by J P Nelson
Me, all I had to do was fight. As I have said before, life was as good as it could be for a person in my position. Temptations to lead a soft and easy lifestyle were all around, and that is what they wanted.
I had all manner of females making themselves available for my use, and some males too. If I weren’t so angry, I might have gone for the women, but … And there were other things like booze, drugs, about anything you can imagine.
As it turned out, my best friend was a stick I named Judy. There was nothing special about it; it was just a slim stick about four feet long with a slight curve on the thick end. It wasn’t big enough to use as a real weapon, unless I wanted to enhance it somehow, like make the point real hard and sharp or something. What I used it for was as a back-scratch. That, and I used it a lot, when no one else was around, which was most of the time, to practice my sword drills. I saw no point in letting those go to waste … you never knew.
Judy was good for other things, too. I talked to her often, she would listen quietly as I described fights and how I could have done it better, she was a great dance partner, but she was lousy at chess. Sometimes I used her to remove the cobwebs from corners and the ceiling. She also knew when to just stand in the corner and leave me alone when I was mad. Sometimes she listened to the old tales my momma used to tell me. Eventually I learned she liked to hear me sing the old mournful ballads. Judy and I got to be good friends.
Occasionally a member or two of the Dai Tauro Gladia~Kai took time to give me a visit. I was a commodity and subject for much talk. Edgarfield would be there and he would stand proud as he showed off his champion, but I never spoke, not much anyway.
Kendle didn’t always come around; sometimes someone else would have the night watch. There were three or four others I may be likely to see, all dumb brutes, all human. One was a broken down drunk. It was him I talked into getting me the stick. I began complaining how much I was itching and he fetched me one. He never asked why I didn’t just rub against the wall corner, and I didn’t bring it up. I kept Judy against a back corner and nobody ever knew different, especially Edgarfield.
Looking back, I remember they fought me against anyone they thought would be entertaining. Recently they had taken me on a tour around five points of the Alburin Sea. Among my opponents were a seven-foot-tall barbarian and a minotaur. Both were cases of survival for me, but after a while all fights feel the same.
The barbarian I remember killing with my snake-arm choke, the minotaur was a matter of finally breaking off one of his horns and stabbing him with it, repeatedly. I scored an ovation from the crowd, not by killing the minotaur, but from the response of the guards.
After finishing my opponent, I stood there with horn in hand. The guards came into the field to escort me out and I just turned and looked at them. Suddenly I dropped into a crouch and faced them in a guard position as they scattered, one fell back on the dirt.
Edgarfield was in the front row and I saw him nearly panic. Then I just laughed before the arena soldiers could get into the game. Casually I threw the horn so it speared my dead opponent, with a flourish of course. I then greeted the fans and held my hands up high. They loved it. As I strode to the gate, I saw Edgarfield with his hands clenched on the boundary rail, glaring at me with gritted teeth. I winked at him as I walked inside with a smile.
Probably I shouldn’t have done that, the thing with the horn I mean. After using it on the minotaur, the manner with which I brandished it against the guards, and the way I threw it forty feet into the dead body, I announced pretty clearly to anyone who would know that I was fairly well skilled with weapons. It gave an added layer of depth to my abilities to Edgarfield, who was wary of me already. But … I couldn’t resist it.
The week Jha’Ley’s team cast off to come back down the river, I faced a female zyodyte captured and put to pits in Stafford. Zyodytes are an amphibious reptilian species with prehensile tails, a retractable barb within tip of that tail, and hands where feet should be. As a result, they had four hands, each hand with mean little claws at tip of each finger and webs in between.
Like I said, from my perspective fights become fights, same ol’, same ol’, unless something really stands out. The only thing that stood out for me was the multitude of lacerations before I let loose in a rage. Those rakes hurt. But to people watching, however, each fight was different.
I hadn’t seen Kendle for weeks, and it was through Kendle I learned why Edgarfield had to sell Lath … well … sort of.
Two evenings after the fight with the zyodyte, he came up to my doors and said, “Hello. I saw your last fight. It was unbelievable.”
Sitting under my window in the shadows, I replied while getting up to walk over, “Really? You liked that?”
Leaning into the bars as was our custom he added with a shake of his head, “She was really shredding you up, Gojai. All four hands on you at once, and those spinning whip kicks and tail slaps against you … you were covered in blood. How are you walking now?”
“The wounds weren’t as bad as they looked.” Actually, they were worse, and they hurt, I mean really hurt. But he didn’t need to know that, or that I had already healed. My shirt covered me good.
“Still … it looked really bad. The way she moved made me think of a fighter years ago, a woman called Lath.”
I was feeling morose until now, he had my full attention, “You saw her fight?”
“Oh yes. She was amazing. The first match I ever watched was when she was in mid-card. And I saw her last one, when she fought the Ginju fellow from way off.”
“Tell me about it.”
His eyes brightened up as he recounted the way she moved, her lack of color, the way the crowd hated her, and her last fight. It was nothing I didn’t already know, but it sounded good to hear.
“… But that sound she made at the very end …” he looked to me and lingered on his thought, “… it made the hair stand up on back of your head.”
