A/N: So this chapter is pretty long, but I intentionally wanted everything about the games to end in this chapter.
However, I am starting to contemplate splitting the chapter. If you feel this is a good idea, leave your thoughts, and where you feel it would be nice to split it from.

So go for it!
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After hours of eating in silence and terror, Prince Karmdin finally called the torture to an end.

The night had at last come fully. In the shadiness, our fears yet shone as a violent sun.

I was brave, I knew. But only moments to the fit hour and I found myself trembling. As a caged bird seeking freedom, my heart pounded restlessly in my ribcage.

But there Keiya was -- silent as ever, and yet maintaining blankness as she had from the beginning of the banquet. She spared me not even a gaze. It was a bitter stab -- the feeling that I meant nothing, not even at my approaching toil...perhaps my death as well.

I wanted to show her my might. I wanted to show this beauty she would be safe by my side. I wanted to fight and fight to the end.
But why was the fear persisting?

In the end, my effort for this beauty would only be interpreted with my triumph. But if I failed?

The door flung open suddenly. Amid my dark fantasies, the intrusion of the new being banished them all.

"Commander Girod," I heard one of the men whisper. He was trembling.

The strong man that had walked in held stance of a mighty champion. He was dark in expression. His eyes were blank and bared not the slightest clue of compassion, nor did he spare a smile.

He was In deed a champion!

Commander Girod strode confidently towards Karmadin, his authoritative swagger commanding attention. As he whispered in the Prince's ear, Karmadin's face broke into a smile. The commander stood back, his expression unreadable. But I sensed something sinister lurking beneath the surface.

Karmadin arose, his men following suit. He spared us a brief, speechless glance before turning to exit. An air of mystery clung to Commander Girod like seaweed on an anchor. We exchanged anxious glances, unsure of what lay ahead.

As we followed Karmadin's entourage, I sensed a strange atmosphere. Magic! The feeling was faint, but I was convinced of what the atmosphere held. Then, my suspicion was proven right. Paces away from the arena, I beheld a group of four, cloaked in dark red garments, standing near the arena with an object that seemed like a moon – round, fairly large, and glowing. Sorcery!

There was a strangeness inclined to them – mystery! But what were they there for? This wasn't right, but there was no turning back now. Even I who cared less for the gods had resorted to praying to Agok, god of might, to fill me with his might. I only hoped he heard my prayers. If he does, then it would surely outshine this play of darkness.

Karmadin and a band of armed men broke from us, taking position at a set seat. Duo guards kept ushering us towards the contest ground. We were led to an open field, secured with prominent spikes and copper wiring. Save the single enclosure, it was a suicidal endeavour trying to scale in or out the fence.

While we battled with our sight, and searched for understanding to the mystery unfolding, Karmadins voice rang suddenly with aggression that tore through the partial darkness.

"This is where the game would be played," he proclaimed
"you are all to go in there, the lights would be taken off leaving you all with nothing but what the moon provides. In that partial darkness, you will try to get your man. Do what you can to disable him. At the end of the game, he who is left becomes Keiya's husband." His gaze turned to his daughter as his last words slipped out.

We knew exactly what the Prince implied by "...do what you can to disable him," it was a pure admonishing to kill our prey, cripple them...or be the prey!

The Prince then turned to us again, "make ready men," he waved his staff and at once the air was filled with the blare of trumpets, beat of drums, and blast of cymbals.  Looking aside, he gave a gesture to the band of instrumentalist and in no time the threnody began. A great melancholic play was all this night needed.

"To the ring!" Shouted the Prince, and in a blink, we all packed in. The enclosure was small, and as soon as we were inside the ring, our feet launched deeply upon sand, the lights were put out.
How did they do that?

I stood for a while clutching the ropes, too blinded to see the dim shapes of the rivals, even though they were only few yards away.
At that same moment a strange fear came over me again. I soon realized suddenly that death could be my portion in this game. My regret was tempted to come again but my rebuke shadowed it.

