Chapter 34
Melee
Fighting this sort of melee quickly turns into a stilted kind of race as the teams skirmish with each other, trying to hang onto the better positions closer to the walls. Other than the monster of all things no one here is equipped with a shield. That's normal they never let pit slaves have shields but it means we can’t really slam into each other while we jockey for position. The teams kind of dance in and out of range waiting for someone to make a mistake. With so many fighters and a two-headed giant in the pit, those mistakes start coming thick and fast.
This tournament is fought under standard rules thank all the gods above and below. This means I and none of the other boys have to hold back. Not being little kids it apparently doesn't offend the sensibilities of our owners to watch us bleed out.
Pit-sword meets halberd and spear meets flesh around them Laren and Tarnen observe the melee from above like a curious god. The two-headed monster is moving but at a calm measured pace, heads slowly rotating back and forth as they look for the best opportunities to use the ridiculous reach their height and spear grant them.
I’ve seen The Lantern bearer fight plenty of times and sparred with the pair of them even more. I’m still left in awe when they finally burst into action. Something that big shouldn’t be this fast, shouldn’t be this skilled.
To my right a pair of boys dressed in BreakWill blue and both armed with a short sword and hatchet each. They pulled the arrow so to speak and forced their way into close range with a pair of human HighSails armed with short spears. Sound tactics against the longer-ranged weapons but a mistake. The two groups now find themselves unable to disengage from each other.
Something it seems Laren and Tarnen have noticed before I did.
The giant surges towards the entangled group. I see the ettin thrust at one boy who slips to the side only to be caught by an enemy hatchet to the side of the head. The BreakWill boy who put him down is in turn smashed into the ground by the makeshift shield of the ettin. I doubt either boy will ever get up again.
I briefly lose track of the giant as a pair from House Tariff try to catch me unawares and rush my left side. I spin to face them and immediately find myself on the back foot. I put myself in a situation to be outnumbered by abandoning Xael, what's worse is I’m kind of bad at fighting while moving backward. The Tariff boys are armor made of boiled leather. It isn’t like the leather ‘protecting me’. These two have proper grieves and cuirasses. One is holding a pit-sword two-handed, and the other is wielding two short swords one straight and one slightly curved. Of course, he is.
The boy with the pit-sword comes in first, swinging big at my chest while his companion follows a half-step behind. I have to admit these guys seem pretty smart. Going after someone alone is always a good proposition. On top of that staggering their engagement of me means the boy with the longer weapon can lock up my axe while his dual-wielding teammate moves past my weapon’s threat range and puts me into his.
Having a good plan and putting it into motion are two very different things. A lesson I have had beaten into me more times than I can count, and knowledge I am more than happy to impart to this pair of Tariff losers.
While I am being pushed the way I want to go; towards the giant. I am not willing to fight moving backward or a moment more than I have to. Digging my claws into the sand I stop on the balls of my feet. Staying loose I bring the axe head up into the path of the pit-sword. It isn’t a true block as I pivot and feed the momentum of his strike into swinging the but of the axe upward toward the boy armed with twin swords.
The momentum of his forward motion, the momentum of his partner’s attack, the momentum of my body as I half-turn. All three combine as wood meets face with a crunch that reverberates through my weapon. To his credit, the Tariff boy manages to stay upright through the force of the blow, though he collapses into a senseless heap before he completes another step. They should really start giving us helmets.
I don’t have time to admire my handiwork, and I wouldn’t anyway. I am from House BloodRock, we celebrate when the fight is done and not a moment before.
My little maneuver to put down the two swords boy wouldn't have been worth attempting except that now I am facing the sole boy head-on, and he has to turn if he wants to attack me or defend himself. I don't give him the opportunity.
With a savage jerk of my upper body that hurts my back a little, I drive the head of my axe into the boy's stomach. His armour holds but he is still forced back by the blow.
I had hoped he would at least double over but I couldn’t get quite enough force into my attack. He manages to face me fully as I follow up. Switching to a single-handed grip on my axe I fling my now freehand out to snatch at the wood lower half of the pit-sword.
No matter how it is shaped a pit-sword is still functionally a small glaive, it might have a larger cutting edge than my axe but there is plenty to grab. Yanking him towards me with his own weapon it's a simple matter to pendulum my axe downward on an angle to dig it into his calf where the armor of his grieve doesn’t extend. There is a spurt of blood and he falls shouting abuse to one knee. With a snarl I lash out with my left foot, stomping into his chest as I yank my axe back out of his leg. The boy will probably be okay if he doesn’t get trampled, but his ability to fight me is gone so I resume my drive towards the ettin.
In the time it took me to plow through the pair of Tariff boys Laren and Tarnen have converted the four they were engaged with into a circle of mutilated gore. I am trying to organize my thoughts at least enough to figure out what I plan to scream at the two-headed woman when I realize I’m not the only one surging for the giant.
Ahead of me the massive bulk of Klash and the lithe form of whatever the Flame witch’s name is behind him are sprinting directly at the women who gave me the belt I’m currently wearing.
‘Good’ I think with a little sneer. If they are stupid enough to get trapped between the ettin and myself. Itti’atti fire magic or not I can win BloodRock his wager right here in the first round. Not to mention remove a tough fight down the line.
I need to be quick though If Larnen and Tarnen kill the pair of them I won’t get credit and that will be another bet lost to some ridiculous technicality. Dodging around a running fight between two teams I try to pick up speed but the HighSail team has already engaged the ettin.
Whichever head controls the spear arm thrusts the massive weapon out at Klash. The elephant cursed is armed with a spear or his own that under any other circumstances would look like a huge unwieldy thing. With the giant’s spear surging towards him, it seems like a twig.
