131 Days [Book 1]

by Keith C. Blackmore

  And somehow, the exhausted man made it back to his room, not even bothering to eat, and collapsed on his cot.

  *

  “Well?” Clavellus asked his trainers, swishing around the black beer in his mug until it came dangerously close to spilling. He’d walked downstairs and met the two men in front of the main doors to his home.

  Machlann went first. “Physically, he’s lacking in wind, but he’s still a brute. Given time, we could strengthen his endurance. Given time. Mentally, nothing there. He’s only half at it. Only half push. He’ll be gone in a day. Guaranteed.”

  Clavellus peered into the depths of his drink and took a sip. Savoured it. “Koba?”

  “Machlann’s right.”

  The taskmaster grunted and thought some more on it.

  “He’s stubborn though,” Machlann commented in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. “I’ll say that for him. A few times this day, he was pushed to the brink. Each time, he looked over at me and got back up. Something to be said for that.”

  “You just said you’d break him in a day,” Clavellus said.

  “Oh, I will, I expect. This stubbornness to stay at it isn’t because of a desire to fight as a gladiator but more like taking a piss in my face. Spite, pure and hot, is what’s keeping him in there.”

  “Spite isn’t enough.” Clavellus looked at the sands. “Not here. And not in the Pit.”

  “Spite he’s got plenty of,” Machlann grumped. “But as I said, another day and he’ll be gone. Some might think it, but spite isn’t the same as willpower, and of that, he’s got very little left.”

  “You won’t get that day.”

  A touch of a frown crumpled up the old trainer’s forehead.

  “That last one the men allowed through the gates there. One of Borchus’s boys. He must have almost killed his horse getting here. Brought word from Sunja. Apparently, Pig Knot’s to fight the day after tomorrow. Another Free Trained match. He’ll leave tomorrow morning, so as of now, what scant training there has been is now finished. At least until he gets back.”

  Machlann shook his head. “He won’t be back. Seen it before. Once he gets away, the notion of coming back here won’t be on his mind. He’ll slip away into the crowds. Probably become a guard somewhere if he can stay away from the drink. He won’t be back.”

  “Well, either way, appears you’ll be free of him,” Clavellus remarked and caught a hint of satisfaction in Koba’s hard features. Just a lapse, and then it was gone, but the taskmaster had seen it. He didn’t comment, however.

  “Koba,” the taskmaster addressed his younger trainer. “Give him a little longer to rest in the morning. That’ll be our gift to him. Give him that and see to it that there’s a wagon ready to haul him off to Sunja.”

  “You’re giving him a wagon?” Machlann asked, not hiding his surprise.

  “I’ll put the cost on Master Goll’s bill,” Clavellus said with a considering pout. “It’s business, after all.”

  The words got smiles from his trainers, but inwardly, Clavellus didn’t convince himself. He wanted to see the man in action. He wanted to see a fighter prepared by his staff battle on the sands. The beer in his mug beckoned, and he took another swallow. Seddon above, he should never have gone back to the Pit the other day, as it had only served to make him want more. He might tell Machlann and Koba otherwise, but even with the short time the Free Trained had spent on his grounds, he already thought of them as his. Not the final warriors he would have produced if he’d had even a year to work with, but still… his.

  “’S’all business.” Clavellus felt the burn of the lie even as he muttered it.

  *

  The next morning, Pig Knot woke with a loud snark of a snore and stared at the ceiling untouched by morning light. He struggled to a sitting position and swung his legs out, sensing the lateness of the day and wondering why no one had called him. He dressed in a clean loincloth and stiffly walked out to the common room, hoping for something to eat before the day’s torture started once more.

  There, Koba filled the doorway, waiting.

  “No training this day.”

  The words sank into Pig Knot, jolting him as if they were spikes. Were they casting him out? It was possible. Perhaps they’d decided he was finished, impatient for him to make up his own stubborn mind. Fine then, he felt his resolve firming up. Let them cast him out. It wouldn’t be him quitting. In that, there was a small victory.

  “Why?” he demanded defiantly, ready to argue even though part of him wanted to be gone.

