Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos by Cameron Hopkin (children's ebooks free online .txt) 📕

instead he stood stock still, his hand extended in that perfect punch, and the big man was reeling. It defied the laws of nature – yet there he stood, unmoved.

Shaking off his surprise, Khraam moved in with more care. Renna grimaced and balled her fists. She had hoped that the juices flowing from his implants would make him blind with the need to destroy. Not so – he circled cautiously, unwilling to close with his opponent again. She realized that the weaponless Gamarron was at a disadvantage: so long as Khraam kept his distance, he could do nothing. Grinning, the giant pulled a lacquered wooden dagger from his belt with one hand and lifted his great stone sword in the other, keeping the savage in front of him, not taking any chances. He made broad one-handed sweeps from one side and then the other, forcing the gnarled old man back from the tip of his blade.

His reach was phenomenal. Gamarron backpedaled, reading the trajectory of the blade and moving out of its path with each sweep. When he tried to dart at the big man between blows, Khraam pushed him back by poking at him with his off-hand dagger. Visibly frustrated, Gamarron retreated, the sharp obsidian edges of the massive sword mere millimeters from his flesh time and again.

Then his back thumped against the wall of the arena, and there was nowhere left to go. His eyes widened in surprise, and Khraam lunged for him with the dagger, trying to pin him to the wall. Gamarron spun aside, but the sharp tip of the blade dug into his back as he flung himself away, drawing a line of bright red from spine to shoulder blade. He cried out in pain, and the crowd screamed its approval. First blood! Renna clutched at her chest, wondering if this was what heart failure felt like. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. What kind of masochist comes to these things for fun? Of course, the average grunter didn’t have their future and a sizable fortune balanced on the outcome, so perhaps her anxiety was justifiable.

Gamarron scampered out of reach, off-balance and bleeding from the long cut. His opponent pivoted, swinging his huge blade, and it seemed mere luck that the edge connected with the horns of Gamarron’s helmet rather than taking off the top of his head. A horn sheared off and the helmet went flying into the stands, leaving a gash over Gamarron’s eyebrow as it went. A fight broke out where the helmet landed as the common folk scrambled for the souvenir.

The giant didn’t let up. He lumbered after the staggering savage, landing a hammering boot heel in the smaller man’s kidney. The force of the blow spun Gamarron around and sent him to one knee. Renna leapt to her feet in fear, unable to do anything, watching her future die. I shouldn’t have sent him down there. This is my fault.

Sensing a killing blow in the offing, everyone else got on their feet as well, yelling encouragement if they had bet on Khraam or prayers if they hadn’t. The hulking brute discarded his dagger and swung his sword double-handed, bringing it directly down toward the head of his kneeling, disoriented opponent. That sword will go all the way through him. I’ve never seen someone cut someone in half lengthwise. Renna had no desire see it, but she couldn’t look away.

The stone blade whistled through the air and stopped dead fifteen centimeters from Gamarron’s face. “He caught the blade,” she whispered into the sudden stillness of the arena. Then again, in a full-throated yell that cut through the crowd’s confused murmurs: “He caught the blade!” Confusion changed to awe and then joy as the common folk stamped their feet and waved their arms with abandon. On the sands below, the giant’s face was twisted with disbelief. The palms of the savage’s hands were pressed against either side of the blade. Somehow – somehow – the smaller man had clapped his hands together at just the right moment with untold force and halted it midswing. The gladiator was putting all his weight and strength against the hilt, but the weapon did not move. The men sitting near Renna were jumping and whooping as if they had lost their minds. She hardly even noticed. How can he do these things? She needed to have a long talk with that old man very soon.

With a strangled grunt, Khraam reversed his force on the sword, trying to pull it free. The savage held the blade in place for just a moment as if to prove his strength, and then opened his hands wide, letting the trapped weapon free. The big fighter stumbled backward, overbalanced by his own strength. Gamarron rose to his feet with all the inevitability of the tide, advancing on the giant before he could gather himself. The gladiator swung his sword wildly as he backpedaled, but the edge whistled high over the savage’s head. He didn’t even have to duck. On he came, implacable as death itself. The gladiator tried to shove at him with his free hand, but Gamarron slid aside, latching onto Khraam’s forearm with both hands and bringing the meaty limb sharply down across his knees. The crowd ooohed in sympathy as bones cracked and the big man screamed.

To his credit, the veteran fighter did not crumple or give up. He lowered his shoulder and bulled into Gamarron, trying to drive him into the ground. The wiry old man stutter-stepped to keep his feet as the heavier Khraam pressed forward, then with sinuous grace he planted one foot and twisted his hips, throwing the big man’s bulk up and over his shoulder. The behemoth sailed through the air, landing on his back with an audible crash. The shouts for Gamarron were deafening now.

Khraam scrambled to his feet, but the savage was all over him, knocking his blade aside, landing blow after blow to the larger man’s face and body.