by Nelson, J P
Opportunities for escape again showed themselves a couple of times, and I believe I could have succeeded. The trouble was, I didn’t want to be free. In my mind I had nowhere to go, no purpose to fulfill. Now, I know that sounds dumb from someone on the outside. But have you ever heard people complain about their life, yet never make a move to change it? To do the same thing day after day and year after year, yet expect different results is just as dumb, if not dumber.
“Most people are born into slavery of one kind or another. They are slaves to their work, to working for someone else’s dreams or goals, whatever.” Who told me that? I didn’t want to think of it. I had become a slave to a system, I wasn’t happy, and I didn’t want to be happy. At the same time, my meals were prepared for me, I didn’t have to worry about making decisions, choosing what direction to travel, or be responsible for anything.
Responsibility, that was it … I didn’t want to be responsible for anything, or anyone, ever again. Responsibility meant pain, anguish, and loss. It meant screwing up and having to live with the guilt, and the eyes of people dying you can’t help, for the rest of your life. As a slave I could blame someone else, or circumstance, when things didn’t go well.
Besides, what would I do out there on my own? As a slave I did as I was told, as Hosc-, as a student I followed my studies as was prescribed, as a soldier I pursued the objective put before me according to the rules to which I had sworn. This way, as a fighter, the only person at risk was me. If I died, then so be it.
My name was changed to Killer Koyle as we went up the backside of the Alburin regions and I returned to the smaller pits. Not all of my fights were with prisoners or slaves, not any more. Some of my opponents just wanted to see how tough they were. As we traveled north into the Hilderkai Territory, I started encountering more d’warvec and a couple of times an elf.
It was in a small village that I saw Karthanook for the first time. I wasn’t here to fight, but to observe someone else I would probably have to fight later. Karthanook was still a preliminary, but already he had a propensity for sadism. He liked what he was doing in a passionate way. The way he stalked his opponent and his use of those feet were things that stayed with me. Somehow, I had a gut feeling we would meet one day.
In one village I caught a glimpse of an elvin lady from afar who made my heart skip a beat. Her hair was nearly black and rippled in the breeze, her features were clean, and I wondered if she might possibly be descended from the Ch’Hahnju Folk. She glanced up and saw our little procession and turned her head in disgust. It was like a blow to the pit of my stomach.
Riana, she would have turned her head, too, wouldn’t she? I had no right to think of Riana. She had found another, my dreams dashed forever. But what dreams? Were they not just fantasies? I mean, it had been at least four years when she … did I expect her to just wait?
And Patriohr … the thought of another man being with my … but, she wasn’t mine, was she? She said she would wait for me to return if I could. And I promised I would. A broken promise, I had broken my promise to her. I didn’t have to go after Sormiske, or did I?
Maybe I should have gone looking for my friends and not assumed they were dead. Maybe I should have gone straight to Aldivert and killed him, and then taken Riana. Maybe I could have paid more attention when I fought Sormiske, and I wouldn’t have fallen to those damn darts. Maybe, maybe, maybe …
Maybe I should pay more attention to what I was supposed to be doing … as the five foot tall d’warv I was supposed to be fighting picked me up and smashed me into the rocky pit floor. Daydreaming while in the ring with a champion d’warv of eight years isn’t a good idea.
Have you ever tried to kick a d’warv in the groin? Not a good idea, either. I haven’t seen one naked, but it isn’t there. I mean, they don’t have their testicles there, I don’t think. This one didn’t. And his fists were the size of a buffalo roast.
This guy was more of a wrestler who could punch, than a puncher who could grapple a little, and his timing was precise. His blows were faster than a d’warv had any right to have and he was really, really strong. He lifted me up and slammed me into the rock wall so hard I spit blood, and then he spun around and did it again. This he kept up for multiple repetitions, not allowing me to focus long enough to heal. Up to this point, it was the closest I had come to actually getting killed, and it went home somewhere in my mind that I didn’t really want to die.
