Chapter Two

Orla had introduced herself and signed a combat contract, and now, she was sitting and looking at the array of weapons she was allowed to use. She went for a gladius. It was short enough that she could use it and light enough that she could stab with it.

The administrator who was walking her through everything explained the reward system and the penalties. The penalties were percentages of her rewards and could be demanded of her opponent.

“Miss Orla, why are you so willing to go into the arena? Most would try and find a way out of it.”

“Avoiding difficulties doesn’t mean that they go away; it just means they hang over your head until next time.” She shrugged and settled her scabbard.

“Very wise. What kind of mage are you?” Telurn smiled, and his greying hair showed age that was not quantifiable. Mages aged slowly.

“I am not one. I was the family’s disappointment. All the promise and none of the power. My brother had his, and that had to be enough.”

“Your parents were both mages?”

“My father was... is a warlock, and my mother was a mage, but I don’t know what her skillset was. No one said, and she never mentioned it to me.”

“Well, you do have power in you. Perhaps you can work on learning what kind of power you have if you win a few bouts. Education is a reward you can earn.”

Orla blinked. “Oh. Well, okay. I was going to save it for a better outfit or maybe some new shoes.”

He stared and blinked. “You don’t have shoes?”

“No. My boots shrank from being dunked in river water.”

“That will be remedied before you train tomorrow. Do you have a patron?”

“A what?”

“No, of course not. You won’t until they have seen you move.”

“That doesn’t sound creepy at all, but as long as it’s remote, I don’t care.”

Telurn cocked his head. “What?”

“As long as they can’t touch me.”

“I see. No, we are in a dimensional bubble that has a temporal aspect. You will be returned to your world if you survive to the upper tier.”

“Lovely. Well, if I am going back to the moment that I left, I am going to get to work. So, you say I have to win to get magic instruction?”

“Technically, yes.” He smiled. “If there happens to be a mage or a grimoire in the common area, you can glean what you can from it.”

Orla nodded. “Right. I will do that.”

“Would you like to eat?”

“Woo. Bread and cheese!” She grinned.

He stared at her. “We have an eating area. You can get other food.”

“I can’t pay for it yet.”

“No, but... what did the wolf tell you?”

“Nothing. Wolves don’t talk.”

He stared at her. “Right. Did it give you anything?”

“Nope. It licked my hand and shoved me through the portal.” She shrugged.

“I see.” He paused. “Which hand did he lick?”

She raised her left arm, still wrapped in the sweater.

“Got it. May I see your hand?”

Orla eased the green knit back, and Telurn gasped. “Oh, damn. You are now bound by a contract. Shit. That is going to be a problem.”

“What?” She looked, and there was a tiny silver ring on her pinkie finger. “What is that?”

“Guest mark. He didn’t send you here to fight; he sent you here as a guest.”

“Oh. Well, I am here now. Where is the eating place, and when can I start fight practice?”

Telurn gestured and walked with her as her orientation continued with some pretty good beef and barley stew. Well, she thought it was beef. Who knew?

Orla sat with a full stomach, warm, and sipped some tea. There was a magical display that was showing fighters beating the hell out of each other. Oh, goody. Well, tomorrow was another day.

The mace was coming for her head, and she ducked. Orla rammed forward and pressed the tip of the sword an inch into her trainer.

An arm came back and smashed her to the floor. “If you are going to strike, strike!”

Orla gasped on her back as he lumbered toward her. She gripped her sword and aimed for his toes. His eyes widened, and he collapsed. She slammed the hilt of her weapon into his chin and then the side of his head. He went over.

Gasping, she remained on her knees as he healed and slowly sat up. Tristan murmured, “Better, but next time, use the pointy end.”

“Will my opponents in the arena pop up like that?”

“No, they will be alive but brought to medical. The contract stipulates that this is for entertainment purposes. Some folk die, but they are rare and in the highest tiers.”

“Okay, but I am not in this to kill.”

Tristan nodded. “I understand. You are only here for the food.”

She grinned.

“Right. Start position.” Tristan smiled, and they started again.

After hours of attack and retreat, including one collision with the mace that made her ears ring and her skull feel tender after. Tristan helped walk her back to the dining area, got her food, and helped her sit down.

“Orla, my advice is not to get hurt.”

She massaged her skull. “Yeah, good idea. What tier would you be considered?”

“Top tier. I get training bonuses.”

“What do you do with them?” Orla sipped at her tea.

“The bonuses? Women usually. I don’t need much, and I have been here for quite some time.”

Orla blinked. “You can mail order a woman?”

“I can choose from the women available at Winter’s palace.”

“Winter?”

“You were sent here by a wolf, correct?” Tristan sipped his coffee.

“Yeah. It is a bit blurry.”

“That is Winter. He set this up as a trial to determine who is worthy to return to the mortal realm in better condition with more chances of survival.”

“Oh. Neat. I just thought I was dripping on his fur.”

He laughed.

A book trolley came by, and the goblin looked at one of the tomes. “Miss Orla? This is for you.”

She blinked and took the grimoire. “For me?”

“Training is broadcast. You have begun accumulating patrons.” He smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “Congratulations.”

