I am Freed of My Bondage
Something was amiss.
In my cell, in the slave barracks beneath the squat administrative building adjacent to the arena, I could sense that something was amiss. There was nothing to inform me of this; it was a sudden feeling that overwhelmed me.
I sat against the stone wall, formed of heavy blocks. I pulled my head out from the wall, but it would not move far. To the heavy collar of iron, to each of its two, heavy welded rings, one on each side, there was fastened a short chain, fixed to a ring and plate, bolted through the drilled stone. My hands, each, were manacled to the wall, too, on short chains, to my left and right. I was naked. My ankles, in close chains, were fastened to another ring, in the floor, before me, it, too, on a plate, bolted through the floor block.
I sat forward, as far as I could, listening. I sat on the stone, on straw, soiled, which was scattered on the floor to absorb wastes. I looked to the door, some twenty feet across the stone floor; it was of beams, sheathed with iron. There was a small window, high in the door, about six inches in height, eighteen inches in width. It bore five bars. There was a musty smell, but the room was not particularly damp. Light reached it from a small window, barred, some twelve feet above the floor, in the wall to my right. It was just under the ceiling. In the placid, diagonal beam of light, seeming to lean against the wall, ascending to the window, I saw dust. The early afternoon heat, even in the cool of the underground, was noticeable.
I distended my nostrils, screening the scents of the room. I rejected the smell of moldy straw, of wastes. From outside I could smell date palms, pomegranates. I heard a crodlu pass, its paws thudding in the sand. I heard bells, from afar, a man shouting. Nothing seemed amiss. I detected the odor of fruit rinds, matted, drying, on the stones, where they had been scattered from my supper the evening before. Insects, tiny, sand-colored, covered them: On the same rinds, taking and eating the insects, were two small cell spiders. Outside the door I could smell meat and cheese, the remnants of the guard’s meal. The smell, too, of tea was clear. I heard him move, drowsy, on his chair outside the door. I could smell his sweat, and the rose-scented water he had rubbed about his neck to hide his unwashed stench.
Then I sat back against the stones. It seemed I had been mistaken. There was nothing amiss. Within a few hours, once the merciless sun had abated some, the guard would be relieved, and a new one would take his place on the chair outside the cell block, and the handlers would bring us out for our evening meal and exercise. There were no games scheduled today; the populace would have to drudge wearily through another two days of labor before the spectacle of the arena would dye their drab lives. If there had been games, we would have been moved to the arena already, preparing for the afternoon’s entertainment, chained in the rooms beneath the stone floor, waiting.
Yes, it seemed I had been mistaken. There was nothing amiss; despite my strange premonition, it was a sleepy, hot, afternoon like any that did not include the brief and terrifying freedom of the arena.
I leaned back against the stone. I moved my head a bit, turning my neck inside the heavy collar. I pulled a bit at the wrist manacles, on my left and right. I heard the chain subside to the stones. I felt a trickle of sweat move down my left forearm, and slip under the iron on my left wrist. I pulled wildly against the wrist manacles, the collar cut into my neck; I twisted my ankles in the ankle irons, and pulled the chain against the ring. Then, furious, I sat back against the stones.
I sighed. Many days and nights I had tried, with wild fury, to plumb the depths of my anger and strength to free me from my chains. And every time I had failed.
I was a prisoner. I was absolutely helpless. Slave.
Then again, unmistakably, this time, the feeling crept over me. The hair rose on the back of my neck. It was as if I was being watched; no shadow fell across the floor, so then, there could be no one at the window. Yet still, I felt as if I was being watched.
I strained against the iron, the chains. I was nude. I was completely helpless. I could not even put my hands before my body.
Slowly I subsided. I felt as though something would happen. If it did, I must be ready.
I must wait.
I did not wait long.
I heard the guard’s chair creak beneath his shifting weight as he sat forward, alert. Someone was coming. I tensed. There were no games scheduled, and it was far too early for us to stand in the hot sun and spar.
I heard the heavy iron door that stood between the cell blocks and the rest of the building open.
The guard’s chair scraped the stone as he stood to receive, or repel, the visitors.
Something was amiss.
++++
I did not think it would take long for my antics in the arena to be addressed. The sudden end to the bout yesterday was much influenced I think by decision makers higher than the usual wranglers and petty officials who run the games.
