The Xarren Escape (Plundering the Stars Book 2)

by James David Victor

  The guards had blaster rifles at the ready, though I doubted they would have used them if we tried to escape because Xarren would have blown a fuse if I died. Didn’t matter, though. I wasn’t even walking. I was being carried, so no chance for me to escape.

  They led/carried us down the hall, the opposite end of where the stairs were. We came to a wall. I was confused for a second before one of the guards pulled at the wall sconce beside him. There was a click and the wall swung open in a rumbling cloud of dust. I gulped. This hadn’t been on the blueprints I’d memorized.

  What could be down there? What could Xarren be hiding that wasn’t even on a blueprint that included secret escape tunnels?

  The tunnel descended into darkness. The guards all turned on LED lights on their uniforms and led us down. The tunnel was old stone, cracked and covered in dust and webs, and the air was hot and stuffy. As I strained my eyes in the pale light, I caught long marks on the stone: nail marks from someone trying to hold on for dear life. I gulped.

  But I masked my fear with false bravado. A staple of my personality. “So where are you taking us today? I hope there’s a hot spring down there.”

  “Shut up, Goon,” one of the thugs behind me said. None of them tried to hit me, so I guessed that was a positive. Jax chuckled at my question. Unfortunately, whatever was waiting for us at the bottom of these stairs wasn’t going to be good. In fact, it was probably going to be very, very bad.

  The stairs ended and we then followed a long and winding tunnel. It was dark, only dimly lit by the occasional oil torch. Very low tech. No tech from what I could tell. Whatever this was, it was a lot older than the manor, which was a few centuries old. This was like we’d descended into the ruins of the old capitol, built a thousand years before the Elarri Empire took to the stars.

  After a while, the tunnel grew wider, brighter. There was chatter up ahead. I gulped. The hairs on my arms stood up. I wasn’t going to like what was coming, I just knew it.

  Finally, the tunnel ended, and we came into a massive space, a space that I could only describe as ancient, something straight out of a fantasy novel of yesteryear. We found ourselves in an arena, a wide space covered in silver sand and dirt, surrounded by rough rock walls that led to bleachers that looked to be carved out of the stone itself. The rock was dark, like obsidian but not as glassy. Torches were interspersed along the walls, but the center of the arena was aglow in moonlight. I looked up. Far, far above was a natural opening in the ceiling, where the moonlight shone through.

  It would almost have been beautiful if I didn’t understand the purpose was for people to kill each other.

  We weren’t alone. As the guards led us in, we saw other prisoners kneeling in the sand ahead of us, all in chains. And standing over them was Xarren himself, along with several other Elarri men in fine suits and jewelry. His lieutenants perhaps, or maybe some politicians he was in bed with. Didn’t really matter. They looked at us like we were meat and not people.

  There was space right in front for us, right before Xarren. The guards forced Jax and El to their knees and then mine tossed me onto the ground. I landed hard. The wind got knocked out of me as my face smacked against the sand and I got dirt in my mouth. It was not as soft as it appeared.

  Xarren chuckled. “Kind of you to join us.”

  I did my best to shimmy myself into a dignified position, but with my hands and feet still tied, it was rather hard.

  The question was clearly directed at me, and I felt the weight of the stares of everyone present. No matter, I could work a crowd.

  “Well, you know, I always try to keep my fans waiting. Suspense builds intrigue, ya know?”

  Xarren pursed his lips and harrumphed. Well, at least I managed to annoy him properly. I still had it, even if it got me killed. And wasn’t that the goal?

  He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back and paced around us prisoners with an air of sickening authority. Like he owned us, which I supposed he did. “Some of you are new, and some of you have been here for many moons. As much as I enjoy torture—and believe me, I do—I’d like to try something new, something more entertaining for my esteemed guests.”

  With a wicked smile, he clapped his hands together and flourished his arms out to indicate to the surrounding space. “So, you will all fight to the death!”

  As obvious as this was from the moment we saw the arena, we still sat in stunned silence. Though even if most of us had something to say, we probably wouldn’t voice it.

