Having laid upon the cold, hard stone of a straw filled cell, Dalmar's eyes fluttered and his back moaned from the rough conditions of the ground upon which his body laid. His joints were stiff, and a burning sensation in his neck and face rang out bringing his mind to attention. Finally, his vision cleared enough to survey his surroundings. The light of flickering torches danced upon the shadowy walls of his cell through the iron bars that sealed him in inside, and the smells of musty straw upon the floor tickled his nose. Dalmar sat upright as he looked around. Two other men, badly beaten and bruised lay still as if dead or unconscious. Sh'lzzt was no where to be seen, and Dalmar's mind quickly peered through the iron bars for his friend. The cries of his captors could be heard rising and falling from elsewhere within the halls of his enemy's keep, and as he pressed his face against the cold iron of the jail cell, he could see several other cells lining a long hallway devoid of jailers. A tiny wooden bowl filled with a half-eaten morsel of bread lay discarded just inside the bars, and Dalmar grabbed the piece of stale bread and devoured it as it crunched in his mouth. Looking around for some water, Dalmar soon found that there was none to be found. Dalmar felt of his neck, feeling the puncture wound of the blowgun dart that had turned black from the poison that put him to sleep. His muscles ached as the remnants of the poison coursed through his body, and his balance and motor skills were still somewhat affected by the strange substance. His mind raced, trying to determine where he was and what time of day it was as the cries and cheers of people rang out once again.
Within moments, a large, heavy metal door swung open at the end of the long hallway where men in leather armor dragged another man to a cell. Throwing the battered body into one of the cells, the men locked the bars behind the motionless captive. Dalmar yelled, "Hey! What's going on? Where am I?", but the guardsmen just turned and walked towards the same door from where they entered. Dalmar pressed his face against the bars again as the door swung closed and clicked as the two men locked it behind them. "Sh'lzzt! Are you there?" Dalmar echoed down the hallway to no response. "Wake up you damn elf!" Dalmar continued. But no response rang out for several moments. Suddenly in the shadows of the stone corridor an unfamiliar voice mockingly broke the silence.
"Shut your hole, boy, unless you want to be thrown in the ring!" the raspy tone belted.
"Who's there?" Dalmar shouted. "Where is this place?" he said as the tried to look down the hallway. A pair of dirty fingertips appeared at the edge of the bars three cells towards the door to the passage. Dalmar's heart leapt slightly as his eyes caught the glistening filth on the fingers of the prisoner.
"Never you mind making friends, boy. There are no friends down here. You just forget about that elf friend of your's, and pray that they don't come for you." the voice answered.
"You may have given up, friend,..." Dalmar said as he grimaced with annoyance. "But I'll be damned if I rot in this unholy place!" he shouted. Dalmar rose to his feet as his balance returned and he looked at the old wrought iron bars at the front of his own cell. Dalmar tried to think for what it could have been that he deserved to be imprisoned, but his mind produced no suitable answer. He licked his lips and tasted of the salt of his own perspiration made by the warm, still air. "Sh'lzzt! Are you there? Answer me!" he shouted once again to no avail. A minute or two passed, and still Sh'lzzt made no answer. Dalmar sighed as he noticed that his swords and satchel had been stripped from his person, and he leaned against the bars of his cell as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, Dalmar turned angrily at the cell bars and gripped them with his hands. He gritted his teeth, knowing he could probably bend the bars that held so many captives throughout the years. Dalmar clenched his jaws and held his breath as he tugged at the metal rods buried within the stone. Slowly, the black metal bended and twisted to Dalmar's will, and tiny pieces of stone cracked away from the wall of his cell upon the ground at his feet. Dalmar stopped and rested, breathing hard at the energy he expended all at once. He had made progress, and he would try again. Dalmar gripped the bars once more, and he pulled using his entire body to one side, wrenching the bars wider and wider as the metal creaked beneath the strain of the titanic strength of their prisoner. Dalmar stopped and pressed his body to the bars trying to squeeze through the opening. His eyes caught the sight of the man's hands upon his own bars once again as he struggled against the cage. His body now partly outside the cell, he leaned into the bent metal bars and began to twist the metal free of the stone wall. With a sudden crack of the wall, the bars freed themselves and jarred Dalmar, sending him tumbling backwards into the hallway.
