by Ben Hale
“It is possible,” Jeric said. “But the Eternals do not own any ships with such capabilities, and even if we did, any action of such magnitude would reveal the Empire to the people.”
Behind the effort to keep Lumineia hidden was the real truth. The Eternals were not as strong as Mind had assumed. A skyship undoubtedly cost a great deal of coin, or glint, as Jeric had said. He wondered how many Eternals even served Ero. Ten? Fifty?
“And the other Eternals?” Tardoq asked.
“Occupied,” Jeric said. “To bring them now would just open Lumineia to other threats.”
The Gate glowed to life, the silver liquid shimmering into place to resemble a mirror. Jeric reached up and touched his pendent, his body changing, his arms slimming and skin darkening into his true form.
Ero.
“Keep your eyes open,” Ero warned Mind. “And remember, in this place, you are viewed much like cattle.”
“I’m not giving up my sword.”
Tardoq chuckled. “This is the one world where humans are allowed to carry weapons. Of course, if you draw the blade, guards will crush you to pulp. But it’s to be expected that human combatants be armed. It helps the oddsmakers to understand what value to place on your life.”
“Ready?” Ero asked.
Mind stepped past them and into the Gate. As in his trip to Kelindor, he felt a tug, and then stepped onto a raised platform. He swept his surroundings with shock, a single thought reverberating in his mind.
He was no longer on Lumineia.
The room he’d entered was enormous, larger even than the entire city of Herosian. Platforms lined the cavernous space, stacked twenty high and hundreds long. Each contained a single world Gate.
The exterior of the room was all glass, unbroken sheets that extended for hundreds of feet, allowing a clear view of the churning currents of magma cascading down the mountain. The Gate chamber sat on the slope of the volcano. At the base of the volcano, a war waged, with blasts of fire, light, and other energies.
At the center of the Gate Chamber, an enormous sphere hovered in the air. Images of battle and combat washed across the surface, before being replaced with runic text, which Mind took to understand as a call to spend glint in order to watch more.
“We’ll need to get you registered,” Ero said. “This way.”
Ero crossed the platform to a much smaller Gate, this one obviously connecting only to the locations on the world of Dedliss. He tapped the symbols on the side and the silver shimmered. Tardoq followed, and Mind passed through, entering a much smaller room.
Obviously underground, the room was spherical in shape. They stood on a platform at the center, which connected by walkways to the exterior. Combatants prowled the interior of cages that lined every inch of the sphere. Abruptly the sphere shifted, turning on an axis to bring a certain cage in line with one of the walkways, where a krey woman explained the value of a dakorian inside the cell to another krey. Although the cells on the ceiling were now horizontal, the captives stood on the sides as if the gravity had turned.
The center of the chamber contained a circular desk with a krey man and woman behind it. Both obviously bored, they spoke to a dakorian and a krey at his side, who argued that his soldier should receive a better ranked position in the upcoming duels.
“He’s two hundred years old,” the krey behind the counter scoffed. “He won’t last long in a ranked contest.”
“He was nearly a Bloodwall for house Thorn’Vall,” the krey protested. “And he saw combat on the moons of Urgin.”
The female krey shrugged. “Just let him die in the seventh tier.”
The male frowned but tapped a floating sphere. The symbols changed, and he rattled off instructions to the seller, who nodded eagerly before making his way to one of the small Gates lining the platform.
“How can I understand them?” Mind murmured to Tardoq.
“Language is universal throughout the Empire,” he replied. “Even slaves are encoded with the knowledge.”
“But I wasn’t born in the Empire,” Mind said.
“Your ancestors were,” Ero replied.
The accent was strange, but Mind had no difficulty understanding the conversation. He struggled to discard his sense of unease. He’d spent five thousand years on Lumineia thinking it was the entirety of existence. Stepping on Kelindor’s moon had made him feel small. Now he felt like a gnat.
Ero stepped into the space vacated by the seller, and the two krey behind the counter perked up, their eyes on Tardoq. The krey released a sound of appreciation and reached for the hovering sphere.
“And who might this be?” he asked.
