Bloodfall Arena

by J. A. Ludwig

  As a large foot stomps the ground nearby, Aya spies Kylii dashing between the thick legs. He throws up a wall of fire whenever the giant’s hands get too close. The giant cringes from the burning light and tries to step on Kylii.

  Yme takes Aya clear of the fight. “Stay here. Kylii and I will take care of this.”

  “Where’s Daniil?”

  Yme shakes his head.

  The giant growls and kicks. Kylii is too fast and dodges the attempts to crush him. The giant’s tattered and filthy pants burst into flames, bringing screams from the wearer, who smashes into the nearby Arena walls to smother the flames. The murder of audience members continues to grow.

  The healers scramble to move the wounded away from the battle, but there are too many bodies for five people. “If he keeps going, he’s going to crush the injured,” Aya says.

  “Stay here.” She starts to argue, but he barks, “Just this once, do as I say.”

  Aya nods. “I need to do some healing on myself before I go anywhere.”

  Yme sprints across the Arena. He joins Kylii in steering the giant away from the wounded. Aya slumps to the ground, stirring up her magic.

  * * *

  Yme pulls a boulder from the earth and throws it at the giant’s head, drawing its attention from the slaves and healers transporting the wounded. One enormous hand reaches for Yme, but a fireball slams into its neck. It bellows and grabs at its throat. Turning, it chases after Kylii who runs out of reach. Yme pulls another boulder and smashes it into the giant’s back. The impact knocks the enormous man forward, landing on his belly.

  Kylii pops up, glaring at Yme. “Can you please not almost crush me with a giant?”

  “You’re quick enough.”

  The giant grabs a large slab of stone from a crushed wall of the Arena and uses it to try and smash Yme and Kylii. He slams it down over and over again, missing each time. Frustrated, the giant growls and throws the slab into the audience. They try to scramble out of the way, but the crowd is too large and much of the Arena is already damaged. Dozens more die in the stands. Now, the audience sounds begin to change.

  “This bastard isn’t going down!” Kylii throws his fireballs high up into the air, aiming for the giant’s eyes.

  Yme throws earth up, trying to trip the giant who merely crashes through with his huge feet. “Daniil’s freezing would be useful right now!”

  A howling roar rises from behind them with the click of running claws. The Khorgoi leaps over them, zig-zags towards the giant, avoiding his attacks, and claws the giant’s feet, cutting deep enough to show bone.

  The giant raises his fist high above his head, ready to bring it down on the Khorgoi. Ice covers his hand and lower arm, throwing his balance off and causing him to fall to the ground onto his back. The Khorgoi leaps onto the giant’s chest and digs into the flesh. The giant raises his free hand and slaps at the beast. The Khorgoi jumps to the ground, avoiding the large hand. The giant slaps one hand against his raw, bloody chest and bellows in pain. Pink ice freezes the hand to his chest. He struggles to raise his other arm, frozen fist and all, but he can’t. The giant stops struggling, his body jerking violently from side to side, as scarlet foam erupts from his mouth.

  Daniil walks over to his brother. “Hey.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” Kylii demands.

  The Khorgoi moves to Daniil’s side and sits. It looks up at him, expectantly.

  “What is that?” Yme asks.

  Daniil places a hand on the animal’s head and smiles. “This is Tanith. She’s a Khorgoi.”

  Kylii stares at his brother, confused. “How do you know it’s a she? For that matter... how do you know its name?”

  “What’s a Khorgoi?” Aya asks, surprising them.

  Tanith huffs and Daniil holds his hand out as though calming her. “Khorgois are legendary beasts in our part of the world. They’re said to be spirits that watch over the earth. I know her name because while we fought, I...I heard her voice.”

  Kylii grabs Daniil’s shoulders. “You’re delirious. Run that by me again?”

  Yme turns to scan the Arena for the remaining Brüdel.

  “I heard her voice in my head and she told me her name,” Daniil insists.

  “What does that even mean?”

  The healers sag, near exhaustion. Those protecting them drop their weapons to the floor. Yme scans but there don’t seem to be any more Brüdel.

