by Sam Ferguson
“What do you call the big one in your group?” Elantra asked suddenly as they walked past a queue of elves waiting to enter the large, round building through a set of wide gates.
“Moose,” Jonathan answered involuntarily.
“I shall place my bet on him, I think,” Elantra said. “He will be fighting for House Brind. What is the bald man’s name?”
“Bull,” Jonathan said, wishing all the while he could hold his tongue.
“He is an angry one, but I think he will not defeat the one you call Moose.”
“They are going to fight each other?” Jonathan asked.
Elantra shrugged. “Possibly. It depends on how the preliminary matches turn out. The one you call Bull was claimed by House Relyn. If the two house champions do equally well tonight, then it is possible they will need to fight each other.”
“When you say fight, what do you mean?”
Elantra turned on him with a suspicious eye. “I mean they will fight to the death. Once every lunar cycle, the five great houses meet and send their champions in to fight for title and glory.”
“What of Ziegler and the others?” Jonathan asked. “Where are they?”
Elantra shrugged. “I don’t deal with wizards. I don’t recall who took the wizard and the young female mage. The one with the broken hand was taken as a slave, but he will not be put in the arena.”
Jonathan suddenly had a terrifying thought. Was Jason also destined for the arena? Would he have to fight Bull or Moose?
“Then there is the one that looks like you but has darker hair.”
“Jason,” Jonathan said without being compelled. “He is my brother.”
Elantra turned and studied him for a moment. She took in a slight breath and then shook her head. “I believe he was taken slave by House Hendir. I can’t be sure, of course, but I think that is the family that ended up with him.”
“Will he also fight?” Elantra shook her head and Jonathan nearly doubled over as he sighed with relief. “Where is he then?”
Elantra frowned. “House Hendir is not known for its hospitality. I like you, so I won’t lie to you. Your brother will be set to work in the mines owned by House Hendir. Most slaves don’t survive such work for more than a year or two. There is great wealth to be gained for Hendir, but the mines are cursed with a toxic gas that builds up in the miners’ bodies until they die.”
“Can you buy him then?” Jonathan asked. “I will do anything, I will give you anything you desire.”
Elantra’s face turned cold and she shook her head. “Such questions are not appropriate. I already own you and everything you possess. To insinuate otherwise is to shame yourself before your mistress.”
Jonathan felt a strange tingling come over his face and his mouth closed, unable to open and utter the words he was yearning to speak.
He followed Elantra through an ornate door made of brass, down a narrow corridor that led to stone steps, and up to a large balcony overlooking a circular pit with a dirt floor. Jonathan could see blood stains in the dirt, as well as five different tunnels sealed with a metal portcullis. For now, the arena was empty, but he doubted it would remain peaceful for long. Crowds were gathering in the lower levels, some standing and some sitting. Several balconies, each similar to the one he was in, were also beginning to fill on the upper levels as well. Try as he might, he didn’t see Miranda, Ziegler, his brother, or anyone else from his group.
“Sit,” Elantra said.
Jonathan’s body moved to sit in a high-backed wooden chair beside her that was situated close to the rail and raised up enough that he could see the entire arena.
“Your friends have been chosen for a great honor tonight,” Elantra said. “If they fight well, they will win much glory.”
Had his lips been able to part, he would have told her that he wanted nothing to do with the arena, much less to see his friends try to kill each other.
*****
Moose sat in a strange, dark cell. His arms and legs were tingling, but not quite asleep. He turned his head to the side, stretching the stiff muscles and exhaling the tension. He turned his head to the right, and there he saw a tall elf with a tattoo stretching across his left cheek and down his neck.
“What do you want with me?” Moose asked in his deep voice.
The elf smiled.
“You are here to fight.”
Moose shook his head and spat on the floor.
“Oh, you will fight, my giant friend. If you refuse, then I will force you.”
Moose patted his sides, looking for his cigars. If he had found one of them he would have happily lit up in front of the elf and then drowned the weakling in a thick cloud of smoke.
“If you don’t decide to fight on your own, then I can force you.”
“Force me?” Moose echoed.
The elf nodded. “Each elder of the five great houses is imbued with a special kind of magic. We can compel our slaves to obey us.”
“I am not your…” the words caught in Moose’s throat and his mouth shut involuntarily. His legs pressed into the floor and he stood up straight, arms at his sides and head turned to face the wall in front of him.
“As I was saying, I can compel your obedience. I do, however, prefer to see you fight of your own accord.” The magic hold on Moose left him, and the large man was free to control himself once more. He turned to face the elf, who smiled back at him. “You have been given a great honor. You have been chosen as the champion of our house. Do not let us down.”
“You intend for me to fight other men?” Moose asked. “Or am I to fight elves?”
The elf shook his head. “There is only one other man in the arena tonight. The others are all Kratii, or lizard men as you might call them. This shall be a fun night.” The elf smiled and pointed to the opposite wall. “Fight well.”
Moose turned and saw the stone wall of his cell swing open, leading to a long, upward sloping tunnel. When he hesitated, he felt his legs move him toward the tunnel. He surveyed the scratch marks and blood stains in the stone and shook his head. This was not how he had expected his visit to Inghali to end.
