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The Tournament

By: C Love



Our basketball team had made the State Championship. My best friend Geoffrey and I were heading down to Tech where the tournament was being held. We figured we'd get there and rent a cheap motel room. The night before we were leaving I got a call from Carla, an old girlfriend of mine. Her sister lived in a house just off campus, and was going to be out of town that weekend, we were welcome to crash there. I agreed and the next morning off we went. Geoffrey and I weren't the only guest that weekend. Carla had also invited her best friend Sherrie, this guy Jason, who worshipped the ground Carla walked on, and Steve, the guy Carla had been after for a while.

Carla was a former cheerleader who had quit the squad in order to concentrate on field hockey. She had long brown hair, big beautiful hazel eyes, and 36 D's to suck on all night. It wasn't long after we got there that Sherrie announced she was leaving. A guy she knew went to Tech and had invited her out. So it was Carla and the four guys.

Her sister had left a present before she'd left, a refrigerator full of alcohol, and we indulged. Before long, I was on the couch drunk, Geoffrey was on the other side of the couch drunk, Jason was on a pillow on the floor drunk, and Steve was on the loveseat nursing beers. Carla was bouncing around the room trying to be host, but too drunk too really be a good one. At one point she had a beer in each hand, Geoffrey pointed out that she was two fisting, and wasn't drunk. I argued that she was. Carla claimed she wasn't until Jason grabbed her and kissed her. An eerie silence hit the room while they kissed. I for one was thinking to myself, "why didn't I think of that?" Finally, they broke the kiss and Jason declared that she was definitely drunk.

That kiss resolved the argument, but it must've struck a chord with Carla, because she had an idea. "Who wants to sleep with me tonight?" Obviously, none of us were idiots, so she went on, "I'll make out with each of you, and the one who's the best gets me for the night." I figured the winner would obviously be Steve; after all she'd had a crush on him since she dated me, but at least I'd get a little that night, and probably material for when I needed some relief.

She went back over to Jason. They began to kiss again. Jason was all hands, groping and grabbing. She mostly played defense and after about 30 seconds she yelled "Next!" and went over to Steve. This time it was the exact opposite, she was all hands, and Steve played defense. She worked on him for a good five to ten minutes before giving up and moving on to Geoffrey. Carla and Geoffrey didn't have much of a history at all; they were basically friends through me, so they both took it kind of slow. After about five minutes of the two of them kissing, and grabbing and rubbing, she moved over to me. We hadn't dated in about a year, but we found our chemistry immediately. I had my left hand on her ass, and my right hand on her breast. Her left leg was wrapped around my waist, her right hand on my ass, and her left arm around my neck. We began to grind as we made out. I massaged her breasts and fell into another world, until she stood up and said, "End of round one. I've decided instead of hooking up with everyone once and deciding who wins, it'll be an elimination tournament. Jason, you're eliminated." Jason protested, and then left the room.

So it was on to Steve, again Carla was all over Steve, but he mostly played defense. After a couple of minutes she got the hint and moved on to Geoffrey. This time they were a little more familiar with each other. Geoffrey didn't take long to take off her blouse and her bra, revealing her beautiful breasts. Carla also was more adventurous, as she unzipped his pants and rubbed Geoffrey's meat through his jeans. Eventually she slid over towards me. I wasted no time in opening up her fly and putting my hand down the back of her jeans to grab her ass. I had a breast in my mouth, her ass in my left hand, and her other breast in my right hand. Carla had opened my fly and had her hand inside my jeans, but over my boxers. She was stroking my cock through the thin fabric of my under shorts, when she yelled, "Steve you're out!" I don't know if Steve was even still in the room. I used my leg to pull her jeans down to her ankles. I only stopped sucking on her breast when she pulled my shirt off over my head. I had again slid into that state of euphoria when she yelled, "Next!"

She began to crawl down the couch towards Geoffrey. Her enormous breasts swaying as she moved. Geoffrey put his feet on either side of her hips, and pushed her panties down off of her. Accidentally, he also pushed her off the couch. She laughed and grabbed his jeans to pull herself up. Only instead, his jeans, and boxers came down, revealing a hard seven incher. Carla made her way back up to the couch and again crawled onto Geoffrey. From my vantage point on the other side of the couch I could see her moist pussy, swollen and ready. I could see his cock, hard and reaching up towards her. Suddenly I panicked. She was going to have sex with him. I was the ex. If it hadn't been for me, he wouldn't be here. I should get Carla tonight. There was only one thing for me to do. As Carla lay down upon him and started to kiss and grope Geoffrey, I decided to rub the pre-cum off of my penis onto two fingers. Then I made my way over to Carla, and plunged them into her backdoor. She stiffened up, but must've thought I was Geoffrey, because she didn't say anything, I quickly relaxed. I then crouched behind her, and thrust my eight inches into her backdoor. She shot up and yelped in surprise. Geoffrey, thinking quickly, retaliated by putting his prick into her pussy. She moaned when he entered, and collapsed on his chest.

For a second I was worried, wondering what had I done. But then Carla, put both of her hands on either side of Geoffrey's head against the arm of the couch, and began to rock back and forth. We quickly picked up the rhythm, and the three of us were grinding for the better part of the night. We found that the events of the evening, plus the amount of lust between all of us meant that one person's orgasm was the trigger for the other two. We fucked over and over all night. I don't know if Jason and Steve ever knew what was going on, but that night I didn't care. Truthfully, I didn't even care that Geoffrey was less than a foot away from me. All I cared about was getting off. Which I think is what made it so special. Sex is at it's best when it's pure. If it's pure love, it's amazing. That night, it was pure lust, and it was unforgettable.

The next night was the game, and by halftime our team was blowing their opponents out. The three of us decided to head back early to get started on the victory party, but that night the same magic wasn't there. We all got off, and we all enjoyed it, but there was an awkwardness that hadn't been there the night before. Without saying it, we all knew that we weren't going to capture the magic of the previous night, and no matter how much fun it would be to try, it would be better to move on.

The Tournament 01: The Reincarnate



Copyright 2012 Nora Quick

Author's Note: This is the first of 10 stories set in the future after World War III. They are very short (8-10 pages double spaced in MS Word each), non-erotic, and follow a few POVs. It deals with polytheism heavily and there is a lot of violence and fighting. I hope you enjoy these stories, they are being developed into another project soon. As always, I welcome comments and feedback. 

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You would think that after almost three thousand years with humans I would be sick of them, but yet in all that time I couldn't figure them out. I only knew I was different, not fully human, yet I was all too mortal. I was only a little stronger and faster than average because of my size and build, having an athletic frame for a girl and having learned how to be scrappy at an early age. It wasn't anything like that that set me apart, it was the fact that my spirit couldn't die.

Oh, it was unfashionable to believe in a soul but I knew I had one. At the age of thirteen the weight of dozens of lifetimes had descended like madness. I knew what it meant truly to be good and evil, I knew in intimate detail as an adolescent how bloodlust could turn into something sexual and violent in the heat of battle, and I knew what it was to bring a new life into the world. 

After several years locked away due to these "delusions" I'd left to find my own place in the dying world. There was one woman from every lifetime I knew, and I sought her out. I didn't know her name, and sometimes she was young and perfectly beautiful, sometimes middle aged and fierce, and sometimes old and stoop-backed but it was the same woman, and she was the key. In every life she had appeared, guiding me in one way or another, but in this lifetime she had yet to appear.

I found myself giving up. I was twenty-eight and never had she waited so long, and so I felt abandoned to some mysterious fate that had never materialized. 

Like many my age I had no real skills or education and so I drifted north in search of clean land and people to help me make my way and survive just one more day. When there was work to be had I took it, mostly menial labor for low pay, often times just for a meal and dry place to sleep, not even gold. That night I pulled up to a roadhouse, the closest thing to an outpost here in the wild north. After the wars there were few cities left standing and most of the world retreated to these small groupings of temporary quarters designed to be abandoned as the fallout drifted in inevitably. 

The roadhouse was a complex of buildings, the largest four stories high, all of it raw wood barely weather-beaten and shoddily constructed. Inside would be a pub, some vice shops, a hotel and the brothel. The outer buildings were better more expensive rooms to rent if you were staying longer than a night, the common shops, and the crammed apartments of permanents.

There wouldn't be much work to be found in the dead of night and I was lucky enough to have enough gold for a room and a meal, maybe even a cheap beer if the brewer was any good. If the inside was nicer than the outside and prices were higher, well, I wasn't above taking my turn at the brothel to earn money. I didn't do it regularly not because of any moral objection, but because I couldn't stay in any one place long enough. Somebody starts talking about some event their great grandparents went to and you correct them on the details since you were there...it gets dicey, the voices in my head take turns speaking, and I got driven out of town for it all too often.

Inside it wasn't bustling, but it was past three, the witching hour. Religion may have been a thing of the past but for those of us who'd survived the wars superstition was strong. It was shame; mirrors were few and far between and there were no more black cats. Sad on the cats, in my lifetimes I'd owned nearly one hundred. I didn't miss the mirrors however, the pale girl with the shadowy eyes and stringy red hair was always something of a shock. Sometimes I'd expect an old, wizened man, or a young girl with blonde braids. I was all that and none.

I found my way to the bar, for bartenders were the closest thing to a mayor of these little burgs. The one there was as grey and rundown as the ramshackle scavenged furniture, but his clothes were all new and good quality, even if they were mostly lightly tanned leather.

"What can I do ya for?"

"How much for a room, small one, and a meal?"

"Five gold pieces, Union standard."

I winced as the chorus of selves in my head echoed that in terms they all knew better. A cow, or three pigs not in season. Ten hides large. Eight hundred dollars, American. Fifteen hundred dollars, American, half a century later. 

"Brothel need any help?"

He looked me up and down and it wasn't flattering. I was no great beauty, not many curves to speak of, but out here any woman not tainted by radiation sickness or mutation was a welcome sight.

"Got experience, girlie?"

I nodded refusing to blush. When you can remember raping your way across an island sex lost all sense of shame, though you never did. "I'm twenty eight, radiation-free."

"Got papers?"

I reached into my vest, shifting my saddlebags. My bike was nothing great, but it worked and wasn't easily stolen, yet it meant carrying my few possessions in a hefty saddle bag that made me walk with an unfeminine swagger. 

I handed the papers with all my check-ups and stamped by previous dictators of these establishments. "There's no other work you need done, any repairs, cleaning, moving kegs? I'm not a great cook but I've used a fryer before and I can wash dishes."

"Don't like the soft work, do ya? Sorry kid, but only work we need is easy and has you on your back. I'll feed you for free and throw in good, clean beer, but you leave your bags behind the bar and go on up and see Ruby when it's time to work."

I'd been expecting this but was a little disappointed. Hey, all the clients had to have the same papers to prove them safe and clean, and if he was young, good looking, and halfway decent I'd have a good time, but it seemed a waste. I had many skills acquired over many lifetimes but my best s fighting. There was a cage set up for it but all the posters had male fighters, and that was my problem. Women were might bit scarcer than men in these parts and they made much more money whoring than fighting.

Handing over my saddlebags I took a seat and waited as he put the bags into a cubby and gave me the ticket from it. He washed out a glass with a filthy rag and filled it with beer so light it made my piss look black, and my threatening depression deepened. If this was the good stuff, gold was hard-won and I might only make enough to cover the room, food, and beer with none left over. I had two gold pieces but expected to use them both to fill up my bike in the morning and head on to the next town.

I drank the beer with a sigh and turned around to watch people. There were balconies for the upper floors rimming the grand room, the hotel rooms on the top floor with a private stairway for any who wanted to avoid the whores. The second floor were the permanent whores decked out in ridiculously revealing outfits and painted like something from an ancient Halloween. The floor above them held the few women like me, those just passing through and in need of money. A normal woman might have wondered at why they, nay, we, were more popular, but having lived plenty of lifetimes as a man I knew the allure of innocence all too well.

You might think that that would make me desire women as well, but therein lay my quandary. I may be dozens of men and women over centuries, but equally I was Keelin of Thorpe, daughter of Jackson and Meghan. Sometimes it felt like I was a real, whole woman with too many ghosts in her head.

I was shaken from my reverie as a heavy body landed on the stool next to me. We were at the bend of one side, backs to the wall. Most patrons chose to sit closer to the center where musicians played and a few people danced amongst the scant tables, in line of sight of the few businesses open this late on the edges of the large room selling tobacco, hallucinogens, and other enticing luxuries to drunks.

It was a man and he wore a cloak with a hood. I got the impression of modest height a few inches below my own six feet but broad shoulders and sturdy arms straining the seams of the upper sleeves. He threw back the cowl and I was struck with shock. He was Asian.

I knew this because in past lifetimes, before the wars, planes and boats had let the world mingle. These days we knew the Asia Majora and Minora Unions existed, but you had a better chance hearing from a relative stranded on the lost lunar colony than any from the former Orient.

He looked at me and the look was hard, assessing. Perhaps I had my first customer already, but something about him told me it wouldn't be my idea of fun. I had no problem with his origins, it was just the hard look in his eyes which seemed to be a soulless, flat black.

"You're a hard one to find," he said with a thick accent sounding exotic to my ears. 

"Excuse me?" No one was looking for me. In the modern world people disappeared all the time. I'd left the fringes to wander union territory as a nameless, faceless vagrant, one of thousands. The only one who might seek me was the strange woman, but for all her disguises, she was never a man, certainly not one like this.

"I am Li Bao-Zhi. My friends call me B. You may call me Death."

I rolled my eyes at that and took a swig of beer. "Does that line ever work on any woman?"

The bartender slapped down a plate of stew that theoretically contained actual fresh meat. He spit his chew into a tub on the bar to my left and eyed the newcomer. "This guy bothering you, Keelin?"

"You truly do not know me?" B, Death, whatever he wanted to call himself, said with a raised brow.

I wish I could say the world had gone in a good direction after the wars, but xenophobia made people do strange things. In this life all I'd ever seen were white faces. "I don't know you from Adam," I said before I could censure myself. At the archaic expression not uttered in nearly a thousand years I earned two puzzled looks.

"Then I am a friend you have not met. I wish to pay for her food and drink and have the same."

"She's earning the food...friend," the barkeep said.

B's eyes drifted to the balconies scanning the shy virgins forced there by their families and the road-weary travelers like myself. "I'll buy a room as well and pay for the food." His voice was hard and then he turned that dead stare on the barkeep who swallowed and nodded.

"I'm not fucking you," I said plainly. I wasn't a fool, perhaps I could get the food, beer, and the room for another deal, so I didn't refuse it outright.

The bartender returned with a dirty glass of beer and a key. The stranger laid out a gold bar without batting an eyelash. "Clean glass, clean food, clean room, and stay out of our business."

"Yes sir," the barkeep said without looking at me, abandoning me to fate, and took the dirty beer away to clean a glass with a new rag. As the beer poured he put the gold bar into a lockbox already brimming with the night's take.

"I said I ain't fucking you." It was Raymond talking now. I'd lived his life five hundred years ago and he'd been a rover like me, though he'd made his money fighting. I'd been big and burly with a good reach and high pain tolerance, perfect for boxing, and he was always up for a fight.

The stranger didn't blink at my archaic word choice and took the clean beer, pocketing the room key after checking the number on it. "You and me are going to fight. Winner gets the room, in fact winner gets everything off the loser."

Warily I sized him up. There were rumors the Asian Union citizens had a special way of fighting. From past lives I knew it well; speed and directed force factored highly, and they kicked as much as punched. I'd studied some styles like that in past lives but as someone else. Just because I had the knowledge did not mean I still had the mastery. "How you figure that?"

"You have no idea, do you? I'm the first."

"First of what?" I dug into my stew and ignored the horrible taste of days-old meat and gristle covered up with too much salt and black pepper. One thing I missed in this lifetime were spices, good luck getting paprika on this continent.

"The first of seven. Do you even know what we're fighting for?"

I turned back to him and caught those dead eyes. Could be just a dark brown with a blown pupil. "Smoking something fun tonight, mister?"

Something like anger flashed through him for a moment. "We fight for the world. The winner opens the gateway and their gods return to save us from ourselves. I've studied you, you and all them. You're the reincarnate, you remember each and every lifetime."

A cold chill wound through that had nothing to do with the drafty room. I tried to speak but couldn't find my voice, my own eyes wide with shock.

"I have a power too, like you, but different. I can speak to my ancestors and they aid me. You and me, we are of the past as much as the present. Can it be you do not know? You do not know of me, the Aztec, the Egyptian, the Norse champion? Not even the Japanese or the Roman, even the Greek?"

He was using words no one else did, words for places and people that had died in our language decades ago. After the war no place remained the same and the world was carved up. The concept of nations no longer existed to these humans but they did to me because I was there at the birth and death of many. Hell in two lifetimes far apart I'd been teachers, one specializing in history.

"You do not know. Your goddess has not even found you. This will be easy. Tonight Keelin of Thorpe, you die." With that he stood quickly and brandished a sword from his cloak. It was long and sharp and shone under the dim lights for a moment.

With barely a conscious thought I grabbed my hot plate of stew and threw it at his face, scrambling back off the stool. I tied to run around him but he grabbed at me and snagged my leather jacket. Kicking out at him he guarded his crotch which I'd been aiming for and I twisted away.

"My saddlebags!" I yelled at the barkeep, but his eyes slid behind me as I ran, alighting on the stranger with the sword.

Chaos exploded around us as tables and chairs were overturned by people scrambling to get out. Life was so precious that weapons were almost universally illegal and the sight of one turned normal humans into mindless panicking cows stampeding.

The bartender scrambled with them and I vaulted the bar just as the sword slashed out at me and caught my jacket, tearing open a hole and grazing my skin through my thin t-shirt underneath.

He was fast, damn fast, and strong. I didn't know which cubby had my bags and even then it would take me long minutes to find my knife. I looked about for another weapon as the sword swung again and I ducked, though a few ends of my loose hair were sliced off. The thing was razor sharp.

Heart hammering I grabbed a bottle and shot up, planning to break it on his face before he could pull his arm back, but he was fast and balanced. His return swing brought the sword length-wise against me and it cut through leather and cotton to slice open my forearm. I dropped the bottle and dashed back before the tip could catch my throat.

I slammed into the shelves and he didn't miss a beat, vaulting the bar. I scrambled sideways and tripped over my own feet, sprawling on the floor. His eyes twinkled now with malice as he raised his sword with both arms like an axe, preparing for the death blow.

In that moment eternity stretched before me and I made peace. I'd come back, and in fourteen years I'd remember this life too, and then I could figure this all out, if the world was still alive. The fight went out of me and I closed my eyes, ready for the short oblivion before rebirth.

Metal rang out like a song and I opened my eyes to see a strange sword blocking his. 

The stranger looked shocked and before he could move he shimmered...and disappeared.

Slowly the rushing blood in my ears subsided and I heard the screams and shouts around us as the dozens of people fled to the two exits. The pain in my arm bubbled up to screaming pressure and on jellied knees I rose, peeking over the bar to see who the new threat was.

It was the woman, the middle-aged warrior of my past lives. She was tall and sturdy, feminine in her curves and beautiful with a long tumble of black hair around her heart-shaped face, bare grey at the temples only adding character.

"Keelin, come with me, there's not much time."

Her voice had an accent many of my past lives did, one that called up a green island that for all I knew in this lifetime had sunk into the ocean.

Dumbly I stared at her even as my saddlebags shimmered into existence on top of the bar. Stupidly I watched as her sword disappeared and she leaned over the bar and grabbed the little lockbox of gold. "Come on," she repeated, and began walking calmly to the door amidst the running flow of panic.

I climbed over the bar slowly, wincing. My arm was bleeding profusely and the adrenaline rush had left me weak. In the chaos no one paid me much attention and I slipped out the front with the herd. In the confusion she found me and dragged me to my bike at the far edge of the lot, away from the crowd.

She flicked her fingers and the light above us went out, leaving us in shadow.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Morrigan, the Macha. I am the Raven, and you are my champion."

Most off the words made sense individually but strung together in such a way taxed my mind as all my past selves seemed to argue. The older ones knew Macha Morrigan very well, a goddess of death, blood, women. Sometimes of sexuality and wealth, she was a triumvirate goddess, and the mother was before me. There was the crone and the maiden, and all these jibed with my memories. If souls could exist so could goddesses, I supposed.

"Supposing I believe that, what the hell just happened?"

Setting the lockbox down she reached for the saddlebags over my shoulder and grabbed it, making me wince as my arm was brushed. "Ow!"

"You are wounded. Blood is a gift. May I?"

