Slave Unbound Ch. 11

Learning the Footwork

**Characters and text are protected under copyright law

Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.

"Keep your shield higher, aiest'ja." Colja reminded Leita again, his tone still even and patient, despite that he'd had to repeat this advice over a dozen times already in the last few hours. "You are also still not pivoting your feet correctly."

Grimacing, Leita took a moment to lift each foot and give it a shake, as though to limber them. The apparent subtlety of proper footwork had been giving her quite a bit of trouble. According to the aljin, mastering how to properly plant and pivot one's feet, as well as putting them in just the right places, made a very significant difference in effective swordplay. It seemed to make it harder to fight, to her, since more than half her focus was on trying to remain aware of where her feet were and how she was moving them.

For days, she'd been trying to get her steps right, sure each time that she'd managed to finally get it, only to be told that she hadn't. The worst part was that she couldn't ever figure out what it was she'd gotten wrong. At least, with her feet.

Her issues with the shield never being high enough stemmed from Colja pointing out that she was significantly shorter than most gladiators, even other female ones. That meant her shield needed to have more elevation to it than might seem natural. With so much of her mind on trying to put her feet in the right places, her shield arm simply kept drifting back down to a more comfortable angle.

"Again." Colja said with a nod. "From the beginning."

Taking a couple steps backward, Leita took a breath to center herself and went into the routine of movements again. She'd spent the first day of practice learning the various pieces of the routine, a series of standard combat maneuvers. The exact order of the various moves Colja changed each day, both to keep her on her toes and to help her learn how to switch easily from action to action. She didn't have much trouble with performing the moves in the correct orders each day, but she'd yet to go through a full set without Colja finding something to nit-pick or correct.

Frustrating as it felt to her, he seemed to remain placidly at ease, seeming never daunted by her failures. His endless patience was perhaps one of the only reasons she'd managed to keep from giving up hope of ever mastering these things. Still, so much for being a natural at combat.

Shifting through the various maneuvers, concentrating on both where she was placing her feet and where her arms were, Leita fought off an imaginary army of attackers, sweeping back and forth, sword moving crisply. The whole of it took just under three minutes, Colja quietly walking circles around her as she went, inspecting her every move. Once she was finished, she waited for his critique.

"You are still dropping your shield down too much when you swing." He said after a moment. "And you are still not—"

"pivoting my feet correctly." She finished for him with a sigh. "Should I start again?" She asked wearily.

"Actually, it would seem you may take a moment, aiest'ja. Rest and drink some water." The aljin replied calmly, looking over to where a servant had come out of the house and was now standing to one side of the pitch, waiting expectantly. He gestured towards a wooden bench, on which rested a small jug of clean water and a towel. "The Mistress tasked me with meeting the guard for a bunkroom inspection. It would seem they are ready for me. It should not take long." With that, he gave her a small bow before striding off towards the waiting man.

Leita obeyed, actually glad for a moment to sit down and collect herself. Grabbing up the towel, she wiped away the gathered sweat from her face, running a corner around the inside of her new collar. It was a solid steel band, with a leather backing, joined together at the back of her neck by the house blacksmith. The flesh beneath the place where he'd sealed it was still tender from the heat of the molten metal that he'd used to connect it together.

Dropping the rag back to the bench, she retrieved the water and removed the cork. She was sure she was starting to get worse at this. Taking a long draw from the jug, she glanced off towards where the rest of the stable were sparring and practicing at the other end of the yard. She felt conspicuous sometimes, singled out and swinging at thin air while the rest of them were practicing with each other.

Most of the other gladiators had made little effort to speak with her or even acknowledge her, likely due to Kalder. The few that she had interacted with, save for Colja, had remained generally aloof, usually only doing so to explain some rule of the house or another. Only the aljin seemed actually friendly towards her, though even he'd made little effort to really speak with her about anything other than her lessons in combat.

