《Galal: Horde Master》Galal 6

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The talker had not come in a while. No one did. Only once since he killed the armored animal did he show up, and then only to measure his body. Four meters tall, he had said. The humans had shuffled out of sight after the fight. Some had been scared, others excited. Still, Galal had not seen any others since, and so he carried about his days training. At least they had left the weapons.

The ax was broken. Disappointing, but Galal had other weapons, the mace being his favored choice. It had a good weight to it, and when Galal swung it he could almost feel the impact. It would kill just fine.

Swords he avoided. Their blades were big, but their small grips made them difficult to use. Even the “great sword” barely fit in his hand, and swinging it did not provide the same satisfaction.

Still air turned to a breeze as he thrusted straight ahead. The spear was an odd weapon, but it would have done well against the beast. It had a reach to it, and could slip by armor nicely. The talker had said it was best used in groups. Armies. Men were fond of armies. Strength in numbers. A good idea.

“Hello, talker.” The sound echoed within the arena as the man came into view, a cart of wood behind him. He was alone, and extra smelly today. Even a human could have smelled him from a distance. Galal leapt up the wall, grabbing the ledge and pulling himself up. He looked down to the talker, covered in sweat, smelling of exertion. “It has been many nights.”

“It has.” He took heavy breaths, barely able to speak between them.

“What have you brought?” Galal’s attention turned to the cart, its contents covered in a sheet. He could smell hard iron. Steel, rather. That’s what they called it.

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“The woman you met before. She’s had armor made for you.”

“Am I to be a knight, talker?”

“Perhaps.” He pulled the sheet away, revealing the armor underneath. Reflective gray, its surface smooth, barely fitting inside the cart. Its size was such that a man could hide inside it, and it was no wonder as to why a single man had difficulty transporting it.

“For what reason am I to wear this?”

“She wants you to escape.”

“Escape? I am no longer held here.”

“I know that. The others don’t, and she would prefer they believed you escaped.”

“Be more clear, talker. What is desired of me?” He took another breath, then another. Hesitating? Was that the word they used?

“There is a village nearby that has been having difficulties with some beasts. I don’t know what they are, but I suspect that they are of your kind.”

Galal mimicked a chuckle, the sound almost a goat’s bleating. His kind did not have laughter, but they had humor. And Galal found it all quite humorous.

“I will go, talker. When light falls, I will go.” Galal stepped forward, grasping the armor and lifting it. It was heavier than his weapons, formed of two pieces clasped together by thick straps at the shoulders.

“Allow me,” the talked said. He undid the straps, allowing Galal to slip the armor on from a crouched position while he strapped it together. Galal stood when it was complete, gazing down on the armor’s surface. It covered his chest and stomach completely, just as it should, his arms and legs free to move about.

“Are there not other pieces?” The men Galal had seen were covered from head to feet in the stuff.

“It takes time, I’m afraid, and you are so much larger than humans. The rest is being made, but it will finished while you are gone.”

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“Fine then,” Galal said, approaching the arena edge. “I will train, then at night I will leave.”

“I’ll be going with you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

No one else had come throughout the day. Galal had trained in peace, practicing with mace and spear as his armor beared down on him. It was nothing at first, but as the day drew on it grew heavier and heavier. He did not dare take it off. It was protection, protection he needed to grow used to.

The talker had come long after sun had fallen and crescent moon had risen. Speechless, he motioned for Galal to follow. He crouched through the vomitorium, the ceiling occasionally scraping against his horns and forcing him lower each time. Perhaps this place was a prison.

Hooves clacking against stone echoed about the hallways. There was no allusion to a stealthy escape. If any were in these halls, they would hear them, but the talker said nothing and continued on in silence.

Moonlight shone from the entrance long before they arrived there, the final corridor long and straight. Exiting, Galal took in the new surroundings as he stood fully upright, his horns and legs sore. The area they stood upon was flat stone, ending a short distance away with a small wall. Beyond was the city, covered in shadows and lit by lanterns, the sound of yelling and sounds he did not understand reaching them as a whisper.

“Humans are quite the craftsmen,” he said. He had heard them called the builders at one time, and now he understood why.

“You should see the capital. Much larger than this, much larger. Far more people.” It was an exciting concept.

They continued on, circling around the colosseum and away from the bulk of the city. The colosseum sat on the city’s edge, and as they circled the wall surrounding it all came into view. It was not half as high as the arena walls, and as they approached Galal took hold of the smaller man. He ran several feet, then leapt up, both of them soaring over the wall onto the other side.

They landed, each grunting as they absorbed the impact. “We are free, talker.” Before them lay open field, and in the distance the edge of the forest. He let the man down, the man patting himself off.

“Say something before doing that again,” he said, Galal responding with a bleating chuckle. “Now come. We go north.”

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