The fortress felt different on arena days.
Chris noticed it the moment he opened his eyes. The slaves were quieter. The guards walked faster.
He got up and stretched.
His ribs still ached from the Bolt Face but that was yesterday's problem. Today's problem was bigger. He walked toward the water barrels and splashed his face. The water was cold.
'Worn Face. Full settlement. i think i probably a normal human should be scared'
Harsk was waiting by the yard gate. He did not look worried.
"A Worn Face has no crack," Harsk said. No greeting. "You cannot exploit a weakness in something that has already broken and healed. The power is bone now. Part of them. You will not find a gap."
"So I'm going to lose."
"So you have to fight different. You do not fight the power itself. You fight the person wearing it. Everyone has something that makes them hesitate. Find that."
Chris considered this. Harsk was telling him to find a psychological weakness in a fully settled opponent. That was not reassuring.
Harsk stepped onto the sand. The yard was empty this early. Just the two of them in the gray morning light.
"Hit me."
Chris swung immediately like he's been waiting for the chance. Harsk was not there. He was behind Chris, one gentle hand on Chris's shoulder. "A Worn Face does not think about the power. The power thinks for them. Your body will not react faster than mine. You cannot win by being better. You win by being unexpected."
Chris turned around. Harsk was already ten feet away. He had not seen the old man move.
'Unexpected. I can work with unexpected. sometimes my actions ate unexpected even to me'
They brought him to the holding pen beneath the arena. A cell with bars and sand on the floor and walls covered with blood.
Chris did not look at the blood. He looked through the bars at the other cell across the corridor.
His opponent was sitting on the stone bench with his eyes closed. Big man. Not very tall but really Wide.
His skin had a grayish tint that was not skin anymore. Stone Face. The Worn version. The power had gone all the way through him and settled into his bones.
He opened his eyes. They were gray too. He just looked at Chris without interest.
'i fought a stone face before. I'm going to be fine. That's completely .... no. That's bad. That's very bad.'
The footsteps came from the corridor.
Commander Voss appeared at the bars. His iron-colored eyes found Chris immediately.
"You will perform well today." It was not encouragement. It was pure instruction. "The Warlord has invested interest in your survival. Do not make him regret it."
then he walked away. Chris watched him go .
The corridor led up. The light got brighter. The noise got louder. Then the gates opened and Chris walked out into the arena and the noise hit him from every side, hundreds of voices, and the warmth came with it, fast and urgent and hungry.
The arena was much bigger than the practice yard.
The crowd filled the tiers, nobles in the lower seats, soldiers above, slaves at the top where the view was bad.
Maren sat in the throne alcove ,one hand on the arm of his chair. He did not look bored.
The Stone Face walked out from the opposite gate. The crowd roared for him. They knew him. This was not his first bout. He moved slowly, each step landing heavy.
The bell rang.
Chris did what he did. He danced around, postured, made a show of cracking his knuckles and then his neck and then his back.
The crowd laughed. The warmth came. He felt strong.
The Stone Face walked toward him. Chris threw a punch. Nothing. He threw another. The man's face did not change.
The gray eyes did not flicker. The crowd's laughter started to thin. The warmth wavered.
Chris hit him with a right hook. His fist connected and pain shot up his arm and the Stone Face had not moved. Not even an inch.
The Stone Face hit him once. Just once. An open palm to the chest. Chris left the ground. He hit the sand five feet back and the air left his lungs and the warmth flickered and the crowd went silent.
'That's what a Worn Face hits like. Okay. Noted. Would have preferred to learn that verbally.'
He got up fast. Before the crowd could settle into the idea that he was finished. He circled. The Stone Face turned with him, patient, no urgency. Chris grabbed a handful of sand and threw it. The Stone Face closed his eyes for half a second. The sand bounced off his eyelids. He opened them. Unbothered.
Chris went low, diving at the man's knees. He hit stone. His shoulder screamed. The Stone Face reached down and picked him up by the collar, one handed, and threw him. Chris skidded across the arena. The warmth was barely there now.
The crowd was not laughing. they were watching a man get beaten, and there was nothing funny about it.
He lay in the sand and stared at the sky. His shoulder was on fire. His chest ached where the palm had landed.
The warmth was almost gone completely.
There was still a little. The crowd was still there. They were just quiet.
They needed a reason to laugh. Not with him. At something. At someone.
Chris got up.
He looked at the Stone Face and then at the crowd and then back at the Stone Face. He put his hands on his hips.
"Now i understand why they say that you shouldn't argue with a wall since you aren't getting a solution, well fighting with it is worse"
he gathered some laughs. The warmth grew. The Stone Face's expression did not change. But he was bothered a Little, after all the crowd was laughing at him.
'There it is. He does not mind being hit. He minds being laughed at. That is his person. That is the thing Harsk told me to find.'
Chris kept talking. He talked while he circled and he talked while he dodged and he talked every time the Stone Face swung at him and missed.
The crowd was laughing harder with each insult.
The warmth surged through him,
The Stone Face charged. Chris stepped aside and slapped the back of the man's head as he went past. The crowd howled. The Stone Face turned, furious, off balance for the first time, and Chris was already there, sweeping his legs. The man went down. The ground shook. Chris jumped on his back and grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him and the Stone Face bucked and Chris held on, talking the whole time, voice carrying across the arena.
"DO YOU YIELD? BECAUSE HONESTLY I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY. WELL. MAYBE ANOTHER TWO MINUTES. BUT THAT IS MORE THAN ENOUGH TO BREAK YOUR STONE ARM!"
The Stone Face yielded. The crowd erupted. The warmth was everywhere and Chris was standing in the middle of the arena with blood on his mouth and sand in his hair and his arms raised and the grin on his face.
Then he saw Maren. The Warlord was standing.
Looking down at the sand with an expression Chris could not read from this distance.
but did not need to, because the warmth had already gone after seeing the warlord.
Voss was writing on his tablet. Smiling.
Chris walked toward the gate. His legs were shaking. The crowd was still roaring for him.
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A/N: I hope you enjoy this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.