by David Burke
Surprisingly, the others didn’t push their advantage. Instead, one of the other soldiers shoved the man who had just speared him. They appeared to be arguing and Kyle didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he was determined to use it to his advantage. He scrambled to his feet and started hopping on his good leg while grabbing his pick off the ground to use as a cane.
Instead of charging forward, the soldiers all stayed back now, like they were leery of him. He wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much to breathe deeply. He could feel the blood running down his side. Then he heard a loud voice call out and the earth under him rumbled.
Rock ripped up from beneath him in the shape of a hand grasping at him with more than foot-wide fingers. They closed in on him and he felt pinched by the powerful moving rock appendage. This was a rough way to learn about magic, but like it or not, Kyle was getting an introduction.
He pushed and strained against the rock and found it wouldn’t break. The wound in his side wouldn’t allow him to push hard and his leg prevented him from getting good leverage. Kyle screamed in rage. He wasn’t going to go down like this. He started to dig deep inside for a solution. There was power there, but he just couldn’t seem to reach it. Every time he grasped at it, the essence slipped through his fingers.
It was then that he saw another of the soldiers dart forward and snap another of those shiny silver manacles on his right wrist. It was like the other band, not a narrow or crude handcuff, but more like an armored bracer. This time, he was able to see it up close and make out the shape of runes worked into the metal. Then it tingled and that arm went numb; it felt like it just disappeared.
Panic set in and Kyle felt lost. But no. He had never given into fear of defeat in his life; he had never allowed an opponent to see him sweat. Kyle felt the need for space to move. He wanted to step out of the batter’s box and regain his composure. That need swelled within him and suddenly burst out from him with devastating results.
The stone hand that imprisoned him shattered. The fragments of stone flew out, the deadly projectiles striking down three fourths of the soldiers. One of the two wizards fell to the ground on his knees, hands holding his temples as he screamed in pain.
Kyle hobbled forward again. Neither his left leg nor his right arm worked, but his will was indomitable.
He had been played like a fool. He should have seen the trap. Darron had been too eager to have him return. He should have listened to Hilde. The chains, of all things, should have made it obvious, but he has been too confident in his newfound strength. He felt like an idiot, but maybe it wasn’t too late.
He stumbled forward and, when the remaining soldiers came running, he surged out with that same power again. It was child’s play. The power roiled within him; all it needed was a will to tap it, a channel to follow.
The soldiers were sent flying. Spears and bones alike snapped.
Then the second mage raised a robed arm and a frail-appearing hand jutted out from a voluminous sleeve. From the outheld palm, a flash of light streaked at Kyle.
A sudden explosion struck Kyle in the chest, and he felt as his eyebrows had been singed off. His cloth shirt caught on fire from the attack and he dropped the pick to rip his shirt off.
He squatted down on one leg, wondering why a second ball of fire hadn’t already consumed him. Maybe it was what Hilde had talked about, with their conversion rate not being fast enough, but he didn’t think that was the case.
As he looked back over his shoulder, he saw Darron and the other fat man yelling at the mage.
Again, for some odd reason, it seemed they were intent on capturing him. A second later, two soldiers dragged a struggling Lucas out from the crowd of workers. One had a short sword, something like a Roman gladius, held to his throat.
Kyle froze. He would willingly put his own life on the line, but Lucas didn’t deserve this. Freja and their three children didn’t deserve this. His thoughts raced back and forth. Could he surrender to save the life of a stranger? Should he? Would it make any difference at all?
The thing that kept coming back to his mind was that, despite the attacks on him, they clearly wanted him taken alive. Alive always meant he had a chance. Better to surrender now, he thought, and have a chance to fight another day.
He grunted and then dropped to his one good knee, tossing his pickaxe to the side. He was surprised when it poofed into nothingness as soon as he did, but that was small potatoes type magic, when compared to balls of fire and hands of stone.
They yelled orders and him and he finally figured they wanted him to lay on his stomach with his arms outstretched . At this point, he was committed to his plan. He needed to show compliance and put them at ease. The soldiers who came up to him to snap manacles on his right ankle and left wrist looked terrified, but managed to accomplish their tasks.
He felt himself being hauled up and placed on the back of a wagon. The sky overhead was blue; the breeze felt nice against his skin. It was the oddest sensation for him to notice. He couldn’t feel any of his limbs and focused on a breathing exercise one of his athletic trainers had worked so hard to teach him.
Eventually, the fat man who had been standing next to Darron came up. He leaned over the side of the wagon. Kyle could smell his breath. It stank of diabetic ketoacidosis. A sick and fruity, sweet smell he had first noticed on his grandfather, as a child.
The fat man’s teeth were yellowed from chew. He’d seen it before. Most ball players stuck to sunflower seeds, but some of his coaches still used chewing tobacco.
The man said a few gloating words to Kyle. His tone was infuriating. Even though Kyle had no clue what the words meant, he felt like he was being spoken like he was a small child or a dog. It was patronizing and singsong. Kyle knew he should have swallowed his pride and let it go, but he’d be damned before he’d let a fat slug who probably couldn’t even do a sit-up talk to him like that.
