Chapter 2 #2
I’ve washed away all the soap, so I hasten to do his bidding, but, on the way out, I notice a pile of clean drying cloths, all folded and pristine. I grab one before he can stop me, wrapping it around myself.
He looks long-suffering, but doesn’t seem overly bothered at the liberty I’ve taken.
‘En’t me who gives a shit, slave,’ he says to me, ‘but the laundresses will be fucked right off they see one of you dirty human cunts from down the bottom with one of their clean linens wrapped around your soiled flesh.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ I grate out in answer, somehow feeling more emboldened now that I’m not down in the pit. ‘Punishment will only come if I lose.’
He snorts, shaking his head a little and his plaited hair falls over his face.
‘You think you’re going to win?’
I nod and he laughs.
‘Win fights. Get food. Leave the bottom,’ I say, my throat sounding less hoarse from the steamy air.
‘Don’t count your chickens, human. Your kind don’t survive this place for long.
Not even the ones who come up. One chance is all you’ll get and, even then, you’ll find it’s not what they promise.
Your kind fight, and sometimes win, but still never leave the pits except to go to the arenas and you don’t look like the type to win anyway.
Besides, Kobeth already said you aren’t destined for them. You’re for the smaller parties.’
Isen takes a leather cord from his belt and ties his reddish hair back at the nape of his neck, not seeming to be in much of a hurry now that I’m not luxuriating while he has to stand guard.
He’s chattier now. I wonder if he’ll let anything else slip if I keep him talking. I used to do that with Ogdan’s guards in The Barrack all the time and I got to know lots of little tidbits the others didn’t.
‘What happens there?’ I ask. ‘At these parties?’
He yawns. ‘You’ll fight other females in a small pit for some rich cunts’ pleasures. Whichever one of you wins will take orders from the guests.’
‘Orders?’
‘Aye. You’ll be told what to do with the loser. Cut off her hair, or a finger perhaps, do…other things.’ He lets out a huff. ‘Wish I was rich enough to be that much of a depraved fuck, but, alas, here we are.’
I frown at him, not sure what to think as my heart beats erratically. That’s not what I’ve heard down. You come up if they think you can win. If not, you’re just fodder in the pits to train the ones who have potential. I’ve never heard of these parties.
I don’t like the sound of them at all. Even the winners sound like they lose in the end.
‘I thought if humans come up, they fight in the arenas,’ I say, my voice stronger now. ‘I’m no pleasure slave. I’m not for parties.’
He looks at me sharply, eyes narrowing. ‘Not up to you, human.’
Then he shrugs. ‘In truth, I don’t know why they brought you up.
Don’t know why Kobeth is bothering to spend coin on you.
You don’t look much out of the common way to me.
Certainly not the beauty he thinks you are.
Bere and him are mates though. Throwing him a bone, maybe.
But en’t for me to question. Not my place.
Not yours either, slave. We all must do as we’re told. You especially.’
He nods his head for me to go across the long room. I turn, doing as he silently orders. There’s an open door that leads back to the walkway we started on. It’s open on one side. I can peer deep down into the pit, see the other humans so far down that I can barely hear them.
I frown. ‘But I didn’t climb that many steps,’ I say aloud, glancing back at the orc.
He grins, showing me a row of golden-capped teeth that match the cuffs in his long hair.
‘Of course not. That many steps would take the better part of a morning to walk.’ He lets out a sound of derision. ‘Your kind have no vision. It shows why you humans deserve no magick of your own,’ he sneers. ‘Go now. No more dallying. No more talk.’
We get to an opening a little while later, and when I pause at the archway, I’m thrust over the threshold with a firm grip to the back of my neck.
Inside, the room is spacious and the warm light is low.
It comes from yellow balls that float above round platforms jutting out of the walls like odd, torchless sconces.
I’m so focused on the effortless magick that I don’t realize there are others in the room at first.
They’re sitting in chairs. Four of them. Kobeth, the other orc, the fae called Bere, and another fae in black that I’m sure I recognize as well.
‘Bring the female forward.’
I’m pushed in the middle of my back almost gently and my eyes look beyond the group.
In front of them is a window-like opening but there’s no glass nor shutter. Inside the next space is a square room where a large male paces. He’s human, as far as I can tell, tall and bulging. His flesh is littered with almost as many scars as I have.
One of the fighters, I comprehend with a sinking feeling. A true one. A gladiator of the pit fights. One who wins more than he loses. What did Kobeth call him? Maldred?
I, a small human female who has only fought in the training pits, am meant to fight him?
