The most barbaric form of entertainment on Pyrain was also one of the most lucrative in the gambling world. As brutal as the fights themselves were, the area around the combatants was equally as dangerous. The pits were no more than ten feet across, seven feet deep, and lined with rocks along the top edge. The rocks were meant to build a solid edge along the top of the pit, but they were often used as weapons if a combatant lost their own. Above, people would line up as much as twenty deep to see the fights, often leading to those in the front being pushed in on top of the fighters. For some unfortunate ones, that often meant they were beaten and sometimes killed. People of all sorts attended the fights as the company moved across the land in search of fertile ground to build an audience.
As people from the city of Hope began to gather around the pit, pieces of gold, and sometimes more, changed hands. In many ways, it was a thief's paradise, one which the two friends entered, taking a pair of seats at one of the corners. From there they watched, and hoped, their fortune would be made.
The first fight went just as the old mage turned merchant had predicted. Although their winnings were small, everyone watching the fight saw their first dismemberment. The Minotaur were well known for their violent tempers. When one felt the rage building they often let out a horrific roar. It was a sound that caused even the most battle-hardened men to pause. Such had been the case with the Minotaur's opponent. The human warrior hesitated a breath too long, during which time his arms were ripped from his body. Lost in its rage, the Minotaur beat the dying man into a shapeless mound of flesh with his own arms.
The sight proved too much for Viola. She turned away, entertaining thoughts of leaving. Violence like that was beneath her. As a mage, she preferred the weapons of her craft to those of the beasts. She took several long, deep breaths before she decided to remain. If not for Janessa's constant assurances such an act rarely happened, Viola would've left and never looked back. Rationalizing her friend needed her there to help keep track of their winnings, she remained in her seat. An added incentive was a Halfling wouldn't stand a chance in that type of environment.
Pulling her robes tighter around her, Viola realized she had just lied to herself. It was something one learned to do in that day and age. Few could afford to be honest, even with themselves. With a new resolve, she settled down and continued to watch the next four fights, only one of which resulted in a death.
To help keep her mind occupied, Viola replayed the conversations the two friends had when they first came together earlier in the day. "They're so gruesome, how can you even think about taking part in it?" Viola had argued her case after the initial excitement drained from her and the realization of what waited for them settled into her head.
True to her nature, Janessa remained her normal bubbly, optimistic, and assured self throughout it all. "Don't be such a Ninny!" Her voice rose to a higher pitch when she was excited. "No one dies at these things."
"They don't?" Viola's question was a mixture of surprise and disbelief.
"Sure... Well, most don't. Only when two fighters hate each other enough that they both agree to fight to the death." Janessa's eyes lowered in sad thought before she continued with a shrug, "They have to settle their differences, I suppose. But that only happens between the lower fighters. The pit masters can't afford to have their best kill each other off; it's bad for business." Janessa crossed her arms, proud of herself for making such a well thought out argument. After a brief pause, she added as offhanded as possible, "Of course, there are accidents."
Viola's eyes narrowed at her friend. "All right, then tell me one thing." Janessa nodded with a satisfied look in her eyes. "Just how do you know all this?"
Viola knew she had her in a corner. The Halfling was a skilled liar, but she made a point never to lie to her friends. To Viola's surprise Janessa smiled.
"There's more than one way to earn gold at those things."
"Jenny!" Was all Viola could say before bursting into laughter. She didn't share the same disdain for thieves that her fellow mages did. While she didn't like thieves, she wasn't about to starve and drop out of magic school in protest. She needed to eat and pay her bills — rules and stereotypes were made to be broken.
Viola couldn't help but smile at the memories as her mind moved back into the present. She looked over at Janessa and noticed she had disappeared. Fearing the worst, she craned her neck, trying to find her friend in the mass of people. Furious at not paying more attention, and at the Halfling's ability to disappear into a crowd, Viola was about to get up and search for Janessa when a small hand grabbed her right arm. Only a familiar voice stopped her from screaming at the top of her lungs.
"You should see the one fighter. He's a barbarian, I think." Janessa's eyes smiled at her.
"Where've you been?" Viola's relief hadn't quite overwhelmed the fear she felt a moment earlier. If one of those people caught Janessa trying to steal... She couldn't finish the thought.
Seeing the look of concern on her friend's face, Janessa gave her a quizzical look. "Placing a bet on the next fight." Her expression changed to one of wonderment. "Wait until you see him. He must be a God among us."
