With his body working to keep the damage of the dark matter under control, Theo was able to tap into other gifts. Blow after raging blow was thrust towards him. With ease, Theo dodged the blades as if Karl was moving in slow motion. He leapt though the air, and spiraled over Karl’s head, landing behind his opponent, and managing to slash the back of Karl’s shoulder. The crowd was rapt.
Karl rolled his shoulder back and forth, testing the range of motion. He faced Theo again. It had been a long time since he had faced anyone who was a real challenge in a fight. He welcomed it. Holding his blades in position, he slowly began to circle Theo. The two of them walked clockwise around the center of the arena. Each carefully studied the other.
As Karl made the first move, Theo swiftly spun out of the way. He managed to land a firm kick, driving the brunt of his shin into Karl’s wrist. The lasana blade he held in that hand dropped to the ground. A gasp went up from the crowd. The audience was murmuring amongst themselves. Karl felt the tide of audience approval begin to shift. He ran his eyes over the citizens in the stands. All eyes were on him, waiting to see how he would handle being disarmed. Karl bent over, and scooped up the blade he had dropped. He paused for a second, contemplating what he should do.
An idea struck him. Karl gestured to the tiered seating. “Defeating a man with an inferior weapon is not a real victory. Should we see what he can do with a real blade?” A roar of approval echoed deafeningly around the arena. Pandering to the crowd, Karl lifted the blade that Theo had knocked out of his hand and tossed it to his opponent. He spoke softer so that only Theo could hear him. “Here’s your chance, junior. Better make it count.”
Theo caught the hilt of the blade in surprise. He raised the lasana sword over his head. The two men clashed, equally matched. Sparks erupted from the Relissarium blades, striking each other with brutal, unforgiving force. Theo heard his name being chanted. It gave him strength. The crowd’s favor was now divided.
Eleven
Up in the emperor’s box, Cierra felt her lungs begin to ache. She had been holding her breath without realizing it. Sucking in a deep breath, she quickly resumed massaging the emperor’s feet. Theo seemed to be fighting truer to his abilities in the arena. For a moment, she had been flooded with dread. The thought that haunted her was that it would only be a matter of time, before Karl maimed or slaughtered Theo, beyond even the repair of his healing gift.
Cierra felt eyes on her. It made the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck stand up. From the corner of her eye, she saw a guard staring at her. She glanced at him warily. Looking back at him for too long might encourage the wrong behavior. He looked slightly off, like his face had been smashed in an accident. Most of the guards were children that the emperor had fathered either with willing women or forced concubines. It was natural that at least some of them would be less than pleasant to look at. The guard that was eyeing her was proof of that. He had drawn the short straw when it came to the genetic lottery.
The guard’s gaze made her shift uncomfortably. The unwanted attention made her worry about the little girl that had been waiting on the soldiers. If some of the guards had no shame in blatantly ogling one of Pollus’s ‘wives,’ what would they do to a child that Pollus had staked no claim on? Cierra quickly looked around to check on Korrine. The girl’s hair was being toyed with by one of the princes. A sickened knot sank to the pit of Cierra’s stomach. The sight brought out not only Cierra’s anger as a woman, but also the boiling wrath of a mother. She had lost her children in the fire on Relisse, just like Mari and Theo had. While that left a void inside of her that would never be able to be completely healed, the protective nature of motherhood had never left her. She felt the need to protect all of her ladies in waiting, her fellow concubines, Korrine, and even the bastard child she was being forced to carry inside of her. Even though the child in her belly was the emperor’s, Cierra was torn between wanting the pregnancy to terminate, and the understanding that the child had never asked to be born, much less be conceived by a monster.
She would decide what to do about the baby later. For the time being, she needed to focus on staying alive. Cierra kept her head down. She tried to ignore the guard that was still watching her, but each passing second made her more and more uneasy. She shifted on the stool she was sitting on, and shot him a disgusted glare.
