A deep, rumbling laugh came from Nhaqosa. "That would require no great effort."
* * * * *
5 – I Shall Give You Death
The difficulty would not lie in throwing the human, Nhaqosa reasoned, but what would happen beyond that. There would be no leniency shown, yet the human, Elad, seemed unconcerned by that. Chances of success were slim at best, yet the weariness of days uncounted fighting in the pits had settled upon his soul. Dispatching the beast had torn at his heart, for it had been an innocent, mindless creature, a victim as much as he. Better to die in a futile attempt to escape than to live on and further sully his soul.
The pair walked towards the lord's pavilion up in the stands, as was the norm for the victorious, to offer their salute to him.
"Now, Nhaqosa," Elad growled as they reached a spot beneath it. Nhaqosa dropped his maul, reaching down with cupped hands. Elad grinned a terrible grin as he placed a foot in Nhaqosa's hands, and in his face shone death and madness. Nhaqosa heaved, thrusting Elad upwards.
The man flew up as startled cries broke out from amongst the crowd. He landed heavily in the pavilion but retained his footing. The lord gaped, mouth opening and shutting as he tried to take in just what was happening.
Elad's sword sung out in a glittering arc, and the notched blade tore open the lord's corpulent throat before his guards could react. Blood sprayed from the wound, pouring down over the obese body. The man's eyes blinked a few times, before his head slumped forward, body quivering.
Two guards ran at Elad, swords drawn, their wits recovered from the surprise attack that had slain their master. Blades flashed and rang as they struck each other, sparks flying. Elad pushed forward, sword whipping at his foes, taking the fight to them. He had to defeat them before more arrived and overwhelmed him. With a mighty bellow, Elad sent one reeling away with a deep cut to the shoulder, before swiftly parrying the return thrust from the man's comrade. The two men stayed motionless, blades locked together and muscles straining as they sought to push each other backwards.
The tableau broke when, without warning, Elad slammed his head forward, cracking it into the guard's face. He felt the man's nose smash under the force of the blow. Blood flowed freely from the guard's smashed face as he staggered backwards with a startled yelp. Elad's blood stained sword rose and fell like an executioner's axe and the guard crumpled, head cleft open.
A small moment of pause fell over the pavilion before the sycophantic aides made a dash for their lives, fighting against each other and squealing in terror at the blood stained butcher that had descended in their midst. More guards were on their way to the pavilion, though the rush of aides hindered their process. Spectators had risen to their feet, craning their necks to see what was going on, what new entertainment was on display, and a murmur ran through them.
A small brazier sat in the pavilion, despite the heat, there to roast nuts or meat for the lord when it took his fancy. Elad reached into it with his left hand, taking a hold of a glowing coal from it. He raised his hand high as flames began to lick around it before bursting into a blaze. The air around him started to shimmer from the heat, while flames leapt up to the covers of the pavilion where upon they erupted into a fierce blaze.
Elad spread his arms out wide towards the crowd, as if to embrace them, sword in one hand, flames in the other. "You came for death?" he bellowed at them. "I shall give you death, for I fear it not. I walk among the flames and death untouched, for I am Elad, a Master of the Order of the Ardent Flame, and I will show you death!"
A guard ran up the steps towards the pavilion now that the fleeing aides had cleared. Elad's burning hand swung around to point at him. Whips of flames lashed out, wrapping around the guard. The man screamed in agony as he went up like a torch, his clothes and hair bursting into fiery life. Staggering, he fell backwards over the edge of the wall surrounding the pit to the sandy floor below, writhing from the pain that wracked his body.
Another guard ran from the other side of the pavilion, slashing with his sword as he yelled. Elad blocked the blow, knocking the sword aside before he swung his own sword in a downward arc, taking the guard's leg out from beneath him. As the man fell back, cursing from the pain of his gashed leg, Elad drove his sword downwards, ending the man's life.
