by CP Bialois
To help keep her mind occupied, Viola replayed the conversations the two friends had when they first came together earlier in the day. “They’re so gruesome, how can you even think about taking part in it?” Viola argued her case after the initial excitement drained from her and the realization of what waited for them settled into her head.
True to her nature, Janessa remained her normal bubbly, optimistic, and assured self throughout it all. “Don’t be such a Ninny!” Her voice rose to a higher pitch when she was excited. “No one dies at these things.”
“They don’t?” Viola’s question was a mixture of surprise and disbelief.
“Sure… Well most don’t. Only when two fighters hate each other enough that they both agree to fight to the death.” Janessa’s eyes lowered in sad thought before she continued with a shrug, “They have to settle their differences, I suppose. But that only happens between the lower fighters. The pit masters can’t afford to have their best kill each other off, it’s bad for business.” Janessa crossed her arms, proud of herself for making such a well thought out argument. After a brief pause she added as offhanded as possible, “Of course there are accidents.”
Viola’s eyes narrowed at her friend. “Alright, then tell me one thing.” Janessa nodded with a satisfied look in her eyes. “Just how do you know all this?” Viola knew she had her in a corner. The Halfling was a skilled liar but she made a point never to lie to her friends.
To Viola’s surprise Janessa smiled, “There’s more than one way to earn gold at those things.”
“Jenny!” Was all Viola could say before bursting into laughter. She didn’t share the same disdain for thieves that her fellow mages did. While she didn’t like thieves, she wasn‘t about to starve and drop out of magic school in protest. She needed to eat and pay her bills, rules and stereotypes were made to be broken.
Viola couldn’t help but smile at the memories as her mind moved back into the present. She looked over at Janessa and noticed she disappeared. Fearing the worst, she craned her neck trying to find her friend in the mass of people. Furious at not paying more attention, and at the Halfling’s ability to disappear into a crowd, Viola was about to get up and search for Janessa when a small hand grabbed her right arm. Only a familiar voice stopped her from screaming at the top of her lungs.
“You should see the one fighter. He’s a barbarian, I think.” Janessa’s eyes smiled at her.
“Where’ve you been?” Viola’s relief hadn’t quite overwhelmed the fear she felt a moment earlier. If one of those people caught Janessa trying to steal… She couldn’t finish the thought.
Seeing the look of concern on her friend’s face, Janessa gave her a quizzical look. “Placing a bet on the next fight.” Her expression changed to one of wonderment, “Wait until you see him. He must be a God among us.”
Even though relief flooded over her, Viola swore she’d watch her friend a bit more closely. She was worried about the look on Janessa’s face. She knew its meaning and she hoped she was wrong. “Jenny, who’d you bet on?”
Janessa looked at her with whimsical eyes, “The human in the next match. He can’t possibly lose.”
Viola was about to say something when a horn announced the fighters for the next match. On the far side of the pit a rather large human leapt into the pit. His muscled body glistened with sweat in the torch light. “Oh.” Was all Viola could say. Though he wasn‘t what she preferred, the man was handsome and she felt a power about him she couldn’t place. The power wasn’t magically based, or so she believed, but it was his presence. He commanded everything around him just by his proximity.
Viola felt good about the bet and hoped Janessa wagered more than the agreed amount on him. Her good feeling lasted until she saw the two other combatants. The first was a lizard man, from the Troglodyte tribes living in the southern part of the continent. The other was an ogre, black in color, it was from the deep recesses of the Calamir Mountain. The odds didn’t seem to be in their favor. Concerned, she leaned close to the Halfling to whisper her question. She was sure she already knew the answer. “How much did you bet?”
“Hmm?” Janessa didn’t hear her at first, her thoughts and eyes were on the human barbarian. “Oh… um… all of it. It’s ten-to-one odds.”
Viola’s back went rigid at hearing her friend. “Oh… That’s wonderful.” Her thoughts changed from an expensive meal to their usual moldy bread and cheese. With any luck they could afford turnip stew.
“Yep.” Janessa missed the young mage’s slow comment. She assumed Viola was as enthralled as she was.
Viola shook her head and watched the fighters conclude their grandstanding for the fans and ready themselves for combat. Janessa was right; the human fighter was an impressive sight. She estimated him to be over six feet tall and was well muscled. She was sure he was a barbarian; few others grew as large or as powerful as the barbarian tribes on the southeastern plains. Viola assumed it was due to the inhospitable terrain and their hostile neighbors. When people live with ogres, giants, and Troglodytes on three of four possible sides it’s only natural to grow so large and strong just to survive. Understanding their history a bit, Viola believed it would be an interesting match. Her assessment wasn’t totally correct, but few around her could’ve corrected her.
A second later Janessa waved at the human fighter then turned back to Viola. “Think he saw me? I wonder why he didn’t wave back.”
Shaking her head in wonder, Viola couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s lack of composure. Janessa may be wiser in the ways of the world but the Halfling could never control herself around men, warrior types being the worst of all. “I’m sure he noticed, but he has to concentrate. This is a very difficult fight for him.” And us, Viola didn’t add as the three fighters began circling each other. Viola tended to forget others didn’t read books like she did so the normal rivalry of the three in the pit would be lost to just about everyone.
