But something made Pig Knot stop for a moment. “What odds,” he muttered. He’d only wanted a drink in the first place.
He kicked the knifeman twice, buckling him up like a length of broken wood, before delivering equally powerful and savage kicks to the pair still clutching at their fruits.
Only after he finished the fight he hadn’t started did Pig Knot turn and flee into the deepest part of the alley, into the night, clutching at his bleeding forehead.
Back at the mouth of the alley, the man called Toffer watched with his handful of warriors as Pig Knot disappeared into the murky gloom. Men from the alehouse streamed into the alley. Toffer shook his head at the fallen pit fighters. Four of them against one. He and his boys had followed Pig Knot all the way from the bathhouse, and Toffer was almost of a mind to stop the drunken bastard before he set foot into what was known as a drinking place for the elite. He was glad he didn’t, however. He hadn’t seen all of the fight, as it was in the shadows, but he had seen enough. Beating four gladiators to a finger of their lives impressed Toffer, and he could tell from the silence of his lads that they’d been impressed as well.
Toffer rubbed at his chin. It was something to keep in mind for the future. He eyed the men now fussing with the fallen gladiators, lifting them from the blood spatters on the road’s cut and fitted stones.
Pig Knot, despite being drunk, had the goods, and Toffer sensed an opportunity to make coin.
12
After talking of their plans and lesser matters, Halm, Muluk, and Goll retired early for the night. Halm and Muluk decided to split the price of an upstairs room to spare them the trek back to the Pit and the crowded general quarters. Goll elected to stay in a room of his own.
In the morning after a brief breakfast, the three of them got walking, intent on visiting the one called Clavellus. Goll believed that if they walked fast enough, they should reach his property by noon. Halm hadn’t drunk much at all the night before, so he believed it was possible to cover the distance in short time.
By late morning, it was a different story.
“Saimon’s crack.” Muluk panted and wiped at the sweat on his face while his white shirt and black trousers were saturated. “Who thought of doing this?”
A shirtless Halm cleared his own face of sweat and dried his palms off on his own black pants. A heavy sheen of perspiration covered his shoulders drizzled with dark hair. He pointed at Goll, who swung himself along on his crutches and, though sweating, didn’t seem nearly as tired as his companions.
“Dying Seddon,” Muluk muttered. “Easy to figure. Even on crutches, he outpaces us.”
“I’m fine.” Halm eyed the twisting road, dusty and full of ruts. It cut through a field of wild grass. Thickets of woods sprouted up in places, blotting out the horizon. “Good to get out of the city.”
Muluk drew his hand over his face and neck and again wiped it off on his trousers. “We didn’t ever take the time to look at the matchboard.”
“No need,” Goll answered from ahead.
“Why’s that?”
“You’re not fighting this day.”
“I know I’m not fighting this day, you git. What about Halm here? He’s still in the tournament.”
“Never thought about checking it,” Halm admitted.
“Halm isn’t fighting this day or tomorrow. He just fought a few days ago.” Goll focused on the road. “Besides, he’ll need the time to heal.”
The Zhiberian touched the soaked bandages covering his belly and frowned. He had to take shallow breaths as well, for deeper ones made his ribs ache. Vadrian the Fire, he thought grimly. I’m glad the maggot’s dead. His hand strayed to where his sword would be hanging, the only possession he had these days, besides his purse of gold coins.
“I’ll need time to heal after this walk.” Muluk’s voice grated.
“I think I like you better when you’re drunk,” Goll said.
“I like me better when I’m drunk. We don’t even have weapons. Sweet Seddon above.”
“I’ll have my sword back later this day, with a new scabbard,” Halm said.
“Well, if any Dezer are about, I’m sure they’ll wait for you to go get it and then return here.”
Halm regarded Muluk. “You are cranky this morning.”
“Just can’t believe I’m here doing this.”
“What else would you be doing?” Halm’s voice boomed.
“Women,” Muluk answered.
