Changing of the Glads

by Joy Spraycar

  The moon rose, a mere fingernail tip, lending its meager light to the restless man. Twinkling stars dimmed then faded from view. People began to stir and slowly spilled into the streets. For hours, Max fought between saving Zalphia and saving this planet. He knew how much their mission meant, but to him Zalphia meant more. He couldn’t leave her there to face the Arena Board alone. Somehow he had to find a way to rescue her.

  CHAPTER 15

  Max spent the entire day pacing the streets of the city, his Armor duties forgotten. He formulated a plan to break Zalphia out come nightfall, but then knowing she would eventually hate him for it in the end, dismissed it. Why couldn’t he go? It always came back to the planet’s fate or Zalphia’s. Why couldn’t he disregard Simeon’s words?

  The Elder had come to be as much of a father to him as his human one. Max knew Simeon understood what needed to be done. But he had told Max to go into the Glad arena and rescue Zalphia. Take her to Kilapon, and then together they would overcome the evil on this world.

  But now the plan had changed. Now Zalphia had to remain at the mercy of the Arena Board.

  Maybe Simeon hadn’t foreseen Platy’s chips. But he was supposed to know what needed to be done to save this planet. So why had he not known what would happen?

  Questions plagued Max. Nothing seemed to make sense. Maybe Zalphia was right. Maybe they needed to come up with a plan of their own.

  Day slipped into night. Still, the questions tumbled over in his mind, and he considered different options to achieve their goal. But it always came back to how would they find out where the Glad games started?

  He slowly padded up and down the deserted streets, no closer to an answer than when he’d abandoned his wife in the dungeon. As he passed the soldiers on watch, he nodded. As an arena official, he was allowed to go where he pleased without having to answer to them. Max looked down at his uniform. He hated parading as someone who represented a part of the evil ruling this world, but it couldn’t be helped. At least this way, he could move about freely and maybe even see Zalphia again.

  Thirst finally drove him to the fountain by the arena. He cupped his hands and took a few long drinks of the cool water. Simeon hadn’t given him any idea what might happen now that Zalphia was to appear before the Arena Board. He should try to sneak in and find out what they decided, but he couldn’t make his feet move. Even hearing the rumors of what might happen to his wife was more than he could bear.

  He would wait and see what happened at the Arena Board meeting. Then, he would be prepared to fight to the death to save Zalphia if it came down to it.

  ***

  Zalphia remained still and silent on the slimy floor. Every emotion seeped into the cracks beneath her, leaving not a single tear to slide down her face. Dank mustiness filled her nostrils and mingled with the lingering odor of sweat, blood, and urine. Bile rose in her throat. She clamped her jaw in stark determination not to let it out and twisted her head to the side, causing several strands of stale vomit-stained hair to fall across her face. This time the bile won, and she retched until her sides ached, adding to the cramps in her legs and the constant pain across her lower back.

  She was a wreck. Not only because of the strains of fighting, but something else that dragged her down since being snatched by Platy and forced back into the arena. She finished puking, wiped her mouth, and curled into a ball in the corner.

  The familiar creak of the door at the top of the stairs drew her eyes from the darkened corner at which they stared. A guard unlocked the cell door and entered. Zalphia remained silent and prone on the muddy floor. The gloved hands of the guard slid beneath her arms and lifted her to her feet.

  Zalphia tried to stand, but the anger, fear, and puking had drained her energy, and she fell back to the floor.

  The guard’s gravelly voice echoed inside the stone walls. “Come on, Glad. We have to take you to the Arena Board. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  Zalphia lifted her head, but it was all she could manage.

  The guard doubled his fist, just as a second guard, blond hair peeking from beneath his helmet, appeared in the doorway.

  “Don’t,” warned the blond. “You’ll only get in trouble if you rough her up.”

  The first guard nodded and then, together, the two men lifted her between them and dragged her out of the cell and up the stairs.

