Nukzos wiped his sweaty forehead with a cloth. For him, it wasn’t just the humid jungle air, but the enormous tension. He wasn’t sure how to interpret the trolls’ constant mood. “You’re one of them!” he said. "Trolls love it when you show absolute dominance! So make it quick and brutal! Leave no doubt that you are our best!”
“Without an introduction?” Blood Tusk murmured back muffled. He was wearing a trollish war mask.
“Absolutely not!” Nukzos denied firmly. “Nothing that could mock or anger them. They’re quick to take things like that seriously!”
“I understand.”
“Do you really understand? Absolutely, definitely?”
“I come, I kill, I go.”
“Perfect!” Nukzos breathed out in relief. Earlier, he had also assured himself several times with the troll tribes that Blood Tusk’s outfit would not offend anyone. In the pit of flesh, a little troll show went down well, but here, one wrong brushstroke on the armor could end in a pool of blood. “Go on then, now! Make me rich!”
Certainly the onset of near-dead silence from the troll spectators was hard to interpret as Blood Tusk entered the circle of tears. He didn’t look at any of his fellow trolls and stood in the middle of the painted triangle.
The only ones who showed any real reaction were the whelps of about 5 to 10 years old. They were still too young and gave free rein to their childish innocence, marveling and cheering at this gigantic troll.
However, Blood Tusk didn’t even then look into the ranks of the spectators before the joyful sounds of quietly reprimanding parents were silenced.
“The last test for today!” announced the Baldslayer Jatal Zuzal. Unlike the previous fights, he wished the candidates the best. “May the tiki show you their benevolence!”
At the seat of the Riverfangs Jatal, one of Ine’kata’s trusted females leaned over and whispered, “Unclean or not, that’s a fine specimen of a troll.”
“Don’t forget dead,” Ine’kata said softly, hopefully.
“Spoilsport. All the more reason for me to memorize these contours. They do make you wet.”
" ... a little bit,” Ine’kata couldn’t help but say. “But now shht.”
“This dark fur,” Khojun murmured, focused. “I don’t know any tribe in the Diamond Jungle that looks like that. Almost as if its dark skin and plum would expose its impure darkness for all to see.”
“Don’t worry,” Tok’Moji said assuredly, but it had brought him out of his relaxed sitting posture as well. “We’ve made sure that the strongest possible examinees compete in this round.”
“Made sure? Stones are drawn, aren’t they? Anything else would be against the rules and the will of the tiki. The trials are meant to sift out the weak.”
“Let me put it another way - the other Jatals and I encouraged these examinees to take their places. I’m sure Meneka looked on benevolently as they asked other examinees for their stones.”
“Mhh, that’s true. We got the tiki’s blessing to start.”
Tok’Moji nodded in satisfaction. “You see? So watch and enjoy the victory. I don’t even care who wins this round, as long as one examinee wins.”
In the square, Blood Tusk stood with his head held high and his bisento placed on the ground. From here, he had a much better view of the waterfall he had marveled at so much from the puck camp. He wondered if anyone had ever climbed up this wall and where the endless water came from. It must be empty at some point.
All three examinees were already in position around the giant. They were all seasoned warriors and you could clearly see that. Each of them wore a war mask with the markings of their tribe staring through their eyes. Their legs were tense and their heels were already raised, ready to attack at the starting signal.
Blood Tusk’s muscles were already tense themselves, and despite his obvious bulk, he made minimal movements. He prepared himself, but not to defend himself and let his feet slide further apart. He clutched the center of his polearm with both hands and lowered the huge blade head.
“Begin!” shouted Zazul and all three examinees advanced towards the gladiator.
It was all one fluid movement from Blood Tusk. He drove the tip of the Bisento’s blade into the sand and tore the weapon through the ground in a semicircle in front of him.
Clods of dirt flew and an immense cloud of dust immediately slowed down the two frontline combatants.
The spectators held their breath, for it was simply unbelievable to them that this troll giant was so fast.
Blood Tusk did not stop his momentum, however, but turned 180 degrees and finished the move by running off.
