The Games Ch. 3 - 4

Ch. 3 The Vendor



         Lyle was awakened by someone roughly shaking him.  He groaned and rolled over onto his back.  He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, before he sat up and looked around.

         He was near the same tree he had been sitting by last night.  He noticed the fire had burned down to just lightly glowing embers.  Most of the raiders lay sleeping about the encampment, while a few standing sentry lingered around the perimeter for the early morning shift.  Empty and broken tankards, as well as half-eaten deer meat and bones, laid shrewn about the encampment. Some were even clutched in sleeping raiders’ hands.

           The raider who woke Lyle was standing above him.  Recognizing the raider to be the Boss, he slowly rose and glared defiantly at his captor.  The other two children from the village had also stood up and were being led by Thomas and Surge out of the encampment.

         “Let’s move, boy,” ordered the Boss.  He shoved towards where the others had gone.  Lyle stumbled but kept his feet and walked out of encampment.

         The Boss and he caught up to the others.  Lyle moved in line behind the other boy, with the girl in front. The Boss assumed his position leading the slave train.  Thomas was in the front of the Boss clearing the undergrowth with his sword.  Surge stayed in the back, making sure no prisoners made a break for it.

         They walked through the forest at a steady pace.  Lyle started to slow down, forcing Surge to slow down as well, while the others continued at their pace.  As Surge tried pushing Lyle to speed him up, Lyle fell down from the sudden force.  By this time, the rest of the group had gone too far ahead to see anymore.

         “Get moving, you little shit!” ordered Surge as he pushed Lyle again.

         Lyle stumbled a little but quickly regained his balance. With unknown rage, he then charged into Surge’s gut, sending him sprawling backwards onto a low hanging branch, impaling himself through the chest.

         He let out a gasp and mouthed words, but they were unintelligible.  He choked on his own blood that was rising in his throat and pouring out the sides of his mouth.  Trying to pull himself off of the tree branch, Surge only succeeded in snapping it and falling to the ground with a loud thud. Bleeding to death, he laid there -- unable to neither speak nor move.          

         Lyle stood there watching as Surge clung on to what little life he had left.  He picked up Surge’s axe that had fallen on the ground and clumsily brandished it.  It was heavy in his hands, yet he managed to raise it above his head and swiftly bring it down onto Surge’s neck.

         Blood splattered everywhere as Surge was decapitated; some flew onto Lyle’s legs and pants.  The head rolled a little bit away, but not much, the dying expression permanently on it. Lyle tried wiping as much blood off his arms and chest as he could.

         Absentmindedly brushing his clothes, Lyle looked at what he had done.  He had never killed anyone before and quickly became sick to his stomach.  He hunched over and spilled the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor.

         After he recuperated enough to walk, Lyle grabbed Surge’s knife from his belt and hid it in his pocket.  He then ran to catch up to the rest of the slave train.  Rejoining them, Lyle quickly and silently slipped back into line.  The Boss, Thomas, and the other children had not noticed he and Surge had been missing even with almost half an hour passing by.

         The Boss called for a halt, ordering for everyone to rest.  The other two children and Lyle all sat down.  Thomas sheathed his sword and opened his pack, pulling out two loaves of bread.  He ripped one into three pieces and handed one to each of the slaves.  He then ripped the second one in three pieces too and gave one piece to the Boss and bit into one of the others.

         “Hey, Boss, where is Surge?” asked Thomas, when he found out he had no one to give the third piece to. 

         The Boss looked around with an angry expression on his face. “Where is that good-for-nothing deserter?”

         The Boss looked around at everyone individually.  When his gaze came to Lyle, Lyle averted his eyes as to hide what he had done.  The Boss stared at him, suspiciously.  He then ordered the group back onto their feet and to continue their trek.

         The procession continued on its way though the forest.  After a trice, they emerged from the edge of the trees and walked out onto a plain, revealing, in the distance, a small city.  They walked onward towards the city with the midday sun beating down on them.

         As the day rolled on, they neared the city.  Sweat was rolling down Lyle’s face and his hair was soaked and plastered to his forehead.  He looked up and saw that everyone seemed to be fairing as well as he was -- everyone except the Boss who appeared to not have even broken a sweat.

         As the group approached the gate to the city someone atop the wall called down to them.  “Who goes there? And what is your business in our fair city?”

         “My name is not important,” retorted the Boss. “I have business with Vincent.”

