Changing of the Glads

by Joy Spraycar

  Once more, he reached into the throngs of minds, searching for the one he knew so well. Then he felt her. Confusion mixed with fear rushed into him. He closed his eyes, and a vision of gray walls, bright lights, and metal tables filled his mind. Recognizing the room, he bolted upright.

  “Zalphia!”

  “Shut up.” The drunk lying next to him groaned and turned over.

  Heart beating fast, Max tossed the tattered blanket over the man and snuck out of the alley. The soldier had already turned the corner, leaving Max a clear shot up the street to the arena. This time of night, patrols would cover the entire square before returning to this street, giving him time to make it to the arena before the next pass.

  Max hesitated for a moment, listening to Zalphia’s unanswered questions. He tried to reach into her mind and show her their place, but her emotions overwhelmed the subtle way he was used to reaching her. If he took time to concentrate, he might be able to punch through, assure her that he was on his way, or he could run up the street, burst into the infirmary, and save her.

  He chose to run.

  Slipping his sandals off so his footfalls wouldn’t draw attention, he hung them from a finger and sprinted barefoot up the simmering pavement. The sun had set a couple of hours earlier, but the heat in the tar-covered road remained.

  The soles of his feet seared with every step, but he didn’t care. Zalphia was all that mattered. Simeon warned Max when Platy had taken Zalphia that she needed to remain with her trainer and go back to fighting. But in his heart, Max knew what that would do to her. She’d never survive. The killer instinct had been stripped from her when he had taken her from the arena.

  Anger emanated from Zalphia, lending speed to Max’s feet. She’d do something irrational, emotional. Something that would endanger her if he didn’t get there and soon. Just as he reached the front gate of the massive arena, he felt the frustration and anger let go.

  The scene spread before him as if he had taken her place. Platy’s green eyes flashed. Her nostrils flared, and Max felt the punch. Being one with Zalphia always had its downside, and now she had done something that would affect them both.

  Max barely scooted into the shadows of the bleachers when the torture began. He reached out to Zalphia, wanting to sustain her, but the pain seared through him, driving rational thought away.

  Zalphia should have known better than to strike a trainer. Now Platy would teach a lesson never to be forgotten. Max gritted his teeth, laid the pain aside, and stilled his mind. Once he gained control, he reached out to Zalphia, wrapping thoughts of calm and love around her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Each jolt caused his body to react in sync with hers. Platy accomplished torturing them both, and Max suspected that somewhere deep inside she knew that would be the case.

  When it was over, Max lay trembling and exhausted beneath the Clubbers’ bleachers. Pain seared through every nerve, and shame racked him for what he’d caused Zalphia to endure. He should have let her take his life. They never should have killed the Clubbers, fled the arena, or taken the time to succumb to their desires. Every decision he’d made led them to this. Now, all he could do was lie here and long for the moments when Zalphia was his.

  He wished for the strength to leap to his feet, burst through the door, and whisk his beloved wife away to safety. But he couldn’t. The act of lifting his head was more than he could muster.

  Simeon’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Maximillion.

  Max didn’t want to hear it. He knew Simeon wished to leave Zalphia where she was. They needed to know about the Emperor and where things went wrong, but Zalphia would suffer. How could Max let that happen? Look what they’d already done to his beloved wife.

  Max shook his head. I cannot leave her here. Do you not see? Can you not feel what we have gone through? What she has suffered? How can you expect me to abandon her?

  I know it will be hard, Maximillion. I know. She is strong. Stronger than you believe. She will yet suffer many things. It cannot be helped. You may strengthen her, just as you always have. Your mind will be one with hers. She knows you and will be able to seek you out. We need answers, and Zalphia is the only way we will be able to get them.

  No! She is not as strong as you believe. I have seen her. Her emotions are not tempered as they once were. She will never survive what they have planned for her. They will do whatever it takes to get me to come running to her aid. I should just relinquish myself to them. Require that they let her go in order to have me. Then it will be I who will face the Emperor.

