Gauntlet

Stretching as the sun-kissed her skin from a bedroom window, San had never felt more comfortable as a creaking door opened to two men in familiar suits of armor asking her to come with them back to her cell. the rooms they got were only a one night part of their prize for winning.

She was the last to be guided back to the cell as Tyson, Matilda, and Marko were escorted before her. The group reminisced of moments ago being in the softest bed they could have dreamed of, and the refreshing warm soapy water finally getting the stench out of Tyson’s well-used armpits.

“I still would have been more comfortable at home,” Marko sighed, obviously feeling homesick and not at all ready to fight their next battle in the coming days. The guard had warned San on the way down that they would remain in their cell for three days before returning to the arena.

In those days, San planned to catch up on her training, as the given events had messed up her routines. Eager to share the key to her physical strength, with her team she felt sorry for Tyson, without legs, he was left out of the diver’s position, never mind squats or curling weights, but he made do with upside-down handstands and push-ups—the man clearly had no issue with upper body strength.

Marko surprised San not being the first to fall from the diver’s stance, he explained his life on his parent’s farm had hardened his body to far surpass any warrior. Scoffing at his claims San took his statement lightly, until Matilda’s form broke, and she met the ground. Now breathlessly watching with Tyson as their teammate’s stood motionless in their stance.

Passing by guards were perplexed by pools of sweat formed under the training combatants as they were doing next to nothing, but their bulging muscles and projected veins seemed to be saying otherwise. Markos, hands now shaking, San reminded him, “Not only am I going to beat you, but I’ll do it with this ridiculously heavy armor on.”

“If I lose…” Marko said, desperately trying to find his breath “It is only… because… I don’t… have… my cape.”

The cell snickered as this was the closest thing to entertainment they had. Watching people standing squatted with their arms out became exponentially more exciting than it should have been.

San’s arms shook as she mentally commanded Marko “FALL, DAMN IT, FALL!” her pose weak, eroded from the passing time as they were close to a full hour by Tyson’s count.

“AaaaaAAAAAHHHHhhhhh!” Marko yelled as his body finally gave in, crashing his bottom to the stone floor. He desperately tried to bend his joints to relieve the pain but just resembled a flopping fish out of water. Quickly following him, San felt the relief from gravity as well, sitting in her pool of sweat, they were both awarded a bucket of water as the guard who had been checking in on them was impressed by their athleticism.

Diving in headfirst, Marko absorbed every drop in the bucket with no remorse for his bladder or teammates as there were no bathrooms, and they were certainly not allowed to leave their cell unless they were to fight.

To pass the remaining days, San also showed them her dedication to meditating and the stretches Hyde had taught her, while the three talkers in the group regaled each other from happy moments in their lives to keep morale up. Matilda seemed happy as well, despite her stories left untold. Though San silently wondered what kind of happy memories an orphaned slave would have.

♮

It felt like midday on their third day, but it was impossible to tell the time with no windows in their cell when a guard approached, preparing them to come to their next fight. A burning fire welled in San’s stomach as she felt tingles crawl up her arm and disperse like an electrical discharge in her body.

Taking a deep breath to center her demons as the blinding daylight was a sign they had reached the armory, she took her familiar curved dagger as she watched Marko don a much shorter cape that more or less looked like an apron worn backward.

With their familiar weapons and armor choices, the group was led up the stairs to fight against their next opponent. Looking across the arena, this hardly looked like a fair fight, a thick maned, sharp-toothed, large clawed lion paced in front of a man with a whip, no doubt the master of the beast.

A somewhat slender man for this type of competition stood to the right of the lion, wearing a purple petticoat, hard hat, and protective glasses, wielding what looked like a sledgehammer with an incredibly long handle, and something stuck to the end…

The third man was barely noticeable, bald with an unkempt white beard, his stretched earlobes dangling from his head as he sat cross-legged with the soles of his feet pointed up to the sky, not at all looking like he was ready for a battle, but more of a relaxing afternoon.

“I know it might not look like it, but the man sitting down is our biggest threat,” San whispered quickly, trying to beat the gong. Her group looked confused as a deafening metal clang filled the air followed by the insatiable crowd. “Matilda, take the lion, I’ve got fancy pants.”

“What about me?” Marko yelled as his team charged into battle without him.

“Don’t touch the old man!” San was able to call back as she got within striking distance of her first foe.

Without hesitation the man in the purple petticoat swung down in front of San, but she could tell from the angle, she was safe, there was no way it would hit her.

BOOM

San was shot from her feet as the stone floor quickly became rubble, the cackling man slapping more of the strange substance from inside his coat to the end of his hammer.

