The three weapons clashed again at the same, the opening he was looking for. Using the strength of his upper body, Gaelin pushed the brown haired opponent’s sword into her blonde haired partner’s cudgel, deflecting them both at once. He picked the right moment as well, for the first Titan was slightly off balance, causing her to fully trip onto her friend, knocking them both down. Stepping quickly, he backpedaled away from the two young women, allowing himself the first opportunity to breath openly since the fight had begun. He had not long to himself, before the third opponent vaulted over her fallen companions, her spear pointed down. She was far better than the other two.

Gaelin sidestepped her assault, leaving her to land on the empty patch of dirt had had stood moments before. She was quick to the recovery, however, spinning her spear like a quarterstaff. Gaelin had his hands full deflecting attacks that came quickly from opposite directions. It was not entirely unlike his own style of combat, making this a very interesting match for him. After a sufficient number of easily won matches, it had become apparent to the Queen that Gaelin’s end would not be met any time soon in the arena. So fights were made more interesting by pitting him against more than one opponent of varying skill. Sometimes the opponents all fought against each other. In this instance, they were united against him. By now, every prisoner knew of Gaelin’s skill with the blade. Wanting the opportunity to make a name for themselves as the warrior who had slaid a Guardian, some leapt at the chance to fight him in the arena. Others were far more hesitant.

This woman was determined.

Adopting a two handed grip closer to the center of the staff, the warrior rained blows against his wall of steel from all angles. Unfortunately, Gaelin’s form allowed for no gaps in his defense, though she was successfully pushing him backwards. The crowd was on edge, as the man continued to give ground to his opponent. She spun her spear this way and that way, attempting to lead his line of sight away from her sneak attack. At last it came, a thrusting jab aimed straight for his stomach. The exact move he had been waiting for.

Spinning his entire body, Gaelin deftly evaded the point of the spear by the barest of margins, allowing the woman to step passed his entire body. Completing the spin, Gaelin left a gash across her right shoulder with his blade. The swordsman had yet to take a life throughout his many matches. His opponents, however, did not share whatever sentiments possessed by him, and were all too willing to attack him with the intent to kill. Wounding the Titans, then, became a necessary step to surviving his matches. Some he let off easy, with nothing more than some patched up cuts. Those that he held in open contempt for their disregard of human life, did not leave with anything less serious than a gaping flesh wound. Two particular Titans, who thought that it would be a good idea to distract him with taunts of how maliciously they had killed humans in the past, had each lost an arm.

Though he managed to clear some space between him and the spear wielder, the Titan with the cudgel was soon upon him, swinging away with reckless abandonment. He managed to turn her attacks aside, but finding a non-lethal opening was difficult. That was the problem with these matches against multiple opponents. You couldn’t simply hold one at blade point without the other two attacking. Improvising, Gaelin brought his knee up to his chest and launched a powerful kick, catching her on the chest guard, and knocking her backwards.

The Titan with the sword came for him next, joined by her spear wielding companion. He had a much more difficult time countering both blade, and spear head. Gaelin received a cut on both his cheek, and leg. Only in Whistlers stories does one man fight multiple opponents and remain untouched. Seeing an opening, Gaelin knocked aside the swordwoman’s blade into her opponent’s spear, before dealing her a painful gash on her thigh, followed by a swift shove into her friend. For once, with no opponents on him, Gaelin jogged backwards, until he had put a good bit of distance between himself and the three warriors. Everyone wounded, they each took their time picking themselves up, planning their next moves carefully in their heads. Gaelin, for his part, took stock of his own injuries. The cut on his leg hurt like hell, but didn’t impair his movements too badly.

Removing his leather coat, Gaelin cut the left sleeve of his shirt off, using it as a makeshift bandage, tied tightly around the wound. It was all the time he had, for his opponents appeared ready for the final round. Standing to his feet, Gaelin hefted his sword again, and walked towards them. Once they had begun walking to him, he picked up the pace, until all four of them broke out into a full sprint.

They clashed again.

