the scribe
☽ woman of questionable morals ☾
MORS VOLUNTARIA
I was ready once more. I had to be.
Blood throbbed at my temples, the sickening noise echoing in my skull. I could hear the roaring crowd outside, in the stands, screaming and thumping and cheering. The muscles in my arm tightened as I clutched my sword, the metal hard and familiar in my palm. It was no longer an encumbering object, but an extension of my own arm. When had that happened? I wondered. When had I become such a senseless sword swiping killer? It hadn't always been like this. I had often dreamt of this life, of glory, of freedom; away from slavery. But now I was living that dream and how I'd wished I'd seen it was nothing more than a nightmare. How much more of this could I take? I felt my knuckles burn as my hand squeezed tighter and tighter to the weapon that was supposed to guide me to victory. I had to win. There was no other other option. Surely, there was no other option.
I felt sweat form on my brow as the cage rattled open. The sun hadn't hit me yet, under the cover and safety of my cell, yet I could almost feel its gruesome glow, knowing it would soon be beating down on my tired skin. My wounds had scarcely healed from the previous brawl and the cuts on my scalp stung intensely as I anticipated exposure to the elements. I was three fights in. Victorious. But what was victory in a world that was simply fight or die?
But, It was time. Once again. I was used to this lark. Wait. Fight. Win. Repeat. I was simply in the fight stage once more.
I gritted my teeth and stepped through the doorway, the sun was so much fiercer than I had remembered, belting my skin with rays so hot it was almost audible. I took rugged breaths as I prepared to once again battle for my life; my nostrils flared as if I was a mad ox ready to charge. As I entered the arena, I felt the surge. The rush of energy. The battle was brewing and my body knew it.
I spotted my opponent, to the East of the arena. It was caged; trapped as I had been. I wondered if the beast felt as I did. I wondered he it knew if it was fight or die.
But there was no time to wonder. My opponent was released. A bear; twice the size of me, and he was fast. He was charging.
And so I was off. Running. My feet hit the burning sand with quick succession. Run. Run. Don't look down. I was away, sword at the ready, my ears ringing as blood rushed to my head. I could barely hear the crowd over it, but I could make out their cries for blood. They wanted a show and I would give them one.
The bear met me close to the centre of the arena. He was quick, baring his teeth every time he took a movement. He was beautiful, his fur golden brown, his eyes large and rabid. His teeth were larger than anything I'd ever seen before and I wondered how many men had been at the mercy of them, how many skulls had been broken between that Goliath jaw. I watched as saliva dripped from his chin and sizzled as it hit the ground. He was starving. He was just as desperate as I was. Desperate to stay alive in such a vicious world.
He pounced, but I was quick. I jumped out of the way and took position behind him. He was fast but he wasn't nimble. I spun, my sword flourishing in my hand as I sliced through the skin on the beast's back. I couldn't cut too deep, or the fight would be over too soon and I'd be locked away again. No. They needed to remember.
The crowd cheered at the sight of first blood as it spat from the bear's body onto the floor. He roared in pain, screaming as he shifted his weight to his back legs. He turned back to me and reached out his front paws, almost as a human. He wanted to grab me and stuff me into his mouth, as if he were a cat and I a mouse. I moved backwards steadily, my sword raised to him. The beast didn't look me in the eye. He didn't see me as an opponent, he saw me as a plate of meat; his sustenance. He began to pick up speed, leaping towards me, leaving a trail of blood behind him. I dived to the side, to the floor; tricking my opponent as he too fell to the ground, a cloud of sand rising beside him. I stood up and suddenly felt hot liquid build in my mouth. I had bitten my tongue on the way down to the floor. But there was no pain. There never was. Not until the end. I spat red beside me as the bear got back on all four of his paws.
The creature shook his head, dizzy from the fall, but undeterred and still ready to tear the muscle from my bones. I readied myself again and as it leapt towards me. I raised my sword and pulled it down quick, too quick, missing the brute. I blinked and suddenly felt the ground leave my feet and return at my back. It had batted me aside, it's huge paws had smacked into my rib cage and thrown me through the air. I couldn't breathe. I tried to inhale but it was pointless, my lungs wouldn't allow the action. I had to reset. I had to get up, but my arm wouldn't grab my sword, which had fallen beside me. I tried, I bore my eyes into the sand, begging my hand to pick up my weapon, but it was weak; injured. I couldn't think about it. I got to my feet, my arm dangling at an unnatural angle as I began to run.
I was defenceless. I had nothing. This was it. I would die as nothing. A slave. I would die without consequence. I had to do something, to make them remember.
Suddenly I dug my heels into the ground. I turned, facing my opponent head on. He marched towards me, shaking the ground. In one swift movement, I dove to the floor, rolling beside the beast as it's claws scratched at me, tearing through my leathers, leaving behind it's print, deeply ingrained into my skin. I stood behind it, blinking away the blood that had fallen into my eyes, my head bearing an open wound. My hands reached out and took a hold of the creature's fur and I began to climb it's back. It rattled as I pulled at it's skin, trying to throw me off as if it were a bucking horse. It tried to claw at me but it's arms were not dexterous enough, to his intensifying anger. I climbed further up, my injured arm doing little to help me as I scaled the thing. It's fur was hot and it's skin hotter still. I had no idea what I was doing, all I knew was that I had to give them something to talk about. Finally, I reached it's head and wrapped my arms around it's neck. If I'd had my sword, I could have won right at that second. I could had taken the blade and rammed it through the bear's skull. I could have lived to fight once more, perhaps I would have fought another man, or an elephant or a lion. But that wasn't what I wanted. That wasn't a life.
My arms clung to the bear and for a brief moment, it felt as though the battle had ended. I felt the bear steady beneath me. The crowd cheered. I began to feel the rush of pain come into view; the cuts I had sustained screamed, begging to be closed. My injured arm sent waves of pain through me, like hundreds of tiny cuts forming from within. I felt the fur of the bear, the sun's warmth, the sand of the arena in my eyes. I smelt the fire of the torches at the gates and heard the gasps and shouts from the stands. I knew then. I knew that I couldn't; wouldn't; do this again. This was my final battle. These were the last few moments of my life.
As the pain began to subside again and the world returned to full motion, I reared my head above the bear, ready for one last act of offence, of violence. I opened my mouth, bearing my cracked teeth. In one fail sweep, I bit down on the bears ear, chewing it's flesh as if it were a meal. It's fur prickled my tongue, and the creature wriggled and shook, trying to bat me off of it, as if I was a mosquito. I fought hard through the skin and gristle, grinding my teeth as tightly as I could. Finally I tore off the top of the creature's ear, spitting it to the ground; his blood splashing my face and filling my mouth. At that moment, I let go, letting my body fall to the ground. It seemed as though the fall lasted a lifetime. I felt as though I was flying through the air as I crept closer to the sand.
My last few moments, full of violence and anger, the Sun blinding me.
I felt the bear's blood on my tongue and it tasted like copper. I wondered if I was to ascend to the Elysian Fields. Perhaps not now, not after all I had done.
My skull made a dull thud as it hit the sand. My body didn't move. I was still, and I knew not if it was from injury or from my own unconscious decision to surrender. The bear took a few moments before it realised I had removed myself from it's back and turned around to retrieve me. As it's feet beat the ground, heading towards me, frothing at the mouth, anticipating my organ's in his mouth, I felt freedom. I felt more free than I ever had. I no longer had a master. I no longer had to fight. The sun wasn't a pain anymore and my body felt as though it was floating. Before it hit, before the pain could engulf me, I closed my eyes.
That was freedom.
True freedom.
At last.
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