The guard smiled at her. It wasn’t the reaction she’d had expected. The audacity of his attention irked her. Just as she was about to look away again, the guard’s face flashed green, and seemed to reconfigure slightly. The shift only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to make her heart jump, when she recognized him: Jaedo!
Cierra fought back the urge to run over and hug him. Jaedo jerked his head towards the exit. She saw the signal, and gave a slight nod. He had a plan to help her escape. The crowd let out some spirited cheers for the fighters below. In the excitement of the duel, she might be able to slip away unnoticed. Getting out from underneath the emperor’s watchful eye would be the hard part. After that, she would need to get out of the ridiculous dress she was in—the faster the better. The less she stood out among the rest of the citizens, the better.
Leaning over to Lima, Cierra whispered the first excuse to leave the box that popped into her head. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Lima’s eyes widened in fear. She glanced at Pollus, as if to warn Cierra against displeasing him. Cierra looked up at the emperor. His eyes were narrowed, watching the fight below. He wore a fierce frown. Working up the courage to say it again, Cierra leaned in close to the other wife one more time, but before she could speak, the crowd sucked in one quick breath of apprehension. Everyone’s eyes were focused on the fight. Even Lima turned to see what was happening in the arena.
Theo was hammering a quick succession of blows down on Karl. The prince was getting backed against the arena wall. It was all he could do to keep Theo from striking a lethal blow. There wasn’t enough time for him to get in any swinging thrusts of his own. Karl’s back pressed against the side of the stadium. Some of the crowd was on their feet now. No one dared even blink.
The emperor growled in disappointment and anger. “Makramis, get down there, and help him out.” Under his breath, Pollus cursed his older son. “If he dies, he’s going to make a mockery of my regime. It will set the wrong tone for the war we are about to enter. If one of our best fighters can’t even kill a washed-up rebel whelp, how can the people place faith in us winning the war?”
Cierra watched as Makram jumped up from his seat. He ran to the wall of the arena floor and vaulted over the edge. The dry dust billowed around him like a cloud when he landed. Drawing a lasana blade of his own, Makram joined the fight. It was now two against one. The tide was turning.
Twelve
Theo saw movement in his peripheral vision. He quickly moved out of the way before Makram could strike from behind. He would have to rethink his fighting strategies. Both princes were well trained. He had been up against both of them enough to know that fighting both at once would be challenging, even with his gifts.
Makram taunted him in a sing-song voice. “Oh, Theo, there’s no one here to save you this time.”
Theo backed up, trying to keep both opponents in sight at all times. “Looks like you finally get your chance to unleash on me, Makram. You better make it count.”
Roaring as he charged, Makram swung his blade at Theo’s head. The crowd held its breath, but instead of the blade slicing easily though his neck, the lasana was deflected. Another cheer of excitement rippled through the crowd. Makram squinted at Theo, uncertain of what had just happened. Makramis shot a glance at his brother. Karl seemed just as surprised. Both brothers hadn’t considered the fact that Theo might have more gifts than just healing. Sharing a nod, both princes charged at Theo. Sparks flew as their blades collided. Eventually, Theo would miss a block or get sloppy with his form. That was the moment Makram was waiting for.
Sweat rolled down Theo’s face and stung his eyes. The shifting ligh
tshow of the wormhole made the fight feel like a kaleidoscope dream sequence. His arms were starting to get heavy. Using his gifts was draining his energy faster. Theo backpedaled away from the whirling blades. The wind whistled by his ear, as a sword swung through the air, barely missing him. As he jerked his head to the side, Theo threw up his lasana to block a downward thrust from Karl. Makram saw the opportunity, and took it.
In one, long stride, Makram positioned himself behind Theo. He sliced ferociously at Theo’s back. Thinking that Theo would simply deflect the blow again, the spurt of blood from the lasana biting into flesh caught him by surprise. Theo screamed in pain. Watching the blood soak down into Theo’s clothes, realization hit Makram. “He has to see the blow to deflect it! His back is his blind spot!”
