Bloodlust: A Gladiator's Tale

by C. P. D. Harris

  "Yes, I too am quite curious about what moves our deadly Shadow-Elf is going to add to her repertoire," Ravius chimed in, returning to their table with a tray laden with drinks and sweets. "I'd like to hear about everyone's training plans, in truth."

  "I'm set on War-dancer next. It suits my fighting style," Sadira answered "The only problem is finding a trainer. I've only been able to locate two who are actively taking students, and those are far south of here and far north of here. If I can't make that, I can finish Linebreaker or Sun and Moon. The techniques they both teach should help me out on defence; I do tend to dive into groups of monsters an awful lot these days."

  Karmal and Ravius chuckled.

  "I think it is a good second option," Vintia said, looking at Sadira earnestly, her bright eyes lighting up at the chance to share her knowledge. "The final level of Linebreaker training also teaches you techniques for breaking up formations and moving into groups of enemies so that they get tripped up against their own allies. It's pretty damn useful, though I still wish I'd learned Bulwark first. What about you Ravius?"

  "I'll be finishing the last level of Dirty Fighting, little sister." Ravius chuckled to himself. "It may be cliché for a skirmisher to master Dirty Fighting before anything else, but I cannot deny its effectiveness. You all saw that lovely little cheap-shot I landed in my last fight, yes? That ogre never saw it coming."

  They all nodded, Gavin and Omodo wincing a little as they relived the moment. Sadira and Karmal laughed at their expressions.

  "With Dirty Fighting I have learned to make the most of all the little opportunities my wonderful opponents gift me with." Ravius's grin broadened. "After all, wasting presents is unforgivable. I'd recommend the school to all of you; trickery is useful to any Gladiator, not just us skirmishers. We know Karmal is taking Pyromancy and Omodo is obviously training in Juggernaut. What about you Gavin?"

  "I've already started the basics of Seeking Spear," Gavin chimed in. "The special grip techniques they teach will allow me to take full advantage of my weapon's reach, even when I'm using it in one hand."

  "Oh that sounds useful. Maybe I should try that next. How do they do it?" Ravius leaned forward in sudden interest. Gavin explained what he knew so far.

  They talked the rest of the night away, as Gladiators, discussing their future training, drinking, laughing and eating in the comfortable tavern. In days to come they would all remember nights like these, time spent with friends talking of a brighter future, with great fondness.

  Chapter Thirteen: Valaran

  1142/04/07 AR, Camp Valorous

  "The greatest danger to the stability of the Domains is, without a doubt, the interaction between the Chosen and the Gladiators. We must keep the Chosen from gaining too much influence over those who might one day be their peers or we risk an unravelling of the Covenant. Yet we must also acknowledge that it is impossible for them to stay away from Gladiators; most of them began their careers in the arena. The only solution we have found is vigilance." Ordo Grevex, a speech given to Deliberative recruits.

  "Are you sure you're not upset about this, my love?" Sadira asked a final time, looking searchingly into Gavin's eyes, trying to read his reactions. She had made the match in the heat of the moment without consulting him and felt a small tingle of guilt.

  "Yes," he shrugged. He understood Sadira's competitive nature better than she thought. "I accept your reasons for wanting to help Vintia, and it's not a Deathmatch. Besides we both know you would be very unhappy if you passed up this fight; it is a rare opportunity. I don't want our love to stand in the way of your destiny."

  "Let's not start calling my career destiny, just yet," she sighed, "I wish it was you at my side Gavin; I am invincible with you beside me, but the challenge was made specifically against two female Gladiators. With Karmal off training, Vintia and I were the best options."

  "I know," he responded, "I'm not worried at all; you train with Vintia every day; you two make a good team. I'm surprised the Arena Master allowed this kind of match though."

  "Druth only has so much say." she said, frowning. "This is a cock-fight between bigger players, I'm sure. I can sense the hands of the chosen at work. It was originally meant to be a Deathmatch, I heard."

  "That I would have objected to," he said quietly.

  "Are you saying you think some Blue fighter could take me down?" she questioned, mock-seriously.