As he walked to the metal gate at the end of the tunnel, a second portcullis closed a few feet behind him, ensuring he wouldn’t flee back toward his cell. He looked around then, realizing that he had no weapons. Then, a tall elf riding upon a large animal that looked like a crab emerged and began cantering around the edge of the arena floor. From his strange saddle he waved at the crowd in the stands as they cheered. When the crab took him to the center of the ring, the elf threw down a spear, a sword, and an axe. Then he tapped the crab and it turned to remove him from the arena. Moose watched as the gate closed off the tunnel the elf had used and the elves in the stand began to chant something in their language.
The portcullis in front of him opened then and the crowd broke into frantic cheering and shouts.
Across the arena, Moose could see another form enter from a tunnel exactly like the one he stood in.
It walked on two legs, but was most definitely not human. Its head was adorned with thick spikes, and it had a long snout for a mouth. A massive, powerful tail stuck out from the creature’s back and his two large feet were tipped with claws that Moose could see even from such a distance. The green skin on the Kratii warrior shimmered in the waning light of the sun. It was running for the weapons.
“Enter the arena, or I shall make you,” the elf said from behind.
Moose turned to see that the elf had followed him up the tunnel, and was standing just behind the portcullis.
The seven foot tall human nodded and reluctantly entered the arena.
Gasps and cheers rippled through the crowd upon seeing him. Even the Kratii stopped to look at him. It was obvious most of them had not expected him. Moose glanced around and noticed that there were four pillars in the arena along the outside rim. He followed them up with his eyes to see that they held up large beams that in turn supported balconies with many elves upon them.
/>
He then returned his eyes to the lizard man, who was now picking up a spear and trying to size up Moose. Moose walked confidently into the arena, watching the Kratii warrior carefully. The lizard hissed and snarled, baring sharp teeth inside its snout and blinking translucent lids across its eyes.
Moose broke into a jog, heading directly for the lizard. The elves in the stands began chanting in unison. The lizard warrior waited, and then it whirled around full circle and launched the spear. Moose had expected that. He caught the spear, then sprinted in toward the Kratii. By the time the lizard man bent down to scoop up the sword and then had straightened up, Moose swung the spear and broke it over the Kratii’s head. The lizard went down and a gash oozed blood. Moose then kicked the sword away from the lizard and turned to walk away.
The crowd began to boo and jeer. They pointed at the Kratii, but Moose saw no honor in killing the poor creature. In all honesty, it hadn’t been a fair fight. Then, despite his feelings, his body turned around and he walked back to pick up the axe.
The crowd cheered once more, dancing around in the stands and shouting ecstatically.
Moose glanced around as best he could, but he couldn’t see the source of the magic controlling him. He moved toward the Kratii, raised the axe with one hand, and then brought it down upon the helpless creature’s neck.
The audience roared with cheers and began chanting a word he did not understand.
The magic left his body and he threw the axe in disgust. Then, another portcullis opened and two more Kratii emerged. These Kratii were already armed. One held a long trident, and the other wielded a pair of scimitars. They glanced to each other and then emitted strange clicking noises before they fanned out to advance on Moose.
“Khefir curse you all,” Moose swore. He turned to see the portcullis he had emerged from close. The elf with the tattooed face stood behind it with his arms folded across his chest. It was now painfully obvious to Moose that he could either fight his way, or the elf would control his every move. If he had any hope of surviving long enough to figure out a plan to escape, he would have to please the sadistic elf. “By my father’s house I shall kill you for this.” Moose then bent down to pick up the axe.
The crowd cheered wildly.
Moose ran toward the lizard with the two scimitars, figuring that warrior would not be throwing either of his weapons. The lizard grinned and sprinted in to match Moose’s speed. He raised one scimitar high and the other he held out to the side. Moose raised his weapon over his shoulder as if preparing to come in with a chop, but that was not his plan. He was more than two feet taller than this lizard man, and that gave him several advantages, one of them being much longer legs.
He could see the other lizard rounded his run to flank him, and that is exactly what Moose had expected. His time in the Murkle Quags had taught him well, and tonight he would show these cursed sand elves exactly who they had brought into their midst. He ran full tilt, staring directly into the scimitar wielding lizard’s eyes. Then, just before they reached each other, Moose led with a powerful front kick that landed on the lizard’s chest before it knew how to react. The muscle and soft tissue pressed inward under the force of Moose’s foot, and then the sternum broke inward and the lizard’s chest collapsed as it flew backward through the air. Before it had even landed, Moose wheeled around on the trident wielder. He launched his axe, which spun gracefully end over end until it decapitated the second Kratii. The lizard had been running so fast that the headless body finished two more paces and then tumbled down to slide closer to Moose.
The giant man reached down, grabbed the trident, and then walked over to the first lizard, who was gasping for breath and raking the dirt with its claws. Moose whispered an apology and then drove the trident down into the lizard’s chest, stopping its heart.
The crowd roared even louder, if that were possible, at the victory.
Moose turned and glowered at the elf with the tattoo. “What else?” he asked over the din of the arena.
