Everything Is Worth Killing- Isaac's Tale

by Alex Oakchest

  And then, something occurred to me. Cracks were spreading over its shell. Its skin was bulging and bubbling in places. It looked like it was going to…

  Oh shit!

  I sprinted across the arena as fast as I could. The creature’s cries echoed out, its screams of pain so loud that I bet even the gods could hear them. I hoped the God of Karma, who had obviously put me in this position, took note of what happened when you messed in the wrong mortal’s life. Giant turtles got flamed, that’s what.

  I reached the others, and then, standing in front of them, and I cast a spell.

  “Hrr-barrer!”

  The last of my minor elements depleted, and a beam of light shot out in front of me. It formed a shield, one that spread feet away just as the turtle reached boiling point, and it exploded.

  Pieces of shell and flesh flew out everywhere, dousing the whole arena in a spray of blood, organs, innards. Pieces thudded against my shield and made it flicker, but my spell held firm, protecting myself and the others from the turtle-based shrapnel.

  The shield, now coated in turtle blood, flickered and then died, but that was fine because the explosion was gone too. Where the turtle had once been, there was just a big splodge of flesh on the arena ground.

  The crowd descended into delirium. I couldn’t even tell what kind of noises they were making. Were they happy? Annoyed? Had they wanted to see at least some of us get torn apart?

  Tough shit! Who gave a flying crap what they wanted?

  [Fire] discipline improved by 4%!

  Rank: Grey 45.00%

  [Shield] discipline improved by 4%!

  Rank: Grey 22.00%

  I didn’t waste any time now. I sprinted over to the turtle, where I saw eight piles of ash waiting. I picked all of these up and stuffed them in my pocket, and I collected as many smaller lumps of flesh as I could.

  Elementals Received:

  Barrer x6

  Force x2

  Item received:

  Saker Turtle flesh x4

  And then I collapsed on the ground, exhausted from running, from my spells, from the adrenaline that had flooded my body and was now leaving. The noise of the crowd dimmed so that I barely heard it over the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears.

  I felt a hand touch my shoulder, but before I could look up, a voice spoke.

  “Well, my lady and gentle-gnomes,” said Rabert, his voice drowning everything else out. “It seems we have eight new pitmen, their test passed, their fate delayed for another day.”

  I looked up then. I scanned the arena, my gaze drifting beyond the crowds, beyond the baying gnomes, and to the private box.

  The box where the duke was standing with what appeared to be a pair of binoculars pressed against his face. And I was sure that he was staring at me.

  “Another beer for Turtle Chef!” said Willi, lifting a tankard in the air and splattering his arm with beer.

  He was drunk. Judah was drunk. Harrien was very, very drunk. And me? Well, I had just discovered that the pitmen pen was built on a rotation device of some kind. The more beer I drank, the more it spun around.

  “Three cheers for Turtle Chef!” said Harrien, lifting a tankard of his own, dripping beer on his shiny head.

  Tankards were raised, and I lifted my own in the air to join them, and for the first time in a long time, I felt good.

  Tired, stinking of turtle blood, drunk, but good.

  And to think how differently I had expected the night of the fight to turn out.

  After leading us all out of the arena and back to the pitmen pen, Rabert had congratulated us on our victory. He didn't ask about the spells I had used, which was strange.

  It made me think that the gnomes knew about some magic, since they hadn't seemed surprised, but perhaps not about my kind of magic. Well, the game was up now, and Rabert didn't seem to give a damn. He wasn't even scared to be in the same room as me. I mean, I was out of elementals, but for all he knew I could burn him alive.

  Nope, "Congratulations on your victory" was all he said, and he left us to wonder what was would come next.

  Next, as it turned out, was the door opening and gnomes filing in. Two of them carried a wooden barrel of beer, another fetched eight metal tankards, while four brought in hot food that made my stomach jump and down like a dog being treated to a steak.

  “Wait,” I said, before anyone could touch the food. “What if it's poisoned?”