  “It means she wants something.”

  “What did she ask for?”

  Daniil regards his brother cautiously. “She wants to be returned to her home.”

  “Quiet!” Yme shouts. The group falls silent and turn to him. He waves his hand around them at the still arena. “Listen.”

  A strange silence fills the Arena. Shock fills every face.

  They are victorious.

  Chapter 61

  The Brüdel all lie dead on the Arena floor. Despite many dead and still more wounded, the slaves stand victorious.

  Applause starts somewhere in the audience. A low cheer follows, slowly growing to fill the Arena. A chant blocks out all sounds.

  Aya, Yme, Daniil, Kylii, and those around them stare up at the excited crowd. The audience’s chant continues on and on.

  “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!”

  The surviving slaves hug each other in surprised relief. They survived the Blood King’s deadly game. And the audience is declaring its desired reward for them.

  Aya takes in the thousands of faces. Some are yelling, “Aya!” Those who don’t know her name yell, “Healer!” Some shout for Yme, their champion. But she spies a figure standing in one of the many openings leading outside of the Arena, wearing a hooded cloak that casts his face in shadow. But she remembers him. He was there during her first fight. Something about him brings mixed feelings of fear and familiarity.

  A bell rings out over the sound of the cheers, but it still takes a long time for anyone to notice it. Dolus Otho holds his hands up in an attempt to catch the attention of the crowd. Calming, the crowd focuses not on Dolus Otho, but on the Blood King’s private box.

  Standing still as a statue at the edge, Blood King Klaeon’s eyes are flush with rage. He glances around the Arena at the crowd before returning his focus to Aya. He turns away. Waving at his men, Klaeon disappears through the red curtain, followed by Teron.

  Only once the last of the Blood King’s men is out of sight does the audience turn to Dolus Otho. The Arena announcer’s face is pale, but he manages to keep the smile on his face. “A victory for the slaves! The Gods have chosen their champions!”

  The audience’s cheers return full force. Hearing the official declaration, many of the slaves pick their weapons up and raise them above their heads. They strut to the edges of the Arena to encourage the audience’s cheers.

  The relief overtaking Aya drains the last of her energy. Her legs collapse beneath her and she laughs while tears roll down her cheeks.

  Arena workers open the gates to usher the slaves back into the bowels of the Arena—this time with smiles and praise instead of jeers and threats. Soon the underbelly of the Arena is filled with the echoes of cheers and laughter.

  Two workers attempt to capture Tanith, but the Khorgoi easily leaps over them to remain close to Daniil. Their second attempt goes just as poorly. Tanith swings her tail into the head of one, knocking him out. She huffs her breath at the second worker, nodding up and down, threatening him with her horn. He backs away, dragging the first worker by the wrists to safety.

  The rush of their victory transitions into exhaustion. Their legs drag down the stairs and a few lean on others to continue forward. Wounded slaves branch off to the arena healers as the rest continue to the cellblock level.

  Many of the slaves head for the baths, eager to relieve the soreness in their muscles or wash the blood from their skin. All Aya wants is her bed. Her head aches from the adrenaline rush of the battle and her stomach grumbles.

  The workers leave the cell d
oors open, showing each survivor newfound respect and sitting with them as equals. Workers sit inside the cells listening to stories of the fight. A small group circles together, praying for those who fell. Praying for Velan to lead the dead safely to Moirai, the realm after life where those who died will one day see their loved ones again.

  Food is brought directly to the cellblock. Seera is nowhere to be seen, so the workers must have decided among themselves to lay out this feast. The air fills with light-hearted laughter as the many skirmishes are told from numerous points of view.

  The only ones missing from the feast are Aya, Yme, Daniil, and Kylii. Tanith is allowed to remain with Daniil after biting three workers who prevented her from entering the cell.

  Bern, Cal, Bon, Tristan, Skara, Rava, and Mava stay close to Aya’s cell, bringing food to the four Rare Kinds. Bon even brings food and drink for Tanith, carefully placing the plate and bowl in front of the animal.