The flames swirling about the pavilion began to intensify, bursting into full and furious life. As they began to leap from the pavilion out across the rest of the arena, the crowd started to panic, their terrified screams splitting the air. They ran, pushing and shoving against each other, impeding the guards who sought to reach Elad. Those who stumbled and fell had no chance to regain their footing, being trampled by the wild mob. Among all the chaos, Elad remained in the pavilion, waiting for the guards to come to him.
* * * * *
6 – Go Now If You Wish To Live
Nhaqosa had watched as Elad landed in the pavilion, cutting down first the lord and then his guards. The sheer audacity of the attack had amazed him, but Elad's survival could no longer be a concern of his. He retrieved his maul and strode back towards the gates that led into the caverns beneath the pits. The gates were remarkably flimsy wooden affairs. Nhaqosa took his maul to them, splintering wood under the force of his blow. A second strike smashed through. Nhaqosa kicked the remnants out of the way, seeing two guards waiting on the other side, nervously facing him.
"Go now if you wish to live," Nhaqosa rumbled at them, muscles beneath his white hide rippling as he tightened his grip around the handle of the maul. The two men backed away, then ran rather than face the awoken fury of the giant, battle hardened minotaur who loomed before them.
Another guard, braver than the first, ran at Nhaqosa from further back in the caverns. A gladiator, waiting his turn to fight in the gloom, stuck out a leg in the path of the guard, sending him sprawling. A second, shaven headed gladiator dived onto the fallen guard, driving an elbow into the back of his head with a sickening crunch.
Shouts of alarm rose from the remaining guards, and vengeful cries from the gladiators as they turned on the guards, overpowering them in a vicious brawl in the darkened caverns, in the sort of brutal, close quarters fighting that the gladiators excelled in. Guards were borne to the crowd and beaten lifeless with rocks, chains, fists and feet, anything that the gladiators could lay there hands on. The guards fought back with terrified fury, stabbing and slashing at any that got close, trying to cut a path along which to escape.
Cells were wrenched open, chains broken and more gladiators freed, taking up the weapons of the fallen until such time as the armoury was taken so that proper armaments could be equipped.
There were screams and shouts that echoed through the caverns, the sound of iron striking iron or impacting on flesh, bodies falling, some lifeless, others moaning and writhing, and everywhere was blood, staining the ground and the walls. In the dim light, chaos reigned.
Nhaqosa pushed his way through the brawl, stepping over bodies as he headed for the gates that lead out of the caverns, the gates to freedom. There at least the guards still held sway, six men with spears and shields blocking the gates. The bodies of three men lay sprawled before them in growing pools of blood. Nerves showed on their faces, fearing the moment that the horde would spill their way, but they stood resolute none the less.
Nhaqosa stalked towards them, maul held high, droplets of blood beading on it to drip to the ground. "Be gone," he rumbled. A couple of the guards licked their lips, glancing at each other apprehensively, but none moved. Nhaqosa pawed at the ground with his hoof then bellowed with all his strength, an ear rending sound that reverberated around the confines of the cavern.
He charged. The guards were taken back by the terror of the bellow and the suddenness of the charge, two and half metres of killing machine bearing down on them in all its fury. The maul swung around at the height of the charge, crashing down on one guard's head, reducing it to a battered pulp of bones and blood and gore, broken
teeth clattering across the ground. A spear stabbed at Nhaqosa, slicing across his chest, crimson blood seeping down from the cut over his white fur. Horns arced through the air as Nhaqosa lowered his head and tossed it, slashing open another guard, then a third went down as a backhanded blow smashed aside a shield and crashed into the man's chest, caving it in.
A woman's scream sounded from behind Nhaqosa, filled with hate and anger and rage, white hot in its intensity. A gladiator, her hair long and pale, threw herself onto a guard, snarling, clawing and biting. The man stumbled back into the gate, his spear falling from his grip. He tried to draw a dagger as she raked at his eyes, blood swelling from the claw marks across his face. The dagger stumbled free and stabbed, plunging into the women's body. Despite the blow, her attacks never faltered until a second and then a third blow stabbed into her, while another guard drove his spear into her back.
