The Sands of Rhun: A Middle Earth Story(Book 2)

Chapter 6: The Pit

   Warning: This chapter is graphic. Read at your own discretion.

As soon as I opened the door we were greeted with the acrid stink of blood and sweat. I took a step forward and saw that the floor of the room was a dark red hue... They clearly didn't bother to clean it after each fight. A couple pools of fresh blood stagnated on the floor, a slightly lighter hue than the dried blood that covered the rest of it.

Layala pulled her scarf up over her nose to drown out the stench. I didn't bother, for I was used to it.

We both walked to the middle of the room and waited patiently. I could feel my heart practically beating out of my chest, a combination of adrenaline and fear coursing through my veins.

The muffled sound of the announcers could be heard overhead as they introduced the other fighters pair by pair, and they droned on and on for what seemed like forever.

Suddenly there was an abrupt jolt, followed by the groaning of gears, and we moved slowly upward. It was our turn.

I felt Layala's hand grip mine, and I gave it a reassuring squeeze and looked over at her. Her eyes made contact with mine, and a single tear fell down her cheek.

"I'm scared," she whispered, her voice quivering. She seemed so small in that moment... so helpless.

I smiled softly, trying to calm the fear I suddenly felt within myself. "I am too... But we'll make it through this. Just stay close."

The ceiling opened as we neared it and blinding sunlight flooded down on us. We rose into the arena to the sound of deafening cheers and shouts from the audience.

"And from the wandering band of Chief Dakil come two warriors new to the Pit! Rukil, a prince of the savage, untamed Dorgeshi tribe in the north, and Layala, a warrior from Morgothrone itself!" The announcer's voice was thick with dramatization, filled with a mock sense of awe at my origins and false pride at Layala's. But it seemed to impress the crowd greatly, and the cheers grew louder.

I adjusted my helmet a little and looked around. The arena was huge, stretching on for what seemed like forever. At intervals along the edge were other teams of fighters, all waiting in anticipation and most likely feeling the same fear we were. I counted around twenty pairs, each strikingly different from the next. I noticed that Kirtra and Damil, the two fighters we had talked to before, were a couple groups away. I decided it would be wise to group with them, numbers would give us an advantage.

My planning was interrupted by the announcer. "And for this fight's Guests, we have two of the finest of the Khan's Wainriders!" He motioned dramatically to the center of the arena and the ground opened up, a platform raising to reveal two chariots, each manned by two heavily armored soldiers, one holding the reins while the other held a sturdy longbow. Their massive black warhorses snorted, stamping the dusty ground aggressively as steam began to rise from their sweaty hides.

My eyes widened in shock. I hadn't expected this...

"May the best fighters win! In the Khan's honor!" At this trumpets sounded, and all eyes turned to see the Khan himself appear on the highest balcony. He looked down to address the warriors in the Pit.

"You who are about to fight are some of the best in the land," his voice boomed. "Today you show your mettle and valor in combat!" At this the crowd roared. "Those of you that survive will be heroes of Rhun, immortalized for untold centuries to come! You will fight and bring honor to your tribe!" The crowd went wild.

He dropped a red handkerchief... And all hell broke loose.

The two Wainriders charged forward, and as one all of the warriors let out battle cries as they rushed into battle. I was immediately confronted by a large dark skinned man wielding a massive chain flail. He roared and rushed at me, swinging the flail in the air. With the speed of a panther I leapt over the flail and sliced at his head with my halberd, cutting it off in one swift move.