Chapter 3- Freedom
Colt started out across the desert. This animal that didn't belong to him obeyed his commands and was easy going. He didn't care his owner had just died. Why did everyone else? We are all just animals. Colt shook his head of these thoughts. It was not good to think such things. He was a man on a mission now. He needed to find that man… He needed to give the stranger peace in his stay in the afterlife. He had been traveling through orange cliffs and valleys. Suddenly the walls of the cliffs disappeared. He was traveling through open desert. The wind began to get stronger but he could tolerate it. It began to pick up more and more. The dust was flying all around him now. The wind was blowing fiercer than in Oeilvert. It kicked up sand in his face and in that of his fowl's. The Chocobo jerked forward and stopped. It made anxious "Kweh!" sounds. He spurred it on. The bird did not move very far until it stopped once again. This was not going to be easy. Colt dismounted from his Chocobo. In one hand he took the reigns and in the other held onto his hat so it did not fly away. It kept the sun and a great deal of sand out of his eyes. He was not keen on the idea of losing it. He moved through the wall of sand. It just kept beating at him. It hit his skin and it began to sting but after a good long time of this he failed to notice any longer. This sand storm was making him weary. How much longer till he saw some sign of civilization? How much longer must he toil through this endless wasteland of sand? This storm was growing stronger and stronger by the minute. He had been stepping through this sand for what seemed like an eternity. He could see nothing outside the light brown, swirling cloud that surrounded him. Even the hat wasn't protecting him from sand now. It crawled its way into his eyes and made him try and get it out. The sand was already covering his hands so it did no good, just made it worse. He knew the Chocobo was having as hard a time as he was. He felt it resist and buck and all sorts of things to attempt to get Colt to stop. Colt did no such thing. He had to keep on. He had to continue. He had to… His thoughts trailed off as his legs grew weak under him. He fell into the sand on his knees as he felt the sand fly into his pant legs. He collapsed on the sand. He needed rest… Rest…
Colt awoke with a start. He looked where he was. He was no longer in the desert with his Chocobo. He looked at his surroundings. He was in a carriage. The windows were covered over by curtains and he was sitting on a padded bench. He could hear the wind blowing outside. He looked to the opposite side of the cart and saw an older man. His skin was a dark color and his white beard and mustache were turned upward seeing the man awaken. He wore a dark blue tunic and a turban-like scarf around his head. He looked at Colt with his brown eyes. It was the first face Colt had seen since Oeilvert. It was a sight for sandy eyes.
"I see you hath awakened." The man commented as Colt blinked the sleep out of his eyes
The seventeen year old stretched and yawned. He quickly returned to the matter at hand. Colt looked at the man.
"Where am I?" he inquired
"Why, you are my guest here in my carriage." Chuckled the man
He held out his dark, wrinkled hand.
"I am Kurtain." He spoke
Colt took his hand and shook it
"Colt." He introduced himself
"Ah I see… Strange name." Kurtain remarked, "Where is it you hail from young Colt?" he asked
"Oeilvert." Colt replied
"Hmm… I had the oppurtounity to travel to Oeilvert once. My what a town. The people there were quite friendly. Much more friendlier than any other town I have visited on this continent." Kurtain remembered "And the food wasn't too shabby either." He finished tapping Colt on the knee and chuckling
Colt too chuckled. It was true, Oeilvert was known for its good food.
"As a matter of fact we many a time trade with Oeilvert you know. At least… I oft times encourage it in the traders I associate with." Kurtain explained
"Who might "we" be?" asked Colt with interest
"Ahh! I am from the city of "La Selva"" said Kurtain "True we ARE on a cliff overlooking the desert and not much grows near us we do trade valuable items from the wilderness."
"Really? Like what?" wondered Colt
Kurtain gave him a strange look. He was wondering if this boy had the nerve to doubt him on such a matter. Fury began to build up inside him but then he forced it to subside. This was just a young man who may not know the details of the trade.
"We have various things, my boy. For instance over the years in the rock of our cliff a multitude of jewels were formed. It was unknown to us until now. We traded that to you and I believe one of your blade-smiths created quite a powerful sword from it. And that's just one of the many things we have to offer." Kurtain spoke as if he were trying to get people to come to his city to boost its tourism.
Colt had never heard of "La Selva" before. An obscure city on the edge of a cliff no doubt. He sat smiling in his seat, hat in his lap when he realized that something had gone missing. He went into a worried state.
"My Chocobo." He said staring at Kurtain "Where is my Chocobo?" he asked with much concern
"Fear not. He is coming along. He is behind us at the moment. This very carriage is blocking the oncoming sand. It should have no problem." Kurtain told him
Colt breathed a sigh of relief. This question in itself sparked new conversation.
"Yes… You were quite lucky we have devoted men of this sort in "La Selva"." Kurtain stated with much pride "If not these men would probably be watching the games and you would be buried under three or four layers of sand by now."
Colt gulped. Luck… If that's all he had then he had better keep a good supply of it. He wondered why they just happened to be passing through the desert. Kurtain read his stare and answered faster than Colt could ask.
"Everyday we send out men to search the desert for anyone who may have gotten caught up in the sandstorms. Usually they are quite mild and the people we find are sitting it out until we come. However, you my friend were caught in a sand swirl. Very rare and very deadly. You were even more lucky than the average person." Kurtain said
Colt found that they were riding in a carriage strange through a very hard storm. Why do their Chocobos keep going? Or were they Chocobos pulling this?
"What pulls this carriage." Asked Colt with interest
"Chocobos, of course." Responded Kurtain finding the question humorous
"Well how, prey, do they keep moving while mine just stops. I take it you raised them a different way but I was taught that Chocobos were always afraid of strong winds and the like no matter how hard they are taught." Inquired Colt
"Ah. I now see the manner of your questioning. Nay, these are not the sort of Chocobos you would find in Oeilvert or even Doft. These are Northern Chocobos." Kurtain answered
'Northern? From the Northern continent?' wondered Colt. How would these men get Northern Chocobos all the way down to the deserts of Oeilvert? Wasn't the Northern continent one of ice and snow? He had only heard stories from his adventurous father as a child but he had taken that the cities that did exist in the North were often under snow for most of the year and then were in constant war when the snow melted. How could they get Chocobos from all the way up there?
Again Kurtain read Colt's mind "We are a nomadic tribe, we who founded "La Selva". We originate from the cold of the terraces below "Esto Gaza". We had trained our Chocobos in the cold snowstorms of winter. Besides the climate these storms are identical. We just needed to raise another generation of Northern Chocobos and suit them for the desert climate and thus started "La Selva's" trade." Explained Kurtain
"I see…" Colt said flatly
The wind sounded as if it had died down by the time they had finished their conversation. Colt opened the curtains of the carriage and peered outside. The dust no longer swirled around them in a storm but was kicked up by the Chocobos pulling the cart. He stuck his head out a little further. Up ahead he saw a truly breathtaking sight. A cliff rose up out of the desert and went straight up until it came to a castle with surrounding houses and other buildings. Below in the swirling sand lay another group of building but instead of being centered around a castle a grand stadium stood in it's center. The sun shone right on the whole city now and it looked truly comparable to the beauty of Oeilvert. The orange cliff behind the light brown buildings made it look almost like the desert itself. 'What a unique place.' Colt thought. Of course he was truly mesmerized by the spectacle, for it was the first time he had journeyed outside of the city of Oeilvert. As they rode toward the city the gates opened and they slipped inside.
Immediately once inside shouts and screams were heard over everything. They had entered in the market district. This was the busiest of all. It was centered around the stadium and from what Colt could tell people from all over the Continent have come here at this time. He assumed it had something to do with what Kurtain mentioned as "The Games". The old man opened the small door of the carriage and stepped out. Colt followed with interest. As he exited he saw his Chocobo at the back. This immediately made him grin in relief. He then focused his attention on the excitement around him. Small kiosks were selling goods to people walking down the streets. Many of the buildings were made with a type of yellowish stone and windows were just places where it was cut out and doors were just of the same origin with a wooden door in it. From the looks of things however it seemed as if they did not spend much time indoors. He saw what must have been over half of the population in the streets buying, selling, preaching. You and I would most likely compare this to a desert city like Cairo or somewhere along those lines but this was not anything like it. It was more magnificent than any city of it's kind. The sand had almost a cinnamon smell to it here. Colt felt this was a place he could find comfort. He needed such a place. Even Oeilvert's peacefulness was shattered. He turned to Kurtain. He had his eyes to the sky and was breathing in deeply.
