This story is protected under international and Pan-American copyright conventions. Please remember to donate to Nifty if you're financially able to do so.
MY WEBSITE: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html
My email: kavrik@hotmail.com
Pictures of the characters in this story: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/my-artwork.html
Full story chapters and discussion: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html
Picture of the cover art for The Orb of Winter: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/news.html
For those of you who can't wait for new chapters, please visit my forum where I post months ahead.
The chapters are bigger there than they are on Nifty. To see for yourself please go to
http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html
and find the folder that says "The Orb of Winter" and then open that up to view the chapters. Please note that the chapter order here will differ from my forum because I cut the chapters into smaller chunks for Nifty's audience. Also, if you aren't on my mailing list and want to be, please shoot me an email.
Please check out my books on my website.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"How do you know your prisoner...what's his name again?" Calisto asked.
"Ser Ephram Skye," Skellhaundar answered. He had eyes on the field and was watching the finishing touches of the gauntlet being assembled before the stands. The clerics of Taleta busied themselves around the perimeter of the arena, and they renewed the powerful diviniation spell on the huge magic mirrors. This would enable the spectators to get a close-up view of all the action taking place in the multi-level jungle gym in front of them. Glass sensors every ten feet (just like in the Maze of Monsters) would broadcast a fish-eyed view of the recruits as they attempted the many fatal challenges. Others in the crowd also employed the use of spyglasses, and shared them with friends and family who eagerly packed the seats around them. Skellhaundar couldn't help but notice how many wore shirts purchased from vendors during the two-hour break at midday. Nine out of ten had pictures of Kian on the cloth, dressed in full Timeron knight armor, and with gold spurs on his boots. The words on the shirt read: I saw Kian win the gold spurs. Where were you?
"How do you know Ephram Skye won't escape? You left him with all his equipment," Calisto said. "Hubris, Skellhaundar, is the death of many a politician."
"I'm not a politician," Skellhaundar replied. "And I've never lost a prisoner at Anghul. It's impossible to escape from. I could give him a key to his own cell, and he'd fail to overcome my man at the door. Our knights are the best warriors in the world. There is no one better."
Skellhaundar watched a team of horses and a few earth elementals (controlled by clerics with glowing hands) raise colossal concrete platforms into place. The gargantuan creatures summoned from beyond the veil of this plane could move and manipulate massive blocks of the rock-like substance with ease, and clerics oftentimes employed them in the construction of temples to the dark goddess. Under guidance of his men, these same elementals also uncovered pits within the ground that contained lakes of acid, boiling oil, pits filled with deadly spikes, and machines of spinning blades (powered by ogre slaves).
"How can you argue with that?" Calisto asked. "Agreed...but you are a politician. Just one of a different sort. You're the general of all the armies in Noremest. That makes what you do `political.' I'm not asking for your personal opinion on this; it's a fact. And you should have disciplined Valanthe, by the way. I know he's a gold-spurred knight, but fraternizing so closely with someone that isn't a knight yet? That will spread like wildfire."
"No it won't," Skellhaundar said, "unless you spread it. And I assure you, I'll find out if you do."
"I would never say a word," Calisto said, swatting flies from his melting face. "But there were three other knights in that steam bath. I'm sure they'll talk about that."
"I think not," Skellhaundar replied. "Knights know to keep things between themselves, and they all adore Kian, even if they weren't snogging with him. And who knows what happened after we left. They could have all gone a round or two with him. He certainly wasn't shy about it. But it's that `likeability' factor, Calisto, that you'll never understand. Every man in that room except you was charmed by him. People don't hurt things that please them, or that they find beautiful. Especially true of men; it's our weakness. That's a basic tenant that you've failed to understand, probably because your heart is withered and dry."
"I wasn't charmed by him...not like you. But I was stirred by him. I'd be a fool to say otherwise," Calisto said. "And as for Ephram, you should kill him once we have the password."
"What if he lies?" Skellhaundar replied. "How will we know for sure until we are actually facing down the cibrian golem in the Keep of Silverhawk? So was that the real Beryl Loftcrag or a trick of the witch you've gotten cozy with lately?"
Calisto's eyes narrowed, and the blue flames flickered behind his eye sockets. "As far as I know, it was real. Do you suspect subterfuge? I'd think that whore knows better than to cross me of all people, Skellhaundar, but maybe it's time to remind her of it."
