by Ruby Ryan
But Jerix's foot caught on something, and he tripped and fell backwards. Instantly, the gryphon pulled itself into a dive, long talons extended with deadly intent.
"NO!" I screamed.
Jerix turned toward me with surprise on his face... and the gryphon did too. And then it slammed into my alien mate, the two of them rolling across the courtyard in a tangle of limbs and feathers.
I screamed again and sprinted toward them, not caring that the beast could rip me to shreds without even breaking a sweat. All I could think about was Jerix, my man, his body torn into tiny strips for this terrible beast to--
Jerix rolled away from the gryphon, face scrunched up with laughter.
I stopped short. "What the hell..."
The gryphon began shifting, the atoms of its feathers falling apart and rearranging in a way that was now completely familiar. Within moments it was a thick beam of light.
A Karak.
"Your face..." Jerix said, face red with laughter. "Oh my. I can't. I'm sorry."
"It's not funny," I said, furious at his humor. Didn't he know the pain I felt, thinking that he was about to die?
The other Karak shimmered with its own mirth. Hello, Leslie. Jerix has told me of you.
"This is Fyrix," Jerix said, waving a human hand at the Karak. "We were friends long ago, before I became a scout." I could feel their bond, a companionship still strong after many years.
I am sorry for causing you fear, he said.
I took a deep breath, allowed the relief to settle into my chest, and then nodded in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Fyrix. So how about you two explain what the hell you're doing?"
Jerix rose to his feet and brushed off his leather skirt. "Fyrix is a fellow... is a prisoner, forced to fight in the Sunken Pit. I was showing him what humans look like." He paused. "We have been informed that we will be fighting together in the next round."
The way Jerix said prisoner sounded strange. "If you're a prisoner, where are the guards? They just let you wander around?"
Prisoners are trusted on Karak, he said as if it were obvious. Our consciousness is everywhere for all to be seen. There would be nowhere for us to go.
I considered asking him why he was a prisoner, but decided that might be too personal.
We are practicing, Fyrix explained, heading off my next question. Before our fight today.
"Today?!?" I rounded on Jerix. "You said it would be days or weeks before your next fight!"
"I was wrong."
I could see the bitterness on his face. Something was wrong. This wasn't normal.
"They can't do this to a Karak warrior!" I looked between them both. "You told me it was a great honor to be promoted to warrior. How can they do this?"
We fight at the Dominion Lord's pleasure, Fyrix said simply. Jerix nodded, that upset look still plastered on his face, but a nod nonetheless.
I wanted to argue, but knew it would be futile against these two. I wished I could go to the Dominion Lord himself, to give him a piece of my mind, but then Jerix stepped up and put a calming hand on my arm.
"Relax, dearest one. You need not do anything rash."
I blinked. "Are you touching my consciousness right now?"
"No," he chuckled, "but I know that look on your face. It's the same one you wore when we said goodbye in the forest..." Just before you sneaked onto my craft, was the unsaid half of that sentence.
I hugged him, a quick embrace, then nodded to Fyrix. "Don't let me keep you. The two of you should practice."
I strode away, practically quivering with the fearful thought that today I might watch Jerix die.
14
JERIX
I stood in the waiting chambers deep within the Sunken Pit, and all I felt was fear.
In my first battle, fear was a dim emotion. A low hum, fueling my actions with greater need. The desire I felt for Leslie was far stronger, the painful aching to return to her safely. To feel her touch, her body, before I died.
But now?
As the roar of the crowd rose above us, vibrating through the ground and in the air, my fear overwhelmed me. Now that I had Leslie, actually had her instead of just in her dreams, losing her seemed like the worst thing that could possibly happen. Selfishly, I wanted to return to her. And selflessly, I did not want her to need to watch me die.
Because although I had survived yesterday's battle, I doubted I would win this day.
I shall provide cover and distraction from above, Fyrix told me, while you pick off our enemies from the ground in your Borelisk form.