  “You fight tomorrow.”

  Pig Knot’s brow knotted up in a question.

  “Get something to eat,” the big trainer told him, turning around. “You leave for Sunja this morning.”

  Koba left Pig Knot standing and blinking amongst the tables.

  After only a moment, however, the pit fighter got moving.

  42

  The wagon arrived in Sunja in late afternoon, letting Pig Knot off at Sunja’s Pit, right before the Gate of the Sun. Pig Knot had slept most of the day, only roused when the wagon stopped at points along the way.

  “Stay there,” said the driver, whose name Pig Knot didn’t even know.

  “What?”

  “Stay there. Easiest place to be found. Borchus will be about.”

  “Who?”

  “Short man, looks like a wall.”

  “Ah.” Pig Knot remembered. “He’s around?”

  “I’m always around,” Borchus said drily as he emerged from the shadows of the tunnel. He waved the wagon driver off as he walked up to the taller Pig Knot. “Did you wear these clothes before?”

  Pig Knot frowned at himself. “It’s all I have.”

  “You don’t spend your coin on fashion, do you?”

  “Oh, and you do? With that black vest of yours? What’s that from? Pig?”

  “Imagine you’ve slept with enough to know.” Borchus chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Look, I really would enjoy a bit of jab and parry with you, but I don’t have the time. I’ve business to attend to. If you wish, I’m heading in the direction of a healer house where some of your friends have gathered.”

  “Oh. Well then, lead the way.”

  The agent took him to the healer’s house with two lamps burning brightly inside open windows. Two familiar men sat about a table, and Pig Knot smiled at the bare belly of the Zhiberian, leaning back on a chair while conversing with Goll.

  Borchus rapped on the door. Halm got up and allowed him to enter, not looking incredibly pleased to see the smaller man. But his face lit up once he laid eyes upon Pig Knot.

  “Well, look who it is!” Halm exclaimed and offered his fist. Pig Knot returned the grin and tapped the fist with his own.

  “Just in the city for a night, boys.” Pig Knot noted Goll wasn’t overly excited to see him. “Greetings, good Goll. Don’t get up.”

  “I wasn’t about to,” Goll replied drily.

  Halm dismissed the Kree with a hand and urged Pig Knot to enter.

  “Where’s Muluk?” Pig Knot glanced around. “You sell him off?”

  The smiles dimmed.

  “Only joking, lads,” Pig Knot said sombrely.

  “Muluk’s upstairs,” Halm told him. “There was an attack at the tavern. Six men came in the morning and killed just about everyone in there. All except Muluk. He gave a damn good showing. Killed all six bandits with nary a stitch on him.”

  “Muluk killed six men?” Pig Knot gasped, the idea bewildering.

  “Killed them and protected our coin in the process,” Goll said. “We’re richer this day because of that man. And this one.” He nodded to Halm.

  “To Muluk,” Halm said, not taking any of the credit. “I would’ve fought anyway, coin or no coin. He kept the idea of becoming a house on the table.”

  “Can I see him?” Pig Knot asked.

  “Sleeping now,” Goll said. “The healer gives him something to sleep. A wise thing to do.”

  “It’s not prett
y,” Halm added. “Muluk wasn’t easy to look at, even at the best of times. Now he’s…” The Zhiberian made a face.

  Pig Knot felt the wind leave him. He found a chair, hauled it to the table, and sat down.

  “Thank you for bringing this one to us, Borchus,” Halm said begrudgingly.

  “I was heading in this direction,” the agent said, studying the interior of the house. “Had to speak with this one as well.”

  “Me?” Pig Knot asked. “You could’ve talked while we walked over here.”

  “Didn’t feel like it then. Regardless, this fellow you fight tomorrow, they call him Skulljigger. Not a particularly pleasant name, in my opinion. No doubt unpopular with the ladies as well. In any case, I did a bit of questioning on your behalf. The man’s already won two fights. Crippled one opponent. It would seem he favours attacking the legs and then torturing his foe until he collapses. Or surrenders.”

  “Well, thank you for that,” Pig Knot said appreciatively.

