by Leslie Chase
“I can’t do this,” I whispered. It hadn’t really sunk in until now. They expected me to fight for my life. To kill or die. Despite the warmth of the sun, I shivered.
“They cannot force you to fight,” Athazar said. “That’s the one thing the masters can’t steal from us. Whatever they do, I have no intention of giving the rich a spectacle to enjoy.”
Behind us, the guard captain laughed. “If you knew how many times I’d heard that! You’ll fight alright, slave. They all do, in the end.”
Athazar growled, a noise that came from deep within him, and I shied away from the anger on his face. A moment later it was gone, hidden behind a stony coldness.
“We’ll see,” he said. “Maybe I’m an exception.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” the guard said, laughing again. This time it sounded forced. “No one’s willing to die just to spite the masters, and you’ll be no different. When your life’s on the line, you’ll fight same as everyone else.”
He turned to me. “And you’ll put on a good show one way or another. The people around here don’t like humans — they’ll enjoy seeing you broken whether you fight back or not.”
Athazar gave the captain a hard look, and the man took a step back before he caught himself. Muttering something under his breath, he shoved me on toward the arena.
A doorway swung open as we approached the wall and we stepped through into a dark, windowless corridor. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the low light.
Deeper in we went, pushed by the guards until we came to an open area. A gym, I thought: there were benches and training dummies, weights and machines that had to be for exercise. That or torture, if there was a difference — my memories of my time in a gym weren’t pleasant.
A ramp on the far side of the room led up to a great door which slid open, letting in sunlight and the roar of the crowd. If it had been loud outside the arena, in here it was deafening. I shrank back, afraid that we’d be forced out there straight away.
I needn’t have worried. The guards behind us did nothing, and ahead of us a couple of slaves came in through the open doorway dragging something behind them.
I swallowed as I saw what it was. A corpse, the gigantic corpse of an alien that must have been nine foot tall. I didn’t know anything about the alien’s species, but he had to be dead. A cut had sliced his torso open, and green blood and guts trailed behind him as the two slaves pulled the giant inside.
The crowd’s chanting grew to a climactic cheer and then cut off. At the top of the ramp a figure stood silhouetted. Another giant, muscular and lithe, with four arms and an ax held in each hand. He turned to strike a pose for the crowd before swaggering down towards us.
His skin was the same dark red as Athazar’s, but no scars marked him. And the smile on his face was as cold and cruel as anything I’d seen.
“Fresh meat for the grinder, eh?” His laugh was nasty. “I hope you give a better show that what’s-his-name there. I had to do all the work for the crowd.”
I glared at him wordlessly. Next to me, Athazar tensed and I could feel the anger boiling in him. It was a cold, dark feeling — not like the anger that had taken him into combat before.
This tasted more like despair.
“Where are my manners?” the newcomer said, dropping his bloody axes casually on the ground. He grinned at me, a nasty hunger showing as I took an instinctive step back. “I am Falcar, champion of the arena and greatest warrior you’ll ever meet. And I look forward to getting to know you better, human.”
“Keep away from her,” Athazar said, taking a step between us. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Falcar laughed, a hard and nasty sound. “Well, you have spirit at least. That’s good, you’ll make a good show on the sands. And then, when I’ve taken your head, I’ll take her too.”
Shuddering, I shrank back behind Athazar. Falcar laughed again, turned, and stalked off. As he reached a door, he looked back and caught my eye.
“Don’t get yourself killed before I get to you, human,” he called back to me. “I’ll show you a better time than that scarred lump of meat can.”
With that he was gone, vanishing into the bowels of the arena. Ahead of me, Athazar trembled with rage and I rested a hand on the small of his back, trying to help him calm. I needed him focused, because I had no idea how the hell I was going to survive here without him.
Other doors opened and through one of them the portly figure of our new owner stepped inside, leaning on his staff, flanked by more guards. The other doors let in more aliens, dressed in simple green tunics or leather harnesses. They lined up silently, eyes lowered.
More slaves, I thought. Trapped here to fight or die, just like me. I looked at them and saw each of them sneaking glances at me. There were five of them, four male and one female. All of them looked tough, dangerous, and threatening.
One of the males leered at me, licking his lips suggestively, and I shuddered and looked away. Athazar glared at the gladiator and he looked away.
“Welcome to the Orbellium Arena,” the fat alien called to us, ignoring the silent exchange. “Come, warriors, sit. We have two new fighters amongst us — welcome them! You are now among the select few who will fight and die for the glory and entertainment of the Imperial Lords.”
That didn’t sound like much of a privilege to me, and the half-hearted cheer from the other slaves made it clear that they didn’t think much of it either. But it didn’t seem wise to argue with the man who held the controller to our agonizers. I moved forward and sat down, keeping as far from the gladiators as I could.
Athazar knelt close beside me, still vibrating with anger. It looked like he was having trouble keeping himself from killing someone, and I didn’t want to think about what would happen to us if he gave in to that urge. Not that there was anything I could do about it.