It was the plan we'd discussed and practiced a dozen times. For him to repeat it now spoke of his great nervousness.
It is a good plan, I agreed.
This match would be two against two. The participants were allotted unlimited shifting (all four of us were Karak), although only one from each team was permitted a flying beast.
We knew nothing of our opponents, except that they were Karak warriors. Actual warriors, not merely pretending the way I was with Leslie.
She needed to hear the truth, I knew. I hoped I lived long enough to sit her down and tell her.
Ahead of us, the door moved with the sound of massive gears. It rumbled open, the darkness of our chamber invaded by the widening slit of light from the Pit beyond.
Good fortune, Fyrix told me, sending a final pulse of camaraderie.
I returned the emotion, and then we stepped into the Pit.
The crowd roared with pleasure as the four participants appeared. Our two opponents were small glimmers of light on the opposite side of the arena, but even that small signal reignited my fear.
I cannot die, my human brain insisted. I must beg for my life. Or surrender. I must do something!
I pushed aside the irrational, poisonous thoughts as we waited for the signal.
The announcer called out our names, the two warriors swelling with pride at theirs, while Fyrix and I did the same but with shame and embarrassment. I scanned the rows of viewers, searching vainly for my human lover, but there were too many beings for her to stick out. I took that as a bad omen. The crowd noise lessened, awaiting the beginning, the tension of being on the precipice of carnage.
BEGIN, the Dominion Lord boomed from his holy place.
Instantly, Fyrix shifted into his gryphon form. The crowd screamed with excitement as he leaped into the air with powerful hind legs.
I remained in my place, waiting to see what they would shift into before changing into my Borelisk form.
The two Karak warriors hesitated only long enough to see what we would do, and as soon as Fyrix took to the air one of them shifted into a smaller bird. I did not recognize it, but it resembled an earth hawk, though roughly the size of a human. It shot into the sky on sleek wings, chasing after Fyrix.
He is half the size of Fyrix, I thought with confusion. But then the other Karak was shifting, and it was far more skilled than I, because before I could do anything it was in the form of a moon-tarantula from the Betelgeuse system, long legs holding a pair of curved bows.
Our plan was a mistake.
If I had shifted faster than it into my Borelisk form, I could have pummeled it with acid spikes. But now that it was in its tarantula form, with ranged weapons of its own, I could not do the same. Borelisk were slow; I would not be able to dodge its arrows, and I would be killed within moments. I needed to do something different.
All of this passed across my mind in an instant.
Fresh in my memory, I shifted into the Wolvae form from yesterday. The moment my paws touched the ground I darted sideways, and heard the ZIP-ZIP of arrows slicing through the space I had just occupied, emphasized by a wave of shock and surprise from the crowd. The tarantula moved after me, reloading the pair of bows with its many legs.
Above, Fyrix and the hawk circled each other. Despite its smaller size, the hawk had incredible speed, and darted in to peck at Fyrix's form faster than he could swing his sharp talons in defense.
Hurry, he tol
d me.
I loped along the outside of the arena and waited for the tarantula to fire again. It skittered sideways, aiming at me but not firing. It knew I would charge as soon as it did, preying on the vulnerable moment while it reloaded. That tarantula form had knife-like spikes on the bottom of its eight legs, but I suspected I was fast enough to avoid them if only I could close the distance.
We circled one another, locked in a hesitant stalemate.
It flinched first; a poison-tipped arrow suddenly flew toward me, and had I not been watching I likely wouldn't have been fast enough. I jumped out of the way, and the tarantula had been anticipating that as well, because it fired its second bow while I was in the air. Had it been an accurate shot, it would have been a killing blow; I had only enough time to land, and wince, as it smashed into the arena wall behind me, missing by two feet.
Seizing on the opportunity, I charged.
