Chapter one: Blood stained beginnings

From the ashes of a torn soul, a hero emerges

                Edgar looked through the thick metal bars and knew that he would only ever have to stare out of them three more times after this.  Edgar steadied himself and shook out his arms to release the stress in his muscles.  His body was responding to the situation the way it always had, for the last 96 matches.  The surge in adrenaline was palpable in the cold autumn air.  His bare chest and arms felt warm even in the forty degree weather.  Clad in only leather pants and a full faced helmet, then armed with a short sword and buckler, Edgar was about to fight for his life. 

                The gate came down with a force that had scared him the first time he had stepped out onto these sands.  Now that the gate was down and words were being shouted into the cold air, Edgar felt the familiar fear settle deep into his stomach.  It replaced his innards with emptiness.  Edgar had nothing to live for but he knew that if he could just be a freed man then maybe life would once again be worth living.  Edgar took a step and felt the cold of the concrete floor replaced by the fire of sand left in the sun’s fiery gaze.  The heat sent the nerves in his feet into shock.  The stimulus was overwhelming; if it wasn’t for the emptiness that filled his chest Edgar would have jumped up and down to avoid the pain.  But when he was like this, all there was to do was endure.

                Though he wasn’t listening to his introduction Edgar lifted his shield and sword over his head when he heard his name.  The roar of the crowd was deafening even in the huge stadium.  There was an old legend, whispered on the lips of all the elders who dared to venture into the underbellies of the great stadium.  As they told it a clan of true titans did battle with great enemies’ right here on this forsaken land.  It was in there honor that gladiators now shed their blood.

                The gate on Edgar’s opponent’s side lowered; the man that stepped into the arena chilled him to his core.  He stood no less than seven foot tall and his body showed the marks of years of combat.  His hair was swept back and held in place with what looked like blood.  The crowd fell ominously quiet at his appearance.  It wasn’t every day you got to watch a legend fight.  This man was Darius the dark shadow.  A man who brought death to everyone he had ever faced.  He had survived over a thousand fights and had never fallen.  Legends say he was born from an egg lain by Morgina, the great Goddess of bloodlust herself. 

                Now Edgar was sure he was going to die, but he would die trying.  Die the way great men before him had died.  Die the way his father had in the war of a million blades.   Edgar took this memory into his heart, praying to his father to give him the strength to die a hero the way he had.  Darius carried a morning star in one hand and a hand scythe in the other; it was said that the weapons were given to him by the gods themselves.  Now in the afternoon light, the sun reflected off the scythes curved, ominous blade.  It looked as sharp as a razor even though it had decapitated no less than three hundred men.

                “Begin,” said the voice from the king’s box.  Both Edgar and Darius bowed to the king before turning to face one another.  Edgar inhaled three more deep breaths before either of them took so much as a step.  Then all the sudden, as though the fury of Morgina was the one urging them forward, It began.

                Darius charged towards Edgar and lifted his morning star high into the sky where the sunlight caught upon its deadly metal points.  It was a mere fraction of a second until the two exchanged their first blows.  Darius’s scythe connected with nothing more than Edgars shield, but Edgar’s blade found its mark just slightly better.  Blood began to drip from the outer thigh of the giant man, but this was the only evidence of a wound.  The man’s face was cast in steel and showed no signs of fear, or even pain.  His eyes, a deep and somber blue, were almost empty.  There was no spark in them to suggest this man had any humanity left in him.  His gaze was that of the man who sees a crime in progress but has not the care to stop it.  Still, the man, no matter how slow his eyes looked, reacted with lightning speed.

                His morning star came towards Edgar with all the force the mighty man could muster.  Edgar was only quick enough to raise his shield, but he wasn’t quick enough to brace himself.  The blow knocked him to his feet; this put him in the most dangerous position he could be in.  Right now, with this monster of a man towering over him, Edgar felt as helpless as the w***e whose client was a ripper.  Flat on his back like a common prostitute at work was not how a man dies, Edgar thought with fury in his mind.

                He rolled away from the man and when he had enough distance to regain his feet, he did so.  Darius was already charging towards him again by the time he had looked up.  The next thing Edgar knew, a scythe was flying towards his head; he ducked as fast as he could and swept his sword at the man’s knees.  It sliced through to the bone but still the man showed no sign of giving up.  In fact this seemed to have enraged him even more.  Darius’s scythe flew through the air so fast that Edgar could only hear its whizzing noise.  Edgar immediately fell back, hoping that it would let him better prepare himself.  Instead, all it did was allow the scythe to slash through the muscles on his upper back.  Edgar fought back a scream and instead channeled his rage into the desire for one single thing, Darius’s death.

                Edgar launched himself into the air, jumping as far as he could he landed on his feet just beside Darius.  Edgar began swinging his sword before his feet were even on the ground.  Each blow cut through flesh.  The first tore deep into the beast man’s pectoral muscle and the second cut a deep gash in the man’s arm.  The third blow before the assault became futile left only a scratch on Darius’s stomach.   Still, even through his wounds, which would have had a lesser man on the ground begging for mercy the man fought back.  This time Darius’s morning star collided with Edgars head and left him feeling dazed before Edgar fell to his knees.   He felt the blade of the scythe pressed against his neck and heard the jeering of the crowd which called for his blood. 

