“A Dark Arena match? That is what you offered,” Varick commented, checking the straps of his leather armor. He then looked down the length of his greatsword. A dozen or more pit gladiators surrounded the top, with more blocking the cavern’s entrance. He jumped into the stone-laid fighting pit to the sand covered ground.
“Araminth Goldeneye’s freedom if I win,” Vomarian said. He checked over his suit of finely etched plate mail armor. It was a tight fit and exactly how he liked it. The head of a massive, elf-eating, white lion, acquired on his Wyld Hunt as a youth, was attached to his left shoulder with its enormous paw resting on his right. He wore his spectacular helm with the lion’s mane coming from the top.
“Yes, if you win,” Varick echoed. He checked two longswords sheathed to his back and stepped forward with his greatsword.
Vomarian noticed Varick’s longswords were at an awkward angle for his arms to reach. Deciding not to jump down due to the weight of his armor, Vomarian lowered himself into the pit. An iron smell penetrated his nose, and the metallic taste hit his tongue. A few degrees cooler, the air refreshed him.
The pit gladiator audience fell silent. They shifted their attention to the two warriors.
Vomarian had a moment to take in the sight of his opponent, the size of a small mountain, taller than himself, and his shoulders were twice as broad. His arms were thicker than Vomarian’s thighs, and his corded leg muscles radiated power with each step. Breathing deeply and exhaling, he wondered if he had just made a huge mistake. He swept his battle axe wide to the side in a salute.
Varick attacked immediately! Swinging his greatsword with untamed savagery.
Vomarian curved snakelike away from the blow at the last instant. The Shagornan Elf growled at his lack of decorum.
Shifting continually back and forth, Varick’s muscles rippled as he made a powerful swing with his greatsword.
Vomarian deflected the blow with his battle axe. The power of the blow threw him back several paces. Stumbling into the pit’s wall, his head impacted stone. It hurt! Even with his helm, his head felt like someone had just hit it with a maul. Angered at the pain, he smashed at his opponent with his battle axe.
Varick ducked under his oncoming attack, seizing the counterstrike. He hacked mercilessly at the elf with his greatsword.
Vomarian found himself rather unprepared for the attack. His left thigh felt the impact. The superior armor was near proof against the blow. However, the force caused him to lose his footing, and he fell. Kicking out frantically, his foot caught the edge of a buried stone in the sand. He quickly regained his stance.
Vomarian realized Varick was a superior fighter. Beating him in a stand-up fight would be precarious. Araminth’s voice, ‘You will not win,’ echoed in his mind. Pushing the defeatist comment aside, he had to change his tactics the next minute.
Bounding forward, Varick brought his greatsword hurtling downward from above his head.
Vomarian didn’t move. Sparks flew as the sharp blades dug into each other. He deflected the blow.
Scoffing, Varick brought his greatsword smashing outward in a vicious attack. Again, the elf didn’t budge and parried with his battle axe.
Stepping back, contemplating what the elf was doing, Varick rushed forward in a counterstrike. Muscles rippled as he made a powerful swing with his greatsword.
Bringing the battle axe up, Vomarian attempted to block the blow. Varick’s strength was incredible. He couldn’t hold it! The pit gladiator smashed through the parry with his greatsword.
The weapon struck Vomarian’s chest. The wind blew hard out of his lungs from the blow.
“You will not beat me, elf,” Varick snarled.
“I’m not trying to beat you,” Vomarian quipped.
“No? You can not hope to tire me out and scum me either.”
Taking advantage as he attempted to reply, Varick pivoted, stepped one way and then jumped to the other side of the elf.
A tactic Vomarian saw hundreds of times.
Varick attacked, wielding his greatsword.
Vomarian raised his axe to deflect the blow—an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object. Neither would yield! The elf’s axe ran down the sword’s length. It found a nick in the steel. A stress point and exactly what he looked for! He flicked his battle axe and bit hard into the metal.
Varick cursed vehemently as the blow broke his greatsword. Throwing down the hilt, he fumbled for one of the longswords strapped to his back.
“I was trying to beat your weapon,” Vomarian retorted.
Varick’s temple crinkled. His brow rose as a realization of vulnerability set in.
The Shagornan Elf swept his battle axe in a deadly assault.
Varick dodged, jumping to the side of the attack.
Following up, his battle axe sliced across with tree-felling power.
Varick showed off his superb training as he vaulted over the attack. He attempted to draw his longsword, but Vomarian hotly engaged him.
Vomarian made an all-out cleaving attack with his battle axe. Varick twisted impossibly away from the blow, amazing the pit gladiator spectators.
The Shagornan Elf stayed close, preventing Varick from drawing his backup weapons. He could feel and smell the other man’s hot breath. However, it also prevented him from utilizing the blade effectively with a powerful attack. Changing tactics, he bashed with the side of his battle axe.
Varick batted the weapon aside with his bare hand, leaving an opening to attack. He then exploded into a deadly double, open-hand strike.
Vomarian was hit in the abdomen. The pit gladiator spectators cringed as the power of the blow struck home. The armor dented into him. Air blasted from his lungs.
Varick followed up his attack. His fists punched with piston-like horse-felling power.
The elf was smashed in the face. Teeth slammed into each other. Vomarian could feel blood pumping into his head as it swelled within the helm. It then went numb. The overriding taste of blood filled his mouth.
Varick hammered down in a ferocious forearm smash. Struck in his right arm, Vomarian felt a thousand painful pin-pricks raced up his limb. It went limp. Visibly staggered, he dropped his battle axe.
Screaming in bloodlust, Varick attacked his helpless foe with a pinpoint, accurate elbow. Vomarian was hit in the throat. Stars blasted across his vision. His world spun. His legs failed him. He slumped down to the sandy floor. Nausea churned in his stomach. For a moment, the cool air in the pit helped keep its contents from coming up. He then felt Varick press his massive foot across his neck. Air and blood immediately stopped flowing. Raising his left hand, he flailed weakly against Varick’s muscular leg.
Two things then crossed Vomarian Fae’s mind as it began to shut down. The first was Varick’s blood vessels pumping in his legs, which stood out like cords of veined iron. The second was the echo of Araminth’s last words to him. ‘You will not win.’