  Aya picks at the food in front of her, knowing she needs to eat. I need to recharge. But all I really want is to sleep. She notices Yme and the twins are similarly slow in consuming the large quantities of food. Tanith is already asleep underneath one of the beds, her tail curled around her body. The plate of food Bon brought for the Khorgoi has been licked clean.

  Aya gazes through the bars of the cell. Even with the crowd of workers and slaves from other cellblocks, there are a noticeable number of slaves missing. Cells that were filled beyond capacity are empty now, or only have one occupant.

  “You saved a lot of lives today,” Yme says. “But you look defeated.”

  “For every life I saved, two more were lost.” Aya turns to him. “If victories cost huge casualties, are they still victories?”

  “You aren’t responsible for their deaths. They fought hard and valiantly.”

  “For us.”

  “For themselves. We gave them the strength to fight for what they truly wanted.”

  “Which was?” Aya asks.

  “Freedom to choose. All we can do now is honor their sacrifice and keep living.”

  “Seems unfair to those who died.”

  The familiar whip crack announces Seera’s arrival. The mirth silences and everyone turns to her. Parting the slaves and workers, she stops at the entrance to the Rare Kinds’ cell. She places a hand on her hip and squeezes the handle of her whip tightly.

  Yme walks forward to meet her.

  Tension rises around the two figures as the slaves make ready for whatever Seera plans to do.

  Seera holds her free hand out in front of her. Yme slowly accepts it with his own hand. They shake and the tension eases.

  “This Arena has seen thousands of fighters, witnessed thousands of games, and held hundreds of thousands of spectators. This day, this fight, and all of these brave fighters...” Seera indicates the slaves with her other arm, “will be spoken of for ages. You, for today, have discarded the title of slaves. You are all true warriors.”

  The slaves are struck dumb by her words and her attitude. Cheers ignite the celebration back to life as workers bring out more food and drinks, even some grainy, amber sort of alcohol. Singing arises from the long tables at the center of the cellblock.

  Seera steps into the cell and pulls Yme close. “The cell doors will be kept open in honor of your victory. Feel free to enjoy the fresh night air.”

  Yme pulls away with surprise. Seera winks, pats him on the back, then runs a hand through Aya’s hair.

  The gentle touch brings tension to Aya’s shoulders.

  “You surprised us all, Life Healer.” Seera leans down. “Be wary of those you trust. We all choose wrong on occasion.”

  Aya jerks away from the woman and stares at her. The cruelness she’s come to expect is still there, but as Seera leaves the cell, she wears a kinder smile. She pats the shoulders of those she passes and disappears into the celebrating crowd.

  “What did she say to you?” Kylii asks Aya.

  “Just congratulations.” Yme returns to his seat beside Aya, his thoughts distant. Aya places a hand on his leg, breaking him from his thoughts. “But what did she mean about the fresh night air?”

  Yme motions for Daniil and Kylii to lean in close. “She meant it’s time. Tonight, we escape this place.”

  The Fires of Hope

  Chapter 62

  The celebration continues into the night. The slaves enjoy themselves for the first time in many months—many years for some. Word of the escape passes quickly, encouraging them to share their rare alcoholic drinks with the workers until they leave for their own beds or pass out at the tables or in the many now-vacant cells.

  After the final worker leaves, a low whistle echoes down the block. The slaves venture out of their cells to the center. Aya and Yme step from their cell, followed by the twins and Tanith. Many watch them for instruction, and Aya nudges Yme forward.

  “This is our chance.” He speaks loudly, but not enough to fill the entire block. Slaves from the upper levels climb down to join the gathering crowd around Yme. “It’s time to escape this arena of blood. Those who wish to escape, follow us. Those of you who choose to stay...may the Gods watch over you.”

  Aya moves next to Yme and watches the crowd. To her surprise, a third of the slaves return to their cells. But she spots Leid approaching her.

  “You’re staying?” she asks, gaze lingering on his missing arm.

