Walking that narrow low - ceiled corridor became a main part of the Celtic's life just like breathing air or drinking and eating. The feelings of disgust and humiliation he endured while treading it during his first battles gradually diminished, replaced by nothingness, the unawareness that accompanies performing a habit or a subconscious reaction. There at the gloomy end through which the light crept feebly, the fog of an uncertain outcome slowly dissipated into a one acceptable outcome battle after battle; victory. In addition to his usual armor, Diarmuid wore arms and legs bands, and a helmet that Sextus had insisted upon along a shield despite the Celtic's voiced protests to what he considered an unnecessary caution that only served to undermine his skills. To make up for his warrior's unhidden dissatisfaction and since it was unwise to tread into battles with a lousy mood, he allowed him the choice of weapon instead of the huge swords Sextus usually suggested and armed the Celtic with and Diarmuid accepted the offer, grinning as he knew beforehand that his choice will annoy Sextus and leave him uneasy.
"This won't save you today."
The older man calmly commented, trying hardly to contain his nervousness and worry that palliated upon seeing the long shaft his favorite warrior had chosen from among the set of various weapons ranging in size and efficiency from daggers to swords and chains laid at a table in the corner of the corridor. He was already on his toes sweating with the various scenarios this battle can end with, one of glory and fame, the others of shame and defeat. The fact that thousands of people, men, women, even children had already filled the arena adding to his turmoil and thrill at the same time. It was a hug event indeed, the houses of the city left unattended, all its residents eager to see the governor's unmatched soldier. When Sextus received no answer, his warrior still scanning the weaponry, he repeated his words knowing he had to handle the situation carefully and professionally like a parent talking his kid out of making a wrong decision and prompting him to let go of his most favorite toy.
"I know."
The Celtic casually answered taking another lance, a shorter and lighter one though he was not satisfied by the length.
"A reservoir? I don't like this. It doesn't seem convenient to me."
"No, it is another weapon."
Sextus goggled at his self - assured gladiator. Though necessary, overconfidence was also a deadly mistake hindering winning and the Celtic seemed to be overflowing with it. Well, he definitely never failed the audience and his expectations, nevertheless, this was still a fight different from the previous ones.
"Can you balance two spears at the same time in the face of that vicious animal? He is quick and witted like…"
Diarmuid turned at the worried man, a devious smile different from his usual proud one igniting his sharp features with more beauty and power. Sextus did not want to force his will on the slave before the battle and risk upsetting him and distorting his will to fight.
"Show me then!"
Sextus said landing two hands on the Celtic's shoulders strongly embracing them within his grip before he turned to the exit but he was stopped be the slave behind him.
"Say Sextus, if I win this fight, will you give me my freedom?"
Sextus remained silent, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He was aware of the truth that the Celtic wasn't fighting for his owner's sake, nor to accumulate personal glory although he quickly and successfully managed to. in the end of the day he was an enslaved knight fighting to gain his freedom. Sextus had freed many before him, they justly deserved this reward, but this one was like no other… would he ever be able to let go of him?
"I will consider it."
The arena's owner answered with a lying smile, once again fearing his reply might affect the Celtic's fighting spirit but the latter didn't say anything. He kind of expected this reply; Sextus still needed him, he would not let go of him that easily so he only needed to work harder to earn his freedom and perhaps today with these two lances dancing in his hands he will force the man into releasing him, bewitching him by his strength and talent, making him yield to his rightful demand.
***
Loud trumpets and drums blew strongly harmonizing a glorious tone suited to a triumphant leader, but the person this music was dedicated to his arrival, was no such, at least in his people's eyes. Their reaction to the golden elegantly decorated chariot passing steadily through the grand entrance and to the spruce blond male waving from it at them was so ashen in contrast to the glamorous arrival. The attenders stood up, waved and cheered a little, cheers devoid of any real affection or respect, merely because they were supposed to do so. However, the blond did not seem affected by the people's lack of enthusiasm about his person. Confidently, he descended from his carriage and went to his royal balcony, surrounded by his counselors and soldiers.
Sextus stood in the middle of the arena saluting the governor then the audience, promising both a delightful hair – graying battle and boasting how he had never failed to arrange for their amusement the best games and performances. After his short speech, he retreated to his own balcony to allow the two foes to face each other.
