Bloodlust: A Gladiator's Tale

by C. P. D. Harris

  Standing atop a pile of broken brass bodies, Ravius derided the clockwork soldiers with laughter, taunting them into clambering up the slippery slope of oil-slicked metal, making himself an obvious target. The treacherous shifting pile was much more of an impediment to the heavy-footed clockworks than to a nimble light-armoured Gladiator, and Ravius sent them tumbling down with swift kicks or thrusts of his trusty trident. The distraction he caused kept the clockworks from gathering into disciplined ranks, easing the pressure on the rest of the team.

  Despite Sadira's magic and their own powerful regeneration, both Karmal and Vintia still suffered from their wounds, but now, as Gavin defended them, fending off brass men with his shield and spear, holding back the mob with all his might, they lashed out with fire and lightning. Two of their assailants fell, smoking and sparking. One of these began to burn, sending up a billowing cloud of foul black smoke.

  The Brass men fought on, divided on three fronts. They climbed to assail Ravius, but he sent them tumbling. They moved in on Sadira, but she danced away, leaping over their fallen brethren. They pressed hardest on Gavin, Karmal, and Vintia, meeting stiff resistance from the shield-wielding defenders but still drawing fresh blood as they hacked away at the three Gladiators.

  Sensing an advantage, Sadira sped away from the dozen brass men chasing her and ran toward the group assailing Gavin. She sheathed her elegant twin blades, drawing her greatsword Bellasdoom with a fluid motion as she ran. None of the clockworks turned to face her and she smiled at her good fortune. Gavin caught her eye as she drew close, readying himself. She sprinted forward, keeping low and quiet, thanking the Chosen that the brass men could not understand the cheering crowds shouting her name. Channelling power into a primal surge of strength, she barrelled into the brass men from behind, using the momentum of her charge to send her heavy blade sheering through their backs. Four fell, two of them cut in half at the waist. One pair of legs stood upright for a moment, quivering, oil spurting into the air, before toppling over.

  Ravius, cackling and shouting his defiance, drew some of the soldiers pursuing Sadira away, leaping to a different pile of mechanical debris. He hoped to keep these away from his friends until they dispatched the rest of the mechanical men assailing them. He knew, however, he was playing a dangerous game however; a misstep would lead to his death.

  Gavin killed the sixty-second brass soldier with a quick thrust from his spear. It fell backwards, twisting, his barbed spear blade caught in its metal innards, torn from his grasp. Pushing the others back with his lion-headed shield, he drew his short sword with a quick motion, and measured the situation, placing himself to best protect the wounded Vintia and Karmal while Sadira wreaked havoc.

  Karmal steadied herself, full of anger but exhausted. She looked over at Vintia, a smile playing on her lips. "Chosen's hairy arse, Vee... If we're going to tap out this match let's do it with a bang!"

  Vintia looked at battle-mad, grinning Karmal and then at stalwart Gavin who was hard-pressed trying to protect them; she would be damned if her valiant friend fell defending her! She nodded to Karmal and together they staggered forward toward the mass of metal men. They screamed defiantly at their foes as they unleashed spells of fire and lightning to destroy the glittering bronze ranks. Side by side they fought, heedless of their cruel wounds and the sorrowful red trail they left behind them.

  Flame haired Karmal, hot with fury, blasted one of her foes with a jet of flame, causing it to burst apart, leaking smoke and bubbling oil. Shrieking, eyes wide with rage, she stepped over it swinging her massive war-cleaver into the brass men. The blade plunged into the oncoming tide, shattering the head of one clockwork soldier and causing gears and glass to burst out of the eye sockets of its gilded faceplate. The power of her attack knocked several more to the ground; the sixty-fifth and sixty-sixth clockworks were not ended by blade or spell, but rather trampled by their team mates scrambling over them. Vintia, careful to stay clear of Karmal's wildly swinging blade, shot another burst of lightning into her foes, one of whom pitched forward, sparks shooting from the gaps in its brass skin. She bulled into a group of her assailants with her shield, every muscle on her wounded body straining. They gave way a little and she lanced her long blade over her heavy shield into their ranks, but the brass men began to push back, and the two wounded Gladiatrices could not last against such odds.

