Slave Unbound Ch. 20

"Still..." He sighed. Before she could even register him about to do anything, Soliver shifted his grip on the staff and pivoted it upwards in his hand. The bottom of the pole flew upwards and perfectly in line with the center of her sternum, only just far enough from her to keep from brushing the front of her tunic. When he brought it forward and into her chest, it struck with the force of a mule's kick.

All the air was knocked from her and she was taken off her feet to crash backwards in a heap. The world swam out of sight and her chest burned like it was on fire. It took everything to get her eyes to see straight again and she found Soliver crouching over her, face as hard as iron.

"The next time you lie to me, about anything, you will spend a night with my 'dogs'." He said, his voice calm and low, but full of utter menace. "And, so you fully understand, the 'dogs' are the slaves who I've broken down so much that they are nothing but mere animals now. Only the most base and aggressive urges rule them anymore. They are not the sort of company that leads to a restful evening."

He stood back up. "Now get off the ground."

"I...p-please...M-mas...ter...I can't..." She wheezed, still having trouble getting a full breath of air into her throbbing lungs.

"Stand! Now!" He said, voice booming like a hammer banging on a hot iron.

Trinka forced herself to rise, black spots forming in her already unsteady sight. She coughed and wheezed some measure of air back into her, but was not completely sure she wouldn't pass out at any moment. Once she was at least on her feet again, though, she felt Soliver's strong hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

He gave her the couple of minutes she needed to finally get her breath back and her mind clear, only removing his hand once she was no longer in danger of falling back down. "Now, put on the coat." He said to her, his tone once again calm, and pointed past her.

She turned to see Byku waiting with a padded jacket, meant for added training protection. Ironically, it would serve little defense against the very real swords and arms that the others were using in their training, meant to pad the blows of dull training weapons. Regardless, she accepted the feeble protection and began donning it.

She was starting to understand why the others in the stable looked at this man, despite any signs of age, with such respect and fear. The speed with which he'd made his attack had been too fast for her to even register, much less respond to, and the power and precision behind it was unbelievable. She wondered how many of his stable had made the mistake of thinking he was vulnerable and learned a hard lesson at the end of that staff.

"Now, I wish to see what I am working with." Soliver said once she had the practice armor on. "Try and impress me."

Trinka nodded, looking around for her opponent. When she found no one stepping up, she looked back to the HouseMaster. "Who am I sparring against?"

"You are not sparring with anyone." He replied, bringing the quarterstaff around in front of him. "You are to try and hit me. I will defend against your attacks until I feel I have a clear enough idea of your ability. Do not hold back."

She glanced at the sharp head of her spear, then to his naked torso. "Should you not put on some kind of armor yourself, Master?"

"I've seen enough of your skill from the arena to know that it won't be necessary." He replied, not a taunt or a jab, just a statement of fact. "Should you manage to actually hit me, that will be my problem, not yours. In fact, there is a standing offer to all gladiators, that should they actually defeat me in combat, they will earn their freedom. Kill me in a fair challenge, you inherit House Warforger."

Trinka blinked in shock. "Are...are you serious?"

"Completely." Soliver said flatly. "Though, I should warn you that no one has yet won their freedom from me."

"I assume that those who try and fail receive punishment?" Trinka asked, falling into a ready stance.

"Only if they do not fight fairly." He replied, though his stance did not shift at all. "Otherwise, they only true 'punishment' for making a challenge is that I will not hold back during the fight. Facing our House Healer is an ordeal in itself."

Trinka's face crinkled in confusion at that. "May I ask why that is, Master?" She asked hesitantly, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

"This House doesn't employ a member of the Order of Hermadyne as its head physician. Instead, the position is held by a Maelphant of the Goddess Wueldra, the Mother of Pain." He explained. "It is his faith's belief that suffering is the key to wisdom and growth, thus his techniques in the ways of healing are often as, if not more, painful as the original injuries they are repairing."

He gave her a dark smirk. "Consider it an added incentive to always fight well enough to never need his services."

Trinka frowned, already feeling even more desire to seek revenge on Cornelius Venge than ever for getting her stuck in this place. "Well, I am ready when you are."

"Then begin." He said, still not making any change in his stance.

Launching into her opening attack, she was already wise enough regarding this man not to be surprised when his staff came instantly to life, blocking her initial volley. He used his weapon with amazing talent, twisting, turning, and shifting it at blinding speed. She never even got close to scoring a hit on him.

However, she was only just starting. She put all her focus on offense, trying her best to actually put her spear into his unarmored body. To his word, he only defended, but that defense was flawless. Even as she began moving around him, he continued to effortlessly block and parry every thrust and slash, all without ever moving his feet even an inch.

Though he never directly attacked, any attempts to circle around behind him was efficiently barred with deft movements of the staff, forcing her to assault only from the front. While she was pushing herself, fighting furiously to prove something to this man, his face was a placid and unemotional mask. His every motion was fluid and perfect, without an ounce of energy wasted. And he'd yet to move either foot so much as half an inch along or off the ground.

