The Hunter on Arena

by Rose Estes

  Bolts slammed down on either side of the fleeing group and behind them as well, one coming so close that they could smell the acrid, bitter stink of it and feel its heat upon their flesh. It lent speed to their feet.

  Then, before they could take another step, the clouds delivered their load, and rain, rain such as they had never seen before, began to pelt down, striking them with tremendous force, each drop painfully felt, like sleet. They stopped and stared at the moisture coating their bare arms. It was a clear fluid, but as red as blood and unpleasantly warm as well. The chill wind blew against them, causing the drops of red rain to course in rivulets, looking too much like blood for comfort. It coated their heads, soaked their hair, and dripped down into their eyes, nostrils, and mouths. It had a salty, coppery taste, much like blood itself. It was unsettling. Braldt could feel the fear rising in all of them, feel his own anxiety, and knew that he had to get them out of there quickly before their fear immobilized them.

  Braldt literally jerked Randi off her feet. She was standing still, looking down in horror at her silver uniform which ran red, seemingly dripping with blood. She looked up at him with wide eyes that did not seem to see him. He shook her hard, and slowly, reason came back into her eyes. She blinked and nodded, giving him a weak grin to show that she was all right. Allo was shaken, but his phlegmatic nature prevented him from lapsing into hysteria. He stroked his moustache and tried to keep it from sticking together. It was a comic sight under the circumstances.

  It was the dwarf that worried Braldt the most. Septua was obviously stricken by the sight of blood coating his flesh. He kept turning his hand over in front of his face, riven by the horrific sight. Braldt wasted no time in subtleties, but slapped the dwarf hard across the face, then seized him by the nape of the neck and propelled him across the arena, leaving the others to follow.

  They had nearly reached the other side when a figure loomed up out of the rain and wind-driven sand in front of Braldt, a huge, dark figure. Braldt grasped his sword and tried to get a firm grip on Septua while changing his course. He would much rather avoid an encounter—which seemed possible given the circumstances— than fight. The dark figure altered its course and moved directly into his path. Braldt cursed, wondering if it had been intentional, then shifted again. But the earth was growing slippery, the red sands soaking up the warm, red rain, becoming glutinous, and his feet slipped, causing him to lose his grip on the dwarf’s neck. Septua wrenched free and slipped away from him, vanishing behind the curtains of rain without a backward glance, running like a rabbit runs from the lupebeast. Randi and Allo crashed into Braldt’s back and the three of them struggled to keep their footing.

  The dark figure moved toward them as they did what they could to regain their balance, draw their weapons, and choose a battle stance, for they had lost the opportunity to drift away under the cover of the rain.

  The wind, which had died down once the rain began to fall, rose in a capricious swirl and blew aside the heavy folds of moisture, revealing the figure behind it. Batta Flor.

  Braldt had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. The huge, shaggy Madrelli was the most welcome of sights. His heart leapt within his breast and he strode forward with a smile on his lips.

  His steps faltered and he stopped and took a second look at the Madrelli, taking in many details that had escaped him at first glance. The Madrelli wore no sign of welcome on his face which was fixed in a dark scowl. One lip was raised, exposing a long, sharp incisor. But it was his eyes that caused Braldt to grip his sword more tightly and bring it up across his chest. The Madrelli’s eyes gave no hint of warmth, of the deep friendship that had existed between them, no sign of intelligence. They were the eyes of an animal, the eyes of a dangerous animal, one who would attack and most certainly kill.

  Braldt stared at him, wondering if there was some mistake, wondering if this could be some other Madrelli. This Madrelli seemed larger, more hulking and muscular than Batta Flor who far preferred peace to bloodshed and violence. It seemed almost impossible that this could be his gentle friend, but there was the matter of the ear which was torn from the head in a ragged line. Surely no two Madrelli bore the same terrible wound.

  Then the wind whipped the rain aside and Braldt saw Keri, her wrist gripped tightly in the Madrelli’s enormous paw, pulling against him, struggling futilely against his vast strength. Her eyes were wide and full of fear and her face was drawn and lined. There were dark circles under her eyes and black, blue, and yellowing bruises on her arms. She was thin, almost emaciated, and her torn and dirty garment hung on her like she was made out of sticks.