A normal person would have thought it an offer to heal or inspect, but intrinsically I knew what she was asking and, dazed, I nodded. She set the bags across the back of my bike and stepped to me. Appearing quite tall I realized it was an illusion, for standing next to me she was half a foot shorter, average height. Cradling my forearm in her hands she raised it to her lips and licked the blood, her expression ecstasy. It burned like demon fire and I cried out, biting my lip at her sharp, reproachful look.

I pulled back when she dropped mye arm and it still burned, but looking at it I saw the wound was closing. For all the magicks I'd seen that night that was the one that made me want to faint.

"No, stay with me Keelin of Thorpe!' She grabbed my other arm and steadied me as I swayed. "I have failed you, and too many years have passed. I have violated the agreement tonight and they will pull me back to my plane, so you must listen carefully.

"I made you, gave you the gift of shared knowledge of all your selves. They'll pull me back and you will be left alone, but not in ignorance. The world is dying."

I began to laugh with madness, even as the voices in my head argued for my patience, willing me to listen, to give meaning to all their lives. Of course the world was dying. Rising temperatures had begun to sink coastal areas around the world, shored up only by the nuclear winter that covered many areas of the planet now. Radiation fallout drifted leaving only pockets of humanity unaffected, and like many I had raced my way closer and closer to the arctic circle to escape it and stay pure. In two more generations there would be no crops, no fish, no livestock. After two generations more of cannibalizing we'd die out, having taken the earth with us.




The Tournament 01: The Reincarnate



"No shit, Sherlock," was all I said, using a favored term from Alanna, a past self from a millennia prior.

Hey blue eyes were hard. "We hold sway over your world so long as there is belief and worship. I and my kind can heal you world, save your race, but the gateway between our dimensions must be open. To do that you must win. There are eight of you fighting to open the gate, and not all of us, called gods by your people, will be able to save it. I will, I and my sisters and brothers, but you need to win. To do so you must kill the other seven, and Li Bao-Zhi is one. He is not the worst nor the strongest and so you must train."

I wanted to rage at her and deny it, but all the voices in my head quieted. They knew, we knew, I knew it was the truth. All my lives had been leading to this. "What must I do?" I asked with heavy resignation.

"Run so they do not find you. Neit is on this plane as well, I will send him to you. He will help you. If he cannot find you seek out Stellan Kellner, he is of this land as well. He is one of the seven, the Norse champion, but I am told he is a man of honor. If Neit does not find you seek Stellan out to guide you, but seek only knowledge. Honor he may have but he is no fool. Remember what you have learned, you must fight, strengthen, and prepare. Do not let any of the others catch you unaware. I will return."

"Why are you leaving?" I demanded, but by the last word from my lips she disappeared.

My arm was healed I had a box of gold, and the crowd was quieting now, searching for me.

I hopped onto my bike stuffed the lockbox into the only empty compartment of my bags and started the bike up. The crowd heard and turned to surge towards me. I spun out the parking lot spitting gravel and rode onto grass, heading for the dirt track that had led me there.

I would keep moving and the god would help, but if this Neit, a name I recognized as Morrigan's male counterpart in the dead pantheon, never came I would chalk this up to ne hell of a hallucination. Even if it made strange sense and explained away the years I'd spent locked in attack room, called mad, the years I'd wandered and fought, it was still a strange vision of Hell I wanted no part in.

Fighting to open a gate to gods who could save the dying world? Even if it were real I wasn't so sure it was the right thing to do. After nearly three thousand years of humanity I needed a break. Imagine how Mother Earth felt.

Even as the thought drifted through my mind the chorus of my soul told me there was no escape from fate. There was nowhere I could run to escape the fact that I was the Reincarnate.



The Tournament 02: The Loss



copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcome comments and feedback! 

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He was a shock to my system. Stellan Kellner was the man I'd been charged to find and help me navigate my way through a dangerous world, a mentor of knowledge even if he was to be a possible opponent in a battle to the death. We were fighting to save the dying world, one champion of eight would triumph and open a gate to let in their gods to save the world, or so I'd been told. Of all the things I'd expected, it was not to find an old over.

Like most women traveling steadily north to evade radioactive fallout I'd sometimes paid for room and board working at a brothel. When the customers were young, attractive, and radiation free, it was even fun. Stellan had been a fun paying customer once, one of my first, long ago.

"I know you," he said when I walked through his door. 

He owned an actual home, a cabin solidly built, not temporary quarters on the shores of the Hudson Bay. I could remember all my past lifetimes for nearly three thousand years and in the time that body of water had been known to white people it had held that name, unchanging, unlike most places. No one knew why.

"We met at a roadhouse, the Greystalks, about five years ago. I worked the top floor." When I used the slang that told him just how we'd met, his light eyes flared with flattering interest. He was still pale and tall, but his light blonde hair was long enough to be tied back now and he'd gained some muscle, broadening. Training to fight to the death would do that. I'd spent eighteen months training and had gained some myself, clashing with my child-like face and stringy red hair that made me look deceptively delicate.

"I'm Keelin of Thorpe."

The warm praise in his was replaced by shock and then a kind of anger. "Why didn't you challenge me then?"

"I didn't know. I only met my goddess over a year ago. The Chinese champion attacked me, I knew nothing, and she saved me. They, whoever they are, took her away for that. She said if no one came for me to find you and ask what the hell is going on."

I looked around the cabin which was basically one room with a bathroom that suggested indoor plumbing. Fancy. The furnishings were simple, good quality but threadbare with age, hand-me-downs. The only decoration was one wall covered with swords, bows, crossbows, and ammunition cases for a few guns behind glass, a rare find in the modern age.

His eyes followed mine as he stood, towering over me by five inches, an unusual feeling as I was six feet tall. "What makes you think I won't challenge you now?"

"Morrigan told me you would explain it to me, what we're fighting for, who we're fighting, why. If you tell me I will leave and I swear I will not challenge you, nor fight you unless it comes down to just the two of us."

In my head the chorus of voices that were my past lives argued. The fighters urged me to use surprise and attack, and the more peaceable voices tried to squelch those cries. The precious few cynics cheered me on knowing I'd lose, and lose fast.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"How do I know you'll keep yours?" I tossed back.

He stood still, body tense, and considered me for a long moment. "Take off your sword, leave it inside, and let's go outside, away from all weapons, and talk there."

I didn't know how he knew I had a sword strapped to my back, a trick I'd imitated after the Chinese champion, Li Bao-Zhi, had shown me it before he tried to take my head off. Stellan turned, showing he was unarmed and so with a frown I shrugged out of my long coat and set the sword down. I was Keelin enough to scream inside at the voices to quiet and for once they did.

Following him outside, memories flashed of our previous time together. Then, as all memories did, they clashed with those over many lifetimes. Sex with love, sex with hate, rape, both as the victim and as the rapist...I'd spent lifetimes as good and evil and in this one I was determined to be neutral.

Outside it was calm. The sky was, as always, ashy grey with clouds but the trees were thick and green and wildlife still populated the area enough to make noise. He walked to a small clearing with a fire pit dug out and four benches at the cardinal directions. He motioned to one and I sat, and he took the one opposite me.

"Tyr tells me your ability is to recall all the knowledge of your past lives, so I can assume you know history."

I nodded, though a few smart-alecky voices inside grumbled that not only did they know history, they'd made it.

"When Rome was falling it was the time when the old gods, our gods, were dying. Without belief in them, faith, worshippers, the link between our worlds was thinning until they could pass into this world only as immortals with small magic. When the gate is full they are nearly omnipotent alone, but in force, one pantheon can change everything in the world. 

"You see they are not truly gods. They have their own world on a different plane of existence. It's a mirror of earth but there they are immortal beings small in number with no magic. Here they have plenty of it so long as we believe. Why that is so I do not know. 

"When the idea of one god rose they lost their power and they met, all the pantheons. They fought until eight remained and made an agreement. When humanity was doomed those eight pantheons would choose one champion and we fight to the death. The winner alone opens the gateway and allows their pantheon in to shape the world in their image.

"Each of us is tutored by a god or goddess, the deity of war. You should have been trained from the age of eighteen."

I pursed my lips. At eighteen I'd been locked in my parents' attic. At thirteen my past life memories had come rushing in, driving me mad and it was assumed I was merely schizophrenic. With no doctor to treat me in our small town I'd been stowed away as a secret, only able to run away five years ago. If my parents were still alive I had no idea, and frankly I didn't care.

"It was complicated," I said simply.

That earned me a heaving sigh. "Keelin, you may have knowledge of your past lives but without training it's nothing."

I'd searched for Stellan for a year, an immense feat in a world with no records and nothing official beyond the value of gold. In for a penny, in for a pound, one of my past selves said in my mind. "Without my goddess how can I train? Tell me something of value and I will hold up my end of the bargain."

His light eyes regarded me sternly, looking me up and down. The Morrigan had gifted me with gold, enough to keep me going. I'd eaten better and spent my time in woods like this lifting heavy logs and rocks to gain muscle just as I had in ancient lifetimes, in other bodies. I had good, lithe muscle but my gift was speed, something that didn't come easily when distracted by a chorus of voices in your head.

"You must always play to your strengths and be aware of your opponents' weaknesses."

That made me snort. "Boy, I have fought in almost every major war, I have been a mercenary and a killer more times than I can count, a professional fighter in most of my lives. Tell me something I can use in this tournament we've been forced into."

Standing, he spread his arms and turned a slow circle. "Do you notice anything about this area?"

I looked about and it struck me suddenly that at the edge of the clearing the trees were different, not the firs of most of the forest. "The trees."

He nodded. "In each pantheon there is one main god who decides our power. Odin has an overt fondness for ash and elm trees. They give me power, and so they have been planted here for me, just as they have for all the past champions waiting for the call."

Adrenaline had me on my feet. "What trickery is this?"

"No trickery but a lesson. Let us fight now, unarmed, not to the death, but until the loser cries mercy. See how I use my power and learn to use yours."

"No tricks? You swear?"

He went still for a moment, his vaguely handsome face schooled in seriousness. "I swear upon my honor and that of Odin and Tyr, no tricks."

"All right then." I rolled up my sleeves and took a defensive posture.

He didn't eve strike a pose, just turned is natural stance and footing into a beautiful dive and grabbed my shoulders. Twisting us, he brought me down and I couldn't get leverage to kick. We went down into a near bear hug as the full brunt of his weight hit me. For a brief moment a very feminine part of me thrilled at the hard, heavy press of a male body against mine, but then my voices kicked in.

He was like a constrictor, the more I fought the more his hold tightened, until I could barely breathe. I fought my past selves every bit as much as I fought Stellan, and when I realized that was my error, I went limp.

I called mercy after just a few minutes.

***

We struck an odd friendship then and there and spent the next three months training. I wont lie, we each felt out the other's weaknesses like patient predators, but soon enough I was getting better. The key was to organize my thoughts, quiet the voices that wouldn't help and call forth those who did. At times I even gave my body over to old selves that were better fighters and after a time I no longer feared losing myself.

Given our initial reactions to one another and shared past, one might have thought that we'd become lovers but it never came up. We focused so much on training that it never came to pass and I didn't lament it in the least. No matter, I had enough memories of all the varieties of sex to keep me warm in the night, be it with fond desire or hot shame.

We fell into an easy enough pattern. In the morning we'd grapple without weapons after breakfast. We'd break for lunch and then he would read for pleasure while I studied the other champions. On weekends we used the time to practice shooting his guns and casting new bullets. After dinner we fought with weapons and the victor got to sleep on the narrow bed, the loser slept on the hard couch with springs poking out.

From time to time our bathing times might overlap and I felt a shiver of lust, but it faded with each day. Stellan always treated me cordially, but I'd be the first to admit I was no prize, unless one had very particular tastes. It seemed he didn't, and I took no offense.

Nearly two years had passed since the Chinese champion had found me and the Morrigan had saved me, earning the wrath of all the gods who'd declared no interference. Stellan met regularly with Tyr but kept him from me. The god knew of my doings and relished feeding Stellan reports of her imprisonment and upcoming trial. If she could justify her aid to me she would return, but that didn't worry me. There was another who could take her place, Neit, the war god who'd never come for me, and Tyr was tight-lipped about him.

When winter came, even more vicious than the year before, Stellan's weekly visits to train with Tyr left him more and more morose upon his return to the cabin. On the day of the solstice when I made an altar for the Morrigan just as my past selves had always done, he returned at sunset with sad eyes.

"Keelin..."

Something in the tone told me everything was about to change. Maybe he would try to kill me, or maybe he'd send me away, or maybe Neit was outside, waiting for me. No matter what t was, I knew my life was about to change. Damn it, these three months had been the best I could remember in this life. I slept inside, had food, and after this time and trust built between us I had no fear and slept through the night. I was a better fighter and healthier than ever.

"Which doom will it be?" I rose and said quietly.

He stopped, blinking. "What?"

"I'm leaving today, somehow, I can sense it."

"Do your voices tell you that?" he snapped.

"No, your tone did."

He smiled sadly and seemed to relax. "Kiss me."

The request raised my eyebrows. There had been no such desire palpable between us despite one pretty good night years past, no indication from him that his mind would go down this road. Still, I counted him as a friend, and when I left he became just one more inevitable opponent. I couldn't think of a better end to our friendship, and so I crossed to him and gently placed my hands on his hips as his encircled me.

The kiss was sad, not passionate, but nice. Human contact was something I generally preferred to avoid, but I was still human enough to desire it. After a long minute I pulled back, still in his arms and looked around the room noting every last detail. My bag was, as always, packed and ready to go, but the evidence of my stay in dirty plates and obsessively stacked books was plain.

"Tyr is outside and he will give you safe passage to Neit."

It w as then I knew. "But why?"

"He wants you gone. Another champion will come for me soon. For two of us to work together violates the rules."

Slightly shaking I pulled back with a nod. "I'll grab my bag and go. Goodbye, Stellan. I want to remember you like this, almost soft and truly sad."

My words disturbed him but he nodded and let me go. I grabbed my saddlebags and the duffel bag with my tent and other menial items, my portable home. Winter was not the best time to return to camping but I'd survive. Stellan and I had hunted and I'd made us both good jackets from a deer hide lined with mink fur, another skill from a past life.

I donned mine and hoisted my bags while he stood in the center of the room watching me until I opened the door. I took one last look at him, my friend, closed my eyes, and turned. I closed the door behind me knowing what was coming and didn't bother looking for any god. Instead I pulled the throwing knife from the interior pocket of my coat and when the door opened I dropped to my knees and rolled.

The crossbow bolt sailed past, where my head would have been. I tucked onto my side and threw the knife hitting his right shoulder. Cursing he reflexively dropped the crossbow and dove for me, pain filling his eyes with rage.

He was much bigger, much stronger, powered out here by his trees, and ultimately too good a teacher. I lay there, waiting, tapping my boot heel slightly until a device he'd never seen popped out. He'd shown me all his strengths but I had hid some of mine, including some toys Morrigan's gold had bought me.

When he hit me the knife on my boot went into his abdomen. I used his shock to roll him slightly but the knife stuck and my ankle twisted painfully. Pushed into rage he wasn't thinking and wrapped his hands around my throat, squeezing hard. I saw stars dance among the quiet trees as the sounds of his grunts and our bodies scraping the ground drove the nearby animals away into hiding.

For a moment the temptation to relax and give in threatened to take hold. I was so damn weary of living I'd welcome oblivion, but goddess knew I'd just come back to do it all over again. If any two of the seven lived long enough, in fourteen years I would have to begin anew.

At that moment a raven flew overhead, distinguishable from its beak, and I knew it was a message from Morrigan. He still squeezed my neck hard enough I began to worry about a crushed windpipe, and I gave my body over to Craig, the man I'd been when the calendar said it was early nineteenth century. It was he who grabbed for the knife from my saddlebag, he who gave me the immense strength to bring the blade crashing into the soft base of Stellan's neck. Blood exploded from his skull and the light in his eyes dimmed immediately, his body shaking as his grip loosened.

All two hundred and fifty pounds collapsed on me but I could breathe. It was pure fire and I ached, but quickly I rolled him off me and jerked my foot free. I had to limp to my bike making two trips for the bags as the sky darkened.

Snow began to fall heavy and thick and then lighting flashed across the sky. Thunder snow, a phenomena unknown in this modern age. I swear the wind howled like a mourning wail as I tied down my duffel bag, but through it all I didn't look to the corpse.

I didn't know how many others still lived. I would train and wander, seeking Neit, waiting on the Morrigan to return, but never would I seek out another champion. Let them come to me and I would fight, kill if I had to, but I had lost any taste for violence. I now held a repulsion so strong that it overcame the chorus of warriors in my soul. Yes I was the reincarnate but I was also Keelin, and I refused to kill capriciously.

I drove my bike in the snow, near whiteout, skidding several times and barely able to shift with a twisted ankle. I had to get far enough away to pitch a tent and get warm, but I wanted to be too far to give into the temptation to claim his cottage or any of his weapons as mine.

I meant it when I said I wanted to remember Stellan as my sad friend, the taste of his lips still on mine, watching him full of guilt with the knowledge that he was about to do something horrific in moments. That day we'd both lost something precious and more than anything, I wanted, needed to remember that. 



The Tournament 03: The Puzzle



copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcome and comments and all feedback! 

______________________________________________

Licking his lips Carlos Mencia had to resist the urge to put his hand on his pulsing erection and relieve the aching need there. When he closed his eyes he saw her just as he'd left her, so perfect with her white skin crisscrossed with oozing wounds, her chest open and bones cracked, blood everywhere. It was the blood that gave him strength and he'd spilled it with relish. It was so much better when they were pure an innocent just as the young girl had been, so that he could bathe in her blood and gain his full power.

He just knew he was shining with it now. Huitzilopochtli's gift was sweet, letting him draw power from blood, and with each sacrifice to his god he was showered with favors. This time before he could find release within the dead girl Huitzilopochtli had told him of a boon. Carlos had come this far north in search of the one female champion, the ultimate kill, but another was closer. 

It was worth it to travel through the fallout zones. The blood sacrifices kept him healthy and free of radiation poisoning. The same could not be said his kills and he'd taken dozens to pay his fare to the north. Now with one innocent and clean death he was charged with power. The next would make him a demi-god. Killing men wasn't as good, but the thought of this one and the power his death would bring was what made his dick pulse.

Watching him now Carlos couldn't wait to end it quickly. He'd celebrate with the whore Bao-Zhi had plied with drinks. She was no innocent, bearing the full regalia of a woman who made her living sucking cock, but she was clean, free of radiation sickness. She would watch her prospective lover die and then she would die slowly and painfully. Three kills in one day, one of them a champion. His body was so aroused he was afraid he might rush it but once he was in the moment he would make it last.

Now it was time. Bao-Zhi was kneeling between the whore's legs, pleasuring her, distracted. What a waste of money, Carlos thought. Women were there to provide pleasure, not receive it, and in fact their pain heightened the experience. Bao-Zhi's sword was across the little tent-on-a-platform and Carlos couldn't wait any longer. He charged, using his machete to tear a hole in the side. Leaping through it he wasted no time. The champion had to die quickly but the girl could linger.

Bao-Zhi turned at her shriek just in time for his eyes to meet Carlos' as the machete swiped across hi neck. Sharpened meticulously it cut deep and when it passed through the Chinese champion's it left his head barely connected to his body. 

As the corpse fell and blood pooled he saw the machete had also slashed open her thigh. Damn it, he'd hit an artery, she'd bleed out in seconds. Quickly he slashed at her breast, blood welling there as her screams weakened. He barely unzipped his pants before tackling her, thrusting in, blood easing the way.

Oh, how he loved to fuck them as they died. As he pumped away into her now lifeless body he imagined her slimmer, paler, with red hair, just as Huitzilopochtli had described the Irish champion.

She was next, and on that thought he came harder than he could remember.

***

It was a cool summer, but that was expected. The earth was choked by fallout leaving us with two seasons. Dry, cool summer, and long, hard winter. Since I lived out of a tent and rode a motorcycle this chagrinned me more than knowing it meant the earth was dying.

If I cared more about humanity I'd actively fight, as one of now seven champions chosen to fight to the death for the chance to save earth. I'd chosen to train and stay in fighting shape as the champion of the Irish gods, but not to seek out the others. Let them come to me, after three millennia of living I'd had enough death.

The Morrigan's gift to empower me was to reincarnate me over and over, and in each life at the age of thirteen I'd remember all my past lives. She meant it as a gift, but it made me bitter and twisted. I could remember killing with joy, raping with abandon, nurturing children only to watch them die of illness. The older I got in my current life the more only the dark memories stayed with me. For the past three I'd been working to get north and clear of the fallout, eking out a harsh life.