This comment from Calisto made Skellhaundar Romax turn from the field and regard the general with a stern expression...one that came from a need to weigh his options. Can I trust Calisto? He may be a disgusting death knight and rapist of pretty boys, but he is a Timeron knight. He swore the oath same as me. There's no way he's working with her, so I should share what I know with him. It's my duty, after all, Skellhaundar thought.
"Last night, the prisoner broke. It happened during the interrogation, when we started cutting off parts of Beryl Loftcrag in front of Eph. He couldn't bear to see his friend tortured so, and he gave us what we wanted."
"He gave you the password to get past the cibrian golem in the Keep of Silverhawk?" Calisto asked. "Tell me what it is. That kind of military intelligence needs to be shared."
Skellhaundar leaned over and whispered, "Nightwing" to Calisto.
"You don't say?" the undead general asked. "Clever. When Kahket has her spawn and frees Typhon from Hell, she'll be ready to march. Heading south from the city right now are forty thousand men, and she's got those Nevrenachtur Lords...I forget their names..."
"Mara Kano and Cirumoghel," Skellhaundar said, "and she has forty-two thousand men."
Calisto snapped his fingers and continued. "That's them. He's got those two marching her Blades Acuuarum soldiers toward the southern gates. They'll get there by the end of the week. She wants the army ready to empty out onto the Plain of Ameryn and begin marching south and east toward the Icewall Mountains. She won't share any details with me, but I've a feeling the Keep of Silverhawk is a lot closer than we originally thought. She'll want us to join her march, of course. I told her I'd take it up with you."
Skellhaundar returned his gaze afield, saw his men putting up a wooden platform over a bed of churning blades. "The armies of Noremost shall march with Zandine. We have a vested interest in attacking the Valion kingdom in a blitzkrieg that shall be talked about for a thousand years. I'm taking fifty thousand men, and ten thousand blue dragons. I've already consulted with the Night's Daughter on this, and the vast host of blue dragons will be arriving this week from across the sea. Zandine has promised to keep us hidden in the sky with magic that not even silver dragon eyesight can pierce. He's the god of illusion; he should be able to accomplish this small task."
"Ten thousand...so all the gold spurs will be assigned sky patrol?" Calisto asked.
"Yes. The others will ride Noremarian nightmares. Forty thousand cavalry to trample the armies of our enemies."
"We should take more dragons," Calisto said. "Noremost has plenty."
"We can't," Skellhaundar declared. "Dragon magic presents its own difficulties. The beasts are notoriously difficult to affect with spells, which is why wizards tend to not want to tangle with them. Zandine's a god and not a wizard, of course, but even a god has his limits. I was told by Kahket to limit our flying portion to ten-thousand dragons. His illusion to make them invisible in the sky and on the ground until they're virtually atop someone is a difficult thing to implement. Additionally, we'll only have a range of five-hundred miles. If the sky riders go beyond that, they risk exposing themselves. The Valion knights will have dragons of their own and outnumber us, but they have a lot of territory to patrol as the Icewall Mountains extends the length of the entire continent. Right now's a perfect time to strike, as they won't be expecting anything out of Zanda. We need to work hard to keep it that way."
"That's why you should kill the prisoner," Calisto said. "He's of no further use to us, and every day you keep him alive is a day in which he can relay our plans to the enemy."
"He knows nothing of our plans," Skellhaundar said, "and I destroyed his silver dragon egg. It functions the same as our blue dragon eggs and would have allowed him to communicate with his silver dragon mount across a great distance."
"How does that work, exactly?" Calisto asked, chuckling. "He must have cried when you crushed it."
"Ser Ephram is a brave man. There were tears, yes. But he cried long before I broke his egg, trust me. As for how they work? I spoke with the Headmaster at the Lianon Pard Academy of Necromancy once about that. The eggs are created from a stillborn using necromancy, which binds the life force to the parents of that wyrmling. Whatever message is scrawled on the surface transmits to the parent dragon no matter what the distance. In a nutshell, that's how they work. It requires powerful necromancy to create one of these eggs, something that dragons have access to innately because of dragon magic. And as for his usefulness, Ser Ephram still has things he can do for us. He knows the layout of Citadel Raven and the resting place of Thomas's body. He knows where the garrisons are located that house Valion troops. He knows the names of all their officers from the Crimson Guard on down. He's probably one of the most valuable prisoners we have. If we can get him to open up some more, we'll have a tremendous advantage on our enemies."
Down below the stands, the Timeron knights ordered the clerics, elementals, and teams of horses off the field.
Skellhaundar saw Makidon emerge from the Flavium with a cleric of Taleta at his side. They headed toward the podium at center field to announce the champions of the Maze of Monsters and welcome them to what was widely known as "The Gauntlet of a Hundred Deaths."
