Cordelia the Merciless

The crowd thrums above like the rumbling of a giant sea beast. Yet I stand alone, with nothing but a single-piece gilded leather body armour to keep out the chill. Even so, sweat slicks my forehead and hands as I clench them together.

The crowd quietens for one precious moment. I hold my breath. A scream pierces the walls of my blank room for a single moment before it is drowned out by the crowd. They are cheering. Cheering the death of the previous contestant. What a way to die.

“This is it,” I say to the blank wall, scuffed from many footsteps, doubtless half of them belonging to me. I check the straps on my scant armour and shake my forearms to get the blood moving. A twinge on my shoulder is the only remnant from last-weeks fight.

A familiar creak— and the wall cracks at the top, light streaming into my previously dim holding room. Ever so slowly, the sounds of the crowd surge in, yet with the bright lanterns hanging from the darkness, I can’t see them. It is only me and the sawdust floor.

With a deep breath, I leap out of the cage into a confident stride and wave at the invisible crowd. They scream in delight and I think I can even make out the faint lines of those closest.

Despite my life on the line, exhilaration surges through me and I let myself relish it. Surely the gods will let me have this. This is all I get before it begins.

Even as I run around the edge of the arena, seventy paces or so in diameter, the crowd quiets and it is as if I am alone again. I slow to a walk in the middle of the sawdust, turning my head to see which false wall an unfortunate prisoner will jump from.

I laugh freely, it is almost as if I’d forgotten I was one. Not that it mattered, this was all I was now. A showpiece. And yet… It is more than I ever was in the King’s court.

“I hope you’re proud, father…” I catch movement to my right. The thick wooden panelling, even more, worn on this side, stained with blood and gore descends revealing…

“Fanciest prisoner I’ve ever seen,” I call to the audience. There is little response.

Well, it’s good to test my skills sometimes. The prisoner in question stands stock still as her ramp hits the floor, ornate scaled armour almost royal looking. It doesn’t even appear to have a seam in it, not where it met her neck. And capped with a golden helmet. It was a she thought. No man had a chest like that.

Afraid? No, this was for show. To keep the audience in tension. I drop to my knees and look upwards, towards where I know the sky is. Beyond the huge lantern where Himmel resides. I hope you enjoy this.

When I look down the woman has crossed half the distance between us, strides almost hurried.

“Who are you?” I call out, almost mockingly, “Who are you to challenge me?”

No answer. Her steps quicken.

I look around at the crowd but there is no response. I clench my teeth, not an easy crowd today is it. And those scales look sharp. I glance at the scars on my arms, more veiny and muscled than they’d ever been attending dinner parties. I even prefer it, if it weren’t exclusively from snapping necks and training for snapping necks.

“You think this is going to be easy do you?” I call out, taking several bouncing strides towards her, “What? Armour will protect you?”

There is a smattering of laughs from around and I move again. This is always the difficult part, pleasing the crowd. Without those scales… well I didn’t need the crowd at all. But that didn’t bode well for the entertainment value at all. I must heighten the stakes.

The woman pauses several paces from me and I grin despite myself and then unlatch my armour, pulling it over my head and throwing it at the other woman. It comes to rest a pace from her feet.

The crowd gasps as I am left standing in only the tight undergarments of a fighter. Once I would have been horrified to show so much to anybody more than a suitor, or a husband.

Now you’re interested. I close the distance between us and jump, kicking out, knee rising… Her elbow slams into me and I slam into the sawdust face-first. I grunt in pain, spitting blood and rolling over, ready for the next attack. None comes, she just stands there staring at me.

Wipe my hands on my bare thighs and run towards her again. Again I jump, yet this time kick out with my left foot, connecting with her solar plexus, or where it would be if she weren’t wearing armour. Instead, I yell in pain as the metal digs into the skin of my thighs. She turns her helmeted head towards where I stagger backwards and then suddenly rushes with frightening speed. Her gauntleted hands grab my shoulders and slam me into the ground again and again… I gasp for breath as hands stronger than I have felt in so— She stops. Hands yanking back and clutching at her helmet. I grunt in surprise but take the opportunity to kick her backwards. Yet instead of pain as my foot connects with her chest, she flies backwards twenty feet and slams into the far wall with a sickening scrape of metal.

I grin as the crowd roars around me. I glance up and blow a kiss to the sky then jump. Air rushes through my hair, ripping it from its bun and I jump ten times what anybody else could, landing back down in front of the woman as she struggled to her feet. I grin and make it look as if I am sending a punch towards her throat when I instead laugh backwards, letting myself tumble and slide back into the middle of the arena. Some cheer, but most gasp around me.

I grunt in pain and turn just to see the other woman fly towards me in an assisted leap. Shit. She’s playing my game. “This is my domain!” I shout but I only half get out of the way as her shoulder catches mine and I spin away, feeling something crack and pain spiderweb its way through my body.

I cough and struggle to my knees. Watching her out of the corner of my eyes. Whatever the other woman had done, she hadn’t been prepared for the landing and was only now getting to her feet. I force myself to my feet and with superhuman strides, cross the distance and jump, kicking out with my foot to catch her helmet sending her flying backwards into the ground.

“She thinks armour will protect her!?”

I land with one foot on her chest and drop so that I am sitting with my knees on her arms. I grab the sides of her helmet as she struggles and yanks. There is a cry as I pull it off, revealing the face inside. The crowd falls silent. I freeze.

“Saleen?” I whisper, dropping the helmet to the floor with a thud that echoes through the silence.

The woman staring up at me has the same eyes, yet a wiser face. Aged since I… took her to that singing lesson so long ago. Saleen my daughter.

“Mother,” the other woman sobs, tears streaming pooling around her eyes.

She pulls her arms free and I don’t stop her. “They made me do it!”

“Saleen!” I cry out, “They didn’t make you like me did they?”She shakes her head, “I watched every match, I prayed for you every time. I even invested in your training. Then they took him. My son. Mother, you would have loved him, he’s just as good at painting as you were. Are.”

Painting. I shiver. How long since I had painted? Years. Five, six? I look down at my daughter, blood leaking from a split lip. “They have your son?” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “but they said if I… didn’t do this, they would kill him. Too powerful, they said you were.”

“What…”

She sobs louder then clenches her fist and before I can stop her, slams her fist with the weight of a hundred women into my face. The last thing I know is the horrified look on her face.