A red-liveried page stood at the threshold, looking nervous. He bowed to Gavin. "Sir, a guest has arrived asking to see you."
"Why didn't you show him up?"
"Um... well...," the page seemed uncomfortable. Gavin forced himself to relax and put on a reassuring face. "The guest is a Gladiator, and not part of the Red Faction. I was sent to make sure it was all right with you."
Suddenly Gavin was besieged by a nightmare vision of the famed Blue Gladiator, Valaran diVolcanus, who had arrived to challenge him and attempt to take Sadira. He felt his temperature rise and his heart pound as he thought of the smug, self-assured, golden Valaran. He nearly asked the page if the Gladiator in question had asked to see his beloved, but he stopped himself. He trusted his Sadira to handle her own affairs.
"A Gladiator you say?"
"Yes, a member of the Green faction. An Armodon named Omodo; he says he is a friend of yours, Honoured Gladiator," said the page. "He asked for Gladiator Ravius first, but he was... indisposed... Would you like to come with me and meet him at the entrance? We need you to verify that you know him before we allow him in."
Omodo. Gavin smiled, happily surprised and secretly relieved. All thoughts of the hated Valaran vanished. It had been too long since he had seen his old friend, with only a few heavily regulated link-crystal conversations since they had last met. Gavin remembered Ravius saying that the Armodon had switched over to the Greens. "Wait for me here for a moment, I'll be right back."
He went back to the bedroom to tell Sadira and Lina they had company.
-----o
"I am deeply saddened that you did not send for me first, little brother," said Ravius to Omodo, emphasizing his hurt feelings with a melodramatic gesture.
"I did. But you were apparently so engaged that you scared the poor page into running back to the foyer. I wonder what you were doing that was so important?" The hulking Armodon grinned at Ravius, who laughed loudly.
Sadira, Gavin, Vintia, Karmal, Ravius, Omodo, and Lina were all seated comfortably in the sitting room of Sadira and Gavin's apartments. The peacock phoenix watched them with intelligent eyes from its nest, having already dazzled them with its radiance. Gavin thought Omodo looked good, more confident than before.
"So, the big question:" said Gavin, burning with curiosity. "What made you leave our illustrious Faction for the Greens? Ravius said you were rather cryptic in your links."
"A sad tale, and one that was hard for me to relate over long distances with the restrictions on Gladiators' communications," said Omodo, shifting his bulk on the pile of cushions that served as his seat. Gavin made a mental note to get some furniture large and sturdy enough for the Armodon's next visit. "After finishing up at Camp Valorous, I went to an arena in the far north, Bryndon's Quarry, lovely place, a trade and mining town."
"I read the arena there is built at the bottom of an old marble quarry," said Vintia, happy to share her knowledge. "That arena is famous for being the first place that Jezebelle, Zorgor, Dis, and Butterhoof fought after leaving the Campus Martius. Just think of it! Our Omodo fought in the very same arena where the legendary Band of Four started..."
"Oh, yes. It is a very interesting place to fight, with lots of history for a small arena. It is definitely less beautiful than the arena here, but it has a sort of rough charm to it, with big crowds, full of enthusiastic workers and merchants." The Armodon smiled at the reminiscence, and the others were reminded of his previous nervousness around large groups of people, something he had obviously overcome. "In the end, I chose it because it reminded me of Camp Valorous and all the good times I had there."
"What are the local monsters like?" asked Sadira. "We get endless clockworks of every type here..."
"These weird crab creatures called Shellies are really popular; apparently they are the number one cause of death for miners in the region. Lots of trolls too, some of them nearly as popular as Gladiators," said Omodo. "It wasn't the place that bothered me at all. The problem was the Red Faction's Chief Promoter there. A dwarven man named Mack Maglion, really well connected with the local guilds and unions as one might expect. Problem was old Mack took an avid interest in my training. He insisted that I needed to get bigger, pump myself up with Path of the Colossus training and go for Titan after that. I told him I was comfortable with my size."