  “It would seem, though, that your reputation is known amongst the people. The Domis expect the odds to be slightly in your favour.”

  “Any advice?” Pig Knot asked.

  “Don’t get killed.”

  Halm frowned. “Give the lad some real advice if you know any.”

  Borchus considered it for a moment. “There’s nothing to tell. Skulljigger has won all of his fights by attacking the legs. From what I gather, no one has yet found a weakness.”

  “He’s a house gladiator?”

  Borchus shook his head slowly. “No. Just an animal.”

  Pig Knot rubbed his chin. “Well, thank you all the same.”

  Borchus went to the entrance. “I’ll be off then.” He averted his eyes to the floor and closed the door as he went out.

  Halm strode over to the open windows and watched for a moment before pulling the shutters to. “Nice of him. For a change.”

  “That was helpful,” Pig Knot said as Halm returned to the table and sat down.

  “How went your training?” Halm asked him.

  The Sunjan shrugged. “What training? I scant remember what we did. My arms and legs still ache. All they did was grind me down to the bone while whipping me with their sticks. Training. Pah.”

  “But you’re still here.” Halm looked pleased.

  “You seem taken with this whole notion that being part of a new house is a good idea, and while I’ve only known you for a few seasons, I think you’re a smart man. Not as smart as I, of course…”

  Halm shrugged, not offended in the least.

  “But I think I’ll stay and see what happens. Just to see where it all goes. With your permission of course, Master Goll,” he said with a mocking smile.

  But Goll did not smile back.

  “This is why you’re not fit to be in a house,” the Kree said quietly. “This is why I don’t want anyone like you near what we’re attempting to accomplish.”

  “Goll—” Halm started, but the Kree silenced him with a glare.

  “You heard him. The man has no respect for me or for the paces the trainers are putting him through. Don’t you think, just for a moment, that the reason they’re working you so hard is to make certain that you want to be a part of a house? Those men know what they’re doing, and if you had a brain, you’d be spending the better part of the day learning all that you can from them. I’ve seen you fight, Pig Knot. I’ve seen you dance and flounce around the Pit in a drunken mess as if you were keeping flies off a sick cow’s ass. You haven’t shown anyone anything. You aren’t good enough for a house, and I don’t think you belong with us. I know you don’t. My opinion, you’re too headstrong to know what you are doing.”

  Pig Knot scoffed, no longer smiling, and straightened. “You can’t tell me they know what they’re doing.”

  “You forget the beating an old man put into you?” Goll challenged. “You were spitting out sand, put there by an old man. And you still joke about them? I tell you, there is a joke at this table, but it isn’t those trainers. My house will be for men who are serious about competition and who are willing to work for it. Not someone who believes he has skill but when he has the opportunity to improve his abilities, chooses to close his mind to learning and discipline. And that’s what belonging to a house means. Work. Discipline. Doing what you are told and following through until it’s done.”

  “I’ll show you tomorrow.” Pig Knot tensed his jaw, mortified to be talked to in such a manner. “I’ll show you.”

  “You’ll show me something.” Goll got to his feet, not sounding convinced. “I’m heading upstairs. Try to sleep some before the day. Why not head out for a mug of beer or mead while you’re here?”

  The Kree hobbled up the stairs then, leaving a heavy air of resentment about the room. Pig Knot scowled at his back and met the indifferent gaze of Halm. Neither man said anything until Goll was out of sight.

  “You want to prove him wrong?” Halm asked quietly.

  Pig Knot smiled and exhaled, making the attempt to relax. “Certainly. What do I have to do?”

  “Prove him wrong.”

  That struck Pig Knot hard. “Are you agreeing with him?”

  “I said… prove him wrong. In every way. He’s already got an opinion of you. I have one myself actually because I know something about you from seasons past. But truthfully, I don’t know what goes on in your head. I do think Goll is mistaken, however. For I know there is no quit in you.” The Zhiberian chuckled darkly. “Never did I see it in those seasons past. Not even when you lost. I think this Skulljigger can hack off both your knees, and I know you won’t quit. But that might not be enough.”

