Last Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 2) (29 page)

              “Foreign dogs, huh?”

              Garonk smiled. “You are learning the language of the high and mighty.”  He gave a slight nod to the man who was still speaking.  “The man’s name is Harroke, and he is the speaker of the show arena.  He announces all the matches and when the emperor, or the prince, wishes to declare something to the crowd or to the gladiators, it is through him.  He is now pontificating on the great battles of the evening and how it is going to be an honor for us to die for the pleasure of the empire.”

              Garonk stopped talking to listen more carefully.  Conner thought he heard Harroke speak his name, but he had not been listening that closely.  He tried to ask Garonk what he was saying, but Garonk just waved at him to be silent.

              “Is he talking about me?” Conner repeated.

              “Shush!”

              This time, with Conner paying attention, he was certain that Harroke said his name.  He pulled out of Garonk’s grasp and marched towards the front of the chamber.

              “Hey!” Conner shouted.  “What are you saying about me?”

              All eyes turned towards him and Harroke stopped speaking in mid-sentence.  He closed his mouth and glared at Conner.  Ten crossbow bolts were aimed at him.

              “Stand back!” One of the centurions shouted.

Conner ignored him and marched right up to Harroke.  “What are you saying about me?  Speak Commoner so that I can understand you.  I know you can speak it.”

Harroke did not speak at first.  He simply looked down at Conner over his wide, flat nose.  After a moment, he said, “I was extolling your prowess on the field of battle,” Harroke said.  “As well as announcing that this cell block will participate in a melee of grand sorts.  Twenty of the best of each of the four dungeon blocks will participate in the climactic event of the evening.  Eighty of the greatest gladiators will sacrifice their lives for the pleasure of the citizens of the empire.”

“Am I to be one of the twenty?”

Harroke shook his head.  “I am sorry to say, that you will not have the honor of sacrificing your life for the pleasure of the people in such a battle.  It is too bad, because the participants are granted their freedom.  If any should survive the epic fight, then their incarceration will end.  Their crimes will be pardoned.  But of course, in such a battle, survivors are not likely.  Even those who stand at the end are so mortally wounded, that they do not reap the benefit of freedom on the earth.  But their glorious sacrifice will earn them a place in the Great Afterlife, alongside the gods of our people.  Your fight is to proceed the climactic event.  Our centurions have returned from their adventures with a prisoner from the far west.  A man of incredible skill.  A Hurai who is a master of swords such as we have never seen.  He claims to be the greatest swordsman alive.  So who better to battle him than one of the best, one of the great Karmon Knights?”  A smile fell across his lips and he tipped his head forward.  “That would be you.”

              Harroke lifted his robes and strode out of the chamber, flanked by five of the centurions.  The remaining five centurions stayed until the outermost cell door clanged shut.

              “Garonk!” one of the centurions shouted.  “Prepare your men.  Choose twenty and not just the twenty worst or you will be thrown out there with them.  Twenty of your best.  And that one.  The Karmon.  Get him ready.  Prince Tarcious will expect him to give his best.”

              The centurions marched out to near silence.  Some of the prisoners milled around the main chamber; others drifted off to their cells.  Conner wasn’t sure what he should do, so he stayed next to Garonk, who was holding his head in his hands.

              “I feared this might happen,” Garonk said.  “There are too many gladiators to feed through the winter.  Rather than try and feed them, or let them die of starvation, they are to die in battle.  And you, too.”

              “Me?  He said I wasn’t going to be in that.  I am fighting a Hurai.”

              “Not just a Hurai, a Sak’hurai.  The greatest warrior that has ever walked the planet.  Do you know who they are?”

              A feeling of dread swept over Conner.  “I know of them.  But are you sure he is Sak’hurai?  I mean, really a Sak’hurai?”

