Ashborn 341: Tara Fights (Patreon)

Vir returned to his seat, intent on proving the naga wrong. While he of course wanted to witness Tara’s fight, that was secondary to his other, far more serious reason—proving her wrong.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Whether it was her bravado speaking, or simply that her opponent was more canny than she’d anticipated, there was no danger of the fight concluding anytime soon, and Vir felt his worry transform into smug superiority. He’d have to rub this in her face when she was done.

Assuming she won, of course. He’d never rub salt in a wound.

In fact, they seemed to be at something of a stalemate by the time Vir arrived, Tara having activated her poison field, and her Bairan opponent warily keeping his distance.

“What did I miss?” he asked Cirayus, sitting down beside his godfather and Aida.

“Well, Svar over there went in with his greatsword, only to meet Tara’s Corruption field. I suspect he feared this exact scenario and went in for a quick.”

Aida snorted. “Didn’t work. That girl danced around him until her field grew thick enough. And now…”

“‘Tis a bad matchup, I’m afraid.” Cirayus said. “All Panav fights are difficult, but to pit her against a Bairan in the first round… Fate was not kind to young Tara.”

Vir frowned. “Because of Giant Hide?” 

“Aye, a bit. That art strengthens our skin into armor, though for some, it makes us more resilient. Just that Bairans are naturally resistant to things like poison.”

“That is an awful lot of advantages your race bears, don’t you think?” Vir commented.

Cirayus bellowed a laugh. “What can I say, lad? The gods sought fit to make us big and strong.”

Aida promptly punched her grandfather in the ribs. “I’m sorry, Vir. He might be four centuries old, but he has the maturity of a forty-year-old.”

“Uh, huh…” Vir didn’t rightly know how to respond to that, considering he was just about half that. He opted to keep his silence.

“Make no mistake. This is a battle of attrition on Tara’s side, and Svar knows it.”

“Then why doesn’t he attack before the poison gets to him?” Vir asked.

“I expect he’s probing Tara to see if she has any other abilities up her sleeve. She’s a newcomer—her powers aren’t as well understood as some of the others, and even for veterans, you never know what new technique they’ve invented since the last tournament.”

“Makes sense,” Vir replied. He truly didn’t know how Tara would get out of this. It seemed rather hopeless for her.

A part of him was relieved at that thought. Whoever won this bout would be his opponent in the second round. Tara was nice. He didn’t want to fight her if possible. Regardless of who won, there would be bitter feelings between them. Losing before she made it to the second round would be the ideal scenario.

And yet, a part of him desperately wanted to pit himself against her. He couldn’t help getting excited at the idea of an all-out brawl with the naga.

Had he introspected even a little, Vir might’ve realized that the demonic fighting spirit he’d commented on only recently had begun to infect him as well.

As it was, his eyes were glued to the match.

Tara moved steadily closer to Svar, but never drew in close enough to allow the giant, with his greater reach, to attack. 

It was a calculated move—the closer her enemy was, the denser her Corruption field became.

A cheer erupted from the Panav section, and when he looked up, Vir found an ocean of heart-shaped banners and balloons being waved around.

“She sure is well loved,” he muttered. “I feel like she’s getting more support from her clan than even Zarak’Nor did from the Iksana.”

“Aye, she’s a popular whelp, that’s for sure,” Cirayus said, keeping his eyes glued on the battle. 

Aida, however, was sneering at the stands. “I don’t see the appeal, if you ask me. She’s just another naga. Take up a spear and the clan loves you. Wish it were that easy for us.”

“Now, now, Aida. Jealousy is an ugly thing.”

Aida, once again, jabbed her grandfather in the ribs, though she might as well have been a fly. Cirayus didn’t even notice.

“What do you know of this Svar?” Vir asked.

“Never heard of him. So many new faces since I was here last.”

“I haven’t either,” Aida added. “Definitely a newcomer.”

“Still, he has all the standard Bairan bloodline tattoos. Without some serious offense, I’m afraid Tara will be hamstrung.”

Tara dodged a swipe of the giant’s talwar with preternatural grace. She flitted around the stage, as if executing steps in a well-choreographed dance. There was a grace to her movements that Vir hadn’t seen during their time in the Ash.

“Why is she in her human form, though?” he asked. “She can move much faster in her naga form.”

“I expect she’s keeping that as a trump card, lad,” Cirayus replied. “Naga can shift forms with superhuman speed. Some say it happens instantly, while others say it takes a split-second that’s simply faster than we can see. Countless thaumaturges have studied the process for millennia, but no one’s ever been able to crack the secret. Not even Saunak.”

Vir raised a brow. If not even Saunak had solved it, the mystery must run deep.

“All this to say, it’s one of the naga’s best advantages in a fight. Get close to the opponent in your human form, then boom!” Cirayus snapped four fingers. “They’re suddenly a snake, and their tail’s all wrapped around you.” He made a corkscrew motion with his two left hands.

“That’s… pretty insidious,” Vir admitted.

“Aye. If only their kind felt like fighting more. They’d be quite a force. Alas, most of their kind are content to heal, not kill.”

