Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Kos glittered under a bright sun hung high in the pale blue sky.

The orb cast its luminous rays over the bustling city, casting a golden radiance over all in its path.

Only a few clouds were present to give cover.

The light was blinding, causing Katánians in full avifauna form to soar into Kos angled away from the dazzling brilliance.

On the ground, the hordes squinted and shielded their eyes.

Heat enveloped everything, like a blanket wrapping around the metropolis.

It radiated off every surface, reflecting off windows and glass structures.

The city’s marbled walls sparkled as the rays bounced off the intricate gold and silver veins threaded through the obsidian surfaces.

While some eyries were settling into afternoon naps to escape the heat, the Sābər Arena buzzed with life as most of Kos descended past the canals and into the vast coliseum.

The sun was a behemoth, beaming down on the sweat-soaked bodies of the hyped-up crowd.

The light breeze from the feathered fans on each level of the packed seating rows was a welcome relief.

It brushed cool air against the skin, offering a slight reprieve from the humidity.

Under the sweltering arena, Kaniz and Sana’a walked through an archway leading to the coliseum from the changing rooms.

Both fanned themselves as they strode into the waiting tunnel, an oasis of shade.

‘Fokk this heat,’ Kaniz murmured.

Sana’a nodded, pressing an ice pack to her forehead, arms and neck. ‘On days like these, I long for the glass lakes of Shotel’s Ice Valleys,’ she sighed.

A few more steps into the thoroughfare, they found a colossal creature pacing its dark corners.

He glanced up with a snarl, revealing gold fangs.

Lifting a hand, he drew his hand across his neck.

He jerked his chin at Sanaa and turned away to growl at his kísímí master and entourage.

The Shotelai studied him with a small smile, eyes raking over his tall banded krest of gilded ivory interwoven with diamonds.

Jewellery dripped down his massive chest, and his arms were stamped with golden and silver tattoos.

Kaniz prodded her. ‘Kartik’s weakness is his pride. His strength is his size. Prick the first, dance around the other, and victory will be yours.’

Sana’a nodded her understanding, turning her attention instead to surveying the crowds she saw through the slatted spaces in the walls.

They were a livelier throng, given Kartik’s fame and the added drawcard of fighting the infamous Shotelai for the main bout.

The air crackled with a potent force, like a storm brewing in the distance. A faint hint of the iron tinge of sweat and blood threaded through, a reminder of past battles and victories.

Sana’a breathed in the sharpness and inhaled the electric energy, eager to enter the battle arena.

Silence fell as Kəstian announced that the Golden Songbird was opening the evening.

The declaration led to more clamouring in the stands.

‘You’ll want to see and hear this,’ Kaniz gestured Sana’a to the tunnel’s edge. They positioned themselves for a good view of the arena.

A creature of lavish magnificence floated onto the raised platform.

Its body was shimmering gold, reflecting the sunlight and creating an ethereal glow.

The graceful half-transmuted being sported long gilded wings that stretched out from its back and elegant talons for feet.

It stood tall and majestic, its feathers glimmering in the sunlight with a molten iridescence and covered with intricate íkan patterns that swirled in gentle pulses.

Its glittering krest, half of which masked its eyes and identity, shone in a halo.

With a raise of its golden rachís, it launched into song.

One so enchanting, it echoed with melancholy off the city walls and resonated in every soul.

Its voice was a fusion of human and bird-like symphonies and lustrous notes. Their performance included a violin-like trilling produced not by its avifauna vocal anatomy but by the vibration of the unique quills on their wings.

The words it sang captured Sana’a’s imagination, unlike anything that had ever teased her lobes.

‘The Kä’avi get restless

For a radiant win,

A bout so brilliant

It reflects stars and moon:

As warriors battle in star-sun’s heat

Greetings, crowds of people.

Greetings, ladies.

Greetings, handsome gents,

sons of olden heroes,

Who showed no fear of death,

Who crossed mountains and seas

Braced with Sābər and sword,

Who bounded over the ocean.

Who met in battle

Warriors dropped on both sides,

Rise, great kəthi

Glitter with stars and moon,

Rise and arm yourselves

Bring us brilliance and starlight

Bring yourselves glory and fame.

Bring honour to Katánē.

Kuvu, kuvu, kuvu!’

‘It’s a modern take on a famous Katánian fight song,’ Kaniz explained to the stunned Shotelai. ‘One of the most rousing renditions yet.’

Sana’a’s eyes tracked upward as the gilded bird’s feathers beat against the air with a vigorous stroke as it rose.

The beguiling creature’s wings created a gentle swooshing sound as it flew overhead.

As if forged from the molten cores of distant stars, with a body of shimmering gold and eyes that glinted with ancient knowledge and wild kätu.

