by S M Briscoe
He suddenly found himself blinded by a pair of harsh lights, weapon mounted flash lights to be certain, both pointed into his face.
“Hands up!” a harsh voice behind one of them ordered.
Having already raised his hands, instinctively to shield his face, Ethan simply continued the movement, showing whoever had issued the order his open palms.
“It’s just a kid,” another voice said, from behind the second of the two lights. The dark figure stepped closer to Ethan, giving him a clear view of its armored humanoid shape, and peered into the lift car. “Lift is clear,” he announced.
Realization dawned on Ethan again. It seemed it hadn’t been the mechs that had triggered the alarm after all. These were the same elite troops which had ambushed Jarred and his sister earlier. Obviously they hadn’t all departed with Jarred to wherever he had been taken. These ones, unfortunately for him and everyone else, had remained behind. They must have noticed something was wrong and come upon Tarik and the remaining escapees before they could board the lift.
“We’ve got one straggler here, just came down in the lift,” the voice behind the first light said, his shadowy head turning away slightly, Ethan recognizing that he was speaking into a comm unit in his helmet. The trooper paused, as whoever was on the other end probably replied. “Copy that,” he went on, after a moment. “Detention area has been accessed. Mobilize those security-mechs and make for our location. We’ll hold here.” He returned his attention to Ethan then, the communique seemingly finished.
“How many more are up there?” the trooper asked, nodding towards the lift.
Ethan’s mind was racing. The trooper had found the security-mechs in the detention area and had apparently freed them, according to the portion of the communique audible to him. Now they were heading back here, mobilizing before heading up level for the others. And now they were asking him for details to aid them in whatever assault they were planning. Ethan knew there was little he could do to stop the armed troopers himself, but he might be able to delay them, even just a little longer. Give Mac and his sister more time to escape with all of the others. Determined to succeed in that endeavor, he did his best to look dumbfounded. “N-n-no one,” he sputtered in return to the trooper’s question. “Just me.”
The two troopers glanced at one another before the first turned back and shouldered his rifle for a point blank shot at Ethan’s face.
“Wrong answer, kid,” he replied, his voice, though muffled beneath his full helmet and faceplate, carrying an icy chill with it.
Ethan cringed, his bluff and attempt at stalling failing miserably. He guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised, but the thought that these soldiers would shoot an unarmed kid for acting dumb hadn’t occurred to him. The realization he was about to meet his end had barely begun to sink in when the aiming trooper vanished in a dark blur, his flash light equipped weapon clanking to the floor.
The second trooper flashed his weapon and light in the direction the blur had moved. Appearing as confused as Ethan was, he then jerked the light back to him . . . and as suddenly as the first trooper had disappeared, he was also blurred into the darkness, though not as silently as his counterpart, his scream sounding out in a long fading wale down the crossing corridor. More than a bit bewildered by had just occurred, it took a moment for Ethan to snap out of his daze and start thinking again. Dropping to his knees, he picked up the rifle the first trooper had dropped and pointed it down the corridor, following the direction the second trooper’s howl had traveled.
He immediately jerked back in shock, his surprise quickly turning to relief though, as Tarik’s alien face appeared directly in front of his light beam. The stalky Toguai scowled at the bright light and pushed the weapon’s muzzle aside, handing Ethan a second rifle before turning to growl at the group of huddled escapees. Seeming to understand his intent, the beings quickly scrambled to their feet and hurried into the open lift car. Fortunately, the entire group was able to squeeze inside, Ethan happy to join them, but holding back as Tarik remained in place, his attention fixed down the corridor. Ethan couldn’t hear or smell whatever it was Tarik seemed to be sensing, but he knew well enough what was coming.
More trouble.
Together, they backed into the lift with the others, the doors sliding shut before them.
Chapter 36
RYDEL
Half a dozen Rai Chi warriors escorted Shu'ma on to the arena floor, fanning out around him in a defensive perimeter that seemed to Jarred to be more posturing than for genuine security.