"Ah-ha! What a great pleasure it is to be home!" exclaimed Kurtain joyously
Colt just smiled at the rejoicing old man. 'He must feel great pride for his home.' Thought Colt. He turned toward Kurtain.
"What are all these people here for?" he asked
Kurtain nodded as if it was a good question. He responded.
"This is the crowd we attract you see. Quite a large crowd comes to "La Selva" each year for the annual games. The main event? Why, it takes place just inside the mighty stadium."
Colt watched as Kurtain's hand rose gesturing to the road in front of them that led right to the massive gates of the stadium. The buildings were on either side and it showed you how mammoth a structure it was to see it compared with these structures. It dwarfed everything in the lower half of the city. As they walked they navigated their way through pickpockets, gypsies, salesmen and "Religious" leaders. They finally came to the gates. The large stadium loomed in front of them. Its design was strangely Northern for a city in the middle of the desert. It was almost built like a massive pagoda. Trumpets blared from inside the architectural wonder. The roar of the crowd was close to deafening. As they stepped inside the gates they stepped up a right flight of stairs. They soon came to rows of seats occupied by many people. They went down to the front row. They sat in two unoccupied seats and watched the sandy battlefield below. The benches were that of stone but nevertheless that least worried Colt at the moment. The massive oval shaped stadium on the battleground had six gates, spikes on the very top of the walls. Colt was in awe at the ruthlessness of the building. On the ground at the moment four men remained standing. Two lay dead on the ground with red stains where they fell when the final blow snuffing out the flame of their life had occurred. One man was trying his best to defeat melee-weapon wielding men with a bow and arrow. Kurtain nudged the boy.
"That warrior is on his fourth match. After this he is free to go… If he wins…"
A lone man with a bow and arrow was flying across the battlefield as if he had wings. His gracefulness gave him a style of fighting that Colt had never seen in any man before him. It almost seemed that the four imprisoned men left standing had no longer thought about the other three but on this one man. He was flying from one side to the other. At the moment, he was being pursued by a large, hulking man that looked as if he were built like a tank. However… the bigger they are…
The warrior with the bow had put it around his shoulder and had grabbed one of the dead men's blades. The hulking mass of flesh, bone, and armor was charging right at him, sword above his head. He went up and blocked the sword with the blade of his own and then swirled out of the way. The tank looked around. Where did that little rat get to? It seemed he had failed to look behind him as that was where the warrior, his long golden hair flying in the breeze, was aiming an arrow at the back of his head. The man turned around abruptly. The sight of an arrowhead welcomed him in his face. His face curled up into a snarl as he attempted to charge at the man but it was too late. Within moments of him turning the rod of wood, tipped with steel, was already protruding from his face. Red bathed the end of the arrow. Blood trickled down his face as he collapsed to the ground. The crowd cheered. There was much rejoicing.
The warrior then turned to try and find his next target. It seemed to find him. He saw one of the fighters coming at him with a spear. Seconds before the spear impaled him he ducked to the side. The fighter kept going until he ran to the wall and, not wanting to die by way of arrow through his nasal passageways, turned around quickly. The blond haired archer was evading this spearman quite well. Again he charged at the warrior and he made a quick break toward the wall. The spearman grinned. He was putting himself pinned against the wall. The warrior kept in his run at the wall until he met it. He jumped up and kicked the wall. In midair he spun around to face the spearman. He already had his bow and arrow out and in midair fired one right in his chest. It even pierced the light armor he was wearing. He fell backwards and onto the sand. He lay there, unmoving. Again the crowd broke out into a roar. All these people had on their minds was blood lust.
The warrior again had won a small victory. It didn't last for long however. He heard the footsteps running up behind him. Moment's before the next fighter's blade lacerated his head he ducked. He rolled forward and grabbed the spear out of the clutches of his last opponent. He stood and swung the spear around hoping to frightening him off and then charging at him for the kill. As he swung around and reached the direction of the man a splash of red hit him in the face. He wiped his eyes and saw the man was much closer than he had suspected. When he whirled around the spear had ripped a gash in his face. He now lay on the ground leaking blood from his, now unrecognizable, face.
The warrior looked around at the battlefield. All men were dead. He heard the roar of the crowd. His face, his clothes, his weapons… all covered in blood. He raised the spear that had dealt the final blow. The spear that had won his freedom. He held it up high proud that he now could go on with his life. He let out a whoop of joy as the people in the stands cheered uncontrollably. He was circling around looking at all the people and smiling. As he did one of the men on the ground got up. He got up and ran at the unsuspecting man. As the warrior circled he just caught a glimpse of a huge hulk of a man running at him with a broadsword. He tried parrying or blocking but it was all happening so fast. He felt a pain in his abdomen. His mouth gaped open. Blood trickled off his lips. The point of the blade had exited out his back and it was covered in red. The man grinned as he turned the blade making the pain so much more excruciating for the young, blond-haired warrior as he perished. Finally he dropped the impaled corpse on the sandy ground. There was silence in the crowd for a moment. It took their minds a moment a new winner stood before them. A second went by and suddenly, without warning, the stands erupted in cheers. The winner looked quite please.
Kurtain clapped his hands. Colt was amazed by the violent display. 'How could this whole world revolve around death?' he asked himself. Kurtain rose from his seat as he continued clapping.
"Bravo! Bravo!" he chanted
Colt stood up as well. He held back a cringe. How could people enjoy this kind of spectacle? Colt turned toward the old man.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Kurtain." Colt said, much obliged
"It's not a problem." Kurtain responded smiling
"However, I do believe I will be getting on with my journey." Colt finished as he turned around to start walking toward his Chocobo
Kurtain grasp his shoulder firmly.
"Now now my friend. You must stay for the games. They are marvelous." Kurtain said smirking
Colt glanced at the bloody corpses littered around the field.
"Blood sports are not exactly my interest." Colt replied in a dull voice
"No. I must insist. It better become your interest quite soon young man." Kurtain remarked as he waved his hand.
Two large hulking armed guards came up behind the boy. The both grasp his shoulders. Their hands dug into his shoulders. Kurtain stood there quite please with himself.
"What is the meaning of this, Kurtain!?!?!" exclaimed Colt with venom
Kurtain chuckled to himself.
"There IS a toll for those passing through La Selva you know. Take him away!" he ordered his guards and soon they had drug Colt out of the stadium. He felt a sharp pain in the back of his head… then things went dark.
"Uggh…" Colt lurched as he arose from being knocked out. He felt the back of his head. A bruise was present there. A big one. He shook off his drowsiness. He rubbed his eyes and tried to look around. His hands had sand all over then so he was forced to get the sand out of his eyes after it crept in. He finally was able to open his eyes. He was in a small room. He was lying on an old mattress. It was quite uncomfortable. He saw a small window above him. It was nighttime. No sunlight shone through the window but he observed the stars. He stood up on his tiptoes and grasp the bars. He hoisted himself up and looked out. It seemed to be a cell built into the side of the cliff above the low part of the city. He dropped back down and scratched his head, thus getting sand in his hair. They do not take security too lightly here. He looked around the small cell. It was quite dark. He looked to one corner and saw a figure in the shadows. He jumped slightly and stared into the inky blackness. He could see the man just stared back at him. He leaned closer to the figure it say unmoving until Colt heard him take a breath. He began to speak and this too startled Colt and made him jump.
"You too were taken from the clutches of the desert to be put in the clutches of Kurtain too, no?" the man inquired
Colt sensed an odd tone in his voice. Odd indeed. He was not from Oeilvert nor from La Selva. He had a noticeably different tone.
"Yes… Yes I was…" Colt spoke finally
The man in the corner chuckled.
"You too have been found worthy of La Selva's arena!" he spoke as he continued to laugh
Through the darkness the man could not have known but Colt wore a strange look of questioning on his face. In a cell without hope of escape and this man was laughing. The jubilant sounds of the man quickly died down as his words again rang through the cell.
"If God is there for me tomorrow I shall leave this place a hero, you know." His voice trailed off.
"Then Godspeed to you." Colt responded.
"Nonsense." The man retorted "I believe in no God." He began to chuckle again.
Colt was not as ease with the man's words. They made him feel even more uncomfortable. How could this man survive without the faith in something greater? Colt asked himself many questions then fell back to sleep on his makeshift bed.
Colt felt a point pressed against the back of his neck. His eyes opened slowly and he cautiously turned to see who stood behind him eager to strike. As he looked up at the man he saw it was a guard. His dagger now pointed Colt straight in the eyes. Colt blinked his eyes a few times then brought his fists up and rubbed the sleep out of them. Once again he began to stare at the guard.
