The crowd cheered, their loud cries ringing throughout the arena. They reached Thorgil’s ears as he waited in his cell down below the spectators. There was a long hall of cells, some holding beasts, some holding people. They were all there for battle. And by the sounds of the cheering crowd, one of the battles was over. Some people were booing, obviously because of bets that they had placed on the fight but lost. No one there cared about the lives of the people and creatures forced to enter the ring. To the spectators it was just a sport, watching people slaughter each other for entertainment. But to those in the arena, those like Thorgil, it was a matter of life or death. If they win a fight their ‘owners’ gained more money, but the fighters get something far more valuable. They get to live another day. It was sickening.
The door at the end of the hall squealed as it was opened, and Thorgil looked up when a group of men entered. Two were carrying another. He was limp, covered with blood and devastating wounds that could only have been made by something other than weapons. One more man followed, clothed all in black. His gaze briefly met Thorgil’s as they walked by his cell, and as brief as the exchange lasted, the man grinned before looking away. They opened the empty cell next to Thorgil and tossed the limp man inside on the hard, dusty ground. He didn’t even groan from pain, nor did he stir even a twitch. Clearly the man was dead. The last one to fight no doubt.
He resisted a hateful snarl at the way they treated the deceased, throwing him in the cell like he was waste. Then, the men stepped in front of Thorgil’s cell. He watched from behind his bangs with his head low, sitting on the edge of the poor excuse of a bed that stood in the back of the cell. “Have you no respect for the dead?” Thorgil asked surprisingly calmly. The men only grinned as one took up the ring of keys he kept on his belt and sorted through them. “He was just a slave,” said the man wearing black. “He served his purpose. And now that he’s dead it doesn’t matter what happens to him.” Thorgil bit back a smart remark, and channeled his rising anger by clenching his fists.
The man spoke again as the one with the keys opened the cell door, “It’s your turn, sunshine. I hope it’ll bring you some comfort knowing that when we bring back your dead body you won’t be treated any differently than the last guy.” The three laughed, and one stepped into the cell with shackles ready for binding. Without another word, Thorgil stood and let the man restrain him without complaint. He’d been through this many times before and already knew the troubles that would come if he dared attacking these men before him. Best go quietly and obediently.
They intentionally made the shackles tight on his wrists as they bound his hands behind his back, just to cause discomfort. Though shackling him wasn’t necessary, they did whatever they could to allow themselves to be comforted in his presence. He’s the champion of the Lord of the Land, a fighter whom has been undefeated since adolescence. Naturally these men had reason for worry around him. He’s extremely dangerous.
“Come on. Get going,” spat the man who bound him while shoving him towards the cell opening. Thorgil only glared at the man, then obeyed their orders and followed them out of the cell hall. With two men behind him and the man wearing black in front, they made their way through the stadium corridors as the crowd cheered above, calling for the next fighter.
They finally came to a large room with a gate closing off the opening to the arena. The room was lined with armors and weaponry of many kinds, all displayed for his choosing. However, long range weaponry such as bows were not available for use. This is because they are prohibited to be used in the arena. Those running the show didn’t want to risk any slaves aiming at the spectators, or their owners. It was an unfortunate rule, for Thorgil has a very skillful hand for the bow. But it was smart to prohibit such weaponry, because the first person Thorgil would target would not be his opponent, but his owner who watched from the audience.
The men unlocked the shackles so that he could roam and choose a weapon and armor, but spared a moment to spit at his feet before going back through the door from whence they came. “Thorgil!” The voice of a child made the slave fighter look over to where a young boy stood by a wall of swords. A girl stood next to him, her brown hair pulled over her dainty shoulder with a gentle smile on her face.
Without missing a beat, the boy ran to Thorgil and embraced him so roughly it made him stumble back a step. “Easy now, Ches. You mustn’t break me, I’m about to fight,” Thorgil greeted playfully, rubbing his hand through Ches’s already messy brown hair and making it even messier. The boy pulled back enough to look at Thorgil with a big grin, showing the gap between his teeth and the many freckles on his little face. “I couldn’t even if I wanted,” Ches giggled. “I’m not strong enough.” Thorgil smiled lightly before looking at the woman as she approached. “What are you doing here?” Thorgil asked. Normally there were others sent down there to help Thorgil prepare for a fight, but this time it was those two. It was unusual.