My Wolvae legs were strong; I took long strides, each movement a leap of energy. The audience cheered excitedly as I closed the distance, the tarantula growing in my sight. It moved a new arrow from its quiver to the bow held by its right two legs, the drawstring pulling back almost in slow motion as time stretched out.
Thirty feet away. Here was the moment to pounce, to soar through the air and land on its back and rip open its carapace for the adoring crowd.
And although my Wolvae brain demanded it, my Wolvae body desired it, my Wolvae instincts encouraged it, I saw the mistake in doing so. As soon as I leaped for the killing pounce, I would be vulnerable to the tarantula's shot. A poison-tipped arrow piercing my fur and skin, corroding me from the inside-out.
I stopped myself just short of leaping, and darted to the side instead, and the tarantula's arrow hissed through the air where I would have leaped.
It already had its second bow loaded and pivoting after me, so I continued sideways and away toward safety, the moment lost.
Above, Fyrix screeched as the hawk darted inward again. My friend's body was dotted with blood, and his movements were not as swift as they were before.
I needed to do something quickly, or he would perish and it would be two against one. If I shifted into my Borelisk form, the tarantula would fill me with arrows before I could slither away. I was trapped in this form until he was dead.
We circled one another again, the window of opportunity where Fyrix and I could win slowly dwindling.
I resolved to charge at the spider again. Perhaps instead of leaping onto its back I could attack from below, although it would leave me vulnerable to its leg-spikes instead, their metallic sound tick-tacking along the ground as it skittered around me. But it was the only choice I had, because a choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made now.
Before I made my move, the tarantula made one instead.
It turned one bow to the sky and fired.
The arrow shot vertically, missing Fyrix's torso but tearing through his left wing. He screeched a bird's cry of agony, and the poison from the arrow ate away at his wing, a widening hole like flame on a leaf of paper.
Blinded with rage, I charged.
The world around me dimmed, my vision narrowing until there was only me and the tarantula ahead. The foe who had injured my friend! Wolvae bloodlust overwhelmed me as I sprinted forward.
The tarantula saw me coming and fired one arrow, but it was easily avoided as I loped to the left. And the spider's second bow was still aimed to the sky, and was coming around to face me too slowly.
I closed the distance and leaped, a tall arc that left me dangerously vulnerable. But the beast was still reloading its bow. It threw the weapon down and raised two spiked legs, but could not raise them high enough to defend itself from above, and I came down directly on its thorax.
The momentum of my landing knocked it straight down into the ground, its legs splaying out in a fan. I knew nothing of the beast's anatomy, so I clenched my Wolvae jaws around the nearest bit of flesh and ripped. A chunk came away, and the spider let out a high-pitched scream of pain.
I found another spot and tore into it again, biting and ripping and tearing with my teeth until I felt the tarantula go still.
The crowd screamed its approval.
But there was another scream, more desperate. More personal. I turned my gaze to the sky to see Fyrix folding one wing painfully to his body, and then he plummeted from the air like a rock.
"No!" I screamed, but my words came out as a howl from my Wolvae mouth.
The hawk dove with incredible speed after Fyrix, shifting in mid-air into another tarantula-form, landing gracefully next to Fyrix's spasming body. Helpless from so far away, I watched as the tarantula brought its spiked legs up and down, stabbing my friend, my only friend on my home world, again and again, sickening gushing sounds that fountained red gryphon blood into the air.
The crowd cheered anew.
Imbued with raw fury, I shifted into my Borelisk form. The tarantula turned around just as I finished, an aura of satisfaction and pleasure emanating from its eight-legged form.
KILL RAPE DESTROY TEAR DISFIGURE, demanded my primal Borelisk brain.
I opened my mandible wide and fired acid spikes in a long line, cutting across the tarantula's form. Each shot tore painfully at the muscles in my mouth but I did not care in that moment, blinded by rage for Fyrix and overwhelmed by the Borelisk form's need. Six, seven, eight acid spikes shot forth, like the arc of a sword swing across the enemy I wished to die.
