Gavin looked again at the Grey-Robe nearest him, a lean man who was chatting with one of the younger engineers, who simply shrugged; apparently there was nothing in the rules against Gladiators learning about automaton anatomy. Gladiators were already under too many restrictions to be deemed as a threat for industrial espionage or military sabotage he guessed.
"What are you shielding the cores against?" said Ravius as they rejoined the guide. "Surely our enemies don't all use bolts of lightning."
"Of course not," said their guide, speaking as if he were addressing a child. "Our core designs have long since been made more resistant to electrical bursts. You Gladiators still persist in using that form of attack out of ignorance, mostly. They don't let you out much. Any attack that causes sufficient damage to the core will destroy it. The necromancer Heretics of the Grey Mountains have actually been using power drain spells, which can rob the core of the energy it needs to function, but we will overcome that design flaw in time. Feel free to tell your friends; being able to test our creations in the arena only helps us make our designs better..."
Ravius managed to keep a straight face until the steam wagon drew away from the copper-roofed building. Gavin and Vintia, looking out on the white sands as they rolled away from the city, laughed as well.
"Funny how he never referred to artifice as a form of magic," noted Ravius. "It’s like he did not want his precious discipline to be lumped in with the older forms of spell-casting..."
"The other forms of magic are not as amenable to metrics and such," said Vintia, pinching her lip as she thought."...I think the idea that his own precious paradigm was anything less than perfectly rational and absolutely true would be offensive to him."
-----o
A dozen metallic swordsmen stood in the middle of the fighting grounds, their brass and steel skins gleaming in the afternoon sun. They were of a different make than those the Gladiators had faced in other matches, evidenced by the broad bladed greatswords they carried. No chain restrained them, and none was needed. If they saw the five Gladiators enter the arena they gave no notice.
Sadira, Gavin, Vintia, Karmal, and Ravius formed up shoulder to shoulder as they left the Gladiators' entrance. They marched with mocking mechanical precision toward the clockwork soldiers, fanning out to surround their gleaming prey as they came to the centre of the white sands and pivoting to face the audience. They stood motionless for a heartbeat, both Gladiator and machine frozen while the crowd waited, and then they raised their weapons in unison to salute the people watching them from comfortable, shaded seats.
"Zveyhander, mark three, I think, " said Gavin, recalling the schematic with a simple spell. "The power core is ten inches above the waist, closer to the back side. Decapitation also works on this model, but the oil system is protected against most fires."
"Good to know," answered Sadira. She felt offended by these soulless metal swordsmen; they were pale imitations of a true warrior in her mind, as passionless as they were lifeless. "Let's show the good people who rules in this arena, Reds!"
"Yes!" shouted Karmal, grinning fiercely beside her. The trumpets sounded again. The automatons clanked to life, hefting their heavy great swords and marching toward the Gladiators.
Sadira sprang forward as soon as the echo of the trumpets died, urging her team on with a loud war-scream. She moved fluidly into the graceful bounding steps of the Panther's Hunt war-dance as she approached the enemy lines. Wisps of darkness chased her as she moved, mostly for flair; she doubted that the automatons would be distracted by her shadow-glamour.
Sadira ducked under a pair of heavy metal swords, sliding forward into an extended lunge that brought her blade up under her target's arms and into what she thought might be a weak spot in its brass armour. She felt a savage surge of satisfaction as the point of her sword punched through gleaming metal. Using the forward momentum of her leap, she switched her war-dance to the Scorpion's Gambit, kick-flipping into the air, her still embedded sword ripping off chest-plates and exposing the power core to a quick cut from her other blade. The clockwork swordsman toppled, but Sadira was already moving, a whirling bladed form among her foes.
Chortling, clowning Ravius drew a brass bladesman a few steps away from its brethren, baiting it with a feint. As it lifted its arms to swing the heavy blade at him, he lunged low, snagging its foot with his folded net, like a whip, and sending it crashing to the ground. He then put all his weight behind a downward thrust of his trident, one of the points hitting the power core buried in its vitals. The clockwork wilted mid struggle, its limbs sagging on the ground.