“We requested to come see you before the fight,” the woman spoke this time as she stood at Thorgil’s side. “And he accepted?” He raised a brow, slightly suspicious of their owner’s sudden cooperation with his slaves. The woman nodded. Releasing a heavy breath, Thorgil averted his gaze at the ground to his side, eyes narrowing only slightly. Something must be going on if their owner was granting requests. He was a cruel and abusive man who cared only of money and fame, leaving no room for those he owned and those who work their fingers to the bone so he could have a luxurious life.
“Thorgil,” Ches broke him from his thoughts, causing his beastly gaze to be drawn back down at the boy. His young face appeared distressed all of a sudden, his brown eyes avoiding Thorgil’s with his brow furrowed worriedly. “I overheard the Master speaking earlier to one of his workmates,” he began. “They we’re…discussing putting me in the arena.” Thorgil blinked from surprise and stared at Ches, silently hoping the boy had misheard their Master’s conversation. “Ches, don’t believe such nonsensical things,” the woman joined in. Thorgil smiled softly. “Listen to your sister,” he said to the boy reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. You are far too young to be thrown into a fight. Besides, you have no training.”
“But he owns us. There is nothing that can stop him from doing as he pleases,” Ches argued, his voice cracking audibly before his gaze became downcast. “Besides, he put you in the arena when you were but a boy. And you didn’t have any training, either.” Thorgil frowned at the tightness in his chest and looked at the woman. She too wore a frown of worry, and only shook her head. They knew the boy was right. If their Master decided to put Ches into the arena there was no one who could stop him. The rules of the stadium did not specify age, and it has already been proven that a boy of the age fourteen can be scheduled a fight when Thorgil was first forced to enter the ring.
“I don’t want to fight, Thorgil,” Ches added with a light shake of his head. Thorgil could see how frightened the kid is from his wavering voice and anxious face. He knew that Ches wouldn’t make it if he was thrown out there and forced to fight. He isn’t the same as Thorgil was when he was the boy’s age. Thorgil was driven by anger and hatred, so that’s what he used in the ring. He hated fighting, but in order to survive he had to channel that anger towards his opponents because he was far smaller, and far weaker than them. He needed to use all he could to win, to survive.
But Ches is soft. He doesn’t have that hatred and anger in him that could be used. He’s too caring, though, the way Thorgil sees it, caring isn’t always a weakness. But in the ring, it certainly won’t keep you alive. There’s no room for mercy out there. No room to care.
Thorgil smiled gently once more and crouched to level with Ches, resting his elbows on his knees while he balanced on the balls of his feet. “You won’t have to fight, Ches. I will make sure of that, so there is no need to worry,” he assured the boy, but Ches questioned him again, “How can you do that? Once Master makes up his mind, we can’t change that.”
“No, but perhaps he’ll be willing to listen. He’s granted you two a request, has he not?” Thorgil replied swiftly, but Ches once again tried cutting him down. “That was just dumb luck, and it was a simple request that has no impact on Master. Making me fight does,” the boy countered. Thorgil sighed at Ches’s stubbornness and glanced briefly at the gate blocking the opening to the arena. After every win their Master is put in a good mood due to all the money won from the fight. He celebrates each time with feasts, drinks and women. It’s the one time Thorgil is allowed to eat well and drink fine booze.
It was the one time, since their Master is in such a mood, that he’s more obliged to listen. Perhaps Thorgil can talk him into leaving Ches out of the arena then. “Then I will just have to win this fight. He should be more inclined to listen when he gets his money,” The last words slipped off his tongue a bit more bitterly than he’d hoped, but Ches didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t think this fight will be that easy,” Ches replied with a twisted expression. Thorgil raised a brow, “Why is that?”
“Your opponent is not a man this time, but a beast. A Grizzly Wolf, to be precise,” the boy answered. Thorgil felt his heart drop an inch or two and his gaze swept back to the arena. Only then did he notice the large amounts of blood plastered all across the dirt ground. Blood usually stained the ground from every fight, but not to this degree.
A Grizzly Wolf is a very dangerous creature native to the Kingdom which he was born and raised, Vogra, the Dragon Kingdom. They were one of the most rare creatures in the Kingdom that is on the verge of extinction, due to poachers hunting them for their hide. Their fur was thick and mangy, but their skin was far thicker than that of a bear. It made for a difficult cut for any blade, which was what made it the perfect material to make leather armor out of. Their teeth were used to be put into weapons due to their sturdiness, while the rest was used for needless things.