“They’ll still be there when you get back. This is for you,” Halm said. “Once things come into place, you’ll be happy you did this.”
“You’d be doing nothing,” Goll said reproachfully. “You need coin for women or drinking or eating. Unless you can pull gold out of your arse.”
Muluk scowled at the sun overhead. “Nice morning for it, anyway.”
“More like it.” Halm smiled, showing terrible teeth. “I’ll say one thing about this country. The scenery is nice.”
“That might change if we travel far enough. There’re marshlands to the east.”
“Far to the east,” Goll cut in. “Clavellus is nowhere near that. We’ll be there by noon. You’ll see.”
“This road’s terrible,” Halm observed. “Needs to be filled in. Widened too. We wouldn’t have roads like this in Zhiberia.”
“Never been,” Muluk said.
“We’ll have to go sometime, once this is all done.”
“I hear it’s full of barbarians. Visigar roam its plains, riding down any weak enough to steal from.”
Halm looked at him. “Where did you hear that?”
“Around. You listen to people’s conversations, hear things here and there.”
“Well, there are Visigar, but they aren’t ones to start a fight. You’d have to cross them first. Unlike the Dezer. Those are right evil bastards. They’ll ride anyone down for coin or fun. Even the standing army is wary about areas where the Dezer might be.”
“Heard they were gathering up tribes. Starting an army.”
Halm shrugged his hairy shoulders. “Heard that one for years. The trouble with that is the land is so damn big, and the Dezer are divided, scattered, and untrusting of each other. Oh, they might form up one of these days, but I doubt I’ll be alive to see it. Anyway, we should be more concerned with what happens in this part of the world. Sunja has Nordun to worry about.” Halm looked at Goll’s back. “What do you think of the war?”
“Not mine,” the Kree answered.
“Deep thoughts now, is it?” Halm chuckled. “I suppose I was asking the wrong one. Never was one for mass land wars or politics or such gurry. If Sunja falls, well… we’ll just have to see what happens under Nordun rule. Or leave.”
“I’ve heard they’re pressing into the Paw Savages’ tribal lands,” Muluk said.
“Paw Savages?” Halm’s brow furrowed. “Who are they?”
“You call them Pak Savages, but they’re rightfully called Paw.”
“Pig Knot called them Pak Savages as well.”
“Pig Knot was probably chuckling at you when he did.”
That wouldn’t have surprised Halm. “Where are they about?”
“Timberlands to the west. Far over there, in places where it’s said civilization hasn’t touched yet,” Muluk informed him.
“Ah, I’ve heard about those forests. Well, anyway, Nords are greedy bastards then to open up a two-front war.”
“Right greedy,” Muluk added. “And from what I hear, Paw Savages have nothing against forming up to butcher an invader. That’s a terrible place to wage war though. Their forests are… are…”
“Big?” Halm supplied.
“Big and—”
“Vast,” Goll said from ahead. “Dense. Places where the sun doesn’t sun because of whole canopies formed from thick branches. Haunted, too, if you believe the stories.”
“I believe them,” Muluk said solemnly.
Goll didn’t look back. “When her borders touched the Paw tribal lands, huge expe
ditions from Sunja went into those forests and never came out. I hear the king sent three before giving up on establishing relations.”
“Three?” Muluk asked. “Never heard of that.”
“Three. Before the Nordish war and on the command of King Juhn’s father. Don’t know why, but you ask any of the Sunjans. Say what you will of them, they know their history.”
Halm realized there weren’t any Sunjans in their little group. Pig Knot hadn’t returned to the alehouse where they’d slept the night before. He thought of the room he and Muluk had shared. It had been a luxury compared to sleeping in general quarters. Goll surprised them both by paying for his own. That Kree, Halm believed, had his tastes.
“Any idea of who might win the war?” Halm asked.
“Sunja, I hope,” Muluk replied. “At least while I’m still within her borders.”
“Goll?”