His opponent, a Baldslayer, who had previously been standing at his back, was completely surprised by this tactic and not only did he stop abruptly. With his morningstar club crowned with a skull, he backed away and tried to defend himself.
However, the reach of Blood Tusk’s bisento, coupled with his targeted, powerful thrusts and swings, gave him the clear upper hand. When the gladiator performed an uppercut with his polearm, it disarmed his opponent and he brought his knee up.
The Baldslayer wore a protective doublet and yet the knee strike to the stomach alone almost killed him. Blood burst from his mouth and he fell to both knees.
Blood Tusk slammed the hilt of his weapon down on his enemy’s neck before stepping behind him and driving the blade through his back.
There was still no word from the spectator stands and only now did the cloud of dust settle on the remaining examinees. They watched appraisingly as the gladiator effortlessly pushed the dead Baldslayer in front of him with the blade in his back like a shield, while the defeated examinee clutched his morning star in a death grip.
Again, the Venomsnake warrior squinted over at the river fang beast and he gave a curt nod towards the gladiator. He then grabbed a couple of throwing axes from his thigh and threw them very accurately at the giant, but he blocked the attacks with his dead body.
However, the Riverfangs warrior saw his chance and attempted an attack, equipped with a diamond-shaped spiked shield and a handy axe. His plan was brought to an abrupt end, however, when the dead Baldslayer was thrown at him and he was buried by it.
The Venomsnake found himself facing the gladiator alone with a long spear. He was not easily taken by surprise and began a brief exchange of blows with the giant. However, his spearhead was inferior to the large blade in that he could only thrust, while the Bisento could also be used like a sword thanks to its blade shape. However, the Venomsnake managed to thunder the middle part of its pole against that of the Bisento, so that the weapons were now pressed against each other.
This supposed stalemate forced Blood Tusk to exert some muscle power, but he was not pushed back a millimetre, nor was he in any danger.
The Venomsnake, on the other hand, gave its all and growled aggressively. Its fur stood up completely, soaked with beads of sweat and its muscles pumped up to the limit.
Warned of impending danger, Blood Tusk’s ears twitched. He could only guess, but not see, how the Riverfang freed itself from the body lying on top of it and stood up. Without further ado, the giant gave way with his pole by turning his body to the side. At the same time, he pointed the handle end of his bisento at the ground as the examinee stumbled forward in front of him. The Venomsnake caught on the pointed pommel of the pole weapon, allowing the gladiator to yank it upwards at breakneck speed, causing the examinee to perform a double somersault.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The Venomsnake escaped the deathblow, however, as the Riverfangs warrior was on the spot and engaged the unclean troll in the next skirmish. He showed considerable attack speed with his combination of axe strikes, shield block and shield thrusts.
This time, the length of Blood Tusk’s bisento was not an advantage, as his opponent was much more agile and flexible in terms of movement and weapons. For the gladiator, this meant defending and retreating until the right moment.
As the Riverfangs examinee thrust his shield forward energetically, the powerfully wielded blade of Bisento crashed into him. The impact of both objects shook the shield violently, but it remained intact. The same could not be said of the hand and the entire arm of the examinee.
The shuddering, marrow-piercing cracking and breaking of the bones could be heard more than clearly and there were many spectators who unconsciously grabbed their own arms and legs, feeling as if something was breaking.
Overwhelmed by the pain, the Riverfangs warrior could only see the Bisento’s blade hurtling towards him from above. It cut its way from his head to his stomach.
Blood Tusk received many a splash from the onset of the red fountain, while an insidious attack loomed at his back.
The last examinee looked horrified and one fear was greater than that of dying. It was to die against this unclean troll, who had apparently been abandoned by the tiki. What would that mean for him after his death? This fear drove him to an all-out attack, throwing his spear and charging. He would use the dead Baldslayer as a jumping aid and grab its dropped morning star.
The sound was minimal, but Blood Tusk could hear something cutting the air: hastily, he spun around and swatted incoming spears aside with his weapon.
The Venomsnake had long been halfway in the air and, roaring belligerently, he swung the morning star straight from his back.
