Steel & Thunder Ch. 02

Nathaniel, Corrine, and I sit silently in our cell, the tension thick in the air. No one has tried to talk me out of it though. Just an awkward silence—they want to get out of here as bad as I do. For my part, I do my best not to overthink things. The more I think about it, the more I might try to talk myself out of it, and I'm determined to get us out of here. True to Naruk's word, the orc guard returns about an hour later.

"Captain Ironstorm accept challenge." Well, if that isn't an incredibly intimidating name, even in broken-sounding Common. He unlocks the door with a key, cuffing me in manacles before leading me out.

"If Adam and Liss get back here before I do, let 'em know that I'm getting us outta here." I do my best to make my final words to my team sound confident and not so...final.

"Good luck, David." Corrine gives me a sad smile from her side of the bars.

"Yeah, kick his ass, man." Nate does his best to not look quite so unconvinced.

"We'll be out of here in no time." I try not to think about how our freedom—and my life—is on the line.

Leading me from behind, the orc pushes me past a few more empty cells until we reach the door I assume I heard earlier. It's heavy and made of metal, though I don't see a lock. He presses his wrist to the door, above the handle, and a second later I hear a click. Huh? Before I have a chance to ask anything, I'm pushed through it.

As I'm led through the building, I do my best to take in my surroundings. We pass a few more doors before we end up in a larger room with a few other orcs. Some are conversing, but most are seated at desks and looking at papers. A few watch with amusement as we make our way through the room before we exit a final set of double doors to the outside.

Wow.

We are definitely in a city. Buildings line the road on either side. The streets aren't packed, but there's plenty of people—orcs—going about their business. A hand on my neck has me moving again, my warden apparently tired of my gawking. We turn right, and then right again down the next street so we are facing behind the jail, and I see where we are heading.

What looks like a large arena over two stories tall is situated just a few blocks down from us. The bottom half seems to be made of wood while the top half is stone. We're doing this with an audience then. I suppose I did ask for that. We pass several orcs along the way, some doing a double take when they notice the metal cuffs on my wrists. A few even run off to the arena ahead of us, I guess to get a good seat.

Once we reach the open-air building, I see that the wooden walls outside are actually just panels laid over more stone. Several have been carved with intricate depictions of orcs engaged in different activities. They're mostly battle scenes, but I also see what I think might be some kind of game or sport being played, and occasionally just some orcs standing around talking. Before I can look in more detail, I'm pushed through another series of doors, past more orcs I don't know—who all look at me funny. The guard finally slows down when we reach what seems to be the final door, knocking when we approach.

A woman opens the door, her skin, tusks, and large pointed ears a match for my jailer, though her hair is long and black. She says something in Orcish and the guard grunts in response before pushing me to her.

"Come with me, sweetheart." Another orc who knows her Common, and also one who is a lot less pushy; she's content to let me follow at my own pace into the room.

It's a large room, not at all what I expected. In one corner is a wooden bathtub, the water within hot enough for me to see the steam rising from the surface. There's also a table filled with food, and along one wall is a large mirror situated above a shelf covered with all sorts of bottles. There's a couch against another wall with a second female orc currently sitting on it. About the only thing in the room I do expect is the huge amount of weapons lining one of the walls.

I follow my new guard over to the mirror. I'm only just realizing I don't think I've ever seen a female orc before today, not even in artwork. I mean, I guess I knew they had to exist, but I've only ever thought of orcs as male. They don't look any different than a human woman does from a man. I just never pictured them before for some reason. I've seen more than a dozen in the last twenty minutes, including the two in front of me now, both dressed in simple black robes.

"Did he leave the keys?" the other orc, whose dark hair is pulled into a bun, asks.

"Damn, I forgot," the first orc sighs.

"It's fine. Come here sweetie." The other orc signals for me, and I step forward. She takes a hold of my cuffs, placing her hand over the lock before muttering something to herself. The lock on my cuffs clicks, the manacles easily sliding off. "Much better."

"Now, do you need help getting ready?" the first orc asks. Both these orcs sound a lot more natural when they speak.

