Domains of the Chosen 02 Bloodlust: Will to Power

by C. P. D. Harris

  Shepherding the small group, Gavin watched in numb horror while the remaining rabblemen murdered each other. The vicious cheers of the crowd washed over him. Two more rabble escaped the chaos and joined his little group, throwing down their weapons. None of those under his protection plunged a weapon into his back. He kept them safe.

  Thus the match ended in a mess of chaos and blood, while Gavin created a space of order and safety with might, steel, and spell: an oasis of calm on the fighting grounds. His flock could not stop the bleeding of the wounded woman, who died, but the other four survived. Of the remaining rabble, who fought with desperate rage, only five did not succumb before the end. The arena was a mess of corpses.

  There was a grim pride in Gavin's eyes as he gave his salute. The gratitude of the people that he had protected mean far more to him than the jeers of the crowd. It meant more than his long sought master ranking. The last sound he heard as he stepped off the fighting grounds were a few ragged cheers of Lionfang and one of the men he had saved yelling his thanks. It was enough, barely, to keep the tide of disgust and darkness from overwhelming him.

  o-----

  In the coming years Gavin kept track of those he had defended in the rabble match. Most of them escaped Dregs and lived good lives.

  Interlude Six: Dreadwood

  (1150/07/17 AR, The Grand Arena in Krass)

  “It is easy to lose your way when every friendly face masks a rival and every closed door hides a plot.” Oratho diKrass, Heretic. From A Gladiator's Manifesto.

  “Mox tried to rape me. He used some sort of device to weaken me. I regained control and killed him. I remember little else.” Karmal's testimony before the Dreadwood Enquiry.

  Karmal's heavy blade shattered Bellasdoom then clove through Sadira's pauldron and into her shoulder. There was a satisfying grind of tortured metal and a spray of blood. Then the magic escaping from Sadira's shattered greatsword erupted, blasting both women and overloading their senses. Karmal might have fallen over, but her hands remained firmly on her cleaver, which in turn remained lodged in Sadira's pauldron.

  Both women regained their senses as the same time. Karmal tried to rip her sword from the armour, lifting Sadira off the ground as she pulled. Rage fuelled her strength and as Sadira came closer, Karmal's hunger for fresh blood overwhelmed her.

  Sadira did not resist the jerking motion, even though it sawed the blade deeper into her shoulder, rendering her left arm useless. Instead she pushed forward, adding Karmal's momentum to her own. The big redhead started to raised her leg, thinking to stick her boot into Sadira's chest for leverage while she pulled on the blade. Sadira swung her good arm up. The jagged remains of her sword left a trail of fizzling power as it arced. She thrust it into Karmal's leg.

  The blow startled Karmal. She still viewed Sadira as a pretty, pampered lightweight and was surprised by the Shadow-Elf's tenacity; it simply did not mesh with her worldview. The broken, jagged blade cut into her upper thigh. A crimson flood leaked from her leg as the makeshift knife dug deep, finding the artery Sadira sought. The pain and blood gave Karmal a surge of berserk strength and she pulled Sadira to her with the blade still lodged in her shoulder. They tumbled to the ground, punching and kicking. Despite Karmal's monstrous strength, Sadira was the better grappler, having learned much from the Pit Fighter discipline.

  Mindful of Karmal's gnashing fangs and horns, Sadira decided to roll away when the weapon finally came loose. The pain of the blade being ripped out of her shoulder was such that she did not even realize that Karmal had bitten off her ear. Both of them regained their feet, bloodied and panting.

  The Flame-haired Gladiatrix leered at Sadira, sticking out her tongue with a piece of mangled, bloody flesh upon it. Sadira raised her hand to the side of her head, feeling the ruined flesh where her ear had been. Part of her felt horror and revulsion. Karmal withdrew her tongue, chewing the flesh and swallowing with exaggerated gusto. The crowd gasped. The flow of blood from her leg slowed, beginning to heal as she ingested Sadira's blood.

  Sadira wove a spell to heal her shoulder, giving ground to Karmal. The dent in her armour got in the way of the flesh closing, making her gasp.

  "Your blood tastes just as good as the rest of you," jeered Karmal, smiling lasciviously. She wove a spell, summoning fire to her blade. Without pause, she applied the red-hot surface to her bleeding leg, cauterizing the wound. Being what she was, the heat and the pain only made her stronger.

