by David Burke
Kyle heard the man begin to say, “Avarda doesn’t even have a team, they can’t hope to assemble one this close to the beginning of the season, even if they tricked the senate…” His words were drowned out by the swift intake of breath that both the women made.
Kargosta said, “Oh my, that is more like it.”
The woman next to her said, “He may not be an elemental, but he is certainly a specimen of a man. Look at the size of those hands. I do hope all of him is that big.”
The last comment was followed by a shared giggle between the two women. Kyle was used to being checked out by women, but he did have to admit that the way they did it so blatantly without even being bothered if he heard them was agitating.
Soren led the other three up to him and he was soon being poked and prodded. The man asked to see his teeth, for him to stand on one leg, and then to bend a metal bar. It was rather degrading, but Kyle kept reminding himself that this was meant to keep him hidden and safe, hiding in plain sight while getting the training that he needed.
The women’s examination was a little more invasive and filled with more giggling as their hands roamed all over him. Both took a turn running their hands down his shorts and holding his member, for far longer than necessary to accomplish anything related to his ability as a fighter.
Worse, it had been a long time since he had been with a woman and, cougars or not, he couldn’t help having a bit of a reaction. He did his best to soldier on through it, but it clearly delighted the women.
The one whose name he didn’t know said, “Oh, I may not buy him, but I wouldn’t mind it if he selected my token.”
Kyle had no idea what she was talking about but didn’t have a chance to ask Hilde because a voice called out behind them, “Oh, I do hope you didn’t start without me.”
Kyle’s eyes were drawn to a striking woman in what he guessed was her early thirties. She had long platinum blonde hair and a finely cut face. She was beautiful and clearly knew it. The way she held herself said she was fit, and even the toga couldn’t hide the generous endowment on her chest. This was definitely a woman that Kyle would have been happy to meet up with after a game.
She walked over with a hand on Saber’s arm before smiling with dazzling teeth at him and saying, “Thank you ever so much for escorting me up, Master Saber. I believe I can take it from here. Lord Soren will undoubtedly want me… as his guest, I mean.”
Soren looked flustered by the tease, and Kyle instantly took a liking to this woman. “Certainly, my dear Lady Meeka. We have been waiting on House Avarda to arrive. Feel free to inspect any of the fighters that you need to, and then we will have our first round of matches.”
“Excellent, but I really don’t need to inspect them,” she said while looking at Kyle. “Well, I don’t need to, but a teeny bit of inspection couldn’t hurt.”
Then she pushed between the two older women without even looking back at them and placed her hands on Kyle’s chest. She purred as she ran her hands over him and then pressed herself up against him. This was far more intimate than the other women without being nearly as invasive.
He could smell the scent of strawberries in her hair and a perfume that drifted up to him that somehow blended perfectly with the fruit scent. “Oh, yes, he does seem like quite a… hard specimen,” she said as she ran her hands over the firm muscles of his pec. “But as I was saying, I really don’t need to inspect them, that is what I have my new team captain for. She will have a much better eye for this sort of thing.”
After that she pulled away from Kyle, leaving one finger to linger a moment longer than the rest against his chest. “Now, I believe you were going to have a few fights for us.”
“Yes, we have it all arranged, but you were supposed to bring some mystery fighter for the eighth,” Soren replied.
Meeka looked at the man and managed to somehow convey flirtation and disgust at the same time, “Oh, I did. But my mystery fighter insists on staying a mystery, so they will fight the first match while your other fighters stay underground. Agreed?”
“You have such a flair for the dramatic, dear Meeka, but if that is how you want it, then so be it,” Soren said, before turning to Saber and instructing him to make the arrangements.
Kyle allowed himself to be led down below the arena floor through the tunnels. They stopped in that first testing room and were all served water by waiting slaves.
Saber said, “You all handled that well. I know it can be degrading, but it is a small price to pay for this life rather than one spent in the dark of the mountain mines or scrubbing floors and picking up horse dung. Hold your heads high. You have all displayed talent.
