Slave Unbound Ch. 23

Chapter 23

Matters of Death and the Living

**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.

The moment after she'd walked back through the arena's Ansgorii gate, Leita was relieved of her weapons, placed in manacles and chain leash, and taken up out of the holding area into the upper floors of the Grand Arena. The attendants gave her no explanation as to what was happening or where they were going, ascending upwards through a series of different stairwells. However, it was apparent that they were passing through spaces that led to audience seating, as they began moving among crowds of people who googled at the sight of her being escorted past.

They hustled her along, as though on a tight schedule, guards moving ahead of them to part any assemblages of arena patrons that might impede them. Finally, they came to a level where there were only a few wandering people, all appearing to be servants and attendants. This level was also far more elegantly appointed, with lush carpeting, grand murals, and large heraldic banners. Unless she missed her guess, she was now where the private boxes for House owners, nobility, and other important personages were located.

Her guess was confirmed a moment later, as she was ushered through a curtained entryway bearing the crest for House Firebridge and out into a luxurious balcony-like space. Seated at the bottom of a shallow tier of steps was Sabrina Marlowe, all dressed up in finery and being attended to by House servants. The House Recorder was in a seat behind her, a mousey-looking man who was quietly making notations in his ledgers. Several guards, dressed in much showier uniforms that usual, were placed about the box, all of them now eyeing her carefully as she was guided down the steps to her owner.

"Mistress Marlowe." The leading guard announced as they reached her seats. "We have brought her swiftly, as ordered."

She looked to them languidly, taking a moment to inspect Leita, who was still dressed in her armor, before replying. "Thank you. You may unhook her from the leash and seat her next to me." She gave a vague gesture to the empty chair beside her as she turned her attention back to the arena floor below and took a sip from her wine glass.

The guards did as they were instructed, unfastening the lead chain from her collar and roughly pushing her into the seat. The manacles on her wrists were left in place, but otherwise Leita was left mostly unrestrained. Of course, the wary guards around them were more than enough to ensure she behaved.

"Have you ever actually had the occasion to watch the fights in the arena, Leita?" Sabrina asked, her tone casual, as though making small talk. "Or is this your first time seeing it from this angle?"

"No, Mistress." She said, looking downwards at the sandy floor, so far below, that she'd just left. "I have only ever seen this place from the ground, looking up. It's strange how small it looks from here."

While she could clearly see what was happening, she noted that, from this distance, it was impossible to really see the finer details. The pain in someone's face, their fear, could not be seen from so far away. She could see the gladiator below, now being drug away from where he'd lost to a determined lot. She was also able to see the red of his blood painted across his armor, but the real horror of his wounds could only be imagined.

It spoke much about why it was so easy for the crowds to be so callus about watching people die. They could not see the suffering and pain, just the glorious action of combat from afar. Detached from the unforgiving reality that existed at the level of the sand, they could cheer and boo without any guilt or regret. It was only a shadow play from here, not something real, with real lives in the balance.

"I was surprised by how much difficulty you seemed to have in your battle." Sabrina said, changing subject abruptly, but still speaking in a casual tone. "Your opponent must have been far more skilled than it appeared."

"He had quite a lot of potential, Mistress." Leita replied stoically. She wasn't surprised that Sabrina had questioned her about it, but wasn't going to apologize for how she'd handled things either. "I assume he will make a good fighter for someone's House."

Sabrina gave her an amused slide-long glance, briefly, as she took another sip of wine. "I'm sure he will, with that kind of performance. Though I imagine his new owner might be a bit disappointed to find his skills are not as high as they thought."

"I would think that most HouseMasters are as clever as Mistress and able to recognize the difference between showmanship and swordsmanship, Mistress." Leita rebutted without a beat.

This produced another amused glance, this one lingering on her gladiator, Sabrina seeming not to really be all that bothered by how Leita had conducted the fight. She'd not been sure how well it would work, whether she could effectively make her performance, and his, look authentic enough to the crowds. Her opponent had not been particularly well skilled, but he'd been good enough to help keep it seeming mostly believable. At least, she hoped.

