The bitter chill of early spring clung to the air as the horse-drawn convoy drove along the highway from the port city of White Rocks. Old snow lingered in patches beneath the shadows of trees. Gusts of icy wind and rain caused the horses' breath to fog.

  The horse-mounted armed guards and wagon drivers seemed unaffected by the weather throughout the journey. With a determined focus, they scanned the distant landscape for any sign of danger. Crossbows in hand, the guards stationed atop the bordello ensured no gladiator slaves escaped. The guards monitored the bordello, which served as a prison for the gladiators.

  In a foul mood, wearing soft leather shorts and straps for shoes, Roar'Z sat cross-legged and hunched over. The muscled, emerald-hued orc shuddered as he tucked his bulky body further into the sodden mound of furs. His skin prickled as droplets of icy water ran down his back, causing him to burrow yet lower into his cold nest.

  Roar'Z seemed different from other orcs he'd met in the past. Despite the typical orcish features he possessed, the broad, muscular frame but no foul smell. Roar'Z felt the heavy weight of being an outsider settle on his shoulders. Sorcerer Brikoris, the ruthless dictator of the prison's breeding program, meticulously selected the mates for Roar'Z. He must have seen something unique in me. No other orcs get special treatment.

  Brikoris held a staggering level of power and respect as the leader of the mating department in the Gulag. He was renowned for his secrecy, never divulging any information about family lineage. He kept all background and family history shrouded in mystery. Whispers circulated that the Roar'Z family was said to have a rich history of formidable magical abilities.

  As Roar'Z grew, he developed a remarkable prowess far surpassing his peers. He was an impressive athletic specimen who captivated onlookers with his unparalleled strength and agility. His movements were swift and precise, and his reflexes were quick. Roar'Z demonstrated a peculiar connection to fire; he seemed to control it with his mind as if it was responding to his unspoken wishes.

  The sun rose on the horizon as the wagon crept through the cold rain that rushed into his iron-barred cell door. After three springs of fighting in the gladiator tournament, we never started the journey with so little daylight. This is the coldest I've ever been. Roar'Z's abode was not a simple red clay cell with iron bars but a magical bordello. Sometimes, the chamber went beyond its outward appearance, offering a generously sized area far exceeding expectations. Iron bars lined the windows and barred the entrance.

  The brazier in the center of the cell was remarkable. With a few magic words and simple gestures, it filled the cell with warmth or heated water for bathing. Now, it stood empty and cold. The bitter cold wind howled through the bordello, sending chills through Roar'Z's bones. No matter how he tried to barricade the door with animal hides, the relentless rain and freezing gusts still managed to seep through.

  Roar'Z huddled close to the bordello cell's entrance, drawn in by the promise of feeling the sun's heat on his thick, bare, green-skinned chest. The sun crept above the horizon. Its rays reached out across the sky, illuminating the landscape.

  Thirty heavy wagons, each carrying two bordellos, rumbled along the highway with solid wood tires that clattered against the stone road. The experienced teamsters piloted the wagons along their journeys. They loaded and unloaded the bordellos with precision. The teamsters gave their horses plenty of feed and attention throughout the journey. Sometimes the bordello's side windows lined up, which allowed the slave gladiators to communicate with each other.

  With closed eyes, Roar'Z hoped to sleep the long day away. Sleep seldom came when his home swayed, bumped, and vibrated along the gravel road.

  Today, Roar'Z's keen mind remained alert. I'd rather ride with the mounted guards with their legs against the hard-working horses. Their thick cloaks kept the wind off their skin, and they wore thick cloth or leather armor. Earning Champion Gladiator at the Inland Forrest Warf would be a luxurious experience, with plenty of firewood and maybe a girl or two for a week….

  Roar'Z peeked from under the wet fur. The grey clouds blocked the morning's bright sunshine; he frowned in disappointment. I was cold and uncomfortable for five hands worth of days while we traveled. Last year, the journey was much shorter!" He yelled to the teamster drivers and the armed guards in frustration.