There it was, the moment Blood Tusk was once again confronted with his possible death, only he didn’t just feel no fear. He was completely detached from a - what happens afterwards - because all that mattered to him was the now. The attack situation was clearly against him, so he changed the situation in his favor. The giant made a backward knee strike, simultaneously raising his bisento upwards and thrusting.
The steel pierced the front of the Venomsnake. He vomited a pool of blood onto the gladiator and dropped his weapon. Though he fumbled for the polearm he was hanging on, it was only the last movements of disbelief from him. “How?” he gasped too quietly for the onlookers to hear. “Tiki, why?”
How, why, tiki. At least Blood Tusk had an answer to the how and why, but he spared it. Tiki? That was as meaningless to him as the safe answers and he continued Nukzos instruction - show dominance, but don’t put on a show. Blood Tusk straightened up again and did more than just lift the impaled examinee higher. The gladiator slid his hands to the end of his long bisento and raised it straight up above him. Sweat soaked his dark fur, but he didn’t even have a scratch on him
The Venomsnakes blood covered the entire polearm and flowed down it in one go. All life drained out of the eyes and muscles of the test subject as he hung on the blade, his blood dripping like rain onto the gladiator.
Nukzos, meanwhile, was a nervous wreck, not knowing whether to rejoice or wet his pants. “That’s it, that’s it,” he swallowed quietly. “But stop it now! Drop it already, you giant idiot!”
The troll spectators, however, were far from angry: intimidated, doubt, competitive, secret admiration, mating urge. These were just a few of the words for their inner reactions.
“Now put him down!” Nukzos cursed to himself and plucked out a few strands of hair.
Blood Tusk had held his opponent up imposingly to show his superiority. In some trolls’ minds, however, other scenarios were playing out, as if the gladiator was handing the tiki himself a sacrifice to heaven, even if that was not his intention, and finally he finished it. He smashed the dead man to the ground and without giving the spectators a glance, the giant left the ritual site.
Khojun leaned towards his leader. “Jatal, he must die!” the champion said quietly. “Let me finish it!”
He had been so confident before, when three good candidates had entered the ring. Now Tok’Moji didn’t quite know how to react, so he submitted to the troll religion. “The tiki ... wanted it this way. We must obey the laws or face dire consequences.”
“I am ready to incur the wrath of the tiki! For our tribe!”
“Khojun, be silent!” Tok’Moji ordered sternly. “Breaking the law will probably affect us all, regardless of whether you are willing to sacrifice yourself and take all the blame. The tiki decide guilt, not you!”
The champion didn’t say anything back and watched as the unclean troll left the ritual site with his kind.
“I’ll hold a ritual later, just to be sure,” said High Priest Banjhan. Of course, he didn’t express his doubts openly, so he sold them as prudence. “This situation is really not that easy to answer and new signs must always be interpreted, for the tiki can be capricious. Perhaps the spirits know what to do and maybe Meneka will give me an answer. I need a worthy sacrifice, my Jatal.”
“We still have two king alligators in stock,” Tok’Moji nodded. “Take one for yourself. I would like to save the other for our victory celebration.”
Banjhan had some trouble straightening his old bones before he humbly walked away. “That is very generous. Thank you, my Jatal.”
The remaining males also left the place of honor one by one, the females leaving as a group, except for one. “It’s over,” Ine’kata said. “Are you coming?”
“What for?” the female high priest murmured guardedly. “An evening, like so many.”
“Well, but we’re celebrating the end of the first day of exams. That could be fun, couldn’t it Suara?”
“While my guy inhales smoke in a tent for once more hours and surely all night,” Suara replied distastefully before putting on a fake smile. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Mhh alright,” Ine’kata nodded and she left the place with the rest. “I do feel a little sorry for her sometimes. Her male may be the High Priest, but I’d bite my Jatal’s cock off if he neglected me that much.”
Silly giggled one of the accompanying females. “Where’s the punishment if the cock grows back?”
“Well, he couldn′t fuck for a while, but I’d be spoiled for choice.”
“And you’d be full, wouldn’t you? There’d be plenty to chew on.”
“Hihi, there might be more,” Ine’kata smirked until she was well away from the ritual site.