"Um, no thanks. I think I'm okay." Get ready with what exactly? It's a fight. Are they gonna spar with me or something?

"Alright. You should have about thirty minutes. Once the ritual begins, you'll hear a bell chime. Select your weapon from the wall—only one—and then walk through that door there." She smiles warmly as she explains, pointing at a door set in the same wall as all the weapons.

"Feel free to use any of the oils or perfumes along the mirror. Just one more thing." The second orc leans forward and places her hand on my lower stomach, muttering to herself again.

Oooooohhh boy. Whatever she just did, it felt weird. Kinda like I'm... I dunno...lighter or something? The hell did she do that for?

"Alright, good luck." The second orc winks at me, both women smiling before turning and leaving the room through a separate third door.

That was weird, but at least I'm alone for a little and can think. I make an immediate beeline to the table of food. It's simple things like fruits and cheese, but still better than anything I've had in a long time. I haven't exactly been eating great since we started traveling. I've lost a lot of weight, almost thirty pounds, and most of it was muscle.

I used to hold my own against Adam or Liss in a one-on-one fight, but now I can't so much as arm wrestle them. It's not like I'm starving or anything; I just never knew how much I needed to eat to maintain my size. You don't really fill up on meals when you spend most nights sleeping outside. Still, what I lost in strength has been gained back in agility. I move quickly, precisely, using my opponent's strength against them. I've even practiced picking a few pockets here and there.

Which is why I'm not too worried about my chances here. But I do need to eat something. I help myself to some of the food, stopping when I feel like my stomach is full, though not so full that it'll hinder my movement. Then I look over the rest of the room. The mirror I really don't see the use for, but the bath... I haven't felt hot water in ages.I pull off my clothes and toss them on the couch. They're nothing fancy, just a shirt, some pants, and a loincloth, all cotton.

I use the stepladder next to the large wooden tub to lower myself in slowly. Fuck does that feel good. For a few minutes, I just lay there with my eyes closed, content to mindlessly soak. Only for a few minutes though—I've got a death match to win after all. I spot a bar of soap and a washcloth on a small table next to the tub, and I am happy to scrub all the days of being outside off of my skin. I'm not sure how long I'm in there exactly, but the water never seems to go cold. These orcs certainly know their magic.

After a rinse and a few more minutes of soaking, I grudgingly pull myself from the tub. After weeks of nothing but cold river baths, that was heaven. I grab the towel laid out for me nearby, tossing it to the floor once I'm dry. I leave off my clothes, content to wander the room naked for now, something else I haven't been able to do for a while.

I ponder the wall of weapons. There's a lot: swords, staves, maces, bows, and quivers—just about any weapon I could think of and a few I don't even know the names for. My weapon of choice used to be a broadsword, but after all the weight loss, I switched over to something smaller, usually a short sword. They're lighter, and at the moment, easier to wield. I've been practicing using a second one in my offhand lately so it sucks that she said I could only take one.

I reach for a sword that looks to be a good size, removing it from its perch. Steel, I think, the blade sharp and well balanced. I practice swinging it a few times before adding in a few jumps and dodges. It feels a little silly to be doing this naked, but I want to get a good feel for this thing before I head out there. I wish I could use my own sword. It's nothing special, but I'm used to it.

I continue to practice with my weapon of choice, taking the time to warm myself up. I don't wanna go out there totally unprepared. I'm in the middle of doing some stretches when I hear a loud bell ring coming from somewhere behind the weapon wall.I guess it's time. I pull on my clothes, grab my sword, and head through the door.

Another hallway, though I can see the gate on the opposite end is open to the outside. The arena. I make my way toward it, suddenly feeling like I'm walking to my doom.

Which I guess I might be.

Nope, not gonna think like that. I'll kick this orc's ass and win us our freedom. Maybe I won't even have to kill the guy. Maybe I can convince him to yield instead. Everyone wins!

Yeah, right.

The sun is blinding as I walk into the open air. The stands look near packed, the gathered crowd erupting in applause at my appearance. A much more positive reception than I would have expected for a human who's about to try and kill one of their own. I'm tempted to wave, but opt to remain stoic. This isn't exactly fun, and the more the crowd cheers, the more I realize how fucked up this all is. Did I make a mistake?

