by Morgan Rice
Ario held the dagger to Fitus’s throat.
“You killed our friends,” Godfrey said.
Fitus, terror in his eyes, began to quiver.
“I did what I had to do,” he said. “Your friends were slaves—they were worthless anyway.”
Ario looked at Godfrey, who nodded back his approval, and in one quick motion he sliced the man’s throat.
“None of us are worthless,” Ario said.
Fitus gasped, eyes bulging wide, then finally he lay still, dead, his blood staining the sheets—and Godfrey took the dagger and plunged it into his heart.
“That was for Darius,” Godfrey said.
Godfrey heard the distant shout of a guard, and he turned to the others.
“Let’s go!” he said. “Now!”
As one, they all burst out of the room and ran back down the hall, almost reaching the staircase when Merek stopped and yelled: “Wait!”
He stood there and looked back down the hall, toward the room with the jewels.
“We’re going to need to buy our way out of here,” he said.
They all had that look in their eyes, a look of greed, and none of them could resist. Vengeance was done—now it was time for loot. Godfrey, too, could not resist.
They all turned back and each of them stuffed their shirts and pockets with as many jewels as they could carry. Godfrey got a sapphire and ruby bracelet, a golden pen, a sack of gold coins, and a handful of diamond necklaces. He grabbed more and more, feeling more and more weighted down, and realizing that this would be enough wealth to bankroll his own army. To take vengeance. To do anything he wanted.
When they all had their fill, they turned around and prepared to go—only to find that their exit was blocked.
A dozen Finian soldiers stood at the door, and before them there stood a single Finian woman, with bright red hair and piercing white eyes, calmly watching them all. She stared at them, an amused smile on her face. Godfrey wondered how long she’d been there.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Darius walked into the arena and was met by the thunderous applause of the Empire citizens, insatiable to watch more death. He walked awkwardly, chained to his three brothers Desmond, Raj, and Luzi—and several other gladiators—and he felt the absence of Kaz. The arena thundered louder, if possible, than the day before, and Darius, though drained from the battles, remained as awestruck as he was the first he saw it. The light was so bright here, bouncing off the bright dirt floor, and as waves of heat hit him, this place reeked with the body odor of thousands of Empire citizens sweltering beneath the suns. Marching in here was like entering a home of death.
Darius, aching from his bruises, covered in scrapes and cuts, stretched his hands, opening and closing his fists on the swords they had given them, and wondered how he would be able to fight on this day. The short swords were dull, not sharp enough to sever his shackles. They had been given swords at least, not clubs, and that boded well—or then again, perhaps it did not.
Darius had been told that the second day of matches was more intense than the first, and he did not know how that was possible; the day before, it had taken him all his skills just to survive. He had a sinking feeling that their chances of surviving on this day were bleak indeed. Still, Darius did not fear death. What he feared was dying ignobly.
Darius felt a tug at his ankles and he stumbled to the side, losing his balance. He looked down and cursed his shackles, the fear of the other boys yanking on them, all of them swaying back and forth, left to right, as they marched deeper inside. Nearby he spotted Drok, glaring back at him through his narrows eyes, his face wearing as mean an expression as ever. His eyes were cold and hard, and Darius saw in them an intense desire to kill him. He wondered if he had made a mistake in showing him mercy and keeping him alive.
“What do you think they’ll have in store for us today?” Luzi asked, standing beside him, switching the sword between hands nervously as he scanned the arena walls.
“It can’t be worse than yesterday,” Desmond said, chained behind him.
“Oh, yes it can,” Raj said, standing beside him.
Darius was having these very same thoughts himself. He turned and surveyed the arena walls, battered from years of fighting, and as he did, a horn sounded and the main door opened. Out came Morg, and the crowd roared like crazy as he stepped forward and raised his palms, soaking in their applause like a cheap circus performer.
Finally, he reached the center of the arena, and, turning in all directions, savoring the attention, lowered his hands. The crowd quieted.