From an engineering point-of-view, the Gauntlet of a Hundred Deaths was a marvel. It spanned twenty-five acres, and functioned without walls to allow observers on every side of the arena to see what was going on at all times.
There were separate starting points for each of the two teams. Those wearing blue ribbons about their biceps would start on the left. Those wearing red ribbons would begin on the right. All contestants would dress in the armor they wore for the other events minus the cuirass: a sexualization of the contestants to give vendors a reason to sell more merchandise to eager fans. From the look of things, they were making a heyday on anything that bore Kian's name or visage.
They would also have no weapons, but their armor. Skellhaundar hoped the contestants understood that a helmet, a steel gauntlet, and shoulder pauldrons were also useful for giving blows as well as protecting from them.
There were no rules other than to hold the flag. This piece of silk bearing the seal of the Keep of Anghul was positioned atop a wooden scaffold one hundred feet above a pit of spikes on the arena floor. Skellhaundar had seen men maimed, beheaded, and mutilated in unconventional ways in the past. Also, the teams were split unevenly: there were three on one team and four on the other. Skellhaundar checked before the event, and Kian (of course) was on the team that had only three individuals. He thought Calisto might have had a hand in that but kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't want to be too vocal over how impressed he was with Kian in general, and thus risk being called out for favoritism.
A cheer erupted from the stands and spread throughout the arena as Makidon took the podium. The charismatic knight's voice echoed through the crowded bleachers as clear as a bell. "On the left side of the field we have the blue team consisting of three recruits who are the bravest of the brave, the cream of the crop, so please give them applause as they are introduced. First up there's Quar from the town of Anel Vol in the northern reaches."
The huge warrior strode forth to some applause. He had enormous black pecs that gleamed in the winter sunlight, but much of his torso was covered in thick black body hair which Zandans found unattractive. Skellhaundar couldn't blame them. Quar wore rusty chainmail that protected everything else not left naked to the wind, and he stopped just shy of a set of wide razor-blade doors that scythed downward along a guillotine-like track about once every second. The far side of that razor-blade portal held a rotating concrete log above a pit of acid. This in turn emptied into hallway filled with powerful swinging pendulums; each of these ended in huge mauls with spikes on the end. They came in from the left and right and would impale anyone not dodging between them (and then sweep them to their deaths in a lake of boiling oil). Quar wore a blue ribbon tied around his arm.
"It'll be interesting to see if that black Amserran will be hobbled by his injured foot," Calisto remarked.
Skellhaundar nodded, recalling how Quar limped about in the equipment room in the Flavium Consul.
"Next on the blue team is Bune, a cambion from the town of Glum Barrow in Valcia," Makidon said. There were about the same applause for him as there were for Quar only a moment before.
The red-skinned, black-haired devil pranced forward in ring mail and took his place next to Quar on the concrete stage. Bare-chested like the others on his team (and skin shiny with oil) Bune posed for the crowd but didn't gather any more ovation. The combination of goat's legs and thick black fur (that grew in random patches) did not endear him to many fans, and Bune's ugly face made some even hiss and boo at him. "Half breed scum!" some people yelled from the stands. Flies even gathered around him, which suggested that he may not have taken advantage of the steam baths and stunk from the first two events. He wore his blue ribbon tied around the upper left arm.
"Last on the blue team is Kian Brittain," Makidon said. It looked like Makidon continued to say things, but the roar from the stands drowned him out.
People held up homemade signs that read, "Pure Blood is the Best Blood," and "Taleta Blessed Us with Kian."
Kian hopped lithely onto the stage, wearing his shiny corobidian armor. He looked so handsome, white muscular chest glistening and wet with clear oil. The metal pauldrons and arm pieces down to his gauntlets were freshly polished and shiny black. The contrast was startling and very arousing for anyone with a gear fetish. Strutting the stage, Kian paused to flex, and his shredded physique showed every vein, muscle, and sinew on his back and chest to a crowd that was more than willing to eat it up. Then he flexed his eight pack, running his gauntlet down over his rib bones and belly button like a striptease. He even flicked the white thatch of pubic hair that poked out of his butt tassett and then gripped his suggestive codpiece, thrusting his hips. This incited women (and quite a few men) in the stands to scream louder than Skellhaundar had ever heard in the years he'd been doing this event.
"Gods! Listen to that!" Calisto exclaimed leaning forward out of the stand. "You'd think he was a war hero!"
