Slave Unbound

Chapter 20

Hard Lessons

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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.

"You! Woman! You're getting off here."

For a moment, in a petty show of defiance, Trinka pretended not to hear the guard's gruff shout. Sitting in the back corner of the cart, she flexed her jaw in irritation at her situation. She should have never taken that ridiculous job and, definitely, should never have trusted any House Owner of the Grand Arena to keep his word to someone they saw as an inferior. The bastard hadn't even shown up at the lot auction, much less even made any sort of effort to see her free again, as he had sworn to do.

Most likely, this was her 'punishment' for failing to kill her mark, despite all promises that her success or failure would not affect that part of the agreement. Of course, she'd also been assured the girl had no capability as a fighter, that she'd, so far, only survived on sheer luck and mitigating circumstances. Obviously, that had been as much of a complete lie as the assurance that she wouldn't remain a slave.

The girl she'd fought had been good. Still pretty rough around the edges, maybe, but no amateur. Had Trinka been properly geared and prepared, things would have gone very differently, but being handicapped without proper arms and expecting someone completely unskilled, the damned wench had beaten her. And for her troubles, now she was stuck with a collar on her throat, bound as a slave until she could figure out a way to escape.

"I'm talking to you, slave!" Came the guard's raised voice, barking at her insolence. "Over here, now!"

For a brief moment, Trinka weighed whether it was worth showing continued disobedience. She was still pretty battered from the fight, so the guards wouldn't hesitate to add a few more bruises to her. Even if the person who'd bought her cared about it, he'd likely never even know the difference. Reluctantly, she acknowledged the guard faintly and awkwardly rose up, hindered by the chains she wore, to exit the back of the cart.

Once she'd had some additional restraints and a chain leash attached to her current shackles, they escorted her up to the House gate, massive and iron-wrought like the door of a fortress. The lead guard banged on a heavy knocker until someone addressed them from within. "You are from the Grand Arena?" Spoke a throaty voice, flavored by a strangely guttural-sounding accent, through a small grate set into one side of the tall portal.

"Yes, we're from the Grand Arena of Solace. Transporting a new gladiator for your House." The knocking guard intoned. "Are you prepared to receive her?"

There was a brief pause before a heavy boom reverberated through the metal gate, followed by the sound of turning gear-works. The heavy gate opened inwards enough to allow entrance, though the guards remained out in the street, as though waiting for someone to exit for the exchange.

The creature that stepped into view through the opening shocked Trinka. Lean-bodied and lanky-tall, it had a reptilian head and rough scaled flesh the shade of bile. She could make out a dark patterning to the scales, forming jagged lines that wove among each other. While she recognized the race from stories and barroom yarns, she had never seen one face to face before. It was a Trygothi, a subterranean race that some believed were merely the product of tales you told naughty children to frighten them into better behavior.

Inhuman yellow eyes, like that of a viper, scanned her warily, almost disapprovingly. "Are you sure?" It asked after a moment. "Doesn't look like our usual breed of buy."

Though the guards had apparently dealt with this creature previously, given their lack of surprise, Trina noted they seemed about as uncomfortable as she did in its presence. "Yes. This is your new addition." The lead guard confirmed. "Are you prepared to received her?" He asked again, a slight strain in his voice this time, as though his resolve were weakening before this creature, whose race was legend for a level of savagery that made Oruhks seem like little more than bothersome rascals.

"We'll return the arena's shackles in the morning, as usual." It said, by way of answer, after another moment of pause. It eyed her again, the dark slits tightening a little, seeming to almost dare her to try and run.

The guards didn't argue with leaving their fetters on her, again likely from previous experience. They did disconnect the lead they'd attached to her collar as she'd exited the wagon, prodding her to step towards the Trygothi. However, getting closer to something that might randomly decide to tear her throat out wasn't something she particularly wanted to do.

