Bouncing back and forth from the crowd on all sides, Thorik and Avanda tried to keep up with them in the darkness of the night. Streaming around corners and up steps with the flow of the other patrons, they finally made their way to the inside of the coliseum where the lanterns and flaming vats lit the way to seats.
It had been a difficult weeklong travel to arrive at this event on time, and the two Nums were exhausted, dirty, and hungry. Fortunately, they blended in with the crowd.
The coliseum was enormous and sat tens of thousands of people in multi-tiered circles that surrounded a sand filled base. Four significant areas could be seen from Thorik’s vantage point. At the bottom was the sandy arena filled with various white marble statues and large bowls of burning oil. The walls around this level were decorated with additional statues depicting scenes of battles and celebrations. Doorways were blocked by thick rod iron gates.
The next level up was for the Gentry and other nobility, decorated with flags and banners of many color combinations. Situated along one side of the coliseum, it was comprised of several rows at twice the height of everyone else’s seating. It also supported its own entrance from one side.
The Plebeian section was dull in comparison, crowded and poorly cleaned. It was the largest area of the complex and provided multiple entrances for dozens of levels. Filled with various races of humans and Nums, seating was tight and viewing was not always the best.
Caged sections of the coliseum filled in as the fourth unique part of the coliseum. Thorik could see two such sections from where he sat but assumed that more could be hiding from his view. They branched off from the sandy arena floor level with iron bars that covered the walls and ceilings of corridors and rooms. It looked out of place with the white marble backdrop of the rest of the architecture which was coated with lush green plant growth.
Thorik opened his battered coffer and grabbed a few of his drawing supplies as he began to record the coliseum’s layout, while they waited for the Melee Matches to begin. Bumped several times by excited viewers, Thorik protected his work from their spills of drinks and food. He sketched out each of the areas to the best of his knowledge with the view that he was given. Adding more detail later, such as the floor statues, caged rooms, overrun ivy walls, and flaming vats for light, he was nearly finished by the time the event started.
Avanda craned her neck to see everything going on. “It’s been awhile since we’ve seen Grewen. I hope he isn’t injured.”
Thorik looked at her concerned face. “I’m sure he’s fine. They wouldn’t allow him to fight in the games tonight if he wasn’t well.”
“Are you sure he’s going to be fighting tonight?” she asked.
“We have to just hope the information we gathered is correct.”
“And if it isn’t?”
Thorik didn’t like the line of questioning. He knew that the information could be wrong and Grewen could be on the far side of Australis by this point. “If Grewen were here with us right now he would say, ‘Worrying about it doesn’t do any good. It is what it is’. So we will have to just wait and see.”
Avanda crunched her face at Thorik. “You don’t do a very good imitation of Grewen.”
Thorik chuckled. “Sorry.”
She added, “And if he was here to say that, we wouldn’t be worrying because we would know where he was.”
Thorik opened his mouth to explain what he meant and then decided not to bother.
Spectators roared as several high level officials walked out to their seats in the Gentry section, signally the onset of entertainment. Thorik and Avanda watched the best they could as people frequently stood up in front of them to cheer.
A large man walked out into the base level and kicked the sand around a bit as he practiced a few jabs of his sword with one of the statues. He was taller than any man Thorik had ever seen and with arm muscles the size of tree trunks. Blue colored cloths were waved above many audience members’ heads as they chanted his name. “Asentar, Asentar,” they continued as the man’s muscles rippled with each practice maneuver.
“For the first match tonight we have Doven’s champion of champions, the supreme knight of the Dovenar Kingdom, Asentar, who will single handily fight off a tribe of thrashers,” a man in bright green and yellow robes announced using a large horn.
The crowd cheered again when they heard his name and began to clap randomly at first. After a short time everyone fell into sync. Clap, clap, clap. The beat from the audience was strong and intoxicating as each clap was accompanied by part of his name. “As-en-tar, As-en-tar.” It was hard not to get caught up in it.
Asentar worked his way past several statues to the center of the sandy stage. Once there, he bent his knees in a wide leg stance with nothing more than a short sword in his left hand and a thin long sword in his right. Slightly hunched over, ready for the attack, he looked over at the announcer and nodded his head.
