The sacrifice

Runt stumbled down the stairs behind Brain. The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they marched towards the stage. Runt looked up to the stage, across to the joeys, and back to Brain. They approached the buckets, just off to their right, and Runt felt his heart surge in his chest.

“Brain, listen, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to fight just because the others do. You’re different to them. We can get out of here, somehow. We’ll run. I’m sure we’re fast enough. I want you to come with me. I’ll show you what it’s like on the outside.” Runt said.

“We are going to the Outside,” Brain replied, “as a group. When it’s safe. Once the work is done. Not before. You heard what the Tyrant said. It’s The Plan. We’re moving into the demons’ city once we’ve mined enough gold.”

“I don’t believe the Tyrant. I’ve known him a long time. What he said before, it wasn’t all true. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Adults tell lies. Some of them can’t be trusted.”

“The tyrant couldn’t lie about The Plan. We’re moving to the city once the work is done.”

“I’m telling you, Brain. Something’s not right. The city people don’t even know gorgons exist. They’re certainly not building houses for you. I just don’t understand what Tyron’s up to!”

“Why don’t you ask the Tyrant yourself, Runt. Once you win the fight.”

“Win? I’m not going to win. I’m not even going to fight.”

“Hur hur. Everyone. Listen! Runt gonna win fight.” Biff jeered. A few of the other gorgons laughed. The large joey fell into step beside them as they approached the stage.

“Biff gonna win, not Runt.” The joey said, staring at Runt intensely. Biff’s eyes flicked to Brain, briefly.

“I gonna bash your head in, Brain. Till you dumb again. But you, Runt,” the large joey said, leaning in close enough that Runt could smell the booze on its breath, “I gonna chuck you in the Sun Lake. You gonna fry, little Runt. You gonna burn like a pile of stick and nobody can stop it.”

Time seemed to slow as they approached the stage. Runt’s stomach twisted and he suddenly felt cold, despite standing directly in front of the burning lake. A sheen of sweat broke out over his body. At the signal, everyone scrambled up onto the flat slab of granite and the brawl began.

The fight nearly ended for Runt in the first seconds atop the stage. A nearby joey lined him up and swung a massive roundhouse at his head. Runt leaned back and the fist whistled past his nose. He felt his heel slip on the edge of the platform and only just managed to save himself from falling. The joey charged at him. Runt dived to one side and heard the young gorgon cry out as it plunged down to the gravel beach below. Runt looked up and saw he was safe, for a few seconds, at least.

A picture suddenly bubbled up and burst in his mind. He was back in the kennels, cowering behind a crate, as Tyron and Gunther once again came to blows. The stablemaster, small though he was, never lost a fight to Tyron. Not once. In fact, Runt suspected Gunther baited Tyron into fighting just for that reason. He got the giant man drunk and angry and then had some fun with him. A weasel against a bear, Tyron was possibly three times heavier than his rival, but equally slow. Gunther just needed to stay out of reach for long enough and Tyron would make a mistake. For Gunther, fighting Tyron was a marathon.

Stolen story; please report.

Back then, Runt watched without ever thinking he would actually be in such a fight himself. Now, he had no choice.

A joey approached and Runt pushed himself to his feet. He ducked, dodged, and rolled. He bounced and hopped and darted in both directions. Walking backwards, Runt bumped into another joey and instinctively dropped to the ground. He heard the swish of a fist, and a smack, and the two gorgons tackled each other off the edge.

Runt panted and shook the sweat off his face. He guessed maybe half the joeys were left, many locked in fierce wrestling. Others circled each other with fists raised. Another joey approached and Runt turned to face them. He felt a vice-like grip clamp around his neck. Suddenly he was dangling in the air.

“Hur hur. Runt gonna fly like a harpy,” Biff gloated, “then splash like a rock. Then burn like a pile of stick. Bye now!”

Biff leaned back and heaved. The air whistled past Runt’s face. His vision was filled with the image of the lake of fire, glowing bright orange, as he rushed towards it. Then, the world spun, and Runt gasped as he slammed onto the stage. He looked up, winded, and saw Brain let go of his leg. Biff roared and ran towards them but was intercepted by another joey and they crashed onto the stage top with limbs flailing.

“You saved me again,” Runt wheezed, “thanks, Brain.”

Brain’s mouth opened to reply but another joey slammed into them and they, too, fell to wrestling on the stage top. Runt staggered to his feet and looked around. Only a few joeys remained on top, now. Runt hobbled away from the group, clutching his stomach, gasping for air. He fell to his knees and vomited over the edge. The guards below laughed and shook their heads. The joeys down there looked up sullenly, some of them nursing a bloody nose or a swollen eye.

When Runt turned back only Brain and Biff were left. They both approached and the three of them began circling, each keeping their distance.

“I’m telling you Brain, there’s something not right about this. Tyron’s lying. There’s no plan for the gorgons to live in the city. The demons just want the gold. They’re using you.” Runt said.

“It takes a liar to know one, I guess. You should have told me from the start you were from the Outside, Runt. I would have listened. I wouldn’t have told. I want to learn things. I could have learned so much from you. Instead, you lied to me. You acted just like the people you hate.”

“You suck! And you suck! Biff gonna win!” Biff roared, and crouched, preparing to launch at Runt.

“I hope you find the truth, Runt. I hope you’re brave enough to tell me, next time we meet.” Brain said, also crouching.

Biff pounded forwards, intent on smashing Runt into a fine paste. The large joey cried out in shock as Brain crashed into Biff’s side in a suicide tackle. The two gorgon joeys tumbled together off the edge and down onto the gravel beach.

The crowd roared in approval at Runt’s victory. He looked down below, in a daze, as several gorgons pulled Biff and Brain, still wrestling, apart. He felt a tap on his shoulder and, looking up, one of the guards shoved a bottle into his hand. Another held the sack open. Runt stared inside. The contents were not much better than rags. Some clothes were missing buttons, others were stained, others were ripped or damaged in some way.

Runt opened his mouth to laugh, or cry, or shout, or maybe just to tell the guards they were being played for fools. He opened his mouth knowing full well that nothing he could say would make a difference. Not even a smart gorgon like Brain could be convinced of the blatant lies. He opened his mouth and gagged as a spoon was shoved in. Runt looked up and saw the guard holding the barrel of yellowcake.