Naturally, the emperor's warrior was to come in first. A majestic aura radiated from the ferocious beast, surpassing that of the frail governor himself, it was so awe - inspiring it left the people stricken by fear for seconds before they burst with shouts and cheers. Then, the Celtic gladiator stepped in receiving no less huge acclaim. The new armor made the covered robust muscles look more formidable and alluring, equipped with a lance in his hand and another tugged on his back. The bronze eyes lurked partially hidden behind the helmet like cursed gems threatening to inflame everything they fell upon. These bright eyes met an equal golden ones staring with the same power and intimidation. Thick locks of fur surrounded the fearless face of the Celtic's opponent, like a crown proclaiming in a burning blaze his authority and strength. Opposite the erectly standing gladiator, the foe stood on four stretching his neck, he grimace revealing a keen row of teeth each equaling in length and sharpness the tip of the Celtic's spears.
Before the Celtic gladiator stood a lion like no other.
The king's size was enormous, like tying three chariots together, his bared fangs glowed under the sun like steel and plowed the earth beneath them shattering the rocks and gravel of the fighting ground while leaving trails deep as a trench. Waving his long tail, it stirred the air around it like a giant hurricane as his roar deafened the attending masses.
"A lance again? He even brought a reservoir."
The governor straightened in his seat after leaning forward to have a closer look at the gladiator. Laurentius, standing a step behind the governor's chair explained insouciantly .
"I heard some tales from the soldiers who fought in the lands of Britain that he fought with similar weapons. It seems he was a renowned lancer back there. "
"And will be a dead one here."
The governor sneered smiling proudly at his "Chiba". The passion he held toward the animal was well known across the city, having befriended the beast since he was little. The counselor remarked, not attempting to hide his sarcasm when he saw the overconfidence his superior had placed in his "friend and companion":
"You declared this to be a fight to the death, and that Celtic always manages to surprise the audience by pulling something up his sleeves in the last minutes."
"Then let him surprise me!"
The governor answered with a grin but his utter trust in his companion
and pet slammed him back on the face just after few minutes of the battle commencement.
At the sign to begin the fight, Chiba, just like the king he is, took the first advance without hesitation and attacked the Celtic gladiator who avoided him with his mere swiftness and instinctive reactions. He thought of exhausting the animal then changed his mind. if any of the two were to tire first, it would be him and not his foe. Subsequently, the tip of the held spear began moving as well, swarming around the huge hulk resembling a fly only capable of leaving stings, meaningless in pain and in damage as it confronted the barrier of thick skin and sturdy fur. The gladiator scowled at his failed attempts and its consecution irritated the beast. Chiba stretched his limbs and roared dashing toward the fool creature testing his tolerance and might, a promise of death evident in his eyes. Jumping in the air, the lion stretched his right forelimb to strike the wretched insolent.
The spectators gasped in anticipation, although there weren't many things to expect. A strike delivered with such power and resolution was enough to chop down a giant tree, not to mention a mere human.
But that was never the case with the Celtic lancer.
Two tips glowed under the noon sun, one plunged forcefully in extended enormous extremity bent on crushing the warrior, and another drawn before the attendants could track the movement, slashing the same offensive limb, drawing a pained growl from the lion as he collapsed to the side to avoid deepening the stab to his forelimb. Twirling in his place, the lancer quickly jumped back pulling the first spear so it would not be crushed under the beast's weight.
"The lucky bastard, if he had not got that second spear he would be split into two by now!"
The governor gritted his teeth, bitter at the sight of his beloved friend licking his wounded arm.
Seeking revenge for the offense, the lion's eyes blazed with malice as they fell on the Celtic. Almost immediately after the first attack, Chiba barged forward again in a speed and furiousness that rendered any attempt by the gladiator to dodge futile, they did not permit him any time to think of a move other than jumping spontaneously and rolling on the ground ungracefully but this did save him as the claws that barely touched the helmet still managed to crack it in two.
