“Ah yes, welcome, LaMogre,” Urik folded his arms, his mouth curling into a delighted sneer, “teach Donimede a lesson or two…and see what your knighthood quest has cost another.” He looked back at Suvau who was kneeling on the ground, his shoulders bent and his hands over his face. “Listen closely, Maul…for your master is about to discover the only true value any of your people have to offer.”

  Suvau’s face was coated with salt from his tears, his skin dry and his eyes, red and gritty. He could hear the chant, the roar of the crowd, calling forth Judd LaMogre.

  Even if Judd had not been able to hear the herald, the dust falling from the beams and stone above his head as the crowd stomped their feet and called out his name would have told him it was time to finish his quest. He made sure his helmet was firmly fastened, slapped his heavy double-edged sword, clutched his ancient Terra hilted blade and checked the weight of the shield on his left arm. He was ready for whatever faced him and when Donimede tried anything, Judd refused to be shocked or surprised.

  There was nothing he could throw at him that would stop Judd from completing his quest.

  Aalis cringed at the shouts and war cries from the crowd then the soldiers and guards nearly sparked into a frenzy as Judd walked into view from beneath the centre of the balcony. He strode out confidently, his dark brown, curling locks contained by his helmet, his armour fitted well, his shield strapped onto his left arm while his right held his custom sword and thrust it into the air. Tied around his wrist was a dark red handkerchief, a splash of colour against the metal of his armour. Judd turned around on the uneven ground and each of the balconies he looked at shouted and cheered all the louder when he was facing them.

  Then…for a moment…he froze. His eyes flitted to the base of one of the pillars and his jaw fell open. Aalis could feel the horror as if it was her own as he stepped towards the balcony, arms falling by his side.

  “What is it?” Giordi whispered. “I can’t see!”

  Aalis couldn’t either but the scent of blood and fear in the Arena and Suvau’s warnings about Fort Mavour suddenly culminated in a terrible revelation. She paled to deathly white and clapped her hand over her mouth, fearing the worst.

  The bloodied, lifeless body of the Maul lay crumpled on the ground. He had been lying there for long enough that his blood had congealed on the stone, a light layer of dust sprinkled over the top of it. Judd stood staring at the Maul, hysterical fear snapping at his reason. He had to repeat over and over that the man he could see was not Suvau.

  But even that brought little comfort.

  “Blood,” Judd breathed, staggering backwards, “monsters smell blood…”

  He looked up at the balcony and felt rather than saw Donimede’s eyes on him. Judd’s resolve was deserting him, his legs were shaking, his hands too and he was in danger of dropping his sword and howling curses at the knight.

  “What…has my knighthood…cost?”

  “Raise the gate!”

  The metal gate yawned wide, creaking as it lifted. Judd could hear the heavy footsteps of a monster stomping towards him, deep grunts of effort as the beast reached the Arena, called by the scent of blood.

  However, it wasn’t a monster of Maul that had killed the poor soul that had drawn it to him…

  …but it was a monster nonetheless.

  The minotaur huffed hard through a jaw that could bite Judd in half like a twig, one deliberate step at a time yet Judd did not turn towards it, unable to wrench his eyes from the corpse.

  Then slowly, deliberately, he turned towards the minotaur, his mouth turned down.

  “Bring it on!”

  “That’s a minotaur?” Giordi gulped.

  “Hold your tongue,” Verne said sharply, “do not give any reason for those watching to think we doubt Judd’s ability.”

  It was hard not to let their jaws fall open and their knuckles to whiten in a terrified grasp of their seats at the sight of one of the most ferocious monsters to come out of Maul. It was a bull mashed together with a human but whatever remained of the human had been almost wholly and completely consumed by the bull. It stood like a man with its huge hind quarters holding it upright. Its feet were large cloven hooves, crushing stones to powder as it thudded beneath the gate. From the waist down, it was covered in thick, shaggy hair, not unlike the beasts the nomads hunted for food, covering its loins but leaving its chest, which was humanoid, bare. It was built like two Suvaus, muscular and thick yet with a litheness that the ogre Judd had originally fought had not possessed. Its arms and hands were a man’s too but only one who was so powerful it could crush a man’s skull in one fist. Atop the brawny and male torso was the head of the bull, a strong snot with blunt, thick teeth, black lips, a shaggy beard and hair around its dark eyes. Protruding from the sides of its head were white horns, curved up at the ends like a nobleman’s moustache into which he had spent far too much time twirling around his fingers. It stood at eight feet tall and while shorter than some monsters, the minotaur did not barge mindlessly, its knuckles cracking as it stomped into the Arena.

  It knew Judd was there but the minotaur’s eyes flickered to the balcony.

  Verne sword softly. “It knows we’re here.”