She nodded and unlocked the grimoire, smiling at the pages. “Seasonal magic. I always wanted to carve a pumpkin with the snap of my fingers.”

Tristan laughed. “Just don’t stay up too late studying. Your call time is fairly early.”

“Dang. Well, at least when I am done, I can get back to studying.”

Her trainer smiled. “Just don’t get hit in the head.”

She wrinkled her nose and kept reading. She didn’t know how to use any of the magic, but she could definitely absorb the knowledge. She had lost access to all her magic books when she left home. She missed the ozone smell of a good grimoire. It was her constant companion until she went to bed, and she had just started winter magic. She would continue it the following day.

She got up at dawn, got dressed, and braided her hair into a thick tail. She headed to the eating area and got some oatmeal and more tea. The humans and non-humans were out in equal numbers. It had been the biggest shock when she left the family home to be in a world where everyone looked human. This was better. This was normal.

Orla finished breakfast and checked the roster. The display showed her name when she touched it and when she would fight. She couldn’t see her opponent but knew she would be up in an hour. She checked her sweater and the sword and then sat meditating until the runner came for her.

“Miss Orla, please come with me.”

She got to her feet and focused. Fight. Use the pointy end. Don’t get hit in the head.

She walked into the room filled with thousands of dulled lights.

She squared off with her opponent and fought with everything she had. The young male orc was two feet taller than she was but still moved awkwardly with his club and dagger. The sweater took a few solid hits, but she didn’t feel anything. Following her impulses, she ran the orc through after three minutes of sparring. He staggered back, her sword dripped blood, and the lights flickered wildly.

Her image floated, and a white circle surrounded it. She was free to go. With her sword dripping, she walked out the way she had come in, and her runner was there. He showed her where to clean up and clean her blade, and then, she was dismissed for the rest of the day. Back to the book.

Orla’s days took on the same pattern. Fight, get hit, survive, and back to the magic book. She started to make money, so she bought more books. Patrons started sending her fighting gear, so the loose shirt and trousers were put aside for snug leather. Two patrons even sent her hair clips and brushes.

Orla lost count of the fights, but she was getting better. So were her opponents. Remaining in the middle tier was what she wanted, but she was creeping up toward the edge of the high tier, and that would get her killed.

Tristan came by as she studied in a corner. “Orla, how are you feeling?”

“Good. A little sore. That ogre threw me into the wall pretty hard.”

“Yeah, I saw. Um, next round, you are going into the high tiers. Are you ready for it?”

She looked at him and felt her lower lip wobble. “No.”

“You can get an easier fight if you negotiate with your opponent before the fight starts.”

“With what? I can’t use any of the magic I have learned, and my money isn’t impressive.”

Tristan stared at her. “You do have one thing left to bargain with.”

“What?”

He smacked his hand over his eyes and then looked at her. “You can’t be that innocent.”

She stared and then remembered that he said he spent his spare funds on women. “Oh. Oh, no. I don’t do that.”

“Are you sure? It would make the fights easier.”

“When I was fourteen, my brother sold me to shadows for a power boost. Since then, I have not been interested in anything of that nature.”

Tristan stared at her in horror. “He... and you... you were a child.”

“Yeah, he got more power for that.” She teared up. “My mom came to get me, and I don’t know what she said, but they let me go and actually apologized to me. She never said why and just held me and took me home.”

“Oh. Shit. Well, that isn’t your problem directly, but every opponent is going to ask.”

“Thank you. I stand warned.” She nodded. Orla took a deep breath. “Sorry for unloading on you.”

“It isn’t a problem. Not many survive the shadows.”

“Yeah, my mom was the only reason I got out of there. My brother was counting on me dying. I disappointed him, so when my mother passed the following year, he made sure that Dad kicked me out immediately.”

“Did your grandparents take you in?”

She shook her head. “My grandfather is an asshole who just participated in a bid to get my organs, and my mother had to leave her family when she married my father. It was a sign-off arrangement to try and get a second heir. I showed up instead.”

He looked intrigued. “The purpose of the union was a male heir, and they were both magic users?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Nothing. It is just unusual.”

She shrugged. “So, what are your weak points if I end up against you?”

Tristan laughed and went to get them some tea.

He distracted her for a few hours, and when she went to bed, she had no idea what she would be facing the following day.

* * * *

Hunter watched the alarmingly quick arrival of emergency services and a tow truck to haul the car out of the water. The woman was right; her family was trying to harvest her organs.

He obscured the marks of her escape from the water and her path into the woods. She had fought hard and deserved to be hidden.

Hunter walked back through the woods, and when he got to his car, he shifted back to human and drove through the city and to his home. The young woman was safe and would be cared for at his palace. She just needed to relax and enjoy being cared for.

He got to his home and walked to his door. It opened, and he stepped inside, moving past his butler and smiling. “Yesoff. I did a good deed today.”

“Good, sir. You will enjoy the new feed at the arena. There is a woman who is slashing her way through her competition.”

Hunter nodded and then paused. “I haven’t sent any female combatants in recently.”

He felt a cool ripple through his soul. “But I did send a guest through.”

