by Aaron Hodges
He threw himself at the creature all the same, aiming blows for its neck and groin and stomach. And again and again it dodged or deflected his blows. Its sabre seemed to be an extension of the creature’s own body as it moved, flashing out to catch his attacks almost before they’d begun. Despite the power that thrummed in his veins, Rydian still found himself too slow, too weak to match the Alfur, to finally bring an end to at least one of the vile creatures.
Until finally, panting, he staggered back from the creature. A new fire was present in his body now, the burning of exhaustion. It clung to his lungs, sucking the strength from him, draining him of energy, of power, and he knew the time had finally come, that if he did not act now, it would be too late.
Swallowing, Rydian looked across the sands at Rotin. The Alfur had lowered its sword at his retreat, and he could almost imagine the cold smile on its lips as it considered his exhaustion. A shiver ran down his spine as Rotin offered a silent nod, as though in congratulations for his performance. Then, raising its sword, the Alfur began its advance.
Rydian stood and watched Rotin approach, fists clenched, anger building deep within. This creature knew what it did, that the humans it fought could never match its speed, its endurance. It knew any human who came before it would know only death. It didn’t care, felt no remorse for the slaughter. Here, before all of humanity, was the proof of the Alfur’s cruelty.
The flames of Rydian’s rage spread as Rotin closed on him, racing outwards from his core to fill him. Doubt and fear fled before it, until Rydian’s entire being burned with that power. Teeth bared, he tossed aside his shield, freeing his hand. It was there he could feel the power gathering, where the heat of his Manus reader seared, burned, building to a crescendo, until he could see the Light beginning to spill between his clenched fingers.
Sand crunched before him as Rotin leapt, sabre raised, blade flashing as it readied a killing blow. Momentarily, its movements seemed to slow, and Rydian watched as the blade arced upwards, saw the death it promised.
Then raising his own hand, he willed his Manus reader to life.
At his summoning, Light burst from the device, blinding, terrible. For a second, it seemed the whole world would be washed away, as he felt the heat of its power on his own face.
Abruptly though, the Light began to reverse, to collapse inwards, as though sucked down a drain by some other force. In an instant, the brilliance vanished, drawn back into Rydian’s fist.
And he found himself standing again on the sands of the arena, hand outstretched, Rotin before him.
Shocked, he stood fixed in place, helpless as his enemy’s blade swept down…to cut through the wrist of his extended hand.
26
Rydian screamed.
If he’d thought the Manus reader had been painful, if the power that gathered in his hand would destroy him…this heat, it was like nothing he had experienced before. But…
…it came not from his severed hand, not from the terrible wound he clutched to his chest.
No, his entire being had come alight.
It was as though Rydian’s body had been submerged in molten stone. Blinded, deafened, he staggered across the arena, though Rydian no longer felt such a trivial sensation as touch. He could not even hear the shrieks that tore from his own throat. There was only the fire, only the pain of the flesh sagging from his bones, of his insides turning to ash, of his mind burning, until he longed for the sweet release of death, of emptiness.
But this fire would not release him, not this time. Instead, he found himself trapped within the agony, mind unravelling, unable to escape the assault, to flee into the cold relief of unconsciousness. The Light embraced him, consumed him.
And in that Light, he heard the scream of a thousand other inhuman voices, a legion suffering, maddened voices, they too unable to escape, to flee.
Slowly, the glow faded, the Light receding, the world returning—but the pain did not recede along with it. Another cry tore from Rydian’s lips as he sank to his knees, senseless words tumbling from his lips as he begged, pleaded for mercy, for an end to the pain.
Amidst his agony, he glimpsed his severed wrist, the missing hand. He should have been horrified, appalled at the loss, but amidst the fire, it seemed but small inconvenience to the eternity that embraced him, to the screaming in his mind, to the Light that flayed his being.
A shadow passed above Rydian and his head jerked up. He found himself looking upon the glassy helmet of the Alfur, at his own reflection staring back. Even as he crouched before it, the Alfur raised its sabre, as though to finish him off.
