The two men stood opposed in almost every way.
Jarl was steady in a simple fighting stance, both thick arms controlling his single longsword in a low guard. His mane of a beard and dirty blond hair framed a scared face with piercing blue eyes that saw everything and betrayed nothing. His red skin was bare to his waist, and his pale meaty limbs testified to his northern strength that had survived many winters.
Kentos fairly danced on his feet with blades crossing and uncrossing in front of him. He was hairless, and his red body was branded blue with the markings of his southern caste. His green eyes seemed strangely dead when contrasted with his shifting feet. There was not an ounce of fat on him, and no movement that seemed simple or inelegant.
Then Kentos leaped forward swinging one sword down. Jarl twisted his hands upwards to catch, and swiftly thrust forward his blade. Kentos brought his left sword across to push aside the point and then with both swords now together he slashed under his opponent’s guard at the belly. Jarl dropped his wrists and caught the blades, turned them over and struck with his pommel. Kentos leapt to one side and again his two blades struck down on his foes bare back. Jarl stood up aside and swiped over the attack. Kentos dropped under the blade and jumped back. They locked eyes again. Kentos flashed a grin and Jarl nodded in respect. This was going to take a while.
The crowd that had gathered to witness the combat were impressed. The usual slaves were not normally so...motivated. These barbarians, one from the north and one from the south, were both skilled and desirous of victory. The locals began to bet, and to cheer.
Maxim was pleased. He sat on his platform and watched the scene. The people, his subjects, often skipped a meal to witness the fights. This would save on bread. The fight would also remind them of the dangerous barbarians that only he could protect against. And lastly, he had arranged a little game of his own that he was quite interested in seeing played out.
Jarl muttered a prayer in the language of the gods as he breathed deeply to focus himself forward. Kentos had keen ears, and recognized the prayer. It was to a god he knew and loved. He was confused.
“Walk out on the land,” Kentos said, in the same tongue.
“And He shall guide your steps,” finished Jarl, surprised.
Kentos lowered his blades. Jarl did the same. Then they knew.
Maxim cursed. Not to worry, this is why he had professional gladiators. He waved his hand and armed men entered the arena. The crowd roared at the sight of their favorites.
The six gladiators seemed almost to prance for the crowd. They juggled their swords, stood atop their upright shields; one even entered as a gymnast on the mat. This amused Kentos and angered Jarl, which turned out to be a bloody combination.
The show fighters were killed swiftly, three a piece. These men were not fighting for applause any longer. Maxim stood and ordered his soldiers in as the crowd grew louder anyway.
These were a dozen veterans of the Blue-skinned folk. who had fought in the north and the south against both of the men's kin. Jarl and Kentos stood back to back and knew this was the end.
“Well met, brother,” said Jarl, this time in his native language.
“High greetings, cousin,” answered Kentos in his.
Kentos danced and Jarl roared as the shield wall choked them down. The short swords nicked them again and again though Jarl cleaved shields and Kentos slit throats. The men at arms did not break from their grisly business, and four soldiers traded lives for the death of the two slaves.
The crowd was most pleased, but Maxim had lost his little game and so the whole thing was quite ruined for him. Ah well, at least there was his consolation prize…
“Milord,” said a soldier in a timid tone. Maxim hated that timid tone. It meant something had gone wrong.
“What!” he said harshly, already sure he was displeased.
“The barbarians’ sons...have disappeared.”
Maxim swore out loud. He did not like being displeased.
The crowds were pleased however and dispersed to their lives for now. Maxim had bought another day to satisfy his cruelty.
