by Jamie Davis
Hal leaned closer as they walked towards the tables.
“Have you thought about a way to get out of here?”
“For most, there are only two ways out. You fail a test and then they carry your body out on a wagon to be dumped in a pit with the other dead. You can also win the acclaim of the crowd. For those that do that, they join the grand army the Emperor is assembling to the east of Hyroth,” Kay said. “For us, though, that isn’t an option. We’re condemned criminals and traitors. We’ll be pressed into harder and harder tests until something manages to kill us. The Wardens will never let the crowd acclaim us and set us free to join the army.”
They sat down on one of the benches and a servant brought over a tray of food. There was some sort of pulled pork, flat bread and a mustard spread. There were no knives anywhere, only forks and spoons.
Hal was hungry and he dug into the platter of meat, making himself a sandwich with the flatbread. While he made his sandwich, Hal looked over his stats from the last fight. He had taken some damage from the baton blow the guard dealt him, other than that he was unscathed from the fight with the bull. He allowed two more attribute points into his strength score. It had stood him well when he’d needed it to hold on to that spear during the bull’s charge. He also added one skill level to his shield bash ability.
Hal noticed the additional weapon proficiency slot. It seemed he got a new one every four levels. He increased his long sword proficiency to level three.
He settled into eating while he thought about their predicament. The pork was surprisingly good for prison food and he remarked on it.
“They want us healthy so the spectacle of our fighting prowess continues to impress the crowd,” Kay replied. “The food’s about the only thing worth looking forward to in here.”
“Who’s the new guy?” A booming voice announced from behind Hal.
Hal turned to see who was talking. A huge, broad-shouldered man stood behind them. He had skin so dark he’d be virtually invisible in shadows. The man was muscled like a body builder and he flexed his pectoral muscles in an alternating pattern when he saw Hal looking his way. The man laughed and reached out and clapped a big hand on Hal’s back as he laughed. The good-natured back slap nearly caused Hal to choke on the food in his mouth.
“This is Hal. He’s a friend of mine from the west,” Kay said. “Hal, this is Otto, also known as ‘The Crusher’ by people in the arena world. He’s another of the condemned, like us.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Otto,” Hal said. “Sit down and join us. There’s plenty for all.”
“Don’t mind if I do. I’m always hungry in this damned place.”
Otto sat down and began heaping the pulled pork onto a plate, grabbing two of the flatbreads while he was at it. “Ale, I need some ale, servant, so do my friends here,” Otto shouted.
Two servants hurried over with pitchers and cups, pouring ale for the three at the table.
Hal took a sip of the ale. It was pretty good, much better than he’d have expected a prison.
“How many of us are in here?” Hal asked.
“Condemned like us?” Kay asked. “Twenty-two now that you’re here. There are some three hundred others that are at various levels of training. As they get trained, if they survive that long, the best are sent off to join the Emperor’s new army. Every mock battle. One warrior from each side is selected to be awarded the silver ring and join the army rather than fight in here. It’s a horrible, brutal system. I was looking into where the Wardens were finding new recruits for the army and training them so quickly when they caught me and charged me as a spy.”
“Flemming Ginty caught me when I came looking for you. I didn’t realize he was a Warden until it was too late, too,” Hal said.
“When you’re finished eating, we can go and look into getting you a room in our section of the barracks.”
“How often do we fight, Kay?”
“They put us in the arena every three of four days. That gives us a chance to heal up some between fights, though we never get back to full health at any time. We’re all fighting injured to some level or another.”
“So, we get put back in to fight animals like that bull every three or four days and in between we stay here. There’s got to be a way to escape, to get out of here.”
“There isn’t. I’ve tried. So have the others. We are watched all the time,” Kay said. “Even when we are sleeping, they look in on us. The night guards count heads in the bunks as they make their rounds each hour. There is no time when we are left unattended. We train together with practice weapons in between bouts. They only give us real weapons when it’s time to enter the arena. As you saw, we have to turn them all back in once we arrive back in our quarters.”
Hal glanced around the room. He’d never been in a room filled with so many hardened fighters before, even when he’d been fighting back in Tandon to free the city. He understood the system and the way it worked but there might be a madness to the Wardens’ method.
Hal remembered a movie he saw once where an army put all the opposing prisoners of war who were best at escaping in one camp. The captors thought by putting the escape artists in one place, they could keep an eye on them better. Instead they set up what would eventually be called the Great Escape. Over a hundred prisoners managed to break out at one time.
Perhaps having all the deadliest fighters and enemies of the state in one place where they could fight and train together wasn’t such a good idea. There was more than one historical precedent to this being a bad idea. He’d have to think on it some more.
“Hal, you have that look on your face when you think you’ve got a clever plan,” Kay said. “It bothers me when you get like that. What are you dreaming up?”
“Never you mind, Kay. I’ll fill you in when I think I have it all figured out.”
“Hal, you never get it all figured out,” Kay replied. “You end up making it all up as you go along once the initial plan goes south.”