         The gate opened without any further word exchange. The group entered through the massive open doors.

         “Welcome to Enetolie” said the Boss as he patted Lyle on the back.

         They all walked through the gate and into the busyness of the end of the day market.  They walked past stands galore: stands that sold fruit, vegetables, meats, and eggs, stands that sold clothing items, and stands that sold jewelry and finely cut stones.  They walked near a platform from which someone was selling people.  The group continued on towards a large circular building.  They waited outside with Thomas at a side entrance while the Boss went inside to fetch Vincent.

         The Boss reemerged from the exit about ten minutes later.  Behind him waddled a short, chubby man.  He had raggedy, brown hair and appeared to be about thirty years old.  He had on a dirty and greasy old shirt and brown breeches that were too small and on their last limb.  He also wore a black, silk mask that covered up most of his mouth and nose.

         He also had the Seal of the Games patched on to the left shoulder of his shirt.  The Seal of the Games was a circular patch with a picture of two fighters, heavily armored, clashing swords.  Around the rim of the patch is said, “If ye be winner, then ye be set free, but if ye be loser, then ye be as dead as can be.”

         The Vendor examined all three of the slaves.  He lifted up arms, felt muscles, and tested their reaction speeds.  After scrutinizing each of the slaves, he turned to the Boss. 

         “I’ll give you four hundred for the girl and the older boy, and I’ll give you two hundred for the younger boy,” he offered.

         “Well, this boy is a shape shifter.  Not to mention a natural killer,” said the Boss as he placed his hands on Lyle’s shoulders.  “I’ll take no less the five hundred for him.”

         “A killer?!  This boy?!  Hahaha!” the Vendor chuckled.

         “Yes, a killer. He killed one of my men this very morning,” the Boss replied sharply.

         “Did you now, boy?” he asked Lyle, eyeing him with curiosity.

         Lyle subconsciously nodded his head, while his brain was being racked as to how the Boss knew that he killed Surge.

         “Well then, I will pay you five hundred for him and three hundred each for the other two,” offered the Vendor.

         “Deal!” the Boss exclaimed.

         The Vendor pulled out his coin purse and counted out one thousand one hundred in the currency.  He handed the coins to the Boss, who recounted them before sliding them into his coin purse.

         “Well, I guess this is goodbye, boy,” the Boss said to Lyle.  The Boss and Thomas then turned around and headed back towards the gate.

         “Ok, let’s go,” said the Vendor as he led the children into the building.  They walked down a series of corridors.  The group eventually stopped in front a door.  The Vendor pulled out a key ring with what seemed like hundred of keys.  He located the right key without any trouble.  He put it in the key hole and turned it.  He gestured for the older boy to go in.  He then shut the door and relocked it.  The group walked a little further down the corridor.  The Vendor then repeated the process all over again with the girl.

         After setting the girl up with her accommodations, he then led Lyle deeper into the labyrinth.  They approached a wooden door with rusty hinges and barred window at the end of the corridor.  The Vendor pulled out the key ring again and unlocked the door.  The door opened inward into a room lit by an eerie glow shining from the ceiling.

         “Here is your room,” he nonchalantly spoke as he gestured to the small living quarters. “You will be sharing this room with another player about your age.  Supper will be here shortly.  You should eat something and get some rest.  I will be back for you in the morning to take you to training.” He left at that. Lyle listened to the fading footsteps.

         Lyle started to collect a sense of what his surroundings were; the room was sparsely furnished with a table for eating with two stools.  Along one wall there were two cots; each with an itchy, wool blanket.  Lyle walked to one of the cots and laid down.  As he began to drift off to sleep, Lyle awoke with panic to someone leaning over him.

         “This be my bed, mon!” the young boy said.

         Lyle quickly sat up and climbed out of the bed. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

         “It’s okay, mon. You new around here?”

         Lyle nodded his head.

         “Well, I walk en the room, mon, and see you, mon, asleep on my bed. From now on, mon, try to stay on your own bed, okay mon?”

         Lyle nodded again.

         “You want some supper, mon?” the boy asked as he sat down on one of the stools. Lyle sat in the one opposite him and began to devour his food.

         The young boy widened his eyes.  “You be hungry mon! What be your name, mon?”

         “Lyle,” he said in between bites.

         “Aww, I see mon.  My own name be Phillip Johnson III, mon.”





