Bloodlust: A Gladiator's Tale

by C. P. D. Harris

  "I want you Gavin," she said as they pulled apart, not wanting to leave any room for him to misinterpret. The language of her body echoed her words. "I could take you right here in this bed of roses and make you mine, but I believe I will opt for a Gladiator's courtship."

  "You're a Gladiatrix?" he said, his words sounded foolish to him as soon as they left his mouth; of course she was a fighter. He had been so busy staring into her eyes and drinking in the curves of her body to notice the tell-tale breadth of shoulder, lithe strength, and feline grace that marked her as a Gifted and a fighter.

  Sadira laughed, a bright and lively sound. From anyone else his words would have been a mortal insult to her warlike dignity, a challenge to be answered, but she truly enjoyed the fact that this man was drunk on her womanly charms. She would thrill him with her martial skills soon enough. "I am. Let me prove it to you, in the arena, like the romances of old."

  He knew the tales of which she spoke; old legends about two Gladiators meeting in the ring and realizing that they were in love. The stories were sometimes tragic, sometimes mythic, but always very romantic. He had always thought those old tales were silly. how strange that he suddenly seemed to find himself living one. It was like someone had written him into a strange romance, hopefully not a tragedy. He wondered if he were dreaming.

  "You want me to fight you?" he said.

  "I want you to fight me with everything you've got," she said. "I am very good, and I take pride in my skills; I will know if you hold back Gavin Orphanus."

  "You are so very strange, Sadira Lacivia," he said, shaking his head and smiling as her eyes glinted a little. He wondered if this was some kind of ruse; it seemed too good to be true. And yet he felt a deep attraction to her, something primal; what did he have to lose? After a moment’s thought, he laughed and put his arm around her, thinking that he would remember this moment for a long time. "I will do this for you, if it is what you want. I guess it is convenient as well; I need to fight another Gladiator for my ranking match."

  "Good: I will give you the fight of your life Gavin Orphanus!" she said, kissing him again. "I mean what I say as well; don't disappoint me by playing the gallant and letting me win. I am a Gladiatrix above all things, and I will not abide an insult to my honour."

  "I'll do my best Sadira Lacivia, I swear this to you." He meant it; Gavin was protective by nature and his trainers had spent a great deal of effort when he was young pushing him to overcome his innate resistance to the idea of hitting women. In the end it had taken a long, humiliating lecture by a teacher, Mistress Firetongue, in front of all his female peers on how it was disrespectful to a Gladiatrix to treat her "gently" in the ring. It had been a harsh lesson for young Gavin. His reverie was broken by another kiss, which lingered.

  "In truth this is strange for me as well, Gavin; I have never felt this way about anyone," Sadira said after their lips parted, almost panting with the effort of will that she needed to pull away from him. "Nor did I ever expect to… I want to make this special; we will see how it plays out in the arena; I don't expect you to win Gavin, but I do expect you to be impressive. Don't disappoint me."

  -----o

  The long awaited match took place a month after the Gladiator and Gladiatrix first met.

  In that time Sadira made sure Gavin encountered her frequently, but they never exchanged more than a few words or a quick kiss; for her part the Gladiatrix enjoyed her theatrical flirtation with youthful playfulness. She was so perfectly confident that her growing bond with her young paramour could not be broken that she did not worry about other women, or that her love would find her too cruel. Sadira was already greatly feared among her feminine peers, for her deadly skill and relentless determination more than matched her peerless charms, and she was always hungry to show her superiority over her competitors, both in and out of the arena. She never once considered that her little affair might turn sour; she was simply too confident for such thoughts. Her eagerness and anticipation for the upcoming fight grew with each passing day.

  Gavin, on the other hand, was wracked by worrisome thoughts. He could not divine the reasons for Sadira's behaviour. There were days when he was sure that she was cruelly setting him up for some form of epic humiliation, but each time he saw her his fear turned to fire as he read the promise in her luscious eyes. He constantly bombarded Ravius and Omodo with questions about his situation, until even the smiling, woman-wise, skirmisher was at a loss for words. He all but forgot his execution of the noble Heretic, Olek Agvarson, which had troubled him so greatly for the last few months.