Hoping for the best, Viola watched with a mix of anxiety anticipation when the ogre launched towards the Troglodyte first. The lizard man sidestepped the awkward strike, turning its attention to the human. Viola remembered reading that a few of the Troglodyte tribes had venomous bites and could spit their venom to blind their opponents. Any question to which clan the lizard man belonged was answered when the human ducked and a mouthful of venom missed his head. The sizzling sound the toxic saliva made when it struck the dirt wall of the pit took her breath away. If it’d been higher… She shivered when she thought what it might have done to someone’s skin.
*****
A short distance away a stunted, stout middle-aged man named Renard watched the people cheering the fighters. “Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! Don’t you agree Fech?”
Behind Renard sat one of the few creatures he trusted, his pet gargoyle Fech. Raised by the human since the night he hatched, the gargoyle showed something his race was not noted for, loyalty and kindness. He accepted when his master was harsh with him on occasion, but what else was to be expected when he misbehaved? Those times proved to be few and far between as Fech did everything he could to please his master. Doing so brought rewards of kindness, unheard of by others, from the human. Fully grown, Fech chose to remain with his master instead of returning to his own kind. Those thoughts often came into his mind during moments when his master was truly happy making Fech felt justified in his reason to stay. Lost in his thoughts, the gargoyle hesitated before grunting his approval. “Yes, it is Master.”
Renard smiled at the sound of his beloved pet’s voice. The gargoyle’s gravel filled, yet high pitched voice unnerved most humans when they heard it. Like a horrible accent, it took him the better part of ten years to not wince when he heard it. To his knowledge, or concern, Fech was the only one of his kind to speak Common.
Watching the fights helped Renard to feel pleased with himself, a few more shows like that one and he’d be welcomed anywhere. His men would then fight in real arenas, instead of having to dig out their own. If Renard h
ad a weakness, it was his ambition. Never one to wait for something to come to him, he searched for any edge he could find to amass his wealth and to grow his reputation. “Soon they’ll come from all over to see it.” He tossed a dead squirrel towards Fech, who devoured it in seconds. “Soon we’ll be welcomed… No… demanded to come into the Elven and Dwarven Kingdoms. All will marvel at the group of fighters I’ve amassed. Her majesty will invite us into Soleil itself. Can you see it Fech? All the nobles will pay to see my fighters.” A warmth flowed over him at the thought. They‘d all welcome him with smiles and open change purses. Within a few years he’d be one of the wealthiest men in the world. It wasn’t often Renard felt so cheerful causing Fech to watch him, amused at the sight.
“You’re overconfidence will lead you to ruin, Pit Master.” The suddenness of the voice caught both of them off guard, and brought a growl from deep within the gargoyle. As his master’s main body guard, Fech heard the voice countless times before then. Each time he disliked its owner even more.
Renard turned to face the intruder; his face burning with a dark shade of red. All those traveling with his company knew never to disturb him. “Damn you, Mern! How many times do I have to tell you not to disturb me? This will be the final time.” Fech stood to his full ten feet and took a step towards the old man.
Mern held up his right hand as if to ward off a coming blow but his voice remained calm. “Oh now, there’s no need for such a display. I merely came to give you news of a wonderful event.”
Renard paused, thinking for a second. “Fech.” At hearing his name, the gargoyle returned to his previous position but continued watching the merchant with a wary eye. The number of times the human dared to enter his master’s presence without being summoned couldn’t be easily counted by the gargoyle. Since the dawn of time, people misunderstood gargoyles to be stupid, slow witted creatures. Such a thought couldn’t be further from the truth. Created by magical beings, they could feel magic as well as use it themselves. The fact they chose not to live among other beings was made knowing they were greater than most. Fech felt an enormous power emanating from the merchant, though Mern did his best to hide it. It was for that reason he hated the man. Renard wouldn’t have believed his pet if he’d told him he was dangerous. Fech knew, he tried.
Not sensing the tension coming from the gargoyle, Renard stared at his unexpected guest for a long moment as though he didn’t understand the meaning behind Mern’s words. After a moment Renard responded. “And what great event is that, Mern?” He couldn’t help but smile, he knew the old man had something planned and he wanted to know what it was.
Mern smiled. “I’m sorry to say that I’ll be remaining here when you move on.” He paused relishing the shocked look on Renard’s face. “Hope is such a nice little city. Don’t you think?”
At first Renard couldn’t believe what he heard. No one ever left his company unless he decided they could leave. He was about to point that out when he realized he wouldn’t have to deal with the dotting, meddlesome fool anymore. A smile matching Mern’s appeared on Renard’s face. “I completely agree, a quiet place to spend your retirement.”
Mern nodded his white haired head, “I must admit I expected you to fight me on this. Our contract states--”
Renard interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “Forget about our contract, it has a clause that allows for this.”
Mern’s face changed in thought, “It does?” That roused his curiosity as to what the ringleader of that little circus was up to.
“Of course. If you read it you wouldn’t have that look on your face.” Renard’s smile brightened even more, if possible. “Since you’re unable to complete the circuit with us you are released from your commitment. You can expect no pay from this moment forth as agreed upon in our contract.”