“When it is your turn to fight, you will be called out. Obviously, all but one of you will be fighting with each other. Remember any observations you may have made about the strengths and weaknesses of your fellow fighters. Now it is every man or woman for themselves, and to the victor go the spoils.”
They all settled in and about twenty minutes later, a guard came running in with a note for Saber. He opened, quickly reading it with an impassive look on his face. “Well, Burke, it looks like you are up first. Don’t dishonor me. I don’t yet know who this mystery fighter is, but I have been told that they have no experience in the arena, so even if they have a mystical bloodline, you should still be able to hold your own for a while just on the basis of your training.”
Burke looked around at the others before beating a hand against his chest. He was in a full leather breastplate and had a mace hung across his back and a shield strapped to his offhand. “Don’t worry, you bitches, I’ll be back soon.”
Kyle wished he could have watched the fight but presumed that was part of the mystery. Up above he could hear the excitement of the crowd. It was like being in the clubhouse right before a game. The adrenaline was starting to pump through his system.
Then there was a moment of silence followed by raucous cheering. Five minutes later, Burke was carried past them on a stretcher. He was clearly unconscious. His neck was bright red and almost looked like it had been branded with a circle or perhaps like they had attempted to hang him. His chest was rising, but only slowly.
Saber followed in behind him, shaking his head. “Well, at least I know why they kept the mystery now. Poor Burke never had a chance. The fight was over in less than ten seconds. Oh well. Now, I’m counting on the rest of you to make a better showing. Kierra and Dak, you are up next. The crowd is a bit worked up so try not to make it too fast.”
The human gladiator with his spear and buckler said, “I’ll play with her a bit to get the audience into it.”
“I was talking to her,” Saber said, and then pointed for the two fighters to leave.
The next hour dragged on for Kyle as apparently there was time between the fights where bets were made and both food and drink were sold to the audience.
Kierra returned from her fight unscathed while Dak was both unconscious and cut up, presumably by the lycan’s claws. She was definitely worked up, and Saber praised her for putting on a good show.
After that Gilthan and Ahem, the last of the plain humans, were sent up for the third match of the night. Kyle and Skrug both looked at each other with appraising eyes as they were obviously each other’s opponents. In many ways, this pleased Kyle. Skrug didn’t talk much, so there had been next to no socializing between the two of them and the big half-troll might be durable, but Kyle knew he could hit him like he had never been hit before.
A bit later, the elf came down almost looking bored while his opponent was again carried down on a stretcher. Electrical burns appeared all over his body and his hair was still standing on end from the charge he must have taken.
Saber was once again full of praise for the elf before looking over at Kyle and Skrug.
“Well, this is where the night ends. A battle of titans, so to speak. Both of you remember to try to put on a show. This is not just a fight, but entertainment, but also remembe
r that only one of you can win. For the other, this will be the end of the exhibition.”
Kyle smiled. He was ready. He had been born for moments like this. He grabbed his maul and swung it easily over his shoulder and headed down the tunnel, his blood pumping as the excitement built in him.
Chapter 20 – Wrestling
By the time Kyle reached the arena floor, his breathing had slowed. His heart was no longer pounding. His head was clear, and he found himself in that place of stillness. Over the years, he had talked to many athletes, not just baseball players but from all the sports. Very few understood what he was talking about, but he found that the top competitors in any sport from Olympic weightlifting to cycling, from baseball to hockey, all got it.
Most athletes talked about nerves. It was so common that sports psychology largely centered on how to calm oneself to better produce. But for a few this wasn’t an issue. Very few of them could actually put it into words, yet it always came down to the same thing.
They all felt the same rush of fear, anxiety, excitement that blended together into a cocktail that made you both feel more alive than any other time and at the same time more on edge. What set these top competitors apart was the way that they would pass beyond that. They walked through the hurricane of emotion and found their way to the eye of the storm.
