The next day was heralded in by the hot sun beating down on the desert below, as usual. This part of Rhun was always hot. I still wasn't used to it; I came from the Dorgeshi highlands in the north, which were constantly battered by cold winds and storms.

   I pulled the crimson cloth of my head wrap over my face to protect my skin from the sun's rays, casting a pensive glance beside me at Layala. She seemed to be used to the hot weather, and was walking at a steady pace. We had started early on the journey to the village and were making good time.

   "I've never asked before... Where are you from?" I felt strange asking her; I probably should have asked much sooner than now, but though our friendship was strong, it hadn't been based upon conversation. We had grown close through sparring, and though it may have seemed like a strange way for a friendship to form to others, it was normal to me. Neither of us knew much about the other, save what little we had discussed in the past. I knew that she hadn't always been a slave, though. And it had always intrigued me. 

   Layala smiled, as if at a distant memory. "I'm from Morgothrone. I haven't been there in many years though. I was captured when I was..." She counted on her fingers. "Twelve? Perhaps eleven. It's been a while. But I do remember my home."

I smiled at her nostalgic expression, attempting to conjure up an image of the massive capital city of Rhun. "Tell me about it."

   Her eyes lit up with excitement as she remembered. "Well, Morgothrone was quite large, and full of people from all manner of distant lands. Merchants, settlers, bands of wandering mercenaries... We saw them all. Slavers too." At this her expression momentarily clouded over before she seemed to shake off the bad memory. "We lived in the Sand District, which is the poorer part of the city. But we had a good life. My father was a blacksmith. Still is most likely..." At this her voice trailed off.

   My expression betrayed by surprise. "Your parents weren't enslaved?" It was unusual for slaves to have families that were still free. It was even more unusual in my mind that her family hadn't even tried to find her. 

   "No. Just me." She sighed wistfully. 

   "How did it happen?"

   Layala took a deep breath. "I was playing in the streets with some friends. I ran into an alley to hide from them and a man grabbed me. He took me to a camp outside of town and then we traveled over the Sorrowing Sea to Runakesh, where I was sold to Master Dakil."

   "I'm sorry..." I said. The thought of how much better her life could have been filled me with sadness, for though I couldn't possibly imagine a free life, it had always seemed like a grand way to live.

   "Don't be. I wouldn't have met you if it hadn't happened." She smiled, almost as if to reassure me. "How did you get here?"

   I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you know?"

She shook her head and I realized she probably hadn't been old enough to have heard about my tribe.

   "The Dorgeshi have trials at the age of thirteen. The best warriors among us fight to the death, and the winners get sent to the most wealthy lords to train for the Pit. It's brutal, but it ensures that our chances of succeeding in the Pit are higher. Since we're the smallest tribe we're only required to levy a few fighters a year."

Layala looked at me in shock. "So you... You... Killed children?"

   "I had to. I wasn't given a choice to participate, and I was practically one myself. My father is... or was, the chieftain of our tribe, and never cared about me. He raised me to fight, and that's all." I spoke the words with a hint of bitterness. Though that life was past, I still harbored feelings of anger toward the man who had forced me to live the way I had. 'Father' was a term that I only used as a description; He had never been that to me. 

"I'm sorry, that must've been hard." Layala looked at me with sorrow in her eyes.

"It's all I've ever known. To be honest being a slave has been an improvement."

   "But you're not technically a slave, right?" She seemed confused.

   "Technically no. I'm a volunteer. But in reality I'm a slave, since I had no choice in the matter and I'm treated the same as one."

   "Why aren't you the heir to your father's rule?"

   I snorted. "My older brother Ramil is. But he is fat and lazy, and has been pampered his whole life. His rule will most likely be short and bloody. Other opportunistic tribesmen will see his weakness and take advantage of it."

   "Your tribe sounds exciting," Layala said with a hint of sarcasm.