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Ch. 4 Training

         After eating his dinner, Lyle started to wake up fully.  He had just met Phillip and already liked him, but he only knew Phillip’s appearance.  Phillip had dark skin like the color of dirt and stark white hair that he kept short and spiked.  He also had bright blue eyes like the sky on a clear day.

         Lyle gathered up his courage to ask more.  “So, when did you get brought here?”

         “I’d say bout two years, mon.  Been ‘ere since I be ten,” replied Phillip.

         “What happened?  Like how did you end up here?” asked Lyle.

         “I be sailing with my father to this kingdom. ‘E be the high priest in my own kingdom.  A pirate ship sail up next to us in the early morning, and take over our ship.  They kill my father and some other crew member in the battle that proceed,” he said, getting sadder the more he said.  “What happen you, mon?”

         “I was taken from my village in this kingdom by raiders.  They killed my mother, captured me, brought me here, and sold me to the Vendor,” he explained to Phillip.

         Lyle heard someone or something sobbing in the corner behind him.

         As Lyle was looking to see whom or what it was, the thing in question said, “Stop all these sad stories, it makes me rain from my eyes.”

         Lyle saw a small creature appear from the shadows.  It was completely white and its body was divided into three sections.  The lower section had a white sphere about the size of an orange.  The creature had no feet but rather slid across the floor.  Going up the body, the mid section was a smaller white sphere, and protruding from it were two brown sticks.  Each had these small branches at the end that served as fingers.  The hands of the creature were currently balled into fists and rubbing the creature’s eyes.  Continuing up, the top section of the creature was yet again a white sphere, but it was only half the size of the bottom section.  Placed on the top section like a face, were two dark rocks for eyes, a long orange vegetable for a nose, little pebbles for eyebrows, and even smaller pebbles for the mouth.  Placed atop its head was a black tube-shaped hat.

         The creature glided up to Lyle and stuck his hand out.  “What is your name?”

         Lyle, unsure of the creature’s customs, reached out his hand, too.

         The creature grasped Lyle’s hand and shook it.  “Good to meet you sir, sir.  My name is Schnee,” it replied.

         “Dis be my pet,” stated Phillip.  “Me being a mage, I get me a pet.”

         “A mage?” questioned Lyle as he had never heard of such a thing.

         “Yea, mon.  I be an ice mage.  I can freeze tings and people too.  I can make it rain ice rocks and snow.  Dat be what ‘e be made of,” Phillip said gesturing to Schnee.

         “You can really do all of that?!” asked Lyle inquizzically.

         “Well… I will be able to, mon.  I just need more training, mon,” explained Phillip.

         “Training?” asked Lyle

“Yea, mon.  They train us ‘ere to fight other people.  They train us with weapons and our special abilities.  Do you have a special ability, mon?” Phillip asked.

“I can shapeshift into a raven,” said Lyle.

“Ahh, mon.  Let me see!” demanded Phillip.

         “I can’t right now,” said Lyle, saddened at the fact that he couldn’t being because the Boss had taken away his raven carving.

         “Why not, mon?” asked Phillip disappointedly.

         “I don’t have my being with me,” said Lyle.

         “What is a being, mon?” questioned Phillip.

         “A being is a carving into wood, stone, or metal of the animal that that person can shapeshift into.  We have to have our being with us in order for us to shapeshift.  And as I understand, I can’t use another shapeshifter’s being to change into my animal nor his or hers.  My being is wooden carving of a raven,” explained Lyle.  “If you destroy a shapeshifter’s being, it doesn’t kill the shapeshifter.”

         Phillip nodded in understanding.  “We should sleep now, mon. Tough day be tomorrow.”

         “Yes, me tired,” Schnee yawned.

         The two boys climbed into their individual cots and dozed off.  Schnee glided to the corner and rolled his head onto his chest and fell asleep.

         Lyle awoke to the door of Phillip’s and his quarters being opened.  Phillip stirred in his cot, too.  Light filled the room, blinding both of them.  After they got used to the light, they saw the Vendor standing in the doorway.

         “Get up you two!” the Vendor barked.  The boys hurriedly got up and stood in front of the stout man.  “Phillip, I want you to go to training, and you, Lyle, I want you to come with me,” said the Vendor.

         Phillip and Schnee went down the corridor to training, while Lyle followed the Vendor in the opposite direction.  They walked quickly, turning left and right at many intersections.  They passed many people: children and young adults, guards and fighters, and men and women.  They eventually arrived at a door, which the Vendor unlocked with his keys.