The one that haunted me most was killing Stellan the Norse champion. It had been self-defense, he was trying to impale my head with a crossbow bolt at the time, but for a few months prior we'd been friends. Years before that we'd been lovers. Of all my selves he wasn't the first lover I killed but for some reason I couldn't name his death stuck with me. Perhaps because in my current incarnation as Keelin he was the first person I'd killed.

Like most people I'd been moving slowly north to avoid drifting fallout, chasing the myth of a purely clean town of permanent buildings with clean water and plenty of fish and livestock. Since the great wars had reduced humanity back to verging on hunter-gatherer status knowledge was the greatest loss. As a walking repository of it if I told anyone the town they were looking for was nothing more than a Brigadoon they'd brand me insane and kill me or drive me out. It'd happened more times than I could count when I slipped into speech patterns or stories from past lives.

I was now thirty, pretty old for the modern age. I could remember lifetimes were that was ancient and lifetimes when it was young. Now it was just a feat of survival in an increasingly barren world.

Unlike the other champions I was alone. Each had a god or goddess of war to guide them and train them. Mine, the Morrigan, had shown up late in life and we'd had just minutes before the other gods recalled her for violating the rules of the tournament and saving me from swift death at the hands of the Chinese champion. Neit, her male counterpart, allegedly was out there but hiding from me, and that's how I'd found Stellan, looking for an explanation.

A few thousand years ago, give or take, a bunch of pantheons of gods had fought for eight spots. At the twilight of humanity, aka the modern times, we'd fight to the death, and the winner would open a gate between our world and theirs. The pantheon that won would reshape the world as they saw fit.

Some, like mine, wanted to save humanity and the world, to gain followers and power. Some, like the Aztecs, wanted to do the same but only to gain blood sacrifices and increase their former power. I got the gist of it, good and evil, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to care. I'd seen enough sides of humanity to think that the end of it might not be such a bad thing.

"Here's an extra piece. You were worth it."

The young man whose name I'd already forgotten laid three pieces of gold on the dresser. He bent to kiss me as he fastened his pants and then left. Like most travelers when I needed money and there was no manual labor available, I traded in my body. I felt no shame, but often times it was so boring that even when some stranger was thrusting in my body and I was faking pleasure, these were the thoughts running through my head.

It'd been a good night. I'd made enough now to pay for my food, drink, and the room, ad I'd have five pieces of gold left over. I needed food staples and gas for my bike and I'd be set to camp for another two weeks before seeking work again. Or perhaps I should stay and earn more. Summer meant saving up for winter so there would be more nights indoors, and one winter where I could rent a room without having to fuck a stranger or two to pay for it would be nice.

With that conundrum I locked the door ad laid back on the bed, prepared to sleep. It'd been almost six months since Stellan's death and no champion had found me. I kept moving, never more than a night in once place, and I was safe. It was something, at least. With that though I blew out the oil lamp and fell asleep quickly.

***

The dreams of a reincarnate are hard to explain. Elements from all my lives were present. I could be a young man in an instant and an old woman the next. It made perfect sense to be on an airplane in one second, on a shuttle to the old lunar colony the next, and then riding a horse through a field.

What I liked best was dreaming of how the world was before the wars, when the sky was blue and the sun shone through brightly. When there was vegetation and animals everywhere and you could buy all your food at giant stores with everything. A time when you didn't have to fear radiation sickness.

I was cleaning out stables, heaving hay with the strong back muscles of the stable boy I'd once been, happy just to be in the sunshine. Suddenly the sun was blotted out but it was no cloud. It was a giant raven and as I stared at it the head turned to me with familiar blue eyes. "Right! Right!" it squawked .

I awoke bleary but my body followed the direction and I rolled right. Just as I did something moved and the bed shook. I tumbled out to see a dark shape holding something like a sword, now embedded in the bed.

"It's better to see the fear in your eyes," an accented, deep voice said, sending chills up my spine. 

From the accent and my memories I pinpointed it to the southlands, once known as Mexico, which meant this was Carlos, the Aztec champion. If half the things Stellan had said about him were true it would explain the revulsion creeping along my skin in shivers.

"Not here," I said quickly, thinking. The deal in most of these roadhouses was I left my bags with the barkeep, collecting them in the morning when I turned in my earnings. I had no suitable weapon here. "If we fight the others will stop the victor from leaving. Let us fight where it's quiet."

The dark shape stopped, the strange sword free of the mattress. He was considering.

"By the rules I am allowed my weapon as you have yours, and mine is downstairs."

He licked his lips, I saw now that I had adjusted to the dark. "A real fight would be most...interesting." His tone was patronizing, telling me he was a deep misogynist. Charming, I thought, as I slowly stood.

His hand stroked down the front of his body to lewdly massage an area that pissed me off. In my lifetimes I hadn't always been the villain, sometimes I'd been the victim. I didn't react like someone unfamiliar with violation. It held n fear for me, just a mindless rage combined with an instinct to live.

"Let me grab my bags, get my sword, and we face each other on an open field of combat far from any interference."

His only reply was to open the door and let the early morning light of the roadhouse spill in. Illuminated now he looked very plain and unassuming, if more darkly tanned than I was used to seeing in the segregated, xenophobic world after the wars. Funny how serial killers always looked like the lame kid picked on in school all grown up and barely changed.

"Come," he said in that surprisingly deep voice, and again I shivered.

His dark eyes roamed over my naked body with dark lust and I fought the urge to cover myself with my hands, instead jerking on my clothes while he watched, unmoving from the door. I took the three gold pieces from the dresser and the bag of the rest of the night's take and stalked past him.

I didn't trust him at my back and made him go first after seeing it was a machete he wielded. It disappeared beneath his rough leather coat as he descended the stairs to the main room. I was getting sick of being surprised at roadhouses. I might want to rethink my travel habits but this was where the humans, food, gold, and goods were.

There was a new bartender on for the day shift and I told him my room number and gave him four gold pieces. He gave me back my bags and coat which I put on and followed Carlos outside.

Like most roadhouses it was designed to see to the needs of travelers like me. Ramshackle buildings grouped together looking like a mining town from centuries ago. This one had stood a bit longer than others and children romanced about in the early light before going to whatever makeshift school hid amongst the brothel, bar, and pleasure shops. 

It was surrounded by forest and this was where we walked. Once we were far enough out of sight I pulled my sword from my bag. In the two years of training I'd used the boon of gold the Morrigan had given me to buy the sword as well as tent and a few other comforts. I sharpened it every night and practiced with it every morning. Weapons were illegal but seeing as most people were criminals by alleged Union standards they were plentiful, and finding sparring partners was never a challenge.

Still none had the palpable feeling of malice that rolled off Carlos. He was a few inches under my own six feet but broad in the shoulder and rippling with muscle. He looked like he'd been lifting weights since childhood without break. I was easily outweighed by eighty pounds, all of it muscle.

He saw me looking when he turned and grinned. "Don't worry puta, it will be all yours soon enough, but you'll be in too much agony to appreciate it."

"Like that's supposed to scare me," I replied confidently. My mouth spoke the words but it was Raymond talking. I'd been Raymond once upon a time, a professional boxer back when the sport was a big deal and televised, something that meant nothing in a world where television hadn't existed in over a century. He was smart-ass and knew the value of a bluff, because, truth be told, it scared the shit out of me.

"No, but this is," he sneered and dove towards me.

I didn't have enough time for a proper guard but managed to deflect the blow, though it sang up my arm. Holy hell he's strong I thought and I danced away, looking for distance. We did the dance several times over, he'd hack at me, I'd barely defect the blow, and my arm was weakening.

I was just as good with my left as my right and could switch if he'd give me a break, but he didn't seem to tire. For all the times I had courted death and dreamt about it, something in the fight made me want to live. Maybe it was that he was nothing more than a butcher and his gods were similar, or maybe it was just that I refused to die simply because I was tired, cranky, and had to piss badly, but whatever it was, I found myself move to attack.

It left me open and to twist away from his machete shortened my strike and I missed. It changed the rhythm enough I switched hands and he frowned and I smiled with a s much malice as a bedraggled redhead could muster. I held the slight edge for a moment but then he was back and his strength seemed doubled. The bastard had been holding back.

Though it shamed every warrior in the chorus of my head, I began to look for a lag that would give me the chance to run. He might be stronger, but I was fast and had longer legs, damn it. It was becoming clear I couldn't win this fight.

Chillingly he laughed and I worried he knew what I was planning, but then it came. He was toying with me and after a damn close swipe he tossed the machete to his other hand. I bolted and sprinted, knowing my life depended on it. I could formulate a plan later, for the moment I just pumped my legs as fast as possible trying to gain ground between us.

I ran for what felt like a mile and suddenly his footfalls stopped. I turned and there was another man there, he'd appeared as it by magic in the clearing. We' hit what had once been a road, complete with rusting street lamps from when municipalities had provided electricity for whole grids. There was still concrete, cracked and merely dust in certain places with age.

Metal...the fighter had a sword, a long thin blade with a slight suggestion of curve and he moved as fast as lightning. Tall and slim he still wore his long coat which billowed in the wind as they moved. He moved like the wind, flowing and bending, forcing the Aztec into a queer dance. This had to be Tanaka, the Japanese champion.

My legs began to shake. Would they fight and the victor would face me? Sure, he'd be tired, but from the looks of both men I still wasn't in their league.

Abandoning dignity I let loose the piss I'd been holding it right then and there. They moved like blurs and I watched, motionless, gripping my sword like a security blanket. In my head my past selves argued. Sure, theoretically I could join in and try to kill them both while they were distracted, or I could let them both skewer me. I wanted to run but I was frozen, my muscles weak and my sides burning from all the exertion. 

Their dance was entrancing, and all my selves were fascinated by it. The Aztec had pure, raw fury and strength on his side, and the slimmer man had skill that was dizzying, pure, violent, nearly inhuman poetry.

Why did it have to be swords? Sure, guns were nearly impossible to find, ammunition even harder, but as a lightweight girl competing with the heavies something large caliber and semi-automatic would feel damn good right about then.

Suddenly, with no warning, Tanaka slashed his sword and Carlos' head went flying. I tried to run but something froze my legs in place. I jerked but it was a force like magic. Fear gripped me and I slumped, making the same sound as a cornered animal with no defenses facing a large predator.

Panting and worn, he turned slowly to face me twenty feet away, and my heart leapt into my throat. His eyes on mine he slowly walked nearer, his sword dangling almost limp from his hand, but I knew in an instant it could be up and through my neck. Still, I could not move, only whimper.

As he drew nearer I saw he was truly handsome, the lines of his face strong, the only softness his black hair which was wavy, a few errant curls falling onto his forehead. Some strange light seemed to fill his eyes, and they appeared almost golden, not the dark brown I'd been expecting.

When he was eight feet away he stopped, his flicking to my damp pants. Great, I thought with bitter sarcasm, I'd die fully humiliated.

"Tanaka Itou," he said in a pleasant, almost friendly tone and bowed slightly.

"Uh-" And that was all I could manage.

"Keelin of Thorpe," he said and actually smiled. 

Had he been a customer of mine the night before or a fellow traveler I would have been dazzled by his smile, brilliant with even white teeth, surprising in a world without dentistry as anything more than hacks pulling teeth with pliers.

"Will we fight now?" I asked after silence stretched between us and I finally found my voice.

With flourish he twisted the sword, raised it, flipped it, and stuck it down his back, presumably into a sheath. "Not today."

He laughed at the puzzlement I knew shone through in my expression. "Why?" Shut up! the chorus in my head yelled.

"There is no honor in it. You have had no training. Someday, if...our gods will it, when you are ready, we will fight then."

I started to ask if his honor extended to aid, and I remembered the last time that had happened, and I'd had to kill a friend. So I shut my mouth and he smiled again, turned, and walked into the trees.

I stood there on the abandoned road for the better part of an hour, gripping my sword, smelling my stinking pants, and staring at the dead Aztec champion. I was ripe for the picking and yet he'd left me. Stellan, a man I counted as a friend, had bided his time until he thought he knew all my strengths and weaknesses, and then struck. This was so much simpler, yet Tanaka had walked away.

I'm not sure when I could move my legs, but when I tried after the sounds of the forest returned, they worked. On shaky legs I walked to the Aztec's body and stared at his corpse, wondering how many people he'd killed. At east there would be no more.

I left the scene after pulling gold and a watch from Carlos, unashamed to scavenge another's kill, and then washed up in a stream, scrubbing my pants, my only pair. I let them dry in the weak sun and waited but Tanaka never came back.




The Tournament 03: The Puzzle



Even when I walked back to my bags and took them to my bike I searched but he was nowhere to be found. The question that haunted me was wondering if I could have done the same thing in his position. That wasn't the puzzle, no, what really made me wonder was what if I wasn't the hero I thought?

What if there was a better champion, better gods than those who'd abandoned me, waiting? What if I wasn't supposed to win?

I gassed up, overpaying, and hit the dirt track heading northwest. And I drove, and drove until that question faded. It faded, but it didn't disappear.



The Tournament 04: The Trial



copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcome comments and feedback!

______________________________________________

Time was not the same between the two planes. Morrigan sighed, knowing that what passed for her as mere months was going on two and a half years on her champion's Earth. Time was inconsequential to immortals but Keelin had been abandoned for too long and she'd barely survived three challenges. The first was in violation of the agreement of the tournament, so Morrigan's intervention was arguably justified, but intervention itself was a violation. Hence her trial here, where Morrigan's fate and possibly the fate of all worlds would be decided.

Since that first debated fight Keelin had faced the Norse champion in open, if odd, combat. Just as Morrigan began to fear her conviction and Keelin was ambushed, the Japanese champion had intervened and killed the Aztec champion, saving her. It was another clear violation of the rules and if the Shinto gods weren't held responsible and Morrigan was she would see to it the tournament was declared forfeit, a fate none of them wanted.

Their worlds were tied, and if Earth perished, Morrigan's world was not long behind. Long ago they had figured out how to cross the planes into the human world and discovered this connection. There they kept their immortality but gained powers, and with enough human worshippers their powers became almost omnipotent. Together in groupings human called pantheons they were, and those years had been glorious if chaotic with thousands of pantheons carving out territory.

When they had fallen out of favor and the humans had embraced a self-proclaimed one god, a great father, and the gateway between their planes was closing. All the pantheons had fought to claim eight seats at the first tournament and an accord was struck.

They would conserve power and let the humans run their course. It was plain to see that eventually humans would fall from the path of oneness with nature and destroy themselves. They'd done themselves in already but there were enough survivors for a lingering death, but it meant a chance to save both their worlds with the tournament. 

It was the twilight of humanity and the eight pantheons had enough magic to send one god of each clan to Earth with limited power to select and train a champion. The champions would fight to the death and the winner would have enough faith to open the gateway. The winning pantheon gained the right to reform the Earth as they saw fit.

Gods weren't inherently good or evil, but the Aztecs dreamed of an entire planet in the model of the kingdom they'd once ruled, a world where the sun shone on the humans only through countless death. The Shinto dreamed of a world tied up in formality and honor. As a goddess who dealt with war, blood, and procreation, Morrigan knew that was too lofty a goal for humans. Despite all their powers on Earth humans would always retain free will, and there would always be a degree of war, darkness, and depravity. It was up to just gods to help them balance it with wisdom, at, poetry, and love.

Morrigan might be a goddess of death but she shivered thinking how close she'd come to losing Keelin to the Aztec champion. She had the specific task of choosing who would die in battle, helping set into motion the fate and determine the winners and losers. It was one of her services to humans and just a job, not a source of glee as it was for others. She was a goddess of balance, and humans needed that most of all. 

She'd tried everything she could to escape her cell but it hadn't worked. Taking on her crone form gained no sympathy in a world where there was no disease, death, or pain, and her young maiden form was seductive but paled in comparison to the plentiful fertility goddesses traipsing around. Her cell was escape-proof and guarded well. 

Morrigan had enough of a connection to send aides to Keelin, in dreams, or through ravens, her animal to call. Thankfully through a dream she'd saved Keelin from the Aztec champion, setting into motion the conflict where Tanaka saved her champion and killed Carlos. Still, physically bound she felt helpless, and no other feeling angered her quite so much. She couldn't even reach Neit, couldn't see if he was on their plane or Earth, but she could tell he was avoiding their champion.

They'd never gotten along, despite the human tales of their adventures long ago (and blessedly, in her mind) forgotten. He was a war god who brought on conflict, who drove it on. It was a way to purge darkness and vent frustrations for the humans, but Morrigan's job was cleanup. Neit provoked and she was to one who had to decide just how many died, and who they'd be. Balance, however distasteful.

Her cell was comfortable by any standards. It was ten by ten with a bed made from Earth wood, canopied and a bit lacy for her taste, but made to make any female immortal comfortable. Artemis had once spent three months in here after a bender of epic proportions, and her crude graffiti still adorned the wall by the bookcase and desk.

There was a slim window looking out onto their green world and the mists growing close. As Earth died the mists grew closer and closer until they all lived on a large island. Gods in apartment complexes...it made her laugh bitterly.

A scrape sounded in the hall and she knew it was not the time for a meal, too early for supper and just an hour past breakfast. The door opened slowly after all twelve charmed locks turned. When the three-foot thick stone door swung open Anbay and Haukim stood there, dressed in their formal robes. On Earth the justice gods favored visages that jibed with the human perception and there the twins looked old and stately, perfect for judges. Here they kept their normal forms which made them look like teenagers playing dress up.

"It's time," Haukim said with seriousness.

"I like what you've done with your hair, Anbay, it must have taken hours." Morrigan said coolly, smoothing her own pantsuit. 

Touching her pile of hair held up with thin gold wire and flowers Anbay giggled. She would have made a good human, Morrigan thought. Pretty, delicate, seemingly inconsequential, but her mind was sharp and missed nothing, and her soul hungered for justice. Morrigan had lucked out but getting herself a pair of defenders assigned, but the process would be slow.

Shamash was presiding, the big daddy of anally-retentive deities. Unlike Zeus or others he had no other focus, his entire mission in life was justice, and he tended to play by the books. Her entire argument was not reason, but passion. Luckily for her sitting in judgment like a human jury of old were three gods and goddesses of love, and three of war. None had been very close friends at any time, but that was the point.

She followed her defenders through the bright marble hallway until they emerged in the great hall. Everyone was there in the forms they loved best, in the adornments of station here on their world, mostly shining young and beautiful. Human values over millennia had leaked into their culture and aesthetics mattered. Morrigan thought about her younger version once more and discarded the urge to change. She liked this "mother" form, still beautiful with an "earthy" sensuality, but it projected maturity. The perceived follies of youth would only work against her, she thought with a sigh.

The panel of jury was made up by fellow immortals with no ties to her clan nor those who'd adopted the Chinese humans. Of them her only friend was Baron Samedi, another death god who joined her for weekly poker games. With him were Aphrodite, Saturn, Quetzalcoatl, Shur, and Sirona. Sirona was a distant cousin of hers, but not one she knew any better than most others.

Shamash called for order and Themis strode forward dressed in a human business suit. She called forth the vision for all and they watched it play out. Morrigan's champion Keelin looked skinny and worn as she arrived at a human grouping. She contracted for work, ordered a meal, and then was approached by Li Boa-Zhi, the Chinese champion. When they spoke it was clear Keelin did not know what she was, and then he attacked. He drove her behind the bar as the humans around panicked and Morrigan materialized. She saved Keelin, stole the bar's money, brought her champion outside, and then Morrigan had been called back and placed in the cell.

"As you can see, Morrigan did not kill Li, nor did she do anything but interrupt the challenge and help her champion to escape," Anbay said without any trace of giggles.

"Do you contend her actions were outside the rules of challenge?" Shamash asked in a deep voice, stroking his beard.

"We contend that the actions of Li Bao-Zhi were outside the rules of challenge," Haukim said as he rose from the table were he sat with the defendant. 

"The rules are iron-clad. Any champion over the age of twenty-five may challenge another in combat to the death," the judge reminded them all.

The justice gods whispered to one another and Haukim nodded, resuming his seat, leaving the floor to Anbay. Morrigan watched it all and glanced over the jury. All seemed eager except for Aphrodite, who toyed with her hair and sighed wistfully at nothing in particular.

"We contend that the actions of Li were outside the rules," Anbay stated strongly.

"We saw what happened. He challenged her. Not with aplomb, but this is not so strange. Themis?"

She rose from her seat beside his bench. "Yes?"

"Show the challenge with Stellan."

Once more the opened a window for them all and they watched as the Norse champion tried to kill Keelin with a crossbow. She ducked, they fought, and she stabbed him. When it ended Morrigan had to force herself not to smile with maternal pride.

"Anbay, twice she has been challenged without formal warning, and only once did Morrigan interrupt the fight. In fact Li was killed by the champion Mencia who challenged him without warning. That fight was ruled fair."