Just their hide alone made them a difficult opponent, but that wasn’t their only advantage against him. Thorgil has had his fair share of fights against beasts of many kinds, some from Revaliir, some from places he’s never heard of. But a Grizzly Wolf may bring him to his limit.
However, no matter how challenging his foe may be, Thorgil was determined to win. Because now it wasn’t just his life that’s on the line, but Ches’s future, too. “It will be fine,” Thorgil tried reassuring the boy while lightly placing a hand on his little shoulder. “I defeat all of my opponents, do I not?” He tried adding a chuckle to lighten the mood, but Ches was too anxious for it to work. “It’s not that I don’t believe in you,” the boy muttered. “It’s just…even the best…have their limits. Our challenger is set on killing our Master’s champion. If something were to happen to you…I…” his voice trailed off and his head fell again.
Thorgil sighed lightly and started tugging at something around his neck, before pulling out and revealing a necklace that was kept hidden beneath his tan scarf. It was made of simple leather string, but with a pendant in the shape of a dragon soaring upward. The material the pendant was made from is unknown to Thorgil, but it was certainly pretty to look at. It was red in color, a shade almost as dark as blood. But when under the light at a certain angle, the red glows in yellows and oranges as if a blazing fire was bottled within. The boy’s eyes raised and beamed a little at the beautiful pendant. Thorgil grinned.
“This is a pendant given to me by a knight from the Dragon Kingdom when I was but a boy,” Thorgil began. “It was crafted by the fairies of Vogra to offer divine protection to its wearer. Since then, no injuries I ever received have been fatal. It’s protected me this entire time, and I can assure you that as long as I have this, I will be alright.” He winked at Ches who gazed in wonder at the dragon shaped pendant. And then he smiled brightly, “Really?” Thorgil nodded and ruffled the boy’s hair once more as he stood. “Now hurry along before Master begins to wonder what’s taking you so long.” Without another word Ches hurried off to the only door where one could enter and left, leaving Thorgil and the woman alone.
She was looking at him with her arms crossed and a slight look of disapproval on her soft face. “You lied to him,” she suddenly said, to which Thorgil shrugged as he began walking around the room, eyes looking over every available weapon, “It’ll bring him some comfort.” She shook her head lightly and started walking alongside Thorgil, locking her hands together behind her back. “Once I win this fight I will tell him the truth about the pendant, that it really isn’t magical and I’ve only managed to make it this far from pure luck alone,” Thorgil chuckled a little flatly and rubbed his fingers over the blade of a cutlass.
“If you win this fight,” the woman muttered so quietly Thorgil wondered it it was even meant for his ears. He stopped and turned towards her, tilting his head just slightly, “You don’t think I can?” Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she shook her head with a light sigh. “It’s not that,” she replied, taking a step forward, bringing her close enough for him to feel her breath on his neck. She raised a hand and gently placed it on his cheek, caressing his skin with her thumb tenderly. “I worry for you, Thorgil. Every time you go out into that arena and fight, I can’t help but to wonder “Has he met his match?”, and that concerns me,” her voice was quiet and soft, but her brown eyes looked deeply into his, and he could see that she’d ask him not to fight if he had a choice. Thorgil knew very well that he wasn’t the only one suffering from the fights he was forced to partake in. There were people he cared about that constantly worried if his next fight will be his last.
Sighing lightly, he took her hand in his and looked her in the eyes. “It won’t last much longer,” he said seriously. He planned on escaping from their horrid lives as slaves soon enough. He just needed to right opportunity. She shook her head and turned away; clearly she didn’t believe that as much as he did. “I should be going,” she said, making her way towards the door Ches left out of. “Master will wonder.” And then she was gone, leaving Thorgil alone. Every time he brought up the subject of escaping she changed it, or would suddenly leave as she just did. He figured it was because she’s their Master’s niece. It made sense to him that she’d be torn between loyalty to her family or her own well being.
He turned his attention back to picking a weapon, looking them all over for one that could possibly break the thick hide of a Grizzly Wolf. Unfortunately none of the weapons were suited for cutting something so thick, so he took up a double edged broad sword, which is usually his weapon choice. Only this time, he chose to bring a dagger as well. It may not break the beast’s hide, but it could hit weaker points that weren’t protected by its thick skin.
