Defiant

by Aaron Hodges

  A gentle tingling began in the palm of his hand as he held it to his father’s wound, as he clutched the man tight. Desperately, he sought to stoke its flames, to summon that terrible healing Light, to bring his father back from the brink…

  …but just as it had with Aureli, the device only flickered, and grew dark once more.

  “Knew…you were…alive,” Rafael was whispering, his eyes fluttering, breath rasping in his throat. “Felt a…presence…sometimes. Knew…it was you…moment you stepped…on sands.”

  “Please, Dad, no, stay with me,” Rydian moaned, holding him to his chest, speaking between his sobs.

  He felt so frail, so tiny in his arms. All through these last weeks and months, Rydian had worried after his father, had prayed that the Gods might finally smile upon the man. Now that he held him, Rydian knew his prayers had gone unanswered, that with his wife and son both lost, Rafael had been wasting away, taken by despair as surely as Rydian and the other gladiators.

  Now, with a final, rasping exhalation, Rafael’s eyes flickered closed for the last time.

  “No,” Rydian sobbed.

  Closing his own eyes, he bent over his father, clutching him tight, grief welling up within. In that moment, he cared nothing for the world, barely heard the raging of the crowd as they tried to follow the blind man onto the sands. He didn’t hear their screams as the Enforcers appeared, nor their terror as the Alfur followed, and unleashed the burning Light of their Manus readers on the mob.

  Time passed and Rydian remained where he was, arms clutched around his dead father, holding tight his one last connection to a past long since stolen from him. He didn’t see what became of Hazel, nor of the injured Johanas.

  Only when the Alfur came for him did he finally return to the world. Surrounded by the wary creatures, he rosed unsteadily to his feet and took one last look at his father.

  Rafael lay dead upon the sands, body withered, face gaunt, his life blood pooling about him. He didn’t look peaceful like the stories, no longer even looked like Rydian’s father. It was as though Rydian stood looking up on a stranger. This was just a husk, a shadow of the man Rafael had once been.

  An emptiness swelled within Rydian as he turned away, allowing the Alfur to take him by the arms. His life was over, everyone he’d ever cared about dead or turned against him. But there was still one last thing for him to do, before he himself surrendered to that emptiness within.

  On his dying breath, Rydian would have his revenge.

  24

  Rydian sat alone in the brilliant Light of the Alfur, staring at the glowing walls of his prison. Time seemed to have no meaning in this place, enclosed in that blinding Light, locked away from the world. The worst of his wounds had been healed when they’d brought him here, knitted together by the powers of the Alfur. But the ache of his bruises remained and he slept fitfully on the pallet the Alfur had bolted to the floor of his cage.

  As the days passed, he saw no one from the outside but the slave that brought his food and disposed of his waste bucket. His world quickly devolved to the empty contents of his prison, to the shimmering of the Light barriers, the soft humming they gave off. Somehow, that sound seemed to match the thrum of his own heart, the pulse of his own being.

  Rydian didn’t care. In his mind, he found himself again and again on the sands of the arena, holding his father tight, heard his words, felt the love of his embrace.

  Despair whelmed up within, an awful emptiness consuming him. Ruby and Aureli was gone, his friends had abandoned him, his father dead. What was he without them? What remained now of the Rydian that had run through the streets of lower Goma, who had stood on the sands of the arena and fought for survival? That seemed so long ago now, a different life. The Rydian who sat in the empty Light couldn’t understand that man, why he’d fought so hard against death. After all, what did he have to live for?

  Revenge.

  Even in the Light, Rydian shivered at the thought. Clenching his fist, his gaze was drawn to his Manus reader. Light shone in its depths, pulsing to the rhythm of his anger, his rage. A tremor shook him as he felt its power, the heat of it coursing in his veins.

  He understood it now, the secret to exploiting the malfunctioning device. No amount of concentration or study would unlock the powers within, would unleash the energies the Alfur wielded. Only one thing could give Rydian the power to destroy his foe.

  Rage.