  “And here I was hoping it was a dumb animal.” Giordi breathed. “All the songs in the world do not give credence to this monster’s might.”

  Aalis felt the beast’s eyes rest a split second longer on her than anyone else. Though imperceivable and unnoticeable, she pulled her hood close around her face, frightened someone would wonder what the minotaur was looking at.

  At Judd’s rather jocular war cry, the minotaur’s eyes snapped back to him and a snarl curled at the corner of its lips. Its huge fists clenched and it snorted hair from its snout. As if unable to resist the beast’s instincts, or perhaps knowing just how terrifying a charging bull could be, the minotaur bent down, its eyes locked onto Judd…and it charged.

  Going against good sense and reason, Judd ran towards it, kicking his feet out and going into a slide right beneath the minotaur’s belly, so fast, the minotaur only clipped him with a hoof, the clang ringing out in the Arena. Judd darted to his feet and spun around, the crowd beginning to shout his name as the minotaur turned and looked down at the gash on his abdomen. While not a fatal blow, green blood dripped from the wound. The minotaur scraped it into its hand and sniffed it. Its eyes were like javelins, hurtling towards Judd and a growl so deep, it was as though the belly of the world was trembling.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The message was clear.

  I will not underestimate you again.

  Urik chuckled, needing to stand on tip toe to see through the window in the door that led to the Arena.

  “First blood goes to your LaMogre…well, first monster blood,” he smirked over his shoulder, “isn’t it ironic that the man you served who was on his noble quest for knighthood would require the sacrifice of your people to obtain it? Let’s face it,” Urik looked back at Suvau, “you might be human…but you’re nothing more than bait.”

  Suvau’s fists were so tight he thought the sinews in his arms might snap. He rocked on his knees, never minding the pain in his skin after being on the stone floor all night. He could only imagine the broken remains of an old man who had never been able to taste the freedom Suvau had tried to give.

  His stubbornness had pushed Urik into this debased and deplorable act…

  …an act which would not be necessary if the knighthood quest had not been proposed and accepted.

  On his knees, Suvau began to realise just who the true enemy was.

  Not for the first time did Judd send a silent thank you to Oster Agress for the gift of his armour. It burst out of him like an instinctual prayer as the minotaur caught him in the chest in a lucky blow when Judd had misjudged the beast’s motion. He struck the wall and dropped to the ground, forcing himself to his feet, knowing the minotaur would already be thundering towards him.

  Unfortunately he couldn’t determine which direction it was coming from as the crowd was stomping and cheering and calling his name. Judd made a split second call and dashed to the left, hearing a crash and the groan of the wall as the minotaur rammed into it, its horns stabbing deep into the stone. It had to wrench itself free with such force that a sizable part of its right horn broke off.

  Judd might have spared the briefest moment of thought to that fragment of horn, imagining that it would make an excellent piece of proof for Caste to collect afterwards to go in the knighthood box.

  Suddenly mallet sized fists were flying at him and he had to drop and roll, scrambling to get out of the way of the hooves of the minotaur as it stomped, missing turning him into pulp by the barest margins. Judd managed to dash behind a pillar and, while no one could see him, smacked himself on the helmet.

  “Kill it first, then collect the trophy!” He snapped at himself. “Concentrate!”

  Verne had told himself that he would keep an eye on Donimede for the duration of the battle…but in the heat of the moment, Verne found that rather difficult to do. While Judd was holding his own and quite well in fact, there had been a couple of very close calls where his skill might be outmatched by the minotaur’s brute strength and speed. Verne wouldn’t have admitted it out loud but was very aware that a misstep, a stumble…even a defensive stance when he should have been aggressive, could be the end of Judd and Verne doubted that even his sharp eye and sharper arrows would be enough to save him.

  In the mad craze when no one was paying attention to anything other than the mighty battle below, Verne had taken his bow into his hand, an arrow already caught between his fingers.

  When the crowd shouted in unison and half stood to their feet as Judd managed to cause the minotaur to stumble, clipping its calf as it slammed into the metal gates, Giordi crowed and said,

  “Come on Judd, glory and honour awaits!”

  Not sure if he was reminded that there was one person who wouldn’t share Giordi’s sentiment, or if the dark and malevolent thread of animosity of their host irritated his finely honed sense of imminent attack, Verne turned his head to look at Sir Donimede. He was somewhat obscured by the waving handkerchiefs and fists pumping into the air but when the crowd sank back down from their most recent thrill, Verne caught sight of Cantor Donimede’s expression.

  It had just been grim, Verne might have forgiven the knight of being concerned for Judd’s safety or of a dozen other things he ought to be worried about. But the way a nerve tweaked in his lip and how his eyebrows didn’t lift with surprise or wonder as Judd fought both valiantly and skilfully told Verne a very different, a very angry story.

