Part One

The Beast of BloodRock

Chapter 1

Take a few to the tower

I spin about my eyes wildly looking for assistance. Of course, there is none. The miniature sparring pits are empty, the heavy lifting stones stacked in their pile, the training armour unworn, the running track quiet. For once the BloodRock training yard is empty. I curse myself. I had wanted the place to be empty. Wanted to be alone. It was empty. But I'm not alone.

They had crept up on me while I was drilling with the little stabby shortswords they like up in Near Mantys. I hate the weapon, I'm terrible with it. Hence why I wanted to practice alone.

I swear at myself for not noticing earlier. it's not like they had places to hide. The group had just walked over while I was concentrating on the movement of my body with the unfamiliar weapon. I should have smelled the scent of weapon oil and their own nervous sweat. Should have heard something, Should have moved so they couldn’t form a ring around me.

Four other BloodRock boys. Two youth teams. I recognised them all immediately of course. Kalon and Morean, backed up by their partners Tota and Task. “What's this?” I grunt, annoyed that nerves are audible in my voice. In spite of what I said I know what this is. They are here to hurt me badly enough that I get dumped in the tower for a few weeks.

This seems to happen every few months. One human boy or another will bring whatever friends he has, and they will attack me as a group. Often wounding me bad enough that I can't walk let alone practice for weeks at a time.

"I'm here to challenge you," says Kalon, his voice seeming weird. Higher pitched than usual. I knew he was going to say that. Challenges happen all the time between the youth pit slaves. But they are one on one. Short fights to settle minor disputes or just respect. If you won lots of challenges the other kids would defer to you, stay out of your way. Get you things.

...Well they don't get me things, but they do usually stay out of my way.

This isn't a challenge. Not really and We both know it. But if I say no the story that I was too scared will spread around, doesn't matter that it was four-on-one. No one will hear about that detail. Just that North finally turned down a challenge. That he's slipping. I'd end up fighting some kid every four days. So just like every other time, I will agree, and this ritualistic farce can begin. I hope I can put at least two of them in the tower with me.

As my nerves rise something else comes with them. My laugh. The nasty little snicker that always plagues me when I'm at my most anxious.

I try to hold it back but the obnoxious laugh forces its way past my lips anyway. It's embarrassing not having control of myself like that, especially when I'm trying to project a dangerous image. I feel my face heat up.

My brain goes blank thinking only of the embarrassment. I had been hoping for something more clever, more cutting. But all I manage to get out is "Yeah? Good." Before quickly looking amongst the group as I don't want to meet Kalon's eyes, certain he can see the embarrassment on my features.

We are all dressed the same. Linen pants and…that's it.

Kalon and Morean are human broad for their age and species. Morean has strange veins of marble running through his dark skin, and a pair of horns like little stalactites jut from his forehead. Touched by the elements, a blessing, not a curse. Not like the other two backing them up.

Not like me.

No one really knows for sure how the cursed end up that way. Something happens while we are still in our mothers. Magic I guess. But we come out with some of our humanity replaced with animal…ness. Among us Pitt slaves it's never a subtle curse. Never a mild warping of features. The human-looking ones of us get better jobs than hitting each other with sharpened metal.

None of us three could ever be mistaken for humans. I've never seen the actual animal but Tota’s back and arms are covered in weird bone spines that he can point up or down at will. Unlucky for him he doesn’t even have hair. Just spines.

Task on the other hand is covered in thick black fur. He has huge claws on his hands and feet. I don't what that animal is either, but his face is a lot pointier than a human's

My curse is something called a Hyena. I think it's like a dog. Except people like dogs. Either way, my curse is strong. You can see it in the main running from my head halfway down my back, from my broad ugly face, my patchy fur, or the stupid way my knees bend.

Even My feet are like a dog's. Padded, and claw-tipped. But they are tiny things compared to the Task's blade feet.

The weapon the curse gave me is my bite. My mouth resembles nothing so much as a pit of spears. All jagged and different sizes. Propelled by a jaw and neck that is thick with muscle. I've been able to bite through bone since I was a little kid. BloodRock used to have me do it as a party trick.

I'm proud of my bite.

At the sight of the boys, I feel my hatred stoke like a furnace inside me. Even just the sight of these boys is enough to ignite it.

I hate Kalon for the way he talks to me and How normal he looks. Kalon who is a year older than me at sixteen. With his northerner's blonde hair, the domestic slave women are always cooing over.

He always makes me wonder what I would look like if I wasn't cursed.

My fur is sort of blonde, so maybe my hair would be too. My name is North so maybe my parents are from up there? Would my skin be on the paler side like his too?

Focus idiot! I tell myself. Feeling ugly compared to humans is about to be the least of my concerns.