  Rydian had no lack of that now. He could feel it deep within, beneath the grief and despair and loneliness, an agonising fire that tore at him, that yearned to be unleashed. It was the energy which set his Manus reader alive, that fed its burning Light.

  But he would not unleash it yet, not now, not until the time came, not until he could finally have his revenge.

  Click.

  Rydian’s head jerked up as the barrier of Light made a strange noise, before a portion opened to create an entrance. He expected to see the familiar face of the human assigned to attend his needs.

  Instead, it was Falcon who stepped into his prison today. The barrier behind her made another sizzling noise as it closed back up, sealing the Goman champion within. Crossing her arms, the woman raised an eyebrow as she looked around his cage.

  “Nice place you’ve got here,” she commented, eyeing the empty whiteness. “Love the decoration.”

  Seated on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest, Rydian stared up at the woman, still trying to understand how she was there, why she was there.

  “What do you want, Falcon?” he rasped finally. Despite the face the woman presented to the world, the woman always had a motive.

  Soft laughter was all the answer Falcon gave. Instead, she paced around the room, as though to inspect the unbroken Light that enclosed them. He watched her, waiting, knowing she would eventually get around to her purpose.

  “What do I want?” she murmured finally. “Why, for things to go back to the way they were.” She cursed suddenly, turning to face him. “Gods below, I need a drink. You really screwed things up, you know. I’ve been sober for three days now.”

  “You poor thing,” Rydian spat, his patience with the woman already wearing thing.

  Flacon crossed her arms. “I’m serious,” she snapped. “You have no idea the mess you’ve created.”

  “Mess?” Rydian growled, his anger breaking through. “That’s what you call my father’s murder? A mess?”

  Falcon sighed, then abruptly she crouched beside him. “Hawk feels…terrible about your father, Rydian.”

  “I’m sure,” Rydian said bitterly, “because it was him instead of me on the receiving end of her blade.”

  Silence fell as the two stared at each other, and Rydian found himself wishing for the emptiness again, anything to escape confronting what had happened back in the arena.

  “It’s not just your father,” Falcon said finally, glancing away. “The people…”

  “What about them?” Rydian asked.

  The woman’s throat contracted as she swallowed. “There have been riots, Rydian, unrest about what happened. Our fellow Gomans were not pleased to discover that one of their beloved gladiators was a traitor.”

  “I’m not a traitor,” Rydian said bitterly, clenching his fist around the hard steel of his Manus reader. “Neither was my mother. I don’t know what happened that day, but…” He trailed off, shook his head. “She’s not a traitor,” he repeated.

  Falcon shrugged. “Whether she was or not is inconsequential at this point,” she replied, then cringed. “Sorry, I’ve spent the last few days being grilled by the Alfur. They truly don’t seem to understand what happened, what’s happening. Anyway, it doesn’t matter if your mother betrayed us or not, what matters is what the people believe.” She paused. “They’re angry, Rydian. Like I’ve never seen.”

  “Good,” Rydian spat. “Maybe they’ll finally do something about it.”

  All the reply he got to that was a cold stare from the Goman champion, until finally Rydian was force
d to look away. They both knew the futility of his words—open rebellion against the Alfur could end only one way. However many rose up, humanity could not stand against their alien weapons.

  “What do you want me to do about it?” he murmured finally, his defiance spent.

  Falcon said nothing to that, and Rydian frowned at her silence. Her eyes were distant, as though she were recalling another time, another place.

  “Falcon?” he prodded.

  She shook herself, eyes focusing on him. “I don’t know, Rydian,” she said softly. “Only that the mob is screaming for the traitor’s blood…”

  Rydian blinked, then raised his eyebrows. “You want me to die?”

  Now it was Falcon’s turn to look away. “I’m saying you might not have a choice,” she said, “not for much longer. The Alfur…they’re already discussing your fate. There are more than a few advisors to the prince calling publicly for your execution.”

  Rydian’s stomach churned at her words and he found his throat suddenly parched. “And what do you think, Falcon?”

  A sigh slipped from her lips, and placing her back to the wall of Light, she slid down to sit beside him.