  “Poisoned?” said Willi. “Why would they poison us?”

  “I don’t trust the intentions of the guys who made us fight a komonaut-sized turtle.”

  “If this is poisoned, then I’m willing to die with the taste of beer and grub on my tongue. “You Lonehills…always so pessimistic.”

  After watching Willi drink a tankard of beer in one gulp and then scoff a full pork pie, I waited a few minutes. When he didn’t die a horrible death, I decided to just let myself enjoy something for once.

  After all, why would the gnomes have us fight, only to poison us afterward? It made no sense at all, and I was just being paranoid. Maybe I needed to loosen up.

  The eight of us gorged on the cuisine until we were fit to bursting, scoffing pies, stew, bread, dried fruits, smoked ham. Divine food that I hadn’t tasted in god knows how long.

  After a suitable digestion period, we decided it was time to take on the challenge of the beer barrel, though only six combatants stepped forward. The elves, it seemed, didn’t drink alcohol.

  “Which brave pitmen will take on this foul ale beast with me?” asked Judah, who’d been ridiculously cheerful all night.

  “I will slay it myself!” said Harrien.

  Judah had looked to the rest of us to take the quest on with him, and I decided I couldn’t let him face it alone.

  Now, hours later, I gulped back half a tankard of beer and…damn it! There it was again! The rotational device under the room was moving once more.

  Hmm. Maybe drinking less beer would stop the mechanism?

  Judah sat down next to me. “Well done, Isaac. That could have been dangerous. My plan would have involved many risks.”

  “What was your plan?”

  “That we climb on the turtle and punch our way into its shell and rip out its guts.”

  “More risk, but a lot less mess for the gnomes to clean up afterward.”

  “Perhaps we Tallsteeps can learn from Lonehills.”

  “I’m not a circle child,” I said.

  “No? Then I am imagining the circle on your forehead, and the flames cast from your palms.”

  “Judah!” shouted a voice.

  It was a voice I hadn’t heard before, and that made it stand out. Was it the elves? I had barely heard more than a whisper from them until now.

  “Judah! Tell Harrien joke! Joke about porcupine and ogre looking to make toilet.”

  No, this was no elf.

  It was Adi-Boto, his green cheeks flushed from all the beer he’d drunk, his eyes without their studious glare for once. As if we needed an excuse anyway, the sight of Adi-Boto letting himself unwind was a sign to the rest of us, and once more we approached the fearsome beer barrel with our magic tankards, set on draining it so that it couldn’t cause any harm to the poor people of Agnartis.

  For the rest of the night, Adi-Boto, Judah, and Harrien sat together and shared stories and jokes, and I watched them. I was too tired to tell jokes of my own, and to tell the truth, I couldn’t think of any.

  I was happy just to watch them have a good time, while enjoying the warm glow of ale in my belly. It was strange seeing the Lonehills and Tallsteeps sitting together and laughing like that. I guessed the old saying was true; grudges fall away when you make a giant turtle explode.

  It was the best night I’d had in a long time.

  The next morning, I was the first to wake, and I opened my eyes to the sight of beams of sunlight flooding through the pen windows and burning my retinas.

  Had someone turned up the sun?

  They must have! T
he same devil who’d made the room turn on an axis last night.

  And what was with the drumming in my head?

  I sat up, deciding to stop making excuses and just take my hangover like a man. It was then that I learned I wasn’t the first to wake up.

  Or, I heard that I wasn’t the first to wake.

  From way out of the room, somewhere deeper in the pit, came the sound of Harrien deeply, deeply regretting drinking so much last night.

  As more and more awareness came back to me and I woke up properly, I looked around the room. The rest of them were sleeping, and the orc was snoring so loudly I was surprised any of us had even managed some shut-eye.

  As I looked at the door to the pen, I saw something new.

  Huh.

  There, waiting by the door, were eight wooden chests. They must have been brought in while we were sleeping.