  “So what happens if we win?” asked a prisoner to my left.

  “I’m glad you asked, Mr. Etticker. If you win, you get to live another day. And, as a bonus, I won’t torture you. And you’ll still receive medical care and two meals a day.”

  “Can we…earn our freedom?” another asked.

  Xarren chuckled, which caused all his friends to laugh as well. Even some of the guards joined in, though they were hesitant.

  “Oh my, no. Don’t misconstrue this situation. You are all prisoners of the Elexae crime family. My prisoners, who have pissed me off and burdened me beyond belief to the point that your deaths are all but sealed. I simply am giving you the opportunity to extend your worthless lives as long as possible, torture-free.”

  Not surprising in the least to me. I knew how Xarren operated, but still I could feel the air of hope sucked out of my fellow prisoners, at least the ones that were still entertaining the thought of living a long life away from this hell. Me? Well, I’d already come to grips with my situation, hence the attempted suicide and my current restraints.

  “So here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “My strapping guards will pass around a bucket with some little scraps of paper on them. Most are blank, but two will have a red mark in the middle. The two prisoners who draw them will fight each other. See? Nice and fair. Be thankful. I could have picked based on the most entertaining matchup, but I find sometimes luck and fate can provide for anything.”

  As he gave this speech, the guards did walk around with a couple of metal buckets. Each prisoner dug in and pulled out a sheet. When it got to me, the guard had to retrieve mine for me since my arms were still bound together behind me. He stared at the paper, smirked, and flipped it for me to see.

  My heart stopped. I got the red mark.

  Jax’s eyes grew wide beside me, and he cursed under his breath. He got his paper. Blank. Good, I didn’t want to fight a new friend. El’s was also blank. Also good, because she would’ve killed me no question.

  So down the line they passed out the papers. I didn’t know if the two marked ones were divided by each bucket or if both were in one. It was impossible to know, but regardless, I was the marked one for this round. Maybe it was good. I didn’t want to fight. I certainly didn’t want to kill, no matter how deserving my opponent might be.

  Xarren must’ve known that I wouldn’t fight, that I would just let them kill me. What was the point of keeping me bound to the wall all these days if it was just going to end like this?

  What game was he playing?

  When the last of the papers were given out, the guards returned to Xarren’s side, who still wore a much too delighted smile. Oh, how I wanted to rip it off his smug face.

  “So, who shall be first?” he asked.

  None of us wanted to volunteer. I definitely wasn’t going to, though I was glad to see whoever my opponent also had reservations.

  “Come on, don’t be shy,” he cooed. Still, neither I nor my opponent would budge. So Xarren groaned. “Boys, find me my contestants. I was trying to be nice, but you are wearing my patience thin.”

  One of the guards stepped forward and grabbed me by the back of my neck, hauling me to my feet and holding me in place so I didn’t fall over. Xarren’s eyes went wide with glee. The honest joy in his gaze was sickening.

  “Ah, Slim Hands. Good of you to volunteer.”

  I snorted. “Happy to help.”

  His smile didn’t waver as his eyes scanned
the crowd. “Who else?”

  The other guard walked to my right and pulled forward a tall, red-skinned Yodenian, his noseless face and bald held looking smooth and shiny, but in reality was as rough as bark. Not ideal for me. Or maybe perfect, for my purposes.

  “Perfect!” exclaimed Xarren. He turned back to his guests and waved back at us. “Get the rest of that rabble back to their cells.”

  The guards took Jax, El, and the rest away, leaving the Yodenian standing a few feet apart awkwardly, knowing that in a matter of moments, we’d be trying to kill each other. He had a rugged face like most others of his kind I’d encountered, which was many admittedly. They were a member race of the Hegemony and didn’t venture into Imperial Space often. But he had sharp cheekbones and a wide jaw with rocky-looking ridges. Yeah, I didn’t want to punch that.

  His eyes were needlessly kind? They just had a yearning, an innocence to them. Yeah, definitely didn’t want to kill him. Whatever he had done was probably something good. He was an ally as far as I was concerned, but that didn’t matter now.

