by Leslie Chase
He kissed my shoulder, a tender and gentle touch. “It could be worse.”
“How?” I laughed. Somehow, here and now, I could ignore our oncoming doom.
He shrugged, a hand reaching around me and pulling me close. “We could have waited until the morning. Then I’d never have gotten to know this bliss.”
My breath caught as I felt his powerful body against mine again, and I found myself chewing on my lower lip. God he was an amazing lover, good enough to distract me from the doom that was coming with the sunrise.
Don’t think about that now, don’t spoil the moment. It was easier to tell myself that than do it, but I tried to distract myself by exploring Athazar. We were both sated, at least for the moment, and I could admire his amazing body without getting too distracted by it to think.
And he was incredible. Thick, powerful muscles that put any human I’d ever met to shame, claws that he could use so delicately or so brutally. And then there was his amazing cock. My hand brushed over it, exploring, and I yelped as it hummed under my hand.
Athazar gave me a mischievous grin and I felt myself blush.
“Humans’ don’t do that,” I said, stifling a giggle.
“I know,” Athazar replied, smugly enough that I hit him in the shoulder. He just grinned wider, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.
“God, you’re something else,” I told him, kissing him on the lips. The afterglow was fading, and I knew that soon we’d have to face reality again. The pressure of what was coming loomed over us, breaking through the warm fuzziness our lovemaking had wrapped me in.
“Emma, you are amazing,” Athazar said, seriously and sincerely. “I am glad I found you.”
“How can you say that?” I asked, sitting up and looking at him. “If we hadn’t met, you wouldn’t be in this mess. You wouldn’t be about to die!”
He laughed. “I don’t care about that. My only regret here is that I didn’t save you first. When I signed up for this duty, I knew I was risking my life.”
“You might be okay with losing your life,” I said, resting a hand on his scarred chest and feeling the powerful thump-thump of his heartbeat. “I’m not so comfortable with that. I’ve only just found you, and I’m getting you killed.”
“No.” Athazar’s voice was fierce, serious. “Emma, my mate, do not blame yourself for any of this. You didn’t choose to get abducted from your homeworld, and you didn’t force me into this arena either. The only blame belongs to the people who did — save your anger for them and spare yourself.”
He sat up, pulled me close into his powerful arms and held me tight. In his embrace it was easy to forget the danger we were in, the fate that awaited him in the morning. Resting my head against his chest, I tried to live in the moment and savor the happiness we had.
It wouldn’t last long, so I didn’t want to miss a second.
14
Athazar
The next day came all too quickly. Harsh trumpeting from the announcement system announced that it was time to prepare for the first fight of the day.
In my case, it would also be the last fight of my life.
Emma and I separated reluctantly, picking up our clothes and moving as slowly as we dared. I wasn’t afraid of any punishment for myself — what would Prodrirs do, kill me twice? — but Emma would be vulnerable if she wasn’t careful.
Her clothes were ruined, as it turned out. I watched with some interest as she tried to get them on, but in my passion, I’d torn them too badly. Those items that still functioned at all were ripped in enough places that they did nothing to conceal her body.
“I think it’s a good look,” I said. Emma blushed, making a gesture I didn’t know with her middle finger.
“Of course you like it,” she said, pulling her torn top off and throwing it at me. “And if it was just you who’d see me, maybe I’d even wear it. But not in front of Prodrirs and the rest, no way! Fetch me a tunic or something, would you?”
“Anything for you, my mate,” I said with an overly elaborate bow, backing away to the door and keeping my eyes on her for as long as possible. Her flustered blush was a delight to see.
It was strangely liberating, knowing that today was the end. Not having to worry about tomorrow, about how I was going to live or what I was going to do, let me savor the delights the universe offered me. And a half-naked Emma was certainly a sight to savor.
The arena’s automaker provided plenty of simple clothing for us and getting something for her took no time at all. The tunic wasn’t as deliciously appealing as her torn clothes, but I had to admit it was more suitable to wearing in company.
