Out of the Arena Redux

A preview of what I've been working on! 

Out of the Arena

The supplies Storyhearts gave Ankius lasted Ankius all the way to Silvanus, City of Temples in realm of King Horace. Entering a strange city can be dangerous. He hid his sword under his clothes and walked the wide streets taking all the sights, sounds, and smells. This was a large trading center where many languages were spoken. As the afternoon wore on, he realized he better start looking for an inn or other place to stay. Ankius was still young and had not yet learned to completely control his impulses. He spotted an inn on the other side of a busy street and started across the road running toward it. He slammed into a small man wearing gold and purple robes, knocking him to the ground. In an instant five of the man’s guards jumped Ankius slamming him down on the dusty street.

“Sir, I’m sorry! It was an accident! I meant you no harm.” Ankius protested, lying on his back surrounded.

“I’m Carsis, The Exchequer here.” The small man said rising to his feet. “I take care of the kingdom’s money and you were trying to rob me.”

“No sir, it was only an accident!”

Several heavily armed soldiers showed up and the Exchequer ordered Ankius taken away.  There were far too many to fight, so Ankius had to go along. His sword was taken and he was lead away in heavy chains, now a common prisoner.

One of the soldiers said “We do not tolerate thieves in our mists, and you will most likely be put to death.”

Another said, “Hey, look at the fancy gold necklace.” Reaching for it.

Ankius head bunted the man knocking him out cold. The others put their swords to his throat.

“Not here in the street, you common fools! He’ll be dead tomorrow. One of you can take it then.” The Exchequer said. “Just take him to the dungeon.”    

Ankius blood went cold. It looked like his great journey through life would be cut well short. They took him to a dingy dark dungeon and locked him up. The other prisoners looked close to death, and some cried and screamed. Those sent to the dungeon usually stayed until death or execution. A speedy execution was seen as an act of mercy. Ankius spent a long sleepless night wondering if he would live to see the sun again much less another night.

The next day a large man with white hair and a long white beard came to Ankius with a few guards. He had the guards take Ankius to a small room upstairs. Ankius waited almost an hour, having no idea who the man was or what he wanted.  The man stepped in the room with Ankius.

“I am Bartholomus and I have a offer for you. I run the oldest gladiator school in the kingdom and I think it would be a waste for you to simply be beheaded tomorrow at sunrise. If you can fight, I can give you life.”

“I can sir, but I am innocent.”

 “No… You are guilty. Sorry but an attack on the Exchequer is a punishable by death only here. There were witnesses. Who taught you?”

“My father, Lord Rivcon.”      

“I’ve heard the name… We will see what you have learned. I think you can be very successful so I’m willing to make an investment in you. Don’t disappoint me or you will wish for the mercy of the executioner’s chopping block.”

Bartholomus snapped his fingers and another younger man came around the corner with Ankius’ sword and handed it to him. Ankius had no desire to fight for sport. Killing a man was bad enough in war, but he had little choice. Buying Ankius away from the executioner’s axe was not cheap but he saw much potential. Bartholomus paid all the right people and took Ankius to his new home, The Crimson Academy.  There he was assigned to learn under Elras, the school’s lead instructor. Ankius asked Elras if there was any path back to freedom. Elras answered yes, but you will have to kill for it.

“It will be like swimming miles across a lake full of stinking hot blood and gore but it can be done if you are good enough.”

Elras picked up where Rivcon left off teaching the dark arts of gladiatorial hand-to-hand combat. Ankius was almost a third taller than the average man and more than twice as strong but his real strength was in his unnatural quickness. To have these three advantages in one fighter was almost unheard of. Although Ankius trained well he hated the thought of killing others for sport. Ankius learned quickly and Bartholomus was eager to make good on his large investment. King Horace had himself approved the deal. The day of Ankius’ first match had arrived.