*************************************************************************************

It has been more than a month since Annallya was first locked in her miniature cell. She could only tell this by the tally she had been keeping, scratching marks into the wooden beam broken off from her bed frame. This beam also served to keep her occupied through all of those long hours. Tireless study and training each day allowed her to endure imprisonment without succumbing to hopelessness brought about by the insanity of confinement. Thoren had visited her a few times throughout those days. As expected, she had not reacted well to learning what it was that her friend had done. Stealing her own pet no doubt stung her in a very personal manner. Annallya had done her best to help her understand humans as she had come to understand them. However, she did not believe that she was making much progress with her near sister. Some things cannot simply be understood through descriptions. Annallya had to meet humans in their own lands, and be humbled by them, to truly appreciate what kind of a people they were. Nevertheless, it was a blessing to be able to speak with her best friend on occasion.

Needless to say, this next visit came to her more as a curse.

Annallya stood erect, her emotions on full guard, as she faced her gigantic mother through the bars of her cell. Though the Titan was reduced to human size because of the collar she wore, she intended to face her mother’s gaze unwaveringly, as a sort of testament to her strength and willingness to defy her. For the longest time neither woman spoke. At last, her mother let slip a small smile.

“You appear as proud as any general.” she noted. “Were you to show such attitude at a war council, the others might even follow you into battle.”

“I assumed that my presence was not missed at the last council.” her daughter guessed.

“It was missed by Thoren, as well as Phelonous. She was heartbroken when she learned that it was you who had sprung the pets from the palace.”

Annallya grunted. “So long as the lot of you have your war to occupy yourselves, I doubt anyone will care for long. Have you attacked anyone yet?”

Mistress Rhaolin shook her head. “No. We continue to build up supplies as we track the movements of Nashvani. They have sent a large body of troops to move close to the borders of Soajen, while remaining out of sight. They have been moving slow so as to avoid detection. Their siege equipment must be far behind, for it has not been reported present with them.” She sighed. “I know not why I am telling you all of this, seeing as how you do not care.”

“No.” she flatley replied. “I do not.”

Mistress Rhaolin took a moment to look over her daughter. This was the first time she had had the chance to visit her since her imprisonment. Had the prison life truly hardened her in such a short amount of time? Or perhaps these were her true feelings, unrestrained and on full display for her mother to view. Oragale had always held Annallya’s behavior on a tight leash. Perhaps now she no longer cared to act as her mother wanted. For some inexplicable reason, it brought the smile back to her face.

“You are stubborn, and now openly defiant. I see why you had chosen him to be your teacher.”

Annallya narrowed her eyes, and her voice took on a venomous edge. “You have no right to speak of him as if you knew him. I only hope that he spat in your face before you executed him.”

“Be at ease daughter,” her mother replied, ignoring the heat in her voice. “Your human yet lives.”

Mistress Rhaolin explained in detail the nature of Gaelin’s punishment, telling her for the first time of the existence of the arena battles the palace held for entertainment. Young women were only deemed old enough to view these battles once they had become full fledged soldiers. It was both entertainment for them, as well as a lesson as to what real battle looks like. Annallya listened in detail as her mother painted a picture of captured soldiers and hardened criminals fighting to the death for their food, all while an audience cheered them on. And Gaelin had been placed in the middle of it. The dread that crept up her spine at the thought of her friend all alone among such women, with each one looking to claim a piece of his hide, left her knees feeling weak. At the same time, though, she could not help but feel pride at hearing how he was holding his own against Titan soldiers.

“He refuses to kill him, for some unfathomable reason.” her mother said in conclusion. “He openly defied Phelonous herself when she ordered him to finish his first match.”

Annallya smirked as she leaned against the bars of her cell. “Yes, I have come to learn that stubbornness is a trait shared among most men, if not all of them.”

Oddly enough, Mistress Rhaolin shared her smirk. “My daughter, you have no idea. Perhaps that is where you inherited your own stubbornness from.”

“Perhaps.” she offhandedly agreed. That is, until her mother’s exact words registered in her head, and she looked back at her. “Wait. What do you mean by that?”

But her mother droned on. “Honestly I had believed that your first pet, the younger one, would have been a good match for you. Especially for your first time.”

“Mother . . .”

