The Merchant of Death tpa-1

by D. J. MacHale

  The stadium was square. It reminded me of one of those arenas where they play tennis matches. My guess was that the place could seat a few thousand people. And it was packed. Each side of the arena held a different tribe. One side was all Bedoowan. They sat on cushioned seats with pillows for their backs. The next section was taken up by the Novan servants who sat on long bleachers. It was odd seeing so many of these pure white doll people in their white uniforms. The next section was full of Milago. It was obvious they were Milago because of their filthy leather clothes and the fact that they weren’t even allowed to sit. They had to stand on stone tiers. My guess was they entered the arena from above, since they weren’t allowed to walk through the palace. The fourth side was nearly empty. Halfway up the stands there was a box with a throne. Obviously this was where Kagan sat.

  There were high walls with spikes built between the sections so there was no way the tribes could mingle. But even if the Milago wanted to get a little rowdy, they couldn’t because there were armed knights ringing the top of the stadium. They stood as sentries, lining the entire top tier with their spears at the ready.

  We stood in a section right next to the playing field below Kagan’s box. There were no seats here, only a low barrier between us and the field. At least, I thought it was a playing field, but I wasn’t exactly sure what game they played here. The flat area was about the size of a baseball diamond. The surface was grass, but there weren’t any lines or markings that would show the boundaries for a game. It was just a plain, grass field.

  I looked up at the various tribes in the stands and saw that each group acted very differently. The Bedoowan were chatting and seemed relaxed. Some smiled, others laughed. There were kids, too. It had the feel of a baseball stadium before a game. The Novans sat quietly looking down at the field. Most had their hands crossed in their laps politely and didn’t move a muscle. Their faces were blank. I couldn’t tell if they were happy to be here or not. The Milago were much easier to read. They were restless. They kept glancing up at the guards that surrounded the stadium. It was obvious that they weren’t here by choice, and it wasn’t for entertainment.

  Unfortunately I was afraid that Loor and Alder and I were the main attraction. I leaned over to Alder and asked, “What kind of game do they play here?”

  Alder’s eyes were riveted on the playing field. “This is no game, Pendragon,” he said softly.

  Before I could ask any more, I heard chimes. They were three simple notes that sounded like they came from a loud, but pleasant xylophone. All eyes turned to the empty viewing box above the playing field. I looked up too and saw two knights walk out into the box, followed by Mallos, who was followed by Kagan. She didn’t wave to the crowd or anything the way you would expect a queen to acknowledge her subjects. She just lumbered to her throne and plopped herself down like a bored, spoiled little kid. She was eating again too. Big surprise. It looked like she was gnawing on a turkey leg. The entire stadium was now quiet except for the slurping and grunting sounds as Kagan finished off her latest snack. I really would have been grossed out, except for the fact that I knew whatever was going to happen, was going to happen soon. My heart started racing. I’m not sure what would have been worse-knowing our fate or not. The fear of the unknown was terrifying. Either way though, the show was about to begin.

  Kagan looked up to Mallos and said impatiently, “Well?”

  Mallos took a few steps forward and motioned down to the playing field. Instantly I saw a small door open on the opposite side of the field. A few seconds later somebody was pushed out from inside and tumbled down onto the grass. Obviously this guy didn’t want to be here. In a few seconds I realized who it was-the scrawny Milago prisoner who was in Uncle Press’s cell. I guess he didn’t get away when he had the chance. The poor guy looked scared. He pulled himself to his feet and looked around the stadium while shielding his eyes from the suns.

  As if on cue, the Bedoowan spectators let out a loud, football-like cheer. This startled the guy and he stumbled away from them to the center of the field. At the same time, the Novans applauded politely. There was no yelling or whistling from them, just polite applause that ended as quickly as it began. The Milago didn’t do anything but watch in silence. The guy backed to the center of the field because it was the one place where he could be the farthest away from everybody. He stood in the center, alone, his eyes darting around the stands with confusion and fear. He seemed to be looking for help. Then, his eyes finally fell on me. That’s where he stopped. It was creepy. I didn’t know what to do. Was I the only familiar face in the crowd? Did he want me to wave or something? I looked back at him, feeling helpless.