  "Why are you doing this Karmal?" said Sadira. Her body was battered, but she too was full of power. She saw now that Gavin and Giselle and Vintia and Cleothera had all been right; Karmal was no longer her fiery rival and fierce friend. She had become a monster, inside and out, a woman who had given up her friends, principles, and humanity to be the next Chosen.

  "Because I am better than you," replied Karmal.

  They circled. This time, when Sadira's eyes met Karmal's there was no give in them, only hurt and defiance. Karmal saw this as a weakness.

  "Why prove it in a Deathmatch?" asked Sadira.

  "It's all about power, you dumb bitch," sneered Karmal. "You are the only one standing between me and my rightful place. Valaran is old news. He got soft and I took his place. You should have backed out when I declared Ut Nex. I'm the strongest now. I might even have saved a place for you and Gavin in my Hearthbound harem. But you stayed in my way, hogging the spotlight as always, all flash and no substance, and now I am going to FUCKING KILL YOU AND CARVE YOUR SKULL INTO A CROTCHPIECE..., and just so you know, I wasn't exactly rooting for you, even back in Dreadwood.”

  Sadira's eyes widened as it all fell into place. Karmal had been working against her for years...

  o-----

  Karmal moaned with feigned pleasure as Meady Mox thrust his ridiculously engorged manhood into her anus. From previous experiences she judged the ordeal was nearly over. The man had no endurance, lasting less than twenty thrusts. She resisted getting angry as he yanked on her hair, instead pretending she was in the throes of ecstasy. She doubted that she was especially convincing, but Mox was not exactly a sensitive lover.

  Mox's thrusts slowed down and the smell of his greasy sweat began to overpower everything in the room, Karmal moaned mechanically, trying to concentrate on the fight. Bella cast her net at Sadira, snaring her. Karmal became truly excited as Bella approached the struggling Sadira, trident poised to strike. Some part of her was surprised that she felt nothing about the impending death of her oldest friend, but she had her own future to think of. There could only be one Chosen, after all.

  As Sadira's struggles in the net reached a frenzied crescendo, Mox grunted and pulled out of Karmal. He yanked her face around. She thought about resisting; she wanted to watch Sadira get her just deserts, but the fight was in the bag. She could still use Mox to further her career. She knelt submissively as Mox splattered her face and breasts with his seed, grunting like a dying pig and chanting "take it, slut," in a quavering voice. Behind her the crowd roared and she longed to look towards the fight.

  "Swallow it, bitch," he said. "You know you like your Mox juice."

  With the drugs he had taken, Mox had ejaculated an enormous amount of his disgusting “juice” all over her. Karmal ignored his order and wiped her face clean with the back of her hand, bristling with impatience, turning back to the fight so she could watch the girls take down that loser, Gavin.

  To her surprise, Sadira was now grappling with Bella. She instantly assessed that the Shadow-Elf would overcome Bella without outside interference.

  "Time to use your little trick, love." she said to Mox.

  "You're right," said Mox, taking up a runed wand. "I attuned this to the wards so The Deliberative will never find out. After I use it to weaken Sadira I think I'll stick it up your..."

  Karmal rolled her eyes. The Deliberative were already on to Mox. They had sent Karmal to him as bait, to gather information. If she had not decided to use him for her own ends, he would already be in chains.

  "
Just do it," she snapped. "We don't have much time."

  Mox looked at her angrily, but he knew she was right. He pointed the device at the arena. There was a surge of power, but nothing changed. Sadira continued to roll around with Bella, both of them entangled in the net. He tried again.

  "It’s not working," said Mox.

  "You useless idiot,” said Karmal, standing. "It’s out of power, give it to me."

  Mox panicked as she reached for his wand. He invoked it. Karmal felt a moment of powerlessness, but it passed. Rage lanced through her and she stalked towards the smaller man, emerald eyes wide and feral.

  "Stay away, stay away," he screeched. "The Deliberative will have your head for this."

  "You pathetic little worm," said Karmal. "You think you can get away with what you've done? The Deliberative is investigating you already. I could have saved you, but now I'm just going to kill you."

