by Jeff Gunzel
“Prepare them for the arena,” Filista said, pointing to the other humans. “I must change before taking my seat.” Irritated with herself, she glanced down at her blood-soaked dress. She should have been more careful. Human bodies were such a messy things.
She rapped on the door, banging away impatiently. There came the sound of metal scraping across wood as a thick bolt came loose from its hinges. The door was barely open a crack before she barged through, shouldering it open with an angry thrust.
“I need new clothing. Send a runner back to my quarters,” she growled at the soldier, shouldering past him as well. “And be quick about it,” she added. “The games will begin shortly.” He nodded, then sprinted ahead of her up the steps.
Despite displaying her dominance over these feeble humans, her mood was mostly unchanged. There is no grandeur in stepping on ants. Overpowering humans was certainly no challenge, save for one in particular... Why will he not die! No matter, it ends today. You have seen your last sunrise, and the humans’ spirit will die along with you, Azek!
* * *
Leaning over the basin, Azek splashed lukewarm water across his chest and face. He gazed into the broken mirror, a jagged reflection staring back, looking like a person he didn’t even recognize. Haggard, old, with his spirit hanging by a thread. I can’t keep going like this. But I can’t give up either.
The warrior had never feared death, but he did fear the prospect of not being able to help his friends when the time came. Dead, he was of no use to anyone. Alive, even if imprisoned and forced to fight like an animal, there was at least still a chance. And he would do anything in his power to keep that tiny spark alive. Anything to live one more day so he might avenge the death of the woman he loved. Anything...
He slicked his fingers through the jar of white paste, then began to trace around his chest, bringing his ribs to life one by one. The same voices that pushed him through each and every day were also the same ones that haunted his dreams. Voices from a life long forgotten. Memories that cut like knives, but yet he still refused to release.
“I give myself to the service of the guard, and I swear to defend the people of Taron with my life.”
“Rise, soldier...”
With a steady hand he applied the white to his face, his trademark skull beginning to take shape.
“Azek, I’m frightened. When the counsel discovers I am with child—”
“Let me worry about them, Ilirra.”
“And what do think will happen when they realize you are the father? They will take our baby!”
Slowly, he circled his eyes in black as the voices from the past continued to rattle around in his head.
“I can’t live without you by my side. I don’t care what the counsel says!”
“Being queen is no different than being a puppet. The counsel pulls a string and I dance on the other end. What we want means nothing to them.”
Black bars outlining his lips completed the toothy, skeletal grin. It was fitting to die looking the part of a monster. After all, a killing machine was all he was now. Hollow on the inside, violent and hostile on the outside.
“I don’t care what happens anymore, Azek. I won’t let them take our child. Jade stays here with us!”
“But they did,” he growled in the mirror. “And I did nothing to stop it.”
“No matter what happens, I’ll never leave you.”
“But you did, Ilirra,” he hissed, eyes narrowing towards his broken reflection. “And now I’m a shell of the man I once was.”
The side door swung open, slamming hard against the wall. Azek paid little attention to the intrusion, his eyes locked on the mirror. “It is time,” said the large cryton soldier standing in the doorway. “Your death awaits you,” he added with a grin.
With a deep breath Azek pushed off the basin and turned to follow. A second cryton stood out in the hall, and the two of them led him to the iron door. An assortment of weapons hung in a weapons rack off to the side. Azek eyed them, deciding which he might like to be holding when he died. They could hear the murmur coming from the packed crowd outside, and the sharp voice of the announcer as he tried to work them into a frenzy.
One of the crytons turned a knob-covered wheel. The solid metal door inched its way up with each turn, the crowd noise now becoming more apparent as daylight filtered in from underneath. Behind the door was a second one, a grated gate of crossing iron bars. He looked on through the bars, readying himself for when it opened. Tensed, he watched the gate across the way begin to rise. The crowd rose in pitch, many chanting his name expectantly.