Gavin noted that the movements of these clockworks were more fluid than many other types they had fought before. The Zveyhanders were a more specialized model, created to fight against elite units. He advanced cautiously, remembering the schematics they had drawn up after their visit to the clockwork factory. While they did not exactly map the pipe and gear innards of this particular model, they certainly gave him a good idea where to look. He saw Sadira in the thick of the fighting, and felt the impulse to move to her side where his shield could do the most good. He moved in, waiting for the right moment, blocking two heavy blades with his shield. The moment came as one of his attackers moved awkwardly when Gavin deflected its blade away from him, and he moved instinctively to take advantage of this. His deadly war spear dented the brass man's armour twice and plunged in deeply on the third short thrust, his movements so quick that many saw only a single strike. A quick twist of the blade sent it to the ground, oil gushing from the wound.. Gavin felt elated as he moved to join Sadira, who flashed him a brief smile, her eyes shining with triumph.
Karmal blasted an enemy with a bright flash of magical lightning and cut another in half with a contemptuous backhanded swing of her brutal war-cleaver. She moved forward, trying to out-pace Sadira.
Vintia, fearing that Karmal's reckless aggression might get her into trouble, moved back a step, braced, and leapt straight into the brass men, shield first. It is always visually striking to see a small fighter topple a bigger warrior, even when that small woman is, in reality, a Gladiatrix and likely stronger than five large men, and so the crowd cheered all the louder. Her momentum carried her to the centre of the action, and several heavy blade swings crashed into her shield, but she was an adept defender, and did not even stagger under the mechanical onslaught.
Sadira called on the heart of the beast, a powerful enchantment, as she leapt forward again. Everything around her seemed clearer, as her senses expanded and new strength flowed into her. She felt Gavin moving in her wake, heard the audience cheering, each voice distractingly audible, smelled oil and metal, rank and unnatural to the beast within. Closing in on the three clockworks attacking Vintia, Sadira unleashed her swords. The blades blurred, tearing into metal backs like the vicious claws of a great hunting cat. Two fell to the ground. She was in the moment now: whirling blades, gleaming armour, black oil on the white sand, the smell of scorched metal, and the glorious roar of the crowd.
Now the Gladiators outnumbered their prey. Blades rose and fell, filling the air with the tortured screech of metal. Deadly sharp spears and swords forced their way through metal skins and into delicate gears and piping. Spells blasted power cores and melted vital systems to slag. The fight ended very quickly, the sudden stillness shocking the spectators. The sands were soaked in oil. The crowd was perhaps a little disappointed at the shortness of the fight, but their awe of the ferocious display of skill filled their throats with cheers.
-----o
The Blue team recklessly tried to beat the Red team's time through sheer ferocity. Their brute force was no match for the discipline and knowledge of Sadira's team, however, costing them vital seconds and much needed points.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: In Formation
1144/10/28 AR, Scorpion's Oasis, Faction Score: Reds 2865 points; Blues 2807 points
"The Chosen are the rulers of the Domains. Their power, both magical and political, rivals the mage-lords o
f old. In theory their power is held in check by the Deliberative and the People's Assemblies. In reality the real reason our immortal lords do not dominate the Domains more thoroughly is that their ranks are divided. The hundred or so Chosen rarely agree on anything and the Council of the Chosen is as riven by factionalism as the popular assemblies. It is for this simple reason that they often take an avid interest in tipping the balance of the Great Games; a Gladiator who is beholden to them and becomes a Chosen can shift the balance of power in their favour." Ordo Grevex
Gavin and Sadira sat on the ramparts of the thick outer wall that surrounded Scorpion's Oasis, enjoying a quiet evening together. They found themselves stealing away more often, hoarding time together. Behind them the glittering town slumbered, torpid from the day's overdose of food, wine, and sex. Above them, the desert stars hung in the clear sky and further off on the horizon they could see the lights of the city of Brightsand Halls, a constellation of a different kind.