  Then something strange happened. He was a bent over, old guy who had a rounded back that I assumed came from working in the mines his whole life. But as he stood staring at me, the fear left his face. He stood up straight, pushed his shoulders back, then touched his heart and held out his hand toward me. He even gave me a small smile. I know this sounds bizarro, but I felt that somehow by seeing me, he got some kind of strength. Believe me, I have no idea why it happened. It’s not like I did anything or could help him, but after he saw me, it was like he transformed. Whatever was about to happen, he was now ready, and I played some small part in that.

  We didn’t have to wait long to find out what was in store for the guy. On the right side of the arena from where we were sitting was a door that was larger than the one the Milago just came through. Two knights ran across the grass field toward it. There was a big brass latch that was so heavy it took two of these big knights to release it. Once the latch was undone, they threw the door open and ran for the stands. The scene reminded me of movies I’d seen of bullfights. I looked into the dark recesses beyond this large open door and expected to see a bull come charging through.

  As it turns out, I wasn’t that far off. I heard movement and snarls beyond that door. All eyes were riveted on the opening, including Loor’s and Alder’s. Even the Bedoowan stopped their socializing for a moment to look with anticipation.

  A quig beast leaped through the doorway and crouched down on all fours. The Bedoowan section let out a cheer. The Novans applauded again and the Milago cringed. Some hid their eyes, others stood straight as if the least they could do for their fellow tribesman was to honor him by having the courage to watch.

  The quig scanned the arena with yellow hunter’s eyes, ready to spring as soon as it found quarry. It curled its black lips back from its teeth to reveal sharp rows of deadly fangs. Even from where I was I could see drool dripping down its chin in anticipation of the hunt. My mind quickly flashed back to the quig that Uncle Press nailed with the spear and of how the other ravenous quigs devoured one of their own, ripping its flesh from the bone while it was still alive.

  I glanced up at Kagan, who stared intently at the quig with a smile on her face. Without taking her eyes off the animal, she took a huge bite out of her turkey leg. At once the idea of a bullfight left me. This wasn’t like a bullfight at all. This was like one of those Roman Coliseum spectacles where they threw the Christians to the lions. The Bedoowan wanted to see blood. Their wish was about to come true.

  The Milago prisoner had remained still ever since the quig had entered the arena. And why not? There was nothing for him to do. He was too frail to fight and had no place to run. Mallos made a gesture to one of the knights near the arena floor and the knight threw something to the Milago. It was one of those stick weapons like Loor used. But there was no way the Milago miner could use this puny weapon to defend himself. I think it was given to him in hopes of having the battle last more than a few seconds. That’s the best the guy could hope for. He picked up the weapon, but just from the way he held it I knew that he had no clue how to use it. He might as well have had a pillow to fight off the quig.

  The coiled quig sniffed the air. It had caught scent of the Milago. Its body tensed, zeroing in on its prey.

  I looked up to Kagan and saw that she had put her turkey leg down and was
leaning over the rail in anticipation. Mallos stood behind her with his hands clasped behind his back. He turned and looked right at me. I looked away. I didn’t want to see this guy anymore.

  Then the quig attacked. It crouched back on its legs like a cat and sprang at the poor Milago miner. The Milago turned and ran. It was heartbreaking and horrifying. He ran to the side of the arena, but there was no safety there. So he started to run around the circle with the wooden weapon dragging behind him.

  Loor couldn’t take it. She made a move to jump out and rescue the doomed miner, but the instant she took a step, Alder stopped her. It was a good thing, too. She wouldn’t have much more of a chance against this beast than the scraggly miner.

