Part 2

It had been eight years since she first came to Roristan Manor and met Erinad.  She had never said it aloud but she had come to call her “father” in her mind. 

For eight years she had trained and fought for the amusement of her masters.  She didn’t have to take a turn behind the plow or clean up after a party but she did have to fight. 

She had to kill. 

Most fights weren’t to the death but on special occasions…or when the masters were drunk and placed enormous wagers, they’d force the gladiators to fight to the death.  Twenty two people she had killed and she remembered each one.

Greza looked down at her body.  Her arms, stomach and chest all had scars from numerous fights.  How many, she did not remember. 

She had grown up shorter than an Ork but slender like an elf.  However her muscles were honed like a tempered sword.  Two of her sharp teeth jutted up from her delicate mouth.  Her jaw line and body were elf but her eyes, nose, teeth and strength were of her Ork blood.  Her grayish-green skin was neither. 

She had overheard her masters say that she was the finest gladiator they had ever seen. 

Many visiting nobles had offered large sums of money to spend the night with her but Erinad’s right or Exclusivity had saved her.  It had taken a while to realize the importance of it, but once she did she knew that she’d own Erinad for the rest of her life.

If he hadn’t taken her under his wing she would have been at the mercy of men who knew nothing of mercy. 

Erinad’s family all laughed and joked about their relationship but that was because they didn’t understand it.  They assumed it was sexual one but it was nothing of the kind.  Erinad didn’t have children and she liked to pretend that he thought of her as his daughter. 

There was a knock at her door.  Greza threw on her one piece, gray slave dress and hurried to answer. 

She didn’t have far to go.  Her room was smaller than the mistress’s closet.  It had enough room for her bed, a trunk for her armor and a small wash basin.  The wood in the room was old and the paint was peeling. 

A human slave girl was there. 

“Master Erinad would like to see you,” the young, blond girl said before running off. 

She wasn’t allowed outside the servant’s wing or training grounds unless given permission.  But everyone was used to her coming and going to Erinad’s room by now.  They’d laugh and snicker about spring and winter but she ignored them. 

She put on her sandals and began walking to Erinad’s room.  She passed by master Roristan’s two teenage sons.  She made sure to keep her eyes down.

“If it isn’t Yrina going to meet her fated Torinasho,” the eldest said.  

“Only our Torinasho isn’t in the spring of his life.”

The two young men laughed at their clever joke.  They were referencing an ancient poem about two ill fatted lovers.  She had read that particular book two years ago and thought it hadn’t earned its status as a classic.  Its prose was good but somewhat sloppy for the time period.  Other lesser known books had much better writing and deeper themes. 

She hurried past the young men and up the servant’s stairs to Erinad’s room.

She knocked and waited.  Inside she heard a cough. 

“Come in,” Erinad said in a weak voice. 

It sounded worse.  It always sounded worse.  For the past three months it had been a slow but steady decline.  He was old.  In all her studies she had learned that no one could cheat death. 

She opened the door and peeked in.  He was lying in bed holding a steaming cup of tea. 

He smiled when he saw her. 

He always smiled when he saw her. 

She came in and closed the door behind her. 

“You move so quietly.  I didn’t hear the hall creak with your approach,” he said. 

“How’s your tea?”

“It’s not helping, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

She wished he wouldn’t joke about such things.  She was losing him and once he was gone she’d be all alone.  No one else cared for her. 

Greza walked over to him and put her hand on his forehead.  It was hot.  Usually it was too cold but today it was too hot.  She looked in his eyes and saw death.  She’d seen the eyes of the dying enough times to know when death was lurking nearby. 

“Yes, I know.  I’m feverish.  Have a seat.” 

She sat down on the edge of his bed. 

“You’re not going to like what I have to say, Greza.”g

Sometimes she wished he wouldn’t be so blunt.  All of the other noble Dark Elves spoke in such allegoric terms that their subtlety was hard to understand.  Erinad spoke with the bluntness of a blacksmith’s hammer. 

She took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. 

“Greza, I’m dying.  I know it and I know you know it.”

“Don’t say that.”

He looked up at her and furrowed his brows like he always did when he scolded her. 

“Have you learned nothing?  There is no use in denying the truth that is plain before you.  We have to accept and adapt.  That is how we grow.  My time for growing is at an end and now I can only hope that that growth has been enough.  I will go on to the next life and I pray that it will be a life of reward.”

“Of course it will,” she said. 

“Greza, I’m not a perfect man.  I’ve made more than my share of mistakes.”

“But you saved me.”

It was his turn to take a deep breath. 

“I’m frightened that I have not done enough.  I must tell you some things before I move on to my reward.  You need to listen.  I know you’re good at listening.  You hardly speak but your eyes and ears are more open than anyone I’ve ever met.

“That first day you came to us I took you under my protection.  There was a reason.  When I saw you I knew that you were someone special.  Your life was destined for great things and I had to help you.”

Great things?  She was a slave.  Her life was meant for suffering and servitude.  Her life was meant for degradation and slaughter.  She read about great people and noble heroes in all of Erinad’s books but she knew she’d never be like them. 

Those people would do what was right regardless of the cost.  She, on the other hand, killed when her masters told her to.  She did it to avoid the suffering that would come if she refused.  No, she was nothing like them.

“I see the confusion on your face, Greza.  Believe me, the gods told me you were meant for great things.  I knew what I had to do.  I had to protect you from my family.  I love them but they are not good people.  When the Victor was lost my family fell away.  They lost their faith and their compass.”