I might have heard of the games played in this form, but never imagined that a woman would make me be a part in it someday. Such incomprehensible power of women!

Just as I had become used to the darkness, a man stole pass me. I drew out my sword in that moment, crouched and like a leopard sprang upon the adversary. But he screamed, and pushing me away, he leapt backward, disappearing into the darkness. Few heartbeats later, a piercing scream in that direction told its own story. Someone must have certainly finished him off.

The lights at that moment were brought in and the Prince' men broke into the ring and carried out the bleeding fellow.
He would certainly die, for the cut seemed a critical one.

During the interval, men took reconnaissance of the positions of their opponents, making ready to drive for them as soon as the lights were taken away. Each of us wore revilement for each other. Beads of sweats lay our skin. Anxiety staked strongly above the sky as a banner...some of us were in fact breathing our last.

Again the lights were put out, and we were all in darkness. It was a pitch of emptiness. There was little or nothing this moon offered. Yet vague figures -- silhouettes, lurked and scurried around. But they weren't at arms reach, and I dared not force my luck, least I became prey in this insanity.

Just then, duo simultaneous groans filled the air, and in came the lights to the ring again, and the bodies were taken out.

The game had began to warm up. The atmosphere was filled with cheers and wails, groans of victims and roars of predators. The field was becoming soaked with thick puddles of blood. The air burnt with the stench of battle and toil, death itself hovered over us.
Every man was for himself on this field of condemnation!

These events continued; lights put in and later put out, and every time the lights was put in, Karmdin smirked with a strange amusement and satisfaction.

Keiya, at every moment my eyes had fallen to her once the light was brought in, was sited up the chair, staring wide eyed at the ring. She was restless -- disturbed...but lovely. She was truly lovely, and the fire in her eye made me wish I could win her and keep her. I craved this woman dearly, and I was mad to do anything to have her, even if few heads had to roll. I had done more shameful things for fewer silvers, how much more this?

As the fight continued, one by one we thinned out. Blood and the dust of toil and sweat harmonizing into ones doom. At last, only five of the men that had rushed into the ring were left standing. Halam was one of us. Although now he looked less confident than he was when we saw at the banquet hall. I knew the feeling he had now. It was a familiar one -- fear.

Of those that had been disqualified and removed, three were merely disabled, while the others had fallen to their death. Sadly, of these ones, my blade had claimed two unfortunate souls. One had I handed directly to deaths cold fist, and the other was lucky to still breath after the deadly assault rendered...howbeit, his death came no long.

Their was no ending to the cheers and excitement that had been ignited from the presence of the fairly large choiced crowd. Their was no controlling it, nor preventing it, as the five of us stood in the light panting and glaring at each other.

As soon as the lights were out, I saw the man closest to me make for the spiked wall. In a breath, he sprang hard, hand and blade supporting to give him the suspension. He was making his way out of this insanity. Suddenly, in an attempt to overthrow himself, his futility was revealed. A single thunder bolt was all it took to end his dreams. He dropped down with a thud, and the lights came in.

Coughing blood and breathing hardly -- perhaps his last, the guards strode in and took him away. It was then I understood the role of sorcery in all this. It was to keep us prisoned in the grounds of peril till a winner was defined. There was no escaping. We were doomed in this place.

The shocking revelation left the four of us stunned, but even the more determined. As soon as the light went out again, I made a new tactic as I stooped quickly. I had rehearsed all the men's position, so crouching only for a little while, I came at my foe. With a sudden spring I gripped someone by the legs and threw him down. He stabbed furiously at me
He was slow! My body shifted softly away from the rivals thrust, and then I returned the quick stab.

He winced, and then I felt the life been sapped out from him -- his soul was taken!

