by Steve Feasey
There were murmurs of agreement followed by excited whispers from the assembled nether-creatures as the huge gladiator Kronok stood up. The creature’s body was covered in scars, the healed wounds appearing as a darker blue against his skin, which was a paler shade of the same colour. As he stood he flexed his muscles, and Trey was reminded of bodybuilders he’d seen on television and in magazines.
‘My lord,’ Kronok said, bowing his head a fraction and peering up at his patron from beneath a large ridge of bone that jutted out from his forehead. His large yellow eyes never blinked as he took in the demon lord with a hard stare. ‘It is true that I never defeated Abaddon during our time together under your tutelage. But I was not the fighter then that I am now. Give me the chance to show you what I have become, and I will tear Abaddon the Destroyer’s head from his shoulders and have it mounted on a plaque for you!’
The assembly erupted into a maelstrom of noise and movement once more.
Molok stood on the platform with an ugly smile on his face, looking about him at the reaction of the school to this challenge. Like a headmaster at his lectern, he waited for them to eventually hush and turn to look in his direction, awaiting his response.
‘Hmm,’ the demon lord said. ‘That may be true. But then again, maybe Abaddon too has honed his skills and craft. And now he fights for Caliban, perhaps he has even more to prove.’ He paused. ‘That is why I brought this human along. I am considering making him my new champion.’
The gladiators all roared with laughter, looking at each other and then at the teenager standing to one side of the platform. Some pointed at Trey and clapped their hands or beat at their thighs as if they had just been told the funniest joke of all time.
This time Molok waved down their noise, a big smile on his face as if he was sharing the joke with them.
‘I know, I know,’ he said indulgently, ‘but I will make this boy champion unless someone here can beat him in combat. Right here and now. In the square.’ Molok gestured down at the sand-filled square where Trey stood. ‘So who will it be, eh? Who would like a chance to fight for the right to be our new champion?’
Every mouth roared. Demons pushed and pawed at each other to get their hands up in front of their neighbour’s, many of them starting to fight with each other as arguments broke out among them.
‘QUIET!’ Molok roared. The demon lord looked about him, letting his eyes roam over the nether-creatures that now sank slowly back to their seats. ‘As you are all so keen to sink your teeth into our young friend here, I will have to make the decision.’ The Hell-Kraken let his eyes rest on the figure of the huge blue demon, Kronok. ‘You,’ he said. ‘I think it only fitting that you should be given the chance to prove yourself worthy of the title of primus palus.’
Kronok laughed as he stood up and stepped over the rope that separated off the sand-filled square. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘You will remove your armour,’ Molok commanded. ‘The boy has no armour yet.’
‘Of course!’ Kronok said, still laughing. ‘Better yet, why don’t I chew my own arms and legs off? Maybe then he would have a chance.’ The demon looked the teenager up and down. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Even then it would still be impossibly easy to kill the little runt.’
Laughter erupted all around again, and Kronok grinned at his fellow nether-creatures. He strode around in a wide circle, removing the leather armour pieces and dropping them outside the roped area.
Molok climbed down from the platform, which was swiftly removed from the square. Stepping beyond the rope, the demon lord took up a seat that had been placed there for him. He glanced in Kronok’s direction before turning his attention to Trey and giving him a swift nod of the head. ‘Let us see if we were right about you, lycanthrope,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Let us see if you can fight.’
The demon lord turned his attention to the crowd once more. ‘A fight to arena rules!’ he shouted, and the onlookers erupted with noise.
Trey had no idea what arena rules were, but he doubted they could be anything but bad news.
The ‘fight’ was mercifully short.
Trey and Kronok had faced each other across the width of the fighting square, until a horn signalled the start of the competition.
The huge blue demon charged, its head lowered as if it was intent on smashing the teenager’s face with that bony forehead. Trey, rooted to the spot, could not control the terror that erupted in him at the sight of the gladiator-demon bearing down on him. He had fought demons of many types in the past – Lucien and Tom were keen that he should train and spar against different nether-creatures to learn their characteristics – but those competitions had been controlled, and if Trey or the nether-creature were hurt in some way, the bout was stopped and the combatants would discuss what had happened. In this way Trey had honed his lycanthrope skills and powers, and had learned to control the primitive and ferocious urges that his kind were renowned for. But this was different. Molok had not said as much, but Trey was painfully aware that this contest would not be called to a halt if he should get hurt. No, this would stop only once Kronok had destroyed the human that had been brought here to bait him.
Trey’s favourite sparring partner was a Shadow Demon named Flaug, and they’d become good friends during their sessions together. Flaug was incredibly fast and strong, and Trey had eventually learned to turn these very attributes to his own advantage in order to defeat his demon pal.
Trey waited until the last second to Change.
