Ch 30
As I entered the arena for my first fight as a returning fighter of the normal rank, I saw that my tricks during the entry period would not work anymore. My opponent had also quickly ducked under the gate and seemed to have been prepared for the sunlight so I would not catch them temporarily blind. I guess this means that playtime is over, and the training wheels are off, no more easy matches.
The person on the other end of the arena and now moving towards me was of average height and build and sported a long grey mohawk on top of his head. On top of that he wielded a long sword and a shield and wore a heavy set of leather armor that covered his chest and torso along with his shoulders. There is no way my daggers are going to punch a hole in that very easily. As soon as he saw me checking him out, he shook his sword once as if to familiarize himself with the heft of it and then began picking up the pace, now coming at me at a dead run.
I ran towards him as well, not willing to find myself caught between him and the gate. As we closed the last few feet between us, he gave a confident grin and swung his sword at my neck, intending to end this quickly. Ducking low and rolling to the side I managed to evade the attack and come up behind him, but the two quick slashes of my daggers only scored his armor without managing to do any damage to the man wearing it. After that I had to retreat again as he had turned around and was again making use of the longer reach of his sword to press the attack.
Over and over again I barely managed to dodge out of the way of his attacks until finally I managed to score a hit. Finally seeing an opening as he swung too hard in his frustration of not being able to hit me, I was able to prick his arm with my dagger just below the end of the armor. It wasn’t a mortal wound, but it was into the bicep and would make lifting his arm more difficult. It was too bad it was his shield arm and not his sword arm that I had struck. As soon as he felt the dagger pierce his arm he yelled out in rage and spun around, striking me in the face with a vicious elbow strike from the arm holding the sword. He had chosen to strike me with his body to get a blow in instead of using the slower sword. Reeling and trying to reorient myself I backpedaled and tried to get some space between us.
As soon as my vision cleared the first thing, I saw was the glint of the sword coming in from an overhanded chop. I just barely managed to get my daggers up in a cross pattern to block the blow and still my wrists ached from the impact. Thanking my luck that I was now using the good steel daggers Teka had wielded instead of the poorly made tekas given to the new gladiators I shoved back and then jumped forward, diving between his legs and then standing up and running straight in order to get some distance. I was now on the opposite side of the arena from where I had started. He was coming at me again, more slowly now, maybe because of the blood loss from his arm injury, or maybe he was just getting tired.
He was no longer smiling and looked as if he wanted to end this already. I thoroughly agreed but five minutes had not yet passed since the match had begun and I had promised Beetle I would try to delay at least that long. This time as he got closer instead of dodging to the side, I began catching his sword swings with my daggers, eating up time. He started swinging wider and wilder as his frustration built and his armor was also starting to look very ragged from all the places where I had slashed it with my daggers. After a while longer of this he stood panting and sweating heavily, and I realized that I could use this method in the future to wear out fighters with a longer reach.
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I finally moved in to finish the match. I stepped in and feinted to the side, slashing at his calf muscle and dropping him to one knee. Unfortunately, the tired gladiator seemed to have been expecting this because while my blade moved through his calf, so too did his blade puncture my left shoulder. It was an awkward move that left him completely unable to defend himself following and so I took the opportunity to stab the dagger in my undamaged right arm through his forearm holding the sword. Then, pulling back with his sword still stuck in my shoulder and him now holding only a shield that he couldn’t raise properly I reached up and tugged his sword from my shoulder. Pain lanced through me and everything went red and then black for a moment but then my vision cleared, and I was still standing. After that I turned back to my opponent and without further warning stabbed his sword through his neck. “Sorry bud,” I said dispassionately, “there won’t be any more fights for you.”
With that my fight had ended and I headed out of the arena. When I exited, I was led back to the room with the smart goblin. “You survived again I see!” he said excitedly. Then he looked at my injured shoulder and grimaced before saying “not without paying for your victory with blood then I see.” Looking at my shoulder I also grimaced. “Well its not like I wanted to get hit. Bastard got a lucky shot in.” After looking at me for a moment he broke into a grin and said “If your master ever lets you train again perhaps you should focus on agility type skills. Based on how you fight this would be for the best. Unless your master is going to buy you better equipment that is, with more defense and a longer reach.” We both laughed at that, apparently the goblins that ran the arena were aware that Silvan was a spendthrift.
No sooner had we finished laughing than did Silvan open the door in his trademark fashion and come striding into the room with his eyes full of rage. “Stupid Fucking Savage!” How Dare You Let Yourself Get Hit?!” As soon as the words were flying from his mouth, he also pulled out a whip and began striking me across the head and face, leaving angry red welts. From the corner of my eye I saw the goblin taking a couple of steps back and averting his gaze in distaste. It appeared he did not like people beating their slaves. After he had finished venting his rage he started speaking again in a more civil tone. “How much was his earnings this time?” The smart gobbling had a clouded look on his face but began flipping through some pages on his book a moment before speaking. It almost seemed like his page flipping was more to calm himself than to actually access the information because his eyes only briefly touched the page before he answered.
“As he is now a normal ranked fighter, fighting with your own arms and armor his victory netted you fifty coppers.” Silvan’s eyes turned greedy as he heard the amount, “It will have to do for now. It looks like he won’t be able to fight again for at least a couple of weeks with that shoulder. At this rate I’ll never make enough to buy a new gladiator slave.” The smart goblin seemed to be sucking on his tongue when my master said this as if deciding what or how much to say. After a moment he spoke again looking as if he had been sucking on lemons the entire time. “Begging your pardon ser but that isn’t exactly true.”
“At this my master looked down at the goblin as if looking at an interesting animal that had crossed his path. “What do you mean that isn’t true? I won’t be able to buy a new gladiator, or he won’t be able to fight again?” As silvan looked down at the goblin he began to look as if he wished he had never opened his mouth to begin with. “Begging your pardon again ser but when this slave stayed with us before he learned the fast healing magick from our trainer. If he is but given alternating days to heal and fight, he can fight much more frequently. I recommend leaving him here in our care and we can fight him every other day for you while accumulating your winnings. In this way you can minimize your efforts.”
I looked back and forth from my master to the goblin, not saying anything and not understanding why the goblin was giving up my information. At this rate I would never see an end to the violence. So much for my plan to milk my injuries for a couple of weeks while secretly training my strength some more. What was this goblin thinking?