Galactic Champion

by Dante King

  Instead of attacking me, she growled something under her breath, spat on the floor, and leaned against the wall.

  “How did you defeat me?” Beatrix asked, not looking my direction. “No one has ever beaten me. Though, at the request of a representative of the king, I have made it appear as though a few have gotten close.”

  We stood in silence for several minutes as the holographic projector in the center of the pen replayed some of the more gory and exciting scenes of the match. I realized he skipped over the best part of the whole fight—my insult to the king. The announcer glossed over it by telling the audience that there would be a surprise coming up, reminded them of the next tournament schedule, and invited them to visit the local vendors.

  “Tell me,” Beatrix whispered, “does the word Lakunae mean anything to you?”

  I knew it. The alien gladiator in front of us had seen the space-squids, too.

  Reaver gasped. Clearly, she’d had no idea that Beatrix was like us. She had no reason to, I supposed, since she hadn’t fought against Beatrix and seen her true strength.

  “You too?” Reaver asked the other woman.

  “All of us,” I said. “It appears we’re not alone, and we may not be the last.”

  “And the artifacts?” Beatrix asked, turning first to Reaver, then me.

  “I think I’ve found a few,” I said with a shrug. “They’re as black as the Void. They don’t reflect any light at all. And they’re powerful. I have them stored somewhere safe.”

  Beatrix nodded slowly. “I searched for them when they first sent me here. But I have been here a long time. The Lakunae tormented me, whispered to me, gave me nightmares. I had visions, rage, depression.

  “But they have not spoken to me for several months. I believe they have given up on me. It was before I arrived in the arena. I am alone… or… I was alone.” She lifted her eyes and looked hopefully at both Reaver and myself.

  “What do you say?” Reaver asked as she nudged me with her elbow. “She followed us home, and though she’s a little smelly and not too pretty, I promise to clean up after her. Can I keep her?”

  For the first time, I saw Beatrix smile, though I had to admit, it was equal parts frightening and pleasant.

  “I promise not to make a mess on the floor,” she said to me with a wink that was a little more than playful. “All I ask is that you get me out of here. Get us all out of here.”

  “We can’t—” Reaver started to say.

  “I’ll get us out of here,” I said. “We’ll leave today, and with the king’s head under my arm.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “But nobody has ever escaped the arena,” Beatrix lamented.

  “Yes, they have,” Reaver said. “They leave when they are killed, or when the tournament is over and they’re sent back with their owner. Then, if they aren’t killed on the road, during training, or on the way back, they have another chance to do it all over again. Once a gladiator survives a hundred battles, they are set free, or so we’re told. They are never heard from again.”

  “What is your plan?” Beatrix asked me. “The arena is escape-proof. The forcefield goes all the way up, and the stone is too hard to break through to tunnel out before the guards kill us.”

  “Nobody has ever really escaped?” I asked.

  Both of the women shook their heads.

  “The field is a kinetic-reduction field,” Beatrix explained, still not making eye contact. “I heard the guards talking about it. It absorbs kinetic energy. If something were able to make it through, it would need a field negator, which all the guards and their vehicles carry, or it would need to be very heavy with enough kinetic energy to overpower it. We cannot steal it. So, unless someone has one giant boulder in their pocket and can throw it really hard, I don’t think we’ll escape.”

  I could throw something really hard, but I didn’t have a giant boulder.

  “So, you’re just content to sit here and wait?” I asked Beatrix.

  She shook her head. “If we are the last three, we will be forced to kill each other until only one of us is left.”

  “And if we refuse?” I asked.

  “Then, the decision will be turned to the crowd. They will cheer for who they want to live. The gladiator who receives the loudest cheer, as judged by the king himself, lives. The rest will be killed by the guards.”

  “I’ve been hearing some legend,” Reaver said. “Among the gladiators, they say that if one does return, having left the arena free, it will bring the Dark Ones back with it, and there will be peace.”

  I didn’t believe in prophecies, but there might be some rational explanation. No one could predict the future, not even powerful beings like the Lakunae. However, every story contained some nugget of truth. The Lakunae had promised peace. The most likely gladiator to win one hundred battles would be someone whom they altered and enhanced with their power. If that gladiator found the artifacts and assembled whatever it was the Void Gods wanted with them, maybe there would be peace.

  “There is another legend,” Beatrix said, her voice low and solemn. “It is a hope and a dream. Maybe that is all, but it was told to me by another. It is of a place where there is peace already. A place where gladiators may travel to and commune with the Dark Ones. It is quiet. It is as black as a starless night.”

  “What’s supposed to be there?” Reaver asked.

  “No one knows,” Beatrix answered as she stared through the gate over the arena. “Some say it is a sanctuary. Others say it is a communication device to speak to the Dark Ones. Perhaps we should go there when we win.”

  Black as a starless night, I thought, thinking of Ebon.

  “Maybe we can,” I said. “Where is it supposed to be?”

  Beatrix shrugged. “Somewhere cold, where the trees never die. Storms keep the flying things away. It is not obvious, and some who find it never return. Somewhere to the north.”