"A man who doesn't want to get bigger..." said Karmal slowly, lips stained crimson with red Bloodgrape wine. "I’ve heard everything now..."
Ravius and Omodo laughed. Everyone else rolled their eyes. Lina hid her frown behind her hand.
"Very funny Karmal," said Omodo with sincerity, earning a smile from the fire-maned Gladiatrix. "However, being ten feet tall, although it does give one advantages in the arena, does not make life any easier. Honestly I was considering that type of schooling at the time, but having a Promoter come and order me to train in a particular way really... upset me. When I refused, he suspended me. I did not want to sit around while the Deliberative sorted my appeal out so I quit and joined the Greens. It turned out to be a good decision for me."
"What are the Greens like?" asked Sadira. After becoming friends with Azure Dream, she saw the other Factions in a new light, feeling less partisan toward those who fought for other colours.
"Well, they have a strong presence in Bryndon's Quarry; one of the Band of Four actually founded the Greens later on." Omodo said, taking a deep breath and settling back onto the cushions. "The Green Faction has never held the popular assembly. They have had some say in coalition assemblies, but only the Reds and the Blues have ever held a majority of seats."
"The Orange Faction did at one point, very briefly," Vintia added. "The Blues and Reds like to remind everyone how disastrous those years were, even though it was decades ago..."
"Yeah, that sounds about right," said Omodo. "I didn't know about the Oranges, actually. I miss your insights Vintia; I learn something new every time we talk. Regardless of the truth, the Reds and Blues are considered the only viable Factions by most people; that's the politics of the assembly. On the other hand, the minor Factions like the Greens and the Oranges are not as caught up in their own stale traditions as the older Factions. I like that. The Greens are popular, like the Reds, but I find they are more in line with my views on issues of race, environmental problems, and relations with the Chosen."
"Sure, but that's not what we want to know about, little brother," said Ravius, laughing. "Well maybe Gavin and Vintia do. We want to know what it is like to be one of the Green's fighters; we don't see them very often in the south."
"Ah, of course," Omodo touched his horn, thinking. "Well, there are a lot of differences really. The Greens don't field nearly as many Gladiators as the Reds or the Blues, and we have very few permanent residences outside the largest arenas. We actually travel a lot, gaining support at smaller arenas when we can. Lately we've made use of circus arenas, taking the Great Games to people who have never seen them before. We also have a big presence in the Free Leagues up north, which is where I will be headed soon."
The discussion went on, but Gavin's mind remained fixed on the idea of travelling, wandering the Domains as a Gladiator for a minor Faction or joining the Free Leagues. It sounded good to him, closer to the freedom he desired.
-----o
The evening before his next fight, Gavin and Sadira went on a long, late-night carriage ride through the desert. It was a rare indulgence, but with the unrelenting pace of their training and matches, Sadira considered it important to indulge in serious relaxation, now and then. They were both pleased with the amount of time that they could reclaim each day now that they had Lina's help.
The desert evening was surprisingly cold, but this mattered little to two Gladiators whose bodies could, and had withstood much worse; all it did was encourage them to sit closer to each other, enjoying each other’s body heat as they whispered, kissed, and gazed at the stars. They did not bother to use the elemental heating system. The carriage was pulled by eight purebred horses
of the southern breed, called Aradians after the Chosen who founded the bloodline. Those pulling the right side were pure black, while their partners on the left were white with manes like pale gold in the starlight. They were much stronger and faster than their normal ancestors, able to pull the heavy carriage tirelessly through the desert at a pace that would outstrip all but the very best steam-wagons.
The carriage itself, being furnished for the wealthy patrons of Scorpion's Oasis was impressively luxurious. Lush red velvet cushions covered the seats, further deadening the already negligible impacts of any rapid movement that could be felt through the carriage's superior suspension. The interior was made from dark, fragrant wood, a true rarity in a desert land, with fixtures of polished silver and platinum. The outside of their conveyance was a highly polished black with intricate geometric carvings. The carriage also had a drake-skin leather roof that could be drawn up over them for privacy, but they had it down, preferring to see the stars. Their Grey-Robe escort, a gruff woman named Claria, talked quietly to the driver, never once glancing at them. She seemed absolutely unconcerned about the possibility that the two Gladiators might try to overpower her and make a run for freedom.