But what he saw next gave him pause. Confused, he watched as men and women wandered out into the arena. They stumbled about in the sand, lost gazes looking up at the people in the stands. “By the gods, what is this?” Azek asked, grasping the gate and giving it a wild shake. “Those aren’t beasts or even soldiers. They’re just commoners!”
“Commoners who betrayed the queen,” one of the crytons corrected in his slurring accent, grinning as he peered out into the arena. “But I promise you they won’t be commoners much longer.”
Azek watched on in horror as they huddled at the center of the sand, eyes filled with terror darting about. Several were already in tears. No, they were definitely not warriors and this couldn’t possibly end well. A second gate lifted at the south end, sparks sifting down from the rusted wheels. Two beasts leapt out from the dark chamber, growling and snarling, scanning the arena for their latest meal.
“Glass hounds!” Azek gasped under his breath. His distressed response earned him two quick smirks from the crytons before they returned their attention to the show.
Nearly the size of horses, the glass hounds spotted the huddling humans, blinking their diamond-shaped milky white eyes. Silver bodies flared out like angry puffer fish, razor-sharp hairs standing up on end. With a howl, they charged, prompting the humans to scatter for their lives.
“Open the gate!” Azek demanded, slamming his foot against the iron.
“Well, well,” said the first cryton, entertained by the human’s sudden display of emotion. “Looks to me like someone is eager to die.”
“You’ll get your turn soon enough,” the other grunted, his attention more focused on the arena. “You go in after these humans have been slaughtered. Once those hounds get a good taste of human blood, they’ll be more than ready for the likes of you. Orders from your queen.”
Rage surged through Azek, his heavy breathing intensifying with each passing second. Was he really going to be forced to watch them die, only to meet a similar fate moments later? They were in there because they had defied Filista? Then they deserved to live even more than he did!
“She is not my queen!” he screamed, driving his fist underneath the first cryton’s rib. Caught off guard by the shockingly hard blow, especially from a mere human, he doubled over, hand on his side gasping for air. A brutal rising knee shattered his teeth, blood misting the air as his body toppled backward.
The second cryton lashed out, hands grasping for Azek’s throat. Considerably stronger than humans, Azek didn’t dare let him get a hold. He dropped down at the last second, two arms reaching just over the top of his head. Using his downward momentum, the warrior drove his elbow into the cryton’s knee. It crackled, crushing under the heavy blow. The cryton screamed in pain, both hands wrapping his ruined knee.
Azek rolled away, scrambling on all fours towards the weapons rack. With the snapping strength of a bear trap, a large hand snatched his ankle before he got there, then began dragging him back across the dusty stone floor. Immediately, the warrior realized his mistake. Had he stayed on the stunned cryton he might have finished this with his bare hands.
Still clutching his crushed knee, the cryton pulled with his other hand, bringing the much smaller human back within range. Instinctively, Azek rolled to his back, throwing up his legs as the cryton attempted to mount him. With one leg wrapping the back of his neck, the other hooking down on his
own ankle, Azek pulled on the crytons’s head and squeezed like a boa.
Hard rights and lefts thundered into his side, but Azek ignored the pummeling. He had to maintain this chokehold or would certainly be overwhelmed by the cryton’s superior size. With air quickly becoming scarce, the cryton abandoned his body assault and refocused his attention on relieving the pressure on his neck. He began to sit upright, lifting the clinging human right off the floor.
Panic rising in his chest, Azek threw his weight straight back, pulling the cryton back down with him. The impact secured the chokehold even deeper. Securing the back of the cryton’s head with his left hand, Azek pulled down on his own ankle with everything he had. The cryton thrashed about, pushing off on the floor while trying to spin away. Desperately, he clawed away at Azek’s legs until his arms suddenly went limp.
Azek kicked the unconscious soldier off him, and ran straight to the weapons rack. Sliding a long sword free, he turned back towards the gate. Blood streaming from his mouth, the second cryton groggily sat up. Azek’s blade flashed across his neck before he fully regained consciousness, then impaled the first through the chest.