  The Milago in the stands watched silently. I could see the agony on their faces. The Novans watched silently as well. I couldn’t tell how they felt about what was going on. Then I looked to the Bedoowan. The horrible thing was, these people were laughing. The sight of a Milago miner running for his life was a big joke!

  The quig kept its distance from the Milago miner, almost playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse before killing it. After a few moments, the Milago miner realized it was futile to run around the ring, so he stopped and turned back to face the beast. He raised the wooden stick, but there wasn’t a person watching these events who thought it would help him beat back the vicious animal. Time seemed to stand still. The Milago stood with the stick weapon at the ready. The quig crouched a few feet away, swaying its massive head. Everyone in the stadium held their breath.

  And then the quig jumped. The Milago miner held up his stick to defend himself. The last thing I saw was that the quig swept it out of the way with a mighty swing of his clawed paw. The stick flew across the arena and when it landed, I was horrified to see that the Milago miner’s hand was still clutching it.

  I looked up toward Kagan and the other Bedoowan. What I saw there was almost as horrible as the carnage that was taking place in the arena. Kagan sat forward on her chair and clapped her hands with glee like a little girl watching clown tricks. The other Bedoowan were laughing uproariously as if this were some kind of slapstick comedy. And through it all, I could hear the sounds of the quig tearing at the flesh of the Milago miner. The doomed man gave one quick yelp and then he was silent. Luckily he died quickly. All that was left was the feeding. It turned my stomach and made me hate the Bedoowan even more for their total lack of compassion for another living being.

  Mallos looked at me and smiled. This may have been the most horrible moment of all, because I felt in that second that he had staged this whole spectacle for my benefit. The idea that I may have been responsible for this, in any way, made my stomach hurt.

  The show was over quickly. I knew it was done because the Bedoowan applauded as if the quig had just staged a fine performance. The Novans applauded politely as well, though with much less enthusiasm than the Bedoowan. The Milago just watched in horror. A few of them were crying.

  Then a few more chimes sounded. Instantly six knights rushed into the ring with ropes. Three of them held spears on the quig, while the others lassoed its neck and began to drag it back toward the large door. Now that it had fed, it was much more calm than before. It actually went without a fight. I saw the blood dripping from its jaws as it was led back to the door leading to the quig pens. I looked back to the spot where it had attacked the Milago miner. All that was left of the poor man was a wet, red spot on the grass. A Bedoowan knight filled a wooden bucket with water from a faucet near the quig pen, then quickly rushed over to the spot of the kill and poured it on the blood. The water and blood sank into the grass as if they had never been there.

  Then two more chimes sounded and a terrifying thought came to me. We were next. We had been shown what our fate would be and now it was our turn. I looked around, expecting the knights to prod us into the arena. But they didn’t. I looked up to Mallos to see what he was doing. He looked back at me and pointed to the sky. I looked up and realized what would happen next.

  In the sky the three suns were about to converge on each other. It was the equinox. Then I heard another door open inside the arena. It was the same door where the doomed Milago miner tumbled out before. But there were no more Milago to be executed today. What I saw at that door made my heart sink. A man stepped out into the sunlight standing up straight, with his head held high. I think I actually gasped when I saw him.

  It was Uncle Press. It was the equinox, and he was the next to die.

  Journal #3 (continued)

  Denduron

  Uncle Press walked defiantly to the center of the killing ring. It was only a few days since I had seen him last, but with all that had happened it felt like it had been months. It was strange to see him dressed in the leather skins of the Milago. I was used to seeing him wearing jeans and his long coat that would flap in the wind as he rode his motorcycle. But things had changed. Though he was still Uncle Press, he also looked like any other Milago miner with his three-day-old beard and messed-up hair. But unlike the other Milago, Uncle Press had an air of confidence. The Bedoowan stopped talking and laughing. There was now tension in their section of the stands, as if this newest gladiator was going to prove to be more of a match than the last.

