by E B Rose
Beast peeled his eyes off the two fighters just enough to throw a quick glance at Lygor. “I defeated Marzul without my Kill Word, Master.”
“No way! You should really tell us about that fight, some time.”
“As you wish, Master.”
One of the beasts managed to catch the other’s arm in a tight grip. He twisted it, forcing the man to turn around, and pushed him against the bars of the cage. The other beast flung his free hand back over his shoulder, trying to get a hold of his opponent. The man who had the advantage wrapped one of his legs around the other’s knee, and after a series of moves that Valnar had never seen before, swung the other beast face down on the floor.
“Nice,” Ink mumbled.
The winning beast didn’t release his rival’s wrist. He wrapped his leg around the man’s elbow, put his weight on his shoulder, and rolled on the other side, forcing the arm in an unnatural angle. The snap of the breaking bone reached Valnar’s ears through the roars of the crowd.
Beast let out a sound that was between a growl and a gasp. He looked away; his face twisted in a snarl. Then, he fixed a pair of vengeful eyes on the victorious beast, who stood up to greet the crowd with his fists raised in the air.
Two of the spectators started fighting each other. Valnar assumed they were the owners of the winning beast and the damaged one. A barrel-chested man and a couple of others separated them.
“No more of this!” the barrel-chested man yelled. The authority in his voice told Valnar he was the owner of the establishment, and Welda’s husband, Valer.
“He damaged my beast! You owe me fifty Blues you piece of dog shit!”
“That little bitch is not worth fifty Blues!” the other yelled.
“Hey! Hey!” Valer raised his voice over others. “If you wanna fight, get in the cage and I’ll take the bets.”
Half the crowd cheered on, encouraging the men to fight in the cage. Several had already started shouting out their bets, but the owner of the losing beast seemed less heated now.
Lygor watched the spectacle with a humorous grin while Ink went to the bar to grab them some drinks before the next fight.
Beast was the only one still watching the two fighters. Valnar thought he seemed pale as he watched the injured beast cradle his broken arm. The man was shaking his head violently, his lips moving, and whimpering more in fear than in pain. When his owner finally calmed down, Valer opened the only door of the cage. The owner carried his property outside and took him to a corner to examine the damage.
Welda’s husband climbed up inside the cage and stood next to the winning beast. “Crawler, owned by Baldan, won again,” he announced. “Is there anyone who feels lucky enough to take on this beast? Anyone there to challenge Crawler? I’m doubling the prize to eight Blues!”
Lygor glanced at Beast one last time. The purebred’s expression as he stared at the slave named Crawler was all the affirmation he needed. He nodded at Valnar.
“I’ll challenge him,” Valnar yelled. He didn’t need to raise his voice too much, as the crowd was quite reluctant to the idea of challenging the victor. They moved aside to open up a path to the cage. Beast walked straight up ahead before Valnar could nudge him. Spectators cheered encouragement as Beast and Valnar walked past. Lygor and Ink, who bought a bottle of wine to share between them, followed them close.
Valer opened the cage door, and Beast swiftly climbed in. Crawler puffed out his chest and flexed his muscles as he watched his new rival.
“We have a new victim, I mean, brave challenger,” Valer announced. He paused for the crowd to laugh. His gaze found Valnar near the cage door. “I can see it’s your first time here, Master?”
Valnar nodded vaguely.
“And what do you call this beautiful...” He put a hand on Beast’s shoulder, who was standing in the centre of the cage, staring down at Crawler. Valer pulled his hand back, as if he had just touched live flames.
Both Valer’s and Crawler’s faces changed almost at the same time, both noticing the three lines of Beast’s tattoo that indicated he was purebred. Valer blinked his eyes, his jaw went slack.
Crawler’s eyes flashed wide and he lost all his colour. Pointing a shaky finger at Beast, he yelled: “He’s purebred! He’s a fucking purebred!”
Mixed feelings rose from the spectators; mostly surprise and excitement. Valer still stood there, one eyebrow raised high.
Crawler found his Owner in the crowd. “He’s a bloody purebred!” he yelled frantically. “I can’t take on a purebred!”