“A Bloodwall,” his companion said, her eyes flicking to the prominent four scars on Tardoq’s horns. “And what a specimen. What house?”
Tardoq jerked his head. “I’m not here to fight. He is.”
He pointed to Mind, who folded his arms and tried not to look annoyed. Both krey were disappointed, and the male exited the desk and came around to examine him. It allowed Mind to get a good look at the oddsmaker.
The krey was about Mind’s height, but his skin was a dark grey, several shades darker than Ero’s own flesh. His eyes were a bright green. He was obviously not a soldier, because Mind was able to sift through his memories as he poked and prodded Mind’s body.
His name was Ursun, and he came from the house of Eter’Quen. It explained his green eyes. Apparently every house in the Empire had different eyes. Wylyn and her son had color changing eyes, the colors shifting according to their mood. House Eter’Quen had green eyes. When children were born to parents of different houses, they belonged to the house matching their eyes.
Ursun was six thousand years old, young by krey standards, and just working on Dedliss at the crucible because his family owed gambling debts to House Torn’Ent. He hated the female he worked with, who was a higher rank daughter of House Thorn’Vall, a krey woman named Rasina.
Rasina fiddled with her clothing and kept glancing at Tardoq, attempting to draw his gaze. Mind couldn’t pick her history as easily, but there was enough for him to realize she disliked her position at the Oddsmaker sphere, a position she’d been given after her own debts had come to light. Apparently gambling was rampant in House Thorn’Vall, and her mother disapproved of her foolish wagers.
“He’ll have to fight a dakorian,” Ursun said. “Rank fourteen, criminal they call Basher. I can’t get you a lower ranked foe until next week. We’ve had a flood of slave fighters in the last few days, most from Wylyn’s house.”
Mind guessed that without Wylyn, the house had begun to sell off their slaves, looking to make glint before her return. They didn’t know she was already dead and her house would eventually disintegrate.
“That is acceptable,” Ero said.
“Your funeral,” Rasina said with a snort.
Ursun shrugged. “If he lasts ten minutes, you’ll win the standard thousand glints. If he dies, you get nothing.”
“I’ll place a wager that he wins,” Ero said.
Ursun actually laughed. “How much do you want to lose?”
“A million glint.”
That got their attention, and both stared at Ero, slack-jawed. Ursun recovered first and fumbled to update the information on the sphere, the lettering changing to reflect the wager. Mind picked their shock from their thoughts. Both thought Ero stupid. If victorious, Ero would win a hundred times that amount. Failure would probably result in Ero being tossed into his own duel.
“You understand the risks?” Ursun asked.
“I do,” Ero said, “and I accept them.”
“This ought to be good,” Ursun said.
Ero reached up and touched the floating sphere. It flickered green and Ursun turned the sphere, rotating the entire chamber so an empty cell lined up with the walkway. He pointed to it as the grate lifted, and Ero guided Mind down the walkway.
“Is a million a lot?” Mind asked.
“It is everything the Eternals p
ossess,” he replied.
“You bet your entire organization that I would win?”
“I did,” Ero said, and offered a faint smile as Mind entered the chamber. “We’re both invested in this victory.”
Tardoq stood at Ero’s side as the grate lowered. “Don’t forget, dakorians have two hearts.” He pointed to a spot on his chest and then stomach. You’ll have to puncture both of them. Or the throat.”
“I know what to do,” Mind replied. And hoped that he did.
Chapter 9: Duel
After the grate shut, the spherical chamber rotated up and around. Mind instinctively reached for the wall, but his feet remained on the floor. His stomach heaved as the world turned sideways, but gravity remained rooted in the same direction. He chuckled at his own nervousness and felt the threads of gravity emanating from a machine at the side of the cell.
The sphere locked into the place, and through the grate he spotted Ursun and Rasina watching another floating orb, this one located at the back of their desk. It depicted a small arena high above the earth. The interconnected walkways were narrow, with ramps and steps circling and winding back on itself. A place of dueling.