  Approaching them, I saw that each chest had a name written on top, and there was one for every pitman. I was wary, at first. I knew we couldn’t trust the gnomes.

  Then again, would they really try to hurt us by leaving wooden chests in our room? There were much more straight forward ways to get rid of us if they had changed their minds about our presence in the city.

  I found mine, and I opened it to find a bunch of things inside. Not only that, but there was a note. On the note was a catalog of the items, along with descriptions.

  Rewards for Isaac Circle-Child

  Firestone

  [A stone that absorbs any flames it touches, which can then be used elsewhere. When full, the firestone will feel slightly warm to the touch.]

  One-Size Metal Chest Piece

  [A steel chest piece that melds around the wearer’s chest. Durable enough to withstand swords, blunt blows, and arrows, but no resistance against magic.]

  Tin of Healing Alchemooze

  [Alchemooze, the trademark gooey material made in our fair gnomish city. When applied to a wound, will help stop bleeding and remove poison. When ingested, it can heal inner afflictions.]

  This was great!

  I had to admit, part of me was wondering if my life in the gnome city was going to be a non-stop barrage of arena fights. No rest, no reward, no hope.

  But maybe not.

  They had stopped short of giving me a weapon, but the things they had given me would be useful as hell.

  I took the pebbles out of my pocket and tossed them, replacing them with the tin of Alchemooze. I did the same with my other pocket, getting rid of the rock I’d used to kill the rats, and putting the firestone in its place.

  Next, I placed the Chestpiece on my body. As I tried to find where to latch it shut, the metal moved as if it was made of liquid, forming around me in a snug yet comfortable fit.

  Proud of my new armor, I rapped it with my knuckles and smiled when I heard the reassuring metallic dink it gave.

  A firestone, some healing goo, and metal armor. Not a bad start to the morning.

  Sure, my head was throbbing, but it could be worse. Maybe I could use some of the healing Alchemooze to get rid of my headache…

  Nope, that was a waste.

  I’d just roll with it, and learn to pace myself next time I wanted to celebrate killing a giant turtle.

  CHAPTER 35 – Archangel of Retribution

  I was no alchemist. I couldn’t make weird gnomish goo, I couldn’t make tinctures that attracted an army of hares to your location. But, I had discovered the recipe for a moment of clarity.

  Take one turtle, and blow it up.

  Spend the night boozing and eating until you’re ready to burst.

  Pay for that the next morning when your stomach, unused to such rich foods, complains.

  Then, open a gift left for you by a bunch of gnomes.

  Mix them all together, and you get the feeling I had right then. It was like daylight streaming through my mind, illuminating a fog that had settled on my brain ever since the komonaut and the gnomes.

  It was time to stop working out how to just stay alive in Agnartis. Forget about getting advantages for whatever battle and crazy-ass monster I had to fight next.

  Instead, I needed to remove the whole prisoner and arena thing out of the equation.

  I needed to speak to the god damn duke.

  The rest of the guys began to wake up as the morning wore on. Some of them immediately headed to the latrines, while Harrien stood near a window, pressing his face against the bars as if he could melt through them.

  Judah walked past him on his way to the latrine, and he slapped him on the back. “This is how strong stomachs are made,” he said, laughing. “Muscles get stronger when you hurt them. More beer will make your belly stronger.”

  “My belly is weak,” groaned Harrien. “It begs for mercy.”

  I wasn’t sure it worked like Judah had said, but he certainly seemed to be okay. I glanced at Adi-Boto, who was sitting on his cushion, rubbing his head.

  “Adi,” I said.

  He turned around.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  He said nothing, narrowing his eyes at me.

  “Back to that, huh? The silence?” I said. “After all your jokes and your singing last night?”

  His lips curled at the corners then. It was a micro gesture, no, a nano gesture, but it happened.

  I pointed at him. “I saw that! Don’t fight it, Adi. Just let that big beautiful smile happen.”

  He turned away from me and recommenced rubbing his head as if it was a shamanistic ritual that would banish the evil from his skull.