“She is not my queen!” Azek roared, before kicking a wooden wheel on the left. It spun in place, releasing its chain as a sand bag came down from the ceiling on the other side. With a rhythmic clattering the gate rose up. Azek sprinted out across the sand.
Filista watched from her lofty seat, paying a considerable amount of attention to her new blue dress. While the glass hounds circled their prey down below, she plucked at the dress as if trying to straighten it out. A thunderous roar from the crowd drew her attention back to the event. Had the hounds finished the job already? Had she missed it?
She saw the white-painted skeleton streaking across the sand. “No!” she shrieked, rising to her feet. “How did he— Who let him free?!” Her bodyguards shared a glance and shrugged. Two guards were watching him. That should have been more than sufficient to keep the warrior detained.
One of the glass hounds stopped his circling, and fixed his diamond-shaped eyes on the huddling humans. He let out a shrill howl and charged. The gathered humans scattered, all running in different directions. The chaotic confusion gave the beast pause, as he didn’t know which meal to chase down.
Suddenly, a long sword flashed across his face, just before a reverse strike raked his shoulder. White sparks flared all around, yet no damage was done to the beast. Its crystallized fur shielded against the blade as if it were made of cotton.
It lunged, jaw snapping wildly. Azek sidestepped the attack, then exploded into a flurry of slashing strikes. The shrill, high-pitched sounds of metal on crystal cut through the air. The rasping squeal was deafening, and Azek wondered how much more his low-quality blade could take before snapping.
He dodged left, then right, cracking the hound with the broad side of his blade with each missed bite. Something caught his eye on the last exchange, and the warrior now looked to exploit a perceived weakness.
Angrily, the hound lunged again, frustrated by the constant assault of irritating blows. Azek stepped back just as his jaw snapped shut, then swung his blade upward in a sweeping uppercut. It crashed against the beast’s lower jaw, driving his head up and back. Azek spun around, building on his own momentum and struck its jaw a second time, lifting the head even higher.
Its head seemed to hang in the air, frozen in time. Exposed flesh under the neck, a spot as wide as two fingers. Azek reversed his spin, slashing across its neck with all the speed and precision he could muster. The beast’s enraged roar cut off in a spray of white blood. With a gurgled whimper, it crumpled to the ground, its neck pumping out spurts of pasty liquid.
Screams from the running people he was trying to protect were drowned out by cheers descending from the stands. Azek spun about searching for the second hound. There it was up against the barricade, jaw glistening with fresh blood as it gorged on its captured prey. Azek’s heart sank at the sight. He knew he couldn’t possibly save them all, but still, a single life lost was one too many.
Filista growled, glaring down at the warrior as he streaked across the sand towards the last hound. Her anger was now reaching a boiling point. Surely he couldn’t be so lucky a second time against such a formidable creature.
Heightened senses feeling the approaching danger, the hound spun back, bloody meat still clenched between his teeth. In a rapid blur, Azek unleashed a five-strike flurry, his blade crashing against the beast’s armored face. Stunned but not injured, it wobbled back a step, the bloody chunk falling from its mouth. Azek crouched down, elbows forward, blade back in a low, ready stance. He would have to be quick; there would only be one chance at this.
The beast rattled its head, needle-like hairs clacking against each other, sounding like a shaken bag of broken glass. Jaw wide open, it lunged. The warrior waited until the last second, then leaned back as he flashed his sword across the beast’s neck. The shrill shriek of metal on crystal rang out like a thousand bells. A bloom of white sparks flared in an explosion of impact.
He had missed his mark by an inch...
A collective groan echoed down from the crowd as the beast blasted through the strike, then descended upon him. Their hero lay flat on the ground, the glass hound snapping away at its newest victim. Filista surged from her seat, fists in the air as she let out a triumphant cheer. This persistent thorn in her side would finally be no more.
