by Raymond Cain
“What do we do?” Lycia asked.
Flynn shrugged, and walked past the first few rows of pews. The few remaining worshippers chanted quietly while two others were at the front of the church, speaking to the aged priest. As Flynn passed by the statue-heads of Gideon and Kylara, he considered telling the worshippers who Gideon really was, but he doubted the followers would believe him. Nor would they act against a dozen heavily-armed foes. Bringing attention would more likely result in Kylara’s identity being discovered than Gideon’s.
The followers paused their chanting and conversations to stare at the two groups marching conspicuously up the aisle. To Flynn’s surprise, Kylara rushed past him and stopped at the altar. Her hooded head bent down at the jewel and the old priest reached for the artifact but she pushed him aside, sending him to his knees on the cold stone floor.
Kylara picked up the fist-sized black gem from its perch on the altar, eliciting gasps from the worshippers and Theoric’s crew. At the sight of their precious jewel in the cloaked woman’s hands, the seated worshippers stood up from their pews with panicked looks on their faces. The followers hopped over pews and tried to push past Flynn and the others, their arms outstretched and reaching for their sacred artifact.
Kylara tossed the jewel in the air, nearly smashing it against the temple’s high ceiling. It flew in a wide arc toward Theoric and his crew and the followers ran after it, desperate to catch it before it smashed on the floor.
Flynn, Tasker, and Lycia stepped aside, allowing the worshippers to run past them. The mob slammed into Gideon and his pirate companions, entangling them in the aisle.
“Come on,” Kylara said, removing her staves and using one of them to smash the stained-glass window at the back of the temple. The image of King Mordakai’s face shattered into dozens of pieces. “We have to run.”
The four companions leapt through the shattered window and landed in the stone street behind the building. Glass crunched under Flynn’s boots and he nearly tripped over his cloak. A throng of azurans to the right forced the companions left toward the largest building in Deepstone. Theoric and his men tossed worshippers aside in pursuit.
Flynn reasoned the building was a gladiator arena. The structure was round, five stories high, and wider than the three largest buildings in Seahaven combined. Each level in the outer wall was an array of arches positioned side to side and reinforced with steel. Pathways within the outer wall were illuminated by crimsonite discs in the arched ceilings that painted the interior of the structure with red light. The building looked ominous, but with so many azurans on the streets, Flynn and the others had nowhere else to go.
A handful of laborers were hauling sacks filled with mewling, flailing creatures. They carried the sacks through a wide arch into the arena as Flynn and the others ran by them. The stench of blood, sweat, refuse, and unwashed bodies assaulted him as he studied his surroundings. To his left there were three large, broken animal cages and a crowd of men staring at them with perplexed looks on their faces. Flynn and the others ran to the right, with Theoric and his crew only a handful of steps behind.
“Here!” Flynn said, pausing at a sewer grate. He lifted one side of the grate and urged the others to jump inside. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Tasker, Kylara, and Lycia jumped down, splashing into the muck below.
“I’m sorry,” Flynn said, remaining behind and dropping the grate back in place.
“What are you doing?” Tasker yelled, his voice choked with desperation.
“This is the only way the three of you can escape,” Flynn said. He stood on the grate and stared defiantly at Theoric as the azuran pirates surrounded him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The pirates surrounded Flynn and Gideon remained a step behind, studying the surroundings. Theoric stepped through the circle of crewmen and stood in front of Flynn, smiling. He circled Flynn, removing his leather tricorn and running his fingers through his white hair. The man’s purple eyes twinkled as he walked.
“Sacrificing yourself for your friends?” Theoric asked, his eyes twinkling in anticipation. “How noble.”
Flynn shrugged. “Just got tired of running.”
Theoric used his jacket sleeve to wipe the dust off one of the three silver pins on his tricorn before putting the hat back on his head. “We’ll find them, you know.”
