Omodo raised his maul high, bringing the spiked end down in a brutal overhanded strike. Landing between the Kraken's wagon wheel eyes, the spike sunk deep into flesh. A great gout of black blood spilled forth as the massive Armodon ripped his weapon free.
Roaring, the beast turned and dove into the water, ejecting a vile inky substance to cover its escape. A little of this foul fluid sprayed onto Omodo, but Gavin, who was still in the water had to swim through it, choking as he retched again and again until Omodo fished him out. Ravius, who had nearly drowned by now, appeared to be marinating in the vile stuff as he thrashed to get to the surface.
The Kraken did not emerge again and Gavin eventually pulled himself upright to salute the crowd, still retching and covered in black slime. Omodo raised his hammer and they staggered back to the arming rooms.
o-----
“Disgusting!” gasped Ravius, indignant and revolted in equal parts. “I can't believe how hard this stuff is to get off.”
“This part never makes it into the arena reports I guess.” said Gavin, shaking his head. They couldn't get rid of the horrible smell; his stomach churned constantly filling his throat with bile.
“So much for the glory of being a Gladiator.” sighed Ravius. He dry heaved again. “Ancestors have mercy! I can still taste it. I was drowning in that stuff. On days like this I wish I'd chosen to be a Vassal. I could be massaging some high lady right now instead of this...”
“Aye,” said Gavin with a chuckle. “No wonder Omodo hit the baths early. He probably couldn't wait to escape our stench. Some days winning doesn't feel like much of a victory.”
“I wish I could go back to the day I faced the choice,” said Ravius. Gavin's eyes met those of his oldest friend; Ravius looked tired, defeated. It was a feeling he knew well.
“Would you take a different path?”
“I hate to admit it, little brother,” said Ravius, grimacing as he cleansed his skin with a special scrubber that felt like a cheese-grater. “But I am beginning to share your pessimism towards The Great Games. It seems like such a waste of life. I often wonder why I'm still doing this.”
“I'm still in the Arena because of Sadira, I guess,” confided Gavin. “I need to show her I'm worthy.”
“A warrior without pride is no warrior at all,” agreed Ravius, with a knowing nod. “I get it. I don't have that excuse though. It doesn't feel right to me anymore. I thought fighting a Kraken would be grand... Now I just want to get clean and get drunk and hope I can forget the smell and drowning in vomit and inky water. I wonder if artificers, merchants, and tradesman have days like this?”
“I'm sure they do,” said Gavin. “But that's just it... no one in the crowds sees the arena as a job. When we made the choice, we didn't either. We just thought about the freedom that we would have when we joined The Chosen. We thought of killing monsters like the heroes we grew up reading about and watching in the Championships. Some of the works I read as a kid even mentioned the down side, but I never really understood that part until I'd experienced it. I only saw the positives.”
“Such is the nature of men, I suppose” sighed Ravius. He sighed. “Well, at least we entertained the people today. It is what we do.”
“We also gave Omodo a moment to shine,” said Gavin. “The people love him.”
Ravius was silent for a moment. “Hmmm. That makes me think. If we are relegated to the status of bit players by fate, then we may as well make the best of it...”
“Exactly,” said Gavin. “Helping Omodo and Sadira might be the best way for jobbers like us to get a share of the Glory.”
“Aye,” said Ravius. His face fell again and Gavin could sense that he had failed to banish his friend's frustrations. “There has to be more to our lives than this. I want to accomplish something in my time in the arena, to be able to look back with pride... you know?”
Gavin's response was cut short as Omodo strode into the room. The Giant Armodon was already clean, having spent a half hour in the scented baths. He looked at Ravius and Gavin, still both half-covered in foul slime. He had overheard some of what they had said and was touched by their desire to help him. Ravius looked ready to fall over though, and Gavin did not seem to be faring much better. He needed to break their bad moods. Ignoring the terrible stench, he took an exaggerated sniff and then broke into a broad grin.