When she wouldn't go forward, one of the guards raised the butt of his polearm to thump her into submission, but the Trygothi raised a dark-clawed hand, the fingers long and thick. "No. She will come in on her own." It took a step backwards, giving her a little room to go by, seeming more confident in her courage than she felt.

Though still not thrilled with the idea, Trinka resolved herself to entering, knowing she'd not have much choice in the end. Better to still be conscious and on her feet than in a position where the creature could maul her at its leisure. Cautiously, she edged past the Trygothi and into the space beyond. As she did, the gate began closing again, sealing her off from the outside world and any possible aid from the guards, should the monster turn on her.

Not that she had any belief they would have done anything to help her.

She found that this was only the outer gate, with a second iron gate built about ten meters back from it. A kill box, she realized, as she noted over half a dozen crossbow-wielding guards on walkways above them. She supposed that might help explain why they'd put such a creature down here manning the gate itself. If it got caught in the crossfire, there wouldn't likely be much regret in killing something so dangerous.

"Open up the inner gate." It called out in that deep, throaty voice. Despite the rough accent it had, it was surprisingly articulate. In all stories she'd ever heard, both the dressed-up horror stories of minstrels and dubious recounting of encounters with them from seasoned mercenaries, such creatures were barbaric savages, barely more intelligent, or reasonable, than an injured bear. "You will stay by me or I will hurt you." It said to her casually, gesturing for her follow.

As they passed through the second gate, she saw the tiered front gardens of House Warforger, carefully tended and sporting carpets of orchids, lilies, and lotus. It was unexpectedly beautiful, especially in contrast to the militaristic gate and the obviously well-fortified House ahead of them, which looked as much the fortress as the gate itself. Without doubt, it was a far cry from the usually fanciful estate-facades that other House owners kept.

"I am Byku." The Trygothi said as they started up the stairs leading to the front doors of the House. "One of the HouseMaster's personal assistants."

Trinka peered at it, curious. "You are not wearing a collar." She said, not fully meaning to say it out loud. Since she had, she decided to blunder forward with the thought. "You are not a slave?"

"I am property of House WarForger." Byku said in answer. "However, I am not required to wear a collar. I was able to earn the right to move freely about the House, even leave it on errands, if I choose. Not all slaves require collars to remind them that they are slaves."

She stared at the reptilian man in disbelief. "You are allowed to come and go as you wish?"

"I have earned such, yes." Byku returned soberly. "Though I prefer not to leave, unless it cannot be helped. Better a slave where I am respected and accepted than free in a city where I would only meet fear and attack."

She peered at him in astonishment. He was not just articulate, but obviously possessed of a significant degree of intelligence and wisdom. She didn't realize one his kind was capable of showing such a level of reason and docility. It certainly gave a new perspective on the people who told such stories. Still, while it did give her a little more ease, she still could not fully shake off the reputation for brutality that his race had, something that was much harder to mistake.

"So, should I take that to mean that the HouseMaster is the compassionate sort, then?" Trinka asked, her mind already considering ways that might work to her benefit. Compassionate people were easy to manipulate. It was also possible that the Master here was just simply easily manipulated in general.

However, the raucous laugh Byku gave the comment made her pause such thoughts. "Master Soliver has neither compassion, nor pity. His respect must be earned and those he does not respect he grinds into meat for his dogs. Often, literally."

Trinka frowned, once again feeling the resentment of being lured into this situation in the first place. If she ever found herself free again, she planned to pay Cornelius Venge a visit that he would not enjoy. However, she first needed to find a way to escape this place, which was already starting to look more and more like it would not be a simple task.

The outer wall, built as if this Soliver expected to have to repel a siege, bristled with guards, all employing crossbows. The tiered front garden might be beautiful, but it allowed for no cover in which to escape a marksman's sights. And the garden itself had at least a dozen posted guards, placed strategically about, armed with both long and short-ranged weapons. All of them had a military look to them.

