by Josie Walker
There’s a blur from the side and I see that the trident man is making his move. He runs flat out, leaping over the bodies of the two dead ones and climbs up the violent giant like rungs on a ladder. He jerks the trident from the wall and raises it high above his head.
The giant roars and raises his fists, knocking at trident man’s legs, trying to dislodge him. Trident man holds onto the enormous head with his legs, and slams the trident toward the top of his opponent’s head. But before the trident can connect with its mark, the giant manages to use a hand to swipe the smaller man off his shoulders.
Trident man tumbles to the ground, then instantly rolls away, barely missing a massive fist that slams into the ground, mere inches from where his head was scant seconds before. The behemoth monster leans over him and roars again, raising both fists, then jumps in the air. His fists are angled down as he prepares to crush his opponent’s skull.
My breath catches in my throat. Even my rough childhood has not prepared me for barbarity of this magnitude. I’m already mentally writing trident man off when things take an unexpected turn. The giant doesn’t see the trident’s spikes until it’s too late. The momentum of his descent drives the trident completely through his skull.
Blood gushes from the tines spearing his skull as he falls forward, still impaled by the trident that is now wedged into the ground by his weight. Trident man rolls out from under him, then jumps to his feet. He kicks the giant monster onto his side, drawing his weapon out from the lifeless skull with one slick motion.
I can’t believe the much smaller alien is still alive as he steps onto the dead body of the giant monster and raises the trident into the air. Blood and gore drip to the ground beneath him. He roars at the last three who are battling for this weapon.
One of them seems to have changed his mind about fighting. He rushes away, sprinting back to the stands to rejoin the spectators. That leaves two who want the three pronged spear. I see trident man’s attention is divided as he scans the field. I also spare a second to glance around the arena and see that similar battles for the other weapons have taken place. Almost all six of the weapons have been claimed, with just a few skirmishes still ongoing.
The two metal aliens are temporarily unified in their assault against trident man. He has the high ground, standing on top of the dead giant monster. But there is strength in numbers. They rush him, one from either side. His movements are so fast they are a blur. The handle end of the trident knocks the one on his right off his feet as the spear impales the one on his left. Before that one hits the ground he has jerked out the trident and shoved it through the skull of the other.
Mr. Trident has secured his weapon of choice. I allow myself to breathe. I don’t know why exactly, but I’m rooting for him to win. At least I know him, as much as anyone can know an alien!
He may have kidnapped me, but he has never been rough with me. I’m not going to delude myself by thinking he’s a peaceful little bunny rabbit given the fact that I just saw him kill those other aliens. But he’s had ample opportunity to hurt me and he never has so that has to count for something.
I have no idea about these other aliens. This is the first I’ve seen any of them. The battle has continued to inch on while I’ve been busy ruminating. The winners of the initial battle for weapons are making their way slowly toward the center of the field with their prizes.
A copper monster with tinges of green on his plating has the spear. A gold one, his front area molded to display the shape of pectoral and abdominal muscles swings the net lazily around as he walks. I don’t know why he seems so confident, compared to the others. His weapon sucks.
A steel blue alien holds the sword, slicing it in front of him, as though testing the feel of it. The massive hammer is held by an alien whose metal is such a dark grey that it almost looks black. A rusty iron-colored one holds the handle of his mace up, and swings it around his head in a circle, the chain pulled tight by the spiked ball on the end.
They seem to be pairing off to fight each other in a somewhat civilized fashion, if anything about this could be called civilized. It looks like there will be three simultaneous battles. The phrase from Highlander keeps going through my mind: “There can be only one.” That means five more aliens are about to bite the dust.
Not for the first time I wish there was some way off of my high tower. I’ve never wanted to go back home more in my miserable life than I did in that moment. But I’m trapped, and there’s nothing I can do but watch as the battle continues to rage beneath me. Trident man points at the gold one with the net and they stalk menacingly toward each other.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bocc-d’ar
The easy part is done. I have my weapon now. I feel no remorse over having slain the weaker opponents in order to claim it. They knew the risk when they entered the arena. The female is worth dying for, and we all know it.
I want nothing more than to glance back up at her and soak in her beauty, but I can’t risk even a second’s distraction out here on the field. I must stay sharp. I will win, and then I can gaze at her as long and as often as I want.
This next part will be harder, much harder. The stakes are high and each man wants the prize. But I’m the one who will be earning it. I must keep my wits about me as I face these mighty warriors.
It’s no coincidence that each of us remaining holds each particular weapon. Just like me they headed straight for their tool of choice. I know from experience that even a net can be deadly in the right hands. I don’t know any of these individuals personally, but I’ve heard of them all because of their reputations.
They’re mercenaries and assassins, and the female deserves better than that. I’m determined to save her. I will prevail over all obstacles, for I must. Failure is not an option.
It’s not that I am not afraid to die, far from it. But I can not bear the thought of one of these monsters touching my sweet TSSS, let alone claiming her. Her name plays through my mind like a beautiful song, TSSS. I heard the other females say her name on board the ship, and I have practiced saying it over, and over.
