Chapter 14: The Bull

“Grab it by the horns, they say. Can’t think of a faster way to get yourself killed.”

-Aldred Brick, Concordian farmer, 122 U.E.

Pain roused Amaline from sleep.

Ribs. Back. Arms. Legs. Face. There was hardly a spot on her body that wasn’t hurting.

She opened her eyes with some effort. One was nearly swollen shut, but she scanned the room with the other.

She found that there was a man in the bed to her right. A pirate with a mass of blood-stained bandages over the right side of his torso. He groaned with pain while the doctor, Prixis, tried to make him drink a thimble-full of liquid. When he refused, she poked him in the ribs, drawing a gasp that allowed her to pour it straight down his throat.

“There, now stop your whining,” Prixis said over the ensuing hacking, coughing, and colorful cursing. “I can hardly think with all that noise.” The doctor turned to leave and took note of Amaline. “Ah, you’re awake. You’ll be pleased to note that you’re not dead, thanks to my considerable expertise.”

“I… thank you?” Amaline said hoarsely.

Prixis approached her bed, ignoring the pirate as he shouted all manner of uncouth words at her. “You’re quite welcome. But you can thank me when you’re back on your feet.”

“Am I going to make a full recovery, then?”

Prixis ran a hair across her close-shaved, curly-haired scalp. “Mostly. You’ll have extensive scarring across your stomach and back, and there may be some persistent pain, but on the whole you should be able to return to normal. The ‘persistent pain’ part might sound discouraging, but just keep in mind how much worse it could have turned out. Dead in the gutter being by far the likeliest outcome.”

Heeding Prixis’s request, Amaline swallowed a ‘thank you’. “It sounds like you’ve done a lot for me. Which, uh…” Amaline tried to shift to a more comfortable position and winced as pain flared up in innumerable spots. “Which makes me wonder how much this is going to cost me, exactly.”

“A considerable sum. Lucky for you, your friend already saw to it. The annoying one with the glasses.”

“Stephan.”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Of course he did,” Amaline said, smiling as wide as her bruised face would permit. “That man is too good to me. Sometimes I wonder if he’s just looking to pile on the debt until he can force me into indentured servitude.”

As if on cue, Stephan walked through the clinic’s front door. “You’ve found me out,” he said. He was smiling, wearing a fresh suit, but there was something worn about him. Dark circles under his eyes. Tension at the corners of his mouth. She didn't like seeing him that way.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” Amaline said as he approached.

Prixis, sensing that her presence was no longer needed, traipsed off into a back room.

Stephan pulled up a chair and sat. “You’re one to talk.”

“I’m serious. You look… not yourself.”

“I’m fine, honestly. I just stopped by to say that you don’t need to worry about Pontus or his men anymore. It’s been taken care of.”

“You killed him, didn’t you?” The look in his eyes told her that plain enough.

Stephan rubbed his chin, hesitated, and said: “Yes.” He looked down at the floorboards, unable to meet her gaze.

Amaline wasn’t going to say she was sorry—that wasn’t helpful. She certainly didn’t feel bad for Pontus.

“It’s weighing on you,” she said after half a minute of tense silence.

“Is it that obvious?” Stephan asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, it is. You’re a good guy, boss. It’s okay to feel bad about hard choices. You don’t need to deal with it on your own. I’d give you a hug if I could, but, well…” Amaline wriggled her toes to emphasize her immobile form. “For now, just tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I should be asking you that.”

“It still hurts like a cunt, but I’m good in every other way, thanks to you. Like you said, you handled it. So let me do something for you in return. Please.”

Stephan flashed an appreciative smile but said nothing.

“C’mon, boss. Don’t make me beg.”

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “I feel… like I’ll never get away from this sort of thing. I’ll always get caught up in one fight or another. That was fine back when I was just a pirate, but now I’ve got a daughter to raise. All those dead, they wear me down. I try to move past it, but…” He trailed off with a vague gesture.