  The two human guards on top of his bordello yelled in unison. "Shut-Up, Roar'Z."

  The younger guard added, "I'm sick of your orc voice. Shut up, or I'll shoot ya in the eye with a crossbow bolt."

  "I'll shut up when one of you gives me one of your rings of warmth," Roar'Z replied. "I'm not stupid; you all wear the same thin brass ring with a sun stamped on it. I know the rings and the golden whistles around your necks were signing bonuses for this miserable convoy." How else could a convoy of this size be fully manned this time of year?

  The wagon rolled to a stop, its worn-out wheels creaking against the bumpy path. The driver peered over his shoulder and groaned with disappointment; they were still far from their destination. He had hoped they'd make it today with just a bit more luck — but it seemed that wasn't meant to be.

  ScuzNails, a half-dog man, was the newest gladiator in White Rock's stable. He lived in the second bordello on Roar'Z's wagon. "Fur is thin, ScuzNail not cold," he barked.

  Roar'Z yelped and barked yelped back, imitating ScuzNail's voice. "Fur is warm, but I don't think I'd like to be petted all the time."

  "You smart. Roar'Z talks better every day. If pet, I bite a big green hand." ScuzNail barked.

  The guards and wagon driver bellowed for silence, but their orders were drowned out by the loud cackling of the two gladiators.

  "See far out? Your brothers ride long legs." ScuzNail pointed out the door, forgetting that Roar'Z could not see his gestures.

  No tell guards, escape maybe? ScuzNail yelped in a quiet, growling tone.

  Roar'Z heard the call to arms. Three wagons down the road, an alert guard was the first to blow the alert. A forceful high-pitched shrill whistle blew that lasted about the time it takes to snap your fingers five times. Roar'Z sat through many practice drills, but this was the first actual attack.

  Roar'Z heard a piercing whistle blast that signaled the commencement of the attack. "Scurry fast. The bad orcs are coming to get you," he taunted the wagon guards. The two guards lay prone just above Roar'Z's door, ready to shoot the attacking enemy. The teamster sat between the two guards, ready to reload. They should have a barrier to hide behind.

  The teamster grabbed his three crossbows and the extra crossbow bolts. He threw the weapons and ammo onto the bordello's roof, then climbed up to his battle position. The two guards adjusted their positions, one above Roar'Z's door and the second above ScuzNail's. They lay prone, aimed at their crossbows, ready to defend their lives. The teamster sat between the two guards in preparation to reload the weapons.

  Roar'Z heard the convoy's mounted guards gallop his way. Their hoofbeats echoed in the morning air. The sound of steel striking steel reverberated as two squads of armored cavalrymen thundered onto the scene. Each rider was strapped into heavy-duty plate armor atop mighty warhorses, ready for battle. They formed into a double line formation twenty paces to the front of Roar'Z's bordello.

  A few minutes later, two hands worth of fingers of armored guards with lances took an attack position to the front of the sword and shield guards.

  Roar'Z was impressed in two ways. Firstly, he had never seen or heard of the horse-sized two-legged bird things the orcs were riding. Secondly, despite the convoy's display of force, the orcs continued to advance and threaten an attack. Roar'Z was eager to see how capable the convoy guards were. Juba, the new gladiator weapons trainer, rode up as he was lost in thought. Roar'Z didn't know that Juba was part of the guard force or that he owned metal armor.

  Juba, a tall, muscular black human, rode up behind the two ranks of mounted guards. He wore shiny gladiator chest armor, called a clamshell, a hinged two-piece metal armor that jacketed his chest. Juba paced his horse back and forth between the lancers and the mounted guards. He tried to determine which target to attack first. He also practiced drawing the two long swords strapped to his back while watching the oncoming attackers' chaotic mess.

  “Birdies, more than fingers and toes,” ScuzNails barked to Roar'Z.