  Sadira, taking heart as Karmal and Vintia charged forward, threw herself at the enemy with renewed vigour. She drew ferocious, graceful arcs in the air with her elegant greatsword as she danced into her foes. She brought Bellasdoom down, the runed obsidian blade cleaving through the shoulder plates of her hapless brass victim, the sixty-eighth to fall. Before the body could sink to the ground she danced away, pivoting to face a clockwork soldier creeping in behind her. Her blade swept close to the ground and she twirled, arcing upwards. The vorpal edge sliced into the metal man's hip, shearing through metal as its runes glowed, writing the pattern of sharpness into the magic of the blade. The crowd roared as her sword cut all the way through in a single stroke; the gild-faced clockwork's torso fell backwards as its legs fell forward.

  "SIXTY-NINE!" The crowd filled the arena with their raucous cheers. Smells of fire and brass filtered through the protective wards now, enveloping the stands.

  Ravius engaged a large group of brass men keeping them away from his friends, daring them to chase him. His strategy was a simple one: divide and conquer. He led them on a merry chase, laughing with glee, baiting them with his flesh and always staying one step away from their brutal brass blades. Picking up speed, gaining distance, he turned and broke the pattern animating one of the clockwork men, causing it to freeze in mid-stride and fall to the ground amidst the others.

  "Die you bronze bastards!" he shouted.

  Karmal, frenzied with rage and pain, summoned power while swinging her massive cleaver into the mass of metal men that assailed her. She put every bit of her strength and adrenaline into the swing, throwing herself forward recklessly to add to the momentum. The heavy cleaver-blade smashed into the ranks like a tidal wave, splitting two brass men in half and knocking over others. One of them reflexively pulled on the end of the blade, and Flame haired Karmal, unbalanced from her mighty exertion, fell down among the thrashing broken brass men, and the ranks behind descended upon her, hacking and stabbing. She struggled, defiant to the end, calling the pillar of flame spell down as the last of her life leaked away. The mound of clockwork dead became her funeral pyre, and the spectators roared as four more brass men were sucked in, adding fuel to the inferno.

  Gavin leapt back from the conflagration. He had been unable to make it to reckless, war-screaming Karmal in time, her charge having carried her deep into the enemy ranks. He felt a moment of apprehension; he would never trust the Keystone enough to call down a spell of that magnitude on his own head. Then the brass men closed around him again and he went back to the grim business of the fight. He slammed his shield into the nearest enemy, stepping forward as it fell and slashing the razor-edge into its head, shattering the gilded brass face plate. He followed this with a powerful sword-lunge that missed the power core of his next target, but he hit some other vital system and it sank to the ground nonetheless, gushing oil. It was the Seventy-eighth to fall.

  Stalwart Vintia stumbled. She did not even want to think of the trail of blood she'd left behind her. She saw Gavin and pushed her way toward him. A battered brass man grabbed onto her shield. She found herself too weak to keep her grip on the massive rectangle and it was ripped away. Snarling, she brought her longsword down two-handed on the clockwork soldier smashing its brass chest-plate. But her wounds were too great. Weak and dizzy, she saw a shocking pool of crimson blood at her feet, and felt her enemies moving toward her. She staggered again and fell to her knees. She saw the blades coming down and realized that she would not be able to last. With a final effort of will, she sent a stoneskin spell flying to Gavin, her last gift wrapping him in protective magic as she parried th
e slashing blade-arms of two clockwork soldiers. A third came up behind her, mercilessly shoving its blade home. She fell, hoping her spell had done a little good, and did not rise again.

  The few brass men left near Gavin and Sadira pressed on tirelessly, but they could not overcome the enraged, nimble Gladiatrix or the shield-warded Gladiator.