“Mmmmmm, that reminds me,” he said, sniffing the air. “I've ordered us some seafood for dinner tonight. Anybody hungry?”
Ravius groaned and buried his face in his palm, while Gavin burst into laughter.
Interlude Three: Ut Nex
(1150/07/17 AR, The Grand Arena in Krass)
“The Difference between Ut Nex and a Deathmatch is that only one of the fighters knows that they are calling Ut Nex, the other has to decide if she wants to fight to the death or forfeit in front of all the spectators. Few back down when called out in this fashion, fearing being seen as a coward more than the chance of death.” Chosen Giselle.
“The arena is a great place to kill your enemies; it is an even better place to kill your friends.” Chosen Gorixus.
I CALL FOR UT NEX!” shouted Karmal.
Sadira stood unmoving, numb with shock. Why was this happening? Was this some sort of convoluted stratagem on Karmal's part? She often battled with her old friend for dominance, but invoking a personal Deathmatch against a Karmal was incomprehensible to her: One of them could get hurt.
Karmal went through the formalities while Sadira stared at the sands. A ripple went through the audience: their Grand Champion seemed suddenly deflated. Was she afraid of death?
"Red Scorpion," said announcer Quintus diKrass, his smooth baritone drawing Sadira out of her reverie. "Do you accept Ut Nex? If not, according to the law of Champions, you must forfeit."
The ward screens flashed red, waiting for the acceptance of Ut Nex. Sadira smirked. So that was Karmal's game. Her Flame-haired friend wanted her to forfeit. She should have guessed.
"Fuck yourself Karmal," Sadira snarled. She severed her attunement to The Keystone without turning towards the announcer. The ward screens faded. Ut Nex had been accepted and the two friends were now in a Deathmatch. "No ploy is going to win this for you. I am going to beat you until you yield."
"You just don't get it Sadira," chided Karmal. shook her head, lips curling into a feral smirk.
"Like you and your first ranking match for Veteran?" replied Sadira, lifting her chin defiantly towards her foe; raising her glittering obsidian blades. “Here's a hint, they were testing your teamwork skills, bitch!”
Anger surged through Karmal, filling her veins with molten energy. She thundered forward, heaving her massive war-cleaver into the air, screaming wordlessly as she called upon her power.
The thousand trumpets rang out as one, the pure sound quickly drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the flame haired Gladiatrix barrelled towards Sadira.
A snap of power from Sadira sent green tendrils surging from the sands, grasping greedily at Karmal's legs. She was used to this tactic and avoided tripping as they held her. Sadira charged. Karmal ripped her foot free. She screamed, swinging her war-cleaver in a broad horizontal arc. Sadira sprang as she came close.
Catching Karmal's blade with one of her own, Sadira flowed with the momentum of her opponent's strike, rather than parry. In effect, she rode Karmal's swing. The spectators cheered this difficult manoeuvre. The powerful motion flung Sadira into the air. She landed, rolling as she struck the sands, flowing into the Razorwing's flight dance as she came to her feet. She whirled and slashed, attacking while Karmal tried in vain to turn and face her. Her swords came away bloody. Sadira whirled way, laughing cruelly.
“Face it Karmal, you don't have the finesse to beat me,” taunted Sadira. “Why don't you...”
Her words were lost as the scent of blood filled Karmal. Changes in her body had made her acutely aware of such things. Her vampiric desire for blood. Her berserker rage. Her demonic hatred. All of her disciplines gav
e her great strength and destructive power but eroded her self-control. Power raged through her as the blood and pain whipped her into a frenzy. She wove a spell directing that power at Sadira, so swiftly that it took the Shadow-Elf by surprise.
Fire blossomed from Karmal and the crowd gasped as it washed over Sadira, engulfing her entirely and turning her words into a frenzied scream.
