Gauntlet

Climbing the wide staircase as a group, San followed Marko’s flowing cape as Tyson clung to Matilda’s back, her armor having gaps wide enough for his fingers before it met her shoulders, seemingly just to save his strength, but San could see the strategy in this. It became a growing burden to keep the gauntlet enclosed as it’s shaking fit of bloodlust was insurmountable, her team taking notice as she grunted and contorted to keep it controlled, they made sure to walk with enough of a gap as they felt they needed.

Entering the coliseum lined with chairs and cheering fans who no doubt bought tickets to this terrible event, and at the very top of the coliseum, in a massive throne to fit his towering body, the Warlord Flint himself sat to watch the blood sport.

The other team appeared across the arena, San’s team was in luck as one of their party members had perished their last round leaving them with only what appeared to be an archer dressed in a simple chain male to maximize his mobility. With a great bow and full quiver of arrows, he positioned himself in the back. A barbarian was standing to his left, clothed in his native furs and horned helmet, he held a battle axe that seemed more fitting for executions then battle as its massive blade had enough steel for two proper axes.

Leaving the spot to his right to a knight, a scar stretching down across his eye as his open helmet showed his stone-cold face, bearing a tower shield, heavy breast plate, and greatsword. Even with a man down, they at least looked the part of worthy adversaries.

Tyson whispered to San and Marko, “Don’t move until the Gong sounds, then the battle begins.”

Not making eye contact to give away her comrade’s cover, San commanded the entire group to stay behind her, and that the archer will fall first.

A reverberating chime filled the air as the vibrating metal disk was struck. Without missing a beat, the archer loosened an arrow for them. Running ahead, San’s large metal fist broke the seal of her cloak, decimating the arrow as she didn’t even feel the impact, only bracing herself for the kinetic energy as her party followed in single file approaching the opposing team.

The archer was quick to continue as he let fly a flurry of shots in the hopes of an easy mark, but San was an impenetrable wall, catching each and every arrow despite one clinking the armored side of her chest, knocking the wind out of her was the least of her worries as they pressed on. Now within sprinting distance, San ran and slid under the barbarian’s legs.

He anticipated her movement as he swung down to bisect her body, but she was saved by Matilda’s wooden hammer, catching the blade between its fibers, the enormous woman quickly twisted the weapon out of the barbarian’s hands.

♮

San reached behind her sliding body, quickly pressing up to fling herself into the archer’s chain mail, kicking the air from his chest, she landed on her feet, quickly delivering a bone shattering swing from the gauntlet as the archer tried to block with his forearms, unfortunately, both arms now broken and hanging onto him by a remaining few fibers as the blood gushed color to his audible pain.

Knocked down and screaming in agony, San began to walk away from the archer to help her team, but for only a moment, as her foes echoing cries bashed around relentlessly in her head. The gauntlet took control. Spinning on her heel, she swung the gauntlet up far above her head, its heavy mass clenched, appearing to be half the size of the man’s torso as it came down to end his screams. Surprised by the sounds, San looked above her as the cheering crowd roared for blood.

♮

Matilda was grappling with the barbarian, she was a few inches taller, so it felt like she had the advantage in reach as they tried to topple one another with locked palms.

When the time was right, Tyson threw himself from his perch on her back, in the air, snapping his magnetized blades from their holster and swung like a scissor, easily taking the barbarian off guard and severing his thick neck. As the second body hit the ground, Tyson landed on the blades like stilts before Matilda scooped him back up. Again, pleasing the crowd, as their excitement was deafening.

With their attention now on the final knight who was toying with Marko, pressing him into a corner as they exchanged blows, the knight easily took the spear’s jabs with his massive shield, but Marko’s small buckler swayed and broke its guard at every swing of the knight’s greatsword. if the knight had bothered with a follow up strike, Marko would have been finished just after the gong.

Taking his final step back, Marko’s heel caught the trim of his cape, pulling his shoulders down and leaving him feebly on the ground cowering with his spear extended. The knight raised his greatsword far above his head as he readied his arm to chop.