  Roar'Z peered through the cell door, a sense of curiosity washing over him. The orc-mounted birds should have already been here; the long-necked birds kept changing directions. The orcs attempted to direct the flock of birds with axe-shaped heads, but their attempts were in vain. The birds flew off in every direction, emitting loud cries and shrill shrieks as their wings fluttered wildly. The disorganized war party kept coming closer and closer to the readied convoy.

  The first of eardrums piercing whistle blasts sounded. The lancers charged; they maintained a close formation. The two ranks of horse-mounted warriors waited.

  Roar'Z saw Juba keeping pace with the lancers. He was behind and flanked to their right.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The bird had an ivory-hued, crescent moon-shaped beak-blade, glinting dangerously with razor-sharp edges and a hook at the end. Its feathery brown color blended into the dense foliage of the trees, but its powerful weapon made it clear that this was a fierce creature.

  The "Lancers-For-Hire" continued the charge toward the Orc-mounted flock of birds.

  The flock of flightless hatchet-headed birds scattered in all directions. Their alarm calls rang out through the air. They sensed the looming danger and instinctively knew that they were under attack. Their powerful legs propelled them across the ground with astounding speed. The swarm of birds assumed a multi-flanked "V" pattern formation and sped up.

  The hatchets soared, their curved beaks creating a shrill, piercing sound as they cut through the air. The blades glinted in the bright afternoon sun, and from afar, one could see the sharpness of their edges. The flightless creatures raced forward. Their wings spread wide to lend them an appearance of flight. Their thin, spindly legs propelled them on with each powerful stride.

  Roar'Z laughed a little when he realized that the orcs were bouncing on top of the sprinting birds.

  The birds spread their wings, now alerted to the danger. On their backs, the orc riders were ready for a fight. He was impressed when the orcs slid, tucked, and rolled from their mounts. The hatchet-head birds glided over their feeders. The orcs popped up and continued their charge forward.

  The lancers were surprised and a little confused. Some lowered their lance to impale the bird's body, and some aimed for its smaller hatchet-head.

  Roar'Z watched the first wave of hatchet-head birds run headfirst into the charging lancers. The strange birds used their long, skinny legs to kick at the unsuspecting horses' legs. Their sharp beaks sank deep into the horse's unarmored necks and chests. Thick, warm horse blood flowed as the agile creatures continued the attack.

  ********

  The overconfident lancers did not suspect that their mounts would be attacked. Trapped in their saddles, they screamed in horror as their mounts crashed. Screams turned to muffled agony as bloodied horses thrashed on the ground, breaking their riders' bodies. Many lancers were catapulted from their saddles. They were added to the bloody mix. Only two attentive lancers trained to perform a quick dismount survived the initial calamity.

  *******

  The second and third waves of the attacking birds tripped all the remaining horses. A wild, messy affair unfolded. Bloodied horses skidded and tumbled into the dirt.

  The caravan watched in horror and disbelief when the lancers crumbled into the earth. The predatory birds circled their prey and pressed the attack. The surviving lancers defended their proud steeds. They were soon overwhelmed by the predatory birds.

  Roar'Z lost sight of Juba in the chaos.

  The dismounted orcs were not brave enough to interrupt the birds feeding. They continued their silent running charge toward the stalled caravan.

  The convoy's captain of the guard blew another set of one-finger-snap-length whistle blasts. The trained mounted swordsmen stood fast. The guards on top of the bordello rained down hundreds of crossbow bolts. Most struck the charging orcs. Some of the orcs fell, and all survivors continued the assault. A third time, a piercing whistle blast sounded. The mounted swordsmen charged forward to clean up the last of the charging Orcs.

  Green hand. Green foot. On window. ScuzNails barked to Roar'Z.

  Thudding sounds came from the bordello's roof. Roar'Z saw one of the teamster's bloody, flailing bodies fly from the bordello's rooftop. The sneaky orcs attacked from the rear; they are insidious brutes. I like them.

  Again, the many, one-finger-snap-length whistle blasts sounded. This time they erupted from many locations up and down the length of the convoy. Roar'Z heard the bordello-mounted guards stand to defend themselves from the attacking orcs.