A large sphere rose to the platform and attached to the side, and a section of the wall opened. A dakorian stepped out and hefted a hammer. Modified to include spikes, the weapon was as ugly as the dakorian, which had numerous scars twisting his flesh.
Another sphere appeared, rising and attaching to the opposite side of the dueling arena. A section opened—and the back of Mind’s cell lifted as well. Mind had thought the chamber underground, and now realized it floated in the air. He cautiously stepped into the open and surveyed the dueling area.
Several paths extended away from him, some switching up and over, others turning to steps and descending under. A handful of walls bordered the walkways, but most of them came to his knees. Mind stepped to an edge and leaned over, but the ground was thousands of feet below. Clouds drifted beneath them, and the sun was just beginning its descent.
He returned to the doorway of his cell and looked across the space, to the dakorian called Basher. The dakorian bared his broken teeth in a snarl and pointed his hammer at Mind, obviously anticipating a quick victory. Then a countdown appeared on the small tower at the center of the arena, the numbers depicting a countdown. Small hovering spheres floated around walkways. Mind assumed they would pick up the image and send it so others could see. Then Basher began to advance.
“A slave?” he sniffed in disgust. “I expected better.”
Mind scanned the sky. Hundreds of giant spheres floated nearby, some connected to other dueling arenas. Silver and reflective on the exterior, they resembled giant bubbles floating through clouds. Mind spotted dakorians dueling krey and humans. A human man screamed as he fell off the ledge and plummeted to his death.
The sun hung low on the horizon, and in the distance lay the volcanic battleground. Sparks of light flared on the earth, the evidence of energy weapons. In the opposite direction lay an ocean, a series of islands forming the Sea Battleground. An entire world, dedicated to death and war. The sight filled Mind with revulsion.
“Basher, rank fourteen dakorian,” a voice said, “and Fragment, rank fifty human.”
Mind smiled faintly at the term. It was fitting, if now incorrect. The dakorian roared, a sound that would have been terrifying to any other human, but Mind saw into the criminal’s consciousness. He’d once been a soldier, but he’d frequently succumbed to baser instincts, until he killed several of his own soldiers and been placed in the Crucible as punishment. He’d killed hundreds in a variety of contests, and gloried in the blood and killing.
The timer at the top of the tower clicked and began to change, and Mind drew his sword. Basher laughed as he leapt to a higher ramp and began to accelerate. He dragged his hammer behind him, the weapon bouncing about, empowering the runes on the shaft, the scraping meant to frighten Mind.
“I’m going to crush you to paste,” he called.
Mind strode toward the dakorian, unhurried. He set his sword low and at his side. The dakorian hurtled down the ramp, his bone armored body causing vibrations to cascade through the floor of the arena. He’d picked one of the wider pathways, and Mind made no attempt to evade.
Thirty feet became twenty, and Basher raised his spiked hammer. Mind gathered his magic and shaped it around the tip of his sword. Basher roared and swung, his blow meant to crush Mind’s ribs and heart. Mind sidestepped, allowing Basher’s hammer to whistle over his head. Mind set his toes on the edge of the pathway, and leapt.
With a burst of gravity magic he jumped four feet and swung his sword. Backed by four times the natural gravity, the sword smashed into the dakorian’s jaw, slicing through bone and throat.
The impact sent the dakorian tumbling over the side, his hammer falling from his grip. Basher stared in shock as Mind stepped to the edge. With dispassionate eyes Mind watched the dakorian plummet to the volcanic surface below.
He flicked his sword and sheathed it, and then noticed one of the observation spheres hovering around him. Another zipped to his position, and then a third. More and more came, until four became dozens, and then a hundred, all floating around the arena.
He was a spectacle, he’d realized. Humans in the Empire were not trained for combat, not prepared to fight, and against a dakorian they stood little chance of survival. What Mind had done would quickly gain a reputation, and Mind wondered if he should have taken his time.
“. . . Fragment is the victor!” a voice proclaimed, rushed, as if the speaker had scrambled to speak after the sudden end of the duel. “Due to the speed of his victory, Fragment advances a full thirty-six ranks, and will now take Basher’s place in the standings!”