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Gold and Grey
1146/02/29AR, Sonarion's Crossing
“The mind turned against itself is a terrible weapon. I have seen a lack of confidence cause skilled men to falter at the simplest of tasks.” Master Sax
“Any luck with that smith, yet?” Gavin asked Sax as they rested between bouts. He felt like a coward, reliving that moment outside his father's cottage: he should have gone in, even without Sax and introduced himself. Disgust began to sour him; he shoved it away, focusing on training. Despite the lingering cold of the northern winter, he was lathered in sweat. They were stopped at a small roadside inn, a thick-walled stone building nestled in the jagged border highlands somewhere between the Domain of Mordhawk and the Domain of Endweaver. Gavin and Sax were engaging in some early morning sparring while Cleothera engaged in business with another Grey-Robe at the inn.
“Valcoeur is a very private individual,” said Sax. “He'll meet with you when he is ready. Your technique has improved, by the way.”
“Didn't feel like I lasted any longer,” sighed Gavin. He wanted to ask Sax if Valcoeur was his father, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wondered if Sax knew about his abortive visit to the smith.
“You need to keep your head in the fight Gavin,” the Ogre's voice was serious. “You need to understand the small mistakes you are making. Concentrate on your footwork and your breathing. It really is the best way to improve at this level. You've done well with what I've taught you, but there is always more to learn. You should try the next circle of Faultless Blade.”
“I don't know, Master Sax,” responded Gavin. “I'm learning some very interesting spells from Chosen Mordhawk...”
“Flashy spells and special moves are not a substitute for better technique,” said Sax. “'Hawk would be the first to tell you that. Everything you do in a fight flows from the fundamental concepts of timing, positioning, strategy, and attitude. These are the foundations upon which every Gladiator fights, even if few of them realize it. If an enemy finds a flaw in your technique, it might not matter what special advantages you've brought to the fight.”
“That sounds more like a philosophy...” commented Gavin.
Sax chuckled. “It is: The philosophy of the Flawless Blade and Empty Mind schools. It's hard to explain. It is better to show you what I mean. This time, when we fight, try to empty your mind of everything except your next move.”
o-----
Cleothera emerged from the little inn during a pause in their training. She was dressed to travel and looked uncharacteristically grim. Her eyes immediately snapped to Sax and then to Gavin.
“Where's Ravius?” she asked, brow furrowed with worry.
“Upstairs, I think,” said Gavin. “Is everything alright?”
“No,” she said, her luminous eyes gravely meeting his. “I need to talk to Master Sax privately for a moment Gladiator. Find Ravius and meet me back here in five minutes or I will have to whistle. This is deadly serious, Deliberative stuff, understood?”
Gavin nodded and trotted off. “Whistling” was a term for a form of coercion that Grey-Robes could use on Gladiators who were bound to them for long journeys. It called the Gladiator to the Grey-Robe, providing a sense of direction and distance. If the Gladiator resisted, an irritating sound, much like a whistle, would develop in his head, eventually reaching the point where it became painful, leading to a blackout. All Gladiators had been subjected to this in training, but it was rarely used. Gavin was burning with curiosity as to what sort of event would cause the normally carefree and amiable Cleothera to crack the whip.
He found Ravius by following the sounds of laughter. The skirmisher was playing cards with two giggling women; All three were in various states of undress.
“Oi, Ravius,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. “Grab your gear; we need to get moving now.”
“Awwwww, no way,” pouted one of the women, eyeing Ravius's remaining bits of clothing and bared breasts of his other companion. “We were just getting to the best part!”
“Are you sure you don't want to join us?” invited the other girl, her eyes roaming Gavin's figure, smiling lasciviously.
“This is serious,” said Gavin. “Grey-Robe serious.”
Ravius looked up at Gavin. Reading the other man's posture and expression, he gauged that something important was afoot. “Sorry ladies, it has been a delight and almost a pleasure, but alas duty calls. Finish off the wine and put it on my tab. I will look for you both when I return.”