  "The Enchanted Ring Route is the safest road in the land. All travelers are under the protection of Keep Wind-Swept's Cavaliers." Roar'Z battle yelled loud for all to hear. He followed the announcement with a lively, robust belly laugh. Roar'Z stretched his long, strong right arm through the cell door, up and over the top of the bordello a few times. On his third attempt, he grabbed a guard by the foot.

  The foot grab startled the bordello guard. He lost track of the orc's attack. The orc mortally impaled the guard and then jumped off the bordello's roof to find and kill the next guard. The guard's body fell backward, down over the side of the bordello.

  Roar'Z caught the guard's body with cat-like agility to keep it from hitting the ground. Realizing he had caught the wrong guard, Roar'Z's frustration grew. He lowered the skinny guard's body to the floor and sat on the leg to keep it from falling. Using his free hand, Roar'Z searched the orc's clothing, hoping to find items of importance.

  The guard spoke in a dying hoarse voice to Roar'Z. "My sword… Make sure the captain of the guard sends it to my family." Somehow, he held the sword and was able to slide it through the cell's barred door. His words, breath, and spital produced red foamy bubbles. "I have a money belt, take it, and all the…."

  Death comes quickly and honorably to some…. Roar'Z removed the sun-encrusted brass ring from the guard's finger and placed it on his pinky. He almost instantly felt his body temperature rise like a warm, sunny day in late spring or early summer.

  The guard's sword hand also had a thin ring. The ring was made of a tarnished brass, its surface darkened and dulled from time and wear. I'd never wear a ring on my sword hand. Roar'Z removed it and threw it into his pile of furs. Midflight, the ring swerved and attached itself to the guard's sword. On second thought, I might wear that ring on my sword hand.

  Roar'Z unclasped the guard's money belt and grabbed his golden whistle. He then added them to the pile of furs beside him. Smart guy, the belt snapped around the belt that held up his pants. Roar'Z felt a bulge in the guard's boot and found a small knife. He threw it into the fire brazier.

  One pocket contained some additional coins. Roar'Z decided not to take the coins. The guards might think the dead guard was not stolen. He wanted to inspect the other boot, but it dangled below. Roar'Z heaved the dead human about two body lengths away from the wagon.

  Roar'Z peered through the iron bars of the bordello's window, his eyes scanning for orcs and guards. He didn't see any fighting but did hear the occasional whistle and the sounds of guards fighting in the distance.

  Roar'Z inspected his new sword and made a few test swings with it. The attached small ring held fast to the sword's grip. Upon closer inspection, he noticed there was something under the leather strap. Roar'Z's heart raced, and his ears strained. While listening to the approaching guards, he spat on the sword's sweaty, dirty leather strap a few times. The liquid seeped into the expanding leather.

  Roar'Z stood with his back to the open cell door. He used the fire brazier as a worktable for the sword. Battle sounds stopped, and Roar'Z became worried. He wondered how soon till the guards returned.

  “ScuzNails, watch for guards,” Roar'Z barked.

  “ScuzNail is sleepy.”

  Sleepy… That lazy dog will probably die his first fight as a gladiator. After some feverish work, Roar’Z removed a small metal bar under the leather wrap. He rubbed his hands in ash, then smeared the leather with the black grit to hide his work. Satisfied with his effort, he threw the sword from his bordello, which landed close to its dead owner. He had second thoughts and wondered if he should have kept the sword just in case.

  "Looks like those lazy bastards lost the battle," Roar'Z barked to ScuzNails.

  Roar'Z listened in the distance, for the sounds of metal clashing against metal caught his attention. It could be the orcs freeing or killing the gladiators. Maybe he would be okay since he looked like the orcs but didn't smell like them. He shifted his focus on the items he had stolen from the dead guard and carefully secured them into the deep pockets of his thickest hides.

  The metal-on-metal clanging, followed by screams, moved closer. "ScuzNail, fight soon. Be ready." Roar'Z barked. He held two rocks, ready to crush anything that approached.

