Slave Unbound Ch. 09

Chapter 9

A Change of Plan

**Characters and text are protected under copyright law

Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.

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The pain in Leita's head felt like a living thing struggling to batter its way out of her face. Kalder's punch hadn't completely broken her nose, but the difference was barely more than semantics. A dark mess of blood coated her chin and neck, as well as all over her tunic. It had taken Einrich almost ten minutes to stop the profuse bleeding.

Worse, she'd been disorientated ever since she'd woken up splayed out in the grass of the pitch. The Healer felt sure she'd received, at least, a mild concussion, meaning that she needed to rest. While she was able to walk, she felt clumsy and heavy-limbed, her mind thick as pudding. That hadn't stopped her from receiving Kalder's final injury though.

Even now, listening to him giving his 'assessment' of her as a gladiator to the Mistress, it felt as disappointing as when he'd first told her that he would not be endorsing her as a fighter and still planned to recommend she put somewhere else in the house, if not just sold off to someone else. There was no question in her mind that it had nothing to do with a lack of ability, just his prejudice against her.

"But I did what you said." She'd weakly argued, feeling confused, when he'd initially told her. "You said...said I only had to go to the kitchens if I failed to get the better of you."

"Which just shows that you also don't really listen." Kalder retorted. "That wasn't a deal, that was just me telling you I planned to hurt you before I sent you to where you belonged." He'd then sneered at her in a way that told her that there had never been a chance of earning his respect. "A lucky move isn't going to save you from that."

She'd simply not had the strength or focus to argue it anymore. She felt certain she'd proven that she could fight, even to him, but she realized that his refusal to accept her wasn't about her skills. He didn't want her in the stable out of some other, unknown, reason. She wasn't sure what that reason was, but it didn't really matter. She had no way of changing his mind. It was already too late.

Standing between Kalder and Colja, swaying slightly as she fought to keep her balance and blink away the pounding force behind her eyes, they were already before Mistress Marlowe. She'd met them in a small office on the third floor of the house, beautifully appointed with velvet furnishings and elegant art pieces. A large, beautifully carved cherrywood desk took up one corner of the space, upon which were a scattering of ledgers and papers, but seemed more a home for various toys, amusements, and oddments, including what appeared to be a covered birdcage.

Most of the art pieces seemed focused on either the arena or Mistress Marlowe herself. Those dealing with her had an almost scandalous appeal, depicting her either nude or barely clothed, though never in a sexual manner. A good example of which was a life-sized marble statue that adorned one corner, a depiction of her naked form holding a chalice out to the viewer. The other arm of the statue was behind its back, suggesting that it might be holding something there, hidden away from view until she was ready to reveal it.

For some reason, Leita imagined the unseen hand holding a dagger.

"If nothing else, Mistress, she can't even take a command." Kalder was finishing up, adding this little cherry to the cake. "I kept telling her to report to the kitchen, but she refused to ever leave the yard. I'm not even sure you'd want her working on the floors. Probably—"

The Mistress's hand snapped upward, cutting him off with an impatient gesture. "Enough, Kalder. I believe I get your point." She turned her gaze to Leita, crystal-grey eyes piercing right through her. "And yet, as I hear tell, she still disarmed you in the yard and knocked you down before that."

"Cheap shots and lucky swings." Kalder offered, though it sounded almost like a grumble.

Those sharp eyes caught him up and made him flinch, his own dark eyes looking away. "Some of the best gladiators rely on such things, Kalder. I think you judge her too harshly. Obviously, she's worth far more in my stable than on my floor."

The large man fidgeted, looking back at her, if not quite meeting those eyes, seeming momentarily confused. "Mistress, you told me—"

"I told you to let me know what she could do, Kalder." She interrupted him, her gaze drifting back to Leita. "And I think you managed to do that, even despite your best efforts to give her no chance at all."

Leita wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Kalder's confused expression deepen a moment, before he wiped all emotion from his stone-like face, looking away at nothing and straightening stiffly. "My apologies, Mistress. I suppose she might have...some potential. I still believe she'll never be a real warrior." He said, sounding just as stiff as his new posture.

