Talen turned his head to the floating platform. He had failed to entertain the idea that they could somehow bring down the barrier protecting the two puppeteers before finishing the fight. Yet, the moment it was done, it seemed as if it was always destined to be so. Fire seared through one man, and cold steel silenced the other. As their lives slipped away Talen felt the dark strings of machinations fall from his body. He was free and there were no barriers any longer.

Rayse pointed his finger towards the crowd gathered above them. They bayed and bleated for blood, unaware that the lions were now free among the sheep. Talen held no ill will towards Storm or Rayse, and perhaps in a moment of weakness Talen would even admit some ounce of respect. What he didn’t care for was the people watching him in a game not of his choosing. He had competed in fights many times before, some even to the death. However, in every case it had been by his choice. The child swore this would be the only exception as he narrowed his eyes and glanced at Storm. The rouge was in no position to attack, and Rayse and William seemed to have come to some agreement earlier. Talen swallowed the bitter taste at not defeating Rayse for the sweeter dish of revenge. When those thoughts had passed the blue-eyes monster disappeared.

Talen let his eyes scan the crowd for a moment from the back of the seats. It had been hard to see while fighting what had been above them. Rows of stone seats encircled the chamber, lined with simple pillows it was as Spartan in appearance as it was impressive in architecture. The subtleties of the building were lost on Talen, such as the way the stone rings met perfectly with each other, or the way they must have been hewn from huge quarries.

Disgusting…. Rotten pieces of meat. thought Talen. It was the normality of the people in the crowd that turned Talen’s stomach. Average folk, dressed for a day out and a good laugh. They had no idea what he had been through, or what he was capable of. Behind their shield they had peered at monsters. Four men, the most normal of which was a dragon slayer.

“Where’s that snotty kid gone?” came a voice from somewhere in front of Talen. With the sudden death of the two puppeteers the crowd were eyes forward and completely missed the child standing behind them.

The bliss of ignorance faded away, replaced with a shrill cry of fear. Twin bulls, black as the darkest ebony, charged through the stands. Chaos spread quickly as each bovine tore and smashed through onlookers. Each had gone in a different direction and herded the crowd towards the far side of the stands. If Rayse or William didn’t dispatch the growing throng, then Talen would oblige. Talen leapt from one thick stone seat to another with easy movements. The cries of pain and fear were his music and he, the humble player moved through the frets and struts of his time. His cold, dark gauntlets lashed out amid his leaps, catching a man in the throat here, and a woman in the stomach there. The smile that was on Talen’s blood speckled face was genuine.

There are no strings on me!