Innocent (18 page)

Eventually Moloa dismounted and stood up, revealing Babalyn's juice smeared face. Slowly Babalyn rose, falling back twice but finally managing to stagger to her feet and stumble to the corridor entrance.

‘You did it?' Jelkrael demanded. ‘The distillate is in her?'

‘No,' Babalyn gasped. ‘I didn't. I swallowed the capsule, when she threw me…'

Babalyn went limp, falling into Cianna's arms. Looking up, Cianna found Jelkrael white in the face.

‘Over three thousand standard Yufal has on you,' he said weakly. ‘Our whole fund! Promises from our gate also. I am ruined!'

Cianna gave him a weak smile, even as Glaydrak appeared, giving Jelkrael a nod, then a puzzled look as he stepped past them onto the sand. Cianna watched him, suddenly confused, still holding the sleeping Babalyn.

‘Lord King,' Glaydrak began, making a sweeping bow to the royal box, ‘Exquisite nobles, Elite gentlemen, men and women of Kea and Makea beyond. I trust you have been amused by the rapid despatch of our haughty little Aprinian girl, which, while a mere taster, had, perhaps, a certain style. Now though, I give you no over cultivated weakling for the She Troll to devour, no soft product of a society in decline, but a true barbarian, a creature of the northern wastelands! With thirteen victories to her name, and undefeated, I give you, Cianna, the Ice Cannibal!'

He made a sweeping bow, gesturing towards the mouth of the corridor. Seeing her cue, Cianna hastily dropped Babalyn and ran out. A cheer greeted her, and a few coins, then sudden, expectant silence. She turned, to where Moloa was lifting her bulk from the sand, grinning. Glaydrak retreated, the placard girls skipped out and back. Cianna was alone with Moloa.

Moloa stood, spreading her great arms, then crouched low. Cianna touched a finger to her necklace, drawing a picture of her grandfather to her mind, then also ducked down, waiting. Moloa came on, a pace at a time, stamping, and lashing out with her open slap. Cianna caught the arm, wrenching, only to be thrown off her feet. Rolling, she bounced back upright and danced away before Moloa could touch her.

Once more Moloa spread her arms, moving forward. Cianna ran immediately, ducking as Moloa moved to cut her off, only to twist back, kicking out hard at Moloa's midriff. Moloa staggered back with a grunt, snatching for Cianna's feet, an instant too late. Cianna scrambled away, jumped up, amazed that Moloa had not gone down to the blow.

Twice more they came together, both times with Cianna striking by pure speed, but with no effect on Moloa. After the second Moloa was grinning, her eyes bright as she again fell into her crouch. Cianna fell back, glancing at the placard girls from the corner of her eye, even as the gong struck. Breathing deeply, Cianna stood away, taking a flagon from a placard girl. Moloa was not only heavier, but stronger than her, unlike every other girl she had fought in Makea. To bring her down by skill was highly unlikely, by force impossible. Moloa would also know every trick, every facet of Makean wrestling. In sheer strength she was no match for Moloa, yet she was faster, more agile. She could hold her own, but only for so long, then the huge buttocks would be settling over her face and the razor scraping at the hair of her tuppenny.

The gong sounded and again they faced off. Cianna began to dodge, using her speed to avoid Moloa, a tactic that quickly had the crowd frustrated, yelling for more contact and more display. Ignoring them utterly, Cianna continued to twist and duck, run and leap, until at last the gong rang again. Moloa was chuckling as she drank her water, draining the flagon, then spreading her sex lips to Cianna. Cianna swallowed, remembering how Babalyn had been urinated over on the ground, but returned the gesture, then spun, spreading her buttocks to show Moloa her anus and briefly allowing the ring to pout. The crowd laughed, clapping too, but Moloa merely grinned.

The third round started, Cianna again ducking and weaving, occasionally putting in a kick or a slap, but doing her best to avoid contact. With Moloa's reactions always a fraction slower than her own, she began to grow confident, adding the occasional rude gesture, somersaults, or flaunting her bottom to the crowd. Moloa failed to rise to the bait, steady, determined and patient.

In the fourth round Cianna began to strike in more, wondering if she might not wear Moloa down by sheer persistence. Twice she got good kicks in to Moloa's midriff, although with little effect. On the third attempt her heel came down on a coin buried beneath the sand. For an instant she was off balance, and Moloa was on her. Slammed hard into the sand, Cianna's leg was twisted up, and locked. Red pain hit her, and anger. Striking back at Moloa's neck, Cianna hit out, twice, but the blows where ignored.

