The Unfinished Journal

[Guest ArawnD]

Note: The original first entry has been cut from the story as it takes place later on and has no link to the 2nd entry.

 

Entry 2: Rebirth

 

Ah, youth, it goes by so quickly, all the while we wish for growth, but once grown wish that youth back again. My newfound youth was forced upon me, so I adapted. I have only one memory from being a baby, my first, mostly everything I transcribe here was told to me by family. I was a quiet baby, rarely did I cry, nursemaids would have to check me constantly for fear I had died.

 

When I had grown somewhat I learned of my environment. It seems I had been bore to the Dan'Shir Family, a family of noble warrior blood. Noble warriors, ha! Such words shouldn't be used together to describe them, they were the most vile people the world has ever seen. Despite my disdain, they did have something special that set them apart; they were berserkers. They prided themselves on this gift, their battle rages were legendary, holding off entire armies. I was the son of one of the king's, many mistresses. "His blood is your blood so you are one of us" I was once told. Since they were warriors they taught the way of the sword, rather than art and craft. Day and night we studied sword play and battle strategies, body and mind were worked daily. I was the second youngest of those attending, (12 or more other children, cousins, sisters, brothers, etc. ages ranging from 6-13) so practice and studies weren't that interesting but somehow I got by. As I grew those things learned I did without thought, (the purpose of the early training, no doubt.) although we had "graduated" we did compete still amongst each other, we would hold little tourneys to see who was the best. The tourneys had a darker side I'm afraid, the ones that lost the most battles would be killed. I see this as wise, for surely with that many in line to the throne you would want only the stronger ones. I avoided winning, I placed 4th or fifth at most, others had made secret alliances and deals helping to kill off those they say fit. Noble warriors indeed. My mother had come with child again and then was mysteriously died. She was half way through the term and had only the slightest showing of her condition, I suspected foul play. I was enraged, more than I have ever known. I did some looking into it and found one of my mother's maids had told Larse, a cousin from my father's side, who in turn ordered the her death; stopping any new competition before it could start, noble warriors. The maid had an unfortunate accident that night, she fell from the top story window she was so mangled from the fall they didn't notice the knife wound, all the while I looked at my cousin Larse, and I would have my revenge.

 

Entry 3: The price of vengeance.

 

Funny is it not? I barely knew my mother. After my birth and care I was taken from her arms, but yet here I was wishing revenge. The woman was practically a stranger, and I would kill in her memory, perhaps there was and unspoken bond even I could not ignore. I must have been like her, because I never felt right in the castles or at the parties. I was bored to say the least, disgusted at the mannerisms that the rest of the family displayed. Although I distanced myself from them, her death brought me closer to them and into their tangled web.

 

Larse must die, but even in my enraged state I was no fool. Killing him out right would, bring not only the Duke, my father’s brother, down upon me, but also the whole kingdom. I needed a plan and that is what my family was good at. It was easy to get them to work towards my cause; even the King was willing to help. It seemed that there had always been bad blood between the two houses, House Dan’Shir and House Or’Lan. No one, even they, can’t remember what started it, but many thought it ended with my father becoming king, and his brother Grand Duke. Both positions controlled equal territories, and armies, but one must admit to be called king and bowed to is a greater honor and position than a duke. The contest being held in the next month would prove to be the perfect place for the deed. “In the heat of battle accidents may happen” my brother told me, yes an accident and I wouldn’t go punished and House Or’Lan would lose an heir.

 

In the month that followed I trained harder than I ever did before. But that would not be enough; I had to know more of my opponent, to walk into a battle otherwise would be foolish. That is where my sisters and brothers came in; they had their own private armies of both warriors and spies. My eldest brother had fought him once, and gave some pointers. My sister’s spies probed for any weakness I could exploit. Although the spies turned up no weakness they did find what kind of berserker he was. This in itself is very valuable information, despite what is known there are different berserkers. I myself was a Soldier type, Larse was Elite, to clarify on a scale from one to ten I was a 5, Larse was an 11. I would not be able to take him on if he were to go into a rage. My plan was to take him out as soon as possible to hit vital areas, but if that failed then plan B would end him. Plan B was simple my blade was coated in a toxin would quickly eat away at him from within weakening him. No very noble of me, is it? No it wasn’t but I swore revenge and I would sell my very soul for it. The days flew by as I practiced and honed my skills, soon it was the eve of the tournament, and I prepared to sleep, and for the first time I prayed. I prayed for peace to my mother’s soul and to be granted strength to defeat Larse, I prayed to I win the fight. “Don’t worry you’ll win” said the voice, I hadn’t heard it for a while now it had all but slipped my mind. A chill went down my spine “you’ll win” I lay in bed for several minutes then fell to sleep.

 

The next day I new calm, everything was in place, I was ready. The Tournament had once been a private affair, but now had grown to a large social event; I mean where else would you get to see the ruler try to kill each other? There were several events before my fights, yes although I would fight Larse I would still have other bouts to compete in. They would prove to be a good warm-up. I sat in the tent meant for the warriors of my family's house, and waited for my name to be called, everything else faded into the back ground I was in a zone. Even when my name was called had to be told by my younger brother, a light elbow to the ribs. I smiled and stood, and drew my sword knowing it bathe in the blood of Larse Or'Lan. My first match was against one of the cousin from my Aunt side a rarity, they normally didn't compete. It was a quick fight, I know why they don't compete, although I did not kill him he yielded to me, something I would not allow for Larse to do. I returned to the tent after the match, barely worked up a sweat. My younger brother was next it would be his first time competing. I actually went to watch him; his skills were excellent, although a bit sloppy. He won but was wounded; he would have a scar, a badge of honor for some. His opponent would never walk again. The bout went on and on, brothers and sisters versus cousins. My eldest brother won his match with more ease that my first, my sister was the first to kill her opponent. Strangely enough she was to fight a man, most of the women fought each other, the crowd of villager, merchants, and soldiers cheered on the man (I forget which side of the family he was part of)."You'll be killed" My younger brother said the man was a giant, and the smile on my sister's face said it all. The match began and the brute swung his huge sword only to find my sister gone. He turned to get a steel toed foot rammed into in face then into his ribs. My sister had specialized in a form of martial arts, she moved with such grace. And so the match went, the monster of a man swinging and rushing and my sister dodging and picking away at him. Then he went berserk, which would only turn out to be a mistake. Although stronger in his berserk state he was just as slow. Still he didn't feel the damage my sister was inflicting either, this could of went on forever, but then my sister went into overdrive, she went from defensive to offensive. In his berserker state his defense was lacking. Still this wasn't enough she then went into her own rage. I had seen my sister mad, but never in her rage. She looked almost normal but I could see her body twitch, muscles flexing. When he struck next she took the whole blow and grabbed his arm and broke it. He screamed like the animal he was the pain breaking through the rage. Next she moved in and gave him a flurry of punches to the chest and face. I was afraid to blink least I miss something, and I nearly did. The man was weakened he came out of his trance and coughed a gout of blood; no doubt from broken rib punctures lungs. My sister came out of her's with great ease and reached for the sash she wore. I noticed it was quite thick and despite her movements stayed almost completely still. A weighted sash? For what purpose? Almost to answer the question she whipped the sash hitting the brute in the face breaking his nose. She jumped up and over her blinded foe, faster than I can follow she wraps the sash around his thick neck and hangs over his back and end of the sash in each hand. The man tries to bend backward but my sister then lifts his holding him up on her back slowly choking him. Finally the hand stop grabbing and fall limp, she stands like that for another minute just to be sure then drops him to the ground. The crowd goes wild and I cheer.

