The Alpha's decree was a slap that shattered the peace of the cavern with a crude decree. A duel to the death for the title of War General. The words hung in the air with the promise of blood and the scent of revolution for the clan.
Grummok had played his part with the drama and lumbered back to his throne then he gestured for his warriors to cut Nym free. The net was sliced away off her and she stumbled to her feet, bruised and shaken but alive. Her intelligent eyes immediately scanned and found Ruk, she gave him a look of gratitude, fear and awe.
Bor with a mask of fury was escorted away by his cronies. He shot one last glare at Ruk that promised a slow death in the pit.
The crowd slowly began to disperse, their voices a buzzing murmur as they talked about the evening's chaotic events. Ruk was ignoring the stares and the whispers as he walked over to Nym.
He said nothing.
He simply offered her his hand and she reached out and took it, her fingers cold and trembling. He led her away from the center of the cavern and from the prying eyes with wagging tongues. He led her to the relative safety of his alcove.
It was the first time she had been inside his small home. It was a sparse reflection of its owner with a bed of furs, a small neat pile of hunting tools and a collection of strange glowing fungi arranged on a rock shelf. It was the home of a hunter and a provider of the deep earth.
"You are a fool!" she said with a trembling whisper. It was the first thing she had said since her capture... "A magnificent and utterly suicidal fool."
"I am alivethough" Ruk replied in the storm of her emotions. "And so are you... For now that is enough Nym"
He gently pushed her down onto the bed of furs and examined her wrists and ankles which were raw and bleeding from the tight ropes of the net. He said nothing, but his movements were precise as he cleaned the wounds with a damp cloth. It was a strange intimacy, a moment of quiet tenderness in a world of brutal violence.
"He would have killed me" Nym whispered as she cried. "He would have thrown me to the Grawlers and the clan… they would have let him"
"Bor is a symptom of a diseas" Ruk said as he worked on her dressings. "The disease is the old way and the belief that strength is the only thing that matters. That fear is the only tool of leadership that I am fighting tomorrow. Not just Bor, but the idea oh him"
Nym stared at him with her mind struggling to process the sheer scale of his ambition. He wasn't just trying to survive or trying to climb the ladder. He was trying to burn the ladder down and build a new one in its place.
Before she could reply to him, a shadow fell across the entrance to the alcove... It was Grasha. She entered without a word as her presence filled the small space with an energy. She looked at Nym with pity and respect. She looked at Ruk and her eyes filled with a new understanding.
"The two of you have made quite a mess" she said. It was not an accusation but a statement of… admiration.
The three of them were together for the first time and alone. The provider, the spymaster, and the queen. It was a council of war and a meeting of the revolution.
"You have forced his hand whelp" Grasha said with her gaze fixed on Ruk. "You have backed him into a corner and now he has no choice but to kill you now. Not just for the title but for his pride and he will not hold back against you. He will not show mercy to make an example of you"
"I know" Ruk said in steady beat of the tense silence.
"He is twice your size" Nym said with an urgent whisper. "He has the strength of a cave bear and the hide of a rock lizard. His club can shatter stone and break a shield wall. I have seen him kill a dozen warriors in the pits without breaking a sweat! How can you possibly hope to defeat him?"
It was the question that hung in the air like a terrifying truth. Ruk was a hunter and a creature of the shadows. He was not a pit fighter and he was about to go up against a sledgehammer.
Ruk looked at his two allies and at the fear and the hope that glared in their eyes. He knew that he owed them the truth or at least a part of it.
"I am not going to fight him directly" Ruk said. "I am going to hunt him in his own game"
They stared at him.
"The pit is not the deep tunnels Ruk" Grasha said. "There is nowhere to hide or to run. It is an open space and a stage for a slaughter"
"Every stage has its curtains" Ruk replied with a smile spreading across his face. "Every open space has its shadows, I cannot match his strength or his endurance. If I try to fight him on his terms I will die. So I am not going to fight him on his terms, I am going to fight him on mine!"
He didn't explain anything to them or reveal his plan. He let the mystery feed there fear. He needed them to trust him for not his strength, but for his mind and thinking skills.
Grasha was the first to understand what he ment. She saw the cold light in his eyes. She nodded with a gesture of gratitude to him.
"You are full of surprises Ruk" she replied, her voice filled with admiration. "I am beginning to think that I have underestimated you"
She reached into a small leather pouch at her belt and produced a small clay vial sealed with wax. "This" she said "is a gift from my personal collection. It is a potent fast acting stimulant distilled from the venom of the Crimson Spur Centipede. It will sharpen your senses and quicken your reflexes and numb your pain. This will be your edge against the brute."
She placed the vial in his hand and it was warm to the touch. "But be warned" she said with an urgent command. "The price on your body is high. It will burn through your stamina at an alarming rate and leave you exhausted, vulnerable and on the verge of collapse. It is a final gambit. Only use it only when you have no other choice"
"Thank you Grasha" Ruk replied with a sense of gratitude for the gift. He tucked the vial safely into his belt and now had a plan with a contingency.
Nym, who had been listening to this exchange with a fearful silence finally spoke up. "There is one more thing" she said. "Bor has a weakness that only I know"
Ruk and Grasha turned to her with expressions of surprise and anticipation.
"He has only one eye" Nym said. "The other was lost in a fight with a cave lion when he was a whelp and he sees it as a mark of his strength for his survival. But it is a blind spot in his perception and leaves him vulnerable on his left side. He overcompensates by turning his head constantly, but it is a weakness nonetheless. A fast strike from his blind side… it could be the opening you need"
It was the final piece of the puzzle. Nym the spymaster, had just given him the single most valuable piece of information he could have ever hoped for.
"Thank you Nym" Ruk said with respect. "You may have just saved my life"
The two females left his alcove, their parting words a mix of hope and fear. "Survive Ruk" Grasha had said as she walked away. "The future of this tribe depends on it" Nym had simply squeezed his hand and her eyes saying more than words ever could to him.
Ruk was alone.
The cavern was quiet now with the fires burning low, the clan lost in a fitful sleep. But Ruk did not sleep tonight instead he prepared.
He sharpened Grasha's dagger until its edge was a blade of death. He checked the balance of his flint knife, and the weight of his leather wrapped shield. He consumed a carefully selected cocktail of fungi. He felt the potent rush of energy as the chemicals flooded his system.
He did not practice his moves.
He was not a warrior preparing for a fight. He was preparing for a kill and stripping away the emotion to becoming the weapon.
Hours passed by fast. The fires died down to embers and the cavern was in a deep darkness and then, he felt it. A subtle shift in the air, the first faint hint of dawn.
A low echo began through the cavern with a single drum beat, struck with a slow rhythm. It was the sound of judgment and sound of death. It was the call to the pit.
Ruk opened his eyes and rose to his feet with his mind a shard of ice. He picked up his weapons and walked out of his alcove. He went to meet his destiny and the age of the brute was about to come to a bloody, violent, and permanent end.