“I am Ceric Altham Prodrirs, Master of the Games and director of gladiators,” the fat alien continued. “While you are here, you should consider me your father, your confessor, and above all, your owner. You live and die at my command, and the only lasting reward you can hope for is to be remembered. If you want that honor, you will listen to my kind and fatherly advice.”
Yeah, right. The advice of a father who wants us to die for the glory of his bank account. I restrained myself from saying anything, but my thoughts must have shown on my face. Prodrirs stalked forward, pointing his staff at me.
“You doubt me, girl? That’s alright. You’ll see the light eventually. Or the sands will claim your blood and you’ll be forgotten. Yes, it’s a shit life that you’ve been dropped into, but you have to make the most of what you’re given. Do your best and you’ll be comfortable until you slip and die.”
“I will not fight.” Athazar said. He spoke with a firm conviction, but I thought there was something else under it. Not fear, surely? I couldn’t believe he was afraid, not this man who’d jumped headlong into a battle against six aliens to save me. But that was the only name I had for the emotion I felt from him.
Why am I feeling anything? I shook my head. It was probably all in my mind anyway — it wasn’t as though I knew him well enough to read his secret thoughts. I just seemed to know what was going on under the surface somehow.
“You will fight,” Prodrirs said, a slight, sad smile showing. “I told myself the same, when I was in your place, and I was as wrong as you are. Once you’re here in the pits, there is no other future for you. And a warrior such as yourself could make it all the way to champion with luck and the blessing of the Silent Empress.”
Athazar made no pretense of hiding his disgust at that. Folding his arms, he leaned back against the wall and gave the fight producer a glare. “If you think you can get me to fight for you, then you’re wrong. If you think you can get me to fight for the Empress, then you couldn’t be any wronger.”
Prodrirs sighed, and I wondered how sincere his concerned act was. “Before I became a stable manager, I was a champion myself. I’
ve seen other fighters come and go for three decades, warrior. They fight and die, and each one is different, but one thing is the same. We can always find a way to make them fight. Do yourself a favor: embrace that, and we’ll all benefit.”
He turned at that and marched away, leaving his threat barely unspoken, and a few of the others in the room inched away from us. It was obvious that Athazar hadn’t made any friends today.
As soon as Prodrirs had left, the group of slaves broke up. Two of them, alike enough to be twins, started talking quietly while shooting me glances. The others moved to the training equipment and started to practice. It was intimidating as hell to see them work, given that I was apparently supposed to fight them.
Might as well make a principled stand like Athazar, I thought. If I try and fight any of these people, they’ll kill me anyway.
Once the meeting was done, Athazar retreated into himself, staring at the training gladiators. He felt closed off, angry, and distant, and while I wanted to help him, I didn’t know how. What could I say? I’d gotten him into this, and now he was going to die for me.
Pointlessly, because I’d die too.
I sat against the wall, giving Athazar some space. Not too much, though. If someone tried to attack me, I didn’t want to be out of reach of his help. The other gladiators were shooting me looks and I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I didn’t have a protector.
Which would happen soon enough if Athazar wasn’t willing to fight. I tried not to think about that.
“Hey, new girl, you need to eat.” I jerked round at the voice, surprised that anyone had gotten close without me noticing. I’d tried to pay attention, but apparently, I’d lost track of the only other female gladiator.
She was surprisingly stealthy for her size. A green-skinned mountain of a woman, almost Athazar’s height, she towered over me. Not as broad-shouldered or as muscular as Athazar but still a lot more than me. In one hand she held a bowl of something, and in the other, a wooden sword that rested against her shoulder.
Perhaps her smile was supposed to be friendly, but the scar that cut across her face spoiled the effect.
“I’m not as frightening as all that,” she said, chuckling, and I realized I’d been staring at her without speaking. “Come on, new girl, we’ve got to stick together in here.”
I tried a smile and felt it come out wrong. More scared grimace than friendly grin. The big woman didn’t seem to mind, though, offering me the bowl again. Maybe she understood.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the bowl nervously and trying to breathe. “I’m not going to be much help to you, I’m afraid.”
She laughed at that. “That’s not the point. I look out for you, maybe another time you look out for another lost girl. If you live long enough, that is. No guarantees of that, not in this shit hole, but if we help each other we’ve more of a chance. Come, eat up. You need to build up your strength.”
The bowl was full of some kind of thick stew, and it smelled awful. But it was a change from the gruel that was all we’d been given to eat on the Dreams of Avarice, and I realized that I was starving.
It tasted about as good as it smelled, but I didn’t stop eating until the bowl was empty. The gladiator waited until I was done, and I looked up to see her smiling at me again.
“Thank you,” I said. Hoping it wasn’t a mistake, I decided to trust her at least a little bit. “I’m Emma.”
“Gennafera,” she said, clapping me on the shoulder. “And no need to thank me for the food. It may be crap, but they give us as much as we want — no one wants us starving when we’re meant to be fighting-fit.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I replied. “I’m kind of lost here, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, it shows.” Gennafera didn’t sound like she was judging, just telling the simple truth. “That’s why I came over to look after you. Better me than one of the assholes who’d try to take advantage, right? There aren’t many of us girls in here, and we can’t trust the guys.”