Then, the gates opened. The announcer shouted out his arrival as he stepped into the ring, and at once the crowd screamed louder, clapping and cheering for their champion. While those betting on the challenger booed.
“This is the battle we’ve all been waiting for,” the announcer shouted over the screaming crowd. “Soris’ undefeated champion, Thorgil!” Those cheering for him raised their voices, standing in their seats and whistling wildly. The announcer continued, “And his challenger, champion of Gasas, coming all the way from Vogra, the Grizzly Wolf Therian!” Those cheering for the beast raised their voices, and Thorgil set his eyes on the gate across the arena.
Vicious snarling echoed from within, causing the crowd to finally quieten down as they all waited for the beast to emerge. Thorgil could see something large on the other side of the gate, but could not quite make out its appearance. He didn’t need to, though. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen a Grizzly Wolf, and frankly, he was highly intimidated.
Finally, the gates began to slowly open, but the beast could not wait. As soon at the gate was opened enough, Therian leaped out from the room it was held in. Its fur was mangy and gray, with patches missing here and there. Its head was like that of a wolf, while its body build was thick with massive paws that could easily kill even a heavily armored knight with one fatal blow. Its legs were thick and sturdy, its tail long and strong, making it perfect to use like a whip.
The crowd cheered once more, and the beast howled angrily, pawing and tearing at the ground with the blood of its previous victims staining its muzzle and claws. Its torn ears were standing with high alert as its blazing eyes searched the arena for its next prey, its tail lashing, deadly teeth showing with its snarl.
And then it noticed him.
The beast howled once again and shifted its weight in preparation to attack. Thorgil took in a deep breath to calm himself and raised his sword at his opponent, taking up a stance of his own. His hands were beginning to sweat, making it a little difficult to keep a good grip on the hilt of his sword. Luckily he was used to this and had learned of a way to hold his weapon so that he would not lose it, and so he briefly rearranged his hands on the hilt before the beast accepted his challenge and launched.
It ran from one end of the arena to the other with impressive speed, but to Thorgil it was terrifying. He barely managed to evade the Wolf’s powerful jaws by spinning to the side. The sound of a bone crushing snap boomed in his ears from behind as the beast closed its jaws, sending him a brief image of him getting caught within its teeth. It sent chills down his spine.
But he had an opportunity. As the beast was running by, Thorgil thought swiftly and spun around with his sword swinging. He ran the blade across his enemy’s haunches, barely managing to land a hit at all before its whipping tail came by, lashing and thrashing the ground. Thorgil ducked when the tail came swinging, allowing it to fly over him during its violent whipping. But he hadn’t the time to dodge twice; its tail came too quickly.
The impact with the tail alone was devastating. Thorgil felt as if he’d been hit by a whip made of stone, and its powerful hit sent him off and crashing into the nearest wall. All of the air in his lungs had been knocked out of him as his back hit the hard surface, pain suddenly taking hold of his entire body. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath and clutching the side that the beast’s tail had hit. Some ribs were likely broken, and he knew he’d be feeling the pain for several weeks. And the battle going on now wouldn’t help any. He would have to push through, or else he’ll die.
The beast paced at the other end of the arena, watching him, waiting to see if he would attack once more. And Thorgil watched as well, taking the moment the beast was giving him to rest and observe. The Grizzly Wolf was the perfect opponent with its steel snapping jaws, bone crushing paws, and stone crumbling tail. It had many weapons, none of which he could afford to forget even for a second. Speed was another thing he had to keep in mind, but its hide was the biggest problem. Earlier he’d managed to land a hit, but the blade didn’t break its skin. Even if he could manage to hit it several times, it would all mean nothing if it did no damage. It was a formidable foe indeed, one that will keep him on his toes. In order to defeat it, he will have to play smart. Recklessness will only get him killed.
Finally, he forced himself to stand and push aside the pain that he felt. This seemed to displease the Wolf, for it faced him head on, lowered its head with an angry snarl and huffed, stirring the dust on the ground. Thorgil held himself in a challenging stance, waiting for the beast to strike once more. Only this time, he would pay closer attention to the creature so that he could spot any possible weaknesses.
