Chapter 8.

I hope you guys like this one, it's given me a lot of grief the past few weeks.

Disclaimer: I think everyone knows by now the Chronicles of Narnia aren't mine.

Galian arose earlier than necessary the next morning, feeling slightly queasy and very agitated. He was up and pacing with the demeanor and impatience of a lion long before the guards brought him his food. His opponents were scared outright at the impassive and fierce look on his face, and they ate little for breakfast. The time to leave for the arena finally came, and they were taken out of their cells, shackled together, and led out of the prison and along the streets of Tashbaan, where peasants and nobles alike assembled, catcalling and jeering and even throwing fruit or stones at them. Tashbaan was so crowded it was on the brink of a riot, and Galian knew if one erupted now he'd have no chance of defending himself, even if he weren't chained to all the others, who'd no doubt give in to fear and madness.

Luckily, the distance to the arena was a short one, and no riot ensued. The were led to more cells, and he found himself in the very last straw ridden hole. Whoever it was that had drawn up the pools had very wisely put Galian and his opponent as the last pair of the day to fight, to ensure the money would still come in until the very last possible second. Galian ignored all the fuss about the beginning ceremonies, and the silence as they prayed to some god or another, and everything else he had grown used to over the past two months or so. There was precious little to do now but wait until his turn.

He glanced over to the man who was to be his opponent, a small yet burly dark haired slave from the westernmost province, a man named Haidar. He looked absolutely terrified, and Galian wondered if the man's own mind might not trick him into scaring himself to death.

"Are you afraid of dying?"Galian asked him, standing and leaning against the cell bars.

"Do not mock me,"the other snapped.

"I am not mocking. I want to help you."

"I do not understand. How can you help me?"

"Do you want to live to see another day?"

"Of course."

"Then I will strike a bargain with you. I will spare you, if you promise to pretend to kill me."

"What?"

"An opportunity will come for you that will give you a clear shot. If you will pretend to drive your sword into me, I will spare you and you shall live another day."

"What if I take advantage of the opportunity and I really do kill you?"

"You know it will take more than one blow to stop me. I'll kill you if you try anything. Do we have an agreement?"

A few hours later, Galian found himself walking into the glowing sunshine of the arena. Upon his entrance, thousands of cheers and screams of approval erupted from the gathered crowd. The announcer had to wait several minutes for the din to die down before introducing Galian and Haidar. Then, each took their stance before the Tisroc, who was in attendance, and Galian's opponent bowed to him. Galian did not.

It was a sort of thing that made Galian rather infamous. It was usually customary for the fighters to bow to the Lord of the Province the matches for that week were held in. Galian, however, never bowed. When asked why, he claimed he showed allegiance to no one, least of all the Calormene lords. Though some were shocked he did not bow to the Tisroc, most expected it. They did not, however, expect him to do what he did. A special person was in attendance today, someone that humbled even the defiant Northerner. Sitting to the far right of the Tisroc was none other than Rilian, King of Narnia, along with a few other ambassadors from the North. Galian had seen him once as a boy, and even at this distance, and despite the years the King had aged, the jaded young man knew him at once. And now, he drew his sword, and saluted the King and all his ambassadors in the Narnian fashion, thus enraging the Tarkaans and leaving Suruv swearing his slave would see the gallows that very afternoon.

The horns were blown, and the fight started. While his opponent may have been thinking Galian would let him walk away with a quick and easy victory, Galian had no intentions of allowing as much. He wanted to draw this fight out as much as he could, and try to make it appear as if he were doing his very best, so there would be no suspicion of foul play.

Haidar was surprised at the intensity with which Galian fought, and he wondered that Galian didn't change the deal. He was reassured when Galian pretended to stumble, giving the other a clear shot that struck Galian just behind his legs. Dangerously crippled now, Galian stumbled and limped here and there, making it difficult to outrun his opponent's strokes.

Haidar, taking advantage of a final stumble on Galian's part, pulled Galian's head back so his neck was exposed. For a moment, the two men stared at each other, the world seeming to stand still. Then, the blade was pressed to Galian's neck, barley nicking him, but having all the appearances of a deadly stroke to the crowd, who sat too far away to be able to determine anything different. The crowd went absolutely ballistic, and they stormed onto the arena floor, and for a moment Galian was in danger of being trampled to death. However, guards were called to control the crowd, and Galian's body was taken away.

He was carried a great distance, and despite his curiosity, he did not dare open his eyes until he was absolutely sure he was alone. When the voices of those who had carried him grew fainter, he peeked through one eye, and found he was lying in a poorly lit, two-roomed stone house. Around him were the bodies of the others who had been killed, and for a moment, Galian allowed himself the faintest feeling of pity for them before wondering what would happen next.

"Well,"came the gruff voice of one of those that had carried him, "I expect we ought to wrap the bodies up before they start to stink."

"Which one should we start with? The one that was undefeated for so long?"

"No, we'll save him for last. I want to take a good look at him, just to see what sort of man he was."

The process of embalming the others took a horrible long time, and Galian began to grow impatient once again. The pair started and stopped so sporadically and for unpredictable amounts of time that he had no way of determining how long he was to sit and wait for them to examine him.

Finally, well past midnight, as he heard one of them remark, it was his turn. They brought him to the table, stripped him, and searched for the tell tale wound that had ended Galian's life.

"I don't understand, didn't they say he was cut across the neck? Look, there's barely a scratch."

"And since when were you a physician? Help me out a bit, will you?"

"All the same, Fahd, we ought to make sure he's dead..."and Galian could hear the sound of a sword being withdrawn from its sheath.

"Hasan, put that ridiculous thing away. Honestly, I think the lack of sleep had made you dumb. Go to bed, I can finish him. You can take the bodies to river in the morning."

Hasan shuffled away, dejected, and Fahd was left alone. He bustled about here and there, for now preparing the spices and cloths that would be used to wrap Galian in. Only when he left the room did Galian move. First, his eyes darted to where the other had laid the sword. Quickly, for he had no idea of knowing when Fahd would return, he caught it up, and waited behind the door for the embalmer to return, which he did presently, and of course the first thing he noticed was the absence of a body. Galian killed him quickly before he had a chance to cry out. Prior to leaving, he borrowed the undertaker's clothes and cloak, and, after hiding the sword as best he could, wrapped the body clumsily in the cloths that had been prepared, and laid him in the room with the others. When everything was set, he stole as quickly and quietly as he could into the streets of Tashbaan, which were still given to revelry and jollification. Nodding appropriately, for it would make it that much harder to spot him, he navigated his way through the streets, and was lost in the crowd.