Amarth

Chapter 6

I twist my body to avoid my opponent's oncoming fist. I grab his arm and pull him towards me then grasp his head between my hands and send it colliding with my knee.

The crowd roars its approval as I throw the unconcious figure onto the sand. I turn towards the crowd in disgust but they don't notice.

My eyes land on the figure of my "master" Veliron. This is what he had planned for me ever since I was captured. To use me as a fighter in these idiotic Pit Fights.

Pit Fighting is a popular pastime in this place and the men here are constantly pitting themselves against each other in order to earn money.

The men who volunteer to fight willingly earn money if they win, while others are forced by their masters to fight and their masters get money depending on if their fighters win or not.

Veliron has gotten rich from entering me into fights, the men who compete against me all do it willingly, each one wanting to prove that they could defeat me.

But I have been undefeated ever since my first fight. I don't enjoy the "sport" at all. It's barbaric that men would beat each other for money or send others to do it for them.

Sometimes people die from these fights and no one cares. It only makes things more interesting for the crowd. Since I'm practically unstoppable and people were starting to get bored with me winning all the time Veliron has ordered me to make the fights interesting and pleasing for the audience.

I hate how he controls me like a puppet. The only good that comes out of these fights is that I get to unleash my anger on the Easterlings.

I have only killed a few but I make sure that everyone knows that I am not to be trifled with.

With the fights over for the day Veliron's guards come to escort me back to his home.
I narrow my eyes at them as they approach and smirk when I see the fear in their eyes.

The four men surround me and lead me out of the arena. I wear a brown slave's tunic and trousers and still keep my hair back with a leather strap.

I have no wounds and the only sign of me being in a struggle is the dirt and sweat that covers my face and body.

Veliron is collecting his winnings as we arrive and when he notices us he smiles at me as if he were a proud father about to praise his son.

If this man were my father I would have run away as soon as I could walk.

"You fought well today elf."
He shakes the bag of money he was given and continues to smile.
"I should have gotten one of your kind to fight for me sooner."

"I'll have you know that the only reason I haven't killed you yet is because fighting the rest of your people everyday is enough to ease my burning desire to spill your guts onto the sand."

The men around me stiffen as I cross my arms. It's almost as if they expected me to pull out a knife and carry out my words.

But Veliron's only response is a laugh.
"You still have that firey spirit in you elf. Keep using it and soon I'll be richer than both the Kings of Rhun and Harad!"

Veliron leads us away from the arena and into the crowded streets of the city. We have to walk through the MarketPlace in order to reach his home and as usual we are given awed and fearful glances as we pass by.

The crowd parts and watches us while murmering things to one another. I can hear their whispers and know that they are directed at me. The people of this city fear me, and they should.

I have no love for these Easterlings, and I would gladly see every single one of them destroyed.

Well, maybe not all of them.
I have seen people that deserve much better than the lives they have been given. People that protest against the Easterling's merciless way of life and are shunned or even imprisoned because of it.