Skellhaundar swallowed. "The boy has won the hearts of everyone here," he stated, looking around at the stadium of fifty thousand souls all cheering so loudly that it shook the seats.
Down on the platform, Kian continued to flex, showing off his biceps and his glutes, which looked incredible in his armor. Quar and Bune frowned at him and whispered to themselves.
If they're smart, Skellhaundar thought, they're plotting against him right now. In the crowd's eyes he's already won, which means they're doomed to die. I'd take issue with that if I were in this competition.
Kian grabbed his blue ribbon and tied it around his helmet like a bandana.
The crowd started chanting, "Show us your face! Show us your face!" But Kian just waved at the crowd and never once lifted his visor.
"He mocks our rules," Calisto said.
"A good knight loves a parade," Skellhaundar replied. "In his mind, he's won the spurs already. This is just a formality."
"On the right side," Makidon said, "we have team red. These men have sworn to die for your entertainment, so welcome these brave warriors from today's competition with as much enthusiasm as you can muster."
The crowd (still cheering from Kian's antics) started to quiet down.
"First up is Mor'Agg from Clan YoJack."
The half-ekthor, half human breed walked onto the concrete platform on the far side of the field wearing his ring mail, minus anything covering his chest. As he walked forward to stand behind the razor blade doors, he scratched a bloody furrow with his sharp fingernails across his wrinkled (and hirsute) chest. His green leathery skin had many tribal tattoos, and Skellhaundar marveled at how thick this monster of a man was. Mor'Agg looked like he had a forty-inch waist with several rolls of fat and no neck at all. Rather, he had a stump that connected his shoulders to his head. The thing's bucket helmet had room for his ultra wide jaw and tusks, and the visor slit was wide enough to allow his pig-like eyes and snout to be clearly visible. He stomped his massive feet (which shook the concrete platform) and raised his fist to a few claps and cheers.
"Next up for Team Red is Zygot from our very own Zanda," Makidon announced.
At his introduction, absolutely no one clapped and a few "boos" were heard. The half-demon spawn waddled onto the platform, shaking it under his weight. Ring mail covered his legs, arms, and he wore a helmet on his head. But his morbidly obese body was all anyone noticed. His dark brown skin, freshly oiled and shiny, accentuated the many stretch marks on his copious amounts of sweating suet. His two pairs of man tits made Skellhaundar think that the sagging breasts of a pair of old hookers had been attached to his upper chest by a flesh crafter. They lay flat against his huge belly, which wobbled as he walked. Zygot's belly button was a massive hole as big as a man's head; it sprouted hair from within. Standing almost eight feet tall, this "recruit" (and Skellhaundar used the word lightly) made him ill to the stomach. He didn't care how powerful this cambion was. Skellhaundar just didn't think he was knight material, and he felt sorry that the master cobbler was off making custom boots for Zygot's feet right now, because Zygot could win the entire event.
That must have been disgusting measuring those grotesque things for shoes, Skellhaundar thought. I bet they smelt of moldy cheese.
"Zygot must fail," Skellhaundar declared. "He's not Timeron material."
"Hah!" Calisto laughed. "We'll see. If he gets spurred you'd better give him the Tongue of Taleta like you promised that cocky son-of-a-bitch you've bet all your karma on. If you don't, I'll make you Skellhaundar. Fair's fair among soldiers. What you promise to one, the others had better get too. That's the code between men of honor."
Skellhaundar shot him an angry glance. "You love embarrassing me, don't you?"
"I live for it," Calisto said. "Some day you'll miss this repertoire we have, Skellhaundar. You should enjoy my company while it lasts."
"Next up on Team Red is Vorn T'orgh from the kuanni under the southern Icewall Mountains," Makidon said.
The venerable and scarred dark elf took the platform then, scars luminous in the sunlight. His shiny black skin gave him more muscular definition than was actually there, and the crowd cheered him some, but only about a third of the volume as when Kian took the stage. He wore the next best suit of armor after Kian: half plate dented and scratched from many battles. His gray chest hair stuck to his flesh, and he had unsightly nipples larger than a woman's, each pierced with a ring of steel. His hands and feet were overly large, and he had knobby knees.
"Now we get to see who was in the other steam bath," Calisto remarked. "The last contestant to make it this far. I wonder who it could be?"
"Something tells me you already know," Skellhaundar said.
"Our fourth contestant is Sthiss Skrim, a Nykoran from across the ocean."
As this was announced, Skellhaundar noticed that Kian (who was in the middle of thrusting his hips at the crowd), suddenly stopped and looked across the field at the other platform.