The Onyx Arena was ageless, and over the centuries was used for many different purposes. It had been a temple to war gods, a house for the performance of plays, a gathering place for the king to speak directly to the people, and most recently, a place for the best gladiators from near and far to do battle for fame, fortune and sometimes freedom. The outside of the building was black marble with gray vertical red columns. It was thirteen levels high and large purple and green banners flew from the top.  The sandy floor was an oval with a large white concrete block that took up most of the wider end. Two massive black poles rose up at either end of the floor topped with the same large purple and banners that flew from the top. One was near the back of the block and the other came out of the sandy floor on the opposite end. The sand was deep and had a reddish tint. It was said this came from all the blood shed. From the sandy floor to the first rows of seats was a wall taller than two men.  High black marble steps also served as seats and from the arena floor, seemed to go up forever. Onyx was a busy place. Merchants served food all over, slaves could be bought, and women sold their bodies. Gamblers took wagers and everyone made predictions. The place smelled of human waste, gore, stale beer and warm bread. The fighters had to wait in large stinking cages deep under the arena floor standing in piss, shit and vomit lit only by dim oil lamps.          

Ankius threw up three times while waiting for his first match, and seriously considered allowing himself be struck down. The man he was to fight, Ironclaw, had a dozen victories to his credit and had a bad habit if defiling the dead bodies of his defeated opponents, cutting off their genitals and throwing them into the crowd. Ankius thought of his family and Storyhearts. The pain it would cause them if they ever found out he met his end defeated and defiled in the Onyx Arena would be too much. He resolved to swim across the lake of blood to freedom. He would not die in the Onyx Arena.

The crowd was massive and went up almost as far as Ankius could see. They roared to life as the two men stepped in from opposite sides of the floor. Bartholomus raised his arms from his seat high up in the arena and the crowd grew quiet. In his right hand, he held a worn black cloth. The fighters below watched.  He let it go, signaling the beginning of the duel. Ironclaw came out swinging his trademark weapon, an Ironclaw where his right hand had been and a spiked mace in his left. Ankius easily dodged the mad swings and retreated backwards. The crowd cheered Ironclaw, expecting a quick finish for the big new comer. The finish was quick but not what they expected. Ankius side-stepped left avoiding Ironclaw’s charge, and took one swift powerful swing with his sword cleanly slicing through his neck sending his head flying high into the crowd.  His lifeless body fell to the ground and the crowd was stunned into silence. In a few seconds, they rose to their feet cheering the new victorious gladiator. Bartholomus smiled. Ankius looked at the now lifeless body of Ironclaw. He slowly turned around, and walked dragging his sward with his head down in shame, back into the now open door from which he entered. He threw up again in the holding cage. He did not like killing but his mind was made up and he was determined to regain his freedom.  

In time Ankius thought no more of his opponents before cutting them down, running them threw or crushing their skulls. He only thought of getting across the lake of hot blood. He also came to like pleasing the swelling crowds and this disturbed something deep inside him. Somehow, he knew better. He knew it was wrong.  Still, the life of a successful fighter can be good. All the women he wanted were his and Bartholomus started splitting the winnings with him making him wealthy with each new victory. The people in the city gave him plenty of room wherever he walked. Carsis The Exchequer now waited for Ankius to cross the street. They all looked at him with a combination of awe, fear and jealousy. But no one dared challenge him outside the Onyx Arena. For the most part, he kept to himself. Elras had talked to him about not getting too close to anyone.

“In our line of work, Ankius, there can be little room for friendship and put aside any desire for settling down with a woman and making a family all your own. We are covered in the stench of death. Most of those we know die all too soon a bloody violent death. The death of a friend leads to rage, which leads to bad decisions in the arena and you know how that ends. It is not good to put your woman through heart crushing worry every time you have a match. A daughter growing up fatherless is sad enough but the son will want to follow in your footsteps to make your name great. Stay away from close relations, keep a clear head and just maybe one day leave this behind gaining your freedom and saving your life.”           

In time, Ankius had become a specialist of sorts. No one man would fight him anymore. This is to be expected after one hundred seventy three victories in a fight to the death. Now, Ankius only took on three and five man teams who came from far to test themselves against one of the best fighters who had ever lived. Ankius was a mob favorite who also learned how to bet on himself, and soon accumulated far more wealth than he could ever hope to spend. He had no time for spending money. When he was not fighting, he was training with the legendary teacher Elras. The Crimson Academy offered him a job as an assistant to Elras. Ankius learned how to teach others but he still wanted to be free. It all troubled him greatly. Where would it and end and how could it? 

Ankius had fought and defeated eight teams so far. Still, three years on, he could not see the shore of the blood-filled sea. All the killing seemed pointless with no freedom in sight. Defeating those not near ready to face him seemed evil. He decided to fight no more in the arena. But how could he escape? At the young age of twenty-seven, dark visions of those he had killed came to visit each night before he sunk into a troubled sleep where they perused him into his dreams. Ankius had the run of the city but was forbidden from venturing beyond the walls and he could not carry any weapons. All the people coming into the arena, and leaving behind their gold, and silver, one way or another, made him a valuable prize to be held on to.

