by Jack Hammond
“It’s done now.” Sadie said. “After the clash, we'll make it up to him.”
Darren looked at Sadie, with a nod, he agreed. “Yeah, she’s right. He’ll need help after the fight.”
“Unless he does a Wes and wipes the floor with him.” Alwin cheerfully added. “Never know.”
The four of them looked at each other, the quizzing glances all asking, could he? The truth was none of them would even consider it until they saw him defeat the Hydra manifestation Perry created. He was on a streak of eight wins, classed as the best fighter under the shadows, it seemed extremely unlikely.
“I just hope it ends quickly.” Wesley declared.
“Soon as Perry hits him his Mani will break,” Darren said knowingly.
“Kids going to get hurt badly,” Alwin added.
Turning to the colosseum door, they all watched as Patrick stepped out onto the golden sand.
The swirl of energy every fighter feels as they step out into the arena for the first time, washed over Patrick. The silvery whips of light circled his body until finally encompassing him. As the vortex faded the new fighter was transformed, Six feet in height, armed with a huge bow, Patrick’s manifestation was everything he had dreamed. He was dressed in white and black clothing, trousers, boots and a jacket without sleeves. His head was covered by a mask with a tinted visor, but the item Patrick had taken time and effort with, was his bow. The body of the weapon was shinning silver and fashioned by two twisted snakes. The tip of each end was a reptiles head, biting into the white energy that formed the string.
Patrick looked up to the tiers of the amphitheatre. The heaving crowd did not make him nervous, just more excited. He drew his attention away and looked for his opponent in the distance. Perry Grim stood in the doorway, his face like stone. He stepped out, his foot pounding into the sand and instantly a gush of fiery blue and white lashed up from the ground. Scorching sixty feet into the air, Perry’s creation started to form. The outline of the Hydra’s head blazed with white flame, towering over the miniature archer. The second and third heads surged into life, with each passing second Patrick’s mind replayed Wesley’s words. Now looking at the incredible creature that loomed over him, he realised Wesley wasn’t lying.
Excitement swiftly changed to anxiousness and then fear. The announcer told the fighters to prepare as he spoke Patrick shuddered. Would this hurt more than being beaten up for real? He asked himself.
“Clash!” the fight began.
Patrick stepped back, opening up his body; he drew back the bow string. A stream of energy formed from his fingertips to the frame of the bow. A shimmering green bolt crackled into life. Patrick took aim and released.
The arrow of pure energy flew effortlessly at the Hydra. Perry’s manifestation was unimpressed; spitting a simple sphere of white flame it engulfed the archer’s arrow and continued on towards Patrick. He scrambled back, losing his footing he fell to the ground. Patrick could already feel the searing heat from the ball of flame, covering up he couldn’t help but see the irony of the situation. The impact lifted Patrick into the air and his body was sent spinning from the blast. His archer manifestation shattered and as he was slung ferociously against the wall. A cheer went up not towards the Hydra, but in recognition of the brave new fighter. Some say brave others say stupid.
The Hydra whipped out its neck, the huge snapping jaws of the centre head a mere few inches from Patrick’s terrified face. The saliva trickled from its fangs onto Patrick. He didn't understand what was possible here, he had reached a level of fear he had never known. Relentlessly each Hydra head snapped one at a time, the young boy now huddled against the colosseum wall as the boos rang out around the arena. Perry ignored them, he cared little for the crowd’s voice, and if they had an opinion worth hearing they would be in the pit clashing. Not sitting like sheep in the stands, he told himself as he continued his taunting of the defeated archer.
The four fellow Guildford students stood by the aperture, looking at Patrick as he was terrorized and humiliated. Darren turned away. “Poor git gets it everywhere,” a touch of sympathy in his voice.