  "You won't get away with..." he choked as she lunged like a panther, catching his throat. Even without her magic she was stronger than any ten men put together. She lifted him off the ground with one hand, muscles like steel cables rippling under her pale skin.

  "You are a rapist, Mox," she said. "A loathsome little bloodfart. I'll say you tried to have your way with me using your little device there. I have all the evidence I need on my face and in that wand. All of your victims will come forward, now. I should have killed you when you first laid your piggy little eyes on me. GRRRRR"

  Mox squealed, then screamed breathlessly as Karmal's other hand shot between his legs, grabbing and crushing his manhood to pulp. She savoured his pain as his eyes rolled back into his head, thinking of his disgusting hands and loathsome manhood. Then she slammed his face into the wall where it burst like a rotten melon.

  She stood there looking down at the carnage.

  Mox's timid assistant peeked her head into the box. Even soundproofed, with a roaring crowd outside, she had heard the man squeal. She was struck dumb by the sight of Karmal, naked and covered in blood and semen.

  "Mox tried to rape me," snarled Karmal. "go get a fucking Grey-Robe and a towel. Now."

  She thought back on her experiences with Mox. She realized that she had let her ambitions over-rule her sense. When Mox propositioned her, Karmal had gone to The Deliberative. After they sent her back to catch him in the act, she realized that she could use him to further her own ends. The idea to kill Sadira had come from Mox, but Karmal saw the advantages. In the long run Sadira was an obstacle to Karmal's own rise to power. Once Bella killed Sadira, Karmal would have played the grief-stricken friend seeking revenge and gaining great fame.

  Still, she had learned one thing. If a loathsome worm like Mox could rise to any level of power and not immediately get caught, then there was no limit to what Karmal could do. She just needed to be patient and find the right allies.

  These cold thoughts kept her company while the rest of her walked over to a corner, vomiting from all of the pent up revulsion. She did not allow herself to acknowledge what she had done, or her tears. She turned it all inwards, into fuel for her rage and hate.

  "This is all Sadira's fault," she thought. "She drove me to this."

  Chapter Fifty-Six: Purity

  1149/06/30 AR Dregs, Supplicants Arena.

  “Take a crime, dress it up as a tradition, and I guarantee you will find those who will sing its praises.” Amoura Vogue

  After the rabble match, Gavin vaulted to the top of the Supplicant's list. He suspected that Baron Bones wanted to get rid of him. The Supplicant's Arena was more active and lucrative than the Hall of Killers.

  The stalwart defender strove to remain above the brutal lessons of his fight against the rabble, but the savagery of those few moments in the arena stayed with him. The sheer viciousness of the rabble as they turned on the wounded, and then each other, their animal screams as they struggled. There was nothing sporting about all-out butchery in the name of greed.

  But the horrors of the Baron's lesson were balanced by Gavin's pride at doing a good deed in defending the handful of the rabble that tried to help each other. Those four people were alive because of him. With the prize-money, they could now afford to leave Dregs.

  He was surprised at how well Sadira understood his disgust over the match. She knew his mind better than ever.

  “You did everything you could have, beloved,” she said. “Few of us would even have tried to show mercy at all.”

  Gavin nodded, but he could not help but think that Baron Bones would not have been so cruel if he had not angered the patrons of the Death-Leagues with his refusal to kill his opponents. Even refusal is a choice.

  Sadira, reading his thoughts, threw a grape at him.

  o-----

  Gavin's next match was delayed as a cruel wind blew down from the mountains, passing over the ash plains and the toxic tailing swamps around Dregs. The resulting storm struck the city as a tsunami of toxic dust and ash. The wind also stirred up the swamps and a poisonous fog rolled in after the storm, blanketing the Dregs in a deadly miasma.

  The next morning Gavin saw a cart laden with the corpses of those who died on the streets, unable to afford shelter.

  o-----

  Lina brought Gavin a copy of the Arena Post a few days later. It contained an article written about him:

  Will somebody please kill this man?

  Whenever I am overwhelmed by the paltry politics and relentless regulation of The Great Games, and need to be reminded about what I truly love about the Arena, I make my way to a wonderful little place called Dregs and watch a Death-Leagues match. I find that the raw, brutal purity of these games can cleanse even the worst of the contrived machinations of the Faction Games from my mind. It is a sacred pilgrimage for any true fan.