 

Entry 4: The fight with Larse

 

My other fights were uneventful; my fourth had me kill him for he had lost too many battles already. Even if he had won they would have killed him, this way he would die with some honor. Honor? What do I have to say about honor? I started to question my motives, but quickly dispelled them. "But what then? What will you do after you have your revenge?" I was startled, the voice was different, softer, and then it vanished. I return to the tent dazed my mind raced. I sat down and my eldest brother came to me "How fares it little one?" I smile I'm not the smallest, but to him all of us are small. "Well, I hope your next match will be with Larse" I smile again but don't respond "Don't be worried, remember your training and you'll survive, stick to the plan and you'll be victorious." "Thanks" is all I can mumble and he pats me on the back. "Come on, why don't you come watch, I think he's fighting right now." I slowly rise and walk with him to the seats to watch.

 

When we get to the seat I look out onto the field, and sure enough there is Larse fighting with someone or other, the opponent is facing away from me. It does take long for Larse to disarm and have the opponent surrender; the grin on his face brings back the ill feeling within me stronger. "Soon" says my brother seeing my reaction. "Very soon." We head back to the weapon tent and wait, my brother has one more match, I didn't go to watch instead I sit with my thoughts.

 

I am stirred from my slumber, I didn't remember falling asleep. My brothers and sister stand over me as with grins on their faces. I wake fully, to understand their jumbled words "It's time". I already have my armor on, I reach for my sword, but my brother stops me, "Use mine" he says with a wink "just like yours" I smile back and he puts his hand on my shoulder, my sister manages to hug me, and my younger brother stares at me, a strange look in his eye. Before I can say anything he speaks "Good luck." then he walks away saying nothing more. I take my brother's sword from his hands make a few practice swings then put it in the sheath and on my belt. "Good luck" They repeat and I walk onto the field.

 

By looking at the sun I notice it's not that far past noon, I had thought it would be later, but the other fights must have ended quickly. I walk to the center of the circle, the ring and wait, Larse is not there yet. My name is announced, I bow as is expected still look for Larse. Then his name is announced and he appears there is a chorus of trumpets, he is the favored one after all. I smiled the moment only fueled the fires within me all the more. Finally the music stopped and we stood before one another. I studied him, he was taller than me but by not much, his hair cut short, probably for the fights, we were of almost the same build but he was broader in the chest area. Seeing him up close almost made me loose my nerve, could I win? I looked at him and our eyes met, I looked into his eyes and felt nothing but rage "Good" said the voice "go with the rage." The official was giving the rule I ignored him, I knew the rules and I would break them all.

 

The official stepped from out of the circle to the sideline, and sounded the horn, the battle had begun. My muscles tensed and flexed ready to pounce, but any warrior knows that you need to study your opponent first. But I had studied my opponent with spies and watching his fights I knew him well and that made me hate him all the more. For show we circled each other, looking, waiting for the other to react to the slightest step or a feint, this lasted for a minute. The crowd was silent, I didn't look but I could hear only out footsteps on the field, the wind shifted and the scent of cooking hit us, our was one of the last fights before the annual feast. Suddenly a bird cried out, a hawk, maybe an eagle, and we both lunged swords drawn. They hit the sound sent a cheer up in the crowd, both of us jumped back and circled again, and once more we had silence. This time Larse made a move an obvious strike to the head, leaving him too open and a trap no doubt. To be safe I just blocked the blade and tried to make an opening on the other side, by hitting his blade wide. He recovered quickly and struck again this time to my opposite side, and once more the same opening. Then it struck me, it was a game. It was a game many warriors played as children to familiarize themselves with the striking points, I smiled now knowing the pattern. It was easy first you swung at the head, one our blades swung at the other's head met and retreated, two the other side, met and retreated, three and four the body, five a lunge to the stomach, six a downward swing at the top of the head. An easy game you both go through the motions until someone misses getting a wack. This was played with wooden practice swords, but with steel it took on a whole new dimension. We finished the first time through and Larse now shared my smile. He was toying with me! Now came the hard part going faster, again the strikes to head and body are blades hit and re-hit, then retreat but at the same time was ready if the other tried anything. The crowd was going nuts but we were in our separate world or at least I was, faster my blade and his were a blur of motion slowing only when they hit. We were now at a fevered pitch, the crowd shouted and cheered on caught up in the moment. Faster, my god I even I was amazed at the speed we were showing, Larse now had a grim expression on his face, he hadn't expected me survive this long. He started to hit harder, when he strung trying to throw off my timing, it worked. In my head I counted the number keeping pace I almost felt like a puppet going through the motions, five.......his blade hits mine harder than expected, and I don't have time to bring my own blade to bear..six. I hear the whistle as his blade nears my face missed by inches as I dodge, we continue with the pattern. My chin stings I don't have to look down to see the blood, although I do raise my free hand to touch it. First blood to Larse, someone the official shout, the crowd is mad with excitement. Larse also moves his hand, but only to grab his dagger, I note the movement and ready for his attack. He surprises me, instead taking advantage of the opening from the game; he starts the knife into the pattern from the opposite side. One sword, two; knife, three; sword, four; knife. I miss the knife it slices against my side; I quickly pull my own knife and start into it just as hard. Knife, sword, knife, sword, knife, sword, again I fall into the pattern going into the motions. I'm concentrating hard Larse is leading me, pushing harder with his left or right, then quickly following up landing a slash. My hands cris and cross we have worked to the fevered pitch like before. Larse smiles as he slowly pushes me back, I'm loosing it the dance of knife and sword is near hypnotic. No, snap out of it I think to myself, he's got you fight it! I push back, I don't know how to stop him he's stronger but my mind reels. "But you're faster" the voice whispers. I smile now taking Larse's mirth. I go faster, forcing Larse to stop his heavy blows, my dagger weaves in and lands a strike, Larse looks at me with amazement, we continue again my dagger finds his flesh, piercing the leather armor. Anger is now on his face, he doesn't like it does he? Again and again Larse it struck, he gets all the madder and causing more mistakes and in turn more strikes on him. I smile more, "This ends now.” I say, the first words to be spoken since we began. We both are sweating hard, our breathing even, but shallow. My hands hurricane into the fastest pattern yet, Larse follows, one, one, two, two, the blades hit and double hit, three, three, four, four, then I reverse. Four, three! My sword slices and "X" across Larse's chest and stomach, he recovers the pain written in his face. Then I abruptly stop and bring both blades straight down on Larse head, he does a double block, knife and sword catching my blades. I smile as I kick out hitting him in the stomach, Larse flies back from the blow, unprepared for the strike. He tumbles and rolls, I didn't think I hit him that hard. Finally he stops and gets to his feet, amazingly he held on to his sword, his dagger lays in front of me. I drop my own dagger, "No one can say I'm not fair." The battle has finally begun," but it's already over," I say to myself "the poison will take effect soon and Larse will die." By now the crowd is chanting my name, I have to admit that gave me even more strength, I advanced on Larse, he stood ready.

 

Entry 5: Victory?

 

The sun was against my back and the cheer of the crowd was deafening, Larse stood ready sword held firm. I look at him for a moment, looking at the wound I had mad across his belly, the bleeding stopped. Good I think to myself would want him bleeding to death. I smile, and Larse lunges closing the distance between us. Damn, I forgot he was so fast! I raise my blade and by luck it intercepts his. "No more games." he hisses at me and sweeps his sword at me, I step out of the way only to find the blade still coming at me but from the opposite side. This time I sway back and keep and eye on Larse movements. He holds the weapon with one had lightly, he swings. As I dodge he makes the slightest flick of his wrist and the blade has changed direction in mid-swing. Amazingly enough he has even with one hand he has good control, and strength in each attack. I find myself holding my own sword with both hands I tried to press an attack, but fail. I quickly switch to defense. "What now?" I ask myself and quickly come to an answer "....of course!" He has slipped into a trance, a mild berserker rage. A trance gives you more energy, balance, focus, but not the strength granted by the greater rage. I had to up the stakes. As I looked into the grazed eyes of Larse I brought back up all the ill feeling I had and started to channel them. At first they were but a spark a dim light, but as I blocked and defended it grew, the spark now a flame in my mind's eye. The flame gave me energy; Larse movements no longer looked so swift. Good, we were now on even ground, If I could hold him long enough the poison would take effect. Seeing the obvious stale mate Larse made the next step he went into a full rage. I had no choice; I took a deep breath and fanned the flames within me, and went berserk.