"Should it have been?" Anbay asked, her dark eyes moving to the pantheon of the Chinese gods in the front row of the stands, Morrigan's accusers.

Kuan Ti was the only one who met her gaze and didn't stare daggers at Morrigan. A god of many things, revenge was his love. A god of death himself he'd been present at many poker games and Morrigan knew he was the one most likely to accept real justice.

"Themis, I call upon you to recite the rules for our jury and those who may not be aware of them."

Once more the blond goddess rose and strode forward. "Only the eight champions may fight. Champions will be selected by their entire pantheon, and trained by a god or goddess of war or combat. No god or goddess may interfere with a challenge. A challenge can only be issued by champions aged twenty-five human years or older. Any weapon but firearms may be used. No other humans may be involved or given insight to the tournament. No cabals may be formed by any god or goddess."

Anbay nodded. Still she faced the Chinese pantheon, though she angled herself to Kuan Ti, having picked up on his consideration. "Mencia involved the human with Li Bao-Zhi."

"And he killed her! She is no threat!" Huitzilopochtli stood and shouted from the stands. His cousin Quetzalcoatl in the jury seats looked uncomfortable as they murmured.

Shamash banged his rod, calling for order. "The fight between Mencia and Li is not the issue! The issue is the interference of Morrigan in the challenge between Keelin and Li!" He had to bang his heavy rod three more times before those on the floor quieted but the stands were still in chaos.

Some enterprising god of thunder let the illusion of such roll out which silenced the throng. Shamash thanked whoever it was and turned back to Anbay. "Morrigan interfered with a challenge. Your only course is to prove the challenge was not valid. Have you any evidence to that point?"

Morrigan's heart hammered. In their trials the jury would weigh evidence and testimony and influence the judge, but in the end only he decided her fate and that of Keelin. For a moment Anbay looked to her and Haukim, considering.

Suddenly Quetzalcoatl stood. "I must remove myself from the jury, Shamash. There is some truth here. Should the actions of our champion be called into question I must not weigh in on any matter. In fact I suggest Saturn and Aphrodite should not rest on the jury either for they too have champions."

Chaos swarmed over them all again as Saturn rose to argue with the Aztec god and Aphrodite, for the first time in her life, tried to meld into chair and go unnoticed.

Once more Shamash banged his rod and stood, his voice booming out. "Recess! I will decide in one hour how the jury placement will be. Morrigan will be returned to her cell!"

Haukim helped her up, waving off the lesser gods chosen to be soldiers of the court. "What is she doing?" Morrigan asked as she watched Anbay grab Themis.

"I will join you in the chamber, we must talk. Come, they will find us." He hustled her out and they returned down the hallway to the palatial cell. Inside food awaited them and she took a seat on the bed as he arranged three chairs and knocked on the door asking for seven more.

Guards brought them in along with more food as Morrigan watched, puzzled. "What is going on?"

"Anbay and I have been reviewing your case carefully. We have a piece of information that can be likened to a human nuclear bomb. Just as those bombs are still killing their world long after explosion, this information would destroy the tournament if it came to light."

She felt a chill. If the tournament were abandoned the two worlds would die. No immortal had ever tested their ability to live without a world, and she didn't relish the thought of trying.

The door opened again and Anbay and Themis led in quite the procession. Ares and his near-double Mars strode in, a sullen looking Tyr behind, equally morose Chu-Jung with Huitzilopochtli, then Sekhmet, and finally Hachiman.

"If you would all take a seat, Themis will show us something important."

They sat carefully with Tyr and Chu-Jung in a second row. Hachiman and Huitzilopochtli were kept separate and the rest in the middle, leaving Haukim and Anbay between Morrigan and the others.

Themis, still with the temporary power of visions gifted to her by others born with it, called up the fight where Hachiman's champion interrupted the fight between Mencia and Keelin. All watched, rapt, but it wasn't until Tanaka walked to Keelin, stared at her then spoke and let her go that they all saw it. When the vision faded the silence was so compete they could have been a tableau on some bizarre human painting.

At last Haukim rose. "You all saw the eyes of Tanaka. So all know whose eyes those really were." As one bodies twisted until all stared struck dumb by Hachiman. He smoothed his hand over his bald head and returned their gazes levelly, lastly meeting Morrigan's.

Holding it for a long moment he turned to Huitzilopochtli. "Your champion was something sick and twisted. He preyed on the innocent. There was no honor to it and he had to be stopped. We all know what he planned for her champion."

Huitzilopochtli lunged but it was Tyr and Chu-Jung who held him back. Hachiman rose, unperturbed and faced him. "Above all there must be honor."

"You broke the rules!" Mars raged.

"So did Morrigan!" Ares snapped.

"So now what?" Sekhmet asked, standing as well. "If Shamash learns of this the tournament is forfeit."

"And we will all die," Anbay said, her voice very soft, though it stopped them all.

Themis cleared her throat. "This means that almost all the challenges that have occurred are compromised. Should any of this come to light..."

"You can stop this," Haukim charged at Chu-Jung. "If you and your clan tell Shamash that you have decided that Morrigan did not break the rules, and you," he nearly shouted, turning to Hachiman, "promise us all that you will never take over your champions body again, it stops here." Now he looked at all of them. "We keep this here, this never leaves this room. The remaining champions fight as they should, the tournament continues and our worlds can be saved."

Conversations broke out between many of them, but Morrigan stood up. "That's not right! There's more! Why do you think I let my champion wander without ever seeing me for ten years of the Earth? Someone blocked me. Someone interfered with my champion. It could not be one of us alone, it was a cabal! Two or more of you conspired!" Themis grabbed her arm and stopped her charge into the group. 

"No, Morrigan," Anbay said sadly. "You can find her now. It stops here. No one blocks Morrigan. No one invades the body of their champion. No one talks about any of this."

"No!" Morrigan nearly sobbed. "I've lost ten years. My champion is not ready!"

"Then we shall agree that two more years shall pass with no challenges to your champion, will that suffice?" Sekhment asked them all.

Morrigan raged inside. The Aztecs had made their champion a monster. The Japanese had clearly cheated. Someone had done the most damage to her, and it wasn't right. Never had she more wished for Esus, the one clan member she trusted to put things right. Not the nice guy of later human imaginings he would relish the punishment of whoever had blocked her. But agreeing to this meant she could never tell him.

"Do not let petty sentiment destroy the chance to save our word," Sekhment whispered to her as if reading her thoughts.

Morrigan squeezed her eyes and forced herself to calm. Two years to train Keelin. It would be have to be enough. And when Keelin won and her clan rose to power once more, Morrigan would find the one who had blocked her and turn him or her inside out for eternity. At last she nodded.

"Swear it!" Themis ordered them all.

Haukim produced a cup of wine, Ares a knife. One by one they all slit their fingers and bled into the chalice. Anbay invoked the bond of silence ad agreement and one by one they took a sip. 

It was bitter on her tongue, but Morrigan forced it down. She was doing this for freedom, for Keelin, for the world. She who had presided over ancient wars, she who had once helped twenty-two men drive off her island the most powerful empire among humans at the time. In two years she could do it, she would shape Keelin to her fate. The gift she'd given her centuries ago would come to full fruition.

"Now, Chun-Jung, you must tell Shamash the matter is withdrawn. No one else may interfere."

"What about me?" Huitzilopochtli asked. "Hachiman, you killed my champion!"

"It stays here!" Sekhment fairly roared.

The offending god looked contrite. "I will yield my right to train Tanaka. Bishamonten shall take my place. When the tournament is settled you and I may meet again."

"And if your clan wins?" Huitzilopochtli spat out.

"Honor will be seen to, on that I swear. Morrigan, what I did, I did for your champion." The look he gave her told her he knew what had kept her from Keelin. But that knowledge stayed in the room.

Softly she smiled and gave him a slight nod.

"It is agreed. I will accompany Chu-Jung," Themis said.

Chu-Jung soberly regarded her."I cannot withdraw our petition alone."

"You need two to withdraw," Haukim said.

Morrigan nodded. "Kuan Ti, he will aid you." All eyes swung to her and she knew they were wondering about those poker games. 

"I will collect him," Anbay said.

With it set they filed out, leaving Morrigan in her cell. She couldn't eat, only sat at the window and stared out, waiting. Two hours of their time later she was summoned and once more her defenders walked her to the grand hall. There the crowd was gone, only the jury and Shamash stood, Themis and the two Chinese gods with her.

"Do you, Kuan Ti and Chu-Jung, officially withdraw your petition against Morrigan of the Tuatha Clan?"




The Tournament 04: The Trial



"We do," they responded in unison.

"Does the jury agree to this withdrawal?"

They spoke amongst themselves as Morrigan waited tensely. At last they nodded.

Shamash regarded Morrigan with those dark all-seeing eyes. For a long moment all waited breathless, wondering if he would invoke his right to overrule their wishes. As last he nodded. "The matter is withdrawn. Morrigan may return to Earth, but it is my ruling her clan must appoint an alternate. Is there any one?"

Morrigan ground her teeth. "There is one who should be on Earth. Neit."

"Themis will accompany you to Earth and instruct him on his duties. Court is dismissed." He banged his rod and stood, and everyone filed out but the defenders, Morrigan, Themis, and her former accusers.

Kuan Ti turned at last and smiled to Morrigan, knowing her better than anyone. "Back on Earth,, but saddled with your brother. If you violate the rules one more time, I will be there, Morrigan. There is nowhere you can hide." With that he and Chu-Jung turned and left.

"What was that all about?" Anbay asked.

"Kuan Ti is...a friend. Neit is not. There will be dark times ahead."

"But you have two Earth years to train your champion. Rest easy with that," Haukim offered.

"Thank you," Morrigan said to him and Anbay. "Truly, thank you. I will not forget what you have done."

"Come along," Themis interrupted them after they hugged. "The portal is weak and we have a short window."

Nodding, Morrigan left with her and they walked to the portal where the oldest and most powerful waited to pool their power and send them to Earth. They stood in the circle around them and felt the magic. When it cleared they were on the human Earth, full of rotten musty smells and death.

"You better go back quickly," Morrigan urged her. "But thank you."

"Oh, I'm not returning. I've been elected the impartial observer."

"Impartial? But your champion lives."

Themis walked a few steps away and used her small magic to change her clothes into rougher, dingy garb to help her meld in with the humans, and produced a pair of sunglasses. "I'm a goddess of justice. Trust my impartiality."

With that she wandered off. Morrigan was a goddess of war and death. Justice was a human concept, and she knew more than most just how corrupt it was. 

Two years, she thought, and turned to get her bearings. Two years to train Keelin, help her win, and then... People would die. It was what Morrigan did best. And when Keelin won, the real trial would begin. 



The Tournament 05: The Mystery



Copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcome comments and feedback!

______________________________________

"Again!" Morrigan cried and I swiftly turned and brought my sword to my opponent's neck. Faster this time, he dropped his broadsword and cried mercy.

My goddess clapped. "Keelin, this is excellent!"

I was dripping with sweat. For two years I'd wandered and spent time training with weights, fighting strangers. This past year training with Morrigan was sheer hell. She should have been working with me since I was eighteen, but had been ten years late. I was now nearly thirty-one, and working to catch up.

There were five others gunning to kill me, to use an old expression, and I was quite fond of that. The short story of my life is same soul, different bodies, all the compiled memories of hundreds of lifetimes over nearly three thousand years rattling around my head. That was my power, my edge. The other five had theirs. We'd fight to the last, and the winner opened a portal and let their gods in to save the dying world. This latest life, I had to say, was the most complex.

"You've earned a break. Good show, Hugh."

I gave my opponent my hand and he took it, standing and smiling. I grinned back. In the past year, for the first time in years, I had a real home. We had clean water, sustainable food, and there were others. They didn't know about the tournament, it was against the rules, but they thought we trained to survive. Without paying my own bills I no longer had to trade time on my back or menial skills for money and could take lovers as I saw fit. Hugh was one, one of the only two men there not irked by how often I beat them in combat, nor turned off by the muscle I was gaining.

"I'll see you at dinner," I told him and he kissed my cheek and turned.

I watched him go and sighed at those broad shoulders and his shaggy strawberry blonde hair. My goddess sidled up and smiled. "I like him better than John."

"You're not just a war and death deity, you're also a fertility goddess. Shouldn't you be encouraging fucking?" I asked with my usual lack of grace.

"I wanted to be a goddess of destiny. I can't see John's future. My powers are weak but anyone can tell you Hugh is a good boy."

He was almost forty but we were both old souls and the term "boy" didn't bother us. "Is that all? I want a shower, a nap, and food. Maybe food first, then rest, and more food."

Laughing she squeezed my arm, grinning at me. She'd taken her maiden form, looking like she was eighteen and dazzlingly beautiful with pale skin, tumbling black waves, and bright blue eyes. Next to her I felt like a clunky Amazon. Oh, many lovers in my life had called me pretty, but she was astoundingly beautiful.

"Sounds good. I'll keep Neit busy."

At his name I flinched. Neit was a fellow god of war, her brother. When the gate between our dimensions had closed he'd remained on earth, abandoning his wife. Like Morrigan he was gorgeous in a god-like way, but due to his stay on earth he had even greater power than she did. He was there to watch her, but more than that he'd tried to pressure me into sharing his bed a time or two. If he didn't have a petty temper and the rest of the women in our group as lovers, I might have said yes. Morrigan was dead-set against it, wanting me to focus my efforts solely on training. It had taken hours of argument to get her t stop bothering me about John and Hugh.

Something had kept her from me for ten years I should have been training. When she'd finally arrived I'd been ignorant and unprepared, and in the middle of an illegal challenge by the Chinese champion where she'd saved me. Minutes later she'd been pulled back to her world where she was also immortal but not a god, and put on trial. She never told me what happened but ten months earlier she'd arrived, scooped me up, and brought me to this ranch. Neit was already there with more people, and I'd nearly swooned with joy to discover they shared my "gift" or prefect recall reincarnation.

Hugh, like me, could remember hundreds of lifetimes. I didn't have to watch myself around him, I could be myself, and it made training so much easier. If I didn't know there were five other champions and eventually I'd have to fight for my life, I'd be happy.

"Go on, Keelin. Go relax, have fun. We train hard, but I promise you, we have another fourteen months to do so. Take the night off, and for all of our sakes, spend it with Hugh."

A snack, shower, nap, dinner, and hot sex with someone who understood and accepted me. Hot damn, I knew fighting would save the world, but how I wanted it to wait.

***

He walked through empty streets lamenting how the dust of ages touched his expensive leather shoes. Once this town had been filled with pirates, and it had never lost its touch of inequity through war or peace or hurricanes, but when the great war came it had been too close to one of the bombs and abandoned by those who could flee. The desiccated skeletons of those who could not remained as testament to the greatest battlefield the world had ever known.

Ares closed his eyes and pictured it. It was the end of the era that had delivered him from earth, the era of the one god. However there wasn't truly one, and the crawling monkeys had somehow realized this. Their arguments over which was real and which wasn't (sadly they all were quite real) had led to war. Human greed and corruption fueled it.

The monkeys' records were lost but Ares knew; it was this land, once a country, that had launched the first of eight bombs. Most of the monkeys had died, some instantly, some slowly. Those left scrambled away from the fallout, too few to have real war, just skirmishes. Oh, how he missed the heat of battle.

"Reminiscing?" A deep voice chuckled behind him.

Slowly Ares turned. "Luke, fancy meeting you here."

"It's Lucifer. I don't do nicknames," the other man said. 

They were of equal lofty height, but Ares was pure burly muscle, his curling black hair close-cropped, his face clean shaven. Lucifer's light blond hair sparkled in the faint sunlight, tumbling over his shoulders, and his goatee and mustache were combed and frozen in place.

"What are you doing here?"

"I never left. When my time passed I stayed. As long as there is sin and vice I have power, even if no one worships me. Care for a drink?"

Ares looked at the shells of buildings around him, inhabited only by human and animal skeletons. "Perhaps we should go somewhere else."

Lucifer laughed and snapped his fingers. Instantly the square they stood in cleared of debris, a table and chairs righted themselves, and two cups appeared. Bemused, Ares wandered over and sniffed. "Coffee? You call this a drink?"

"I don't do alcohol. Turning anything into wine is a party trick, not my style. Have a seat." Lucifer pulled a chair out and sat, straightening his suit jacket.

With a sigh Ares sat as well. "Got anything to eat?"

His companion chuckled and snapped his fingers, calling up a basket of little fired dough. "They're called beignets, monkey food. Like the coffee they were once served here in happier times."

Ares tried one and raised an imperious brow. "Not bad."

Lucifer sipped his coffee daintily. "How goes the tournament?"

"Not too shabbily. If you and the other guy had been willing to play ball you could have had an in."

"You know he likes to pretend there's just one of our clan. The way he tells it me, Michael, and Gabriel are just minions."

Ares smiled. "Nicely played, calling you the bad guy."

"I did always have a penchant for vanity, seducing virgins, and exploitation. To my shame. One night out with he-who-I-won't-name hunting virgins and he gains cult status."

They laughed for a minute and passed another few in silence, eating the fried dough and drinking their hot coffee.

"You know our champion is strong. We have a place for you, if you join us."

"Until Zeus himself tells me he'll bow to me, I won't accept your offer. Thank you, Ares, you've been a good friend, but I am eternal. I'll always be immortal, and I'll always feed from vice, sin, and misery. The nature of monkeys ensures that I will be long well fed."

"Nice trick. Maybe I should have stuck around. That last war would have powered me for centuries."

"The big guy always hated competition. So did the other two. You know you can stay. No matter who wins, if it's not your boy, there will be more humans, war once more. Like me you can live like a king."

Ares looked around and smirked. "Nice palace, o great king."

"I mean it. Why go back to your dimension?" Lucifer stroked his beard.

"Because mine has more to it than yours. Boring clouds and lakes of fire...no thank you."

Lucifer shrugged daintily, looking as always as if he were a painting. If it weren't for the beard Ares might mistake him for a girl he was so damn pretty.

"Whatever happened to the big guy anyway?"

"He's back to those clouds and fire. Let him tend it all. I find it so terribly boring. I rather like what the humans have done. They believe in strength in numbers and up north in this and they have these enclaves. Thieves and arms deals, prostitution and brawls. It's a work of art really."

"Charming," Ares drawled dismissively. "You can keep it."

"Still banking that your boy will win? Where is Jase anyway?"

"On a ship over here. This seems the pace to be, what with the Japanese boy training here, the Irish girl as well. The Roman's on his way too as far as I know, and three have died here already. The Egyptian should be on his way."

"I hear tell Francesco dispatched him already."

The war god shrugged. "Another one bites the dust. Five remain. I like my boy's odds better and better."

"Why aren't you training him right now?"

"I'm taking a break. I hate boats. You know Poseidon always liked to cramp my style on water."

Lucifer chuckled and refilled their cups by magic. "So tell me, if your clan wins, how will you reshape this world? Will it be like that empire your chosen humans had before it fell and the Romans took up the mantle only to lose that to the world at large?"

For long seconds Ares gave him the look he reserved for facing other war gods over human strategy. Lucifer just smiled and smoothed his tie.

"No. Our first priority will be cleaning the world, then Aphrodite can go about getting them to fuck as much as possible and make more little monkeys. When they're grown we'll use war to prevent any segments from growing to large and powerful. This can never happen again, for the sake of all of our worlds.

"Tell me, those clouds and fiery lakes are disappearing, aren't they?"

With a dainty shrug Lucifer grabbed his cup and saucer. "Not my problem. I've gone native."

The war god snorted. "It should be. We're not all of us equal."

"You know, I went to war with the last guy to say that to me."

Smiling Ares sat back holding a beignet between this thumb and forefinger. "See the problem is how naïve some of the clans are. You know what happens when you give the monkeys too much free will and think they'll all be pacifists? This." He crushed the beignet and then popped it in his mouth.

"Oh, you war gods have the best metaphors," Lucifer chuckled out. "It's not so dire. You fear the Shinto because they're too peaceful. They fear you because you prize knowledge and war equally. You both fear the Romans for being too militaristic and organized, hell bent on letting a select few rule all, and everyone fears the Irish because they don't understand them."

"Do you think this funny? We're fighting here to save all the worlds, all three, our two realms tied to this monkey-filled mud ball."

"I think it's hilarious, Ares. Fear." The blonde's nostrils fared as he inhaled deeply. "That's my true realm."

"You had the one thing we all wanted, the one thing my clan once came close to having. The world. And now you wander, feeding off dark emotions. Why keep tabs on the tournament?"

"Ares, do you think I am evil?"

That stopped the god. "What?"

"Have you fallen so easily in to trap of a smear campaign, like some lowly monkey? Listing to all the lies they told?"

The god set his cup down on the table and stared at the devil. "You tell me why they said that."