Then it was gone.

‘Who is she?’

‘No one knows. But the Golden Songbird has a unique and natural ability to sing and interpret music. Each time she does, it’s different, as if singing from a deeper place—not from her head but from her heart.’

After the rendition, the crowd returned to their roaring, baying for action.

They were soon placated when the warm-up act, two older female kavs, emerged from the arena’s underbelly.

In the enclosure, the two Katánian kəthi battlers had a hectic moment as they shook krests and wished one another luck.

Kəstian soared in as the female fighters retreated to the centre of the ring and stood facing each other.

With a flurry of his half-transmuted wings, Kəstian opened the bout. ‘Fight!’

‘Kuvu!’ the combatants shouted.

‘Kuvu!’ the crowd roared back.

The two warriors transformed, keeping their limbs intact as their wing spans unfurled. They flapped into the sky, and within seconds, their koya blades flashed in the sunlight, bringing them down at a sharp angle.

One fighter, with a banded magenta and black krest, rushed forward and feinted, guiding her sābər koya to the left.

Her opponent, a leaner, hungrier form with a yellow-speckled krest, moved to block the attack with a long pinion.

But the striped fighter soared back at the last second, the blow glancing off her shoulder.

The crowd gasped and jeered as the first warrior twisted her right arm, her íkan laced sābər flashing in the sunlight.

The yellow-speckled leviathan failed to react in time, and the koya thudded into her upper shoulder, ripping through armour and piercing her skin. Silver blood spurted, and she slumped to the ground in agony.

The victorious winner levitated towards her fallen opponent, offering him her talons.

With a pained smile, the defeated fighter took the proffered claw and handed her koya to the winner, and the two women embraced.

Sana’a raised a brow. ‘That’s new.’

‘They’re old friends,’ Kaniz murmured to Sana’a. ‘They fought together in the same wing of the Imperial Hawks and have a deep kinship for each other.’

Sana’a nodded. ‘I see. So it’s not all savagery and barbarity.’

‘It never was. We’re just a passionate people.’

As Sana’a huffed, the crowd outside went wild.

The kavs floated away, bowing, the victor raising a fist as flowers rained on her head.

Kəstian sunk back to the surface, his mighty rachís flapping behind him.

With a chin lift, he held his hands up for silence.

As soon as the noise died down, he spoke. ‘We have a special treat for you, so ensure you follow all the actions closely. This next match will pit two of Kos’ best kəthi kavaliers against each other.’

He pointed up into the stands. ‘You all know of Kartik, The Kite of Kagnian and Sābər of Khanata. He who has felled entire divisions of his weaker enemies and stopped the carnage of the Hound of Hades.’

The name elicited more cheers and even some chants.

‘In this very arena, he has bested over ninety opponents. Today, he will face the yet undefeated Sana’a of the Shotelai.’

The crowd roared in approval, falling silent at his raised hands.

‘To ensure this bout is as fair as possible, we have asked Kartik to bind his talons to fight, giving him limited íkan control. He insisted on this himself so the Shotelai woman is not humiliated.’

The spectators were frothing, wings unfurling and beating in cadence.

Their powerful feet drummed the ground in the rousing pulse of sound.

‘May the best kavalier win.’ He hoisted his arms. ‘Fight! Kuvu!’

Kartik did not leave the tunnel at a walk.

Instead, he burst out at full speed.

The coliseum shook with the force of his beating pinions as he took to the air. He let out a frightful vocalisation, a high-pitched scream meant to strike terror in the hearts of everyone in the arena.

He moved so fast that his winged form was blurred, and a haze of dust trailed behind him.

Sana’a was slower in revealing herself.

With a sigh, she gripped her shotel tighter and sent a command to her metsai crushers.

They lifted off, and she sailed out of the waiting tunnel into the light to a thunderous welcome.

She shot into the sky alongside Kartik, where the pair circled one another at arm’s length apart.

The crowd’s excitement was palpable as the two prize contenders sized each other up.

When Kəstian pulled up to bind Kartik’s hands in cuffs dripping with diamonds, the crowd clamoured at the gesture. Screeching even louder as the two fighters started to circle one another.

When Kagṣān’s eyes flashed, a roar from all the Kä’avi present rose into the air, starting from the far side of the arena.

After a moment, Sana’a realised the spectators were chanting her opponent’s name: ‘Kartik! Kartik! Kartik!’

The chant intensified as the opponents circled, gaining in volume. The two adversaries surged toward each other, crossing the distance in a fraction of a second.

Blocking out all sound, Sana’a leapt into the fray.

Kartik’s sword whirled to the left as he controlled his sābər’síkan.

