The Arena, what is that? Darshun thought. And what could they want with Kaylis? Did they see me talking with him?
Darshun and Kaylis were gathered together and led out of the Underground. They were brought to the first level of the castle, forced to walk what seemed to be a never ending corridor, then passed through a door leading to the outside. To a place the Draconians called ‘the Arena’. Hundreds of creatures including Cullach, Dark Elves and Barbarian men were seated in high-stationed bleachers around a large circular stonewall about twelve feet high.
While Darshun and Kaylis were led down the roadway, creatures on either side tossed half eaten food and slobbered drink upon them, laughing, shouting, mocking whatever came to mind. Especially to Darshun who they knew to be a Nasharin. The creatures kept repetitively yelling, “Die Nasharin….Nasharin scum…Death to the Nasharin!”
The pair was thrown into a two-door cage, the sides molded in between the stone. At the end of the cage, past the second barred door they could see within the circular wall no doubt a place for battle, having a diameter of over a thousand feet.
“What is this place?” Darshun asked.
“They call it the Arena,” Kaylis answered. “It’s where they force us to fight their warriors for their own amusement. Slaves get randomly chosen once a week for this. Now it seems I’ve been chosen as well, since they no longer need me to craft. Never has there been a case when a slave walked out from here alive. Their chosen warriors are elite. For most, being picked for this ‘game’ is no different than being executed for a crime. Death is certain.”
“Relax,” Darshun said with a smirk. “You have nothing to fear.”
Just then, another individual was led through the door and forced down the road, only to be tossed into the cage with the others. She was female, barefoot and wearing a smoky gray cloak, her long honey brown hair covering her face.
“What female fighter is this?” Darshun asked.
She lifted her head, both of them nearly falling into shock as the locks of hair unraveled her identity. For the female fighter was no other than the she-Elf Kelarin.
“They’re forcing you to fight too?” Kaylis asked, rushing over to her.
“This entire idea is Talvenya’s doing,” she said, falling to her knees. She looked to Kaylis, the Nasharin wiping a few tears from her cheeks. “You will be killed first, then her warriors are to brutally beat Darshun until he cannot stand. You see, she found out I can heal and for her delight I’m supposed to sit back and helplessly watch this without ever being able to touch either of you.”
“What purpose does this serve, to simply be cruel?”
“That is Talvenya’s way Kaylis.”
“Don’t worry,” Darshun assured her. “I won’t let anyone hurt us, either of us. This time it will be different.”
On a balcony extending off the second level of the castle, above the arena walked two individuals. One Darshun recognized as the High Wizard, wearing the same dark garments Darshun last seen on him not more than a few hours ago.
The other looked to be a tall man dressed in a red fur supertunic with a large golden belt, purple cape and a small black crown on his head. Something familiar stirred in his eyes, an evil.
It felt like a lust for evil and Darshun felt this before. “Who is the one to the Wizard’s right?”
“The Prince of Asgoth, Prince Sicarius,” Kaylis answered. “The son of the Dark King and Queen.”
“That is Talvenya’s son?”
“Indeed, and he’s the former champion of the arena. A thousand innocent deaths are upon his hands.”
“Darshun, if you are forced to fight Sicarius please do not kill him,” Kelarin begged, meeting his hard eyes. “If you do, Talvenya will cause an uproar, possibly forcing Abaddon to intervene. You cannot afford confrontation with the Demon.”
“How perfect.”
“No!” she yelled, surprising both of them, especially Kaylis, having never before witnessed the she-Elf speak in harsh tone. “You must not risk fighting him. The quest is too important for you to be laid to waste because of stupidity!” Kelarin’s hands trembled, her eyes teary.
To make matters worse, Darshun kept an obnoxious look on his face, blowing off her words. After all, why should he be afraid of any creature? They haven’t seen what he could do. But soon will.
“Hey, settle down everyone,” Kaylis warned. “Sicarius hasn’t entered the arena in over three years. There is no reason for him to enter—”
“There’s one reason for him to enter now Kaylis, and it is standing here before us.” She glared at Darshun.