The other Kree didn’t answer right away, so consumed he was with forging ahead and watching where he placed his crutches. “Doesn’t matter what I think. I said already. Not my war. It’s beyond me.”
The conversation lagged then as the three men placed their remaining energy into walking.
“Thought you said this place was close,” Muluk griped.
“Shaddup,” Goll griped right back.
The walls rose up and over the fields like a small fortress, stamping the top of a small rise and giving anyone looking a far view of the surrounding grassy sea. The gates hung open, and dark shapes moved about the wall while the midafternoon sun fell from the sky. That it took longer than Goll had expected to reach their destination gave fuel to weary griping from his companions. Halm and Muluk were almost spent. Goll, however, marched on towards the structure. He paused every now and again to mop the sweat from his brow and face but was soon swinging on his crutches. Halm had to admire the Kree and his Weapon Master training. The bastards obviously stressed endurance.
The wall’s wrought-iron gates abruptly closed, pushed by three men behind the bars.
“See that?” Goll asked the others. “They know we’re coming.”
“They’d have to be blind not to see us.” Muluk glanced around. “You could see anyone from up there. They built that place well. Right on a rise in the land.”
An old bridge came into view, crossing a shallow trench. They thumped over it, listening to the hollow sounds of their crossing. White rocks in the moat were bone dry, and a cloud of insects lifted into the air and snaked away from the men.
“Mind yourselves now,” Goll told them as they drew closer. “Let me talk. Neither of you look fit enough to do anything anyway.”
“I could piss right here,” Halm huffed, red-cheeked and feeling as if he were about to melt.
That brought a look of alarm from Goll.
“Far enough,” yelled one of the figures behind the gate, distant enough that his features could not be seen. “What is it you want?”
The three travelers stopped well within bow range of the walls.
“We want to speak with Clavellus if this is his house,” Goll shouted back, recovering from what Halm had said.
“It is,” came the reply. “What do you want to speak to him about?”
“The gladiator games of Sunja and whether he would be interested in being a taskmaster again.”
Silence.
“Wait there then. I’ll see if he’s taking visitors.”
One man walked out of sight, leaving his two companions to mind the walls. Four torsos carrying spears and bows appeared along the top and lingered.
“How tall are those walls?” Muluk asked quietly. “Ten feet?”
“At least. No more, I think.” Halm kept his own voice low.
“High enough to keep the likes of us out then.”
“Aye that. Like we’re about to climb anything,” Halm muttered. He wanted a drink very badly, and he wasn’t kidding about the piss either. “How far does it go around, I wonder?”
“Shut up,” Goll whispered. “You’d think we were about to lay siege to the place.”
That quieted both men for a few moments.
“Farther than I’m willing to walk,” Muluk commented to Halm in an even lower whisper, eyeing Goll’s back warily. “The old bastard must be rich though, to have all of this.”
Moments later, the man returned.
“Approach the gates,” the voice shouted. “Mind yourselves. Do you have any weapons?”
“None,” Goll answered for them all.
“Dangerous to be travelling without something.”
“We don’t have much,” Goll yelled back.
Except the gold in my purse and no doubt what friend Goll is carrying under his shirt, Halm thought.
They approached the walls, seeing the whitewashed stone and the grey lines of fresh mortar. The men at the gates pulled them open just enough to allow entry and closed them right after. A tall brute of a man walked over to the three newcomers and inspected their persons for weapons. Broad of shoulder, the man had no hair to speak of, while a gruesome scar stretched up the left side of his face. The ear was missing on that side as well. Halm frowned slightly. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen scars or missing ears, but this one wore them with a sinister air—as if he were one word away from beating the three of them senseless.
“Careful, aren’t you?” the Zhiberian asked the bald man, noting the old scabbard hanging off his hip.