To what end the Anu’s decided to correct me, I did not know. One does not include a slave in such discussion; a slave’s punishment is for the master to decide.
That something was amiss should have been my first clue that a decision had been made; that the voice addressing the guard on the opposite side of the door was Akkanu’s was, of course, an overwhelming indication.
The master had decided what to do with the slave, of how to handle his property. The very concept, although rational and logical, set my teeth on edge.
The door scraped open.
“Hello Akkanu”, I said, for I was his property.
“Hello slave”, said he, for I was his slave.
There was no need for either of us to pretend otherwise. There was nothing to be gained in confrontation.
Akkanu, flanked by two large minotaurs and trailed by a large half-giant, entered my cell.
“I am pleased you came to see me. There is still some flesh left on the fruit at your feet if you are hungry. I would offer more, but…” I shrugged.
“Many thanks for the hospitality, slave”.
“I assume then that you witnessed my deeds in the arena yesterday?”
“Indeed I did. But that is not why I am here”, he said.
He then drew his axe.
“Oh. That is unfortunate”, I motioned my head towards the now naked steel. “I assume then that I was to be killed in the arena yesterday? That you are here to correct that mistake?”
“If we had wanted you dead, you would have perished. There would be no mistake.”
“Doubtless “, I replied.
“And if we wished to kill you now,” he continued, ignoring my comment, “I would not sully my blade by doing the deed myself. You have grown arrogant slave to think your life or death is of any concern to me.”
“Yet your blade is drawn” I noted.
“Yes, you are a dangerous one, as we all witnessed yesterday.”
“So, I am not to be killed then”, I asked.
“Not now slave.”
“Yet your blade is drawn.”
“Indeed. You are a gladiator, not some broken house slave. As such, I do not think you would respect any order not backed by steel.”
“That is the way of the warrior.”
“Indeed.”
“I am pleased you consider me such.”
“I consider you slave, no matter how dangerous or valuable you may be.”
“So then, you have come to congratulate me?”
“In a way slave, I have. I am here to handpick warriors for a private game this evening,” he said.
“Ah. Then you have chosen wisely. There is not a finer axe currently enslaved in Urik”.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps, I am here to find not the finest, but the most expendable, fighters”.
“Ah, then…” I trailed off and, changing the subject, inquired, “What is the nature of the games?”
“That slave, is none of your concern. Your only worry should be survival,” Anu said, with a sly smile across his snout.
“I see. Are we to go now?”
“I would not be so anxious, slave. I know you are a foolish beast, but I would not think you so quick to meet your end”.
“True, I am in no hurry to meet my end”, I admitted.
“I see survival has not been bled out of you in your deserved slavery. Too often, after a time, a slave wearies of life. I am pleased you are not such a slave and that you still value your life”
“No, it is not for my survival I wish to live, but for my desire to kill all the Anu scum”, I said.
One of the minotaurs flanking Akkanu stepped forward, seething with anger, and cut me off before I could elaborate on my understanding of Akkanu’s parentage.
“You filthy slave worm! To speak to an Anu that way, I’ll…”, he spit out in rage.
“You will do nothing”, Akkanu interrupted, turning towards his bodyguard, “except stay silent”.
Akkanu then turned to me, and after a brief moment of silent regard, laughed. The guard glowered at me.
“I think what you say is true. But, yours would not be the first delusional slave fantasy to be shattered”.
I merely shrugged, or tried to shrug as well as I could trussed up in irons as I was. I did not think my comment would much disturb one such as Akkanu. I was not disappointed at the level headed coolness with which he took my threat.
“But, slave, let me then transform your dream into the nightmare it is to become. You wish to know the nature of the private game you are to partake in?”
“I do”.
“Very well then. I have seen you in the arena, and have great respect for your potential martial prowess. However,” he said, “however, that respect does not translate into pity, forgiveness, or mercy”.
“Of course not”.
“Then know this: These games are designed so that you will not survive. It will greatly please my royal cousins to see your blood spilled in private, for our amusement. You may be a warrior, but you will die the death of a slave. Alone and unheralded”, he gloated.
“I see. And who is to be my opponent?”
“Powerful beasts and the greatest of Anu champions. We generally wish to train our champions against the best. But in this case, you will have to suffice.”