 

When one goes berserk you lose all reason, all intelligence, everything. You live only to fight, to destroy your enemy. You would almost venture outside your own body and watch yourself. So there we were Larse and I two rabid beast, death would come this day to one of us. Larse jumped into the air impossibly high, I merely watched only to have his sword come down and bury itself in my shoulder. I howled, not in pain, but in fury. I shrug off the blade and my fist connects with his face, once more is he airborne. It is now my turn to pounce, sword high coming down level with his head, he rolls and kicks. I pushed back slightly but enough for his sword to slash my thigh. I reach out and I grabbed his sword arm I hear a crack and the arm falls limp, it is his turn to howl. He then rams me with his head in the stomach I grab him and bring my knee up to his face. Once, twice... he then wraps his still working arm around me and stands picking me off the ground. If I wasn't in a rage I could have easily gotten out of the position, better yet realized what position I was in, but.......I am at his mercy. He spins, and then flings me towards the nearest wall. I hit the stones with my back luckily, but still am I stunned. He approaches and proceeds to stomp my face and chest. I ram him, same as he had done to me; it catches him by surprise knocking him on his back. I sit on his chest and hammer at his face. By now we are both covered in blood, mine and his litters the ground. We both have cuts, bones jutting out; breaks, cracks, and still we fight oblivious. The crowd is silent, not that we would have noticed, drinking it all in, unblinking. And on goes the battle, hit for hit we go, neither gaining nor losing ground, swords long forgotten we batter one another with our bodies. Then it happens, my rage fades and I slowly come back to my mangled form. The pain hits me in a wave, I nearly black out then and there. Through a different haze I watch as Larse approaches, I spit blood, swaying at my feet. "Damn!" He hits me and I'm a rag doll in the wind. It hurts to move, to think, my leg is broken, and a tingling is running up my spine. Larse looks no better, the rage blocking out what ever injuries he has. "Damn" I curse myself again I try to summon some strength, a flame of energy; instead I am given a different fire. My veins start to burn, my lung soon catch this strange fire and crumble under the pain. I look up and Larse now stands, but differently, he's out of his rage as well. I feel myself sweat, maybe its blood I don't check, the strange fire burns at my skin, blood finds its way to my mouth. Larse coughs and speaks "S-Something wrong?" I look around me, I notice now I sit before his father, the Duke's seat. Larse continues to speak, "Feeling weak?" he is close to me now he kicks me, and then pulls me close "Does it burn? I hadn't expected you to last this long." "What...did you do to me?" I stammer between the jolts of pain. He laughs and draws me closer so only I may hear "Only what you would have done to me! The same trick you thought to use." My eyes had been half shut, now were open wide I looked at Larse's grinning face, covered in blood and turned to look at the duke equally smiling face; finally I looked in the direction of my family across the field. Betrayed! Larse reads my thought "Did you really think they would help you kill one they had no quarrel with rather than thin out the competion?" He tosses me to the ground and walks away, several second pass and he comes back dropping my sword before me. "I will give you a chance; I will kill you with sword in hand, with honor. Go on pick it up." The rage filled me but I could do nothing, the shock of my betrayal held me. Damn them all. My hand gently touched the sword, "Good" said Larse "that's it, pick it up, stand and face your death." I grasp the sword firmly; I wasn't beaten yet, if I survived this day my family would pay. My vision was still blurred I watches for the movement of Larse as he danced around me. "Come on," I said to myself "speak, tell me where you are." More movement and a few yells "Finish him Larse!" "End it!" "Kill him!" My adoring fans. "Well, I guess I should end it." Larse finally said. "Yahhhhhhhh!" I yelled in one quick motion I threw the sword blade first with all of my remaining strength.

 

I've said it once, I'll say it again; Fate is a cruel mistress. The blade flew like a dart in the air towards Larse, but it was too high, over Larse head and in to the stands behind him, right into the Duke. It hit with a "Thunk" at entered in his upper chest and out his back into the seat. The whole arena was silent, the Duke's children rushed to his side, Larse stood dumbfounded. Cries of "My god...” "What has he done?" filled the air, I stood frozen in place from my throw finally someone yelled "Traitor!" followed by "Assassin!" "This is war!" I was losing consciousness, but heard as others came onto the field. I black out.

 

"Good, very good" says the voice "You are almost there, you did well." I awake and I am lying in my bed bandaged and ointment spread on my body. Beside me a maid has just finished changing a bandage; she turns to another maid who leaves the room as she tries to get me to lie back down. Moment later my father, the king enter the chamber, a smile on his face followed by my siblings grim faced. My rage burns I sit up and am forced back down by the maid. "Well done, my son" My father shouts "It is good to see you have awakened, we were worried about you." He motions to my brothers and sister and they nod. He laughs "The Duke, what happened to the Duke?" I ask. He smiles more "That old fart will live unfortunately, but you gave him quite hit, I hear he's still recovering." My siblings are now smiling. "I couldn't have planned it better myself, your attack........." "But...." I start he shushes me. "I've always wanted to invade his lands, now that they declared war, we can take their land." he laughs again it echoes. I try to speak, but again he stops me. "Don't worry about a thing, you rest and get well, I want you in top form when the fighting starts." He nods to the maid and leaves, my brothers and sisters follow. The maid leaves a minute later I lay on the bed, thinking "Maybe I should rest, I mean it's not everyday one starts a war." I lay there in silence, then the words hit me "What have I done?" I ask "What have I done?"

 

Entry 6: War

 

My friend had a saying, "War does not decide who's right, war decides who's left." I say "had" because now he's dead, a casualty of a war. It is yet another cosmic joke, and I laugh.

 

For the first time I can remember, my father is true to his word. As soon as I am well I join in the preparations of war. My family spends much time together now planning more than ever. As we sit I look each of them over still wary form my recent betrayal; none approach me otherwise. The army will enter their land and then branch off into four smaller armies that will eventually meet at the capital of House Or'Lan. During this we were to engage all troops, destroy towns, crops, anything else in out path. I thought about Larse, wondering if I would meet him on the battlefield. I am given command of a unit, one of the four armies. I dreaded command, it is where the blame lies, and it is also the point of glory; at the expense of other's lives. I didn't have much of a say in the matter, the king had spoken and we prepared for the battles.

 

It was strange, my unit was made up of people I knew, and quietly I wondered which of them would survive. I was not naive, I had never been to war, let alone in a battle on this scale, but I knew lives would be lost, although I preferred it to be those of my enemies. Days later we began to march, we marched through the cities and towns that made up our kingdom. There were some that lined the streets to watch, some cheered. "Why? Why are they happy, why are they proud?" I screamed within "Off we go to kill those whose land we want, to fight just to line our own pockets." They probably thought we were going to protect them. I couldn't look a one in the eye. Finally we left our kingdom came to my aunt's territory. She had claimed neutrality, but allowed passage through land, although just a small portion was it we needed to cross.

 

I won't waste time with details, there was nothing special about this war to set it apart from the many other I have now seen, simply put it was war. My earlier theory was true many of my troops died, but more so of my enemy, I almost envy them now they didn't have to deal with what cam next.