              “He is whoever Harroke says he is.  But I have heard the guards talking about him.  When he was captured, he and one other killed fifty centurions before he could be subdued.  At least that’s what they are saying.  Now come, breakfast will be out shortly and you cannot be last in line again.  You will need plenty of food for your fight.”

              Some of the prisoners had already starting setting up the table used to serve food and he could now smell the pungent aroma of the breakfast porridge.  Conner’s stomach turned, but it was not because of the smell of the large pot of porridge.  The thought of seeing a Sak’hurai in action was exhilarating, but the idea of actually having to face one in battle was terrifying.  His only hope was that the man whom he would fight was not really a Sak’hurai, but just a Hurai who said he was.  Doing just like what he was doing, pretending to be something he was not just to survive.

***

Conner sat next to David.  He spooned up a mouthful of the thick, slimy liquid, choking it down as best he can.

              “Maybe this is our chance,” Conner whispered.

              David, who had not looked up when Conner had sat down, paused in mid-bite, but he still did not look up.

              “There will be twenty gladiators all at once in the tunnels,” Conner continued.

              David slowly shook his head.  “They will be unarmed.”

              “Huh?  Then how do they fight?”

              “The melee that the white robed man announced is a massacre, not a fight.  There are eighty men, twenty on each side of the arena.  They pile weapons in the middle.  Forty swords, maces, whips, clubs.  Not of each, total.  No shields.  No armor.  Just bare skin and these feeble shirts.  When they blow the horns, it becomes a free for all.  If you’re lucky enough and fast enough to get to a weapon then maybe, just maybe you can last for a while.  Sometimes there are survivors, but most time there were not.  And like he said, even if you do actually make it to the end, then you are likely so wounded that you just die anyway.  I have seen these.  Never been in one, but I’ve seen them.  Sometimes those who don’t get a weapon just stand there and let themselves be killed without a fight.  To make the end painless and quick.”

              “What if all eighty…”

              “The battle is to happen in only a few hours.  There is no way to communicate with the other cells ahead of time.  And there are crossbowman in the arena.  If there was even the hint of a mass revolt, they would easily slay everyone.  And then they would go through all cells and execute everyone else.  No, we must bide our time.  Soon, though.  As long as Garonk doesn’t pick too many of us.”

              “He will listen to me,” Conner said.  “I will tell him not to choose you.”

              “No!” David snapped back.  “You cannot do that.  You cannot let him even think that there might be something going on.  He talks too much to the centurions.  If he lets slip that something is going on, then they will come in here and kill us all.  We must be silent and secret until it is time.”

              “I will talk to Garonk.  If we don’t bring him in, and he does figure out something is going on, then he truly may say something.  But if we bring him in, make him a part of this, then maybe we can control him.  Make him too afraid to say anything.  It seems like he has some sort of a little thing going on here.”

              “He does,” David said.  “He no longer needs to fight.  And even though he is a prisoner, he has some luxuries.  He even gets to go outside into the arena to watch the fights.”

              “Then good, if he has something to lose, we can hold that over him.”

              David let out a laugh and slapped Conner on the back.  “And that is why you are a Knight of Karmon.  You are smart!  I would never have thought about making Garonk a part of this, but truly, it may be a good thing.”

              Conner saw Garonk scooping water from the water barrel and guzzling down a bowlful.  “There he is,” Conner said.  “I will talk to him now before he chooses the twenty.”

***

Garonk’s face went white with fear.  His mouth hung open and Conner was certain that tears were about to fall.

              “You have to keep this a secret,” Conner said forcefully.

              Garonk shook his head. “No, no, no.  You cannot do this!”

             
Conner had pulled Garonk into his cell to tell him in private, but Garonk was on the verge of making a scene loud enough for all the prisoners to hear.

“This will ruin it all!” Garonk said loudly, holding his head with his hands.

“Garonk!” Conner snapped.  “You must be quiet.  Not everyone can know until it is time.  Only a few of us do, and now you.  But you cannot tell anyone of this plan.”

“They will kill us all!” Garonk wailed.

