Chapter 17
A Truth of Cold Logic
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Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.
Leaning back against the bars of the caged wagon, Leita inhaled the stale aroma of the streets, only half aware of the milling onlookers watching them pass. The heavy weight of her shackles and chains felt almost comforting, in a strange way, as they meant she was headed for the arena. Which also meant several hours away from Cookie and her maniacal demands. She would finally be somewhere she felt like she had some kind of control.
The last several days had proven rather taxing, despite how little she'd really had to do. Though time in the training pitch had served as reprieves, having to spend the whole time devoid of any clothing had become tedious. There were few places left on her body where she didn't have scraps or abrasions from contact with the ground or training weapons. She was grateful that it was still the warm season, at least, but had to wonder if this would continue all the way into winter. She wasn't fond of the idea of having to spend hours out in the freezing cold with nothing on.
Ironically, her disrobed state had proven fairly useful in her special training with Sasinel. As the sidil had said, having Leita's body completely visible had helped her spot where she wasn't moving quite correctly. So much so, that Sasinel herself had begun partially disrobing so that Leita could see her own movements better. The sight of these two women, one completely naked and the other very close to it, had proven to be quite the distraction for the rest of the yard and rather the annoyance to Kalder.
Still, even the rock-like giant couldn't deny that there was merit in allowing it to continue. Sasinel had been shocked at how quickly Leita had picked up the basic forms and motions. Though her skill with them was still quite rough, her swift progress had convinced the sidil to continue to teach Leita more of the art. It had also inspired Leita to return to Colja and request more instruction in his own style of fighting, to which he'd agreed.
The sound of clanking chains brought her from her inner contemplations as it heralded Myrinus moving over to take a place beside her in the cart. She gave him a friendly smile as he settled in. "Any idea who they have you fighting today, Element?" She asked him curiously, their relationship having grown rather casual, due to recent events.
"Lamaran, of House Bloodwalker." He replied indifferently, seeming almost bored by his own answer. "Good fighter, but no challenge." He added with the same air of flippancy.
"At least, there will be some glory to be won from it." Leita offered, brushing against him affectionately. "The Mistress only has me fighting against lots."
"You were 'only' a lot once." Myrinus chuckled, his Southern reaches accent making the words sound almost like a taunt, if still playful in tone. "Assumed to be no challenge at all. And yet..."
He let the words dangle off, not really needing to say more. She'd killed a seasoned gladiator without taking significant injury herself. Further, in only her second fight in the arena, she'd defeated a foe wielding forces that most of the rest of stable would have shrunk away from. Despite that, while her victories weren't purely dumb luck, luck had played into it. Had either of those gladiators not been arrogant and reckless, or had not chosen to just toy with her in the beginning, she might not be here now. Regardless, she was living proof that someone could be more dangerous than even they realized.
Still, she'd seen how lots entered the arena, half-starved and humbled. More-over, she'd seen how battered they'd been after their experiences, brutalized by superior skills and equipment. Most had to be dragged off the sands, some as corpses, rather than leaving on their feet. She couldn't be certain what kind of challenge may be ahead of her, but the odds were that it would be a fairly easy battle.
She gave the blue-lipped man a shrug and a smile. "I suppose I should be happy to finally be going into a fight where I will have the advantage. Of course, considering my luck, I'll end up facing some donated oruhk warrior."
Myrinus chuckled. "Or some ogre a noble been keeping as an exotic 'pet'." He gave her a nudge. "And probably still win anyway."
She joined in with his chuckle and fully leaned in this time, snuggling against his side. She felt a slight blush touch her cheeks as she inhaled the scent of him, making her mind recall her interactions with him the last couple of days. She felt a tingle in certain places of her body and realized, almost to her surprise, that she was rather looking forward to their next little show.
In light of the stance that the Elements had taken over Cookie's declaration of Leita as 'free use', none of the stable seemed willing to chance their wrath enough to make use of it. Even considering that the prohibition applied only when they were supposed to be training, no one wanted to push their luck. The other slaves and servants of the House were so heeled and oppressed by Cookie's heavy-handed manner that they lacked the confidence to attempt taking advantage of it, fearing it to be a trap of some kind. Even the House guards had left her alone, either being too professional to put themselves in such a compromised position with a trained gladiator or as a show of respect for so effortlessly humiliating Master Venge, which had apparently amused them.