"Are we going somewhere?" Colt asked in a sarcastic manner
The guard grabbed him by the back of his shirt, which by this time was quite dirty and tattered, and got him on his feet. Using the dagger to force him to move they both walked down the stone hallways until they came to a metal door. On it there was a plaque. It was written in a language Colt could not read. He guessed it was La Selva's native tongue. The guard opened the door with his ring of many keys. He then proceeded to push Colt in and he slammed the door behind him leaving a ringing in Colt's ears. Colt shook his head violently, for the ringing was quite loud. He looked at the door as if trying to scowl the guard but he was already gone. He then looked at his new surroundings. It was a large room with wooden cabinets all lined up in a row. Men were at these cabinets pulling out breastplates, helmets, gauntlets and other items of the like. There were both large muscular men along with smaller, scared looking men. There was dark skinned and light skinned. Colt was uneasy with it. He knew these were the men he would fight against to the death… And many looked much more fit than himself. One man turned to him. He grasp his shoulder and turned him around. Colt was about to retaliate when he spoke.
"Number 42. Down that way… next to 41." He said and began to laugh at his joke.
"I don't know if the boy can count, Digera." Another voice called to him
Colt immediately recognized the voice. It was the man in his cell with him. He was about to go over and wish him his best when Digera grabbed his shoulder once again.
"Are you deaf? 42 is down that way, boy."
Colt gave him a harsh stare and began walking toward his cabinet. As he reached it he opened it up and pulled out his armor. It was much too big for him but he surmised that it probably wouldn't matter anyway. With his luck he'll die first day out there… but that was luck… He didn't have any luck but he had faith. He suited up and soon the guard came back, with two friends I might add, to escort them all to the arena. As they marched them out of the room Colt followed coming last in line. He was the "runt" of the group. After walking quite a ways through the torch-lit corridors they came to a group of five other guards. Each man was paired with a guard and they went down opposite ways for it was a fork in the road. Further on another fork appeared until one man had gone down his own separate tunnel. Colt was led and arrived at a large, wooden gate. The man threw water on him, as to cool him off, and unbound his legs, for they were in shackles. He then came around the front and faced Colt.
"What weapon will you use?" asked the guard
Colt stared at him blankly.
"Well? What weapon?" he asked again with a sense of urgency
"My gun." Colt answered with little emotion in his voice
The guard showed a puzzled look upon his face.
"Son, you may be a dead man but you ain't a daft one. You're fighting against eight men and yet you choose a six-shot gun? It's suicide, boy."
"My gun… if you will." Colt insisted as he held out his hand.
The guard shook his helmed head and placed the heavy revolver into Colt's hand. Colt immediately felt at ease with the weapon he was given. He then turned to the guard once more.
"Oh… and I will not lose." He said now feeling as if his words were getting to big for him to fulfill.
The guard smiled.
"And I WILL win with only six-shots." Colt remarked
The guard stifled a laugh and went to a pulley on the other side of the room from Colt. He hoisted the rope and on the outside a golden flag rose to show the guards on the outside who was ready to fight. Slowly the rest of the flags rose, as well. From inside the corridors the men heard trumpets begin to blare, a crowd begin to roar, drums begin to beat. Was it a march to their death? Only God knew for sure. They heard a man exclaiming that he was happy to see La Selva there to witness the battle and he welcomed everyone and he went on for quite a while. Colt was tensed on the inside but he did his best to hide his feelings of dread. He stared straight ahead into the door and let a yawn pass his lips. The guard once again looked at him in a puzzled manner.
"Are you not scared?" he inquired
Colt stood unmoving for a moment.
"No."
A deafening roar came from the crowd as the man came to the closing of his speech…
"Now, my friends, in this ring today we have a man about to win his freedom! Others are on the second others is their first time to fight. We have all type of competitors here today! Now for the glory of the king of La Selva and for the entertainment of all you present… Let out… the warriors!"
Trumpets blared once more and the wooden gates swung open. Colt was momentarily blinded by the light. It was dark in the halls and the white light of the sun shone brightly. Whence his eyes adjusted he found himself in the middle of a great arena. The seats were all filled and the crowd roared in anticipation of the upcoming battle. It was a sight Colt would have held in awe if he were not a part of this bloody spectacle. He ran into the field of battle and sand kicked up all around him. He saw the men quite clearly, armor glinting in the sunlight. He then heard footsteps and quickly sidestepped and turned around. Where he once stood a large blade fell into the ground. He saw the man, with no helmet, and his long, straggly black hair falling in his face. He was gritting his teeth at Colt and made grunting noises and again swung the massive sword at Colt. This time it was not a surprise and Colt dodged the swipe with much agility. The man was tired and weighed down by the enormous blade. Colt once again dodged his next attack and then started the offensive of his own. As the blade fell to the ground and the man rested for a few moments Colt rushed and kicked the man right in his face. He fell backward, being a surprise, and now was separated from his weapon. He got up surprisingly quickly and lunged at Colt. Colt once again swiftly sidestepped and the next moment the man fell to the sand his back facing upward. Colt raised his pistol to the man's head. As he rolled over onto his back his eyes locked on the barrel of the revolver. Colt's expression of remorse was plastered on his face as he pulled the trigger. A shot was heard all through the stadium and blood mixed with the sand pouring from the hole in the man's skull. Colt sighed and now rose to fight with the other men. He had very little time to rest, however, as a man with a broadsword was rushing at him. He ran at him hoping to impale him upon the cold steel of the blade. Colt quickly dodged but the blade cut a large gash in his arm. He shook off the pain, seeing as the adrenaline dulled it, though blood spurted from the wound. He found himself lying next to the mammoth sword of the first man. He picked it up with both hand and swung around hitting the swordsman with the flat of the large blade. The swordsman reeled from the attack and fell backwards onto the sandy ground. Colt rose and looked in the man's eyes for a moment. He then thrust the huge sword into his chest, piercing the armor and impaling the swordsman as if the sword was nothing more than a skewer. The swordsman gasp for breath as blood dribbled down his lips. He then coughed and blood sprayed from his mouth falling on himself and mixing with the sand. Colt once again had a look of remorse stuck on his face. He was not at all proud of this. He picked up the man's broadsword and turned to find yet another opponent.
Another man rushed at Colt with a broadsword. Fully armored and with a ruthless attack stance he ran at him. He came in and lunged for an overhead slash. Colt blocked it with the blade of his own. For many moments the two were locked in combat. Every attack Colt delivered the man successfully parried and the same went for him. They were equally matched in the sword. Colt grew weary quickly and drew his revolver from the waist of his pants. When they both locked in an attempt at the man's overhead slash Colt brought the gun up to his eyes. The man stared blankly for a moment then his face twisted into an evil snarl. Before he had any time to react, however, a shot had been fired and a bullet was lodged in his skull. He fell to the ground in a cloud of dust and blood leaked from his head. As Colt turned to seek out his next prey he saw a man with a spear running at him. Colt ducked swiftly as he felt the spear-tip rush over the top of his head. He then rose under the shaft of the spear and pulled it away from the man and fired a shot into his head as well. Colt quickly snatched up his sword and looked around. Two other men were alive. Two were killed by the others and four by Colt's own hands. He casually walked to the next warrior. He was waving his two battle axes around like a mad man. Colt came up behind him and bashed him over the head with the hilt of his sword. He fell to the ground and Colt effortlessly landed a bullet between his eyes.
The crowd went silent. Colt knew the other was right behind him. He could feel it. His gun was in his hand but it took to long to fire it… that man would be on top of him by then, if he figured it correctly. He ducked down and grabbed one of the axes then, without looking, hurled it at the last warrior. He heard it hit something but it was all happening so fast he couldn't be sure. He then, once again, could get a clear picture and he saw the axe had landed right in-between the eyes of his opponent.
The crowd was astonished. They were silent. They thought that young man was going to die for sure… His prowess in battle was exceeded by none. A single yell echoed through the cavernous stadium and more followed. Once again it became a mad house and was in an up-roar. Colt was being applauded. Colt looked around at the death. He was not glad of this. One of the wooden doors opened and two guards stepped out. Colt shook his head and walked into the door going right past them, as if ignoring them. The speaker from the beginning of the fight began to speak again and all was back to normal… with the exception that the prison now had seven cells unoccupied.
Colt again walked the dark, dank hallways. He hated himself for what he had done but hated that there was no way to stop it. He is going to avenge a man's death and secure his honor where there will be many men seeking himself for the deeds he has done today.
Colt was escorted to his cell and, once away from the company of the guard, immediately fell onto his makeshift bed for he was quite tired. He was just about to doze off when a voice brought him back to reality.