  Zalphia sagged between them. Even her legs refused to obey her. Head hanging, she watched as the stones of the stairs turned to dirt, then back to stone as they entered the building. When they reached the boardroom, Zalphia managed to look up. The door opened, and she was dragged inside.

  The guards paused where a large circle was fashioned in a lighter stone on the floor. Around the edge of the room sat a platform, framed by a half wall. On the other side, twelve men relaxed in overstuffed chairs while waited on by two servants apiece. Tables loaded with food sat in front of each man, and they chuckled and talked as the guards let go and Zalphia crumpled to the ground.

  She lay there for a moment, trying to gather the strength to at least rise to her knees. Zalphia glanced around, hoping Platy would be there, but she wasn’t.

  The General stood up from his seat. He was an Afri. Not as dark as Max, but nearly as big. He came forward, walked around Zalphia, then spat on her back. “Haul her to her feet,” he commanded.

  The guards pulled her up. The gravelly-voiced guard grabbed her hair and jerked her head back so the man could look her in the face.

  The General glowered, studied her eyes, and then lifted his head. The guards released her, and she sank to the floor, managing to remain on her knees as the General strode back toward his chair.

  “You, Zalphia, have been accused of cheating in the arena. What say you?” He paused and glanced back.

  She considered carefully what she might say. Platy obviously wasn’t going to fight for her so that left Zalphia to plead her own case.

  “Well?” The General turned as gravelly voice again grabbed her hair, drawing her face to meet the General’s dark-eyed gaze.

  Zalphia glared.

  “I see.” The General sat back in his chair and grabbed a chicken leg.

  Her stomach growled loudly, and he laughed. “Hungry?”

  The satisfaction of an answer wasn’t something she was willing to give.

  “I hear rumors about you, Zalphia, and I wonder if they’re true. We shall see. Bring in the trainer.”

  The two guards left the room and returned moments later with Platy in tow. One of her eyes had swollen shut and sported a deep purple bruise. Multiple bruises covered her arms and legs. She’d obviously fought when they’d arrested her. The chains binding her hands and feet rattled as she hit the floor beside her Glad.

  Zalphia smirked and stifled a small chuckle.

  “You’ll pay for this,” Platy hissed.

  Gravelly voice kicked the trainer in the ribs, and she flew against Zalphia, who elbowed the chained woman away. Platy sprawled across the floor, gasping for air.

  Laughing, gravelly voice grabbed Platy’s hair and pulled her face up.

  No special treatment.

  The General glowered at the trainer, took a sip of his drink, and then said, “Platy, trainer of Zalphia, your Glad has been accused of cheating. What say you?”

  “She wasn’t supposed to have a lightning stick.” Platy shot Zalphia a wicked glare. “It said so in the arena program. An Armor gave it to her. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “And the double-charged stick?” The General paused, cup midway to his lips to await an answer.

  Platy’s eyes flitted in Zalphia’s direction. “It belonged to the opponent. Her trainer and I arranged for it.”

  The General motioned to the blond guard. He opened the door, and the other trainer stepped into the room.

  “Romulus, thank you for joining us this morning. Platy has accused you of using a double-charged lightning stick. Is this true?”

  Romulus bowed before the General.
“No, my lord.”

  “Not true,” Platy shouted and received another kick to the ribs for her outburst.

  “I know it’s forbidden to use a double-charged weapon,” Romulus said, glaring at Platy.

  “And did you agree to pit an armed Glad with an unarmed one?”

  Romulus took a couple of steps forward, pointing at Zalphia. “My Lord, this Glad, known as No Mercy Zalph, has powers no other Glad possesses.”

  The General put down his chicken leg and cup then scooted forward on his chair. “Is that so? Tell me.”

  “Platy has fought her for all these years, and this Glad has powers of the mind. I’ve heard that she reaches in and muddles each Glad she fights, messes with their thoughts until they can’t fight like they’ve been trained. That’s why she is undefeated.”