With luck, he'd do well with whatever House purchased him and learn quickly. If nothing else, he'd have a proper meal in his belly the next time he was expected to fight and armor to help him survive. As little as that seemed, it meant more than any of those up here in these high seats could understand.

"Well, I will commend you on a very good show, then." Sabrina said. "Your reward is that you may get to see the punishment you requested carried out. Our little Cookie is the next one to fight. I wanted you to witness it."

Leita peered at her Mistress, feeling a sudden sense of suspicion come over her. She doubted this would be as simple as she was making it, nor that it was meant as any sort of reward. Sabrina wanted Leita to see Cookie die. Whether to make a point about betrayal or to emphasize something else, Leita wasn't sure, but there was little doubt that an ugly spectacle was about to occur.

When they brought out the lot she was to fight, her theory was confirmed. The savage creature, straining at its chains, that they lead out would have given even Kalder pause. Massive and feral, the oruhk seemed not to even fully understand what was going on around it. The screams and cries of the crowds appeared to whip it into a frenzy, the thing roaring like an animal.

"My, my. What a brute." Sabrina said sardonically. "It appears poor Cookie has gotten a rather unlucky pick of opponent."

Leita stared at her in shock, not at all fooled by her faux amused surprise at the enemy she'd chosen for Cookie. "This is not the punishment I asked for her, Mistress. This is simply an execution." She said, struggling to keep her voice respectful. "Why allow me to choose, if you never intended to allow her even a chance to live, Mistress?" While she'd been expecting that Sabrina would pit the disloyal concubine against someone who would be difficult to fight, this felt like extreme.

"She was never guaranteed that she'd live to see another week, darling." Sabrina returned, seeming completely unruffled and unmoved by Leita's words. "She was given a week more time to live than I would have granted her and full opportunity to prepare herself for whomever...or whatever...she found herself facing. I cannot be blamed that she squandered her time."

Leita felt an urge to point out that Cookie was pulled away the moment someone did start trying to teach her, but decided better of it. There would be no point in any sort of argument and she was likely already pushing things with how much she was questioning her owner. There was little doubt that this creature was chosen as her lot specifically to ensure she died. Sabrina wanted to make sure that Cookie didn't just get killed, but got torn to pieces. And she wanted Leita to watch it happen.

"Was her betrayal so great that you feel she truly earned this, Mistress?" She asked instead. "Her act seems far more aimed at me than it was at you, Mistress."

"You are a gladiator of House Firebridge, my dear." Sabrina answered coolly, still looking down at the bellowing barbarian below as she sipped her wine. "Any treachery aimed at a gladiator of the House is an act of treachery against House Firebridge itself."

Even when that treachery is brought by the owner of House Firebridge? Leita thought to herself. As far as Leita was concerned, Cookie was currently a gladiator of the House. Against her better judgement, she felt moved to ask. "With all respect, Mistress, isn't setting her against this oruhk no different than what was done to me? You are who chose this opponent, and, I assume, are who donated it as a lot to begin with."

Sabrina gave a sour laugh. "Have you never heard of 'an eye for an eye', dear?" She took another sip of wine before continuing. "This is her facing the same situation she put you in. I'd say it is perfect justice." She sat forward suddenly with increased interest, her smile widening.

Turning to look back down to the sands, Leita saw a hysterical Cookie, blind with panic, being dragged out of the Ansgorii gate by guards. The crowds of onlookers all laughed and jeered at her as she flailed and screamed, all too aware that she was about to be horribly mauled. Possibly worse.

"Please, Mistress!" Leita begged, looking back to Sabrina in a panic of her own. "Please show her some kind of mercy. If you are determined that she must die, then allow me to be her executioner." If nothing else, Leita could end the poor wretch's life in a way that was quick and mostly painless. Something Cookie would certainly not get from the raving monster below.