"Definitions do vary, Kalder." She said, leaning back and really examining Leita. "Regardless, I think she may be a lot more surprising than any of us were expecting. I purchased her for this House's stable and in that stable she will remain."

Her eyes flicked to Colja. "What about you? What is your impression of her abilities, my handsome Fire-dancer.

The aljin glanced a moment down at Leita beside him, considering her with that inscrutable look of his. Finally, he looked forward, staring at nothing in particular, the same as Kalder, only in a much softer way. "While she needs practice and experience, Mistress, she knows her general form and art. She's obviously had training with combat before."

Leita looked at him in surprise, caught off guard by the observation. Considering that she'd never been in any kind of fight until being sold as a lot to the arena, the idea that she gave the impression that she actually knew what she was doing seemed unexpected. She'd merely mimicked what she'd seen the other fighters doing, tried to emulate how they'd fought. She hadn't even been sure she'd been doing it correctly.

Glancing back at Kalder, she realized that she could see a begrudging agreement with Colja's words. Still staring a hole into the back wall, she recognized his disgust at the fact that she had actually impressed him, against his will.

"Really?" Mistress Marlowe said, looking back at Leita with narrowed eyes. "That is interesting. And fortunate. If you believe she already some level of skill, then I don't have to wait to put her into the arena."

Both men's heads and gazes snapped towards her in alarm. "Even if she has some idea of how to swing a sword, Mistress, she is not ready." Kalder practically blurted. Leita thought she heard something like concern in his voice, much to her continued surprise.

"She also may have also taken a hard knock to the head, Mistress." Colja added quickly, seeming to very quickly regain a bit of poise. "The Healer says she needs a few days to recover."

The Mistress gave a flap of her hand, relaxing back into her chair. "It will be a few days to arrange an event for her anyway. Her head will be fine by then. Since she already knows what she's doing, it won't hurt her to forgo training until then." A little smile crept onto her lips. "Since she's already able to get the upper hand on one of my best fighters."

Leita could see Kalder tense at the words, as though they were a sting to him. Within moments, any suggest of concern for her was gone, replaced by an almost satisfied look of comeuppance. "Yes, Mistress. I'm sure she'll make you proud." He drawled, his voice dripping with venom.

"See her cleaned up and fed." Mistress Marlowe said dismissing them with a wave. "She goes onto the sands at the end of the week. Then she can show all of us just how much she knows."

With that, she rose from her chair and moved to sit at the polished cherrywood desk full of ornaments. Leita noticed her caress the covered cage absently before she settled into the seat at the desk. The two men ushered Leita back into the hall, Kalder practically fuming as he left the small room. "Well, little girl, looks like you get your chance to bleed into the sand after all. Congratulations." He glared at the aljin.

"I'm going back to the yard, Zon is fighting an execution match tomorrow. I want to make sure he stays focused." Kalder said to Colja, seeming suddenly weary. "You see to this lost scrubmaid." With that, he stomped away down the stairs.

After a moment, she heard Colja give a little chuckle. "I think it will take much longer for his pride to heal than your head." He quipped, motioning for her to follow him. "Though I would not let your own pride get too large from it. He was not really putting much effort or attention into you out there. Had you had his full attention, and respect, you would not have had a chance. There is a reason he is the House Champion."

Leita raised an eyebrow. "House Champion?"

"The premier combatant for a House, it's top fighter." Colja explained. "There is a reason it is he who is the one training the rest."

"I thought that was because he was an Element?" Leita asked.

"He is an Element because he is a great warrior first, a reminder of earth second." Colja said, leading her down the stairs. "Even still, an Element is just the stable leadership. The House Champion doesn't have to be one of them. Kalder is merely both because he is that skilled."

"And you think I have skill too?" Leita asked, still a bit shocked by what he'd said in the office. "Do I really seem as though...I've had training?"

Colja gave that strange smile. "No. I only said that in hopes of defending your right to stay in the stable. I suppose that was the wrong thing to say though, considering what it has thrust upon you."

Leita deflated a little, feeling a little foolish. "So you think it was luck too." She muttered.

