by Jamie Davis
Soon he was at another barred door. A squad of guards stood by the door and opened it only to let each group of slaves through before shutting and barring it behind them. It seemed the guards were more than a little afraid of the goblins, orcs, hill giants and others on the other side of that doorway.
As he stepped through, Hal felt a surge of anxiety over his plan. He swallowed hard when the door was shut behind his group of slaves. He was committed now and decided it was time to press his luck.
Concentrating on what he planned to do, Hal was rewarded with the familiar sound of the slot machine in his head. Good, now he could set to work, though invoking his luck only increased his confidence a little bit.
The slaves formed a line and walked into a large eating hall similar to the one on the Human side of the gladiator pens. The nonhumans were already seated at their bench tables, grouped by race into their clan groups. Hal shuffled his position in line to the rear so it had him in the group that served the goblin clan at the table.
When it was his turn to do so, Hal set his platter down. He was shoved aside as soon as he set the platter down. The goblin warriors were hungry and weren’t going to let a human slave keep them from what might be their last meal. They pulled apart slabs of venison from the huge roast, tearing into the meat with their pointed teeth.
Hal stepped back and decided now was as good a time as any. Moving from the line of slaves waiting along the wall to return with the empty platters and plates, Hall walked over to the large goblin sitting at the head of the table. He must be their chieftain.
“Ho, human,” the chief bellowed. “Do you want to be added to our meal? Get back along the wall until you’re summoned to clear the table.”
Grunts of laughter sounded down the table from the other goblins. Hal took a deep breath and bowed at the waist, just as he’d seen Bilham do when greeting Shalush.
“Greetings, Chief, from a man who counts himself a friend of the people of the Vale of the Morning Sun.”
The chief stopped laughing when he received the formal greeting. This wasn’t what he’d expected and seemed taken aback by this human slave’s strange behavior. Hal wasn’t surprised. The slaves never talked to the gladiators on the human side, either. This must be very strange to the captive goblin chief.
“Where did you learn that greeting, Slave? Most humans are killed long before they get a chance to learn our rituals and customs.”
“I have hunted trolls in the hills surrounding the Vale at the side of Shalush and his rangers,” Hal said, repeating his bow. “I am counted a friend by them and hope to be counted as a friend by you, too. We have common interests in finding a way to escape this place and seek the freedom of the open forests once again.”
The goblin chief’s eyes narrowed in thought and Hal waited while the other pondered what Hal said. A few moments later, the chief stood, gesturing to Hal. The spinning slot machine in Hal’s head chimed and he knew he was in.
“Come with me, human. I would hear what you have to say but here is not the place.”
“I do not have much time,” Hal said. “I must return to the slave quarters with the others.”
“Do not worry about that,” the chief said. “The human guards know we keep a slave now and then for our own amusements. They won’t come in looking for you if you don’t return right away. You can shuffle out with a later group.”
Hal nodded and followed the chief from the eating hall to a bunk room similar to the one Hal lived in.
“Talk slave,” the chief growled. “I am intrigued by your offer of a chance at freedom. As far as I know, there is only one way out of this place for either of us. Death is our only escape from the arena. I assume for you serving slaves it is much the same.”
Hal reached up and let his cowl down so the chieftain could see his face.
“I am not one of the serving slaves. I disguised myself as one of them in order to get to this side and make contact with you and the other leaders on the non-human side. I am Hal Dix. I was once a guard with a caravan traveling through the Vale of the Morning Sun and I did take part in a troll hunt with Shalush and his rangers to rid the Vale of the intruders.”
“How did you get in here with the slaves then?” The chieftain asked.
“I am one of the human gladiators on the far side of the arena. We have come up with a way we might all have a chance at escaping the coliseum but we need your help and the help of the other non-human leaders to make it happen. Are you interested?”
“I am indeed, Hal Dix,” the goblin chief said. “My name is Churg, chieftain of the Northern Hills clan.”
“Greetings, Churg,” Hal replied. He reached out with his right hand and Churg looked at it for a moment before reaching out with his own green-skinned hand and clasped wrists with Hal.
“You say there is a plan that might set us all free? I would hear of such a bold venture, even if it is doomed to sure failure.”
“It might seem far-fetched, but I assure you it will work,” Hal explained. “The Emperor’s birthday celebration is coming soon. I understand it is tradition to stage a spectacle of larger than normal proportions for the main event in the coliseum on that day. I and my companions on the human side have ways to influence the staging of that event. A few of us have the ear of the event coordinator. We will propose a grand battle between all the human gladiators and all the non-human gladiators.”
“What makes you think they will think such a thing would be good entertainment?” Churg asked. “We outnumber you humans by three or more to one. It would be a suicide mission.”
“Part of what makes it so attractive is my capture,” Hal said. “I and another of my companions are marked for death sooner rather than later by the Wardens and by the Emperor himself. We think such a spectacle would be acceptable because of how lopsided the fight would be. It would ensure a gruesome death to me and my companion. Doing it on the anniversary of the Emperor’s birth would be icing on the cake for the event coordinator. The Warden would be very pleased.”