“Very well then. If I must die, I will do so. But, Akkanu, if I should survive, you I will kill first”.
Akkanu laughed.
“I’m going to miss this slave. Not much, for he is but a slave, which is to say, nothing, but I will. Unchain him, carefully, and place him with the others”.
The two minotaurs, backed to either far corner of the room, axes drawn. Even if I could break free, without weapons, without armor, and in their superior positioning, I would not last but a few seconds. The half-giant produced a set of keys and began to unlock the chains that held me.
“Wait. Do not put him with the others. This slave will receive his own cage where he can hatch his fantastical schemes of revenge in private”.
The guard, whom I did not notice was behind Akkanu, scurried from the cell to complete his new orders. The half-giant, pausing only in deference to Akkanu’s commands, continued with his ministrations to my bonds.
“Now, I must go. The stench of slave is beginning to make me ill”.
“Farewell Akkanu”
Quickly, before Akkanu could leave, the half-giant paused at the locks to my restraints, reached over and cuffed me, sharply, about the head.
“Farewell what worm?” the half-giant demanded.
“Farewell Master”
Akkanu smiled.
“Farewell slave”
With that, he left.
+++
The cage was not large, perhaps some eight feet square. Rather than stoop like a common laborer in the fields, I sat, cross-legged in the manner of the warrior. The cage, set upon a wheeled platform, was pulled by two large crodlus through the city. Inside, cramped, I found myself armed and armored with only a loin cloth. At least I was not bound.
The two crodlus, larger than the swift beasts of war utilized on the open sands of the Table Lands, plodded slowly on the cobblestone street, littering the stones with their occasional defecations. Four guards, all large minotaurs, marched alongside. Behind there was a full squad, marching in spit polished armor, weapons taught and straight, as on parade. A small man, his swarthy figure mostly hidden beneath swaths of dirty cloth, cooed the crodlus forward, correcting them occasionally with a short leather whip.
Before the crodlu driver was another knot of guards, a cage, and crodlu. The beast in this cage was of greater value and import then the one in mine; it was a young dragon, a wrymling, newly hatched.
That is, it seemed to be most likely a hatchling, as it is very dangerous to capture a young dragon. With most species of dragon, the mothers raise their newborns, but do not actively guard their egg clutches, which are usually well hidden in the open desert. As such, many of the young hatchlings that are let loose to tear at and breathe upon opponents in the arena are raised in captivity from captured or discovered egg caches. They are bred for combat, beaten, sometimes to the point of bloodying, in order to create the right temperament for savage fighting. Many have their wings clipped once they develop, although this wyrmling’s wings were still in the vestigial stage. Wing clipping is considered acceptable, and unlike other methods of hobbling dangerous beasts for combats, actually increases the beast’s value. It would not do to advertise and arrange a fight with such a beast, only to see it rise on its wings and take flight away from the arena.
However, the clipping, combined with the dragon’s innate intelligence, only serves to harden the beast’s hatred for its captors as it ages. This is why you do not see many older dragons in any gladiator combats. They are extremely dangerous, and unlike other beasts raised in captivity, become less docile and submissive the older they become. The flightless drake then, as dangerous as any young dragon or dragonkin, is usually preferred. To use a true dragon is a sign of immense power given the cost and confidence of controlling such a beast.
This beast, even at the distance of some twenty or thirty feet in front of me, gave off an aura of heat and a slight stench of sulfur, or rotten eggs. A dragon of the fire family, and based on its markings, a volcanic dragon I would wager. A very dangerous foe indeed.
Further ahead, visible only when the streets unwound, was another cage behind a vanguard of minotaur warriors. This cage held many of the combatants I saw in the arena yesterday, including the strange crystal man. Ahead of them was a vanguard some ten to twelve warriors strong, they, like the column behind us, strode in step in their shining armor.
The convoy of cages slowly worked its way through the center of the town. Many of the townsfolk stopped to gawk or hurl abuses at us as we passed. Once, a man who must have recognized me from the games, called my name.
I noticed that the crowds had grown thicker as we snaked our way through the streets towards the Anu Palace. That the throngs had gathered to witness the splendor and pomp of our march to the gallows did not surprise me, as it is common for the condemned to be displayed for abuse, but the boldness in which they crowded our little convoy of cages did. The only exception, of course, was the wyrmling, which most recoiled from. The guards behind us began to lag as the crowds surged towards us.