The thrashers were released from several entrances into the arena and they made their way toward the muscular man. Some jumped from statue to statue as they made their approach from the air while others galloped straight for him.
The sight brought back frightening memories for the two Nums as they wondered how this single man was going to fight off over two dozen of these beasts.
A few of the thrashers turned and started to climb the walls in an attempt to attack the audience. The first of these climbed up the wall a few rows in front of Thorik and pounced on the man in front of him. Clawing at the man’s arms, which protected his face, the creature jumped to the man next to him. It continued to leap and attack until a few guards were able to catch it in a net and carry it off.
Still bleeding from their injuries, the crowd seemed to dismiss the assault as nothing more than a minor accident, as they quickly returned their attention was back to the battle with Asentar.
A second off-course thrasher climbed up the wall below the Gentry seating area. This one was quickly shot by several nearby guards prior to the beast harming anyone.
Thorik watched as Asentar spun his swords around and sliced at the attackers with an unexpected grace. Using both swords, he moved his body in complete rotations as he fought them off. He stopped momentarily and repositioned himself when time allowed, but never looked overly challenged in his continuing battle.
Over twenty creatures lay at his feet as he spun the swords in the palm of his hands while walking over to the remaining ones devouring their own dead tribe members. Not missing a beat in his steps, he slashed the last few creatures without an issue.
Asentar walked over to the Gentry and bowed as they politely applauded for him. The mighty warrior turned to the Plebeians and waved his sword in the air as they cheered and praised the Dovenar Knight’s name.
“I heard that he once killed a Chuttlebeast with his bare hands,” a member of the audience said enthusiastically.
His neighbor relied, “I heard it was two Chuttles at once!”
Eavesdropping on their discussion, Thorik didn’t know if they were speaking the truth or if it was the ale talking. Then again, he didn’t know what a Chuttlebeast was, so it really didn’t matter.
Wagering on each fight increased the excitement for the audience as bright yellow clothed men walked up and down aisles taking bets before each battle. Coins were exchanged and sides were selected as they prepared for the coming event.
Some matches included several humans against various Unday, although most of them were strictly creature against creature. Avanda quickly picked sides for each match as she cheered them on. Somehow it didn’t seem real to her as she sat in the stands, becoming caught up in the excitement.
Cataloging all the names he could, Thorik struggled to watch the matches themselves due to the bloody content. He even had difficulty watching thrashers being slaughtered.
Sometimes it was difficult to tell the Del’Unday from the Ov’Unday, but the Fesh’Unday were pretty easy to recognize. They acted on pure instinct and had limited communication. A pack of
wolves barked and growled together as they fought a family of tigrons. Both appeared to be Fesh’Unday with minimal intelligence.
Melee after melee continued until the final event, late into the night. The tired spectators regained their excitement as the anticipation of this ultimate rumble was about to start. The yellow clothed men were surrounded by betting patrons in hopes of cashing in big.
Thorik watched the insanity of people being entertained by watching creatures fight to the death. If he could have left the event, he would have done so long ago. But he couldn’t abandon the possibility that Grewen was still going to show up.
“And now, what you’ve all been waiting for, the Tri-Unday Midnight War,” the announcer said before he attempted to subdue the cheering and yelling of the Plebeians so he could continue. “As you know, before Victor Dovenar built the first wall and safe haven for men, the Altered Creatures ruled Australis.” The crowd hissed at the remarks. “As the expansion of the Dovenar Wall continued, Men and Nums were no longer threatened by them. The remaining unwanted lands were shared between the three clans of Altered Creatures until a war began. A fight for dominance.”
“Tonight we will reenact their final battle for you. You will see the reason why men cannot trust these evil creatures and why your taxes go to protect our great walls.” The announcer paused for the applause and looked over at one of the lead Gentry who nodded back at him.
“Place your bets on which Unday clan will win the Midnight War,” he shouted as the crowd scrambled for their last chance to bet.
Thorik and Avanda watched the chaos as they were elbowed and jabbed several times as people made their way toward the sides to bet on the winning clan.
