Gavin rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He was not the least bit intimidated by the Ogre's banter. The trumpets sounded the start of the fight; Shield-Splitter did not move.
"I hope your woman is watching." His grin was positively demonic now. "I'll show her how useless you are without her. Maybe after I beat you, she'll let me have a taste of that sweet..."
Taking the initiative, Gavin channelled power into a mind-blast spell that dazed his opponent, jolting the Ogre into silence mid-sentence. He shifted forward, sliding into a ferocious lunge, the point of his war-spear darting toward the Ogre's throat. Shield-Splitter recovered in time to turn his shoulder and Gavin’s weapon glanced off a thick armour plate.
The Ogre used the momentum of his defensive twist, returning the attack with a broad backhanded swing. Gavin was too close to back out of the way and he was forced to block the attack, placing his shield in the path of the Ogre's tremendous weapon. The massive adamantine cleaver met the mithril of his lion-headed shield with a resounding clang. Gavin staggered backwards under the impact, his shield arm dislocated by the sheer power of the hit. He gave ground before the next two swings, popping his shoulder into place between steps.
"That little girl on your team can take a hit better than you..." The Ogre appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. "Would you like to call her in to take your place? I bet you love to let your women do all the real fighting for you, don't ya, boy?"
Rage flooded Gavin and the desire to prove the Ogre wrong drowned his tactical sense. He channelled a manic burst of power, weaving the pattern for the brain-burster spell. Shield-Splitter stopped in mid laugh, shaking his head. Gavin increased the pressure, mustering all his power into the spell-weave, shouting wordlessly as he did. The giant Ogre reeled backwards under the onslaught, bellowing now, blood dripping from his ears and nose, but Gavin felt resistance build; with a staggering effort of will, the Ogre threw off his attack. Moving in, Gavin stabbed him in the leg, retreating as his massive opponent cut the air wildly with his wicked war-cleaver.
"Who's laughing now Big Man?" snarled Gavin, as the Ogre shook his head. "Looks like I have some sting after all."
Shield-Splitter took a deep breath, straightened up to his full height, and looked at Gavin. One of his eyes was entirely red from the burst blood vessels caused by the spell. Although angered, he did not charge forward recklessly in response to Gavin's taunt.
"You should not have done that, Lion-fang." The Ogre growled, eyes blazing with fury. "You humans all seem to think we Ogres are stupid and weak-willed. Did you think your fancy magic was going to finish me? It’s not enough... I'M STILL STANDING!" The last three words echoed like thunder, eclipsing even the noise of the crowd.
Then he rushed at Gavin, bellowing a war-shout, weapon held high. Gavin smiled; a charging opponent often makes mistakes. The smaller Gladiator sidestepped the Ogre's colossal overhand swing, quickly attacking as he moved. The metal of his lion-headed shield smacked against his opponent's head with a dull thud. The Ogre, better prepared than he seemed, shrugged off the blow, throwing himself forward and slamming a heavily armoured shoulder into Gavin. The smaller Gladiator was tossed back like a boat hit by a great wave, barely getting his shield up in time to meet a sideways slice from Shield-Splitter's massive weapon. He reeled under the blow, toppling, rolling back and over his shoulder to regain his feet.
"No women around to save you, boy." said the Ogre, shaking off the last of the effects from Gavin's attack. "If I were you I'd stay down next time, bitch; you'll be saving yourself from some real pain."
"You Ogres, you think all we humans are puny and cowardly," mocked Gavin, hoping to keep his opponent angry. "Did you think your overcompensatingly large weapon was going to finish me, muscles? I'm still standing..."
Shield-Splitter chuckled in response, hefting his cleaver and trotting toward his quarry. This time, the Ogre did not break into a charge, taking a more measured approach as he closed, throwing himself into a series of attacks designed to wear Gavin down. His swings were less powerful, but quicker, and much harder to predict. Gavin was pushed back by the relentless onslaught, his shield arm numb from the pounding. He battered the Ogre with brain damaging spells, trying to slow him down, but the beast just shrugged them off and kept swinging.