Dalmar laid on the floor for a moment, dazed slightly from the hard fall on to the uncaring stone walkway. There he breathed for a moment, and then stood up to survey his surroundings once again. Once again, he saw the door at the end, closed shut and locked. Its black frame covered with shiny rivets mocked him, marking one cell within another and barring him from his escape. He walked up the hallway away from the stone wall behind him to the front of the cell where the voice rang out to him. Peering through the bars at Dalmar was a man of about forty years whose clothes were nothing more than rags. The stains of blood and dirt mixed with a greasy sheen about his body and hair as the man's eyes widened in disbelief. The man's eagle tattoo caught Dalmar's eyes as the man gasped. "If I hadn't have seen it, I'd never have believed it! It must be the blood of the gods that run through your veins, boy!" the man cried. Dalmar turned towards the door as he shot a grin at the old man in the cage. Catching Dalmar on the shoulder with a dirty hand, the old man shouted with excitement. "Wait! Take me with you! Get me out of here!" Dalmar stopped and looked at the old man.
"In a moment, fella'. I want to take a closer look at things." Dalmar pulled a torch from the wall and walked towards the heavy door, peering into each of the eight cells. "Sh'lzzt!" Dalmar said with some sense of stealth, careful not to alert the guards that he saw earlier. But no person answered his calls as he eventually made it to the door. Within each cell were the bodies of several men, shrouded in the darkness of their own cells. Each face upon the prisoners looked beaten and their spirits torn from them. The eyes of the prisoners were tired and many of them were covered in scars. Dalmar's heart sunk, and he knew that these men had been here for a long time. For the first time in a long time, Dalmar felt pity. The gazes of the frail beings who had now each clamored to the front of their cells to look upon Dalmar pierced his heart, and he felt saddened by the downtrodden men who had waited so long for either freedom or death. Dalmar looked each one of them in the face, noting the malnutrition and the toothless smiles as a barrage of unintelligible cries rang out towards him to break their bonds. The jailed men began to realize the ideas of freedom once again, and a fire grew in each of their eyes when they reached through the bars at Dalmar. Dalmar knew what it was that he was to do. Dalmar had to help these people. Dalmar returned to he man with the eagle tattoo. "Where'd you get that tattoo?" Dalmar asked. "What does it mean?"
"Oh, this here?" the older man looked at his shoulder and smiled. "Why, know you not the Eagle of Illdris?" he said. Dalmar shook his head. "Perhaps you know my lord, Polias?" the man asked.
"I've heard of him" Dalmar said. "They say he's some sort of king in these parts?"
"'Tis true Polias is the protector of Altendon, but the one I speak of is his father. A long time ago, King Polias freed Altendon from the hordes of Jundh, a powerful warlord. Legends say the king fought the horde many years ago. His men badly beaten and starving, Polias entreated the wisdom and strength of an ancient people known as the Warriors of the Wind, a fierce race of warriors that many say had the blood of the giant eagles in them. Together, Polias drove the hordes of Jundh out of the region. This tattoo is not only a honor to the Warriors of the Wind and Polias, but marks those who are true to they and their families." The man flashed a black-toothed smile as Dalmar smiled back at him.
"What is your name, old man?" Dalmar asked.
"Sa'Vahn" the man replied. "I've been down here in this hole for fifteen years. Who are you?"
"I'm Dalmar. Sa'Vahn, if I let you and these men out, will you help me?" Dalmar asked.
"You can count on me, friend." the old man said as the grasped Dalmar's hands with both of his own hands. "My blood is your blood. Tonight, the eagle fights with you, sir." Sa'Vahn smiled again under the flicker of the torch light as his eyes glistened with hope. Dalmar gripped the sides of the bars of the man's cell, and wrenched them back and forth. The iron creaked and whined as Dalmar's mighty strength tore at their roots. The stone cracked away from the side of the jail until one by one they popped out of the floor spraying bits of rubble into the hallway. Sa'Vahn slipped through the bent bars, stood upright, and chuckled with excitement. Dalmar was able to see the man more clearly and saw that he was, indeed, battle scarred. The muscles of a warrior rippled over his body, and the markings of a soldier's achievements, though faded, graced his body with heavenly decor in ink of a skilled hand. Sa'Vahn was no ordinary man. He was a warrior. He was a skilled man. Dalmar smiled, pleased that in the belly of the beast there should be such a person to be found. Dalmar patted him on his shoulder, and turned towards the door.