 

Finally we reached the castle, the Duke and his family held up waiting for a long siege, they wouldn't get it. My father hand made some friend along his journey to the castle he had employed dwarves to make a machine, a battering ram of sorts, which literally tore through the walls of the keep. We stormed in, I knew Larse wasn't here; news of his death had reached me earlier it seemed he died of poison. I would never know who betrayed me. I fought simply to fight now I had no passion for battle just to survive the bloody war and return to a normal life. It took only a few hours but we took the castle along with the Duke, his wife and two younger children. They were all taken into the middle of his fortress, with the other captured forces. My father the king then killed him. Just like that, no warning, no speech, just a swing of his sword. I thought the others might get spared, sold into slavery, but the received the same fate. It didn't stop, servants, animals, everything that the Duke had owned was destroyed. I looked on in amazement along with my siblings. We all knew that this wasn't good. Later the machine used on the wall was used to utterly destroy the castle. Some of the soldiers had raided the place of valuables. "Well, time to go home" I thought. I then noticed that we traveled in the wrong direction I approached my father "No mistake, we going after Wan'Ele" "Wan'Ele? They where allies of Or'Lan, but had refused to help, why attack?" In all my life I have heard, the worse rationalizations and excuses, but my father told me one that I will never forget "Why?" he said his eyes burned with a fire I'd never seen in him "Because I can."

 

Entry 7: The Mad King

 

It began so swiftly, it was like a dream, first it was a village on the border of Or'Lan, then we swept into Junu, one of Wan'Ele's larger cities, then the rest fell. I took only one day to crush Wan'Ele's army, a military record I would think, but not one to be proud of. We had caught the enemy......enemy? Where they really the enemy? But my father said it was so, and the soldiers are forever loyal to the king. His word is law, he is god. But is he god of good or god of evil?

 

Our military campaign was taking its toll, we were far into, "enemy" territory now and supply lines were thin, it wasn't until we had killed Wan'Ele's ruling class that we turned towards home. I learned it would be a short stop though; we would then strike the other surrounding lands. I was riding through he ruin of the once beautiful city Junu, her majestic towers crumbled, the music of bards replaced with sounds of men and women screaming for their lives. Our soldiers went about looting the city, raping her of whatever beauty she had left, as I heard the order to burn it down, I cringed. Citizens of the town ran through the streets, looking for escape, troops waited on every avenue to mow them down, I rode straight through Junu without a word, I never turned back. When it had gotten dark, the horizon glowed, Junu was ablaze, the smell of burning flesh filled the air, I didn't look back, but still I wept.

 

In a week I arrived back at the castle, my sibling had made it there before me, my father was two days away. We did not speak, we hardly spoke at this point anyway, but this was a different silence. Although they may be ambitious, backstabbing, even treacherous at time I know they are not devoid of emotion. They had seen more battle than I at that point, they knew war, and they knew a massacre when they saw it. All day did the silence prevail, it wasn't until nightfall that they approached me; I sat in the study, reading my lamp light. My older brother Ry, coughed to get my attention "Hello, brother how are you?" I looked up from my book; he stood a few feet away from me, my sister and younger brother farther behind him. I stared him in the eye for a second then went back to my book. "Ah, yes, I see." He continued, he turned to look at my siblings for some support, "There some matters to which I....we would like to speak with you about." I knew they wouldn't leave until I heard them out, sighing I responded "Go on, nothing is stopping you." I turned the page in my book and looked up at him again, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to listen" "Arawn....." My sister began, "This is no time to be acting childish!" I laughed, I thought I had forgotten how, And although I laughed I felt the rage, the heat building within me. "Childish? Childish!? Let me see, if I remember correctly one of you tried to kill me!" I stood and looked each in the eye as I said this hoping for some kind of reaction, there was none. Did they forget? Did they think I would forget? This only proved to make me madder, before Ry could move I had lunged, dagger in hand, one of many I hide on my person. A gasp was all he could manage as I brought the blade to his throat, my sister and brother take a step back. I laugh again, "Whatever is the matter? Speak; tell me of these 'matters' you wished to speak of." Ry swallows hard, the point of the dagger drawing blood, he could try to escape but he knows that being as close as I am he wouldn't make it. "It is about father.....we want to kill him."

 

Entry 8: King for a day

 

I shook; the words seemed to echo forever. "....kill him..." Kill, the king? A minute ago I would do it in a heartbeat but to hear him say it I was suddenly against it. What was wrong with me? Maybe I didn't trust them; I thought that this would once more be a trick. Maybe. Maybe not. Still was I silent, I have listened to what they had to say. ".......it has to end, and we think you can do that." Yes, wait! That is what it is; they want me to do it! "I am to kill him? Why must I kill him? Why do you need me anyway?" The answers were simple, my father didn't trust them, of them all I had proved to be the less ambitious one, I could get close and strike. No one else could, it was true; only I could stop him. But my own father? Could I kill him? "So, Arawn will you help us?" I didn't speak, "Arawn, this isn't about us anymore! He’s killing people for nothing, he laying waste to lands, will you help us!?" "Yes, Arawn what will you do?" the voice came from across the room, standing there in full armor; his long sword in hand was my father, Gamel Dan'Shir. He looked at me, his face stained with dried blood, a smirk on his face, "Will you kill your father?" he said, his eyes burning, "or will you die with the rest?"

 

"Damn." Is all Ry said as he pulled he sword and leapt at my father, the charge knocked he and my father through the doors and into the next room. My sister and younger brother ran to watch, I followed. The two wrestled, swords locked. My father and brother are about equal in size, my brother a hair taller but not as wide. One would think me father would be hindered by he armor he wore but he kept with Ry ever so easily. The pushed off from each other and circled. We stood in the throne room, how fitting, at the two other exits stood armed guards. Had my father known we would try something, had he planned this? My father lunged, Ry parried and swung his blade at my father's head, and Gamel ducked and sent his own blade low. Too low it would seem, but it hit Ry's left calf and taking his le. Ry screamed in pain and collapsed, my sister rushed to defend him her short blade drawn. Gamel laughs. "You think you can far better little one?" Before he can say another word she steps in close and slashes him across his face, my younger brother tries to move Ry out of the way. Gamel feels the cut on his face; he looks at the blood on his hand. "Why did you stop laughing father?" she smiles, it is short as he growls. Even the guards take a step back from across the hall, as my father goes into a rage. I watch amazed, while another part of my counts the seconds I have left to live. You could notice the change, his muscles more tense the sword now held with one hand, the almost vacant stare, but this the burning eyes. My sister tried, really she did. But it was all for nothing she was literally tossed around like a rag doll with his every blow. She was quick, her blade flashing but only to find armor, his only unprotected part was his head and neck. I moved over to where Ry had dropped his sword and lifted the blade. My sister was still going at Gamel with a vengeance, striking out at him with her own rage, still she was knocked aside. I looked at her body for a moment, still, then I noticed a slight movement, she lived, barely.

 

"And now you." "Yes, now it is my turn." He laughs, "I must admit that I am surprised that you sided with them. I thought you wouldn't after what they did to you! Hahahahahahaha, sorry what I meant was what I did to you." I froze, he laughs again, "What!? You didn't figure it out? I told Larse your little plan, hell I knew he killed your wench of a mother, but it didn't matter another would of taken her place. Then came the fire growing within me, "No." I said aloud my voice shaking "NO!!" I swing the blade level with his head; he leaps back and lets it pass before him. He tackles me against the wall breaking some ribs, and then takes his sword hilt across my face I loose a tooth. With one hand he grabs my head and slams it into his knee, I'm then thrown head first into another wall. I lay there for a second, in a second he's on me again kicking and stomping my body. Darkness starts to creep around me, then my younger brother acts. It comes in the form of hammer strike to my father's back that sends him flying. Behind him stands my brother holding a war hammer almost as tall as he is, I notice he's breathing hard his eyes glazed over. It took everything he had just to do that! My father had righted himself and comes back at us my brother grunts and lifts the hammer again. He wouldn't last two minutes, but I didn't care I was dying.

