Incarceration

Below is an extract from ‘Luthar’s Travels’, the biography of Luthar Shoresmith written by Scholar Second Class Elwell Mannion of the Library of History, Threftall University. The information regarding this period of Luthar’s life is somewhat scarce, due to the lack of reliable eyewitness accounts from Jakai. However, Scholar Mannion was able to retrieve a written diary from L’Beira Ashane which held some detail about his visits to the coliseum. This has almost exclusively been the basis for this passage.

Thirtieth day of the moon of High Sun, year fifteen of the third age.

The date above was verified against the extensive criminal records of the High Chancellor of Jakai’s office. The charge sheet states Luthar was tried for public disorder, disturbing the peace, attacking state officials, rebellion, and murder. Had Luthar still been in the Three Kingdoms when these offences took place, he would most certainly have been hanged. Here lies a critical difference in the laws of the Confederacy and the Three Kingdoms. In all major cities of the Confederacy there are coliseums for games, gladiatorial combat, and any other gruesome spectacle one could imagine. Despite his obvious guilt of the above offences, he was allowed the opportunity to fight for his freedom. One fight in the coliseum for each offence.

L’Beira’s personal recollection largely agrees with the High Chancellor’s records. He speaks about the trial being held in the courthouse of the government buildings in Park Square. Luthar only spoke to confirm his name and to plead guilty on every charge. He was led away in chains by four armed guards and incarcerated in the coliseum cells. He would only be allowed out once a day for his training, then locked away again for the night.

Twelfth day of the moon of Early Harvest, year fifteen of the third age.

L’Beira writes that the first fight for Luthar’s freedom was on a late summer’s day, that still held much of the heat of high summer. There was barely a cloud in the sky as he made his way across the city to the coliseum, joining the vast crowds to get their fill of blood and gore.

Luthar faced a much larger, and stronger opponent to begin with. I’d seen him a few times before, he liked to get in close and overpower weaker enemies. Today, he came out armed with two short swords, a welcome sight for Luthar, who had set himself with a spear and buckler once more.

The crowd seemed on edge when Luthar appeared from the armoury, apparently nervous in case he flew into a rage and attacked them again. A few spectators further back shouted some extremely foul abuse towards him and hurled the customary rotten fruit and vegetables. Thankfully, on this occasion, Luthar seemed able to rise above the goading.

During the fight itself Luthar was well on top, keeping his distance from his opponent and out of range of his swords. He utilised his spear well, managing to inflict a few early cuts upon the arms and legs, slowing his opponent down. Towards the middle of the fight, probably owing to the extreme heat, Luthar began to tire, and his pace dropped. At this point the crowd began to urge his opponent forward to finish the contest. This appeared to be his undoing.

Urged forward by the bloodthirsty masses, he knocked Luthar’s spear aside to get within lethal range, but Luthar was wise to this move and countered with his buckler, smashing him in the face. As he was off balance, Luthar tripped him with his spear, sending him to the dust. From his back, the man should have yielded, but in the absence of common sense, he dropped a sword and grabbed Luthar’s spear. Stood up, Luthar was in a much better position and had good leverage. He thrust the spear with both hands, driving it into his chest.

The crowd booed Luthar from all directions as he made his bow to the High Chancellor and retreated to the armoury. Thankfully, there was no further displays of defiance this time.

Sixteenth day of the moon of Early Harvest, year fifteen of the third age.

The second fight mostly went the same way as the first. Being a new competitor in the coliseum, Luthar would have been fighting against petty criminals and slaves. It is doubtful that he fought in front of a full crowd until at least his fourth or fifth fight, after he had proved himself worthy of a shot at a champion. For those of you interested in the military development in Luthar’s history, these brief paragraphs from L’Beira’s diary should suffice.

Armed with two blades, a little longer than cook’s knives, his opponent today was in complete contrast with his first. Barely an inch over five foot, he was all skin and bone, but deadly fast. He was a more defensive fighter, keeping away from Luthar’s spearpoint and trying to fashion a counter attacking opportunity. On a couple of occasions this approach nearly paid off, however Luthar’s quick movement with his buckler prevented any damage being done.