Conner slapped Garonk across the face with an open hand.  He didn’t want to hurt him, only to stop him from being so loud.  But Garonk crumpled onto the ground, crying hysterically.

Conner stood over him, wondering what to do or what to say.  The reaction that Garonk gave was the last thing that he expected.  Garonk was going to be in on the escape and would be free of the dungeon.  But instead of being happy or excited, he was devastated and Conner did not understand.

“Garonk, why are you so upset?”

Garonk’s wailing had settled into a muffled sob.  “I cannot do it,” Garonk said.

“What?” Conner asked.  “What can you not do?”

“Outside.  I cannot live outside.  I am safe here.  I am fed.  And clothed.  And I have some purpose.  I help train the gladiators, like you.  Out there, I am nothing.  Nobody.”

“Don’t you have any family?”

Garonk shook his head.  “None that I know of.  Maybe they are alive.  I haven’t seen them in many years.  I wouldn’t even know where they lived if they were alive.”

Conner sat down next to Garonk.  “I miss the forest.  It is where I grew up.  The trees whistling in the wind.  The birds calling and chirruping.  The feeling of the warm summer wind on the face.”

“But it is almost winter.  It is cold.  And then the snows come.  At least down here, you can huddle by a fire and stay warm and be protected from the snow.  And you don’t have to go hunting for food.”

Conner smiled.  “Oh, but that is what makes you alive!  Finding your own food, and then skinning and cooking it.  That is living.  Having food served to you out of a big pot, that’s not how it was meant to be!”

“There are too many of them.  Centurion guards.  They all have swords and crossbows.  They will kill us all before we got out.”

“Do you really want to be down here the rest of your life?”

Garonk shrugged.  “It feels like I have already.  I barely remember my life before I got here.”

“Well I don’t, and neither do most of the others.  I told them that you would help us, and I have to know that you will.”

“I don’t know…”

“You really don’t have a choice,” Conner said.  “You can’t tell the guards anything, or they will kill us all.  And if you don’t help us, then we might not make it out.  And they will kill us all.  So either you help us, or we will all die.”

Garonk let out one last sob.  Tears had marked a path down his dirty face.  “What do I have to do?”

“There will be much to do when the time comes.  We will need help getting out and finding our way through the centurion barracks.  But first, there are a number of us that you cannot choose for the twenty.  Me, of course.  And David.”  Conner listed off more names, as many as he could remember.

“Some of those are good fighters.  The centurions are expecting good fighters, not bad ones.  And if I don’t choose good ones, then they threaten to make me fight.”

“There are plenty of others to choose from that are good enough.”

Garonk nodded his head.  “Okay.  When we are out there, in the city or in the forest, when we are free.  Will you stay with me?”

Conner slapped him on the arm.  “Of course.  I will take you back to Karmon and show you the castle at South Karmon.”

“But you are fighting tonight, you will have to beat the foreigner.”

“Do not worry about me,” Conner replied confidently.  “I can hold my own.”

“They say he is Hurai.  A master swordsman.”

“Sak’hurai,” Conner said.  “I know.  You do not need to worry about me.  We have to be ready when the time comes.”

“When will that be?”

“It could be any time.  It will need to happen when they least expect it and when they are unprepared.  It needs to be a complete surprise.  Now go.  You have much to do, and I need to get ready myself.”

Garonk quickly left the cell, sniffling and trying not to let the tears come back.

Conner dropped onto his bunk and let out a long sigh.  He had been stuck in the dungeon for only a few days, but it seemed so much longer than that.  He could not imagine how someone could spend years down here, much less a lifetime like Garonk.  But as he thought more about it, he realized that it was unlikely that the gladiators would last years.  Everyone down here was expendable and served the empire solely as entertainers.  Garonk was the exception, but he was being used by the centurions in other ways.  He may not have to fight, but he was a still a prisoner, destined to die down here just like the rest of them.