The Owner’s face went grim. “Hey! Hey! No way! I’m not fighting a fucking purebred. Valer, get my beast out of there!”
Crawler dashed to the door, keeping his distance from Beast.
“Valer!” the Owner yelled, running around the cage, making his way to the door. “Valer, open the bloody door! I’m not taking on a purebred. No way!”
Valer snapped out of his state. He crouched down and spoke through the bars. “If your beast walks out of this cage, you’re not getting a single coin.”
“I don’t care! Your prize is not worth pitting my beast against a purebred.”
Valer showed his teeth, but he opened the door. Crawler rushed out, almost knocking Valer out of his way.
“We’ve got a chicken!” Valer announced, raising laughter and whistles from the crowd. “We’ll let Master Baldan know when we have a fastest sprinting beast contest.”
Master Baldan’s face turned purple. Crawler stood behind him, almost as if hiding. Lygor chuckled. His eyes were sparkling with pride as he watched Beast on the caged arena. Ink took a sip from his bottle of wine and passed it on to Valnar.
“We have a purebred in the cage!” Valer declared. “Who is man enough to get in the cage with a purebred? Do we have a challenger?”
The men cheered. Other beasts in the crowd looked almost as pale as Crawler. One of them was even on his knees, clutching at his Owner’s legs, his lips moving rapidly.
“What a brave bunch,” Ink mumbled as he took the bottle back from Valnar. “What’s there to freak out this much? It’s just a fight.”
“Haven’t you seen what happened to that beast?” Lygor nodded towards the beast with the broken arm. “An injury like that can end a beast’s life. A beast who can’t fight has no value. Nobody even buys them, maybe except for Tribesmen in the North West, and they don’t pay a lot.”
“Tribesmen?” Valnar screwed up his face. “The heathens who deny Twelve’s teachings? Why?”
Lygor took the wine bottle from Ink and drank. “Because cannibalism is illegal in Chinderia.”
“What does that...?” Valnar understood before he finished his sentence. He looked at the injured beast with pity. The purebred’s reaction almost made sense, except Valnar didn’t believe he had the ability to feel anything, especially sympathy for another slave.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting,” Ink said, covering his mouth as if he was about to throw up. “You Chinderians are sick!” He snatched the bottle back and chugged it. He couldn’t take his eyes off the slave with the broken arm.
“It is disturbing,” Lygor agreed, but didn’t make further comments.
Valer continued to call out people, inviting them to the cage. He even named some of the Owners he recognized from the crowd. The men cheered violently, but nobody stepped closer to the cage.
Valer finally gestured Valnar to approach the bars. “Nobody will take up the challenge,” Welda’s husband said, shaking his head.
“Then we get the prize,” Lygor replied over Valnar’s shoulder.
Valer glared at him. “I’m not giving you the prize without a fight.”
“Then find us a rival.”
“There’s none dumb enough!”
Lygor grinned. “Then we get the prize,” he repeated.
“Or, I can get you all kicked out of my establishment.”
“Well, my purebred is not getting out of that cage without a fight. You’re more than welcome to decide who he will fight against.”
Valer glanced at Beast, who was staring down at him. He wasn’t snarling or doing anything to be threatening. His blank face and unblinking eyes deterred Valer’s idea of dragging him out of the cage by force. Welda’s husband bared his teeth at Lygor. “You want a fight? Okay, I’ll give you a fight.” He stood up and addressed the crowd. “Okay, pussies, if you’re done shitting in your pants, listen up. I’m upping the prize to thirty Blues!”
“More money,” Lygor smirked.
Ink turned the empty bottle upside down. “More wine,” he mumbled as he walked over to the bar.
“Still not enough to get your pussies wet?” Valer yelled over the excited rumble of the men. “How about this? Three against the purebred! Armed!”
“Hey!” Valnar shouted. “That’s not fair!”
“A purebred is not fair, man,” someone from the crowd replied.
“Then we’re out!”
Valer leaned against the bars. “I thought your purebred wasn’t coming out without a fight?” he sneered.
“This is bullshit! Then he gets a weapon too.”
“No. He gets nothing. Take it or leave it.”
“We’re in,” Lygor decided. He crossed his arms over his chest as he nodded towards Beast. The purebred had a copy of Lygor’s grin on his face. “He can take them.”