After all these years of being alone, I never dared to hope that I would have a mate of my own. Women are scarce amongst our people. The few that remain must be fought for in the arena. It’s a grisly battle ending in death for all save one. After all, only the strongest males deserve a mate, which is why the Ja-Karr was created. The Ja-Karr is the sacred battle for mating rights to a female.
Against all odds I have found TSSS, my mate. She is soft and weak, but she is beautiful. I sense such a fiery spirit in her, and I smell her fertility each time I am near her. My body throbs to claim her, but I have waited with patience the entire journey to my home planet, Meturgia.
I’ve waited until this day when I could make her mine for good. I follow the rules of Ja-Karr to the letter. That way no one will ever be able to claim I took her unjustly. Had I done something so foolish any man would have had grounds to try to steal her from me later. Only by winning this combat to the death will I be allowed to claim her. Then will she be mine . . . forever.
I look again at my opponents. I choose who I will battle first because of the weapon he possesses. I roar and point my trident at the gold contender with the net.
His name is Kay’nar, and he is sly, or so I have heard. He wins with cunning and guile. He’s also an assassin, so I will expect no honor from him. Perhaps he’s hiding a weapon somewhere under his ostentatious yellow plating. By the rules of the Ja-Karr only the weapons on the wall are allowed, and all personal body implants are to be removed. But I will proceed with caution, for to trust in the arena is to die in the arena.
“I will enjoy fucking your woman after I kill you,” Kay’nar taunts as we step in close to each other. “How was she? I’m sure you’ve sampled her a number of times.”
I ignore Kay’nar, refusing to rise to his barbs. I tune out the other opponen
ts who are beginning their duels. I don’t need to be distracted by watching who will emerge the victor of each individual battle. I need only focus on defeating Kay’nar to start. I do not let his words get to me . . . not much anyway.
I raise my trident and roar in his face. This weapon is inferior to my own trident which I placed at my beloved’s feet. I did that so she would be certain I would return for her. But at least I have secured my weapon of choice. It will be sufficient. It is strong, forged from Roktar ore.
The horn sounds, signaling the start of this round. Kay’nar turns slightly and the light from the twin suns hits my opponent’s gold plating, temporarily blinding me. This was a calculated move, of course. He snaps his net high, and almost snags the end of my trident which I barely manage to jerk away. I jump back to reposition myself, narrowly avoiding the reach of his net.
“I will think of you when I place my baby in her soft belly,” he taunts.
His words make me want to rush forward, but I keep my wits about me. I refuse to let him goad me into doing anything so foolish. Something behind him catches my eye, and I see it is one of the small platforms that are scattered around the arena. This one has a tall pole stationed in the center. A sturdy hoop and chain at the top are attached to a heavy braided rope with a metal ring at the end. The stairs to the platform are on the other side.
I feign a movement to the right and he turns, reflexively sweeping his net to that direction, but I change rapidly and run around him on the left and up the stairs. He follows me, but I reach the top before him. I have the high ground, and I sprint for the pole in the middle, with him not far behind me.
I stick one arm through the metal ring, then grab tightly to the heavy rope with that hand. The iron grip of my other hand holds the trident. I sprint away from him, and propel my body up in an arc, circling around the pole, then back toward him.
Kay’nar lashes out with the net, trying to capture my feet. But his timing is off. Instead, I’m able to snag his net with my trident, pulling it from his grasp and tossing it to the floor of the platform. The momentum of my trajectory around the pole spins me around again. My grip on the trident does not waver as I plunge it into his chest, my body jerking to a stop with the impact.
He falls to his knees, and I hold fast to the trident, which is impaled in his heart. I let go of the rope as I drop to my feet, then push him onto his back and pull out my trident. His blood spurts high toward me from the wound, letting me know his heart is still beating, for now. The crimson river from his chest lessens, then stops as the amber light behind his eyes fades to a dull brown.
“The only children she carries will be mine,” I hiss over his dead corpse.
I drop to the ground, where I pick up the net. It’s mine now. I raise both weapons proudly over my head, roaring to the crowd. I now have the perfect complement of weapons, which is why I chose Kay’nar as my opponent.
I purposely do not look toward my TSSS, because I know she will distract me. I gaze over the field to see who my final two opponents will be.
R’ Kish, the swordsman, who is the same steel blue as his weapon stands tall. In his other hand he holds the long spear, which means the copper warrior is dead. Walking from the other end of the field I see H’K-em, with his heavy iron build. At his side is an enormous spiked mace on a chain. In the other hand is the mighty hammer, which means the dark one has fallen.
R’ Kish and H’K-em are worthy opponents, but I remain confident I will prevail. There can be no other outcome. I will not allow it. My TSSS needs me to protect her. I have sworn to do so, and I never go back on my word.
We study each other and the crowd is on their feet, stomping wildly. The air sings with the sound. This encouragement lets us know that they admire our bravery, and envy the winner his prize. It will be an honorable death, for my enemies.
They both rush me at the same time, which is definitely an underhanded move. They have probably planned this from the beginning. They think to take me out, then to fight only each other for the prize. H’K-em lifts his mace, swinging the ball and chain overhead. It just barely misses my head as I duck down and dodge to the side.