Not a fan of Nykorans, I see, Skellhaundar thought.
"Would you look at that?" Calisto asked pointing at the Nykoran just now walking out onto the concrete to join his teammates.
Standing as tall as Zygot, this Nykoran was the most formidable of their kind Skellhaundar had ever seen. A helmet of hammered steel concealed his lizard-like head, open enough to see a broad nose pierced with a horizontal bone and a fearsome human-like maw filled with needle-like teeth. Sthiss Skrim had a long tail enclosed in cold iron bands. The end was tipped with a sharp barb that shone brightly in the sunlight as if wet. His four foot long arms ended in six-fingered claws so long, they looked like short swords from this distance. His exposed chest was covered in protective blue and green scales, and cold iron armor covered his legs and feet.
"Gods, what a terror," Calisto said. "One scratch from those claws is death. Natural poison...not anything the referees could do about it. Good thing the oil stops that."
"Until it wears off," Skellhaundar frowned. "And then, it also depends on how deep the poison gets."
"Those claws aren't butter knives," Calisto declared. "They're meant to flay a man alive. Now that's a fuckin' knight. I can't wait to see you put spurs on that beast."
"Teams!" Makidon called out. "You will begin the gauntlet on my mark. The first team to the flag at the center on that scaffolding there must defend it. Any who live will go on to the final round. There are no rules. If you are killed here, know that your body will be buried with honor. Team Blue, have you chosen your captain?"
"We have," Bune called out. "It is I. Kian and Quar will open the first and second platforms. Kian drew the short straw. Once the way is clear, I'll climb the scaffold and defend the flag until they can catch up to me."
"Team Red, have you chosen your captain?" Makidon yelled.
"We have," Vorn replied with a shout. "It is I. Zygot and Mor'Agg will open the first platform. The second will be handled by Sthiss Skrim. When the way is open, I will climb the scaffold and defend the flag until they can catch up to me."
"Get ready!" Makidon called out. After a second he said, "Start!"
Kian ran up to the guillotine doors and timed them perfectly, jumping through to land on a rolling concrete log, turning counterclockwise at a brisk pace. The sure-footed lad immediately faced the right direction, moving his feet rapidly to keep up with the rotation. He began closing the distance to a ledge (some fifteen feet away) that marked the entrance to the hallway of swinging mauls. Underneath the rotating log was a fall of about twenty-five feet into vats of flesh-eating acid.
To make matters more difficult for Kian, grease drizzled down upon the concrete log (from lead pipes overhead) making the going especially treacherous. Some of the grease dripped over Kian's chest and armor, and he struggled to keep his gauntlets out of the stuff so as not to jeopardize his grip. Even with these challenges in place, Kian made it to the other side in seconds. However, it didn't keep Skellhaundar from being on the edge of his seat the entire time.
Kian jumped to the ledge, and the crowd gasped.
Here, the boy faced a challenge of an entirely different sort. Now at the beginning of a deadly corridor of pendulum mauls hurtling back and forth, Kian balanced on less than two inches of real estate—all while wearing greasy metal sabatons.
Three feet wide and tapered on the top to a sharp point (so a person couldn't perch on one) these mallets swung from poles that were more swords than they were rods. As the first one missed Kian by mere inches, the air current almost blew him back. For a second, it looked like he might drop into the pit of acid. But Kian kept his balance and took his time, measuring the rate at which each pendulum rocked (which happened to be wildly different). After a few seconds he jumped the first two, stopped for a few seconds, and took a step forward for a pause of only one second. Then he jumped three, stopped; he hopped forward two, stopped, and then sprinted through five to the end.
Kian had to sprint (and almost didn't make it) because he needed the momentum to jump up and grab a hold of a ledge that was fifteen feet up. Leaping with all the strength in his legs, he seized the edge with his fingers and slammed his body into the wall tight enough that the rod of the last pendulum missed him by an inch as it swung behind his back; the maul on the bottom of that rod missed his feet by several inches. Then Kian pulled himself up, ribs flaring and muscles strained. He brought himself to a stand on a platform barely two feet square, and paused a moment to catch his breath.
Kian's heaving chest, all sweaty and glossy, made the crowd roar and clap.
Beneath his right foot was a small circle about the width of his metal boot. This was a kind of launch pad that was intended to propel his partner, Quar, up forty feet so that he could make a leap across a twenty foot gap. If successful, he would land on a floor of spinning sword blades that would be fifteen feet beneath him (if he rode the cylindrical lift all the way to its zenith). If Quar timed it right, he had nothing to worry about. If he landed wrong, he'd get cut into several pieces and die a horrible death. The objective of course was to land on the flat of the blades, which would then cause them to stop turning.
