Doom and the Warrior

by Lexy Wolfe

  The sorcerer ignored Doom. He shut the pen, then fixed hard, dark eyes on the gromek. “Remember this, Gromek. She will suffer for any of your disobedience. As much as you will suffer for hers.”

  “Tiwaz will be my vengeance. I will be your doom,” he growled. “I promise you.”

  The man smirked. “My doom? Arrogant child. Don’t make promises you cannot keep. But that suits you for a name. A reminder of your shame and the futility of defiance. ‘Doom.’” Unknowingly giving the gromek the moniker he had chosen for himself, Alimar’s mocking laughter filled the hold as he headed back to the upper deck.

  Doom bared his teeth, growling deep in his chest. Once the sorcerer was gone, he turned his attention to Tiwaz. He patted her cheeks with care, trying to wake her while avoiding scratching her with his nails. He looked at her arms while examining her for injuries. Seamless metal shackles encased her wrists, gleaming golden but harder than the iron bars. Blood streaked her arms, oozing from beneath them.

  “Tiwaz,” he said with urgency when her eyes finally opened. Weakly, she pushed herself up, her back to the gromek, ignoring his repeated calls. As she held her hands up, looking at the golden shackles, he asked, “Tiwaz, what did he do to you?” Her answer was a wordless scream filled with burning anger and fathomless grief. Doom grabbed her and pulled her close, holding her as she sobbed inconsolably.

  AN OSTENTATIOUSLY DECORATED carriage lead a long line of wagons filled with cages concealed within crates. They wound their way up from the docks of the Western Empire’s capitol of Golden Mount to the sprawling estate of Shurakh Arln. What the high walls of black stone did not conceal, massive looming trees did. Workers carefully unloaded a large crate in the middle of the private gladiatorial arena on the property. Two men approached Alimar, glancing at it.

  “Why do you need me here, Master Alimar?” the burly woodsman asked, irritation blunting his words. He crossed his arms. “My duties to you are clear. I hunt. I capture beasts for your private events. I have nothing to do with them once they come to your arena.” He waved a hand at the crate as slaves worked to dismantle it. “Zuneer is the one that trains them for the arena. Whatever you brought back is his responsibility to train.”

  Zuneer snorted. “There is no training wild animals, Urbin. The most I do is assess their temperaments to prepare my gladiators so they live long enough to make it worth the while of Master Alimar’s guests.” Both men stared as servants removed the panels to reveal the pair of children. “What the hell…?”

  Alimar, having patiently let the two men quibble, stated, “I want you to train them.”

  “Train them?” Urbin exclaimed. “They are babies! Barely old enough to—”

  “Did I indicate you had a choice?” Alimar questioned, his voice chill. The men fell silent, averting their eyes. “You stated repeatedly the specimens I brought before were too old and set in their ways. Young mature quickly in the Southern Wildlands by necessity. They may be perhaps seven years of age, but I assure you, they are quite clever.

  “Their youth should make them malleable enough to allow you to train them to serve me properly.” He pointed at Doom. “The gromek is to be trained in your arts, Urbin. Once he is grown, I expect him to be capable of handling the larger beasts that daunt you.” He added, “Include healing in his instruction. His other responsibility is ensuring she remains mended. You have seven years to make him productive.”

  “What am I supposed to do with her?” Zuneer demanded, hands on his hips. “It takes me years to develop an adult into a passable gladiator, and that is if they want to be a gladiator from the start.”

  “I will allow you five years to see to it she is turned into the best fighter alive.”

  “Five? Even seven is barely enough, but five is too little!” Zuneer crossed his arms. “I have my limitations, no matter what you threaten me with, Alimar. Why only five for this one?”

  The sorcerer looked at the girl glaring up at him. “I intend to use her to attend to my failed experiments as well as serve as my bodyguard when I go out once she is matured.” He smirked. “So make certain she is good enough not to deface herself too much. The paradox of deadly beauty is an effective distraction when dealing with my other business associates. According to those who tended the slave cages on the ship, they will answer to Tiwaz and Doom. Those names amuse me.”