“What makes you think the Emperor wishes your death more than the others condemned to fight here?”
“Partly because I led the rebellion against the Emperor in the western city of Tandon,” Hal said. “Partly because there are those among the Emperor’s counselors who believe I am the opponent of prophecy, sent to bring down the Empire he’s created.”
Churg snorted a laugh. “I have heard of this prophecy of the opponent before. It is one that is told by our shamans, too. They speak of one to come and save the tribes from the encroachment on our lands. Do you expect me to believe that man of prophecy is you?”
“I don’t know if I’m the opponent of prophecy or not,” Hal said. “Frankly, I don’t care if I am or not. I do know that I’m not dying in this hell hole and if I can find a way to escape, I’ll take it and bring anyone else out with me that wants to come along. The more the merrier.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Churg asked. “Assuming they decide to arrange this spectacle, then what?”
“It all hinges on them allowing all of us out into the arena at one time. They will assume we will focus on killing each other, since humans and nonhumans collaborating is out of the question in their eyes.”
Hal waited to make sure Churg followed his line of thought. The goblin chief nodded and gestured for Hal to continue.
“We arrange our battle lines as if we plan on fighting each other. Then, at the last minute, we turn on the guards and the spectators. All of us.”
“The crossbowmen on the walls of the arena will cut many of us down,” Churg remarked.
“What is the difference?” Hal shrugged. “All of us will eventually die fighting each other if we do nothing. This way, working together, we have a chance to make a break for it.”
“What if we’re successful? We still have to win free of the city.”
“Yes, but we will free all the slaves here in the coliseum, getting them to rise up with us. Other slaves in the city will
likely join us as we pass through the streets. We will raise an army of slaves who will fight to get us away from the city and to freedom. By the time the Warden or his officers have time to send for help to the Emperor’s army camped nearby, we’ll be through the gates and fleeing west.”
Churg paused in thought, then gave Hal a toothy grin showing off his pointed teeth.
“It is a bold plan and almost certainly doomed to failure.” The goblin chieftain paused in thought before continuing. “Still it is better than staying here and slaughtering each other for another’s amusement. I will rally my goblins to this plan.”
“What about the others?” Hal asked. “We need the Orcs, the Giants, even the Trolls if we can get them. The more we have, the more likely the plan will succeed.”
“I cannot speak for the others,” Churg said. “But I will talk with the other leaders. I think they will agree with my assessment of the plan’s chances for success. Even so, I think they will decide to join us anyway.”
“Good, that is all I can ask,” Hal replied. He looked around considering the time they’d spent away from the eating hall. “We should get back so I can return with the other slaves. It will be too dangerous to contact each other again. We will have to wait until the day of the Emperor’s birthday celebration.”
“Go with the gods, Hal Dix. May our grand alliance work in our favor.”
“Agreed.”
Quest completed - contact the goblin chieftain.
1,500 experience points awarded.
Level Up!
Hal grinned as he turned and hurried back down the hallway to the dining hall. Things were going very well indeed. Now all he had to do was get back to his side of the gladiator’s quarters without being discovered.
He paused outside the entrance to raise his cowl up again and bow his head to assume the defeated posture of the serving slaves. He was just in time as the last group of slaves trudged towards the guards at the exit with their empty platters and serving bowls.
Hal raced over as fast as he dared and grabbed a bowl from atop a pile of dishes carried by another slave and stepped into line to return to the human side of the arena complex. His mission had been successful. The rest was up to Churg.
He spared a glance over his shoulder as he left the non-human quarters and saw Churg talking with the orc chieftain off to one side of the dining hall. Hal smiled. It had begun. Now they had to get the events coordinator to plan their version of the perfect birthday celebration for the Emperor’s representatives.
19
Hal laid on the scratchy straw pallet in the serving slaves’ quarters and spent some time that night going over his stats and allotting his two attribute points and one skill point from leveling up. It was a toss-up between increasing his speed for defensive reasons or boosting his luck once more to increase his chances of succeeding in the upcoming plan for escape.
In the end Hal opted to increase his luck attribute by two. It was his luck that often saw him through tough scrapes. Better to increase that attribute than one of the others given the risky nature of their upcoming plans.
For his skill point, he decided to increase his Chakra Regeneration personal skill by one point. Being able to heal on the fly was going to be a useful skill in the coming battle to escape the arena. He looked over his stats one last time and was pleased with the results.
Name: Hal Dix
Class: Warrior
Level: 6
Attributes:
Brawn: 22 — +7
Wisdom: 10 — +1
Luck: 26 — +9
Speed: 14 — +3
Looks: 8
Health: 78/98
Skills: Shield Bash - 2, One-Handed Combat - 2, Combat Misdirection -1, Prescience -1, Chakra Regeneration – 2 (12hp during combat; 1/day)
Weapon Proficiencies: Long Sword - 3, Crossbow - 1
Warrior Experience: 5,000/9,600 to reach next level.
