Chapter 37
Get Back In The Box
The next day we return to The Killing Fields hours in advance of my match. I honestly don’t mind the early departure especially since Muraab informs me we will be held in viewing cages today. That means I will be able to see the matches before and after my own. As the viewing cages are held in a guarded area amongst the lower stands. It comes at the cost of being close to the crowd and having idiot fans, gambling-obsessed weirdos, and strange rich people come and gawk at us.
The price is worth it. I will not only be able to learn more about my future potential opponents, but I’ll also have something to distract from the sharp little thoughts about my own artificial nature that barge their way to the front of my brain now and then. As this is a fight day I’m still stupid hungry, and the scents of food from the stands around me are maddening.
Kalon and Tota aren’t fighting today, but they are still in the BloodRock cage with me. These sorts of events, at least according to Gori are all about the combination of pageantry and anticipation. As such every pitter who made it past the melee round will be here on display in the cages during each remaining leg of the event.
Much to my amusement that includes Xael, but as a free man, he isn’t held captive. Instead, next to the cage, they set him up on a little cushioned stool and an awning only big enough for one person. He looks ridiculous, but he can also get up and walk around the arena whenever he wants. So not that ridiculous I suppose. No more than the three of us sitting alone in a cage that has a capacity for more than thirty.
Despite the massive space Tota still manages to jab me with one of his spines when he steps past to piss in the corner. The sheer ineptitude of it annoys me and I would normally yell something at him, but a pair of middle-aged women TwoFinger whistle at Tota when he undoes his pants and I can’t help but join in the laughter from Kalon and Xael.
If anything the crowd for the first round of doubles matches is bigger and louder than it was for the melee. That makes sense to me. Propper matches without so much influence from luck are far more fascinating to watch. Though I suppose it could also be that our fame has grown in the last two days. Certainly, that's the case for the HighSail pair. The cage holding the flame witch and the elephant boy is surrounded by a constantly replenishing crowd of fans.
As with the melee, the first several fights of the day have nothing to do with The Storm Herald Invitational. They are just there to get the crowd excited and give people something to bet on before us apparently special fighters take the stage.
Match one actually keeps me pretty entertained. It’s a monster-only affair with two teams of four demi-hydras wearing blue or red sashes respectively released into the arena from opposite sides. I don’t know how…well yes I do its magic obviously, but the two-headed lizards seem to understand which are and aren’t their teammates. What ensues is a hectic scramble as the demis try to jostle, and bite for position before unleashing various torrents of acid at their enemies.
The first creature to fall is a blue team demi-hydra with a colorful crest on one head, but not the other. A pair of the red team monsters manage to latch onto each of its heads with their massive teeth and in a series of savage jerking motions decapitate the blue lizard…twice. As the heads tear away a thick spray of acid launches like diagonal rain up into the first few rows of the crowd.
The screaming and acrid stench prompts uproarious laughter and enthusiastic knee-slapping from the sections of the fans that are safe from the acid. Those of us in the cage are no exception, laughing at the free people who get so much pleasure out of watching us die. Tota even does an impersonation of the man who got sprayed the worst. His exaggerated staggering and pitiful moaning about how his face is gone are so stupid but genuinely hilarious that even I laugh.
Eventually, the Blue team retreats back through their gate with the red-sashed Demi-Hydras hissing and snapping at them. The winning team is declared by the Arena judge, after which a glow appears around the remaining lizards prompting them to suddenly become docile. A few moments later a team of serville slaves lead the Demis away.
‘Get back in the box till we want to see you bleed again.’
Some of the slaves remain to give the pit floor a quick clean in preparation for the next match. This mostly involves dumping little sacks of extra sand onto any patch that is overly bloody.
About a tenth of an hourglass later that match begins. It's two big teams of kids. I don’t pay it much attention as none of them are from BloodRock but I do have to admit there is something fun about the way the little kids throw themselves at each other. This lot hasn’t learned how to be afraid yet. I’m more than a little envious.
“Hey Xael,” I say, glancing over to the rich boy. He is whispering something in the ear of a wealthy looking woman I don’t recognize. After she leaves he looks to me.
“Hmm? What?” He asks. The foreign boy is hard to read sometimes, from anyone else I would think they were trying to annoy me on purpose.
“After our match can you get me something to eat from one of the stands?” He nods his reply.
“You don’t want something now?”
I shake my head. “ I don’t eat before a fight.” He makes a little ‘ahh’ sound but doesn’t question it. Xael might not really be a pitter but he is a tournament fighter. I imagine even where he’s from young men have stomach issues when they are about to face death.
As the day progresses, pit slaves and animals bleed, and idiot fans come to stare at us or call out stupid questions. Thankfully when it comes to the BloodRock cage they are mostly interested in Xael who actually seems to enjoy this nonsense.
With nothing better to do, the three of us slaves chat a little about the fights we are watching and about who we think Xael and I are likely to draw into today. The last match before my own is already underway when I get around to asking Kalon something I’ve been wondering about.
“Why did you challenge me?” I ask him only slightly out of the blue. “You have Morean in Hall Two, so even if you won it’s not like you would have ended up in charge.”