“Citizens of the Empire!” he boomed. “I present to you today the survivors of the yesterday’s match! These brave boys who have proved their worth—and who now must prove it again!”
Another roar arose from the crowd, as Morg waited for them to settle down.
“Today, there shall be only three survivors—or none at all. No more than three boys shall be allowed to live. Whether they are killed by us, or by each other, we don’t care!”
The crowd cheered, and with that, Morg turned and ceremoniously strutted out of the arena, the great iron doors slamming behind him as he did.
Suddenly there came the sound of trumpets, and the crowd went wild.
Darius, on edge, prepared for anything, could feel his heart slamming in his chest.
“Whatever they throw at us,” he urged his friends, “stick together.”
Iron cells opened, this time, from all sides of the arena, and charging from them were two dozen Empire warriors, dressed in an all-black armor from head to toe, wearing menacing helmets and carrying huge shields. As Darius examined the shields, he could see them spinning, and could see their edges were lined with small spikes. They outnumbered Darius and the others two to one, and they charged from every direction, enclosing them in a circle.
Outnumbered, chained together and armed only with these short swords, Darius knew their odds were bleak indeed.
“CLOSE TOGETHER!” Darius shouted.
This time, the other boys listened to Darius, and Darius felt his chains slacken, giving him more room to maneuver, as the boys crowded closer together—all save Drok, who stuck to himself, alone at the end of the chain.
“We must choose one man and strike as one!” Darius yelled out. “Twelve of us cannot kill twenty-four of them—but twelve of us can kill one of them! And all we need do is kill one at a time! Back to back!”
They all backed up until their backs were touching in a tight circle, Darius’s back touching the sweaty muscular back of another boy.
Darius stood there, as the soldiers neared, charging them, raising great clouds of dust, and he waited. He knew that discipline was the key: if they all stayed disciplined, then they would have a chance.
The crowd cheered in anticipation as the soldiers got closer and closer. Darius looked down and judged the length of the chain, and he waited, and waited. He could feel the chains tugging at his feet, and as the other boys got nervous, he prayed that they obeyed his commands.
“WAIT FOR IT!” Darius yelled.
The soldiers came closer, fifty feet away, then forty, then thirty….
“WAIT!”
Suddenly, one of the boys got scared and darted from the group; Darius felt his chains begin to yank, but then saw Desmond step forward and stomp on the boy’s chain, preventing him from fleeing.
An Empire soldier, but ten feet away, threw his shield, and it spun, spikes rotating, and a moment later it severed the errant boy’s head.
The crowd cheered, and Darius feared the other boys would try to run, too; but to his surprise, they stayed put, waiting, as he’d commanded.
Darius waited until the soldiers came even closer, his heart slamming in his chest.
“NOW!” Darius yelled.
All the boys suddenly ran together as one, lowering their shoulders, following Darius and moving as one unit. They all took aim and pounced on one soldier, the close
st one, before Darius, all stabbing and slashing him, piercing his armor until he slumped to the ground, dead.
“Luzi, grab his shield,” Darius commanded. “Raj—his sword! Cut us free!”
Raj dove to the dirt and grabbed the heavy sword, made of strong steel, and wheeled and severed the chain, freeing them from the boy whose head was decapitated. There was no time, though, for him to sever any more chains, as the rest of the soldiers were upon them.
Luzi handed Darius the shield, and Darius immediately threw it, its blades spinning, and it whizzed through the air and cut off the arm of a soldier, just as he raised it to throw an ax their way. The soldier dropped to his knees, and the crowd cheered.
The soldiers, though, came upon them fast—too fast. Darius swung his sword at the soldier bearing down on him, but his spinning shield was like lightning, and its blades caught Darius’s sword and yanked it from his grip, sending it flying and leaving him weaponless. The knight then swung back and smashed Darius in the face with his shield, sending him stumbling backwards and landing on the ground.
