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The sun beat down on Kitara’s back as she circled the ring. Her cotton shirt stuck to her back with sweat. Scars new and old decorated her skin, testaments to the battles she had fought. Her current opponent, a female aarakocra, was a formidable fighter, but new to the ring. Not like Kitara’s four summers of experience. She was hesitant, unsure.
On the other hand, this had been Kitara’s life for the past four years. Fighting for the right to live another day. The cost of losing? Her life. Some days she was armed with weapons, others she fought with bare fists. This time she was armed with her favored misericorde and a shortsword.
The aarakocra lunged, talons ready to slash and tear. Kitara ducked out of the way before slashing at her opponent. Warm blood ran down her sword from her opponent’s wing. Cheers and taunts rang in her ears. Turning back to the other woman, she was met with a flurry of feathers. SHe jammed the pommel of her sword into the woman’s temple, sending her sprawling across the ground. Kitara walked over and knelt in front of her.
“Please just kill me.” the woman begged in a whisper.
Kitara nodded. With one hand she held the woman closer to her. With the other hand she drew her dagger. One swift thrust had the dagger placed in the side of the woman's chest, through the lung and into the heart. A swift death for a swift flyer. She gently placed the body on the ground and closed the woman’s eyes. She sighed. When had killing become her life?
Cheers erupted as she stood. Slate eyes scanned the crowd. One stood out to her. A cleric dressed in white amongst the sea of greens, browns, and blacks.
“Winner Kitara.” the announcer yelled.
Kitara walked towards the tunnel that would lead her to her cell. A guard stood in the doorway with a metal mug in his hand. Wordlessly she handed over weapons in exchange for the mug. Kitara lifted the mug to her nose. The familiar sweet smell of whatever they used to dull her senses until her fights wafted into her nose. In one swift movement, she drained the cup. The effects were almost instantaneous. The crowd became muffled. The edges of her vision blurred.
The whole process was as natural as fighting to her. It had begun six moons after her capture. They had thought she was too unpredictable. Over the summers the dose had increased, but the idea remained the same. Take it willingly and remain unshackled or have it forced down her throat and be chained to the wall.
The guard led her to her cell and sat her down. She sat on the floor, vaguely noticing movement and passing thoughts as they muddled through her brain. Dusk came and went as night approached. Hazily she heard chanting. The more she listened, the clearer things became. Soon the blur was gone and her senses returned. Kitara turned towards the small window. Through the darkness, she could see the cleric from earlier.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Kitara asked, looking around wildly.
“I am Azalea. You are Kitara Arrowleaf. I am here to set you free.” the woman, Azalea, answered.
“What do you gain from helping me?” Kitara’s eyes narrowed.
“It is not about what I gain. It is about what you will gain if you accept my help. You will get your freedom.” Azalea extended her arm through the bars revealing a key ring.
“At what cost though?”Kitara asked, taking the keys.
“That is for you to decide. When you get out, meet me at the Grey Rooster.” Azalea instructed her.
Kitara nodded grimly. From her cloak, Azalea slid a misericorde and a langsaxe through the bars. Kitara accepted the weapons with a calm familiarity. She knew these weapons; trained with them, fought with them. With a final glance at the cleric she walked to the door.
With a steady hand, she fastened the weapons to her belt. Hyper aware of every noise, Kitara reached through the bars of the door and inserted the key. One squeak and a click began her path to freedom. Silently she drew her sword as she crept down the hall. The hall was empty of guards until she got to the first door.
His back faced her. Kitara held her breath as she grabbed him and drew her blade across his throat. Crimson stained her hands as she looked at his face. It was Malik, one of the few guards she had befriended over the years. Laying him down she moved onto the next room. There she was met with two guards. Both, thankfully, were unfamiliar. Without hesitations he ended their lives as quickly as the aarakocra earlier that day. Each life she took imprinted in her mind, but still she continues, Behind her, she left a trail of blood and death. Twelve lives she had taken today by her own will. Thirteen is she counted the nameless woman from the ring.
Now only one room stood between her and freedom. Opening the door, she was met with only a single person, if they could be called that. The paladin stood in all his pretentious glory. No armour covered his body and he was only armed with a baselard. Kitara smiled wickedly. With four years of pent up rage, she attacked. She cut, thrust, slashed, and parried with all the strength of three men. She fought for her. For her father. For all the elves that died that night and the people she had been forced to kill since. One well placed flick of her wrist sent his baselard out of his hand and across the floor. He raised his hands in surrender.
“We can surely work this out. There is no need for violence.” he said, attempting to placate her.
“Violence is what you have brought upon yourself.” Kitara growled.
With deadly precision, she rained down blows on his body. Blood covered his limbs as he tried to dodge, but couldn’t match the elvish speed. He fell to his knees as he slowly bled out. With a quick movement, Kitara drew her misericord and placed the tip between his eyes.
“Go to hell, bastard.” Kitara seethed as she shoved the dagger in.
The former paladin went limp. Kitara shoved him away in disgust before retrieving her blade. She wiped both the sword and the dagger on his shirt before re-sheathing them both. Freedom had never been so close, even during her past escape attempts. She opened the door and took a deep breath before stepping outside. She stuck to the shadows and alleys in an attempt to hide her blood-covered self. She had heard of the Grey Rooster from some of the Guards. The tavern was known for being discreet and a place where things people want hidden, stay hidden. The building itself was unassuming, blending in with the surrounding buildings. The only thing that marked it as a tavern was the weather-worn wood rooster on the door. Before she could grab the door handle, the door swung open and she was pulled inside. Azalea released her wrist but guided her to a room upstairs.
“Here,” she said, handing Kitara a set of clothes much like the elvish hunting clothes she used to wear. “change and then we shall talk.”
Kitara took the clothes before making her way to the washroom. The familiar tunic, leathers, and trousers brought her a strange comfort as she remembered a simpler time. When she came out, Azalea sat her on a stool before beginning to brush her hair.
“I have alerted the proper authorities of an illegal fighting ring,” Azalea put the hairbrush down and began separating her hair. “I have their word that no charges will be pursued against the one who killed to escape.” Azalea began to braid the chocolate locs. “To them it was an act of self defense and less they have to prosecute.”
“How did you know I would kill them?” Kitara asked quietly.
“I have seen you fight and I know your past. You were never meant to be caged. You knew the price of your freedom when you accepted those blades.” Azalea answered as she tied off Kitara’s hair. “Now your life is yours to do with as you please.”
“I only know death and violence. I don’t remember peace. How do I make a life off that?” Azalea took a deep breath.
“There will always be beasts to kill and battles to fight if that is the life you want. Or you can relearn peace. The sword or the olive branch. It is your choice.”
Kitara placed her hand on the blades she had been given. Azalea watched her closely. Kitara placed the sword on her belt and the dagger in her boot. Azalea nodded sagely, like she had expected the younger woman’s choice.
“I might have chosen this life, but now I play by my rules and my rules only. Any life I take, be it man or beast, will be my choice from now on.” Kitara said resolutely.
“As it should have always been. One summer from tomorrow we shall meet her again. Not as strangers but as friends. This pendant will allow you to contact me whenever you are in need of aid. Just say my name three times.” Azalea placed the necklace around Kitara’s neck. Looking down she admired the silver flower pendant. “For now let us rest. You have had a most trying day.”
Kitara walked over to one of the twin beds and laid down. As she closed her eyes, she thought about the day. SHe had gained something she had deemed lost forever: her freedom. But she had also gained something she had never expected. She had gained a friend. Someone who wasn’t afraid of the blood on her hands. It marked a new life for her and one she would kill to keep.