Death or Glory by Jason Anspach EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Jason Anspach
- Language: English
- Genre: War Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.7 MB
- Price: Free
THE TALONED HAND RAKED my chest as I leapt away, and my back
slammed against the wall of the pit. Above, the chitter and squeaks of the
cheering crowd urged us on. My opponent was small, about four foot seven,
but the scaly lizardman was fast as he danced toward me. He hissed, and the
dewlap under his chin unfurled bright red. The spines running down his
head and back quivered.
Blocking another swipe, then kicking straight out to give myself some
room, I struck with a low round kick, hitting his thigh with my shin. I heard
the satisfying crack of his femur breaking. He stumbled to the left with a
squeak of pain, and whipped his long tail in my eyes. I managed to catch
the barbed tip on my forearm and strike out with a snap kick to his clavicle
that sent him sprawling in the bloody sand of the pit’s floor.
The cheering of the reptilian crowd overhead rose to a crescendo.
I surged in, leaning low as he attempted to get to his feet, batted away a
feeble strike, and then jabbed a feint with my left before delivering a right
cross that caved in the frontal bone of his skull.
Dancing back, I wiped the blood and sweat out of my eyes and surveyed
the carnage before taking stock of my own injuries. Three of the pygmy
saurians lay motionless in the sand. I had a cut on my forehead that was
bleeding profusely but probably wasn’t serious, lacerations and bites on my
arms, legs, and chest, and some tender spots that were going to turn into
pretty spectacular bruises. The barbs embedded in my forearm made the
swollen skin numb and red, but better my forearm than my eyes.
I looked up at the crowd of lizard people rimming the pit, wondering if
they were going to throw in any more opponents. I was shaking from the
adrenaline dump, and my mouth felt like dry parchment. Someone tossed
down a waterskin and my claw knife.
Sir Angus McKenzie, the only other human I’d seen in this village and a
slave fighter like me, had warned that the pit matches could go all day. I’d
been here one week now, ever since the scaly freaks had captured me when
they ambushed my platoon, but most of that time was spent curled up next
to the chamber pot in my cage vomiting out of both ends as my body tried
to accustom itself to my new diet of pulped corn and larva and whatever
was in the murky water they gave us.
One hellish week I honestly didn’t think I’d live through, and now I was
in the pit for the first time.
Sir McKenzie was an interesting man. He claimed to be a World War I
flying ace and renowned explorer, but I don’t recall hearing about him in
any history lessons. He was a big Scottish-Canadian man, with long matted
red hair and a bushy beard, and had been a prisoner of the little saurians for
over a year. He was convinced he was lost somewhere in the British
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