Besides, I need to be at my best. Kalon has brought Morean with him. That's going to be a problem

The fact that he is a slave at all has always confused me. There is zero chance a parent sold a son with a blessing of stone into slavery. It's in the name. Blessed. Our opposite, our antithesis. The ones who are a boon on their homes. Rather than a danger. Morean, like most Blessed, looks exotic and powerful. Not wild and ridiculous Like we cursed do. Matter of fact he is exotic and powerful. Imbued with a natural magic from the world of stones.

He is the only one of these boys who outweighs me. I think he's stronger than me too. I'm taller and more muscular. But the blessing of stone lends him power and solidity that is hard to match.

But truth be told I reserve the deepest of my rage for the least remarkable of the four. Tota and Task. And all the other boys like them too. They are cursed like me. But they aren't like me. I don't trip over my feet trying to Impress the human slaves. They are property just like the rest of us.

I don't think I'll ever understand it. The cursed are usually better fighters than humans, and we outnumber them as slaves too. So why does everyone act like they are so special?

I'm the best among the youth Pitters. I train with the adults. Not them. I have been here the longest. Not them. But it’s always the humans that they cluster around. Like true animals seeking scraps from their master. I might be a slave, but I am not an animal.

I’m about to be a badly hurt slave.

Even if I am the best fighter among BloodRock’s youth pit slaves. Four on one I’m going to lose. These boys might not be as good individually as I am but they can fight. BloodRock’s fortune is tied up in the Pits. They wouldn’t be here if they couldn’t fight.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

All four boys are staring at me now, I guess they were expecting me to say something else.

I'm not sure, but I briefly wonder if they will let me go get an axe. I dismiss the idea as stupid. Kalon might still be standing casually with his Pit-sword over one shoulder, but the other three have dropped into fighting stances and fanned out.

Morean is armed with a trident of all things, while the two cursed boys both carry bronze-headed clubs. Isn't that just typical?

The humans have fancy weapons. While the cursed have to contend with metal balls on the end of sticks. That doesn't mean I can treat them as less of a threat. One of those clubs will break my bones easily enough.

Kalon though is still looking at me expectantly. Not sure what he wants, and wanting to move before my anger starts turning to fear. I leap at him.

The pit-sword has better range than my stupid stabby thing, but much of it isn't a killing edge. The weapon resembles a long sword in shape but is in truth more like a short glaive. Only the top half of what would be the blade on a regular longsword is actually metal or sharp. The rest is wood just shaped like a sword.

He swings the pit-sword down from his shoulder trying to intercept me with a slash to the body. It would have worked with a real longsword but only truly beloved slaves get those.

I don't try to avoid or block the strike

Simply surging to pass the threat range of the weapon. I mostly do though the last inch or so of the metal tears across the skin of my ribs. Not deep enough to really matter but it hurts.

More important than the pain is that I can reach Kalon with my own little sword now.

I'm bigger than him taller than all four of the boys. So I assume he didn't expect me to be so fast. I'm not fast like Resh. But I am definitely quicker than I look, and Kalon has only been in the BloodRock compound a few months, he hasn't trained or fought with me yet.

I don't have time to be nice. Not that I would anyway. But when you are outnumbered unless you have some special advantage there are only a few strategies that work. In this case, my only real hope is to break through Kalon and escape the circle. Before picking another target and rushing them. If I can bring each boy down fast enough it's almost like fighting them individually.

I stab at Kalon's chest as I crash into him, he desperately tries to bring his Pit-Sword back in between us while moving directly away from me. Have to give him credit. He's pretty good at fighting while moving backward. Not everyone is. I'm not. my knees make that sort of footwork difficult.

It doesn't help him. Should have moved to the side not straight back. Dropping lower my third thrust finds a home just below his ribcage. The tell-tale feeling of resistance gives way then wetness as skin and muscle are pierced, and blood starts to flow around the blade.

He falls then. Screaming and scrabbling at the embedded blade. I know what that's like. Kalon isn't going to be back in this fight. But dropping him took too long. I see the flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.

It's Morean's trident. I don't have time to get the short sword back. So I abandon thoughts of the weapon and slam my elbow in the way of the tri-pointed spear. It mostly bounces off the bone like I'd hoped, but it does find some purchase tearing a gash through the muscle of my forearm.

For a moment the blossom of pain threatens to cow me. It makes me want to cry and scream and beg to be left alone. Fortunately, it's a familiar feeling and I have long practice at dealing with it.

Stay angry. I remind myself, ‘Use the pain to keep yourself angry’. A lot of pitters say anger makes you fight worse and I guess that's true. It certainly results in me making some questionable choices. But if I can't keep the anger and the hatred going it will turn back into fear and I will lose.

The stone-blessed boy yanks his trident back as I turn to face him. This isn't good. Already Task and Tota are flanking me, boxing me back in.

I have to try another rush, but it's not going to be at Morean while I'm unarmed. Faking a lunge forward I pivot and charge Tota.