A vicious smile curled Karl’s mouth in a wicked twist. “Just when I was beginning to think you were almost unbeatable, we find your weakness. Better watch your back, junior. If you don’t, it might just be the last mistake you ever make.”
The two princes circled Theo like vultures. The white-hot pain on his back slowly numbed. He could feel the wound closing, but it wasn’t healing as fast as it should. Theo struggled to keep his back away from both opponents. From the corner of his eye, he saw Karl dart to the left, making an attempt to get behind him. Theo countered, but as he did so, Makram was able to get into position. The younger brother wasted no time in hacking at Theo’s leg. He let out another scream of pain, as his leg from the shin down separated from his body. Theo fell to the ground. Blood poured from the fresh stump. A mixture of horror and delight echoed up from the stands.
Makram raised his blade to deliver the killing blow. Karl yelled out, and stepped between Makram and Theo. “Not yet. Wait.”
Disgust clouded Makram’s face. He considered chopping through Karl, just to get to Theo. “Get out of the way! Why should I wait?”
Karl lowered his voice. “We have the upper hand. The crowd wants a show, so let’s give them one. The better of a fight we give them, the more public favor we will curry. This is exactly the kind of thing we need to push us to the top of the succession list.”
Makram growled, but he lowered his blade. “You better be careful, or father will think you’re going soft.”
Theo was too focused on healing and staying conscious to listen to them. He managed to regrow the rest of his leg, but it was still tender and shaky when he stood up. His face was pale. The reality was starting to set in. He was losing strength. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to even hold his blade up.
As Theo got to his feet again, Karl swung his blade. Theo never saw the blow coming. His arm was chopped off at the shoulder. He could feel himself starting to fade. Karl picked up the arm and tossed it into the stands, like a morbid souvenir. Blood flew in an arc, as the arm spun in flight. The crowd screamed in delight.
Karl turned to Makram, with a satisfied glint in his eyes. “Now, what were you saying about me going soft?”
The arm was beginning to regrow again, slowly. Theo’s whole body ached. The battle was wearing on him, and the other two seemed barely out of breath. He stumbled on his newly grown leg. Focusing on keeping his balance, Theo didn’t see Makram slip behind him again. The next thing he knew was Makram’s blade running him through.
Fresh blood coated the sword. It was almost surreal to see a blade jutting out of his chest. The damage was finally too much. All the light in his eyes disappeared. The only thing he could see was an impenetrable darkness. Theo fell to the ground.
Thirteen
Cierra watched, as Theo’s body hit the dirt. Her eyes were glued on him, searching for any sign of movement. She whispered under her breath. “Get up. Come on, get up.”
Theo remained motionless. Makram kicked him, and his head rolled lifelessly to the side. Cierra couldn’t believe her eyes. Hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving streaks in her painted-on makeup. Theo was dead. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest ached. The emotions inside of her bounced from wanting to die to wanting to kill. She shook with rage and heartache.
Lima reached over and touched Cierra’s arm. Her big eyes pleaded with Cierra to keep massaging the emperor’s feet. The disgust Cierra felt was almost unbearable. If she knew that Pollus would punish only her, she wouldn’t have thought twice about causing him pain in any way that she could. For the sake of the other women, she did what she was supposed to. Cierra fought back the urge to break his foot. One way or another, they would pay for what they did to Theo.
From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the guards break into a run. Jaedo, still in disguise, leapt from the edge of the stands and did a series of flips through the air. He landed easily on his feet in the arena, much faster than it had taken Makram to get there. Neither prince seemed to realize that someone else had entered the combat zone. Something strange was happening to Theo’s body.
Cierra’s breath caught in her throat. Theo was no longer lying on the ground. His body was being lifted by an unseen force into the air. A purple and white haze swirled around him. Theo’s body turned slowly, as the tendrils of misty colors wound their way around his limbs and torso.