Gavin fought for calm; he was trained to deal with these situations. He needed to take the big man apart, bit by bit. He feinted, moving left, baiting the Ogre into swinging too quickly. As the heavy war-cleaver came down, burying itself in the sand, Gavin lunged, jabbing his opponent in the leg with his spear. The barbed point ripped into the flesh just behind the Ogre's armoured kneecap. Shield-Splitter's leg buckled and Gavin swung his shield, bladed edge first, toward his opponent's face. A massive armoured arm deflected the attack, as the Ogre scrambled to his feet, channelling power.
Gavin felt a wave of unnatural cold pass through him, leaving him nauseous and weak. Necromancy! He struggled to overcome the spell as the Ogre drained his life force. Shield-Splitter's own wounds began to knit as he syphoned life energy from Gavin. He would never have guessed the Ogre was a necromancer; perhaps there was some truth to what the Ogre had said about humans underestimating his kind.
The Ogre smiled. "Thanks for the energy, boy. I could taste your fear; quite invigorating!" He stalked forward again, favouring his good leg a little. "Are you sure you are in the right line of work, boy? You lack the Gladiator's spirit; I think perhaps you would have made a better vassal."
Gavin said nothing as he circled; Shield-Splitter's insult hit too close to home. He did often wonder if he was fit to be a Gladiator.
The Ogre chuckled, swinging hard at Gavin. The smaller Gladiator ducked under the massive cleaver, jabbing with his spear. Although the point bounced off Shield-Splitter's armour, it opened a small flesh wound which the mountainous Ogre ignored.
"At least I come by my wins honestly, little man. Without Sadira you are NOTHING!" He lunged unexpectedly, one-handing his huge slab of a weapon, forcing Gavin to backpedal out of reach. "How does it feel to ride on your woman's coat-tails?"
Gavin's face flushed with anger, then shame as the Ogre's barbed words dug deep; the simple truth was that he did, at times, feel inferior to Sadira, unworthy of her affections. This small seed of festering jealousy was watered by a healthy dose of guilt; he felt as if he was a traitor to his love.
The Ogre swung again, his cleaver blade ringing off Gavin's shield. The smaller man attacked the beast's mind again, but his opponent easily disrupted the spell. He struggled against his anger.
"Is it cold in her shadow?" Shield-Splitter taunted him.
"You tell me!" Gavin shot back.
"Ha!" The Ogre chuckled again. "You don't even know you're whipped, boy. Guess you'll find out when she leaves you for a real man." The image of Valaran diVolcanus reared suddenly in the back of Gavin's mind as the Ogre's taunts struck home.
Driven by blind anger Gavin lunged recklessly, stabbing Shield-Splitter in the side, shoving the point of his spear deep. Instead of withdrawing his weapon and backing out of reach he twisted it spitefully, its barbed teeth shredding his opponent's flesh. The bloodthirsty crowd cheered as red gore spilled from the wound. Although the towering Ogre grunted in pain, he did not topple. Gavin felt a sweet moment of exultation as he twisted the blade, as if his opponent's pain would somehow erase the bitter truth invoked by his words.
The moment passed. The Ogre's massive armoured hand closed on the haft of the spear like a vice. Gavin did not have the strength to twist the spear against it, or pull the weapon away. The wise move would have been to let go and draw his short blade. But now, muscles heaving, the Ogre lifted his monstrous blade in his other hand and swung it at Gavin. Although the smaller Gladiator threw his shield up to deflect the titanic war-cleaver, its impact drove him to his knees, shattering one of the sapphire eyes on his lion-headed shield. The blue shards fell like glittering rain in the bright desert sun.
"Spend a lot of time on your knee
s, boy?" The Ogre lifted his war cleaver again as Gavin staggered to his feet, numb and dazed. This time, Gavin let go of his spear, scrambling backwards out of reach, drawing his short sword. Roaring with defiance and pain, the Ogre wrenched the grim spear from his side, barbs dripping gore, and planted it in the sand. The audience thundered its approval.
In spite of his wounds, the Ogre smiled at Gavin as he stalked forward toward the smaller Gladiator, hefting his monstrous broad-bladed war cleaver in both hands. Gavin watched him come, aware that his own short blade had very little reach, but the desire to best his opponent burned within him. He needed to show Sadira, watching in the audience, that he was worthy of her. So he waited. He would have to get very close. The sensible tactic would be to defend and wait for an opportunity to strike, but the thought of backing off, watching for mistakes, and whittling his opponent down had left his mind, driven out by the need to prove himself. Gavin's pride demanded a quick and brutal victory, as if the utter humiliation of his opponent would somehow prove him wrong.
