Ishbosheth stood against the wall, right outside the arena where he had just beaten a lion unconscious. His chest was heaving, his throat felt like he had swallowed razors and his hands couldn't stop shaking. The door into the arena swung open and there stood Stark, his broad shoulders taking up the entire door frame. A smile crept onto Stark's face. "That's the way I taught you!" he said, slapping Ishbosheth on the shoulder. He felt like a feather and that caused him to fall to the ground.
Stark laughed and pulled Ishbosheth back up to his feet. This made him shake more, even with the strong man's arm holding his shoulder. He looked up at Stark as the man spoke again, "You're wanted by the princess, so stand yourself up."
Ishbosheth had to prop himself up against the wall to keep himself stable. When he made his way back into the arena, he found it to be much colder than it was before. The lion was still laying in the middle of the room, but Luther was standing over it, slowly passing his staff over the lion's body.
Ishbosheth walked over to the stairs that had the gate guarding them during the fight, but was now hanging open as most of the onlookers had shuffled out. He placed his hand on the rail, which felt strangely warm compared to the coolness of the large room. Making his way up to the observation deck, he saw Killian from a distance.
She came a few steps toward him as he approached and put out her hand for him to kiss. He knelt down and kissed her petite fingers. "You did well Dorian, you won for me."
Ishbosheth stayed kneeling because he felt too dizzy to stand, but also felt it'd be most appropriate. "How might I reward my champion?" he heard Killian's voice ask.
He didn't think for a second, "I'd like to see my cousin."
She was silent.
"Milady." Ishbosheth added, forgetting his propriety. He looked up at her and she was just looking back at him. "She's a work girl in Ant- your father's- house. Her name is Ana, but I don't know what her slave name is. She's a Shehawk."
Killian's eyebrows raised as if you say she knew exactly who Ishbosheth was talking about. "I'll see what I can arrange." Then she turned on her heel and went out the door at the very top of the observation deck, her flowing green dress billowing behind her.
Ishbosheth looked down at the arena from the edge of the deck. Where the lion used to be laying there was just a divot in the dirt floor, the lion was nowhere to be seen. Then Ishbosheth spotted him, coming up the stairs he had just ascended, heading toward him. Luther was trumping up behind the lion. The lion walked right up to Ishbosheth and got so close to his face he could feel the hot breath on his face.
"Alexander!" Luther yelled with his shaky voice.
The lion stood down, harrumphing. Luther came and put his hand on the lion's shoulder, "You were beaten, you must train more."
Alexander growled at Ishbosheth and turned around, heading back down the stairs.
Ishbosheth shouted down to Alexander as he ran, "You would've won! I was lucky!"
Alexander roared as he ran.
Luther turned to Ishbosheth again, "Alexander is my son. My primal son, the first, he cannot tolerate defeat. Please forgive his actions, he's quite upset."
Ishbosheth nodded.
Luther hobbled back over to the steps, saying over his shoulder, "You two will fight again, so prepare to feel his wrath again."
Monday, October 31, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
019: The First Tome of Nigel Part 10
Ishbosheth stood in a long corridor with doors on either side. He had just come through the one behind him, now being guarded by a man with a fur wrapped around his neck like a lion's mane.
Ishbosheth had his knuckles taped up again, just like in sparring practice, and had been put into a thick leather belt which was wrapped around his waist. He grabbed the ring handle on the door in front of him and pulled.
The room behind the door was a wide arena with an observation deck being held up by two tall pillars. Three large rocks were scattered in the middle of the arena floor. Ishbosheth took in the scene, and looked up at all the people seated on the upper deck. There were people lining the steps up to the deck, but there were some up there that caught Ishbosheth's eye. The first person Ishbosheth saw was Stark, standing in the very back corner, his broad shoulders hiding the fact that he had a neck. After him, on the opposite side, on the back wall was Luther, standing up, leaning on his staff, his graying mane framing his face. Finally Ishbosheth saw Killian, at the very front of the upper deck, leaning forward with her hands on the railing.
As he was looking around, Ishbosheth wandered further into the arena, between the two closest rocks. He could hear the crowd emit a few small laughs. Thinking this somewhat strange, Ishbosheth continued further into the center of the floor. The crowd's laughter became louder. Ishbosheth became a little more cautious and creeped into the very center. He heard some strange noises coming from behind him, like sacks of flour falling onto pavement. He turned around to see a lion, standing on its hind legs, between the two rocks he had just walked between, standing right in his own footprints. The lion threw back its head and let out a roar which shook Ishbosheth to the core.