“Then it is settled.” Valer walked back to the centre of the cage. “Three armed men against one purebred,” he repeated. He casually put a hand on Beast’s shoulder, as if trying to demonstrate there’s nothing to be afraid of him. “Anything is permitted. Show me what you’ve got!”
“Is it thirty each?”
“Pernan, you filthy scrooge. Thirty divided between whoever stands. Come on! Anyone?”
“I’ll take him!” a man raised his fist. His beast was no older than Lygor, but he had the stance of a seasoned warrior. He only looked slightly pale. The spectators cheered madly.
“Master Carfir and Hollow!” Valer clapped. “Two more, come on people.”
A free man named Bilghe volunteered. And Master Baldan, looking for a way to recover from his embarrassment, pushed Crawler forward.
“Get your weapons ready. The fight will start in ten. Bets are on!”
Valer jumped down from the cage and closed the door behind him. He and his workers started walking around the guests with a ledger, taking their bets. Hollow, Crawler, and the man named Bilghe started suiting up for the fight, but Valer didn’t let them in the cage yet.
Beast approached to their side of the cage and leaned against the bars. He studied his rivals with little interest, his eyes mostly lingering on Crawler.
“Well, he’s paying one and a quarter to one, for Beast taking them all out within one minute,” Ink said, as he strode back with another bottle of wine. “Four to one, if he does it in ten seconds. Wanna know how much he pays for all three being alive at the end of the fight? Twenty to one.”
“Can you take them out in ten seconds?” Lygor winked at Beast. “We could quadruple our prize.”
“Already tried, he’s not taking our bets,” Ink sighed. He took another sip and glanced at the far side of the room.
Valnar followed his gaze to the slave with the broken arm. Kaldorian was still disturbed with the idea of selling an injured slave for meat. Valnar didn’t judge him; consuming a man’s flesh was an insult to Twelve Riders’ teachings and it disturbed him too. The slave’s Owner was nowhere to be seen, probably trying to place a bet and make up for his loss.
“Is that a Lor’Kas?” Lygor nodded towards the beast named Hollow. He was carrying a curved short sword in his hand, a popular choice of weapon in arenas. His Owner was helping him put a leather armour on. He wore leather bracers and a shoulder guard too.
“Useful in small spaces,” Valnar commented. The free warrior named Bilghe was wearing a chainmail armour and carrying a steel tower shield. Crawler had brass knuckles on his left fist and a short sword on his right. Master Baldan was putting a steel breastplate over his head.
They were all experienced fighters, with weapons and armour. When Valnar looked at Beast’s plain shirt, open face, and empty hands, uncertainty bloomed inside him.
“Hey, where are you going?” Lygor asked.
“I’ll be right back,” Ink mumbled before he disappeared into the crowd.
Valer took longer than ten minutes to start the fight; people were continuing to bet on all possible outcomes of the fight. As the time went by, Valnar’s uncertainty grew. The three warriors had finished gearing up and now were talking to each other, no doubt discussing their strategy. Beast didn’t seem worried. He was casually leaning his back against the bars, with his arms crossed over his chest. The more uncertain Valnar felt, the more careless Beast looked.
“Maybe we should pull him out, Lodi?”
“No.”
Valer urged people to place their last bets, then closed his ledger. His workers carried two large bags of coins behind the counter. Regardless of the outcome, and despite the high prize, Valer would still make a profit. Welda’s husband climbed up in the cage.
“We need to guarantee he’ll win,” Valnar said with a sense of urgency. Lygor considered him, pressing his lips together.
“Are you ready to see a real fight?” Valer asked as the spectators cheered violently. He let the three warriors inside and goaded them to the opposite corner. Beast still watched them, his back against the bars, one leg over the other, his arms crossed over his chest.
Ink joined them. He had another wine bottle in his hand, as if he was already determined to spend all their prize on the booze.
“Well then. Let’s see some blood!” Valer slid out of the cage and closed the door behind him.
“Do it,” Lygor nodded at Valnar.
Beast pushed off from the bars, as the three warriors spread around him.