The mountain of muscle and steel strode forward resolutely. Gavin tensed, refusing to give way, waiting breathlessly for his opportunity to attack. Shield-Splitter raised his towering war-cleaver, runes flaring up along the blade, and as it descended, Gavin stepped nimbly out of the way, thrusting his short blade into the Ogre's unarmoured belly with frenzied speed. Savage triumph filled him as the sword bit deep. The beast roared in pain, dropping his cleaver as the tip of the blade emerged from his back. The spectators roared their approval.
Angrily, Gavin pulled his blade out with a cruel twist, but his savage desire to hurt the Ogre again made him reckless and he stayed too close. As he thrust his weapon again, a massive arm caught his shoulder and a metal-covered fist the size of a melon smashed into his face, with enough force to shatter the skull of a ungifted man. Gavin lost focus; his head swam. The Ogre hit him again.
The crowd cheered its approval as the massive Shield-Splitter lifted the smaller Gladiator off his feet, wrapping him in a crushing bear-hug. Gavin fought back as best he could, channelling power into mind blasts. Blood poured from the Ogre's nose.
The harsh law of strength is, however, rarely overturned, even in the arena. Gradually, with painful slowness Gavin's bones snapped. His constricted lungs struggled. He felt himself lifted high into the air. He tried to move, but he was spent. He could see the tip of the sun setting over a far-away dune, blood-red and beautiful. He felt himself plunge downwards. He heard the Ogre roar. He heard the crowd scream. He felt his back break against Shield-Splitter's armoured knee. Darkness and pain were all that remained.
-----o
The first thing Gavin saw was Sadira's face. Their eyes met, and he could read the relief and love in her gaze. It shamed him.
"You're awake." Her smile was as bright and as warm as the desert sun, but it did not banish his inner turmoil. "You've been out for a little less than a day, beloved. Shield-Splitter won, but you still racked up a decent number of points. We're holding steady against the Blues."
"I shouldn't have lost," Gavin muttered. He felt so unworthy of her love, and he wished he could disappear back into darkness instead of facing her.
"Well..." she paused thoughtfully, trying to find words that could salve his wounded pride. "Winning isn't everything. You were pretty brave going toe to toe with a beast like that; it may have cost you the match but the crowd loved it. You knew it was a risk for you to take a match like this, but you did it anyway and won some points for your team." She smiled compassionately, but was forced to look away, unable to face the pain in his gaze.
"He played me for a fool Sadira, I should have backed off and run out the clock." He spoke with bitter self-recrimination. "You wouldn't have let him get his hands on you." She opened her mouth to protest. "Don't," he interrupted as gently as he could manage. "We both know the truth. He taunted me, played me into making a stupid mistake. The same stupid mistake twice in fact. I should have backed off instead of trying to hurt him more. I know better."
"Gavin, beloved, please don't be so hard on yourself." Fear gripped Sadira as she realized his old wounds and insecurities were still there; how could she not have seen this? She, who would face anyone or anything in the arena without trepidation, quailed at the thought of losing her love to his own inner darkness. Would she still love him if the light in his eyes dimmed; if the world broke him? "Whatever vile drivel he spat at you wasn't true. You can't let it bother you!"
He struggled to say more, to tell her his problem; she was his friend, lover, and partner and deserved to know. She could help. But he did not want to admit his vulnerability, even to her. He was still unsure of his own worthiness, unsure too, of his future. He no longer knew if he wanted to be a Gladiator. Sometimes the world in which they lived seemed so ugly. The moment stretched, his silence becoming a yawning abyss that he could not bridge. "You're right, of course." He smiled weakly. She was not fooled, but accepted the illusion, afraid that to confront him might be to lose him.
And so they both put on a brave face, and went out to face the world.
-----o
"How did you know it would work?" asked the Ogre called Shield-Splitter. His private persona was far more calm and precise than the mask he wore in the arena.
"It was an educated guess." Regina diCouture smiled. "Many men are unwilling to stand in the shadow of a woman, no matter how great she might be." But the truth of the matter, which she did not reveal to her Gladiator, was that Regina diCouture was intimately familiar with the perils and pitfalls of loving a rising star; she was just following a script from her own life, played out long ago.
