by Jon F. Merz
The doctor nodded. “The plaster will take some of the force from any strikes you might get. But be careful. Bruised ribs can easily become broken ribs.”
Ran drank the potion and then noticed that there was a plate of food next to the bed. From the looks of it, there were several slices of meat and some green leafy vegetables he did not recognize. The bowl of rice was a friendly reminder of his home, however. The doctor noticed Ran inspecting the meat and smiled.
“It is beef. Zaqil knows you are not one who would follow our customs.”
Ran breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m grateful for that. As hungry as I am, I don’t think I could stomach the flesh of another human being.”
The doctor shrugged. “It is an acquired taste, I suppose. We are happy enough with it, but understand you would not be. This is one more example of the greatness of Zaqil. He is compassionate in that regard even as he prepares to fight you. Surely the mark of a great leader, no?”
Ran wasn’t so sure about that, but he decided it was better not to insult his hosts. “I am extremely grateful for his generosity and compassion.” Already the potion had reduced the throbbing pain in his side. Ran was thankful for being able to breathe without pain lancing his side as he did so.
The doctor felt around Ran’s head for a moment and then nodded. “It has already started to work. That is good.” He gathered his things in a pouch and smiled once again at Ran. “We will take our leave now. Eat the food and then sleep. The potion will work for perhaps a day. Certainly long enough to see you through your bout with the king.”
“Very well,” said Ran. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Good luck, Ran,” said the doctor. “Zaqil is a formidable warrior in his own right. You will need lots of luck to defeat him.”
“I’m sure he is,” said Ran. “But if I don’t do well then he said he’s going to eat me. So I have much to fight for. I would rather not end up in his stomach.”
The doctor laughed. “Good-bye.” He and his assistant walked out of the cell. Ran heard the guard outside lock the door.
Ran turned his attention to the food and started devouring the plate of food and the rice. He needed all of it to get his strength back. There was a pitcher of water nearby, and Ran sucked it down as he ate. The beef was flavorful and tender. The vegetables, even though Ran did not recognize them, were nonetheless delicious. And the sticky rice melted in his mouth. After he had feasted, Ran leaned back in the bed among the pillows and promptly fell asleep.
Too soon, Ran heard the door being unlocked, and he sat right up in the bed. So much for the possibility of escape, he thought with a wry grin. But on the plus side, Ran felt wonderful. The food and rest, along with the medical attention he’d received, had reinvigorated him. He felt like his old self, and the thought of doing battle with Zaqil actually excited him.
The Mung guard entered and motioned for Ran to follow him into the corridor. The guard didn’t seem concerned that Ran wasn’t in his hand ties any longer. Perhaps they felt safe here in their kingdom. After all, where would Ran run to if he tried to escape? That realization almost depressed Ran, but he pushed the notion out of his mind. He could recall how they’d entered the kingdom, and he felt certain he could find his way back and out if he needed to.
The big question at this point was, did it make sense to try? Something about the apparent nonchalance of the guard made Ran suspicious. Perhaps Zaqil was testing him. There might even be other guards stationed nearby as they walked to the arena. If Ran attempted anything, Zaqil might have given the guards orders to simply kill him.
Ran decided to go along as if everything was perfectly all right. If he saw an opportunity, then he would take it. But if an opportunity did not present itself, then he would fight Zaqil and win. Hopefully the king would be impressed enough that Ran would eventually get his freedom anyway. And if he didn’t, then as long as he was out of immediate danger, Ran could formulate a better plan.
He thought of Kuva and Cassandra and hoped they’d managed to get themselves out of the catacombs. He wondered where they were at that very moment. Hopefully enjoying a good rest and some food, thought Ran. If anything, he felt a bit guilty that he’d been able to rest and eat. There were no guarantees they’d enjoyed anything remotely similar.
They might even be dead.
He frowned. No. Kuva would never let any harm come to Cassandra. And Cassandra was a worthy foe in her own right. If they’d escaped the catacombs, then they were probably trying to locate Ran. In spite of urging them to run away, Ran felt certain his friends would not abandon him.