  Each passing day seemed like a pain filled eternity to him. His neighbours in the south residence building, noting the dark circles under his eyes and sad expression, gossiped about him. His only solace was in his relentless training schedule, and he pushed himself to the limit at every opportunity, using physical exhaustion to salve his mental anguish.

  Ravius and Omodo found Gavin's company somewhat difficult to bear during this period, but like any good friends they put up with his sighs and sadness, usually with the help of as much liquor and humour as they could muster. Ravius also made sure that Gavin spent his Victory Coins to buy some runic enhancements for his shield and armour. From what he had been able to learn about his mysterious Gladiatrix over the month, he was sure that Gavin would need every edge he could get. She had an impressive following for someone so early in her career.

  Master Ironwall was confused and worried by Gavin's sudden depression, at least until his perceptive wife Mishka suggested that Gavin must be in love. After that the old dwarf trained his prized student even harder than before; seeing it as a good way to help the lad take his mind of his troubles. Gavin's skills improved.

  One of the few events that Gavin did attend was Omodo's ranking match; he enjoyed watching the heavy-armoured Armodon battle a fierce, axe wielding Orc Gladiatrix. Gavin was surprised that the fight did not attract a large crowd, only fifty people. Which was a rather small crowd for any fight that pit two Gladiators against each other, even unranked fighters. He knew that the more bestial Gladiators, Armodons among them, often have trouble attracting an audience early in their careers, and he was sad to see it was true, even in cosmopolitan Krass. Omodo did not seem to mind the small crowd, however and Gavin and Ravius made sure to fire up the audience in support of their friend. They celebrated long into the night afterwards; Gavin was happy to have his mind off the beguiling Sadira Lacivia for even a little while.

  -----o

  On the day of the match Sadira Lacivia went forth, flanked by her two trusted companions Karmal and Vintia, weapons in hand, to see to her final preparations. She was not subtle; she wanted to be seen as she made her way to the arena. In her mind this was a prelude to a great triumph; she had come to see the upcoming match as the consummation of something sacred, almost like another person might see a marriage. She had ordered a special black veil and gems to decorate her scanty black and gold armour, using money saved from her stipend and tips from her fans; standard coin could not be spent on anything that she could use in the arena and so she felt no guilt in spending a small fortune on these things. Her beauty, ferocity, and skill had attracted many ardent supporters already, and thus she had more to spend than most of her peers.

  Gavin wrestled with his emotions all day.

  Sadira was already adept at using magical charms and glamour to enhance her appearance; something that most Gifted women take an interest in long before the majority of their male counterparts. She spent an hour a day after she first met Gavin working on the perfect combination of Glamours to enchant herself with for this occasion. Style was second nature to her; she took her secondary role as a performer quite seriously. Her thick dark hair was set into a dozen long war-braids, each a tempting lure for an opponent to grab. The braids worked quite well with the black veil, she thought, glad that she could use Glamour to erect the complicated hairstyle in mere moments.

  Sadira was a light armoured Gladiatrix, a class that sa
crifices all but a little protection for mobility and style. Arena regulations prohibit fighters of this armour class from covering more than a third of their body with armour, which also cannot weigh more than a sixth of their body weight. Light Gladiators are crowd favourites, seen as more mobile and dynamic than heavier armour classes.

  Sadira's armour was made of overlapping plates of shining black metal, with gilded gold edging. It was an unusual design, one she had researched herself as a young Gladiatrix and had made for her own use as soon as it was allowed. Small etchings of scorpions, gold like the edging, could be found on the bracers and shoulder pads. Sadira loved scorpions, having fond memories of keeping them as pets when she lived with her family as a young girl. The armour left her torso and upper legs bare, tempting targets for anyone she faced. Her skimpy red cloth thong and bra offered no protection whatsoever aside from the small gold ring holding each together. These were designed both to tease the crowd and ensure that her enemies aimed at her temptingly unarmoured vitals. Most of her opponents simply assumed that she did this to show off her voluptuous body for the arena crowds, but they quickly learned that this was at least partially incorrect.