The spined boy swings his mace at me. Like an axe, a mace looks like the implement of a brute but it actually requires a fair bit of accuracy. There is only a certain area in the arc of each swing that will allow you to land with the head of the axe or mace. That means you need an excellent sense of timing to get the most out of a weapon like this. Timing Tota hasn't quite mastered.

Skidding to a halt I lean backwards. My knees bending the way they do makes hitting me a little tricky sometimes. I feel the wind as the bronze head passes inches in front of my face.

Against a thrusting weapon, I would have been asking to get impaled. But it worked well here.

Still, all this costs me yet more time. Time for the other two boys to get in strike range.

Morean especially is after me like The Reveller chases red heads.

I hate how smart he is. Isn't an elemental blessing enough?

I manage to avoid the trident again, but it means getting hit with Tota's mace. I don't have time to pull the same trick I did on Kalon, but I manage to crowd the spiked boy enough to steal some of the blow's force

Some… it still nearly breaks my left arm as I fling it out in front of me. That's alright. I'm going to bite him.

Crashing into Tota I don't let him fall. snatching his mace haft with my bloody but still functional right arm I yank the boy towards me latching onto whatever I can catch with my mouth.

It's a forearm he gets in the way of me ripping his throat out. Despite the spines that dig into my face I bite down.

His scream is gratifying, but I don't have time to enjoy it. Besides, the taste of his blood and sweat kinda makes me feel sick.

A second later there is a crack as his bone shatters that half sound half feeling passing through my head.

Blood floods into my mouth as his scream changes pitch. I let go. Tota is pretty soft, he won't keep fighting with his arm destroyed.

I rip the screaming boy's mace out of his hand. He doesn't resist. Morean and Task come at me from both sides and I know this isn't going to be fun.

Stay angry. I tell myself again. The pain doesn't matter. That will be future North's problem. I knock aside Morean's Trident, with a little parry trick I've been drilling, and then slam the head of my maul into his face before he can get his weapon back in position. Against anyone else that's it. fight over. Probably they die. But Stone Blessed as he is it's like there is bedrock just beneath his skin.

I split his lip and maybe broke his nose. The boy stumbles back a little but he recovers in a fraction of a second, causing me to blink.

Honestly, that's just not fair.

Sudden pain shoots through my back. Task has caught me with his mace just below the shoulder blade, and I feel something crack in my back and chest. Instantly it hurts to breathe. My already numbing arm goes completely limp and I stumble forward.

"Gotcha" comes the breathy taunt from Task. But my eyes are still on Morean. The human boy is coming at me again, and I'm not sure I can stop him without eating another blow to the back.

The sound of my own snicker crosses my ears. I hadn't even noticed I was still doing it. Well, No time to feel like an idiot. I meet his next lunge with my mace, once more knocking it aside.

This time though I lurch to my right before spinning about wildly mace barely controlled as I swing it one-handed.

Maybe Task isn't as good as I thought, because a stupid move like that Shouldn't have hit him. And yet it does.

The clawed boy had gotten over-eager, and he paid for it with a bronze ball to his ribs. I hear things snap inside him. And he falls to the ground through the snicker. A genuine smile crosses my face. It's nice to have a little luck on my side for once.

Morean tilts his head examining me from a few feet away before starting to back up. I think he can tell I'm having trouble breathing but it's hard to know. The stoneblessed boy is the type to fight with his features a mask, and say nothing.

I want to call out some taunt. Try to provoke some sort of expression onto his blank face. But it hurts so much to just fill my chest with air. I can't imagine getting the breath together to say something.

Stay... Angry.

I grit my teeth, heft my mace, and charge him. To my surprise, the dark-skinned boy turns and runs. I don't think he is planning to flee the fight exactly. But the training yard is a big space. All he has to do is stall for long enough and my injuries will win the fight for him.

I can't let that happen. Faster. I force myself to move faster even though it feels like I'm drowning. A buzzing sensation fills my chest, but I ignore that too. I'm about to catch him. I'm sure he knows it, as Morean stops and whirls about neatly facing me once more.

So intent on my prey am I that I don't notice the pike coming in from my right before it collides with me. Blade down sweeping my legs out from under me. I tumble over and let out something between a snarl and squeal as the agony of my injuries flares in protest at the impact.

Thats twice in less than five minutes I've been taken by surprise. It's galling.

I look up at my new assailant. Pain and surprise halted my rising. The heavily scarred balding head of Muraab. The master of BloodRock's guards. Looks back down at me. Expression dark with rage.

A fortune worth of worked metal armours his thin ropelike body. Giving it the appearance of youthful muscle he no longer possesses.

I try to explain, but I'm snickering again. Or had I never stopped? I clench my jaw trying to control myself. Little laughs are still forcing their way through my closed lips when his boot descends and everything goes black.