“Stop worrying Kelarin,” Darshun said, admittedly a little afraid of her, for there was something awfully powerful in the she-Elf’s presence. “Listen, if for some reason I do fight and kill this ‘Prince of fools’ and draw out Abaddon, then I have clear passage into his lair for retaking the crystals. I just have to find it by then.”
“Then start taking this seriously Darshun!” Kelarin demanded. “This is not a game.”
I suppose she’s right. Though I don’t understand her anger, things are different now. What I have accomplished no Nasharin—or warrior has ever done. Soon, they will see how little we have to fear.
The Prince lifted his arms to the roaring crowd and they became silent, bowing their heads to him.
To avoid confrontation, Kaylis attempted to bow as well, as expected of the slaves, but Darshun grabbed his arm, holding him up.
“Nasharins do not bow to such vile,” he seethed.
Kaylis looked to him, then glanced over to Kelarin, who also remained standing. “All right, Darshun. I’m with you.”
Few among the crowd took notice of this and shouted aloud, “Heathens! They disrespect the Royalty!”
Immediately, a few rancid smelling Cullach guards clothed in rugged leather armor stormed open the doors to the cage; one grabbed the closest individual—Kelarin. “All of you kneel before the Prince,” he shouted, yanking on Kelarin’s hair. “He represents the King and Queen of Asgoth, whom we all worship!” With a hard push he cast her to the ground while the other unsheathed two swords, stepping hard toward Darshun and Kaylis, attempting to intimidate them.
~~***~~
Speaking not a word, Kelarin simply stood back up, avoiding eye contact with the guards, saying, “Never will I bow to him. Only Abidan, the Holy One of the Light deserves my worship.”
“Foolish she-elf,” a guard said, laughing sadistically, looking excited about the pain he was about to inflict on the blasphemous Elf. He took out his whip and lashed her back.
She cried out, collapsing to the ground.
The Cullach stomped a foot beside her face. “Are you going to bow now?”
“I will never bow,” she answered, though only a whisper of breath departed from her lips.
“So be it.” Raising his foot to stomp her head—a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Mystified, he turned around to come face to face with Darshun. “You!” he snarled, glancing aside to notice the other Cullach lying on the floor, his own two swords driven through him, one stuck in his heart the other his groin. Looking back to Darshun, a silent scream filled his chest as the Nasharin grabbed his throat and then crushed his neck.
He cast the body to the floor then reached down to gently help Kelarin up.
A bundle of guards rushed in, weapons drawn.
“Your fellow pigmen will never get up again,” Darshun quipped.
One of them walked over to him, its mouth close enough for Darshun to gag on its breath. “Since you are in a fighting mood Nasharin, you may fight the Six Champions alone while the craftsman and Elf watch your beating from in here.”
“That’s not fair!” Kaylis shouted.”
“Silence!” the Cullach commanded, casting a gleam of hatred his way.
“It’s all right Kaylis,” Darshun spoke. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
~~***~~
Darshun does not understand, Kaylis thought. No matter
how strong he thinks he is fighting the Six Champions alone is suicide! Each one has been trained in the fighting arts to a master’s level, becoming Tanarokai’s secret covert team. Numerous times have they taken out villages—cities, leveling them to waste, slaughtering the mightiest of warriors, even the gruesome Vampirae. Whatever mission Tanarokai gave them, they easily accomplished. Now they are fighting in the arena? One on one, or maybe two Darshun could defeat, but against all six? It’s impossible!
“Bring him into the battlegrounds,” the Cullach shouted.
A guard opened the second door of the cage and five others led Darshun into the middle of the Arena, between the twelve-foot walls where all eyes among the bleachers were upon him. A finely fashioned sword and shield was cast at his feet and they returned to the cage, locking the second door once again with Kelarin and Kaylis helplessly staring out at Darshun, their heads against the bars.