The lion exhaled breaths that stormed the dust beneath him as he turned around searching for the insolent man who was still kneeling on the ground dizzy from the violent strike. Seeing how the pitiful prey had succeeded in avoiding his revengeful strike, Chiba attempted another instantly with the same speed and strength, even waving his injured arm in a gest of mockery at his opponent, showing him that this wound matters nothing, and that such insolence to a king will not be tolerated and will be dearly paid for. This silent message blazing in the animal's stares reached Diarmuid loud and clear as he had incurred a similar royal rampage before. Despite the dire situation, the knight mused to himself in amusement that this lion was not the first king he had offended and humiliated, and just as he had succeeded in encountering the first's wrath and escape it, he shall do the same now.
Diarmuid slowly stood regaining his balance. Holding a spear in each hand, h tilted his head to the side, bronze eyes narrowing to study the foe's movement. At the right moment, he flashed forward as well. The governor watched losing his interest, calling the move a suicidal and futile attempt, while the spectators hailed their courageous hero.
Matching the beast's briskness and furiousness and with the same elegance, the two lances unfolded around the Celtic's body like a pair of wings, lightly and dizzily fluttering along the Celtic's dancing body as they stabbed the opponent's body in various spots. Chiba staggered unable to decide where the strokes came from, aimlessly waving his forelimbs in the air. Irritation began to overcome the beast, he roared louder and angrier swinging his limbs agitatedly until he found an open space through which he jumped back escaping the spot the lancer had encircled him in.
Like the god of thunder, Diarmuid always succeeded in drawing thunderous applause from his audience that filled the vacant space. Even the governor whose representative in this battle was almost defeated in the last attack, could not but stare bewildered by the unique technique he had never witnessed anything similar to it before. Even Laurentius who could not care less about the ongoing battle remarked:
"This is peerless indeed."
The governor glanced at his counselor annoyed by the truth his comment held. He tapped on his chair arm confidently challenging:
"I have to admit this too. However, don't forget dear Laurentius, that Chiba has not even started yet."
A reply like this to a similar situation would have sounded as nothing more than a child bragging for the sake of being stubborn but it was true enough, and the counselor knew this very well.
"That idiot is provoking a king's wrath!"
The young blond smiled, eyes shifting to the arena again and waiting that wrath to befall his friend's enemy.
There at the battleground, Chiba was forced to retreat few steps back coiling around himself and licking the wounds his tongue could reach. Normally, the move the lancer made would have, if not killed, drained the enemy's strength and cast him to exhaustion, but this foe was not an ordinary one, such attacks affected him but not to the supposed and desired degree. In fact, it was the lancer who started to pant, shoulders shivering a little due to the great amount of effort he had put to keep up with his enemy and encircle him. Chiba raised his golden eyes to the balcony, specifically to the blond figure smiling warmly at him and as if drawing power from the strange - colored irises, he outspread his body and growled still looking at the frail governor who widened his smile at his friend who had just promised him victory like he always does. The lancer's sharp instinct told him to stand at his toes, but it was useless this time. Before the latter could blink, the lion had turned darting at his target as if riding the wind, jaw fully open and claws overtly aimed, despite his unparalleled agility, Diarmuid was left with no time to dodge faced by this miraculous speed, and before he could get his two spears at their right positions, the shorter one was plucked flying in the air and landing at the opposite end of the arena, and the second shaft started cracking as it struggled to hold back against the lion's weight. The gladiator cursed under his breaths biting his lips in pain, feeling his arm tendons about to tear, he held the spear with both hands to no avail. There was no way he could block such huge creature with a single cracking weapon and his own physical power that was starting to drain. Chiba leaned forward adding more weight to his attack and on the gladiator's injured muscles, finally slashing the man with his left claws. The Celtic's body staggered back, his eyes widened in surprise and immeasurable agony and were quickly blinded by the blood that splattered everywhere like a fountain from the crescent - shaped wound.
The gladiator collapsed down but not before he summoned the last of his strength, launching as he fell toward the lion's breast and delivering a direct stab to the beast as he fell at his feet forcing the beast once again to retreat, though in lesser pain than his own, delaying the latter's intention of ripping him apart for few seconds.
***
The pain was immense, the wound felt like the slashes of an entire army inflicted on a single man. The bright redness that filled the lancer's vision turned slowly into darkness as immobility trickled into every muscle and sense, paralyzing them with a firm grip.
