Chapter 25: Unexpected Duel

  A complication arrives in the form of a new captive group.

  A smaller raiding party returns to camp, dragging behind them a handful of prisoners from what should be a different settlement, most of them croakers, the same smaller amphibians from the Frogman village.

  Among them, a fully grown Lizardman stands out as a warrior. His resilient, gleaming scales bear the scars of many battles, each mark a testament to his survival. His eyes burn with defiance, and unlike the broken workers around him, this one hasn't accepted his fate.

  Kor'ik sees an opportunity immediately. As the new arrivals are processed, he inserts himself into the situation with characteristic presumption.

  "I speak for all slaves here, including you lizard-kind," he announces in Lizardtongue, puffing out his chest. "You serve me, and I'll keep you alive."

  The warrior's eyes narrow. His scales are a deep copper color that catches the light. "You're no master here, frog," he spat. "Just another slave."

  The other slaves freeze. No one speaks to Kor'ik like that. Not because he's genuinely dangerous, but because he has Snik One-Ear's favor, and crossing him means harder work assignments.

  Kor'ik's face flushes a darker green. "How dare you!"

  He steps in furiously and slaps the warrior across the face.

  The platform goes silent.

  The warrior's head barely moves from the blow and he slowly turns to face Kor'ik. Those thick scales absorbed the impact like it was nothing. His eyes are cold, calculating. "All you got, frog?"

  "Master Snik!" Kor'ik calls out, his voice shrill with outrage. "This insubordinate wretch refuses to submit! He must be punished as an example!"

  Snik One-Ear approaches, his single eye assessing the situation with predatory interest. A few other Gnolls have noticed too, forming a loose circle around the developing confrontation. They love any sort of brutal entertainment, especially when it involves their captives fighting each other.

  The Lizardman doesn't wait for Snik to decide. He lunges at Kor'ik, claws extended.

  As expected, It's not much of a fight. Kor'ik is a translator, not a combatant. Within seconds, the warrior has him pinned against the platform, one clawed hand pressed against his throat.

  "Weak," the warrior hisses. "You're pathetic."

  The Gnolls bark their laughter, enjoying the spectacle. But I can see the situation spiraling out of control. Other new captives are getting agitated, seeing the warrior's defiance as inspiration. Some of the older slaves are watching with something like hope in their eyes.

  And Snik One-Ear's amusement is souring into annoyance. A brawl is entertaining, but this chaos threatens productivity.

  I see him reach for his weapon, preparing to simply kill one or even both of them and be done with it.

  Damn it, I need Kor'ik alive. For all his presumptuous bossiness, the bastard has been useful to cover for my own activities. And killing a Lizardman warrior would also be a waste of potential.

  Without fully deciding to, I step forward and call out in Lizardtongue. "Wait."

  _____________________________________________________________________________________

  The warrior's eyes snap to me, but he doesn't release Kor'ik.

  I switch to broken Gnoll, addressing Snik directly. "Master Snik. This Lizardman strong. Worth keeping." I pause, then add the words I know will catch his interest. "Let slaves settle fight."

  Snik's single eye gleams with interest. The other Gnolls perk up, their ears swiveling toward us for some entertainment.

  I point to the warrior, then to myself. "I teach him rules."

  The warrior releases Kor'ik, who scrambles away gasping.

  Sensing an opportunity to save face he immediately chimes in. "Yes, yes! My assistant will handle it. I delegate authority to him!" He tries to sound magnanimous, as if this was his plan all along.

  The Lizardman eyes proceed to study me with new interest. He appears to be wondering why a Minor Lizardman, considerably smaller than him, is issuing a challenge.

  Snik grunts, apparently satisfied. The entertainment value of the fight has diminished, and my intervention offers a solution that doesn't require him to kill valuable labor.

  The Gnolls form a proper circle now, eager and bloodthirsty. Kor'ik watches from a safe distance, looking both relieved and uncertain about this development.

  I step into the makeshift arena, facing the warrior properly for the first time. Up close, I can see just how many scars he carries. Claw marks, blade cuts, even what looks like bites. Each one leaves deep impressions on his thick scales. This one has been through hell and survived.

  The warrior assesses me with a predatory gaze. "Who are you to interfere in my fight?"

  "Just another slave. One who wants to survive," I reply, meeting his eyes. "And you won't, not like this."

  He spats on the ground and menacingly comes in my direction. "We see who lives longer then."Wasting no time he comes at me.

  He's fast for his size, closing the distance with the practiced efficiency of someone trained for combat. His claws mercilessly sweep toward my throat in a killing strike that would end this immediately.

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  But I've been training with Magba exactly how to fight against bigger and stronger opponents. I drop low, letting the strike pass overhead, and drive my shoulder into his midsection.

  It's like hitting a wall. Those thickened scales aren't just for show. What should be a defensive evolution makes him denser, heavier and more resistant. The impact jars my shoulder, but I've committed to the motion. I use his weight against him, redirecting his momentum and sending him stumbling past me.

  The Gnolls howl their approval.

  The warrior recovers quickly, spinning to face me with a grudging respect in his eyes. "So small lizard has some training."

  "Some," I admit, breathing hard. "You had your share of battles as well, didn't you? Warrior slave?"

  "Frogmen breed us to fight their battles," he says, circling now with more caution. "Only one left from my clutch."

  He attacks again, but this time it's different. Not a wild lunge but a measured assault, testing my defenses. His claws come in controlled arcs, forcing me to give ground, to dodge and weave rather than counter.