Once completed, Thorik could finally see the arena again. White, black, and gray flags hung behind the announcer on a wooden tree stand for all to see. It was a score tracking system of some type.
The arena’s iron gated entrances also had these same colors hanging over them, although Thorik could only see the white flagged entrance and gray one. The black-flagged entrance faced toward the Gentry, not viewable from Thorik’s location.
Thorik watched as audience members waved various colored cloths over their head like they had done at many of the previous matches. The only difference this time was that more flags were waved and that three colors were in play. It was almost even between the gray and black flags with a small scattering of white.
Trumpets sounded as the gates opened and the audience sat on the edge of their seats waiting for the match to start.
A rumbling could be heard as creatures trampled the hard dirt below their feet on the way out to the arena. One by one, creatures appeared from each gate, many at a full run as they headed toward the center.
Under the gray flag came out the wild creatures, the Fesh’Unday. They were disorientated, angry, and looking for a kill.
“I hope they weren’t fed anything for a few days. I want them hungry!” a man waving a gray cloth yelled to his buddy over the crowds cheering.
His friend waved a black flag as he watched the creatures enter from below their seats in a much more calm and ready for battle manner. “Yes! I have a Blothrud! You don’t have a chance now.”
The Blothrud stepped out into the arena several yards before stopping and eyeing the Gentry leaders. Within the Gentry seating area, several Alchemists stood up to make their presence known to the beast. The on-looking Del’Unday stood up like a man with dark red skin and long powerful wolf-life hairy legs. Bladed spikes extended from his shoulder blades and down his massive spine. A large scar on his back could be seen at a distance, running from his upper left shoulder blade down below his belt on the opposite side. Whatever had caused it had also broken several of his angled spikes on his back. A symbol on his right shoulder blade had been branded by a hot iron.
Turning his head to watch the Fesh enter the arena, the Blothrud’s long bony face resembled a mix of dragon and wolf features. Sharper and less fleshy than both, his lips struggled to cover its mouth full of glazed teeth. His eyes were solid red and shimmered in the flickering light of the fiery vats. Wearing no more than a few ripped cloths around his waist, he stood up straight and defiant.
The other Del’Undays kept their distance from the Blothrud and instinctively so did most of the Fesh’Unday as the towering creature stood his ground, surveying the new landscape. He was not nearly as tall as Thorik’s friend Grewen, but he looked a lot more intimidating.
Thorik listened to the two men next to him as they named off the creatures fighting on their sides. Every once in a while they would make a comment about the white team of Ov’Unday but never with much interest.
“Oh, no!” shouted the second man. “You have a Chuttlebeast!” He shook his head in disappointment while his friend stood up on the seat and cheered.
The Chuttlebeast charged out from under the hanging gray flag with its large cube-like head. Long clumped and matted wool covered this four footed thick-legged creature. It was nearly as wide as it was tall as it stood eight feet to the top of its shoulders. This clumsy looking animal apparently only had one strength, to charge and bulldoze anything in its path. It ran straight for the center crushing every Fesh’Unday and marble statues in its way. If the initial striking of its flat face didn’t kill its victims then the trampling of its massive hooves would.
The Chuttle raced around the arena hitting anything in sight, as it clobbered several creatures while they stepped into the arena from the entrances. Recessed eyes were covered by the thick wool and could have been part of its misguided head-on attacks. As it continued to charge and run into the side walls, Avanda realized it had less to do with the wool and more to do with lack of intelligence.
The beast ran past her location, flooding the area with a pungent, vile, acid-like smell. The crowd had been prepared and held their breath while it passed. However, Avanda and Thorik breathed in the vapors, not knowing any better. They instantly felt the fumes burn the inside of their nasal cavity and spike a quick and powerful headache and lightheaded feeling that lasted only a few seconds. The creature and smell were gone as quickly as they had come.
Thorik listened to the two men continue as creature after creature was released.
“Shane, look over there,” expressed one of the men. “The white team has a Mognin.”
Grewen stepped out from under the white flag and looked around at the chaos in the arena. Fresh cuts and whip marks were visible on his body as his ripped robe hung down from his waist. He had been beaten severely and not cleaned up afterward. A large branded symbol could be seen on his right shoulder blade. In spite of the injuries, he stood up straight with dignity. It easily made him the tallest creature in the arena.