Mind turned and strode back to his cell. As he stepped out of the wind, he faced the swarm of orbs floating around the arena, all pushing each other for a closer view. Some examined the blood on the arena floor, others circled the dakorian hammer where it lay. Still others zipped down to watch the still falling Basher.
The outside of the cell shut and the interior rotated again, bringing Mind back in line with the walkway to the oddsmaker desk. Both Ursun and Rasina were shouting at spheres, or rather, someone was shouting at them. Ursun was laughing, while Rasina looked stunned.
The grate lifted and Mind stepped free, joining Ero and Tardoq, who looked impressed. “Well done,” the Bloodwall said. “From what I saw, his ability was impressive, yet you made him look like an untrained youth.”
Mind shrugged. “It wasn’t really fair. It’s not like he knew about magic.”
Tardoq began to laugh, the sound rueful, a reminder that when he’d arrived on Lumineia, he’d also thought little of the humans. Then Tardoq’s dakorian soldiers had been killed, one by one falling to the fragments and others with magic.
“Thirteen seconds,” Rasina breathed. “You killed a fourteenth rank in thirteen seconds.”
“We’ll be staying at Warview,” Ero said as they passed the desk. “You can send my winnings there.”
“Of course,” Ursun said. He shook his head and eyed Mind with what could only be described as greed. “Thirteen seconds,” he breathed.
Rasina stepped in front of Ero, cutting him off. “You are in luck,” she said. “After such a strong showing, the houses of Thorn’Vall and Torn’Ent would like to purchase your slave. As a member of house Thorn’Vall, I suggest my own house, and am required to say the offer is even higher than—”
“He’s not for sale,” Ero said.
“We’ll add ten million to your winnings,” she said.
“No,” Ero said, stepping around her.
She rushed back to the front. “Twenty? Thirty million? Name your price.”
“He’s not one I can sell,” Ero replied.
The sphere floating above Rasina’s shoulder laughed. “Everyone is for sale,” a greasy voice said. “We’ll double your winnings.”
“You’d pay two hundred million glint f
or me?” Mind shook his head in disbelief.
“Not for a billion would I sell,” Ero said.
“Are you mad?” the sphere demanded. “No slave is worth that much.”
“A life is without price,” Ero said.
“Then what about your Bloodwall?” the sphere asked. “I’ll take both for five hundred million—”
Tardoq drew his sword and slashed above Rasina’s head, the weapon slicing the sphere in half. Sparks burst from the machinery, and liquid splattered Rasina’s hair. She cried out in fear and anger as the broken sphere crashed to the walkway, half spinning over the edge. Those in the cages began to shout, bellowing in excitement.
“Try to buy me again,” Tardoq said evenly, “And I’ll show everyone how much you are worth.”
Rasina sputtered and tried to wipe the liquid off her face and dress. “Do you have any idea how much this costs?” she demanded, sweeping a hand at her fabric.
Tardoq stepped around the shrieking krey woman as one of the other spheres began to shout, pulsing as the speaker demanded information. Mind couldn’t resist a smile. They’d thought him a soon-to-be-corpse, and he’d devastated their odds. As they returned to the Gate at the edge of the oddsmaker sphere, he realized what he’d done would have ramifications throughout the Krey Empire.
“Did I kill him too quickly?” he asked, casting a glance back at the shouting sphere and the two krey.
Ero smiled and shook his head. “You did exactly as I hoped.”
Mind heard the trace of triumph in his tone. It was the sound of one who’d planned for a certain moment, prepared for it, manipulated it into being. Ero had not just wanted to draw Bonebreaker out of hiding, he’d wanted Mind to win, and do so in a manner that would command attention. He stabbed a finger at the krey.
“You wanted me to draw that much attention.”
Ero stepped closer and lowered his tone. “The Krey Empire views mankind as beasts. What you just did will be seen and replayed in every house, in every home. Humans here are not like on Lumineia. They have no hope, no spark of might. They labor and love, but without a semblance of joy. They are broken. In a few days we’re going to disappear back to Lumineia, but your legacy will remain. A slave, who demonstrated the might of his race.”