Lucifer loved nothing more than telling stories. Lies and truth woven together, like all stories, he thought for a long moment. "My world is younger than yours. We were born many thousand earth years after your two worlds. Unlike both your worlds, we were few. The old man, me, Gabriel, and Michael. That was it at the start. Poof!" He threw up his hands and showy sparkles fell. "There we were, floating in clouds endless and white, the sky only a little paler. 

"The old man tested powers and tried to make more, but they were lesser...weird. Some had no shape, some had too many. Tentacles." With that he wiggled his fingers, encased in soft gloves. "Ugly things, freaks. So I tried my hand and the ones I made were better. I figured out how to borrow shapes from this world, before the humans came, and used the wee beasties as templates. They weren't pretty, not like us, but they had power almost as great. The old man got jealous.

"While you and your kind were mulling babies not ready to rule, we went to war. The old man made the realm of fire by our clouds. Our argument was who should be in charge. Obviously I had it, but the old man persuaded Gabriel and Michael to his way. So we fought and I decided, what the hell...no pun meant, but I would take over the fire. My boys got their power from it so it seemed the right choice.

"So time passed and the old man and I got to be friends again, going out for drinks and discussing work, you know how it is. We found the gateway and started coming over here. Only he came more than I did, got himself a cult going, the bastard. Never told me. You do realize he feeds off chaos even more than me, yes? It's not me who took your place and wanted to make all the wars, it was him. Two sides of thousands each praying to him...he was like a monkey crack addict seeking the next big hit.

"Anyway, my favorite thing was despoiling virgins. Kay, not my true favorite, give me an experienced woman or man any day, but that corruption of pious innocence...it tastes so sweet. He got a taste for it too, and then, wonder of wonders, he figured out how to make his form truly human and knocked up this chick. Married, not yet consummated. So she gives birth and for the first years he hung around her. The kid got older, not so cute, and back home he came. He gets drunk one night and comes back, sells his kid a line of bullshit. 'Do this and that, get some followers, and then the humans kill you, and you can come live me, okay?' Kid buys it, and it happens. The old man got followers.

"I tried it, you wouldn't believe some of the names I've been known under, but the old man kept coming back and selling this bull I was evil. So, what the hell, I took the role. I got way more power than him, so he upped it. Got a few of his stronger followers to come here and assume similar roles. Got wars going and everything. Word War One? That was me and Gabe. We knew about your tournament all the while but the old man used to brag we'd never let the world down, that his 'rule' was eternal and they'd never forget. 

"Well, the monkeys showed him. He's back home now with the kid and his cohorts, nursing wounds and cut off completely. I stayed. Better than fire and while they stopped worshiping him, they never forgot me. See, he did so many rotten things no one could keep his name in line with good, but since he worked so hard to tie my name to evil, and evil persists, so do I. That answer your question, kid?"

"Don't call me that, I am a god." Ares wished for a moment he'd worn a suit. Not as flashy as Lucifer's number, but something to compete would be good.

The devil snickered. "Then act like one. This is your world, take it. I'm just a bottom feeder, all I care about is continuing the good life. Stop worrying about which pantheon to fear and just train your boy to kill all the others."

Ares looked off at the distance to the shell that had once been a great city. So many had fallen. The humans were chased to the edges looking to live just one more day of "the good life." On his own world the edges had faded, huddling the clans of gods into a small space.

"What would have happened if we didn't make this tournament?"

"That's the problem with you gods, always asking 'What if? What if?' Stop asking that. You know why you lost the humans in the first place, why the old man won them over so easily?" At Ares' blank look Lucifer smiled. "You began to doubt yourselves. You gave up your power. You worried too much over this question of good and evil and tried to define it. It left a void we filed nicely. See me and the old man know we're both good and evil, and you have to be both. That's what it takes."

Ares thought over that for a long moment, even as Lucifer's magic made the finery disappear, leaving the empty table and the accompanying chairs as run down as they were found, like an illusion fading.

"Why did you come here? Why did you find me?"

"To warn you." Lucifer stood and straightened his jacket. With flourish he produced a cane and spun it like a showman. "It's not the champions who lose, it's the gods. Lose faith in yourself and your champion loses. Belief is power. 

"I'm not the only one watching this. If it goes south, the old man is waiting in the wings. He's all about the end of times, a last gasp. The fate of three worlds does indeed ride on this. Do not think for moment the humans know or can care. Just never forget the old man does, and he's been conserving power for one last pass-through into this world to bring about his little apocalypse. Take that message to the others."

"Is that some sort of promise?"

Lucifer produced a hat and sunglasses with magic and smiled enigmatically. "Call it a deal, I was always fond of that. That little cabal on your home world you made? Keep to it. Work together. No matter who wins it, back them. The worst possible clans have been taken out of the tournament, and yes, I've had a hand in that, and no one knows about it. It stays that way. 

"In short, I have removed any evil, however unintentional from those clans, from the tournament and what is left are the best and brightest. Do not waste it. I have seen fate. A betrayal will come. Take this message and remind the others the fate of our worlds rests in their hands. When this betrayal comes only a clan not in the running can help. But choose carefully, for remember those already gone can not have a hand in fate. Adios."

With a flourishing wave of his cane Lucifer disappeared.

Ares sat there a long time. A betrayal. So many had happened already. The Shinto, the Irish...he dare not trust them. Implied was whoever was betrayed would be the winner, but it wouldn't be Jase. If Lucifer warned Ares he knew enough that he would play no role.

But just the devil said, he couldn't lose faith. Just why, Ares couldn't say. That was the mystery.



The Tournament 06: The Peril



Copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcome comments and feedback!

_____________________________________

It would not happen again, Tanaka thought to himself. He was one of now five champions left fighting to save the world. One by one they would challenge each other and fight to the death. The last one standing would open a portal between dimensions allowing their gods to reclaim the Earth as their own and save it. It was dying, destroyed three generations ago in the Great War, the bombs that had killed off most humanity now poisoned the earth, water, and very air. Only the gods could save them.

For eighteen years that was the only world he knew. His father had left the family long ago, and his mother had succumbed to poisoning when he was thirteen, leaving him alone in a harsh landscape. The island of his people was long gone, but he'd found an enclave of them in the woods of his homeland, and deep in there he had slowly become what he was today, a champion of humanity.

When the bald man had introduced himself in those woods as Hachiman, the name had meant nothing. Over the next seven years they had trained, a war god and his champion. Then one year ago something strange had happened. He'd gone to sleep in the woods of his childhood but awoke in a roadhouse hotel room in a strange town with no memory, and suddenly a god named Bishamonten had appeared, telling him he was replacing Hachiman.

The entire incident weighed on his mind, but Bishamonten gave him no time to ponder. The last year had been spent training, hard. It would pay off, he hoped, as he entered the cave. It was dry and deep, and Francesco had set up several torches illuminating abandoned temporary camps of those who had passed through. The deeper he went the more he lost the scent of the ocean, which was comforting, though it did not aid his special powers at all.

Each champion was given a special gift by their gods, and his was to draw power from the very Earth itself. Francesco, the Roman champion, had a special kind of photographic kinetic memory. Anything he read he mastered, be it cooking or a martial art. As his gift was with him always he had agreed to let Tanaka have his edge, so they agreed to fight deep in the Earth in this ancient cave.

The Roman champion stepped from the shadows as if summoned. Like Tanaka his clothes were clean, formal, pressed. His trench coat hung from the break in a support pillar holding up the cave ceiling and his broad sword was naked in his hand. 

"Tanaka." He bowed, and Tanaka smiled. His first fight was to progress with honor, the trait Hachiman claimed had been strong in his charge at birth. "I'm glad you came."

He stripped his coat and withdrew his katana. "Francesco. I'm glad you waited." The challenge had come days before on Thursday, but they had waited to find a place of mutual agreement and then for the other humans to leave. It had taken four days.

The Roman lunged and the fight began. Francesco's speed was impressive, but no match for Tanaka. However the Roman was taller by a few inches, his olive skin stretched over bulging muscles. Driven back Tanaka began to circle as their swords clashed again and again until they'd made a half circle turn. His back to the rear of the cave Tanaka swiped his sword at his opponent's side, expecting a block, but Franesco's grip loosened and their swords struck the broken beam, knocking the top off the base.

The Earth began to rumble and they stopped. Closing his eyes Tanaka called upon his connection to the Earth and realized it was no cave but an ancient mining shaft, and it was about to crumble.

"Run!" Tanaka screamed. Dropping his sword he shoved Francesco back just as rocks began to fall. Scrambling back himself his temple was struck and he fell to his back. Crab walking awkwardly as the entire cavern shook Tanaka hit a fallen boulder sized chunk and felt fear as dust and rocks covered his sword. 

It felt like ages but was only seconds when the rumbling stopped and the cavern stilled. Putting a hand to his temple it came away wet. When he licked his hand he tasted coppery blood. "Francesco!?"

There was a rumbling muted reply but it was completely dark. Finally he heard a muffled but clear response of "Yeah?"

On his knees Tanaka felt a sold wall of debris before him, all around him. He was trapped in a small pocket not big enough for him to stand or lie down. "I'm trapped, can you get out?"

Seconds passed and then a panicked reply came. "No!"

He closed his eyes and forced his heart to slow, wondering how much air he had. "Keep calm, our gods will come. They have to."

There was no reply.

***

I was exhausted, happily for once. Life as the Irish champion wasn't all fun and games. The other champions had seven or more years of training under their belts, I had one, though I'd survived three challenges, only one without help. At least now I had a permanent home, companions, and my goddess the Morrigan training me.

"Keelin, what are you thinking?" John asked, laying beside me in bed, naked as well. He ran a tanned finger over the very small slope of my breast, teasing my nipple.

I sighed and stretched, but didn't evade his touch. "Already?"

He leaned down and kissed my neck. "Always."

Of my two lovers, I knew I should walk away from John, but I just never could. Most of those there were like me, tall, pale, and muscular, many had red hair like me. John was different, there was darker blood in him giving him a perpetual tan and pure black hair which he wore long over his young face. I was thirty-one and he was only twenty-seven, but his dark eyes were old like my blue ones.

Morrigan hadn't just made our souls immortal, reincarnating for nearly three thousand years, she'd made us more. Every life at thirteen our memories came back in full of all past lives. It allowed us to become masters at many things, and while I was the champion, John, like my other lover Hugh, and three others, had been reincarnated to help me train.

Morrigan didn't like him but as in past lives we'd almost never run into one another I couldn't say why. I certainly hadn't been very good for most of my lives, and John understood that better than Hugh. He knew my crimes and still was sweet, more than Hugh, winning over Keelin, the woman I was that was separate from my old selves. Acceptance was a heady drug.

"I need a nap if we're going to spar again."

"If I offer you a secret, will you let me make love to you one more time first?"

It was tempting, very tempting, even if I couldn't call the sex we had making love. It was fucking. Oh, nice and slow, tender at times, but love was a feeling I'd outgrown many lifetimes ago. "How good is the secret?"

Laughing he bent and gently placed my swollen nipple between his teeth for a moment. "You should ask how good the sex will be."

"That too," I said in a half-laugh, half-moan as he licked.

"Both are very worth it."

"Secret first," I demanded.

Leaning in close he brought his lips to my ear. His deep voice was a rumble when he spoke. "I once fought Jase, when he began training."

I couldn't help my startled body from jerking. "What!?" Jase was the Greek champion, the oldest, the best-trained.

"It's true. I didn't know about the tournament, I still don't know much, but I traveled, and he wanted someone to spar with. I will show you his moves when we spar."

My blood pumped and sleepiness left me. I wanted to know more, right then, and said so. Chuckling he brought his large hand around to my side and turned me into him. "Uh-uh-uhh, first the sex."

I couldn't say I minded. 

***

"They have to come soon," Tanaka said to the wall. It had been almost an hour but no more rocks had fallen. He'd found a torch and had matches in his pocket, but lighting it would be dangerous, burning up more oxygen than he thought he could spare.

"Mars should come soon. He said he would come check at sunset."

"That's still two hours away, at least, "Tanaka replied.

"When our gods come, do we continue the fight? It was promising, but I think perhaps somewhere else would be a good setting. Is it just the caves that help you?"

For a long moment he thought on Francesco's question, wondering how much to reveal. At last he hedged. "No."

The reply was a booming laugh. "Fair enough. Not ready to give me your secrets just yet? I can tell you I have mastered many things I have read. That is my power; whatever I read I instantly master. Want to know all the various ancient treatises of sword fighting Mars has found for me?"

Tanaka didn't truly care. In their short fight he'd seen enough to know Francesco was good and knew many styles, but what Tanaka knew Hachiman had taught him, and assured him was not written down anywhere. "Ancient German and Nordic primarily," he said at last.

There came a pause. "Very good. I was given to understand the only opponent who might rival my intelligence was the Irish champion, but from what I've heard she's nothing."

"In that you are wrong." Frowning, Tanaka realized he was defending a woman he didn't know. Yet somehow he felt he did, and that was all the more puzzling. No one had known where she was until the Chinese champion Li had challenged her. Then Hachiman had told him she had killed Stellan, the Norse champion in fair combat. Now Carlos, the Aztec champion was dead and Hachiman had gone. Bishamonten told him she had killed the Aztec which showed strength as well as cunning. With two victories and three challenges accepted, she was the most experienced of all. "She's survived three champions, killing two of them."

Francesco was silent for a long moment, but when he spoke his voice was quieter than before. "Your power doesn't overwhelm you, make you insane, does it? "

Tanaka hesitated. A year earlier he would have said no, definitely not, but now he had a missing week in which he'd traveled three zones of the Union. In the weeks before he'd been holed up in a cave not unlike this one, hiding from roving bands of thieves preying on the area.

Did too much exposure to the earth overload him?

"So?" Francesco's voice was impatient.

"No. No, it can't. Why do you ask?" His voice shook with doubt.

More silence came from Francesco's side of the wall. Finally, when he spoke, he was calm, his voice dark. "Tanaka, you killed Carlos."

***

"Don't worry, you'll have Kelner and Fiona here," John told me with a smile, watching me dress.

"You tell me you know about...I can't even say the word to you, and then you tell me you, Sinead, and Hugh are leaving for the weekend?"

No other humans could know about the tournament, we were all forsworn, those of us who participated. He claimed Neit, Morrigan's brother, fellow god, earthbound babysitter, and all-around-lecher-extraordinaire had gotten drunk one night and spilled details, and it was only then John realized a man he'd fought had been the Greek champion.

"Somebody has to go and earn gold to buy the things we need."

I buttoned my pants and sat back on the chair facing my bed where he lingered. "I wish you wouldn't fight."

"Again, see previous comment. Come on, babe." He stretched like a cat and I couldn't help but let my eyes roam his body. It was so delicious. Suddenly a thought occurred to me.

"John, Neit wouldn't talk to you. As far as he's concerned you're a man and not worth his time. He must have been with one of the girls. Who else knows?"

"The less you know, the better, champion. Give me a kiss before I hop into the shower."

Petulantly I hesitated, but then got up and bent over the bed, kissing him the way some prince had Sleeping Beauty. Damn, he tasted good.

"Just be safe, you and Hugh, and keep an eye on Sinead. And if there's enough gold can you add black thread to the list? I need some."

"Sure, I'll let Sinead know. She's the money keeper. Hugh and I are the muscle."

"Don't fight Hugh, now." John had slight inclinations of jealousy over my other lover, whereas Hugh felt the way I did, that jealousy was as wasteful as pining for romantic love.

He leaned up and grabbed me, pulling me down for another kiss before I left. A bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Something bad was going to happen, but I couldn't say what. And of all my hundreds of lifetimes, not a one had given me powers of prophecy.

Maybe it was just something I ate.

***

"Mars told you all that?" Tanaka was amazed. The tale was that the Aztec champion had gone seeking the Irish champion, but Tanaka got to him first. Francesco had claimed he heard it was a short fight.

His first challenge, he had won...and he didn't remember a single moment. With Hachiman disappearing he had a sinking feeling that the challenge had been sullied by his god's hand, and his memory stolen to prevent his knowledge of it. Shame suffused him.

"Yes. Although since then Mars has been acting strangely."

"My god returned to their dimension and sent a replacement," Tanaka nearly whispered. "I don't remember a fight. I thought this was to be my first."

There was a pause. "Put nothing past our gods. They don't love us, they're not our friends, we are their weapons."

"But if- if Hachiman had anything to do with that challenge the tournament is forfeit!" 

"Listen to me, Tanaka, do not say anything. It's in the past! Do you hear me? The gods must have struck an accord. We cannot abandon the challenge or the world is lost. Do you understand me?"

Tanaka thought long and hard about his next words. "You have to kill me, Francesco. My honor...it is something very important, more important to me than anything other than the tournament. When we are freed of this rubble, kill me!"

"Oh, I will kill you, but I too am a man of honor. It will be a fair fight, you will give it your all. You and I have figured this out. One of us must die so this knowledge resides with only one. I will not fight you unless you give it your all."

His words were insistent but Tanaka was lost to reverie. "You don't understand. Hachiman...it's like he's a part of me. If by some chance I live, it will drive me mad."

"Oh, I know. I feel like Mars is in my head sometimes."

"No, no, you don't understand. If it's a bond between trainer and champion, Hachiman should be gone, and Bishamonten should be the presence in my head. But it's not my current trainer who seems to ride shotgun in my head."

Another pause, and a cough. "Well I feel Mars isn't close. So if you don't feel Bishamonten...does he know to look for you?"

"Yes, I told him to seek me by midnight if I didn't return."

"What time is it?"

"I have no idea."

Francesco laughed, a rich booming sound. "Stupid question, I guess. Wait a minute, I hear someone. It's not Mars, it must be Bishamonten come early."

Tanaka stood and brained himself on the lowered ceiling. "Ow! Tell him I'm alive, to get us out. We'll fight again, but not today."

"Promise me it will be a real fight. We both deserve that."

"I swear it!" He felt himself growing excited and groped around for his sword before remembering it was lost. Escape was at hand, and then he would demand answers from his new god. 

"Hey you're not-" Francesco's voice was cut off and then there came a panicked cry. The sound of scrabbling fingers along rock came and then the scratch of metal along the rock wall.

"Francesco? Francesco!" There was no reply. Suddenly he heard the sound of poking at the rocks between him and the Roman. It was hard an insistent. "Bishamonten? Mars? Francesco? Who's there!?" Desperately Tanaka began to search for his sword in the dark, praying for it to be there, praying he could pull it free. His connection to Hachiman fared in his soul crying out that something was afoul.

Something compelled him to place his hand on the rock wall, and power flared. The flavor of Hachiman roared through him and for a mad moment the entire rock wall glowed blue. Suddenly the poking stopped, and a deep voice cried out as if thrown back.

"Francesco?" There came no reply and he knew somehow the Roman was dead.

***

"Tanaka? Tanaka, are you here!?"

At the fevered words in ancient Japanese Tanaka opened his eyes. He must have passed out. Feeling his body he felt no blood, no wounds. The earth had healed him, but that strange blast had knocked him out. Hachiman was gone from his mind.

"Tanaka, answer me, damn it!"

"Bishamonten? I'm here!"

There came a rumble and suddenly rocks flew away, leaving a gaping hole. His god, clad in ancient armor, stood there. "The Roman is dead, and not by your hand, nor any champion."

Tanaka ignored his hand and climbed through. Daylight filled the cave and dappled onto the body of Francesco. His throat was slit and he could tell from the angle of the cut it had come from someone standing behind the champion.

"Someone must die for this. He was a good man and did not deserve such a death. He heard someone coming...and we thought it was you."

"Something...blocked me. No champion did this, but some god was involved. I will not rest until we find out who."

"I kill the human," Tanaka growled.

Bishamonten nodded. "Something weighing on your mind?"

Under new questions the old ones sat back in his mind. He needed water, food, rest, and then vengeance. "You and I will talk later. I need to find safe shelter by a river and while I rest you can track whoever did this." After he had rested and retrieved his sword, then he would ask why his mind was still connected to Hachiman, and just what the he hell had happened during that missing week.

"Whoever did this is crafty. Tanaka, take care. Hachiman taught you to follow your heart but I am here to teach you to follow your head. Do not run from one challenge headlong into another. It could be a trap."

Tanaka smiled and quoted his old master. "Without peril there is no merit in gain. Let's go." 

For the first time he lead, and his god followed.



The Tournament 07: The Set-Up



Copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcome comments and feedback! 

______________________________________________

"It is time," Morrigan said to me. A battle goddess of war and death, she was my trainer. We should have had fourteen years to train but had only gotten two. Still I bore her gift, the ability to reincarnate continuously over almost three thousand years, and remember it all. It did give me a certain edge.