With the rising of his blade, San was there, catching the arch of his blade in the gauntlet, freezing the man with his arms in the air as the leather straps that held his breastplate were exposed. Taking the dagger from its holster with her spare hand, San took a deep breath in an attempt to maintain control, slicing the straps, as his breastplate fell, San shoved the man from behind with her shoulder, memories of shoving the tree to free her hand came back as Markos’ spear penetrated the knight’s exposed body like a baked potato, the blood drenched spike coming inches from San’s face, as the sight of the carnage caused the sword in the gauntlet’s hand to snap and shatter above her head.

The knight’s body grew limp as he slowly joined his comrades. The crowd exploded with excitement, cheering as the warlord approved, letting the guards usher San and her team out of the arena to a new room that presented a feast.

Barrels of wine and beer lined the walls as the candlelit room illuminated the plates and silverware in a glimmering shine, a roast pig with an apple in its mouth was the centerpiece, with carved pheasants dripping in a sweet red wine sauce on either side, followed by garlic mashed potatoes, sprinkled in chives as well as the freshest greenest salad any rabbit would kill for.

The guards made sure all weapons were removed from the group as they shed their armor and took seat’s. San made sure to take one next to Marko. The adrenalin still hadn’t worked its way out of her system so she was hesitant to eat, pecking away at the salad and a pheasant leg.

Marko’s plate was bare as he only looked down in deep thought. “I’m sorry I was dead weight out there…” he said as a tear dripped onto his enameled plate.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“The cape was a dumb idea.”

“It looked cool,” San said trying to lift his spirits.

“Falling on my ass like that sure didn’t,” he said as his mood split with a smile, San placed her left hand on his back, rubbing it to sooth him.

“I’ve trained to be a warrior my whole life, you shouldn’t be hard on yourself for your first fight.”

Nodding in agreement, he remembered, “Yeah, what the hell was that? Where did you find that armor of yours?”

Tyson and Matilda perked up to hear how this young woman became strong enough to shatter arrows, catch swords, and crush skulls.

So, San regaled them with her story, her homeland of Dowzen, her months in the forest, and her quest to rid herself of the gauntlet.

“Can I have it when you get it off?” Marko asked with stars in his eyes, finally beginning to load some food onto his plate.

“No, I’m going to try and destroy it if I can,”

“What! Why?”

“It wasn’t my choice to kill either of those men, Marko,” San said, disappointed with herself.

“You didn’t have a choice,” Marko said reassuringly, “none of us did.” And the table nodded in agreement.

“No, the dent I put in the carriage was me resisting the gauntlet’s swing at you,” looking now at Tyson, “And don’t pretend like its metal grasp never tried to end you either. I’m cursed. I could have walked away, but the gauntlet wouldn’t let me.” Pulling her cloak back, she showed the group the spread of the armor. “In time, it will consume me, the spirit of Jonwan trapped in this gauntlet won’t rest until every living thing I come in contact with is obliterated, and I fear my mind may only be along for the ride,” she said firmly. “Even if I could control it, no one should have this much power.”

“Agreed.” Tyson said between mouthfuls, seemingly used to comrades trying to kill him. “It pains me to think how many men would not only kill to have an artifact like that but how they would use it.”

A waiter approached the table to Matilda’s side and asked, “How’s everything tasting?”

Matilda, not one to miss such an opportunity for a laugh swallowed and opened her mouth revealing the stump of a tongue she had left at the back of her mouth, moaning “Ahhhhhhhhhh,” Like a child getting their teeth checked, making the table explode with laughter as the disturbed waiter left them to enjoy their meal, embarrassed in his realization that he’d asked the wrong end of the table.

♮

 After everyone ate their fill, they were taken to a medic to be examined for any wounds with everyone fine besides Marko having a bruised tailbone and ego. Though the doctor couldn’t help with the later, he offered an ice pack for Marko to sit on, and they retired for the evening to receive the final perk of winning in the arena.

Each fighter was given their own private heated rooms, a bubble bath already drawn with fresh quilted sheets on the king-sized bed and candies on the bed side table with the partial antidote resting on top the candies. San wasted no time wishing her comrades a good night, stripping down and diving into the bath.

The warm salted water eased her body as comforting aromas of lavender wafted through the air, she struggled to relax as she felt the creeping armor would soon cover her hip, already climbing down her left arm. She tried to put her mind at ease, past the worry of her time limit and into a clean bed, for once, off the ground.