Vir wanted to say, ‘And that’s a bad thing?’ But movement from the stage forced his attention back to the fight. Svar had finally made his move. 

The giant leaped forth, swiping with his oversized straight-bladed sword. Tara dodged, but was forced to move away. The only issue was…

“She’s too slow.”

The issue wasn’t Tara’s speed, per se, but rather the distance she had to retreat to avoid Scar’s blows.

“Not just that,” Cirayus commented. “Every time she flees, her Corruption field loses its potency. That ability is best when deployed over a static area. I can’t tell you how effective it is in the defense of a castle under attack.”

Vir had seen that firsthand when fleeing the Chitran army near Praya Parul. And there, his troops had been on the move, albeit slowly. Even there, the art of a single demon had held off an entire battalion of enemy troops—at least for a while.

 Tara’s motions grew increasingly frantic until she was forced to switch to her half-naga form just to be able to flee the giant.

Still, not all was well for Scar, either. His skin had begun to sizzle.

“Everyone, take notice!” One of the commentators—Samik—boomed. “Can you tell? The prana in the air has been all but sucked dry by this naga’s art! They must now channel the prana within the ground if they wish to use their arts.”

Vir frowned. It couldn’t be. Could it? 

“Was this her strategy all along?” he asked, looking to his godfather.

But Cirayus hadn’t heard. He leaned forward, wearing an excited grin. 

I’ll take that as a yes.

“This girl,” he said. “Better watch out, lad. She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“You speak as though she’s already won. How do you—”

Cirayus pointed with his two left index fingers.

The contestants were on the move. Svar ran, and so did Tara, but this time, she wasn’t trying to flee.

No, she ran directly at the giant.

“Is she insane?” Vir breathed, transfixed by what was surely the climax of this very interesting fight.

Ten paces. Five.

Svar swung. Tara dodged. And then the unthinkable happened.

Tara jumped onto the demon’s arm, then again, hurtling towards his face.

The giant brought a hand up, but not quick enough. Not nearly.

Tara gripped his face… And then the giant screamed. It was a scream of the purest, most abject agony. And it was amplified across the entire stadium.

— — 

The fight ended only seconds later, in total, utter silence. For a long while, not a soul cheered, and not even the commentators. It was as if the stadium was paralyzed by the shock of Tara’s brutal move.

And then… the spell was broken, and the stadium erupted.

“Winnnnnnerrrrrr! Tarrraaaaaa of the Panaaaaaav!”

The Panav stands went absolutely hysterical, with the entire clan giving Tara a standing ovation of claps, shouts, hoots, and enthralled screams.

The rest of the stadium was more subdued, but Vir heard applause from nearly every camp in various degrees—chief among them being clan Baira.

“And what’s this?” Samik said. “It looks like Tara herself is administering healing to her opponent!”

“What an incredible display of good sportsmanship,” his counterpart, Nakin, said. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen the victor express such care for the loser. If this isn’t a sign of inter-clan cooperation, I don’t know what is.”

“You are absolutely correct, Nakin. This is an era of cooperation and harmony…”

Vir ignored the rest. “What utter drivel,” he muttered.

“Don’t be too harsh on them, lad,” Cirayus said with a shrug. “‘Tis their job, after all.”

While true, Vir felt nothing but disgust at their performance. An era of cooperation and harmony? How could they spew such lies when his entire clan had been subjugated and driven to the brink of extinction? Vir felt the hatred building within him… and took a deep breath. These feelings would not free his people. They would not make him a good ruler. If anything, with the power he’d eventually command, they’d only cause ruin. Best to nip them in the bud.

Cirayus, perhaps noticing Vir’s plight, rested a large, comforting hand upon his shoulder.

Vir was about to shrug off his hand before Aida noticed when the commentators spoke again.

“What’s this? Well, well, folks. It looks like Tara’s not done yet! What is this naga up to now?”

“It looks like she’s scanning the crowd, Nakin,” Samik said. “But for whom?”

Vir’s stomach sank. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Tara put a hand above her eyes to shield her eyes from the sun. She slowly turned, taking in each clan of the enormous stadium, and making a show of it. Shy, Tara was not.

And then she stopped.

“Well, folks. She seems to have found who she’s looking for. Who could it be? A lover, perhaps?”

“She is quite the bold one, Samik. I wouldn’t put it past someone like—Well, I’ll be! Ladies and gentlemen, she’s pointing! She’s pointing to someone very particular! But who could it be?”

Vir locked eyes with the naga and clenched his jaw. 

She was pointing at him.

“How bold! How utterly brash! Everybody!” the commentator blared. “I do believe Tara of Panav has just issued a challenge to her next opponent! The victor of the first round, who, against all odds, defeated the reigning champion. Yes, that’s right everybody. Tara has just proclaimed her victory of Vaak of the Ash!”

Vir returned Tara’s gaze. And then, together, they both smiled. And unknown to them, at that very moment, the same thought ran through both of their heads.

Smile while you can. Because you won’t be smiling after tomorrow.