"Hello…" a nervous voice said
Colt's head bolted up and his eyes shifted around his cell. In front of him sat a thin, frightened looking man. Colt looked at him for a moment then again rested his head upon the ground.
"Were you the one that won today's match?" asked the man
"Yes. I Am." Spoke Colt sharply "Now would you be so kind as to let me rest for I have had quite a tiresome day and I imagine tomorrow will not be unlike it."
The man twitched slightly at the sharpness of Colt's words. He was frightened of him when he was a full-grown man and many people would still consider Colt a boy. Colt saw the man's fright and as much as he wanted to rest he knew this man would most likely have a heart attack first time in the ring. He sighed and began to speak.
"My friend, please excuse the harshness of my tone. You see, I have never been one to enjoy such vulgar bloodshed. I have always tried to shelter myself from it, as did my elders. Now I have been thrust into a community who finds entertainment out of blood. I am only fighting because I have to, you see. I find that I shall either live or die and I have more pressing matters to attend to so dieing is out of the question. I wish not to see anyone else die but I will kill all in my path to freedom if it is necessary."
The man was, again, shocked by these words but it proved to him that this boyish looking warrior was not all battle without heart. He didn't wish to fight. He was made to.
"I see." He spoke sheepishly
Colt just shook his head. He hated this place.
"Did you hear of the last person who won his freedom?" the man asked Colt
Colt closed his eyes and sighed. He wished to sleep but continued trying his best to be polite.
"No. I haven't."
"I see. He was a Burmecian. You know, from the Eastern continent. From what I've heard he was part of a group of the Burmecian Royal Guard on their way to Ispen for training. He was caught in the storm and taken in by the guards here and forced to fight. He won his freedom and now that group of the Royal Guard is headed here, to retrieve their soldier, no doubt."
Colt looked at the man inquisitively. Burmecian? Of what county were such people from? He had heard of Ispen before but he knew not where, or what, it was. He did know it was located somewhere far north of Oeilvert. That all he knew.
"Well that is quite interesting, kind sir. I only hope I, and you for that matter, win our freedom as the brave Burmecian."
"Aye. Godspeed to you." The man said and finally went silent to allow Colt to rest.
The next three mornings became routine. The guards woke up the sleeping Colt, took him to suit up, they battled in the mammoth arena and whence Colt had shed the blood of all his opponents he retired back to his cell to await the next morning. Yes, he won his next two matches. Per usual they were quite gruesome. I would go into the painstaking detail of such bloodshed but I wish not to bore you for they were seemingly the same. Armed with his revolver Colt rushed them all using weapons from the fallen to cut, impale, shoot, slice, dice, stab, and so forth his enemies. Each night he was also presented with a new cellmate telling him the one from the night before was slaughtered. Thus Colt woke up on the forth day. He was not eager, though if he won this match he would become free once more. He was taken and he suited up and everything was moving the same as the last two days. He was taken to the hallway. The man outside had already begun his post match speech. The guard was shaking his head.
"Does ye hear what that man is saying out there, me boy?" the guard inquired
He spoke in what you and I would consider a Scottish accent. Colt listened to the man speaking and the movement of people in the stands and their shouting muffled the sounds of the speaker.
"No, I do not." Answered Colt
"He is sayin' that the Burmecian Royal Guard is entering one of their own in the match this mornin'. Does ye know what this means?"
"No." Colt again answered absentmindedly.
He really cared not what this guard had to say.
"It means that they want to show everyone that the Burmecian Royal Guard is the most well trained in the world. It mean that if ye wins today thee will be hunted and will have made quite an enemy in the Burmecians for killing one of their soldiers. But, if you loose may God have mercy on both your souls."
Colt scowled the guard. He was really giving him quite a pep talk. The gates opened and once more Colt was thrust into the ring of carnage. Again he quickly dispatched all his foes and then he was faced with the hulking Burmecian.
He was quite large and muscular and he heaved a huge sword but that did not surprise Colt in the least. What threw him off was the appearance of a Burmecian. He was a vermin. His face and body was that of a large rat. A large rat wielding a sword, of course, but nevertheless, a rat. This took Colt by surprise but did not slow him a bit. The two became locked in combat. Colt had retrieved an equally large sword from another opponent and they both parried and blocked each other's blows. After a long time of this the Burmecian made the blade fling from Colt's hands. Colt was without a weapon but he was determined to win this match. Suddenly Colt felt as if he was traveling very slowly. He heard everything go quiet. He saw the Burmecian, now also moving slowly, jab at him with his blade. What Colt did now was truly spectacular as he flipped over the oncoming blade. Once on the other side of it he turned and kicked the blade into the air and then caught it. It was as if slowing down made him a better fighter somehow and gave him much more time to react and fight. It was unlike any feeling before. He then took the sword and with a spinning attack sliced through the Burmecian's stomach. Blood spurted from the large gash. It sprayed all onto the sword and the ground. However this by-product of adrenaline (at least that was what Colt guessed it to be) did not end. As the Burmecian fell to the ground he kept slashing at him. Over and over. Blood dripped from the tip of his sword. It splashed onto his clothes and onto the sand. He was brutally mutilating this Burmecian. It wasn't out of hatred for that particular being but because he had been forced to fight in the first place. Because he was forced to fight in this blood sport. He hated the people who had made him do so and he took it out on this warrior.
He then came out of his rush. He realized he had freedom. People were chanting his praises. He was finally free. He gazed around the stadium with a grave satisfaction. Then he gazed to where he saw a battle ready Burmecian Guard. He looked as if he were much higher in rank and had a menacing look about him. He darkly glared at Colt and now he knew the guard's warnings was probably true. He shook his head because of the bloodshed and once again walked to the gate he had emerged from and walked the hall back to his cell.
Almost as soon as he sat down in his cell a guard opened it once more. He was much more friendly (most likely because this was now a free man) and he came with a small stack of neatly folded clothes. He handed them to Colt and spoke.
"You are to go bathe yourself and get dressed in this tunic. Your ceremony for becoming free once more is going to start in about an hour. You are instructed to hurry."
Colt took the clothes and followed him to what appeared to be the bathhouse. He climbed into the tub and became to bathe. It had been too long since he had properly washed and the cuts, bruises, and gashes he had received anew over the last four days needed some cleaning at least. After he had washed he got out, dried off and put on the clothes that were given to him. It was a white tunic with golden embroidery. It was quite a nice piece of clothing. Once he was dressed he emerged from the bathhouse and was taken with the guard. He was then taken down a new hallway that he had never been led down before. He then emerged into a large throne room. In the middle he saw a huge marble staircase leading up to the king of La Selva on the throne.
As he entered there was a bit of clapping when everyone in attendance began to whistle a tune. It was soon accompanied by guitars and drums. He recognized the tune. One of his cellmates whistled it often and said it was the La Selva anthem. As he walked on the first verse ended and the whistling stopped but the other instruments kept playing. As he walked up the large staircase trumpets on either side of him began playing the same tune still with the drums and guitars. It was quite a marvelous thing to behold. Once the verse again was over the whistling resumed, the trumpets continued, the guitars and drums became louder, and people began chanting lyrics to the song. It was one of the most awe-inspiring performances Colt had ever seen. He finally reached the top of the staircase and after the last verse had ended the music ceased and all became quiet. The king raised his hands above Colt's head and began to speak.
"To few a time do we see a young man like you win his freedom from the arena! However, if young men like this one always perished La Selva would not be here today! For the founders of our great city traveled through the desert and stumbled across bandits and ruffians! These evil men declared they would kill our founding fathers! Even when our blood had killed those who opposed us we were forced to fight for our land! Bloods was shed on both sides and blood is shed today! Now it is not to claim our land back from evil men! Now it is to honor those who fell to keep such a grand place for our city! We now sacrifice ourselves, and others to honor those who fell before us! And to make sure everyone here knows I am not speaking as a man sitting high upon a throne, never having to fight myself, it is MANDATORY for the king of La Selva to fight in the tournament and win his freedom FOUR different times! To prove he will be a strong and able leader for such a city! Now this young man has won his freedom and with this ceremony we honor him!"
The king then paused for a moment then turned behind him and grasp the wine bottle and glass his servant was holding. He poured the red liquid into the glass and turned back toward Colt.
"Now, son, take this wine of La Selva and claim your freedom for you hath earned it!"
He handed the glass over to Colt. Colt gazed into the red liquid for a moment. He then looked at all the people gathered. In one corner he saw the Burmecian warrior, still with a grave look upon his rat face. He then turned back around toward the king and held the glass up to his lips. He swallowed the red wine. It tasted very sweet. Much more than any he had ever tasted. But that was not the wine. That was the taste… of freedom.