And for the first time since the pain had taken him, Rydian felt another emotion.
Rage.
Not the pitiful anger of before. Like the pains of his past, that seemed a small thing to this new emotion, as though before his anger had only been a drip squeezed from the vast ocean of rage beyond. It swept all before, his thoughts, his mind, his sanity…
…until there was only pounding of Light in his skull.
He came suddenly to his feet, and despite the ease with which it had defeated him, Rotin retreated at the movement. For a moment it stood, sword extended, regarding him.
“Surrender, Mouse,” it ordered finally, “this contest is over.”
Except…it was no longer the gladiator Mouse who stood before it, not even the human Rydian—but a creature of the Light. It swept through him, its rage consuming him, and at the Alfur’s words, it turned towards the creature, noticed Rotin for the first time.
The raging Light flickered. How dare this creature command it? What did it know of its strength, of the power it wielded?
Silently, the Light resolved the arrogant creature would be the first to perish.
A pulsing agony came from the Light’s limb and it turned borrowed eyes on the jagged stump. That would not do. Bidden by the thought, Light exploded from the bloody limb, swelling, swirling, hissing as it met the air. A form appeared in the Light, shifting until a hand took shape.
A sharp intake of breath came from across the sands as the Alfur retreated. “How?” the creature whispered from beneath the impenetrable helmet.
The Light ignored the creature. Instead, it clenched the new fist, feeling its power. But still it was not complete. Looking down, the Light looked upon the blade at its feet, then shook its head.
I need a true weapon.
Another surge of Light, and a blade appeared in shining fingers, lit with the fury of pain, of rage.
A shudder ran through the body possessed by the Light, the mind within stirring. But possessed by the Light, its thoughts were a tiny thing, consumed by the power that grew within.
A smile twisted the lips of Rydian as he looked at Rotin. “There will be no surrender.”
27
With a roar, the Light that possessed Rydian charged at the Alfurian gladiator. Gone was the exhaustion, the fatigue of before. In its place there was only Light, only the burning rage, the hatred for her kind.
A terrible sizzling sounded as the Light-gladius connected with the Alfur’s sabre, followed by a blinding flash. From beneath its helmet, the Alfur grunted from the force of the impact. Its feet slid back an inch through the sand, but somehow, the creature managed to catch his blow on its sabre, to hold back the terrible strength.
A smirk spread across Rydian’s lips as the Light watched the Alfur struggle. Retreating a step, it lowered his sword and began to laugh. Rotin flinched at the noise, raising its blade and falling into a defensive pose. Rydian only sneered.
How had he ever considered this creature a rival? Now its movements seemed slow, lethargic, as though the Alfur suffered under the swelling heat of the day. All around the stadium, the crowd had fallen silent, unsure of what they were witnessing, what it meant to see the treacherous gladiator wielding his burning sword.
A snarl tore from the Alfur as Rydian advanced. Apparently deciding to retake the initiative, it surged forward. Rydian snorted as its sabre flashed for him,
and spinning on his heel, the Light presented only empty air to the enemy blade. The gladius of Light came up, the razor tip slashing for the throat of the enemy. Screaming at the exertion, the Alfur twisted away, barely managing to avoid the killing blow.
Even so, the tip of Rydian’s blade still sliced across the creature’s collarbone, drawing sapphire blood.
A cry slipped from Rotin’s lips as it staggered back, sabre raised to fend off another attack.
A smile twisted Rydian’s lips as the Light savoured the creature’s pain, the sweet revenge it yearned for. Fear showed in the Alfur’s eyes, terror coming upon the creature as it finally encountered a foe it could not match. For the first time in a generation, the life of an Alfur, of their most famous champion, rested in the hands of a human.
Rydian would make the creature suffer before death came for it.