  No, Maximillion. They will never let her go. You know this. They would find a way to capture you both. Then you both will be killed and coming here will have been for naught.

  Max’s hands curled into fists in spite of the weakness wracking him. You are all knowing, you Elders. Why can you not just get the answers yourself? Why does Zalphia have to suffer? I should have taken her back to Selestia, out of the reach of those who would harm her. I would have gladly done what it takes to right the wrongs here.

  Max’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to hear more about what was best for this world. He wanted to save his love. This is what Zalphia begged for just days before. If only he would have listened. They could have left this world, returned home to Selestia. There had to be another way to accomplish changing things without having Zalphia subjected to more torture. Torture Max knew she’d never survive.

  You know that you could never have gone back, Maximillion. Zalphia knows it, and she would hate you once you arrived on Selestia without completing your mission.

  Simeon was right. Zalphia had been the one who volunteered to come here.

  There are only three pairs on Selestia who could accomplish this. You know that, and so does Zalphia.

  Simeon and his brother had been such a pair until the brother was stripped of his powers for misusing them. The other pair already resided here, Vitus and Karaticus, Max’s own sons. He and Zalphia were the only ones left who could do what needed to be done.

  It can only be accomplished by the two of you. She has the capabilities that you do not, but neither of you alone could change things. You know this. You sent your sons, and they have failed. If you and Zalphia can’t bring this world into alignment with its course, there will be no other way than destruction. Would you put all here at risk for a mere two?

  How true. He and Zalphia promised to save this dying and decrepit world, and Zalphia, the strong woman he knew before they came here, would never give up on their mission. She would be glad to suffer exactly what she was going through at this very moment to accomplish what they set out to do.

  Very well. His fingers loosened. I will continue, although my heart is breaking for the pain she must endure.

  It will be only for a short while, I promise. Change is in the works, and in a matter of time, all will be revealed. Be patient, Maximillion, and you will be victorious. Zalphia will once again be by your side.

  Max let exhaustion take him. When he awoke again, more pain came from Zalphia, and again he experienced it right along with her. When he thought there was no way she could endure anymore, her mind disappeared.

  CHAPTER 13

  About seven months later

  The sparkling blue water parted and slid by the bow of the ship. A salty breeze traveled through the air and filled Zalphia’s nostrils, stinging slightly, but stealing the queasiness from deep inside. This discomfort became a constant difficulty. Almost seven months had passed since the painful surgery in the infirmary. Zalphia could still see Max’s face when she closed her eyes. Platy lied about what happened that fateful day, and no amount of torture would convince Zalphia otherwise.

  Once again, the obedient, tough Zalphia had returned. Or so they thought. But a deep-seated anger rolled inside and surfaced every time she faced another in the arena. Grinding her fists into her opponents, she imagined Platy’s face, and it gave her an odd sense of satisfaction. The anger made Zalphia a better Glad than she ever had been. However, fin
ding women opponents to fight had become more difficult. Zalphia now faced mostly men inside the arena, but it didn’t seem to matter. The matches lasted longer now, almost an hour, and each moment showed that a true No Mercy Zalph is what Platy succeeded in producing... again.

  The doctor and Platy tried to convince Zalphia that Max had been a dream, an apparition. But one slip of the doctor’s words during those first hours and she knew differently. The warmth deep inside testified Max was real, as did the increased speed of her heart each time she closed her eyes and his face appeared.

  Memories of their time together washed over her and soothed her troubled mind. He had been real, and the truth of the past he described while they had been together still remained. No way could these intense feelings have been brought on by a severe electrical shock. No way could she have imagined the way it felt when they became one. Even now, she could smell him and feel his fingers tracing the lines of her face. No, that would never leave.