  To me, it sounded a lot like the Ish-Nul village—or somewhere nearby. It also sounded like Void-tech. Maybe a weapons cache, or a bunker, but what intrigued me the most was the idea of communing with the Lakunae. If I could ask them direct questions instead of waiting for them to stick thoughts into my head, I might be able to learn what they were after. I might be able to find the rest of my crew.

  We stood in silence for several minutes as the hologram replayed more close-ups from the battle. A few minutes later, lights came on all around the arena and flooded the battleground. The camera drones buzzed the audience with their own lights and showered small streams of brightly colored sparks behind them like fireworks. The audience howled their approval with roars of excited encouragement and shook the entire stadium with the force of their combined voice.

  “Hurry back to your seats, citizens,” the announcer—Siddith—yelled over the stadium speakers. “Our next event is about to begin, and it’s going to be an exciting one!”

  The crowd’s murmuring became a cacophony of whoops, cheers, and yelling.

  “What should we expect?” I asked the women.

  “Something bad,” Beatrix said. “They did pen us together, so whatever is coming up will involve all of us. The king would not allow for a boring match, and since Reaver and I are highly ranked, I am certain our opponents will be… special.”

  “Any chance the king himself will fight?” I asked.

  Reaver and Beatrix both laughed.

  “Not a chance,” Reaver answered.

  “Please take your seats, citizens,” Siddith interrupted. “Tonight’s special event will be The King’s Wrath!” The audience exploded in cheer.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  Beatrix sighed before answering. “It means the opponents have been selected by the king himself. We will all be provided with weapons at the beginning of the match, though it is likely our opponents already have theirs.”

  “Is he sending in the guards?” Reaver asked

  “No,” Beatrix said. “They will be gladiators, but maybe none we h
ave ever seen before. If he does not have enough at his disposal to make it a one-sided fight against us, he might toss in a few guards. But guards are paid. They do not have to fight. They would have to volunteer. I do not think even the king would force a guard to fight a gladiator. He would be risking an uprising from his own troops.

  “Sometimes, the king will choose opponents based on their ability to cause fear. So, no matter what comes through the opposite gate, we must not be intimidated. We must not show fear. We must destroy them so that we may live and escape.”

  A moment later, the wall of our pen opened to the arena, and we were bathed in bright lights and deafening sounds. A metal gate was still preventing us from entering, but I assumed it would open as soon as the match began.

  Two guards pushed a wagon toward our pen, large enough to hold three people. The wagon had ropes lashed to the sides to keep the contents from falling and was covered with a filthy-looking canvas tarp.

  One guard pulled the cart while the other pushed. When the one in the rear looked up to me, I recognized him. He was the guard who’d tried to talk me out of fighting with the others. He’d tried to keep me out of the arena. His eyes glittered with mischief as he looked at me.

  I turned my head away from him so that the other guards wouldn’t be able to tell I had been staring at him. Whatever he was up to was something that could get him in a lot of trouble—possibly killed. Just before the guards stopped moving the cart into place, the mischievous guard used two fingers to lift a corner of the tarp.

  There, mixed among several other weapons, was Ebon.

  I’d left it with Yaltu. She was supposed to stay at her home. She knew some of the guards—obviously including the one who’d placed my sword in the cart. She knew other citizens, and many seemed to think of her as the rightful ruler. They treated her like royalty. Like the guard who snuck us into the city, they did things for her.

  Someone must have reported back what I’d done. She and the guard smuggled Ebon into the arena at great risk to their own lives. It gave me yet another advantage over our opponents. I was ready for the fight, no matter who I was fighting.

  “The gladiators,” Siddith howled outside, “don’t know what they’ll find in their cart. It might be great weapons, forged by the finest engineers on the planet. It might be a collection of pots and pans, in which case, Reaver should have a distinct advantage!”

  The crowd joined Siddith in his merriment at Reaver’s expense. She didn’t show any sign that she was bothered at all by the jab.

  I wanted to reassure her, to tell her about what the guard had brought, but camera drones were nearby, and I wasn’t sure how sensitive their microphones were. If I told her what I’d seen, it might give away the guard’s secret.

  “Tonight, for The King’s Wrath,” he announced, “the gladiators will be fighting four of the most vicious, dangerous, and ugly creatures on the planet. Their opponents have come from the four corners of the land, conquered and tamed. Today, they will be ridden by four of our own Sentinels, elite guards who have sworn their lives to the king.”

  The crowd roared before Siddith continued. “They have been instructed to… not exactly go easy on the gladiators. Let’s hope they make it last longer than 20 seconds. No promises.”

  The crowd erupted into laughter. The sound of it sickened me. They’d get their show. But it wouldn’t be the one they thought they’d see.

  Beatrix was acting like a caged animal, pacing back and forth in front of the gate. “What are they waiting for?” she murmured. “Just open the gate. Get this over with.”

  I knew if she saw Ebon before I got to it, she’d take it. I doubted I’d ever get it back. I had to be the first one out, so I planted my foot against the back of the pen and got into a crouch with both hands on the floor like a runner waiting for the starting gun.

  Reaver looked curiously at me, then at Beatrix, and back to me. She shook her head, obviously confused by our behavior and waited.