  "Anything is possible in the arena," he shrugged. "You know as well as I do that sometimes the best fighter still loses."

  "I'm not afraid of death, my love," she said, plainly. "I would have talked to you if it was a Deathmatch, don't worry. I might even have allowed myself to be swayed by your objections, I think. But I am glad I get to fight, we don't want the Reds to lose face by ignoring this challenge. Chosen Moltar himself is here to watch..."

  "Designs of the Chosen at work, indeed," Gavin frowned. Chosen Moltar was feared throughout the Domains. The monstrous, hulking ruler of grim Volcanus never seemed to remove his armour. His demonic black helm, sharp golden crown, and glowing red eye sockets were the only face by which the people knew him. Young Gavin's keepers in the orphanage had used tales of Moltar to frighten the children into behaving. "His presence is a bad omen. The Gladiatrices you are fighting are part of his entourage are they not?"

  "All the more reason to crush them!" Sadira's voice became hot with anger and her hands balled into fists. "These spoiled little toy-girls challenge us in our own arena, all in order to impress their patron."

  Gavin smirked as she said this. He was glad that Arena Master Druth and the Deliberative had stepped in to prevent Deathmatch challenges from being issued; he knew Sadira would have leapt at the chance and he was unsure that he could have held her back. He did not like the idea of his love risking her life, even though he didn't really think she would lose a fair fight. Despite heavy regulation, cheating was common enough in Deathmatches though; the incentive is just too high when one's life is on the line. Truth be told, he also did not want to watch Sadira kill another Gladiatrix; Bella was enough. He shook his head, trying to banish his thoughts as she continued discussing her soon-to-be opponents, growing more animated as she spoke, pacing like a caged war-cat.

  "I don't care how many Deathmatches these preening Blue Faction fighters have won," she said heatedly, waving her hand dismissively for emphasis. "'Vintia and I are going to teach them not to mess with us in our home Arena! We'll see how much Moltar likes them after we humiliate them on the fighting ground. They probably gained his favour by sucking his cock, anyways... hey what are you smiling at?"

  "I just love watching you when you get worked up..." He grinned, as one of her perfectly sculpted, eyebrows rose. "And you're more excited about this fight that you've been in a long time. I think it will be good for you."

  "You like watching me get angry?"

  "That's not exactly what I said..." he smiled

  "Oh, what did you mean to say?" she stalked toward him, playfully, mock-imperious.

  "I meant to say that your incomparable beauty is second only to your boundless passion, oh brutal goddess of the arena!"

  "Foolish man; you forgot to compliment my incomparable skills!" she responded with mock severity. He leaned forward to kiss her. She pounced, drawing him into a full embrace, pulling herself hard against him. "Mmmmm. Well my love, since you like watching me so much while I am excited, why don't I show you how passionate I am about other things...?"

  -----o

  After walking Sadira and Vintia to their arming room, Gavin made his way to join Ravius in the stands. Soldiers and townsfolk were filling the seats, talking excitedly; Challenge matches were very rare outside of sanctioned Faction arenas. A few fans recognized him and shook his hand, but he noticed that many others shied away from him, warily. He spotted Ravius sitting amid a group of rough, rowdy looking soldiers. The smiling skirmisher was sharing jokes with some soldiers, and they quickly moved aside to make room when he told them Gavin was his frie
nd. He thanked them politely before turning to Ravius.

  "Did I miss Omodo's fight?" he asked his friend, handing him a cold glass of ale and a bread-bowl filled with thick meaty stew that he'd purchased on his way.

  "I don't think he'll mind, little brother; we expected it, truth be told. I'm surprised you and Sadira aren't late to your own matches sometimes..." He grinned as Gavin snorted ale. "Besides he did very well in his outing."

  "Will he be joining us up here?" asked Gavin.

  "I don't think so." Ravius' broad smile faded a bit. "He's still a bit nervous around large crowds. I think he will watch the match from the Gladiator's section, once he gets out of the baths. He never misses one of our fights..."