The aljin laughed. "I did not say that. It is obvious that you did not know what to do. At least, at first. That is how I know you have not been trained. Am I correct that your sudden leap in ability came simply from watching Toben and Rob sparring nearby?"

Leita blinked at him, once again surprised by his observations. "I...well, I suppose, if those were the two men's names. I just tried to do what they were doing, or well, what the one with the sword was doing."

Colja gave a little nod. "Most people could not have so quickly emulated something like that, not so well and from just a few moments of watching. There is little doubt that you have a natural talent, an instinct for combat. I believe you may be a proverbial 'diamond in the rough'. However, there is a saying among my people: 'even a diamond must be polished'. With some training, that inherit talent can become real skill."

Leita heaved a sigh, rubbing at her forehead lightly. "Only, I am not allowed to train now."

Colja gave another laugh. "I merely heard the Mistress say that it was fortunate that you didn't need any, not that you were forbidden from receiving it."

Leita blinked at him. "What about my..." She started, lightly prodding the dark bruise that was currently connecting her eyebrows together.

"We will have to be careful for the first couple of days, but there are simply things I can show you." He replied, giving a little nod. "Proper stances and ways of holding a weapon. That shouldn't be a problem."

Leita looked at the aljin with utter gratitude. "Thank you, Colja. I...I wasn't sure if you felt the same way as Kalder did."

"I assure you that Kalder doesn't feel the way you believe he does." He replied cryptically. "His issues with you have nothing to do with you."

Leita peered at him, expecting him to explain further, but when he didn't, she decided it better to let the subject drop. "Do you think I will be good enough to defend my life again, without much training?" She asked him as they reached the bottom floor.

The aljin gave another laugh. "I doubt your life will be much in jeopardy, aiest'ja. Only certain kinds of fights are meant to result in death. Those sorts of fights are not the kind the Mistress is likely to put you in, so fresh in the stable."

"Isn't death still a common thing in the arena?" Leita asked, though she felt a small flush of relief. While she'd already somewhat realized that not everyone died from the fights, she'd still assumed that was meant to be the usual aim.

Colja laughed again, even harder now. "No, aiesta'ja, many fights do not even result in bloodshed. What you did to Kalder on the pitch today would have been considered a win for many matches. It would be expensive indeed if the Mistress were having to constantly replace her stable."

He paused, turning to face her, his demeanor sobering. "Though that does not mean that even the most modest fight might not result in a mortal blow. However, I would not expect the Mistress to place you in something that is likely to kill you so soon after buying you."

"Because she thinks I have potential?" Leita asked.

Colja's grin took in his whole face. "Because she paid far too much for you to throw it away. Now go inside." He pointed to a door they had come to. "We can get you washed up in here."

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Sabrina Marlowe watched the girl and her two gladiators step out of the office, off-handedly running a hand over her prized pet's cage. Settling into the fine suede chair at her desk, she leaned back into the lush padding and mulled quietly over this incredibly surprising little ash-girl. She'd been led to believe the little mouse was nothing more than just some meek little slip of a thing. That she'd be eager to rush back to a scrub-brush and pail and disappear into the woodwork.

At least, that had been how the Baroness Farah Wilholme had described her. Of course, the Baroness was notorious for seeing only what she wanted to see and lacking any real grip on a reality that didn't revolve around her.

Sabrina had 'befriended' Farah long ago, less because she had any love for the nasty woman than because a woman only really gained power in this world through collecting powerful friends. While the Baroness had no real power, her husband had more than enough influence to be worth putting up with her. Thus, Sabrina had been one of the people that the Baroness had confided in about her botched attempt to 'teach her husband a lesson'.

Sabrina had learned of the whole foolish plan to have Cornelius Venge get one of his gladiators to utter debauch and murder her on the sands, as well as the massive prize she'd set on the girl's lot for a kill. It seemed almost laughable that the girl had completely foiled the plot with some lucky knife throw. At the very least, it had meant that the Baroness's three hundred crescent had been returned to her, since the terms had been unfulfilled.

"Your first mistake was taking such a task to a man." She'd told her over tea the morning after the debacle. "Men have little mind for subtlety and finesse. Of course, your second mistake was being in such a rush to just have her destroyed."