Was it all over?
But there was still that promise.
Really, compared to this pain and the eternal rest that promised to befall the anguished body at any moment now, that promise mattered little.
He had went through a lot, it was enough already. At least he won't be forced to put up with the humiliation he bore every day being reduced from a proud knight to a slave and from an honorable warrior into a gladiator.
Even with his dimming mind, Diarmuid knew these thoughts were the thoughts of a coward and a traitor who was willing to abandon a friend to escape the hardships this friendship brought.
But was he still able to keep his promise?
"This hurts me, Diarmuid."
Suddenly, the dark void was filled with a pure light, and everything turned white.
Was this death? If it was, then it was far warmer and appealing than what the Celtic had expected.
A figure appeared.
"Don't you desire to see me again?"
Maroon hair enchantingly fluttered in the wind revealing the beautiful face it hid. Deep eyes stared at the lancer wherever he was, warming the body he could no longer feel with the untainted passion they held. Rosy lips sighed at the pain of of their beloved, birthing life with their breaths into his fading soul and consciousness. Tears like pearls adorning an ivory crown were shed curing the gruesome wound like a magical psalm made of faithfulness and fidelity.
Just how disloyal can he get? Leaving her waiting every night in suffering under fickle starts that had once avowed to their promises of love, choosing now to give up and escape to the embrace of death? Diarmuid looked with an aching heart at her unreachable figure, even in his death vision he could not touch her and pledge his love one last time.
Was there anything left for him to accomplish in his current condition? Was there anything he could look forward to?
"I am sorry Grainne. In the end, I have failed you."
Was the only thing he could offer her crying eyes.
"Are you telling me not to wait for your return, my knight?"
This address brought a transient smile to his lips, labored by the mere act of inhaling and exhaling. She had never stopped calling him "my knight" for he was her savior,
her beloved and her only knight.
"I am no longer a knight. Thus, I no longer deserve your affection. I cannot save you
anymore."
Diarmuid declared lamentingly, their fate was never meant to be a happy one. A running princess and a traitorous knight. They had both betrayed the man who had always been good to them, severing the bond of friendship and comradery in the name of a soaring bond, one of love and passion.
"Not if I save you now."
An expression of wonder befell the lancer's bloodied face. Grainne went on with a reassuring smile.
"You're still my knight, you've always been my knight alone."
The words sounded selfish but that had always been there promise, the knot that held together their thread of destiny.
"Maybe you are no longer a knight that serves a king or defends a tribe but no matter how bottomless the abyss you have fallen to, you can always be the knight that serves me and defends me against illusions."
Did these words even mean anything now?
Though not spoken, his question reached her, and her tears no longer fell upon him as they scattered away be a sudden blowing breeze. Her eyes wondered the light aimlessly, her breaths sharply inhaled in sorrow.
Hurt and disappointment, the same fear she wore on her wedding night was drawn once again on her beautiful face.
"Grainne…"
The lancer tried to call her, but his voice no longer echoed. It was a frightening feeling, as if the void had begun to devour him.
"You don't want this!"
The former princess exclaimed pained at the sight of her beloved. Apparently something horrible was happening to him, something only her eyes could see and the fading remnants of his senses could feel.
"Look at me! Accept to be my knight again!"
Diarmuid's eyes flowed with tears, he truly wished he could accept but he was truly tired, seeking an eternal rest even if it was obtained shamefully by giving up and surrendering.
"Don't refuse…"
The anguished woman pleaded, helplessly extending her hand as she sobbed through the rest of her words.
"I won't be there, nothing will wait you there!"
Her delicate arm that extended through a dreadful darkness was warmly held, gently enveloped by the weakened grip of her lover. Grainne opened her closed eyes, hope shining in them once again as tears flew this time with happiness, the sadness and fears dominating them vanishing.
He was there, feeling every inch of his body and every ounce of pain, but he was feeling something at least.
Grainne wiped her tears, and smiled. He shall be her knight forever.
"I am the only thing that you can look forward to, I am the only thing that can keep you alive, I am the meaning to your existence despite what purpose it claims!"