Darius grabbed his sword, lying on the ground beside him, and rolled out of the way just as the spiked end of a shield came down for his face. The spikes lodged the shield in the dirt, and as the soldier tried to free it, Darius took advantage, swinging around and chopping off the soldier’s head.
The crowd roared.
Beside him Raj ducked, as a soldier swung a flail for his head. Raj lunged forward and stabbed his sword through the soldier’s foot, pinning him to the ground. He was left exposed by the move, though, and another soldier rushed forward to stab him in the ribs. Darius, yanked back on his shackles, could not get there in time.
Darius watched as Luzi rushed forward, jumping in the way of the blow to save Raj—and as he did, to Darius’s shock, he was stabbed through the heart.
Luzi groaned and collapsed onto the ground, dead, and the crowd cheered.
Darius was so stunned he could barely breathe. But there was no time to reflect. The soldiers kept coming, and he had to keep fighting, or else share the same fate.
Darius reached over and grabbed the shield and wrested it from the exposed soldier’s hand, then spun it and swung it around, severing the soldier’s stomach. He then swung around behind him and embedded the spikes into the side of another soldier’s face, killing him.
The crowd roared as the two soldiers fell.
Darius had a clean blow on a soldier, and he lunged forward, about to kill another one—when suddenly his chains yanked him backwards. Annoyed, he looked back to see two of the other boys rushing in the opposite direction. Two soldiers came up and took advantage of the mayhem, the lack of organization, and used the edge of their shields to kill them on the spot.
The rest of the soldiers closed in, and the fighting became gruesome and bloody and hand-to-hand; shouts rose up, as Darius watched the number of boys dwindle. Soon there remained but seven of them standing—and a handful of soldiers.
Darius led the way, and the boys stripped the dead soldiers of their superior arms and shields, and used them against them. This time they listened to Darius, and huddled together and fought as one, moving in the same direction. One at a time, they began to fell soldiers.
Darius was just starting to feel optimistic, when suddenly he heard a shriek rise up, and turned to see Drok raise his sword and drive it through the back of one of the other boys. Drok then wheeled and cut off the head of another boy. As Darius watched, he grabbed Desmond from behind, put the sword at his throat, and pulled him back. Darius knew that in moments he would be dead—no one had expected an attack from within.
Darius wasted no time: he turned from the Empire soldiers, raced across the field, praying that his chains would give him enough slack, and leapt for Drok’s back. He was just a foot away from grabbing him, when suddenly his chains were yanked back by one of the other boys fighting a soldier. Just out of reach, Darius went flying back.
It was too late: Darius watched, horrified, as Desmond’s throat was cut from behind by Drok. Drok smiled back, looking right at Darius as he did it, victorious.
Darius felt as if his own throat had been cut; at that moment, he blamed himself, and he hated himself for keeping Drok alive, and for letting his friend die. Desmond, his closest friend, dead.
“NO!” Darius shrieked.
Darius, still out of reach, still confined by his chains, could not reach the boy—instead, he turned and vented his anger on the Empire soldiers. He charged and went blow for blow, sword to sword, fighting like a man possessed, finding his openings, dodging their deadly shields, and felling the final three soldiers.
The crowd roared.
Darius, breathing hard, looked about and saw but four other boys remained: Raj, Drok, and two other boys, fierce fighters he didn’t know. He wondered if the match was over, as there came a lull in the fighting. Morg had announced that this day’s match was over if they killed them all or if only three of them remained. But there remained five. Did that mean the match was over? Were more soldiers coming for them?
More than anything, Darius wanted to kill Drok. He took one of the dead soldiers’ sword and severed the chain, freeing himself so he could lunge for Drok. Now, he was chained only to Raj. Darius was about to lunge for him, when suddenly, horns sounded.
There came a roar, louder than before, and as a new hidden door was opened in the side of the arena, there came charging toward them something that made Darius’s heart stop: three immense Razifs, ferocious animals with flaming red hides, horns and long claws, came barreling right for them. They lowered their horns and charged with fury, egged on by the crowd.