  Zuneer and Urbin traded troubled looks, then nodded, stating in unison, “Yes, Master Alimar.” Each man took their new charges by the arm, starting to lead them away in different directions. The youthful pair grabbed each other’s hands and held fast to one another. No matter what the men did or threatened to do, the pair abjectly refused to be parted.

  Alimar smirked at the show of defiance to him and loyalty to each other. “House them together. Use their loyalty to each other to enforce their obedience.” He looked over his shoulder at Zuneer. “And do not break the girl. I reserve that challenge for myself.” The sorcerer turned and strode out, leaving the children to their trainers.

  Urbin and Zuneer regarded the pair, crossing their arms to stare at the children who, once released, linked their arms and sat on the sands. “I’m open to suggestions,” Urbin stated after a drawn out silence. “I don’t even have children of my own, much less know how to deal with…that.”

  Zuneer considered the two. Finally, he crouched down to be more on eye level with them. “We won’t lie to either of you. You are not safe here. Once Alimar owns you, there is always the risk of punishment. Even when you have not done anything to warrant it.” He reached into a pouch and pulled out a piece of jerky. Doom snatched it out of his hand, sniffed it, then tore it in half, offering part to Tiwaz. She looked away, refusing it despite her stomach’s loud growling.

  “You need to eat,” Doom murmured. “This is safe enough.” She shook her head, remaining silent. “Tiwaz, I don’t care if I’m beaten for anything you do or don’t do, but you must eat to be strong. I do not want you hurt because I could not convince you to eat.” After some time, the girl took the offering, eating it with the tiniest of bites.

  Zuneer watched the interaction with sharp eyes. “Ahh. I see how it is,” he muttered. He looked at his counterpart. “Suppose the first thing to do is get them penned. I know just the place to keep them. Be easier for you to avoid the rest of my business.” At the other’s quizzical expression, he explained, “The beast stalls along the outer wall of the arena. You frequent them already and it’s away from my lot.”

  Urbin grunted. “Surprised you don’t want to toss her in with the rest of your gladiators.”

  The man snorted derisively. “Half of those numbwits don’t have enough brains left and Alimar does not give them enough females to sate them. Sure way to break her spirit is letting them louts get on her before she can defend herself.”

  The woodsman studied the girl. “Given the look in her eyes, at least two or three will lose their nads before they’d learn once she is trained.”

  Zuneer shook his head, amused at the observation. “No doubt. Besides, the beast stalls are bigger. If the gromek grows to even a fraction of a size Alimar’s told me about his kind, he’ll need the space.”

  “Fair enough.” Urbin took Tiwaz by her free arm and pulled her after him. Doom growled, dragging along as he held onto the girl while digging in his heels. “Lead the way.” Zuneer nodded, letting the woodsman handle the pair. He picked up one of the torches as they entered the arena’s main structure and pulled open a heavy door that led into darkness.

  The newly lit torch illuminated the corridor. Heavy doors and ceiling-to-floor bars lined the wall opposing the arena. Zuneer stopped where the bars met a half wall. He opened the solid wood door, letting Urbin shove the pair inside. The thump of the door closing echoed ominously.

  The arena master went to the wall, lighting the wall torch across from the pen. “There. I have an extra key for this stall in my apartment upstairs. We need to discuss how to work this.” Urbin looked at the two youngsters with a frown. �
�I have northwatch mead. Won’t wash the taste of what Alimar wants from our mouths, but it’ll help.” The other man looked up with a grateful expression and followed him, leaving the pair alone.

  Doom prowled the space they found themselves. Save for the door and bars on the outer wall, it was nothing but smooth, bare stone from floor to ceiling. Once done with his search for any possible exit, Doom looked back over at Tiwaz. The girl huddled in the darkest corner. She hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face in her arms.

  Crouching in front of her, the gromek put his hand on her arm. “You cannot give up now. You must stay strong and fierce.”

  “I do not know how.” Her muffled voice sounded small and frightened.