  Xarren and his swanky friends exited the arena through a door in the wall and piled into the stands. More of them appeared from some undisclosed room because as they all settled, there must have been four or five dozen of them, almost all Elarri, wearing fancy silks and velvet and other manner of expensive baubles. Xarren himself was in a small viewing box above the bulk of the assembled with his main entourage.

  That prick.

  The guards came over to the Yodenian and I and unlocked our restraints. The heavy banded chains fell away, and the weight loss was a relief. I rubbed my knuckles, which had chafed badly beneath the manacles. My guard got in my face and gave me a death stare.

  “You even think of running, and it’s right back to torture with you.”

  I nodded. I didn’t know if he had the authority to do that or if that was direct from Xarren, but I had no intention of going back to torture. But I also had no intention of winning this fight either.

  They spaced us out so that we were a stone’s throw apart. Perhaps for dramatic affect. I didn’t know. The guards retreated to the first row of the stands so that they could watch but be close if needed. The Yodenian and I stood still, straight-backed, awkward. Did we begin?

  We got our answer. Xarren stood in his box and put his hands out as a horn blared from above. “Begin!”

  Where I was hesitant, my innocent-looking opponent was not. He charged right in, a war-cry escaping him as he crossed the sand between us, elbows pumping. Yodenians were a brave people and often thought with their hearts and not with their heads. Evidenced here. If I was a competent fighter who wanted to win, it would have been a bad move. Lucky him.

  I didn’t move as he came into range. Didn’t dodge as he swung his fist at me.

  His fist smashed into my face. I whirled around, saw spots. Hit the ground hard. I heard Xarren’s guests cheer and roar with approval. But I couldn’t see them. All I could see was the walls spinning around me. I tried to push to my feet, get my wits about me, but when I was half up, he gave me an uppercut and caught me in the chin. There was a crack. Pain exploded. I tasted blood. I was blinded by the shock of it all. Definitely a broken jaw.

  I landed hard on my back. I groaned, tried to speak, but the pain was too much. Before I knew it, my opponent was on top of me. Suddenly, his hands were around my neck. And they squeezed. Hard.

  It wasn’t so bad at first. I’d been choked before, and on more than one occasion in bed. But then it progressed. This was life or death, and he was choosing life without any hesitation. I didn’t blame him. His grip grew tighter and tighter, until the pain blossomed and spread though my body, until I was gasping, desperate for air.

  He just kept choking and choking and choking and choking and choking.

  This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? I wanted to die. I didn’t want to give Xarren the satisfaction of torturing me. Didn’t want to be his entertainment, his personal little plaything. No, this was I wanted.

  So why was I so terrified?

  Why did tears come to my eyes? Why did the names of all the saints fly through my mind, asking each for forgiveness? I didn’t care about forgiveness. Good deeds didn’t affect the Goonish afterlife. Why should I care?

  And then it hit me all at once. I didn’t want to die. Jinx wouldn’t want me to die like this, alone in a dungeon as mobsters cheered for my death. Dead or alive, she’d want me to fight, to strive for life. She was alive too. I knew it in my heart. Her and Amara and K and Pivek. They were out there waiting for me, trying to find me. They needed me. So did my family—my mother, father, and sister.

  I couldn’t let them down like this.

  So as my opponent was overcome in his victory, I shot my hands out and jammed my thumbs into his eyes and pressed for all I was worth. He screamed. He tried to hold onto my neck, but the pain I put on his eyes was too great and his hands flew away. I gasped and sucked down air. Air had never tasted so good.

  He grabbed my wrists and tried to pry my hands free, but not before I did enough damage. Blood streamed from his eyes when he finally pushed my hands away. I tucked my legs to my chest and kicked out, planting my feet on his chest and launching him away from me.

  As he stumbled away, I scampered to my feet and rubbed my neck. I was able to breathe again, but my neck still hurt, and it was hard to get the air in. I wouldn’t die, though. My opponent wailed a few steps away from me, his hands over his eyes. He wiped the blood away, but his groans reverberated through the arena.

