He looked up to the Dronin man while he remained seated, only now realizing his gaze had been wandering around the room. He knew a warrior when he saw one, and assumed the other man did as well. This man was giving him hope! It was true; if they teamed up in the arena they might just have a chance. This was the part of him that wanted to live at all costs; the most primal of instincts that will not take no for an answer, no matter how badly the odds were stacked against success. I can’t take revenge if I’m dead.
And there it was—the sudden blast of clarity and emotion put into one conscious thought. Morcel had no fear of dying, but it needed to be on his terms. Under the circumstances, he and everyone here would be nothing but sacrificial lambs for the entertainment of a mob. No, this is not the storied end of a warrior. He needed to stay alive as long as possible to have any chance at getting back what had been taken from him. Sure, even if he survived this round of the games it only meant he would be in the next, and the next, and next, until he finally fell.
Many of the criminals and the poor souls who simply made the wrong people mad were given a set number of trials they would be forced to face. If that number could be reached, they would win their freedom. This mockery of justice was never intended to add any fairness to the games, but was merely used as a psychological tool. It was widely accepted that most never got past the first two trials or so. But a person’s instinct to survive would take over, and they would try as hard as possible as long as it seemed survival was a possibility. This seemed to work well enough to give the mob a rather spirited contest.
“Steady yourselves,” someone shrieked from behind the wooden door. A small sliding panel on the lower portion of the door slid open as weapons began sliding through the chute. Most were rusted, poor-quality swords and axes, with a few daggers thrown in as well. You would think the mountain of hair was throwing poisonous snakes instead of weapons, the way all the slaves bolted away from the mounting pile. “You can all fight without them for all I care! Bite and scratch if you think it will work better...ha ha.”
The small door slid shut and then it began all over again. The crying and wailing of terrified men filled the room. Just another reminder this was real and not a nightmare from which they soon would awaken. A few picked up weapons and began slicing at the air, trying to gather as much self-control and courage as they could muster. One slave actually drove one of the swords into his own belly in a futile suicide attempt. All he managed to do was inflict a gaping wound that rendered him nearly useless for combat. He had wanted to die, and would now most certainly get his wish!
Morcel gave his attention to the Dronin once again only to see that the big man’s eyes had never left him. His gaze patiently rested on Morcel and, even given the eruption of madness all around, remained calm and focused on the impending answer. “OK, but you have to follow my lead. You understand?” The Dronin just smiled as Morcel sprinted towards the pile of weapons as if he might get stuck without one. Nothing could be farther from the truth, as almost all remained untouched.
He picked up a large, rusty axe and banged it loudly against the stone floor several times to make sure it would not crack in half the first time it hit anything solid. Well, it’s better than a tree branch, I suppose. The Dronin calmly walked up and grabbed two rusted short swords out of the pile. He then tossed them up in the air and caught them on the backs of his wrists. There he balanced them for a while, seemingly to decide whether or not the balance was any good, or at least to decide how to compensate for the imbalance.
“When that gate opens, we cut through whatever is in our path until we can take the center of the arena. Then we go back to back. On your word you must parry all blows coming from your side, and I swear to do the same! We cannot dodge any or we will risk injury to the other. Agreed?”
The Dronin just smiled and bowed his head. “Whatever be getting me back to me family. I swear on both our lives, as they now be joined.”
Then, all of a sudden, a loud, grinding sound could be heard from the large metal door just beside the wooden one. What started as a crack of light at the base grew into a blinding flash of sunlight as the door began to rise. Everyone squinted at the brightness, trying to get their eyes adjusted as daylight came flooding through. Flower petals of all different colors could be seen fluttering down across the doorway. Reds and blues fluttered down like a rainbow of butterflies. The crowd was roaring now in response to the open door. This is what they had all come to see!
“Ok. This is it! Let’s go!” Morcel boomed in his deep voice. He was the first to run through the open gate. Sprinting through the shower of petals, he could feel his new friend just behind him, and to his surprise, a few others just a few short steps behind them, screaming battle cries of their own. It seemed others wanted to live as well! The crowd roared like a raging waterfall as Morcel found himself caught up in the energy of the mob. Twirling his axe over his head he could not help but think, I will not die this day!
Chapter 2