  There was movement at her feet and Braldt saw a bloody figure inch along the muddy ground. It was Beast, one ear crushed against his head, an eye swollen shut, and his fur crusted with dark blood that in actual comparison looked nothing like the crimson rain. Beast raised his battered head and scented the air, his muzzle casting back and forth, searching. Braldt called his name and the lupebeast leaped forward, staggering on wobbly legs, and collapsed at Braldt’s feet.

  “Run, Braldt, run before he kills you!” Keri screamed, and as Braldt raised the whimpering pup in his arms, an immense club came sweeping down upon him.

  24

  Braldt ducked and lurched to one side as the red mud squelched beneath his feet. He lost his balance, though, and slipped, and it was this that saved him, for as he fell, still cradling the lupebeast pup in his arms, the huge club slammed down alongside his head and thudded into the earth.

  Keri screamed, a high, thin sound filled with despair. Braldt rolled to the side, unwilling to relinquish the pup, for in its weakened condition, it would be an easy target. He scrambled to his feet and reached for his sword, realizing he had dropped it when he grabbed up the pup. Then Allo and Randi were at his side with weapons drawn, holding the enraged Madrelli at bay as he brandished his club before him and bellowed wordlessly.

  Keri struggled against his grip, but it was like a gnat attacking an armored reptile and the Madrelli took no notice of her at all. But seeing Keri in such a state threw Braldt into a frenzy, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from running to her defense. He tried to remain calm, telling himself that Batta Flor was using her as bait, hoping to cause him to lose his rationality and draw him in close so that he could kill him. He reminded himself of the Madrelli’s deep affection for Keri and tried to believe that it was all a sham and that Batta Flor would not really hurt her. But looking at the expressions of fear and rage he had trouble believing it.

  Randi sidled close. “Friend, huh!” she hissed. “Heavens save us from your enemies!”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” said Braldt, trying to understand what could have caused the drastic change in the once gentle, pacifistic Madrelli.

  “Well, it looks as though we’d better rescue your friend from King Kong, then figure out what went wrong later,” Randi said dryly.

  “King Kong?” asked Braldt.

  “Never mind, old earth joke,” muttered Randi. “Before your time, or mine, for that matter.”

  The three of them spread out, offering less of a target to the swinging club, which if it connected, could easily separate their heads from their shoulders.

  Allo was very nearly identical in size to Batta Flor, but lacked his powerful musculature and the rage that seemed to drive him. Braldt wondered if Allo would be able to hold the Madrelli if they succeeded in separating him from the vicious club. Beast whimpered and struggled in Braldt’s arms; Braldt put him down and the pup immediately began to bark and growl at the Madrelli.

  The rain came down harder and harder and the lightning increased, striking on all sides, accompanied by tremendous claps of thunder louder than anything Braldt had ever heard. It was louder than mere sound; his ears ached and he was stunned by its depth and power. He could feel the vibration of each stroke in his bones and teeth. The intensity of the wind increased as well, whining and shrieking around the arena, tearing at their hair and clothes, p
lucking at their eyelids, pelting them with hard pellets of rain and sand.

  Randi said something, but the words were torn from her mouth and scattered by the winds. It was impossible to hear anything except the sound of the storm. Braldt wanted nothing more than to run for cover or shield his head with his arms, for he felt as much danger from the storm as he did for Batta Flor. A bolt of lightning crackled out of the sky and plunged into the red earth no more than two feet in front of him.

  The accompanying thunderclap was immediate and they reeled under its force; they staggered off balance and would have made easy victims except for the fact that Batta Flor and Keri were affected as well. Batta Flor was thrown to the ground, striking his elbow and losing his grip on Keri. Keri, who had been just as badly stunned by the thunderous detonation, nonetheless dropped to all fours and scrambled across the short distance that separated them, crawling behind Braldt, placing him between her and Batta Flor, clinging to him in desperation.