Gavin and Sadira spent the hours of their ride talking and gazing at the night sky. She forgot about the pressures of leading her team and becoming a rising star in the arena; he let go of his uncertainty and rebellious need for freedom. They revelled in each other's company, sometimes sharing dreams and deep thoughts and other times engaging in flippant lover's talk as the carriage rolled on under the bright, uncaring desert stars.
-----o
Gavin was still feeling refreshed from his romantic desert sojourn with Sadira the next day. It was some time since the two of them had enjoyed an evening together like that, and he realized that it was something he coveted, especially now that Sadira was becoming famous enough that he had to share her with the rest of the Domains.
He was still thinking about this as an arena attendant approached with a Grey-Robe, leading him into Gavin's arming room. He raised an enquiring eyebrow; this was a rank testing match set by the Deliberative, and he was on guard against trickery in the arena, but this surprised him nonetheless.
"Gladiator, the Keystone does not carry any signs of your vital essence; did you forget to attune?" The Grey-Robe was a severe looking dwarven man; Gavin had not seen him as he passed through his pre-fight inspections.
"No. I attuned to it in the presence of the inspector, as is required," said Gavin, alarmed. He wondered if this was some devious part of the test. There were many possibilities...
"There must be some mistake Gladiator," the man said flatly. The hood of his robe hid his face in shadows, but Gavin could see the glint of the man's eyes.
The officer motioned for Gavin to follow and led him through the winding stone bowels of the arena back to the Keystone. Gavin could sense the rune covered stone tug at his life-force as he neared, signalling that he was indeed attuned. What was going on? He tightened his grip on his spear, a thousand grim scenarios playing through his mind. It was like a scenario from one of the arena murder mystery books he had once read.
Four additional Grey-Robes awaited them in the room, arrayed around the rough, runed bulk of the Keystone, their faces hidden in the depths of their hoods. Gavin could not tell if the Grey-Robe who had supervised his inspection and attunement when he arrived was among their number. His neck hairs tingled. They were all channelling magic and he could sense they had spell-weaves ready. They were expecting him to resist. A cold chill settled on him.
The severe looking dwarf who had escorted him to the chamber turned abruptly and motioned toward the stone.
Gavin took a deep, measured breath. "Sir, there must be some mistake, I can feel the attunement between myself and the stone. Can't you feel it?"
"I will not argue Gladiator. This is for your own safety: attune to the stone," he motioned again to the Keystone, grimacing.
Gavin took a step forward, his mind racing. The Grey-Robes could cut him off from his magic with a thought, and without magic he would not be able to resist them. They could kill him here and he would be lucky to take one of them with him. And yet...
"I can feel the link Officer." He spoke firmly, but with respect, looking into the other's inscrutable eyes. Was this part of the test, or something else.
"Will you resist Gladiator?" said the Grey-Robe, his voice hard. "As officers of the Deliberative we are authorized to use whatever force is necessary to make you obey us."
Chills ran down Gavin's spine. It might be very well be part of the test, but they could also be using his ranking match as a veil for mischief. He almost gave in to their demands, but that quiet, rebellious streak in him rose to the fore. Instead of re-attuning he stood up a little straighter, his eyes shifting back to the Dwarf. It was better to face the consequences here than act the coward and give in to this plot, whatever it might be.
"I will not fight you, Officer." He was pleased that his voice did not betray any of his inner turmoil. It almost seemed to be coming from another man, calm and powerful. He slowly, deliberately put his spear down on the ground. Afterwards he took a deep breath, exhaled and continued. "But I will not re-attune to this stone. I can feel the attunement link within me. You cannot force me to re-attune. If you wish to fail me, or give me a forfeiture I accept that, I feel strongly about this."
