Then a Midkemian, tall and broad-shouldered, stepped forward as if to speak. The Thuril came on guard, his sword high, ready to strike. A voice rang out from behind, as another warrior said something that carried a note of reassurance. The first Thuril visibly relaxed.
The Midkemian slowly removed his helm, revealing a tired, haggard face, framed by damp, stringy black hair. He looked about the arena while the crowd began to whisper and grumble at the unexpected behavior of the warriors, and then gave a curt nod. He dropped his sword and shield and said something to his companions. Quickly the other fighters in the arena followed suit, and soon all weapons were lying upon the ground.
Milamber wondered at this strange behavior, and Shimone said, “This will end a shambles. The Thuril will not fight their own kind, and it seems they won’t fight the barbarians either. I once saw six Thuril kill everyone sent against them, then refuse to fight one another. When the guards came to kill them, they fought, driving them back. Finally bowmen on the wall had to shoot them down It was a disgrace. The crowd rioted, and the games director was torn to bits. Over a hundred citizens died.”
Milamber felt relief: at least he would be spared the spectacle of Katala’s people and his own killing one another. Then the crowd began to shout their disapproval, jeering the reluctant combatants.
Hochopepa nudged Milamber and said, “The Warlord appears less than amused by this.”
Milamber saw the Warlord’s livid expression as he watched his presentation to the Emperor turned into a farce. Almecho slowly rose from his place near the Light of Heaven and bellowed, “Let the fighting begin!”
Burly handlers, guards who worked on behalf of the games director, ran into the arena, wielding whips. They circled the motionless fighters and began lashing out at them Milamber felt his gorge rise as the handlers laid about, tearing the exposed skin from the arms and legs of the Thuril and Midkemian soldiers. No stranger to the whip when in the swamp, he knew its terrible touch. He felt each stroke as it fell upon those on the sand below.
The crowd began to grow restive, for watching motionless men being whipped was not what they had come to see. Jeers and catcalls rang down upon those in the imperial box, and a few bolder souls threw litter and small coins into the arena, showing what they thought of such sport. Finally one of the handlers grew impatient, stepped up to a Thuril warrior, and struck him across the face with a whip handle. Before the handler could react, the Thuril sprang forward and tore the whip from the startled man’s hands. In an instant he had it firmly wrapped about the man’s throat, choking him.
The other handlers turned their attention to the warrior attacking their companion and began to flail wildly at him. After a dozen or so blows the Thuril began to wobble, and fell to his knees. But he held tightly to the whip, strangling the gasping handler. Again and again blows rained down upon the Thunl, until all his armor ran red with blood from the lashing. Still he held on to his victim.
When the handler died, eyes protruding from a blue face, whatever strength left to the Thuril seemed to die as well. As the handler’s limp body came to rest on the sand, the Thuril warrior fell beside him.
It was a Midkemian soldier who reacted first. With cold detachment he simply picked up a sword and ran one of the handlers through. Then, as one, the Thuril and Midkemian soldiers had weapons in hand, and within a minute all the handlers were dead. Then, again as one, the prisoners threw their weapons to the ground.
Milamber battled to stay calm in the face of such display. He felt nothing but admiration for those men. They accepted death rather than slay one another. Possibly some of those men had ridden through the valley with him on the raid to discover the rift machine so many years before. Outwardly he appeared calm, a Tsurani, but inwardly he seethed.
Hochopepa whispered, “I have a bad feeling here. Whatever gain Almecho sought from this day to bolster his position with the Emperor is badly shaken. I fear he is not taking well your former countrymen’s reluctance to die for the entertainment of the Light of Heaven.”
Milamber nearly spit when he said, “Damn such entertainment.” He looked at Hochopepa with a burning expression, one never seen by the fat magician before. Milamber half stood as he added, “And damn all those who find pleasure in such bloody sport.”
Hochopepa seized him by the arm and tried to pull him firmly into his seat, saying, “Milamber, remember yourself!”
Milamber pulled himself free, ignoring the command.