-----o
That night Gavin dreamt once again of the noble Heretic, Olek Agvarson, but when it came time for the execution, it was he himself who was trapped in the Heretic's body while a leering Shield-Splitter with Sadira's eyes cut his throat.
Chapter Twenty-Three: On the Training Grounds
1144/05/11 AR, Scorpion's Oasis, Faction Score: Blues 1345 points; Reds 1219 points
"A skirmisher's job is to keep the enemy off balance, to keep picking at them, to force them to make mistakes. Against a charger, the skirmisher will act as a distraction and a screen, never presenting a solid target. Against a defender the skirmisher will aggravate him into attacking prematurely or lure him out of position." Codex of Arms and the Arena.
"In the end a Gladiatrix's goals are different from those of the Factions. Each uses the other for their own ends, but a Gladiatrix should never confuse the prejudices of her patrons with her own." Chosen Giselle.
After his loss to Shield-Splitter, Gavin pushed himself hard. Increasing his training regimen by an hour a day, he spent all of his remaining time reading the great works of some of the best Gladiators and famed observers of the arena. He had less private time for Sadira, but she accepted this without complaint, hoping that he would expunge his inner darkness, sweating it out on the training grounds.
Ravius, Vintia, and Karmal were busy as well, following Sadira's example and meeting every challenge they could; the Reds remained within striking distance of the Blues in the Faction points tally.
Inwardly Gavin questioned his fitness as a Gladiator. Shield-Splitter had baited him into losing the match and he knew it; so did everyone else. Gavin found it hard to reconcile his feelings. On the one hand, he did not want to let his team down, especially Sadira, and he felt driven by a desire to prove his skill as a Gladiator, to show he was a worthy competitor. Also, he enjoyed using his magic and perfecting his skills, competing against worthy foes. Yet he hated so many aspects of the arena, the slaughter and bloodlust, the politics of the factions, and the role of petty popularity in winning over the crowd. The tangle of conflicting desires was too difficult for him to sort out. He wished he could be free to go wherever he wanted and live his life the way he desired without having to forfeit his magic; this was a most Heretical thought.
Sadira could sense that her team was in danger of fracturing from the pr
essure of keeping up such an unforgiving schedule. Few fighters took more than a handful of matches every year; even a Gladiator's constitution and iron-will suffered under more. They started bickering over the details of the next challenge they would send to the Blues; she was forced to put her foot down when the debate became heated, choosing a simpler challenge in favour of keeping team harmony. In the end she decided to call for a break in their gruelling training schedule. She decided to take Vintia and Karmal for a luxurious day at the Shato diOre Spa; what was lost in practice time would be gained in morale.
Ravius disappeared on their day off, telling Gavin he was headed to the brothels to spend his hard earned coin. Gavin wondered at this; the smiling skirmisher had never seemed the type who needed a prostitute. Perhaps one of the working girls had caught his eye. Perhaps his friend had some other liaison in mind. These events left Gavin to train on his own; after losing to Shield-Splitter he was simply not inclined to take the day off. He began early; finishing a hearty breakfast of eggs, mesa goat's milk with vespid honey, roasted snake meat, and flavourful pepper-bacon just before sunrise. He finished off by drinking a small cup of the strong southern region's coffee he'd become accustomed to in Scorpion's Oasis, while walking to the training grounds. The powerfully bitter brew woke his senses and erased the last vestiges of sleep.
There were more Gladiators than usual in the residence dining room; several of them nodded in his direction or greeted him as he passed. Gavin was not inclined to talk to anyone, since most of them would just attempt to show sympathy over his recent loss. He smiled politely and said hello as he moved quickly past, wondering if their strong showing this season was pumping new life into the Reds of Scorpion's Oasis. Why not? Sadira was setting a good example for all of them, indomitable and unconquerable, risking her career for her team and record. He just wished he could live up to her example himself. She seemed superhuman at times, even to him. But then again, that was what it was all about wasn't it? Finding the best person to join the ranks of the Chosen. No one fit that description better than Sadira, not even the famed Valaran diVolcanus.
Bloodlust: A Gladiator's Tale (Domains of the Chosen Book One) Page 35