This wasn't Halam. Where was he? Had he fallen? The body of my third victim was soon removed from the ring. Now only three of us were left. For a brief moment I considered my adversaries. They were mighty men, Halam and the other man. Strong arms and broad chested. They were covered in blood, which told me they had actively participated in the killing sport, and not just hiding in the darkness and waiting for brave men to gut themselves down.

One of them stood well over six feet in height. He was even staring sternly at me, and I was certain this one wasn't fond of me. He would come. I told myself.

And so indeed did it happen!

When the lights went out, the man swept stealthily pass me. I moved aside cautiously, leapt in his direction, drew out a short knife from my elbow strap. And like I was on a hunting expedition, I pushed for my adversary without warning.

The practice man must have sensed the shift in the atmosphere, for he responded keenly to my strike. His saber raised in place to stop my assault, then his left fist followed almost instantly, catching me by the temple. With a wince, I broke from the struggle with him, and drew back to the cloaking darkness.

While I strived to get back to form I saw the vague figure dashing for me again. With right leg strongly shot at me, the adversary pronounced his presence in a brutal style. I shifted away, rolling softly on the cold grainy sand. In a blink, I took out my rapier, for I anticipated the foes further attack. This time I took the moment to appraise my opponent. He wasn't the biggest man afterall. It was Halam.

Shock, uncertainty, anger washed on me like a wave of sea. But Halam rushed for me again.  While he swung, my blade stood in place to wane the blow. He cursed with disgust. But he was too predictable. Whirling quickly, I took the man off guard, allowing my rapier to its cause.

He made very little effort this time to shift the ill fate I brought him.

But fate suddenly rivaled against me, when by a slim luck I evaded the flying dagger. Then at once, the one to whom it belonged emerged. It was the bigger adversary! Both hands wrapped around his blade, he dashed for me and began a furious attack. I held my ground and fought back. But anyone watching could see this man was dominating me.

From the rear, Halam sprung up and joined the fight. All three of us in the whelming darkness, sweeping blades and hoping it delivered the fit hit. But Halam suddenly changed the rhythm of the assault. And for a brief moment we found ourselves partnering against the other foe. With an impressively weaved tactic He placed a stab at the larger mans groin. But to my greatest worry, the strike was useless. Astounded as I was, and battling to find understanding to this, Halam lost himself, and that was when the blow like a hammer descended on his him. 

The bigger man rushed to finish the stunned prey. But then I showed up. By instinct I jabbed his thigh with my blade. When he turned in pain to fight back, I was twice faster, and then I hit his chest with the second blade in my hand. He screamed and leaped back, and continued moving until the darkness swallowed him.

I would finish it!

I tried to move, but felt a hand grip my leg. It was Halam, and he was wounded badly, holding only to a strand of life.

"Be careful Dorack," he breathed heavily "there is something about that man" 

I looked at Halam. Confused as to what to do. He was as much my enemy as the other man. I should end his sorry soul. But I couldn't. Something held me back. He was not my clans man, but he was a mountain plainer. We still shared related ancestry. I couldn't end him this way. 

"Forgive me Halam" I breathed, then stabbed his leg. His scream filled the air and in came the light suddenly. He would survive.

 But when the lights had come in, I gasped with utter disappointment. The last adversary still lived, and stood strong in spite of my effort. I tried to make sense of this with what Halam had warned. It made no difference still, this one would be meat for birds soon!

My final opponent was everything a warrior was. He was an enormous man, thick forearms and dauntless in every sense. His strides held confidence and darkness. His eyes were cold -- as death itself. His exceptional weapon -- a longsword with rings at the sharpened end, was lusty for gore. He towered well over me, and bathed in blood, his smirk affirmed this monster knew exactly what he wanted.

This was deaths true emissary!

"Your death comes now." He proclaimed with a bellow as he drew to me. 

"Have you yet not learnt...I am indestructible." He shouted. "Not your skill nor blade can afford you anything. Come to me and I shall make your death quick." He struck his chest with a show of self admiration. His laughter mocked my every sense of being and feats.