“I will pray for them as I always do,” Greza said. 

His family had lost their way but she had found hers.  She prayed to the Divine Light every morning and night.  The other slaves laughed at her belief and asked how she could believe a religion that had so obviously been proven to be false.  They didn’t understand. 

“Your prayers will be in vain.  Now, listen.”  His voice turned strong and serious.  Gone was the constant humor he always spoke with.  “Tonight I will die.  I can feel it just as surely as the sun will set.  Tonight is my grand nephew’s birthday.  You will be called to fight.  It will be to the death.”

She inhaled and closed her eyes to calm herself down.  She hadn’t heard of this.  A fight to the death.  She had grown accustomed to them and no longer hated it.  Instead she felt nothing.  She prayed for the feelings of guilt to return, but more and more she grew at ease with killing.  Still, she was afraid of dying. 

“You must win, Greza.  You must not be injured because tonight you are escaping this estate and fleeing.” 

“Escape?”

“Yes. I will die later this night and they will call everyone to my room.  Servants will be sent for and guards will be sent out on tasks.  There will be confusion and disarray.  This will be your time to escape.”

“I can’t.”

He gripped her arm, something he never did.  The only physical contact they’d have was a few pats on the head from him.  Now his hand held her arm like a vice. 

“You must.  If you do not leave tonight you will eventually be ruined here.  I will no longer be able to protect you and you know fully well what that means.” 

She felt her eyes begin to water and she tried to calm herself down.  This all going too fast. 

“Greza, this is my last act of protection.  My death will mean your freedom.  You have to take it.  You don’t have a choice.” 

She sat there and rolled it all around in her head.  She was losing the one person that cared about her.  She prayed to the Divine Lights, the gods that ruled over the world, but she didn’t know if they really cared about her.  She meant nothing. 

Then tears began to roll down Erinad’s dull eyes. 

“I only wish I could have done more for you.  I will go to my Reward knowing I couldn’t save you from this cruel life.  I should have been kinder.  I should have let you have more fun.  Instead I filled your head with as many books as I could.  I didn’t know what else to do.  I never had a daughter of my own.”

“You were a wonderful father,” she said. 

His eyes brightened. 

“You thought of me as such?”

All she could do was nod. 

“All this time I thought I hadn’t done enough.  I can go to my Reward in peace.”

He began smiling. 

She stroked his hair.  They sat like that for a long time.  There was nothing more that really needed to be said.  Theirs wasn’t the kind of relationship filled with talking, but it was filled with understanding and at that moment they understood each other. 

For a while she thought he had drifted off into sleep but then his eyes opened. 

“Greza, there is more I must tell you.  First, I have hidden a bundle in the cellar behind the wine rack.  In it you will find a change of clothes and supplies you will need.  There is also a purse of money to help you start your new life.  Change clothes and sneak out of the estate.  Head east and run all night.  Do not stop.  The border is twenty miles from here.  Once you reach that you are out of immediate danger.  But they will send bounty hunters and hunters do not care about borders.  Hide yourself.”

“I will, father.” 

“Second, you must put your faith in the gods.  They will keep their promise though it might be in an unexpected way.  Do not lose hope.  There will come a time when you will doubt them and everything.  Stay on the path and you will not err.  The danger is coming and we will need a Victor.  Watch for him.” 

“I will do all you have told me.”

“I know you will.  You’re more obedient and kinder than my blood family.  I have faith in you.  You will be great one day.  But I must rest now.  Remember.  As soon as you hear the commotion of my death.  Go.  Go with all haste.” 

Then he closed his eyes and she knew he wouldn’t hear anything she had to say. 

She stood up with a foggy, empty feeling.  That was it.  Those were his last words to her.  She wouldn’t hear his voice again.  He would no longer tell her to keep reading or scold her when she mispronounced a word.   

Greza walked back to her room and lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling.  She tried to think but her mind was either too full of things or completely empty.  All she felt was a confused numbness. 

The ancient philosopher Tyanidas said that only in emptiness could we find peace.  This emptiness was not peaceful. 

She missed her father already.  He would die tonight and she wouldn’t be there.  She wouldn’t even have time to mourn.

The sun was setting when she heard a knock at her door. 

“Yes?”

“Greza, the masters have ordered you to prepare to entertain tonight.  They will call you within the hour.  Go get ready.”

“Yes.” 

She always spoke with simple words to the others, especially her masters.  If they suspected that she had a fraction of the learning she did have, they’d punish her and Erinad. 

She got up, grabbed her armor and walked to the room beside the dinning hall for servants.  She stripped down while two women servants rubbed oil all over her body.  Then they wrapped her chest with a simple, tan cloth and another cloth around her loins.  Modesty was not a high priority to nobles.  Then they braided her long, thick hair in intricate designs and strapped armor onto her shins and arms. 

The last thing they put on were her archaic weapons: the cestus.  A cestus was a gauntlet designed to enhance a punch to lethal levels.  Out of all the weapons she had ever used, even more so than the sword or ax, was the battle gauntlet. 

Now, armed and ready she pushed everything out of her mind.  She could hear the music and laughing from the party through the closed door.  They were probably bragging about each other’s gladiators and making bets.  It was a custom of theirs when visiting to pit their gladiator pets against each other.

Already she could feel the rush of her blood and anticipation.  A part of her, a part she was ashamed of, actually enjoyed the thrill.  She loved proving that she could best anyone.  She loved the challenge and the skill. 

She also hated it.  She hated it very much. 

Then the door opened and it was time.