“No more,” Wesley mumbled. “No more!” he leapt into the arena. Before the crowd even reacted, Wesley’s shield and hammer materialised. He dashed across the sand and saw the next Hydra head whipping its way towards Patrick. Without a second thought, Wes forced himself between Patrick and the advancing Hydra. The attack pounded against the shield, causing his hand to judder as the Hydras teeth ground against the steel buckler. The creations icy breath crept around the edges of Wesley’s defence. With a sudden snap of its jaws, Perry ceased. Wes watched the monsters head reel back. He repositioned himself and raised his buckler preparing for what was coming.
The three heads swayed above him and Patrick, anyone of them could be next, he thought. The golden Hydra surged forward, the trail in its wake twinkled like magic dust. Wesley deflected the strike, almost batting Perry’s creation away. The red eyed Hydra was already advancing, before Wes had completely dispatched the last. He kept his feet firmly rooted as he twisted his upper body and thrust the shield into the oncoming assault.
The impact thudded against the buckler, the power forcing Wesley back. His feet slid in the sand, his defensive stance remained defiant. Perry revised his strategy and retreated. Close combat suited the Gladiator much more than he had anticipated. He concluded long range attacks were his best option. The Hydra mouths opened simultaneously, one channeled swirls of fire, the next, vibrant blue streams of icy water and the final mouth a golden orb of energy.
The crowd could almost feel the bristling energy from Perry’s creation. Wesley had to end this quickly, continuing to take hit, after hit was not a good plan. He took a step back, lowered his shield and drew back his hammer. Wes conjured as much power as possible and threw it hard, releasing the weapons might. The blazing strike scorched across the Colosseum. Perry could not react fast enough, before the hammer impacted against his body. A stunned silence had filled the amphitheatre from the moment Wesley had entered, but as the crowd found its voice it was silenced again by the deafening sound of Perry’s manifestation shattering. The looming Hydra vanished, as its young creator crashed to the sand, defeated.
Wesley turned to Patrick and held out his hand. “I’m sorry, I should never have let this happen.” Wesley apologised.
Patrick refused his gesture and meekly replied, “Thank you,” before dashing out of the arena.
The arena spun around him quickly. Everything was a haze, a strange blend of colours and lights. Finally it began to slow, the shapes took form, and the lights glared once more in his eyes. The noise from the crowd hit him hard, almost as hard as the hammer strike that had defeated him. That wasn’t possible, he told himself. Perry looked down at his body as he sat motionless on the colosseum sand. He continued to tell himself it hadn’t happened, that he hadn’t lost a clash to a single blow. The sand had suddenly dulled in Perry’s eyes; his defeat had changed the allure that had drawn him to the clash.
“That wasn’t fair!” he blurted out, “It doesn’t count, it wasn’t his clash!”
Wesley had no right to enter the arena, the clash was between Perry and Patrick, and it had to be voided. Wesley hadn’t beaten him, he cheated, it was two versus one and the Gladiator manifestation had taken him by surprise. That’s it! He was not prepared to battle him. The fight was not a fair one. The sand shone a little brighter. Rushing from the amphitheatre and into the pit, Perry continuously told himself Wes had surprised him. That’s why he had lost, the more he told himself, the more he believed it.
He felt anger like never before. Perry charged through the dumbfounded fighters as they looked towards Wesley. Bodies were pushed left and right as he furiously shoved them aside. His defeat wouldn't stand because no official challenge had been made. The rage was being fuelled by the way Wesley had made him look ridiculous with one hit. One bloody hit, he shouted silently, as he moved through more people. He saw him, surrounded by t
he same gawping pit monkeys that had swarmed around him after his last battle. Perry sneered at them, the powerless trolls just leeched off others’ triumphs.
With him clearly in his sights Perry leaned into his stride, increasing his pace. A figure stepped into his path, he didn’t slow, and he didn’t even see who had stood in his way. Perry tossed the obstacle aside without a second thought; the sound of them clattering to the ground didn’t even grasp his attention. Then he saw something he had not seen on the sand. The look in Wesley’s eyes was pure, unadulterated rage! Perry felt a jolt of fear jab him hard as he slowed.