The High Wizard Levieth stood up from his seat upon the balcony, gazed down at Darshun, then summoned black clouds and smoke. It materialized over the entire battlegrounds, overshadowing the mid-afternoon sun. The crowd began chanting praises about the Dark King and Queen with melodies evil in tone, hardly describable. This entire process meant to install fear into Darshun, as they normally did to their other victims. Then rays of light began to pierce through the darkness soon eradicating it completely and Levieth shouted aloud: “Let the games begin!” His voice echoed across the land like thunder.
A large section of the stonewall on the south end of the battlegrounds slowly ascended like a door and out of the shadows came the Six Champions. Two were sickly pale-faced Cullach, both wearing studded leather, armed with double-edged swords. There also stood a Barbarian woman having long scarlet hair, clothed in a dark green leather vest, a large silver belt with the skulls of either monkeys or little children attached to it and a chainmail skirt, wielding a battle axe. Then there were two men looking as if they lived in the wild all their lives with greenish-gray eyes, long scraggly black hair and rough dark beards. One carried a double-speared staff, the other a sickle. Alongside them, stood a seven foot Draconian with fangs reaching down to its chin, clothed in hide armor and holding a war hammer, the steel head twice as thick as its skull. All looked incredibly strong. The crowd cheered them on as they approached Darshun.
“A Nasharin skull would be worth a lot of gold these days,” one of the Cullach spoke.
“The skull is mine!” the Barbarian woman shouted. “I want it around my waist.”
“Now now, remember we cannot kill him,” said the Draconian. “The Queen’s orders.”
“She gets all the fun,” the Barbarian hissed. “Fine, if we cannot kill him we will show him pain he never thought existed. What do you say to that pretty boy?”
“I’d say these odds are hardly fair,” Darshun quipped, fancifully throwing back his hair. “So I’ll tell you what, I’ll keep my eyes closed. That way you all will have at least a slight chance of beating me.”
“Ha!” laughed one of the men. “Don’t you know who we are?”
Darshun looked to him in amusement. “Why of course…the ‘Six Fools.’ ”
The warrior threw his arm up clenching a fist. “Insolent creature! Each of us has been trained in the Fighting Arts, reaching the level of Master. We’ve destroyed countless lives. A weakling like you shall just be another!”
“Are you through babbling? Because I am ready.” He closed his eyes.
Feeling annoyed by Darshun’s arrogance they slowly surrounded him, stepping closer and closer each passing second, then remained in their place, eyes’ strictly bent on him.
All grew quiet, the crowd, High Wizard and Prince eagerly awaiting the battle. A gust of wind passed, and abruptly the two champions—one Human, one Cullach—swung their weapons at Darshun’s head, attempting to split his skull in two different parts.
He sidestepped, swung his sword twice, once left another right and they fell to his feet face down, bodies throbbing. Still having his eyes closed Darshun stepped away, so the blood wouldn’t touch his shoes.
For the crowd, along with the fellow Champions, it seemed difficult to tell where he’d gotten them, for his speed could not be followed. Both the Barbarian and Draconian set a foot under their bellies and rolled them over to find two slashes aligned down the center of their foreheads and to their groins.
The remaining champions fell to rage and attacked head on, swinging and thrusting from every angle.
Darshun sidestepped, ducked and dodged, caught some blows with his shield others with his sword and when the smell of hideous foul musk drifted against him he jabbed his weapon forward, directly through the Draconian’s hide armor and into its black heart.
Behind the lizard beast stood the Barbarian and as its corpse fell she swung in a wide arc attempting to lop off Darshun’s head.
Grinning, he ducked, her blade making contact with the other Human who’d been creeping up behind Darshun while raising his sickle and sliced off his head, immense amounts of blood squirting up.
Shocked, she stumbled backward almost losing her balance. The next moment came a heavy kick against the left side of her face, not only cracking her cheekbone and busting her nose, but also breaking her neck. Like the others, she fell to Darshun’s feet…dead.
The last remaining champion, the second Cullach, attacked him directly and Darshun, using his sword, clashed against every swing his opponent threw and then twirled the weapon out of his hands in a fancy move. The Cullach quickly turned and fled, heading back to the door he and his former comrades just proudly marched through earlier.