 

I was falling into the pit of eternal darkness, and then I stopped something held me fast. And slowly I pulled myself back up; I felt the fires within me burn once more. I felt powerful. When I opened my eyes I saw that my brother was doing well, again I didn't care. Leaning against the wall I slowly stood the fire grew brighter. "Focus on the fire." said the voice, Ry was still on the floor in a pool of his own blood bandage made from his shirt covering his leg, my sister tried to stand and fell, I almost laughed. Pain, more pain every movement gave me pain, even breathing. "The fire," I chanted "the fire." I watched the fight before me waiting for an opening a way to attack then I had it. My little brother swung the hammer straight down at my father only to miss, leaving himself hunched over. My father didn't hesitate, neither did I. I don't know how I managed but I put one foot after the other, each step a new wave of pain, running over to my father. I let out a scream as I was upon him, stopping his attack on my brother, he couldn't turn in time to dodge. Sword held out in from of me I lunged at him, the armor broke and the sword impaled him. He stood there looking at me, but the fire within me grew brighter, and hotter. He spoke, but he words were garbled in the crimson haze in which I saw him. "Burn." I spoke the word and he burst into flames. And so he hung there impaled upon my sword, engulfed in flames, soon hi screams stopped and I withdrew my blade, still ablaze. I stood there looking at his charred remains, and smiled "The king is dead, long live the king." Then I felt dizzy, and weak and once more the darkness swallowed me, the voice whispered in my ear, "All hail the Mad King"

 

Entry 9: Crime and punishment

 

"Burn." and he burned; he was not set ablaze by the fires of my rage, but in a different way, magic. I had used magic, and magic was forbidden. Although I had killed my father, the king, it was overshadowed by the crime of magic. And now I at in a cell in the dungeon, a prisoner in my own home. If I did have magic I would have used it by now to free myself, but despite all my efforts I could not make the fire. And so I sat alone and waited, I took this time to study my surroundings, it wasn't much to see. It was a stone room, no window, with a soft dirt floor. In one corner was dug a hole, and against the far wall a wooden plank hung from the wall serving as a bed and bench. I looked the door to my cell, a grid of steel bars. I could not break them, for it seems that my berserker rage was no longer with me, I tried every technique I knew and nothing happened. No rage, no magic, I had no choice I would die. Yes, anyone practicing witchcraft would face death, to be burned at the stake. Funny isn't it? I would soon die like my father had, screaming in agony as the flames lick at my flesh. My father must be laughing down in hell. So I sat and so I waited.

 

Without a window, I couldn't tell how long I waited, hours? Day? Weeks? My only light was that of a torch that sat outside the cell. When I wasn't sitting with my eyes closed trying to sleep I would stare into the flames "Become the flame," the voice whispered in my ear,” and be free." I was hungry I don't remember eating in a while, why would they they're probably afraid of me, afraid I hex them and their kin. The thought fills we with mirth, I can't laugh my throat is too dry, It must be days, a man goes not go so dry so quickly. I try to stay awake but the darkness swallows me. When I awake a shadow is cast by the torch into my cell, I turn and see a robed figure standing there. In its shadow on the floor of my cell I see a tray of food, and a small bucket of liquid, which I pray is water. I pounce on the food and drink and have my fill. After I am done I turn to the figure that had watched the whole of my display. I must be a sight, even now my hair and closed are matted with dirt from the cell. "Who?" Is all I ask barely above a whisper. The cloaked figure pulled back the hood; it was my younger brother Vahn. "A week, and some days." I sighed, time had passed quickly, "Who sits upon the throne?" I didn't really care but it was all I could think to say to break the silence. "Ry, he shares the power with a council, an inner circle." Again silence, finally I ask the question I really wished to ask, "When am I to die?" Vahn inhales deeply, but doesn't answer. "Well all die; at least I will know when, tell me please." He turns away from the bars "In three days time." I laugh, "And why did you come down here? I am sure I was forgotten as is Gamel. Why not let me rot down here? Why the execut- " "Because the people know you killed Gamel, and they remember you used magic! They whisper that you were the reason that the slaughter began." I laugh again, then cough, "I am the villain now, am I!? By all rights I should be King! I am a hero, and this is my reward." I turn away from the bars, away from my brother and sit on the wooden bed. "You didn't answer my question." Vahn turns to me again, "I did." "No you did not tell me why YOU are here." "I-I wanted to see you. Since....the..well they took you away I didn't know where you were. I just barely found you, and I found out they were not feeding you....." "So you took pity on me... I don't need your pity. If you want to do something get me out of here." And for the first time our eyes met, the fire light showed his face "You know if I do I'd be risking me own life-" "Like I did for you! Like I did for all of you! My life was on the line and I risked it for everyone and now I get to die! And you won't help me? You're just as bad as the rest of them! Get out of here! LEAVE!!" He looked at me for a second like a wounded puppy, and then he turned and ran away. I knew he wanted to help me, I knew he couldn’t, it was an act to help him when I died, better he hate me than love me.

Even if it was an act the anger was real, and I started to count the minutes before I would die.

 

It had been about two days, when I heard a clatter, something hitting the hard stone floor of the hallway. I waited and listened finally more light made its way towards me, and Ry stepped forward followed by two guards with spears. Ry was dressed in the finest of clothing; he seemed out of place in the dank underground. I wondered what made all the noise, looking down I found that he had steel boot one, like one from a suit of armor. "Ah, yes the leg, it was the best the healers and blacksmith could come up with...but that's not why I am here." One of the guard hands him a scroll, which Ry opens and reads. "You are to die tomorrow." He almost smiled at me, "And I wished to thank you." I felt the anger bubbling up again "You rid us of a terrible evil, but at the same time became one yourself, I sorry but I am a servant to the laws." I nearly exploded! What nerve! Servant to the law, Makes the law his slave, his harlot, twists it to make it to his advantage. "I just wanted to see you before......good-bye" He turned and left, his leg hitting against the hard floor. I stood there staring after him for a few minutes and then lay down to sleep.

 

You ever have that dream where you're falling? But then you wake up before you hit? What if you kept on falling? Would you ever wake? I was falling and around me was only darkness, cold, empty darkness. And then came the voice "Poor, poor prince Arawn." The voice echoed "Whatever will you do? Is this how it will end?" I continued to fall, but I felt something on the edge of my mind I ignored it and continued to fall. "Is this how it will end? Your brother is King" A vision of my brother flashed before me, "the people think you a menace." Another vision, now of villagers, and others I had met of the kingdom, and then I felt heat. "You are rightfully the ruler of this land, but it will rather kill you than let you be king." The flame grew brighter, but I no longer just felt them, but I saw them. It was no longer dark, I was falling into an inferno, "Do you want to die?" The voice asked,” Will you die for them?" and I answered "No, burn them all." "Good, but there is no turning back, you must go forward. When I awoke I was no longer in my cell, I stood on a hill, which I recognized as one on the border of the kingdom. "You must go forward," the voice whispered, I looked once more on my homeland, my kingdom, and walked away.

 

Entry 10: The Dream

 

I walked. I simply walked, I was unaware of my surroundings and direction, and I walked. My bare feet bled upon the sharp rocks on the ground. I could have been going in circles, I could have walked off a cliff, I wasn't attacked by animals, or the bandits I heard about. I walked until my body could walk no more. Had it been days, hours? When was the last time I ate? Since I slept? I didn't know and didn't have time to figure it out, for it was then that I passed out.