Even as they entered the main house, though a door that took two men several seconds to open, she found even more evidence that House Warforger took few chances with allowing slaves to escape. That this Byku had somehow managed to earn enough trust to move freely about seemed almost at odds with the heavy fortification she saw everywhere. Coupled with his demeanor and intelligence, equally at odds with everything she'd ever heard about his race, she found that it made both the Trygothi and Master Soliver very intriguing.

As they began moving through the house, she noticed that even in décor, the estate seemed more like a military facility than some rich man's home. As she understood it, the official Arena Houses were rich and powerful political forces in both the city of Solace and all of Karakas, run by lavish and vain autocrats of their domains. Perhaps this Soliver had once been an officer in the national army, but even then, officers tended to act more like nobles than soldiers.

She should know. She'd once been a soldier in the Karakan army and had dealt with her share of such fools.

Though the place had enough guards that they were never not within the sights of at least three pairs of eyes, no gathering of guards surrounded them as they made their way through the House. As far as she could tell, Byku carried no weapon, save perhaps the teeth and claws nature had granted him, so it seemed strange, given the oppressive aspect of the place that they seemed so lax.

"I take it that you are assumed to be more than enough to keep me from running?" She asked the creature, deciding to see what the goad taught her.

Byku stopped and turned to look at her. "Would you like me to remove your chains and allow you to try to run?" It asked her, sounding quite sincere, despite the accent. "The Master is actually fond of his slaves learning things in painful ways and is more than patient enough to wait for you to heal from what injuries you receive learning your first lesson here."

She narrowed her eyes at him, unsure if he was bluffing or not. However, it produced a key a moment later, and took her hands, unlocking the manacles from her wrists. Next, it removed the restraints on her legs and waist. While the collar was left in place on her neck, it had no lead or leash attached to it.

"You are welcome to either continue to follow me or try to escape." Byku said, one hand gesturing in the way they'd been going and the other gesturing the other direction, which lead back in the direction of the doors leading out. The extremely heavy doors and countless waiting guards. "Regardless of your choice, I will continue onwards towards the training yards. Preventing you from running isn't part of my job."

She wondered how many foolish other people took this bait and saw it as anything other than a trap. Between the painful injuries they'd receive in the attempt and the punishments that, undoubtedly, would come later, this was probably a standard first lesson and test. Those that took the bait learned hard, those that were smart enough to recognize it for the trap that it was accepted that they were not dealing with foolish people.

She chose to accept that second option, sighing and gesturing for the Trygothi to continue leading her along. It seemed almost disappointed that she'd not tried to run. However, Byku returned to guiding her along through the fortress-like estate until they exited out into a massive internal pitch. A number of gladiators were furiously sparring with one another, using actual weapons, not the padded or blunted sort meant for training.

While more than a few gave her a momentary glance, none paused in their sparring as they passed. The only ones that were not engaged in melee with someone where a small handful of men and women that were walking among them, giving praise or criticism, occasionally administering a smack to someone with the slim, flexible rods they carried.

Byku was leading her towards one of the men who were overseeing the training. As they got close to him, he turned towards them and she recognized him as Donovan Soliver, Master of House Warforger.

It surprised her, especially given all the security efforts she'd seen thus far, to find the HouseMaster not only standing among his stable of gladiators, but doing so without any personal bodyguards anywhere in sight. Standing among battle slaves who were armed with very real weapons. Even more unbelievable, was that he was bare to the waist, unarmored against any attacks that might come towards him.

She had to wonder if the old man was completely insane. It would be unwise to leave oneself so unprotected around even common houseslaves armed only with kitchen knives or gardening tools. These were trained warriors baring long, sharp blades and heavy maces. It was a wonder that he'd not yet been killed by one of them.

"Master Soliver, your newest purchase from the arena has arrived." Byku said as they came up to him.

Soliver turned to regard Trinka absently, as if only marginally interested. "You seem shorter than I thought you were. Strange." He said speculatively, showing no notice at all to the fact that she wasn't wearing any sort of chains. "Fetch her a training jacket before you are dismissed."

"Yes, Master." Byku replied with a short bow of respect to him, then strode away.