  The plates of her armour covered the front of her legs below her thighs, ending in heavy boots with spiked toes that could turn her powerful kicks into a brutal weapon; long bracers provided some elbow protection and a thicker metal ridge along the centre so that she could attempt to parry with them. Impressive shoulder plates with stylized scorpions embossed into the metal, flowed into a choker-styled gorget that protected her throat.

  Aside from the obvious sex-appeal, Sadira felt that armour on the trunk of her body would be wasted; a light Gladiator is allowed too little protection there to be of reliable use against an attack that hits a vital area with the kind of force a Gladiator hits with. Thus she concentrated on protecting her arms, legs, neck, and shoulders with much heavier plates than she would normally be allowed. Her strategy was to protect her outer body and limbs from easy crippling attacks and random glancing hits, and to offer her torso as a tempting target to attackers. Her main defence as a light armour-class fighter was ensuring they never hit her. In addition, by pivoting, she could ensure that her more armoured areas were always facing the direction of a likely attack, offering a greater degree of protection than most light armour as long as she was quicker and smarter than her opponent and able to anticipate the direction of attack. Her strategy was not without its weaknesses, of course, and the style often sparked debate among many fans of the Great Games who came to watch her.

  Her weapons were elegant twin sabres, made in the "s" curved style of the pre-Reckoning Elves of the Eastern Isles, forged from the same obsidian coloured metal as her armour. Their slim curved blades were weighted slightly toward the end and tapered to a lethal point making them suitable for both rapid thrusts and deadly slashes. Elegant half basket hilts provided her hands with a little added protection.

  When the appointed time came for her to appear at the arena she was fevered with anticipation and ripe with desire for battle and also for what would come afterwards if Gavin did not fail her.

  Gavin, on the other hand, still confused by this very strange series of events, which coincided with his promotion match to the first rank, an event which makes most young Gladiators nervous, was feeling decidedly ill as Ravius and Omodo escorted him to the arena.

  -----o

  Gladiator versus Gladiator matches are much rarer than battles against monsters and convicts, and consequently likely to draw larger audiences. The arena masters carefully measure the popularity of each combatant and make sure the most exciting Gladiator enters last, to the greatest effect. Gavin stood in the centre of the arena; it was much bigger than most of the other arenas in the Pits, one of three above ground arenas used by the unranked Gladiators of the Campus Martius; he was a little awed by the size of the crowd. More than five hundred men and women were packed onto the stone benches. He could not see into the opulent private boxes, but he could sense that they were fully occupied as well. He smirked, thinking to himself that they must be here to see Sadira. He'd researched her previous battles, each one ambitious and spectacular, and found himself even more impressed. He couldn't blame the crowd; he would gladly give up precious time just to watch her walk or listen to her voice, let alone enjoy the great honour of meeting her in the arena.

  In Gladiator versus Gladiator matches, the least popular fighter enters first or starts on the fighting grounds. He raised his fell-headed war-spear to salute the crowd as his name was announced, garnering some polite applause in spite of the lack of flourish. He squared his shoulders, trying to seem more impressive; he needed to show he was worthy.

  Sadira watched Gavin as he walked in, shielded from his sight by the deep shadows of her own entrance-way. She felt a slight thrill of nervousness as her lover-to-be stepped into the sun, which made her smile. He looked magnificent as the light shone on the silver-white lion on his breastplate and shield, like a storybook hero come to life. The sapphire eyes were a nice touch, and she idly wondered if she could get gems that matched his and find some place for them in her own ensemble. His austere, chiseled features seemed more beautiful to her than those of any other man. She looked forward to teaching him how to use his looks to good effect. While she did feel a slight pang of guilt in her heart as she read in his face how deeply he was hurting; at the same time she felt a thrill of cruel joy, for that was also a part of her nature. She would more than make it up to him after she beat him, the anticipation of which coursed through her like fire.

  If, at that point, anyone had suggested to the deadly Gladiatrix Sadira Lacivia that Gavin might beat her she would have laughed dismissively. In truth she did not think she would mind losing to him; it would certainly prove his worth to her, but she truly doubted if any of her peers could match her in battle.