The skirmisher deftly fastened his armour on while fending off the playful attempts of the two women to keep him unclothed. Gavin waited at the door, agitated. Ravius grabbed the rest of his gear, kissed the two girls with gusto, and then followed Gavin back out into the sun and snow.
o-----
“What's this about?” asked Ravius. The two Gladiators could sense the subtle undercurrents of power surrounding Sax; the Ogre was in full control of his magic and his weapons and armour were crackling with attuned runes. Sax now wore shining black armour that covered his full body like a second skin underneath his arena armour. When had he found the time to change into this garment? Even trusted master level Gladiators like Sax were rarely allowed full access to their power outside the arena. Few of them carried armour like that. Gavin felt a surge of excitement: he had always known there was more to Sax.
“There has been an incident nearby.” said Cleothera. Her tone was filled with icy determination. “We are going to investigate. Through some turn of fate, I am the nearest and most-senior representative of The Deliberative in the area. I expect trouble. Perhaps more of those possessed people that attacked us last year. Master Sax will be operating at full capability, scouting. You two will be in reserve initially. You will be able to use your runes and minor spells. This will change if I need you to fight. If I unleash you, take down anyone who threatens us. Do not hesitate to use lethal force if you feel you need to.”
“What's going on Cleo?” said Ravius. The skirmisher was deadly serious now. He unconsciously checked his gear with his hands, as if getting ready for a match.
“A Grey-Robe has been killed,” she said. “You now know as much as I do, and more than you should. Are you boys up for this? It might be dangerous and I can bind you to the inn if you want to stay.”
“Wait...,” said Gavin. “Did you say this might involve more of those possessed people we were attacked by in Chosen Mordhawk's Domain? I thought that they cleared that up.”
“There's a rumour goin' round,” growled Sax, “that you can't take everything people say as absolute truth.”
“Right,” said Gavin. “Sorry.”
“Enough,” said Cleothera. “I can't force you two on this. I would really like to have you both with me though. I expect problems. Are you in?”
Ravius did not need to look at Gavin to read his eagerness. He could also see that Cleothera was nervous. She desperately wanted their support. “We're in,” he said.
o-----
The four of them trudged into the wilderness on foot. The late winter drifts were no real obstacle to the Gladiators. Sax ranged ahead, using a wind-walk spell to move across the snow without even disturbing the surface The grizzled master's magic was so subtle that the others could barely sense his channelling. He was alert and calm, and he kept his mind free of worry and any thoughts unrelated to his task. In the back of his mind he felt the simple joy of being out under the clear blue sky among the evergreens. Countess, his blade, felt alive on his back, eager to be unsheathed. He was a hunter, and the enemies of the Domains were his prey.
Cleothera scanned
the area for thought patterns. It was a simple form of detection that might catch something that Sax missed. She tried to ignore the lump in her stomach. Normally any disturbance would fall under purview of the local Chosen, or a Sheriff in the case of a free territory. The Deliberative was usually only called in for crimes involving the Gifted, and then usually after the incident was under control. The Deliberative had no combat capabilities; she had been told that in training. Of course the mere presence of a Blackcloak ranging ahead of her showed the truth of that statement. What were they getting into?
The message she had received was cryptic, and specifically warned against bringing other members of the order. An Officer named Erbly Norax had sent out a distress signal and then vanished from The Deliberative link. That only happened when someone died. She was not used to operating in the field, not really trained for combat. She could shut down a gifted with no difficulty; anyone in the order could do that. But a wolf pack, or a troll, or more of those dead eyed men and women clawing at her... she wondered if they were walking into a trap. Her heart beat hard in her chest.
Ravius could sense Cleothera's distress. He stopped for a moment and caught her eye. “Relax, little sister,” he sent through the link they were using to communicate silently. “They would not have sent you if they did not think you were up to the task.”
Domains of the Chosen 02 Bloodlust: Will to Power Page 10