 

I had a dream. That in itself was strange, for I don't dream. Every night when I lay down to my bed it is the same, darkness. I close my eyes in darkness and open them to the light of morning. That is why I dread sleep, but at that moment sleep was my only release from the hellish existence I now led. I let the darkness embrace me. It was short, brief even. The darkness gave way life a cloud does to the wind. I was flying somewhere, I knew not the surroundings, and as the darkness further parted a scene was revealed to me.

 

It was a valley, held by a different darkness; it was more of an aura that radiated from the place. On one side of this valley were mountains, a cliff the jutted into the sky, but not as high as I was flying/floating. On it stood a figure; I was too far away to see who or what it could be but I saw a shape upon a peak. There were other figures, but the center one held my attention. Then there was a roar of the wind, but also of an enraged creature. And then they came; it was like a shadow, a living shadow. I began to focus and notice the thousands of clawed hands, all of them swarmed to the peak, to the figure.

 

The figure made a movement with its hand and the ground parted, it raised its other hand and bolts of lightning rained down upon the swarm. A hurricane came out of nowhere and a ball of fire as big as the sun erupted from its hands. It was a massacre. These creatures advanced again and again, only to be killed. I was sickened by the sight and yet I could not turn away, or I would miss something. Finally the swarm was gone, the wind stopped, the lightning vanished. The figure stood there for several seconds then turned to the other figures that stood with it. I raised its hand........

 

I was floating away, I could not see what had happened next, but I saw lightning dance in the clouds I flew among. I could only guess what had happened. I was flying farther and farther away, but soon I became aware I was dreaming, and woke myself. I should have stayed asleep. I was on a wagon, by back was on the hard wooden bed as it rattled on the road. I was not alone, with me were several others, it was too dark but I could feel the heat of their bodies, hear their breathing, their whispers, and smell them around me. I tired to move and my head started to pound. A hand touched me and forced me back down. "Who....?" I started "You are unlucky friend, you get to live." I knew, I should have known, I had heard tales, but I would see first hand for myself, "You are now a slave."

 

Entry 11: The life of a slave

 

It was a long ride, a long bumpy ride. It had been dark when I awoke the first time, when I regained consciousness again the sun was midway in the sky. I got a better look of my surroundings and the people I shared it with. There were 15 others, clustered together, some laying on others, they were dirty and smelled, as did I, no doubt. They were of different races I thought I saw an elf, three dark skin men, a dwarf even.

 

Furthermore the wagon was divided by a row of bars, the men from the women. The women were curled up far away from the bars their eyes filled with tears, I'm sure some of the men eyes were the same way.

 

It was a long ride all one could do was watch the surrounding landscape as we moved. I prayed to recognize some landmark, but all I could get from judging by the sun is that we were headed east. There was a great river, the wagon went right across. The water flooded the wagon. The cold was refreshing, others drank the waters, I followed suit. They didn't feed us, nor give us water this might be the last I would see for a while. I tried to find the man that had helped me before but I failed. The after two days of travel the wagons stopped and a nightmare began.

 

The wagon was still damp, as we were, the slavers build themselves a fire, while another groups hunted the near area. Soon the smell of cooked meat filled the air, my mouth watered, but I was so weak. Thrust and hunger had made me a mere shell of a man. The slavers made short work of the food and once they had their fill, it was something else they craved. They laughed and joked the first sound I had heard in those days of travel other than the breathing of my cellmates. They spoke in a tongue unlike any I had ever heard, it was deep and slow.

 

The next few moments would be burned into my soul. One of the slavers stood up from the rest and made his way to our cage, the women started to whimper. The man got closer and I could smell the drink on his clothes where it had spilled, the man was dressed in rags, funny I had thought a slaver would be better paid. He opened the women’s' side, and they slowly exited the cage, still whimpering. They walked back to the fire with the slaver, and I saw them better; two slender and tall elves, one shorter human woman, all of them clinging the remnants they call clothes. And then I see their eyes, they're crying! Once of the men reaches forward and grabs the garment, and the woman stands naked before them, they laugh, and the other women huddle together. Then it dawned on me, what they were going to do to these women. But I didn't understand, they were slaves, why would they violate them so, they wouldn't get a good price on them that way. But the truth was they weren't slaves for sale, but the women the slaver kept for their own amusement. That night I witnessed the horrible event, and the screams filled the dark night. I alone watched the other men slept, or pretended to do so, but I heard a few weep. In my mind I screamed out for the fire the soothing flame to engulf me, “You must see, you must see this"

 

The night proved to be long and cold one.

 

The next day and a half we made it to some town or other, and I was put on the market. I was stuffed in a holding pen with other men, literally stacked on each other. The heat was unbearable, and the stink was even worse. I relieved myself standing lying down, I was too numb to notice. I could barely sleep, and when I did, I saw the women and the tears staining there faces.

 

Later in life I would run into slavers, and each time I slaughtered them without word, or mercy. I still do to this today.

 

"A man decides his own worth ...that one cost 102 gold."

Ghainkan, the Slaver.

 

Entry 12: The Price of life

 

I was at the market after my long trip, stuffed in a large holding pen like animals. Maybe we weren't human, since my capture there was little speech, only grunts and growls. The night I spent in the cell was unbearable, even when lucky enough to lean by the wall I was laid on by others. When I did sleep, I tried to summon forth the flames, the heat, but nothing, instead I was awoken by another heat; someone had relieved themselves on me, it seemed others had followed suit, the place stunk. And the smell grew worse as the sun rose.

 

Armed men ran in shouting, still I could not tell what they were saying but their weapons said enough, "move!" They forced us out of the holding pen to the outside area once more, several more men waited outside. In case we tried to escape, no doubt, but no one could of escaped if they tried, we were all to weak from lack of food, then we began to march. It was torture ever so often one of us would falter, stumble or trip and the armed men would poke and kick us back up. Where were we headed? What now? We were made to stand in line, waiting to enter a strange building, I am in the middle, and I hear screams from the building. I thought we were going to be slaves, are they killing us?

It's wasn't long before my turn came I walked through the entrance.

 

I stood in a large room now, plain walls, in the center of the room was a large pool of water built into the floor I was inches from its edge, around the pool were several more men, and across the room was the only exit. My clothes were ripped from my body, I did not resist, and then I was shoved and fell into the pool. I thrashed about for a few seconds I shouted, the water was cold, hands grabbed me, next thing I know I'm on the other side of the pool and being lifted out. I gasp for breath and spit out water as a white garment is put on me, a tunic? A toga? I cannot recall, I'm then shoved out the exit.

 

It is bright, I'm outside again. Yes, another guard takes my hand and puts and iron shackle on my arm, and connects it to a line of others. Three more newly washed slaves join the group and five more guards before we start to march once more. This time we are taken to an open wagon, our shackles are bolted to the bed. There is no place to sit so we stand as the wagon moves we enter the town, the buildings and streets a busy, I try to take in the sights may haps to fid a way to escape, but it's a blur and I now hear a man shout "Ah, here they come now!" I turn slight to see a crowd of people part to let us through the wagon stops in front of a stage made of wood, on it is a very fat man in fine silks, sometimes he speaks in strange tongues sometimes my own, "..such fine specimens, for whatever you desire......" We are taken off the wagon and stand on the stage, for the crowd to admire, I stood there for what seemed like an hour, the hot sun drying my still wet hair, I heard bits and pieces of the fat man' sales pitch "-from a distant lands, well built, and very strong" There was chattering in the crowd, finally a armed guard came over to me....I had just been sold.

 

Entry 13: Mistress V

 

I walked off the stage with the guard to another wagon, it was not like the one I had come on earlier, it was more elegant, I join three others in the wagon and once more we are secured to it and the wagon lurches forward. There is no room to sit so we stand, looking once more at the passing city around us. The trip takes us into a much better looking part of town, plantations. Was this to be my fate to toil the ground like a farmer? But it seemed that the hour I was taken to lacked the land from such things, but had very lovely gardens. Is this to be my home?