In truth, much of the stable had been a bit disquieted the last two days, due to the death of a House gladiator during the midweek games. While she'd not seen any displays from the others to suggest that he'd been especially close to anyone here, the specter of death itself had sobered most of the stable. It seemed to stand as a stark reminder that being sent to fight on the sands always held the possibility of never returning from them.

Across the pitch, she watched the giant stone-like figure of the House Champion stalking through the gathered warriors as they practiced, occasionally shouting some nugget of criticism. Head and shoulders above everyone else, he was easy to keep track of as he passed among the knot of combatants, his brooding aura palpable even from where Leita sat. She'd yet to ever see him spare even a moment's notice for this end of the field, practically acting as though she didn't exist.

She thought again of what Colja had said, about his pride needing time to heal. He'd obviously not felt she was worthy to be here, regardless of what Colja, or their owner, thought. Still, he'd done nothing to hinder Colja from spending these days focused on her. She supposed that it had not hurt that Mistress Marlowe had come out on the upper balcony a few times to watch her working with the aljin, apparently approving of him teaching her.

Thinking of her, Leita glanced upwards to see if the Mistress was currently there. She wanted to impress her new owner, to prove that she was worth what had been paid, and that she deserved to remain in the stable. If she found her out and watching, she intended to rise and go through the routine again. Though she still wasn't sure why she was so determined to remain a gladiator, she'd stopped questioning it and just put all her energy on trying to learn how to fight. Knowing that Mistress Marlowe was watching only made her push harder and focus more.

At the moment, however, no one but guards were about the upper landings, lazily watching the gladiators training as they made casual circuits. Their aloofness never ceased to surprise, seeming completely unprepared should anything ever actually happen. She assumed it was because, being that they were at the compound's center, there was little concern of someone trying to escape from here. More likely, they were here just to remind all of them that they were still property of the House, despite the general freedom they seemed to have here.

Though they were closely watched everywhere, in the House they were herded like cattle and regularly tasked with all manner of menial labors, but here in the training yard they were allowed to do as they wished. Or, at least, as far as Kalder and the other 'Elements' allowed. It was rare to see anyone doing anything other than training or, in the case of the stable's four leaders, overseeing that training.

With Colja spending all his time with only her, Myrinus and Sasinel had become much more active in playing the roles of trainers. In the case of the blue-lipped mariner, the other gladiators seemed to heed his advice as closely as they did Kalder's, but the lithe sidil woman seemed to be more tolerated by them than anything else. She'd never seen the woman interacting with anyone other than her fellow Four Elements on a social level and, even among them, only Colja seemed to treat her with any sense of actual comradery.

Leita's eyes searched out the lean snowy form amid the sparring groups, finding her about as easily as she did Kalder due to her pale countenance. Like the large stone giant, she too stalked about the throng, dispensing advice and critique, regardless of how much it was really accepted. She seemed like some wintery hunting cat; her movements so naturally graceful that she seemed to almost glide along the ground.

She frowned at her own apparent clumsiness, unable to even get the basic footwork of battle down. She imagined herself as the awkward duck next to Sasinel's elegant swan. She'd considered a few times approaching the sidil to inquire about her helping he with some of her training. So far, though, she'd not managed to pluck up the courage to do so.

"Like what you see, slave?" Came a velvety voice from behind her, making her start slightly in surprise. Turning, she saw Cookie, dressed in a beautiful blue dress of material so supple that it seemed more liquid that cloth. It clung to her shapely torso in a way that seemed somehow indecent, though the garment was not at all revealing in the common sense.

"She is a beautiful specimen." Cooke continued, looking across the field at the white-skinned gladiator. "The Mistress has commanded her up to her chambers more than few times, you know, sometimes simply to watch her dance." She peered towards Leita. "You really should see her dance, darling. It is truly an act of pure art. I imagine much of her skill on the sands are due to her talent for dancing."

Cookie glanced back up the field, a sly smile parting her full lips. "And she tastes faintly of plum when she is deeply aroused. If you are want to know."

