by Dante King
“Graven!” he shouted. “Do I have something to talk to you about or what?”
When Graven was closer, Ben could make out more of his features. His mouth was slightly snouted like a wolf’s, his nose also like that of an animal, but his eyes were deep and expressive like a human’s, his weathered expression one of deep seriousness. A light layer of dark blue fur covered his body, his muscles ropey and lean. He struck Ben as a warrior, though one who might’ve been past his prime. Yet, there seemed wisdom in him.
“I saw,” Graven said. “I was watching from my tent. This young human killed one of the strongest orcs here.”
“That’s right,” Victor said. “And he did it with magic and strength. So, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what I’ve got in mind for him.”
Graven looked Ben up and down, as if sizing him up on the spot.
“You think he’s got what it takes? He’s practically still a kid.”
Victor swept his hand toward the mess that was Rimdak.
“If you were indeed watching, then you saw how he did that. Young or not, he’s got what it takes.” It struck Ben as strange that Victor would refer to him as “young.” As far as Ben could tell, Victor looked no older than twenty-five. But he figured there was a good chance a mage like Victor could age differently. “Let me get rid of this mess,” Victor said. “Last thing I want to deal with is rotting orc.”
Victor stood over the corpse and raised his hands. Jets of flame shot out, engulfing the orc’s body, the scent of roasting meat filling the air. The flames were so intense that Rimdak was quickly reduced to cinders. When the orc was nothing more than a pile of ash, Victor swept his arm, a gust of magical wind carrying the ashes off into the distance. Ben couldn’t help but be surprised that the mage knew multiple spells. He recalled from speaking with his women that mages usually only knew one spell, or possibly even spells from a single element, because of how long it took to master them.
Graven glanced over at the party. “Many monsterkin in this group. Many more bodies to be thrown in the fire of his ambition.” He nodded backwards, to the huge tower that loomed over them.
“Yes, yes,” Victor said. “And if you don’t keep your comments to yourself, I might send you to work in the mines instead of the cushy job you’re lucky enough to have.”
Ben wanted to know what was going on—he was tired of waiting to hear his fate.
“Someone explain all this to me,” he said. “Now.”
Victor was amused. “Very bossy for a slave, but you’re right—we should get to it.” He whistled for a group of orcs, a half-dozen coming over to hear his command.
“Take the catgirl and the stone girl and their pets to the tower. The old man is to go to the mines. The other two will stay here in the camp and go with the next soldier procession that comes through. Understand?”
The orc in charge grunted in affirmative, nodding to his subordinates to move in and take the prisoners.
Before Ben had a chance to react, Zito, Imogen, and Melody, along with Brock and Nipper, were pulled from the ground and surrounded by orcs.
“Hey!” Ben shouted. He rushed forward but didn’t get far. Victor moved to his side and reached down, placing his hand on Ben’s leg and using the same power he had before to render his leg numb and weak. He nearly fell, only regaining his balance when Victor restored whatever he had taken.
“Don’t let your win go to your head,” he said. “This is still my domain.”
Ben shot him a hard look before turning his attention back to his friends.
“Don’t worry, lad!” Zito shouted as the orcs moved them away. “I’m tougher than I look! You of all people should know that by now!”
“Be safe, Ben!” Melody yelled.
“We’ll find one another soon!” Imogen seconded.
“I won’t leave this place until I’ve rescued you all!” Ben yelled.
The group and the orcs made their way down a narrow path that led out of the camp and were soon gone.
A tinge of hopelessness ran through Ben at the sight of his friends being taken away. He pushed that aside as quickly as it came, replacing it with determination to not only get them back, but to destroy the slave camps that surrounded him. He would have his moment, but it wasn’t right then.
“Now,” Victor said. “I want you two to go to that tent.” He spoke to Shrike and Lexi. “You’ll be gone as soon as the next patrol comes.”
He nodded for more orcs, who wasted no time leading them away.
“Now, Graven, take this boy to your chambers and explain to him his new role as an entertainer.”
“Very well.” Graven nodded to Ben. “Come.”
Without another word, the wolfkin turned and strode back toward his tent.
“Better go with him,” Victor said. “Just as I said.”
Ben shot Victor a hard look before turning and following Graven. He reached the tent and stepped inside. The interior wasn’t anything fancy—a small room with a pile of blankets on the ground as a bed, and a desk for working. Ben sensed that his quarters—private and safe—were better than most slaves could hope for.
There were pieces of paper on the desk, what looked like maps of the tower region. Movement was charted, along with the locations of the other slave camps and numbers written under them. Graven quickly rolled these sheets up and placed them aside.
Graven sat down on one side of the desk and gestured for Ben to sit in the chair across from him. Once Ben was seated, Graven narrowed his eyes in a skeptical manner.
“What… what the hell are you?”
Ben’s first instinct was to explain himself, to tell Graven who he was and where he came from. There was something about the wolfkin that inspired trust in him. If Ben had learned one lesson since arriving in this new world, it was to trust his gut above all else.
But he set that first instinct aside and decided to press his advantage.