  Batta Flor leaped to his feet, his mouth open in a scream of frenzied fury. He raised his club again and swung it high above his head. Braldt tried to shove Keri back out of reach, but she was frozen, her arms and legs rigid; her fingers digging into his arms so hard that it was impossible to dislodge her.

  Randi raised her gun and pointed it at the Madrelli, a grim, determined look on her face. “No!” screamed Braldt, for despite all that had happened, he could not allow Batta Flor to be killed. But Randi ignored him completely and from the set of her jaw, Braldt knew that if Batta Flor followed through with his swing, she would surely fire. He had seen her dispatch a number of combatants with the gun and knew how accurate her aim was.

  Batta Flor raised up on the balls of his feet, his eyes glittering with a manic rage, the club standing straight up. He was not deterred by the sight of the gun; he may not have even been aware of it for his eyes had never left Braldt and Keri.

  Then it happened. An enormous, jagged bolt of lightning slammed down out of the seething clouds and struck the tip of the club. It shimmered and danced along the length of the weapon with a vivid, flaming light, then flowed around the massive paws that gripped the base of the club so tightly. The glowing incandescence traveled swiftly, progressing down the length of the Madrelli’s enormous arms and jolting into the body itself.

  Keri cried out and buried her face in Braldt’s back, sobbing hysterically. Randi lowered her gun and looked at her intended target in horror, her face pale. She staggered back from the Madrelli, for the lightning was crackling around his body in all directions, causing his limbs to twitch and fly about wildly. He was out of control, flailing and thrashing, his teeth clenched and bared in agony, his eyes rolled back into his skull. The bolt released the Madrelli and disappeared as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving Batta Flor to collapse upon the wet earth, his body still with rictus.

  He was arched backward, resting on head and heels, his body bowed above the muddy ground. Not even the pouring rain could cover the stench of burned flesh and singed fur. Tiny wisps of heat rose from the agonized corpse before being dissipated by the rain. The four witnesses hung back, held in place by the horror of what they had viewed, then Braldt flung himself forward, breaking the spell, and ran to the side of the one who had been his friend.

  It was even worse up close. Braldt hurled himself on the Madrelli’s chest, feeling the incredible heat that had charred the life from the immense body. He placed his head flat upon the arched chest, but could hear no heartbeat, no sound of life. He swung himself astride the contorted figure and began to pound Batta Flor’s chest, screaming at him to breathe, to live. So frantic were his actions, so deep was his grief, that he did not even notice that every time he pushed down on Batta Flor’s ribcage, chunks of burned fur and flesh sloughed off”.

  It was Keri’s hysterical crying that brought him back to his senses. She had sunk to the sodden ground and was clutching her head with both hands, rocking back and forth and alternately screaming and crying. Randi knelt at her side and tried to calm her, tried to gather her in her arms, all animosity vanished, but Keri could not be comforted. Allo and the lupebeast pup stood to one side, the pup growling and whining with uncertainty, his lips drawn away from his teeth in an odd grin. Allo stroked the pup and watched with sad eyes, recognizing death and knowing it could not be reversed.

  Braldt stumbled back from the thing that had once been his friend and took Keri in his arms. The rain bathed them in red streaks, the color of death and sorrow.

  Suddenly Septua was there, running at full speed into the center of them, nearly tripping over Batta Flor’s body. “Whoa!” he gasped, circling the charred corpse with wide eyes and cautious steps as he hurried to Braldt’s side. “Gotta ’urry! C’mon, gotta get outta ’ere! The ‘bots an’ the guards, they’re coming!”

  “I’m surprised you bothered to think of us,” Randi said dryly. “What’s the matter, don’t you think you can make it by yourself?”

  “’Ey, it’s not that!” Septua squeaked with indignation. “It’s just I din’t want to leave you guys ’ere after all we been through together. We’re friends, ain’t we? Friends stick together!”

  “So, you didn’t think you could do it alone, right?” Randi repeated.

  “Yeah, all right. So you know everything. Make you feel better? C’mon! We gotta get outta ’ere now, or you can tell the ’bots ’ow smart you are. See ’ow much it impresses ’em. An’ somethin’ weird is goin’ on—there’s a bunch a’ blue guys everywhere!”