For the first time in my fighting career, I suddenly found myself looking death in the face. This d’warv was going to do what none of the others could; he was going to kill me. He wasn’t insolent, he wasn’t strutting or posturing for the crowd. He was fighting because this was how he made his living. He let me fly and I hit the wall with my feet about three feet up from the floor, then I slid down onto my duff and sat there a dizzy moment trying to figure out where I was.
Everything was spinning and I tried to reach down into So’Yeth, but he picked me up again before I could make a real connection … then with cold realization I realized he knew.
He had watched and knew what to look for, and when I healed the first time he had picked up on it. I figured he had fought someone like me before. He knew just how long I needed to stay against the ground to touch the power.
As he held me in the air I hit his face, but without authority. He had hurt me and I was unprepared. Again he slammed me into the floor and I felt my hip crack. I was now genuinely afraid. There had to be something other than this. It was time to start thinking about it
With one hand he picked me up … ‘well, maybe now wasn’t the time to think’ … and threw me against the wall again … ‘at least, not about career options.’ The spectators were yelling at the top of their voice, and in this pit the volume echoed even louder.
Sound … could I focus on the sound?
He lifted me up and held me level to the ground against his chest …
I attempted to *Absorb the Sound*, it felt like a refreshing cup of tea …
He pressed me up over his head …
My hands on his arm I breathed out harshly and imagined a ball of energy, like what the warrior-elves had done, entering his arm …
A flash of light didn’t come from my palm, and he didn’t blow up, but he shook violently for a moment and dropped me as he staggered backward. Falling to the floor, I reached down hard and fast into So’Yeth. The rock was naturally part of the terrain and apparently had been built upon as a structural foundation, and I *Self Healed* … feeling severe pain as my hip came back together from at least three pieces.
The d’warv shook his head and arm, then looked at me. That was something he hadn’t counted on.
I focused all of the healing I could, as fast as I could. You hear stories of people who smack you on the head and say “Be healed,” but it doesn’t work that way. You need the natural ability, but it is a specialized discipline and it takes concentration.
As he came toward me I did a fast roll, absorbed the sound energy, and leaping off the wall back onto him, I indeed smacked him on the head and released the same effect as before. It was sort of electrical and it hurt, but it was one of those hurts-so-good type of hurts. His head jerked and again he backed off trying to shake it out. Landing on my feet, I went into an agonizingly painful roll to buy myself some distance and healed some more, that fellow had damaged me good. Reaching down I felt for the rock, and applied *Stone Bones*.
I say I make my bones like stone, but they don’t really. They just get really hard and my fists get tougher. When he came my way this time, I met him his way. I struck with two right jabs to his snout followed with a left cross to the jaw, then sliding to his left side, I ducked under him from behind while reaching up under his body with my right hand, grabbed the front of his belt from underneath, and rolled him over my body and onto his back.
He was used to throwing people, and D’Warvec Wrestling is about locking arms and tossing each other down. Yet he apparently knew nothing about break-falls,
because his head cracked hard on the rock floor, and when I say cracked … I mean I believe it literally cracked.
When I got back to my feet, though, I knew he wasn’t done. From instinct he got up, and through blurred vision he tried to find me. This fellow was a warrior all the way through. As he turned I scooped him up onto my back, immediately wondering why I did that. He must have weighed at least two hundred and sixty pounds and shaped like a medicine ball, a medicine ball with tree-trunk arms and legs. I was committed to my movement, however.
Getting myself set, I secured my hands under his chest and thigh, and then hunkered down so my legs could assist me and hoisted him straight up and over my head. Two hundred and sixty pounds of d’warv is not the same as lifting a two hundred and sixty pound human, or a much heavier bar with weights on the end. But I held him for just long enough, and then puffing I knelt down and dropped him straight down on top of my knee.