The amazing sight was not without its draw, however, and soon the other frail men were reaching into the hallway once again at Dalmar. They each cried out to be freed to which Dalmar replied simply, "Be patient, my friends. All in due time." Dalmar put his ear to the blackened iron door and heard the sounds of people in the distance. The sounds of the cheers of a crowd could be heard once again, and Dalmar's fears that his only exit would be to enter the large doorway. Dalmar gripped the handle of the door and pulled, trying to use his strength to free him and Sa'Vahn from their prison of stone and straw. But despite Dalmar's mighty tug, the door would not budge. Then Sa'Vahn tapped Dalmar on the shoulder.
"I've got an idea. Go get the straw from your cell and put it at the bottom of the door." said Sa'Vahn. "If we hit it with the torch, it should bring them to open the door."
"And if they don't show up?" Dalmar said, fearing that his efforts should be for naught if they suffocated from the smoke produced by the flames.
"Got a better idea?" Sa'Vahn snapped.
"Well, no, but...." Dalmar said as he was interrupted by the old warrior's wisdom.
"Well, then, let's get to it...unless you have a better suggestion. Until then, that's the option we have." Sa'Vahn turned around and squeezed through the bars of his cell once again. Dalmar also returned to his own cell, and soon they both had a healthy mound of dry straw at the bottom of the heavy door. Dalmar bent down and touched the lapping flames to the yellow hay. The fire caught quickly and soon began to form a measure of smoke at the top of the hallway and into the cells. Dalmar's eyes twitched as he watched the smoke formation, ready to stomp the burning grass at the moment the smoke became too heavy. But Sa'Vahn waited patiently, holding an iron torch holder he tore from the wall. Sa'Vahn knew he was right and he wiggled his eyebrows at Dalmar, smiling as the sounds of the guards rushing to the door was soon heard. Dalmar and Sa'Vahn jumped to their feet as the latch on the door clicked and the door swung open flinging bits if burning straw into the hallway. Reacting, Dalmar took his burning torch and plunged it into the eyes of the first guard who fell backwards screaming from the ferocious burns. Sa'Vahn leapt through the doorway and met the second guard's sword strike with his make-shift morningstar, and diverting the slash away from his body. A mighty fist from the old soldier knocked the guard off-balance as Dalmar laid another, even mightier kick to the guard's knee. With a loud crack of shattered bone, the guard fell to the ground, dropping his sword. Swiftly, Sa'Vahn pounced upon the sword picking it up and arming himself as he plunged the blade through the chest of the guard with the broken knee. Sa'Vahn let out an excited cry as he tossed the bloody blade to Dalmar who plunged it into the man with the burning face.
Dalmar handed the blade back to Sa'Vahn as he looked at his knew, dark surroundings. The cheers of the crowd were a great deal louder and had hidden the two refugees' short battle from detection. A wider passage covered with soft dirt led several meters to an area where a great deal of light shined and the sounds of the crowd emanated. The darkness of the semi-circular tube of white stone was otherwise completely dark, and the remaining smoke had begun to fill the passage before them. Dalmar walked down the passage with Sa'Vahn at his heels. Appearing before them was a thick, bronze gate. Beyond the new set of bars was a wide open area with sand. With each step, Dalmar realized that they were in some sort of arena and their only exit was through the center. Dalmar stopped at the point where the arena's light met the darkness of the corridor. "Damn!" Dalmar said as the crowd sheered again. Sa'Vahn stared through the bars to get a better vantage of the reason for the crowd's cheers. Dalmar turned around and began walking back to the cells. Sa'Vahn was once right behind him as he ran after Dalmar. As they reached the opening to the jail, Sa'Vahn picked up the other guard's sword and tapped Dalmar on the shoulder.
"Here, take this. We're going to need it." Sa'Vahn pointed out. Sa'Vahn's eyes looked fearful once again, and Dalmar took notice.
"What's wrong?" Dalmar said as he turned to Sa'Vahn.