The elf pointed behind him. Moose turned and saw another portcullis open. This time there was a strange, furless beast that emerged. Its skin was leathery and cracked. Its chest was wider than a horse’s, and its legs were thicker than a bull’s. It wore a leather harness and attached to that was a sort of chariot. Atop the chariot was a Kratii with a bow.
Moose launched the trident with all the strength he possessed. It flew straight and true, hitting its mark before the Kratii had fully emerged from the tunnel. The lizard was struck so hard that it flew back and slammed against the closed portcullis in its tunnel. The crowd roared with delight as the strange beast galloped around the outer edge of the arena. At first, Moose thought perhaps the animal was scared by the death of its rider, but he soon realized it was circling around to attack him. Its four powerful legs tore the dirt apart as it raced toward him, cutting a corner so sharp that the chariot broke free from the harness and allowed the beast to run even faster. Its stunted snout opened to reveal canine-like fangs and Moose knew for sure that this challenge was only half over.
He waited for the animal to lunge, and then he stepped to his right. As the animal sailed by, Moose punched with his right hand. He felt two of the animal’s ribs crack and the strange beast snarled before it landed and then turned on him. Moose stepped to his left this time as the beast came up on its hind legs to swipe at him with deadly claws on its front paws. Moose reached up and grabbed it just behind the paws and held the beast up on its hind legs. It snapped with its jaws, but never came close to biting Moose. The beast was strong, stronger than anything Moose had ever fought before. It bore down on him with its weight, trying to crush him to the ground and thereby gain the advantage. Moose growled and grunted with effort, pushing the front legs up and keeping the beast off balance. He launched out with a kick, but the beast’s body was angled away from him just enough that he missed.
The beast roared, slinging thick, foamy slobber out of its mouth as it watched Moose through angry, hungry eyes. Moose knew he couldn’t keep the beast up for ever. They each jerked to this side and that, trying to catch the other off balance. The continued to dance their deadly routine as they crossed over one of the dead Kratii. Moose smiled then.
He had a plan.
He jerked the beast to the right, it countered to the left. He pushed the beast forward, and it pushed him back. He repeated this three more times until he had positioned himself right where he needed to be. The blood-soaked axe was now under his right foot. He slipped his toe under the handle, just below the head of the axe, and then kicked it up and into the air to the right. He jerked the beast right, but not with his full power, just enough to get it to pull left. As soon as it moved left, Moose let go and punched the beast for good measure, then he turned and went to catch the axe before it fell.
Everything turned silent. Time slowed. The axe fell only slightly as Moose went for it. Every movement seemed to take an eternity to complete, that is, until he wrapped his hand around the shaft, and then everything sped up. Moose whirled around with all of his might.
The axe blade caught the beast as it lunged for him, slipping into the beast’s open maw and hacking the head in half, with the lower jaw hanging limp from the bloody mess of bone and flesh, while the top half of the head spun away to land in the dirt.
The beast’s body slammed into Moose and dropped him to the ground, but he was not hurt. He let go of the axe and pushed the monster off of him and then rose to his feet amidst thunderous applause.
The elf with the tattoo on his face then entered the arena and gestured for Moose to join him.
Moose obeyed his new master, not willing to see what kind of magical control the elf might be capable of if publically humiliated by disobedience. When he arrived, he found the elf smiling at him.
“I have never seen anyone slay a sand hound like that before,” he said. “Usually they try to use a bow and keep their distance.” The elf turned and motioned for Moose to follow him back down the tunnel.
Moose remained silent as they walked back toward the cell he had woken up in before.
“In any case, you have qualified for the final round, so you have pleased me.”
“What is the final round?” Moose asked.
“All champions must go through the same trials you just faced. Those house champions successful in the preliminary round go to the final round, where they must fight all other champions simultaneously. The last champion alive wins the tournament.”
Moose grunted. “Then I will be free?”
“Free?” the elf repeated as he turned around to look at Moose. His cold blue eyes looked the giant warrior up and down incredulously and then he shook his head. “No, then we take you into battle, and you help us fight the Kratii.”
“If you can enslave enough Kratii for your arena, why would you still be doing battle with them?”
The elf nodded knowingly. “We have the upper hand in battle, of course, but the Kratii can procreate much faster than we can. Indeed, they are like bugs. Quash a colony and four more take its place. We compete for the same lands, and they are a scourge, a blight, upon the face of Terramyr.”
“Funny, I don’t see the Kratii enslaving you for sport.”
A terribly heavy force fell upon Moose then and crushed him down to his knees. His very bones felt as though they were bending, on the verge of snapping.
“I can end your life, slave. It would be wise for you to remember that.”
Moose grunted, and then the force was lifted from him.
“You will win the championship tonight, and thus you will win for me the right to lead the five houses into battle against the Kratii for a time. Should you die in battle, then I will appoint a new champion in due time. Should you live, then there will be another tournament to see if you are still fit to be called champion.” The elf sneered at Moose then and glanced to his massive arms. “I should hope to get at least a year or two out of you. In that time, I shall gain much honor for my house.” The elf then pointed to the bench. “Go, rest until I return.”