Amarth

Chapter 8

I never received any treatment for my wounds. Veliron seemed to expect me to completely heal on my own, and even though I am an elf and I do heal quicker than mortals, I can't just walk away from a beating like that as if nothing had even happened.

I thought that I'd at least get a break from fighting but I was wrong. As soon as the day for the fights came I was hauled off to the arena.

Veliron now keeps my hands bound at all times. He barely gives me food or water and when he does it's stale bread and dirty water.

If I wasn't an elf I would be on the brink of death by now. Which now that I think about it, wouldn't be so bad.

For one thing I would no longer have to suffer through this misery. Since I am an elf I will not die unless I am killed and Veliron has no intentions of letting me die.

Suffer? Yes, he wants me to suffer by his hand for as long as possible. Only to hand me off to some other cruel master once he is old and rich from the money he has made off me.

I have been in Rhun for countless years now and I can already tell that Veliron is showing signs of weariness. He is getting old, and soon he will be dead.

Others have noticed to, especially his oldest son, Valiron. He probably expects his father to hand me over to him once he is ready to receive his inheritance from his father.

If Veliron is corrupt than Valiron is twice as much as he is. Being a slave for him would be worse than being a slave for Veliron.

"Keep up you pathetic elf!"
Veliron jerks on the rope that binds my hands together and I strugle to keep my balance.

I ignore the urge to grab the rope and jerk it myself. It would send Veliron crashing onto the ground.

But all I need is a quick glance over my shoulder and down my red, raw back to remind myself that I shouldn't do anything to cause myself even more pain.

After all I am going to need it. Jeers and insults greet me as we enter the arena. I do my best to ignore them but lately, I've been finding it hard to keep their words out.

I close my eyes as one of Veliron's guards unties my hands. I think back to our home in the forest valley. How the mountains stood guard all around us, how the wind blew through the trees, the blue sky, and how the last time I saw it, it was on fire and burning.

I open my eyes as I'm shoved into the arena. My opponent is a tall, muscular man with pleanty of scars covering his bare arms and face.

He's looking for a fight, and I'll give him one. I hiss as I stand up straight. My back is killing me, I have no shirt to cover it so my chest and back are completely exposed.

My dirty hair is held back by a worn out leather strap but several strands fall out onto my face. I brush them aside and focus on my opponet.

It doesn't have to be a long fight, I can finish him easily. We start to circle one another, searching for each other's strengths and weakness.

Mine won't be that hard to find.
Suddenly he charges. I wiat for a moment before spinning out of the way.

He runs right past me and skids to a stop in the sand. He whirls around and glares at me through narrowed eyes.

I stand as tall and poised as I can. I hate to admit it but I am tired. I haven't had proper rest since the beating and I haven't been able to properly heal either.

My opponet knows that I'm not at my best, and he's going to enjoy beating me into the sand.
I shakr my head and harden my gaze.

I will not let him take advantage of my weakness. I have to be stronger, I have to keep pushing myself.