"What do you fight best with?" Soliver asked Trinka, seeming to be more actively evaluating her now.

"Polearms, Master." She replied, trying to size him up herself.

Though his hair was nearly all grey, his face showing the definite lines of age, his exposed chest and arms had the power and fitness of a man a third his probable age. Every muscle she could see was sharply defined and finely developed. He had the look of a hunting cat, as sleek in form as he was strong. The chiseled features of his face, regardless of the crags in them, made his sober expression look intimidating.

"I thought as much." He said, nodding slowly. "I assume that was why you were hired, because of your familiarity with the spear."

She regarded him with a fresh interest. He'd acknowledged the fact that she'd been hired to play the role of a defenseless slave girl, sold as a common lot, as though there was no question about the assumption. Perhaps, he wasn't making an assumption, she supposed. Venge may have already told him, though she imagined that was something he wouldn't want to spread liberally.

She would expect, if the Grand Arena were to discover the deception, the HouseMaster might face censure, at the very least, possibly far worse. So, no, she felt sure that this was a deduction Soliver had made on his own. "I believe that was the primary reason, yes." She confirmed.

"Also, because I was just stupid and desperate enough to allow myself to be made into a lot for the job." She added after a beat.

"I imagine you would have to be both to trust anyone, least of which, someone of power, to keep you from regretting that decision." He replied dryly. "Now you are stuck as a slave."

"Yes." She replied, then quickly added. "Master."

"I'd like you to confirm my suspicions on who it was that put you in that position." He said, turning to walk to where a stand with various weapons sat. "Who was it that hired you? Considering that you were left to the wolves, I would expect your loyalty to them and your agreement would now be void." She noticed that he had paused for her to reply with his hand resting on a spear.

For a brief moment, Trinka weighed the next words that should come out of her mouth. She sensed that Soliver was not someone to take lightly or as a fool. And the note of respectful fear she could see in the faces of the killers around her, all of whom seemed unwilling to even consider taking advantage of the situation of their owner, seemingly defenseless, among them.

"While I am not happy that I was left to rot in chains, Master, I prize my professionalism." She said, at last. "I will not say who I was hired by. Such things tend to follow one in my career. When I resume it, I wish to keep my reputation for not revealing clients intact."

She could see a smile form on his lips. "Very good, your strength of will is impressive." He said, taking the spear and a quarterstaff from the rack. "Though, it is a bit presumptive to believe that you won't be a slave the rest of your life. Still, there is a certain bravado required to be a good gladiator." He said as he moved back over, handing her the spear.

"Should I assume that was a test of my loyalty, Master?" She asked as she took the weapon from him, noting that it was quite sharp. "I was told that you value respect and allegiance."

Soliver gave an amused chuckle. "Oh, be certain that I do despise betrayal and punish it brutally. However, the test wasn't to see if you'd betray Cornelius's secret in hiring you, but to see how you responded in general. In your case, the betrayal was Cornelius's for leaving you a slave, so you would have been justified to reveal him." He planted one end of the staff to the earth, leaning on it calmly.

"What I wanted to see is if you would rush to tell me whatever I wanted to hear or consider your response and choose tactically." His eyes focused on her, as if he could see far more than just what was in front of him. "You chose the option that you felt would give me the most reason to leave you alive, though it might well lead to my inflicting pain to get what I wanted from you. It shows that you are willing to suffer, in order to survive."

She felt definite surprise at his words. He was quite correct that she had, in fact, chosen to refuse saying only because she hoped it would buy her more time to plan an escape. She figured that he'd only bought her to get this information, which she assumed to mean he intended to kill her once he had it. In truth, she agreed that she owed nothing to Venge at all.

Donovan Soliver had proven, once again, to be far more surprising than she might have expected, seeming to always be a couple steps ahead of her and thinking in far more frightening directions. She hadn't even considered the possibility that he might resort to torturing her to get the information. He was certainly someone she would have to be very cautious dealing with. Even if she managed to escape.