Leita looked away absently, feeling that such things were not her business to know. She wasn't sure she particular liked the Mistress's beautiful consort. Cookie was never truly mean or cruel, though she often had a sharpness in things she said, a clever play of words that could politely, even pleasantly, cut one down to size or just deeply wound. Worse yet, she often exuded a perverse kind of energy, seeming often predatory and lewd.

"If you would like, I could have her dance for you, dear." Cookie continued after a moment, looking back towards Leita again, now with an arrogantly bemused expression. "Do you like the taste of plums, slave?"

Leita turned back to face her, steadying herself and making sure to show only respect. "I have never had a plum, mi'lady." She answered softly, keeping her eyes low. "I couldn't say."

Cookie's stance shifted, as did her expression, both showing a touch of fascination and curiosity. "Well, I'm sure such a succulent fruit would be wasted on a brutish palate anyway." She said after a moment, teasingly. "I'm sure you're better left to baser tastes."

"As mi'lady says." Leita replied meekly.

Cookie waited a moment, seeming to expect something more, seemed to want Leita to say something more. Probably waiting for her to say something impertinent or disrespectful. Though Cookie held a measure of authority here, she seemed to regularly suffer her share of rude comments from the gladiators. Cookie seemed to lack enough authority to have such disrespect severely punished, though she was able to exact some degree of petty revenges for such comments. Usually through tasking the insulter with some foul duty or another, which she seemed to enjoy meting out. In fact, Leita was pretty sure she happily invited the little jabs, just for an excuse to exercise what power she did have over them.

When Leita failed to add anything more, however, the elegant woman merely sighed in disappointment after a few moments. "Well, if you're not going to play, my darling, let's have you up on your feet then. The Mistress has sent me to fetch you."

This caught Leita's attention and she quickly rose. "Yes, mi'lady." She replied, straightening her tunic. "If I may say, mi'lady, I was being trained by Colja, though he went to see to something. He may wonder where I have gone, should he return and not find me."

Cookie waved dismissively at the idea. "He is a smart enough man, I'm sure he will assume you didn't simply wander away." She turned and gestured to a pair of armed guards, who stepped up to Leita, affixing a pair of manacles on her wrists. "Now come along, darling." She said as she began leading them inside.

Walking along behind the consort, guards flanking her, she mused at the fetters. When she'd met with the Mistress, accompanied by Colja and Kalder, she'd been manacled then as well, but had noticed that neither of the men had been. She assumed it was because they'd earned some level of trust at this point, both of them obviously regularly given much more freedom and responsibilities than the rest of the stable, even the other two Elements.

Of course, there had been several guards around them at the time as well, armed and ready, but the irony of her, being of little threat, to be shackled when these two seasoned warriors, who likely could have bested the armed guards even bare-handed, had not been had not been lost on her even then. In fact, even if Leita were as skilled and dangerous as either man, it was just not in her nature to disobey, much less attack, her owner.

Born the property of another, Leita had long accepted her place in the world and become at peace with it. There was a strange sort of serenity in it. While her body and her industries were not her own, she knew who she was and what was expected of her. She understood that diligent obedience kept her useful and safe.

Though, could she really say that anymore? The death of the House gladiator this week was proof enough that she now faced possible harm despite how well she submitted. Again, it struck her strange how strongly she was fighting to remain in the House Stable, despite that danger. Would it not have been wiser to just head for the kitchens when Kalder had told her to on that first day?

The image of herself once again down on a floor, scrubbing, made her rankle and her stomach toss. Somehow, facing possibly death seemed preferable to returning to that version of herself. Something in her had changed, she thought. She wasn't sure when it had happened, during her days of isolation, waiting to die, or during those hours in a cage, trying to find the courage to live. Perhaps it had happened the moment she felt her feet upon the arena floor, felt the rush of a will to fight in her for the first time.

Regardless, her place was as a gladiator now. Her new obedience was to fight for her House with courage and honor or, at the very least, die well for it. And if she did die, there was comfort in knowing that she would die on her feet, fighting.