Kronok was within touching distance of the human when the werewolf seemed to suddenly erupt out of the boy’s skin. The demon was running at full speed and was not expecting any opposition; the only thought that filled his head was to smash the human into the ground, where he would tear the pathetic creature to pieces. The demon’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of the huge lycanthrope that dipped its body low to the ground, driving its broad, muscular shoulder into Kronok’s stomach and forcing all the air from the demon’s lungs with an audible ‘Gnnf!’ Trey was a low, compact ball of potential energy. The demon jackknifed over his shoulder and he surged upwards, driving his powerful legs straight. At the same time he grasped Kronok’s thighs and heaved with all his might, throwing the huge blue demon high into the air, his legs kicking out behind him wildly. Kronok plummeted to the ground head first. The demon’s outstretched arms were incapable of braking the momentum of his vast frame, and simply folded up before him so that his head and face met the onrushing ground with a sickening sound of breaking bone. The exchange between the two combatants had taken a matter of seconds.
There was a low moan from the crowd, which had been taken as much by surprise as the blue demon.
Trey looked down at the vanquished demon. His head was at an odd angle and he seemed incapable of getting up again. He turned to look at Molok, who was staring back at him with a look of expectancy on his face.
‘Will you not finish him, lycanthrope?’ the demon lord asked.
The werewolf glanced back at the unconscious demon. ‘He is finished,’ he said, transferring the words directly into the demon lord’s mind.
He was surprised when Molok used the same spell to talk back to him. ‘You must finish him. If you do not, it will be seen as a weakness by the others. You are fighting to arena rules which means that you are fighting to the death.’
Trey looked at the expectant faces in the crowd.
He morphed back into his human form and stood naked in the centre of the square, glaring back at Molok.
‘I do not recognize your rules or your authority. And I will not murder this creature for your … entertainment.’
The demon lord hissed at the teenager, standing and spreading his vast leathery wings as if he was going to leap up into the air and attack Trey himself. A black flame rippled across his skin, and Trey found it difficult to maintain eye contact.
Eventually the demon lord’s anger seemed to abate and he sank back into his chair. At a tiny gesture f
rom his hand, one of the guards sprang forward, drawing an ugly-looking dagger from its belt. Trey was about to morph again when the creature changed course slightly, moving past him towards the prone figure of Kronok. It knelt and lifted the demon’s head, making the injured nether-creature cry out in pain.
‘No!’ Trey shouted, realizing what was about to happen. He started to move to Kronok’s aid, but he was too late.
The guard drew the dagger across the warrior’s throat. Then it stood and wiped the gore from the blade against its thigh before trotting back to its master.
Trey closed his eyes, but the horror of what he’d just seen simply replayed itself over and over in his mind’s eye.
There was a terrible silence, the creatures on all sides looking in Molok’s direction.
‘We have a new champion,’ the demon lord said in a loud voice. ‘The lycanthrope Trey Laporte will be my primus palus.’ The nether-creature looked into the faces of the assembled horde before adding in a lower voice, ‘And if any one of you here lays so much as a single claw on him before the Games, you will all end up in those cages that make up the walls of my citadel.’ He gestured to one of the guards, ‘Take him to the barracks. He can have Kronok’s old cell.’
With a nod at the fighters, Molok turned and left the gladiator school.
25
Philippa sat at the edge of the plinth, as close to the invisible barrier as she could get without touching it. Alexa did the same, and the two girls were able to talk without having to raise their voices.
They’d been talking about everything that had happened to them since they’d first met, filling in the gaps in the other’s knowledge as to how they had both ended up in this place. Philippa stared into space as her friend told her how Lucien and the Ashnon had finally managed to kill the Necrotroph that had murdered her father and left her irrevocably damaged. When the conversation inevitably got around to Trey, Alexa remarked on how she thought he’d changed since she’d seen him last.
‘I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he seems … colder. The last time I saw him was the morning he left for Canada. He was going out there to find his uncle, and it seemed that everyone apart from Trey knew that it wasn’t going to be an easy trip for him. My father had warned me about Frank Laporte, and the damage he might do to his nephew.’ She smiled anxiously. ‘But Trey was excited about the trip – excited and nervous. He’d discovered that he still had a living relative who, as a lyco like him, might be able to help him to come to terms with what he was all about. I don’t know what happened to him out there, but whatever it was, it seems to have hardened something inside him.’
Alexa shook her head sadly and looked up to find the other girl staring back at her with a look of incredulity.
‘You seem to forget that all of this,’ Philippa said, gesturing with her hand at her surroundings, ‘was complete fantasy to Trey and to me until very recently. If you’d told me that vampires really existed, I’d have laughed in your face.’ She snorted and shot her friend an angry look. ‘We weren’t brought up with magic and demonic possessions and nether-creatures. Trey’s still probably every bit as freaked out by this as I am. He’s bound to have changed. Did you really think he wouldn’t?’
‘No, of course not,’ Alexa said in a small voice. ‘I just meant …’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’
Philippa’s features softened and she smiled. ‘You like him, don’t you?’
Alexa looked up. ‘Trey? Yes, of course I like him. We’re good friends.’
‘But you like him as more than just a friend, don’t you?’
Alexa shrugged.