  Rabble matches are a particular favourite. No other event strips away the veneer of civilization to show our true nature. The desperate men and women of Dregs pit themselves against a Gladiator of the arena, or a fearsome monster, in one last gamble to better themselves. It is all or nothing. Most of them will die, but a few of the strongest will survive, earning a better life over the broken bodies of their competitors. Many a great man has shown his will to kill as a rabbleman and gone on to greater things. It is a true lesson about the raw nature of life, and one of those events that everyone who loves Great Games should experience at least once.

  Imagine my disgust when I ventured for my pilgrimage and encountered a Gladiator in the Death-Leagues who was actively working against the traditions of our last connection to the games of old. Lionfang, some reject from the Faction Leagues is working his way through Supplicant's Arena so he can challenge Valaran diVolcanus for killing his friend.

  Here I was watching a rabble match where no one was dying. I felt violated, as if I was losing some vital part of myself. Thank Ezuis that Baron Bones was there to rescue the match. The rules that The Deliberative impose on the games, do allow a Gladiator to show mercy if he wishes, but these are the DEATH-LEAGUES. If you don't want to kill, by the ancestors, stay out!

  I'm all for vendettas, but this Lionfang does not belong in the Death-Leagues. Someone kill him before he turns our last great traditional league, a true treasure of the Empire, into yet another rules-bound faction fan-wank.

  -G.G. White

  o-----

  Gavin was the first Gladiator to take to the fighting grounds this time. The crowd jeered and booed, spat and hissed as he strode across the sands. He sensed however, that it was more for the joy of seeing him as a heel than actual animosity now. They enjoyed disliking him, and he enjoyed challenging their beliefs.

  “Honoured Gladiator Lionfang,” said Baron Bones. “Please allow me to extend my heart-felt condolences on your failure to earn your Rank last match. Life is so unfair, at least for some of us. On the other hand, one way or another, I will be rid of you today. Any chance you'll try to show some respect for the time-honoured traditions of this arena this Match?”

  Gavin shrugged. The jeering increased for a few mo
ments.

  “DIE LIONFUCK,”

  “GET OUT OF DREGS,”

  Gavin ignored the jeers. He found the calm within.

  “His opponent is an exciting, dynamic fighter with three truly spectacular kills in this very arena.” said Baron Bones. “Ladies, Gentlemen, and Dregs: Ravenblade!”

  The jeering abruptly turned to cheers.

  Ravenblade was taller than Gavin, over seven feet, but not heavily built. He moved with a lazy grace that belied the tension of the moment. He wore a light harness, a half-mask, and a hooded cloak; all black, of course. The last marked him as a student of a school that valued distraction and duelling techniques. His weapons were an exceedingly long, thin-bladed black sword with an elaborate guard, and a pommel shaped like a raven with ruby flecks for eyes. The sword was unusual, Gavin had not seen its like before, and only a weapon made out of strong materials and heavily enchanted could hold such a shape and not shatter under the stresses of fighting. Ravenblade's secondary weapon was a basket hilted parrying dagger.

  As his opponent moved closer Gavin got a better sense of the man's alien grace. Apparently this Ravenblade had body-sculpted himself to have extra joints. Something involving snakes would have been a more appropriate arena name, in Gavin's mind, with Ravenblade's sinuous grace having a definite serpentine quality to it.

  The two Gladiators faced off. Neither spoke. Gavin locked eyes with Ravenblade, noting that those his opponent eyes had yellow irises and slit pupils.

  “It seems that banter is a lost art with these two,” said Baron Bones. “Get on with it then.”

  The trumpets sounded.

  Ravenblade moved swiftly, invoking an air-dance enchantment, long blade thrusting towards Gavin's throat, going straight for the kill. Gavin twisted and stepped back to avoid the attack. With deft, multi-jointed, precision Ravenblade flicked the black blade into a slash. This surprising technique found a gap, scratching Gavin's ribs. The defender beat the thin-bladed sword away with the haft of his spear, blocking a follow up thrust with his shield. Gavin was stopped from counter-attacking by a painful kick to his knee which was followed by a series of unpredictable jabs and slashes before he could fully recover. He was hard pressed to follow them and received a painful cut on his bicep before he could force his enemy back.