So, he did what any self-respecting reincarnated war god would do, and he used the few muscles he could control to slam his head forcefully into the fat face leering over him. A satisfying crunch, spurting blood, and cry of pain made it all worthwhile.
A moment later, the second mage leaned over him and shook his head. A loud, swiftly spoken word of power was all that was required to send the four manacles on his wrists and ankles into overdrive. Kyle pitched into the swelling black as his consciousness faded.
On his way down into darkness, the last thing he heard was Hilde’s voice saying, “I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but…”
Chapter 8 - Harsh Realizations
It seemed rather musty and dim when Kyle came to. The air around him reeked of sweat and human bodies, with a faint hint of the coppery smell of blood. Instead of moving to sit up right away, he felt around. Better that he got any sense of where he was, before letting his captors know that he was awake.
Then something dawned on him. “Hilde, are you there?”
There was no response.
“Look, I know I was stupid and should have paid more attention to what you said,” he thought as intensely as he could, hoping that somehow broadcast it more clearly.
When there was still no answer after waiting for what felt like ten minutes, even if it was only a fraction of that, Kyle prepared to start trying to feel around.
“Is that what passes for an apology from an almighty war god?” Hilde finally asked.
Relief surged through him. She might be a pain in the butt, but he was man enough to admit that she knew far more about the setting here than he did, and it was always good to know how a new field played when you went there the first time.
“Thanks for coming back.”
“It’s not like I had anywhere to go. But seriously, is that all the apology I’m going to get from you?”
Kyle realized he had been stupid, but he also didn’t really think he owed her an apology. She was supposed to work for him, not the other way round. “How often did Krig tell you he was sor
ry?”
The snorting sound in his head was followed by laughter. When it eventually calmed down, Hilde said, “Never. You think the god of war would apologize for anything? He would have been afraid it showed a weakness.”
“But, for some reason, you think I should apologize?” Kyle asked.
The silence was deafening.
When she didn’t answer, Kyle said, “Look, let’s both be honest with each other. The reality is that you work for me. You are bound by a pact or whatever you called it. You are the representative of your people. Equally, you benefit by helping me gain enough essence to allow you to manifest and leave the void. I don’t know for sure, but that doesn’t sound like a fun place to be stuck.”
He sighed. “At the same time, I freely admit that I need your guidance and not just as a translator. I have so much to learn. I was overconfident and thought my strength would be enough to handle anything problems. It almost was, but for that stupid band they put on my ankle. Well… that, and the fact they held Lucas hostage.
“So, all that is to say that we need to work together. I am going to do things my way. That is how I made it to the top, in my world, and it is what will work for me here. I get the feeling Krig was like that too. That said, I am willing to take your advice and listen to your counsel.”
Still, nothing but silence.
“What I need to know is, can we work together? Will you have my back, or storm off every time I make you mad? ‘Cause I thought you were some kind of angel looking out for me and helping me with this whole reincarnation thing, not some overly needy girlfriend.”
He could almost hear the crossed arms and frowning face when she finally said, “Fine, we will work together.”
“That’s great. I am glad to have you on my team. You are like my coach, but once the lights are on, I’m still the one who has to perform on the field. Oh, and don’t think that I don’t know you are holding stuff back from me.”
“I guess ‘coach’ is your title for a respected advisor. I can live with that, but once I am able to manifest, we will need to renegotiate my role,” Hilde said.
“Yeah, yeah. Agents, always trying to get new terms,” Kyle replied. He didn’t mention it, but he took note of the fact that she hadn’t responded to his accusation about holding back information.
Her teacher’s voice was back now, although he had to admit that she still sounded smoking hot. “Now, we must decide what to do about your current situation. Despite how you got here, it may turn out to be for the best.”
“I just wanna figure out where I am and then how to get out of here. I think I can move my arms and legs, so whatever the fancy jewelry was doing to me, it seems to be over.”
“No, don’t move yet. They have a couple of guards in here watching you, but they are fairly lax. If you disregard my advice and try to escape, then it will be much easier with sleepy guards than vigilant ones,” Hilde said.
“Okay, makes sense. So where am I? Some kind of prison?”
“Possibly. I can only observe the area around your immediate location, so I don’t know for sure where we are, but I have an educated guess. If I am right, then this is exactly where you need to be. At least for a little while.”
“Gonna share with the team, coach?” Kyle asked.
“It is too airy to be a true dungeon, so it is unlikely any of the senators had you thrown into their private dungeons, or that the army captured you. It is too dark and, well, underground, to be any type of true infirmary. The most likely place is the coliseum,” Hilde answered.
“What? You mean that they took me to that arena thing?”