   "Did I mention my father has twelve wives? I never knew which one was my mother. Our tribe is very... exciting, as you so aptly worded it," I laughed.

   "That sounds like a hard life though. No parents who cared about you. Did you have friends?"

   "Yes, several. Though 'friend' is sort of a relative term. My closest friend went to the Pit a couple years ago."

"Did he survive?"

I pulled the headwrap over my face tighter to keep the heat off my skin. "Yes. I heard he joined the Royal Guard. I haven't talked to him since then though."

   Layala remained silent, and we continued to walk slowly along the weather-beaten road. Little brush of any sort grew here, and large, formless dunes seemed to go on forever like great sandy waves. The sun constantly beat down upon it, withering any plants brave enough to emerge from the brittle ground. Those few that did survive hid in the shadows of the tall, jagged rocks that sprung from the landscape like the teeth of a great beast. 

Suddenly, as I was scanning the area around us, I saw movement near a rock to the right. I tensed and grabbed Layala's arm.

"What is it?" She asked worriedly.

"I'm not sure. Something moved behind that rock." I nodded my head in the direction of the rock, trying to be subtle.

   "Bandits?" Layala said and put a hand to the sword at her side.

   "I don't think so. This is a bad place to ambush someone." I looked around at our surroundings. Other than the rock, there were really no good places to hide. There was a tall dune to our left but it was too far away from the road to be an effective ambush spot.

   Without warning, a huge sand colored creature jumped from behind the rock and on top of me, not giving me a chance to draw my daggers. I was face to face with a huge cat, its yellow eyes glaring inches away from me. Its long teeth clamped open, preparing to bite my neck. Thick, filmy saliva dripped from its jaws, stinking of sick and rotted flesh. I pushed against the beast with all my strength but it slowly was overpowering me.

   Abruptly it jumped back with a cry. Layala's blade had pierced its side and it roared in pain and frustration at having lost its prey. I sprang to my feet and pulled out my curved daggers.One of them left my hand with incredible speed, lodging into the massive cat's eye. Blood spurted from it as the cat began clawing at its face in pain. I leapt towards the cat and surgically stabbed at its neck, right into the jugular vein. I ripped my other dagger from its eye and stabbed the other side of its neck. Warm blood spurted from its neck onto me as the cat shook and collapsed to the ground, dead before it even landed upon the hot sand.

I wrung my hands after sheathing my blades, attempting in vain to clean them of the warm, sticky blood that now covered them.

"Well that was... Dramatic." I raised an eyebrow and looked at the dead cat. "What exactly is that?"

Layala smirked at the expression on my face but I could see that she was still shaking from the encounter. "That is a saber cat. One of the most dangerous predators in the area. I remember the town guard of my home city would often post bounties for them. Do they not have those up north?"

"They do... They're just much smaller. And have longer, greyer fur." I wiped the blood away from my eyes as best as I could. "They didn't usually attack Men though."

   "They're quite aggressive... at least, the ones here are. I remember stories of them becoming accustomed to human flesh, and sometimes they would only hunt Men once they had grown so accustomed," Layala said, shuddering as she stared at the massive body of the cat.

"We should keep moving," I said, noting her discomfort. "The scent of blood may attract other predators."

"You're right. Let's go, the sooner we arrive the sooner we can rest," she replied, casting one last apprehensive glance over her shoulder at the beast before following me down the dusty path.

===============================
   We arrived at the village an hour or so later. It was a relatively small place by the name of Var'een, but since it was one of the only towns in this part of the vast desert it was bustling with people who had come there to trade. Layala and I looked out of place among the civilians, our padded leather armor and daggers making us stand out as what they probably assumed were sellswords.

One particular man seemed to notice after a few moments of us aimlessly wandering the streets and approached us.

"You wouldn't happen to be mercenaries would you?" He asked with a harsh southern Rhunic accent. He was short, heavyset, and had luxurious clothes on. Clothes that, from my limited knowledge, were likely far above those that folk around here could afford. 