He turned his attention back to the walk to the arena. As the guard led him through a variety of corridors, Ran saw more of the Mung people. Men, women, and children turned out to stare and point at him. Ran guessed he wasn’t the first person from the upper world that they had seen, but he was obviously a novelty of some sort. He wondered whether it was because he was due to fight the king, or if they were wondering what his flesh tasted like. As he walked, he made a point to wave to the kids and smile at some of the women. If he could win over some of the crowd before they even arrived at the arena, then perhaps that would help him stay alive a little while longer.
They walked down a paved flagstone tunnel and then emerged into a huge cavern. A boisterous crowd of Mung greeted him as he entered. They were seated in rows of chairs that encircled the arena floor. Shouts and chants went up as Ran walked deeper into the arena. He stood and looked around. The guard remained with him and had to twice warn away a Mung spectator who insisted on coming to get a close look at Ran.
As Ran stood there, he wondered how many other fights had happened down in the arena. Certainly this wasn’t thrown together in some haphazard fashion. The arena had been built specifically for combat, with the sides sloping inward at the top and outward at the bottom so fighters could not try to scale the walls and escape. The seats were also set high enough above the floor so that every spectator had an excellent view of the action happening far below.
No, he decided, the arena had been used and probably often. He wondered how many other fighters had come in just as he had, hoping for a chance at life. Had they won? Or had they ended up being served to the Mung aristocracy for dinner?
Ran spotted Iqban in one of the first rows. Seated all around him were a phalanx of Mung guards. Clearly, Zaqil wasn’t taking any chances with Iqban. If Ran turned out to be a disappointment, Zaqil clearly intended to carry through with his threat. Ran realized he could easily choose to lose the match and ensure Iqban’s demise. But that would only guarantee his own death as well.
And Ran had no intention of dying anytime soon.
A louder cheer erupted from the crowd. Ran turned to see Zaqil entering the arena, guarded by his own troop. They surrounded him as he entered and made his way over to Ran. Fans in the crowd cheered and threw strange purple flowers at him. Zaqil stopped every few meters and picked up a flower to smell it before throwing it away. The act made the crowd go wild. Ran had the distinct impression that the king was enjoying the adoration of the crowd and encouraged it as much as possible.
Zaqil stopped a few feet away from Ran and smiled. “You look well-rested.”
“I am,” said Ran. “And I have you to thank for that. I sincerely appreciate your generosity and kindness. Thank you.”
Zaqil turned and addressed the crowd. He motioned at Ran a few times, and the crowd roared in appreciation. Zaqil turned and spoke to Ran. “I have told them what you just said. They appreciate, as do I, that you are grateful for that which I have given you.”
“The food was marvelous,” said Ran. “Your cooks are amazing.”
Zaqil laughed and translated that as well. The entire arena started laughing. Zaqil eyed Ran. “They know exactly what will happen to you if you do not win this bout. I believe they see the irony in your complimenting our cooks, since they might actually be cooking you if you lose.”
Ran smirked. “I get it. But I don’t inte
nd to lose.”
“I’m sure the cow you feasted on had no intention of being served on your plate, either. But that is neither here nor there. Are you prepared to do battle with me in this arena?”
“I am,” said Ran.
“And you see that I have no weapons about me?”
Ran pointed at the guards. “Plenty of weapons right there around you.”
Zaqil nodded. “Indeed. But they will not remain in the arena once we begin. Some of my people tend to let their adoration of me get the better of them. I have entered this arena many times before and on several occasions have been mobbed by fans. While I do not mind such love and affection, my men tend to get a bit concerned for my well-being, as I’m sure you would understand.”
“Certainly,” said Ran. “Are there rules to this bout?”
“I will expect you to fight to the utmost of your ability. As will I. If, at any time, either one of us feels he can no longer continue, then three taps will signal compliance and surrender. Ordinarily, this would mean a draw, but in your case, if you surrender, it means you will be killed. Unless I think you have performed well enough to justify being pardoned.”
“And if you surrender?”