I nodded quickly. Intimidating as she was, I had to believe her. I needed someone who knew their way around here, and if it wasn’t her — well, it might be Falcar. That was a thought to make me shudder, remembering how he’d looked at me.
And while I knew that Athazar would kill him if he laid a finger on me, that wasn’t great if he still touched me. I did my best to ignore the thought and tried to figure out what questions to ask my new companion.
“How does this place work?” I asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve got no idea what’s going on.”
“’S okay,” Gennafera said, leaning against the wall and looking around in the direction of the door. She took a swig from a flask and then offered it to me. “I didn’t know either, not when I arrived. Most gladiators come from uncontacted worlds and don’t know anything about this place. I figure it’s because the nobles want to see variety. People from planets they’ve never seen before. It’s kind of weird to see a human in here.”
I frowned at that, taking a cautious sip from the flask. I didn’t know what I’d expected but ice water wasn’t it, and I almost choked it was so cold.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “People talk like humans are a big deal or something.”
“Oh, you are,” Gennafera said with a wry laugh. “You don’t know? The Silent Empire is a human nation, mostly, and they rule half the galaxy. The Empress herself is human, and so are all the princes and princesses that rule while she’s trapped in stasis. Your world, wherever it is, must be some backwater that lost contact thousands of years ago.”
I blinked quickly, trying to process that. “So humans are important out here?”
“Yeah,” she said, taking back the flask and drinking again. “I mean, not all of you obviously, but you’re protected if you’re Imperial citizens. Worse luck for you, that makes humans who aren’t citizens valuable for places like this — a lot of people love to see a human suffer.”
That made me shiver, remembering how the various aliens had looked at me during the auction. Yeah, it made sense. But it wasn’t fair — even if Imperial humans were assholes, why hate me because I was the same species?
Because hate isn’t rational, I reminded myself. People on Earth did the same thing, after all.
“What about the fights?” I asked, and the alien woman seemed relieved by the change of topic.
“Yeah, okay. There’s one or two every day, and other acts in the meantime. We don’t get to see those, and I’ve never heard of a gladiator having to fight more than once a day. Mostly we only fight once every week at most, gives us time to recover and train.
“There are four schools here, each with their own barracks. We’re the Green team, so usually we’re up against someone from the Reds, the Blues, or the Golds. Sometimes it’s outside challengers, and sometimes we have to fight each other — I think that’s Prodrirs’s way of making sure we don’t get too close. Hard to be a friend to someone you might have to gut tomorrow.”
She paused there. I drank again, slower and more carefully, washing the awful taste of the stew out of my mouth, and waited until Gennafera continued. There was a heaviness to her words, a distance. “We get flung in the arena. Sometimes to fight each other, sometimes to fight animals, sometimes other fighters from elsewhere. Maybe we’re in teams, maybe not. And if you put on a good show, maybe you get a reward. Somewhere comfortable to sleep, something tasty to eat.
“Mostly we don’t fight to the death. That’s for special occasions, or for assholes like Falcar. He kills most of the time, and if I ever get a chance, I’ll ram a spear through his eye.”
The weight increased, and I knew there was a story there. Not a happy one. I looked at the big woman and decided not to press her. Maybe if I knew her better. Or maybe I didn’t want to know.
“Is there anyone else I need to watch out for?” I asked nervously. She laughed and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing.
“Everyone, girl,” she said. “We’re all brutal fighters and we might d
ie tomorrow. Makes some of the guys insistent, and not in a good way. Armax, the one who was staring at you? He’s the worst of them but be careful around them all. Try not to get caught alone by anyone if you can help it, not till you have a rep for being able to fight.”
Like that’s going to happen. I knew myself well enough to be confident I was never going to be able to fight. At least not like the warriors practicing here. But that just meant I had more reason to listen to her warning.
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to sound too intimidated. I just wanted to run away and cry, but being alone down here wasn’t safe.
I didn’t know how long I’d last in this place, but I doubted it would be long, even with friends.
12
Athazar
Staring at the wall wasn’t helping. It never did.
That didn’t make me want to do anything else. This was like a nightmare, getting sucked back into the darkness I’d come from. The darkness I’d spent so long pulling myself out of.
The only thing that helped me get up was the thought that Emma needed me. I could feel her fear like a nagging ache in my soul, and I knew that I couldn’t just abandon her in here. I might not be willing to fight on the arena sands, but down here in the slave pits I would kill anyone who tried to take advantage of her.
Looking around, I saw her speaking with one of the gladiators. A female of a species I didn’t recognize, though I recognized her as a warrior straight away. The scars she bore showed that she knew how to take a hit and keep fighting, and her build was impressive.
The wary way she looked at me as I got to my feet was reassuring too. This wasn’t someone who would trust too easily. I relaxed, just a touch. Good. Emma will need friends like this once I’m dead.
I wouldn’t be able to put off my death long, not here. Years ago I’d made the choice to escape slavery or die trying, and I wasn’t going to get sucked back in.
“I am Athazar,” I told the warrior woman. “Emma is my mate.”