  The General rose and, once more, stood before Zalphia. The guards hauled her to her feet.

  “I’ve heard these rumors before, but how are we to know for sure?”

  Romulus stepped forward and lifted Zalphia’s hair, showing the scar hidden there. “The trainer, Platy, has chipped the Glad to try and hide it from you, my lord. The Emperor’s physician would be able to detect such treachery. I demand an examination.” He stepped away.

  The General moved closer, examined the scar, and then turned away. “So the rumors are true. Are there any others, Romulus?”

  “She’s the only one I know of for certain. But I have heard there is another, a man.”

  “Hmm, two. A male and a female. Interesting. The Emperor must be notified.” The General motioned to a skinny boy standing at the back of the room. “Messenger.”

  The boy stood forward.

  “Take word to the Emperor. Let him know what has transpired here this morning and have him send his physician for the examination.”

  The boy bowed and ran from the room.

  “You, Zalphia, what say you about mind powers?”

  Should she admit to that? No, that would validate Platy fighting her unarmed.

  The General nodded, and the gravelly voiced guard backhanded Zalphia across the face.

  “Speak when the General addresses you,” the guard said.

  Zalphia wiped the blood from her split lip then lifted her chin. Her gaze connected with the General’s, and her words were slow and deliberate, “I did what I was trained to do. Win at all costs.” Her gaze flitted to her trainer, and Zalphia smirked as Platy glared at her.

  The General’s attention followed. Platy was hauled to her feet. “And you, trainer, what say you?”

  “I had no idea she had mind powers.”

  “Liar!” Zalphia’s energy returned with a vengeance, and she sprang at her trainer.

  The gravelly-voiced guard met her leap with an elbow to her chin. The blow spun Zalphia around and sent her crashing to the floor.

  The General nodded to the guard. “Stop, I wish to hear what the Glad has to say.”

  Zalphia was again righted so she knelt before the General.

  “Speak up, girl,” he said.

  “Platy trained me to use my mind to win matches. She knew from the time I was brought into the training center that I had those powers.”

  Zalphia glanced at Platy.

  The trainer glared at her Glad.

  The General nodded then turned to Platy. “I see. You, trainer, have fought a Glad with an unfair advantage. Mind powers. I commend you. I’d have done the same. However, now that you’ve been discovered, you must face the consequences. You will be taken to the palace, and the Emperor will determine your fate after his physician examines your Glad. Guards, take her away.”

  The guards dragged Platy from the room while she screamed about the unfairness of it all.

  The General turned back to Zalphia and circled her several times. “I’ve heard other rumors about you, Glad.”

  “Is that so?” Zalphia said, lifting her chin.

  He chuckled. “I see there is still some fight left in you.” He stared at her for a moment. “So, do you wish to enlighten me?”

  “About what?” Zalphia narrowed her eyes. What could he be talking about? What other rumors.

  “I see.” He returned to his seat as the guard reentered the room. “I’ll let the Emperor determine if the word on the street is true. If it is, he’ll be highly interested. Guards, take her back to the dungeon, but make sure she is well cared for. I wouldn’t want the Emperor to have damaged goods to inspect.” He nodded, and the guards hauled her from the room and returned her to the dungeon.

  A short time later, the blond guard returned carrying a tray of food. He opened the cell and set it just inside. Zalphia remained in the corner.

  He locked the door then crouched down. “Come on, the Arena General sent this down for you.”

  Zalphia looked at the tray but remained seated where she was.

  “I promise, it’s only food. Come, eat. You must be hungry.”

  He crouched in front of the cell and removed his helmet. He wasn’t an Afri. His light-green eyes met hers as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for what they’ve done to you. No one deserves to be treated this way. Please, take this. Eat.” He shoved the tray further into the cell.

  The smell of roasted chicken curled into her nostrils, causing saliva to flood her mouth. She wanted very much to grab the tray. Why would they care whether she had eaten or not if they planned on killing her?