Colt started out across the desert. This animal that didn't belong to him obeyed his commands and was easy going. He didn't care his owner had just died. Why did everyone else? We are all just animals. Colt shook his head of these thoughts. It was not good to think such things. He was a man on a mission now. He needed to find that man… He needed to give the stranger peace in his stay in the afterlife. He had been traveling through orange cliffs and valleys. Suddenly the walls of the cliffs disappeared. He was traveling through open desert. The wind began to get stronger but he could tolerate it. It began to pick up more and more. The dust was flying all around him now. The wind was blowing fiercer than in Oeilvert. It kicked up sand in his face and in that of his fowl's. The Chocobo jerked forward and stopped. It made anxious "Kweh!" sounds. He spurred it on. The bird did not move very far until it stopped once again. This was not going to be easy. Colt dismounted from his Chocobo. In one hand he took the reigns and in the other held onto his hat so it did not fly away. It kept the sun and a great deal of sand out of his eyes. He was not keen on the idea of losing it. He moved through the wall of sand. It just kept beating at him. It hit his skin and it began to sting but after a good long time of this he failed to notice any longer. This sand storm was making him weary. How much longer till he saw some sign of civilization? How much longer must he toil through this endless wasteland of sand? This storm was growing stronger and stronger by the minute. He had been stepping through this sand for what seemed like an eternity. He could see nothing outside the light brown, swirling cloud that surrounded him. Even the hat wasn't protecting him from sand now. It crawled its way into his eyes and made him try and get it out. The sand was already covering his hands so it did no good, just made it worse. He knew the Chocobo was having as hard a time as he was. He felt it resist and buck and all sorts of things to attempt to get Colt to stop. Colt did no such thing. He had to keep on. He had to continue. He had to… His thoughts trailed off as his legs grew weak under him. He fell into the sand on his knees as he felt the sand fly into his pant legs. He collapsed on the sand. He needed rest… Rest…
Colt awoke with a start. He looked where he was. He was no longer in the desert with his Chocobo. He looked at his surroundings. He was in a carriage. The windows were covered over by curtains and he was sitting on a padded bench. He could hear the wind blowing outside. He looked to the opposite side of the cart and saw an older man. His skin was a dark color and his white beard and mustache were turned upward seeing the man awaken. He wore a dark blue tunic and a turban-like scarf around his head. He looked at Colt with his brown eyes. It was the first face Colt had seen since Oeilvert. It was a sight for sandy eyes.
"I see you hath awakened." The man commented as Colt blinked the sleep out of his eyes
The seventeen year old stretched and yawned. He quickly returned to the matter at hand. Colt looked at the man.
"Where am I?" he inquired
"Why, you are my guest here in my carriage." Chuckled the man
He held out his dark, wrinkled hand.
"I am Kurtain." He spoke
Colt took his hand and shook it
"Colt." He introduced himself
"Ah I see… Strange name." Kurtain remarked, "Where is it you hail from young Colt?" he asked
"Oeilvert." Colt replied
"Hmm… I had the oppurtounity to travel to Oeilvert once. My what a town. The people there were quite friendly. Much more friendlier than any other town I have visited on this continent." Kurtain remembered "And the food wasn't too shabby either." He finished tapping Colt on the knee and chuckling
Colt too chuckled. It was true, Oeilvert was known for its good food.
"As a matter of fact we many a time trade with Oeilvert you know. At least… I oft times encourage it in the traders I associate with." Kurtain explained
"Who might "we" be?" asked Colt with interest
"Ahh! I am from the city of "La Selva"" said Kurtain "True we ARE on a cliff overlooking the desert and not much grows near us we do trade valuable items from the wilderness."
"Really? Like what?" wondered Colt
Kurtain gave him a strange look. He was wondering if this boy had the nerve to doubt him on such a matter. Fury began to build up inside him but then he forced it to subside. This was just a young man who may not know the details of the trade.
"We have various things, my boy. For instance over the years in the rock of our cliff a multitude of jewels were formed. It was unknown to us until now. We traded that to you and I believe one of your blade-smiths created quite a powerful sword from it. And that's just one of the many things we have to offer." Kurtain spoke as if he were trying to get people to come to his city to boost its tourism.
Colt had never heard of "La Selva" before. An obscure city on the edge of a cliff no doubt. He sat smiling in his seat, hat in his lap when he realized that something had gone missing. He went into a worried state.
"My Chocobo." He said staring at Kurtain "Where is my Chocobo?" he asked with much concern
"Fear not. He is coming along. He is behind us at the moment. This very carriage is blocking the oncoming sand. It should have no problem." Kurtain told him
Colt breathed a sigh of relief. This question in itself sparked new conversation.
"Yes… You were quite lucky we have devoted men of this sort in "La Selva"." Kurtain stated with much pride "If not these men would probably be watching the games and you would be buried under three or four layers of sand by now."
Colt gulped. Luck… If that's all he had then he had better keep a good supply of it. He wondered why they just happened to be passing through the desert. Kurtain read his stare and answered faster than Colt could ask.
"Everyday we send out men to search the desert for anyone who may have gotten caught up in the sandstorms. Usually they are quite mild and the people we find are sitting it out until we come. However, you my friend were caught in a sand swirl. Very rare and very deadly. You were even more lucky than the average person." Kurtain said
Colt found that they were riding in a carriage strange through a very hard storm. Why do their Chocobos keep going? Or were they Chocobos pulling this?
"What pulls this carriage." Asked Colt with interest
"Chocobos, of course." Responded Kurtain finding the question humorous
"Well how, prey, do they keep moving while mine just stops. I take it you raised them a different way but I was taught that Chocobos were always afraid of strong winds and the like no matter how hard they are taught." Inquired Colt
"Ah. I now see the manner of your questioning. Nay, these are not the sort of Chocobos you would find in Oeilvert or even Doft. These are Northern Chocobos." Kurtain answered
'Northern? From the Northern continent?' wondered Colt. How would these men get Northern Chocobos all the way down to the deserts of Oeilvert? Wasn't the Northern continent one of ice and snow? He had only heard stories from his adventurous father as a child but he had taken that the cities that did exist in the North were often under snow for most of the year and then were in constant war when the snow melted. How could they get Chocobos from all the way up there?
Again Kurtain read Colt's mind "We are a nomadic tribe, we who founded "La Selva". We originate from the cold of the terraces below "Esto Gaza". We had trained our Chocobos in the cold snowstorms of winter. Besides the climate these storms are identical. We just needed to raise another generation of Northern Chocobos and suit them for the desert climate and thus started "La Selva's" trade." Explained Kurtain
"I see…" Colt said flatly
The wind sounded as if it had died down by the time they had finished their conversation. Colt opened the curtains of the carriage and peered outside. The dust no longer swirled around them in a storm but was kicked up by the Chocobos pulling the cart. He stuck his head out a little further. Up ahead he saw a truly breathtaking sight. A cliff rose up out of the desert and went straight up until it came to a castle with surrounding houses and other buildings. Below in the swirling sand lay another group of building but instead of being centered around a castle a grand stadium stood in it's center. The sun shone right on the whole city now and it looked truly comparable to the beauty of Oeilvert. The orange cliff behind the light brown buildings made it look almost like the desert itself. 'What a unique place.' Colt thought. Of course he was truly mesmerized by the spectacle, for it was the first time he had journeyed outside of the city of Oeilvert. As they rode toward the city the gates opened and they slipped inside.
Immediately once inside shouts and screams were heard over everything. They had entered in the market district. This was the busiest of all. It was centered around the stadium and from what Colt could tell people from all over the Continent have come here at this time. He assumed it had something to do with what Kurtain mentioned as "The Games". The old man opened the small door of the carriage and stepped out. Colt followed with interest. As he exited he saw his Chocobo at the back. This immediately made him grin in relief. He then focused his attention on the excitement around him. Small kiosks were selling goods to people walking down the streets. Many of the buildings were made with a type of yellowish stone and windows were just places where it was cut out and doors were just of the same origin with a wooden door in it. From the looks of things however it seemed as if they did not spend much time indoors. He saw what must have been over half of the population in the streets buying, selling, preaching. You and I would most likely compare this to a desert city like Cairo or somewhere along those lines but this was not anything like it. It was more magnificent than any city of it's kind. The sand had almost a cinnamon smell to it here. Colt felt this was a place he could find comfort. He needed such a place. Even Oeilvert's peacefulness was shattered. He turned to Kurtain. He had his eyes to the sky and was breathing in deeply.