Mern’s face changed to a deep and furious red color at having been outmaneuvered. He spun on his heel and stormed out of Renard’s pavilion. When he was a few yards away the redness in his face disappeared and a smile took its place. It was worth degrading myself for all these months. Let the fool think he’s won. He’s nothing but an insect. Mern strode away confident in his destiny.
*****
“That’s how you handle negotiations. With a firm iron hand.” Fech continued listening to his master give his lecture to no one in particular. Fech’s glowing red eyes followed the old merchant until he moved out of the gargoyle’s sightline. He was up to something, Fech was sure of it, otherwise Mern would’ve fought harder for his wages. Many a night, Fech witnessed the two arguing over a piece of silver for hours. Often, Mern would threaten to turn Renard into a cockroach and the latter dared him to do it. Yes, Fech realized he’d have to keep an eye on the mage pretending to be a merchant. Until then it hadn’t concerned him, but something about that night’s activities gave him cause to worry. Fech was so caught up in his thoughts, he failed to notice the squirrel Renard tossed to him until it hit him in the head. With a shocked expression he glanced at his master.
Renard glared at him, “Pay close attention Fech, those that don’t have their bones weathering on the side of the road.”
Chapter 4
The blood stained blade of a short sword disappeared into the stomach of the lizard man. The creature‘s black blood gushed from the wound, a curse on the human responsible for striking him down was on its lips as it stumbled and fell. The crowd exploded in the loudest cheering the Halfling ever heard or imagined possible. Janessa looked around for Viola, but her friend left a few minutes earlier quoting something like barbarism or some such thing. Mages never knew a good time even when they were a part of it. Secure in the knowledge her friend wasn‘t having any fun, or getting into trouble, she turned her attention back to the human barbarian. Unless she miscalculated, he won them four hundred gold pieces. Janessa felt so thankful about their winnings that for the first time since she first saw the human she felt no desire. Such were the joys of winning.
Janessa stayed until the bodies of the ogre and lizard man were removed. She felt it wiser to remain and act as though she hadn’t won anything instead of racing to the Pit Master to demand her winnings. It was far better not to draw attention to one self during moments like those. Only when she was sure no one remained to watch her did she leave the pit side area.
*****
Just when Viola convinced herself to remain for the rest of the match the lizard man leapt onto the ogre’s back and bit down on the larger warrior’s neck. The blood sprayed out from the severed jugular vein and into the face of a hapless spectator. That was the final straw, Viola told Janessa those fights were barbaric before she let herself be talked into going to one and those events only served to steady her beliefs. She couldn’t understand Janessa’s pleas for her to stay for the remainder of the match. Frustrated, Viola stormed away, she needed some fresh air and to distance herself from the carnage as much as possible.
Viola was only gone for a few moments when she heard a tremendous cheer erupt from the Pits. “Sounds like another winner.” She couldn’t help feeling full of sarcasm, she wasn’t even thinking about whether or not they won. Her thoughts were more along the lines of empathy for the people wasting their time there.
“That’s not a look one as young as you should have, child.” The voice was soft and kind.
Viola turned to the source of the voice in surprise. A smile replaced her shocked expression upon seeing the familiar face greeting her. “I’m sorry,” she flushed at having been caught off guard, “but I didn’t hear you approach, Master.”
Mern waved his hand in annoyance, “Don’t give me that master stuff until I begin teaching you. Until then call me Mern, everyone else does.”
Viola tried to remain composed, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “My apologies Mern. I’m Viola Cantril.” She bowed to show her respect.
Mern returned her bow, “It’s quite pleasant to finally be introduced. Far better than the alternative I think, eh?” He chuckled, feelin
g pleased the day turned out so well for him. “I hope you don’t mind my curiosity, but what are you doing out here at this hour? And where’s your friend?”
Viola rolled her eyes. The action didn’t go unnoticed by the old man. “She’s at the fights drooling over some barbarian.”
Mern nodded, “Berek.”
Viola paused for a second, “I’m sorry?”
Mern smiled like a grandfather would while teaching his favorite grandchild. “It has to be Berek. The ladies always swoon around him.”
Viola understood what he meant, but the charm the barbarian held over others hadn’t taken a firm enough grip on her. Upon seeing the young woman go stiff at his inclination, Mern apologized. “My apologies. I see I was incorrect. You have enough willpower not to succumb to those levels. My congratulations.”
His final comment caught her off guard, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t done anything to warrant congratulations.”
Mern smiled at her, “Of course you did. Self control and strong mindedness are essential to learning magic. My dear, you have just taken your first step to greatness.”
Those qualities failed when Viola flushed at his compliment. She found herself wishing Janessa could’ve been there to hear him. Too bad she knew what the Halfling would’ve said in retort.
Seeing his opportunity Mern held out his arm for her to take. “Mind if I escort you to the end of Main Street, Viola? It’ll make an old man feel useful.” She agreed, her mind was away from her friend and focused on any piece of information she could learn from her new master. Unknown to either of them a pair of eyes watched them from the cover of trees.