  Verne began to wonder, if Judd did survive the monster in the Arena, if he wouldn’t have to face another monster on the balcony.

  Judd had entered the red haze of battle. He couldn’t hear the crowd anymore. Not their chants, their cheers, their shouts or even the stomping of their feet. Killing something for sport or for a knighthood was no longer in his mind. Whatever the motivation he had when he entered the Arena, or whatever those watching him thought he was doing this for were gone. It was Judd LaMogre against a minotaur and there would be no surrender, no hesitation or compromise. The monster was there to kill him without partiality and Judd had reached the point where he realised that he had to do the same...which propelled Judd into strategy.

  Dust showered from the balcony’s floor onto him as he darted around the pillars, gaining a little headway. He continued the method around each of the pillars, making sure the minotaur could see him until the last pillar where he doubled back, coming up behind the minotaur as it stepped out from beneath the balcony into full view, huffing and panting…and bemused that Judd had apparently disappeared.

  It would take it the briefest of seconds to realise that the only place Judd could have disappeared to would be around the pillar again. But just as it began to turn, Judd was already putting one boot on a ledge of broken stone, the next braced against a chunk jutting out from the pillar and leapt onto the minotaur’s back.

  Though Judd mightn’t have been as heavy as a minotaur, in his armour he was no slight weight and the beast staggered forwards, swinging itself around, batting at Judd, trying to get a hold of him. But before it could get a good grip, Judd used his knees and thighs, which were strengthened from riding Xenon the way the nomads did, to push himself up, raised his sword and rammed it down through the back of the minotaur’s neck, into its chest, all the way up to the hilt.

  And then the minotaur, which had been trying to drag Judd off, went absolutely mad. It howled and bellowed, bucking and throwing itself about. Judd’s hands flew off the hilt so he grabbed the minotaur’s remaining horn and held on, sure his bones were snapping from the force of the monster’s death throes of fury. It tossed itself about then finally slammed its back against a wall over and over again. Judd was so winded from the first blow and dazed from where his helmet, while protecting his head, was not the soft cushion he desperately wanted it to be, could not stop the force of the minotaur.

  As if it could somehow reverse the blade’s deep and fatal penetration, the minotaur bashed itself against the wall until it pressed hard against it, spasming violently, its bloody hands raised and its snout howling like a banshee…

  …then fell forwards, fully dead before it hit the stone.

  Judd, no longer held against the wall, dropped to his feet and could not stop himself from staggering like a drunk. He put his hand out and pushed himself back upright. He breathed heavily, staring at the minotaur that didn’t even twitch. No, all its twitching had been in the form of trying to embed Judd into the wall until there was no way to tell where he ended and the wall began.

  But now it was silent.

  And not just the minotaur.

  As Judd walked shakily over to the beast, he wondered if the silence meant he’d been rendered deaf from the beating. He leaned down and, grasping his sword, his first two fingers hooked around the hilt so that his hand wouldn’t just slide off from all the blood, dragged the blade out of the minotaur and thrust it into the air.

  And suddenly he wasn’t deaf anymore. The Arena thundered and roared to such an extent that anyone with half a mind to worry might have taken a step back from the front of the balcony, worried it would collapse from the force of the adulation. Thankfully it remained upright as every single person watching stood to their feet and applauded, cheered and screamed their praises, bellowing his name.

  Judd pushed back his helmet, grasping it in his hand, his dark curls plastered over his head in sweat soaked disarray and gazed at the crowd, a little dazed and not fully comprehending what had just happened.

  However, in the cacophony, he began to hear something familiar chanted, over and over and over until all the spectators started to catch on and join in the cry.

  “LaMogre! LaMogre! LaMogre!”

  “He’s done it,” Giordi turned to Aalis whose eyes were about as pale as they could be, “Aalis…he’s done it!” Aalis nodded and Giordi, swept up in the adoration of the crowd, got to his feet and joined in. “LaMogre! LaMogre!”

  Verne heard Giordi and glanced at him, shaking his head at the minstrel’s joyful proclamation. Yet as his head shook, Verne caught sight of Sir Donimede. He was not looking into the Arena but rather, off to the side. His hand was at his chin and his fingers lightly scraped down his unshaven cheek, the slightest gesture along with a shallow nod.

  Verne could not see who or what he was nodding at but when the gate began to rise slowly, the creaking of the gear, the counter weights groaning as they dropped, lifting the metal up and lost in the roar of the crowd, Verne realised what it meant.

  “He’s going to ambush Judd…” Verne grabbed Giordi and shook him out of his exaltations. “Giordi! Judd needs us…now!”