Shu’ma came off as a prototypical alpha male, not to mention egomaniac, who plainly considered himself far above such lesser beings as . . . well, just about any other being that lived, including Jarred. The thought that a simple human might actually pose a legitimate threat to his life would probably never have crossed his mind. It was a mistake Jarred intended to exploit.
Though he hadn’t fully expected Shu’ma to rush down to enter the arena himself, he couldn’t say that he was completely shocked either. The warrior was motivated by fierce pride and that made him predictably impulsive. Jarred knew that Shu’ma would respond aggressively, and even carelessly, to his taunts and the warrior had not let him down. He had brought him to the boiling point, simply by not having died yet, and then pushed him over the edge with only a few defiant words. So much for the steely resolve and unshakable will he would have expected from a member of the, almost mythic in reputation, Rai Chi warrior caste.
Jarred reminded himself that, as undisciplined as the warrior’s impulsive and self indulgent nature made him seem, he was still a seasoned killer. If he gave him the opportunity, Shu’ma would carve his heart out, and there was no doubt in his mind that would be the warrior’s sole intent. Unfortunately for Shu’ma, Jarred had plans of his own.
Shu’ma crossed the arena floor and came to a stop well outside of striking range, his entourage forming a wide perimeter around him and Jarred both. The warrior eyed him for a long moment before speaking. When he finally did, it was in his native tongue, and without the presence of the translator-mech that had accompanied him in their previous meeting, Jarred was left to guess at what he was saying. He didn’t have to try very hard. It was obvious that Shu’ma was issuing another challenge, though something in his tone and mannerisms led Jarred to be believe he was imparting some words of respect with it. He may not have placed Jarred anywhere near his equal, but he seemed to be acknowledging his ability, perhaps even his worthiness of facing him.
When Shu’ma fell silent one of the surrounding warriors stepped forward and tossed a spear to the ground at Jarred’s feet. He realized after a moment that Shu’ma was waiting for his response. Any words he spoke would be unintelligible to the Rai Chi, but he supposed it didn’t really matter at this point.
“So I guess this is where I say that I accept your challenge,” he remarked, casually eyeing the weapon before him. “I don’t suppose I could just say no and we could all go home?” He didn’t really have to ask to know the answer to that question. Shu’ma wouldn’t restrain himself this time. It had gone too far for that. One of them was going to have to die for this to be over. And very shortly, one of them would do just that.
Shu’ma gave him a knowing look, his lip curling up into a malevolent grin. An acknowledgment.
“I didn’t think so,” Jarred allowed. They would fight to the death, and though he intended to be the victor, he wasn’t so foolish as to think it would save him. Surrounded by the enemy, with no plausible means of escape, the reality of his situation had not eluded him. He had come this far, giving Elora and Ethan the time they needed to get free of all this, and though he had been telling himself otherwise, he knew that had been all he was doing. Beyond that, he was only delaying the inevitable.
Meeting his end was something Jarred could accept. He had been close to it many times before, a consequence to the profession of his choosing, and life in general in this universe. What he would not do was meet it lying down.
He would stand and face Shu’ma and whatever else was thrown at him until he lacked the strength to do so any longer, and then, and only then, would it be over. Until that moment came, he would fight.
Shu’ma held his staff out to one side and nodded an invitation towards Jarred. Glancing down at the weapon still before him, Jarred accepted. With a flick of his foot, he kicked the staff up into the air, along with a spray of purposely directed sand, and lunged forward. Taking hold of the airborne weapon, he thrust it’s serrated end out through the sand spray he’d kicked up. When Shu’ma easily sidestepped the strike, Jarred continued forward aggressively, with a series of whirling attacks he hoped would catch the warrior off guard.
The hard set to Shu’ma’s brow informed Jarred the warrior had not expected the strong assault, having made the mistake of underestimating him. Unfortunately, even with that advantage, Jarred was unable to land a killing blow, the warrior’s defenses proving too formidable for a quick finish.