But as she watched on, her expression of triumph warped into one of curiosity as the struggle continued. It was hard to see exactly what was happening. But it was obvious the hound was not feasting, it was struggling. It snapped down again and again, trying to finish this pesky human once and for all. Filista grimaced as the beast turned, exposing Azek’s precarious position.
Two feet up against its stomach, blade pressed into its chest, Azek had somehow managed a tripod of awkward balance. From here he could mount no offense, but it was just enough to keep the beast from dropping down, shredding him with its crystallized fur. He couldn’t even reset his feet or that fur would tear right through the bottom of his boots. His life was on a timeline, and all he could do was try to extend it as long as he could.
How fitting an end is this? Ilira...I tried to avenge you. Please, forgive me. Even above the snarling and snapping, he could hear the crowd noise growing to a fevered pitch, no doubt excited to witness his final moments.
From the corner of his eye, he saw movement coming towards them. He could make out the bottom of a brown dress, and little else. If he could see into her heart, he would have seen a fury unmatched by any beast who had ever stepped foot in this arena. The rage of a woman who had watched her son die right before her eyes.
The commoners were all given short swords, although none were expected to actually use them. The woman swung her blade at the hind legs of the beast. It paid her no attention, still biting down at Azek as he shifted his head from side to side. Gripping her blade with two hands like a broom handle, she swung again and again, futilely clanging against the glass-like armor.
The crowd roared even louder. Inspired by her bravery, others rushed the occupied beast. They clacked away with their swords, doing no damage but causing the distraction Azek desperately needed. Annoyed, the beast snapped to his left, then right, trying to chase away these pesky creatures. Snapping back to its right again, its weight shifted slightly that direction. Azek rolled with it, pushing off with his feet.
Free for a split second, blade in hand, he thrust up with everything he had. The tip of his sword sank deep into the hound’s neck. Diamond-shaped eyes bulged; its leathery tongue rolled from its mouth. Creamy white liquid flowed down Azek’s blade, coating it clear down to the pommel. He rolled back the other way, allowing the razor-covered carcass to tip over. Azek got to his feet and stared right at Filista while the crowd roared. Even the simple folk around him, now warriors for a day, pumped their fists in the air, openly taunting the cryton queen.
The roars from the crowd dulled
down into a thumping rhythm as they began to chant his name over and over. People smacked the benches in front of them, sending up a thunderous clap with each chant. The arena was alive, the hope and resilience of the humans rising up like a song.
“Kill him! Kill them all!” came Filista’s savage shriek, raining down from her seat high above. Her thinning patience had come to an end. This stubborn man’s refusal to die had made a fool out of her for the last time. This symbol of hope to the humans was a shining light that needed to be extinguished once and for all.
Soldiers around the parameter pulled their bows and notched arrows. On her word, they would unleash a wave into the small group of humans. Azek stepped forward, arms out wide, determined to intercept as many as his body would hold in a final attempt to prolong the lives of these men and women for as long as possible.
Suddenly, bells began to chime, ringing throughout the entire city. People in the stands got up and began running, leaving the arena with urgent haste. Crytons lowered their bows, looking about in confusion.
“No,” Filista whispered, staring off in disbelief. “No, it can’t be.”
“Priestess!” yelled one of her men, appearing from the chaos of fleeing people. But she already knew what he was going to say. “Priestess, the city is under attack!”
Chapter 11
Surrounded by her personal guard, Filista weaved her way through the chaotic streets. Women scrambled about, bumping into one another while pulling their children along by the hands. Men sat on their rooftops, loaded crossbows and other edged weapons laid out before them in neat rows. They knew exactly what those bells meant, and were more than ready to defend their families from the latest threat, or possibly join forces if it proved to be an ally. Either way they were ready to take action.
“Report!” Filista shouted to a set of guards as they scampered past. One seemed to hear her and skidded to a halt, turning around and running back towards her. “What news of the threat? Are they inside the walls?” she asked frantically.