But while he boasted I studied him. This man had received two death stab, and still remained fine. Their was definitely something about him!

Just as the lights went out and I was alone with the man, my fears returned ten times stronger. I had never been so close to death in all my life. Or may be I had, but this was different. What chances had I against this man?

For a moment I felt stiff. The relentlessly plunging prospect of being killed like a dog kept on. I managed to summon on courage with the prize for this whole insanity at mind.

For a long time we maneuvered around the darkened field. I was moving slowly with the quietness and stealthiness of a leopard-- pausing to listen at every moment for my rival, yet hearing nothing. While it kept on, I calculated my next plan of attack. For all I knew, my opponent had secret defense I knew nothing of.

My luck failed me when I had absentmindedly wandered into the very grit of my opponent. At first sight he stabbed, but impulse jolted me away from his blow. Terrified, I tried to runaway from this monster, but he was just everywhere, proclaiming death at every moment. Suddenly he held on me and drew me to himself. I forced a restraint, pushing at his chest, kicking and stabbing. Then I felt it! A cold shiver ran down my spine as I realized.

It was only then I had come to full realization of what the adversary meant when he said "...I am indestructible."

A sleeve of mail! He was wearing a sleeve of mail! There was this menacing aura of evil oozing from that wear.

This man was violating the rules of the game, and no one had realised it. He had cheated! Sorcery and more was at play here.

But who could save me now!

My luck switched again, and I broke his grip. And the first chance I had, I fled like the scared man I was.

And why shouldn't I?

While I fought on bare skin, chest opened and ultimately vulnerable to the enemies blow. He stood on the other side defended by his sly strategy. This was unjust!

But now that simple knowledge told my part in this came. Sadly bravery was not my best key. I would have to stoop to the mans own game. Folly!

Alas, the dread man sparred me no moment of contriving, for he gave me a terrible chase.

I ran with every ounce of might left in me purposing to keep the man away till I figured out how truly to annihilate him. With no clear idea yet on what to do when my breath failed me, I ran as a ship without course.
When would my luck shift?

It was merely moments the thought had come that I perceived possibility springing up. My luck had just turned again, and I verily saw why...

He had tripped and fallen. His cry told he had sustained a deep injury. A fractured ankle, I wagered!

I tightened my fist around my blade and made for the man. It was my chance... I would seize it strongly with both hands.

Woe, I had fully launched at him when I realized it was nothing but a sheer snare. As soon as I had come close enough and had pushed my blade at him, the supposed wounded man sprang up at once with his sword held in place to repel my blow. And amidst his leaping foot the clash ensued strongly.

I stepped aside as the flash of steel flew past me and buried itself in the blank air with a dull whoop. Snarling, I whirled around to strike back. The man had another knife drawn to assuage my blow. I wouldn't desist. I pounded my foot in his groin forcing back the space. In the momentum, I pushed my Kris at him.
He leaped away from the strike. The man was fast. I was sure faster. It was the sheer advantage I had -- one I was sure to take advantage of.

I was all over him with agility and speed like a cheetah. His wounded leg had an advantage at last. But the odds were still not balanced.

He struck again. I caught his wrist this time, inches from my face. Without hesitation, I stabbed close to his left rib. His eyes met mine. It was filled with pain and fear. Alas something else swallowed all of his orbs -- ire.

His fists wrapped neck suddenly. My eyes shot out in shock. I battled in his hold, but by the sheer might of his arms, he lifted me up. Both legs drawn up the sand and hanging up as a pendulum, I found myself helpless. I was certain he heard my fading and cracked rattle, for his smirk followed.

My battle to break this insane grip began. The longer his cruel hands rested on me, I felt he sapping the last of life in me.

I had power over nothing now, save my thoughts. And they were tormenting me. The taunts were evolving with every slim chance that was presented.