                Still stunned Edgar prepared himself for his fate.  His weapon was somewhere else, not in his hand and he couldn’t remember anything that had happened within the last thirty seconds.  Still he knew he was going to die here.  He collapsed on the ground and Ran his hands through the sand.  Darius grabbed Edgars hair and lifted his head up.  It was then that Edgar’s fingers closed around something.  It was the tip of a dagger, broken from its hilt in a struggle long since past. 

                Edgar gripped it tight and it cut deep into his hand.  He saw the blood flowing onto the sands, and watched the sands gladly accept his life force.  For an instant the scythe was just far enough away from his neck that death wasn’t an assurance, it was then that Edgar shoved the small metal tip as hard upwards as he could.  It connected with Darius’s chin and entered through the flesh under his jaw.  Edgar shoved it as deep as he could into the man’s chin; he scrambled away as well as he could this dazed.  He saw the morning star abandoned on the sands and picked it up.  He carried it back to the man who was currently choking on the blood pouring down his throat.  Darius looked up and into the eyes of Edgar.  For the first time the man looked human.  His eyes were filled with a look of sorrow, a look that demanded pity, but he would get none from Edgar.

                The man pathetically raised two fingers, a sign of submission.  He was asking to have his life spared.  Edgar looked up at the king’s box and saw that the king harbored an odd expression.  It was a mixture of confusion and amusement.  Still the king smiled as he declared loudly, “Kill him.”

                Edgar did just that.  He brought the morning star down so hard that it killed the man instantly.  But this wasn’t enough for Edgar; he raised the morning star again and again pounding it into the mans body.  With each strike the crowed screamed with pleasure and delight.  Edgar felt blood and flesh and who know what else all over himself.  He looked down at the mutilated monster that had so pathetically asked for his pity and felt nothing but satisfaction.  That all faded as soon as Edgar came back to his right mind.

                “what have I become,” Edgar thought.  Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he realized that he too was a monster.  He fell to his knees and let out a scream.  And a beastly screams at that.  The crowd fell silent until he stood back up.  “What have you made me? What have I become?” he screamed at the crowd before the soldiers carried him back into the stadiums underground.

                Edgar sat in the darkness with only the sound of the screaming crowd above his head to show him he was still alive.  He sat there pondering what he had become, and in the course his mind took Edgar came to a single conclusion.  When these battles were over, he would never raise his sword again unless it was to save his own life.  Oh how wrong he was.

                That night when he was taken back to the ludus; Edgar was visited by someone he had never expected to see.  When she walked into the tiny room, Edgar felt his heart begin to beat faster and faster with each stem Sarah took.  Her perfect body was draped in the fine white cloth that adorned the body of every upper class female.  As the daughter of the king of Neoroma, she was supposed to marry within the upper class.  But that couldn’t change the Sarah felt about Edgar.  They had seen each other on many evenings and were to be engaged as soon as Edgar finished his 100 fights.  Tonight the look on Sarah’s familiar face showed that she had good news.

                She was barely in the door when she began to speak.  Her voice carried an incredibly happy tone, “Father wants you to lead the armies of the north.  General Fallon died in his sleep three nights previous.  He says that you have shown excellence in the arena and that he would be honored to have you as a son.”

                “this is great news,” Edgar said with enthusiasm.  He stood up and closed the distance almost immediately.  His hand caressed her side and their lips met with an explosive force.  Her lips parted and he kissed her much deeper.  The deeper they kissed the closer he pressed himself against her.  His body was incredibly well muscled but it radiated the heat of his desire.  His already naked body made her need to have him inside her.

                Their passions caught fire as he grabbed the clasp of her drape.  He let it go and it slid off her body revealing the most perfect breasts in the world.  Their bodies collided in a whirlwind of passion and sensuality.  The kissing turned slowly into touching.  The touching faded and the deeper emotions began to set in.  It wasn’t long before their passions reached their breaking point.  The storm of passion reached its climax as both Edgar and Sarah reached theirs.  They laid there shaking in each other’s arms.  It wasn’t long before the shade of sleep draped over their eyes.

                Edgar awoke the next morning completely alone; he lay there in the early morning light feeling incredibly lonely.  After a moment’s pause, he took the small leather bound journal out from under his bed and opened it to an unmarked page.  As he glanced out the window he longed to see the waters of the coast.  He remembered their beauty as though he were looking out over their perfect waters.

Some days I miss the rolling of the sea
waves crashing all around 
the feeling that I'm content to be
who I am, what I'll be, just me
I miss that sensation of deep mystery
that i get every single time i see
those deep blues of the lovely
ocean reach out to me

            It wasn’t long before he was grabbed and taken back to the preparation room of Titan Stadium.  He adorned his armor the way any good gladiator does, with honor and dignity.  Still sadness filled his heart, because today someone was going to die.

Reviews

[viki]

Re-read it all again, out loud, because there are a few sentences that are missing words, or words appear too often close together.

I really like it. I liked the beginning because I didn't know what was going on, but it was gripping enough for me to want more, and the fight was well described.

Also, the name "Edgar" wasn't used until the 10th century, and gladiator fights stopped in the 5th