 

We enter the area and take a winding path to one of the many buildings, the main one. The wagon stopped and we were harshly pushed off. We made our way to the building's twin doors; I had but a moment to gaze upon the fine workmanship of the building.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>The page is torn<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

 

OOC: First off I would like to apologize for Mistress V. The reason it will never be complete is due to the subject of the story. You see I had planned out the story thus:

 

Arawn becomes a slave to the merchant (the person that buys him) and after month learns bits of the new language of the land, and surrounding area. It is then that the Merchant goes on one of his trips to sell his wares that things take a turn. It would seem that the Woman of the house, young and beautiful is a bit………loose (Best way to put it) and her husband the older merchant is unable to ………meet all of her needs (This is tough but I think I can skate the obvious)

 

As the saying goes “When the cat is away the mouse will play” And play she does, it is discovered that the slaves are her personal harem. Arawn was the newest addition and thus was “broken in” Moving on, this occurred for several more months until finally she is caught and all the slaves are taken from the house, and sold to the arena.

 

Now the reason I didn’t make this and entry is obvious, but for those still curious, it’s simple I couldn’t do it with out being GRAPHIC. I posted it the first time and it had all the entertainment, of one of those low budget Showtime or Cinimax movies that come on late at night (You know the ones!) So I despite my best efforts I can’t seem to write it otherwise, and so I give up. It’s not a vital part of my stories, but it was an interesting point. I think it’s safe to skip it and leave you with the main idea of the passage. I will continue the journals.

 

Arawn is now sold to the arena......what awaits him there?

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[Peredhil]

Copied from the old site - he hit the character max limit and bounced.

 

Entry 14: Warrior reborn

After the time spent at the manor, my return to the slave pits was like the first time a shock to my system. The stink, the dirt, the mass of bodies. But I remembered, I was still a slave, and the night passed easier, the dawn would bring other things, besides warmth.

 

I had passed the place many times on the way to the market, I knew it to me the arena, most of the time they held horse races, but on other days they held fights. Lions vs. men, men vs. bear, man vs. man, gladiators. This slave pit was lined with cells and one could tell the difference between those in the cells and the rest. The more popular fighters had their own little cells. Even as dark and dank the dungeons may have been a single cell was a perk. The more fit combatants resided grouped in several cells, two to four in a cage. And then there was the fodder, those to be fed to the animals, or slaughtered by the other warriors, huddled together in one large cell, that is where I was. I think because I had severed as a manservant, and also the merchant's hand, I was placed in this group. If only they knew, I am a weapon, I was taught to handle anything, any situation, I was born to battle. Even with these thoughts came the thought that I had long since had a blade in my hand other than that of a knife, and I hadn't practiced. "A warrior can lose his edge with time" Words my father had once told me, I prayed that this not be the case. As the day grew on cells were opened and the better fighters were released. There must be a fight going on, I could barely hear, we must be in a deep dungeon.

 

The first day of my new imprisonment I was not called into battle. A handful of "fodder" were taken but I was lucky (unlucky?) enough not to be among them. When the day ended the skilled fighters returned. They were covered in sweat and blood, cuts and scars, but they had the smell of victory. A scent I hadn't forgotten. A fight won, a foe slain. Such glory. But I knew what would await me tomorrow; I would face the same fate as those in my cage. My cage, I then took note of my companions. They kept to themselves, 12 souls to await a death to be enjoyed by thousands. It made me angry, but it was only because I might be joining them.

 

The night passed, they fed us, a strange soup like mixture. Not very filling, but enough. I was served in a large trough and we ate like pigs. Was this to further break us? Or just a small amusement of the guards? I ate as much as I could, and tried to sleep, in my mind I went through the battle motions. I recalled all my lessons, I relived all the sessions of practice. But it was only a dream. I awoke to a gruesome reality; it was our turn to brave the arena.

The guards had us bound by our feet and taken up a long series of passages, no doubt to a maze to keep slaves from escaping. It was then I heard the roar of the crowd, I had a flashback of my fight with Larse. We emerged from the dark tunnel into the bright light of day, above and around us were row upon row of seats, and each filled wit ha screaming fans. He stood in the covered region, of the gated doors. The gate rose. We had entered from one side on the other stood an armored man. A fair fight indeed. I think I'd seen this one before. We, the 'fodder' were to be hurled at the warrior. We were lined up, and the first man in line was quickly given a small buckler and short sword. The steel armored brute stood waiting, his sword shone brightly in the sun as did his shield. The unfortunate slave was pushed into the arena floor proper the sandy ground, he stumbled kicking up dust. He tried to retreat but the gate closed and he walked forward into the arena. The crowd shouted with glee. The little slave charged the giant of a man, he swung with all the strength he could muster, and he was better off throwing the sword. It hit the armor and flew back. The man unused to a blade was taken with the momentum, and fell to the ground. Rather than kill him straight off, the knight kicked him over. The slave struggled to his feet. The knight swung his sword the little sword rose to block it. I flinched. The blades hit and the little man lost his grip on the sword. The crowd loved it, why? By now the slave held onto his shield as the knight went on the offensive. Swing after swing broke the wood, and soon the slave was unarmed. He fell to his knees, probably begging for mercy, the knight took his head. The next slave was no luckier, the knight cut off his arm as he tried to swing. The fourth was called, and the knight was traded for a man with a spear with three heads, a trident it's called I think. Even with no shield he warded the blows of the slave with ease. At one point he took the butt end and swept the slave off his feet. Once he was on the ground he stabbed him with the trident and picked him off the ground. The impaled body dangled in the air for a moment, then went limp. The crowd was overjoyed! I was next. Gods, anyone help me!

I took the sword and shield and stepped into the arena. I studied my opponent. He was a rather large fellow, taller and wider than I. He was very much built as his muscle glistened in the afternoon sun. His face was hid by a beard of black coal hair, sill I could see the grin on it. On his arm was a sleeve of chain mail. I did a practice swing of the sword, it was okay. I didn't charge, I waited, and I wanted to see if the spearman would make the move. He did. He spun his trident, like a staff, the bladed head was lost to me. He struck, it was the flat end, I tried to brace myself, but failed I took the hit and was knocked over. Damn! I rolled to my feet quickly, my sword still in hand. The crowd roared, he lunged with the spear, I raised my shield slightly. They were only feints, he was toying with me. My heart started to race, my blood pumping, I felt energized, and I knew it wouldn't last. I couldn't call upon my rages so this would have to do. As he feinted I charged, he wasn't surprised, the feint turned to a lunge, and I raised my shield and took the full force of the blow. I was amazed I didn't fall over from it, but my shield was shattered, and the heads of the trident were stuck in my arm. I don't remember screaming, maybe I did, but he pulled out the weapon and I dropped the shield, my arm now limp at my side. Now I faced a big problem, he had reach, power, and I had only a sword, and one arm to us it. Not good, but then I smiled. Of course the answer was so simple! I waited, I had but one shot and I had to make it count, mentally I prepared myself, I concentrated. The spearman was smiling even more, I was wounded, a wounded animal, and he would put me out of my misery. He spun the trident once again over his head. I was ready; I waited, as the crowd cheered him on.