“Though I approve of this new man.” she grinned. “He has a certain ruggedly handsome appeal to him. Very athletic. Perhaps experienced, which only adds to the pleasure when-”

“Mother!” Annallya shouted. “What under Sun and Stars are you talking about?”

Her mother tilted her head. “Child, have you ever wondered why there are no Titan men?”

Annallya hesitated. “I have . . . occasionally thought on it. Why?”

She shrugged. “We cannot produce any. For reasons that are mysteries to us, we cannot bear any men.”

“Well . . . why is that of any significance?” she asked.

“Because without men, we cannot bear any children at all.” Mistress Rhaolin concluded.

The single statement alone was both so jarring and so perplexing, Annallya was at a loss for even an appropriate reaction. Her face shifted through several different expressions, all the while searching for a response. In the end, she could only chuckle half heartedly.

“Then . . . then how do you explain the existence of our race?” she asked. “Do our people not come from the Stars themselves?”

“You are referring to the story of Baslell?” her mother guessed, shaking her head. “A fanciful story we tell all little girls, because they are not yet ready for the truth.”

Annallya swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. She wanted very much to not hear more. At the same time, however, she needed to know what her mother was talking about. “What truth?”

Her mother spread her hands. “Titans mate, child, just as mammoths and all other animals do. However, we have no men to mate with, and are incapable of producing our own. So we must . . . borrow men for such purposes.”

The bottom fell out of Annallya’s stomach as her mother’s words sunk in. She grabbed the bars in a white knuckle grip to steady herself, not trusting in the strength of her own legs to support her. This was . . . this was a revelation. An enormous revelation. Her entire worldview had been struck to the core with this. Everything that Titans, her people, were suddenly changed before her eyes.

Her mother appeared concerned. “Are you ill, dear?”

Annallya looked up at her, at her sincere and worried expression, and wanted very much to believe that she was lying.

“You . . . kidnap humans . . . to mate with them?”

Mistress Rhaolin quirked an eyebrow. “As far as the men go, yes. The women we enjoy as pets. Though there are those among us who find them more pleasurable than the men.” she shrugged. “To each woman her own, I suppose.”

She closed her eyes, falling back on the child-like instinct of believing that not seeing a thing made it no longer real. “And this is how all Titans are . . . conceived?”

Her mother nodded. “It is.”

“And this is . . . pleasurable to you!” she breathed.

“Very much so,” Mistress Rhaolin replied with a smirk.

Annallya took a deep breath, thinking back to her encounter with the bandits in the forest. Gaelin had used a word for such actions. A word he had described to her in detail. What was it?

“You kidnap humans and . . . rape them?” she asked very slowly.

Her mother tilted her head. “Rape? I do not know this word.”

“Gaelin explained it to me, not long ago. It means to force someone to . . . to mate with you.” she expressed with noticeable disgust. “It is looked upon as one of the most hideous crimes in human culture! Comparable to murder or torture!”

Mistress Rhaolin blinked, appearing to be seriously considering her words. “Is it? Baffling creatures, and their backwards ways.”

“Does this mean nothing to you?” Annallya shouted.

“They have their ways daughter.” her mother countered. “This is our way.”

“Why?” she spat. “Why have I never been told this before?”

“Because it can seem a tad . . . overwhelming to have to explain to a child that we mate with pets.” Oragale explained in a patient tone. “We choose to wait until a woman has become a soldier, and is preparing to leave on her first campaign. By then her mind is much more appreciative of the unique attractive qualities of men. Thoren, even, does not yet know of this.”

Her mother paused. “In addition, a night of pleasure with a man is found to be sufficient . . . motivation for a young woman to fight hard and return alive.”

This was too much for the young Titan to bear. She had long since believed that the kidnapping and enslavement of humans was as horrible as it got. Now she learns from her own mother, her own mother, that Titans force humans to mate with them, all because they cannot produce children without them! She thought back to when she had seen Andril reuniting with his family. She remembered the loving man that had embraced him on his return, Andril’s own father. This meant that Annallya had had a father! A father that she would never know. He must have been sold to someone, either in the city, or far away, if he were not dead already. Would he even care that he had a daughter? He would probably be disgusted that he had helped to create another Titan for the world.