The sudden halt of the small procession jarred her out of her thoughts, Cookie bringing them up short suddenly. Looking up, she saw a House slave ahead fumbling awkwardly with a rag and bucket. Leita immediately recognized the reaction as the girl having been caught not performing her given task, likely having been daydreaming. Obviously, Cookie recognized it as well.

"I suggest you keep your hands at work, girl." Cookie said, her voice stern, but not particularly angry. "I doubt you'd like to endure the punishment that negligent slaves receive here." She raised a hand and mimed the motion of snapping a whip, mimicking the sound it would make with rather impressive accuracy.

The slavegirl paled and ducked her head as she quickly resumed her task, trying to focus herself only on the act of cleaning, as though it were not her being admonished. Cookie paused a moment, eyeing her, then strode over to her quickly, grabbed her by the shoulder and threw the slave to the floor. "You are to acknowledge someone above you when they speak to you!" She said forcefully, looming over the skinny slave.

Cringing in a small heap, looking up fearfully at the consort, the slave fumbled out an apology. "S-s-sorry m-mi'lady." After a moment, she made herself look towards Cookie, though kept her eyes lowered in submission. "I'll d-do my w-work, mi'lady. I p-promise." She choked out.

Taking a deep breath, Cookie exhaled gently and seemed to soften, leaning down to gently take her by the arm and guide her back to standing. Almost tenderly, she wiped a tear from her cheek with her thumb and then combed some stray hair out her face. The slave seemed to calm, swallowing shallowly as she tried to compose herself.

"Just don't let me catch you idle again, dear." Cookie said to her in a soothing voice. After a beat, she added in the same sweet tone. "Or I'll have you tied naked to a post in the training yard, whipped, and left there for anyone that might like to have their fun with you."

The slave girl looked downward in horror, eyes bulging wide at the threat, her breath turning fast and ragged. She quivered, seeming unsure what to do; return to her duties or wait, so as not to seem as though she was not giving Cookie proper attention. However, Cookie gave a little gesture for the girl to go back to her task and walked back over to where Leita and the guards were waiting.

Before resuming their progress, the consort gave Leita a brief appraising look, as though inspecting some project she was about to present for judgement. She ran her fingers through Leita's unruly mop of hair, as though trying to tame it, but quickly gave up on that.

"You know, you might actually be pretty if someone made an effort on you, darling." She said absently. "Perhaps I should see what I could do a pair of grooming scissors and some make-up. I think real beauty may be beyond you, but I might could make you...pleasant, at least."

"Probably not worth the effort though." Cookie sighed after another moment. "I doubt you have the ability to exude any sort of elegance or sensuality. Better suited to being passed around the stable, I'm sure."

Leita rankled a little inwardly at the suggestion. Luckily, while she had endured a couple of vile suggestions from a few of the less civil men in the stable, there had yet to be any sign of a real danger of such things from anyone among the House's gladiators. At least, towards anyone within the stable itself. A common reward for a good win was to be allowed a half hour with an attractive slave from the House, a reward that even the female combatants seemed pleased to accept.

"As mi'lady says." She muttered, swallowing any indignation. It was possible that Cookie was still just trying to bait her and she had no intention of taking that bait.

Seeming dissatisfied with the response, Cookie curtly turned on her heel and began walking again, finishing the trip so briskly that the guards had to jog to keep up. Inwardly, Leita smiled, feeling oddly pleased.

Cookie motioned for the guards to wait and slipped inside the chambers for a moment. Leita could hear a soft murmur of voices, but the door was too thick for it to be more than just noise. The door opened again a minute later and Cookie beckoned the guards to bring Leita in.

As before, Leita took in the various artwork depicting the mostly nude form of Mistress Marlowe about the room. Lounged among them was the Housemistress herself, clad in a tastefully revealing gown of fine silks and lace. She appeared as though she were waiting for some kind of amorous rendezvous, which made Leita suddenly a little suspicious of the little pause to inspect her before they arrived.