‘Submit!' Moloa grunted, shifting to bring her face clear of Cianna's reach.

Cianna hit out, lashing frantically at Moloa's arm and hip, to no effect. The hold tightened and Cianna cried out, gritting her teeth in pain. Again the hold tightened. She closed her hand on her necklace, praying, forcing herself to push the agony from her mind. Moloa chuckled and tightened the grip yet more.

‘Submit, little one,' she grated, ‘and maybe I won't piss on you after all.'

Cianna said nothing, mumbling prayers through a haze of pain, her vision blurred, her hand gripped tight on her necklace, everything concentrated on thoughts of her family, until she seemed to be in Boreal, but above it, high over Sulitea's meadow, floating in silence…

Suddenly she was back on the sand in the Great Pit at Kea. Moloa was sitting back, the hold released, the placard girls coming out from the corridor.

‘Tough little brat, aren't you?' Moloa said.

Cianna said nothing, filled with anger as she imagined her brothers laughing at her, or her grandfather turning away to hide an expression of shame as she lay defeated in the dirt. Stretching out her leg, she reached up for a flagon being offered by one of the placard girls. Sat up, she took water, drinking some and pouring the remainder over her head. The tone of the crowd had changed, voices raised in doubt, hissed demands for the bookmakers to take money on Moloa, derisive grunts in response.

She got up, wiping sand wet with sweat from her legs and buttocks. Opposite her Moloa had her hands raised to a section of her supporters among the crowd, who returned a cheer. Cianna touched her necklace, uttered a prayer. The gong sounded and she bared her teeth, wiped a tendril of hair from her face and crouched down, her eyes locking with Moloa's. Moloa returned the grin, squatting to begin her stamping advance. Cianna screamed, hurled herself forward, driving a fist into the centre of Moloa's chest even as the great arms closed on her. Moloa grunted in pain, but held, crushing Cianna into herself, only to scream as Cianna's teeth clamped into her neck.

Hurled back, Cianna sprawled on the sand for an instant, bouncing up and once more darting forward. Her fist drove up, her knee also, Moloa staggering back, unable to keep the hold. Immediately Cianna darted back in, hacking and kicking, throwing herself down to avoid a crushing back handed slap, then up, driving both fists into Moloa's ribs. Moloa screamed in pain and fury, clutching for Cianna's body, catching her and hurling her away, to strike the wall, following with a roar of pure fury. Cianna ducked, twisted, planting her foot hard into Moloa's bottom to send her crashing into the pit wall.

Not waiting, Cianna hurled herself onto Moloa, punching, kicking and biting, only for the assault to be returned with equal fury. The crowd forgotten, they tore at each other, rolling in madden frenzy on the sand, one on top, then the other, without thought for holds, let alone displaying themselves. Cianna was screaming, her vision red, her pain faded to heat, indifferent to everything but Moloa's body, striking and clawing and biting, until at last hands were gripping at her shoulders, pulling her back, Moloa also. She stood, finding Jelkrael and his two male slaves clutching onto her. Glaydrak had Moloa, also a pit official, pulling her up from the sand.

‘The gong went,' Jelkrael explained.

Cianna spat at him, catching him full in the face, and wrenched herself back. A gasp went up from the crowd, Jelkrael standing pop-eyed in astonishment. The male slaves let go of her and she snatched a flagon from a placard girl, upending it over her head. Across the pit Moloa was with Glaydrak, her body wet with sweat, Cianna's war paint and also blood, her face set in fury. Cianna laughed.

Jelkrael stepped quickly back. Cianna shook out her hair, which had come lose in the fight, and bared her teeth at Moloa, her mouth wide to show the sharpened points and red blood on her lips. Moloa gave back a hard, set look, angry, with none of the amusement she had shown before. Raising her arm to her mouth, Cianna clamped her teeth into her own flesh, bit, to feel the skin burst and the sharp pain. Sucking, she showed her blood filled mouth to Moloa, swallowed her mouthful and pointed at Moloa's neck.

Moloa motioned to Glaydrak, beckoning him back from the corridor mouth. Briefly they conferred. Glaydrak signalled a pit official, who listened to Moloa, then glanced at Cianna and back. Nodding, he walked to Cianna.

‘A point of rule,' he announced. ‘Attempting to kill your opponent leads to disqualification, in the same manner as the breaking of bones. It will also be treated as murder. Do you understand?'