Diarmuid felt Grainne's hand tighten around his in an usual strength and determination. It was her voice indeed, but lacking her caring tone. He met her shimmering gaze, but devoid of their kind warmness. They held so much passion, but somehow it was different from the passion they proclaimed their feelings and endured its consequences with.
"I am waiting, my knight."
Grainne let go of his hand, and the lancer found himself standing on his feet once more, clutching his weapon and ignoring the pain.
Arrogantly, the bronze eyes that had just defied death stared at the golden ones challenging them as if the wound in his chest and the blood still seeping out of it were nothing but a lie.
Grainne was no longer there, but she was still waiting, her voice growing distant the more the knight regained his grip on his surroundings.
"There, beyond the sun beams weaved of lies, I exist and there where I am waiting for you."
***
The governor crossed his arms, a sincere smile of admiration blessing his features. He acknowledged the Celtic gladiator to be no ordinary.
"He is a man who knows how to struggle, thus how to live. I can't tell if this is something to be praised or pitied."
The counselor commented loud enough for the governor to hear. The latter sneered, amused by the lancer's struggle, it was as if the heavens were actively opposing his counselor.
"I am beginning to wander if the "just punishment" you wanted to inflict on him would even work on such a man!"
Laurentius chose not to reply on the mockery. He was struggling enough to put up with the shouts of the astonished admiring spectators who were cheering for a murderer and did not wish to indulge his lord any further.
Now, the two fighters were playing cat and mouse; Chiba the lion attacking fruitlessly and the gladiator shifting positions and dodging for the time being. The game kept this pace for a prolonged period that the audience started to get bored and fidget in its seats.
"He doesn't have any power left to stab, he is merely delaying his demise."
The blond stated waiting his lion to deliver the final strike not for the sake of victory, but for the sake of his friend who was bleeding for more than an hour, from different wounds. He had already ordered the doctor to prepare his medical equipment.
The two opponents were starting to lose their balance, and unfortunately for them the battle did not seem to end any time soon. It reached a point where Chiba arched his back wrestling with the gladiator beneath him while Sextus pulled at his hair from where he sat, praying the governor will get bored and declare the match a draw.
"Those Celts are quite fearsome. They are no different than wild animals."
The governor eyed the counselor who made this comment, a different older man than Laurentius. His eyes observed the counselor in disdain. Was the one who arranges such battles and watches them excitedly any different as well?
"You have an invalid definition of wildness."
The blond said innocently then turned to see what was happening down in the arena, leaving the counselor pondering what he meant.
Wrestling the beast was not a sound idea, especially with the grave wound across his chest, but Diarmuid could not remember when the battle had taken such a direction. However, as they rolled on the ground, he was getting closer and closer to the end of the arena. Before his battered body could be tossed across the wall, he pulled himself from under the animal's bulk grasping the second lance that laid there unforgotten. The lancer stood holding his two spears once again, but Chiba was not threatened, he was bent on plucking the two blades along the man holding them but this was not the lancer's plan.
Vexed by the multiple wounds he had received, and agitated by the ruthless hunger the smell of blood stirred in him, the lion lunched his final attack but the man he was running toward was no longer there. The spectators watched struck with wonder as the lancer, using the still intact spear as a support, jumped in the air evading the attack and landing unceremoniously at the monster's back, plucking the spear from the ground while Chiba ran crazed across the arena trying to toss the man who held strongly to his mane down to the ground to smash him. The lancer had but one moment before he was doomed to lose his balance and head, embracing it with one final mad attack. He let go of the mane extending his arms around the beast's neck as he crossed his two spears, and slashed the animal's neck in a x sign.
As if a freezing whiff went through his spine, the governor bolted from his seat gasping loudly at the sight of his trusted companion, his loyal unmatched guardian, staggering and falling on his side, his neck muscles bared and his veins and arteries seeping like fountains of crimson watering the barren land.
The lancer was no in better condition falling along the beast and rolling until he hit a wall.
Laurentius shook his head at the exaggerated reaction of his superior, the latter looked as if he had just lost his own child, and the rest of the entourage secretly sneered at the shock of their lord. But not a single soul in the stadium cared for the governor's dismay. As if bewitched, everyone in the arena stood and hailed the unmatched mighty warrior; the man who single handedly defeated the furious lion king; the lancer.