
Her sword sliced up, straight into his exposed side.

It
was so darn simple that Hope was frankly shocked when it worked.  Vessar gave a
roar of pain and surprise.  Missing her entirely, he veered off course in
midair.  His huge body skidded along the sand, hitting the ground with a cloud
of dust.  He lay there, still alive, but bleeding badly.

The
crowd was a bit faster in its response this time.  They roared their approval
at the bloodshed.  Hope wasn’t moved by their abrupt show of support.  At the
moment, all she cared about was getting her breathing back to normal.  She couldn’t
fight properly handicapped like this.  She needed her medicine.

Zakkery,
meanwhile, was enjoying her winning streak on an unhealthy level.  “
Yes!
 
Someone please tell me they’re gonna sell DVDs of this match, after it’s
over.”  He looked over Kingu who seemed reluctantly transfixed.  “If you’re
still holding out for someone better,
I’ll
fucking take this one.”

“Shut-up,
Elemental.”  Kingu shoved Zakkery aside and scowled down at Hope.  “Well?”  He
finally snapped as Hope stood over Vessar’s bleeding form.  “Take off his
head.  Don’t let him get back up.”

Maybe
he was betting against the other gladiators, too, and gathering up a nice
little nest egg today.  Goodness only knew what the odds were on Hope winning
with
two
decapitations.  Too bad for him, she didn’t have it in her to
behead a wounded man.  Not even to win some extra cash for all her loyal fans. 
She stepped back from Vessar, her gaze instinctively staying on Kingu, already
knowing he was going to be pissed.

More
pissed.

“Woman,
while he’s down, behead him!”
 
Kingu’s voice got louder and more
insistent, like he just couldn’t help himself.  “You got lucky, now press the
advantage!”

“Lucky?” 
He was the first person to ever say
that
.

The
guy did have a small point, of course.  Frankie wouldn’t have approved of her
hesitation in finishing off Vessar, either.  His favorite saying was, “Bleeding
hearts lead to bleeding corpses.”  He had a cheerful needlepoint of it on his
wall at home, the boarder decorated with multicolored, cross-stitched skulls.

Still…
“I can’t just behead an incapacitated man.”  The words were breathless and
ended with a ragged cough, but they were still filled with righteous
indignation.  She shook her head at the Kingu.  “He dropped his spear.  He’s
unarmed.  It wouldn’t be right.”

“Wouldn’t
be
right!?
”  Savage, flame colored eyes locked with hers.  She could
feel the frustration coming off of him in waves.  “For Christ’s sake, you’re
like a fucking Disney…
Duck!
”

Hope
ducked.  It was the familiar, comforting bellowing.  Anyone raised in the Fire
Kingdom would have responded to a tactical order delivered in that tone.  Basic
survival training kicked in, again.  She dropped like a stone, the knees of her
patterned tights shredding on the ground as she rolled out of range of
Richter’s attack.  He’d picked up Jom’s sword and he knew how to use it. 
Crap.  Her entire outfit was ruined and…

…Oh,
hey!  Her inhaler!

She
stopped her roll directly beside it.  It must have fallen out of her pocket,
after all.  Hope grabbed it.  She popped the plastic cap off with her thumb and
stuck the inhaler into her mouth.  Exhaling a quick breath, she puffed in a
lungful of medication.

Almost
instantly, she felt the tingling sensation in her throat that told her it was
working.

Finally.

She
lay there sucking in precious oxygen.

“What
the hell are you doing?!”

Kingu
was going to lose his voice if he kept yelling like that.  Did he get this
involved in
all
the matches?  Lord!  He had a box seat, so he must come
to these things a lot.  You’d think he’d be over the excitement, by now.

Her
mental grumblings came to a halt as Richter grabbed her by the shirt front and
hefted her right off the ground, so her feet barely touched the sand.  “What
have you done!?”  He screamed, right in her face.  “You murdered Jom!  You
murdered my brother!”

“He
was your brother?”  Guilt swamped Hope.  “Oh my God!  I’m so sorry.”  She would
never want to kill anyone’s family.  She knew what that felt like to lose
someone you loved.  Of course, Jom
had
been kind of a cheating jerk
wielding a sword at her, so she didn’t feel
too
bad, but still…  “Look,
what happened was a total accident.  Only –like-- fifty percent my fault.  I
didn’t intend…”  Hope’s semi-apology was cut short when Richter gave her a ruthless
shake.

“
You
murdered my brother and now I’m going to make you pay!
”  He drew back his
sword with his free hand and aimed it at her neck.  “This is for Jom, you
worthless human whore.”

Another
classic mistake.  Talking too much when you thought you had the upper hand. 
Her guilt over stabbing his brother was lessening by the second.

“
Fuck!
” 
Kingu bellowed.

Hope
maneuvered the inhaler around in her hand, switching her grip and raising it so
the mouthpiece was pointed towards Richter’s face.  “I’m not a human.”

Rule
number ninety-six of being a Fire Phase:  Anything can be a weapon if you
improvise.