  Braldt raised his head from Keri’s shoulder. “Blue guys?” he said dully, then nodded to himself. “Yantra helps those who help themselves.” He gripped Keri by her shoulders and shook her gently. “Come,” he said. “There is nothing more we can do for Batta Flor; he is gone from this body. We can only help ourselves now. You know that he would not want us to stand and grieve for him if it costs us our lives.”

  “But—but, he…” Keri said tearfully.

  “That was not Batta Flor,” Braldt said firmty. “We must remember him as he was and forgive him for what happened here. He was not himself.”

  “Can you jabber later?” Septua asked, jiggling nervously from foot to foot and looking around in all directions. “We ain’t got all day!”

  Allo placed a large hand in the center of Braldt’s and Keri’s backs and propelled them forward, away from the Madrelli’s ruined body. The rain soon hid it from sight and as it disappeared behind them, they were somehow freed.

  Now they could hear the sounds of combat, screams and yells and the clash of steel on steel. It grew steadily louder as they drew closer to the far side of the arena, although they were unable as yet to see anything other than the sheets of crimson rain.

  It was not the sound of typical combat. There was confusion and hysteria in the cacophony of voices that could now be heard from all sides. The rain and lightning continued with undiminished ferocity, but now through the rain, they were able to make out a frieze of odd figures locked in combat around the edges of the tiers and spilling down over the walls into the arena itself. As they advanced, they could see that Septua had told the truth for once—there were indeed blue aliens everywhere.

  They were not fighting so much as they were being fought—the blue rectangles did nothing but advance, or in some instances, stand still and allow the guards to come to them. In any event, the outcome was the same. Spears, swords, clubs, and fists had no effect on the strange creatures. No matter what touched them, it either passed through their slender bodies unharmed or was completely absorbed. The guards seemed to learn the lesson quickly as several of their number were sucked into the blue beings to vanish without a trace, and one after the other they turned and ran, their fear spreading like contagion.

  The Scandis turned them back, forcing them to fight the blue aliens who rippled forward, implacable, undisturbed by anything, human or nonhuman. The Scandis stood tall and firm, ringing the guards, armed with weapons of their own, giving an indication of the strength they had once
possessed, the strength they had used to carve an empire out of the heavens. They stood between the guards and escape, but they were not alone—standing before the Scandis was a line of hard ones wielding their rods of lightning. The guards were caught on the horns of a dilemma—no matter what they did, they could not win.

  Then one guard, smarter than his companions, lay down his weapons and stood with arms outstretched, showing his empty hands as the alien drew close. The oncoming blue being did not even pause, but flowed over him, and the fearstricken guard passed through its body and emerged safe and unharmed on the other side. Seeing this, those guards around him immediately dropped their weapons and were spared the fate of those who continued to fight.

  The blue aliens then advanced on the hard ones and the Scandis beyond, rippling their way over rows of stone seats and the bodies of the dead. Occasionally, one of them was struck by lightning. Their bodies, if that was what they could be called, seemed to absorb the charge, glowing briefly, bathed in a warm light that seemed to caress them; certainly they were not harmed. The guards, the robots, and the Scandis were not so lucky. The lightning was as fatal to them as it had been to Batta Flor, but it was little comfort watching them contort in the agonies of death.

  The small group stood huddled at the base of the arena and conferred hurriedly, trying to decide what to do. Septua was in favor of heading off through the arches and finding a transmission station while the “blue guys” and their various enemies occupied each others’ attention. Allo wanted to free the prisoners and Randi agreed. Keri was downcast and did not speak; Braldt did not want to leave her. He urged Allo and Randi toward the cells and took a threatening step toward the dwarf who squealed in fear and turned and ran after Allo, calling for him to wait.

  Braldt settled Keri on a stone in the shelter of an arch, out of the driving rain, and chafed her hands between his own. Beast crawled between her feet and whined, pawing at her knees for attention. Braldt examined the pup quickly and saw that none of his injuries were critical; he would heal with time, although certainly his ear would never stand erect again.