  Doom looked down for a time. Raising his eyes again, he stated, “I don’t, either. I just know we must.” He looked towards the door. “They want to teach us things. If we do what they want, they won’t hurt us as much.” He took her hand in his. “I will be strong for you. You be strong for me. One day, we will be free. I promise you.” She nodded, leaning against him as he sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.

  URBIN LOOKED AROUND as he moved through the dense forest, then beckoned to the figure behind him, gesturing towards a solitary buck. Without rustling a single leaf, Doom joined his trainer. Dressed in dark leathers to blend into the shadows, he loomed over the human by a good foot. The recurve bow creaked softly as the gromek drew back, releasing after several heartbeats.

  The arrow, longer than the average human walking cane, flew through the air towards the buck but only grazed its chest. The alarmed animal fled with a crash through the brush.

  Doom sighed, lowering the weapon and closing his eyes. “Forgive me, Urbin.”

  Urbin squinted up at him. “In the ten years I’ve known you, I have never seen you this distracted.” Doom remained silent, looking away in shame. “You worry about Tiwaz. Don’t blame you. Alimar’s death matches are brutal.” He patted the gromek’s back just below the shoulder blades. “Take heart. She’s never lost a fight yet.”

  “It isn’t that. He uses spells to force her to kill her friends. She’s withdrawn from nearly everyone but me, but he always finds out who she cares about among the other gladiators” With a frustrated growl, he punched the side of the tree, making the elder oak tremble. Loose leaves fluttered to the ground. “Why does Master have such a fascination with her? Everyone says he becomes bored within five years of a new acquisition. It has been twice that. I know.” Yellow eyes turned to the human. “You taught me numbers.”

  Urbin grunted at that, resettling his backpack as they walked. “I taught you more than Alimar wanted you to know. He does not want his slaves too educated. Gives them ideas, he says. Makes them discontent.”

  Doom put his massive hand on Urbin’s shoulder, careful not to squeeze too hard. “You know Tiwaz and I have never been ‘content’ here. Knowledge does not make it any better or worse.”

  “Just don’t let Alimar find out, lad. It’d just be my head, but it’d be worse for you.” Urbin shook his head. “And Tiwaz. The only reason I can figure he is so fascinated with her is she intrigues him. Defiant but obedient. Brazen but docile. He wants to break her spirit but she yields when he expects her to break.”

  Doom growled, his face flushed darker green with shame. “If he wanted to break her, he could just kill me.”

  “If breaking her was the only thing he wanted, you’d’ve been dead long before now. No, he enjoys toying with her.” Urbin shook his head as they reached camp. “Alimar is a twisted, evil bastard. The longer the torture, the more it pleases him. And as long as this has been going on…” He shook his head in dejection. “Zuneer is both proud and despairing. She is his finest gladiator. The best in the Western Empire. A damned legend. And he wishes she would lose so she could be free.”

  Yellow eyes narrowed. “You think it would be better if she were dead?”

  Urbin shook his head. “Once Alimar owns you, only death will free you. And that only once tormenting your soul after death stops amusing him.”

  Doom frowned. He raised one arm to examine the seamless, matte black shackle on his wrist, then looked at his trainer’s bare wrists. “You are not a slave. Why do you stay?”

  The man exhaled noisily, looking away in shame. “I am not a slave according to the Western Empire’s laws, but every one of us who serves Alimar is enslaved. If I were to try to leave his service?” He shook his head. “I would not be the only one to suffer his wrath. Any Alimar thought sided with me, anyone related to me by blood or law, would suffer the most torturous deaths. And I cannot bring myself to kill myself.”

  “And this emperor of the Western Empire allows this cruelty?” Doom demanded in disgust. “I thought he was supposed to be this great and kind ruler.”

  Urbin snorted. “Alimar is careful not to cross the lines that would draw the Sphinx Emperor’s attention. Alimar is as powerful as he is evil. So long as his evils stay within Shurakh Arln, considered sovereign on this island, he is left alone.” He looked up at Doom, sadness in his eyes. “It is why he tends to hunt within the Southern Wildlands for most of his slave acquisitions. Few of the reputable slave houses wish to be involved with him.”