I was one of now four champions fighting to save the world. Our combat was simple; one on one, we typically fought with swords, but any weapons were allowed, just not firearms. Each of us had a war god or goddess training us, and whoever won the final combat opened a gateway between our world and that of the gods. The winning pantheon would come and cleanse the earth of radiation and save humanity. That was the party line.

"So who is it?"

"Keelin, it's Tanaka."

I felt a frisson of fear. I'd met the Japanese champion once before, just over two years ago when he'd saved me from a horribly slow death at the hands of the Aztec champion. He claimed he didn't challenge me then because of honor. I'd known another Japanese champion long ago and honor seemed to be big with those guys.

My special circumstances meant the past two years had been without challenge. Before my training I'd survived three battles. In the first challenge Morrigan had saved me, the second I won fairly, and the third was where I'd met Tanaka who'd saved my ass. Of all those who would wait for the very minute, the very hour my moratorium was up he was the last I expected. And, having seen him fight, he was the only one I worried about.

"How does this go?"

"You must leave training grounds. He will issue the challenge and allow you to pick the time and place, it is his way. Choose wisely, and remember he draws power from the earth."

"Great, so I say we fight in a thousand years when someone figures out how to contact the lost lunar colony so we can fight on the moon?"

"Smart ass," she said and tucked a glossy strand of black hair behind her delicate ear. She was in her maiden form, a buxom eighteen year old death goddess with bright blue eyes. Next to her I was a hulking giant of athletic muscle, a disappointing lack of curves, and fairly stringy red hair.

"No, just challenge him closer to the settlement seven miles out. Pick full dark so you can back him onto concrete, close to cars."

"Hard to believe for so many years your followers associated you with nature. Cars are metal. Concrete is rocks. It's all earth."

"Well, you figure it out! You're the champion!"

"And you're one of the few supposed to save this world if I win. God!" When I cursed like that as Raymond, my self from the twentieth century, so often did it irritate her.

She had three forms, maiden, mother, and crone, and each had its own special way of irritating me. She was still better than lecherous Neit, her male counterpart, brother, and babysitter here on Earth. 

"Just go and set the appointment. No fighting today."

It was all I could do not to wet my pants, which I had done the last time I saw Tanaka fight with blinding speed I could never match.

When Morrigan had brought the news she sent Neit inside, my five companions out to trade and make money in the nearby town. We had a compound of sorts and the five with me were fellow reincarnates, existing solely to help me train. They were not to know of the tournament, but the two men who'd remained when three others left upon my arrival, were my lovers, and one knew about the tournament and had once fought the Greek champion years ago. Neit had spilled the beans drunk to one of the women but John refused to tell me who.

I was shaking, damn it. Sometimes it was hard to be me. Inside my mind I was hundreds of people, their voices talked to me all the time, but it was my voice too. I couldn't explain it, but times like this, me, Keelin, felt separate from all the men and women I'd once been who fought in grand wars and killed by the thousands. 

I walked slowly away from Morrigan, between the two west buildings of the compound where the little road was. I walked in the grayish sunlight of late afternoon which was cool enough I wasn't sweating in my leather. I'd taken to wearing good old fashion boiled leather, it was good basic armor, and when I fought I had metal plates that attached easily to it. This had been my standard garb in many lifetimes and felt familiar and comforting.

Tanaka stood right at the property line. On our home grounds we could not be challenged but in space and time he was toeing the line. He was still a strikingly handsome man, tall, slim, broad of shoulder, and looked dramatic with his back hair flowing in the wind along with his grey trench coat. When he fought it swirled and danced and distracted. A romantic vision if you didn't have to worry about losing your head to his sword.

"Tanaka." I stopped on my side of the property line. Last time we'd met he'd been a man of honor, but it had been two years. People could change.

"Keelin of Thorpe."

I inclined my head and waited for the challenge to come, but he just stared at me, searching my face, for what I did not know. Finally he sighed and spread his hands out, palms to me. "I do not challenge you today, I come with a question."

I couldn't help but start. "What?"

"Did you kill Francesco, the Roman champion?"

He seemed truly confused, perplexing me. "No, you did. When news of the fight reached us I was here. In two years they have not let me leave. Those who help train me come and go but I am stuck in this sanctuary." I said the word harshly, hoping he understood.

"I have traced whoever killed him to this place. We fought in a cave and there was a collapse. Before I could be dug out someone came to him and killed him, like a coward."

I can't say why I trusted him, but I did. Maybe the pretty face did me in, or maybe it was that he didn't mention my wet pants from our last meeting. "If that's true I would bet anything Neit has something to do with it. He's here to keep Morrigan, my goddess, in line but he's jealous of her, and frankly a slimy bastard."

"If I can meet him, perhaps I can tell."

Maybe I wanted Neit gone. Oh, hell, of course I did, the damn lech. So I found myself inviting him into the camp. The others were gone to town for the day getting supplies and trading, it was just me and the gods.

I walked him to the one unused eastern building, our overflow building for stores. Like most we didn't have overflow, we were always a little wanting. Inside was just a few old mattresses we sometimes laid down for wrestling.

I lit the little gas lamp and asked him to sit, explaining it would be a few hours. To his credit he looked comfortable, unruffled. He was groomed like a man who was never ruffled, and next to him I felt, as usual, dowdy.

"Our gods have transgressed," he said as we sat.

"Oh?"

"All know of your goddess but mine...Hachiman took over my body. It was him who faced Carlos that day and saved you. He used great power to bring me there and fought as me. He saved you."

This shocked me, but explained his earlier searching look. He was trying to recognize a woman he'd never seen. I had a history with Hachiman back to my first life, but nothing to explain his intervention. Once I had saved his warrior's life and he had saved mine, that was all.

"Is she in your head?"

That shook me. I'd only ever spent time with one other champion, Stellan, the Norse champion who I had killed in fair combat. It had been a few years since I could so openly talk shop, and I nodded. "When I sleep, she's there. In all my past lives she's there. In the chorus of voices that are my old selves...she's the loudest."

Suddenly he was up, then kneeling beside me where I sat on the lumpy pile of mattresses. His fingers slowly reached for my face and I forced myself not look away or flinch. "He saw something in you. He's gone but he's still...here." He used his other hand to tap his temple. "Your spirit, he finds it..." he trailed off into something in a language I didn't know, and then to my shock he was kissing me.

I kissed him back because I found him beautiful. I put my hands on his body because I was lonely, even then, and he understood what I was going through because he was sharing it. I let him put his hands on my body because sex was no issue to a woman with a 3,000 year old soul. I took him into my body and we sought our pleasure together because I knew the traitor was one of my lovers, and I would lose one today.

After we lay together but did not touch, lost to our thoughts. Had Tanaka the man seen in me whatever it was Hachiman the god had?

"It was John," I said at last, and turned to face him on my side. He had such a nice body, all lean muscle, not the bulk of the men around me. "He told me he knew of the tournament. Neit was drunk and told some woman, he overheard. It was then he realized a man he fought once was Jase, the Greek champion. It has to be him."

He turned, dark eyes on mine. "What about the woman Neit confessed to?"

"He fucks anything. I doubt it was one of the ones with me. It could have been anyone."

Tanaka rose onto an elbow, solemn. "Why are you so willing to help me?"

The pulling interest I felt towards this beautiful young man was dangerous. He was an always would be my enemy, until the end. "Maybe it's Hachiman who needs my help." With that I rolled off the pile and began dressing. He watched me pull my clothes on and it was such a hard stare I blushed.

"Tanaka, this was...we can't...look. We may have to fight to the death one day. We shared a physical experience, nothing more. Leave it at that."

"I will not fight you today, nor any other day."

We didn't know each other enough for him to say that, and I knew it was the god, which puzzled me still. "Why not? What happens if we're the last two?"

"If it comes to that we will face it. Until then I will not challenge you."

He didn't comment when I made no such promise. I knew at the moment Morrigan and Neit knew where I was and who I was with, and could only wonder at their absence. The gods often knew things we did not, which of course was part of what made them gods, but the fact they didn't share often brought about awkwardness.

"Stay here, I'll get us food."

Still naked and reclined, he nodded, and turned away.

Outside the sky had grown dim with evening spreading, and rain threatened. I hated the acidic rain, and wished Morrigan's babysitter was Bel, the sun god who could burn away the clouds.

Inside the chow house, before the door closed behind me, there was Morrigan. "Well, that was an interesting challenge. Who won?"

I refused to be intimidated and brushed past her to reach for bowls for the stew on the stove. "If that's determined by finishing first and more often it'd be me."

"If sex is a contest I'd say the one who brings the pleasure on the other is the winner."

I spooned out the chicken stew into the bowls and checked the warming rack for bread. "Well, then he definitely won."

"Keelin, this is foolish."

"As I just explained to him. He's here to find someone who killed Francesco." I told her his story and to her credit she listened, even she stole a biscuit from me which I had to replace. Her face crunched up adorably as she thought and I found I preferred the cool eyes and pursed lips of concentration on her mother form.

"So you really think it's John? If this is true I will have to alert the gods to Neit's loose lips."

"Hey, get them to send Bel. I hear he throws a great party."

"Ha ha. Keelin, this is serious."

"John is going to die. Thanks to you I know more of the cycle of life and death than any human except John, Hugh, Kelner, Fiona, and Sinead. Do you know in two of my lifetimes I asked my tombstone be engraved 'Be Right Back'?"

"Go and feed your enemy. When the others arrive I will gather them and call for you. I need to contact my home world."

I'm not sure just how she could make a long-distance phone call to her dimension. Hell, in this one phones with lines over twenty feet hadn't existed in a century. Shrugging I grabbed a tray and put on the stews, bread, spoons, and two glasses of water. She held the door for me and followed me out, heading to the bunkhouse.

Tanaka wore only his pants when I arrived, and sat up smoking a cigarette which he shorted upon sight of the food. I set the tray down on a crate and dragged it over, sitting next to him. He sniffed the stew and hesitated so with sigh I dug my spoon into his and ate a bite before turning to my own.

"Honor matters to us all," I said and turned to attack my food.

"Not all. Carlos. Li. These were not men of honor."

He seemed strangely conflicted, so I sighed and set my spoon down. "And they're dead."

We ate in silence until it was all gone. At last he broke the silence. "You've led a very hard life."

"We all have, the world is dying around us. We're the last humans, lucky if we're free of radiation poisoning. No one's got it easy."

"You've had it harder than most."

Before I could reply came the rumble of an engine. The others. I nodded to him and watched him dress, strapping his sword and sheath to his back before shrugging into his coat.

Outside Morrigan called me, inside my head, and we emerged to find my cursed compatriots gathered nervously, all eyes on Tanaka. Coward that I was I could not meet John's gaze and chose to look at my other lover Hugh. Tall, broad, and handsomely plain he looked as he always did, as if he didn't belong in this century or this place. Morrigan had tried to warn me that Hugh's fate was good and John's was muddy, but as usual I didn't listen too well.

Tanaka walked to them and Morrigan ordered them to stand still. Neit opened his mouth but one look from his sister and he shut it. My enemy lover walked up and down the line before coming to a stop in front of Hugh.

"You must be John." My jaw dropped open as John started. Tanaka drew his sword blindingly fast and the others scrambled away. 

Hugh, like the others, had made money in "town" by fighting for prize gold. He was tired and sluggish, and drew his own weapon slowly. "You will die."

"You killed Francesco, you dog!"

The fight began as we all backed away. Morrigan grabbed Neit who was trying to slink off, proving his guilt. John found his way to me with panicked eyes. "Why does he think Hugh is me?"

"Because I told him you killed Francesco."

"I am Hugh of Granger, fool!" Hugh announced to Tanaka as their words clashed again and again.

"Why?" John ran his hands through his long dark hair and drew my eyes to the rapid pulse at his throat. Beyond us the fight continued with Tanaka's speed being so far deflected by Hugh's pure, brute strength, though Tanaka was backing him up steadiy.

"You knew about the tournament and said you fought Jase!"

He grabbed my arms them and forced me to face him, blocking the fight Tanaka was now winning with ease. "I lied. I heard Neit drunk one night with Sinead. He was telling her about it and said one his 'his boys' had fought Jase. I- I wanted to impress you. I'm sorry!"

I threw his hands off and stalked away just as Tanaka's sword went flying through Hugh's neck. The beautiful strawberry blonde hair gleamed in the lamplight as his hit the ground and his body crumpled.

Tanaka whirled to me. "You lied! After all we've shared, you lied! I will not challenge you, Keelin of Thorpe, but I do pray it is us, we two, left last. And on that day, I will kill you."

"Tanaka, wait!" 

He was already stalking back down the road. I tried to follow but Morrigan reached out and snagged me. "Let him go, it's for the best. We have business here. Everyone gather!"

Slowly they came close to the two gods, Neit struggling to escape Morrigan's grasp, shirt caught in her other hand.

"It's clear now that under Neit's guidance Hugh interfered and killed the Roman champion illegally. He has risked everything, everything! To interfere with a challenge is to end the tournament and doom our worlds! For this, Neit I banish you. Those of you in his cabal will go too!"

She let me go and I stepped back to grab Hugh's sword as everyone stared to one another.

Neit tried to kick Morrigan and I ran, placing the sword tip beneath his neck. "You may be immortal and perhaps I cannot kill you, but I can make you hurt. A lot."

He stilled.

"You go with the clothes on your back and are never to return!" Morrigan was angry, morphing into the mother in front of our eyes, then into the crone. In this form she was the one who chose who lived and who died. Fear sailed through everyone, myself included, as power rolled off her like a storm. Now a stooped old woman with white hair her blue eyes were pale like pure flame, and burned across our faces. "Who will go!?"

I looked to John and held my breath. She'd been wrong. I'd been wrong. Was I to lose all my lovers this day?

Sinead and Kelner walked to Neit and stood behind him. "We will go," the quiet man said.

I glared at them, hard. We all of us here were supposed to be wise, how had we been so easily fooled? Even at that thought Fiona and John walked to stand behind me.

"Go then, now," John said with a growl.

Neit backed off my sword slowly, glaring at Morrigan.

"You will be punished when the time comes. For now go, and never interfere again." She called forth amazingly more power and the wind began to blow. The force of her rage was palpable and drove them back. The four of us watched until the three disappeared into the shadows of the dark road.

Morrigan began to chant in old Gaelic, the language of my first few lives, and I knew it was a protection spell. Where the power came from in the weakened goddess I could only guess, but a battle had commenced, however small, and death as well. It seemed to fuel her and suddenly around the camp a ring of light flared for a moment.

"They cannot cross it," she said, and fainted dead away.

I dropped the sword and caught her and the others helped me bring her to her bed, then followed me out. 

"What do we do with him?" Fiona nodded to Hugh.

"We bury him," I said curtly.

Two hours later he was buried deep enough no scavengers would come. Fiona claimed the bath first leaving me alone with John. He gave me a look of disgust and stomped off towards the gathering house.

Alone in the dark I pulled out my rare tobacco and rolled a cigarette, lighting it and watching the smoke for a long moment. Nothing had been resolved truly that day. Neit had been training his own people to fight as champions, but I had been chosen. To what end I could not say. 

All we knew was that he had set us up, but the why was a mystery I knew would come back to haunt us. All I could do was train and train hard, and wait for that fateful day.



The Tournament 08: The Beginning



Copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcomecomments and feedback!

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Morrigan breathed in the air deeply, and drank in the stench of death. Women, war, blood; these things were her domain, but death was her buffet. This tiny village had fought off a Saxon incursion and death was all around. She had been the one to decide who would die, but this day she sought a living warrior.

"I seek Branna," she told the smith.

When he realized it was a goddess who addressed him he dropped his eyes and bowed his head. Pointing to the cottage at the end of the lane by the cliffs, he trembled. The fear made Morrigan smile and she tossed a basked to his feet, conjured by her magic. In it was bread and fish, more valuable to her people than gold.

The cottage was small, tiny in fact, and run down compared to its neighbors. Morrigan parted the oiled leather curtains that served as a door and entered without knocking. "Branna."

The woman whirled about, her short curved sword naked in her hand. "My goddess!" The sword dropped as did the warrior to her knees. From her name the warrior should have had hair as black as Morrigan's, but hers was reddish brown, a deep color like blood on leather. It complemented the blue tattoo that covered the left half of her body, telling the tale of her story and covered in markings to seek protection from the gods.

"Rise and let me look at you, child." The young woman did and Morrigan noted she was tall, strong, and surprisingly beautiful. The most successful warriors, male or female, were usually the ones with no looks to worry about. "They say you killed fifty on this day."

"I sent one hundred back to Wyrd!"

Morrigan smiled. Arrogance was a pleasing aspect of a warrior, but it was not the main attraction of this one. "I have come to speak with you about something which you can tell no one."

Branna smiled and sat on one of the two stools at the table, the only furniture aside from the matt of straw for sleeping. "I've the mark of someone in league with the darkness. Don't no one ask for m' help unless they need m' sword arm."

"Swear to me on your blood and life you will not reveal what I am about to say."

Grinning Branna reached for a kitchen knife that was rusted. 

"No! You foolish girl, use this!" Morrigan passed her her very own dagger. The rough warrior sliced open her palm and let the blood drip onto Morrigan's hands. "I swear I won't tell no one what we say here."

Sighing Morrigan waved her hand, commanding the blood to stop, and brushed off the other stool before taking it. "In the land of those who would take Albion for their own their gods are dying. A cult has risen believing in one god."

Branna laughed and reached for a pewter pitcher of ale, pouring it into two dirty cups, slamming one before the goddess. Eschewing the filth, Morrigan continued. "It will spread, and our time, we the many gods...we will fade. I cannot tell you everything, but after the time of one god the world will need us once more.

"In Rome they have glorious combat, gladiators they call it, people whofight to the death for honor and glory surrounded by thousands of spectators. There the gods are gathering with their champions to fight for the greatest honor and glory possible. I am seeking my champion. Dozens will fight but eight will remain. At the twilight of humanity those eight will fight to the death. The winner will bring to the earth their gods once more, to save it in its darkest hour."

"Fuck! You want to make me immortal?" Branna was off her stool and reaching for her sword.

Morrigan, bored, tossed out her hand and magic froze the impetuous warrior. "I do not wish to curse you thusly, you fool! The best I could do is make you like us in small part, and that honor will not go to an impetuous illiterate half-wit. No, I will give you a better gift. I will end your ignorance.

"You already know your soul will return after death, but I will give you the gift of memory. You will remember each and every lifetime. You will learn to read, to speak properly, to fight in every way. You will become the greatest warrior ever known. Does that interest you?" With a wave she unfroze the uncouth young woman who turned to stare at her.

"You're mad."

"I'm a god. I need a champion. I want my place among the eight. We may all gift our champions with a special power but not immortality. I will give you the next best thing; an immortal soul."

"Why me?" Branna asked her first intelligent question with fear in her eyes.

"Because I may not have a gift for prophecy, but I have a taste for seducing young men with such a talent, be they mortals or delicious blonde gods. I need you. Instead of fighting against Saxons here and the Vikings who will soon come, come with me, and fight for the fate of the world. The entire world! Lands you cannot imagine, cannot even pronounce, these people will depend on you. Come and take your place in the ultimate fight for glory!"

She knew her impassioned speech made her hair flow in unseen wind, and her blue eyes turned black and moved like flapping wings of a Raven. Branna was suitably impressed, and scared, but to her credit, she nodded, and took Morrigan's hand.





***





Rome was by far the most impressive thing either woman had ever seen. Morrigan had viewed the great pyramids, shining white and capped with gold, had seen all the wonders of the world, but the huge bustling city was something else entirely, the pinnacle of human drive.

Branna for her part was scared by the loud crowds, the strange animals. She flinched at the stares, and the children who reached out to touch her tattoos. Morrigan had tried to warn her to dress well covered, but for a woman used to fighting battles naked, clothing was a hotly debated issue.

Here men and women were not equal as they were in Morrigan's lands, and those who had money and power had more status than Branna had ever seen, but the poor outnumbered the wealthy vastly. That was what was swelling the cult of the one god, it cleaved to the poor. Soon the two emperors would figure it out, Morrigan told her, and convert to the religion of their populace. 

That was when her kind would begin to fade. Soon the portals between Earth and her world would close, only to open again at the end of times. Most of the people milling about felt they had already faced the end of the world through the civil wars. Anyone could see the great society was failing, and the time of the world separated into quiet corners with ruled my a multitude of gods was at a close.

"Where do we go?" Branna asked, gaping.

"This way." Morrigan led her towards the giant Coliseum,, and as soon as it came into sight Branna's attention did not waver. 

"My gods! I've never seen anything so large! Not even Lugh's wicker man! What gods built this?"