The circumstances could not be more dire for Flynn and he would have expected to be filled with fear, but he felt relieved instead. The best part about getting captured is no longer having anything to fear. “You’re boring me, Theoric. Any chance you could kill me with your sword instead of your words? Either way will do the job but the sword is less painful and I know how busy you are.”
Theoric and his crew laughed. The pirate’s laughter stopped suddenly and he punched Flynn in the stomach, crumpling him to the ground. “I like your bravado, Flynn. It’ll make me enjoy it more when you beg me to kill you.”
A large group of azurans marched into the area from two directions, each wearing black leather armor emblazoned with a picture of the arena on their chest.
One man, the fattest azuran Flynn had ever seen, marched imperiously toward Theoric’s group. He wore black silk clothes adorned with gold buttons, ruby cufflinks, and a pair of golden skulls on the collar. “What’s going on here?”
Unfazed by the man’s swagger, Theoric tipped his hat in salutation. “And who are you?”
The obese man’s nostrils flared and his chubby face reddened. “My name is Migorn Lovok, administrator for the arena, and you have no authority here.”
The pirates grabbed the hilts of their weapons but Theoric patted his hands downward in a calming gesture. “No need for hostilities,” he replied. “My name is Theoric. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’ve brought you many slaves over the years.”
Migorn mopped the sweat from his pudgy face with a silk handkerchief and nodded. “I know who you are, and the profits I’ve made off you are the only reason I haven’t killed you and your men outright. But I may still do so. What are you doing here?”
“Disposing of a human,” Theoric replied, smiling broadly. He gestured toward Flynn.
Migorn narrowed his gaze and examined Flynn the way a farmer examined livestock before purchasing it. “You’re just planning on killing it? Seems a bit of a waste.”
“He’s just a boy. Too weak to provide much sport in the arena, I’m afraid,” Theoric replied.
Flynn was angered by the reply but he said nothing. He looked around for a way to improve the situation and the broken animal cages gave him an idea. “If I’m so weak,” he said, glaring at Theoric. “Then why did you need to release the darkcats to flush me out?”
Flynn wasn’t sure if the broken cages were Theoric’s doing until the pirate’s eyes widened at the accusation.
“That’s a lie!” Theoric said, a slight tremor in his voice.
“It’s true!” one of the arena guards said. “I saw Theoric and his men here earlier today. And I overheard him when he entered the city. Said something about a manhunt.”
“A manhunt you say,” Migorn said, his gaze turning from the broken cages to Flynn, and then settling back on Theoric. “And you used my darkcats to do it. I just bought those from another dealer. They were intended for tonight’s entertainment.”
Theoric, appearing nervous for the first time during the conversation, removed his tricorn and mopped sweat from his brow. “Fine,” he said with palms out wide, conceding the point. “I will reimburse you for the darkcats. And for the broken locks on the cages.”
Migorn stroked his chubby neck and looked down, thoughtfully. He paced back and forth, staring at the floor as though pondering what to do next.
Memories of the visions Flynn received about Theoric when he was hunting the pirate down circled in his mind and he had a stroke of inspiration. “It’s a pity the darkcat battle will have to be cancelled tonight. They would have drawn a fine crowd,” he said, smirking at Theoric as he continue
d, “It’s too bad we don’t have a gladiator arena champion to take their place.”
Theoric looked incredulously at Flynn.
“Interesting that you should say that,” Migorn said, regarding Flynn curiously before turning back toward the pirate. “Theoric, weren’t you a slave that won your freedom by becoming a champion of the arena?”
Theoric’s face tightened and his fists clenched. “A lifetime ago.”
Migorn waved away the comment with a pudgy hand. “Don’t be modest, my good friend,” the man said pleasantly. “I’m sure you’re still as good as you ever were. You can repay your debt to me by competing as the main event tonight. You’re relatively well-known around here; I’m sure it will be a good showing.”
Flynn was beaming on the inside after the man’s proclamation, but the feeling quickly changed.
