Kings Game

Chapter 4 - Murder (5)

Rivulets of blood ran down Roran's forearms, the cuts stinging and burning. A small trickle of blood worked its way down Gress's bicep, fat drops welling on his elbow before dripping into the dirt.

Roran was in pain and shock, Gress was furious. Before Roran could move, he lunged, planting his foot into Roran's stomach and kicking him to the ground. Roran collapsed to the dirt, clutching his stomach and coughing.

"Think you're clever, kid?" Gress stood over him. He reared back and kicked Roran again. "Think you're something special just because you managed to nick me." He kicked Roran again and again.

After wearing himself out, Gress stopped kicking Roran and brandished one of his knives. He was breathing heavy, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and dirt.

"How about I gut you kid," he said, "How about I spill your intestines here in the dirt. You wouldn't be the first person I did it to."

Roran rolled over, gasping for air. He felt like throwing up.

"No," said Gress, "that would be too easy. How about I skin one of your little friends." Taking a calming breath, Gress smiled again. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Let's do that."

He stepped away from Roran and began eyeing Sephyr and Toth. Sephyr was crouched low, one ax still in his hand. Toth was curled up on the ground, sobbing and clutching his bloody shoulders.

"Now which one will it be? You're still full of piss and vinegar," he said, pointing at Sephyr. "I'd rather something calming, something that doesn't require too much effort, so we'll go with you, little cry baby."

Gress approached Toth, his grin wide and hungry. He licked his lips as he approached, as though readying himself for a tasty treat. The earlier outrage was gone. All that remained was anticipation.

Toth scooted back, trying to escape the oncoming nightmare, but he was injured and scared. He only made it a couple of feet before Gress gently stepped down on his ankle. Toth came to an abrupt halt and began blubbering.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it would be like this, I thought it would be fun, I thought it would be easy, please don't hurt me, I'll do anything you want, you can have anything, please don't hurt me-"

Gress leaned down and grabbed Toth's face, pinching his cheeks.

"Shhh, no more talking."

Toth let out a scream as Gress's blade found flesh.

Roran forced himself back to his feet. He had to do something. He didn't like Toth but he couldn't let him be skinned alive. Roran looked to Sephyr who shook his head and proceeded to inch away from Gress and Toth.

"Give me your ax," said Roran.

"It's not worth it," Sephyr said. "We can't do anything."

"Just give me your damn ax!"

Sephyr climbed to his feet and began backpedaling, getting some proper distance between himself and the titled gladiator. "It's not our job to protect him."

Toth let out another scream and Gress echoed it with a jarring laughter. He was toying with Toth, making game of his pain and drawing it out.

"Sephyr please, I need your help."

Sephyr turned and ran.

Roran began looking around, desperate. He needed a weapon, something, anything that he could use against Gress. Toth screamed again, startling Roran. Gress was going to draw it out as long as possible.

He looked out into the arena. There were a handful of dead bodies, their weapons strewn about, but they were a ways away. Roran would have to sprint dozens of yards there and back before he could properly take on Gress.

Scared and lost, Roran stumbled back and forth. He was running out of time. He didn't know what to do. Toth screamed again and Roran slammed his hands over his ears, blocking out the sound. He couldn't think, he couldn't hear, he couldn't move.

"Fuck!" Gress let out snarl.

"Didn't anyone teach you not to play with your food?"

Looking back, Roran saw Gress moving away from Toth, nursing an injured hand. A discarded spear lay nearby and an irritated Kell was descending on him.

"Killing is one thing," she said, "but skinning someone alive is just gross."

"Bold words for someone who just threw their only weapon," said Gress.

"So come kill me then." Kell grinned. She looked just as dangerous unarmed as she did wielding a spear. Gress thought so too as he took another step back.

"Playing favorites I see."

"Nah, I just want this to be over. The announcer won't end this until you either kill the kid or walk away."

Gress scowled and looked up. Around them the audience was cheering and chanting. Most of the fighting had stopped and everyone was watching the two senior gladiators, waiting to see what they would do.

"So you won't interfere if I slit his throat?" said Gress, gesturing to Toth.

"Nope, just make it quick, I'm desperate for a bath."

Gress licked his lips and flexed his injured hand, testing the tendons. He still had enough dexterity to grip a knife. He took a couple steps towards Toth then paused, watching Kell. She didn't move. Gress took a couple more steps. Kell still didn't move. She just stood there, quietly watching him.

"You won't kill me the moment I'm distracted, will you?" Gress asked.

"I could have killed you earlier if I wanted."

"I don't believe you. You're good but even you can't aim a spear that well across the entire arena."

Kell shrugged and watched and waited.

Gress chewed on his lip, then his shoulders dropped. He stowed his knives, vanishing them beneath his baggy shirt.

"One of these days you'll regret playing the knight in shining armor for these poor, unfortunate souls."

Kell said nothing.

Gress turned and walked away. As he disengaged, the bell sounded, reverberating throughout the arena. The fight was over.

Kell glanced over at Roran. "I guess that's your answer. Oh well, take care of yourself kid. It was nice knowing you." She turned and headed towards her spear, leaving Roran behind.

It was over. Roran had survived again but he'd failed Kell's test. He hadn't killed anyone. He would go back below with Sephyr and Toth. He would spend the rest of his life underground, choking on fetid air and moldy rations. He would die slowly and painfully, crapping his guts out as the sickening food poisoned his body. Roran was going to die, alone and miserable in the dark.

Without thinking, Roran ran. His legs were fueled by fear and anxiety. As he ran, he reached down and scooped up a steel shard from his broken sword. He gripped it tightly, the jagged metal biting into his hand and cutting through flesh.

He closed the distance and leaped, screaming the whole way. Gress turned around, confused and surprised and completely unprepared. Roran slammed into him and jammed the shard of steel into Gress as hard as he could. Both fighters went tumbling to the ground, a spray of red soaking them both.

Roran and Gress struggled for a moment before collapsing into the dirt. Roran's chest heaved with every breath while Gress spasmed twice, then went still, the shard of metal buried in his neck.