"Ah-ha! What a great pleasure it is to be home!" exclaimed Kurtain joyously
Colt just smiled at the rejoicing old man. 'He must feel great pride for his home.' Thought Colt. He turned toward Kurtain.
"What are all these people here for?" he asked
Kurtain nodded as if it was a good question. He responded.
"This is the crowd we attract you see. Quite a large crowd comes to "La Selva" each year for the annual games. The main event? Why, it takes place just inside the mighty stadium."
Colt watched as Kurtain's hand rose gesturing to the road in front of them that led right to the massive gates of the stadium. The buildings were on either side and it showed you how mammoth a structure it was to see it compared with these structures. It dwarfed everything in the lower half of the city. As they walked they navigated their way through pickpockets, gypsies, salesmen and "Religious" leaders. They finally came to the gates. The large stadium loomed in front of them. Its design was strangely Northern for a city in the middle of the desert. It was almost built like a massive pagoda. Trumpets blared from inside the architectural wonder. The roar of the crowd was close to deafening. As they stepped inside the gates they stepped up a right flight of stairs. They soon came to rows of seats occupied by many people. They went down to the front row. They sat in two unoccupied seats and watched the sandy battlefield below. The benches were that of stone but nevertheless that least worried Colt at the moment. The massive oval shaped stadium on the battleground had six gates, spikes on the very top of the walls. Colt was in awe at the ruthlessness of the building. On the ground at the moment four men remained standing. Two lay dead on the ground with red stains where they fell when the final blow snuffing out the flame of their life had occurred. One man was trying his best to defeat melee-weapon wielding men with a bow and arrow. Kurtain nudged the boy.
"That warrior is on his fourth match. After this he is free to go… If he wins…"
A lone man with a bow and arrow was flying across the battlefield as if he had wings. His gracefulness gave him a style of fighting that Colt had never seen in any man before him. It almost seemed that the four imprisoned men left standing had no longer thought about the other three but on this one man. He was flying from one side to the other. At the moment, he was being pursued by a large, hulking man that looked as if he were built like a tank. However… the bigger they are…
The warrior with the bow had put it around his shoulder and had grabbed one of the dead men's blades. The hulking mass of flesh, bone, and armor was charging right at him, sword above his head. He went up and blocked the sword with the blade of his own and then swirled out of the way. The tank looked around. Where did that little rat get to? It seemed he had failed to look behind him as that was where the warrior, his long golden hair flying in the breeze, was aiming an arrow at the back of his head. The man turned around abruptly. The sight of an arrowhead welcomed him in his face. His face curled up into a snarl as he attempted to charge at the man but it was too late. Within moments of him turning the rod of wood, tipped with steel, was already protruding from his face. Red bathed the end of the arrow. Blood trickled down his face as he collapsed to the ground. The crowd cheered. There was much rejoicing.
The warrior then turned to try and find his next target. It seemed to find him. He saw one of the fighters coming at him with a spear. Seconds before the spear impaled him he ducked to the side. The fighter kept going until he ran to the wall and, not wanting to die by way of arrow through his nasal passageways, turned around quickly. The blond haired archer was evading this spearman quite well. Again he charged at the warrior and he made a quick break toward the wall. The spearman grinned. He was putting himself pinned against the wall. The warrior kept in his run at the wall until he met it. He jumped up and kicked the wall. In midair he spun around to face the spearman. He already had his bow and arrow out and in midair fired one right in his chest. It even pierced the light armor he was wearing. He fell backwards and onto the sand. He lay there, unmoving. Again the crowd broke out into a roar. All these people had on their minds was blood lust.
The warrior again had won a small victory. It didn't last for long however. He heard the footsteps running up behind him. Moment's before the next fighter's blade lacerated his head he ducked. He rolled forward and grabbed the spear out of the clutches of his last opponent. He stood and swung the spear around hoping to frightening him off and then charging at him for the kill. As he swung around and reached the direction of the man a splash of red hit him in the face. He wiped his eyes and saw the man was much closer than he had suspected. When he whirled around the spear had ripped a gash in his face. He now lay on the ground leaking blood from his, now unrecognizable, face.
The warrior looked around at the battlefield. All men were dead. He heard the roar of the crowd. His face, his clothes, his weapons… all covered in blood. He raised the spear that had dealt the final blow. The spear that had won his freedom. He held it up high proud that he now could go on with his life. He let out a whoop of joy as the people in the stands cheered uncontrollably. He was circling around looking at all the people and smiling. As he did one of the men on the ground got up. He got up and ran at the unsuspecting man. As the warrior circled he just caught a glimpse of a huge hulk of a man running at him with a broadsword. He tried parrying or blocking but it was all happening so fast. He felt a pain in his abdomen. His mouth gaped open. Blood trickled off his lips. The point of the blade had exited out his back and it was covered in red. The man grinned as he turned the blade making the pain so much more excruciating for the young, blond-haired warrior as he perished. Finally he dropped the impaled corpse on the sandy ground. There was silence in the crowd for a moment. It took their minds a moment a new winner stood before them. A second went by and suddenly, without warning, the stands erupted in cheers. The winner looked quite please.
Kurtain clapped his hands. Colt was amazed by the violent display. 'How could this whole world revolve around death?' he asked himself. Kurtain rose from his seat as he continued clapping.
"Bravo! Bravo!" he chanted
Colt stood up as well. He held back a cringe. How could people enjoy this kind of spectacle? Colt turned toward the old man.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Kurtain." Colt said, much obliged
"It's not a problem." Kurtain responded smiling
"However, I do believe I will be getting on with my journey." Colt finished as he turned around to start walking toward his Chocobo
Kurtain grasp his shoulder firmly.
"Now now my friend. You must stay for the games. They are marvelous." Kurtain said smirking
Colt glanced at the bloody corpses littered around the field.
"Blood sports are not exactly my interest." Colt replied in a dull voice
"No. I must insist. It better become your interest quite soon young man." Kurtain remarked as he waved his hand.
Two large hulking armed guards came up behind the boy. The both grasp his shoulders. Their hands dug into his shoulders. Kurtain stood there quite please with himself.
"What is the meaning of this, Kurtain!?!?!" exclaimed Colt with venom
Kurtain chuckled to himself.
"There IS a toll for those passing through La Selva you know. Take him away!" he ordered his guards and soon they had drug Colt out of the stadium. He felt a sharp pain in the back of his head… then things went dark.
"Uggh…" Colt lurched as he arose from being knocked out. He felt the back of his head. A bruise was present there. A big one. He shook off his drowsiness. He rubbed his eyes and tried to look around. His hands had sand all over then so he was forced to get the sand out of his eyes after it crept in. He finally was able to open his eyes. He was in a small room. He was lying on an old mattress. It was quite uncomfortable. He saw a small window above him. It was nighttime. No sunlight shone through the window but he observed the stars. He stood up on his tiptoes and grasp the bars. He hoisted himself up and looked out. It seemed to be a cell built into the side of the cliff above the low part of the city. He dropped back down and scratched his head, thus getting sand in his hair. They do not take security too lightly here. He looked around the small cell. It was quite dark. He looked to one corner and saw a figure in the shadows. He jumped slightly and stared into the inky blackness. He could see the man just stared back at him. He leaned closer to the figure it say unmoving until Colt heard him take a breath. He began to speak and this too startled Colt and made him jump.
"You too were taken from the clutches of the desert to be put in the clutches of Kurtain too, no?" the man inquired
Colt sensed an odd tone in his voice. Odd indeed. He was not from Oeilvert nor from La Selva. He had a noticeably different tone.
"Yes… Yes I was…" Colt spoke finally
The man in the corner chuckled.
"You too have been found worthy of La Selva's arena!" he spoke as he continued to laugh
Through the darkness the man could not have known but Colt wore a strange look of questioning on his face. In a cell without hope of escape and this man was laughing. The jubilant sounds of the man quickly died down as his words again rang through the cell.
"If God is there for me tomorrow I shall leave this place a hero, you know." His voice trailed off.
"Then Godspeed to you." Colt responded.
"Nonsense." The man retorted "I believe in no God." He began to chuckle again.
Colt was not as ease with the man's words. They made him feel even more uncomfortable. How could this man survive without the faith in something greater? Colt asked himself many questions then fell back to sleep on his makeshift bed.
Colt felt a point pressed against the back of his neck. His eyes opened slowly and he cautiously turned to see who stood behind him eager to strike. As he looked up at the man he saw it was a guard. His dagger now pointed Colt straight in the eyes. Colt blinked his eyes a few times then brought his fists up and rubbed the sleep out of them. Once again he began to stare at the guard.