I couldn't fight this end, and my demise was sure now. Just then the thought of Keiya swept into my mind. I had promised to win her. I had sworn to fight till the end. But I was nothing now but a fading being. Was this how it was to end?

"You fought strong...the best of your might," the man's voice rumbled suddenly.
"But you are still weak..." He scorned.
"...too weak to be given Keiya as a price," He grinned.

Was this the man Keiya deserved?

"She was never meant for you tribesman. You could never match up. You tribesmen are weaklings," That was his final taunt. But that was the last I could bear.

But several miles away, my fading soul felt this very statement ten times stronger and bitter than the others.

What did he mean, '...you tribesmen are weaklings'?

The men on the Plains were anything but weak. We could be savage, lowlifes, uncoordinated, barbaric and many more...but we were not weaklings.

I felt a surge of anger pumping into my veins.
My death would not affirm the flimsy notion to these civilized men that we tribesmen were weak. And neither would it present this madman the sheer platform for eternal bliss with the woman I coveted.

I refuted what fate dared make my destiny. And in that moment, I felt myself battling fate' preordination.

I reached for the man fist, with the final charge of my last ounce of might, as the chant resonated in my head, I strived to set myself free. One after the other I began to unwrap them - those death claws.

His eyes shot out in disbelieve, howbeit the disdain wasn't eliminated.

I was already slipping to the other side of reality...where had might come from? His own eyes weighed that question. He was muddled and filled with the plea of understanding.

I broke his grip and once my feet had landed on the sands, a hard jab followed to his jaw, and then I took few seconds to steal quick breaths.

I rushed at the man, fist by fist. I felt bones crush beneath my hands. But I wasn't satisfied. With a knee jab I impelled the mighty man to a heavy slump aback.

He was weak...not utterly though. He sprung up and slashed quickly his lusty blade. He was becoming considerably slow. It allowed me duck from the deadly sweep, and in that motion, my Rapier sunk into his right shank. With a rigorous yank of my weapon I made sure to worsen injury, while rolling away. He winced bitterly. His eyes was clouded with confusion. The only rational thought he had was slowing me down or keeping me at bay, while he recovered from being muddled.

He back slashed his sword. It was merely inches to my throat. It was a slim escape! He rushed out at me with multiple swings. I did my best to block off those death thrust. In the sequence, his forehead jammed strong on mine, knocking me down. Then his leg kicked me away like a mere rag.

I returned to back to stance. He was fighting back! Not for long! I smirked, spitting a mouthful of blood.

But he sealed his doom with rash! He lunged at me with a desperate thrust. I skidded beneath his swing, struck his right calf. His cry encouraged me for more, and swirling up I slashed his back. The last blow had very negligible effect in him. His torso was well protected by the silver armour.

While he stroke again, I seized my chance against the weak man. Ducking aside, I thrust at his arm, pressed in, slashed his thigh. His effort was fading. His torso was still well protected though. I needed to bring the mighty man down.

I rolled softly off the grainy sand, sunk my blade into his left shank. The multiple blows should have weakened his stance. Strangely, the strong man was still standing, even though he had very little strength left.

My eyes were wide with anger and satisfaction. The knowing that I had him in my grip was ecstatic. He stood there, unable to move, merely glaring. He was breathing hard, and bleeding profusely. He was weak!

With no further strength, the mighty man sunk to his knees. I walked up to him with caution, yet dominion. His might was truly sapped away.

"You fought well...to the best of your might. For this you have my respect," I breathed. His eyes shot close. He had accepted his fate.
"Sleep now, mighty man," I whispered, and without hesitation, I drove my blade into his cervical. His hot blood splattered as I yanked out my blade.

My adversary was lying in the pool of his own blood when I walked away. Away from the supposed dead man, had I paced, having no idea at all, if he would survive or not. Yet in this lay my mistake -- a mistake which was sure to hunt me for the rest of my life

My prize had come on that day, and so had my supposed doom been birthed.