Her own people, people that she had always looked upon with pride and love, were true monsters.

She turned away from the bars, not wanting her mother to see her cry. “Get away from me.” she whispered. “I wish to hear no more of this.”

Her mother reached a hand out towards the tiny cell. “Daughter I-”

“LEAVE! NOW!” she wailed.

Her mother, despite wanting to talk further, could see how distressed her daughter was in this moment. Though she did not entirely understand why, she knew that further conversation would be pointless until she had calmed down. So, without a word, she departed. It was not until after she left that Annallya threw herself down onto her cot, and wept. She wept for the horrors committed by her people, for the knowledge that she had a father that would never be known to her, that her mentor was currently suffering at the hands of her own people, and that the friends she had made among the humans had likely suffered similar tortures. She wept for more than an hour.

At last, when her tears had run dry, she found the void left by her depression being filled, with unholy rage. There was one good thing that had come from her mother’s visit. She knew that her friend was still alive, and was still fighting. Reaching under her bed, Annallya drew out the broken length of wood from her mattress frame, and got back to work.

You had best keep fighting, Gaelin, she thought. For I have yet to start.

*************************************************************************************

As instructed, Fighlyn waited until well after dark to deliver her message. The moon and stars were out in full view, meaning that the camp was to be sedated for the night. Those that broke curfew, were required to have very important reasons, lest they be met with harsh punishment. Fighlyn had such reasons, and the sealed orders to prove it, should she need to. The patrols were aware of this, and so let her go about her business unmolested. The camp was well organized, arranged in the same manner that it always was. This was a Titan tactic of war, so that, should an enemy force come upon them in the night, no one is left confused as to where they need go, or what they need do. This made things especially easy on Fighlyn, who knew the layout of the camp by heart, since the tents had been specially dyed pitch black. The general wanted no one to see their camp in the night by accident, so she ordered tents made that would practically disappear once all lights in the camp had been put out. The soldiers knew that stealth and secrecy were of the highest importance in their mission, and complied.

Dark tents made navigation tedious to say the least, though eventually Fighlyn reached her destination. Quietly drawing her knife, she tapped the hilt against the wooden post, just outside the tent door.

“Come in,” came a hushed voice.

Fighlyn strode in, empty hands first, to show that she was not bearing weapons with the intent to attack, followed by the rest of her. Had anyone knocked and then entered without showing their hands first, they would have been swiftly cut down. Once inside, an oil lantern with a red glass covering was lit. The red light was dim enough to not be seen outside of the tent, and did not ruin their night adjusted eyes. Fighlyn snapped off a salute to the woman sitting on the cot, who guestured for her to take a seat on a chair. General Sylpa was a coppery skinned woman of medium height, intelligent eyes, and muscular limbs. Though her black, curly hair was laced with grey, it only served to emphasize her experience without detracting from her famed beauty.

“What have you to report?” she whispered.

Fighlyn drew a rolled sheet of paper from her belt. “Our siege engines are on their way, and should reach the alloted destination in a week.”

General Sylpa took the scroll and read through it, nodding. “Very well. Tomorrow we shall begin our trek south. Have you figured out who in the camp is the spy?”

The Titan produced a folded piece of paper from her belt. “The culprit is one of these three suspects. Of this I am sure.”

The General took it, without opening it up. “I will meet with each of them myself. They will not hide from me for long.”

Fighlyn nodded. “And what then, if I may ask?”

“Then, we continue with the plan, though we can finally explain to the rest of the camp what our true mission is.” Sylpa answered. “I have no doubt that it will spur the women on, knowing what our true prize is. They will fight all the harder for it.”

“This is a very bold plan.” the younger Titan noted. “Should they have already learned of it, we will be marching onto their own territory, perhaps into a trap.”

“We have done all that we can to lock the information down so that none, save those I trust with my life, know our true machinations.” she replied. “We are both fortunate, Fighlyn, that you are one of those. Without you, I could not be sure that there even was a spy among us. You have done good work.”

Fighlyn bowed her head. “I am honored to serve the Crown, and my beloved city.”

General Sylpa nodded. “Return to your tent and get some sleep. We still have much work ahead of us, before we can hoist our banner high over their walls.”