Otto looked from one to the other. “What are you two arguing about? If you’re planning some sort of breakout, count me in. I’ll do whatever it takes to get out of here, even if it means we’ll probably die trying. As long as I get to take some of those damned guards with me on the way out.”
“Otto, my man,” Hal said, placing a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “As soon as I figure my plan out, you’ll be among the first to know, besides Kay here. In the meantime, when we want to talk about this plan in secret, the password will be ‘Spartacus’ alright?”
The plan was already forming in Hal’s mind. It would take a little time to gather the pieces together and figure out the details but it could work here as well as ancient Rome on earth.
“What does ‘Spartacus’ mean?” Kay asked.
“It’s a reference to another gladiator who decided he wasn’t going to let other men condemn him to fight for their entertainment forever. It will be our way of making sure it’s safe to talk about this in the future. Only the most trusted people in here are to be allowed into the secret until the very last moment. Got it?”
“Got it,” Kay said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Have I ever led you wrong?”
“I’m not answering that. You’ve just been lucky up until now. There’s gonna be that one time when one of your crazy schemes doesn’t work.”
“That, Kay, is where you’re wrong. I’m beginning to believe that here in Fantasma, I’m the closest thing to a sure bet.”
15
The next three days were made up of training sessions between Hal, Kay and the other condemned gladiators. In addition to Otto, Hal got to know a few of the other condemned.
There were a few other women among the condemned, including an impressive archer from the northern forests named Junica. She could fire off five aimed arrows and hit a different man-sized target with each one in less than three seconds.
He also met a slight man named Rune with a shaved head and tattoos
all over his body. He often fought with no weapons at all, preferring to use only his hands in battle. Hal was the victim of a demonstration of Rune’s abilities on his second day when he made a comment about the man’s tai chi slow motion style of practice and preparation.
In a series of moves faster than Hal could follow, Rune managed to disarm him of his practice sword and knock him to the ground. The stomp of the bare foot next to his head told him if the monk wanted him dead, he’d be dead.
Hal decided to seek out the opportunity to train with him in the future. There had to be a way to adapt the weaponless combat techniques to his own style of fighting.
Twice, the condemned were brought in to train and work with small groups of the other, normal gladiators. These were the ones vying for a chance to join the Emperor’s army every day in the commoner’s games. Hal watched them train and wasn’t impressed after seeing the skills and professional abilities of the condemned gladiator cadre.
“Where are they finding these yahoos?” Hal asked Otto during the second training session with the would be recruits. “Most of them don’t know one end of the sword from the other. I feel like all I’m doing is telling them to stick the other guy with the pointy end.”
“Most don’t know it, Hal, but the Emperor’s vaunted legions are depleted and too spread out to be a real threat to anyone anymore,” Otto said. “These poor folks are rounded up by city guards because of debt, petty crimes, and in some cases, sold into it by their families to make a better life for those who remain.”
“That’s awful,” Hal said. He was shocked. “They didn’t volunteer for this charnel house and now they are forced to fight for their lives day in, day out until they’re either killed or somehow graduate to join an army where there’ll be more of the same?”
“That’s about it,” Otto agreed. “At least they have a way out of here. We have only one way out.”
“For now, Otto, for now.”
“I’ll believe you when you show me how it will work, Hal. Until then, I’ll live each day as if it were my last.”
“Not a bad way to live, no matter what your prospects are, Otto. You’re a wise man.”
Hal turned his attention to the training exercise at hand. The recruits had been split up into two groups with half the condemned on one side and half on the other. Everyone had practice weapons and were in the main arena during a time when the coliseum wasn’t occupied by the rabid fans who attended the games.
The two sides were to square off and practice assaulting the other’s shield wall. It was supposed to help the recruits learn the valuable skills they’d need when they graduated to the legions at some point. In reality, the shield walls crumbled when pressed by an attack and the whole thing devolved into a mass melee where a few recruits with better skills rained blows down on their cowering opponents. It happened on both sides of the battle. Hal stepped in the way of one brutish man who was beating another man senseless with a wooden practice blade.
“Stop, you’ll kill him.”
“He’s gonna die anyway. He’s got dead written on his forehead already. The next battle will be his last.” The brute spat on the ground at the cowering man on the ground and stalked away.
Hal turned and offered the man on the ground a hand up. The man was sobbing.
“Pick up your blade,” Hal said. “You need to remember one thing. If you drop your only weapon, you may as well fall on it and do yourself in. Your only chance at survival is to hold on to it and learn to use it.”
“I’m just a share cropper. I don’t know nothing about how to use a sword.”
“Look, you just need to adapt what you know to this. You’ve chopped a tree down before, right?”
“Sure. What’s that got to do with using a sword?” The farmer asked.
“You swing the blade around like you’re chopping at the tree. At the same time, you have to watch out in case the tree starts to fall your way. Then you have to jump back and get out of the way. Try to think like that when you’re fighting. Hack at that tree and jump out of the way or use your shield when it tries to hit you back.”
“Somehow, I think it’s harder than that.” The farmer seemed doubtful.