Cianna laughed and spat sideways, leaving a red mark on the sand.

‘I understand, and I laugh in the Feast Hall, Makean pig,' she answered.

He gave her a puzzled look and backed hastily away, but nodded to Glaydrak and Moloa. The gong sounded, the men hastily departing the sand. Cianna shook her hair out once more, screamed and lunged. Moloa met her, arms up, face protected, striking out with her fists. A punch caught Cianna's shoulder, spinning her around even as he knee came up into Moloa's side. They clung tight, Moloa frantically defending her face from Cianna's teeth, falling, to crash to the sand, Cianna on top.

Moloa's hands lashed out, a double fisted blow, driven straight to Cianna's face, missing to the side. Darting her head in, Cianna buried her teeth in Moloa's arm, evoking a scream and a frantic bucking motion that sent Cianna sprawling into the sand, teeth still locked in place. Moloa hurled herself away, rolling in the sand, kicking and punching in blind panic, to strike Cianna's face.

Cianna rolled back, dazed, cursing herself as she struggled to clear her vision, kicking out wildly as she scrambled back. Her leg cut through air, the blur clearing to show Moloa on one knee, clutching her bleeding arm, her huge chest shivering to quick, hard breaths. Cianna bared her teeth, crawling forward. Moloa swallowed, bunching a fist, her face setting in determination, but also fear.

‘You're not human!' she babbled. ‘You're a beast! A man-ape!'

Cianna nodded her head and licked a fang, braced herself and lunged, her arm out to parry Moloa's furious punch, crashing together, head to neck, her teeth locking across Moloa's throat…

‘Submit!' Moloa screamed. ‘Submit! Get her off me! Glaydrak, help!'

Immediately Cianna bounced back, and up, laughing to the ceiling high above her, a wild, uncontrolled sound of pure, feral glee. It lasted only a moment, before her strength went, fading to leave her weak kneed. She struggled to stand, the stands spinning around her, noise and faces blurring, clutching for the pit wall. All around her was noise, cheering and the furious stamping of feet, voices raised in salute, or anger. Someone touched her and her head snapped round, teeth bare, only to see that it was Babalyn, holding out a flagon of water.

Cianna took it, her hand shaking as she poured the full contents down her throat. Slowly her vision cleared, if not her hearing, her ears buzzing with sound. Across the pit Moloa was still sprawled on the sand, Glaydrak standing over her, expostulating. Two pit officials stood by them, frowning.

‘Are you all right?' Babalyn asked, her arm going around Cianna's shoulder.

‘Yes,' Cianna answered weakly. ‘Let me stand.'

Drawing in her breath, she forced herself to let go of the wall, turning to find Jelkrael coming towards her, the dildo thrust out before him.

‘Fuck her!' he said, pushing it at Cianna' chest.

‘Fuck her?' Cianna managed.

‘You must!' he hissed. ‘For the victory, for your title, for my money!'

‘I spit on it.'

‘Then for our team! For honour!'

‘Moloa is beaten. There's your honour.'

‘Then for Babalyn. Think how Moloa abused her! She pissed on her in the sand! This is not her signature!'

‘For revenge, yes. Revenge for a friend is good.'

Cianna snatched the dildo from Jelkrael, holding it up. A great cheer rose from the crowd, coins showering downs, demands ringing out that Moloa be made to kneel, or sodomised, or urinated on first. Cianna ignored them, still struggling to stand up properly as she strapped the dildo into place.

‘A moment!' Glaydrak shouted. ‘Lord King, I dispute the victory and ask your judgement.'

‘On what grounds!?' Jelkrael demanded, his voice loud in the sudden quiet as every face turned towards the King. ‘Damage? Not so! Moloa lives, with no bones broken!'

‘I challenge on the grounds that Cianna is not fully human,' Glaydrak said evenly. ‘Look at her, Lord King. She is unnaturally tall, her skin white, her hair red. No others have such characteristics. Jelkrael may claim she is from the northlands, but there is no proof of this. I say that somewhere in her ancestry there is Red Ape!'

Cianna's mouth came open in protest and she started forward, pulling against both Jelkrael and Babalyn. The King raised his hand, then put his fingers together, his eyes flicking to Cianna, then the crowd. An angry murmur began, but died as the King once more raised his hand.

‘Is there a rule on this matter? he demanded. ‘A precedent perhaps?'

‘Neither, Lord King,' an official responded.

‘Then the savage girl has her victory,' the King answered.