A Sword Of Wrath, Book I - K. E. MacLeod (nonfiction book recommendations .TXT) 📗

his clan. But, despite his reservations, he knew he would try by any means necessary to retrieve Suna for his father.

After they had passed through the gates, the cage then continued to rattle through the streets of Odalia as her citizens came away from their tasks and obligations to cheer the arrival of the new gladiators. The others in the cage played up to the crowds, flexing their muscles, pantomiming fights with one another and generally reveling in the moment that they had been trained for their entire lives. Juko turned around and looked over his shoulder, glancing at the cheering throngs through the wooden slats of the cage. He saw a lady pull up her skirts, revealing to him that she wore nothing underneath as she gave him a wink. Juko quickly turned away, his expression stern.

The driver carried them around the market once more before finally leading them to the Amphitheater. When they arrived at its entrance, the driver gleefully called out, "Open the gates!"

Juko looked up at the towering, rounded structure and despite his attempt to remain stoic, his heart leapt at the sheer size of it. It reminded him of being home and looking up at the mountain peaks that surrounded his village.

Along with his awe, Juko also couldn't fight the lingering incredulity that a N'bari could ever be so welcomed into the capital of the Lycanian Empire without having his own head handed to him. The two lands were ancient enemies and it wasn't until the Peacebringer Emperor had forged the Pax Lunas treaty that they were ever able to even co-exist in such close proximity to one another.

For the Lycanians, in their fear, saw the ancient N'bari Moon People across the waters to the far southeast as a bloodthirsty Bestial tribe that were capable of little more than animal savagery in their minds. They were known throughout the land for their fierce hand-to-hand combat fighting skills, large size and indomitable wills. This made for a formidable enemy to the Lycanian armies, who were small in stature by comparison and used to fighting from a distance with arrows and spears.

Emperor Gaius' original intention when he set forth from the White Palace towards Noba was not peace but had been actually to conquer the Spice Route - a main supply artery that led across the ocean and directly into the N'bari Mountains. Had he been successful, the conquest would have cut off the N’bari's sole existing trade route. With it in his possession, Gaius would've been able to levy a tax on all items coming in and out Noba, as well as control the prices he paid for his imports.

Unfortunately for the Lycanian forces, the ensuing battle was bloody and full of casualty. When his imminent demise became inevitable, Gaius switched strategies and offered the N'bari chieftains a compromise: Lycania would trade its many sought-after spices, wheat and wines in exchange for fighters from Noba, which they could then train as gladiators to serve as entertainment for the people of the Empire. The bloodsport of gladiatorial combat had become increasingly in demand in the capital and brought in much gold to the Lycanian coffers. The promoters of the sport had recently discovered that the more exotic the fighter, the higher price people paid to witness the carnage - the Moon People being the most lucrative. The N'bari agreed to the terms and the treaty was signed.

The new gladiators rode past the entrance of the Amphitheater, the wheels of the cart kicking up the dust of the circuit grounds. As they came to a stop, the large heavy doors of the structure closed behind them with a resounding thud that Juko could feel within his chest while, despite the thickness of the walls surrounding them, he could still hear the people outside cheering their arrival

"Well, men," the driver jumped down from the carriage and walked around to open the cage, "welcome to your new home!"

The men excitedly exited the cage, leaving Juko, who had waited until the cart was empty before he, too, climbed out. When he did so and, at last, stood upon the ground of the arena, Juko felt nothing but wonderment at what he saw before him. The Amphitheater was huge, maybe even large enough to house his entire village. The seats that surrounded the circuit began at the ground level and went upwards in a diagonal as they rose higher. The dirt of the arena had been used so often that he could see ruts carved into the terrain from the many chariot races that had been held there.

The driver walked up to Juko and placed an arm around his shoulders. It was laughable to anyone watching as the driver was very short, with a large belly and Juko was tall and muscular.

"Did you know," the driver began, "that they can even close up the doors and fill this place with water? Watched them do it myself last year with these small boats that they used to recreate the Battle of the West Sea against the Icanthians."

Juko looked at the driver, who seemed unaware that the N'bari wasn't sharing in his enthusiasm.

The driver patted him on the back, "Well, pick up your things and get in there. They'll take the best beds before you know it."

Juko glanced around to see where the driver was indicating and saw that his hand pointed towards a double set of metal doors that led to the gladiators’ underground quarters. Juko nodded and muttered a polite, "Thank you," as he followed the others.

Unlike most of the men he had seen so far, Juko had brought nothing with him on his journey. All he possessed were the clothes on his back, which included an extra long black tunic studded geometrically with teeny bits of metal mined from the mountains of his homeland. The tunic rested over a thick set of black breeches, which were stuffed into a heavy pair of dark leather boots. He also carried no weapon as he had been trained in the N’bari style of hand-to-hand fighting since birth and had never felt the need.