Darius did not know how they could possibly survive this newest challenge. He felt overcome with fear, but forced himself to control it, to rise above it.
And suddenly, he had an idea.
“Stay close!” Darius said to Raj. “Wait for my word! Then run the other way and hold out your chain!”
Darius knew Raj trusted him, and they both held their ground, waiting until the last moment, letting the Razif that led the pack get closer.
Finally, at the last moment, Darius yelled: “NOW!”
Darius and Raj ran in opposite ways, and as they did, their chain tightened, and Darius held on for dear life.
The Razif ran right into it, and the impact sent Darius flying backwards. But Raj held on, too, and the chain wrapped around its legs, and the Razif stumbled and went flying face first into the dirt.
The crowd cheered.
Darius and Raj, thinking the same thing, each jumped onto the Razif’s back and wrapped their chains around its neck. They held on, choking it as it bucked wildly, until finally it stopped moving.
They had barely finished killing it when another Razif was charging down for them; this time, there was no time to react.
Darius and Raj rolled out of the way, but the Razif lowered its horn and entangled it on their chain, and they both found themselves flying through the air, each on one side of the Razif, dangling roughly as it galloped through the arena, the crowd cheering. The Razif finally became enraged and spun its head and threw them.
Darius went tumbling, head over heel, chained to Raj, each tumble feeling as if it were breaking his ribs.
Finally, they gained their feet, just as the Razif circled and charged for them again.
“Get closer!” Darius yelled to Raj.
They stood side by side, then at the last second, they each jumped together, out of the way.
The Razif tore past them, as the crowd oohed from the close call.
“FOLLOW!” Darius yelled.
Darius broke off into a sprint after it, and Raj followed as Darius caught up to it, as it slowed and prepared to circle, and leapt up onto its back. Raj quickly leapt onto it, too.
The crowd cheered as the Razif bucked wildly, trying to get them off.
But Darius would not let go, and finally, he commandeered it and as he grabbed its neck and dugs his bare heels into its leather-
like skin, he forced it to obey his will. He directed it toward the other Razif, which was charging for the remaining three boys.
Darius’s Razif lowered its horn as it bore down on the other Razif, and it gored it in its midsection. The crowd went wild as it drove it down to the ground, killing it right before it could kill the other boys.
The impact sent Darius and Raj flying off it, falling to the ground, and as Darius rolled to his feet, he was suddenly met by Drok, who kicked him in the face. Darius fell on his back, and Drok landed on top, choking him, trying to kill them.
Darius kneed him between the legs, and as Drok loosened his grasp, Darius swung around and elbowed him across the face, knocking him off.
Darius watched as one of the other boys charged for Drok, sword raised, wanting to give him what he deserved as he lowered his sword for his back. But Drok, sensing it, turned at the last second and blocked the sword with his chain. The boy was shocked as Drok wrested the sword from his hands, then used it to kill him.
The crowd cheered. That left four of them.
The Razif, still alive, turned and bore down on them, and Darius could not react in time. He saw its horn looming, about to kill him.
As he braced himself for death, Raj lunged forward and pushed Darius out of the way. He saved Darius, but found himself in the beast’s path, and its horn cut through his flesh, giving him an awful wound along his side, as he shrieked out in pain, covered in blood.
Darius, horrified, turned and pounced on the back of the animal. It bucked wildly, as Darius raised his sword, and he could not get it to steady. It set its sights on the fourth boy, and as he ran gored it through the back.
The crowd cheered wildly.
Darius finally got a hold of his sword, and brought it down with both hands, decapitating the Razif.
It dropped to its knees, blood pouring out, dead, and Darius dropped to the ground beside it.
Darius knelt there as the crowd was whipped into a frenzy and horns sounded. The Razifs were all dead. Only three of them remained.
