“Were the guards not supposed to send for a healer and douse me with water this morning?” I asked… getting those three jailors in even more trouble. It wasn’t like they could deny what was right in front of them.
Golana said nothing, but I could tell she was suspicious as hell.
“Saves me the trouble of bathing you before sending you to your death,” she muttered, then jerked her head for me to follow her. I did, my three captors falling in behind us as we wound through the dungeons, then up to the level of the arena floor, where I was outfitted.
I was given a simple pair of pants and a shirt. Over that, I wore a hardened leather chest piece, which had been worn away on the inside. To everyone in the stands, it would look like a piece of simple armor, but it was paper thin and would do little to protect me.
Before it was put on, Golana punched me in the gut again. I’d been expecting something like this and reacted as I had the first time, several days ago, but this time, it was an act. The strike was more like someone’s regular punch, not the organ-rearranging, dwarf-empowered hit it should have been.
Several helpers hauled me to my feet and put the armor on me, handing me a rusty short sword as my only weapon. Izzy had told me my opponent would be a troll. This small weapon would do nothing against their long-armed reach.
“Good luck,” Golana muttered, then a heavy gate lifted and I was pushed out into the arena.
The crowd cheered as I staggered a few steps. Looking up, the stands were completely packed. I hadn’t thought I’d be much of a draw, but then… if word had gotten out that I was secretly bonded to an elf, that might have peaked the macabre curiosity of some. Perhaps the troll on trial was famous as well?
I shrugged off those thoughts as the gate on the far side of the arena opened and a massive form lumbered out.
I sighed.
Of course the troll I’d be facing would be the biggest, nastiest-looking troll I’d ever seen. Trolls had been subjugated by dwarves generations ago, trained to help with mining and be front-line warriors and protectors. They were to dwarves what dragons were to the elves. As such, they were big and tough. But this one was over seven feet tall,with muscles bulging all over his massive frame and scars all over those muscles.
He wore no armor and had no weapons, thankfully. As much as Saldrea and her goons could cheat by hindering me, they couldn’t break thousands of years of tradition and give weapons to a convict. Not that it mattered much, his long arms had a better reach than my little sword and his heavy fists would hit like hammers. Trolls also possessed some physical magic, so he might be able to enhance himself, assuming his binding collar wasn’t working, which I wouldn’t put past Saldrea. Some trolls also had the ability to manipulate darkness. That didn’t bother me. I was quite at home in the dark.
A gong sounded, breaking my assessment of my opponent and starting the fight.
The troll charged, strong legs propelling him across the arena.
For a second, I debated whether to draw this fight out and play things up for the crowd, lose a little to have my win be that much more significant. I decided against it. I’d go with shock and awe instead.
When the troll reached me, one big fist descending toward my head, I spun in toward him, flashing out my wings and curving them around me like a shield. Pain surged from where my wings connected to my back, but I ignored it. My wings emerging had the side effect of cutting away my armor and tearing through my shirt, mostly shredding it, leaving me topless.
The troll’s fist hit the steel shell of my wings around me, like a clapper hitting a bell, and he yelped in surprise.
I spread my wings wide, still spinning, and let the razor’s edge Izzy had put on the front of my wings take the troll just above the knee. With my enhanced strength, plus thatcutting steel, I sliced through both of the troll’s legs with ease.
The big creature toppled forward, screeching in pain. I completed my spin and severed his head from his body before it even hit the ground.
I walked away from the massacre with my wings shining in the sun.
Silence filled the arena for a heartbeat… before everyone erupted in cheers and applause. Then, the shouts and ovations became a steady chant:
“Steelwing! Steelwing! Steelwing!”
Looked like I had a new nickname.
I raised my wings and arms in triumph, playing to the crowd, before flashing my wings away, because they hurt like hell. But I kept pumping my fists into the air.
Spirits! It felt good to win, to have my freedom back, to have tens of thousands of people cheering for me.
It was one of the rare times in my life when I felt truly powerful and admired, not a common feeling for me.
It didn’t last.
Men came to clean up the dead troll. Six others came to collect me, and given they were a mix of dragons and titans, I knew who’d sent them: Saldrea.
No, no, no, no, no!
I couldn’t fight all these guards, not dragons and titans. My enhanced strength and steel wings might take a couple down if I was lucky, but against six…?