Rogue Experience: 146,100/250,000
Satisfied he’d done all he could do that evening, Hal tried as best he could to get comfortable on the pallet given to the lowly kitchen slaves. He was still partially injured from his fight the day before and he’d have to try healing again in the morning when he woke up. If he could get some rest, he might heal another point or two.
After laying there for what seemed like an eternity, Hal finally fell asleep, though his sleep was fitful and filled with disturbing dreams about his family.
When he awoke the following morning, he was filled with overwhelming dread that Mona and Cari were in some sort of danger. It took him a minute to calm himself down and remind himself that they were safe back home, far away from the conflicts of Fantasma.
Hal stood and tried to distract himself from his disturbing dreams by joining the other kitchen slaves in their breakfast of watery gruel and stale bread crusts. Once breakfast was finished, they all stood in line to load up with the food for the gladiators on both sides of the complex.
Hal was handed a platter of ham steaks that set his mouth to watering after the thin gruel he’d choked down earlier. The good news was, if he hurried in swapping with the slave taking his place, he’d be able to taste some before it was taken away.
The people running this arena of death believed in feeding their prime entertainers so they’d put on the best possible show. The others kept here were of no consequence to them and it showed in how the other, lesser slaves lived.
He shuffled into the human gladiator’s quarters with the other kitchen slaves and set his platter down on a table next to others. Then he returned to stand along the wall and waited his chance to peel off and get back to the bunk rooms.
Hal and the other slaves waited but no one came into the room to eat.
Something was wrong.
The guards entered with a bruised and bloodied man suspended between them. The unfortunate wretch was stripped to the waist and he’d been beaten to the point of unconsciousness.
Hal recognized him.
It was the slave he’d swapped places with last night.
The guard captain swaggered into the eating hall and walked down the line of slaves along the wall before turning and approaching the two guards holding the unfortunate slave Hal had switched with.
“This man used to be one of you,” the guard captain bellowed. “He decided he would help one of the Gladiators escape the arena last night and switched places with him. He was foolish enough to believe the man would return this morning and trade places with him again.”
The captain scanned the group of white-clad slaves along the wall.
“Some of you must have known he was missing from among your number, but you didn’t report it to the guards as you are commanded to do. I have decided that we will begin killing you all one by one until those of you who were part of the escape plot reveal yourselves.”
Hal swallowed hard. His throat was suddenly drier than a sunbaked sidewalk in the summertime and he could manage no saliva at all.
More guards rushed into the room and took up positions on either side of the line of twenty kitchen slaves.
Hal heard a whimpering cry from farther down the line.
He knew what he had to do.
Reaching up to lower his cowl, Hal stepped forward as he revealed his face.
“There’s no need to kill anyone, Captain. I’m here,” Hal said.
“You!” The captain glared at him. “What? Did you discover you couldn’t escape so you decided to sneak back with your tail between your legs?”
“I wanted to see how the other half lives. Now I’m back. No harm done,” Hal quipped.
He sounded way more flippant than he felt.
“No harm done, you say?” The guard captain turned, and in a single sweeping motion, drew his dagger and slit the unfortunate slave’s throat.
Blood fountained upward in a spray. The guard captain barely danced back fast enough to avoid it.
Several of the slaves behind Hal started whimpering. One vomited noisily on
the floor and another passed out.
Hal stared at the captain, his blood boiling with anger.
“You’ll pay for that, Captain,” Hal swore. “Someday, you’ll feel my blade across your throat. Mark me.”
“Threatening me, are you? This man died because of your foolishness, not mine.”
“Believe what you want. Your time on this earth is marked from now on.”
Quest accepted — Kill the guard captain.
“I think I need to make an example of you, Hal Dix. I know the Emperor wanted us to see how long you could last over days of combat in the arena, but I think this particular insult to me personally requires me to make a special lesson from you.”
“Do your worst,” Hal said. “I can only die once.”
Hal didn’t know if that was true or not. He was pretty sure Fantasma was real and not just a game. He couldn’t let this brute win, though, so he kept up his taunts.
“We got a new batch of Orcs in overnight. They’re a particularly barbarous group from the far north. I think you should meet them this afternoon.”
“Alone?” Hal asked. “I’m sure that won’t add up to very much sport for your audience of spectators.”
“Don’t worry,” the captain said. “Your friends can join you. They must’ve known you weren’t in your bunk, too. They can join your fate on the arena’s sands today.”
Hal was out of bluster all of the sudden. He didn’t want his friends to die on his behalf but it was too late of that. The plan was set.
“If you survive today’s conflict, Dix, I’ll actually believe all the nonsense the rabble among the guards are whispering about you being the mythical Opponent.”
“I wouldn’t bet against me,” Hal said in one last effort to stand firm against the bully.
Quest accepted — Survive the orc battle.
The message brought a smile to Hal’s lips. Maybe it was an indication he could survive.
The guard captain misinterpreted the smile.