  Standing there watching the water as blue as his eyes spread before her, she sighed. She had done this all before, crossed this same ocean and stood on the bow of a ship just like this one headed to Afri. She swallowed at the lump forming in her throat and willed the tears brimming behind her eyelids not to fall. In spite of her efforts, one slid down her cheek just as a voice interrupted her solitude.

  “Well, Zalph. What brings you out here so early in the morning?”

  The hair on Zalphia’s arms stood on end, and all the good things inside her head vanished at the sound of Platy’s voice.

  With her shoulder, she brushed the tear away before turning to face her trainer. “Just trying to keep down last night’s meal.”

  “Still having the queasy stomach?” Platy looked perplexed.

  “Yeah. I’m wondering if it will ever go away.”

  “How long has it been?”

  Zalphia turned back to face the water and imagined Max’s face. “Going on seven months now. Please, don’t schedule any morning matches. I can’t fight until my stomach settles. You know how it is, by noon or so it goes away, at least if I have a little something to eat. Then, I’ll be good to go.”

  “Okay, no morning matches, but you’re having a full physical after this round. I won’t be having you lose because of...”

  Zalphia glanced back at Platy with one eyebrow raised. “Because of what?”

  Did she know something?

  Platy shook her head. “You worry about winning. I’ll worry about your sickness.” She quickly left, and Zalphia watched as the trainer disappeared through the doorway leading below deck.

  “Ass,” Zalphia muttered under her breath. “If there was something wrong, you probably caused it with your torture and barbaric surgery.”

  As soon as Zalphia figured out how Platy had found her and where Max was, the witch would be sorry she’d ever dragged her Glad back.

  The breeze whipped strands of hair across Zalphia’s face, and she closed her eyes. Max’s face appeared – the dark skin, curly hair, and blue eyes – eyes she would never forget. What she wouldn’t have given at that moment to reach out to him with her mind. To have him whisk her away to their spot with the bubbling water and the tree with the feathery branches that touched the ground.

  But Platy had changed her. Now everything was different. She couldn’t reach out to anyone, not Max and not her opponents. The one advantage she always had in the arena had been taken from her. But that didn’t seem to matter. Raging fury for Platy took its place. Like an angry tiger, Zalphia devoured her prey, and no competitor, female or male, stood a chance.

  Zalphia had gained a few pounds, but in spite of that, she was faster, nimbler, and outright mean. If she couldn’t have Max, living or dying no longer mattered. But she would stay alive long enough to get even with her trainer. Somehow, she was determined to find out what had happened that day. And then Platy would pay for taking everything she cared about from her. By this time tomorrow, she would be fighting again. Heaven help her opponents.

  ***

  Platy had arranged for all Zalphia’s fights to begin after the lunch break. Sitting in her cage, Zalphia ran her fingers over the familiar gray stone. Dust billowed in from the arena and clung to the sweat on her arms. The oppressive heat burned her lungs, but she closed her eyes and let it seep into her. This is where she met Max. Loneliness settled over her, a blanket that overwhelmed her heart and clouded her mind.

  How could Platy bring her back here? Did she really think that Zalphia wouldn’t recognize it? The stone. The orange clay. The dark people.

  She stared through the bars as the ebony-skinned Armors handed out weapons. She longed for the months to melt away. For this to be her first time here. For Max to be waiting to face her. If only it could be so, she wouldn’t feel alone. Secluded. Forlorn.

  An Armor, darker than the rest, strode toward her and her heart skipped a beat. Breathing became difficult as he stopped a stone’s throw away. His massive chest rippled, reminding her of the first time she’d set eyes on Max. A silver helmet limited the view of his face, but curly, dark hair peaked from beneath the back plate. Her gaze traveled to his jaw, the same chiseled jaw she remembered. Could it be? The rest of his face remained hidden behind the shiny metal. Zalphia gasped as he wandered closer. Her skin warmed from the inside, and her gaze traveled to the slits in the helmet.

  How could he be here? Would he free her again?

  The Armor turned just short of the bars, but in that moment she saw his eyes. Dark. Brown. The same as everyone else from this country.

