Grimjaw Stonehide's Arc

Chapter 5 of 15

The chip on his cap still felt raw as Grimjaw walked to the arena at dawn. The ridge was ugly, but it was his. He knew the truth now. The cap would crack, and the tusk beneath would hold. But knowing that did him no good if Kragmar saw the flaw first. Kragmar had built that seam. He knew the exact spot. If the ogre gripped it early, he would twist and finish the match before Grimjaw ever set his stance. Grimjaw had to hide the chip long enough to fight his fight. He rubbed the ridge with fresh pitch and dark ash from a cold fire. The paste filled the crack and smoothed the surface. From an arm's length, the left tusk looked whole. But paste would not survive the first lock-up. He needed to keep his head turned right, to lead with his sound tusk and keep the weak one back. A voice cut in behind him. "You favor the left. He will see it." Grimjaw turned. A huge orc stood by the ring's edge, dark green and thick with muscle, gold beads in his black braids. Grimjaw had watched him win two bouts the day before without a wasted step. Gromak Ironjaw did not fight for the title. He fought for a stolen war banner, kept somewhere in the clan's trophy hoard. He wanted the champion's right to claim it. "You cradle it," Gromak said. "A man cradles what hurts. Stop cradling." "He capped it," Grimjaw said. "He knows where it breaks." "Then do not show him where you think it breaks." Gromak stepped close. "Lead with the bad one. Offer it. He grips it, expects it to shatter, commits his whole weight. It holds. He is off balance. You take him then." Grimjaw stared. It went against every guard in his body. But it turned his weakness into bait. He nodded once. The horn sounded. Kragmar entered from the far side, obsidian skin dull in the gray light, red eyes fixed on Grimjaw's left tusk. He had already found it. He grinned. Grimjaw did not hide the tusk. He lowered his head and pushed the capped side forward. Kragmar took the offer. His huge hand hooked the tusk and wrenched. The cap cracked. Grimjaw heard the chip go, felt the sting shoot down his jaw. But the core held. Kragmar felt no shatter under his grip. He had leaned his full weight into a break that never came, and now his front foot slid. Grimjaw drove up from his packed-snow stance. He caught Kragmar's sound tusk with his own and forced the head sideways. The ogre stumbled, arms flailing, and crashed onto his back. The crowd roared. Grimjaw stood over him, jaw throbbing, chip gone, tusk whole. He had beaten his first opponent. But the man who taught him the trick was still watching, and Gromak wanted the title too.