"It was none of their gods, this was people, people like you. When you learn, get educated, this is what you can accomplish." Morrigan did not speak again as they approached the stadium.

She passed a wax seal on paper to guards at an entrance and then lead her protégé into the bowels of the arena. Here it was even more crowded, and many regular gladiators, slaves, were held behind bars as others walked with trainers. The calls and stamps of animals came from below, and Morrigan led her new champion to a small room like a cell. They stood with others and then a large man began to pull some ropes and the floor shook, falling below the hallway.

"What magic is this!?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "We're going down to where the others are. This system is used over stairs to prevent slaves and the bestiary from escaping. Welcome to civilization."

No one paid attention to their talk, and Branna knew that no one knew their language. Still she thought it odd no one seemed to take note of how strange it was, until she realized the languages around her were all different.

The strange room lurched onto a hard packed dirt floor and everyone climbed off. Hoisting her bag Branna followed Morrigan down twisting hallways until they reached an end filled with strangeness. There were men and women like her, scarred warriors of many ages in a rumor, carrying weapons, though the men were the greater number. The finely dressed men and women with them were the strangest things she'd ever seen. They wore clothes and helmets she'd never dreamt of, and some of them seemed to have animal parts. One had multiple arms.

Morrigan smiled at her goggling and brought her to one of the small cells with the door open. There Branna recognized the occupants. Neit, a war god, Lugh, the high king who'd become a god of travelers with his three faces, Áine a goddess of love, and Essus, the fertility god with a nasty temper. All were her gods, and she dropped to one knee and bowed her head.

"Oh, do stand up," Neit barked. "Morrigan, really? Of all of our warriors you chose this one?"

"The rules say I shall be the trainer of the true champion. I chose the gift, and ours shall be her reincarnation. In each life she will remember all the past ones. It requires a strong soul, one to bear the madness to come. Branna here has the strongest soul I've ever seen."

"But can she fight?" Áine asked softly.

They all ignored her as Lugh strode forward. "Child do you know what this means? When the world dies you will fight again in a new body to bring us back to save the world. Now you must fight to earn your place among eight out of over one hunddred. Do you have the strength?"

"I live to fight. It is all I've ever known." Branna raised her head but averted her eyes. 

Essus came forth and raised her chin. "Look at me child. You fight for this world and ours. You fight for all living creatures. You must fight for a purpose greater than yourself. Can you do that?"

Branna thought long and hard, meeting his dark gaze. "I can." To her shock they believed her and then set to arguing about training. Sighing she set her bag down, pulled out her weapons and began to sharpen them. Perhaps one day she could fight for something greater than herself, but what she'd said earlier had been the truth. She fought because it was all she knew.





***





Ten days later Branna regretted ever accepting this endeavor. The same day she arrived she'd gone into the arena. Before combat had always been on the field of battle. Often each side would make walls of their shields and spend days approaching one another. Then fighting was on the open plains, but in close quarters in the press of bodies. Here they had a giant space barely filled but the stands were filled with people. The two co-emperors never came, but everyone else in Rome did.

Day by day, as often as six times a day, she fought. Sometimes the arena would be divided and while she fought on the other side criminals were fed to large animals of legend, roaring lions and the like. Sometimes the arena was divided into four or eight parts with fights all around.

At each fight she had won. To a warrior it had first been exciting, killing people she had never dreamed existed. Men and women from lands whispered about only in legend fell, many of them by sheer luck. Branna saw fighting styles she'd never dreamed of, people who flipped from feet to hands and back in the blink of an eye. No matter what it came down to determination and concentration, and those were two things Branna had in spades.

Today was the final battle. Rimming the arena were the gods of those left, thirty-six champions. The entire arena floor was theirs, the guts of the last battle swept away, the blood covered in sawdust. Glancing up she saw Morrigan speaking with a blonde god, Apollo she recognized. It was his prophecy that had brought this all about.

She had wounds on her shoulder, legs, and left arm, and two ribs were cracked. If she lived through the battle slow death was likely possible from poison made by her own body. Feeling weak as they waited for the call she looked to those near her.

One was a strange man. He was short and wide, and wore so much metal armor he appeared to be a god himself. Underneath his skin had an almost yellow cast to it and his eyes were most strange. On her other side stood a tall woman, taller than her, with the white-blond hair of the Saxons, yet she proclaimed she was a land further north. The man was called "Oh-gin" and the woman "Hill-der." They had tried to write their names in the sand and dust but Branna could not read their strange symbols.

"We fight together." This proclamation startled them. "If we work together we have a better chance. If we swear to unite we can earn our places as three of eight. They say the final eight places will be held, that our descendants will be the ones to battle to the death long in the future. We need not be enemies today, and combat is always better survived in numbers."

Oh-gin turned to her. They could speak to one another by the magic of the gods, though when the gods were not near few champions could speak to one another. "Swear to me red-woman that you will not betray me."

Placing a hand over her heart Branna bowed her head. "I swear I will not betray either of you, that I will fight by your side, and give my life to you if so needed."

"She speaks wisely. I offer my life in the service of this bond, though we should aim to live," Hill-der spoke softly.

Oh-gin nodded at last. "I will join with you and fight, our backs together. Honor above all, and victory shall be ours."

The horn blew and suddenly weapons rose. At first it was chaos, thirty-six bodies moving in battle, but this was Branna's domain. She and Hill-der fought back to back with their large reach and Oh-gin kept close. His style was suited to very close combat and so he followed n their wake as they moved from one heated center of battle to the next. 

She saw others had formed up in pairs, but none were so effective as the three in the thick fighting. All manner of weapons were present from poison-tipped spears to swords and to weapons she could not name. Soft bronze daggers hit her leather and were repelled, harder iron swords cut her.

Hill-der was quickly bleeding too, and though it slowed him, soon they envied Oh-gin's cover.

Branna broke off to fight a man covered in furs, whirling his sword like a dancer. Over and over she struck him, his fast slashing movements easily deflecting her. He cut at the joint of her arm and blood seeped, her wound aching, but Branna danced back, watching, He had a pattern and when she realized it she waited and then struck. He sword cut through the fur and stabbed him in the back.

"Bran-nah!" Hil-der cried.

She ran back to where the woman fought two men who viciously backed her to a fallen body. One more step and she would fall, Branna realized, and then she did. Branna dove and her sword caught both of theirs. She nearly lost her balance but it gave the other woman time to regain her feet, and together they faced the pair.

The men both had dark skin and strange clothes that matched nothing in all of legend. Branna faced the smaller one clothed only in a skirt and he fought viciously. There was no cruelty in his dark eyes, just the determination of a warrior. Hill-der's opponent wore feathers and had madness in his eyes.

There were only ten left and as she fought Branna saw the Roman champion, the local hero, rush to Hill-der's aid. Oh-gin fought with the Greek but the rest watched, content to let two more fall until their place could be taken.

Suddenly the feathered opponent cut and ran towards Branna and the other. To her shock he stabbed the half-naked man and then turned on her. Branna skittered back and then she saw a woman with a poisoned spear who had stopped fighting. Oh-gin's helmet was off, and the woman aimed for him.

Hild-der and the Roman stared panting. Remembering her oath taken such a short time ago Branna ran as the woman pulled her spear back. Oh-gin!" she cried and dove.

The spear flew just as she took to the air and she knocked Oh-gin aside. The spear hit her arm, slicing it open and she gasped in pain as they tumbled. With a war cry that was strange and menacing the man with the nearly red-skin and feathered clothes dove for the unarmed woman now and slashed up, opening her chest. Branna crumpled atop Oh-gin and the crowd fell silent. Eight remained, but Branna had the poison now and was sure to die.

Gods rushed to the arena as she rolled aside to her back, gasping. Already pain wracked her and she fought to calm her heartbeat, knowing it would sow the poison. u came I many languages, she heard her own calling to drop weapons, and then her pantheon and that of Oh-gin looked down at her.

"If she dies we are left with seven!" Áine cried.

"We need eight or all is forfeit," Essus said.

"We have won our place, we need not this champion. I have one of my own!" Neit crowed.

Morrigan elbowed him aside. "If she dies, she dies as a result of combat, leaving only seven. Essus can you do anything?" The other god shook his head. Suddenly Morrigan;s attention was claimed by Apollo who pulled her aside to whisper.

Oh-gin rose to his feet and argued with his gods in a rapid strange language Branna could not understand. The gods argued back and all the while she felt her body shiver and grow cold with pain. Morrigan returned and knelt, drawing her into her arms. "I am not a goddess of life but we will find a way, Branna. I will not let you die. I am, after a, your god who decides who lives and who dies."

Finally the other pantheon quieted and Oh-gin walked to her with a handsome but bald god behind him. "You fought with honor and kept your vow, Bran-nah. Such bravery will not be forgotten, marked as all the more valiant by your nature as a woman."

She laughed and spat blood from an earlier wound. "You would think by now you would understand women have great honor as well."

The bald one knelt beside her. "I am Hachiman. We owe you a debt for saving our champion. I can remove the poison but it will be painful."

"Do it," Morrigan said. Branna coughed and nodded.

Hachiman moved his robes aside and brought his hands over the wound. As she watched a glowing mass like water formed, and began to spin in a vortex. It seemed as if his soul pulled from the god's body into the vortex until in the spinning glow she saw a face, then another, and finally a third.

They screamed wordlessly as it spun faster and faster, the tail sinking into her wound. Branna screamed at the pain but she felt it pull from her body faster and faster. Time came to a standstill as more crowded around and then it was over. 

She felt weak but no longer cold, and sank back against Morrigan, dazed. "Thank you."

He looked shaken as the vortex melted into his body, his soul expanding and filling him again.

"Honor has been restored," Oh-gin said, and turned to leave with the other gods until only Hachiman remained.

He looked to Morrigan. "Her soul-"

"I know." Morrigan rose and brought Branna to her feet, aiding her to stand. All the gods pulled back to reveal the eight. There was the Greek, the Egyptian, the Roman, Branna, the North woman, Oh-gin, another man who resembled Oh-gin, and the feathered man with the madness in his eyes.

"The eight are in place! The gates is closing!" The god Jupiter cried. The crowd cheered, and Branna closed eyes and felt each and every one of her aching wounds, wondering just what madness she had committed herself to..





***





"Keelin, Keelin, wake up, it's just a nightmare!"

I opened my eyes to see my lover John shaking me. It was still dark and the dream faded. I hated dreaming of past lives, it always seemed so real. "Damn it, sorry, did I hit you?"

"You thrashed a lot. Must have been a doozy."

"There's only three left now. I just have this feeling I will face Tanaka again, just us two. I don't think I can beat him."




The Tournament 08: The Beginning



He kissed me and pulled me into his arms. "You will. What does he have aside from his twisted sense of honor?"

I turned away to face the milky moonlight. "Honor is sometimes all we have. And he has a bargain. Debts have been paid and new ones created. In the end, it will come down to the start."

As always when he had no words of comfort, he gave me peace with his body. I took him into me slowly and kissed him hard, but through it all I couldn't get the thought out of my head. Nearly three thousand years ago mistakes had been made. I should have let Ojin die or Hachiman should have let me die. As always the ghosts of the past, haunting me since the beginning, were about to rise from the grave once more.



The Tournament 09: The Danger



Copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcomecomments and feedback!

____________________________________

Anger was his best weapon now. Tanaka climbed from the boat on the old oil platform seething. He'd traveled far northwest to reach it and awaiting him was Jace. They were two of the last three champions left, and whoever lived today would fight the Irish champion. The winner of the ultimate fight would open a portal to another dimension where their gods lived, and a pantheon would rise again to cleanse the earth.

Right at that moment he did not care about saving humanity from itself, saving the Earth from the poisonous radiation, or saving the three worlds tied together in the struggle for survival. He only cared to win.

By killing Jase he would face Keelin of Thorpe. Once a lover, always his enemy, twice she had cheated him from a fight. He had yet to face honest combat. Somehow her plain face and red hair had enthralled his god Hachiman. Hachiman's interference with a fight to save Keelin from the Aztec champion had him banished from this plane, a new god assigned to him. His next fight with the Roman champion had ended with interference by one of Keelin's lovers. To what end he did know, but somehow she was behind all his troubles.

"Tanaka. Thank you for obliging and letting me fight surrounded by ocean," Jase said, his voice deeply accented.

Around them the northern winds howled and their thick coats flapped in the wind. The ancient oil platform, abandoned for nearly a century, had thick icicles of seawater dangling from it. "No trouble at all. As water gives you power, metal grants me the same."

He withdrew his sword and charged. Jase's was naked in his gloved hand and he thrust it up to block. Tanaka was smaller but rage gave him strength and Jaese's eyes, the only visible part of his face showing through the ski-mask, widened.

He twisted and drove Tanaka's sword to the side, jumping back.

Madly Tanaka grinned. "En garde."

***

Things were quiet. Just four months ago it had been revealed that Neit had one of my lovers kill the Roman champion. I was the Irish champion and none of our camp were to know about the Tournament. Neit himself was only there to babysit my trainer the goddess Morrigan, but the snake had done more than spill the beans, he'd tried to derail the Tournament. She had intervened in my first challenge and was on probation.

Hugh was dead by Tanaka, and Sinead and Kelner had gone with Neit. It was just me, Fiona, and John now with Morrigan. Daily I trained with my fellow reincarnates, the only two people who knew what it was like to have their souls reborn and retain all knowledge of past lifetimes. It wasn't easy. John still believed in love, a concept I had long ago abandoned, and despite hurt feelings had returned to my bed. Fiona was feeling ignored and had gotten rough in her training.

Every day we had argued, why had Neit sent Hugh to kill the Roman champion? If Tanaka did not keep the secret the tournament was forfeit, the world would die, and the other two tied to it as well. There was no sense to it all.

"Heavy thoughts again?" John asked me.

I shook myself from reverie. We were driving back from the nearest "town" to our compound. We'd traded some of the vegetables we'd grown for grains, and and both fought in the cage of the main roadhouse for money to buy other supplies. He was driving and I was exhausted, not a good sign for a woman who would have to fight to the death to save the world.

"Morrigan said Jase and Tanaka are fighting. One will win and soon I will have to fight them." No one else was to know about the Tournament but John had overhead Neit's drunken bragging. The gods refused to play by the rules so I figured, fuck it.

"They're way up off the far north coast. The winner will want to rest than have to travel slowly. It took Tanaka four months to reach the coast, the winner will take that long to reach here. Stay here and you'll be fine."

We didn't speak again until we pulled in and the women came out to help. Luckily Morrigan was in her middle-aged mother form. Too often she was in her crone's form when heavy lifting came about. She helped us unload and then John went to use the shower first and Fiona was on cooking duty for our late dinner, leaving me alone with the goddess.

"Any news of Neit?"

Her blue eyes were sad. "Apparently Apollo ran into him. Neit is claiming Sinead should be champion."

I dropped my bags. "What?"

"Do you remember when you were Branna, your first self, and fought in the first combat to select the eight?"

"You don't need to narrate my lives, I've lived them all, and yes. Why?"

"When you were dying of the poison Neit, who was always jealous that I was the chosen war deity of our clan, argued with Jupiter that his chosen champion should take your place and we should let you die."

"I should have killed him when I had the chance. But Hachiman healed me, and here I stand."

Morrigan helped me pick up the spilled bags and we gathered them heading into the store house. "There's more. Just as I transgressed so did Hachiman. Only those of us who trained you eight know. He possessed Tanaka's body and saved you from the Aztec. So he and I have both interfered with the Tournament, for you. 

"The others are making noises. Don't ask me how, but Neit found out. He's pressuring the others to allow Sinead to stand in your place."

I cursed in fifteen languages. The chorus of voices in my head of all my past selves was silent under this rage. I couldn't say why. For three millennia I had known about the Tournament and never once, I confess, cared. But now it was here, really happening, and the world depending on it. And the gods just kept fucking it up. "No, he's not! Tell me, Morrigan, why did you choose me all those years ago? What was it about my soul?" My temper was not just mine: strong emotions were ridden by my old selves, and most of them had loved anger. I worked hard not to loose it normally, but she saw the full force of my rage then.

"Keelin your soul...it's special."

"How!? How fucking special is it? What makes it more special than John or Fiona!?"

She took a deep breath and I knew I wasn't going to like this. Boy, did I not.

***

Jase was good. Tanaka was too, but Jase was older, his body a better build of muscle, and he had more experience. Tanaka's anger kept him going but after nearly an hour they agreed to take a break, neither having gained much ground. They sat now, legs hanging over the edge of the platform, and both drank from thermoses of coffee.

"One of us will die soon, let there be honesty about us. We two have arguably the best powers. You draw from Earth and I draw from water, the most abundant elements. I confess to you now, I do have one weakness. I cannot stay dry for too long." With that Jase reached down, broke off an icicle, and took a bite.

Tanaka stared into the endless night and rolling waves. This was one of the last areas free of radiation, and it was beautiful. Soon the gods of the winner would bring this beauty to all the world, and he hoped with all his heart he would live to see it. "I...sometimes I get overwhelmed when I'm too deep in the Earth for too long."

Jase nodded. "I fought the Egyptian, he could call on animals. But whatever he called he took on the nature of. I won by tricking him into calling many birds, he went mad, and I easily killed him. What about the Roman?"

Tanaka knew not to confess he had not killed him. "He could remember and master anything he read. In the end it was limiting. Apparently he didn't read many murder mysteries."

Jase chuckled. "I heard the Chinese champion could call on ghosts." 

"The earth-bound spirits of his ancestors. He was killed by the Aztec when he was in the one place his ancestors could not follow."

"Between a whore's legs, I heard. And the Aztec...did you use his ability against him?"

Another fight Tanaka could not claim, for Hachiman had taken over his body for the fight and stolen any memory. "Carlos did himself in. His power rising from spilled blood...he became something too dark to win, a creature obsessed with killing the innocent."

Jase nodded and stretched. "And after us it's the Irish champion. Can you imagine living again and again retaining all that knowledge?"

"And all those faults." Tanaka rose and brought his sword up. "Enough talk, let us fight now."

Jase grinned and rose with equal menace.

***

"What we need is a spy."

Morrigan frowned at John's suggestion. "Keelin, why did you bring John in on this? Fiona will be unbearable now."

"He knows and he's helping. A spy, John?"

"Neit knows about Hachiman's interference, that means someone talked. My guess is the Aztecs. We need a god of the eight to find out."

"He's not wrong," I added. "Someone Neit fears, someone the Aztecs fear as well."

Her light eyes went wide and suddenly the goddess laughed. We sat around the table but suddenly she stood and spun, dancing. "I know just the god, and he's still here, wandering, spending time with other fallen gods. He can pass back and forth, when the gate closed he was at full power."

"Who?" John asked.

She grinned wider. "Mars."

***

The Japanese champion allowed himself a moment of fear. His first real battle was not going so well. He'd fought the Roman for only minutes before their shaft caved in and now was nearing almost two hours with the elder Greek. Jase's confidence never faltered, and that was the greatest threat.

"Tanaka, you must win!" The voice exploded in his head. He stumbled at Hachiman's voice.

Panicking he lowered his sword. "Break! I need a break! I am too cold!"

Jase's breathing was labored and he nodded, setting down his sword. "I brought supplies with me, I'll return with what we need for a fire. This is so far my greatest fight, well met my friend."

"I am not your friend."

Hachiman's voice was insistent in his head. "Tanaka, you must win. It must come down to you and Keelin."

"Oh, it will. Hachiman, why are you in my head?"

"I cannot tell you, but I can say this. You and Keelin are alike. You are special. What anchors me to you is what is in her soul. It has been you two, it must always be."

"Why did you interfere with Carlos!?"

"I told you. She had to remain."

"Why!"

"You shall see. But first, a gift."

Sudden heat burned through Tanaka's entire being. It was deep, deep inside, the strangest feeling. He doubled over in pain and fell crying out. Jase emerged from the old housing and ran to him. Reaching out Tanaka gasped, and then he realized what was happening.

"Tanaka?"

"No," he whispered as horror gripped him.

***

He found himself in what was once Rome. He could remember when it was just a series of hills where farmers worshipped wolves. Then his clan had come, and they made arguably the best city to ever be. The society they built was the model for all the monkey grouping that came after. Now it was a hollow shell. Bombs had reduced so much of it to rubble and then had come the fires, the looters, the plagues, the dying. His city was empty but for small scavengers, some on four legs, fewer on two.

He felt the shimmer of power and turned, expecting Lucifer, the only one who would dare bother him in his grief over losing Francesco. Luke sure did make the rounds.

"Mars."

He faced Morrigan, in her form as a young woman barely of age. "Morrigan, if you're trying to seduce me, you know I prefer experience to youth."