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An enchanted twig maybe. The grey-skinned boy brings the haft of his spear across his body, slamming it into the head of the tree-sized weapon. It doesn’t stop the thrust, of course, you would need a castle wall for that. He is however able to knock the attack off course, sending it harmlessly past him and the Itti’atti both.
Were Laren and Tarnen just some dumb monster that may have been the end of it. This particular ettin does not fight like that however, they fight like a career pitter who just happens to be gigantic. Following up their attack the ettin pivots on their front foot, sliding their
back one behind to shift position and momentum without breaking stance. It’s remarkably similar to a follow-up movement I favor to get quickly around the side of an enemy. Lacking only the additional step I take.
The ettin isn’t trying to get around anything. No, the giant employed the movement as a means to quickly bring the metal door they are pretending is a shield down onto Klash. This isn’t good, after the grey-skinned boy is crushed between shield and sand I absolutely have to be the one to bring down the itti’atti. At least that way I can claim the bet was only to beat her.
I skid to a halt as I witness the impossible. Rather than be crushed like a child under a wagon in the manner of the unfortunate BreakWill slave earlier. Klash isn’t crushed in any manner at all. The huge slave drops his spear and in an insane display of both strength and timing catches the descending door. I expect him to only arrest its motion a little, maybe stall the ettin for a few heartbeats before collapsing under the pressure.
None of that happens. He is initially forced down but the huge slave sets his feet and with a roar of effort that can be heard halfway across the pit floor. stops the shield dead with his bare fucking hands. I genuinely cannot believe what I am seeing and I don’t think I’m the only one. Gasps ring out from the crowd in such numbers that they are audible even from here. One person watching isn’t taken off guard; the Itti’atti girl and this is the moment she decides to remind us that Klash isn’t the only one who can do the impossible.
She cuts a striking figure, her dark hair trailing behind her, her metal fire stick still on her back as she dashes out from behind the elephant boy. She covers the distance between herself and the ettin before Laren and Tarned have any idea what's happening.
A strange detachment emanates from my chest at the sight. I know what's happening. I know exactly, and it should fill me with anger and fear. Instead, it robs me of both sending my mind spiraling away as though I was watching myself and what is about to unfold from the stands.
The flame witch places both hands on one of the giant’s tree trunk legs.
‘At least I made it through the melee unharmed.’
Laren and Taren burst into flames. It doesn’t start at the Itti’atti’s hands but across the ettin’s entire body simultaneously. One moment the pair is a mountain of green fur and muscle, the next they are a pillar of fire bathing half the crowd in light. Screaming from both heads the giant drops their spear and desperately tries to beat at the flames. It’s pointless, not only does the thrashing accomplish nothing more than shamefully hitting themselves with their shield but it was too late the moment the flames ignited.
The heat of the living bonfire is so intense It stings my skin from dozens of feet away and even forces the thick-skinned Klash back shielding his face. Not the flame witch though. She stays right there touching the ettin even as the monster collapses to the sands. Laren and Tarnen are so hidden by the flames that if I couldn’t smell their fur and flesh in the smoke I might think I was looking at a strangely arrayed woodpile.
The flame witch offers a little bow to the ettin before turning to walk away with a casual swagger.
The sight snaps me back to my body as anger fills me. She didn’t even put the fire out, just leaving the ettin to be consumed by the white-hot flames.
“Put them out,” I whisper starting to sprint toward the girl
“Put them out.” Louder this time.
“PUT IT THE FUCK OUT!”
At the last second the flame witch turns towards me. I see her eyes go wide as I, axe forgotten tackle her midsection. This little thing would never be able to stop me from tossing her around at the best of times. Caught utterly off guard she is brutally driven to the ground with me atop her.
Logically I should know this is a terrible idea unless I want to get incinerated. Logic can go fuck itself. I manage to slam my fist into her face twice before a hand like a vice closes on my main and pulls me back off the girl. With just one hand Klash flings me at least ten feet across the pit floor.
I land on all fours skidding backward. When I arrest myself I’m next to the charred form of Laren and Tarnen. With their fur gone most of the fires on the two-headed woman have sputtered out. Somehow the ettin is still alive, I can see their massive chest rising and falling in a shallow unsteady rhythm. It isn’t a mercy, what little skin they have left is a blackened mess. I can see scorched flesh and revealed muscle….everywhere. Even with magic the amount of damage inflicted on the giant in such a short time is horrific.
“Ankle…biter?”
My breath catches in my throat at the words and I look to the heads of the ettin. Both have been stripped of their flesh and forced into a rictus grin by the revealed bone. One is lying slack and limp, her eyes and tongue taken by the flames. No breath is being drawn by this head. A fact made all the more evident by the wheezing pant of the remaining head. Tarnen I think from the nickname she called me. She is still missing almost all the skin from her face, but it's clear this head got the better of it. Her tongue and one of her eyes have survived the inferno. Though there will be no saving her. Even now the remaining head is struggling to provide enough air for her giant form, and even if she could the injuries are too great, and the magical healing required is too expensive.
The one remaining looks about wildly before eventually refocusing on me if only for a moment. In that moment she tries to reach out towards me in a motion to ruffle my hair. The arm doesn’t make it to me, falling limp at the giant’s side.
“What… are you doing here?”
I don’t know if she was unware that I was competing today, or if the pain has robbed her wits and she thinks me with her in some far-off place. Either way, they are the last words the ettin ever speaks.
“E-End! END!” comes the call from the announcer lady. She should have called it as soon as the monster in question fell but I think she was just as shocked by the fiery display as the rest of us. It doesn’t really matter why she called it late. I don't intend to listen to her anyway.