Gavin had never been up on these walls before. From their lofty heights he had a commanding view of the surrounding desert. He could see several shapes he was sure were ruins, and he wondered if they were from before the Reckoning, or old outposts from Chosen Giselle's campaign of conquest. He wished he was free to venture forth and see what they held, and that he could bring Sadira with him. His powerlessness to do either frustrated him, but where it used to bring anger, today it only invoked melancholy.
Sadira gazed at Brightsand Halls. She would soon be living in that great city, her every need attended to, rich and powerful enough to visit the opulent baths of Scorpion's Oasis as a patron and not a Gladiatrix. She would be able to arrange to bring her family south to visit! She could do anything she wanted, provided it met with the approval of Chosen Giselle, the Deliberative, and did not interfere with her career, conditions which left a sour taste in her mouth. Part of her still wanted to give up her ambitions in order to be with Gavin, but this would bring the wrath of the Chosen down on both of them. It was a foolish desire. She shivered. She could remember a time when her desire to become a champion was all that mattered; now, she sometimes felt as if she would soon be sundered from the best part of herself.
Gavin, sensitive to her mood, put his arm around Sadira and kissed her on the forehead. He smiled, one of those unreserved bright expressions that he seemed to keep just for her. She would miss that smile.
"It's almost over now," he whispered softly.
"I know, beloved," she sighed. "I tried so hard to keep us all together, to keep you beside me, but it cannot be done. I wish I could defy the Chosen. It seems so wrong to force us apart like this."
He turned to face her, his clear eyes meeting hers. "You've defied Chosen Giselle once already and gotten away with it; everyone is talking about your meeting with her. Vintia said it was the bravest thing she's ever seen. Even Karmal said you showed 'balls'. Few people are brave enough to face down a Chosen in her own Domain. You won as much as you could; don't let anyone take that from you, Sadira. Don't let losing me drag you down."
Her eyes blazed, passion burning away the last of her weakness."I will not lose you, Gavin," she said vehemently. "Don't even say it. If I have to win the Grand Championship and become a Chosen myself just to be with you, I will. I would brave the depths of Kaer Moltar for you! Do not give up on us. You promised that you will try to find a way back to me."
"I am just saying I'll understand if..." She put a finger on his lips, silencing him with her flashing eyes.
"You are too reasonable, beloved," she said after a long moment. "I could drown myself in lust and sate my every pleasure in Giselle's palace. I might even find others to love, but it will not change my feelings for you. It is not a rational desire; I feel as if you are my other half, Gavin. Losing you is losing a piece of me."
Gavin smiled. "I wonder if anyone but me realizes that the bloodthirsty Gladiatrix Sadira Lacivia is a true romantic at heart? I swear I will try to make my way back to you, my love. Master Sax and I have talked about going north; perhaps I can make a name for myself in the Free Leagues. Maybe I can even sort a few things out on the way."
"I used to think you were a little crazy," she said, "chaffing against reality, always questioning why we Gifted are treated the way we are. Now I think I can understand that view; it offends me that we can't live our lives the way we want."
Gavin sighed. They moved deeper into each other's embrace, as if they might resist the inevitable with love alone.
-----o
The challenge that the Blues had put forth this month was of great surprise to Sulius ul-Cyrus; a grand melee pitting the best ten Gladiators from each team against each other. It was the last Blue challenge phase of this season; they needed to have a strong showing if they wished to regain the lead from the Reds and have any chance of winning the whole season. The rules were simple enough. Sixty ranks worth of Gladiators, ten fighters per team, would fight each other in a huge match. Points were scored for eliminating other Gladiators. Bonus points were awarded for certain types of elimination, like creative use of terrain. It would be a simple, yet spectacular event, worth more points than all the other challenges the Blues put forth that month combined, making it an all or nothing gambit for them. Tickets sold out in record time, even at inflated pricing.
It wasn't the rules of the challenge that puzzled Sulius; it was why the Blues would choose them.