He struck, the spinning stopped only for half a second and he thrust the three heads at me. With everything I could muster I sidestepped, he hesitated, I took advantage. The trident hung in the air to my right now; I raised the sword and brought it down hard on the trident. As I lowered the blade, he face was covered in shock. Although the head of the trident was metal, the pole was wood! In one motion I cut the head off the spear, still I don't stop, I move in and thrust my own blade into the brute. And we stay like that for what seems like an eternity. The warrior holding the broken pole, and I with my blade buried in his gut, the crowd is silent. The warrior coughs up blood, he saying something " Ud lok mi frayen" I thought it a curse, but it was otherwise, "Good luck, my friend" he grunted and then fell over. The crowd roared once more and tow guard came up and ushered me from the arena. Maybe it was a curse, the life I would now, no doubt live would be one of death. "Good luck" indeed

 

Entry 15: Of Revolutions and men.

Once more I was a slave. This time it wouldn't be so a nymph of a woman, but the roar of the crowd. Which is worse? A slave is still a slave.

 

"Luck!" "Did you see....!?" There were the words I heard as I was ushered to the "Owner's" booth. I was shackled again, they were no needed I had used much of my strength in battle; at this point a newborn babe could slay me. I was literally tossed to the floor of the booth. "Hso Vinai Ciualm " I looked up there was a fat little man, dressed in fine garments staring down at me. On each of his side were men similar to the one I had slain in the arena, but these men seemed healthier, in their hands swords, the naked blades reflected light on the walls. The Fat man gestured and the men that brought me in left. The man spoke again a strange look in his eyes, one of his guards grunts and picked me up and slapped me across the face. Saying it stung would have been and understatement, I was more week then I thought the blow nearly broke me in two; I shook from head to foot from it. I cursed at him in the tongue I had learned while living here. The fat man laughed "Is this better?" I was shocked; it would seem that he knew the tongue as well. "Yes." was all I could manage in between breaths. I was being held from my neck by the guard, my feet danged inches from the floor. The Owner said something; I paid attention, "Poila, wenl azrt!" Was this brute's name 'Poila?' I stared into his eyes, he looked down upon me. Why? Was he not a slave too? I had thought the guards were slaves that had proven their loyalty. But if not then it was just a job to him? A slave of the coin. I nearly wanted to laugh, but feared that it may make 'Poila' angrier. If it were any other day in the past I would taken his life so easily. The Owner was still talking; Poila let me drop to the floor. "....I was hopping to sell the one you killed to a client; I had told him of his skill. Now I cannot get anything from that corpse!! “His voice rose to shrill yell, I wasn't afraid of him, he didn't inspire fear in me. I looked behind him; it was the guards that did that, a common ploy of the weak surrounding themselves with the strong. The Owner calmed down, maybe too calm, that scared me. "I will not kill you. I don't like to lose and I lost money today." He turned back to his chair that stood at the window to the arena, "You will earn the money I lost betting on him. You will earn me the amount or you will lose your life. If you do this maybe you will also win your freedom." A lie, slaves never won their freedom. Men and women are born as slaves and stay as slaves. He gestures and Poila takes me outside to the other guards waiting there. I am taken back to the cells.

 

I rejoined my fellow cellmates, or at least that which was left of them. Most had fared much worse than I had, in the other cells I heard talking, some in my newly acquired tongue some not "Slayed....warrior....a lamb did." "Really?" "....I......him." "Mine"

 

And so began my time in the arena. When called for my second match the next day, I could feel the eyes of the Owner on me; did I really want to live? The crowd roared as I entered, it didn't help, across in the field was cage, in it a lion paced. I was armed with a buckler the size of my head and a long dagger. Those bastards!! This WAS only a game to them!! A cord was pulled from a safe distance and the great cat leapt forth. Out of the cage seemed larger, or what that only because I had only a slim blade to kill it? It was then I heard something over my shoulder I looked to see that I wasn't alone after all. So caught up I didn't notice the 4 others. We stood as the now free lion paced. It looked right at us, I moved away from the group on pure instinct, the others did the same, it was common sense. One warrior had a spear, another a net, and finally large shield. I guess together we were to slay the beast. The man with the net stayed back, a wise choice. The net was for stunning the beast. The man with the spear pushes the shield man forward. These men were not as new to this as I. The sheildman would protect the rest taking the creature's attention. The spear could do the same, but what of the knife? My face must have gone pale, I was the killing blow! I was to slash the thing's throat!! In theory I was to wait until the net and spear were at work, I would duck under the lion and cut its neck. I would be unharmed. Of course this was in theory, I'm sure in reality it wouldn't be so simple. As I thought about the task the others went to work. I thanked whatever gods could hear me for their assistance. Shield, as I now called him, jogged around the lion, getting his attention, he was nimble, ready to jump as soon as the lion did. Spear circled from the other side the lion tried to keep both in view, Spear poked the beast when it turned too far. Spear jabbed again this time the lion roared in pain and lunged Spear jumped to the side and Shield slapped the animal's rump! They were playing, and the crowd loved it.

 

It was a show wasn't it? A show of skill and grace anyone can kill, but to do it with such flare? They worked the beast into a frenzy; it lunged as the two ran about it tapping its back and tail. Soon the joking stopped and they began to really work on the animal again this, Net stepped forward, it was time to kill the beast. Spear looked at me in between his thrusts; I was to do it now. I was shaky, I took a step forward as I did Net threw his net from behind the lion and pulled standing the creature up on it's hind legs. This might be easy after all. Someone heard me. I had already lunged forward when the nets snapped and the lion came down on me. Damn! Shield rushed in, ramming the beast but it still fell on me. Spear jabbed but the speed and weight snapped his weapon. I was under it now, and panic set in, it started to scratch my body, I felt as the claws raked my skin. I tried to cover my head and face with the shield while I stabbed blindly at the body above, most of the time I hit air, the great furred creature was tearing me apart, I screamed and the crowd screamed, suddenly the beast stopped I could feel as it's life slowly faded. But now its weight was crushing me, the body was pushed off, and I was helped to my feet. From my one good eye, I gazed upon the lion with the broken spear handle through its neck. Blood started to cloud my vision; I could feel my other cuts doing the same. I would bleed to death, and above it all the crowd cheered.

 

I woke again this time in a cot, and not amid the sweating smelling bodies of my cell. I was in room filled with shelves and other tables with others men on them. I tried to move my arms to find that they along with my legs were strapped down to the cot. A man in a white robe came forward and touched my chest, it was then I noted all the scars covering my body, I looked like a tiger with the long scratches, I laughed then watched as the white robed man went t about his work. He was a healer, that was simple enough to see, I saw the others wearing white robes tending to the other men.

I stayed in the room for 2 days, no man spoke, well I spoke, but I was unsure if any heard me, or understood. After the 2 days, I returned to the cells, and it began again.

 

I was sent out to the ring, this time a short sword and buckler shield, another man accompanied me, he would be my opponent, and he was given the same armaments. He eyes me, I return the look. We entered the ring, the crowd roared, and the fight began. He was a descent fighter, I was better, but I knew better than to just slay him, they wanted a show. In minutes I had repeated slashes at the mans body, I suffered a cut as well. I wonder if I did that on purpose or it had been chance. It made little difference, I still won, and it was easy, too easy. The matches that followed were a blur, all the same, I would toy with my opponent they slay them, with each death I lived another day. Don't get me wrong, I was appalled to be doing such a thing, but I knew that they would do the same to me. I gained in rank.

 

Why didn't I escape? Why not fight my way out? I don't know maybe it was the thrill of battle, the warrior within me, the warrior in us all, that held me. What other time was man allowed to kill his fellow man and not be punished? Did I actually like this? Even as I questioned my motives for staying I learned of plot by others to escape. It had been months and once more I had learned another language, although it was hard to put a sentence together, I could understand what was spoken. One of the warriors was unhappy, and understatement, they all were unhappy. They all knew that they would die, sooner or later; few friends were made for fear of having the grim task of fighting them. A revolution was afoot. From what I could hear was that one of the older combatants had started to unite the higher ranked fighters.

 

 

The Mad King