Kings Game

Chapter 4 - Murder (3)

Kell was off like a lightning bolt, aimed straight at Duran. She clashed into him, her spear bouncing off his armor with a crash like thunder. The other combatants quickly moved away from them, trying to get away from the clashing monsters. Gress watched them with disinterest, moving lazily about the arena, as though he weren't in the least bit of danger.

Roran was much more tense, flicking his eyes about the battlefield and looking for gaps in between the various scuffles to move through. As he started jogging along the wall, he realized that both Toth and Sephyr were following him.

"Oh gods this is exciting," said Toth, his broadsword clanging against his shoulder with every step. "We're actually fighting in the arena. Hey, it's that girl that tried to kill you, do you think she'll help us?"

"No," said Roran, "She has her own agenda. She's going to focus on the other titled gladiators. We have to figure out how to survive on our own."

Sephyr nodded his agreement and hefted the pair of small axes he'd selected from the armory. Toth snorted and rolled his eyes.

"That's not fair! If she's such a big deal then she should be helping us. It's not like we're asking for much."

Roran bit down on his tongue and kept running, looking from skirmish to skirmish. He had to find someone to kill. The thought made him shiver and his hand started to tremble. If he actually wanted to join Kell, he'd have to kill someone with his own two hands.

"Hey, do we get more points for working together?" asked Toth.

"Weren't you listening?" asked Sephyr, "It's a free for all you idiot. We could kill each other for points if we wanted to."

"Oh, that makes sense. So we could kill Roran and get extra favors?"

Roran gulped, suddenly feeling less secure with Toth and Sephyr following close behind him.

"Only if you want to hear Yora yell at you for the rest of your life," said Sephyr. "She's convinced his mom will haunt us if we let him die."

Roran whispered a quiet thanks to Sephyr and kept moving. He needed to find targets that weren't likely to kill them. He needed to find someone he could kill himself.

Kell and Duran continued to clash. Kell rained blows down on the boulder, her spear arcing and jabbing relentlessly. Duran was forced back, half stumbling over his own feet, but his armor held and he was able to prevent any killing blows from landing.

"Come on tubbo," said Kell, gritting her teeth, "go down!"

"Go away little gremlin!" Duran sounded like a boulder when he spoke. "I don't want to play your games. I'm here for fun, not to fight."

Collecting himself, Duran heaved his hammer around in a massive arc, forcing Kell back and almost knocking her off her feet. Kell swore and spat.

"You're lucky I don't have my focus markings," she snapped, "you wouldn't last five seconds."

"Take your magic and go play with the real fighters. This pond is too small for you."

Kell snarled and redoubled her efforts, the living storm breaking itself upon the living boulder.

Roran managed to circle half the arena, moving closer to Kell and Duran than was comfortable, before he made up his mind to fight anyone. There were a couple of people attacking a lone fighter. From their emaciated state, all three looked to be refugees.

The two assailants were grim faced and lean, bearing down on an older man who was barely able to hold onto the mace in his hands. He was already bleeding from wounds they had given him. Picking a fight didn't feel right to Roran, but he could justify trying to help an old man. He also preferred having the advantage of three on two.

Feeling a little guilty, Roran ran up on the pair from behind, ready to end the larger of the two with a quick blow from behind. Before he could make the attack, Toth barreled forward in a rush of stupidity and bravado, screaming the whole way.

"Fight me you cowards!"

The two fighters whirled around, bringing their shields up. The larger one deflected Toth's clumsy strike with ease and the second followed up, ready to cut Toth down. Roran managed to jump in the way, using his buckler to defend his moronic kinsmen. Sephyr was right on his tail, lashing out and driving back their opponent.

The two assailants squared up again, ready for a fight. Roran and his kinsmen raised their weapons, scared but eager. The older man chose that moment to quietly excuse himself from the conflict, inching away along the wall, trying to get to a place of relative safety.

"You're too young to die like this boys," said one of the fighters. He was taller, his face adorned with scars and a scraggly beard.

"Pick one and the other two can go," said the other. This one was average height with a clean shaven head. "Your people will still get the favors."

"Why don't you pick one and the other can go," said Toth, "we're going to win this game."

"This isn't a game," said the bearded man, "this is life and death. Killing you keeps our people alive. Killing us keeps your people alive. There's nothing about this that makes it a game."

Roran frowned. The bearded man was wrong. It was certainly a matter of life and death in cruel circumstances, but it was still a game. There were rules and points, winners and losers. This was a game and, as such, there were ways to win or lose, all you had to do was figure out the right strategy.

Without a word, Sephyr lunged, striking at the short man with the viciousness of a trained hunter. The man fell back. His partner made to cover for him but Roran moved to intercept, cutting the bearded man off and pushing him back.

"Oh yeah! Let's pound the shorty!" Toth circled around Roran, chasing after Sephyr and the shorter man, leaving Roran alone with a man bigger, stronger, and more experienced.

"Your friend is an idiot," said the bearded man.

"I know," said Roran, adjusting the grip on his sword.

"You're going to die."

"I know," said Roran again, "I just hope it's not today."

Roran lunged in, his sword flashing in the light.