After several minutes, Trinka was already starting to become winded, pouring so much effort into her constant flow of offense. When she paused for a brief moment, needing to take a proper breath, Soliver's feet finally moved from where they'd been rooted and, without warning, his defense switched instantly to offense.

The staff made a quick pivot one direction, cracking across her spear and putting her off balance long enough for him to reverse the spin and spiral the weapon as it reconnected with hers. In a flash, the spear was flying away from her, but before she'd even had a chance to realize that she'd been effortlessly disarmed, he'd already rotated the other end of the staff back around, changing axis to bring it behind one of her legs, swept it forward, then circled it back around to slam her hard in the chest.

While the armor took enough of the brunt from the blow to keep it from cracking a rib, there still enough kinetic energy left to send her toppling backwards, already off-balance and on only one foot. She didn't even make it all the way to the earth before he'd moved forward and put himself into position to pinion her in place with his boot once she landed.

It all happened so fast that he was standing on her, foot pressed hard and painful against her sternum, before she knew she'd even left her feet. Worse, he was putting just enough pressure on her chest to keep her from effectively breathing. Having already been winded from her assault and having the remaining air knocked out of her from his attack and rough landing, her lungs were already struggling to take a breath.

The world swam for a moment as she fought against the weight of his boot, panic creeping in at the edges of her mind. And then the boot was gone and she quickly sat up, gasping like a landed fish. Tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes from her struggle to breath, a horrible stinging at the center of her ribs making her cough. It took her more than a minute to realize he was patiently standing there, hand outstretched in an offer to help her stand again.

"Very good." He said calmly to her. "You are far more skilled than I expected. That is good."

She stared at him in disbelief. As far as she could tell, she must have looked like a toddler trying to fight a veteran soldier. Not only had he flawlessly held off her best efforts, he'd defeated her soundly in less than three seconds once he'd had a mind to end the charade. No part of the exchange had come close to being good.

"Who are you?" She said, an absent, stray thought, escaped before she even realized she'd spoken the words.

His response was a genuine smile and laugh. Under any other circumstances, it would have made him look almost fatherly and kind, but in context of what she'd already come to understand of him, it now made him look more frightening than ever. "I was the High Champion of the Grand Arena for over twenty years, the last to hold that title, up until my own Master, the previous owner of House Warforger, gave me my freedom and made me his heir."

She took his hand cautiously, half expecting him to pull her directly into another attack, but he merely helped her to her feet. "I spent my life on the arena sand and was changed by it. It gave me a deep respect for what real power is and what it means to live in the shadow of death. I have no pity for what I put any of my gladiators through, because I have faced worse and walked out the other side. You will show me respect and I will give it back or I will break you down into nothing and rebuild you again into something else."

Trinka's brain was already working at full speed, processing and calculating. She had to escape this place as quickly as she absolutely could. While he spoke of respect, what she saw around her was fear. She realized now that Donovan Soliver was the kind of madman that left corpses in his wake. She could see the insanity in his eyes as he spoke of his past, a haunted darkness sitting behind them that spoke far more than the words he was saying.

"Now, walk with me." He said suddenly, his mood changing instantly and only further affirming her beliefs that this man was not entirely sane. Regardless, she obeyed, smart enough to know that finding a way to escape would involve not just a good plan, but perfect timing. And now was not that time, nor did she have a plan.

He led her off the training field and into the House proper, saying nothing until they were alone, save for the many guards scattered everywhere in the estate. "There is a very specific reason I purchased you. And it comes with a very special offer of reward. Succeed at the task I give you and I will honor what HouseMaster Venge did not. I will return your freedom back to you."

He suddenly had her full attention. She sensed that, despite whatever madness he might suffer from, that his own sense of 'honor' might just mean that he, unlike Venge, would keep his word. "Thank you, Master." She replied carefully, braced for the other, darker, side of this gift.

"The girl who left you alive, leaving you in this situation, is named Leita." He began, still walking along, face forward and eyes unfocused, as if in deep thought. "In that fight, you were put at a disadvantage, both with your lack of proper equipment and lack of proper preparation for her own prowess. I am curious to see what would have happened if those disadvantages had not been in play."

His gaze moved to take her in. "You will serve the House as a gladiator, building your reputation and prestige, until I can arrange with House Firebridge for you and she to meet once again on the sand. This time on equal standing. Complete the mission you were hired to do by HouseMaster Venge and I will see you paid the fee he promised and House Warforger will release you from your enslavement."

Trinka goggled at him. Why did all these people want this one lucky little tramp killed? Ultimately, she didn't care, given that she was now among those that wanted to see the bitch bleeding out. However, she realized that a man like Soliver wouldn't make anything so cut and dry.

"Should I assume, that, should I fail, I will find myself in the kennel with the House dogs, Master?" She asked, already predicting some similar incentive was about to be applied.

"There is no need to threaten you with some kind of punishment for failure." He said, much to her surprise. "I expect you to either defeat her..." He stopped suddenly, turning on his heels to stare fixedly at her, his next words as heavy and meaningful as a gravestone. "...or to die trying."