Rotin came again, attacking with terrible speed. Its blade hissed for Rydian’s throat, before abruptly reversing course and spearing at his groin. The Light read the move easily, and Rydian’s sword flashed down to catch the enemy steel, driving it into the sand. Stepping forward, he slammed a sandaled foot down on the sabre, tearing it from the creature’s hands.
Grinning, Rydian tried to kick the blade away, but the Alfur reacted first. Instead of hurling itself after the sword, it lurched forward, catching Rydian in the chest with its shoulder.
The blow threw the Light off-balance, forcing him back. Though it did little to harm Rydian, Rotin used the second to scoop up its fallen blade.
Frustrated by the Alfur’s success, the Light’s rage swelled anew. Rydian’s teeth ground together, power building, and with it, the agony. His sword crackled with energy, his new hand clenched around the blade. Power crackled in his limbs, in every inch of his body, until he knew only its brilliance.
A snarl came from Rotin as the sword brightened in Rydian’s hand, then the creature was charging once more, sabre held before it like a shield.
The Light reacted, lifting Rydian’s true hand and pointing at his foe. A burning power built there, a glow appearing in his palm. Across the sands, Rotin staggered to a halt as the energy grew—then leapt from Rydian’s hand in a beam of pure Light.
Desperately, the Alfur raised its Manus reader in response. Light gathered there—then burst from the device to meet the Rydian’s power.
The two forces came together with a terrible boom. Rydian staggered, struck by a howling wind, sand whipping at his face, squinting against the force of the explosion. But Rotin’s Light had been dim compared to the power that burnt within him, and he watched in satisfaction as the creature was hurled backwards across the arena.
The wind vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Rydian straightened to survey the destruction he had wrought. For the first time, a shiver pierced the haze of his rage as he looked upon the patch of sand where Rotin had been standing. The explosion had crystallised the sand, turning it to blackened glass in the terrible heat of the twin beams of Light.
Half a dozen yards away, Rotin struggled to pick itself up from the sand where it had landed. A dark object lay nearby, and Rydian recognised the creature’s twisted helmet. A smile spread across his lips as the Light within swelled, eager to see the fear on his foe’s face, the creature’s pain as death finally found it.
But Rydian paused as he neared, catching a glimpse of the creature’s scarlet hair, of the sharp cheekbones that marked Rotin as a female of its species. That was unexpected, and again his mind shook within the grips of the Light. He watched in silence as the Alfur struggled to its feet. Somehow, it had kept hold of the sabre, but the golden eyes that watched him could not conceal the creature’s terror.
Rotin flinched as their eyes met, and Rydian found himself smiling again. Glowing sword in hand, he advanced. Now the Alfur waited for him to come to it. He watched it tense, sword extended, purpled bruises marking its pale skin. What must she…it be thinking, to find itself suddenly facing death at the hands of a human, to find its ancient life at an end?
All around them, the crowd was on its feet, cheering on their champion as they never had before. Forgotten was Rydian’s mother, his alleged treachery. All of it had been washed away, consumed by the glory of this battle, by the spectacle of their enemy’s defeat.
Rydian came to a stop a few feet from Rotin, smile still on his lips.
“Any last words, Alfur?” he rasped.
A shudder twisted the creature’s face, but she said nothing, only bared her teeth and answered with a snarl. He grunted.
“So be it.”
Sand exploded behind Rydian as he launched himself forward. He made no effort to attack with another Light blast, but instead hammered at Rotin with his gladius. The Light wanted to see the hope die from her eyes, to see the despair dawn in those golden irises. This creature would die as so many of Rydian’s fellow humans had on these sands, terrified and in anguish, knowing there was nothing she could do to save herself.
Rotin cried out each time their blades met, struggling against the power behind Rydian’s blows. Distantly, through the agony of the Light, he recalled a time when he had struggled so, when the strength of his opponent had beaten him down. Never again. Metal shrieked as he struck again, his gladius of Light shearing chunks of steel from his foe’s weapon.
