Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos Cameron Hopkin (read a book txt) 📖

– he was some sort of hometown hero, the current best of the best. “He’s never lost!” the man in front of her confided to his companion.

She wasn’t surprised to hear it. Khraam was positively crawling with purple battle pods – what she had always called ‘juicer pods’ when no Oakies could hear. The symbiotic pods granted increased muscle growth and stamina; day laborers often bought them for heavy jobs. Smart men only ever used one at a time. Beyond the fact that the symbiotes required their wearers to consume twice the usual food as normal in order to produce enough blood to feed it, the mutated plant stock also passed a chemical into the brain that increased aggressiveness. There were no less than seven of the pulsing things hanging from the gladiator’s bare torso. His muscles were swollen into a grotesque parody of a strongman, with veins spiderwebbing under the skin of his arms and chest like hempen ropes. Every muscle stood out boldly, overstretched skin molding to it without a gram of fat in between. His shoulders looked like they were about to swallow his head – just like they’d already done to his neck. He wielded a stone blade nearly as tall as himself, glittering obsidian lining its edges and tip. She had rarely seen this type of weapon – “swords,” they were called – and certainly never one so massive. That thing must weigh as much as I do. The man wore a belt of vertebrae with a human skull as its clasp. His black hair was shorn so close to the skull as to be hardly more than stubble. He looked bestial. A pack of wild garou would have tucked their tails and run when faced with this monster.

Gamarron had caught sight of his opponent and seemed to be thinking similar thoughts. The chants for Khraam swelled and crested into a bloodthirsty roar as the rabble saw the king of the savages take a cautious step back from his opponent. This was a bad idea. He’s of no use to me if he dies. She couldn’t imagine how the wiry northerner might defeat this beast of a man. He barely came up to the center of Khraam’s chest.

The giant began stomping his feet one at a time, gradually building in tempo. His fans picked up the beat, pounding their feet against the stone in time with him. BOOM BOOM BOOM echoed the stadium, like the thunderous footsteps of an absent god. Khraam was working himself into a frenzy. He was actually foaming at the mouth as he bellowed out an incoherent challenge. We should leave now. I’ll go down and stop this. I’m a Hand of Gaia. They’ll listen to me. They wouldn’t, and she knew it. She was rooted to her seat, dread creeping over her. Khraam brandished his sword in the air with a shriek, and ten thousand throats amplified the sound.

In response, Gamarron casually tossed away his war hammer, facing the giant with nothing more than his bare hands. Don’t do that, idiot. But the crowd loved it, cheers for the savage intermixing with the tumult of Khraam’s devotees. This match would be talked about for years. Even the food vendors had stopped to watch. The bookies were busier than ever. That should have pleased her, but she felt as if she might vomit. Could I get to the railing, distract the big one somehow? Give him something to slow him down? She had a sedative in her pouch that could take down a pachybear, but the gamekeepers kept a close watch on the low stands to prevent interference. Nothing to do but watch and hope that stringy old fool doesn’t get beaten to a pulp. She felt helpless, and she didn’t like it.

Khraam rushed forward with a shout, his massive sword cleaving the air before him in whistling sweeps. He’s so fast! He crossed the twenty meters between them in moments. Gamarron looked like a child before the behemoth, but he stood his ground, holding still so long that Renna gave an involuntary cry, sure that he would be cut in two. But Khraam’s sword touched only air as the savage ducked and slid aside at the last possible moment, spinning to the side of the huge man and delivering a stinging slap to the back of his shorn head as he barreled past. Displaying showmanship she wouldn’t have thought Gamarron was capable of, he broadcast the motion to the crowd, following through with more motion than needed so that the top rows could see what he’d done. The townsfolk hooted and cheered for the savage, and she heard more than a few jeers. Surprisingly, Gamarron laughed along with the spectators, waving and egging them on.

Khraam was not amused. He screamed unintelligibly at his opponent, his mouth foaming. Gamarron gave an exaggerated shrug of boredom, turning his back to the giant. As he did so, he made a rude gesture over his shoulder, dismissing Khraam as one might a child. Again the crowd roared with laughter, and the massive man rushed at his opponent in a rage, arms outstretched. He wasn’t going to let Gamarron slip away this time. The rabble yelled warnings, telling the savage to turn around, and he made a show of listening to them but not understanding. The shouts redoubled, and now the monstrous man was right on top of him.

Gamarron pivoted with unbelievable quickness, planting his rear foot and snapping a perfect punch into the center of the big man’s chest just as his arms were closing in. Incredibly, Khraam staggered back, clutching at his sternum. There was a moment’s hush as the watchers tried to make sense of what they’d seen, and then cheers erupted on all sides. Impossible! Somehow the savage king had stopped the giant’s rush despite having only a third the mass and being at a complete standstill. He should have been borne into the cement wall and crushed into paste, but