Darshun picked up the double edge sword, raised his arms and ripping his muscles he threw it. The blade soared in the wind like an arrow and pierced through the back of the Cullach bursting out through his belly, the force knocking him forward off his feet, plunging him into the dirt face down with the sword popping back out and landing beside his head, black blood dripping off the steel.
The Six Champions were dead.
Darshun opened his eyes.
“Kelarin!” Kaylis said. “Did you see—?”
“Yes, I did.”
The shocked crowd booed Darshun and demanded he fight another opponent. For never in a thousand years did they suspect the Six Champions to meet their fate so easily and at the hands of a Nasharin no less.
Suddenly, the section of stone reopened, this time illusively rising quicker. A large shadow loomed there and out walked a creature—exploding the head of the fallen Cullach as it passed over with its massive foot.
~~***~~
Darshun knew what it was he’d seen it before.
A Troll, standing at about ten feet and carrying a spiked metal flail, but it didn’t exactly resemble the Cave Troll from Arundel Mountain that Seth killed. This one looked to have a rubbery looking hide of moss green, a thick mass of writhing black hair, greenish-gray eyes and a slightly different facial structure. But its arms, body and legs were just as massive—just as wide. It made its way to Darshun, causing the ground to mildly shake from its footsteps.
The closer it came the more intense the crowd’s chanting grew, repetitively shouting in unison: “Kill him! Kill him! Kill…him!”
“So, what do we have here?” the Troll grumbled in its deep burly voice; large jelly-like eyes scanning Darshun up and down. “A boy, in the Arena? Ha! I will to turn your body into mush.” He twirled the flail in the air, showing off for the crowd, the heavy chain rattling.
“What kind of Troll are you?” Darshun asked, licking his lips.
“I am a Forest Troll, last one of my kind now fighting here for King Tanarokai.”
“Why do you fight for him?”
“I have been given authority to rule the forests under the King once the New World comes.”
“Tell me how you will rule the woodlands when there shall not be a single solitary tree left upon the earth?”
“What are you talking about? Of course there will be. I was promised!”
<
br /> “I have foreseen what the earth will look like, and it is a plague of death fitting for only the vilest of creatures, the demonic. Tanarokai is lying to you. He’s merely using you for entertainment here in this arena.”
For a moment the Troll looked upset, almost betrayed, turning his head up toward the balcony where Prince Sicarius and Levieth were overseeing patiently; then glared back to Darshun. “Shut up!” he roared. “I need not exchange words with a liar. You are a criminal. I have been sent to obliterate you. I will do as the King commands, please him, and then repopulate my kind. I shall rule the luscious green lands as Wizards and Elves once had. Forever!”
Raising an eyebrow, Darshun asked, “How will you do that if you are the last of your kind?”
“I shall seek out other female Trolls. Cave or Ice perhaps and in time they will adapt to my climate. I will have sons and daughters again that will no longer live under the threat of extinction.”
“You had a family?”
Turning his head aside, avoiding eye contact with the Nasharin he answered, “I did, but they were taken by the King’s son Prince Sicarius. You see children…at times often have bad habits and when outsiders storm in to correct those habits, their mother naturally intervenes, only to cause death to them—all.”
“So, the Prince killed your family?” Darshun asked, though it sounded more like a statement.
“He killed all the Trolls in my clan who cast down the statues of his father and mother and chose not to worship them. I wanted to die as well, but being I am the last of my kind I was made a deal to become the Prince’s”—he clenched his fists—“pet, obey what he commands, worship Tanarokai and Talvenya, and kill in the Arena.”
From what seemed to the crowd to be long and pointless words—even though they barely understood most of those words—they began shouting aloud for the battle to begin.
“Like I said, you are being used for mere entertainment,” Darshun scoffed.
“Then so be it, if that’s what it takes to give me back a family. Do you know what it feels like to be alone?”
Crossing Forbidden Lines (Guardian Series Book 2) Page 15