It was the last attack he made, for a massive fist closed around his neck in an iron grip and lifted the struggling man off his feet. Nhaqosa slammed the guard's face into the wall, leaving a bloody smear. He dropped the body, letting it slide down the wall.
Other gladiators arrived, joining in as their shouts keened for blood, the last guards dispatched with the brutality born of the vicious existence that the gladiators had been forced to live.
The gates that led to freedom, to the town beyond the pit, were barred by a heavy wooden beam. It proved no obstacle to Nhaqosa. He took a hold of it, heaved and tossed it aside, while cheering gladiators pulled the gates open. A smell of smoke lingered in the air, drifting down to the caverns. Somewhere a fire burned.
The gladiators, led by Nhaqosa, surged through the gates, their stolen weapons ready to be used if need be. They were in an enclosed courtyard, with high walls to either side of them and an iron gate at the far end. A wagon had been parked up against one wall, filled with straw and rushes. Through the gates they could see people running, shoving one another and screaming as panic gripped them. Nhaqosa looked back up at the pit, seeing pillars of smoke pouring into the sky, ashes and embers sucked upwards. A figure stood above them, sword in one hand, the other engulfed by fire to the elbow. It was Elad, and for a moment Nhaqosa thought that the Knight had become a victim of the flames. Yet the man showed neither signs of pain nor attention to the flames that wreathed about his arm.
Elad stepped off from the wall above, flames trailing behind him as he fell to the wagon below. He made an ungainly landing, sword spinning free, tumbling onto his face in the rushes. The flames at his arm flickered and then the wagon began smouldering. Elad rolled off the wagon, picked up his sword and smiled broadly at Nhaqosa. "Shall we depart this villainous place?" he asked.
"How is it that the flames do not affect you?" Nhaqosa asked.
"I am a Knight of the Order of the Ardent Flame," Elad replied, even as he strode towards the iron gates. "They do not touch me, but instead answer to me."
Nhaqosa strode after the knight with his long legged gait, the escaped gladiators following in the wake of the giant minotaur. "But control of fire, that is not possible, at least where I am from."
"It is here." Elad reached the gate, giving it a solid kick. It rattled, but a heavy lock prevented it from being opened. "Break it down," he ordered.
Gladiators leapt onto the gate, wrenching it back and forward. Grinds and groans came from the protesting metal, but to no avail, for it soon had been torn open, accompanied by loud cheers.
* * * * *
7 – Fires and Vengeance
Elad stepped out of the courtyard into the street beyond, looking either direction along it. The crowds were gone now, apart from a few who lay sprawled on the ground, trampled during the panicked stampede. The fires about his hand were flickering, dying out. The rage that sustained them was bleeding away. Elad concentrated, willing the fires back to life, feeding them with all the anger and bitterness he could muster from his soul, at the state of the world, of loss and regret and despair. Sweat beaded across his brow at the effort.
"Soldiers!" one of the gladiators called out, a tall man bleeding from a scalp wound. He pointed down the street in the direction that led out of town, and to freedom. A unit of men with large shields and spears, clad in heavy armour, their faces obscured by full faced helms, were marching down the street. They stopped and lined across it, blocking the way with a wall of shields.
"It appears that we shall have to go through them," Nhaqosa rumbled. Elad nodded as he studied the enemy. Breaking through them would be no easy task.
"You and I leading the way?" he suggested.
Nhaqosa tapped at the ground with a hoof, scratching at the dirt. He snorted, shaking his head, before raising his maul high, above his head. Taking a deep breath, the minotaur bellowed something in a language that Elad did not recognise, yet many of the gladiators took up the cry, pumping the air with their weapons. Nhaqosa's cry echoed amongst the streets and buildings, near deafening so close at hand.
Then he roared and charged.