The Grey-Robe looked around at his companions. He snorted. "Are you sure? Are you truly prepared to face the consequences of your disobedience, Gladiator?"
The air was thick with power waiting to be unleashed, cut with an undercurrent of menace. Gavin took a deep breath. "I am," he intoned.
"Very well," The dwarf stepped forward, slowly reaching into his robes. Gavin tensed, knowing he could do little now. He took a deep breath. The dwarf took out a sheaf of papers. "Sign this please."
Gavin looked at the form. Surely this was a joke, part of the test, or could it be some sort of elaborate plot like those he'd read about in the histories of the Domains... he shook his head, exhaled and took the paper from the dwarf. It was a simple form that absolved them from responsibility if the Keystone failed to protect him; startlingly similar to the papers a Gladiator had to sign stating they understand a Deathmatch. He did not have time to read it through, not under pressure. What was going on here?
He handed the papers back to the Dwarf. "I will not sign these."
"Gladiator, you are being very difficult," said the Dwarf, sounding angry.
"Grey-Robe: I tire of this dance," he said without thinking, shocking himself. The Dwarf's eyes widened, just a little at the Gladiator's suddenly powerful tone. "I have stated my position. I know my rights. I will not re-attune. I will not sign this form. If you are worried that I will die in the arena because I am improperly attuned to this keystone, your comrades here can act as witnesses to clear you at any official enquiry, I am sure."
"And what if they were to say to an enquiry that you attempted to kill me Gladiator, and that I was forced to slay you in self-defence?" A small smile played across the Grey-Robe's face.
"Then I would trust justice to take its proper course... Officer," Gavin felt relaxed, sure of himself now that he was committed. "I wonder though, is the inspector who checked me on entering part of your little cabal? I will not use my magic to defend myself against you and my weapon is out of reach. There will be an enquiry, and as we both know the Deliberative is very thorough and has seen nearly every trick imaginable in its long history of investigation. Could you get away with it?"
The dwarf frowned. Gavin met his gaze unflinching, blue eyes firm and cold. The Grey-Robe looked away. "Very well Gladiator. You may go." He turned away, his comrades following, leaving Gavin to wonder as he hurried back to his arming room.
-----o
Gavin's mind was still troubled later, as his match started. The event seemed surreal, almost fantastical, like a part of a conspiracy plot. He decided it must be a mistake or part of the test;
he was not important enough to conspire against. Although he received little applause when he raised his spear to salute the crowd, he barely noticed. It was not a Faction challenge and the arena crowd was small, lethargic, and disinterested. Sadira, cheering Gavin loudly, could sense something was amiss from her beloved's posture. He usually looked for her when he took to the fighting grounds, but he seemed preoccupied.
The trumpets sounded. Gavin's opponent stalked into the ring, a towering figure whose features were obscured by massive iron-coloured armoured plates. Was it a clockwork automaton? Gavin could not see any of the tell-tale steam escaping, and he could not hear the sound of gears grinding. There were more advanced types of artifice-based automaton, but those were rare in the arena. It could be a troll, the armour was the right size and width, but it moved with mechanical stiffness. An elemental or some other form of Golem perhaps. Strong magic surrounded it, but he could not make sense of the patterns.
The trumpets sounded again, forcing Gavin to shelve his thoughts as the figure moved toward him, brandishing an immense two-handed hammer the head of which likely outweighed him. He shivered at the thought of what that hammer could do with him; what if the Grey-Robes were right and he had failed to attune to the life-protecting Keystone? The thought chilled him.
He sought the figure's mind and felt... nothing. He contemplated this as he ducked under a powerful, precise swipe of his opponent’s heavy-headed hammer. He felt the wind of the swing pass over him, and he stepped back as the enemy followed up with a perfect back-swing. His spear glanced off its armour three times, gouging the metal a little. Normally, every living creature had a mind that he could reach with his magic. Even a mindless construct animated by magic would have some sort of residual echo of the spell-weave used to give it a semblance of life and command it.
Bloodlust: A Gladiator's Tale Page 39