Even though relief flooded over her, Viola swore she'd watch her friend a bit more closely. She was worried about the look on Janessa's face. She knew its meaning and hoped she was wrong. "Jenny, who'd you bet on?"
Janessa looked at her with whimsical eyes, "The human in the next match. He can't possibly lose."
Viola was about to say something when a horn announced the fighters for the next match. On the far side of the pit a rather large human leapt into the pit. His muscled body glistened with sweat in the torch light. "Oh," was all Viola could say. Though he wasn't what she preferred, the man was handsome and she felt a power about him she couldn't place. The power wasn't magically based, or so she believed, but it was his presence. He commanded everything around him just by his proximity.
Viola felt good about the bet and hoped Janessa wagered more than their pre-agreed amount on him. Her good feeling lasted until she saw the two other combatants. The first was a lizard man, from the Troglodyte tribes living in the southern part of the continent. The other was an ogre, black in color; it was from the deep recesses of the Calamir Mountain. The odds didn't seem to be in their favor. Now concerned, she leaned close to the Halfling to whisper her question. She was sure she already knew the answer. "How much did you bet?"
"Hmm?" Janessa didn't hear her at first, her thoughts and eyes were on the human fighter. "Oh... um... all of it. It's ten-to-one odds."
Viola's back went rigid at hearing her friend. "Oh... That's wonderful." Her thoughts changed from an expensive meal to their usual moldy bread and cheese. With any luck, they could afford turnip stew.
"Yep." Janessa missed the young mage's slow comment. She assumed Viola was as enthralled as she was.
Viola shook her head and watched the fighters conclude their grandstanding for the fans and ready themselves for combat. Janessa was right — the human fighter was an impressive sight. She estimated him to be over six feet tall and was well muscled. She was sure he was a barbarian; few others grew as large or as powerful as the barbarian tribes on the southeastern plains. Viola assumed it was due to the inhospitable terrain and their hostile neighbors. When people live with ogres, giants, and Troglodytes on three of four possible sides it's only natural to grow so large and strong just to survive. Understanding their history a bit, Viola believed it would be an interesting match. Her assessment wasn't totally correct, but few around her could've corrected her.
A second later, Janessa waved at the human fighter, then turned back to Viola. "Think he saw me? I wonder why he didn't wave back."
Shaking her head in wonder, Viola couldn't help but smile at her friend's lack of composure. Janessa may be wiser in the ways of the world, but the Halfling could never control herself around men — warrior types being the worst of all. "I'm sure he noticed, but he has to concentrate. This is a very difficult fight for him." And us, Viola didn't add as the three fighters began circling each other. Viola tended to forget others didn't read books like she did, so the normal rivalry of the three in the pit would be lost to just about everyone.
Hoping for the best, Viola watched with a mix of anxiety anticipation when the ogre launched towards the Troglodyte first. The lizard man sidestepped the awkward strike, turning its attention to the human. Viola remembered reading that a few of the Troglodyte tribes had venomous bites and could spit their venom to blind their opponents. Any question to which clan the lizard man belonged was answered when the human ducked and a mouthful of venom missed his head. The sizzling sound the toxic saliva made when it struck the dirt wall of the pit took her breath away. If it'd been higher... She shivered when she thought what it might have done to someone's skin.
*****
A short distance away, a stunted, stout middle-aged man named Renard watched the people cheering the fighters. "Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! Don't you agree, Fech?"
Behind Renard sat one of the few creatures he trusted, his pet gargoyle Fech. Raised by the human since the night he hatched, the gargoyle showed something his race was not noted for: loyalty and kindness. He accepted when his master was harsh with him on occasion, but what else was to be expected when he misbehaved? Those times proved to be few and far between as Fech did everything he could to please his master. Doing so brought rewards of kindness, unheard of by others, from the human. Fully grown, Fech chose to remain with his master instead of returning to his own kind. Those thoughts often came into his mind during moments when his master was truly happy, making Fech feel justified in his reason to stay. Lost in his thoughts, the gargoyle hesitated before grunting his approval, "Yes, it is, Master."
Renard smiled at the sound of his beloved pet's voice. The gargoyle's gravel filled, yet high pitched voice unnerved most humans when they heard it. Like a horrible accent, it took him the better part of ten years to not wince when he heard it. To his knowledge, or concern, Fech was the only one of his kind to speak Common.