Kian's job was to get to a cage about a hundred feet from where he stood now where there were two levers. One operated this lift here. The other operated the one for the Red Team. Also at this juncture was a button, and Kian pushed it. This stopped the mauls from swinging in the corridor behind him, and it froze the greasy concrete log that trundled away (with a grinding noise) above the acid pit.
Quar, seeing that Kian had made the way relatively safe for him, popped his knuckles and raced forward to jump through the guillotine gate. But his injured foot tripped him up, and he went headlong into the door about two seconds late, instantly cutting his body in half. One bloody part of him fell on the concrete platform at the feet of Bune. The other half launched itself into the acid pit, shrieking.
The crowd let out a collective scream of horror and blood sprayed everywhere.
"Come on!" Kian yelled with exasperation. "That's fuckin' fantastic!" Angrily, Kian stomped on the floor with his metal shoe. "Bune! You've got to take his place!"
The red-skinned cambion shook his head, visibly pissing himself while his feet wallowed in Quar's bloody intestines. Urine ran down his legs and dripped off the concrete platform, hissing as it struck acid.
On the other side of the field, Zygot drew the short straw.
The morbidly obese cambion strode forward, timing the guillotine door for his bull rush. When it closed in front of him, he rammed his full weight into the metal gate. There was so much power to that blow that it bent the razor blades in their well-oiled grooves, effectively making it so they couldn't withdraw upward. Zygot slammed into the closed doors again at this point, denting the metal in, warping and bending it.
Smoke billowed from the machinery.
Zygot punched and kicked at the huge metal blades. They had teeth in them so that they would interlock, but all that pounding and slamming caved those in so that they didn't match up with one another. Finally, the doors came loose and slammed down on the rolling concrete log. Because the log rolled inside an open area some ten feet wide but bounded by iron girders, the edges of the door rolled left and slammed into steel trusses and got locked into place. Then zygot kicked the bottom razor door out of the track and knocked it down onto the concrete log as well. He scooted it forward with his shoe until he'd made a bridge that everyone could cross safely and get to the ledge where the corridor of pendulum mauls began.
"Now that's resourceful," Calisto said.
"It's cheating and you know it," Skellhaundar said with a frown.
"Don't be a poor sport. Red Team outnumbers Blue Team two to one at this point. I'm sure that won't give them any advantage though," Calisto taunted.
Zygot strode forward into the corridor and braced himself to catch the first maul in his massive belly. He turned so that the point struck him in the huge hole that some mistook for being a navel, and his massive girth absorbed the shock waves like they were nothing. Waves of fat from the impact circled 'round to the thing's butt crack like ripples on a pond. Then Zygot gripped the hammer and tore it free from the hinge high above only to toss it into the bubbling oil beneath his elephant feet.
Zygot went after the next and the next after that, always using his massive belly button to catch the pointed end of the maul (which seemed to do no damage to him) and then rip the apparatus free, tossing it off the platform. When Zygot got to the end, Sthiss Skrim and Mor'Agg got underneath Zygot's massive butt and lifted him up on their shoulders so that he could grip the edge of the next platform. When those two stepped away, Skellhaundar saw that their shoulders and faces were smeared in fecal matter.
Despite Zygot's massive weight, he was able to pull himself up and balance on the two-foot square box with the circle on it. There was no need for him to press the button, but he did it anyway, which brought a stop to the concrete log grinding away under the metal bridge they'd forged from the razor blade doors.
Kian and Zygot arrived at the points at pretty much the same time. Kian stared at Zygot and then sprinted forward to reach the cage before the fat man could make it there. Racing into the next corridor, Kian started to cross what Skellhaundar called, "The Floor without Tiles."
Instead of solid ground, pipes spanning a fifty-foot chasm were all that stood between Kian and a pit filled with deadly spikes. These pipes were (in turn) crossed every two feet by another set of pipes placed perpendicular to the first. These created a grid of squares that a person would fall through unless they balanced on the pipes. If any flesh, e.g. an arm or a leg fell through one of the holes, round lead bullets one-inch wide were fired from cannons on the far end. At the same time, the pipes flashed the colors yellow, red, and blue, changing once a second. On blue, they electrified with lightning down the entire length. The ceiling was twelve feet up and had bars that one could grab onto (spaced at five foot intervals) if a person could jump high enough (so as to avoid the lightning).