The blonde slave lets out a little laugh before he replies.
“ Other than you intentionally hurting me during practice all the time?”
A little smile crosses my face and I quickly stuff it away. I definitely had done that at least twice that I can remember. It’s not like I’m the only one though. Someone gets sent to the tower that way every week.
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I’m pretty sure he saw my little grin but Kalon doesn’t mention it. Instead, he goes on.
“Everyone knows my mother is old man BoodRock’s favorite cook. You all think I am going to end up in the kitchens with her when I turn eighteen.” He says staring at me with challenge in his eyes.
“Why not?” I ask with a shrug. “Everyone knows adult pit-slaves die a lot, and domestics well they don’t.”
“Domestics also don’t go free before they are broken down old people, and they certainly never make enough coin to free other slaves.” The reply catches me off guard, but I suppose it shouldn’t. Every pit-slave has their own dreams and goals but they all involve themselves and their loved ones going free.
“Yeah,” I say with a little nod. “If you want a chance at a life this is probably it.”
He makes a weird little gesture with his hands as if to say ‘Tell me about it.’
“So I asked Morean how I could get everyone to stop calling me part-timer, and kitchen boy. He said if I fight you win or lose it should stop.”
I glance out at the pit when the roaring crowd signals something significant has happened.
“Did It work?” I ask.
“Kind of,” Kalon says as the last few heartbeats of the match below thud to a close. “I think getting invited to this probably helped more.”
I can see Muraab approaching to collect myself and Xael for our shortly starting match. So I clap Kalon on the shoulder and stand up.
“Well kitchen boy, pay close attention to how a real pitter does it.”
This prompts a little snort from Kalon and I head for the door of the cell.
“Oh just get killed already,” he says good-naturedly.
Xael and I make the walk to the pit floor first which is frankly a little insulting. Everyone knows the bigger fan favorite enters second. Once I have done my little left foot dig at the sand we pose for the crowd as the same high-pitched lady gives us a similar introduction to last time. I’m starting to think she is the main judge for this arena as the little viewing box she makes her magically enhanced introductions from is identical to the ones occupied by the other two judges. That doesn’t make the way we are described any less offensive.
Following advice from Xael I continue to pose and make scary faces for the crowd while the other team gets introduced. I had argued we would look ridiculous and indeed I feel like an idiot. The crowd doesn’t laugh though, in fact, they seem to like it.
I have never heard of the pair we are fighting. Two cursed called Locke and Shahim. So I pay some attention to their introduction trying to get some sort of clue what I’m up against here. Judging from how the shrieking judge introduces me and Xael, I am probably wasting my time.
“And their opponents! Representing House Saffron.”
“ The Scaled scourge himself! Considered by many to be the best prospect out of DockSide in years.”
‘DockSide has prospects?
“ With only one loss to his name, I give you Shaaahiiiiiiimmmm!!”
A significant portion of the crowd erupts at the screamed name. Now is the time for Xael and I to cease our capering for the crowd and actually get a look at our opposition. Meeting my partner in the middle of the pit floor I eye the other team aggressively.
I’m guessing from the title of the scaled scourge Shahim is the big-eyed, bald fish cursed in front of me. He isn’t entirely covered in scales but they extend further than my own fur does on me. He is armed with a flat-headed type two medium axe. The kid has good taste I guess.
“Stepping in Shahim’s partner Taysin is a newcomer from far to the north. A beast that crippled four guards on his way to Far Mantys. I give you Looooooccccckke!!!!”
Since Shahim’s partner fell during the first round melee he is technically supposed to be alone. However, the owner of the pit-slaves in question can pay a fee to substitute someone when their fighters are hurt. As far as I know House Saffron has never turned down the option when it’s available.
The apparent newcomer to the pits looks like a sorcerer used magic to double Gori in size. Same brown hair, same doe eyes, same hoofed feet, same antlers just bigger, a lot bigger. And a lot more heavily scarred. His weapon is a classic bronze-headed Far Mantyian club.
The crowd doesn’t react to the antlered boy at all but he makes a rude gesture with his free hand at them. I hate to admit it but I am starting to like these two. That doesn’t change that I’m about to leave them both bloody and screaming.
Leaning into Xael I don’t whisper exactly, the arena is far too loud for that. My voice is however lowered enough that he should be the only one that can hear me.
“You take the antlered one, those hooves make turning hard, and he won’t keep up with you well. “
He nods “ And you will be fine with this Shahim?”
It's a fair question, the fish-boy looks strong and moves like someone who can fight pretty good. Even if he is, I should be fine. I’m the fucking Beast of BloodRock.
“Yeah, I think I can out-muscle him if it really comes down to it,” I say quickly as the call to begin can only be moments away.
I’m right. The high-pitched lady screams for us to start and we fan out trying to find favorable angles or positions.
I’m slightly ahead of Xael as he’s faster than I am, whereas my range of threat is larger. This means I can protect him, while he remains in position to quickly react once an enemy engages me. This pseudo-formation doesn’t last. The pair of Saffron boys simply stand side by side and charge me as one.
I have just enough time to think ‘I hate it when they are coordinated.’ Before the four of us clash I don’t have time to consider anything at all.