Then it was time to face the music.
We arrived in the central training area, amongst the last to arrive. As usual, Prodrirs was watching with a gentle impatience, like a father concerned about his tardy children. Armax was the last in, moments after Emma and me. Good, one less thing Emma could get in trouble for.
Prodrirs gave him a look of disappointment and shook his head. Armax glared at me as though it was my fault he was late, but said nothing.
“Now that you’ve finally all decided to grace us with your presence,” Prodrirs said, “we can get on with the business of the day.”
It was like every other morning. A few bits of news, some advice on how to make the fights showier for the crowds. I tuned it all out as irrelevant to my life, focusing my attention on the human woman beside me. Emma’s hand gripped mine with a surprising strength, as though she thought she could stop them from tearing me away from her.
I wished she could.
“… and now for the bit you’ve been waiting for,” Prodrirs said at last. “Today’s fights. We have two shows, and I’m sure that you’ll all give your best. Remember, it’s important to impress the crowd if you want to live to see the next fight.”
That was his advice every time. To be fair, he wasn’t wrong — the crowd would vote on life or death for a fallen gladiator. Someone who’d given a good show was more likely to get a reprieve than not.
It didn’t matter to me, though. I wasn’t going to give any kind of show at all.
Once Prodrirs had finished his speech, one of his guards came forward to fetch me. For a moment I thought Emma wasn’t going to let go of my hand, but her fingers slipped reluctantly from mine.
I didn’t look back as they led me away. I couldn’t bear to see the expression on my beloved’s face as I went to my death.
The doors slid open and I strode out onto the arena sands. The bright purple sky hung overhead, beautiful and inviting. A great day for a show, I thought, almost smiling. There’d be plenty of people in the audience to be disappointed by the lack of a fight.
A roar from the stands greeted me. There were thousands of people there, crowding forward for a look at me. Nothing stood between the audience and the fighters aside from a forcefield — the viewers at the front of the stands would be close enough to smell the blood.
I looked around at them, eyes narrowing with disgust. Those who came to cheer as slaves fought and died for them got no sympathy from me. If it hadn’t been for the forcefield I’d have been tempted to show them what a fight looked like up close.
See how you like it when your own lives are at stake, I thought. But they were safe behind an invisible wall of energy, peering at me intently.
A new fighter was an exciting novelty. Right now money would be changing hands, bets being made on whether I’d live up to my appearance or whether I’d die in my first fight.
Mordantly I wondered if anyone would bet on me not even trying to fight. If someone made that gamble, they’d be rich by the end of the day.
Camera drones flitted around me, and a gigantic display showed me off to the crowd. Prodrirs didn’t want any of his paying customers to feel left out and even those at the back would get to see me clearly. The VIP boxes that floated above the arena moved in for a closer look, letting the richest people here show themselves off to the crowd as well as watch the fight. O
ne came close enough that I could have reached it with a thrown weapon, but a shimmering forcefield protected the people inside.
I thought I recognized the Imperial nobles who’d visited the slave pits, gawking at me. I gave them an ironic salute with my sword.
Why did I even pick this up? It had been more habit than anything else — offered a weapon, I’d taken it. Well, that didn’t mean I had to use it.
Across the arena, another door opened, and the crowd’s attention shifted as another gladiator stepped out. Armax, waving a huge club above his head. I grimaced at that. Not the best weapon to die under, but so it went.
Did Prodrirs think that sending out a gladiator I knew and didn’t like would provoke me to fight? If so, he was wrong.
Another door opened next to Armax, and I frowned. Two on one? What was Prodrirs playing at? Perhaps he intended this to be a free-for-all. That would at least give his audience a fight for their money.