  I looked to the Milago spectators and saw that they were watching his arrival in pretty much the same way. But rather than the look of fear they had for the poor Milago prisoner who had just been devoured, they now seemed to have hope that maybe, just maybe, the visiting team might have a shot here. Only the Novans reacted the exact same way as before. They gave Uncle Press some polite, emotionless applause.

  Even though Uncle Press looked all sorts of confident, it was going to take more than confidence to beat a charging, hungry quig. Still, something about the way Uncle Press carried himself gave you the feeling that if any man could beat a quig, it would be this one. He stood in the center of the field and looked up at all the spectators. He did a 360 turn, and stopped when he laid eyes on the Bedoowan section. I could see that he was shaking his head and knew what he was thinking. It disturbed him to think that these people were gathered to watch blood sport.

  In the royal box Kagan didn’t sense any of this tension. She was being her normal, oblivious self as she sat on her throne, gnawing her turkey leg. Mallos leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Kagan answered with a shrug that told me she didn’t care one way or the other about what Mallos had asked her. Mallos bowed to Her Royal Chubness, then stepped to the front of the box and surveyed the people in the stadium. He raised his hands and all eyes immediately went to him. Even Uncle Press looked up to see what this evil puppet master had to say.

  “People of Denduron,” he bellowed. “The man you see before you has been accused of the high crime of treason. He is guilty of plotting to destroy the peaceful balance of our society and of inciting the Milago into overthrowing the great reign of our beloved Queen Kagan.” When he said this, he looked to Kagan. Kagan acknowledged his look with a loud, deep belch. What a class act.

  Mallos didn’t react and continued, “For this crime he has been sentenced to death at the equinox, when the light is the strongest so we can all bear witness to his punishment. Let this execution serve as a reminder that the natural order must never be disrupted. To try and change the normal course of events is a crime against humanity, and punishment will be harsh and swift. Long live Denduron. Long live Queen Kagan. Death to those who oppose the throne.”

  Mallos then made a motion to the field and two knights ran across the grass to open the door to let in another quig. It was clear what this was all about. Mallos was using Uncle Press as an example to scare the Milago out of their rebellion. The Milago trusted Uncle Press. In seconds another quig would leap out of that dark door and attack. It would mean the end of the rebellion and the death of my uncle. And the way things were going, Alder, Loor, and I would be the next victims in the ring.

  As scared as I was, I realized that there was an even bigger picture unfolding here. Un
cle Press had brought us here to try and bring peace to the Bedoowan and the Milago. It was a tribal feud that Mallos (or Saint Dane) was doing a fine job of fueling. By eliminating Uncle Press, and us, there would be nothing to stop the Bedoowan from destroying the Milago. The territory of Denduron would fall into chaos, and Mallos’s evil mission would be complete.

  That is, unless I did something to stop it. I knew exactly what I had to do. I was scared out of my mind, but still, I knew what had to be done. Before I had the chance to chicken out, I jumped over the barrier that separated our box from the field and ran toward my uncle.

  “Pendragon!” shouted Loor with surprise. I think she was totally shocked that I was the first one to take action for a change. I hadn’t told her what my plan was. There wasn’t time. But she must have figured I had something in mind, so she and Alder quickly followed after me. I know what you’re thinking, Mark, and you’re wrong. I hadn’t gone delusional. I hadn’t suddenly gotten all hero macho and figured I could whup up on a quig. It wasn’t like that at all. But I had an idea and if I was right, it might give us all a chance of getting out of there alive.

  I ran up to Uncle Press and stood beside him. I expected him to see me and be totally surprised and shout something like: “Bobby, no! Go back! Save yourself!” But he didn’t. Instead he looked down at me as if he were expecting me to show up all along and calmly said, “I forgot to tell you, that Courtney Chetwynde is pretty cute.”

  I gotta hand it to the guy, he was cool. Maybe a little crazy, but cool.

  Loor and Alder quickly joined us. Loor had scooped up the wooden weapon that the Milago prisoner had used and was ready to wield it. I was glad to see that she had separated it from the guy’s severed hand first.