Kings Game

Chapter 14 - The Iron Gauntlet (1)

The wardens came to fetch Roran early the next morning. They surprised everyone by asking for spectators. It turned out a handful of the townsfolk were allowed to watch his performance up in the stands. Naturally, Murrin insisted on being one of the people allowed back on the surface. After some debate, it was decided that he would be joined by Kamil, Celine, Sephyr, Toth, and—after much arguing and threatening people with her cane—Yora.

Roran didn't mind. He was too focused on his upcoming deathmatch. While everyone collected themselves for the trip up to the surface, Roran asked if he could go ahead, implying he didn't want to sit around waiting. The truth was he didn't want to give any of his townsfolk the chance to talk to him before the match. He didn't need the distraction. The wardens waved him forward while they waited for the others.

Roran headed for the equipment room where he found another handful of dungeon fodder picking over the pile of rusted and worn weapons. He looked at the wardens assisting the fresh faces that were getting ready for their first fight, hoping to spot Chase. No luck. Sighing, Roran picked through the piles of weaponry until he found a serviceable sword and a reasonably sturdy shield.

Picking at the rusty sword with a fingernail, Roran wished he had his own sword and shield, the one that Kell and Nul had bought just for him. To make matters worse, they would be in the crowd, watching him fight with the loaner gear. Neither had commented on his missing weapons yet but they had to have noticed. He wondered what they thought.

"Line up, it's time to go."

Roran lined up with the other dungeon fodder, his heart beginning to pound. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He listened to the others around him, the anxious shuffling of their feet and the erratic clattering of weapons in nervous hands. Roran was more experienced than most of these people, and he had the benefit of expert training.

Letting out a breath, Roran opened his eyes and shoved his emotions down. He didn't feel calm, but he felt stable. He could handle this. He wouldn't just survive, he would win.

"Prepare to march," a warden yelled.

Up ahead, a door opened and light flooded in. Roran clenched his teeth and marched forward.

Stomping out into the arena, Roran squinted his eyes and looked around. The ground had been smoothed. The dirt and gravel had been compacted into a flush surface, hard like stone. Above them, the stands were packed with screaming people. In the lower seats, Roran could make out a collection of haggard looking observers, among them were his own people.

Around him, a collection of combatants lined the arena. There were more than normal, likely drawn by the increased prize money. He spotted Morena, Duran, and as Kell had predicted, Jorgen. Jorgen's focus markings had been removed, his skin bright red where the markings had been scrubbed from his skin.

Once the last of the combatants were herded out onto the killing grounds, the announcer's voice rang out through the arena. Roran noted that it was the same announcer from the King's Arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the Iron Gauntlet. The Kings have once more deigned to grace the poor, unfortunate souls of the Crucible with their benevolent gifts. We have three primary events that will take place over the course of four days. The first game will be a round of Keep away, with the winners taking home a handsome prize and an advantage in the second round should they choose to advance.

"The second round will be an agility challenge, where the contestants must dodge and avoid death traps while collecting tokens, pushing their bodies and their minds to the limit. Finally, the game Gauntlet will end with an all out death match, the sole survivor taking home their weight in coin and receiving a boon from our great King Tasos himself."

Roran glanced around at the combatants again. There were around a hundred participants total. Aside from the handful of champions, it was mostly dungeon fodder like himself, half starved and ragged. After the first round he would be given the chance to drop out. If he didn't think he could win against the remaining participants, that would be his last chance to get out of this alive.

Shaking his head, Roran squeezed the sword in his hand. There was no backing down, there was no going back. This was his chance to escape the dungeons, to escape the Crucible altogether. He had to win.

Throughout the arena, dozens of orbs appeared from out of the ground, shimmering and glowing. They were the same orbs that had been used in Kell's game of capture the flag.

"The rules for the first round are simple," said the announcer, "For every orb a gladiator possesses, they will be awarded a prize and an advantage in the second round. Every gladiator still alive will be allowed to move on to the second round, though without the advantage. Any gladiator still alive that wishes to drop out of the event will be allowed to do so at the end of the round.

"Now, ladies and gentleman, are you ready to see some carnage?"

The crowd cheered.

"Are you ready to see some bloodshed?"

The crowd roared.

Catching a flash of steel glinting from the crowd, Roran saw Kell and Nul. Kell was waving her spear and screaming at him, a giant grin on her face. Emboldened, Roran raised his sword in her direction in a silent salute. Kell returned the salute with her spear.

"It is my great pleasure to announce the start of the Iron Gauntlet. Fight for honor, fight for glory, fight for you Kings! Let the match begin!"

The bell rang out, signaling the start of the round. People around him scattered. Some ran directly towards the nearest orb, stashing them in their clothes and running away as the orbs flared to life, identifying their holders.

Roran walked calmly forward, ignoring the orbs and the other combatants. Kell had told him to pick his targets and try to eliminate them as he went. She had also told him that Duran would drop out of this round, likely after stuffing his pocket with orbs and claiming a small fortune. Meaning this would be Roran's only chance.

Duran had already wandered towards the nearest orb. Somebody beat him to it, grabbing the orb and trying to run away. They only made it a couple of steps before Duran's hammer smashed into them with a sickening crack. They landed a couple feet away, tumbling over as they impacted the ground. Duran calmly walked over and pulled the orb off their body before raising the hammer and delivering a finishing blow that splattered him with blood.

Roran steeled himself and yelled, "Hey, rock for brains."

Duran looked up and stared at him confused. He pointed a meaty finger at himself.

"Yeah, you."

Duran grinned, then chuckled. He hefted his hammer over his shoulder and started striding towards Roran.

"You want me to smash you, little mouse?"

"I want you to try. I'm going to kill you this time."

Duran laughed, his belly bouncing with every breath.

"You think you can kill me, little mouse? I crush you like...like..." he paused and scratched his head, then smiled again, "I crush you like mouse."

Roran gripped his sword and forced his breathing to slow down. He glared up at Duran. "And I'll crack you like a boulder."