Zaqil looked amazed. “I have never once surrendered in all my times fighting in this arena.”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” said Ran. “What if you surrender first?”
Zaqil frowned. “If I surrender first, then you will have the option of leaving this place forever.”
“I would be free to go? You wouldn’t try to kill me as I left?”
“You have my word,” said Zaqil.
“And what happens to Iqban?”
“What would you have me do with him?”
Ran looked at the slaver and shrugged. “You can serve him up to your people for all I care. He means nothing to me.”
Zaqil nodded. “That would be acceptable. Are you ready?”
Ran smiled and looked at the crowds cheering them on. “I am.”
“Then let us begin.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Zaqil backed away, and Ran did the same. There was no use in attacking unexpectedly; Ran had no idea what the Mung king was capable of and to rush in might have ended the contest before it began if it turned out that Zaqil was actually a talented fighter.
Around them, the crowd went silent. Ran found the abrupt lack of noise unsettling. It was almost as if the spectators knew something he did not.
Zaqil, by comparison, calmly removed the cloak he’d been wearing and laid it on the ground some distance away. He walked back toward the center of the arena, calmly flexing his muscles, which Ran could see were well-developed, no doubt from years of other challengers. If Zaqil was a lead-from-the-front sort, he would have had a lot of experience. Ran appreciated that fact about the Mung leader, although he now pushed it from his mind and concentrated solely upon finding a weakness he could rapidly exploit. The sooner this contest was over, the better off he would be. Especially since Zaqil had given him his word that he could go free.
Ran circled around to his left. The Mung leader stood at least eighteen inches shorter than Ran, but Ran also knew that smaller foes could often be more dangerous. Ran would have the natural length advantage in his arms and legs, but if Zaqil could get inside that range, he could unleash a torrent of attacks Ran might have a hard time fending off.
In the end, it was Zaqil who made the first move.
As Ran continued circling, Zaqil suddenly rushed in and launched a barrage of kicks at Ran’s midsection. Ran evaded most of them, but took a glancing blow off his hip that sent him staggering back. Zaqil’s attack, although it had done little in the way of actual damage, produced a roar from the crowd, who were obviously well-used to seeing their king attack first. Ran realized that was why they’d gone silent; they were waiting to see how this contest would open up.
Zaqil was obviously also targeting the areas where Ran might be most vulnerable: his ribs.
Ran smiled and then readied himself for the next attack. This time, Zaqil leapt into the air and tried a flying side kick at Ran’s head. As Ran pivoted out of the way, Zaqil dropped down to the arena floor and then rolled right underneath Ran’s attempt at a counterpunch. As he stood, Zaqil delivered a thundering uppercut that caught Ran on the underside of his jaw and jarred his teeth. Ran went with the energy of the blow and let himself fall and roll backwards twice, trying to get more distance again. He needed Zaqil at a distance in order to take him out.
As he came up, Zaqil was already launching his next attack. Ran defended against the looping right punch aimed at the side of his head and then brought his elbow up into Zaqil’s midsection. Zaqil’s momentum meant that the king was unable to stop in time, and Ran’s elbow strike punched him hard. His wind rushed from his lungs and the king stepped back, rubbing his chest thoughtfully.
The crowd went silent.
But Ran didn’t stop. Even as Zaqil tried to recover his breathing, Ran was already rushing in with a lifting kick aimed at the Zaqil’s groin. As he expected, the king started to pivot out of the way, and that was when he walked right into Ran’s hook punch. The knuckles on Ran’s hand landed flush with the king’s jaw and snapped his head around. Ran brought the side of his left hand chopping down on the exposed side of Zaqil’s neck, and as the king dropped under the blow, Ran brought his knee up into the same spot where he’d landed the elbow strike.
Zaqil dropped and rolled away, desperately trying to put some space between them.
The arena had gone deathly quiet, and Ran found himself wondering if they’d ever had a fighter who had managed to score hits on their king before. It seemed as though this was something entirely new for the Mung people. They did not seem used to seeing their king down on his knees.