Of course, this puts me directly in the path of R’ Kish’s long spear which he jabs into my side. It is a grazing hit, not as forceful as it might have been, probably because he was holding the spear in one hand only. I’m injured and bleeding, but this will not slow me down. I won’t let it.
I must be more careful. My TSSS is depending on me. I back up to reassess the situation. I must use different tactics if I am to fight them both at the same time. I need to take one of them out quickly to even the odds. I decide to go for the swordsman first. His newly acquired spear does not perfectly compliment the sword, which is his primary weapon. He could throw it at me, but I don’t believe he will because then he would be short a weapon.
The spear is heavy, and better used by holding it with both hands in close combat. Also, he is used to the sword being implanted to his arm, but under the rules of Ja-Karr welding is not allowed. Having to hold the blade with his hand is awkward, and he’s not used to it. I will use this weakness to my advantage.
I myself have never grown lazy by melding my trident to my hands, so my grip is strong and sure on my weapon. I have fought often with a net in my other hand, so I am confident I will prevail. There is no other outcome I can accept in this matter.
With lightning speed, I leap toward R’ Kish. I swing my net overhead, and when he jabs the spear toward me it is skill, not luck which causes it to tangle in his spear. I tug fiercely as he stubbornly holds on. His sword slices into my shoulder and I hiss angrily.
R’ Kish’s eyes dart over my head. I hear a whir, and see a shadow on the ground, almost too late realizing that H’K-em’s iron mace behind me is arcing towards my head.
Acting reflexively, I heave harder on the net which causes the swordsman to stumble toward me. I duck and roll out of the way, which puts his head right where mine was a split second earlier. My enemy has met the fate intended for me, and it’s a gruesome sight.
Blood gushes from the hole at the top of his head where H’K-em’s spiked mace has obliterated the protective sheathing as well as the top of the R’ Kish’s skull. The swordsman is as good as dead, but his brain hasn’t caught up with his body and he continues to fight. He lets go of the spear which is tangled in my net, cupping a hand to his head to staunch the flow of blood. Then he stabs his sword into his former ally’s thigh. H’K-em doesn’t hesitate to retaliate, and drives the spike end of his newly acquired hammer into the top of the swordsman’s skull. His cranium splits like a ripe Hur fruit on a feast day.
That was the killing blow, and R’ Kish moves no more. There was no honor in that one, and I for one am glad he is dead. He was never worthy of my TSSS. Neither is H’K-em who dishonored their truce. H’K-em turns to me, and the blood from the wound on his thigh is camouflaged by his iron red form.
The iron warrior keeps his familiar weapon with the wickedly spiked ball, but sets down the newly acquired hammer to pick up the sword. He has assessed correctly that it is a better choice against my net. I kick the spear out of my way. I don’t want it either. I keep the net which is the perfect companion to my trident.
The blood flowing from the wound in my side is beginning to sap my strength, and the shoulder wound will cause the thrusts with my trident to be weaker. I switch the weapon to my other hand. My injured arm will have to suffice with the net. I must finish this quickly, while I am still able.
I roar again, which causes the crowd to go wild. H’K-em makes rapid criss-crossing movements with the sword, testing the weight of it which lets me know he is also skilled with this weapon. I sense immediately that he, like me, has never grown lazy by melding his weapons to his arms. I’d respect the hunk of iron if I didn’t already despise him.
Before H’K-em can prepare himself I launch myself toward him. He take
s a step back, and stumbles, catching his weight awkwardly on his injured leg. It buckles and I swoop in with my trident, thrusting down for a killing blow. Too late I realize he was only faking as his sword slides into the bendable mesh at my elbow, the blade piercing upward into my biceps.
“DAS GAHMEN,” he taunts, obviously pleased that both of my arms are now running red with my blood. I step back and rotate my arm, testing my injuries. I hope the wounds are not too severe. I must not lose.
“DAS GAHMEN!” I roar back at him.
We pace around each other, jabbing . . . he with his sword, and me with my trident. All the while we circle our arms overhead . . . he with his mace, and me with my net. As we choreograph the moves of this dance I notice that he has a predictable habit. Every time his right arm thrusts with the sword, his left foot steps out to the side a second before.
I’ve found my opening, I realize. Or perhaps it’s another trick. I have no way to know for sure. I’ve lost a lot of blood, and I need to end this soon, before I pass out. I decide to test my theory. I watch for the tell-tale step to the left and immediately swing my net to capture the sword which thrusts exactly when I expect it to. I jerk hard and pull the sword from his grasp.
He swings the mace in a whirl around his head and slams it down toward my skull. Unfortunately the sword is still tangled in my net, so, I drop it while I duck to the side, out of the way of the deadly spiked ball which thuds into the ground instead of my head. Before he can recover I thrust my trident upward. It slides easily into the mesh area above his legs, and into his belly.
I’m sure it is a mortal wound, but I thrust the trident deeper and twist it ruthlessly. I’m not taking any chances. When I pull the trident out, he’s eviscerated. His guts spill onto the ground as the hot metallic stench of death fills the air. The ground is stained red with our blood when he topples over at my feet.