  Alas for poor Ravius, his luck ran out. A brass hand shot out from under a pile of bodies, catching his ankle as he hurled insults at the mob that followed him. He frantically stabbed at the grasping arm with his trident, but his captor was shielded by the brass bodies of the fallen. By the time the skirmisher destroyed his assailant with a mental blast, the rest were upon him. With nowhere to run, no shield, and little armour to protect him he fell quickly, his laughter silenced by more than a dozen bloody brass swords. The crowd gasped and cheered, enthralled by the drama.

  Sadira danced among her enemies, moving around Stalwart Gavin. In her eyes he stood like a titan among them, keeping them from Vintia's broken body, unwilling to part from his friends even after they had fallen. She lashed out with Bellasdoom, cleaving the skull of one brass man, sliding forward and bringing her sword down again, crushing the head of its brother. Her magic was of little direct use against metal armour and clockwork innards, but she filled herself with bestial vigour, enabling her to leap over them and land at Gavin's side, She hacked another to the ground, shattering its chest-plate, as she landed catlike beside him.

  Gavin punched his shield into a Clockwork as it lunged for Sadira. It stumbled and she sidestepped, bringing her greatsword down onto the back of its neck. As it fell he finished the last brass man near them with a quick trust of his sword. His eyes roamed the field, and his heart sank when he read Ravius's fate on the bloody swords of their remaining foes, fifteen clockwork soldiers shambling toward them across a fighting grounds choked with brass bodies.

  "Let them come to us," he said before vengeful Sadira could charge forward.

  She turned, her elegant brow arched questioningly. She looked so warlike and so beautiful, her eyes full of life and unclouded by doubt. He stepped in and kissed her. The crowd roared in approval.

  "Nothing can beat me with you at my side, beloved," she said as they turned to face the enemy.

  Sadira smiled, letting her feelings wash over her as she raised her greatsword to salute the spectators who had witnessed loss and triumph, bloodlust and friendship, sorrow and love. The crowd surged to their feet, filling the arena with shouts. Sadira wondered what Chosen Giselle would have to say after the fight. The crowd shouted as she kissed Gavin again, raucous and wild, and she glowed with pleasure, enjoying the moment.

  Then the relentless clockwork soldiers drew close and the fighting began again. Sadira leapt forward, trusting Gavin to shield her. Her leap carried her high into the air and she brought Bellasdoom down in a glittering obsidian arc. The dying afternoon light caught the sword, making it shine as the sun-washed, rune etched, and lovingly made blade cut her hapless foe into two equal halves. Her war-scream sounded, savage and exultant and she cut another down with a leaping upswing. She parried brass blades contemptuously as her automaton opponents sought to end her dance.

  Gavin surveyed the fight as Sadira ran forward. He saw that his best effort would be to stop them from flanking her. She could parry or dance away from attacks with graceful ease so long as they did not close around her. As he ran, he scooped up a motionless brass body, lifting it despite the fact that it weighed much more than a man of flesh and blood. He tossed it, caber-like, into the brass ranks as he drew close, sending them staggering away from ever-dancing Sadira. He drew his short blade again, charging forward and piercing one of his foes. His sword was off the mark but he smashed its head with his razor edged shield, ending it just the same. It was the eighty-eighth.

  Only a dozen brass men remained. They tried to stab at swift-footed Sadira, but she twirled away using the graceful steps of the Shadow of the Red Moon, a more advanced war-dance, to obfuscate her movements. They tried to close around her, but clear-eyed Gavin held them at bay with his lion-headed shield. The fighting grounds were littered, not only with mounds of the clockwork dead, but also with the bloody ruin of Ravius, the pool of red in which Vintia slept, and the smoking remnants of Karmal's pyre. Taken in by the drama of the fight, the audience stood, shouting words of encouragement to the two remaining Gladiators.

  Sadira floated, her every movement artful, her whirling, graceful, blade drawing wide gleaming arcs around her. Two quick slashes downed another brass soldier and she kicked the next in line back into the others, flowing forward into the gap created by the flying body. She brought her greatsword up, sliding gracefully into a long lunge that plunged the blade through the armour plating of her next foe, deep into its innards of gears and tubes and oil, sending it sprawling. She knocked a few thrusts aside and danced backwards to Gavin's side.