Watching the fights helped Renard to feel pleased with himself; a few more shows like that one and he'd be welcomed anywhere. His men would then fight in real arenas, instead of having to dig out their own. If Renard had a weakness, it was his ambition. Never one to wait for something to come to him, he searched for any edge he could find to amass his wealth and to grow his reputation. "Soon, they'll come from all over to see it." He tossed a dead squirrel towards Fech, who devoured it in seconds. "Soon, we'll be welcomed... No... demanded to come into the Elven and Dwarven Kingdoms. All will marvel at the group of fighters I've amassed. Her majesty will invite us into Soleil itself. Can you see it, Fech? All the nobles will pay to see my fighters." A warmth flowed over him at the thought. Within a few years, he'd be one of the wealthiest men in the world. It wasn't often Renard felt so cheerful, causing Fech to watch him, amused at the sight.
"Your overconfidence will lead your to ruin, Pit Master." The suddenness of the voice caught both of them off guard, and brought a growl from deep within the gargoyle. As his master's main body guard, Fech heard the voice countless times before then. Each time he disliked its owner even more.
Renard turned to face the intruder, his face burning with a dark shade of red. All those traveling with his company knew never to disturb him. "Damn you, Mern! How many times do I have to tell you not to disturb me? This will be the final time."
Fech stood to his full ten feet and took a step towards the old man.
Mern held up his right hand as if to ward off a coming blow, but his voice remained calm. "Oh, now, there's no need for such a display. I merely came to give you news of a wonderful event."
Renard paused, thinking for a second. "Fech."
At hearing his name, the gargoyle returned to his previous position but continued watching the merchant with a wary eye. The number of times the human dared to enter his master's presence without being summoned couldn't be easily counted by the gargoyle. Since the dawn of time, people misunderstood gargoyles to be stupid, slow witted creatures. Such a thought couldn't be further from the truth. Created by magical beings, they could feel magic as well as use it themselves. The fact they chose not to live among other beings was made knowing they were greater than most. Fech felt an enormous power emanating from the merchant, though Mern did his best to hide it. It was for that reason he hated the man. Renard wouldn't have believed his pet if he'd told him he was dangerous. Fech knew, he tried.
Not sensing the tension coming from the gargoyle, Renard stared at his unexpected guest for a long moment, as though he didn't understand the meaning behind Mern's words. After a moment, Renard responded, "And what great event is that, Mern?" He couldn't help but smile, he knew the old man had something planned and he wanted to know what it was.
Mern smiled. "I'm sorry to say that I'll be remaining here when you move on." He paused, relishing the shocked look on Renard's face. "Hope is such a nice little city, don't you think?"
At first, Renard couldn't believe what he'd heard. No one ever left his company unless he decided they could leave. He was about to point that out when he realized he wouldn't have to deal with the dotting, meddlesome fool anymore. A smile matching Mern's appeared on Renard's face. "I completely agree, a quiet place to spend your retirement."
Mern nodded his white-haired head, "I must admit, I expected you to fight me on this. Our contract states—"
Renard interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "Forget about our contract; it has a clause that allows for this."
Mern's face changed in thought. "It does?" That roused his curiosity as to what the ringleader of that little circus was up to.
"Of course. If you read it, you wouldn't have that look on your face." Renard's smile brightened even more, if possible. "Since you're unable to complete the circuit with us, you are released from your commitment. You can expect no pay from this moment forth as agreed upon in our contract."
Mern's face changed to a deep and furious red color at having been outmaneuvered. He spun on his heel and stormed out of Renard's pavilion. When he was a few yards away, the redness in his face disappeared and a smile took its place. It was worth degrading myself for all these months. Let the fool think he's won. He's nothing but an insect. Mern strode away, confident in his destiny.
*****
"That's how you handle negotiations. With a firm iron hand." Fech continued listening to his master give his lecture to no one in particular. Fech's glowing red eyes followed the old merchant until he moved out of the gargoyle's sightline. He was up to something, Fech was sure of it, otherwise Mern would've fought harder for his wages. Many a night, Fech witnessed the two arguing over a piece of silver for hours. Often, Mern would threaten to turn Renard into a cockroach and the latter dared him to do it. Yes, Fech realized, he'd have to keep an eye on the mage pretending to be a merchant. Until then it hadn't concerned him, but something about that night's activities gave him cause to worry. Fech was so caught up in his thoughts, he failed to notice the squirrel Renard tossed to him until it hit him in the head. With a shocked expression, he glanced at his master.
Renard glared at him. "Pay close attention, Fech, to those that don't have their bones weathering on the side of the road."
~~~
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