  Next up was the orc. He hadn’t said much the last night, and instead had just eaten, drank beer, and watched Judah and the others have a good time. Once, when we both met at the beer barrel, he had nodded at me and said “Thankie.” And that was that.

  This morning, it looked like he had a to-do list. He got up, stretched, and then grabbed a tankard and went to the barrel, where he drained the last of the beer from it. And after that, his list was complete.

  Wow, did we really drink all of that in one night?

  It wasn’t the wisest thing to do. I mean, what if we had to fight today?

  But just like the gnomes in the arena, we had to let off steam. I hadn’t fully realized it until the gnomes brought in the booze and food, but I had all this tension pent up inside me.

  All the stuff with Pendras, Siddel, the Runenmer, the ogress, the komonaut. And in between all of that that I had exercised my body, worked on my spells. Man, I had barely taken a rest in months.

  Well, the night of revelry had done its job, and now I was ready. No more just waiting for the gnomes.

  Although, the first step in my plan did actually involve waiting for gnomes. But I was talking metaphors. No more letting them control me.

  So, I waited near the door for another hour, until I heard something click, and then the door opened.

  Three spear-wielding gnomes stepped in, followed by Glum Rabert. He had black rings around his gnomish eyes, and he looked a little worse for wear. I guessed we weren’t the only ones to enjoy ourselves last night.

  The guards and Rabert looked around, on edge for a second. Then, seemingly sure we weren’t going to ambush him, Rabert nodded. “Fetch the jugs.”

  Two guards left, set their spears down outside, and then came back into the pen with ceramic jugs with water sloshing around inside.

  “Ah, bounty of the gods!” said Willi, dashing over to the jugs.

  One guard held his spear horizontally, prodding the tip into Willi’s chest. “Wait. Don’t rush us.”

  Willi held up his hands. “I didn’t kill a leviathan tortoise just to die here,” he said. “I will wait.”

  Rabert glared at him. “Turtle, not tortoise. Slaker turtle, actually. And it was your friend that can take credit for the killing, no?”

  “I doubt our other latrine-bound friends are giving him much credit this morning,” said Willi.

  “You pit people, always the same after the first battle. Those rewards were meant
to last a full week! Drink your water.”

  While Willi slaked his thirst, I decided it was time to start things.

  I stepped forward. “Rabert, I need to talk to the duke.”

  A gnome guard smirked. Then another, setting down a jug of water, laughed. Even Robert let out a quiet guffaw.

  “To the duke? And I need to talk to the Gods of Treah. Do you think we should complete our errands together, Pitman? If you introduce me to the Treah deities, I’ll go fetch the duke.”

  I’d expected this kind of reaction from him. I mean, I wasn’t naïve enough to think it was a request Rabert would find reasonable.

  “The duke is human, yes? I think he would like to speak to a fellow human.”

  “We have had your kind here before. Why, there is a human female working in the temple now. Putting the others to shame, actually.”

  I resisted the urge to ask about Tosvig, Cleavon and Kayla; this wasn’t the time.

  “None of them were like me. I know him.”

  A flash of surprise crossed Glum Rabert’s face, before he hid it with his glumness.

  “What is his name?”

  He had me there.

  What did they call him? Duke Westthorne? Wadbark?

  No, a guessing game wouldn’t help, and I couldn’t remember his name.

  Even so, I had to take a chance. One I had planned on. Either it worked, or it didn’t.

  “We weren’t well acquainted back home, but I saw his face in the arena, and I know it.” And here came the biggest leap of faith. “He came through a portal, as I did.”

  One of the guards muttered something to the other. Rabert silenced them with a glare. I waited, anxiety building in my stomach. If this didn’t work, I’d have to think of something else…

  “I’ll take you to him,” said Rabert.

  “I am telling you,” said Rabert, as he escorted me through the city. “You won’t get anything out of this. Who cares a fig if you used to know the duke? Do you think he will shower you in riches?”