Valnar climbed up outside the cage. Holding on to the bars with one hand, he reached through them with the other, and grabbed the back of Beast’s shirt. He pulled him back, almost causing him his balance.
Bilghe dashed forward just as Valnar spoke the word in Beast’s ear: “Dracistuecto.”
Beast took a sharp breath. His body tensed and remained still for the length of a heartbeat. Valnar feared he’d cost the purebred a critical moment to greet the first attack. Then, Beast dropped on his haunches and Bilghe’s attack met the bars, raising a loud clank and almost taking Valnar’s fingers off.
Valnar jumped back down and stood by his friends to watch what he’d unleashed into the cage.
Beast stood in the centre, his knees slightly bent, his empty hands ready at his sides. His mouth was twisted in a primal snarl. His eyes moved rapidly in their sockets, and they reflected a darker shade of grey. A muscle in his neck twitched. He stood still.
Hollow attacked with a cry. Beast ducked, slid towards Hollow, barely lifting his feet off the ground. He landed two rapid punches on Hollow’s leather armour, and a third one upwards on his elbow. Hollow’s Lor’Kas flew off his hand. Beast grabbed him by his armour, turned, and swung him behind on a collusion with the charging Bilghe. Both fighters went down as a collection of tangled arms and legs.
In a flowing motion, Beast turned to the side to dodge Crawler’s sword. Crawler swung his knuckled fist, and Beast stopped it with an open palm. Valnar screwed up his face, imagining how much that would hurt. Even the spectators sighed in unison. However, Beast didn’t even blink.
His fingers wrapped around the brass knuckles, yanked, and twisted it backwards, breaking Crawler’s fingers. Yelling in pain, Crawler brought the hilt of his sword down on Beast’s head, but the purebred ducked again. Supporting himself with his hands on the floor, he kicked Crawler’s chest with both feet, sending him backwards.
Beast stood up, gazing down at his rivals as they recovered. He could have finished them now, all three on the floor, trying to get up. Ten seconds hadn’t passed since the fight started, and the purebred could have made a lot of people rich, if he’d taken Hollow’s L
or’Kas off the floor and cut them down.
He didn’t.
He stood in the centre, his mouth and neck twitching, as he waited for his rivals to get up.
Hollow collected his Lor’Kas. The others stood up quickly and all three attacked together. Beast ducked, stepped aside, turned sideways to dodge their blows, and used serial punches to counter them. He kicked hard on Crawler’s knee, sending him down with a smashed kneecap.
He pinned Hollow against the bars, punching his face and the openings on his armour. When Bilghe came up behind him, Beast grabbed Hollow’s wrist, then flung himself to the side. He stabbed Bilghe with Hollow’s Lor’Kas. Bilghe brought his shield down at the last second, pushing the tip of the Lor’Kas down, but he couldn’t stop the blade from penetrating his chain mail and plunging into his lower abdomen.
The spectators roared with the excitement for the first blood. Beast pushed Bilghe off the Lor’Kas. Blood spurted from the opening. He grabbed Bilghe by his collar and pummelled his fist on the side of his face. Bilghe fell down on his knees. Before Beast could punch him again, Hollow jumped on his back, wrapping his left arm around the purebred’s neck.
Out of all three, Hollow was the youngest, close to Lygor’s age. Maybe because of that, what happened next, left Valnar feeling sick to his stomach.
Hollow pulled his Lor’Kas back, aiming the tip against Beast’s lower back. The purebred put his feet on Bilghe’s shoulders and pushed himself up, dodging the blade. Continuing the momentum, he swung his legs up and behind, drawing a semicircle in the air and landing behind Hollow.
He bit the young warrior’s ear off and spat it to the side. The crowd went wild.
Putting one hand on the back of Hollow’s head, and the other on his waist, Beast ran forward, slamming him against the bars.
Hollow was already dazed. He dropped his Lor’Kas, staggering on his feet. Blood trickled down from where his left ear used to be. Beast grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face against the bars repeatedly. Hollow’s nose broke. Each strike left his face bloodier. The crowd cheered on when broken teeth flung amongst them.
Hollow fell unconscious, his arms dangling at his sides, his knees loose, but Beast continued smashing his face against the bars with brutal force.