  “Let’s have some more fun, shall we?” called Xarren from his box seat. He stood, grabbed the grav-blade from his hip, and tossed it into the ring. It landed with a quiet thud in the center, a dull hum as it vibrated with power. The Yodenian and I froze. This was a wildcard, a gamechanger.

  We sprinted for the blade. My opponent was closer. I was faster, but he was so much closer. I pumped my arms, but he went into a slide and snatched up the grav-blade. He popped up and swung at me as my momentum carried me toward him. Somehow, I was able to twist out of the way. I tumbled to the ground and bounced back right as he charged me again.

  He slashed, the blade slicing against the dirt with a searing shick right where I’d been. Blood still ran down his cheeks, but all he needed was to see the shape of me, so apparently, he could see well enough for that. Swing after swing, he advanced. I backpedaled, keeping just out of range, but soon I’d run out of room.

  I had to do something. I wasn’t a great fighter, but I’d sparred enough with Amara and K to be serviceable. Fighting knowledge and muscle memory was something I had, but physical strength was my disadvantage. Still, Yodenians weren’t exactly bulky either.

  When the next swing came, I side-stepped it and stopped. His momentum carried him to me. I grabbed his arm and punched him with my free hand. My fist clocked him in the cheek, his rough skin making my hand throb, but he reeled back.

  I tried to take the blade away, but he recovered fast and drove it up at my torso. I twisted out of the way and gripped his hand with both of mine. He did the same. The tip of the blade was a breath away from my collar. If it had been a longer blade, I would have been dead, but thankfully, it was short. Even so, he just needed to push another couple of inches, and it would go through my shoulder. No margin for error. I gritted my teeth and put all my strength into keeping the blade at bay. It hummed as it neared my skin, the air around it hot and thick.

  We locked eyes. His were desperate, wide, and wild. He didn’t want to die. Neither did I. I didn’t want to kill him, but it was him or me.

  I was losing. The tip of the blade got closer. Then it was pushing against my chest, right above my heart. This wouldn’t work. He was stronger. So, I did something stupid.

  I let him stab me.

  With a roar, I eased up on his hand, which let the blade pierce my skin. Which hurt. But I was too charged with adrenaline to care. I reared my head back as the blade went further and headbutted him.

  Crack
!

  I was blinded by pain.

  I saw stars. Blood poured down my chest. My jaw still ached. And now my head throbbed, my vision blurred. But I did what I had to do.

  The Yodenian was shocked. Despite his rough skin, my skull jarred him and sent a jolt through him as he recoiled with a curse-filled hiss. His gripped loosened on the grav-blade. Mine tightened. I turned the hilt in his hands and pushed.

  The grav-blade slid through his chest with ease, tough skin and all.

  He gasped.

  I let out a breath.

  We stood frozen. Locked in place. Too stunned to make a sound, to move a muscle, to even breath. And then he gasped again, this time with dark brown blood spilling from his lips and onto the moonlit silver sand. The light made it look black and shiny like crude oil.

  His eyes, his deep red eyes that matched his skin, peered into mine, and once again I saw that innocence. I was reminded that he was probably young for a Yodenian. Full adults had head ridges where he had none. Had I killed a kid? No, I couldn’t have. But a young adult equivalent to my age? Yes.

  He whimpered and convulsed as blood poured from his chest and mouth. His eyes were pleading. I shook too and fought back tears. I’d killed him. I’d killed him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  His eyes focused sharply on me. He lifted a shaky hand for my face. He pressed it against my cheek. It was warm. Rough like sandpaper, but not painful. With bloody mouth, his lips curled into a grin.

  “It’s okay,” he said in a heavy accent.

  Then he fell forward, the grav-blade pushing deeper into him as he landed face-first in the sand. And went still.

  It’s okay.

  I dropped to my knees as all around me the sound seemed to come back. The mobsters were clapping and applauding. My guards were back, lifting me to my feet and binding me in chains once again. I made no move to stop them. I was too numb.