Tests - A Dark Sun Very Short Story

With a heart as heavy as a burl of agafari wood, Carn left his master’s office to find Zarnian. As he strode to her usual haunt, the open area behind the gladiator’s training arena, he heard her before seeing her. At eight dust storm seasons, Zarnian had a loud, infectious laugh that made her the darling of House Nagarath. He could hear other small voices, and as he came into view he could see Zarnian with several of the other slave children playing with a ball in the dust. The sight tightened his throat and halted his steps. Disappearing into the impotent shade of a slave shack he watched them play a moment longer. The young mul could always win these games if she wished. Already she had more grace and strength than many human men would ever have, but she often allowed the others to win. For her, this was about having fun. Suddenly, a boy kicked the ball away from her best friend, a house girl named Nir. Zarnian tackled the boy with no effort, tossing the ball back to the little dark haired human. He had to do this sometime. Watching his daughter play would only make the task harder. Swallowing back pride and tears he stepped into view.

Instantly the children stopped their game, not for fear, but respect. Carn gave them what he could, never beat them or even raised a hand to them, yet he still wore the mantel of Nibenay’s gladiator champion like a cloak. “Hi Carn!” Zarnian jumped off the boy she was pinning to the ground and rushed over to give him a hug. She only knew him as her teacher, but she loved him like a parent regardless. “Did you come to play? We could use a goalie.” 

When she looked up with her wide jade eyes, he almost said yes. Instead, he remembered who he was and what he had to do to save his child. “I can’t. I know your training is supposed to be done for the day, but I have one more task for you.”

“Ok!” she agreed easily with a swing of her top knot. Running over to a nearby building she retrieved her spear from where she leaned it, then raced back to her mentor.

He led her away from the others before dropping down on his knee so he could look her in the eye. His throat closed again when he realized he would not have to do that much longer. With a loving hand on one of her shoulders he explained, “Zarnian, Master Nagarath has something he needs you to do. He needs you to fight one of the new men in the ring.”

She nodded vigorously, her smile getting much larger. “That sounds like fun. I can do that.”

The burl in his chest grew more twisted, harder. His next words cut deeper than any sword in the arena had. “Zarnian, this is a fight to the death. You have to kill him. If you don’t…” his voice caught and broke. He squeezed her shoulder tighter.

 

‘Master’ Nagarath leaned over his desk, his hands tented in contemplation. “I’ve allowed you to raise Zarnian like a normal child. Perhaps too much. My wife thinks you should have used the whip to make her hard for the arena.”

“Master,” the former Champion fought to keep his voice even, respectful. His daughter’s life and safety rested on his words. “We agreed that the way to train Zarnian may be unconventional. Yet, the girl trains because she loves it. She works harder than any other gladiator I have to lash.”

“She is a gladiator. She will fight and die in the ring, yet, she runs around with the other slave children smiling and laughing as if she were a pampered house girl.”Because she is just a girl, Carn groused, but kept the thought tightly to himself. “Those new slaves I bought?”

“Yes, Master.”

“This afternoon, she will fight one to the death. Today she will be bloodied, which should cause my wife to be silenced for at least at a week, or she will be the most expensive mistake of my life. “He shrugged. “One of us will be right. Now so get the girl. She fights in an hour.”

 

“You will fight, but you have to concentrate. Use what I have taught you.” He placed his free hand over hers , curling her fingers tighter around the spear. “You will win.”

She nodded sagely, the smile fading from her face for the first time he could remember. The girl was trying her best to look brave, capable. “I’m ready.” He was not sure she was. His only other option was to try and fight his way out with her.  He likely would not win and she would die a much slower death than the one she was facing now. Taking her hand, he stood and walked her to the ring.

Inside was a man. He possessed that title by the loosest definition of the word. Starved, wild, he tested the spear in his hands as he paced. Zarnian was almost his size, and had been training in the arena for two years. She had been training two years before that. Master Nagarath sat in the stands, watching. Carn gave the girl’s hand one last squeeze, then gave her a gentle push forward into the arena.

Zarnian tightened her hold on her spear, took a breath, then blew it out. Her hands steadied. Looking her opponent in the eye, she assessed him. He was a skeleton with skin, his eyes wild but full of rage. He would hurt her, but she could see the pain in his eyes. Carn had pain in his. The skeleton man lunged at her. She turned his blow away with her spear, trusting forward into an opening he left. Blood welled on his arm. He howled, stabbing with no technique. Ducking, she missed the blow. Spinning, Zarnian managed to find the perfect opening sinking her spear into the man’s emaciated chest. His last act was to spit blood in her face. In the stands, she could hear a few weak claps from Master Nagarath. Her hands were shaking. Once the master was gone Carn walked in, wrapping his arms around her, the slave’s still cooling body at her feet. The frown deepened, her eyebrows knit together. Then, Carn looked down, smiling. Looking up, Zarnian looked up, for a moment older than her years. At the sight of her mentor, her face softened, finally forming a smile.

Carn looked down at that smile, etching it into his mind. His daughter was safe for now. She had her first kill, but still found a way to smile. He prayed to all the elements she would never stop, that he would never see that frown rest upon her face again.