It was from this crowd that the first crossbow bolt came. A guard in front of my cage clawed at a quarrel that appeared in his breast as though magically transported there. As he fell to his feet, I saw a swarm of mul fighters emerge from the crowd and approach my cage. A large mul, his thews straining, charged forward and, with a large hammer, smashed at the lock to my cage. On the second blow, the lock popped free and the door sprung open.
I wasted no time in exiting my wheeled prison.
As I leapt out, the mul who freed me fell forward, several bolts protruding from his back. In the midst of my leap from the cage, and before my hooves struck pavement, I had his hammer in my hand. A guard, riding in the rear of our march, came forward from the crowd, his large axe out, but not poised for battle. Fool. He did not expect to meet steel, but to find a cowed slave who desired nothing but to be protected by his masters. I was anything but. Perhaps he believed me to be the target of the attack. He should have been more wary, and rather than eye the corpse at my feet, keep his focus upon the armed warrior in front of him.
Whatever he believed, he was to pay for the truth with his life’s blood. He came forward, shouting for me to return to my cage. I calmly stepped forward and brought the hammer to bear. My first blow caught him on the temple, and with the sickening, but satisfying, crunch of bone, I dropped him where he stood. I reached down and collected his axe, this weapon being more to my style than the oversized hammer of the mul, and with weapon in hand I turned to survey the unfolding melee.
A rain of arrows and bolts had fallen upon the march as they had turned the street. There were corpse strewn about my cage on the street; of the guards, of the crowd, and crushed beneath the carcass of one of his charges, the crodlu driver. Of the first cage, I saw nothing. I did, however, find that I was much too close to the wrymling cage for my liking. For in their zeal, these would be abolitionists had, as well as myself, freed the dragon. At first, it had tentatively poked its head out of the cage, sniffing the air. I watched then as it reached forward and struck the guard who tried to close the cage. There was a crunch as the beast snapped bones and rended flesh in the attack. Following that quick strike it reared its head and breathed a sheet of flame upon the minotaur, mul, and dumbstruck crowd alike.
I took this as a sign to act.
With a great cry, I charged forward and struck the beast. Summoning the rage of one who has been resigned to a life in chains only to be given a glimpse of hope in the darkness of slavery, I struck a mighty blow at the creature’s spine. The heat of being this close to the beast began to singe my hair and burn at my exposed body.
As I wrenched my blade from the beast’s body, it turned and struck me, raking across my mostly naked body with its claws. I once again summoned my rage, focused by the training I had received in the arena, and pushed the beast away from me with my blow.
I turned to look behind me and saw another cadre of minotaur warriors fighting the fleeing crowd, buffeting all those around them with blows to clear a path to the battle. The way then, was blocked. To either side of me I saw mulling crowds, and seeing the density with which they were packed, and the fact that I would stick out far too much to blend in, I decided to pursue the only course available: Straight ahead up the road.
I let out a bellow to clear the path of any intransigent pedestrians, and with a charge, met the only guard to survive.
My axe cut him down before he could turn to meet me. Over my shoulder I saw the wrymling, after mauling a spectator who came too close, turn, and with the burning draconic hatred of its kind, move to follow me.
My only hope was that I was fleeter of foot than it.
I was, but only barely.
As I ran upstream of the terrified crowd, pushing aside those who were not prudent enough to make way for a gore-splashed minotaur being chased by a ferocious and fiery dragon, I made way to the courtyard ahead. I paused to gauge the situation. This would be a mistake I was to quickly learn.
The scene there in the courtyard was of further carnage. The far end of the courtyard abutted upon the palace of the Anu. The portcullis had been dropped to contain the melee within the courtyard. The courtyard itself was strewn with bodies, those of muls, minotaurs, bystanders and the occupants of the now upturned and empty wheeled cage. Several of the other gladiators, now freed and armed, were locked in combat with their guards. Missiles poured from the ramparts and murderholes of the palace further adding to the chaos as they struck friend and foe alike.
I heard then, behind me, a grating roar.
