Siobhan, The goddess' handmaiden

21. Tournament

“Come with me,” Ereshkigal orders. The goddess is wearing the new crimson gown, and her hair is done in an elaborate braid that winds like a snake around her neck before it flows down her back.

“Right away,” Siobhan bows. “Your lotion is ready.”

“Nice,” the goddess curves her lips into a crooked half smile. The bottle vanishes from sight. It’s probably on the dresser in the goddess’ room. Siobhan will just take the one word as a compliment. She follows Ereshkigal down the hall and over to the other side of the palace. The ornaments on the walls are unfamiliar to her. Did she miss this part in her exploration? She was sure that she knew every part of the palace by now.

Naryshka is standing by a door. Inconspicuous as it is, the door leads outside. Siobhan can see a cobbled path and low walls. The demoness bows to the goddess and closes the door after them. Siobhan looks at her friend, but only gets a slight shake of the head as an answer. It means don’t ask anything. Even Naryshka’s attire is different today. She wears some kind of a black leather armour, with a sword hanging on her belt. It looks official. And scary. Is this how the guardian should always look?

The path leads over the top of a wall that encloses a courtyard. It’s empty, but with strange patterns on the ground. She has to ask Naryshka what that is for, but later. The stairs at the end lead up. There is another hallway that looks much simpler than the palace. Are they outside, or just in a part that is abandoned? Siobhan would expect cobwebs down the walls and windows, but truth be told, she never saw a spider around here. The hallway suddenly opens up and she finds herself on a private balcony on top of an arena. It’s decorated to be fit for a goddess. The noise of the crowd is deafening. The roar of a few thousand demons should frighten her, but she only feels indifferent.

Siobhan can see Nakir in the opposite lodge. The distance should be too great for her to clearly see his expression, but her new Elf eyes have much better sight. He looks cold and detached, but she somehow knows he’s bored. There is a group of demons down below. They are cheering the crowd on. The warriors are here to fight, why else would they be dressed in armour and equipped with weapons? Will this be a bloodbath the likes she read about in books? A tall man with a golden spear walks out onto the balcony below them. He is dressed in a robe, his long hair is adorned with antlers, and the spear has red ribbons that flow in the air around it.

The man hits the tiles with the spear and a loud sound emits from it. The demons in the crowd go silent and all eyes direct at them. Siobhan feels like she is on display. It’s uncomfortable to be stared at.

“Hail Ereshkigal! Hail Ereshkigal! Hail Ereshkigal!” The demons chant. It’s reverence and fear, respect and even love.

“Before the tournament begins our Lady Ereshkigal has a few words to say,” the man’s voice booms over the arena.

Ereshkigal steps closer to the bannister. She places her hand on a stone that is different in colour to the rest. Her voice sounds loud over the arena: “Give me a good show and I’ll give the winner a special prize.”

With that Ereshkigal pulls Siobhan to the front. Her dress turns a vibrant green. It flows lightly around her and flutters in the back almost like wings. What is the goddess thinking! She can’t be the prize! Siobhan is frozen in fear. If they weren’t looking at her before, they are now. The warriors are cheering the loudest. Can they tell what she is? She swallows her fear and catches Nakir’s gaze. He looks angry.

“Let’s see if he cares at all,” Ereshkigal whispers into her ear before she takes her place on the throne.

“My lady, please!” Siobhan drops to her knees before the goddess. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“You’ve done nothing. I just want a good show,” Ereshkigal scoffs. “Aren’t you confident that Nakir will win this for you? Go sit in the front where everyone can see you.”

Siobhan bites her tongue, lest her smart comeback bites her in the ass later. She has a few choice words to say, but she takes her place like a dutiful little slave. What are the rules here? Nobody told her anything and suddenly she’s the grand prize. What will the winner expect from her? Oh, Gods! It better be Nakir, at least she knows him. But, he’s still in his own lodge. Not moving at all. What is he thinking? Doesn’t he care about her at all? Please, please, please, move! Her mind is churning with possibilities and none look appealing to her.

Nakir lets his black coat fall to the floor. He jumps over the railing, and spreads his wings to halt his fall two stories down. His landing in the middle of the arena brings the crowd to an even louder roaring. Siobhan can see the generals looking at each other in rage. The scowls and grunts are not happy. Some of them have probably thought up ways to use her already. Having Nakir join the tournament must have wrecked their plans. She can see that they fear him.

A minor demon with a clipboard runs up to Nakir. How does she know it’s a minor demon? Size doesn’t mean anything when it comes to demons. Nakir is towering over a few other fighters which just makes him even scarier. The fighters move to the side and two remain. The announcement is made in a language she can’t decipher, but she can see what is going on, so it doesn’t matter. Were they randomly selected? What strengths do they have? Will they fight with magic? She can hear parts of the crowd call out names. At least she thinks it’s names.

Oh! It’s weapons. Siobhan looks closely as the two demons pull their swords out of thin air. The combat is nothing special, but that is her bias. She has seen the angels fight. Those demons have no grace in their movements. It looks chaotic and messy. She glances at Ereshkigal who looks bored. Is this just a warm up? If it isn’t, Siobhan can understand why the goddess can’t find any amusement in these tournaments. Even her daughters have put up a better fight when they were kids. Hopefully the next pair will do a better job.

Fighters come and go, some leave on a stretcher, some walk out. But nothing really exciting happens until Nakir steps out into the light. The demons go silent, like they are waiting with bated breath to see what will happen. Siobhan leans forward to see better. Nakir seems to be paired with one of the generals. The cocky bastard must be one of the young ones, because he is trying to make the crowd cheer him on. But the silence stretches out like fog. Nobody moves, nobody cheers. Fear weighs heavily in the air, even she can taste it. Nakir must be having a blast, but his expression is stone cold. He’s not giving anything away.