Tallshadow had been watching the young gladiator for a few months and he too saw the pointlessness of the on going-butchery. Everyone but King Horace (Tallshadow’s brother) had a deep fear of him. He was a very powerful, moody, and unpredictable wizard. Tall, gaunt and always wearing flowing dark green robes; he looked more like a floating goblin, than a man. Parents wanting to discipline their young children, threatened to give them to Tallshadow. He was the most feared man in the Kingdom, and for good reason. Cross him or King Horace, and risk your eyes growing over, going into convulsions or your head simply exploding. He had done much to defend the kingdom from enemies both inside and past it’s borders. Both cunning and smart, Tallshadow realized Ankius, the young lad, could do much more in life than kill for profit and sport. He went to Horace and they discussed an alternative future for their prized champion.  King Horace was fundamentally a good man and a just king who took care of his people, the land and himself in that order. Horace had no time or patience for pomp and ceremony. His goals were simple; the betterment and protection of his people. King Horace did not care for the arena and the evil that took place there but he needed the funds generated to buy food for the people in lean years and keep up the army. He had only poor alternatives. Tallshadow and King Horace agreed; there was more potential in Ankius than a bloody death that would come only in a matter of time in the arena. King Horace agreed, Ankius’ eventual death there would be a waste.  Even the best will one day fall. Carsis, The Exchequer was afraid of Ankius’ growing popularity and thought he should be assassinated before he somehow used that popularity against the kingdom. He had on occasion, expressed this view directly with his king. King Horace was not afraid of Ankius, nor his own people. However, keeping Ankius firmly on his side (and on the payroll) may not be such a bad idea. After giving it some thought, King Horace summoned Ankius through Tallshadow to appear before him in his long hall, The Quoroas.

Ankius fearing no one, not even the king or his stormy brother went alone. Two burly guards opened the doors to the long torch lit chamber. The great stonewalls told the legends of gods, kings and heroes past in intricate carvings. Blue marble pillars rose to a red stone ceiling four stories above. Long dark oak tables ran along the walls, with empty benches and chairs. The hall could accommodate more than two hundred people but now there were only three. Ankius bowed before the king six steps above him. King Horace had once been a warrior, and although he was now an old man, he was still strong, focused and alert. He wore the habit of a regular man and only a royal ring on his right hand allowed others to know who he was.  Tallshadow sat at a table close by unblinking.      

“Ankius, my great champion you have brought many honors upon yourself and this kingdom. Please pull up a chair and sit before us.”

King Horace watched closely as the tall gladiator who had become a man in his kingdom took his seat. Ankius had long blond hair, a full beard and gray eyes that had seen too much for their years. King Horace saw something else beneath all the violence his subject had endured, a profound goodness. He felt good about his decision.  

Ankius did as instructed wondering what the two most powerful men he knew wanted with a lowly arena fighter; even one as good as himself. He had seen them on rare occasions watching him do battle in the arena.       

“At your pleasure my king. How may I be of service?”

“There has not been a champion like you in living memory.” The king started. “We think you have more value than just a champion gladiator. Tallshadow is my brother and a rather famous wizard. Have you met him before?”

Ankius thought this is the voice of a leader. 

“No sir but I am honored and pleased to do so now.”

King Horace went on. “We have no desire to see you one day fall as an old champion. Your skills are too valuable to waste in such an. . . unfortunate manner. We have an offer for you. I have managed to keep this kingdom out of wars for the last two decades and that is good. But as you well know that can change at any time. I’d like you to help retrain my army in the art of combat and in return for this service, Tallshadow will teach you the arts of wizardry.”

Ankius liked the idea of getting out of fighting for sport but did not want to spend the rest of his days in Silvanus as a servant, even if he was only answerable to King Horace.

“My lord thank you for the offer and before I will accept I have one question. After the work is done, may I leave a free man?”

Tallshadow said, “I will need a few years to fully teach you. Perhaps it will take longer if you are doing your duty to the king. You must agree to stay until your training is complete. A half trained wizard is. . . very dangerous.”

“Once the army has been retrained and you have learned all you can from Tallshadow, I will grant your freedom.” King Horace said.