  I’d trained Reaver, so I knew exactly what she was capable of. I’d fought against Beatrix, so I also knew how fast and deadly she was. Our enemy, on the hand, didn’t know what was coming. The king had made a critical mistake having all of us grouped together.

  “...our mystery warriors will take on the beautiful Beatrix the Bloody… and two somewhat capable humans,” Siddith was saying. “Will she be victorious, or will the meat-shield humans get in her way? Let’s find out in five…”

  I slowed my breathing to control the pulse of adrenaline.

  “...four…”

  I checked the position of my feet to make sure I wouldn’t slip and fall flat on my face when the gate opened.

  “...three…”

  I wiped my hands on my pants, making sure they were dry when I reached for Ebon.

  “...two…”

  Beatrix was right at the gate. She’d have a distinct advantage of starting closer to the weapons, but I’d get there first.

  “...one…”

  I didn’t wait for the gate to open or the pen to tip. I exploded toward the gate and almost had to roll to make sure I made it under the heavy bars as they were lifting. I left Beatrix in the dust, reached the cart outside our holding cell, and pulled Ebon free of the other junk surrounding it. Less than a second later, I unsheathed the sword and took a position at the center of the battlefield.

  Four creatures thundered out of the gates opposing us. They were enormous reptilians with heads like dragons, but one was gold, two were black, and the other looked very much like Amin, the silver dragon who had taken us here.

  These were same creatures that I’d promised to help rescue from the city. Yaltu’s creatures.

  All four roared in unison. Instead of sounding majestic or even intimidating, their roar sounded pained, tired, and artificial.

  I fixed on the closest contender—one of the black dragons—and studied her for weaknesses.

  The creature was a mess. She had a metal helmet, of sorts, covering the place where her left eye used to be. In place of the eye was a mechanical or medical scanning device, which probably enhanced her vision somehow. She was surrounded in old scars and fresh blood. Whatever had happened to the poor creature looked like it had occurred over time with several surgeries. She was no longer in control of her own faculties. She was a slave, kept so by an electronic leash threading across her body like a spider might prepare its prey.

  The two black dragons had six legs and looked as if they used to have wings, but that had been several surgeries ago. In their place were heavy-looking metal plates, round like shields. They would provide good protection against attacks to their flanks—or would have had I not been armed with Ebon.

  A burly guard in heavy armor sat astride one of the black dragons, carrying a short metal rod. A moment later, when a thin chain extended from the stick and crackled to life with electricity. A second later, the whip was white-hot.

  The gold creature could barely be called a dragon. She walked on huge hind legs, and though she had wings, they were too small to be effective at flying. Her head was huge compared to the rest of her body, and her silver teeth jutted out at odd angles. Of all the creatures, the gold dragon was the most modified. The places where natural joints should have been had sharp spikes extending from them. Based on the light-colored scars, I guessed the spikes had been implanted somewhere else and had merely erupted from the creature’s body.

  The silver dragon squirmed in pain, equal part machine and organic. Her scales were huge compared to those of Amin, and some of them stuck almost straight out. The creature’s rider was a vrak who kept his legs hidden under the scales and carried a shield made of tightly knotted pipes. He also carried what looked like a stun-baton.

  These were what remained of Yaltu’s friends. They’d been imprisoned, modified by some torturous junkyard technology, and turned into raw killing machines.

  “Jacob!” a voice yelled from the stands.

  I chanced a glance toward the voice’s owner and
saw Yaltu herself beside Skrew. A pack of hooded and armed people stood around them and created a wall of protection between Yaltu and the blood-starved crowd.

  Yaltu had left behind all caution to come here and save her friends.

  I realized then that she didn’t want me to kill the beasts. She wanted me to free them.

  “Reaver!” I called, “Sierra!” She didn’t look at me but nodded in comprehension. It was a signal to subdue our opponents rather than kill them, if at all possible.

  Beatrix gave me a confused look before rolling to one side to avoid an orb the size of a tennis ball, spat by one of the black dragons. The orb hit the dirt and began to smoke, the saliva itself turning black as it bubbled.

  Silver looked confused as she turned her scarred head and the scanners attached. The dragon’s rider bellowed orders, but the beast didn’t move.

  The forcefield was at my back, radiating energy that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. The pressure against my back was soft, like a firm mattress covered in fur. But the part that stuck out in my mind was the sense of power. I had an idea, and Silver and her rider were going to help me test it.

  The vrak riding the dragon raised his shield, pressed his stun-baton to the creature’s hide, and a shock of electricity ran through Silver as she screamed.

  All cheering stopped as Silver’s scream echoed around the arena. If her rider noticed, he didn’t show it. Instead, he turned the now-obedient creature toward me and charged.

  Silver leapt, front paws reaching for me as blood-laced saliva hung from her mouth like thick cords of yarn. I waited until the last moment before leaping straight up into the air. My back slid against the forcefield, and it kept me from moving any further back. When Silver crashed into the field, the barrier sparked and bowed outward a full yard. Based on the speed and complete lack of self-perseverance of the maneuver, I suspected that Silver had being trying to kill herself. The dragon collapsed to the dirt but recovered quickly.