My opponent, Captain Ironstorm, is already on the field. The closer I get, the more I recognize him from the "incident." He's got short, cropped black hair, and if it weren't for the green-olive complexion, he'd almost remind me of my dad. Unlike Dad though, he's got a full beard, and well maintained at that. His tusks are at least an inch long, maybe an inch and a half, and he has deep, intense looking chocolate-brown eyes. Not sure why I added that last part.

He's not wearing much in the way of armor, at least not compared to the leathers I remember him in earlier. He's got at least half a foot of height on me, maybe a little more, and holy shit is he built. No wonder Adam had problems taking him down. Fuck, I remember how he knocked me halfway across the room. If I try to jump at him like I did last time, he'll wipe the floor with me. I leave some distance between us when I approach, matching my relaxed stance to his.

"Come here often?" Cracking jokes at inappropriate times is a nervous habit. He looks...amused? He gives me a curt nod of acknowledgment but says nothing. I nod in return, but the only thing on my face is determination. This won't be easy, and... I really don't want to hurt anyone. But I'm going to do what I have to.

The bell chimes again, and I think it's to signal the start of the fight. Ironstorm shifts into a more combative stance, though his expression is only slightly more serious. I follow suit, and as the audience shouts, the two of us begin to slowly circle each other. He chose a sword as well, but his weapon is much bigger than mine. Definitely a two-hander.

He makes the first move, leaping at me with a horizontal slash, and I move backward to dodge before jumping forward myself. My own sword is deflected easily, but it doesn't feel like we're really fighting yet. Just sizing each other up. He comes at me again, this time with a series of steady over the shoulder swipes. I don't so much deflect them as I knock them out of the way. He's got biceps the size of my head, and it's all I can do to meet his attacks head-on.

Gotta think smarter, David.

He tries to leap at me again, and this time, I not only knock his sword away but deliver a swift kick to the gut too. He's pushed back slightly, holding his free hand to his stomach for only a moment. Gonna have to use my sword if I stand a chance.

We continue to toy with each other like this for some time. I'm not sure how long, but I'm starting to get tired, and frankly, the people watching seem like they're getting bored. Time to stop screwing around, I guess. I think back to the fight in the ruins, the way that first orc came at me but totally biffed it and hit the ground. I don't think my opponent here is quite that stupid, but maybe there's a way I can still provoke him and use his reaction to my advantage.

I switch tactics, going entirely evasive, making sure I am consistently out of his reach while doing my best to land quick kicks and jabs where I can. Nothing more than small annoyances to him, but that's the idea. I can tell he's starting to get riled up when the smirk on his face shifts to a scowl, and then to outright anger. Here we go.

He lunges at me again, much harder and faster than he has before. But instead of jumping back and using his recovery to land a punch, I twist to the side, letting him pass me entirely and putting all my strength into delivering a hard kick to the back of his knee. His leg gives out and down he goes, his sword clattering to the ground just out of reach. This is it. He's face down on the ground, his neck and back exposed. I raise my sword, ready to land the final blow, his body prone before me to take out.

But I hesitate.

And that's all it takes.

He pushes off the ground quickly and comes at me, spinning around and delivering his own kick right to my stomach. The wind is knocked out of me, and I am launched backward before hitting the ground. My sword goes flying, to where I don't know since I'm too focused on trying to breathe again. Before I have the chance to move, I feel a leather boot on my stomach again, though not pressing to hold me down.

In victory.

Once I can breathe again, I look up, seeing his muscular green form standing over me, the sun behind him, his sword pointed down at me. I'm brought back to the ruins, the last time I passed out with him above me. As sounds begin to filter back into my ears, I can hear the crowd roaring, and I can only imagine the sight we are.

Why is he drawing this out? To humiliate me? Just get it over with.

"Do it," I say once I can find my ability to speak.

"Do what?" His voice is deep, gruff even.

"Kill me." Fuck, is he going to make me beg to die?