Sabrina looked towards her with a sedate expression, absently taking another sip of her wine before replying. "I'm afraid it is altogether too late, Leita. I couldn't stop this now if I even wanted to." A sadistic smile crept into her features. "And I don't."

Leita's attention flew back to the arena floor, watching in pained horror as the guards deposited Cookie, clad only in the same simple loincloth as her opponent, onto the sands and stabbed a spear into the earth next to her. On the other side of the arena, the oruhk was already straining against its chains to cross the span between she and it, not even paying its own spear, similarly planted into the sands, any heed.

Cookie managed to make one last desperate bid to flee back through her gate, to a renewed gale of laughter from above her, but received a harsh boot to the belly from a guard before the iron portcullis slammed back down. On the other side of the pit, the brute's guards tried to quickly release the bestial lot and retreat back into the safety of their own gate.

However, one of them proved a step too slow. The oruhk snatched ahold of the man's shoulder, yanking him backwards off his feet. With a roar, it grasped a hold of the nearby spear, lifted it up, and then plunged it back down into the chest of the guard. The weapon pierced all the way through his torso, pinning him to the floor like a bug. It then took the opportunity to relieve him of the truncheon and sword that were on his belt.

At the other side of the pit, Cookie was still clinging to the iron bars of the gate, reaching in and begging to be let out of the arena. Though she could not be heard from this distance, nor could she see the details of the woman's face, Leita could imagine the naked fear. She thought she could make out a subtle darkening of the sand around Cookie's feet, suggesting that her bladder had given way in terror.

In the next moment, the horrible opponent was barreling towards her, its own voice loud enough to be heard even above the cheering crowds. Cookie's scream matched it, but there was a crack in the middle of it that sounded as though something in her throat had burst from the power of it. She only narrowly managed to get out of the way before the oruhk's attack landed, striking the portcullis only a few inches short of her retreating body.

If Cookie even remembered that she had been granted a weapon of her own, she made no effort to reach it. All that seemed able to fit into her terrified mind was the need to escape. She ran, half-stumbling, from the beast-man, trying to put as much distance as she could between them. However, it proved completely in vein.

In another instant, it was upon her, hitting her with the truncheon and sending her sprawling to the sand. She tried to regain her feet, but it first thrust the sword through one of her calves, leaving it impaled there, and then struck her again with the heavy wooden club across her back. She went face first into the sand again, the oruhk falling upon her, its motions suggesting it intended to slake certain desires before it killed her.

Leita had to look away, not able to watch what came next. Not even Cookie, for all her foulness, deserved the humiliation, followed by painful death, that she was about to suffer. She noticed that Sabrina seemed not to have the same problem, watching with rapt attention, incensed by the horrific scene. The venomous smile on her face as she drained off the last of her wine was almost as disgusting as what was happening below.

However, it was far more than just Sabrina that seemed to find the ugly tableau cathartic. The teeming crowds in attendance roared enjoyment, laughing at misfortune, cheering for pain and blood, and reveling in the grotesque. She listened for any sounds of disfavor, petitions for mercy to be shown, or simply a hint of disgust. If any were present, she could not hear them over the sounds of overwhelming approval.

***************

Sandwiched between two guards, Leita sat pensively in her Mistress's carriage as it rolled along the Solace streets, headed back to the House. Sabrina was lounged out on the bench seating across from them, absently eating grapes from a small bowl and seeming quite pleased with her day. A deeply smug look adorned her face, as though reminiscing fondly of her successes.

Leita was certain that it was really only one success that she was musing on. Cookie's failure to survive. Her death had been everything the vindictive woman could have dreamed, she was sure. The unfortunate concubine had been horribly defiled, tortured, and partially devoured before the end had come.

The disgusting monster had eaten parts of her while she'd still been alive! All before, finally, decapitating her and further befouling her head, just because it could. As much as Leita had not wanted to know any of these things, she'd received a giddy running commentary on every terrible turn of the screw in Cookie's final minutes. It turned her stomach more to hear the sadistic glee in her Mistress's voice than the mental images they conjured.