  “What is?” Pig Knot leaned forward and struggled to keep his voice down, but anger was flowing through him now, thick and hot and ready to scald. What would be enough to convince them that he was good enough?

  Halm allowed the question to hang in the air for a moment and studied the workmanship of the table.

  “Just… prove him wrong,” he finally said.

  43

  “What’s this?” Pig Knot asked, gesturing at the morning food on the table. The night had been a long one for him, full of self-reflection and frustration. The rebuke from Goll and the advice from Halm still stung, and waking up to eat something good was perhaps the only thing keeping him in a positive frame of mind. He’d slept upstairs with the other men, wincing at the sight of Muluk yet wishing he could afford a tavern room. And a woman to go with it.

  “It’s breakfast,” Halm mumbled through a mouthful of cheese.

  “Just cheese, a loaf of bread, and some sliced apples?”

  Goll and Halm exchanged looks.

  “You’re not at an inn now,” the Kree quipped. “And you fight this day. A heavy stomach isn’t a good thing.”

  “And you have that problem at times.” Halm grinned and winked. Some bread crumbs clung to the corners of his mouth.

  Pig Knot wasn’t pleased and sat down heavily at the table’s head. He threw a slice of apple into his mouth and chewed loudly. “How’s Muluk?”

  “Still asleep,” Halm said. “The healer gives him something to keep him sleeping most of the time. He’ll be awake later.”

  The Zhiberian swallowed. “You ready for this day?”

  Pig Knot nodded.

  Goll looked at Halm and sighed heavily.

  Once the men finished breakfast, Goll told Halm to take Pig Knot to the Pit and spend the morning warming up. They would meet there later in the afternoon. The two friends left the healer’s house and took their time getting to the arena. The downtown area of Sunja could be garish at times, with its old wooden store fronts, wandering and stationary merchants, livestock, and stalls of foods and goods, all seemingly connected by the bawdy streamers of color crying out “festival” when there wasn’t one. Navigating the people was another matter, but Pig Knot found he far preferred this to the isolated training grounds of Clavellus and his pair of hellions.

  The pair of them wandered around the open are
a surrounding the arena, lounged under a sun that had yet to reach its blazing height, and talked about past seasons. Neither wanted to descend into the hellish belly of the Pit until it was time, as they knew it would be hellish in both sight and smell. They watched the people come and go from the Gate of the Sea, and Halm eventually handed him his Mademian sword to loosen up with. Pig Knot stood before him, hefting the weapon while Halm sat on the edge of a public fountain.

  “Not much of a trainer, are you?” Pig Knot smiled, swinging the bare blade left and right.

  “Not yet,” Halm replied. “So enjoy it now. Might be different in a year.”

  “You see yourself as a trainer?” Pig Knot asked.

  “I see myself as… an owner.”

  “Goll won’t let you be an owner.”

  “Goll won’t let me be a master of the house, but I can still own part of it. If I help build it.” He paused and after a moment said, “You could, as well.”

  Pig Knot stopped swinging the blade at that point and stared questioningly at him. He didn’t want to push the subject because he didn’t care to be lectured once more. There were more pressing matters on his mind. Then he noticed the men sauntering into the square, taking up points about the area where Pig Knot was swishing his sword. He recognized Toffer approaching with a swagger and a gleam in his eye. One of the three men accompanying him was the tall monster of a man whose name he couldn’t recall, but Pig Knot knew him to be a Sujin.

  “Found you. Excellent.” Toffer beamed, showing teeth in what he probably thought was a smile.

  “You found me.” Pig Knot glanced back at a curious Halm and indicated all was fine. “Coming to the games this day? I’m fighting.”

  “I know, I know.” Toffer came closer. He wore ordinary clothing, but Pig Knot was wary of the sword at his waist. “Who do you think got you this fight?”

  “What?” Pig Knot asked, startled.

  “Yessss,” Toffer hissed and nodded at Halm before returning his attention to Pig Knot. “That was me. I have some influence around these parts, you see. And don’t worry about your last fight. I must confess that I was a little disappointed with you not killing the man, even though I was more than clear on how I wanted the match to end. You remember that conversation, don’t you?”