  Gavin wondered if Ravius was trying to chide him for being late, but realized after a moment that his friend was more concerned with crowd-shy Omodo. They often talked about how to help the Armodon get over his discomfort with large groups of people, a potentially crippling flaw for any Gladiator. They lapsed into thoughtful silence.

  "Is that Moltar's private tent over there?" Gavin finally asked, pointing to a conspicuously large enclosure that loomed over the regular private boxes in the Camp Valorous arena, flanked by armed guards in grim-looking full battle armour. The pavilion was made from rich black fabric, lustrous gold, black iron, and fire-blackened wood. Dozens of black silk pennants flew over the huge stretch of material, each one emblazoned with a red eye over an armoured fist.

  "Yes. Don't you just love his heraldry?" joked Ravius. "I can really appreciate the subtle message it sends. I give thanks that I was not born in Volcanus every time I hear about Moltar."

  "Now, now Ravius, he is a Chosen; we must show him respect," reminded Gavin. His tone lacked conviction; most people saw Moltar as a monster who skirted the edge of the law, seeking to undermine the Covenant for his own purposes. "Besides he treats the Gifted in his Domain fairly nicely; look at the support he's giving his Gladiators today."

  "I'm uncomfortable with that; he has too much to gain from helping his favourites," Ravius shook his head. Gavin rarely saw him this serious. "He only respects Gifted who choose to become Gladiators. I met someone in the Campus who served as a Vassal in his Domain; I can't believe the things she went through. Apparently he hates those who choose the peaceful life more than he hates the ungifted. He'd enslave the rest of us if he could get away with it."

  "I hadn't heard that," said Gavin. "But, I don't find it hard to believe though. It seems that half of our laws and regulations have come about in response to his exploits. Have you heard about his new "religion"?"

  Ravius snorted. "You mean his claim that the Gift is divine and that the corruption caused by our current teachings is what is preventing the taint from the Reckoning from healing? What a joke..."

  "Yet, he still has strong support..." shrugged Gavin.

  "Truth, little brother," Ravius smiled. "Some people will always support a person who appears to be strong and bold, even if all they get in return is thinly veiled contempt. It is the dark side of the instinct to follow. I wonder how many of his true believers stop to think about how much of the destruction of the war of Reckoning he is personally responsible for."

  "Ha!" Gavin chuckled. "Well, people often ignore history; nothing new there. They have their own lives to lead. That man has been against the Domains in two attempted coups that I have read about. He's saved his hide both times by turning on his allies when things start to go badly. Yet every time he manages to rebuild his position and then convince others of the righteousness of whatever cause he comes up with." Gavin and Ravius were so engrossed in their conversation that they failed to notice the arrival of a newcomer, even as all the soldiers around them hushed and started.

  "Chosen Moltar is too complex for simple minds like yours to understand." The voice that interrupted them so suddenly was deep, sonorous, and filled with sneering condescension. "One cannot fault the ungifted masses when they finally overcome their natural blindness to recognize the truth of his power; some of them are smart enough to understand that their lot is to toil in the name of their betters. Which makes them much better than 'progressivist' Gifted who believe in equal rights despite the obviousness of their own superiority."

  The speaker was a huge, square jawed man who towered over the two Gladiators. The newcomer moved gracefully in spite of his muscular build and broad shoulders. Gavin was unsure of the man's race; he was big and built like an ogre, but his long golden hair, flawless tanned skin, and luminous pale blue-grey eyes were traits of both men and elves. It was obvious that the newcomer was a Gladiator of some sort; his heavy gold armour, edged with rich royal blue enamel was made for the arena. He also wore a long blue cape that loudly announced his Faction loyalties; not caring that he was surrounded by Red Faction fans.

  "I hope you don’t mind if we sit here," the newcomer said, sitting down next to Gavin, not waiting for a response. It was then that Gavin noticed the stranger was accompanied by two women, both naked save for a loincloth and a prominent golden choker. Both women were well-formed and their attire would have been arousing, save for the element of humiliation in its design and their downcast eyes and joyless expressions. They each took a seat on the man's knees, child-like in his massive arms. Not even the lewdest of the nearby drunken soldiers said a word; the newcomer's presence seemed to have cast a shadow over all of them.