“I wouldn’t think you were old enough to have seen those.”
“Well, I was thirteen at her last, and I was in apprenticeship with Holtic the playwright.”
I raised an eyebrow, “A playwright’s apprentice? What happened, why are you here?”
He sighed, “Master Holtic was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was killed.”
Leaning my head into forearm on the bars I just listened.
Kendle was a young man, but not stupid. He was actually quite intelligent, for a human. It was obvious to me he was trying to decide something, but I didn’t know what. Finally he began to speak.
“One of the most political rings in Dahruban is the Dai Tauro Gladia~Kai … I mean they are downright bloodthirsty, and it is not like they try to hide it. Wars over which Kai is dominant have been going on since the whole thing was established.”
I looked at him not sure what he was talking about. Edgarfield told me but so much, obviously not a lot. Or at least, no more than he thought I should know. After all, I was a fighter, a slave only.
“The master of the ruling house presides over decisions, change of rules, approving new Gladia~Kai Masters, that sort of thing. That position is voted on, but remains for the life of the master … unless … reason comes up to vote the master out. The succeeding master is then voted upon. Upon failure, a new Kai is elected and their master takes title of Dai Tauro Gladia~Kai Grandmaster.
“There are six that for the most part rule the show, now, but there used to be seven. Kai so’Dahkem held power for fifty-six years …”
“I’ve heard of it, him, someone … I think the name was Grandmaster Edquin so’Dahkem.”
“Yes, very good.” He looked about, as if anyone was around to be listening and continued, “Grandmaster Edquin and Edgarfield did not like each other at all. Grandmaster vetoed Gladia~Kai Mastery to Edgarfield four times over the years. He tried to have him banned, but could not produce enough evidence to make it carry.”
“Why?”
“According to Master
Holtic, it was arrogance on Edgarfield’s part. He would not give more than a contemptuous show of respect to certain individuals.
“A couple of days after the Ginju fight, though, an attempt was made on the grandmaster’s life. Evidence indicated one of the other Kai was behind it, with help from Edgarfield. Nothing was proven, except that somehow he was involved. That was all the fuel Grandmaster Edquin needed to levy a harsh mandate on Edgarfield. To get continued prosecution waved, he had to come up with a lot, and I do mean a lot, of money.
“Master Arvan so’Enli, friendly to Master Edquin, worked it so he bought both Lath and the four-armed guy, Challero, you killed. Lath, he sold her off and she was never heard from again.”
I remembered Arvan, a real smug sneering sort. He was one of the ones who most regularly came to see how I was doing. I didn’t like him. Of course, I didn’t like any of them. But some things were coming together. Not that I could do anything about it, but it was all making sense.
“Edgarfield made the comment, ‘I will be back, and the situation will be different. I promise.’ And he did come back, he came back and brought you.”
I asked, “So how does your master fit in, and you?”
“Master Holtic was friend to Grandmaster Edquin and was busy writing a play about Kai so’Dahkem. At time I was Master Holtic’s only apprentice. I was his driver, assistant, everything.”
Kendle was quiet and began fidgeting. I said not a word and left him to thoughts. Then he continued while looking into the blank wall on the other side of my front room, “In Spring three years ago there was a private gathering at the Kai so’Dahkem. I was in the barn with the horse when someone hit me on the back of the head.”
I thought about that, it used to happen to me all the time, getting hit like that.
“When I came around, the house was in flames. The higher-ups, servants, and my master had all been killed. I think he was just in the wrong place. I am sure of it. He was a witness and could not be let to live. It is one thing to be sure who commits an act, but yet another to swear to seeing. That Kai is still around, but no longer an important player.”
He looked to me, “There are a lot of criminals walking in this city who people know are guilty, but no one can prove it.”
“And what of you, Kendle?”
Shrugging his shoulders he answered, “I am well. It is good I am out of it. I just wanted to write plays and be an actor.” He looked at me again, “But I am not any good at it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. More brush and polish, work on your accents a bit … your memory is great like your eye for detail. I think you could do it.”
Kendle shook his head, “It just is not in me any longer. But I love verse. I do this because … well … truthfully I do not know. Perhaps I will leave and go upon adventures.”
I gave him a wry glance, “Be careful what you ask for.”
“It is a thought. My whole life has been in this city. I want to see more.”
Muttering I said, “You should go to the lost gold mines of Ziet’Jiao in Kalki-Shurma. You can get adventure there.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Have you thought of being a historian? It takes a talent to write history well. And you have a gift of words. You could even write tales of the imagination.”
He looked to me incredulously, “You mean to create stories, as to invent adventures of people who do not exist?” He wrinkled his brow, “Who would read such things? What would be the point?”
I smiled, “You may be surprised. There was once a time when written work was common, not as today. Folk read tales of all kinds. It was cheaper than the theater, and written tales could be carried all about. One cannot watch a play when out in the wilderness.”
He thought about it, “It is a capitol idea, if it would catch on.”
“So, which house is in power now?”
His look was sly, “Kai so’Trathis. The ones believed responsible for the attempt on Grandmaster Edquin’s life. Current Grandmaster Ponsetti was the fellow who advocated Edgarfield’s sanction before.”