“He’s huge,” said the other. “I’ve never seen a Mog that big before. Is it too late to change my bet?”
Grewen stood on the sand examining his new surroundings and the audience cheering him on. Spectators waved white flags harder as they realized what they had.
Avanda screamed with excitement. “Thorik, he’s here! You were right!”
Thorik was torn between being correct that Grewen would be here and mortified that his friend was now a slave and gladiator. “Now all we need to do is free him,” he said softly as he looked at everything he was up against. Thousands of onlookers wanted to see him battle to the death. There would be no simple way to sneak their main attraction out of sight.
Grewen stood motionless as he watched creatures of all types waging war. Thrashers were jumping about while bears stood on their back legs trying to scare off creatures approaching them. It was pandemonium. Over a hundred Unday were now packed into the walled sandy pit.
A tigron leaped at the Blothrud with full force nearly knocking him over. Holding back the tigron’s head with his hands, the Blothrud reached down with his own mouth and made a large bite into its neck, crushing and killing the smaller creature instantly. Releasing the tigron from his bloody jaws, he tossed the dead carcass up into
the stands.
The announcer removed one of the gray flags from his three-branched score tree. Several flags had already been removed and the white team was not doing well.
The Plebeians screamed and yelled as creatures were killed and flags were removed. The fierce thrashers spent most of their time eating from the ever-increasing dead bodies. One by one the numbers dwindled down until only a few creatures were left.
Grewen had survived mostly because of his size. Most creatures wanted nothing to do with him, fearing his strength. The same could be true about the Chuttlebeast and the Blothrud.
The Chuttlebeast continued to run amuck destroying everything in its path. During its last tour around the outer wall it wiped out two Del’Unday, one Fesh’Unday, and four Ov’Unday before seeing Grewen.
The Chuttlebeast charged with full force at Grewen who was still on Thorik’s right side. The crowd had been waiting to see this for a long time and they stood up with excitement. Thorik couldn’t see and grabbed his pack to move up to the front.
Thorik nudged Avanda. “It’s time.”
She grabbed her belongings and followed him.
People were standing everywhere as they waved their cloths for victory, allowing the two small Nums easy maneuvering between them.
“Do we have to use it all?” Avanda asked as they continued down toward the arena.
“Yes, we can’t take a chance. We don’t know how much will be required.”
Thorik reached the front stone railing to see the Chuttlebeast collide with Grewen who had his hands out ready to catch the beast’s cube shaped head before it slammed into him. His braced feet slid in the dirt as the creature pushed Grewen backwards. He held onto the Chuttle with one hand on its flat boned nose and the other at his ridge over its ear, while he held his breath from the vapors it gave off.
The Mognin grappled with the creature and pushed with his mighty legs to slow it down. But the weight and momentum of the Chuttle continued to push him back toward the Blothrud, who was now seeing an opportunity to attack Grewen from the back as he skidded toward him.
The black and gray team supporters yelled and cheered in delight as they saw the last Ov’Unday prepare to die.
Thorik could tell that Grewen had no idea he was about to be attacked from behind and realized that it was now time for action. In addition, Grewen’s head was starting to nod forward as the beast’s vapors were starting to knock him out.
“Hand it over,” Thorik said.
Avanda reached into her sack and removed the flask of oil. “Not all of it. I want to save some. It may come in handy.”
Grewen’s backward slide was reaching the two Nums.
“Avanda, there’s no time.” Thorik’s voice was more stern than normal.
Seeing Grewen’s dilemma, she quickly handed the glass flask to Thorik.
Thorik watched as the Chuttle pushing Grewen backwards directly in front of him, before he threw down the flask into one of the nearby large vats of burning oil. Upon shattering on the shallow base of the vat, it released the oil that they had taken from the city of Kingsfoot.
The flame quickly changed from a yellow to an odd green that coated the inside of the coliseum. The statues within the arena and along the walls suddenly came to life, just as they had done in Kingsfoot. As the mystical oil continued to work in the arena area, the wall sculptures behind the audience of the Plebeians and the Gentry emerged from their hibernated state. Slow at first, each newly living being emerged from the hanging vines and from behind tall ferns.