  “I know you are expecting to suffer the stones, but I don’t think that’s what they have in mind. It’s all right. Eat.”

  Zalphia slid closer, grasped the edge of the tray, and then scooted back into the corner.

  The guard smiled. “There, I’ll be back in a while.” He shoved his helmet back on his head and left.

  Almost twenty-four hours had passed since she had last eaten anything, and many years since she’d had something as succulent as the roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, and potatoes the tray held. In spite of her swollen cheek and split lip, she gobbled it down as fast as she could, afraid at any moment they’d come and steal it away. When the plate was empty, she set it next to the door, and again slid into the corner. Not long after, the blond guard returned. He unlocked the cell and retrieved the tray.

  “Take these,” he said, holding out two blankets and a small pillow.

  Zalphia remained in the corner, arms around her knees.

  “It’s all right. The Arena General wants you to be comfortable.”

  She studied the guard’s face but didn’t reach for the offered items.

  The guard set them down next to her. “I know you could use them. Don’t be afraid. You’re safe, at least until the Emperor’s physician comes tomorrow.”

  “Why do they care?”

  The guard shrugged. “I wouldn’t question the generosity, just take them and be glad. No other prisoner has gotten such treatment. You must be special.”

  Zalphia rolled her eyes. If this was special, she could live without it.

  He backed out of the cell and locked the door. “Good night, Zalphia.”

  She nodded. He seemed kind in spite of what he was. Spreading one blanket on the floor, she curled up on it, placed the pillow beneath her head, and pulled the second blanket over her.

  Flashes of Max’s face flitted across her mind’s eye. No. He wouldn’t save her, although she hoped he would reconsider and come back. But he cared about saving this planet, not about her. If there was any escape to be had, she would have to find a way. Anger stirred inside, then transformed into the most crushing pain. She longed to have a life with him, but he had thrown that all away. She couldn’t think about that, not anymore. He had left her!

  Fear settled over her shoulders. What would the Emperor and his physician do to her? Could things possibly get worse? She was sure they could, and they probably would before all was finished. But for now, the tiredness deep in her bones begged for sleep that seemed to evade her. However, in the end, exhaustion won out.

  ***

  Darkness had long
since faded, and the sun had already risen above the treetops when his mind settled and Max finally noticed his surroundings. A vast crowd gathered in the streets and pressed against the gates to the arena. Whispers of the people sounded like the wind blowing across the plains of his homeland. He rose from his seat on the ledge of the fountain and edged closer to the milling throng.

  “Have they said yet?” one woman whispered.

  “No, but they took her before the Arena Board. The Emperor is sending his physician,” another answered.

  A man leaned close. “I hear she is the one who will fulfill The Prophecy.”

  “Excuse me?” Max said to a small gray-haired man who stood just at the back of the crowd.

  The man looked over his shoulder then backed against those facing the arena. His narrow face paled, and his eyes widened. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, raising both hands in front of him.

  Max glanced down and realized the man was reacting to his Armor uniform and the threat it represented. “I mean you no harm.”

  The man slowly lowered his hands. “What can I do for you?”

  Max waved the man away from the rest of the crowd.

  The man hesitated for a moment, and then, head hanging, he followed Max to the other side of the street. Relief spread across the man’s face when he realized he wasn’t being arrested.

  “I know you think I am an Arena official, but that is not the case.” Max glanced around, making sure no soldiers were within earshot. “I’m Maximillion, the Glad.”

  The man’s brow furrowed. “No, you’re not. Everyone knows what he looks like, and you are not he.”

  Max stiffened. Why didn’t this man recognize him? Then he remembered. He’d become so used to projecting the image of a normal Afri, one with skin a lighter color of bronze and deep brown eyes. He smiled, then let his mind slip into the man’s, wiping away the projected image and showing this citizen what he really looked like.

  The man’s eyes widened. “It can’t be. Why you... you are him.”

  Max nodded.