The door to the basement was not hidden and was guarded only by a pair of thick durasteel doors and a chadra-fan with snow white fur, bright red eyes and six gold hoop rings lining the sides of each of his ears. A handful of credits was all it took for the heavy steel doors to slide open and reveal a set of thick stone stairs that descended down to the dark depths below the club. The stairs went down for close to twenty meters in near total darkness with only a dim motion sensing light inlaid every other step. The music from the club above was quickly lost on the other side of the heavy doors making the trip down a silent one to go along with the darkness. At the bottom of the stairs was another door, this one unmanned and easily opened with a push of a button.
That second door would open to reveal a hidden room half the size of the club it had been built under. Lit in dim orange lighting and filled with a haze of smoke and spice, it was the near opposite of the club above. There was no dancing down in the underground but the sound was still overwhelming. In place of the gaudy metal and glass monstrosity of a bar that the upper level had, the lower level bar was made of simple durasteel and half the size, though one would not complain as there were only high priced intoxicants to be found. Like the upper level there were many women in various states of dress walking around but all eyes were paid to the center of the room and the pit.
A ten foot deep hole, thirty feet in diameter lined with a clear plexisteel barrier at the top to keep patrons from falling in while still allowing a view of the main attraction of the underground. Fights. Bloodsport of the lethal variety. The rich and depraved came to this place and places like it to watch beings from all over the galaxy, often slaves, fight one another, often to the death. Every pair of eyes in the room either stared through the clear viewing spots or were glued to the various monitors as a Trandoshian stood over and violently stomped on the head of a britarro. Every pair save for one.
Declan Osbourne stood off the corner of the room leaned against the wall, a dark blue beverage that tasted like fruit and booze in his hand. His dark brown hair went down past his shoulders, falling onto the thin white silk shirt that he wore, sleeveless and open down the front from chest to waist.
“What is this one again?” A female voice asked while tracing a green finger lightly over the runic tattoos that covered the entirety of his right arm including his hand. His left hand and arm was covered in similar runes and through the open shirt one would be able to see the tattoos that adorned his sides, though it was not possible to tell what exactly they were.
“That is the story of Rænör and how he won the heart and hand of his beloved Cérmæ.” Declan said, a smile forming on his mouth hidden behind the massive beard he allowed to grow wild over his face.
She smiled back at him, the diamond pattern on her green skin scrunching up under her eyes as she did so. Her name was Rara, she was mirialan, and the most reliable member of his new crew. She had soft features, the most exotic thing about her being the diamond tattoos under her eyes but after one got used to the tattoos it was her mouth that stood out the most, Declan thought. She had thick pouty lips that she highlighted with a thin line of black around the edges filled in with a dark red the color of wine or blood, with a thick black line going down the middle of the bottom lip all the way to her chin. She was wearing a crop top and long pants the same dark red as her lipstick, her bare midriff adorned with a piercing on the navel.
“And this one?” She asked, tracing his left arm now.
His smile was sadder now.
“It’s the story of my family. Durin the first, a warrior without peer who was so skilled at war and so strong, that he was nearly himself, a god. Revered among all, Durin the first was champion to The Anasi from Clan Svärd.” Declan took a long drink of his fruity beverage.
“A paragon of virtue and chivalry, the greatest mortal sword in the world, Durin the first caught the eye of Naued, the spirit of winter. You see the spirits and gods in those days walked among the mortals and in this case they fell in love with them too.”
``Your ancestor fell in love with a spirit?” She asked with a playful smile on her lips.
“He did. They fell in love and after that Durin decided he no longer wished to serve Clan Svärd and he moved his family northward to live in the shadow of the mountain. Durin and Naued had five sons together all told, but Durin brought the eldest four to war and came home with nothing but corpses. In her grief Naued left the lands Durin had settled but in her fury and heartbreak she caused the lands to be buffeted constantly by snow and frigid conditions, so that to this day even in the summer the lands of my father are under threat of snow and ice.”
He looked into her pale green eyes and she looked back into his bright green ones.
“The runes tell it in a more romantic way.”
“I’m sure they do.” her hand remained on his arm. She was interested in him, that was clear, not that he hadn’t thought about inviting her back to his cabin before, he certainly had but so far resisted the temptation. Not because she wasn’t pretty or he was too good for such a thing, but he did not know her that well. She had only been on the crew for a handful of weeks and he did not want to send the wrong message.
Aerðs wrath, he was hot. He took another drink and fidgeted lightly at his discomfort. He was used to the cold of snow or of space plus the scent of blood and the sound of screams had set him right on edge.
“What’s wrong? Not having a good time?” Rara asked him noticing how uncomfortable he appeared.
“No, Not really.” He answered shortly.
“Is this not what these kind of things are supposed to be like?” She asked, making a gesture around the room with her hand. By ‘these kind of things’ he knew she meant underground fighting pits.
“This is exactly what they’re like.” he said flatly. Granted his experience had largely been looking up not down but being above the pit did not make him enjoy being around the pit in any way.
“Look I’m sorry, after we hung out and you mentioned fighting in the pits, Ronnie has been obsessed with seeing it for himself.” She explained.
Ronnie was her twin and at the moment had his arms around the waist of two serving girls as he knelt on his knees and each girl had a bottle upturned pouring some kind of liquor into his mouth. The booze filled his mouth and ran over the sides spilling onto his shirt. Rara’s features were soft but not Ronnie’s, he had a pointed nose and chin and a somewhat harsh look about him even as he waved his successful betting slips above his head. Declan had also thought about inviting Ronnie to his cabin but for the same reasons as Rara had let the thought go unacted upon.
“Do you want to make a bet?” Rara asked, trying to make him feel better, while two new fighters were being brought into the pit.
“No.” He responded.
“Help me make one then, which one should I wager on?”
Reluctantly Declan raised his eyes to look at the monitor and the two competitors. One was a large burly human in his mid to late twenties who would almost have been as large as Declan and the other was a caphex, two decades or more older than his opponent and smaller by half at least.
“Bet the caphex.”
“That old man?” She asked, eyebrows raised.
Declan just nodded. The caphex was older and smaller but he was also gnarled like an old tree root and covered in scars, this was not his first visit to the blood pits and Declan did not see it being his last.
The door on the far side of the room opened and he caught a scent that sent a shiver down his spine.
Aelin Erevos
Børre Drage