The crowd began to panic as the threat of this magic became all too real. They were stone, but they acted like the wild animals they resembled.
Confusion ran everywhere as the stone structures began to have a life of their own while interacting with the crowd. Gigantic prehistoric creatures moved from their resting places and stepping on those in its way, while stone spiders, snakes, and bugs were released among the crowd.
The Gentry were trapped. The only exit from their seating area was now blocked by several moving statues. In an attempt to escape they started lowering themselves over the wall near the Ov’Unday entrance.
The Blothrud noticed the escaping Gentry and then looked back at Grewen, still sliding backwards. He jumped at Grewen, knocking him off his feet. Both of them rolled to the side, out of the Chuttlebeast’s path.
“Get on your feet and run this way,” the Blothrud shouted at Grewen, while he got back on his own wolf-like legs and began to run.
Grewen obliged out of sheer confusion at the scene he was now viewing. He didn’t understand why the Blothrud had saved his life but this was no time to ask. Standing up, he followed the Blothrud at his own lumbering fast pace.
They ran past several animated statues as the Blothrud knocked a few over with his swinging forearm. Grewen looked back to see that the Chuttlebeast had turned around and was charging behind them.
“Get ready to jump when I give the word,” the Blothrud instructed. He watched as the Gentry leaders made their way down the fabric of the white flag to the sandy arena and gated entrance. One of the Alchemists said a few words and pointed his wand toward the locked gate. It unlocked and opened for the Gentry as Grewen and the Blothrud stormed toward them, followed by the Chuttle.
The Gentry and the two spell casters raced inside, closing and locking the iron gates behind them just as the giant Undays arrived. The Blothrud slowed down to allow Grewen to catch up to him with the Chuttle just steps behind them both.
The Gentry and one Alchemist raced down the caged corridor. The second spell caster was a witch who held her ground while watching the two tall creatures run at her, side by side. She knew the gate would hold, but didn’t want anything thrown through the rod iron gates that could hurt her companions. The witch pulled out a small object from her cloak and said a few magical words. In a blink of an eye she transformed her body into a rock wall just behind the gate.
At the last second the Blothrud yelled, “Jump!” and pushed Grewen to the right as he jumped to the left, allowing the Chuttlebeast to race between them into the locked iron gates. The bulky beast crashed through the entrance at full force. The gate snapped off its hinges as the massive face of the Chuttle charged forward. A momentary scream could be heard as the Fesh’Unday hit the rock wall, exploding debris in every direction, trailed by droplets of red blood. The beast continued to race down through the corridor after the remaining Gentry and Alchemist.
The Blothrud stood back up and looked over at Grewen who had fallen face first into the sand. Pointing at the Mognin, he said, “You owe me one, Mog.” He turned and headed down after the Chuttle to finish his attack on the Gentry who had imprisoned him. He would now take out his revenge for the torture that they had inflicted upon him.
Grewen finally stood and looked around to find Thorik lowering Avanda and himself down the black fabric over the Del’Unday entrance. Grewen hurried over to them, avoiding the still animated statues.
Avanda greeted him with a hug to the giant’s leg. “Grewen, I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”
Looking down at the little Num on his calf, he replied, “You worry too much, little one. It never solves anything.”
Thorik smiled at Avanda over Grewen’s comment. Perhaps he had rendered a better impression of Grewen than she had given him credit for.
Respectfully, Thorik looked at the blood and dirt covered large friend who was giving advice on not getting stressed about life. Grewen was always a source of calm for Thorik regardless of the situation.
Looking around at all the chaos in the coliseum, Thorik commented, “Let’s get out of here and save Brimmelle in Pelonthal if it’s not too late.”
Grewen agreed. “He would have had to have been processed in Doven and then catch the next prisoner wagon to Eastland before they take him through Pelonthal. We should be able to get in front of him.”
The three entered the Del’Unday tunnel to make a quick escape from the coliseum, Pyrth, a
nd the province of Woodlen.
Chapter 26
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Fate of Thorik Page 32