Or, I remember what Isen said. Perhaps I’m not meant to fight him at all.
Fear makes my hands shake a little and I clench my fists around the drying cloth that’s still wrapped around me.
The human’s head is shaved and he wears a cloth around his waist. The rest of him is bare. Black ink has been pushed under his flesh to make designs. There are marks. Names, I realize. Of other fighters he’s triumphed over? Of his masters? Of a bakery down the way? I don’t know. I can’t read.
But I see a letter on his upper arm that I know and I stare at it for a moment, my mind suddenly becoming a maelstrom. My eyes shut, my head pulsing in pain.
‘Buh’ for Bryn.
Survive.
I shake my head to get rid of the fractured ideas that are floating to the surface, pushing them away yet again, and the ache in my skull recedes.
I’m brought to stand in front of the orcs and fae with my back to the window. I see that the chairs are lined up in front of it… For viewing, I realize with a sinking feeling.
I keep my eyes low.
A warning voice in my head is telling me this isn’t going to go well. In fact, it’s bad. Very, very bad.
I glance over my shoulder. The male fighter can see me now. His eyes move over me and he frowns a little as if he isn’t quite sure what’s happening either.
I turn back to the orcs and fae. They’re talking amongst themselves, barely noticing me.
They’re wagering, I realize. On me. How long I’ll last with Maldred, their prize human fighter.
I frown to myself. Surely not long. I’m tiny, half-starved and ill-prepared. But they only just bought me, so surely they won’t let this great beast of a man kill me.
I glance back at Isen in question, hoping he’ll say something as he seems to be so loose-lipped.
‘Ah,’ Isen says close to my ear in a low voice half to himself as he listens to their words. ‘Kobeth has decided that you’ll fight after all, female.’ He lets out a low chuckle. ‘You poor wee thing. That monster is going to beat you bloody.’
‘I won’t last five breaths,’ I murmur in agreement. ‘So then why are they bothering to wager on how long I’ll go until he wins?’
The orc lets out a snicker. ‘They’re not wagering on how long you’ll last until you’re bested, girl, they’re wagering on how long you’ll last before he has you under him.’
He steps very close to me and speaks his next words very very low, so that the others don’t hear.
‘And these wealthy cunts are going to watch everything.’
‘But ...’ My words fade, bile rising.
I swallow my fear and I see Isen shrug in my periphery.
‘You’re up to entertain. They decide how you’ll do it. But take heart. Kobeth won’t let Maldred kill you.’ Isen snorts. ‘Though when he punishes you for losing a fight you can’t possibly win, you might wish he had. Better make sure you entertain them well so he goes easy on you later.’
I turn my attention back to the group. The fae and the orcs are now sizing me up. Kobeth stands slowly and approaches me. Isen leaves my side to stand by the adjacent wall, in a decent viewing spot with a goblet of wine to watch the festivities, I notice with an internal sneer.
Clawed fingers snap in my face. ‘Do you understand the shared tongue, slave?’
I nod once, not speaking.
‘Good. You belong to me. You will amuse me and my guests. Your fight is with that one. Maldred. If you entertain us well, I let you remain up. I let you have food. Yes? You fight more. You entertain more. I let you survive.’
Survive.
That I understand. I have to survive.
He stops talking and looks at me expectantly.
‘I understand, my lord,’ I say quietly, keeping my eyes down.
I entertain, I survive. Simple.
‘You fight Maldred and he keeps you until he’s finished with you. He knows better than to kill you, but I will not be happy with you if you do not give me a good show.’
‘Can this even be called a pit fight?’ the other fae, who’s dressed in black with the two jeweled knives, laughs. ‘Come now, Kobeth. She’s but a human female. A small one, at that. This fight will turn so quickly we might as well call it what it is. A rut.’
‘Care to wager any more on that?’ the orc responds, eyeing the scars he can see on me. ‘I’ve seen a human girl her size tear a bull apart by sheer force of will using nothing but her clawless hands and a fury unlocked by desperation alone. This one may yet surprise you.’
I’m turned in place by the orc so that I can see the gladiator. He’s pacing now, eager to begin. He stares at me through the open window, but he doesn’t approach it.
It must be warded so that he can’t pass through.
‘He has an old wound. Left knee,’ Kobeth whispers in my ear. ‘Don’t go down immediately. And don’t let me down or you better pray to your weak, drunken gods that I am in a good mood after I watch him defile you.’
I swallow hard. ‘Yes, my lord.’
You need to remember.
No. Survive.