Despite her obvious disgust with it all, Sabrina had kept Leita by her side the entire rest of the day. She'd even had some of her attendants strip her out of her armor, clean her off with damp rags, and clad her in a white linen dress and sandals shortly after Cookie's execution. She cited it as making Leita more comfortable, but it felt more like a way of reminding her of her place. Or perhaps, Sabrina merely wanted an excuse to watch her current play toy made naked and wet for a few minutes.

If, however, it had been intended as a way of making Leita feel more comfortable and at ease, it hadn't worked. Though she'd taken the chance to watch some of the other combats, studying how other gladiators conducted themselves in battle, her time as a member of the audience wasn't enjoyable. However, it did help give her a much deeper perspective of many things. Not the least of which, was the just how vengeful her owner could be.

It had further germinated that little seed in her mind planted by Cookie that Sabrina might be even more treacherous than she imagined. She could still not quite fathom why the HouseMistress would feel it necessary to harm Myrinus just to add fuel to the pyre on which she'd intended to burn Cookie though. Perhaps, Sabrina assumed the stable would be more inclined to agree with Cookie's destruction if her betrayal was against more than just Leita.

The southern seafarer was much more ingrained among the rest of the gladiators than Leita was, well favored by nearly everyone. While Leita had managed to earn a good share of respect, it was nothing compared to the blue-lipped mariner. If Sabrina announced that he'd died of his wounds, nothing that Cookie faced would seem anything less than justice to the rest of Myrinus's peers.

Across from Leita, Sabrina glanced towards her, coming out of her private thoughts and frowning at the expression on her slave's face. "My dear, are you going to sulk like that for the rest of the day? I'm starting to worry that you're not going to be any fun tonight." She tossed one of her grapes at Leita's head, though her aim was poor and it bounced off the cheek of one of the two guards instead.

"I'm sorry, Mistress." Leita replied without any actual conviction to the words. "I will try to be less...sulky."

Sabrina's frown deepened, shifting to actually sit upright. "And here I thought you might feel grateful for today. Getting to watch the day's games from my private box, getting to ride back home in a luxurious carriage. I even let you have some excellent wine and fine treats to eat. So, where is your gratitude?"

Leita ducked her head a little and sighed. "I apologize, Mistress. You're right. Of course. Thank you for your kindnesses. I just find that I prefer the arena from below, rather than above."

Sabrina gave a laugh and shook her head. "So odd, you are. I seriously doubt anyone, except maybe Donovan's 'House Monster', would feel the same way. Even a slave who enjoys fighting usually prefers getting a chance to experience a little bit of what it's like to be their owner. Do you really like being a gladiator so much that you'd rather be facing possible death than being pampered a little?"

"No, Mistress." Leita said, eyes still down. "It is just that I find I don't like how easy it is from so high up to forget that it is people like myself suffering down below. The things that happened to Cookie today were horrible, Mistress. Better that she'd just been given a swift and clean death than forced to endure such agonies."

"I cannot, for the life of me, understand how you can have so much sympathy for that traitorous wretch." Sabrina sighed exasperatedly. "She was never anything but wicked and spiteful to you, ultimately setting you up to be killed. She was my own concubine and closest companion for years and I have no regrets. Why would you?"

Leita kept her eyes aimed at her lap, needing to keep a tight grip on her emotions. What she really felt was anger and resentment for how cruel her Mistress was being. Both to the woman who had once been her lover and to the girl who'd tried to give that woman a chance to redeem herself. Why allow Leita to give mercy, only to use that mercy to inflict more pain than was imaginable?

"I just do not feel that her punishment was fitting to the mistake she made, Mistress." Leita managed to say in a respectful tone. "She made a poor choice in weakness, but what she suffered was so much more terrible."

Sabrina leaned back into the plush seating. "Do you really think she would feel the same way, if your positions were reversed? Not even fully switched, but just you down below, innocent of everything, and her above, guilty of betrayal, and watching you suffer for it? Do you believe she would shed a single tear or have a single regret?"