It was a place of calmness and peace. The world might rage around them. Teammates might be so excited that they couldn’t sit still, but for these few, they were never more in harmony with themselves than in that moment.
This was what Kyle felt as he walked into the arena. The dome overhead made the night sky look fuzzy. The lights all lit it up to be both nearly as bright as daylight and yet still have that mystery which was an attribute of night. An excited hush came over the audience as they watched Kyle proudly stride out to the center of the arena.
He noticed that on all four sides there were screens projected in the air. Apparently, they had a magical way to zoom in and show the fight with more detail. He noticed, but then put it out of his mind. The crowd was here for him, not the other way round. He only had eyes for his opponent.
The half-troll was nearly ten feet tall and massively wide. Kyle took in his slouched posture but noted that even Skrug was anxious. To the untrained eye, he might have appeared relaxed, even bored, but Kyle had seen him over the past few weeks. He was definitely showing tension with his body. It was just subtle.
The arena floor had been altered slightly. The light layer of sand still covered most of it but in the middle, there was a ring that had been cleared and was nothing but raw stone. That was where Skrug was waiting for him. He didn’t hesitate.
As Kyle reached the edge of the ring, Saber came running over. “There have been some changes based on the requests of Lord Soren’s guests.”
Kyle looked at him but only raised an eyebrow in question.
“Give me the maul; this is going to be a weapons free match,” Saber said.
A moment of worry threatened to interrupt Kyle’s stillness, but he pushed it aside. The storm couldn’t affect him here. He was the calm center. The world moved around him but he remained unfazed.
“What are the rules?” he asked, simply.
“Same as before, try not to kill one another. You fight until one of you is unconscious, surrenders, or is thrown from the ring. Not that I think this is necessary, but I caution you against surrender. Crowds don’t like it, at least not until the fight has gone on for some time,” the trainer instructed.
Kyle handed his weapon over and simply said, “Very well.” Then he stepped into the ring across from the mini-giant.
No sooner had entered the ring than the ground beneath him began to move. He felt a surge of Earth Essence. His time learning to feel and absorb it paid off so that he wasn’t shocked as the ground beneath his feet began to push up into the air. A ring thirty feet in diameter was soon elevated twenty feet.
He thought to himself, at least there would be no ambiguity about whether a fighter had left the ring. While he had been calm about the earth moving beneath his feet, it had clearly disturbed Skrug. The huge man, if he could be called that, was trembling. Kyle took better stock of him. He was muscled but had flaccid skin. His belly was slightly distended, but despite his appearance and the obvious fear he felt, Kyle knew only a fool would underestimate the man’s might.
The command to begin was shouted, and time almost stood still for Kyle. He watched as his opponent was too slow. Skrug lifted his head and roared. For a moment, Kyle thought he might be able to end this quickly. None of the training that they had done was for unarmed combat, but Kyle thought about a variety of old martial arts flicks he had watched as a kid. What guy hadn’t, after all?
He remembered the way they moved their bodies. Much of it might have been controlled by wires and fancy camera work. Kyle didn’t have that, but what he did have was superhuman strength and speed. That, and he possessed somewhere within him the memories of a being for whom combat in every form conceivable was as natural as breathing.
For the first time since arriving here, Kyle consciously reached out for those memories. He still didn’t want to become Krig, or to lose himself, but he would be a fool to turn down knowledge that could win this fight for him. When it came to winning, Kyle was no fool.
It wasn’t like he suddenly knew kung fu, but he did start to feel a rightness to it. He knew his body, even this new body, and knew what it was capable of. Many of the lessons about movement and guarding were the same with weapons as with his body. Now he was the weapon. He surged forward in two quick steps and left the ground to plant both his feet into Skrug’s chest.
