Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos by Cameron Hopkin

Author:Cameron Hopkin [Hopkin, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Failed Superheroes Club, LLC
Published: 2021-05-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

A Convincing Performance

Renna laughed along with the crowd as Gamarron dispatched the last of his foes. Blending in with the rabble and anonymously screaming her approval of the blood being spilled was strangely liberating. She was wearing the old man’s demonsilk robe, and she loved it. The tatty fibers were durable and cool despite being stark black in the afternoon sun, and for once in her life she didn’t feel self-conscious. It’s because your stomach isn’t hanging out in the breeze, old woman. She was nearly of a height with the tall northerner, and the roominess that the wider-framed man brought to his robe only added to the cool concealment. She was tempted to start a new religion just so she could wear a robe like this. Forgive me, Earth Mother. I didn’t mean it. Except she very nearly did. It was difficult getting the respect she deserved when dressed like a wood nymph. This sober outfit bespoke wisdom while still offering freedom of movement. The pants of her Weaver uniform peeked out through the hip-high slit, but she did her best to ignore them.

Even better, the fact that she was wearing the robe meant that Gamarron was not. The self-serious king had not been pleased when she revealed his outfit for the games. “People have an idea of what a savage of the north is supposed to look like,” she had argued, quite rightfully.

“Those ideas come from woodcarvings in romance stories written by fools who never once saw the Black Isle,” Gamarron had responded. “They’re offensive and ridiculous. My people never dressed like that. It’s cold up there, you know.”

“Still, my lord, if we want to draw in the chaos wielder’s little lordling friends, we have to give them what they expect. If you arrive wearing that,” she had said, gesturing to his black robe, “everyone will just keep wondering when the savage is going to show up.”

Eventually he had conceded to her good sense, and now he stood on the sands of the gladiator’s arena holding up a huge stone hammer with a haft as long as his leg, spattered with blood, wearing the garb that any Mainlander would recognize as a savage: fur-covered underpants, tall furry boots, and a horned skullcap. Nothing more. The crowd was shouting with glee because he had felled ten combatants at once who had all been trying to kill him. Renna, on the other hand, was laughing because she saw the little quiver in his beard that meant he was deeply, horribly embarrassed. She congratulated herself for sending the young ones after the chaos wielder so that she could be here. She wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

Six rounds he had survived without falling; no one had done that in years. She could hear the rabble around her excitedly comparing him to favored gladiators of yore, crowing over his strength, and was he really from the North? Would he go for another round, or take his winnings now? Gamarron lifted

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