The Wolf charged again, its snarling becoming the only thing Thorgil could hear over the screaming crowd and his pounding heart. And for the second time he managed to spin to the side and evade the beast’s jaws. But the movement was too sudden for his injured body to handle. His legs gave out when a wave of pain rippled through him, and he collapsed onto the ground. A moment of weakness; he was left wide open, and so the wolf took the opportunity it had been given. It turned to him, not taking a moment to hesitate before thrusting its opened jaws down, aiming for his head. On instinct Thorgil rolled out of its way before its mouth clamped beside him with an ear splitting snap. The fiery-haired fighter struggled to get back to his feet before the Wolf attacked again.
This time he was prepared for another attack just as it came. The Wolf launched for him with a look of pure blood lust in its eyes. Thorgil knew that Grizzly Wolves weren’t normally so hostile unless made angry. And after all that this one had been through, it only made sense for it to be so angry. It was probably in pain, too. The poor creature was forced to fight, angered and hurt only for the purpose of entertainment. It pained Thorgil to know it was either him or the Wolf, an endangered creature, but it brought him a little comfort knowing that killing the beast would end its suffering.
He swung his sword at the Wolf once it came into range and slashed it across its sensitive nose, one weakness every canine had in common. Blood coated his sleek blade, splashing the Wolf’s face. It yipped and stumbled, shaking its head with whimpers of pain. Unfortunately Thorgil could spare no time to pity the creature. This was his chance. Next, he had to hit something that would phase the Wolf longer.
As it turned to start using its tail, Thorgil dashed for the creature’s side before the lashing whip could reach him. He used all of his body weight to get his blade to puncture the Wolf’s skin, and successfully stabbed it just behind its ribs. The Wolf’s angry snarls grew more vicious, and its head swung back in an attempt to bite him on instinct.
That’s when he finally used his dagger. He pulled the sword out of its flesh with a flash of red and slashed the dagger across the beast’s eyes, all in one swift movement. But it wasn’t swift enough to evade its jaws. Its snout clamped around the area between his shoulder and neck, its large teeth sinking deeply into his flesh. He let out a cry of pain before his voice was cut off entirely as it jerked its head from side to side. Thorgil’s eyes were clamped shut while it shook him like a dog did its toy, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from screaming any more. He could feel his own warm blood plastering his skin, staining his clothing and splattering his hair.
Desperate to escape its grasp before he was torn apart, he jabbed his dagger deeply into the side of its face until it let go, dropping him to the dusty ground beneath it. He left the dagger behind and grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands. Then, pushing aside all the pain that he felt, despite how much his body screamed in objection, he dashed back towards to Wolf from below. He thrust his sword upwards at the creature, using what was left of his strength to ensure his blade broke the beast’s skin and impaled its throat.
It choked and froze with the blade lodged inside of it so deeply that only the hilt and guard could be seen. Then, it collapsed onto the ground. Silence grew louder as the crowd stopped their cheering, causing Thorgil’s gaze to be drawn towards them. They were all staring in utter bewilderment, their jaws agape with shock. Clearly they expected the Wolf to win. Typical.
A quiet whimpering turned his attention back to the Wolf, and his chest squeezed at the sight of the pitiful beast. He knelt next to the Wolf and gently, almost lovingly caressed its blood soaked neck. He couldn’t see anything in its eyes since they had been slashed, but he knew it was in tremendous pain. Slowly, he grabbed the hilt of his sword with his other hand. As soon as it gets removed the Wolf will bleed to death. It will be quick, which is a death the creature deserves.
“Forgive me,” he whispered tenderly to the Wolf, doing his best to comfort it in its last moments. “I shall save you from this tormented life you have lived and end your pain.” As those words were spoken, he pulled the sword out of the Wolf, allowing the blood to freely flow out and pool on the ground. Within seconds, the Wolf’s cries stopped, and it was dead. “May you rest easy,” was Thorgil’s last words before the crowd finally gathered themselves. Their cheers rang loudly, pounding in Thorgil’s ears as they stood and raised their arms. Those who were not cheering were still stuck with faces of shock, looking at each other as if they had witnessed some kind of miracle.
He could see his Master up in the stadium, grinning widely while clapping his hands viciously. Thorgil lowered his head until his eyes were drowned by the shadow provided by his bangs, and he gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. All of his pain was numbed by his distracting thoughts, his hatred for that man coming close to boiling over the edge. How could they cheer? How could they celebrate? How could they be pleased by this needless slaughter? An innocent creature was tormented and abused, just as all the others were that were put into the arena.
There was no victory here. Only loss.