"Are we going somewhere?" Colt asked in a sarcastic manner
The guard grabbed him by the back of his shirt, which by this time was quite dirty and tattered, and got him on his feet. Using the dagger to force him to move they both walked down the stone hallways until they came to a metal door. On it there was a plaque. It was written in a language Colt could not read. He guessed it was La Selva's native tongue. The guard opened the door with his ring of many keys. He then proceeded to push Colt in and he slammed the door behind him leaving a ringing in Colt's ears. Colt shook his head violently, for the ringing was quite loud. He looked at the door as if trying to scowl the guard but he was already gone. He then looked at his new surroundings. It was a large room with wooden cabinets all lined up in a row. Men were at these cabinets pulling out breastplates, helmets, gauntlets and other items of the like. There were both large muscular men along with smaller, scared looking men. There was dark skinned and light skinned. Colt was uneasy with it. He knew these were the men he would fight against to the death… And many looked much more fit than himself. One man turned to him. He grasp his shoulder and turned him around. Colt was about to retaliate when he spoke.
"Number 42. Down that way… next to 41." He said and began to laugh at his joke.
"I don't know if the boy can count, Digera." Another voice called to him
Colt immediately recognized the voice. It was the man in his cell with him. He was about to go over and wish him his best when Digera grabbed his shoulder once again.
"Are you deaf? 42 is down that way, boy."
Colt gave him a harsh stare and began walking toward his cabinet. As he reached it he opened it up and pulled out his armor. It was much too big for him but he surmised that it probably wouldn't matter anyway. With his luck he'll die first day out there… but that was luck… He didn't have any luck but he had faith. He suited up and soon the guard came back, with two friends I might add, to escort them all to the arena. As they marched them out of the room Colt followed coming last in line. He was the "runt" of the group. After walking quite a ways through the torch-lit corridors they came to a group of five other guards. Each man was paired with a guard and they went down opposite ways for it was a fork in the road. Further on another fork appeared until one man had gone down his own separate tunnel. Colt was led and arrived at a large, wooden gate. The man threw water on him, as to cool him off, and unbound his legs, for they were in shackles. He then came around the front and faced Colt.
"What weapon will you use?" asked the guard
Colt stared at him blankly.
"Well? What weapon?" he asked again with a sense of urgency
"My gun." Colt answered with little emotion in his voice
The guard showed a puzzled look upon his face.
"Son, you may be a dead man but you ain't a daft one. You're fighting against eight men and yet you choose a six-shot gun? It's suicide, boy."
"My gun… if you will." Colt insisted as he held out his hand.
The guard shook his helmed head and placed the heavy revolver into Colt's hand. Colt immediately felt at ease with the weapon he was given. He then turned to the guard once more.
"Oh… and I will not lose." He said now feeling as if his words were getting to big for him to fulfill.
The guard smiled.
"And I WILL win with only six-shots." Colt remarked
The guard stifled a laugh and went to a pulley on the other side of the room from Colt. He hoisted the rope and on the outside a golden flag rose to show the guards on the outside who was ready to fight. Slowly the rest of the flags rose, as well. From inside the corridors the men heard trumpets begin to blare, a crowd begin to roar, drums begin to beat. Was it a march to their death? Only God knew for sure. They heard a man exclaiming that he was happy to see La Selva there to witness the battle and he welcomed everyone and he went on for quite a while. Colt was tensed on the inside but he did his best to hide his feelings of dread. He stared straight ahead into the door and let a yawn pass his lips. The guard once again looked at him in a puzzled manner.
"Are you not scared?" he inquired
Colt stood unmoving for a moment.
"No."
A deafening roar came from the crowd as the man came to the closing of his speech…
"Now, my friends, in this ring today we have a man about to win his freedom! Others are on the second others is their first time to fight. We have all type of competitors here today! Now for the glory of the king of La Selva and for the entertainment of all you present… Let out… the warriors!"
Trumpets blared once more and the wooden gates swung open. Colt was momentarily blinded by the light. It was dark in the halls and the white light of the sun shone brightly. Whence his eyes adjusted he found himself in the middle of a great arena. The seats were all filled and the crowd roared in anticipation of the upcoming battle. It was a sight Colt would have held in awe if he were not a part of this bloody spectacle. He ran into the field of battle and sand kicked up all around him. He saw the men quite clearly, armor glinting in the sunlight. He then heard footsteps and quickly sidestepped and turned around. Where he once stood a large blade fell into the ground. He saw the man, with no helmet, and his long, straggly black hair falling in his face. He was gritting his teeth at Colt and made grunting noises and again swung the massive sword at Colt. This time it was not a surprise and Colt dodged the swipe with much agility. The man was tired and weighed down by the enormous blade. Colt once again dodged his next attack and then started the offensive of his own. As the blade fell to the ground and the man rested for a few moments Colt rushed and kicked the man right in his face. He fell backward, being a surprise, and now was separated from his weapon. He got up surprisingly quickly and lunged at Colt. Colt once again swiftly sidestepped and the next moment the man fell to the sand his back facing upward. Colt raised his pistol to the man's head. As he rolled over onto his back his eyes locked on the barrel of the revolver. Colt's expression of remorse was plastered on his face as he pulled the trigger. A shot was heard all through the stadium and blood mixed with the sand pouring from the hole in the man's skull. Colt sighed and now rose to fight with the other men. He had very little time to rest, however, as a man with a broadsword was rushing at him. He ran at him hoping to impale him upon the cold steel of the blade. Colt quickly dodged but the blade cut a large gash in his arm. He shook off the pain, seeing as the adrenaline dulled it, though blood spurted from the wound. He found himself lying next to the mammoth sword of the first man. He picked it up with both hand and swung around hitting the swordsman with the flat of the large blade. The swordsman reeled from the attack and fell backwards onto the sandy ground. Colt rose and looked in the man's eyes for a moment. He then thrust the huge sword into his chest, piercing the armor and impaling the swordsman as if the sword was nothing more than a skewer. The swordsman gasp for breath as blood dribbled down his lips. He then coughed and blood sprayed from his mouth falling on himself and mixing with the sand. Colt once again had a look of remorse stuck on his face. He was not at all proud of this. He picked up the man's broadsword and turned to find yet another opponent.
Another man rushed at Colt with a broadsword. Fully armored and with a ruthless attack stance he ran at him. He came in and lunged for an overhead slash. Colt blocked it with the blade of his own. For many moments the two were locked in combat. Every attack Colt delivered the man successfully parried and the same went for him. They were equally matched in the sword. Colt grew weary quickly and drew his revolver from the waist of his pants. When they both locked in an attempt at the man's overhead slash Colt brought the gun up to his eyes. The man stared blankly for a moment then his face twisted into an evil snarl. Before he had any time to react, however, a shot had been fired and a bullet was lodged in his skull. He fell to the ground in a cloud of dust and blood leaked from his head. As Colt turned to seek out his next prey he saw a man with a spear running at him. Colt ducked swiftly as he felt the spear-tip rush over the top of his head. He then rose under the shaft of the spear and pulled it away from the man and fired a shot into his head as well. Colt quickly snatched up his sword and looked around. Two other men were alive. Two were killed by the others and four by Colt's own hands. He casually walked to the next warrior. He was waving his two battle axes around like a mad man. Colt came up behind him and bashed him over the head with the hilt of his sword. He fell to the ground and Colt effortlessly landed a bullet between his eyes.
The crowd went silent. Colt knew the other was right behind him. He could feel it. His gun was in his hand but it took to long to fire it… that man would be on top of him by then, if he figured it correctly. He ducked down and grabbed one of the axes then, without looking, hurled it at the last warrior. He heard it hit something but it was all happening so fast he couldn't be sure. He then, once again, could get a clear picture and he saw the axe had landed right in-between the eyes of his opponent.
The crowd was astonished. They were silent. They thought that young man was going to die for sure… His prowess in battle was exceeded by none. A single yell echoed through the cavernous stadium and more followed. Once again it became a mad house and was in an up-roar. Colt was being applauded. Colt looked around at the death. He was not glad of this. One of the wooden doors opened and two guards stepped out. Colt shook his head and walked into the door going right past them, as if ignoring them. The speaker from the beginning of the fight began to speak again and all was back to normal… with the exception that the prison now had seven cells unoccupied.
Colt again walked the dark, dank hallways. He hated himself for what he had done but hated that there was no way to stop it. He is going to avenge a man's death and secure his honor where there will be many men seeking himself for the deeds he has done today.
Colt was escorted to his cell and, once away from the company of the guard, immediately fell onto his makeshift bed for he was quite tired. He was just about to doze off when a voice brought him back to reality.