"Well, as you turned around I took a closer look. I've been in that arena before and I've fought many men in that same arena. But I've never seen what was in there just now." Sa'Vahn said with a slight shiver.
"What is it? What did you see?" Dalmar asked as he lowered his eyebrows.
"I saw a man...at least I think it was a man, but it had the body of a scorpion. All around the fierce creature were the bodies of men. There must have been fifteen or twenty of them, lifeless and black with poison. Mighty jets of blood shot from some of their chests into the air as if they had been impaled by the beast's awful tail!" Sa'Vahn shivered at the thought once again.
"Wait here then" Dalmar said as he walked back to the bronze gate and peered through. Sa'Vahn's reports were indeed true as Dalmar's eyes fell upon the horrific creature constructed of black bone and a human torso. As its tail shot through the air it whistled, opening the chest of the last man who fought for his freedom to live another day. The ragged body of the man fell to the sandy ground, and the mighty beast raised both his weapons to the air letting out a mighty cheer and pose for the roaring crowd. Dalmar, too, began to feel the fear that Sa'Vahn felt as he stood in the corridor behind Dalmar. "Shit!" Dalmar said to himself. "Can't it just be easy one good time?" he asked as if the Fates were listening. Dalmar's eyes scanned the edges of the arena and saw that there were several other openings like the one within which he stood. As he counted - one, two, three, four - his eyes circled the outer edge of the sandy area until it got to his own gate. Under his breath and counting his own gate with the intention of continuing around the arena, Dalmar said "six..." as the bronze gate shuddered and began to rise. Dalmar's heart dropped into his stomach. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" he exclaimed loudly as the crowd sheered once again. Only this time, no guard carried a prisoner to meet his death. Only Dalmar stood there as the eyes of the crowd suddenly fell upon him, his face completely white and holding the guard's sword. A low chuckle broke the scene as the man-scorpion roared in delight at his bloodthirsty anticipation. Like a bull stomping the ground before a charge, the huge black creature shuffled in place twirling his two blades in each hand. Its red eyes contrasted its pearly white grin as its demonic presence cast a hearty shadow upon the ground under the midday sun. Then Dalmar, taking a deep breath, stepped into the arena.
Dalmar held his composure as the rain of boos and jeers rang out around him. Dalmar was not the popular choice as far as he could tell. He had no help from Sh'lzzt this time. Sa'Vahn was only slightly visible in the dark recesses of the corridor. Dalmar saw the remains of the men in the arena. Dalmar quickly grew annoyed at the lack of confidence in him. He had survived many trials and tribulations along the way. He had fought in wars. He had been hurled into the ocean by a great raptor. He had fought dragons. He fought creatures of the depths of darkness. Each time he came out alive. Dalmar's eyebrows lowered to match the man-scorpion's brow. Dalmar clenched his jaw and raised his sword in the air and let out a mighty roar of his own as the crowd began to mix with cheers and jeers. Dalmar walked slowly to his left and towards the center of the arena at the same time. The grotesque beast circled about its own axis as Dalmar reached down and grabbed a shield from the soft earth below him. With a heavy backwards shift, the scorpion reared up on its hind legs and lunged its body forward at Dalmar, racing across the sand with the sound of a team of horses. Dalmar stood his ground. He would let the beast make the first attack.