  I can't match his strength or his armor. Every time I try to close, those scarred scales turn aside blows that should have done some damage. Still, I'm smaller, faster and I've learned from Magba about finding angles and exploiting openings.

  When the Lizardman overextends on a heavy strike, I slip inside his guard and rake my claws in his armpit, one of the few places where the scales appear much thinner. It's barely a scratch, but it counts. First blood.

  The Gnolls roar their approval. The warrior glances at the thin line of blood, then nods slowly, his aggressive posture shifting.

  "Great job… for a lizardling," he taunts, as if he wasn't fighting at full intensity before.

  His next attack is a combination. A high claw strike that forces me to duck, followed immediately by a tail sweep I barely avoid. I need all my concentration to defend myself, and counterattacking feels meaningless against his scaled armour.

  Another well timed tail sweep and I’m out of balance now. The lizardman shoves me with all his weight and I hit the ground hard. Before I can roll away, he's on me, pinning me down with that superior weight.

  His claw hovers over my throat, then deliberately drags across my shoulder. Not deep enough to cripple, but enough to draw blood.

  "Even," He says quietly, just for me to hear.

  We separate, both bleeding, and starting to breathe hard. The Gnolls are still howling, expecting more violence, but something has shifted between us. I can see it in his eyes, he tested me, and I didn't break. Didn't beg or fold or fight dirty out of desperation.

  I step back, lowering my stance. "Enough," I call out in Gnoll, addressing Snik. "We both understand now. No more need for fighting."

  The warrior matches my retreat, his breathing heavy but controlled. Smart. He's reading the situation.

  Snik studies us both, satisfied enough with the entertainment. "You teach rules," he growls at me. "He hykpy trouble, both die."

  "Understood, Master Snik." I respond in my broken Gnoll.

  The crowd disperses, disappointed at the lack of more bloodshed. Kor'ik scrambles away, muttering about respect and proper procedures.

  The other Lizardmen also leave us, not wanting to be associated with a troublemaker.

  Finally I'm left with the warrior, who gazes at me with undisguised curiosity.

  I approach, standing close enough to talk but not close enough to threaten him.

  "What's your name?" I ask.

  He doesn't answer immediately. After a short pause he says "Gorvash. And who are you?"

  "I'm..." I pause. As a Minor Lizardman, I'm not supposed to have a name yet, so I just go with the same old word for worker. "Others call me Morglub."

  Gorvash snorts. "Just worker…" He studies me with reassessed interest. "You fight well for worker. Much better than one should."

  Well, the suspicion was already expected.

  "Lots of heavy work back in Frogmen’s village," I explain, knowing that a blend of truth mixed in with lies is always more effective. "Been through a lot."

  "We all have," he replies bitterly.

  "You said you were raised as a fighter with other Lizardmen?"

  His expression darkens. "All dead now. Killed in raids, fights, in stupid wars between settlements. I'm the only one who survived long enough to get captured." He touches one of his many scars, a deeper one.

  We stand in silence for a moment, both of us slaves, warrior slaves even, again at the mercy of our captors.

  "You didn't have to step in," Gorvash says finally. "Could have let that pathetic Frogman die. Could have let the dog bastard kill us both."

  "I need Kor'ik alive. He's useful to cover for my own activities," I admit.

  “And because..." I hesitate, before continuing. “I believe I saw more than enough of our kind dead already. Not letting one of us die for nothing, especially one who's not completely broken. Someone who still has a fight in them."

  "Fight for what?" He says skeptically. "We are born slaves and we die slaves. At least I could have taken one of these toad bastards with me."

  "Survival, for now. Maybe more than survival, eventually." I answer, still not committed to revealing all my cards.

  Gorvash considers this. "You're planning something. An escape?"

  "Maybe. Someday. But first, I need to understand this place better. Learn the patterns. Build strength." I meet his eyes. "Can you play along and help me with this? Pretend to submit while we figure things out?"

  He doesn't answer immediately. I can see the war between his pride and his survival instinct. His warrior side tells him to fight, die free rather than live in chains. But something else too, perhaps curiosity with the fact that a minor Lizardman bloodied him in a fair fight, earned him a measure of respect.

  "You fought well," Gorvash says finally. "Fine. I'll play along. But not bowing to that useless frog."

  "You don't have to bow. Just... don't attack him. Let me handle Kor'ik."

  "And what do I do?"

  "Learn. Watch. Get stronger." I glance around, making sure no one's listening. "A chance will surely come for us."

  Gorvash's mouth curves into something that might be a smile. "I can do that."

  There's something about Gorvash that I find pleasing. A rebellious spirit coupled with a warrior's mindset, much different than Vrazak's conniving nature.

  All Kor’ik manipulations must be rubbing on me.

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  Later that evening, Kor'ik pulls me aside. His earlier bravado has been replaced with poorly concealed anxiety.

  "That was... thank you for intervening," he says stiffly, as if the words pain him. "But remember, I'm still in charge here. You work for me."

  "Of course, Master Kor'ik, you are Frogman" I reply, keeping my tone respectful.

  His ego almost inflates again, but his eyes betray his fear. He knows he nearly lost everything today. His small empire of tributes and favors is built on the perception of power, and Gorvash shattered that perception in seconds.

  Our dynamic has shifted. Kor'ik still plays the role of translator and coordinator, but he's no longer quite as confident. And he's aware that I could have let Gorvash tear him apart, or just have let Snik kill them both.

  He owes me, even if he'll never admit it.

  Perfect.