Although my pause had given me much tactical information, it had unfortunately allowed the wrymling to catch up to me. I had scarce time to turn before the beast was upon my back, its claws tearing into my flesh, the heat of its body lashing my body with waves of heat. I fell to my knees and with a twist and roll came up to meet the creature. My axe flashed, its claws slashed, and we met in mortal combat.
Blows were traded, and after a missed swing of my axe, the beast laid a mighty blow upon me. I felt my head swim and darkness call as I bled profusely upon the pavement. I resolved to utilize the last blow of my life to settle this battle, and as I struck, I heard a shout behind me. The dwarven woman had called out an inspirational cry that steeled my fortitude, and, as I felt my life’s blood ebb, I was suddenly filled with a surge of energy. My grievous wounds faded to the background. The pulsing drumbeat of bloodlust and adrenaline filled me and with a great bellow, I lifted my axe and sundered the head of the beast.
I turned to find the dwarf whom had so valiantly saved my life surrounded by a swarm of quarrels, peppering her until she fell to the street. As she fell, several guards advanced to ensure her unconscious form did not rise.
My visage filled with red; the hatred of the Anu, the humiliation of my bondage, the loss of all I had welled up in a great rage, touching off an explosion of fury, a great voice inside snarled, a hunger that could only be sated by combat, a great thirst that could only be slaked with blood.
I charged forward.
My lips loosed a cry of such anger as I charged that I saw sudden fear in the shrinking pupils of the minotaurs who stood, axe raised, over the unconscious body of the one who had saved me. They stood, unsteady upon shaking legs, and attempted to meet my charge. My axe, quick as the desert winds, carved a gory figure eight through them. With foam flecked lips I cursed them as their feeble defenses attempted to deflect my blows. As though a sandstorm of blades howled through the courtyard, steel swiftly flashed with surprising speed and fury.
I killed all three of them as they stood.
With a great shout, I stood in the center of the courtyard, and as my howls of rage shook the streets, I saw the battle begin to wane. To the north, at the palace of the Anu, I saw the portcullis begin to rise. I saw Akkanu at the head of two score of warriors and battle mages, waiting for the gate to rise so they could descend upon the courtyard. The arrows now fell thicker as more men-at-arms manned the towers and ramparts of the palace.
The desire to revenge myself upon him rushing through my blood, I turned to meet them. Before they could clear the gate though, I heard a cry. It was the one word that could soothe the unleashed beast and counter the demands it made upon my blood.
“To freedom!”
I turned, towards the voice. To the south, a mass of minotaur and mul warriors clashed before a building. The building had been fired, and upon the roof, with great flames flickering up, stood the crystal man. He was calmly pointing at guards, each dropping as he used the strange mental powers I had witnessed in the arena. The crystal man quickly dropped into the street and disappeared through a door held open by several mul warriors.
Looking behind me, I saw the gate had risen and scores of armor clad minotaur warriors were spilling into the courtyard, their war cries, “Anu Victorius!” echoing amongst the buildings and bodies.
Summoning all of my strength, I grabbed the dwarf, and began to run towards the building. One, I could not tell if friend of foe in my crimson hued rage, tried to stand in my way. I lowered my horns, and goring him through, pushed him out of my way.
I reached the building, and bull rushed through the milling melee at the door, forced my way inside.
Inside the building was little to see in the smoke. I dodged a blow that came from out of nowhere, nearly slipping in the blood that seemed to cover the entire floor. Through the haze of embers and combat, I could see in the center of the room was a strange, glowing sigil in the floor, lines of power emanating from it.
“Hurry to the portal” one mul cried. He turned to say something else, but whatever exhortation he had was choked off as a crossbow bolt slammed into his throat.
I pushed forward, through the smoke and shouting, through the melee and madness, toward the symbol. As I approached, almost ghost-like, I saw others within the circle beckoning.
I saw the lines of power begin to retreat, snaking back towards the center of the sigil; the ball of light that formed above it began to dim and shrink. I leapt towards the center of the sigil so that I might make it to my goal. There was a tingling as I entered the slowly compacting sphere. I felt my body become weightless, the dwarf in my hands, almost nothing, as the lines of power concentrated upon the symbol in the floor.
There was a pop, and I felt myself being transported away.
Away from the burning building, from the bondage of Urik, from the cruelty of the Anu, and to freedom.