While there was some relief in not having to deal with being continuously grabbed and mounted, Cookie had begun to become quite irate at Leita not suffering any indignities. So, Leita had approached Myrinus with a request. Since he was obviously interested and was an Element himself, she asked for him to take her amorously in places where Cookie would run across them. He'd not hesitated to agree.
Twice already, they had staged something for Cookie, who had seemed quite satisfied to see someone finally taking advantage. However, if her intent was to bring Leita grief, that had failed. Perhaps, it was because they were encounters of her own choosing or just that Myrinus was a fairly competent lover, but she'd found herself quite enjoying the interludes. It also didn't hurt that he was rather nice to look at. In the course of their little ruse, they had developed an affectionate bond, though neither of them considered the sex anything deeper than just an effort to keep Cookie at bay.
A sudden lurch and jolt of the cart heralded them entering through the secured gates of the arena, where the gladiators would be transferred into the holding areas below ground. Sitting upright again, Leita watched as the proceeded past a small army of guards to the offloading deck. A sudden, foul, thought came to her mind.
"You don't think that Cookie would have sent word ahead that the Arena guards are welcome to have at me, do you?" She asked Myrinus lowly.
"Likely, she did try." He said with a grin. "But Arena guards are not allowed to do such things."
A phantom sour taste in her mouth reminded Leita that there was a big difference between 'not allowed' and 'would not'. She clenched her teeth, bracing herself for the possibility that she may get another visit from her 'old friend' here. Considering Cookie's twisted mind, if she'd heard anything about her exchange with him last time, she'd likely have personally informed him of the edict.
However, as they were off-loaded, processed, and moved down to the lower cells, there was neither any sign of that particular guard or any indication that any of the guards seemed informed of anything special about her. By the time she was in her cage, she felt convinced that Cookie had either not considered the idea or someone else had intervened.
Still, she felt her hackles leap up when a voice suddenly called towards her. "Hey there, beautiful!"
She whirled to face the direction it had come, but found the source not to be a guard, but coming from one of the other cages. She laughed when she recognized Trippard, the dvartan she'd met the last time she was here. It occurred to her that she'd not really thought about him since her fight against the magic-user, but found herself quite glad to see him looking healthy and alive.
"Hello there, ser." She replied amicably, moving up to the bars and leaning against them. "I didn't get a chance to thank you."
The gladiator peered at her questioningly. "Thank me? For what?"
"Your advice the last time we spoke." She replied.
"Oh! About you not making enemies of the guards?"
Leita gave a laugh. "Oh, well, that too. In fact, I do believe I've managed to earn some good will with the guards of my own House recently. However, I meant the advice about not relying on fancy moves as much as natural talent. It was what allowed me to win my fight, actually."
Trippard gave a smile and a nod. "Well, glad I could help then. Here tell you cut the man's hands off."
"It seemed the best idea, at the time." Leita chuckled. "I mean, they seemed rather dangerous."
"Ah, yeah, I imagine they did." He conceded with a grin. "Still, well advised or not, quite a feat to have overcome someone tossing around magic. There are some very nasty things that those sorts can do to a person."
"I've heard stories, but I've actually never seen real magic used before that moment." She said, realizing how little she'd really thought about it. She'd, of course, heard plenty of wild tales about witches casting dire curses and wizards laying waste to armies, but magic was a rare thing, apparently taking lifetimes of study and discipline.
Even her old Mistress, a Baroness, had owned only a single object that was purported to be enchanted. A small ornate clock that she'd kept in her bedchambers, its magic simply that it did not need winding. Even so, Leita had often wondered if it had actually been magical or just a feat of clever engineering. She'd seen the clock many times and, while delicately beautiful, nothing about it appeared mystical.
"Have you seen magic used in the arena before?" Leita asked, wondering if Trippard's words meant he had a lot more practical experience around such forces than she did.
"A gladiator is still a slave, my dear." He answered wryly. "And a slave who can weave spells is never considered a safe thing to own. So, a gladiator that's found able to cast magic is usually kept very carefully away from the necessary tools to do so and rarely allowed to remain a gladiator, as that grants them too much freedom to do something unexpected."