“And the human will fight with you,” Migorn added, staring hard at Flynn. “And just to make sure you two work well together, I’ve decided your two fates will be shared. You both survive, or you both die.”
Theoric’s men put their hands on their hilts and studied the arena guards surrounding them, likely weighing the odds of surviving the battle if they chose to fight their way out. The outcome of such a conflict would have been inevitable; Migorn’s guards outnumbered the pirates by nearly three to one. Flynn doubted the pirates would have been willing to face almost certain death to free their captain from his predicament, and Theoric must have known it.
“I accept your terms,” Theoric said through gritted teeth.
Migorn walked up to Flynn and a pair of guards parted to allow his wide frame through. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Flynn,” he replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. “Flynn Arcturus.”
“Well, Flynn Arcturus,” Migorn said, folding his arms. The sleeves of the man’s silk jacket slipped down to his elbows, revealing the meatiest forearms Flynn had ever seen. “If the two of you survive, then you are free to go back to wherever you came from.”
Flynn was rocked by the man’s decree. He desperately wanted to live but the thought of fighting to keep his parents’ murderer alive was unthinkable. After some reflection, he finally replied, “I understand.”
“Excellent,” Migorn said, gesturing for a handful of guards to join him. “These men will escort the two of you to your cell where you will wait until summoned. You may keep your weapons.”
Six guards took position behind and beside Flynn and Theoric. A seventh guard, a balding, middle-aged man with long white hair in the back tied into a ponytail, eyed them up and down. There were more scars on his face than unmarked skin and Flynn wondered if the man was a former competitor in the arena as well.
“I will ensure they fulfill their obligations,” the scarred man said.
Migorn clapped his hands together and nodded, ending the conversation. “As for you lot,” he continued, addressing Theoric’s men. “You may leave. But you are welcome to return in a few hours when the show begins. I’m sure you’ll all be interested to see how your captain does.”
Flynn guessed the pirates would be concerned more about Theoric’s fate than his performance. No one else could sail the Dragon and if Theoric died, the pirates would be trapped in Deepstone. The thought of them no longer being able to wreak havoc in the sea made Flynn smile. It warmed his heart to know that his death in the arena would accomplish so much good, and he considered whether he should bother defending himself when the time came.
The pirates were ushered out of the arena and the heavily-scarred guard led Flynn and Theoric through a network of tunnels. A ring of keys at his hip rattled as he walked, and he led them to a long hall flanked by caged rooms. One of the first cages contained a score of azuran gladiators in loincloths, wielding wooden swords and sparring against each other. The cage opposite the gladiators contained a pair of cave ogres tearing apart bovine creatures unlike any that Flynn had seen before. He winced at the sight of the creatures’ bones breaking and the crunching sound of their bodies getting chewed.
Before long, they arrived at an empty cell. The scarred azuran removed a key ring from his belt and unlocked the cell door. The guards behind them shoved them inside and slammed the door shut. A satisfied look passed across the face of the balding guard as he locked the door, and the seven azurans walked back the way they came.
The room was bigger than Flynn expected, and there were three wooden benches long enough to accommodate twenty men. He sat on one of the benches and idly regarded blood stains in the dirt and on the walls. The side of the room adjacent to the interior of the arena was dominated by two wood and metal gates, and the soil next to them was stained dark.
“That discoloration in the dirt would have been caused by fighters before battle, not after,” Theoric explained, apparently following Flynn’s gaze. “First-time fighters can get a little nervous. Perhaps you’ll add some of your own juices to the mix.”
Flynn snorted but did not reply—he wasn’t going to let Theoric’s taunts get to him. “It’s a pity you’re locked in here with me. Even in a city full of azurans, you and I ended up in the same predicament.”
“Hardly the same,” Theoric replied. “After the battle, I’ll walk out of here a free man. You don’t seriously think you will as well do you?”
“You make a compelling argument,” Flynn said, smiling. “If I’m going to die anyway, I might as well do it quickly so your life is forfeit as well. It seems fitting that you should die in the arena.”