‘And it’s pretty clear that he likes you as more than just a friend too. Look at the way he attacked this force field, or whatever it is around us, to try to get to you … the way he just came out here after you, on his own.’ She paused before adding, ‘The way that he’s willing to risk his life to save you.’
Alexa sighed. ‘I don’t think that Trey and I could ever be together in that way. I don’t think we would ever be anything but a danger to each other.’
‘Is that why you won’t tell him how you feel about him?’ The other girl paused for Alexa to respond, but carried on when it was clear that she would not. ‘Because it seems to me that you both being who and what you are, you’re going to face danger every single day of your lives. Maybe it would be better to do that together rather than separately.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What if he’s killed in these Games?’ Philippa watched Alexa stiffen at the suggestion, her face taking on a stricken expression. ‘If that happened, could you ever be happy again, knowing that you hadn’t told him howyou felt?’
The door of the prison opened, and a Maug guard walked in carrying two bowls of something.
‘Food,’ it shouted as it stepped up to their cells and placed the bowls into a drawer which slid into a space inside the platform. Once the drawer was fully engaged, the prisoners were able to access the food via a small hatch in the floor.
The two girls were standing now. They looked at each other.
The guard returned with bowls of water, which were also placed in the metal drawer. It slid the food and drink into the cavity before turning to leave.
‘Wait!’ Alexa called out. ‘Where have they taken Trey?’ She saw the demon frown at the use of the name. ‘The lycanthrope boy – where is he?’
The guard grinned. ‘He’s alive. And is now a member of the gladiator school. Apparently, he won the right to become Molok’s champion by defeating Kronok. There’s a lot of talk about the werewolf. People are saying that Molok is mad to put his reputation at stake by pitching an unknown fighter against Abaddon the Destroyer.’ The guard chuckled. ‘Or maybe Molok is already resigned to losing the big fight again, and is simply sending your troublesome friend to his death.’ The Maug shrugged its massive shoulders and walked out, slamming the door behind it.
Alexa looked round towards Philippa, trying hard not to give in to the tears that threatened. Her friend shook her head.
‘It seems to me that Molok went to an awful lot of trouble to bring Trey here. I don’t for one second believe he’d have done all that if he didn’t think Trey could win for him. Ignore that fool.’
Alexa nodded, but the deep frown lines on her forehead suggested that she thought otherwise.
‘What is it?’ Philippa asked.
‘Maybe that’s it.’
‘What?’
‘Maybe Trey isn’t supposed to win. Maybe Molok is setting him up. Using him as a means to appease Caliban. To buy the vampire’s mercy.’
The two girls stared at each other.
Philippa was the one to finally break the silence. ‘I meant what I said, Alexa. Don’t make the same mistake that I did with my father. If you get a chance to talk to Trey again, you should tell him how you feel about him.’
Alexa nodded her head. She turned her back on the other girl and went to sit on the chaise longue in the centre of her cell, lost in thought.
26
‘Your food.’
Trey sat up on the simple straw pallet and looked towards the source of the voice. The room he had been given was identical to the other seven in the building and except for the fact that the lock was on the inside, it looked for all the world like a prison cell: three windowless stone walls, and a fourth made up of a metal lattice that looked out on to the central area, which was currently occupied by the remaining four elite fighters who had gathered around a wooden table to eat. A measure of privacy was afforded by a simple curtain that could be drawn over the grille, but Trey had chosen not to do so, preferring to see anyone – or anything – that might approach his cell. Kronok’s body had been dragged off to be disposed of somewhere – and Trey’s fellow inhabitants seemed less than happy to have him there. At first Trey had thought he would be attacked the second he was brought in here and left alone with them, but despite the hate-filled looks and the odd growl or hiss, the other demons steered
well clear of the teenager, and Trey quickly realized that Molok’s threat to have them all killed if anything should happen to him was enough to keep him safe – for now, at least.
The thing that stood at the opening to his cell was a small, wrinkled creature with blue skin. His ancient-looking face was topped by a thick, grimy bandage which was loose and sat askew. There were no ears to speak of, just small indentations at the side of the head – as if someone had pushed a thumb into the flesh when it was soft and pliable. One eye studied the boy with an amused expression. Nothing more than an ugly hole and a mass of scar tissue was left in the place where the other should have been. The little demon, aware that Trey was staring at the wound, reached up and tugged the grubby bandage down at an angle to cover it up, lending the nether-creature an almost conical, piratical appearance.
‘May Shentob come in?’
Trey shrugged and the creature shuffled in, carrying a plate of something hot in one hand and a tankard in the other. He placed these on the floor next to Trey and straightened up again, nodding in the direction of the food. ‘You should eat,’ he said. ‘You’ll need your strength in the days ahead.’
Trey looked over at the plate of food. It was some kind of stew. It didn’t smell too bad, but he eyed it suspiciously, ignoring the loud grumbling sounds that came from his stomach.
‘It’s OK,’ his visitor said with a nod. ‘Old Shentob knew that you would not want to eat what the others are eating.’ The demon gestured over its shoulder towards the nether-creatures sitting round the table. ‘So he made you something else. Go on, it’s good.’