The two stood there staring at each other in silence for a few moments. Then Ishbosheth ran. The crowd burst out in applause and cheers. The lion chased after Ishbosheth, switching between running on two and four legs, teeth bared all the while.
Ishbosheth ran behind the last rock on the opposite side of the stadium, but the lion followed and jumped on top of the rock. Ishbosheth took off toward the gate leading up to the upper deck, but it was locked. He turned just in time to see the lion jump off the rock and start running toward him.
Ishbosheth started running along the wall, keeping his hand on it to keep his balance, but the lion chased right behind him. Ishbosheth felt his foot slip beneath him and he fell to the ground. He turned around on the ground just as the lion jumped on top of him and, with balled, furry fists, began punching his face and chest.
Ishbosheth wriggled with all his might, flailing his arms and legs, until finally broke free from the lion's grip. From his position lying on his back on the ground, Ishbosheth raised one foot and planted it firmly into the lion's face.
The lion reeled backward and stumbled to his feet. When the lion had gotten to its full height, shaking from the blow to the head, Ishbosheth jumped on its back and began punching the back of the its skull. It reminded him of beating the brick wall, thick and hard. He punched with all his might until the lion fell to the ground and went limp.
Shaking with fear and adrenaline, Ishbosheth rose up, fists still clenched. The crowd was silent. Killian stood, took her hands off the railing and began clapping quietly. Soon the whole crowd was clapping. Ishbosheth even saw Torres slapping his monstrous hands together. Ishbosheth felt proud as he stood over the lion, its back slowly rising as it breathed in and out, unconscious.
Ishbosheth had his knuckles taped up again, just like in sparring practice, and had been put into a thick leather belt which was wrapped around his waist. He grabbed the ring handle on the door in front of him and pulled.
The room behind the door was a wide arena with an observation deck being held up by two tall pillars. Three large rocks were scattered in the middle of the arena floor. Ishbosheth took in the scene, and looked up at all the people seated on the upper deck. There were people lining the steps up to the deck, but there were some up there that caught Ishbosheth's eye. The first person Ishbosheth saw was Stark, standing in the very back corner, his broad shoulders hiding the fact that he had a neck. After him, on the opposite side, on the back wall was Luther, standing up, leaning on his staff, his graying mane framing his face. Finally Ishbosheth saw Killian, at the very front of the upper deck, leaning forward with her hands on the railing.
As he was looking around, Ishbosheth wandered further into the arena, between the two closest rocks. He could hear the crowd emit a few small laughs. Thinking this somewhat strange, Ishbosheth continued further into the center of the floor. The crowd's laughter became louder. Ishbosheth became a little more cautious and creeped into the very center. He heard some strange noises coming from behind him, like sacks of flour falling onto pavement. He turned around to see a lion, standing on its hind legs, between the two rocks he had just walked between, standing right in his own footprints. The lion threw back its head and let out a roar which shook Ishbosheth to the core.
The two stood there staring at each other in silence for a few moments. Then Ishbosheth ran. The crowd burst out in applause and cheers. The lion chased after Ishbosheth, switching between running on two and four legs, teeth bared all the while.
Ishbosheth ran behind the last rock on the opposite side of the stadium, but the lion followed and jumped on top of the rock. Ishbosheth took off toward the gate leading up to the upper deck, but it was locked. He turned just in time to see the lion jump off the rock and start running toward him.
Ishbosheth started running along the wall, keeping his hand on it to keep his balance, but the lion chased right behind him. Ishbosheth felt his foot slip beneath him and he fell to the ground. He turned around on the ground just as the lion jumped on top of him and, with balled, furry fists, began punching his face and chest.
Ishbosheth wriggled with all his might, flailing his arms and legs, until finally broke free from the lion's grip. From his position lying on his back on the ground, Ishbosheth raised one foot and planted it firmly into the lion's face.
The lion reeled backward and stumbled to his feet. When the lion had gotten to its full height, shaking from the blow to the head, Ishbosheth jumped on its back and began punching the back of the its skull. It reminded him of beating the brick wall, thick and hard. He punched with all his might until the lion fell to the ground and went limp.
Shaking with fear and adrenaline, Ishbosheth rose up, fists still clenched. The crowd was silent. Killian stood, took her hands off the railing and began clapping quietly. Soon the whole crowd was clapping. Ishbosheth even saw Torres slapping his monstrous hands together. Ishbosheth felt proud as he stood over the lion, its back slowly rising as it breathed in and out, unconscious.
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