In truth, she doubted that he'd have even cared, or ever noticed, the girl disappearing from the household, much less whether she'd suffered some cruel fate. More likely, the loss of three hundred gold coins would hurt him more than that of some slave girl, but Farah's wrath had to go somewhere, as she was completely unwilling to chance having him cut her off. So she'd focused that wrath on someone she could pretend meant something to him.

Farah sat up a little straighter, looking a little insulted. "Are you saying I shouldn't have punished the little bitch?" She fumed.

"Of course not, dear." Sabrina laughed, adding another drop of honey to her tea. "Just that nothing done well is done rushed, darling. You want her to be a message to Graham, correct? To him, she was just a faceless wet hole. I'm sorry for the crudeness, dear, but it is true. If he'd even seen it, he'd have not have even recognized her as someone significant."

She tested the tea, finding it to be to her liking and gave it a nod. "No, just having her die as some lot wouldn't teach him anything. Wouldn't teach her anything either. You want her to suffer, darling, and you need to make her suffer for longer than a few dark minutes."

Farah took a sip of her own tea, peering at her 'friend' with interest. "What would you have done?"

"I will do it one better, darling, and tell you what I can NOW do." Sabrina leaned forward, a wicked grin on her face. "Give me the three hundred gold coins that you intended to give up to see her ruined. I can use that to make sure I am able to procure her for my House at auction. You were going to lose it anyway."

Farah gave an incredulous laugh. "Why would you want her as a gladiator? She's just some housemaid! The sniveling little thing is just a timid child grown too pretty. She'd probably be in constant terror forced to..." She paused, leaning back as the idea struck her, a smile slowly dawning. "Go on."

"Exactly, darling." Sabrina said, snagging up a tea biscuit. "The training alone will be a torture for her. Small and fragile as she looks, Kalder will instantly hate her. I can use that to make sure he keeps her in constant pain. And then, I start putting her in fights, not to die. Not immediately. Fights meant to see her battered and hurt, humiliated over and again. More, it will let her build up a bit of a name, a reputation for getting defiled and abused. The crowds love to see pain, darling. Soon, everyone will know her. If she actually manages to scrape out an off win or two, all the better to keep her some attention."

She had dangled the biscuit in front of her mouth a moment then, looking Farah meaningfully in the eyes as she spoke. "And once she has your husband's attention..." She'd then snapped her teeth through the pastry, snipping it in half, and slowly started chewing.

Only, that plan was already starting to go awry.

She'd already set Kalder against her before the girl had even arrived, describing her as some weak little child. She'd told him to just send her straight to the kitchens, not to even give her a chance. The expectation had been that she would rush straight out of the yard, grateful for the chance to just go back to being faceless. It would allow Sabrina a reason to whip her immediately, use the point that Kalder had no say in where she went.

Instead, she'd refused to relent to him. Had stood her ground and even knocked Kalder down. Even more, his brutality seemed to only make her more focused. She'd watched the whole drama of the yard unfold from above, saw her refuse to stay down. Even standing in her office, drenched in defeat, the aura of strength the girl had was palpable.

Even worse, she had actual talent; a natural gift for combat. Sabrina was starting to realize why Donovan Solivir had actually wanted her. While most owners learned enough of weapons and martial skill to be able to recognize who had potential and who didn't, Solivir had lived the life of a gladiator, knew the art of combat as intimately as a lover.

If she was honest, his interest should have been her first real clue that this girl was more than she seemed. She'd expected Venge to try and purchase her for his own petty revenge, had already expected him to be competition for buying the girl. Solivir's interest had vexed her. He wouldn't bother with such a small girl if he believed her victory was nothing but a lucky shot.

However, she'd already invested herself to the plan by then. Not to mention that she would have to return the three hundred gold coins if she'd failed to purchase her. She had expected to use only a third of it, certain that the worth of Cornelious's vengeance wouldn't go much past seventy crescent. However, Solivir's attention had inspired her to go overboard, just to be sure. It wasn't really her money anyway and she still came out richer of the remaining one hundred in gold.