He swiftly walked to the viewing room and opened the available windows, and there were eighteen battles with a novice female. “Shit.”

He looked through her records to find out why they had disregarded her mark of protection, and there was a tiny note. The ring was seen after the contract had been signed. The sweater obscured her hand. She was willing to proceed in the arena.

Hunter sighed and checked the roster. Only the eighteen fights were available, and the final fight had a familiar figure.

“Sir, is everything okay?”

“She was a guest and needed help, but she seems to have more savagery than I gave her credit for.” He turned to walk out back. “I have to return to the arena for her next challenge.”

“Why?”

He shifted to his anthropomorphic form. “Because I am not letting anyone destroy her.”

He faced the acres of forest that was his and his alone. “We will be back this evening, Yesoff.”

“We?”

“If she has made it to high tier, she is ready to learn how to use her magic. That has to be done in this realm.”

Yesoff looked at him. “What size is she?”

“Why?”

“She is going to come from the arena dressed for battle. She will need normal clothing if you don’t want to craft them for her.”

Hunter nodded. “She is medium or perhaps large. She was tall but very slender.”

“How tall?”

He held his hand up to Yesoff’s nose. “There.”

Yesoff nodded. “Do you know her name?”

“It is Orla, but her family is trying to kill her, so you may want to avoid notifications.”

His butler nodded. “Right. I will be circumspect and simply say that your... cousin is arriving if anyone asks.”

“Fair enough. Excuse me.” Hunter opened a frost portal and stepped in.

The palace was just as he remembered it. The staff were quiet and acknowledged his arrival, but he got his light armour from his closet and fastened it over his furry chest. If she had made it through eighteen battles, she could use a sword.

He checked the timing, and it was dawn. He had got in just in time. With rapid strides and short nods to the staff at the palace, he headed for the arena. He had to keep any of the upper tiers from coaxing her into positions she didn’t want.

Going over the protective instinct in him was something he would do later. For now, the little lady needed an intervention.

He walked to the arena entrance with organizers scrambling out of the way. When he entered the arena, he saw the small form of the woman staring up at the massive orc who was leering down at her. Hunter let out a low growl, and the orc whipped around. Denmos stared at him. “Um, sir?”

“Go.”

“Right.”

Orla looked at him and cocked her head. “A switch?”

He knew the smile didn’t show on his canine face, but he said, “I haven’t bottomed before, but if you are persuasive, I am willing to give it a try.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

His eyes widened. “First, we fight, and then, I will explain the reference.”

* * * *

Orla looked at the wolfman and lifted her sword. She asked, “What happens if I get blood on your fur?”

He shrugged. “I will ask you to help wash it out.” He crouched slightly with his claws out.

She matched his posture. “Fine, but don’t shake.”

He huffed a laugh, the gong rang, and they collided.

Her leather was in shreds, and her left arm had taken hundreds of hits. She was exhausted and knew that he was toying with her. She pulled back and muttered, “I thought toying with prey was a cat thing.”

He huffed and said, “Well, if you want it over with...”

She brought up her sword, but he lunged in, lifted her in the air, and slammed her flat on her back.

Pain shot through her, and her breath left her lungs and seemed to have no interest in returning. She thrashed around, but air wasn’t coming. Orla felt herself turning blue, but then, he put his hand on her chest, and air rushed in.

She wheezed, and he lifted her, cradling her against him as he stood and walked from the arena. She looked up and saw the red glow around her image.

He was holding her carefully, and she wheezed. “Where are we going?”

“You were supposed to be my guest, Orla. You were not supposed to be in the arena.”

“Yeah, that was figured out after I signed on to the arena.” Her voice was a rasp. “Why didn’t you do that to start?”

“Oh, you have worked hard, and I did not want to disrespect your efforts.” He didn’t look down at her. He wouldn’t have been able to see her without cocking his head sharply.

“Gee. Thanks.”

He chuckled. “Do you have any items that you wish brought to the palace?”

Shock hit her, but she blurted out, “My books!”

He paused. “Books?”

“I have been buying a grimoire a day, and my patrons have sent stuff.”

He chuckled and let out a low huff. Telurn walked toward them, “Yes, sir?”

“Bring her new library to the palace. I want her out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

He carried her, and she continued wheezing as he walked.

“Are you still hurt?”

“Not really, but it is like my lungs have forgotten what they are supposed to do.”

He huffed. “Sorry. I acted on instinct.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Effective instincts.”

“They have gotten me this far.”

She focused on breathing, and by the time he had walked to the palace, her chest still ached, but her breath came easier.

When he walked past the guards at the gate, she recognized lefty and righty. “Hey, guys.” Her voice was still a croak.

The guards looked at her with wide eyes, then stared at the wolf, and kept walking.

She had a thought and craned her head to the back.

Hunter muttered, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if you have a tail.”

“Why?”

“I wondered if it was wagging. You have wagging-tail face.”

She stared up at him, and he paused and looked at her down his muzzle. “It is not wagging.” His words were growled.

He straightened and kept walking. She was pretty sure she saw the swish of a tail behind him, but it didn’t reappear.

She waited until he set her down before she said what she was thinking. “Nice doggy.”