"What? Why would I... Why would I kill you?" He lets his sword arm drop to his side, and though the sun makes it hard to read his expression, he sounds genuinely confused.

"Because that's what we're doing? Trying to kill each other?" What the hell is happening right now?

"You were trying to kill me?" Okay, now he's less confused and maybe a little angry.

"Y-Yes? Weren't you trying to kill me?" I get a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, beyond the boot-shaped bruise I have growing. "Isn't that what we were supposed to be doing?"

"NO!" he roars down at me.

"O-oh." I don't know what to say to that. I don't know what's going on right now. What was all this then? What happens now? "I don't understand. What were we supposed to be...? What are you going to do now?"

There's a beat of silence. "Why don't I show you?" I don't need to see his face to hear the venom in his voice. If he's not going to kill me, it sounds like I may wish he had.

He tosses his sword to the side, and I see it land some distance from us. When I look back up, he's pulling his shirt off next, tossing it away as well. Shit, I can't believe I actually almost beat this guy. He's a hairy motherfucker, and I'm not sure Adam, myself, or any other knight back at the academy could get a body like his, even if we hit the gym every day.

He moves down, his boot no longer on my stomach. Instead, he kneels over me, and I can finally see his face clearly. Yeah, he looks none too happy right now. I probably wouldn't be either if I found out someone was trying to kill me. But what is he doing, and why did he take off his shirt? There's some roundness to his stomach but even that has a fuck-ton of muscle underneath it.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pocket knife. I thought we were only allowed one weapon? I guess it doesn't really count, not like he used it. And just as I think that, he grabs my shirt in his other hand and uses the knife to rip it in half. The spectators around us cheer.

"What the hell!" That's my fucking shirt! I don't have a lot of those!

"Quiet, or I'll gag you." The order is delivered the way my old drill instructors used to give them, the kind not to be defied or questioned. He finishes tearing my shirt, removing it from me entirely before he drops the knife and grabs my wrists to position my hands above my head. Then, using the tatters of my now ruined shirt, he ties them together. Is he taking me back to jail? "Do not move these."

I make no attempt to move them. He searches my face for a moment, but all he finds is confusion. "You truly have no idea what is to happen here?"

"I told you... I thought we were supposed to be trying to kill each other." Can't say I pictured ever having to say that to someone. This is more humiliating than I could have ever imagined.

"Hmmph. Humans." He pauses before picking up his pocket knife again. "You really should learn to think before rushing to action." Then he grabs my pants by the waist and rips the knife down one of the legs.

"Would you stop that!?" I need my pants! I have even less of those than shirts! "Can you just tell me what you're doing!?"

"Taking my prize for winning." His expression changes from anger to hunger. What? He then rips through my other pant leg, the crowd erupting as he yanks the torn fabric out from under me. That leaves me lying on the floor of the arena in nothing but my loincloth, hands bound above my head. Then I notice his own pants, or at least the prominent bulge sticking out from them. Oh gods, why is he... Remember when I said this was more humiliating than I could have imagined?

I'm too scared to ask if my assumptions are right. My whole body flushes red and thanks to that fucking pocket knife, it's all on display. Everything except for the thin layer of fabric I call my underwear. Ironstorm, looking confident even when shuffling on his knees, leaves my side. When I realize it's to move between my legs, I snap them shut in a futile attempt to keep him away.

He only smirks, grabbing my ankles and swiftly removing my shoes before taking my knees in both hands and easily parting my thighs. As he moves forward, his eyes rake down my torso before stopping on the only area I still have covered, his eyebrows quirking up in amusement. "It seems you may have figured it out."

What is he...? Oh no. In my humiliation and fear-induced state, I didn't notice Little David deciding to wake up and join the party. Why here? Why now?

It's not like I'm enjoying any of this! I did not wake up today and think, "Oh boy I sure would like to get manhandled and tied up by a hot muscular half-naked orc." I don't even like men! Even if I did just refer to him as hot. I've never been with anyone, okay? And traveling in close quarters for two months with four other people doesn't exactly give you a lot of alone time either. I'm just pent up, that's all.