“Played!” Alwin shouted. “That was nicely played, Wes.”
“Thanks.” He replied stepping off the sand. “I couldn’t watch that anymore. It was my fault after all.”
“You showed him up man, real bad.” Alwin said. “Sadie and Daz are still over there in serious shock!”
Wes just smiled.
“No one’s ever walked into a fight like that,” he explained. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
“At least I’m not predictable.”
“Not even slightly.” Alwin threw an arm around his shoulder. He glanced towards Sadie and Darren and caught sight of Perry behind them, charging through the contenders. Wesley hadn’t expected him to make it around so fast, he knew a confrontation would happen just not so soon.
Perry was furious, his face bright red with anger, his fists clenched. He stormed his way past everyone; Perry's eyes were burning brightly with hatred. They were focused solely on Wesley alone. Sadie saw him too, without hesitation she stepped out in front of him. Perry didn’t even think, he just reacted slamming both his hands into her chest. She was knocked back with such force, Sadie collapsed over one of the stone benches. Darren quickly rushed to her side, Wesley didn’t. A surge flowed through Wesley, just as he felt inside the arena. A switch was flipped and something within Wes changed.
Wesley threw off Alwin's arm and charged towards Perry. His eyebrows narrowed into a v shape as he reached out his hand. Wes could sense the tingle beneath his skin as the grip of the hammer formed and then the head of the weapon glimmered into existence. The contenders parted like waves as Wes shot through. Looks of amazement and astonishment etched across each and every face. Wesley caught sight of a guard in his peripheral vision gliding its way towards the two fighters. Wesley instinctively drew the hammer across his chest as the huge cloaked arena guard arrived, he was instantly met with a back handed swing.
The weapon smashed into the beast’s chest, sending him flying through the air and crashing into the far wall. Then raising the hammer Wesley prepared to bring it down on. Perry saw the burning hammer dispatch the guard with ease and suddenly came to a halt. He stopped so fast he lost his footing and fell; before he even hit the floor his legs were kicking furiously, as he tried to scramble backwards. It wasn’t enough, the hammer drew closer, and then finally Wesley brought it down. Like slow motion, Perry’s face froze. His eyes wide, his mouth gaped open. The swing seemed to take forever, Wesley’s teeth gritted as he forced everything he had into the blow.
The weapon slammed into something hard, but it wasn't Perry. A shimmering green field rippled between the hammer and the unarmed boy. A voice boomed from out of the stunned silence of the pit.
“There will be no conjuring outside of the arena!” the voice of authority had spoken.
Wesley stepped back, his hammer vanishing as he panted, trying to catch his breath. What had just happened? What had he just done? It was as if someone had taken control of him, he wasn’t able to stop himself.
The voice continued. “The clash between you two will be fought on the sand tomorrow night!”
Perry’s eyes looked to the heavens, wide and full of fear. “No! I don’t want to fight!”
Wesley looked at him, he was terrified. Not just scared but absolutely petrified. “Tomorrow!” Wesley snapped angrily at him.
“I don’t want to clash!” Perry yelled out, still lying on the floor.
“The challenge will go ahead...” the voice explained.
Turning back to his friends Wesley felt the rage, and inability of control dissipate. He was returning to normal. If you could call it that, he countered in his mind. Alwin was at Sadie’s side with Darren opposite.
“Are you okay?” Wesley began as he joined them.
“Me? What about you? What the hell happened?” Sadie retorted wildly.
“That was… what was that?” Alwin expressed his lack of understanding.
“I don’t know. I just got angry.” Wesley said. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“How did you get your hammer?!” Darren asked, genuinely confused.
“Sorry, don’t know. I just, willed it.”
“You need to be careful Wes. What just happened was dangerous,” Sadie added.