Once through the heavy doors, he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. Every few feet, brass braziers hung from the ceiling against bricked columns, casting little light in the room. Beds lined both sides of the long tunnel-like area, which ended in a small alcove in the back. He walked slowly, eyeing each bed and wondered which had been his brother's.

Juko made his way to the alcove where a small window with iron bars had been set near the ceiling. The last two beds were located there, placed against the back wall so that they faced into the rest of the room, unlike the other beds that lined the sidewalls and faced each other. He picked the empty bed on the left and sat upon it. It was surprisingly soft and felt unnatural compared to his stone-based bed at home, which he had covered in a thick pile of straw and animal hides. He wasn't entirely sure how his sleep would fare upon the softness of the new bed but reminded himself that it was only temporary.

"You're from the north, aren't you?" A voice spoke to him in his native Noban tongue. He looked up at the entrance to the alcove and saw a very large man, his skin so dark that were it not for the window behind Juko casting light into the room, he would've been hard to discern in the shadows.

Juko stood and gave a slight, respectful bow, "Yes, I am."

"Grasshopper Clan?"

He smiled the restrained smile of one who was used to performing ambassadorial duties, "That is correct."

The other man nodded and Juko couldn't help but notice the thickness of his neck as he spoke, "I thought you light-skins up north didn't usually send fighters."

"Light-skin" would seem a misnomer to most Lycanians had they overheard its usage, for even though Juko was far lighter than the other man, he still appeared darker than the average resident of Odalia.

"Yes, that's true."

The other man looked at him slightly suspiciously for a moment, then eased into a bright smile, "My name is T'tembo, I am from the Lion Clan of the south."

"I am Juko."

"Well, Juko, I will be your neighbor," he indicated the other well lived-in bed area beside him in the alcove.

Juko nodded and offered another slight smile, which then turned into a frown as he sat back down, having momentarily forgotten about the discomfort of the bed.

T'tembo laughed, "Yes, the beds are difficult to get used to. They use bird feathers, believe it or not!"

"It is a very odd notion," Juko said and pressed down on the bed, feeling the feathers shift beneath his hand.

"You know, we had another fighter from your clan. He was much bigger than you, though. His name was Suna, do you know him?"

Juko's heart stopped, "He was here?"

"Yes, so you do know of him?"

"He's my brother. I heard he was arrested!"

The other man nodded glumly, "He was but no one knows what's happened since."

Juko stood, "Where is he being held?"

"The Palace, I would think."

Juko turned to leave the alcove, walking quickly towards the doors of the living quarters but T'tembo called out to him before he reached them, "That is not a good idea, Juko."

"You do not understand," he arrogantly spat back at him, "I have to find my brother; that is why I am here."

"Then, you won't get very far."

"And why's that?" Juko asked, slightly annoyed.

He answered matter-of-factly, "Because the Amphitheater is locked."

Juko seemed undaunted, "Then I'll just ask them to unlock it."

T'tembo laughed a hearty, deep laugh, "You can't. You're a gladiator now."

"So? Then they'll respect me all the-"

"No. Let me rephrase: You are a slave now."

T'tembo's words hit Juko like a hard punch to the gut. He stepped towards the other man, "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, they can dress it up all they want, call it 'fighters' or 'gladiators' or whatever but we are slaves to the Lycanian Empire. Once those doors outside shut, they also locked. Your place is here and you can't leave."

"No, that can't be," Juko shook his head. "The recruiter-"

"Everything they told us during recruitment is a lie. Very few fighters survive to get their freedom. And the big house and the beautiful women they promised? I've been here two years and this, " he pointed back to his bed, "is my big beautiful house. I barely make enough from the fights to pay my room and board and I am currently undefeated."

"No," Juko shook his head, "that can't be right. The Pax Lunas-"

"The Pax Lunas wasn't worth the papyrus it was written on." He placed a meaty hand on Juko's shoulder, "Look at us, my friend, we are all slaves." T'tembo turned Juko to face the other men who were laughing and talking excitedly with one another about their future conquests as he concluded, "they just don't know it yet."

"But-"

The heavy metal doors to the quarters opened and an older man, dressed in gray Lycanian robes and carrying a horsehair flywhisk, entered with a much younger and attractive male, dressed in pastels. The older man's rough expression was set very stern as he looked over everyone in the room, swishing the flywhisk at either side of his face while he walked.

T'tembo whispered to Juko as if it had meant something, "That's Euric, the Vandal."

"Hello, men," he addressed them, his voice rough and gravely but with a showman's timbre. "My name is Euric and I am your lanista." He paused in front of a short but stout Hairy Man, "Your owner." He continued walking, swatting at unseen flies on either side of his face, "I'm in charge of your training. I also set up your fights and," he paused before Juko and looked him up and down, "I'm in charge of arranging your funerals." He turned from Juko and continued to address the other gladiators, "The rules