The Reds were also much better at big team events than the individualistic Blues, which negated any advantage that might be gained from making it a fight between Gladiators. Sadira and her team were nearly impossible to beat when they took to the fighting grounds, having been training and fighting as a unit since leaving the Campus Martius. Together, their individual weaknesses disappeared, and the formidable Red Scorpion herself became even better. Superiority through teamwork was a core practice of the Reds and it was very strange that a challenge from the Blues would allow them to play to their strength, especially when they had a chance to win the season. It just didn't add up. It was not the type of detail that he expected Regina diCouture, the Chief Promoter of the Blues, to overlook. Perhaps the rumours were true, and she'd been replaced. The thought bothered him, even though he had viewed her as his nemesis for a long time. What kind of trick were the Blues trying to pull here? They could field a master Ranked fighter who could overpower Sadira, but he could do the same.
Sulius pondered this for a long time, wondering what the Blues could be planning, until the stars rose over the oasis and his thoughts drifted. His mind navigated through the channels of the past, through storms of failure and barren seas of regret. It was strange how his past defeats, once a great weight upon him, seemed less fearsome now that he was on the verge of winning. That last thought, of how things can change suddenly, coupled with his encounter with Regina at the Shato diOre party brought him to a sudden realization. The key to the Blue's plan was not in the rules of the match but in their behaviour as they began to lose. Rumours of Regina's dismissal began just after she pulled a last minute roster change in Sadira's last match. Azure Dream was a better fighter than Blue Calamity, so why would this have infuriated her superiors? His revelation did not send him home to his bed, but rather invigorated him, signalling the start of a flurry of late night activity. He had much to plan.
-----o
Sulius wasted no time in finding Sadira suitable Gladiators for the challenge, sending them to train with her team. Sax was an easy pick; he was already practising with them. Normally the master-ranked Ogre only fought in a single match every year but like all the Oasis Reds, he had been inspired to greater heights this season. He was greatly honoured by the invitation. The whip wielding Shadow-Elf skirmisher Cassius was also assigned to them; he had been dying to fight at Sadira's side ever since a random draw pairs match had put them together earlier in the season. Sulius padded out the team with Kilubo, another master-ranked fighter who owed him a favour, and with two promising, recent additions to the roster, Tenisha and Rishelle.
>
The group trained hard together every day. Sadira found herself in the leadership role even though Sax and Kilubo outranked her. She accepted the responsibility without question and without complaint.
Sax was fast and lethal, a light charger like herself; she had trained with him for the past few months and even learned a few tricks from the wily veteran who was reliable, calm, and perfectly precise. She, Ravius, Vintia and Gavin liked Sax; Karmal, however, did not.
The skirmisher Cassius was besotted with her, but this was a pattern of behaviour she was getting used to. If she weren't with Gavin, she'd even have considered returning the man's affection. He was handsome and had a stunning physique, even for a Shadow-Elf. She also liked his sense of style. Cassius wore his hair in bright, blood-red furrows which matched the colour of his thick leather war-harness and contrasted nicely with of his shadow-black skin. The light-armoured skirmisher used a pair of long war-whips in the arena, with a sword for backup. Having fought alongside him before, she knew how well he could use those whips to foil opponents, finishing them off with powerful offensive spells.
Kilubo was a massive slab of muscle, nearly as tall as Sax but much, much thicker. Like their friend Omodo, Kilubo had channelled his magic inwards, increasing his own size and mass, a special type of body sculpting practised by a few fighting schools. In spite of his monstrous size, his Dwarven heritage was quite obvious in his broad body and in a beard that could cover a bed. He was a heavy defender type wearing elaborately engraved silver-grey "coward's plate", so called because it gave the most coverage allowed in the arena. He carried a seven foot tower shield and a big hand sledge that would require two hands for most fighters. Like Sadira, he was skilled in Druidic magic, which along with his size, shield, and armour, made him unthinkably tough and too dangerous to ignore, despite his slow foot speed. He also weathered Ravius's storm of silly jokes about seven foot Dwarves with good humour.
Bloodlust: A Gladiator's Tale (Domains of the Chosen Book One) Page 45
