For the past few days Tunu had avoided him, and Etelet was not sure why. But today he had agreed to join him at the coliseum.
His two fawns in tow, the shaman entered the premise under the crowd's cheers. The entrance bore the statue of their king, Tunu, defying all those who dared enter with his wings. They had wanted to use gold and gemstones for it before thieves discouraged it.
There were few kobels in that crowd. There were few kobels at all. One, two hundred maybe, remained on the hill.
So it was fawns, it was wéréns, it was bulls, it was wulvers, it was brers and harpies welcoming the morning games, thirsting for its spectacle.
To escape the labor and filth of their towns.
Stalls sold everything to anyone under the arches, all along the hallways, almost hiding the stairs and doors, the narrow passages.
For him the crowd would open wide, letting the shaman pass freely.
He went upstairs, to the warriors' rooms, the honored. There while waiting for battle or to spectate the mighty enjoyed all the luxuries the population could offer. Those rooms lacked for nothing, perfumes and tapestries, wine pouring out of bronze jars.
When they saw the shaman enter, the servants retreated.
There was the current champion, a kobel strong and mighty, busy smashing stone with his bare fists. To give himself the illusion of growth.
His jagged scales shielded him from harm.
"What do you want, shaman?" That champion complained.
"Your chief is coming today. He will witness the games and ascension. I want the best spectacle for him."
"I'm not ascending."
"That's not a choice."
The very reason for kobels to risk their life in the coliseum was neither fame nor wealth. They were kobels, they lacked neither.
It was to become a wyvern. The honor of being next for the shaman to try his sorcery on. Those were the ones willing to face their people's heritage.
Proud of their holy blood.
The champion turned fully to that shaman. In the priest's attire, made of gold and silk, he did look impressive. But that noble look was cut by a tribal skull he insisted on wearing.
"Your art is flawed. I've seen those who survive, I've killed one myself. Even for our chief, I won't let you touch me."
"Then you'll have to fight."
"Gladly! Send them, send all you want, I'll fight them to the last! Let the crowd cheer!"
They defied each other for a moment before the champion looked away, troubled.
"What about the rumors?"
"What about them?!"
"They say our chief is feeding on us. They say he imprisons the females."
There were such rumors. Few wanted to go to the keep because of it.
"I've visited him, there is nothing."
"Then you are in collusion."
"Watch your words!" Etelet exploded. "This is Tunu you are talking about! Know your place and beg him for forgiveness. You should wish he cared for your flesh, champion!"
He was saying that even more loudly because Etelet himself had doubts.
The last time he had visited, Elua was nowhere to be seen. And when he had asked, his friend had given no answer. Nor had Savae.
But to doubt his friend was beyond him. Nor did he truly care if kobels died.
To become wyverns.
To become wyverns was all that mattered anymore. To reach that dream, to defy the realm and get kobels to their rightful place. So if he learned that Tunu had become a monster, the shaman would only feel elated.
"I'll forget your words, but you will fight! And you will ascend!"
"You'll have to make me."
He had not finished those words when the noise outside, in the hallway, died down quickly. They heard weapons clanging on the stone, then bodies following them.
The door opened on Tunu.
His broken horn would never heal. His heavy scales would never grow, nor his wings stretch enough to give him lift. In the regal attire they had given him, there was no stronger, no more stunning kobel than him.
They had made sure everyone could bask in his magnificence.
He walked in, dropped the dead servant on the ground, kept walking toward the two black fawns that stood there, immobile, their eyes so happy. The collars brimming at their neck.
"Tunu, what's happening?" Etelet asked.
Before he could add a single word, the first fawn had fallen.
The second followed without even defending himself.
And when he turned to the door Etelet saw both females blocking that entrance. Savae first, sword in hands, defying the whole room.
Elua at her side.
Elua was smiling. Elua was beaming with joy. She was wearing the cutest dress that could be sewn, with jewelry to magnify the jade on her scales. And she was so happy!
The collar on her neck hardly tarnished her already paltry physique.
"Devilry..." The shaman whispered.
That could not be. Collars could not work on kobels. They only ordered to obey kobels, it would be self-defeating. Yet here she was, her eyes so calm.
A crack preceded the champion's collapse. Tunu crouched and snatched the heart out, squeezed it, watched it break in pieces and fall between his fingers.
"What... what is this?! What's going on?! Tunu! Savae!"
"You've said dangerous things." Savae smirked.
She truly delighed in the scene.
"You told me so many horrible things." Elua joined in, almost chirping. "About Tunu. To make me sad."
"What are you talking about?!"
"You wanted Elua for yourself. To turn her on Tunu. How evil of you. He is such a good friend."
"Are you mad?!"
He saw Tunu approach him, felt fear and fell back, fell on the ground screaming.
"You can't possibly believe that! When?! How! Why would I ever, even care about that woman!"
"You are so mean!" Elua giggled.
And Savae, approaching in turn, passed in front of Tunu. She dropped her bloodied sword to take instead the collar held on her belt. An open collar, of black iron, with engraved curves. She even had the bolt and hammer.
"It's okay, Etelet. Tunu forgives you. After all, he is your friend!"
"Get away from me!"
"And you have done so much for him! He really wants to reconcile with you. Right, Tunu?"
The kobel said nothing. He wasn't even looking.
Once it was done, Savae came to his side, to hold his arm. And Elua, joyfully, put herself against him as well.
"Let's go!" She invited. "I want to see the games!"
"Yes, Tunu. Your subjects want to die for you."
They left the room. They walked all the way to the middle of the coliseum, to the royal balcony where a crowd of females let him lay on the daybed. They washed him, they fanned him, they massaged his scales while the games awaited.
I was Savae who approached the edge.
"Kobels! Subjects! Your king has come! Bleed for him! Kill! Kill and die! Crawl at his feet! He demands blood!"
The crowd chanted that word, but in so many tongues that it was just a tumult.
"He demands glory!"
They were entering a frenzy.
And when a kobel was brought to the middle of the arena they knew it would be an ascension. When they saw the kobel dragged by chains, thrown in the middle and the cup brought to him the crowd absolutely lost its mind.
He was forced to drink. He convulsed on the stone as his body lost shape, gained new ones, pushing, pulling, stretching.
Breaking.
With luck it would turn into a monstrous patch of flesh to be put down with pikes. But otherwise, just the spectacle of the mighty choking and agonizing was enough to please them.
This one didn't make it either.
They were already dragging his body away, under the gaze of their king and his harem. His shaman by his side. Smiling. His eyes so calm.