“Who are you?” Ben asked. “Shrike, the fire elemental who arrived with me, said that you were one of the members of the council in the region.”
Graven sighed and nodded. “I suppose you ought to know a bit about the situation you’ve found yourself in. Entertainment—that’s what this is all about.”
Ben’s brows wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a reason Victor wanted to see how you handled yourself one-on-one.” He glanced aside, as if not sure how to explain what he had to say next. “I don’t know where you’re from, young man, but I’m assuming you know what a gladiator is?”
Ben sure did. Images from Gladiator, one of his favorite movies when he was a kid, popped into his mind.
They vanished as soon as he realized what Graven was getting at.
“I do,” Ben said.
Graven nodded. “The man in charge, The One Who Rules All—his main goal right now is to build an army and conquer the continent. But he isn’t all about work. He likes to unwind, and when he does, he likes his entertainment bloody. Hence, the competitions.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Each work camp is ruled by one of The One’s personal mages. There are twelve in total, and you’ve met one of them. Their duty is to keep an eye on the camp, to manage new slaves and such. One of their other jobs is to keep an eye out for any interesting new recruits for the games, warriors and mages who hold promise of rising to the top.”
“And that’s what he saw in me,” Ben said.
“That’s right. The way you took out that orc… it was impressive. It makes me wonder who you are, where you came from… and why you’re here.”
“I’m a slave, like you.”
“Hm. Perhaps, but that’s none of my business for now. All you need to know is that you’re certainly a hell of a fighter, more than good enough to make it in the competition.”
“And what if I refuse?” Ben asked.
Graven smiled slightly. “Like I said, I don’t know where you’re from, but I assume you know enough about slaves to unders
tand that they don’t exactly get to make decisions? And there’s something in it for you. We have a monthly tournament here in the camps. Twelve competitors enter, one from each camp. The winner gets a meeting with The One, along with a week in the tower to enjoy all of its many pleasures. After that, the winner is offered a role in the Black Army. It’s not freedom, exactly, but it’s as close as any of us are going to get here.”
“And what’s in it for you?”
Graven snorted. “I get this job. I get to stay out of the mines. I get to have a tent all to myself and not be crammed in the barracks trying to get to sleep with fifty other monsterkin snoring around me. Every now and then Victor even lets me have some food that’s not the animal slop we’re used to eating.”
Ben shifted in his seat. “You evaded my question about who you were.”
Graven nodded. “Well, you were right. I used to oversee military affairs in the council in Waterbend. It wasn’t much of a job—the council, thinking peace had forever come to the region after the wars of the last century, felt that monuments and massive homes were a better use of the town’s money than funding an army. I would say I hope they’ve learned their lesson, but most of them are dead.”
He sighed. “Anyway, I was given the chance to come to the camps and oversee the monsterkin that had been brought to the region to work as slaves. I figured that by being here, I might be able to do some good, to make sure my people were treated well. That… didn’t end up happening.”
“You were the military advisor?” Ben asked. “Does that mean you know how to lead monsterkin into battle?”
Graven’s eyes flashed, as if Ben had asked a question he hadn’t expected.
“Ah… something like that. I know tactics, and I know how to lead. But none of that matters when you don’t have an army, right?”
Ben noted this detail. If he was to free the monsterkin and have an army of them, then he’d need commanders capable of leading them.
“What about Shrike and Lexi—they’re still here in the camp, and Victor wants to send them out to join the army.
Graven nodded. “By ‘join the army’ he means to serve as cannon fodder for the Black Army. I’ll speak to Victor, see what I can do. And as for the rest of your allies… it’s hard to say. I can tell you, however, that this is your best bet in getting them back. If you win, then maybe you can speak to The One, ask for them to be reassigned—something like that.”
He shrugged.
“None of that matters right now. What does matter is that you’re going to need to rest and be ready for your first battle?”
“And when’s that?”
“Tomorrow at noon.”
Chapter 13
Ben slept on the floor of Graven’s tent that night. The heat from the camp was nearly unbearable, and when he woke up, it was to the gentle shoving of a boot to his ribs.
“Get up, young man. Time to prepare for the fight.”
Ben opened his eyes to see Graven standing over him, a bowl in his hands. Ben sat up and rubbed his eyes to wipe the sleep out.
“Here.” Graven put the bowl in front of him. “Eat. You’re going to need all the strength you can get. When you’re ready, come outside.”
Graven left. Ben turned his attention to the bowl, seeing that it was a thin soup with a few chunks of meat in it. He drank it down as quickly as he could, the food flavorless but hearty in his belly.
He was eager to get on with his first day as a gladiator.
Ben rose and stepped out of the tent. He was greeted with the welcome sight of Shrike and Lexi. The rest of the camp was up, dozens and dozens of monsterkin being led by orcs and goblins, all forming neat, orderly lines as they were taken to the mines and woods. It wasn’t pretty, and it only served to make Ben more determined to free them.
“You’re here!” Ben exclaimed as he hurried up to the pair.