  “Why?” the gromek wondered. “It doesn’t make sense, if they are selling slaves why they would care.”

  “Slavery out there is not what it is with Alimar,” Urbin stated as he arranged firewood in the stone ring and dug out his flint and steel. “Some prefer to call it ‘indentured servitude’ because slavery is an ugly term from the reign of the high elves. But there’s no sense in calling it anything other than what it is.”

  Doom sat on the broad rock, unstringing his bow and setting it on his rolled up sleeping gear beside his quarterstaff. “What is it like out there, Urbin? Slavery, I mean.” He looked at his shackles. “I have been Master’s slave longer than I had been free but I remember gromeks never had slaves.”

  “Well, there are two types in general. Criminals and debtors.”

  “What is a debtor?”

  Urbin chuckled. “Someone who owes someone else money. When they end up owing more than they could possibly repay, they get sent to the slave house to have their debts paid. In turn, the slave house will sell their contract to recoup what they paid and some profit. Once the contract is complete, they are free. Criminals often serve their terms through similar contracts. Unless they’re considered too unreliable or dangerous, then they’re either imprisoned or executed. If the contract extends to their descendants, the slave houses are required to ensure those descendants can survive as freemen.”

  Doom rubbed at the shackle on his wrist. “I envy them. Tiwaz doesn’t even remember what freedom was like. She never asks me about my life before Alimar came.” He clenched his fists, squeezing his eyes shut. “I promised her we would be free one day. But I do not know if that day will ever happen.”

  The man stared at the flames as they grew to envelop the logs in a soothing, warm glow. “Don’t give up hope, lad,” Urbin said in a gruff, quiet voice. “And don’t look to the likes of me to be your example. I am just your trainer, nothing more than that.” In the following silence, he looked up at Doom’s profile. “You’ll be there for her. We’ll be back well before the games Alimar has scheduled, I promise you.” The gromek nodded, clenching and opening his fists in agitation.

  VOICE RAISED IN a resonant battle cry, Tiwaz stepped between the crazed, misshapen beast and Alimar, shoving it back towards the open space. She lunged with a downward swing at it, catching its leg as it tried to dodge her. The beast lumbered after, roaring its rage.

  Alimar stood by his workbench, arms crossed as he watched the battle without emotion. A disembodied voice whispered. Do not keep putting me off, human. We have an agreement. Give her to me.

  The sorcerer looked towards the mirror hanging near him on the wall. Within its black depths, the face of a true demon appeared. Heavy horns spiraled until the points aligned with his squared chin. His heav
y brow lowered over eyes glowing like hot embers in displeasure. “Our contract detailed many things, but it did not include you specifying exactly who I tithed to you. The agreement about her, which exists only as a favor to you, was until I broke her spirit, Kragen, not before then. She is particularly resilient.”

  The demon snarled, eyes flashed briefly. Do not think I do not know what you are doing. You deliberately use ineffective means of breaking her to delay my possession. Your other offerings have been inadequate to my desires.

  Alimar dismissed the demon with a casual wave. “I cannot help if you do not appreciate what I have provided you to sate your hunger.” He frowned when several jars crashed to the floor when the maddened beast shoved Tiwaz against a set of shelves. “Careful! Those substances are valuable!” She nodded once, panting as she focused on the creature. The sorcerer returned to his conversation. “She is useful to me and she is unbroken. You will get her when she is neither.”

  Have you forgotten I gave you everything that made you what you are? Do not think that it cannot be taken away just as easily. Alimar smirked at the demon. You have been warned, human. Give her to me.

  “And what will you do if I do not, Kragen? You cannot come into this world unless called, and I need not call you. I have made certain to adhere to every detail of our contract, so you cannot raise a finger against me without breaking it yourself. And I have ensured I am the only one who knows your name, so you cannot even use someone else against me because none can call you.” He laughed. “No one but I knows you even exist!”

  Alimar flicked at the glass in the mirror. The demon scowled at the blatant display of insult. “I know your limits, Kragen. No matter your impatience, so long as I follow our contract to the letter, you can do naught to me. There is nothing that allows you to demand specific individuals be tithed to you.”