Kian raced across the pipes, bounding from one to another. They flashed yellow, then red, and then Kian leapt with all his might just as they turned blue. His glutes, thighs, and calves flexed; veins rose over hard ropy tendon, and the crowd gasped as the floor electrified with lightning. Kian grabbed a hold of the iron rung above him. It only held for a second before breaking loose; it fell with a cacophony through the floor and into the spinning knives. However, Kian landed right as the pipes turned yellow again, and he scrambled forward as fast as he could to make the next ceiling rung.
As the pipes turned blue yet a second time, Kian launched himself airborne with a vertical jump of six feet, grabbed a hold of the bar above his head (which broke free a second later) and then he landed again on yellow pipes. He did this one more time before reaching the end (and safety).
A roar filled the stadium as Kian strode into the iron cage and looked back to see if Bune was in place. He was, and Kian flipped the lever down sending Bune soaring into the air (atop the pole-like lift). Once at the top, Bune couldn't keep his balance and jumped prematurely. He landed on the second platform as the swords spun with their edges up instead of flat. He died instantly as he was sliced into four different pieces all about a couple inches wide. Blood, bones, ichor, guts, and brains fell down on the first platform and sizzled as they fell through and struck the acid vats.
"Fuck!" Kian swore. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
"He's the last one on his team now," Calisto said. "Who will flip the switch for him to get him up there? That's a problem. You've finally lost, Skellhaundar. Makidon is mine!"
Zygot yelled and strode forward into the corridor holding "The Floor Without Tiles." He fell through one of the frames almost instantly, and lead bullets fired at the obese cambion. These things (that should have killed a normal man) merely struck Zygot's flesh with a thick plop. Some bounced and others lodged into his skin, leaving bloody holes. Zygot didn't seem to care. He pulled himself back up and the floor electrified, but the lightning only stunted his movement forward and didn't seem to faze him.
Inside the cage, Kian looked around desperately as Zygot closed in, smoke steaming from Zygot's electrified armor and burnt flesh. A half dozen times more, Zygot fell, causing the bullets to fire at him. Eventually, the morbidly obese cambion used up all the ammunition and the cannons had nothing left to shoot. That, and the lightning floor failed by the time Zygot reached the cage five minutes later, the magical spell having run dry of charges.
The huge eight-foot-tall man lumbered into the cage, his skin blackened and crispy from all the lightning. But Zygot's eyes focused on Kian with murderous intent.
"Now you die, pretty boy!" Zygot yelled, swinging at Kian.
There in the ten-foot by ten-foot iron cage, Kian didn't have much maneuvering room. Still, he parried Zygot's blow with strength and dexterity that wowed Skellhaundar, and then Kian ducked under another. Behind Zygot's massive girth, Kian spotted Mor'Agg making his way through "The Floor Without Tiles." Of course, Mor'Agg could take his time as Zygot had effectively disarmed that challenge. Kian swung his fist hard at Zygot's mid-section above the belly button and his arm sank into Zygot's flesh up to the elbow and got stuck. Zygot laughed and backhanded Kian so hard, it launched him into the wall of the cage. Then Zygot bull-rushed Kian, seeking to crush him.
Skellhaundar almost averted his gaze.
However, Kian rolled out of the way a split second before Zygot struck and the fat man slammed into the cage wall. Then Kian jumped up and landed on Zygot's back. He put his legs around Zygot's neck and squeezed with all his might, trying to crush the cambion's windpipe. Zygot's arms were so short and fat, he couldn't smack Kian off his back. After ten seconds of being crushed like this, Zygot fell to his knees. This encouraged Kian even more, and every muscle on the boy protruded and strained as Kian strangled Zygot to death. Kian only just managed to render the huge cambion unconscious as Mor'Agg reached the cage, and had to dismount as Zygot fell down on the floor.
Mor'Agg swung at Kian with both fists, and the youth parried those blows. In a second attempt, Kian caught Mor'Agg's wrists and pulled on them hard to get him off kilter. Then Kian fell backward and kicked up with his feet into Mor'Agg's chest. This sent the ekthor flying forward into the cage wall. As Mor'Agg scrambled to his feet once more, Kian kicked him in the jaw, knocking free one of his four inch fangs. As it spun in the air, Kian caught it.
Mor'Agg kicked out at Kian, but he expertly blocked the leg sweep with the side of his knee. Then Kian circle kicked Mor'Agg so hard in the head that it sent him hurtling into the cage. A second later, Kian slammed Mor'Agg's own tusk into the ekthor's head and kicked it with his boot, splitting open the man's skull. The ekthor's massive body shuddered and lay still.