  She trembled, her breath coming in strangled sobs. How could she think he’d be here, in the arena? Absurd. Wasn’t it? Why had she reacted that way to someone who simply resembled Max?

  She collapsed against the stone wall and closed her eyes as the moisture rose. Even her skin anticipated his touch. How stupid was that? What did she expect? That he would charge in and save her because she was in the same land? How ludicrous to assume Max would still be here.

  What happened that night? Why did Max allow Platy to take her? Look at her now, back in the arena and fighting. She was sure she’d suffer the stones if she and Max had been caught. But she had to admit, Platy had come up with a viable way to get her undefeated Glad back without having to divulge that Zalphia was a part of the disaster.

  She let her chin fall to her chest, Max’s face looming in her mind. She would continue to fight until he came for her. And he would. She could feel it. He talked about stopping all this and not quitting until it was accomplished. But where was he now? Her chest constricted as she remembered the ceremony and their bliss beneath the stars. Tears fell in spite of her fighting the urge to let emotions rip through her. She wiped furiously at her eyes, then held them wide and willed the moisture away. No, she couldn’t do this. Zalphia had to keep it together and not let her grief at being back here be seen by Platy.

  A bumping inside took Zalphia off guard. Was she going to be sick again? She hoped not. Fighting while puking her guts out would be impossible. She prepared for the retching which usually accompanied the feeling. But this was different, a flutter like a dozen butterflies inside. Then it stopped. Something tickled at the back of her mind about the feeling of butterflies, but she couldn’t quite bring it forward.

  The cage door rattled. “Ready, Zalph?”

  She nodded. Platy no longer came inside with her. The trainer seemed to feel the anger although Zalphia was pretty confident it remained hidden. In the training room, Platy was always flanked by two armed guards. Maybe she suspected Zalphia’s urge to wring her neck. Even Zalphia had to admit she changed. And if she were in Platy’s place, she’d do the same.

  “You’ve got three in a row.”

  Zalphia rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding. No breather in between?”

  Platy shrugged. “Price you pay for laying off all morning.”

  “Fine.” Zalphia’s eyes narrowed.

  “You’ll handle it. You always do.”

&nbs
p; Platy was right. Back-to-back matches were almost commonplace now in order to spend the morning puking. Hardly a good trade-off, but at least Zalphia’s wits were about her by then.

  “First, you’ve got one male from Lisban. Then another from Eron. And then, a big girl from right here.”

  “Do they stand a chance?”

  Platy smiled. “The males are no match for my Glad. But the girl, well, that’s another story.”

  “Is she an Afri?”

  “Yep. She’s tall and more muscled than you, so keep out of her hands. I’m sure she could squash you if she got a hold of you.”

  “What’s our weapon?”

  “No weapons. Hand to hand.” Platy’s grin widened.

  Zalphia’s nostrils flared in aggravation. More and more of her matches were fought hand to hand. She suspected Platy wanted it that way. Continued punishment for her original betrayal with Max. It seemed her trainer was trying to get her killed. The hatred had to have been painted across her face for a mere instant before Zalphia squelched it.

  “Great. I like a challenge.”

  Fighting the urge to ram her fist into Platy’s face, Zalphia watched the trainer turn and walk away. Facing men who were just starting out had become her norm. Usually their first match. But, unfortunately, it also became their last. Zalphia didn’t mind because they posed somewhat more of a challenge than the women.

  She wondered about the girl, the Afri. Zalphia would have to be quick and slippery to best her. Working it out in her mind, Zalphia studied all the possible moves and made a plan to evade and turn each one to her advantage.

  The Armor outside the cage nodded to Zalphia, and she nodded in return. The bars slid open. She stepped out, holding her left hand out for the wicked claws. A weird sense of déjà vu swept over her. The same crowd seemed to fill every seat. She shook her head to clear the thoughts. Had to concentrate on fighting. The Lisban was half her size.