  The trumpet sounded as Sadira's entrance gate opened. At the announcement of her name the audience exploded into loud, raucous cheers. She purposefully did not look at Gavin as she slowly crossed the fighting grounds, swinging her hips coquettishly as she walked past him. She loved the way his eyes feasted on her, hungrier even than the lusty arena spectators. She let out a wordless war-scream, like a hawk's piercing cry crossed with a banshee's dread wail, as she came to the arena's centre, raising her slim and elegant obsidian swords, their curved blades shining in the sun, to salute her fans. They answered her with cheers.

  Gavin's heart skipped a beat as Sadira turned to face him. Her face was partially hidden by a veil, but he could see her crimson lips set in a half-mocking smile. Forgetting himself for a moment, he let his spear droop low to the ground as his eyes drank her beauty, He found himself aroused by her shapely body, so brazenly displayed, and entranced by the challenging look she gave him. She seemed even more intoxicating than last time he had seen her, like a bright and terrible goddess of bloodlust and love made manifest and sent forth to test him. Confused thoughts collided with rampaging passions in his mind. Did she always wear a veil when she fought? Why were they fighting? How could he get out of this...? It was beyond his understanding. He stood there, struck stupid by the strangeness of it all.

  "Better keep that spear erect if you hope to come through this intact, my love!" She laughed as his eyes widened at her jest. She had often used her beauty to tease and dazzle male opponents, showing them to be foolish and weak, easy prey for a Gladiatrix of her calibre. Yet in Gavin she found the same reaction somehow endearing, and she felt thrilled to the very core of her being.

  The trumpet rang out again, calling them to fight.

  They stared at each other, reliving their intense connection as their eyes met across the white sand of the fighting grounds. Normally Gladiators taunted each other, or engaged in signs of respect as they waited, but rarely did they simply stand there staring at each other, smiling. The audience could almost sense what was happening with the two young Gladiators, and a hush fell over them. They too became caught up in this
theatrical affair, a Gladiator's romance sprung from the old tales they had grown up on.

  Cheerful Ravius, hulking Omodo, and Sadira's confidants, flame haired Karmal and bright eyed Vintia, sitting in the stands, were the only ones not taken in by the drama. They already knew this match was infused with an element of courtship, and they laughed to themselves at the drama unfolding in front of them.

  In the most luxurious of the private boxes, a woman's sly red lips curled into a smile. The Chosen Giselle, called The Silken Scorpion in her days as a fighter, read the scene as if it were a familiar act in a well-loved play. It was not what she'd expected; she was here to watch Sadira, partly because she still loved the Great Games, but also because she hoped to gain influence by supporting the best fighters she could find. The shadow-elf Gladiatrix was already showing great potential and Giselle wanted to see her perform. Nestled amidst rich tapestries and soft cushions, a hook-toothed net and life-eating trident lying within arm’s reach, she shook her head at the youthful antics of her Gladiatrix; at least she would be entertained today.

  Neither Sadira nor Gavin moved until a heartbeat after the trumpet's roar died, Time seemed to flow lazily for them as they looked on each other.

  Sadira; lightly armoured and viciously aggressive, was the first to act. As she moved forward she channelled power, weaving a spell with her Druidic magic that sent a powerful, primal surge of vital energy into her limbs. She felt her muscles strengthen as she bounded toward her opponent, faster than a horse could gallop.

  Gavin, impressed by her speed, raised his shield and planted his spear to receive her charge, trying to measure her speed and anticipate her attack. His mind was in the fight now; he would meet her on his own terms.

  The Gladiatrix leapt, shouting in joy, bringing her black blades down toward her soon to be lover's head. Gavin braced himself for impact, his grip on his spear tightening. As he thrust his shield upwards to meet her swords, Sadira nimbly contorted to avoid his spear's jagged tip. Her twin blades slammed into Gavin's shield with the force of a runaway stallion, sending sparks into the air as metal screeched off metal, driving him to his knees in front of her.