The man-scorpion skidded to a halt before Dalmar's stiff body as the beast's giant tail swung forward towards him. Dalmar caught the glistening drop of poison in the sunlight before vaulting himself into a somersault underneath the whistling tail of the beast. Rolling to a stance beside the beast, Dalmar made a power strike to its front leg severing it from the body. The beast roared as its green blood sprayed across the gritty sand. Dalmar ran backwards when the beast turned towards its assailant, swiping at Dalmar with a stroke from its spear. Dalmar was quick, though, and he easily avoided the beast's stroke as the crowd cheered. Again, the beast stretched its large, segmented tail at Dalmar, raising the rear of its body in the air to compensate for the distance. Again, Dalmar rolled out of the way only glancing the poisonous stinger with his shield once. Finally, the beast annoyed, hurled his spear at Dalmar. As Dalmar rolled, the man-scorpion anticipated Dalmar's move. A quick, strong slash of the beast's left-handed sword fell true across Dalmar hip opening a gash that spilled blood onto the sand. Dalmar winced as the blade ran across the bone of his upper leg. Dalmar fell to the ground on his knee, but managed to quickly regain his strength and stand upright. He bit his lip as the pain seethed through him. Taking the advantage, the beast plunged again with its tail, but Dalmar had also anticipated this. With a flash, Dalmar gripped his blade in both hands and met the beast's tail in mid-air causing a shower of sparks to emit from the contact of the blade and the beast's natural armor. The creature roared as its bulbous extension erupted in a shower of green blood. Again, the black beast reared upwards on its hind legs pulling its tail backwards. Dalmar's sword had become lodged within the man-scorpion's tail and was quickly pulled out of Dalmar's clutches as this happened. Seeing this, the five-legged creature rushed Dalmar who had lost some of his dexterity with the sword hit. Dalmar put his weight on his right leg as he spun around the strike of the beast's sword and and causing it to glance off the battered shield. Looking down, Dalmar grabbed the spear that once graced the right hand of the man-scorpion. Green blood sprayed onto Dalmar from above, leaking from the split end of the tail where his sword dangled inside the creature's extension. Dalmar grinned as he looked the fearsome creature in the eyes for a brief moment. Angered, the creature lunged at Dalmar once again. But this time Dalmar fell backward as the man-scorpion's sword and body moved directly over him. Holding the spear tightly in his grip, Dalmar raised its tip with the quickness of godlike agility and plunged it through the belly of the beast. The impaling thrust of the spear through the heart of the creature lifted the creature's body into the air as Dalmar slammed the other end of the spear into the ground, balancing the dying creature on its own weight.
Dalmar raised his arm in the air and claimed victory. The crowd cheered, tossing various articles of clothing and food into the arena. Dalmar circled his own axis and met the gaze of his onlookers and cheering fans. Even Dalmar felt good despite the blood he had lost from his hip. Dalmar turned towards the beast whose body slumped over the now-green spear with its own blood. Its tongue hung out through its jagged teeth and its eyes were now sad with grief and its own impending mortality. Once again, Dalmar took pity. He looked at the creature, and despite its past endeavors, he pulled his sword out of the beast's drooping tail. As he did so, the beast made a stifled whimper as he walked round to the front of the dying creature. It's arms dangled at its side and its eyes looked up at Dalmar as it mouthed two words to Dalmar in Dalmar's own tongue: "End this...." At that moment, Dalmar raised his sword, and with one quick stroke, gleaned the beast's head from its shoulders. Dalmar's heart shrunk to the size of a pebble and he cringed as the beast's head hit the ground with a thud, bouncing on the sand. Dalmar paused. He was not proud, and he looked at the cheering faces of his newly found adoring fans. Dalmar clenched his jaw and threw down his sword, and spit on the ground at the crowd. Still, the cheers rang on as the final bronze gate raised with a creak.
Dalmar's eyes looked through the passage and viewed the countryside beyond it. Dalmar knew what that was. He had won his freedom, but who the hell were these people? Not a single one of them wore a red sash. Once more, where was he? Obviously, he was no longer in Altendon, but it couldn't be too far if Sa'Vahn was here. Sa'Vahn! Damn, he had almost forgotten about Sa'Vahn. And Sh'lzzt! where was Sh'lzzt? Was he even here? Right now, his duty was to Sa'Vahn. Dalmar walked to the edge of the corridor where he entered the arena and waved at Sa'Vahn for him to enter the arena. Shortly thereafter, Sa'Vahn entered the light of the midday sun and smiled at Dalmar. Sa'Vahn then looked at the crowd as he squinted from the bright light. "Mighty noisy aren't they?" he said.
"Yeah, but I bet its a whole lot quieter out there" Dalmar said as he pointed to the way out through the final gate. Sa'Vahn smiled as a tear trickled down the side of his dirty face.
"Well then, let's go find your friend, sir." Sa'Vahn said.
"Sa'Vahn?" said Dalmar. "It appears as if you have a knack for good plans." Smiling at one another, they each turned towards the gate, crossed the arena, and walked out into freedom.
Invino Veritas
11/13/11
EOF
No comments:
Post a Comment