Zaqil recovered and got to his feet. He smiled at Ran. “Very well done, Ran. Very well done, indeed.”
Ran said nothing. Until Zaqil surrendered, the contest was still on and Ran didn’t need any other motivation; the thought of being cooked alive was strong enough to make him want to make sure that Zaqil was well and truly defeated.
Ran rushed in this time, but Zaqil received his attack and then used Ran’s momentum against him to flip the shadow warrior onto his back. Zaqil rolled with him, coming up astride Ran’s chest and immediately headbutting him above his eyebrow. Ran saw stars and blinked rapidly, trying to regain his vision.
Zaqil rained down punches on Ran’s midsection, and Ran felt the plaster covering his ribs start to break apart. Zaqil laughed now as he sensed Ran’s desperation to unseat the smaller man. Zaqil had his legs somehow locked around Ran’s midsection. Ran bucked hips, but the king stayed locked in place.
Ran launched his hip once more and then brought his buttocks down where he thought the king’s ankles were. Zaqil grunted as the full weight of Ran’s body came down on the vulnerable joints. It was enough, and Ran snaked his arm behind Zaqil’s left and then jerked back against the outstretched elbow joint. He heard a pop, and then Zaqil cried out before rolling off of Ran.
Ran got to his feet, aware that his ribs were now aching again. He needed to end this as fast as possible or else he risked further injury to his side.
Zaqil rubbed the back of his left elbow. Clearly he was in some pain. But that didn’t stop him from attacking again.
As he came forward, he stooped and scooped some of the earth from the arena floor and threw it at Ran’s face. The crowd roared its approval, but Ran had used the same tactic before himself and saw it unfold, closing his eyes as he turned away. Most of the dirt flew past the area where he’d just been standing, and only a few of the particles hit him in the face.
Ran immediately went on the attack and threw a thunderous front kick at the king’s exposed left thigh. His heel impacted, and Zaqil’s legs flew out from under him, dropping the king face-first into the floor. Again, the crowd went silent. Ran moved in with another kick at the king’s back and drove it into the left shoul
der blade. Zaqil cried out and rolled over, trying to launch an attack of his own, but on the ground, he was sorely disadvantaged. Ran leapt over his feeble attempt at a kick and came down, pinning the right ankle.
“Do you surrender?” asked Ran.
Zaqil eyed Ran. “Not even close.” And then he threw another handful of dirt at Ran’s face. This time, he scored a direct hit. Ran twisted his feet instinctively and cranked the lock he had on the ankle. But his vision had been compromised and his balance felt off. As he cranked the lock, he stumbled and then went with the fall, tucking himself into a roll that carried him away. He came up, furiously trying to clear his vision.
Too late. Zaqil had already managed to limp over and tackle him. They went down again, twisting and rolling on the floor of the arena. Since Zaqil didn’t have to put any weight on his injured ankle, he was free to pummel Ran as they rolled. Ran brought his hands up, clawing at Zaqil’s face. He ranked up and down, desperate to attack’s the king’s eyes so they were on somewhat equal footing. But every time he tried, Zaqil punished him by punching into Ran’s ribs.
Finally, Ran managed to bring his hands up and around Zaqil’s throat. He brought his fingers together and closed them in a vise around the Mung leader’s airway.
Zaqil’s immediate response was to bring his hands up and over Ran’s in an attempt to break free. If Zaqil had been the same size or larger than Ran, the defense might have worked. But the smaller man simply didn’t have the strength or maneuverability to break the choke hold. Ran tightened his grip even as Zaqil went back to work punching him in the midsection.
Ran blocked out the pain and kept squeezing, knowing that Zaqil would either have to tap three times or risk unconsciousness and death.
The punches kept coming. Ran kept his eyes closed and focused all of his strength on ending the fight. He squeezed Zaqil’s throat shut and heard tiny sounds escaping from the king’s mouth. He was close.
Then Ran noticed the punches were losing their power. The cheers from the crowd thundered in Ran’s ears. They wanted Zaqil to do something—anything—to finish off Ran, but their king could not. Without air, he simply did not have the ability to fight.