Still Rotin fought on, blade leaping to defend against his attacks. But Rotin no longer had the strength to counter him, to fight back. Rydian watched with satisfaction the Alfur’s desperation, the despair growing in the golden globes of her eyes.
Until finally, with a terrible crack, the blade shattered in Rotin's hand.
Searing chunks of steel scattered across the sand between them as Rotin was hurled backwards, slamming into the ground with a harsh thump. Rydian was on the Alfur before she could recover, his sandal slamming into her chest, driving his foe backwards into the sand.
A cry tore from Rotin’s lips, but there was no escaping Rydian’s Light-infused strength. Desperately, she raised her Manus reader and Rydian saw the light blossom in the device. He spread his own hand, the glow swelling beneath his skin, brightening until it outshone the Alfur’s power a hundred-fold.
“Go on,” he hissed, anger thumping in his temples. “Let’s see how this ends!”
Fear reflected in Rotin’s eyes and her hand trembled, defiance turning to terror. Slowly the light died from her Manus reader, faded to nothing. The Alfur’s hand dropped to her side in defeat, and Rydian smiled as he let his own Light die. He still had his blade, the soft hiss of its Light searing the air between them, screaming in his mind for death.
“Please,” Rotin whispered, voice cracking, a tear streaking her cheek. “Please, I do not want to die.”
Rydian blinked, then reared back at the Alfur’s words. They vibrated in his mind, shearing through the anger and the Light, rekindling memories of the past few months, of his friends, of Ruby as she begged him for his help, of his own fear that first night in the training complex.
To a conversation he’d had with Aureli, all that time ago.
Blinking, Rydian looked down at that desperate face. It was the face of his enemy, of the creatures that had enslaved his species, that had enslaved an entire planet. He should have been enraged by her words, should have loathed Rotin for her hypocrisy, and yet…
…Rydian found he understood the terror in the creature’s eyes.
Thunder roared in Rydian’s ears as he stepped back from the Alfur, but as he blinked, the Light receded somewhat, and he found his mind returning, emerging from beneath that unspeakable rage. Shivering, he looked down at the Alfur and wondered why Rotin was truly there, why she had fought all this time on the sands of the arena. Alone of all the Alfur.
He looked at his hand, watching as the blade he’d summoned faded to nothing. The hand of Light remained. Clenching and unclenching his fist, Rydian was surprised at how real it felt, as if it were truly a part of him.
Eventually, another sound trickled through the chaos of his thoughts,
through the thrumming that still lurked at the edges of his mind, the rage that threatened. Drawing in a breath, he looked to the stands of the amphitheatre. His people were on their feet, cheering, screaming their joy. Men and women embraced, tears in their eyes, as though they could barely believe what they had just witnessed.
A human had defeated one of the Alfur.
Anything was possible.
Even the infinite.
28
They didn’t bring Rydian back to his prison of Light. Instead, the Alfurian guards surrounded him on the sands. Rydian offered no resistance as they took his arms in rough grips and led him from the arena and out into the streets, though even when they were blocks away, he could still hear the roaring of the crowd.
The guards led him a short way through the city, to a landing pad for the Alfurian ships. Only then did Rydian recover enough of his senses to wonder at his fate, if they still planned to execute him. But he did not resist, only walked with head bowed, the Light still thrumming in his veins. He could feel it calling to him, demanding he strike down those that dared take him prisoner, but…for the moment he resisted.
But with resistance…came pain. It had not stopped, the agony, not since his hand had been cut, not for a moment. It seared at the back of his mind, the Light that longed to be unleashed.
In the end, the Alfur ship did not bring him to his death, but instead to a place Rydian had never dreamed of visiting.
The soaring towers of the Alfur.
Now he stood alone in a chamber within one of the towers, staring out an enormous window of transparent Light, looking down upon his city far below. From up here, Goma hardly seemed more than a speck of dirt amid the endless jungle surrounding them, tiny, inconsequential. Was that how the Alfur viewed their human slaves, as specks of dust on the window?
