Fight Scene for a Blog Cause

Just heard about a Fight Scene Blogfest hosted by Crimson Ink so here is a snippet of "Name of the Game" a current WIP





The crowd grew restless waiting and soon was calling out for some amount of reward for Madoc’s performance thus far. Tezomoc relented and allowed a slave boy to bring the Welshman, Madoc more Pulque and water. He also had corncakes and a handful of Chia.

“This is from the silent lady,” said the boy.

“I don’t know any silent lady,” said Madoc, as he took the handful and swallowed them with a mouthful of Pulque.

“She knows you.”

Madoc grunted at that and helped himself to the water and the corn cake. “Boy, what is this Amon-Gahela?”

The boys eyes went wide with fear. “One of the old ones, a Quinametzin.”

“What’s that?”

The boy couldn’t answer, Tezomoc was addressing the crowd and the excited cheers and screams drowned out anything the boy tried to say. “Now heed me all of you holy witnesses. The Amon-Gahela comes!”

Thunder at the gates.

The stricken fear in the boys eyes was real and as the gates at the far end of the arena banged with two sudden thumps, he lost control of bodily function right there beside Madoc.

Astounded at the heavy dirge pounding the gates and the boys smelly fear, Madoc stood and swung the club once to stretch his arms and remind himself that he was the real slayer, a man to be feared.

The boy and his dripping loincloth stared back at the gate. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of it.
“Go on, get out of here boy,” snapped Madoc. But the boy remained frozen in place. Madoc rapped him on the head with the flat of his club and the boy came back to his senses. “Get out of here!” The boy nodded and ran disappearing into the slaves entrance.

The banging on the gates continued and then they burst open with the force of a hurricane. Madoc was amazed by what he saw.

A mountainous misshapen head peered into the arena. One eye was larger than the other or it was perhaps because a drooping flap of skin concealed most of the other. The ears and nose were small in comparison to the other facial features. It was nearly hairless and wore only a scrap of breechcloth about its loins, but this breechcloth would have been a full blanket for another man. It had to get down on its haunches to make it through the gate. The skin was pale and flabby, covered in scars and Madoc imagined this great being was indeed starving.

The Amon-Gahela was a man, but the biggest man in all of creation. It stood at least twice the height of Madoc perhaps even two and half his height. It growled and bellowed turning once to face its keepers who prodded it with long spears and whips.
Once through the gap and into the arena, the Amon-Gahela lolled its head back and forth gibbering at the mass of people. Its mouth, so like the jaws of hell, was nearly toothless and it drooled obscenely. A whip brought a cry of pain from the giant and it flung its hand backwards, barely tagging the keeper who was thrown against the wall and knocked senseless.

Squinting against the sun, the giant blinked its one good eye at Madoc. Its tongue rolled across its lips as more saliva dripped in yards long strings of bile. It stood fully erect and roared an inhuman cry of despair and rage.

The brute strength of such a behemoth was beyond imagining and Madoc stared hard trying to find a weakness in those spindly long arms. The nails were extended and Madoc saw each hand and foot bore six digits. Each ponderous step was crushing and the colossus wheezed as it shambled closer.

Madoc was at a loss on how to fight the thing when he noticed one last heavy wooden ball at his feet. Stooping to pick it up, he whispered a prayer to his own forgotten gods. He knew he could throw better than hit with the paddle, so he wrenched back his right arm and roared his own defiance at the Amon-Gahela in an attempt to get it to answer him.

It did. The Amon-Gahela opened its maw wide and roared an anger that knew no right or wrong, only pain.

Madoc threw hard and true, the ball went into the creatures mouth and down its gullet. The howl stopped cold and the giant’s long cold hands reached for its throat. It gasped and choked and stumbled backward, stomping a horrified keeper to death in the process. Its one good eye stared at Madoc and it then pitched forward upon its face. The right leg jerking several moments before going still.
The roar of the crowd was deafening. “Madoc! Madoc! Madoc