         He was in the Vendor’s office and living quarters.  The room was richly furnished.  There was a bed in one corner of the room and a desk with papers strewed about it in another.  He had a dresser pushed up to wall next to the bed.  In the center of the room a small table with enough room for two people was placed.  The Vendor gestured for Lyle to take a seat. Lyle sat down on one of the stools.  The Vendor sat opposite of him.

         “Are you hungry?” asked the Vendor as he rung a small silver bell.

         A servant entered the room with a covered tray.  He placed the tray on the table, removed the lid, bowed, and exited the room.  The tray had two clayware plates piled high with hams, breads, cheeses, and fruits.  As Lyle stared at the food; his mouth started to water.  He had never seen so much food at once in all his life.  He couldn’t help himself; he started to gorge himself on the food.

         The Vendor chuckled at the sight.  “I see you are hungry.  While you eat, I will tell you where you are, what you will do here, and what will happen to you,” the Vendor said.

         “To start, my name is Sir Vincent. You can call me either Sir Vincent or just Sir. I am a vendor of the Games.  The Games are matches in an arena for the spectators’ pleasure.  The Games were started centuries ago by a forgotten ruler and have remained the most successful business, besides war, of course, since then.”

         “This," he said, gesturing to the arena, “is the Games Arena in Enetolie.  Right now you are in my quarters.  It, along with the fighters’ quarters, is in the section of the Arena called the House.  The House has two circular arenas on both ends.  One is the Arena.  That is where all the matches are held.  The other is the practice arena, sometimes called the Parena. The whole complex is collectively just known as the Arena.”

         “In a little while, I will take you to the Parena.  Everyday you will be learning how to fight and use your special ability.  Oh!  Before I forget again,” Vincent exclaimed. “Oh, where did I put that,” he grumbled to himself as he was looking through his pockets for something.  “Ah-Ha! Here it is!” He exclaimed as he pulled Lyle’s being out of his pocket and handed it to Lyle.  Lyle wiped his greasy hands on his breeches and accepted his being.

         “Now, don’t you try to escape! We have many guards who can shapeshift just like you,” warned Vincent.  “As I was saying though, you will be trained in the Parena until you are old enough.  The Games may be cruel and deadly, but they don’t send inexperience children into the Games to die.

         “After you become old enough, you will be put into the Games.  You will face other fighters who have been training here and creatures from across the land.  If you survive the matches you can choose to stay and train the future fighters or you can be free and go about your life as a hero to the locals,” Vincent explained.

         By this time, Lyle had finished eating and was holding his being tightly as if he would lose it again.  He knew it was pointless to try to escape not because it was impossible, but rather because he had nothing to go back to.  So he decided, he could at least learn how to fight properly; so if he got his freedom, he could have his revenge.

         “Well let’s head to the Parena,” Vincent said.  He led Lyle out of his quarters and down the many corridors.  They entered onto a circle-shaped arena.  The Parena had a columned archway around the circumference with side rooms for special training and for weapon and armor storage.  The center of the Parena was a dirt ring filled with straw dummies for practice. Currently about fifteen boys and girls were either practicing individually, in groups, or with an instructor.

         “Here we go,” gestured Vincent.  He ushered Lyle to go with him to meet his instructor.  The instructor approached Vincent and Lyle and nodded in greeting.

         “Hello Antony! I have a new pupil for you, “Vincent said as he gestured to Lyle.  “His name is Lyle, and he is a shapeshifter. A raven. Lyle,” he addressed Lyle, “This is Antony Mars, and he will be your instructor. He is the instructor for all the flying shapeshifters.  He is a falcon.”

         Lyle looked at Antony.  Antony was about 35 years old.  He was slender, but full of muscle.  He was taller than most other people. Antony had short blonde hair and a cleanly shaven face.  Although his eyes were bright yellow, they gave off no emotion.  He rarely smiled, but he also rarely was ever angry either.

         “Well I have many things to do today, so I must get going,” Vincent said.  He turned and headed back into the House.

         “Well, let’s go get you a weapon,” Antony said as he walked toward a side room with a red glow coming from inside.  When they entered the armory, Lyle was greeted by the sound of a hammer beating on metal and by the sight of weapons galore: piles of swords, racks of axes and spears, and baskets of bows and arrows.

         “Since you are young, I can mold you to just about any weapon,” Antony said. “So I want you to pick whatever weapons you want.”