Finally, when it was apparent that Shu’ma had stepped up to his full form, and the fight would not be ending so quickly, Jarred ended his attack, retreating back out of striking range. The warrior did not advance, but held his footing instead, a smirk coming to his face as he observed his underestimated adversary. He flashed his teeth in a vicious looking grin or snarl, Jarred wasn’t sure which, and then stalked forward.
Like a coiled serpent, Shu’ma struck out with his spear, Jarred shifting his position and turning his head just enough to avoid having his throat pierced. He batted away the serrated blade edge with his own spear, immediately swinging it down to block a follow sweep at his legs. The blows continued to come and Jarred was forced to continue his retreat, parrying, blocking and dodging Shu’ma’s relentless barrage of strikes.
Though the staff wasn’t Jarred’s melee weapon of choice, he also wasn’t completely unschooled in it’s use, and as Shu’ma continued to advance, he began to fall into a more comfortable defensive posture. Shu’ma was definitely a skilled opponent and having his native weapon should have been a clear advantage for him, but Jarred had already fought to a standstill another formidable Rai Chi, the scarred warrior on the hover tram in Trycon, who’s fighting style was quite similar to Shu’ma’s. That leveled the playing field in Jarred’s estimation.
Spotting a hole in Shu’ma’s attack pattern, Jarred seized the opportunity to counter strike, deflecting an overextended thrust and delivering a spinning reverse kick to the warrior’s midsection. To Shu’ma’s credit the blow only knocked him back a stride, where it would have caused most opponents to buckled, though it did halt his advance, allowing Jarred to press forward with own offensive.
Delivering a combination of side to side staff strikes with intermittent snap kicks, he pushed the warrior back further. Not wanting to lose the momentum, he intensified his attack, striking harder and faster with every forward step, leaving no room for Shu’ma to reverse the flow of the fight, which seemed to be turning in his favor.
When Shu’ma sidestepped a spear thrust and held his own staff up to deflect it, Jarred pushed his weight into the weapon to push the warrior back again. Surprisingly, Shu’ma didn’t move, but Jarred felt himself stumble forward without the expected resistance of his opponent’s staff, which had suddenly separated into two pieces. Shu’ma rotated the pieces over one another and twisted his body away from Jarred. It was at that moment he noticed that the two pieces of staff were still connected by a thin cable. A fraction of a second after that realization, his own staff was being pulled from his grip and sent flying out onto the arena floor, far from reach.
Jarred hardly had time to be surprised, as he had to duck beneath a lightning quick kill strike meant to skewer his head, immediately leaping into backward somersault to avoid the follow sweep at his legs. His feet hit the ground in time for him to see the glint of a hurtling blade, giving him not quite enough time to avoid having it’s serrated edge cut into his face, but enough to lean far enough out of it’s path to save his life. The long thin cable still connecting the blade to Shu’ma’s staff caught Jarred’s eye next and he stepped completely clear of the spear end as it sailed back past him to its wielder, just as quickly as it had been fired.
Jarred’s eyes immediately darted to the surrounding arena floor, searching for a weapon, anything he could use to defend himself. He spotted one only a few paces distance away, in the form of a long dagger half buried in sand, and charged for it, diving and rolling to his feet with the oversized gladiator blade in his hand. He had to immediately roll away again, Shu’ma descending on him from an arching leap to spear the ground where he had only just been.
Coming to his feet, Jarred slashed wildly at the warrior’s throat and face, but proving too quick, Shu’ma dodged and weaved clear of the assault, finally getting his staff up to deflect a fourth strike, it’s serrated blade shearing his dagger in half. Jarred’s surprise was short lived, as he felt Shu’ma’s follow up strike cut into his flesh, even as he spun away to avoid it. Ignoring the burning pain across his side, he readied himself for another attack, sidestepping and raising his hands in time to catch hold of and deflect the warrior’s spear, as he thrust it one handed towards his face. Jarred pulled hard on the weapon, attempting to yank it free of it’s wielder, but without success. Instead Shu’ma lunged forward, stepping in behind him while taking hold of the spear with his second hand, wrenching it back into Jarred’s throat.