Nodding my head I thought, ‘Well, well, well. Isn’t that neat? But what good did it do me to know all that?’
It had been about three weeks and no fight. I was beginning to get a bit worried. Then Grandmaster Ponsetti came around. He had been up that long spiral staircase to see me three, maybe four times in all. This time he brought a small entourage which included two other Gladia~Kai Masters and Edgarfield.
I had been working the bag something fierce and was covered in sweat. Hearing the number of footpads coming up the outer steps, I figured I was in for a viewing so I didn’t bother to tone it down. Usually my audience didn’t come to talk the news of the day, they wanted to see me slam the ham, so-to-speak.
As the group came in I was a bit surprised, but, such as it is. I paused to see what they wanted and took a dipper of water.
Ponsetti opened the dialog, “You appear well this noon.” He moved his finger around in the air and added, “Turn about so we may see how you are healing.”
I suddenly had a chill run up my back and thought, ‘How my back is healing?’
As I cautiously turned, Edgarfield spoke up, “As I have said, he is of hardy stock and devours a healthy choice in menu … his recovery is rapid.”
The entourage included attendants, assistants, assayers, asses, all kinds of people. There must have been twenty individuals in that little room outside my cell door. They were now all mumbling with each other. It drives you crazy if you have my kind of hearing.
Apparently they were satisfied as Ponsetti said, “Splendid.” He looked to Edgarfield, “Clean him up, adorn him in fresh attire, and have him ready for carriage by first light.”
Edgarfield gave him a dutiful bow and the rest left. As the door closed I passed him a puzzled expression and asked, “Uh, what is going on?”
His look was one of self pride, “They are going to make you immortal.” Pointing his finger at me he said with a glare, “Mind your manners, or we will both be dead …” he snapped his fingers, “… just like that.”
He turned with a flip of his cloak tail, then followed the others.
Way before dawn, guards showed up at my cell door. I was waiting for them with a smile. Kendle hadn’t come around that evening, only the dumbest brute ever to wear human skin, so there was no asking him questions. But it was okay, I was going to become immortal, whatever that meant. Short of being dipped into a vat of molten steel, I didn’t think I would mind much.
I was taken to a room with a deep bath set in the floor. After getting in, though, I was taken completely off guard. Having a team of half naked women, okay, some of them were naked, scrub all over you and fuss on you, I mean that literally, felt really good.
One sat behind me and washed my hair, on each side someone was cleaning my nails, as yet another leaned forward and whispered softly in my ear, “Once you have elf, you want nothing else.”
I had never heard that before. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I told Edgarfield I would not breed. In fact, I don’t think he had anything to do with this aspect of things. That is all I will say about that.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, I was led into the clear morning to where the open carriage was to meet me. I could see it coming around the corner as I settled to stand.
As it pulled up, another carriage came around right behind it. In the second was a man I had never seen before. An attendant stepped down and held the door for a stately elderly man.
From the first carriage Ponsetti stepped out with a flourish and said, “Your most exalted Excellency, Honorable Magnate Copius dan’Shalleen, I was praying you would allow me to introduce you to our Coliseum Champion before your departure.”
The man waved to Ponsetti half-heartedly, “Your ass-kissing is a waste this morning. There is no one out here. I do not support your sport and never have. But one vote to send me bill, and I will sign the barbaric practice into history.”
; “But your honor, this fellow could make a change. His skills could be taught to our soldiers.”
Beside me was a nervous Edgarfield, “Your Honorable Magnate, allow me to present City-State Champion, Gojai Dianbo.”
All this discourse was going on with me standing there gawking. This was the son of Hoscoe’s best friend, the one who died screaming trying to escape Keoghnariu many years ago. Hoscoe became like a father to him.
Before me was one of the most powerful men in Dahruban, no, the Associated Kingdoms. He could stay an execution with a stroke of his quill, approve or veto a declaration of war, his was the highest court for which there was no appeal. Hoscoe had written him a letter about me. This man could free me right then and there … all I had to do was tell him my name.
Copius dan’Shalleen walked up to me as I just stared. How could I tell him how I caused the death of the greatest general who ever lived, that it was my fault Hoscoe was dead? How could I explain that with all that healing ability, I was powerless to give aide to the man who cared for me like a son, just as I was unable to help my momma?
I bowed low and said, “Eresto frama doa nastu shutonam.”
As I raised up I saw he had a confused look on his face. I had paid him highest courtesy as might be delivered in a court setting. I didn’t think it was improper.
He responded with a slight bow of his own and said, “Dahstui,” which meant he received the courtesy well. He asked me, “Where do you hail from my son?”
“My people settled about the Ponskitan Sea.” Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. My people of the time involved Lucky Laury, who sold me to Edgarfield.
He thought for a moment and turned to Ponsetti, “I must leave within the hour and am even now delayed in my departure. Present him to Mahtoya and have the sculpture made. We will discuss this matter upon my return.”
The two turned to the Magnate’s carriage. I overheard Ponsetti say, “But your honor, you are to be gone for a year …”
Edgarfield looked to me white-faced and asked in a hushed tone, “Gojai … what are you doing? Do you not know who he is?”