  “I think that Aureli saw something in you,” she said, eyes on the brilliant Light that filled the room. “He believed in you. You have no idea how long it had been since that happened.”

  She looked at the floor as she spoke, and Rydian frowned at her words, struggling to understand. Aureli hadn’t even believed in himself by the end.

  “What does it matter?” he asked at last, leaning his head back against the wall to stare at the glowing ceiling. “He’s gone. I failed him, just like I failed Hazel.” He paused. “I should have told her, long ago. I tried to explain, but…I was afraid.”

  “We’re all afraid, kid,” Falcon replied, “we’re all hurting inside from something. But that girl…” She shook her head. “She didn’t mean it, you know. She’s been distraught these last few days.”

  Rydian said nothing to that, though his mouth was dry at the mention of Hazel. Memories ran through his head and he clenched his fist, feeling that searing heat from his palm, a cold reminder of the promise he’d sworn to his dying father.

  “How is Johanas?” he asked at last.

  “That’s Bloodlust’s old name?” Falcon chuckled. “He’s…fine. Mostly just bruised. I…don’t know what’s going to happen to him either, though. Yours is not the only name on the lips of the mob, Mouse.”

  “Rydian,” he corrected softly, then paused. “Falcon…” he continued hesitantly, “who…who was Aureli to you?”

  Falcon smiled at that. “The same thing he was to you…Rydian,” she replied, “take away a decade.” She waved her hand. “You weren’t the only one who failed him. I was his prodigy, along with a few others. We were close, once, to something great. In the end, though, it wasn’t enough. Rotin…” She paused, swallowed at some memory. “Anyway, pretty sure I’m the reason he started drinking, why he gave up.”

  Silence fell at her words, as they each sat staring into the blinding Light. It was easy to feel small, surrounded by all that energy, by the terrible display of power.

  “Falcon,” Rydian said at last, “what happens…what happens if I don’t do this?”

  She said nothing for a while, only sat beside him, lips pursed.

  “There are some who say the entire display was planned,” she whispered at last, “that it was an act of rebellion by the Goman gladiator team. The Alfur…they might…they say it might be best to purge the team, start again.”

  Rydian’s blood ran cold at her words and his head jerked around. “What?” he hissed. She couldn’t mean…

  Falcon no longer seemed able to meet his eyes. “They’re going to kill us all, Rydian,” she whispered. “Every one of us, unless…”

  The hairs on Rydian’s neck stood on end and his skin tingled at the horror of her words. He swallowed, struggling to dislodge the sudden lump in his throat, to process what she’d said.

  That either he sacrifice himself, or all of the Goman gladiators, all of his friends, would be executed alongside him.

  He shuddered, fists clenched, struggling to come to terms with his choice. He’d spent the last few days in despair, knowing he was doomed; and yet, now that the time had finally come...

  Abruptly, Rydian pushed himself up off the floor. Looking around his empty prison, at the shining walls, the empty white, he felt that burning in his palm, the power of his Manus reader. The end might be coming for him, but he still had that, still had the rage within, waiting to be unleashed. He would not let it go to waste.

  Fists clenched, he turned to Falcon and saw the fear in her eyes, the terror that he would deny her, and doom them all alongside him.

  “I’ll do it,” he said before he lost his nerve, “but on one condition.”

  “What condition?” A frown creased Falcon’s brow at his words. “I don’t think the Alfur are interested in negotiating.”

  “I think they’ll be happy to oblige.” Rydian smiled. “All I want is a chance at vengeance.”

  25

  The air felt cold as Rydian stepped from the shadows, though the sun still beat down from high above the arena. But even the familiar heat of the sand beneath his feet paled in comparison to the flame that burnt within, to the searing, pounding fire he clutched in his fist.

  The power thrummed as he came to a stop in the centre of the arena. Above, the stands were packed, the crowd already in a frenzy. Their jeers rained down upon Rydian, branding him a traitor, a craven. He didn’t care. Today, great barriers of Light surrounded the arena floor, barring the crowd from interference. The Alfur would not make the same mistake twice.

