Part I:
The anticipation. She thrived on it. Like the whole world was holding its breath. Some in the crowd were cheering, others chanting in unison. They clapped their hands, stomped their feet with a vibrating rhythm. They knew she was coming, and she was ready to be washed in their affection. She stared at the wooden doors, just a few inches away from the diamond-shaped pattern of sunlight seeping through. She could see hints of movement outside. She wondered what awaited her in the arena this time. Would it prove to be a challenge, or would this be the day she finally lost?
The cheering stopped, silence fell, and the doors creaked open. She took one step forward. Out of the dark once more, and into the scorching gaze of the sun. Then the cheers returned, a thousandfold louder than they had been a moment ago. The people jumped up and down, waving and clapping. She heard her name, shouted at her.
"KALLIOPI!"
Shoulders squared, she kept on walking, nourished by the crowd's embrace. She glanced up, at the lifeless, multi-colored banners hanging lazily against the windless sky. She didn't even bother to look at Guljin; the Khatun who had taken everything from her. She wasn't worth her attention. All that mattered was the crowd - and the warriors standing in front of her.
Four challengers were spread out evenly across the arena. A formidable number, even by her standards. Usually, a match was up against one or two opponents at the most. But if that number intimidated her, she didn't let it show. She had a reputation to live up to. "Queen Kalliopi, undefeated champion of the games." Besides, what ever more had she to lose?
She kept on advancing, buckler held high to salute the crowd. Then she stopped, planting her trident in the hardened soil of her battleground.
She stared at the warrior closest to her - a blood-thirsty Raider she had seen being brought into the arena's dungeons only a few days before - and she waited. She closed her eyes and, for a moment, she was somewhere else.
Home. On the ground, dirt and blood in her mouth. The dead stare of a woman in front of her. A sister. A woman she loved.
Her eyes opened as the words came from up high, reverberating through the stillness in the air.
Part II:
"Ta shagnal khürtene!" She knew not what the Mongolian words translated to exactly. But she knew exactly what they meant: fight. Survive.
She rushed the Raider, and the crowd hushed. She caught the Viking's axe against her buckler, and she hit back with her trident. The clash of steel cut through the silence, echoing from one end of the arena to the other, a quick succession of concussions and chimes that reached an end when Kalliopi planted the forks of her trident right through the Raider. Blood spattered out of the Viking and finally, the crowd erupted in cheers.
Before the massive body was on the ground, Kalliopi had moved on to the next champions: a pair of Samurai she had never seen who joined forces to try and gain the upper hand against her. Kalliopi moved in swift motions, evading hits, blocking left and right, buckler and trident bth used defensively. Only when she finally had an opening did she plant her trident in one of her opponent's feet. Then the tri-forked weapon found the other's neck, before she returned to the other to bash their head in.
The people's praise grew even louder - almost deafening. Kalliopi stretched both arms out and held her head high, egging them on. She felt their love, as ephemeral as it was. They were all she had left. One last glimmer of radiance in the gloom.
She turned towards her last opponent, a Varangian Guard bracing for her turn. Kalliopi froze for a moment. She recognized the Varangian. Was that...?
That was when the horns blared.
The crowd, clearly taken by surprise, let out a series of confused shouts. Then the doors to the arena slammed open again, prompting Kalliopi to turn her back on her opponent. A trio of new fighters ran into the fighting pit, to replace the ones that had fallen. Something that had never happened in the games before. A new twist. Suddenly, Kalliopi had not been facing four opponents, but seven.
She turned her head to find Guljin, finally allowing herself to look at her captor. Not out of anger, but defiance. Behind the Khatun's metal mask, Kalliopi knew Guljin was smiling. The Khatun wanted her gone. For good. That much was clear.
The hit came from behind - hard and without any warning. Kalliopi tumbled in the dirt as the crowd exclaimed its displeasure. When she reached a stop, she realized what had happened: the Varangian Guard had slammed into her with her shield, sending Kalliopi flying. Stars speckling her vision, the Gladiator shook her head, eyes closed, willing steadiness back into her. As she did so, another vision swept over her.
A horse raised on its hind legs, surrounded by flames and death, neighing in pain and fear. An unbearable, heart-wrenching sound.
Kalliopi was back on her feet just in time to block a hit from the Guard. And another. And another. The Varangian was rushing her, advancing one step with every strike of her axe, driving Kalliopi back towards the blades of the three newly arrived fighters.
The crowd was growing quiet. Worried and restless.
Was this it? Was this the end of Queen Kalliopi's reign?
Part III:
"No!" she decided. Guljin had taken enough from her. This was all she had left.
She planted her trident in the ground, finding purchase and a steady footing, and leaped and kicked the Varangian back. Hard. Using the momentum, she then ran to the other warriors. She took one down quick. But the other two were ready, and she was growing tired. The two paired up, fighting in unison. She took multiple bad hits. A slice here, a vicious blow there.
More visions of loss. Of home, in flames. Of dead sisters and heartbreak.
She had to live. Had to win.
Everyone in the arena heard Kalliopi's scream. A guttural sound of rage and defiance. Then came the blood. With devastating strikes, she killed the other two warriors. And now all that was left was the Varangian.
The Guard scrambled on the ground, still dazed from the kick. Kalliopi marched towards her enemy, trident held horizontally. Menacingly. Ready to strike. She knew she had recognized her. This Varangian, she was as close to a friend as anyone could have in the dungeons. And yet, she hadn't hesitated to attack Kalliopi. To try and kill her. She knew now, beyond a doubt: there was no room for trust here. No bond. No sisterhood to be found. There was only her. The Queen of the arena.
She twirled the trident and found the Varangian's neck.
Then came a shower of flowers. Crimson in the sky.
She raised her arms, held them high, and basked in the glory. Once again, she found Guljin in the crowd and Kalliopi knew, behind that expressionless mask, that the Kathun's smile was gone.
The Queen of the arena stood. Another day, another victory.
***
From her cell, she could see the moon. It looked just like it had before - before everything. For an instant, she could get absorbed in its glow, in its serenity, and it felt like she was home. Her wounds had been tended to. She had gotten herself cleaned up, and ate what she was allowed. All she could do now was rest. It was a bittersweet feeling. She was proud of herself. Proud of her continued defiance. Of somehow beating the odds. But it had come at the cost of everything. This was how she honored them. Through her, they would be remembered. As long as she lived.
The loud clanking of metal doors brought her back to the here and now. The glow of torchlights lit up the dank darkness of the dungeons, and several of the prisoners let out confused growls as they were abruptly pulled out of the respite of their sleep.
Kalliopi turned from her window to see a pair Khatun guards unlock the door to her cell, barging in. Between the two of them, they were dragging a warrior on their knees, the metal of their armor scraping harshly against the stone floor. The sound made Kalliopi wince.
The Khatuns dropped the unconscious warrior in the middle of the cell.
"Meet your new partner," one of them said, with a thick accent. "Tomorrow, a new type of game begins."
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