The tarantula moved. Most of the spikes missed.
Two did not.
The spikes ripped into the spider's thick carapace, cutting one leg in half and piercing its thorax. It screeched another pained screech like its fallen partner, and writhed away in pain.
But I was already descending on it.
In that moment, all of my form's emotions and urges mixed into one. Karak mourning for Fyrix. Human fear for my Leslie, my lover. The base Borelisk rage, demanding carnage.
I shifted again.
I moved while shifting, my Borelisk slither turning into a human gait as I materialized into the form Leslie knew, the form I'd practiced yesterday in the courtyard with Fyrix. The crowd gasped at the sight, something they had never seen before, their anticipation to what I was about to do growing with every step.
As I neared the dying tarantula, its remaining legs thrashing out helplessly while the acid spikes ate away at its body, I unsheathed my sword.
One leg cut downward toward me, and before the spike could impale my skull I swung high with the blade, severing the leg at the joint. The spiked end flopped uselessly onto the ground. Another leg thrust forward at chest-level, but I bent my human knees and jumped out of the way, slashing downward with the sword to remove it from the body as well.
I cut, and sliced, and slashed the tarantula's legs apart, all to the screams of the bloodthirsty crowd.
And then, when I could delay no longer, I held my sword high with both hands. I let out a human roar as I brought it down into the tarantula's body, the killing blow.
It fell still, as its partner had, and then I was the victor.
My eyes immediately shot upward to the Dominion Lord's holy place. He was gone, I saw with disappointment. I wanted to witness his reaction. To revel in the fact that twice he had tried to send me to my death, and twice I had survived.
And then my head whipped around, memory quickly returning.
I felt numb as I strode toward Fyrix, dead within his gryphon form. I reached out with my consciousness but it was no use; he had been dead too long to heal, the light of his body a distant memory.
I knelt beside my friend and tried to weep, but no human tears would come.
15
LESLIE
I wept for joy, and my tears flowed freely.
My lover is alive.
Forget the thrill of watching him do battle in an arena filled with adoring fans, many of whom were cheering and chanting his name as he dismembered that hideous spider creature. Forget the primal feeling t
hat I felt in my gut at watching him compete, pride swelling within my chest and legs and sex that such a man was mine. The overwhelming emotion I felt was joy that he had survived, was alive, and would be returning to me.
While the crowd cheered, I fled my seat, eager to see and touch my lover.
Before I could leave the arena, a Karak guard blocked my path. Come, it said simply.
"I know the way to the platform myself," I said, sick of being treated like a prisoner instead of a guest on the planet.
We are not going to the platform.
I started to ask where we were going, but knew I wouldn't get any answers out of the shimmering light, so I followed silently.
We passed around the outside of the arena, then turned into a wide hallway. Other Karak lined the walls here, and I got the impression that they were guards as well. We took another lift, higher this time, which opened into a wide room.
It was luxurious by Karak standards, I could immediately tell. Crystal sculptures hung from the walls around the outside of the room, in the shape of varying monsters. Presumably fighters of the Sunken Pit, since there was a tarantula-like one, and a beautiful dragon sculpture, which must have been that warrior Dyonarix that Jerix had mentioned. The far wall was entirely made of glass, and opened to a view of the Sunken Pit.
A high view, I realized. Higher than the rest of the arena.
I knew where we were right as he appeared.
Hello, the Dominion Lord spoke, appearing from a side room. He was flanked by two fellow Karak, though his form stood about a foot taller than them. You are the human Leslie.
Half a dozen emotions fought for control of my mind. On a foreign planet, in a foreign room, deference was the one that won. "It is an honor to meet you, Dominion Lord."
Your pleasantries are kind, but unnecessary.
He twisted, and the two guards left the room. We were alone together.
And then, to my immense shock, he shifted. The atoms of his form burst apart and realigned, far swifter and more skillful than any other Karak I had seen. And when he was done he stood before me as a human.