I saw little lights everywhere for a moment and almost fell, but immediately I lifted him up into a sitting position and laced my left forearm under his chin and right arm behind his neck. Suddenly I didn’t want to kill this fellow. He was a d’warv, but he fought with heart and he was honest with his fists. Kneeling there on my left knee, I gazed at the crowd and in the far off background I could hear their cheering, almost as if it were coming from another world. My opponent was no longer the enemy, in my mind the true villain became society itself.
Did this d’warv have a child, a family somewhere? What led him down this path? I felt him start to struggle and I knew I had it to do. My trademark technique was to slowly choke the carotid artery of the neck until my opponent quit kicking. But not this time, I would never again give the crowd what they wanted. I jerked quickly, cleanly, but I did it with a thousand regrets. If I didn’t, he would not have understood. He would have pursued until one of us were dead, anyway.
As we left the pit house, off in the distance in the dark beside a tumble down hut, I saw that same elvin lady looking our way, and then at me, and once more I felt ashamed. She saw me look at her, and then she mounted a spotted horse and rode off into the wilderness.
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Following the Driadak River as far as Kohnarahs Bay border we traveled, and I felt my anticipation rise. Was it possible I could see U’Lahna, or to get her a message, or something? But what would I say or do? Would she believe she even had a brother?
The opportunity came for me to ask someone about U’Lahna, and the answer dashed my hopes. She had left some time ago to relocate south and work there. Where, the person didn’t know.
Pit-fighting wasn’t well thought of in the Kohnarahs, but it wasn’t actually illegal, so my owner of the time decided to take a chance. We spent about a year in that cold territory, and I loved it. The cold appealed to me, but my owner got sick and sold the whole troop, all four of us fighters, to pay health care. But he died, anyway.
My new owner was a skinny, unfriendly man who had been a bear hunter, named Franko. He stumbled on some gold and became rich, now he saw himself as the new Edgarfield and intended to make fortunes. He had watched me fight and kept the Killer Koyle moniker on me. He had heard Edgarfield had done well with an elf-buck, and he wanted to see if I had the same kind of stuff as that spike-eared Gojai did. Me, I never let on.
Taking me, two well-muscled humans, and a half-human and half-org named Ernt, Franko brought us back down the trail into Hilderkai as soon as the weather allowed. We each fought three times, and at the last stop one of our humans went down to Karthanook. As the hybrid snapped our man’s neck, he looked up to where I was and drew a line under his neck and then pointed at me.
Ernt gave me a look and a grunt, but I just eyed Karthanook carefully. I wanted out of this business, but Karthanook just made it personal. If you play with fire long enough, you will get burned. Was it possible to take him down and get out, all at the same time? Or was that pure ego talking?
Edgarfield said no one had ever lasted him seven years, and I had been doing this for well over eight. I had fought everything you could bait a humanoid with, short of using weapons. You could say I was living on borrowed time, and I knew it.
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Franko had big plans for himself, and as hard as it was to believe, he had been a pit-fighter himself. The word was he spent many a winter in villages supporting himself by sport fighting, which is not usually to the death, but could be. He bought several more pitters, a regional word for preliminary fighters, and then we set off for the western lands of Nahjiua.
There were a few women among the pitters, but one in particular I noticed had points on her ears. They weren’t as pronounced as mine, but they were there. She was much more mature than I, but she caught my interest and I learned her name was Debohra.
If fighters and slaves could get away with it, sex and rape was permitted, as long as it didn’t interfere with travel or fighting prowess. I never took part in all of that, nor did I ever interfere. I simply had never cared, but when a couple of the males started making rough with Debohra, something inside rankled. Was it because she was of similar blood? Was I taking up for my own? I had never thought of it, in fact, the only elf I had ever had a relationship of any kind with was my momma.
Whatever the reason, I said, “Leave her alone.”
I had only known some of these people for a few months, but even the guards poked each other and paid attention.
One of the males looked my way with a scowl and said, “Keep it to yourself. If you want a turn you can wait.”