The force of the maneuver knocked the wind from Jarred’s chest and his vision darkened as he gasped for breath, the spear crushing his windpipe. Throwing his elbow back into Shu’ma’s midsection with all his strength, he felt the warrior’s grip slacken, and ducked under the spear, spinning to face him. The blow did little more than allow him that small window to escape, as Shu’ma was pressing forward again almost immediately, pushing Jarred back with his spear. Jarred could do little more than grip the spear with both hands to push back against the larger opponent, gaining little traction.
His strength was waning. The day’s events, and those of the past week, had taken their toll on his body. Where he could have normally matched or even bettered Shu’ma’s physical strength, his growing fatigue left him able to do little more than struggle against it. He couldn’t beat the warrior like this. Not with brute strength.
That point was accentuated as Shu’ma forced the broad surface of his spear into Jarred’s chest, driving him back even further. He noticed the hidden barbs on both ends of the spear shaft snap outward only as they were pressed deeply into his shoulders. Crying out in pain, he dropped to one knee, Shu’ma snarling triumphantly from overtop of him. Barely holding on, Jarred reached deeply within himself in a desperate attempt to tap any reserves he had left to push the warrior away, his vision blurring with the effort. He found nothing. Feeling as though he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he reached down even further, so deeply that he began to have the sensation of sinking into an abyss, both dark and cold. As he began to think he might be dying, he felt a warmth at the bottom of the abyss, like a ball of light surging in the darkness. He reached for it.
Strangely, the pain faded, though he was still aware of it. He was still aware of everything. The cheering crowd. The hot, dust filled air. His own rapid heartbeat. His opponent’s hissing laughter, as he continued to press forward, grinding the sharp barbs into his flesh. He was acutely aware of all of it, but felt as though he was experiencing it all from a distance. He felt something else though, much more focused. A maelstrom building within himself, waiting to be unleashed.
Jarred opened his eyes, not having realized they’d been tightly shut, and met Shu’ma’s hungry animal glare. He felt his focus return to the present and the being before him, bringing with it the maelstrom of energy he hadn’t realized he still had. With Shu’ma as the target, he simply released the almost volcanic energy surging within him and felt, much like he had when drowning within the flooded tunnels of the mountainous caverns on Solta, an electric shockwave explode outward.
> Shu’ma felt it as well, though from a far different perspective, as his spear was shattered in two and he was thrown backward into the air, landing meters away in a heap. He did not recover so quickly this time, appearing stunned as he lied motionless for a long moment, smoke rising from his disintegrated body armor.
Jarred’s eyes moved down to his hands, which had only seconds earlier unleashed an unnatural energy ball, like a conduit, from within the core of his very being. The significance and meaning of the event were something he could hardly contemplate at the moment, though he somehow knew it was only the beginning of something much greater. What Orna had hinted at in her cryptic way. He knew at that moment that he would survive this. He had to if he was to learn what was happening to him. What was already within him.
Jarred returned his gaze to Shu’ma, who was just beginning to rise to his feet, though a bit uneasily, and his focus and energy renewed, rose as well, intent on finishing what he had begun.
* * *
Traug had risen from his seat in the private viewing balcony, as had the scarred Rai Chi, at witnessing the strange energy discharge that had sent Shu’ma soaring away from the bounty hunter. The crowd’s unified silence was proof that they had also seen the bizarre event and he hadn’t simply imagined it.
The human was becoming more intriguing by the moment. And more valuable. It had seemed, only a moment earlier, that he had been beaten, Shu’ma having drawn the blood he so desired to taste, and seeming on the cusp of victory. And then the human had produced a . . .
What had it been? He could only describe it as a ball of bluish colored light, emerging from seemingly nowhere, before exploding, the apparent shockwave hurling Shu’ma clear across the arena. The human had been unaffected by the explosion himself, proving to Traug that it had definitely originated from him. But he did not appear to have any kind of weapon or device; any such device would have surely been confiscated during his capture and detainment and definitely before being inserted into the arena. That left only two viable possibilities.