“I understand,” Amaline said.

“Is this the part where you tell me not to feel guilty about it?”

Amaline shook her head, slowly to avoid disturbing her wounds. “Of course not. Any decent person would feel the same in your shoes. But let me tell you something, boss—I’ve not lived in Tumba all my life, but I’ve been here long enough to know that you can’t save everyone. There will always be another fight. It’s part of the soul that makes up this city. If you don’t like that, take your little girl and move someplace else. There’s no shame in it. But there’s beauty here, too. And freedom. It might be the freest place on Solam.”

Stephan nodded. “I know. That’s why I stayed. Too many places in the world would take Yin and lock her up in a lab, or see her belittled and shamed because of who she is.” He paused, looking her intently in the eyes now. “Do you think it’s worth it?”

“Is what worth it?” Amaline asked.

“To fight for this place. For the freedom it offers.”

She gave it a second to think. Then she smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I think it is.”

*****

Yin entered the ring, a spring in her step. The smoke and sweat and dried blood of the Pit met her nostrils. The crowds all around her clamored for a spot at the chain-link barrier, a steady chorus of conversation coming off them.

The cap for these illegal matches was 1000 evo. A technician had told her that she was sitting at 842, well below the limit. Hopefully, that meant her opponent would be more impressive than Rath Crawlin or Maz Ivicc, since that match had been capped at just 500 evo.

Cas Darling stood at the center of the circular fighting ring, patiently waiting for her to approach.

“This little lady needs no introduction!” Darling spoke into a farshout, throwing his free hand in her direction. “But for those of you living under a rock, I’ll give one anyway! This, freaks and freak-lovers, is Yin, an exotic creature from the land of Aqith! She—”

Yin didn’t feel like hearing any more of that. She kicked the tube-shaped farshout from his hand and booted him in the gut, sending him rolling across the sand. She caught the device out of the air and held it to her mouth.

“I’m Yin,” she said, farshout crackling as it projected her voice. “Watch me beat the other guy. Enjoy.” She threw the farshout back to the fancied-up reedling, who caught it with a breathless wheeze.

“Alright, uh, interesting introduction, very interesting,” Darling said between coughs. “For our second combatant, we have a real treat.” He got back on his feet and affected his usual easy confidence, albeit with a pained set to his jaw. “He’s big, he’s mean, and he’s got one simple plan—to destroy everything in his way! You know ‘im, you love ‘im, now give ‘im a hand! It’s…”

“The Bull!” the crowd roared.

Yin turned her gaze to the opposite entrance, a darkened concrete tunnel. Heavy footsteps set the ground trembling, but did nothing to dampen her confidence. She had dealt with big guys before.

A monster appeared out of the dark, forced to stoop to get through the entrance. He would have towered over Crawlin, even Kurko, wide as a barn door.

Yin took a subconscious step back as the monster straightened out. Impossibly tall. Bristling with corded muscle, bunched so thick each muscle warred with its neighbors for space even on that massive frame. His face was brutish, a single flat slab with a bent nose and small, deep-set eyes that contemplated unimaginable cruelties. Teeth worn to nubs gnashed together, striated jaw muscles working like the strings of a harp. His great fists clenched and unclenched, impatient, waiting for something to crush between them.

‘The Bull’ was not an apt nickname for this man, if he could be called such. He was a different kind of beast. Bred for violence.

His skin was stretched and split at his shoulders. His chest and distended belly were covered in puckered scars and fresh, ill-treated wounds that oozed pus.

The Bull fixed Yin with his unblinking gaze and lumbered towards her, big feet throwing up plumes of sand. Darling scrambled out of the way to avoid being trampled underfoot.

“Coming in at 986 evo, weighing 287 kilos, it’s the man you’ve been waiting for! Watch him tear up the competition!”

With that, Darling ran for it.

Yin swallowed as the Bull stomped across the ring.