Jamming
her thumb down on the top of the canister, she sprayed half the contents of
inhaler straight into his corneas.  She wasn’t sure what was in asthma medication,
but it must have burned like crazy, because Richter dropped her like a red hot
stove.  His hands came up to claw at his eye sockets.  He let out an unnatural
howl of agony, his body doubling over.

Hope
hit the ground and immediately scurried backwards away from him.  Somehow she’d
lost her sword, again.  Probably when she ducked and rolled.

“Woman,
do I have to tie that weapon to you!?”  Kingu demanded.  “It’s on the ground,
four feet to your left.  They can see it from space!”

“You
lose me money and I’m gonna be pissed, kid.”  Zakkery called at the same time.

Those
two were going to be the next ones she’d killed.  They were like old guys on
The
Muppet Show
.

Richter
wasn’t giving up on stabbing her, either.  He blindly swung his sword around,
trying to hack at her.  Meanwhile, Ghames was still in the fight.  He came
rushing towards her with his two working eyes.  His stupid looking sparkly
sandal kicked her sword, pushing it further out of her reach as he drew closer.

The
blade skidded across the sand and ricocheted off Richter’s foot.  He must have
thought it was Hope, still on the ground, launching a counterattack, because he
let out a roar and threw himself in the direction that the sword had come from.

…Which
happened to be right at Ghames.

Richter
brandished his weapon like a hatchet.  He struck out with a violent, un-aimed
assault that caught Ghames right in the heart.  Ghames turned with an anguish
roar and seemed to automatically strike back against his new enemy.  His spear
slammed straight into Richter’s eye.

The
two of them were kind of locked together for several strained seconds and then
they just… wilted.

Hope
blinked in astonishment as the two men toppled over in unison.  Like big, dead
trees, they hit the ground so hard it shook.  Then, they just lay there, not
moving.

They’d
killed each other.

Well…
okay.

That
would work.

Hope
slowly got to her feet, edging closer to the bodies to make sure they were both
really dead.  Neither one of them was breathing, but their deaths were so
bizarre that she expected somebody to call for a rematch.  Not even Frankie was
going to believe how much she rocked at gladiating.  Hopefully someone really
was recording the fight, just so she could show her family that she wasn’t
completely helpless, after all.

She’d
taken out four armed gladiators, today.

She
really was a Fire Phase.

The
crowd went insane.  Screaming, stomping their feet, chanting her name.  Or, at
least, “Hu-man! Hu-man! Hu-man!”  For once, she didn’t mind the word.

Hope
raised an arm in victory.

Zakkery’s
mouth hung open.  “How the hell did
that
just happened?”  He asked the
world at large.

On
instinct, Hope turned and looked at Kingu.  Eyes, as mysterious as fire, locked
onto hers and she felt that odd sense of connection.  The brutal, almost
demonic lines of his face held her rapt attention.  She and this man
were
connected.  The separate threads of their lives had crossed, knotting them
together.  Kingu sensed it, too.  His fingers were white around the balcony
railing, his breathing sawing in and out of his chest.

He
already knew that he belonged to her.

The
buzzer rang and the door to the final cage swung open.

The
last gladiator.

Hope
spun around to face him as the crowd grew still.  Not even the announcer made
another appearance.  Everyone’s attention centered on Lycus, of the Metal House
as he stalked out of the cell and headed straight for her.

He
was really, really big.  With really big arms and really big hands, holding a
really big sword.  Instead of the caveman porno movie loincloths or diapers, he
had on tattered military style pants and combat boots.  His chest was bare. 
And big.  Really big.  His gold hair was military short, his steel colored eyes
focused like a laser scope on her neck.

Hope
took an instinctive step backwards.

She
still didn’t have her sword, but it seemed pointless to dash over and grab it. 
In a straight fight, Lycus was going to win.  He was a professional killer. 
That part didn’t bother her, since her family was full of warriors and she did
okay.  Heck, she’d just faced down four gladiators and won.  But, this man had
a ruthlessness that none of the other men had possessed.  He could decapitate
her without a moment’s hesitation.

She
knew it.

So
did he.

So
did everyone else.

Hope
had about thirty second to live.

****

The
woman had about thirty seconds to live.

She’d
been doing well up until this point.  Astonishingly well.  Kingu hadn’t had to
get involved, at all.  He’d
wanted
to, for some reason.  But, he’d kept
himself in check, watching as she took out opponent after opponent, getting
more and more turned on by her bewitching combination of luck and skill.

Had
he included “fighting ability” on the list of feminine attributes he’d given
Zakkery?  It needed to get added, because this was arousing to watch. 
Incredibly arousing.  His developing powers all but purred in satisfaction.

Now
the girl was facing Lycus, though.

The
man only needed one more victory and he’d earn his freedom from the ring.  That
teeny, unarmed blonde was now the only thing standing between a trained killer
and the rest of his life.  More than anyone, Kingu understood how determined
Lycus was to win.  How focused he was on getting free of his servitude. 
Nothing would stop him from escaping his captivity.