  And now, Gavin channelled power into a spell that disrupted the magic animating their foes. freezing a brass man in mid stride. He powered forward with his shield as he did this, sending the remaining soldiers stumbling back. Sadira flowed past him again, ready to take advantage of their disarray.

  "NINETY!" shouted the crowd, full of fury and joy, as if it they were on the field with the Gladiators.

  Sadira hopped over a pile of broken brass bodies, bringing Bellasdoom down on one of the clockworks as it struggled to rise. Her elegant blade sheered through its gilded faceplate and brass head, ending its mechanical motions. Oil from the blow splattered against her skin, but quickly dripped off, repelled by the same glamour magic that kept her hair in place and her skin shining. She found her feet easily, despite the treacherous terrain, and struck the next enemy with a flurry of quick, powerful cuts. It fell into pieces before her, and she rose exultant, flourishing her blade for the crowd.

  Gavin pushed into them again, toppling two with a powerful shield slam, but a stray blade grazed his leg just below the groin as he moved over them. Vintia's stoneskin enchantment deadened the blow, but blood still dripped from the wound as he stabbed savagely downwards with his sturdy short sword, plunging the blade into the chest of a clockwork and twisting it into the power core. The metal man seized instantly, limbs curling. Hot oil dripped off the Gladiator's blade as he withdrew it.

  Sadira darted past him, quick and agile. She plunged her blade into the other fallen metal man, ducked under a thrust from another, and came up whirling her sword which sheared through her next assailant's metal waist, cutting it in half. With a motion too quick to follow she kicked the upper half, sending the clockwork torso cannoning back into the other brass men.

  "NINETY FIVE! " roared the crowd. Giselle was on her feet as well now, shouting with her people.

  Sadira stopped moving. She channelled power. Gavin stepped forward to join her, shield at the ready. The last handful of brass men righted themselves. She looked over to Gavin, her eyes meeting his.

  "Lend me your strength, beloved," she whispered to him, stepping forward toward the brass men slowly and gracefully, taunting them with her suddenly slow, delicate movements. "One last time, for love and glory!"

  She moved slowly into the midst of the brass men, striking a pose like a debutante on display before her admiring suitors at a ball, letting her foes close in around her. She wove a spell of strength and speed, lazily parrying an attack as she channelled power into it.

  Gavin, breathed in slowly, calming himself as he too channelled power and wove a spell. As his magic touched Sadira, the Gladiatrix felt her focus sharpen. She could sense everything around her now, even the smallest details. She watched her foes close in as if they moved in slow motion. The verdant strength of her own enhancement spell mingled with this sharp, new clarity. She felt for a moment as if she had touched the very pattern of creation, so profound was her attunement to life and thought in that heartbeat. She smiled.

  The brass men readied themselves to strike, all five around her now. Sadira paused, unhurried, able to judge their
movements perfectly. She stood still, daring them to strike. To the audience it appeared that the five brass men lunged at her in perfect unison, mechanical and precise... They gasped.

  To Sadira, possessed with both enhanced vigour and perfect focus, their attack seemed slow and uncoordinated. She sidestepped the first clockwork, bringing her blade down into the attacker with a sweeping motion, cleaving its skull. She pivoted and struck again, and again, and again, and again, each simple, balanced stroke flowing perfectly into the next. As the last of her enemies fell, she turned slowly and then saluted the audience with a graceful dance pose frozen in mid air.

  In the crowd’s eye, the five bodies had hit the ground almost simultaneously, like sections of an orange peeling away to reveal the glorious Gladiatrix within. The sun gleamed off her oil-glamoured skin, and shimmered on the surface of her elegant, curved Obsidian greatsword. The sudden stillness was explosive. Sadira held the pose, cradling Bellasdoom as if in supplication to the crowd, with her chin high and eyes defiant. The two enchantments slipped away from her then, leaving her feeling languid and content in the afterglow. Dropping from the pose, she brought her weapon up in salute to the ecstatic crowd. She did this for them, for those who loved her and feared her, and oh, how they shouted her name. But her smile, when it blossomed on her face, was for one man only.