Wesley knew she was right, he had gone beyond anger, rage or any aggression he had ever felt before. Added to the fact he no idea how to control the outburst, he just reacted instinctively rather than thinking them through.
“It’s okay, I have it under control.” Wesley said playing down the severity of the situation.
“You don’t. You really don’t.” Sadie continued.
Wes just shrugged.
“You went feral mate.” Alwin said. “Proper feral, star shaped if you will.”
Darren was remaining silent, just watching the conversation move along at its own pace.
“What would've happened if the announcer hadn’t stopped you?” Sadie asked. “Perry would have had the full force of it, with no arena for protection.”
Alwin looked across the room, the guard Wesley had swiped his hammer at, was still laid out on the floor. Half slumped against the wall, it was surely out for the count. “Look at the state of him.” Alwin said pointing to the beast. “How the hell did you do that?”
Again Wes repeated. “I don’t know.”
“You’re fighting him tomorrow.” Sadie said. “Don’t lose it out there. I can’t imagine what you are capable of if you completely lose control.”
“Give him a break now,” Darren said. “He’s as confused as we are. Let him have a minute to calm down. You guys too.” Darren addressed them diplomatically. Everyone nodded in agreement.
Wesley looked at the floor as he sat down next to the three of them. He couldn’t help but realise they were right, he was losing himself in the fight. The stronger the opponent, the less of him was actually there. But then, when Perry attacked Sadie, Wes was sure it was him. He couldn’t control it, he couldn’t resist it, but there was something about it he recognised. Wesley sensed that it was part of him. He just wasn’t sure what part.
“I wonder…” Wesley began, “I wonder if this is how they began?” he said gesturing to the shadows. “What if they are ashamed of what they have become which is why they are cloaked in shadows?”
Sadie looked at him, she didn’t speak.
“Wes.” Darren replied. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You lost your temper; it’s an arena full of fighters. It’s going to happen.” Darren looked at Wes, his head down looking forlorn. “You just need to learn control. I can control my abilities out there because they are nothing. Yours need more practice.”
He sighed, “I guess so I’m just wondering if maybe I should call it a day. I don’t like what’s happening to me here.” He said. The truth was he didn’t understand it, he couldn’t control it, but he did like it. He liked the power, he liked the fight. Wesley just liked it, full stop.
“No!” Alwin interjected. “You can’t quit. You’re the best fighter the pit’s seen, in however long it’s been going. I know you can control the power.”
“Be careful Wes. Don’t lose yourself to the colosseum.” Sadie added.
Wesley grinned as a thought popped into his head. “Actually, I might know someone who can help me with the control.” He said with a smile.
“Who?” Alwin asked.
The rays of sunlight cut through
the blinds in the open plan apartment that overlooked the city centre. Glass windows surrounded the huge layout. Hardwood flooring ran throughout and expensive rugs helped distinguish one area from another. A thick blue plush rug was in the games area, along with an American sized pool table, several video game machines and a huge television mounted on the wall. Another had a cream rug, matching the huge comfy leather seats and Brunswick furniture, a book case filled with hundreds of books sat proudly against a pillar.
Chad made his way from the bathroom, fastening his tie with a golden pin. His hair neatly styled with gel, he crossed the apartment into the kitchenette area and took a sip from a mug of coffee he had prepared earlier. He opened up the newspaper as he sat at the counter and began to read the sports section. He was a few lines in before he was drawn away to his intercom.
Chad pushed the button, “Hello?”
“Uncle Chad, it’s Wes,” Wesley replied.
Chad raised his eyebrows as he looked at his expensive watch. Just after eight he thought, “Come up.” He eagerly replied, interested in what had brought his nephew to his home so early in the morning.
Wesley clutched the glass of orange juice with both hands. Wes had considered what he would say and how he would phrase it. He wanted to try to tug on his uncle’s heart strings to get him to help. But now, face to face with his uncle Chad everything sounded weird.
“Well then,” Chad began. “What’s happened?”