  "We no fight. Roar'Z, big orc. Roar’Z nice-talk ScuzNail. We no fight. We may go home." ScuzNail barked.

  Roar'Z heard and felt ground thunder from where the convoy was driving. It grew louder, the metal-on-metal clanging stopped, and the murderous screams stopped. Roar'Z watched the remaining orcs run from the caravan. They carried a lot of stolen stuff. They mounted the long-legged birds that had migrated toward the caravan and rode away.

  Roar'Z sat with a thump. All my life, I've been a slave gladiator… I should have been set free this day…. He was somewhat confused. He felt the ground rumble, then heard trumpets. "The Enchanted Ring Route is the safest road in the land. All travelers are under the protection of Keep Wind-Swept's Cavaliers." Roar'Z bellowed a second time. The laughter that followed was from irony.

  Juba appeared from out of nowhere. He led a squad of ring route cavaliers to the convoy's ambush site.

  The cavaliers wore heavy armor, carried jousting shields, and swung spiked steel balls hung from a metal chain and handle. The mounted juggernauts gave chase to the supply-burdened orc-mounted birds. A few hours later, the Cavaliers returned. They conducted around-the-clock mounted patrols. Some patrols ventured outwards but never beyond the sight of the convoy's wagons.

  It took till dawn for new teamsters and guards to arrive. It took an additional three days to repair the battle-damaged equipment. Most of the patrols provided tight security for the recovering convoy. The restored caravan limped to their next of many destinations, the Inland Forrest Warf.

  During the three days of vehicle maintenance, Highmore, the gladiator stable's healer, extended his duties to help the convoy's injured guards. On the third afternoon, he used his cane to knock on Roar'Z's bordello cell. "Roar'Z, you injured?"

  "Go away… Three days… Now you want to know If I'm injured. How much have you overcharged for your services?" Roar'Z asked.

  Highmore limped away as he patted his money sack.

  The following day, Roar'Z's dead bordello driver was the last to be replaced by Juba. "Juba, how many orc raiders were you able to fight?" Roar'Z asked, sitting on top of the pile of furs.

  Juba held a whip in his right hand; he flicked his wrist, and a crack sounded near the lead horse's ear. A little motivation to encourage the team of horses as they approached a medium-sized hill. He held up one orc head, "Just… Two… Decapitations… they slice off quick when you swing from a fast, well-trained mount," he humble-bragged.

  "I hoped the orcs were from the Silver Ear Clan or Clan Lugh. I think this group of orcs is from a smaller unnamed clan who live in the western mountains," he pointed out. "I did capture three of the long-legged bird things. They are tethered to my wagon," Juba said.

  Roar'Z could sense the severity of Juba's tone and knew that if he probed further into the topic, he would surely get a grand tale of adventure and excitement. "Tell me about the long-legged beasts. Were you able to kill one of those?" Roar'Z fed Juba's ego when he vocalized excitement when asked about Juba's actions. He leaned in, eagerly awaiting the story that was about to unfold.

  Juba reflected, slapped his leg with his silver inlaid hickory shaft horsewhip, and started his yarn… "No shit, there I was..."

  The morning's sun beamed through the cell door, he knew they were very close to the city when the convoy passed a towering mound of earth that stood as a solemn reminder of death on the road and in the cities of the realm. Roar'Z wore his new sun-stamped ring and ignored the icy cold wind that blew through the bordello. He stretched out, sank deep into his pile of furs, and listened to Juba's account of the bird battle.

  Juba's vocal cadence slowed when the sun rose high into the sky, which ended his over-embellished story. "What's your favorite weapon to fight with?" Roar'Z asked.

  "That's enough about me. Are you ready for fight night?" Juba asked Roar'Z as the city gate came into view.

  I'm warm… I have a "No Drop Weapon" ring to barter for healing… I know where my kind lives… And I have coins… There are worse things than dying…. "Oh, ya, I'm ready…," he said confidently. "Are gladiators allowed to bet on their fights?"

  #fantasyadventure - #epicbattles - #gladiatorlife - #darkfantasy - #actionpacked