"Why are you asking?" I asked evenly, curious at the man's attention.

"I'm in the business of... Hiring soldiers," the portly man said, choosing his words carefully. There was something about him that seemed... Slimy. And I didn't like it.

"You will have to speak with our master," I said, hoping to deter him. "We are pit fighters, not soldiers. You'd do better to look in Runakesh, or perhaps Morgothrone."

"Where is he? Your master, I mean," The man inquired, not being put off so easily. I frowned slightly, unsure of how to deal with this strange fellow.

"He has a camp several miles outside of town," I said. "But surely there are other mercenaries that would be easier to acquire the services of...?"

"No... I like the looks of you two. Though you will have to prove your prowess sooner or later...." The man said in a strange tone. "But regardless! Take me to your master!"

   I sighed. This trip wasn't going as planned at all. I was hoping to spend a nice day with Layala, but now... There really wasn't much I could do. As slaves, we would be punished severely if we didn't obey this man, whose clothing and self-important bearing made it apparent that he was at least of the upper class, if not a dignitary of some sort. I had seen enough of those in my father's court to sense their conniving ways.

   "Very well," I said calmly, trying to hide my annoyance. I looked over at Layala. Her face was unreadable. "It will be a long walk..." I said and looked down at the man's bulging stomach with disdain. I doubted he could walk that far, given his substantial weight.

   The man noticed and narrowed his eyes, then changed his expression abruptly into a smile. "I have horses enough for us all! It will be no trouble."

   I rolled my eyes. This wasn't going to be good...

===============================
    We returned to camp by dusk. The air was significantly cooler now, and I felt the wind bite against my uncovered arms. The Fat Man(as I had taken to calling him in my mind) was breathing heavily, and his round face was covered in sweat. I felt bad for his poor horse, who looked disproportionately small compared to his rider.

As we rode into the camp, I couldn't help but fix a sour gaze upon the back of the Fat Man's smooth head. Not only had he ruined my plans, but he had also relentlessly philandered with Layala for most of the journey. There had been at least three instances where I had wanted to kill him, and Layala's patient smile had been the only thing that stayed my hand.  

    Our master sleepily emerged from his tent, which was by far the largest in the camp, and greeted the Fat Man with a bow.

   "I am Dakil, at your service." He followed this with a masked yawn. 

    The Fat Man bowed his large head, a thin sheen of sweat reflecting in the setting sun. "I am called Rhasa. Your property here intrigued me. I have need of their services."

   I cringed at the Fat Man calling us property. I glanced over at Layala and she was glaring at the man. I reached over and put a hand on her arm, which seemed only to calm her slightly.

   Master Dakil smiled, his thin moustache turning up with his lips. "I am flattered! But I do not usually hire out my fighters."

   The Fat Man grinned. "This is not an ordinary circumstance, my friend. Come! Let us talk in private. I have a proposition for you."

   With that the two men entered Master Dakil's tent, leaving Layala and I alone.
We were both still mounted on the borrowed horses.

   "The nerve of him!" Layala growled, her face reddening with anger.

   "Calm down Layala, being angry will not solve anything," I said, trying to stay calm myself. I had been mistreated many times, and it was nothing unusual for me. But for someone to belittle Layala in such a way... It took everything in me to keep from acting out. 

   "They think we can just be bartered? Like property???" she spat on the ground.

   "That's why we must win at the Pit. We can both be free that way." I spoke silently, but with determination. She would be free again, one way or another.

I subconsciously put my hand into the pouch at my side, and when I felt the cool metal of the necklace brush against my fingers I remembered why we had made the journey in the first place.

   Better to give it to her later, I thought. "Let's go get some sleep, we can leave the horses here." I dismounted and tied the horse at a nearby post and waited for Layala to do the same. I looked over at our master's tent and narrowed my eyes. I had a gnawing feeling that things wouldn't be the same after this.

   I was right.