  Ravius recovered before Gavin. "I'm Ravius Vergerus... who might you be, friend?" He offered his hand to the stranger with impeccable politeness.

  "I am Valaran diVolcanus," Gavin could hear the bones grind in Ravius's hand as the stranger shook it. He felt a small surge of pride when Ravius's smile did not falter. "No doubt you've heard of me."

  They had. Everyone had heard of Valaran diVolcanus; he was the current darling of the Blue Faction and the most prominent of Chosen Moltar's latest crop of proteges. Although he had only been in enough matches to achieve the fourth rank, every single one of his fights had been a Deathmatch against another Gladiator, each ending in the death of his opponent. The last fighter to manage such a feat in the arena was Evok the Fell-Handed nearly three-hundred years ago. Everyone who knew anything about the Great Games had heard of Valaran diVolcanus by now.

  Gavin's felt bile rise in his throat. Valaran casually groped the two women on his knees as he talked. Gavin could sense that the two women were Vassals, Gifted who chose the peaceful path. Surely the cruel way he was treating them was a violation of the law. Where was the Deliberative?

  "I'm here to watch Evoni and Marisu, Master Moltar's pupils." He spoke in a casual, off-handed manner, smiling mechanically, showing his perfect, even white teeth. "They are truly exquisite in battle, although I doubt few here could appreciate their skill. I hope whatever fodder you Reds have dug up is able to stay standing long enough to make this interesting."

  Gavin turned red. Ravius came to his rescue. "We've sent out two of our best, friend. I'm confident that you will be surprised by the outcome."

  "I doubt that! Fortunately I brought my own entertainment." His hand slipped under the skirt of one of his thralls. The girl giggled, but it sounded forced. Gavin was disgusted to the core of his being; he felt like an accomplice in a rape watching Valaran toy with his thrall. "It is unfortunate that we were not able to find anyone brave enough to engage them in a true death-match; their execution kills are quite impressive. I suppose we will have to settle for utter humiliation; I hope their victims aren't anyone you two are close to...?"

  "They are friends of ours I'm proud to say, " suggested Ravius. "Perhaps you'd like to place a wager on the outcome of the match, Valaran? We'd take those two lovely ladies off your hands. I’m sure they'd be much happier with us."

  "Oh, I'm sure enough of the outcome." Valaran offered a smug grin. "And I have plenty more where these sluts came from. But tell me Ravius Vergerus, what could a man like you possibly offer me as your part of the wager?"

  "A Deathmatch," said Gavin. "I'll fight you for their freedom..
."

  "You, fight me?" Valaran laughed loudly, his head falling back in mirth. His two thralls laughed along, half-heartedly. "The glory of adding your name to the list of those that have fallen by my hand is far more honour than I'd ever give you, boy. What glory would there be in beating some sad little loser like you. I'd be doing you a favour by killing you; dying to my blades would be more fame than you'd ever earn on your own."

  "A coward's excuse," said Gavin, meeting the man's gaze in spite of the terrible premonition of doom that settled over him when he spoke the challenge. His heart hammered in spite of his brave words. "Are you even sure that you are the famed Valaran diVolcanus? You don't seem like anything special up-close."

  "Oh please," said Valaran dismissively. "It would be more of a feat for me to wipe dung off my boots than to crush you, more enjoyable too, most likely. Earn a name for yourself before challenging your betters, little man; I would lose face accepting a match with a nobody like you."

  Valaran’s insult struck deep. Gavin half-rose, snarling; he wanted nothing more than to punch Valaran diVolcanus in the mouth at that moment. Before he could respond to the massive man's jibe, he noted the sudden presence of half a dozen officers of the Deliberative. They materialized in various places among the crowd nearby, their grey attire suddenly conspicuous in the sea of Red Faction supporters. Had they been there all along, or had they used some secret magic to appear?

  "Friends of yours?" asked Ravius, trying to defuse the tension between the two fighters.

  "Oh. I've ceased to pay attention to them." Valaran's mock surprise was condescending rather than convincing. "They follow me around everywhere; they're afraid I might hurt someone, you see."