From the look on everyone’s faces, it was a phenomenon that no one had ever seen before. A strange wind seemed to blow steadily out from his body. It ruffled Makram’s hair and tugged at Karl’s clothing. Jaedo took a step away from Theo, keeping Makram and Karl in his line of sight. The entire stadium fell eerily silent. Even Pollus moved to the edge of his seat, pulling his feet out of Cierra’s and Lima’s hands.
The mist pulsed slightly, like a heartbeat. Theo hung limply in the air, still slowly spinning. Cierra clenched her fingers together. She prayed to Batumah that Theo would be okay. She couldn’t help but get her hopes up that the levitation meant there was still hope for him to pull through.
Pollus snarled from his throne. He jerked Cierra’s shoulder, to make her face him. “What is this? What is he doing?”
Cierra tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was hanging on to her too tightly. “You’re hurting me!”
“I’ll do more than that if you don’t answer me. When I ask you a question, you answer. Got it?”
She still squirmed in his grasp. “I don’t know what he’s doing.”
The emperor pulled back one of his massive hands, and backhanded her. Cierra screamed as the blow knocked her off her stool. Pollus grabbed a fistful of her hair, and hauled her up to her knees. “Don’t lie to me, girl!”
Cierra ran her tongue over the inside of her cheek. She could taste blood in her mouth, and her jaw was throbbing. “I’m not lying, but even if I did know, there’s no way in hell I would tell you!”
Pollus grabbed her by the front of her dress, and marched her over to the edge of the box. He shoved her backwards against the railing, until her feet were off of the ground. The emperor balanced her precariously on the side of the box, dangling over a two story drop. “I’m going to ask you again. What is he doing? You fought beside him. You lived with him. You have to know what is going on down there.”
Cierra’s hands scrambled to find anything to use as a handhold, but they came up empty. “I’ve never seen him do anything like this before! This is the first time it’s ever happened! If I didn’t know any better, I would say it almost looked like dark matter seeping out of his pores, but that’s not possible. I swear, I’ve never seen anything like this. That’s the truth!”
Her words made the emperor pause. He lowered her back down into the box, until she was carefully standing on her own again. Pollus remembered the dark matter he had made Theo swallow. He had expected the orb to eat through the traitor, or cause him to blow up from the inside out. With Theo’s healing ability, Pollus had expected it to be a slow burn, striking the boy dead at any possible second. He hadn’t anticipated anything like what he was seeing now.
If Cierra was right, the cloud around Theo’s body could spread through the arena and cause severe damage to anyone close by. Typically, when the substance hit the air, it implod
ed, indiscriminately taking anything close by with it. If the boy’s body was changing the chemical reaction, or keeping the substance from reacting violently, then the ultimate outcome would be unpredictable. Pollus hated it when things were unpredictable.
Fourteen
When Theo opened his eyes, he was no longer in the arena. The world around him only consisted of a white and purple haze. The shifting fog seemed to go on infinitely in every direction. He couldn’t feel anything underneath him, holding him up. His body felt weightless. The warmth of the mist seemed to exude calmness and comfort. It swaddled him, caressing him with gentle, swirling tendrils.
He remembered the fight in the arena, and the intense pain of having his limbs cut off followed by being stabbed through the chest. Theo felt a momentary surge of panic, despite the haze’s attempts to keep him calm. The air around him smelled clean and fresh, like a field after a summer shower.
Theo called out for help. “Hello? Is anyone there? Irane, where am I what’s going on?” He waited for a moment, listening intently for any kind of answer, but there wasn’t even an echo.
Suddenly, Irane appeared beside him, floating cross legged. “Hello, Theo.”
“Irane, what’s going on? What is this place? All I can remember is being stabbed through with a lasana blade. How did I get here?”
Irane smiled kindly. “This is the spiritual center of the universe. What you remember about the fight is correct. You were injured very badly. Your body is still there, in the arena. Only your mind, your spirit is here with me.”
Sadness seeped through Theo. He finally managed to say the words that he had been dreading since he opened his eyes. “Am…am I dead?”
The Relissarium Wars Omnibus Page 63