The ground shook under his hooves, his warcry long and loud. Elad did not want to be on the receiving end of it, ever, for it would be a terrifying sight, a massive horned monster wielding a weapon that few would have the strength to swing, blood staining his white fur, bellowing warcries fit to wake the dead. Elad ran after him, joined by the gladiators as they surged forward.
The maul slammed down as Nhaqosa reached the lines, the shield it hit shattering under the force of the blow. The man who had held it screamed as his arm snapped. Spears stabbed forward, but Nhaqosa was already among them, pounding, stomping and goring, oblivious to any wounds in his battle rage. Elad screamed as he saw a soldier draw back his spear to stab Nhaqosa from behind, and flames erupted from his hands to lick over the soldier. The man went down, writhing, and Elad slashed down with his sword, ending the pain. The gladiators spilled over the wavering wall, howling their visceral anger and hate as they stabbed, clawed and bludgeoned the shocked soldiers. Men staggered back or fell to the ground, the dirt thick with blood, while all around were the cries of battle. Over it all towered Nhaqosa, gore soaked maul rising and falling again and again as he hammered back the soldiers, leaving a trail of crushed bodies in his wake.
The soldiers broke. The fury of Nhaqosa's charge, the fires and vengeance that followed behind him, they were not used to such things. They were there to cower the citizens of the town, not face down battle hardened gladiators who had nothing to lose, and so they ran. Nhaqosa leaned wearily on his maul, breathing deeply as he watched them go. A score of cuts marred his body, and blood flowed freely, yet none were major or life threatening.
"They will return," he warned. "We must go while we can."
"Can you make it?" Elad asked, studying his many wounds. A lot of blood could be seen, though he reasoned that a creature as large as Nhaqosa had a lot of blood to lose.
"I am not done yet," Nhaqosa replied, lips curling in an unusual manner that Elad took for what passed as a smile for a minotaur.
"Good. Let us wipe our feet of this place."
* * * * *
8 – Today I Live
They ran far from the town, the wounded carried with them or aided. Across the plains, the burning of the gladiator pit could be seen from afar, a vast pillar of smoke and fire that raged unchecked, threatening to engulf the town.
They ran until their legs burned with fatigue, their lungs gasping for air, until they could run no more. In some low hills to the south of town, they sheltered, seeking shade beneath a grove of olive trees. As they lay there, Nhaqosa checked over the wounded. Some would not make it, but they would not be left behind for the retribution of the townsfolk. If they were to die, then it was better to do so among comrades than at the hands of a vengeful mob.
"I have friends," Elad announced, slowly sitting up, exhaustion seeping through every part of his aching body. "A place where we can be safe, a least for a while."
"Where were t
hey when you were in the pit?" a narrow-faced, dark-eyed gladiator asked as he tied a bandage around his leg.
"I got careless," Elad admitted. "And they did not know where I was going." The gladiator, Elad noticed, looked over to Nhaqosa. Most of them did.
The minotaur nodded slowly. "It is a good offer, Abasan. This one is honourable."
"Then I shall go with him," Abasan replied.
"You shall all go," Nhaqosa told him,
Abasan's face narrowed in thought. "But not you?"
"No, not I."
"Where will you go?" Elad asked of Nhaqosa. "These lands are not for you."
Nhaqosa sighed, and then tossed his head in an effort to dislodge a fly that buzzed around his face. "No they are not. That is why I must seek to return to my home."
"We will come with you, Kwaza," Abasan told him. All around, the other gladiators murmured their agreement.
"The way will not be easy," Nhaqosa warned them, "Nor much chance that we shall succeed."
"We will come with you, nonetheless," said a short, slender young woman, her striking looks marred by scars across her face.
"Then I will welcome you, brothers and sisters. What of you Elad?"
"I will seek for my friends. This is my world and I shall not leave it, even if it goes down in fire and ruin."
Nhaqosa reached out and offered Elad his hand. "Die well, Elad."
"I will brother. But that is not for this day, for today I live."
The End
Nhaqosa's journey continues in The Merchant's Legacy.
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