         Lyle looked around the armory to find a place to start.  He walked past the swords, axes, and spears.  He stopped at a table with knives strewed about it.  He picked up two curved knives.  They had normal wooden handles and normal metal blades, but the blades were curved back at an angle.

         Antony came over, took the knives, and demonstrated to Lyle how to fight with them. He gripped the handles so the blades pointed down unlike the normal way to hold a knife.  The blades curved slightly back across the back of the hand.  Antony punched into the air; he didn’t punch straight though, rather he swung his punches.  He  handed the knives back to Lyle; Lyle had a few swings with the knives and handed them back to Antony.

         Lyle knew these would be excellent weapons, but only with really close combat.  Therefore, he continued searching for a more powerful weapon.  He walked all over the armory looking for a proper weapon.  He turned down swords, axes, spears, bows, and others weapons suggested by Antony.  He eventually found something suitable in a corner.

         It had a long wooden handle with a long curved blade out the side of the end of the shaft.  Lyle had seen people in fields using this tool to cut grasses.  He looked at it and knew it was the weapon for him.  Anthony grabbed it out of the corner.

         “You know how to use this?” Antony asked.  He tossed the scythe to Lyle.  Lyle caught it awkwardly and almost dropped it.  He gripped the shaft and made low sweeping swings.

         “Good.  Good,” congratulated Antony.  “I will have Alí sharpen these and get you some leather armor.  To end the day, we have wrestling matches.  Let’s head back outside to join in,” Antony said as gestured for Lyle to come with him.  They headed outside into the Parena.

         All the other children were standing around the edge of the circle.  Antony told Lyle to go stand on the edge.  Antony then walked to the center and commanded the attention of the group. 

         “Tonight, we have a new fighter among us,” he pointed towards Lyle.  “His name is Lyle.  He and another fighter will compete tonight in our wrestling match.  Who thinks they can beat Lyle?” he asked. About five hands were raised.  Antony told Lyle to come stand in the center of the circle with him.

         “Mmm,” pondered Antony as he looked around at the choices.  “How about… You!” Antony said.

         The chosen child walked to the center of the Parena.  He removed his cloak and tossed it aside.  He then looked up at Lyle.  His blank, pupil-less eyes unnerved Lyle.  The boy also had medium length curly, jet black hair.  His face was the only exposed skin, and it was very pale almost pasty white.

         “Tonight, it will be Lyle versus Felix,” said Antony.

         Felix smirked and showed his teeth.  Lyle was shocked to see that Felix had fangs.  Lyle had heard of vampires but had never seen any.  Now he was about to wrestle with one.

         Antony made them stand apart and get ready to fight.  Felix crouched low and Lyle stayed his normal height.  Antony signaled for them to begin.  They walked around in a circle, staring at each other.

         Felix faked a lunge at Lyle, who cringed back.  Felix laughed, “Hehe, you scared?  Come on sissy boy!  Need your mommy?” questioned Felix.  “Where is your mommy?”

         Lyle got angry at Felix and lunged at him.  He tackled Felix to the ground and they rolled around.  Each one battled to get on top.  Felix raked his nails across Lyle’s shoulder.  Lyle cried out in pain.  Lyle rolled over onto Felix’s hand which was bent slightly.  His rolling succeeded in breaking three of Felix’s fingers.

         Lyle got on top of Felix and fired blow after blow at Felix’s face.  Felix tried throwing up a defense, but it was futile.

         Antony and another instructor pulled the two apart.  “And our winner tonight is Lyle!” exclaimed Antony.  “He beat the, until now, undefeated champion.”

         Lyle looked at his handiwork.  Felix’s lower lip was busted, and he had a black eye.  Felix grabbed his broken and dislocated fingers and popped them back into their sockets.  Lyle noted that Felix was glaring at him and didn’t even grimace when he relocated his fingers.

         Lyle surveyed his shoulder now.  The scratches had dug deep.  He had a slow constant river of blood flowing from them.

         Lyle glanced back up to see Felix approaching him.  Lyle got ready to fight again.

         “You think you are so good, don’t you?” asked Felix, filled to the brim with anger.  “Well you aren’t! I can beat you any day!  Just wait until I fight you in the Games!  As a matter of a fact, I’ll beat you today, right now,” he said. Before Lyle could react, Felix jumped in the air, spun, and landed a kick across Lyle’s head.  Lyle was instantly knocked out.  Lyle swore he heard laughter as he stared at the blackness.