The crowd again showed their dislike of Luthar during this fight, more vocally this time. As the contest continued without any blood or injury, the volume of their displeasure grew steadily into a cacophony of boos and hisses. Luthar seemed to sense this, and his stance become stronger and his movement bolder. During one of his opponent’s regular darts into range, Luthar managed to catch his jaw with the rim of his shield, sending him unconscious to the ground. After a brief thumbs down from the High Chancellor, Luthar put the fallen gladiator out of his misery.

Twentieth day of the moon of Early Harvest, year fifteen of the third age.

It appears that on the third fight of Luthar’s path to freedom was the first in which he came up against a serious competitor. Traditionally, prisoners were expected to kill each other off with some regularity, therefore removing the need to endanger prized gladiators. It soon became apparent that Luthar was no ordinary prisoner, in fact, he could be considered quite extraordinary all through his life. However, in this chapter we must focus on his period of captivity. In this encounter he was pitted against the famous and popular champion, Ali.

As soon as I saw Ali enter the arena my heart sank. Luthar was a good lad at heart, and talented, but Ali was a champion many times over and a crowd favourite. In addition, he possessed a very unusual fighting style that Luthar, to my knowledge, had never been trained for. The main plan of his attacks was to ensnare the opponent’s weapon with his net, thus leaving them ineffective. After which he would use his trident to devastating effect. This was the first time I’d ever truly feared for Luthar’s survival.

When the bout commenced Ali began to toy with Luthar, and the crowd chanted their hero’s name. I prayed for Luthar to keep his temper in check and concentrate on the matter in hand. Initially he did well, keeping his distance from Ali and even managing to inflict a small cut upon Ali’s net arm. The contest wore on, and the crowd became ever more impatient, eager to see the young upstart from the Three Kingdoms punished.

After what felt like an age, Ali managed to trap Luthar’s spear in his net, sending the crowd wild. Luthar had always been taught to keep his distance as he would never win a strength contest, but in this instance, that is exactly what he did. As the two of them grappled over the entangled spear, Luthar managed to pull Ali in closer, within arm’s reach. This rendered both the spear and trident ineffective. This left Luthar’s buckler as the only potential weapon, which he used to great effect.

As they came close, Luthar hit Ali in the face with his buckler four, maybe five times. I can only imagine that this would cause considerable damage to both his nose and his mouth. Ali was understandably dazed and completely collapsed under the onslaught. The crowd went even more wild at the defeat of their favoured champion, but the High Chancellor could not dismiss the laws of the coliseum just to satisfy their bloodlust. Luthar was declared the winner. However, Ali was spared, the great champion would fight again.

Twenty fifth day of the moon of Early Harvest, year fifteen of the third age.

Looking back on this day, one must assume that High Chancellor L’Dane Maliavan was coming under significant pressure to see justice done to Luthar. In a break of tradition, he sent four of his own soldiers into the coliseum to dispose of Shoresmith once and for all. At no time during my studies of the history of the Confederacy have I ever seen this done. L’Beira also showed his surprise in his journal:

I couldn’t believe my eyes when four different men entered the arena opposite Luthar. Each was armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons, from swords and shields to maces and javelins. If Luthar was going to get out of this alive, then it would be nothing short of a miracle. Luthar seemed very out of place with his simple spear and buckler.

Most of the people of Jakai had only just heard of this potential new champion and had come today to see what the fuss was all about. Some man of the three kingdoms had defeated the great Ali with little more than a scratch to show for it, their interest was well and truly caught.

First to fall was a swordsman, he’d clearly got too much of an ego. He’d darted ahead of the others, attempting to slay Luthar himself and look like a hero. Instead, he looked the fool as he was caught off guard by a feint of Luthar’s spear, then a slash down his chest. Luthar finished the job to make certain he couldn’t be caught out later on.

Secondly to succumb was the brute with a mace. His answer to everything was hit harder. He’d got in behind Luthar’s spear and was raining heavy blows down on his shield, but as fortune would have it, the spikes got stuck in the worn wood. Luthar seized his opportunity, pulled a knife from the man’s belt, and opened him from ear to ear.

The last two had some more brains about them, they worked as a pair, trying to keep Luthar looking in two directions at once. Against a swordsman, this would have worked a treat, but against a man growing in confidence with a spear, it’s not guaranteed to work. That’s the beauty of having a weapon that is six feet long.