Meanwhile, Matilda approached the lion casually, Tyson, even more, anxious clung to her back with the strategy from the first fight. But the lion made the first move, knocking Matilda to her back and Tyson was crushed under the muscular girl’s weight and heavy armor. The lion’s teeth and claws held back by the thick handle of Matilda’s wooden mallet, she tried her best to lean to one side, letting Tyson crawl from underneath her.

The beastmaster, surprised at the sight of the half-man, wasted little time cracking his whip at him, but Tyson hopped dynamically around, dodging the strikes, the lion distracted as it had grown to fear the snap of the whip was whimpering, only managing to disgust Matilda with the drool seeping from its open jaw.

Quickly, when Tyson saw an opening in the beastmaster’s pattern, he lunged and unsheathed his blades, plunging deep into the back of the lion, puncturing both of its lungs and luckily not piercing Matilda’s heavy armor.

Cracking with a vengeance, the whip came fast and hard as Tyson seized losing the holds of his blades in the beasts back, falling as the whip cracked relentlessly on his soft armored back and exposed arms.

Throwing the lion off of her the way most children would climb out of a pile of leaves, Matilda charged the tamer with a winded swing, slamming the head of her large wooden hammer into his helmet. Huffing in her rage as the tamer was sure not to wake, she rejoined the bleeding Tyson with gashes leaking, blood covering his body, but at least he was alive.

Marko on the other end looked like he wished to be dead, the crowd was most displeased with his performance as equal amounts of booing came across the arena for the monk, still seated in his state of zen.

The booing being too much to bear, Marko took the fight into his own hands, ignoring his orders as he charged past San, lunging his spear at the old man, moments before piercing his throat, the man lifted his frail palm with two extended fingers, catching the head of the spear. The crowd fell silent. Leaving Marko distraught, knowing he made a terrible mistake.

The man stood up, opening his eyes slowly, still holding the blade. Marko was petrified and would have dropped his taken weapon if his body would respond to his fight or flight response, Marko leaning heavily to the latter but not enough to actually respond to the coming threat. The old man took a deep breath, extended a palm an inch from Markos breastplate, as Marko only watched, sweating bullets of fear.

“Move, you idiot!” San called out, between dodging explosions. But it was too late, the monk demonstrated his powers, rotating his hips, extending his bent elbow and shattering Makro’s breastplate in an instant, sending the boy flying across the arena.

Peacefully, the monk walked across the tiled floors, approaching his victim who no doubt had a cracked rib, and struck with his extended index finger at his throat. Officially taking Marko out of the match.

BOOM

Another crashing explosion came down, knocking San back, distracted by Marko’s stupidity, she landed, sliding on the heels of her feet. Knowing she needed to end this fast, she took her final charge as the Hammer was swung back, expecting her every move.

Running directly in range of the hammer she caught the head with the gauntlet. Her armor absorbing the blast for her body underneath but the kinetic energy was still strong enough to send her spinning and the surprised man in his purple petticoat was beheaded as the hammer swung back with such force, it recoiled from her magic armor absorbing his blast, decapitating him with more than enough force with only the blunt handle. The full hammer made its way into the audience, taking out a second person with that one powerful strike.

Panting heavily as the dust from the last explosion dissipated, San could only see Matilda holding Tysons bleeding limp body, Marko out cold on the ground, and a few feet away from him, the monk sitting cross-legged again, breathing, waiting.

Unsure how to approach the situation, San felt safe, despite the monk clearly being a martial arts master, she sat across from him as the audience booed louder than they had ever cheered. “I know you don’t want to fight,” San said to the seated monk. “but I’ll make you a deal.”

The monk’s ears perked up as this nonviolent approach intrigued him.

“I will welcome a strike from you anywhere on my body, If I can take the hit without flinching, you walk to the guards and forfeit. If I do flinch, I’ll forfeit. Deal?”

San watched the monk stand, open his eyes and extend his finger, closing her eyes as she played Russian roulette with her body. She lucked out. The man struck over her heart tearing a hole in her cloak with his finger as her enchanted armor absorbed the blow, San herd his finger snap in several places followed by a deep breath and his bare feet shuffling across the floor to speak to the guards.

The booing filled the massive destroyed arena as San smiled the largest she ever had at Matilda who was amazed at her feat. As they got pelted by rotten fruit, the guards quickly escorted them out and up to the medic.

Making sure Marko wasn’t going to die, the medic had a healthy stock of potions. Sipping on one, if you could keep it down, would fix everything from a runny nose to mend broken bones overnight. Another burnt with a searing pain twice as much as the whip that had caused the wounds on his back but healed Tysons gashes instantly as gasps of steam covered the repaired skin.

Staying by their side until the boys took their medicine, the group eventually was escorted to their feast then up to their rooms. Taking the second partial antidote and slipping into her second lavender bubble bath, San smugly thought, “I could get used to this.”