“We’re here,” Lexi said. “Patrol came first thing this morning and left without us.”
“We figured you and Graven must’ve had something to do with it,” Shrike said.
“That’s because I did,” Graven said as he stepped from the crowd. “I spoke to Victor this morning, and once I found out how eager he was to get you into the games, I didn’t have much trouble extracting some concessions. Lexi and Shrike here will be your assistants.”
“But don’t expect to be bossing us around,” Lexi said with a sly smile.
Shrike glanced around, the tips of her dark skin turning a deep orange.
“You ask me,” she said, “what you’re going to need here are some bodyguards. We’ll keep an eye on you, make sure nothing happens.”
Ben was pleased to hear it. He had no idea what to expect from the camps, or the competition.
“Good. I have a feeling I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
“That you will,” Graven said. “Now, let us get moving. Your first round is in a couple of hours, and you’re not going to want to run late.”
“Why?” Ben asked. “What happens if I run late?”
A small smile formed on Graven’s mouth. “You lose the round. If you hadn’t figured it out after your little dance with the orc last night, the stakes in these games are quite high.”
Ben’s stomach tightened at the idea, but he was ready. He wasn’t going to rest until the monsterkin were free, and the tower was his. If he was going to have to risk his life fighting his way to the top, then so be it.
“Now come, gladiator,” Graven said. “Your chariot awaits.”
He gestured for them to follow, and together the group made their way through the camp. More slaves emerged from their tents, and as the flaps came up, Ben could see the squalid conditions inside, the slaves practically crammed on top of each other, the stench of body odor and death wafting out. It didn’t take long for Ben to understand why the northern work camps were viewed as a death sentence by the rest of the monsterkin.
They reached their cart, a simple, wooden thing with two monsterkin standing in front of it.
“Who are they?” Ben asked. “Are they coming with us?”
“In… a manner of speaking,” Graven said.
He led them into the cart, and once they were inside, the two monsterkin lifted the front, tucking the long, wooden beams under their arms. Despite the day having only just begun, they looked ragged and worn, their eyes sunken and their bodies weak and malnourished.
Ben scowled. “Don’t tell me they’re going to be pushing this thing.”
“More like pulling,” Graven said. “And yes—that’s their job.”
Ben shook his head. “I’m not going to do it. These slaves have it hard enough here; I’m not going to take part in making their lives even worse.”
Graven sighed as if he’d expected to hear this.
“While I appreciate your consideration for these poor souls, this is how it’s done here. Now, before you start getting any big ideas about changing how things are, let me remind you that as a gladiator, you’re one very, very small level above a common slave—just like I am. You don’t have any real power. If you were to tell these monsterkin to not do their job, they’d be punished and whipped by the next passing officer. Understand?”
Ben didn’t like what he was hearing, but he understood the truth of it.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
“Very good,” Graven said. “Now, come along. You remember what I said about running late.”
Ben swallowed his distaste for the situation, and the monsterkin started off, taking the cart down the winding road through the trees.
The journey gave Ben a chance to see the state of the area around the tower up close and personal. The trees were still thick, but hundreds and hundreds of monsterkin, all led by goblins and guarded by orcs, were busy at work taking down what trees they could. The massive monsters, ones that looked like elephants blended with dinosaurs, helped the process along.
Monsterkin were whipped and beaten, many hung up on trees as punishment. The sky was thi
ck with smoke, the area gray and dark despite it being morning. Great fires raged here and there in the underground factories. Ben didn’t even want to imagine what the conditions were like in those.
They eventually reached the base of the tower, the structure just as impressive as Ben’s. While he could see the top of his tower from the bottom, this one was so shrouded in pollution and smog that only half was visible.
“Can you believe these woods were once sacred places to our people?” Graven asked. “Beautiful, peaceful forests. The sky was blue, the water was fresh, and to hunt among these trees was one of the highest honors a kin could have. That all changed, as you can see.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Let me ask you something, Ben—were you serious when you said you wanted to change things around here?”
It was difficult for Ben to answer in a way that wouldn’t give away his whole reason for being there.
“Yes,” he said. “Very serious. I want to free this forest and all the villages and towns along the river.”
“And why do you want to do that?”
“Because… it’s the right thing to do.”
Graven regarded him for a moment longer, as if not sure what to make of this strange human.
The cart dipped onto one of the many paths that led underneath the tower. In Ben’s tower, the area underneath consisted of several unused areas, along with some workshops. The area underneath The One’s tower, however, was another story. There were storage areas for weapons, barracks for orc warriors, and paths that were more like roads, all of them leading to a huge room in the center. It was hot down there. Sticky, wet heat that made it hard to breathe.
The cart came to a stop in front of a set of double doors guarded by two orcs.
“Here’s your stop,” Graven said. “Beyond, you’ll find a room where you can prepare and choose your weapons and armor. Your assistants can outfit you.”
“And where will you be?” Shrike asked.
“In the audience, of course. Don’t worry—you’ll be able to see me.” Once they were off, Graven, who was still seated in the cart, smiled at them one last time before signaling for the drivers to continue.