Battle Games Part 11 Arya’s Time to Shine.
Back on the floor of the arena, there was a break while the audience took time to eat. The only exceptions being the loin-clothed workers dragging large boulders across the sandy-coloured floor. The remaining contenders sat apart from Arya as they devoured the generous lunch. She’d considered joining them for a moment. Or even trying to find Alfred and Morwenna for company. In the end she sat alone, munching on the thick succulent meat and flatbread, washed down with some bitter-tasting ale. Arya thought the drink had probably been made from moss.
Suspecting none of the Elders were impressed with her performance so far, Arya knew she had to nail the final event.
The final challenge was more suited to her skills. She’d expected events with weapons or even target practise which showed her how little she knew about the Battle Games. Only for the final round had weapons been distributed, and they were short wooden staves.
The task involved staying on top of the huge stone columns or rock boulders dotted around the arena. Some stone plinths had wooden boards joining them, providing precarious walkways. The obstacles were different distances apart, though most of them Arya thought she could jump between.
The game was easy enough. Contenders started from stones at the edge of the arena and the last person remaining off the ground would be the winner. At first, Arya thought it might be smart to stand on one of the plinths at the edge. But it appeared the organisers had catered for such a tactic, having furnished the crowd with small polished sandstones. Any contestant deemed not trying hard enough considered a fair target.
Arya had a sinking feeling she’d be targeted, anyway. Being the last chance to prove the truth of her claim, she’d hoped the skills she’d learned with Syrio and in Braavos would come into their own. As she climbed onto her designated plinth, Arya eyed the array of grey columns, trying to judge those she considered easy to jump between.
A grinning Lug handed her a short stave she would use for fighting. His eyes fixated on her bare breasts. The rules were simple. Fall off, and you’re out. Anything else seemed fair game.
The announcer shouted, and the crowd roared their approval. Arya was about to jump onto the next column heading towards the centre when the first stone hit her on the back. She turned and scowled as another bounced off the boulder she perched on.
“Move it slayer,” a voice shouted. She ducked as another stone whistled by.
Spinning around, Arya made the leap to the next boulder before bounding across half a dozen more until she neared the centre. She watched the other contestants’ movements. Some waited towards the edges. Moving enough not to annoy the crowd, but not enough to get too involved.
Arya didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t being pelted by stones which gave her motivation but the need to put on a good enough show so they would accept who she said she was.
There was a roar of laughter from the crowd. A large youth had overbalanced and tumbled off a stone of his own accord. The woman warrior nearest to Arya, distracted as she watched, suddenly found herself kicked hard in her back as Arya leapt across and assaulted her. Her blow hard enough to knock the woman off her stone and give Arya sufficient leverage to make the leap to another boulder.
She landed with an almighty wobble, causing the crowd to let out an expectant breath. A stone pinged off a nearby column, but Arya stayed upright.
Other contenders eyed her warily. She moved again. One of the taller men had reached a stone with a plank lain at one edge. With four quick leaps, Arya used the momentum from one jump to bounce across the boulders like they were stepping stones, and landed next to the tall man. He came at her with his stave. Arya ducked below the strike and thundered into his legs. The man collapsed to his knees before rolling off onto the floor.
Trying to capitalise, two opponents had closed in on Arya. One was on a rock connected by the wooden beam, while another crouched on a rock far enough away that Arya didn’t think he could make the jump. The muscular redhead looked as if he would attempt the move, but backed out and looked frustrated at have gotten so close to the slayer.
A bearded topless mad grinned and stepped onto the wooden plank.
“Bad move.” Arya returned the grin and quickly squatted down. Grabbing the plank with both hands she pushed the wood upwards. The man called out in alarm and attempted to throw himself back to the rock he started from.
Stumbling, his head struck the corner of the boulder and began leaking blood. Ignoring him, Arya continued to lift the plank and turned towards the redhead on the plinth looking for another route to get to her. Arya deftly swivelled the plank and let it fall onto the rock he stood on. Before he could react, she hurried across and hurled him to the floor.
She felt something strike the back of her head, and the sting of the blow almost unbalanced her. The cost of keeping her footing meant losing the wooden stave. The weapon she hadn’t even had the chance to use clattered to the floor. The largest of the opponents had bounced across the rocks to attack her. Reaching down, she lifted the plank once more and swung it at him. He’d got a strong foothold, his legs spanning two stones, and instead of being knocked off balance the brute grabbed the plank. He gave a toothless smile despite his youth before trying to yank the wood from Arya’s grasp.
She resisted for a while, and then not only let go but gave it a push.
A shocked look crossed the brute’s face as he overbalanced and crashed to the ground.
The crowd cheered. Were they cheering her? A stone or two whizzed past. Probably not.
Looking around, Arya saw only one opponent still on the rocks. Another youthful boy about her size. He bounced over the boulder towards her and held two staves. She looked for another plank or maybe something to throw. Without dropping to the floor, she saw nothing.
Something caught her eye, and Arya’s hand flicked out to catch it. Her opponent stopped on a stone opposite her, looking on with trepidation as he tried to work out his next move. Arya’s arm flashed through the air, and a rock caught the boy in the middle of the forehead.
The shock and pain distracted him so much it allowed Arya to step over onto his stone and push him off.
Now the crowd cheered for her.
They roared their approval and called her the slayer.
Arya acknowledges them with a wave and smiled. After a pretty shit couple of days, the victory felt good.
Full Story at https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576175/chapters/44035381
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