They both advanced together, keeping Luthar turning about to defend both angles. One wielded a sword, much like Luthar would have had back home, the other a curved scimitar, often associated with Shavanese warriors. For some time, no telling blows were actually struck, and one discontented member of the crowd accused the men of being dancing girls, much to the amusement of his peers. Eventually, a blade bit Luthar’s shoulder.

The attack wasn’t particularly well constructed or planned but concentrating on two opponents at once can often leave a man confused and unable to focus correctly. Luthar missed a thrust with his spear, and the man with the curved blade danced inside his defences with the intention of removing Luthar’s head. Luthar, thank the sun and moon, was quick enough and managed to duck, with his opponent only shaving his shoulder. It could have been much worse, but Luthar’s back and chest soon began to glow crimson in the waning sun.

At this point, both men sensed weakness and allowed the distance between them to close, each concentrating on Luthar’s injury, rather than their plan. This allowed Luthar to face them both more directly and begin to control the fight. The man with the three kingdoms longsword went down first, he advanced too close to Luthar’s spear tip and missed his block, leaving Luthar to slash his belly open and empty his guts over the sand.

One man armed with a scimitar versus one man with a buckler and spear meant there was only going to be one winner. Try as he might, the swordsman simply could not get within range to strike at Luthar, until his energy began to wane and Luthar picked him off. Firstly, Luthar inflicted several minor injuries to his legs, slowing him further. Then, once he was off balance, a well placed thrust to the heart finished the job.

After the fight had concluded, I sensed a slight change in the crowd. Before, they had goaded Luthar and spat vile abuse at him. Now they saw the other side to him, the one that myself and other guild members saw, an incredibly skilled warrior who would never stop perfecting his craft. Here and there, a man and his friends clapped the foreigner as he began to win hearts and minds.

Twenty sixth day of the moon of Early Harvest, year fifteen of the third age.

Here is where young Luthar’s situation takes a turn for the worse. It would appear that the man who struck his shoulder during the previous day’s fight had poisoned his blade. One can only speculate about the nature of such poison, possibly ghostflower or demon’s milk as both would be readily available from neighbouring Averleon. We can see from L’Beira’s account of the next day that Luthar was lucky to survive such an ordeal.

As I entered his cell, the stench of death assaulted me like a gang of savage beasts. Luthar lay on his wooden bed, writhing and calling for Elisabeth. Sweat soaked his sheets and made his skin shine like polished steel, his hair as damp as if he’d just bathed. I’d called in every favour I was owed, every bribe I dared to offer to get myself and Lady Akindra in there with him. What kind of pathetic coward took a poisoned blade into the area?

I was mesmerised by the speed of Lady Akindra’s work, crushing a wide variety of herbs in a bowl, mixing them with water and forming a paste, which she delicately applied to Luthar’s shoulder. As she smeared the stuff on him, I noticed a sickly green colour gradually spreading outwards from the wound. She assured me that he would live, I noticed she offered no further assessment of his situation.

She whipped up a second concoction from herbs in her bag, some sour smelling thick green liquid which was enough to turn any man’s stomach. As she held it to Luthar’s lips he fought like a demon to be away from it. That’s when I was asked to step in and hold him down whilst she forced it down his throat. It was like wrestling a giant swamp eel, he was slippery as all hell, and surprisingly strong for a man of his size.

That night we both sat with him by candlelight, watching for any signs of deterioration. Whatever magic Lady Akindra had weaved, it appeared to be working well, he was as calm as a millpond and his temperature fell quickly. Other than the odd murmur that sounded like “Elisabeth” or “Mother” he rested peacefully, chest rising and falling with a proper rhythm.

Come sunrise, neither of us had slept a wink, we’d watched him all night. As we left his cell, we had a brief conversation, which went something like:

‘Do you think he’ll pull through?’ I asked.

‘He’ll be fine, we caught the poison in time.’

‘He’s a stubborn sort, typical northman. It’ll take more than four men to take him to his grave.’

‘He’s not ready for death yet. Greatness beyond anything he could ever dream of awaits young Luthar.’