"Hello…" a nervous voice said
Colt's head bolted up and his eyes shifted around his cell. In front of him sat a thin, frightened looking man. Colt looked at him for a moment then again rested his head upon the ground.
"Were you the one that won today's match?" asked the man
"Yes. I Am." Spoke Colt sharply "Now would you be so kind as to let me rest for I have had quite a tiresome day and I imagine tomorrow will not be unlike it."
The man twitched slightly at the sharpness of Colt's words. He was frightened of him when he was a full-grown man and many people would still consider Colt a boy. Colt saw the man's fright and as much as he wanted to rest he knew this man would most likely have a heart attack first time in the ring. He sighed and began to speak.
"My friend, please excuse the harshness of my tone. You see, I have never been one to enjoy such vulgar bloodshed. I have always tried to shelter myself from it, as did my elders. Now I have been thrust into a community who finds entertainment out of blood. I am only fighting because I have to, you see. I find that I shall either live or die and I have more pressing matters to attend to so dieing is out of the question. I wish not to see anyone else die but I will kill all in my path to freedom if it is necessary."
The man was, again, shocked by these words but it proved to him that this boyish looking warrior was not all battle without heart. He didn't wish to fight. He was made to.
"I see." He spoke sheepishly
Colt just shook his head. He hated this place.
"Did you hear of the last person who won his freedom?" the man asked Colt
Colt closed his eyes and sighed. He wished to sleep but continued trying his best to be polite.
"No. I haven't."
"I see. He was a Burmecian. You know, from the Eastern continent. From what I've heard he was part of a group of the Burmecian Royal Guard on their way to Ispen for training. He was caught in the storm and taken in by the guards here and forced to fight. He won his freedom and now that group of the Royal Guard is headed here, to retrieve their soldier, no doubt."
Colt looked at the man inquisitively. Burmecian? Of what county were such people from? He had heard of Ispen before but he knew not where, or what, it was. He did know it was located somewhere far north of Oeilvert. That all he knew.
"Well that is quite interesting, kind sir. I only hope I, and you for that matter, win our freedom as the brave Burmecian."
"Aye. Godspeed to you." The man said and finally went silent to allow Colt to rest.
The next three mornings became routine. The guards woke up the sleeping Colt, took him to suit up, they battled in the mammoth arena and whence Colt had shed the blood of all his opponents he retired back to his cell to await the next morning. Yes, he won his next two matches. Per usual they were quite gruesome. I would go into the painstaking detail of such bloodshed but I wish not to bore you for they were seemingly the same. Armed with his revolver Colt rushed them all using weapons from the fallen to cut, impale, shoot, slice, dice, stab, and so forth his enemies. Each night he was also presented with a new cellmate telling him the one from the night before was slaughtered. Thus Colt woke up on the forth day. He was not eager, though if he won this match he would become free once more. He was taken and he suited up and everything was moving the same as the last two days. He was taken to the hallway. The man outside had already begun his post match speech. The guard was shaking his head.
"Does ye hear what that man is saying out there, me boy?" the guard inquired
He spoke in what you and I would consider a Scottish accent. Colt listened to the man speaking and the movement of people in the stands and their shouting muffled the sounds of the speaker.
"No, I do not." Answered Colt
"He is sayin' that the Burmecian Royal Guard is entering one of their own in the match this mornin'. Does ye know what this means?"
"No." Colt again answered absentmindedly.
He really cared not what this guard had to say.
"It means that they want to show everyone that the Burmecian Royal Guard is the most well trained in the world. It mean that if ye wins today thee will be hunted and will have made quite an enemy in the Burmecians for killing one of their soldiers. But, if you loose may God have mercy on both your souls."
Colt scowled the guard. He was really giving him quite a pep talk. The gates opened and once more Colt was thrust into the ring of carnage. Again he quickly dispatched all his foes and then he was faced with the hulking Burmecian.
He was quite large and muscular and he heaved a huge sword but that did not surprise Colt in the least. What threw him off was the appearance of a Burmecian. He was a vermin. His face and body was that of a large rat. A large rat wielding a sword, of course, but nevertheless, a rat. This took Colt by surprise but did not slow him a bit. The two became locked in combat. Colt had retrieved an equally large sword from another opponent and they both parried and blocked each other's blows. After a long time of this the Burmecian made the blade fling from Colt's hands. Colt was without a weapon but he was determined to win this match. Suddenly Colt felt as if he was traveling very slowly. He heard everything go quiet. He saw the Burmecian, now also moving slowly, jab at him with his blade. What Colt did now was truly spectacular as he flipped over the oncoming blade. Once on the other side of it he turned and kicked the blade into the air and then caught it. It was as if slowing down made him a better fighter somehow and gave him much more time to react and fight. It was unlike any feeling before. He then took the sword and with a spinning attack sliced through the Burmecian's stomach. Blood spurted from the large gash. It sprayed all onto the sword and the ground. However this by-product of adrenaline (at least that was what Colt guessed it to be) did not end. As the Burmecian fell to the ground he kept slashing at him. Over and over. Blood dripped from the tip of his sword. It splashed onto his clothes and onto the sand. He was brutally mutilating this Burmecian. It wasn't out of hatred for that particular being but because he had been forced to fight in the first place. Because he was forced to fight in this blood sport. He hated the people who had made him do so and he took it out on this warrior.
He then came out of his rush. He realized he had freedom. People were chanting his praises. He was finally free. He gazed around the stadium with a grave satisfaction. Then he gazed to where he saw a battle ready Burmecian Guard. He looked as if he were much higher in rank and had a menacing look about him. He darkly glared at Colt and now he knew the guard's warnings was probably true. He shook his head because of the bloodshed and once again walked to the gate he had emerged from and walked the hall back to his cell.
Almost as soon as he sat down in his cell a guard opened it once more. He was much more friendly (most likely because this was now a free man) and he came with a small stack of neatly folded clothes. He handed them to Colt and spoke.
"You are to go bathe yourself and get dressed in this tunic. Your ceremony for becoming free once more is going to start in about an hour. You are instructed to hurry."
Colt took the clothes and followed him to what appeared to be the bathhouse. He climbed into the tub and became to bathe. It had been too long since he had properly washed and the cuts, bruises, and gashes he had received anew over the last four days needed some cleaning at least. After he had washed he got out, dried off and put on the clothes that were given to him. It was a white tunic with golden embroidery. It was quite a nice piece of clothing. Once he was dressed he emerged from the bathhouse and was taken with the guard. He was then taken down a new hallway that he had never been led down before. He then emerged into a large throne room. In the middle he saw a huge marble staircase leading up to the king of La Selva on the throne.
As he entered there was a bit of clapping when everyone in attendance began to whistle a tune. It was soon accompanied by guitars and drums. He recognized the tune. One of his cellmates whistled it often and said it was the La Selva anthem. As he walked on the first verse ended and the whistling stopped but the other instruments kept playing. As he walked up the large staircase trumpets on either side of him began playing the same tune still with the drums and guitars. It was quite a marvelous thing to behold. Once the verse again was over the whistling resumed, the trumpets continued, the guitars and drums became louder, and people began chanting lyrics to the song. It was one of the most awe-inspiring performances Colt had ever seen. He finally reached the top of the staircase and after the last verse had ended the music ceased and all became quiet. The king raised his hands above Colt's head and began to speak.
"To few a time do we see a young man like you win his freedom from the arena! However, if young men like this one always perished La Selva would not be here today! For the founders of our great city traveled through the desert and stumbled across bandits and ruffians! These evil men declared they would kill our founding fathers! Even when our blood had killed those who opposed us we were forced to fight for our land! Bloods was shed on both sides and blood is shed today! Now it is not to claim our land back from evil men! Now it is to honor those who fell to keep such a grand place for our city! We now sacrifice ourselves, and others to honor those who fell before us! And to make sure everyone here knows I am not speaking as a man sitting high upon a throne, never having to fight myself, it is MANDATORY for the king of La Selva to fight in the tournament and win his freedom FOUR different times! To prove he will be a strong and able leader for such a city! Now this young man has won his freedom and with this ceremony we honor him!"
The king then paused for a moment then turned behind him and grasp the wine bottle and glass his servant was holding. He poured the red liquid into the glass and turned back toward Colt.
"Now, son, take this wine of La Selva and claim your freedom for you hath earned it!"
He handed the glass over to Colt. Colt gazed into the red liquid for a moment. He then looked at all the people gathered. In one corner he saw the Burmecian warrior, still with a grave look upon his rat face. He then turned back around toward the king and held the glass up to his lips. He swallowed the red wine. It tasted very sweet. Much more than any he had ever tasted. But that was not the wine. That was the taste… of freedom.