For a moment, green eyes held his attention, judging him a troublemaker or simply harmless. Halm kept his mouth shut and studied the other men inside the walls. All of them wore assorted clothes of a modest make, suited for hard work in the countryside. As the green-eyed brute checked Goll and Muluk in turn, Halm took in the rest of the enclosed courtyard. White sands covered much of the ground, but he saw walkways made of fitted brick curving in a ring that encompassed the whole area. He recognized it as the training grounds for pit fighters, saw the crossed practice timbers with the simple shape of a man’s height and outstretched arms, all for working strikes. A pile of thicker timbers for strength training lay piled up neatly against a far wall. More bare walls built underneath and holding up the ramparts were divided up into several equally spaced doorways, some closed, some open. To Halm’s left lay an open smithy, dead and empty to the world. He spotted two anvils, a slake tub for cooling hot metal, and a fire pot. Tongs hung down from unseen hooks set into overhead timbers. Two fresh piles of plum-sized shite dotted the sand just beyond the smithy, making a trail between it and the master’s residence, perhaps leading to a stable. The master’s residence was situated across from the main gate. A second-floor balcony fenced with stumpy columns leaned out over the training area, potentially offering a place for archers if the gate was ever breached. Under this and within the shade was a set of heavy-looking wooden doors.
As Halm sized it all up, a figure opened the balcony doors and walked through. He stopped and leaned on the fat stone railing and studied them curiously.
A shorter man waved the three of them forward while the guards kept watch on the ramparts. The tall, one-eared ogre stayed three quick strides away from Halm’s left as he and Muluk walked behind Goll.
Goll swung forward on his crutches, stopping directly below the balcony. “Are you Clavellus?”
“I am,” was all he said. Clavellus’s skin was deeply tanned, which made his bushy white beard all the more memorable. Light trousers and white shirt were all he wore, and he scratched at a bald head. He didn’t appear heavy with muscle or fat. “What is it?”
“I’m Goll of Kree. These are my companions, Halm of Zhiberia and Muluk of Kree. We’re here this day to ask you if you would consider training us for the gladiator games of Sunja, as our taskmaster.”
Clavellus took his time answering, meeting the eyes of all three visitors before settling back on Goll. “The games have already started.”
“We know this,” Goll said. “We’re already participating in the games, but we wish to establish our own house, and we request tha
t you consider being a part of it.”
“You want to have a house?” Clavellus leaned forward. “You’re Free Trained?”
Goll hesitated a moment. “We are.”
This struck Clavellus speechless for seconds before he cut loose. “Free Trained. What are you punces thinking? Who put you up to this? Do you know who I am? I’ve trained warriors for years. I’ve trained animals with more skill than you lot. Seddon above knows I’ve cursed you masterless Pit dogs when, by whatever luck or trickery, you spoiled a run at greatness by one of my own fighters. Sweet Seddon. You ass lickers turn my guts! And to think you came here to ask me face to face. I only wish I lived days away from the city. The balls on you all. And to do this while the games are already in progress! Unfit. Train you? The likes of you and those like you? You lot truly belong out there with the gurry. Let me tell you this—you don’t have a hope in the games, and the sooner you perish the better.”
“We can pay you,” Goll said when he had the opening.
“Pay me?”
“Yes. Handsomely.”
“Handsomely is it? You’ll pay me handsomely? And if I did take your money, where is it you think we’ll train you? Where should I transform you into killers? You have a training area? Equipment? Practice weapons? Where are your own weapons? Where are you intending to sleep at nights or eat during the day? Or were you going to pay me handsomely to use everything I have?”
Goll did not answer, appearing increasingly chagrined.
“Yes, I see now. You expect me to bow and offer up my ass at the mention of coin. Wave gold about and expect me to throw open my arms and mind you as though you were sons. Do you see how shortsighted that is? Clearly this wasn’t your plan before you stepped through my gates. Probably even figured you’d build your own house if I said no, am I right? Defy us all.”
Goll looked at the ground and pursed his lips as if he were about to give someone a very hard kiss. Muluk cleared his throat, and even Halm felt heat rush into his face. Things weren’t looking so rosy after all.
131 Days [Book 1] Page 24