“Master wants to speak with him after the test finishes.”
The doors in front of them had a guard posted there. Eyeing them for a moment he nodded.
“Wait here then.”
Unable to argue the point, the slaves dragged Raijen near the left wall dropping him on the ground.
“Try some shit and I will break something in you.”
Eyeing one of them, briefly entertaining the possibility of taking him down to see what happens, Raijen smiled. Leaning on the wall waiting for the master, he knew he didn’t have any strength or need to do it.
I proved the point, I did what I could, now it is up to them.
It took around half an hour, the sense of the time somehow returned to him once he was taken out into the world. The taller slave forced him to stand as the master entered the hall. Turning to the doors the master looked Raijen in the eyes and indicated with his head to follow.
Entering the room Raijen was hit with the scent of burning herbs, with a wooden tone. An assortment of fruits, bread, and cheese was on the red oak table with delicately carved legs into the patterns of roots.
“I have not seen what you did out there in a long time. And I must say, I’m impressed Raijen. That doesn’t happen often these days.”
Seeing the men so close he was quite old. Probably in his late seventies.
I’m not sure how long people live here, but it can’t be this long.
“Where did you learn it?”
Hit into his back forced groan from Raijen as he turned to stare at one of the gladiators.
“You are to answer when the master asks you a question!”
Wanting to shoot something back at him Raijen was stopped by the master.
“And don’t bother to lie, no one can do what you did without previous training. No slave learns your moves on the farm or in the mines. No secret teachers in those places Raijen. They tend to lean towards the mountains.”
Lowering his head and contemplating the answers, Raijen knew he couldn’t lie too much.
It is probably best to go with something that is at least somewhat true.
“I was trained in the house of Kargar to be a battle slave. When we were sent to the border assist with the war, we were abducted by the Atagar
e and resold here.”
Looking up the old men seemed to think.
“You mean to war with the Empire? I have heard of them, a bunch of savages from some island from beyond the mist. No real threat for the Atagare. You, on the other hand, could be a threat to the training.”
Staring him in the eyes without any hint of amusement the master continued in a cold tone.
“I need you to understand, that you have a real potential boy. Some would call it talent, I can tell those things, you could have anything you want if you survive long enough to earn it Raijen. What is it, that you want?”
Staring the men into his gray milky eyes Raijen knew it was not true, but he had to try.
“What are the possibilities?
“Anything.”
Raijen couldn’t help but raise the corners of his lips, showing his yellowish teeth.
“Anything?”
The beard moved slightly in with a not, licking his oiled lips.
“Chance to walk away without fighting?”
A gleam of amusement flashed in the master's eyes. As his white teeth flashed inside of the oiled beard, before disappearing again.
“Guess not anything then. You should remember two things once you leave this room. If you fight and win enough times, you can get almost anything you wish for. And the next corpse in the training ground is your way how to get to the mines in Marak. You don’t want to go there.”
Gesturing with his right hand Raijen realized he was being dismissed.
“Settle in, get used to your new room, training starts in the morning.”
Laying down on his new bed, which was much more comfortable compared to the reeds with pieces of fabric, Raijen couldn’t fall asleep. The new bed was made from some kind of straw or dried grass as the base. Then covered with thin sheets of cloth he didn’t recognize.
The sun must have gone down already, as the guards were changed for the night shift. Staring at the wood supporting the stone roof, Raijen could hear most of the other slaves in the cages around sleeping. But not him, his mind was full of jumbled thoughts. Thinking what would happen next and what were his options.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
From what I saw so far this was probably some kind of gladiator-style training ground. Does that mean I’m to fight in the arena for the amusement of others? And if so, what could I do about it. The moment I was born my flesh was branded, tied to the fate of a nameless slave, given as a gift to one order, only to be sold later as a slave again.
Was it ever going to change? This is the same as before, why can’t I be in charge of my own life for once?!
His chest rose and fell with heavy breathing as anger settled into his muscles and bones. The drops of sweat forced themselves on his skin and he could feel the bile in his mouth.
That guy said plenty of crap I don’t believe, maybe I can’t leave this place without fighting. But maybe if at least some of what he said was true, I might have my very first shot in this world to attain at least some form of true freedom and maybe choose my death. Not one for the amusement or purpose of others, but my purpose. Do I even have one?
So far I was always forced into the role I didn’t want to play. Yet I played it good, almost forgetting myself in the life of it. Am I to do the same thing again? And what real guarantee do I have, that he would keep his word?
Losing himself in his thoughts gradually pushed Raijen into the hands of the night lady.
----------------------------------------
When his eyes closed harsh grinding and beating of iron resonated into the cell bars, bringing the whole floor awake. A couple of guards standing at the doors started to shout the orders to line up, to prepare to get escorted into the training grounds for food.
Thinking of food Raijens stomach grumbled letting him know he hasn’t eaten in two days.
The slob staring at him from the bowl did nothing to easy the disgust he felt from looking at it. Forcing spoonful down he decided to close his eyes and focus on swallowing rather than chewing or even tasting the food.
It soon becomes clear to him that some kind of hierarchy was established between the slaves. Hard to tell if decided by the master and soldiers or by the slaves themselves. And Raijen wasn’t sure he had it in himself to start looking into it more and maybe climb to some semi-interesting level, in a place where he didn’t want to be.
A harsh voice accompanied by the sound of the bell startled him from deciding what to do next.
“Prepare for drills!”
All of the men with just a few rumbling about the food got up and went for the rack of weapons, forming lines on the sand.
“Hey, new ones, you are allowed to choose your weapon of preference.”
Said soldiers with short brown hair and shaved chin, seemingly in charge of the new trainees he looked like someone who did this hundred of times.
“You will be tested in it for a few days and if necessary I decide on the different weapon you will use from now on in all or at least one of your fights.”
Not thinking about it too much Raijen went straight for the racks with dory spears, it was mostly wooden shaft with a padded point, but the purpose was clear. Taking one long enough to hold comfortably in one hand he added an oval shield as well. There wasn’t a much better choice in an open space like the arena than a spear. Raijen remembered his master's words well.
One of the others took the ax and the rest took the short sword and shield or bigger swords. Turning around Raijen saw one of the guys take two swords.
Guess he never really held one before or knows how to use it. Much less two.
“All right, go join the group with your weapon and start doing the same drills as them, you will be guided and corrected as necessary. Don’t make them beat you to unconsciousness your very first day.”
Raijen finally got a look at how big this place was. For one, it was bigger than his old training ground in the mountains. With open space and damp sand all over the place, it was easily five hundred steps across and eight hundred in other direction giving it an almost perfect rectangle. The sand ended with wooden planks creating raised platforms under the stone roof around the sand.
Pointing to the center of the training ground, the men turned around and left for the edge of the grounds under the shadow.