“I no do if I you!” The voice was deeper than the gravel and I was astounded to hear it come from the half-org, Ernt. He was speaking directly to the male who had addressed me. The male was about to open his mouth again when Ernt imitated breaking a stick with those huge hands. Did I tell you Ernt reminded me of T-bone, only with a hair suit on and a messed up face with a bad under-bite? Well, he did, in case I didn’t.
Franko suddenly appeared and said, “Whoa, hoa. What is this? The start of an alpha struggle?” He looked to me who had just stood up, and the two males, one of who had his hand on Debohra’s arm. Looking back and forth, an evil grin came across Franko’s face.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “I’ll let the three of you go at it, and the winner can keep the girl.”
Ernt looked at me, then at them, and then back at me. At that day and time, multi-man fighting didn’t go on in the pits, for that matter, weapons weren’t allowed either. It was always one-on-one by fist and skull. Ernt was curious, and I don’t blame him. He might have to fight me one day, and it’s always good to know your opponent’s skill.
It had been a long time since I had done proper warfare fighting, and something inside me invited this.
Watching only the spokesman, my *Awareness* felt the other try to sneak his way around behind me as we moved in a makeshift circle. Sneaky boy had bad balance and he moved to heavy on his heels. He tried to throw his manacles over my head, and I let him, but with both hands close to my chest. Mouth then charged in low.
Why do would-be toughs always try to charge in low? I brought my knee up and crunched his face. As he stood straight up, I pulled sneaky up on top of my back, then ducked low and under his right arm dragging his chain with me. He turned a flip and fell onto his back. I stepped forward beside his head and did a spinning side kick to mouth’s chest which lifted him into the air and onto his back with a thud, then with the same foot, brought it back to stomp the head of sneaky as he lay on the ground.
It was over as quick as that and both just lay there and groaned.
Looking carefully around at my audience as if addressing a class of young boys regarding etiquette, I said, “Always, always treat a woman with some class.” I passed my gaze to Debohra and offered my hand, and she walked to me with awe upon her face. It was the first time anyone had stood up for her for anything.
Franko told me later that as long as I performed well, she could stay mine. Right th
en I wasn’t sure what was going on, but later I figured out she became his way of keeping me in check. Without realizing it, I had revealed a weakness; I had a moral code. In our type of work, morality didn’t fit in. Up to then everyone just thought I was this heartless killer, almost everyone.
When I later asked Ernt why he spoke up, he looked at the haunch of meat he was eating and said, “I see you give you food to youngling.” He gnawed the bone of his meat, “You no should be here.”
By what small gestures can judgments be made? I didn’t remember giving any child my food. Nodding my head in thought of this half-breed org showing sentiment, I said, “Thank you.” He stopped eating and glanced at me, then started chewing again. I don’t think anyone had said that to him before.
Debohra had plain brown hair, hazel eyes and was much older than me, mature wise, and she didn’t know her ancestry. She had been taken from her momma when she was old enough to walk and put to work in the field. As she grew older and matured, she was sold to a pleasure house, and later she was used for breeding. Her last master had been hung for some kind of criminal activity and she was put on the block and advertised as having a few good service years left in her. Franko bought her and that was that.
It wasn’t true love, I knew that, but something about her made me feel needed, and she was good to me and for me. Debohra got me to tell her stories, and eventually to sing for her. The smile on her face made the music worth singing, but I kept it quiet just for us. In time I got her to sing with me, and I taught her my momma’s songs and some little bit of history.
Franko didn’t interfere, I was on the rise again, and he had heard that I had been the coliseum champion. All he saw was money in his pockets.
I knew this land of Nahjiua well, by story and description. It was wide, full of rolling hills and forests and was beautiful. Far to the west was where my momma’s people were supposed to live. Would I ever see them, I wondered. Looking to Debohra, I wondered how she would adapt to being free. If I could break out, would she go with me, would she want to?