“It makes sense on multiple levels. First off, those manacles that they put on your ankles and wrists are obviously magical. They are used as a way to control the one they are on, without causing harm. They wouldn’t go to the incredible expense involved in using those, unless they had a reason to keep you alive. After your little display in the quarry, my guess would be that Darron sold you to the manager of the coliseum,” Hilde said.
“Sold me? You mean like a slave? How the hell does that work?”
“Simple, really. You had no connections to the community, no patron to support you, and you could barely speak. Darron probably believes that you are a barbarian from outside Thena—which is the name of the city you are in, by the way. You never asked, but it is the city state that controls most of what passes for civilized lands amongst the mortals on this continent.
“I won’t bore you with geography now since we have more pressing issues, but the city is ruled by a senate composed of the members of each noble family. There are thirty-three of those families. All citizens have a vote in the grand council, but anyone who isn’t an official citizen of Thena has very few rights here.”
“Why do you think this is where I should be?” Kyle asked.
“Simple, this will be the perfect place for you to learn to fight with low risk, at least at first,” Hilde answered.
“What do you mean at first?”
“Winter is coming, and the arena games are essentially over except for some training and exhibition matches. The established gladiators will be resting up for the beginning of the new season. Some of them are free men, and some will be slaves but put up in much better accommodations here.
“You and the other new recruits will be housed in a barrack setting and kept under guard until they decide if you will make a run for it. Some will be chained. Because of the strength you showed, they have gone to the trouble of expensive magical restraints.”
Kyle swore he could almost see the air quotes around the word ‘recruits’ as she answered him.
“So what about later?” Kyle asked.
Hilde’s response came back, “What do you mean?”
“Dammit,” Kyle thought at her. “I thought we agreed we were going to be a team here.”
“Fine, fine. You have to understand. Krig wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and he didn’t even pay attention to me as arm candy. So maybe some of my resentment at being ignored for over ninety years is coming out. That, and being stuck in the void makes me temperamental,” Hilde said.
“Well, I’m not Krig, and the more you help me, the sooner you can get out of there,” Kyle shot back at her.
“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see. Anyway, hopefully your recall that I told you there are three hundred and fifty days in a year on Verden, and that each week is ten days long with the first day being set aside as a holy day,” Hilde began.
Kyle wanted to nod to show he was listening but caught himself at the last second.
“The year is also divided into eight months, named after the gods. All the months except for Bedrag and Begaer are forty-four days. Those two are only forty-three.”
Kyle cut in to confirm, “Those are deceit and lust, right?”
“Yes, your brother and sister. They were Krig’s two least favorite siblings. He found both of them to be less than honest, although trickery is a part of war, so he understood that part of Bedrag, at least. It was his sister who annoyed him the most. She thought that fighting was wasteful and, worse, she is an incorrigible reprobate who even tried to seduce her own brothers,” Hilde said.
“Shit, man, his family was truly messed up. I guess I can understand him being a bit of an ass. But I’m not him. Even if I am some kind of war god in training, I am gonna make it my own,” Kyle replied.
A moment of silence followed before she continued her lecture. “Typically, here in Thena, the seasons are fairly well split, although the northern part of the empire is much colder and the south much warmer, but from your memories of Earth, that is fairly common. Lige and Dod are typically what you would consider winter months, followed by Jordan and Himmel as spring. Then Krig and Begaer are the summer months. Hav and Bedrag finish the year as autumn.
“It isn’t always exactly like that, but the gods keep the seasons fairly stable, or at least they did until all the carnage that you… errr… that Krig
wreaked. We are ten days into Lige and, while it’s getting colder at night, there hasn’t been any true winter yet.”
“Okay, not that this isn’t important, but what does it have to do with the arena or whether we should stay here or not?” Kyle asked.
“Just trying to explain the calendar so you will know that there are different seasons to the arena games. Wait a minute though. You just said we,” Hilde said.
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Krig would never have thought like that. It would have only ever been I or me with him.”
“I figure you are stuck in my head for now, so the decisions I make affect you too. Besides, no one ever said that Kyle Hudson wasn’t a good teammate,” he responded.
“Maybe there is hope here. Anyway, this is the off season for the arena. It is the time that those who own gladiators get them extra training or look to acquire new fighters. When spring comes, the preliminaries will begin and for six weeks, they have open matches where anyone can participate.
“After that, the Konkurranse will begin, or as it is generally called, the Kon. This is ten weeks of scheduled matches between teams. Just as in the preliminaries, the fights are meant to be non-lethal, but for the Kon, it will only be professionals. Currently, there are twelve teams that are officially recognized,” Hilde continued.
This had Kyle excited. He understood talk about teams and match ups. “So, is it all one-on-one matches?”
“No, each professional team consists of five fighters. The only way to remove a fighter after the season begins is if they die or are crippled. The weekly matches include singles, duos, and team events.”
“And you say these are non-lethal?” Kyle asked. He felt the excitement growing in him. Fighting had given him such a rush earlier, and the idea of getting to compete again appealed to him. Maybe Hilde was right. If he could learn the skills that he needed here, then it might be better to stay.