  They needn’t have worried. There was no one left on Talamh who cared about Rydian, no one left to save him. He stood alone on the sands of the arena, spurned, abandoned, condemned. He didn’t care, hardly heard the derision of the crowd, hardly noticed their hatred. In that moment, he knew only one goal, one ambition.

  Vengeance.

  Silence fell suddenly across the arena as a figure emerged from the shadows opposite Rydian. Garbed in the light clothing of a gladiator, the figure advanced across the sands with sword in hand.

  Rotin, gladiator of the Alfur.

  Heart pounding, Rydian watched the creature approach. There was no Light barrier to separate the opponents this contest, no pounding of the drums to announce the beginning of the bout. Only the pair of warriors and the blades in their hands.

  The Alfur moved with a fluid grace as it closed the gap between them, as though it floated over the sands, rather than trudged through them like a common human. Muscles rippled along its translucent arms as it clutched a sabre in one hand. Unlike Rydian, it wielded no shield for this contest, but the familiar helmet still concealed Rotin’s features.

  Rydian wore no helmet this day. The Alfur wanted the crowd to see his face, so they would know it was truly the traitor that died today, not some other sorry soul. Rydian no longer cared. Let his fellow humans hate him. Today, he fought their true enemy, the creature that represented all their years of oppression, the ones responsible for his fate, for Aureli’s death, for his father’s murder, for all their suffering.

  Not Hazel. Not his mother. Not even Rydian.

  But the Alfur themselves.

  Clutching his blade tight to conceal the Light of his Manus reader, Rydian pointed the weapon at Rotin.

  “I’m going to kill you,” he grated. “I’m going to make you pay for everything your kind has done to us.”

  The Alfur came to a stop at his words. It stared at him for a long moment, just a few yards from where Rydian stood. Rydian swallowed as he looked at the sheen of its helmet, struggling to pierce the obscuring visor, to glimpse the creature within.

  “I was surprised to hear of your request, Mouse,” the Alfur spoke at last, its voice made metallic by its helmet. “It is usually only veterans of some years who offer up a challenge.”

  “Men and
women beaten down by their enslavement,” Rydian snapped, “exhausted by loss. Well, I have nothing left to lose. Your kind has taken everything from me!”

  The creature leaned its head to the side, as though it found his presence before it curious. “Yes,” it said at last, surprising Rydian, “I suppose we have.”

  Rydian blinked. “You admit it?” he said, then shook his head, his rage flaring, burning to be released. “How can you be so cold, so dismissive? Are your kind truly so evil?”

  “Perhaps we are,” Rotin said, its voice becoming soft. “Perhaps that is why I am here: to stand on these sands and slay your warriors, to crush the greatest of your species, to ensure none can ever be free of our tyranny.”

  “Then your evil will end today,” Rydian snarled, his body thrumming, burning with the power of his Manus reader.

  “I doubt that,” Rotin replied, and it seemed to Rydian that there was a sad tone to its voice.

  A growl rumbled from his throat as he took a step towards the creature. “I will defeat you, Rotin, or die trying!”

  The Alfur nodded. “So be it,” it said, offering a salute with its sabre. “Shall we begin then?”

  Rydian answered with steel.

  With sword and shield, he launched himself at the creature. Power thrummed in his veins, adding strength to his blows and speed to his step. His first attack seemed to take the Alfur by surprise, as his gladius stabbed low and almost found his mark. Only a hurried swing of its sabre kept the weapon from finding flesh.

  Rotin leapt backwards, its fluid movements offering no hint of distress. Rydian followed it anyway, seeking to press his advantage. Unlike his previous foes, this creature would not be run down, could not be outlasted. Light ran in its veins, and no amount of training, not even Aureli’s gruelling drills, would grant a human the endurance to match it.

  But then—Rydian had a secret weapon too, one he hoped might make the difference. If only he could find the right moment to unleash its power.

  Teeth bared, he pressed the creature back, gladius hissing, shield swinging to catch the occasional riposte the creature launched against him. For now, Rotin seemed content to let Rydian attack, for him to run himself ragged against the creature’s impenetrable defence.