The girl smiled. "I used too much power coming here and I'll need the rest to get home. I need to speak with you."

"Oh?" He folded his arms and enjoyed the way he loomed over her. In a way he had always preferred the war goddesses to the war gods. Amongst the women he was bigger, broader, and felt his true position as the apex god war. In this form Morrigan was nearly delicate.

"Neit knows about what we spoke of after my trial."

"So?"

"So? Do you not remember the day we struck the accord? We all swore not to utter one word, not even to our own clans. I did not tell Neit of Hachiman's act but he knows. Someone spoke, and we think it's the Aztecs."

"Again I ask, so?" Casually he ran a finger down his dark lapel, picking off imaginary lint.

"You fucking arrogant brute, don't you get it!? We have to work together. Neit is threatening to expose Hachiman and if he does the Tournament is forfeit!"

Mars sighed. "I do rather hate repeating myself, but so what? He must want something, so give it to him."

"He wants what he's wanted since day one while my champion lay dying on the arena floor and Hachiman saved her: he wants his own champion to fight!"

"Don't make me say it again Morrigan. It doesn't matter who fights for the Irish. Whoever it is, if they lose another wins. If they win you and Neit and all your clan comes to full power."

"That's just it you big lunkhead! We have no great head, whoever's champion wins becomes the head god or goddess. Neit will warp and twist the world, he knows nothing of balance!"

"Lunkhead?" He smiled. "After thousands of years of the worst battles and cruelest deaths and that's your best insult?"

"I am right. You're an arrogant prick, always have been, always will be. But you're out now, Francesco is dead. You have nothing to protect save the Tournament."

He reached over to toy with a lock of her hair floating in the breeze. "And just what would you have me do, little girl?"

"Find out who talked. It's obvious that Neit's only endgame is to have his champion win. He'll join forces with someone and want to rule as the only war god, alone, but he's a pawn."

"If the Tournament fails we're all doomed, no one wins."

"No, there will always be chaos."

"So whoever he is working with thinks they have the power to make order out of chaos?"

"I never said you weren't intelligent, Mars, just arrogant. There you go. Of all those in our...cabal, which set of gods believe well and truly they rose from total darkness?"

Mars considered for a moment. "The Aztecs. All right, but if I can get them to confess then what? Neit can still tell every other clan what happened."

"That's why you need me," a new voice said.

They turned and there was Ares. Closely related to Mars they looked very similar, distinguishable only by Ares' long hair and his typically less-contained more-mischievous expression.

"Ares, why are you here?" Morrigan gasped out.

His head lowered. "Jase fell. Tanaka killed him. It was a long fight and I thought my champion would win but the rage in young Tanaka...it is down now to him and your Keelin. I came to find you and I heard some of your words. Lucifer warned me."

"Warned you? What does that imp know of the Tournament?" Mars asked, stepping to Morrigan and putting his hands on her shoulders protectively until she shrugged them off with a sneer.

"His world is as threatened as ours. What's important now is that you must get the Aztecs to confess, Mars. Get the others to contain them, they must be stopped, the Tournament cannot end. Morrigan, train your champion well, Tanaka is..." Ares sighed and looked off into the distant grayness of the ruined city. "Jase was a great man, older, experienced. He grew up knowing how to fight. If Tanaka killed him he is a force to be reckoned with. Keelin must train."

"And what will you do?" The goddess asked the forlorn Greek.

"I will stop Neit, at any cost. Go now, let us all see to our charges."

Morrigan hugged him. "Should we win I will not forget any kindness. You have my word."

Mars yawned, feigning boredom. "Sounds like you will need a new war god. Come, cousin, let us get to our work."

Morrigan watched them disappear, called up all her power, and returned to Keelin with the news.

***

Morrigan had been gone an hour. I didn't believe what she told me, not until I felt it. A missing piece of me, a part of my soul I had never known was missing so well covered as it was by the chorus of voices in my head, had returned.

It had returned and it was in Tanaka.

That was how I knew when he killed Jase. It was down to him and me, and he could feel me as much as I felt him.

Morrigan had chosen me because my soul had the strength to be split or to grow. Apollo had warned her to make her choice based on this, and that day when my first self lay dying and Hachiman had saved her, the price had been a piece of my soul.

Now when everything was at risk he gave it to Tanaka. Just why I could not say, I doubted even the great foreseeing Apollo, the one who had foretold of the Tournament and started this madness, could. But the mistake from then would be fixed now. We would meet, we would fight, and one of us would die first. The other was cursed to die soon after.

It would mean my true death, but this is not what scared me. What bothered me was this meant the winning champion would have no say in the new world. The price to open the gate was our lives, and our immortal souls.

No matter who won the gods would rule unchecked. That was the true danger.



The Tournament 10: The Rising



Copyright Nora Quick 2012.

As always, I welcomecomments and feedback!
______________________________________________



"I have bad news," the goddess Morrigan said.

I stopped whittling the little statue of a horse I was trying to make to glare sullenly at her. "What now? Three thousand years ago it was 'come and be the greatest warrior the world has ever known. Oopsie, we let a Japanese god take a part of your soul so he could stalk you lifetime-to-lifetime.' Then it was 'Train my champion fighting to save three worlds? Fuck that shit, I have unusually pretty gods to seduce.' Then came 'Remember that piece of your soul? It's now in the man you must fight to death. Both of you will die, as in forever and ever, but it's okay, it'll save the world.' Every time you open your mouth you spell my doom."

"Don't be so melodramatic, Keelin." Belying her point Morrigan took her third form, transforming from young maiden into an old crone. This was the guise she wore best as a goddess of death, when she chose who would live and who would die.

"Pot. Kettle. Black."

"I know that tune," John said behind us.

No humans were supposed to know about the reason for my existence, a tournament of eight champions fighting for one place, to the death. The winner would open a gateway between our world and the one inhabited by immortal beings we charmingly called gods, and they would come and heal the dying earth. Yes, it looked great on the brochure, one of the reasons John had read it. The gods had fucked up every single step so far, so what was breaking a rule and allowing my lover to help me train, plan, and discuss the Tournament?

Like me John's soul had been reincarnated continuously into his body with the lovely gift of fully remembering his past lives at the age of thirteen every time. I'd never run into him in past lives, though to be fair of the ten others made by Morrigan and the war god Neit I'd only regularly met about six. In this incarnation John was my lover, my friend, my stable rock. I'd normally include him in our talks but since I found out I was bound to die no matter what, I hadn't shared much with him.

"Can we get a moment alone?" I asked with a bit more of a snap than intended.

His dark eyes wide he looked to the old woman now and she nodded. "Fine, I'll go see what Fiona is up to. It's about time to pull the tomatoes anyway." He smoothed his long black hair back, gave me a regarding look, and left, letting the screen door slam. He said he loved me, but I'd outgrown the concept of love a dozen lifetimes earlier.

Stuck alone in the bunkhouse with a goddess of death was not high on my list of things to do. Still if I stayed on my training ground Tanaka could not challenge me.  It was down to me and the Japanese champion and we were bound. As much history as we had, dealing with idiot gods, a little sex, and a lot of hurt feelings, he had been eager to fight, and then the gods had bound us together. Now whenever we would fight we would both take the final, ultimate big sleep.

"Spill the beans, oh great death goddess."

"Sinead is returning, and you will have to fight her to the death."





***





"We've done all we can."

Ares looked to Mars and rolled his neck. "You know at this point, I really do hope it ends soon. All the secrets, all the plotting...I'm sick of it. I just want to go home, stop worrying about worship, and spend my time getting massaged and drinking."

Mars raised one imperious brow. "You are a most...unusual god of war. We have done well. Neit is secure?"

"I've got the traitorous bastard locked up where he can't do anything. Can you believe he thought he could take me? Me, who made it possible for Alexander of Macedon to become Alexander the Great, conqueror of worlds?"

Mars yawned. "Try fighting wars on seventeen or so fronts, then we'll talk about greatness. Who's guarding him?"

"Why, we are, of course."

"What!?" Mars nearly shouted. For a war god his temper was small, Ares noted.

The Tournament was under threat. Mars had done some snooping and found the Aztec clan, out of the running, had wanted to highjack it. They believed the ensuing end-of-all-worlds would be the chaos that would have them rise once more. The other gods of the five now-dead champions were keeping them under lock and key until the final battle played out, and their little apocalypse passed them by.

In the first Tournament to select the eight, the Irish champion had nearly died. As such Neit of the Irish pantheon had created his own champion, one he wished to fight in place of Keelin. Both men knew Neit had been more diligent in training his charge, but Morrigan, the official Irish trainer, had been kept from Keelin by Neit's trickery.

"Why are we just sitting here? We should be beating the living hell out of the Aztecs, right now, cousin! The others should be guarding blondie, not us!"

Ares rolled his neck. "Neit made an offer and Morrigan accepted. Keelin fights Neit's would-be-champion and wins or looses, and Neit will admit to the entire gathering of clans the treachery."

The Roman shook his head. "I swear, some clans just become too human. What happened to glorious battles, death in the thousands, empires rising and falling? That is us!"

"No," Ares shook his head. "That is through their swords, cannons, planes. Without them we are nothing. It's why we can only save our worlds with their help."

Mars just kicked over his chair in the little room, swearing in Latin about monkeys.





***





Once humans made movies. There hadn't been one in nearly two hundred years, but I remembered them clearly from past lives. In them there was a hero and a villain, and the lines were clearly drawn. The tragic hero always felt death coming and had time to take stock, make amends. Life was never like that.

One moment I was striding from John's bunk with a satisfied smile on my face from a night well spent, and the next Sinead stood there in my path, sword drawn. Like me she was tall and muscled, unlike me she still had highly visible curves and her hair was so close-cropped  her scalp showed, not my scraggly red mess.

"Fuck," I said by way of greeting, and I couldn't say which old self it was. All my past selves lived  in my head like a chorus, speaking to me and through me time to time. She had the same thing and I had to wonder how she was trained.  Did Sinead suppress them or use them?

My first training had come from another champion I later killed, and he taught me to sort and select my old selves. Now facing combat they organized; lone fighters in one group, long-range assassins in another, sword fighters from armies in another, flexible mercenaries in a fourth, statisticians in the fifth, and any not useful for combat melded into the background silently.

"Keelin, no sword?"

I dumped the pile of dirty clothes I'd been hauling towards the laundry area and showed my empty hands. "I was too busy fucking John."

She'd always favored John who was unusual for a reincarnate. We weren't monogamous, but he was, and he was mine, damn it. She'd always coveted him and now bitter jealousy twisted in her eyes.

Still she didn't fall for the taunt. "It must be with honor. Go and get your sword."

"I think not." I kicked at her feet and she hopped back as I'd hoped and I dove for the wood pile and grabbed the axe. In three thousand years I'd learned to handle nearly every weapon out there, and this was why I favored a large axe for wood splitting, not some dinky little hatchet.

Connor slid into my mind, a fifth century Celt who'd split skulls regularly with such an axe. When he spoke it breathed like magic across my skin. Twist it back for a side strike, he said, and automatically I did as she took a position with a high guard.

Shit. It was exactly what she should have done, and perhaps she had learned just as I did to treat the voices in her head as an unholy army. Behind her Morrigan appeared, a sad crone, wringing her hands. Fiona stood beside her, open-mouthed with shock. Knowing nothing of the Tournament she had no idea why Sinead was back, but she could tell this was a real fight.

I swiped at Sinead's head and she tried to slice off my arm. Keelin, me, I corrected, rather hated fighting, but the chorus loved it. Connor spoke to a few statisticians and they decided I'd do best with a shillelagh or my sword. I was taller than Sinead's five-seven by a full five inches and had greater strength; I needed weapons of brute force.

Morrigan nodded to me, one of the voices in my head, and disappeared. I swung the axe and sweeping chops, covering as much area as I could, driving her back and blocking her sword, but her own guard was so good I didn't get close.

The dance of thwarted death continued until Morrigan re-emerged with John in tow. He looked shocked and she whispered into his ear as his dark brown eyes tracked our clunky movements. In his hands he clutched an object that sent relief coursing through me. I caught his eyes while blocking and looked down to the club. Startled, he tossed it to me and I grabbed the shillelagh and twisted it as it spun around my fingers.

It was over-sized at four feet, almost as long as her sword, and I began to hack with the axe to draw off her guard and slam at her with the club. I got in one light knock against her chin, but it didn't faze her. Suddenly, Morrigan stiffened, and I felt it, fate coming to claim me.

My distraction cost me a swipe of the sword tip and my arm began to bleed even as I recovered and jumped  back. "My sword!" I called to John who turned and fled for the bunkhouse where I'd left it.

I kept fighting though I tensed. It was here, the missing part of my soul. Standing behind me, ready to challenge the winner, was Tanaka. The time for my true, final death had come.





***





"My girl will win," Neit crowed. Stroking his flowing blonde curls he knew all too well his appearance was angelic, nearly irresistible to women and many men. Too bad that bitch the Morrigan had saddled him with the two straightest male war gods ever made.

Both cousins Ares and Mars looked up from their little game and gave him equally bored frowns. 

"This one whining too much?" The voice came at a flash of showy fire and then Lucifer was standing there in all his fine, purple frippery. 

"Who invited you?" Neit sneered.

"Luke," Ares said with a smile.

Mars and Lucifer sighed and said "Lucifer," together. "What do you want, Lucifer?" Mars asked, setting down the little plastic piece that symbolized his army on the board.

"This one is too treacherous to live, but impossible to kill."

"And?" Ares hedged, knocking off Mars' western army piece with his own.

"If I bring him with me to my dimension he cannot escape."

Mars froze, still as a statue. "But the magic that would require...when our portal opens, yours closes forever. You'd be trapped."

"Not if you let Ares take Neit's place," Lucifer coolly replied, cleaning his smoked sunglasses. They all ignored Neit's shouts of outrage and threats. "Ares has greater magic, I can smell it. Ares, assume his place, gain strength, bring me back. The Celts need me."

"What about me?"

All eyes swung to Mars, his face a conflicted dance between disappointment and anger.

"Mars, like thousands of others like us you may remain on Earth or go home. I can only make this bargain with Ares."

Ares put up a hand to cut Mars off. "So sure this Keelin of Thorpe will win?"

Lucifer set his cane aside, unbuttoned his formal topcoat, and sat at their table. "I'm sure of nothing, but I always was a fan of making wagers..."





***





There had been no words, Tanaka just attacked. The second I dropped the club as my sword sailed through the air to my hand he ran. When I gripped the hilt the strike came...at Sinead.

Quickly I joined by his side and she fought our swords and my axe. When I got close Tanaka pushed me away, and I couldn't help but think back to my first life as Branna. Then I had fought with a Japanese champion at my side and honor had dictated all. Now anger skewed everything.

I was driven back as they fought and risked a glance to my compatriots. John held Fiona who had no idea what was going on, and Morrigan had stiffened, showing the whites of her eyes only. When she got that way it meant the portal between worlds was active and I had to wonder what fresh hell had come.

"Work with him!" Branna called inside my head.

Despite a hammering heart, just as I'd been trained, I gave my body to her. She gripped the axe differently and her attacks were higher, but soon she shadowed Tanaka. They moved in concert and I was there, my eyes with hers, and yet back inside with all my old selves.

We were all bleeding. Sinead knew the same tricks and whatever old self she had called up was a berserker of some kind. I had slashes across my arms and one worrisome one on my stomach, but the certainty of death kept me from caring. A strange sort of peace settled over me and the voices quieted. This was our twilight, our final glory. None of us would live on, but all we had known, seen, loved, or destroyed would come to be once again.

Finally I understood just what I was fighting for, and with that thought Branna yielded to me. My hands on the weapons paused, and Sinead attacked. Just as thousands of years ago I saw the deadly strike coming for the Japanese champion and he could not stop it. I stepped into it and her sword was deflected, but sliced into my neck.

It would be a slow death, and we froze. Tanaka looked to me, pain in his eyes, and he knew it as well. Quickly we turned and I stabbed her shoulder, his sword went to her gut, and she stumbled back, blood spilling from her mouth. An equally slow and painful death. Fate had come to collect from us three.

Shivering as my body cooled, I turned to face the last champion. His dark eyes on mine we bowed and took positions. I threw the axe away and gripped my sword with one hand. Behind Tanaka I saw my pantheon of gods and Tanaka's surrounding Morrigan, my human companions off to the side, dazed. On the ground Sinead lay dying, gasping, gurgling, and hastening her death with her own panic.

Hachiman was there, with sad eyes and a shinning bald head in the dim sunlight. Near Morrigan was a strange god, blonde as Neit and equally pretty, but dressed like Oscar Wilde's wet dream.

Tanaka struck first. We did our dance with fatalistic hearts and quiet introspection. All that mattered now was which pantheon would rule better. His with ranks full of war gods, or mine, so in tune with nature? The answer to me was obvious, and with renewed strength I met his speed.

We danced in what felt like the greatest battle I had ever known. His forms were perfect, his speed quick, but my strength and determination drove him back again and again. Finally after long moments, he made a mistake, and I struck. My sword went in by his heart, and it would be a quick death.

His weapon dropped as he fell to his knees, pulling free of my blade. I tossed  it to the grass and ran, sitting behind him to pull him into my arms.

"Tanaka, I go with you. You were a great opponent but fate has spoken. Thank you." It was all I could think to say as I turned his head.

Pale and wan, he smiled, too far gone for words. I kissed him, not out of love, but gratitude, and then he was gone, dead and empty in my grasp. I gasped, and felt my own body cool. "Morrigan!"

It was not her but Sinead who crawled to me full of mercy. In this last moment of life it figured the goddess of who died in battle would desert me, I thought bitterly.

Weak, bleeding, and gasping, Sinead raised her sword. "Neit said it would be a slow death. I can grant you peace." Her voice was for me but her eyes were for Morrigan, her judge.

"Yes," I said, and closed my eyes.

The blow was quick and then I was in darkness. For a moment all my selves stretched out beside me to me left, and on the right was Tanaka. Then they came crashing into me, Tanaka last, smiling.

What the hell was this? I was due a final death, not like the other times. Typical Celtic death was standing where you died when a river opened, until a swan came. You rode the swan to the land of the dead where you remained bored, thirsty, and hungry until you were reborn.

Suddenly in the infinite blackness Hachiman was there, and he bowed deeply. "The gods are satisfied, and they are pooling their power. It will drain them but the portal will open and restore your gods to full power."

"The our worlds can be saved?"

He smiled, strangely handsome with the expression. "Not without you."

My head still swam from the last hour, my final hour held as much wonder and worry as a thousand lifetimes. "Hachiman, I'm tired. I'm so tired. I want oblivion, I deserve that peace."

"There is no peace in destruction. Your gods will need worship. They will need a bridge between them and the humans. It must be you."

He stepped to me then and kissed me. Nothing could have shocked me more, and I sensed this was not a kiss of love or passion, but power. Then I felt it, a cold burning sensation, like swallowing an electric iceberg. Impossibly large it filled me to bursting and I opened my eyes to see strange blue light where our lips touched. It grew and grew until the blackness around us was eaten away and then he broke off, staggering and deflated.

"Go, now!"

Before I could say anything I blinked and I was back at the training grounds. It was full night and the entire pantheon I had worshipped all my lives stood there as if waiting for me.

"Keelin!" Morrigan ran to me and hugged me, sprightly in her mother form.

"Oof!" I caught her and realized I had no wounds. I felt...amazing.

On the ground only Sinead's body lay there, and someone, probably John, had cut her head off. I heard him shout and run and then my lover hugged me as well.

"Keelin! What? How?"

"I don't know!" I kissed him and my head swam with power. When our skin touched I heard his thoughts, and felt his emotions, so bright and pure and wonderful. I could taste them.

Morrigan pulled us apart as a strange god with long dark hair started for us. "Keelin, you are now a god. A goddess of wisdom and humanity, you will be the bridge between us and the world. Ares has joined us as well, to replace Neit."

I blinked and settled under John's arm. "And Neit? Where is he?"

The strange blonde materialized in a puff of showy smoke. "Locked away forever. I'm Lucifer."

"So we're to have a Hell now?"

He shook his head, jiggling his top hat. "My world is gone forever, that portal bled into yours. I'm the only one to remain here. Someone has to help punish the wicked and tempt the innocent."

"Tonight we celebrate our rebirth!" Essus cried and the gods took up cheering. I shook hands and wondered at my powers, but soon I grabbed John by the hand and lead him away.

"Where are we going?"

I smiled back at him. "I've risen from the dead, I am a goddess now. Saving the world can wait, I'm in the mood for a little worship."

Laughing he pulled me to him for a kiss. In the wake of death we celebrated life. The Tournament was over, I was humanity's champion, and we had a world to save. But first I had to remember just what made it worth saving.