His blade responded, pointing towards the Shotelai woman.

The kavalier raised his chin and jerked it forward, flinging the weapon onto Sana’a.

She blocked the strike and sent her shotel flying at the same time. She then scored Kartik’s back, drawing a thin line of blood as it scraped past before hurtling back into Sana’a’s hands.

There was a flurry of movement from both fighters.

With a roar, the kavalier lunged closer, and soon, they were in close combat.

It soon became apparent that Sana’a’s fighting style was a stark contrast to Kartik’s.

While he took on a controlled, measured approach using his íkantation to guide his strikes, hers was untamed.

Each swing and parry was a symphony of chaos, a dance of lethal beauty that left the Katánian disoriented.

Kartik was employing his bound fists to push Sana’a’s blade away from him as he tried to get inside his guard.

Sana’a used her right flank to block Kartik’s attacks while trying to keep her left side towards her opponent.

She found a gap and sent her shotel whistling lightning fast into the wheeling man’s wing.

The force behind the blow sent the kav rotating mid-air.

The crowd went wild as Kartik somersaulted and lunged, throwing his powerful legs around Sana’a’s waist. He interlocked the two of them in a deadly embrace and forced a high-speed dive plunge to the ground.

Sana’a snarled as they plummeted, attempting to find an opening with her weapons.

She slashed, and one of his wings was sliced to the bone.

Screeching in pain, Kartik’s thighs loosened, and he let go. Sana’a pushed off, finding air and balance once more.

Kartik was stumbling back mid-air, the top half of one wing spattered with blood.

The throng roared as Sana’a lunged forward and tapped his chest with her shotel, making a criss-cross slash with one gash curve, like her weapon.

A moment later, Kartik dropped to the ground, clutching his thorax.

Kəstian soared in, hands raised, and the fighting stopped.

The tables had turned, and now the crowd was chanting for Sana’a.

She was panting hard, her hair damp with sweat, and her shirt was clinging to her breasts.

Lifting the fabric off her skin to cool herself off, she landed and tracked over to Kartik, offering him her hand.

He snarled at her, hoisting his bound talons as if to swat hers away. ‘Fokk off Shotelai.’

‘Be a good sport now,’ she murmured. ‘Sore losers suck. All eyes are on you, and you’ll only gain more respect by taking your loss like a champ.’

Sana’a tried again and leaned down, clasping Kartik’s cuffed fists and hauling him to his feet.

The crowd was roaring in approval, even as her fellow combatants gave her a round of applause.

The masses clamoured and hooted again, and the two fighters bowed to each other.

Sana’a took a victory lap around the arena, waving at her growing legion of fans, her arms raised in triumph.

She turned to head back to the tunnel and change rooms, pausing when she spotted a silhouette in the crowd.

A hooded figure seated in the lower public seats, his profile flanked by two gargantuan hulks.

His face was cast in gloom, hidden beneath his cowl.

It was as dark as a raven’s feathers, concealing him in a shroud of mystery that absorbed the light around him.

His tall and imposing form sat forward, his arms draped on one thick thigh crossed over his knee.

Her heart lurched, eyes falling on his unmistakable and rugged jawline.

Lifting a hand, he gave her a lazy, single-finger salute, his lips twitching.

The muscles in his biceps and chest rippled beneath the fabric of his shirt, a testament to his physical strength. And though he carried himself with a sense of calm and control, his silver eyes had a fierce, almost wild glint.

Even from a distance, Sana’a could feel a prickling sensation on her skin, as if static electricity was building up around him. It was a tingling reminder of the intensity of his hidden power.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, locking eyes with him.

After a beat, she turned away and loped into the tunnel.

The following minutes were spent receiving congratulations from her kəst members, Kesia and Kaniz. Even Kiho from Kalila’s eyrie swung by with a wry grin and a clap on her back.

‘You fokkin’ destroyed Kartik,’ he growled with a laugh. ‘He’s still muttering in shock and sitting half-dazed in disbelief like a sad flycatcher.’

She responded with a half smile, eyes darting around, sensing his presence and searching for him in the crowded chamber.

The second everyone’s attention fell from her, Sana’a slipped away to escape the reverie of her kəthi crew’s celebration, which was descending into rabble-rousing and drinking.

First, to collect her winners’ bounty, flicking the schills into her account via her commtab.

Next, needing some air, she decided to walk through the city.

She also needed to work through her consternation at sighting him.

Although she knew that meeting him would once more be inevitable, seeing him ringside had thrown her.

She wasn’t primed.

Not for his smouldering, piercing, blade-like gaze that cut through to the heart.

Not for the upturn of his lush lips as he smirked at her.

Not for his intensity, nor his potency, never for his disdain.