  He glances into her cell. “Someone will need to keep the audiences entertained to cover for your sorry hides.” His cold eyes move to her face. “I was placed here for a reason. Perhaps, now, I may make amends.”

  “You saved many today. Come with us. We could use your strength.”

  “My strength is not for saving. We’ll meet again in the afterlife, Aya.” A smile forms on his lips. Hearing him speak her name sends chills through her body, but she returns the smile. Leid walks into the cell and lies down on her bed. “May the Gods watch over you, too,” he murmurs.

  Taking a deep breath, Aya looks at Yme. “Let’s go.”

  He nods and they both head out, followed by Kylii, Daniil, Tanith, Bern, Mava, Rava, Cal, Bon, and Tristan. After a moment, the rest follow. Hearts in their mouths, they head for the stairway.

  The group moves carefully through the catacombs, avoiding workers who didn’t join the celebration. They’re scattered, distracted, preparing for the next day’s events, making it easy for the group to slip through unseen. Still, the slaves keep to the shadows. They traverse the training grounds to the floor with the animal pens. They navigate through the cages, avoiding any animals still awake.

  Yme stops the group and points ahead. “Those aren’t Arena workers.” He indicates a group standing at the stairway leading up to the staging floor.

  “Klaeon’s men?” Daniil asks.

  Two dozen soldiers stand in ranks, holding torches. One barks orders and points back towards the stairway leading down to the training grounds. The slaves disperse to hide amongst the cages as the men pass by.

  “Looks like the Blood King wasn’t happy about out victory,” Kylii whispers as the slaves regroup.

  “We were supposed to die. I don’t suppose he was thrilled when we didn’t,” Daniil replies.

  More soldiers walk down and move off in a different direction. Another set of stairs? Aya thinks. A third group of soldiers appears, waiting.

  “But what are they doing here?” Aya asks. “I thought Klaeon left?”

  Yme chuckles, low. “They’re here to kill us in our sleep.”

  “I still don’t understand. Why does he want to kill us?”

  “We threaten his power, especially his power over the people. Think of all those in the audience who will spread the story of our victory today against his strongest fighters. He’s afraid we’ll rally them against him.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

  “Trying to,” Yme shrugs his shoulders and nods his head at her. “But it hasn’t worked until recently.”

  Kylii leans between the tw
o. “Enough talking. How’re we going to get past them?”

  “Too many to take on without weapons,” Bern says, walking up next to Yme. “We didn’t grab anything from the armory.”

  “Is there no other way?” Mava asks.

  “If you don’t mind digging your way out of here,” Daniil says.

  “There is another way,” a familiar, stern voice says.

  The group jumps and prepares to fight. Seera walks around the corner of a cage and leans against the metal bars. “I can show you, but you have to take me with you.”

  “And me.” Dolus Otho appears next to Seera, drawing a soft gasp from the slaves. Hushes move down the group.

  Daniil glares at Seera. “Why would you want to come with us? Your lives are comfortable here.”

  “They were,” Dolus Otho clears his throat. “Until you won the fight today. Who do you think the Blood King is going to blame?”

  “Our fates were decided the same as yours when you won,” Seera spits. She throws two severed heads at Yme and Aya’s feet. “He didn’t send his best soldiers for this little mission. I killed these two before they even knew Dolus or I were awake.”

  Aya glances at the heads. The faces have been slashed beyond recognition. Horrified, she wonders if she should accept these brutes into their company.

  But Yme doesn’t seem to notice. “Where is this other way out?”

  Kylii steps close to Yme. “Hold on, you can’t honestly be thinking of letting her come with us?”

  Others in the group voice agreement and Yme holds his hands up to silence them. “We need a way out. We can’t go this way, and if she’s speaking the truth, then we have to trust her.”

  “I don’t trust her,” Aya says flatly. Seera smiles back at her and laughs. “But I believe her. Klaeon wouldn’t leave those who failed him alive. Their heads are on the line as much as ours.”

  “What if they’re lying? What if they want to make sure the Blood King’s men find us?” Daniil asks.