On the floor, Zygot started to move again.
Kian wasted no time and tore free Mor'Agg's long braid from the ekthor's skull, ripping loose the hair and taking with it green flesh. He tied it around Zygot's left arm and then knotted the other end around the lever that needed to be pulled to launch the lift on Kian's platform.
Kian glanced to his right, saw the huge Nykoran at the end of the "Floor without Tiles." Sthis Skrim stood on the lift that he expected either Zygot or Mor'Agg to activate. Kian flipped him off with a middle finger, and then crossed back through his own corridor of electrified pipes.
Kian reached the lift right as Zygot came to. The fat man, disoriented from being unconscious, immediately started tugging on his arm which pulled down the lever activating the lift. Under Kian's right foot, it shot him upward. Once at the top, Kian timed his jump, and landed on the flat of the blades right as they turned.
"Zygot! Pull the damned lever!" The Nykoran shouted.
"That was genius," Skellhaundar said.
But Calisto smoldered with anger.
Kian raced across the second platform, which was just a bunch of rotating blades. The hard part had been landing, but once atop them, he could time the sections so that he walked across the flat part pretty easily. He made it to the scaffolding, atop which stood the flag fluttering in the wind. Kian saw that Zygot launched the Nykoran into the air, and the warrior landed perfectly (as Kian had done) and was now racing toward the scaffolding too. Kian avoided the button that would shut down the rotating blades and started to climb the rope to the top. It was more than forty feet up, but he managed to reach the halfway mark by the time the Nykoran slammed his foot down on the button so that the blades would stop rotating. Vorn immediately started moving to join Sthiss Skrim on the second platform underneath the scaffolding. Zygot stayed where he was in the cage, exhausted, and bleeding.
Sweating, Kian pulled himself up top and grabbed the flag from the pole. He held it up to a thunderous crowd, and then tucked it into his butt tasset to await the arrival of his opponents up top. First to arrive on the rope was Sthiss Skrim, and he attacked Kian with the poisoned tip of his tail. Kian dodged and kicked the Nykoran warrior in the chest, breaking a few ribs and causing the man to almost fly over the edge into the pit of spikes a hundred feet below. Then Vorn appeared, launching himself at Kian with a strange flying kick that Skellhaundar had never seen.
Kian barely rolled out of the way. Vorn kicked, Kian parried. Vorn lunged, fingers straight out and held tight, and Kian deflected with his raised elbow and returned with a throat punch.
Sthiss Skrim raised his claws and slashed them at Kian, who tumbled backward and landed perfectly from a mid-air flip. Then as he struck out with his tail again, Kian slipped inward, turning his body perfectly to grab a hold of the tail and slightly alter its trajectory into the chest of the kuanni warrior, who still gasped from his throat punch.
The pointed end of the tail impaled Vorn and the poison had an almost immediate effect. It also kept the huge Nykoran trapped in Vorn's flesh for a brief second: a deadly amount of time as far as Kian was concerned. He leapt up and struck the Nykoran in the head with both elbows, making the giant warrior stagger. Then Kian struck the Nykoran in the back with both feet and sent Vorn and the Nykoran hurtling into the spiked pit where they struck with meaty plops that echoed through the arena.
The crowd roared and everyone clapped.
Everyone except Calisto, who got to his feet and immediately started taking apart Skellhaundar's luxury box, cursing to the nine hells, and destroying every piece of furniture in the room.
"We have a winner!" Makidon declared. "Zygot's disqualified meaning that Kian Brittain is the sole champion of the Blood Bowl. For the first time in four years, folks, someone has won the spurs. What color shall they be?"
Skellhaundar stepped forward to the rail as the crowd started shouting, "Gold! Gold! Gold!" over and over.
Skellhaundar Romax smiled at the crowd and yelled down to Makidon. "The crowd has spoken. Ser Kian Brittain shall be knighted this evening, and I shall give him the gold spurs myself! Welcome to our order, Ser Brittain. You've earned it!"
On the platform, Kian flexed and raised one fist in the air, and the crowd celebrated his win with a din so loud Skellhaundar's ears rang for an hour afterward.
The complete novel is now available to read at http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html under the label "The Orb of Winter" if you care to read ahead.
I'm prepping "The Orb of Winter" for publication on Kindle. The cover art for it is done. Anyone that wants to see it can pop over to http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/news.html. It features a new picture of Kian on the cover :).
If you go to my website forum directly from this posting, you will want to begin with "CHAPTER THIRTY."