“Sure, it’s hard. But if you can try and react as if it’s just a tree maybe you can stand and hold your ground,” Hal said. “That’s all we expect you to do. Now get back in there for the next drill and see if you can do better.”
The farmer picked up his shield and hefted his practice sword and jogged back into the unit of recruits regrouping under the command of the condemned gladiators training them. This time, Hal watched his new protégé. The farmer held his own against the onslaught from the opposing force. He even coaxed a few of his mates to either side to hold with him.
“I saw what you did there,” Junica said. “It is good to adapt the training to methods and concepts they find familiar. In the north, we are raised to the bow and axe but, here in the south, the farmers are not. They are soft.”
“They’re not soft. They’re as hard as they need to be. We just need to train them to be harder and they’ll fight better.”
“But most of them are doomed to die,” Junica replied.
“Maybe not as many as we think if we can do our jobs better. Perhaps the failing is not theirs but ours,” Hal said.
Rune laughed. He was standing nearby and had overheard them.
“You sound like one of my masters back at the monastery. He told me once ‘the student never fails unless the master fails.’ I think you have an understanding of how people learn best, Hal Dix. You would make a good teacher if you weren’t in this place.”
“Perhaps I can be a good teacher despite being in this place, Rune,” Hal replied.
“You seek to make stock out of bare bones, Hal?”
“I think so, if I understand your reference to soup, Rune. We help them, we help ourselves, too, I think.” Hal had the beginning of his Spartacus plan starting to form in his head. It would take some time and wouldn’t be without risk but he thought it might work.
Hal didn’t have much time to think on his plan. The very next day, he, Kay, and Otto were told to armor up and prepare to be part of the main event in the arena that afternoon. Because they didn’t have lighting for nighttime games in Fantasma, they finale for each of the spectacles took place in the afternoon just before dusk.
Hal strapped on his ring mail armor. Kay wore a chainmail hauberk and metal greaves and bracers. They went and met Otto. He was wearing a metal breast plate and a studded leather kilt but his arms and legs were mostly bare.
They all wore helmets of various sorts. Otto’s had spiked horns curving out from either side. If it weren’t for his jet-black skin and hair, he’d look like the perfect Viking from any epic medieval story. Kay’s helmet was a plain round conical helmet with a single plume of feathers standing out from the top.
Standing by the closed entrance gates. They were offered an assortment of weapons. But were told they were only allowed to take one weapon and one shield.
“What is our opponent?” Hal asked. He figured it might change his choice of weapon.
“You never know gladiator,” the guard captain at the gate said. Pick your weapon and live or die by the choice.
Hal shrugged. He decided to go with what he knew. Selecting a sturdy longsword and round shield much like the one he’d used during his journey to Hyroth. Hal took a few practice swings in the dark to get a sense of the sword’s balance. It definitely wasn’t as nice a blade as his sword from the Caravansary Outfitters, but it would do the job.
A muffled cheer sounded from the other side of the wall and a few minutes later there was a double rap on the wooden gates. The guard captain nodded and two of the eight guards who were their escort lifted the bar from the gates and pulled the double doors open.
A group of the recruit fighters exited. More than a few were injured. All were wide-eyed with the look of any person who had just lived through a life and death experience. Hal spott
ed the share cropper from the practice session the day before. He had a gash over his right eye that dripped blood down the side of his face but he’d lived. He saw Hal looking at him and gave him a half a smile and a nod of thanks.
“I guess the ‘hack a tree’ method worked,” Hal said to himself.
“What are you talking about?” Kay asked.
“Nothing, just proving a point to myself.”
“Move out, gladiators,” the guard captain shouted and one of the guards shoved Hal forward. Others prodded Kay and Otto, too.
“Here we go,” Hal said. “Do we have a plan? I feel like we should have a plan.”
“Don’t die,” Otto chuckled.
“We form up around Otto,” Kay said looking up the big man. “You’ve got that double-bladed axe and no shield. We’ll cover your flanks and you can hack your way through whatever we end up facing out there.”
Otto nodded and Hal stepped out onto the sand. There were slaves in white tunics dragging bodies. Hal noticed the bodies were both human and goblin which shocked Hal. He didn’t much like the prospect of coming up against any of Shalush’s kinfolk in the arena.
It occurred to Hal why there was a layer of sand covering the floor of the open-air arena. It was there for drainage. The blood from the battle had already soaked through the sand to the ground beneath. There were a few areas stained worse than others but for the most part, the blood was gone and the footing would be solid enough for the coming fight without any slippery spots.
Hal, Kay, and Otto walked to the center of the circular arena. Otto raised his two-handed battle axe over his head and bellowed what had to be a war cry from his homeland. The crowd liked the show of defiance from the condemned gladiator standing proud at the center of their afternoon’s entertainment.
This was Hal’s first chance to see the arena in full attendance. His first time he’d been a little shocked and hadn’t taken in the spectacle of the whole thing. Now he was able to see and absorb the horror of people assembling for this sort of blood sport. These people wanted blood. It didn’t have to be his blood but they expected blood of some sort from the fights they witnessed.