The gladiator who stepped out was from one of the other barracks, a Red. I’d had no chance to meet any of them, but I recognized his species easily. A cochodren warrior, all tough leathery skin and biting teeth, the spear he carried seemed almost an afterthought. His deep bellow of a roar drove the crowd wild, and the holographic image of him that floated above the sands was surrounded by statistics of past victories.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and other dignitaries,” Prodrirs’s voice echoed over the crowd and they fell silent. “Today, we have a spectacle for you to enjoy. Not just Armax the Swift. Not just the return of Tabarn the Destroyer—”
He had to pause as the cochodren waved his spear in the air again, and the crowd gave him a wild cheer.
“No, not just those, but a new warrior graces the sacred sands today. Athazar, an agent of the Anti-Slavery Patrol, is here to fight for your amusement.” Another cheer, this one with more than a few jeers mixed in. That figured. No one who enjoyed watching slaves fight to the death would be fond of the ASP.
I waved ironically and then threw my sword away as hard as I could. It thudded into the sand and I dropped down to sit cross-legged.
A murmur ran through the crowd at that, disappointment and anger. I grinned, hoping the cameras caught it. Hoping that the crowd could see just how much contempt I had for them.
“He thinks he will not fight for you,” Prodrirs continued, his voice echoing. “But we know better, don’t we? I have never yet disappointed you, and today will not be the first time.”
Behind me, another door slid open in the arena wall. And out of it stumbled Emma. My heart froze.
She wasn’t ready for a fight, and Prodrirs knew it. He never wasted a slave like this. She should have been safe for weeks, months, while he prepared her for the arena. But no, here she was. Someone had buckled her into light armor that was more for show than defense, accentuating her figure while doing little to protect it. In one hand she held a small shield, in the other a hooked sword that she clearly had no idea how to use.
Her eyes wide, terrified, she looked up at the crowd. Her face, amplified, shone above the arena, and everyone could see her fear. Her helplessness.
The laughter that followed made my blood boil. If only the crowd had a single throat, I’d have torn it out with my teeth.
A horn blared the signal for the fight to begin, and Tabarn jogged towards us, his spear held casually low. Armax hung back, and I could see the fear in his eyes. He didn’t want to fight me, but I knew what his choice would be. If he had to kill us to live, that’s what he’d do.
Emma backed away, raising her shield with a shaking hand. The future unfolded in front of me — Tabarn would kill her as easily as swatting a fly. She had no training with her weapons, and he was an expert gladiator. There was no contest.
Not unless I made it one.
Damn you, Prodrirs. I jumped up to my feet, stepping into Tabarn’s path. Suddenly I wished I hadn’t thrown the sword quite so far away. The big cochodren paused and grinned, refocusing on me.
“Stay back, Emma,” I said urgently, keeping my eyes on the approaching warrior. “I will keep you safe, just stay out of their way.”
“Athazar.” Emma’s voice was tiny, afraid and uncertain. “Athazar, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said, fierce anger in my voice. None of it was directed at her. “Not your fault Prodrirs is a devious asshole.”
Tabarn advanced more cautiously now that he was facing me rather than a helpless human female. That gave me a chance to analyze him, to see what I could learn from his movements.
In his prime he would have been a terror to face. Huge, he stood a head taller than me and bulky with muscles. His hide looked tough enough to turn a knife. But he was slower than he’d once been, I thought, and cautious with it.
That might be a good thing, but I wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t make rash mistakes, but it gave me a chance to get his measure. If he’d rushed me, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to cope.
The crowd fell silent, watching as we circled. I couldn’t afford to keep my attention solely on Tabarn, though. Armax was also there, also a threat, though not as big a one. Still, he’d take a kill if he could, and that meant I couldn’t afford to let him get behind me — or near Emma.
My lips tightened as I realized Tabarn’s reason for hanging back. He hadn’t gotten to be a champion by being stupid, after all. If Armax threatened Emma, I’d have to respond, and that would give him an opening.
We’ll see about that, I thought, and charged.
It was a stupid tactic, so stupid it had the element of surprise. No one sane would rush a spearman head-on like this, and it took Tabarn a moment to react. The point of his spear came up to thrust at my belly and I dropped under it, skidding past the tip.