Suara paused there, staring at all the spilled blood and the dead that were simply left there. She knew why that was. Let the vultures feast on the worthless flesh, because no one would even bother to throw these dishonored warriors into the jungle.
Quite a while passed before a mature female voice announced from the side. “Sometimes life is full of surprises, isn’t it?”
“Huh?” blinked Suara. She looked to the side and had to raise her neck a little, because the female there was a bit taller. “Are you talking about the trials?”
“I’m talking about the last fight, like so many,” Zu’ji smirked calculatingly. She nodded towards the seat next to the female high priest before she was given permission to sit down. “Though I know that’s not what’s keeping you here. At least not mostly.”
“You seem to know a lot,” Suara replied simply. She too had sought the herb witch’s help before, but since she served the all-seeing serpent, she had to keep a certain distance. “How come?”
“I am a clever female,” Zu’ji said proudly, albeit with a pinch of warmth. “But I also owe a lot of what I know to Haruk’Zil. Nothing escapes the all-seeing serpent if you open yourself completely and surrender to it.”
“No, you wouldn’t approach the high priest’s wife so simply and try to win me over to Haruk’Zil?”
“I would never do that, forgive me,” Zu’ji bowed her head. Of course she had a plan, although she would never turn down potential new followers. “I’m used to talking to trolls, who I have to remind of the nature of the all-seeing serpent. That certainly doesn’t include the honorable female high priest.”
“Then why do you seek me out while I’m sitting alone like this?”
“Because, even if some people like to forget it, I am also a woman,” Zu’ji mentioned sincerely and compassionately. That she lived alone had been a conscious choice, though. “Tiki be blessed, but I don’t need the all-seeing snake to see your loneliness.”
Briefly, Suara felt caught out, which was why she looked away from the herb witch. “My loneliness, eh?”
“Wisdom and truths are often harsh, unfortunately,” Zu’ji said. Her tone remained sympathetic, but she was not afraid to speak frankly. “Lonely, unloved, even ignored, unsatisfied and after years without a blessing from your womb. Yet I of all people know how fertile you are.”
That was an extremely sore point, and not just for Suara. To remain permanently without offspring or even to be barren was considered one of the greatest punishments and taboos among the trolls. That’s why she puffed her reply quietly and warningly. “Keep talking like that and I’ll have your insolent tongue served to me on a platter after a group of our lowliest warriors rape you.”
Zu’ji paused, but not out of fear. She lifted the corner of her mouth, because that was exactly the reaction she had wanted: vulnerable, angry and aroused. “You could do that,” she admitted calmly. “But it wouldn’t change anything, whereas I ... could and would like to help you.”
Suara still looked to the side, but curiosity caught one of her eyes. “What are you talking about? You tried it once, with your tincture. It didn’t help at all.”
“But only because Banjhan dared to mate with virgin females of just 18 midsummers instead of his bonded female. From what I heard, the tincture was more than effective, even if none of the three gave birth to a whelp.”
“It had been for Meneka,” Suara recalled audibly, frustrated. “Banjhan proved his power by claiming females for himself and thus Meneka.”
“Of course, for Meneka,” Zu’ji repeated dryly. She placed her hand gently on the shoulder of the neglected female priest. “And now he will beg answers from her all night without you. Your loyalty is truly admirable. Some females are not so tolerant or seek my advice and then I tell them not to be so tolerant and to take what they want.”
“How dare you ask me to cheat on my mate?” Suara growled softly and she pressed her fingers into her short skirt so hard that it penetrated her skin through the fabric.
“Meneka doesn’t just look favorably on males who take what they want,” Zu’ji countered and instead of her shoulder, she gently placed her hand on her tense fingers. “But no, I don’t want to encourage you to betray him. I meant it - I want to help you and by helping you, you and I are helping the whole tribe.”
This statement was simply too tantalizing and mysterious for Suara to ignore. “And how is helping me helping all? It almost sounds like the wisdom of the all-seeing serpent is speaking from you.”
“Haruk’Zil is indeed part of my aid,” Zu’ji admitted. Now she could move forward with her plan, acting intimate and familiar. “Let me explain, and if you dislike my proposal, I will give you a knife myself so that you can cut out my tongue as compensation.”