The drop kick hit like a wrecking ball with the weight of Kyle’s densely muscled body behind it and powered by his great strength. The blow caused the troll to stumble backwards almost to the edge of the ring. Unfortunately, the half-troll fell to the ground before he left the ring and his long nails dug shallow furrows in the stone while he brought his backward momentum to a stop.
Kyle didn’t hesitate though. He moved forward to capitalize on his advantage. He snapped out with a kick at the troll’s extended forearm. He caught it just above the elbow with a jarring force that knocked the defensive member out of his way.
As his kick ended, Kyle planted the foot between the legs of the troll that was still struggling to get back up. He rotated his hips and drove a punch up and under the chin that was exposed after he had kicked the arm out of the way. Kyle felt his knuckles connect under the chin of his foe.
Soft, flabby flesh first, then he felt the bone beneath as the force of his uppercut continued onward. The bone was firm and didn’t break, but he felt and even heard the grinding crunch of vertebras in the neck as Skrug’s head whipped backwards from the force. The half-troll’s body collapsed limp as wet laundry on the ground.
Competing emotions ran through him. The thrill of victory. It was his to claim. The reward for being the better warrior. He felt the need to exult. But he also stared down at the inert body on the ground. He had never killed anyone before. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Likely some of the soldiers at the quarry had died by his hand, and even some of the workers the day before that.
This was different though. To look your foe in the eyes, to see the light fade from their eyes, and to feel their body go limp was not something he had been prepared for. It was made worse by the fact that it hadn’t been his intent to kill. He had acted on instinct; a deadly instinct, he now realized. But he had seen Skrug be stabbed with spears, beaten by war hammers, and slashed by swords. Every time, the brute of a man had risen up and the wounds healed until barely even scars were visible on his leathery skin.
The audience burst out cheering.
Kyle had trouble accepting it. He didn’t know what the consequences for him would be for having killed Skrug. Beyond worrying about what would happen, he felt the conflict within him. There was a bloodlust that he didn’t know existed inside him or which perha
ps hadn’t until this messed up reincarnation thing.
He was torn between guilt over having killed another man, one that he didn’t even intend to kill, and an exultation that he couldn’t seem to push aside. Then just as he started to look for a way to get down from the raised platform they were fighting on, he heard a sound behind him. It was barely above a whisper but that heightened state of awareness he had been in hadn’t faded completely.
He just barely managed to react before a thick arm swept out, trying to knock his legs out from underneath him. Kyle hopped right over it and landed ten feet away, propelled by the simple leap. Skrug was rising up and, before his eyes, the half-troll put his hands on each side of his head and then straightened out the clearly broken neck. It was morbidly fascinating and clear evidence of just how powerful the man’s regenerative properties were.
The audience which had been cheering before now erupted. The excitement of seeing Skrug rise from the dead and the fight they had all been hoping to see continue had them riled up. Kyle also realized that the thirty-foot diameter of the ring was likely a bigger detriment to him than to his foe.
He was much faster than Skrug, and even that simple hop had just carried him a third of the way across the ring. Arguably, he was stronger than the troll too, and he had other tools, so as he settled back into his calm, a crooked smile took up residence on Kyle’s face. This was what he lived for, a challenge, a chance to prove himself.
The troll charged and Kyle ducked beneath outstretched hands. The audience clearly wanted a show and while it would have been dramatic to end the fight so quickly, that wasn’t in the cards. So, Kyle would entertain them. He dodged and then pushed on his heels so that he moved forward, while driving a rapid fire of punches into exposed ribs. The bones clearly cracked under the onslaught, but if Skrug could heal from a broken neck then cracked ribs weren’t going to be anything more than an inconvenience.
For the next minute, Kyle danced around the warrior’s punches, open handed attempts to claw him with those rock-hard nails, and failed hugs. Each time he spun and made the troll pay for it. He delivered punches and kicks which would crack or break bones, even snapping his leg at one point. As much as anything, Kyle was just trying to get a measure of the man.