The crowd gasped in unison as I kicked Tabarn’s ankle. The impact felt like I’d kicked a statue rather than a man, but he roared in pain, turning the spear to stab down at me. Trying to pin me to the sand like an insect in a collection.
And he was fast. I barely rolled aside, his jabs kicking up sand as he followed. I’d gotten in the first blow, but now I was in trouble if I couldn’t get back to my feet.
Grabbing a handful of sand, I threw it at Tabarn’s face. It was an old trick, not one that a champion would fall for, and his hand came up to shield his eyes. That still bought me just enough time to scramble up.
“You can’t win,” he hissed. “Going to take that pretty human and break her when I’m done with you. Crowd loves that.”
Oddly, that made me feel a bit better about the situation. If he’d been a decent man trapped into this fight like the other slaves, I’d feel bad about killing him. But no: he’d threatened my mate, and that ended my sympathy for him.
My reckless maneuver had done what I needed it to, gotten me past Tabarn and near my sword. The only problem was Armax, who’d taken up a position between me and the discarded blade. His nasty little smile covered his fear, but he didn’t have to beat me. All he needed to do was keep me from my sword while Tabarn caught me.
He swung his club in a whistling arc above his head, showing off for the crowd. The club’s head gleamed in the sunlight, an irregular lump of dark metal. Not an elegant weapon, but one made to hurt an enemy. More for injuring than killing, I thought.
Fine. I can take a little pain. Jumping forward, I swung my left hand up to catch the club. The impact shook me, the horrible crunch of breaking bones echoed, and behind me I heard Emma gasp.
But the club stopped. Agony shot through me, a familiar feeling I’d long ago learned how to handle, and I snapped a punch into Armax’s face as hard as I could.
His reflexive dodge was a fraction of a second too slow in coming, and I felt his nose crumple under my fist. A small repayment for my own broken hand, but he had less experience with pain. Staggering back, he clutched at his nose, and I tore the weapon from his grip.
To his credit, he didn’t run. Instead, he charged in, trying to get back to his weapon. I had to duck back, dodging lightning-fast pun
ches as I tried to get my balance. One-handed, I was at a disadvantage, and the pain was wrecking my concentration. Armax was right, this was his best chance to beat me.
One step, two steps, three, I backed away. Trying to keep him at bay, watching for Tabarn’s approach. Trapped between the two of them. Armax’s hungry grin showed his confidence, his certainty that he would be victorious. Face bloody from his broken nose, he sneered at me as he pressed me back.
Something whistled through the air and struck him in the back of the head. Emma’s shield hit with a jarring thump, staggering him and putting him off balance just long enough for me to get a solid kick in before he recovered. His knee crumpled, and he fell, howling in agony. I took a second to look up at Emma, seeing her panting with fear and exertion, eyes wild. Her hook-sword shook in her hand. But somehow, despite her panic, she’d found the strength to come to my aid.
The sands shook as Tabarn charged, and I abandoned my plan to reach the sword. No time. He’d be on me before I could lift it.
That left me with the club. Spinning, I swept it around in an arc that slapped Tabarn’s spearhead aside, deflecting the deadly thrust. It didn’t stop his charge, though. Running straight into me, he knocked me flying, and I tumbled across the sands, every movement sending waves of pain through my broken fingers.
The spear flashed in the sunlight, a thrust aimed straight at my throat before I could rise again. I blocked, desperate, and managed to deflect it enough to save my life if not my hide. The razor-sharp metal sliced through my shoulder, and pain followed.
I’ve got to close the distance, I thought as I rolled aside. Tabarn had longer reach than me, and the spear only made that worse. The club helped, but as long as he controlled the distance between us, I couldn’t win this fight.
And with a broken hand and bleeding shoulder, time wasn’t on my side. I would weaken and tire faster than he would, even if Armax never returned to the fight. If he did, and I had to fight two-on-one? It would be over quickly.