“If you were really going to give up your life to end mine, you’d be attacking me right now.”
“I’m working up to it,” Flynn said, but the words weren’t true. As much as he hated to admit it, his desire to live outweighed his desire to kill Theoric. It was an easy decision to sacrifice himself for the sake of Tasker and his friends, but dying to bring Theoric down with him was a more difficult choice to make. Still, it couldn’t hurt to make the pirate think the opposite was true.
“I’m curious, Flynn,” Theoric said, sitting down on the wooden bench opposite Flynn. He did not show any concern about Flynn gripping his sword. “How is it you knew I fought in the arena?”
“I knew?” Flynn said, innocently. He wasn’t about to divulge the visions he had about Theoric’s life while hunting the pirate after their first encounter.
“Oh, come now, we’re brothers-in-arms. We’re bound to one another. There’s no need to lie.”
Flynn’s mouth went slack in disbelief. “Brothers?”
“Those who fight together are closer than brothers.”
Flynn gripped his sword tight enough to squeeze the blood from his knuckles. “You and I are many things, but brothers isn’t one of them. I’m fighting for myself.”
Theoric was within stabbing range but Flynn resisted the urge to do so. Sitting across from the azuran responsible for ruining his life and slaying hundreds of Seahaven’s citizens tore Flynn apart on the inside. He distracted himself by focusing on the sword at his hip, and the crimsonite crystal in his hilt. He silently berated himself for his greed—if it wasn’t for his selfish desire to get a crystal he could bond to, the lives of himself and his friends would not be in danger.
“Your words wound me, Flynn,” Theoric said, a mocking, pained look on his face. “Just because I carry the joy of killing your parents, it doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.”
Any reservations Flynn had about killing Theoric were gone. The instant he began unsheathing the wide-bladed rapier, Theoric was upon him. The pirate placed one hand on Flynn’s sword hand, preventing him from clearing the weapon from its scabbard, and used his other hand to punch Flynn in the face.
On his back with his nose bloodied, Flynn rolled to his feet and leapt at Theoric. He tackled the pirate to the ground and scrambled to get on top. They rolled about, raining punches on each other and knocking over benches. After a few minutes, they separated, battered and bruised. Flynn put one of the fallen benches back on its legs and sat on it, b
reathing heavily.
Theoric wiped dirt off his leather jacket and adjusted his swordbelt. The man had a bloody lip but appeared to be otherwise unhurt. “Did you get that out of your system?”
“What?”
“Your anger. Is it out of your system? Because it distracts you. And in the arena, distraction means death. I’m worried about what they’ll throw at us, but I’m more worried about them killing me because you’re too angry to focus on the battle and you end up getting killed because of it.”
Another surge of rage bubbled through Flynn’s veins. “You infuriated me on purpose?”
“You needed it.”
Flynn considered tackling the pirate again but decided against it. He needed to conserve his energy and a part of him knew Theoric was right. Flynn’s hatred for the man consumed him and the fistfight alleviated some of the emotion that could have distracted him in the arena.
Theoric picked up one of the other wood benches and took a seat. The two of them sat in silence for hours, patiently waiting for the battles to begin. In time, the murmur of a crowd rumbled above and a tremor vibrated through the floor.
“Forty thousand people,” Theoric said. “That’s about how many people are taking their seats right now.”
Flynn let out a deep breath. Forty thousand? That was nearly double Seahaven’s population. His people would be in a lot of trouble if the azurans ever found a way to enter Seahaven.
The murmurs grew and shouts rang through the crowd. After many minutes, the sound of steel against steel was barely heard amidst the cheering masses and Flynn considered getting up from the bench and watching through the gates. After a few minutes, the commotion lessened and he reasoned the dead were being dragged away and new combatants were taking the field. Minutes later, the noise started up anew.
“Preliminary bouts,” Theoric mentioned. “Probably involving gladiators, orcs, or salari. They’ll save the interesting creatures for us.”
