by Adam Carter
“We are the Nagas,” Reptant said, not taking her eyes from the humans within the pit. The arena’s auditorium was filled with snake-creatures jeering and waving at the human combatants, although Reptant kept herself seated. She feigned uninterest, despite the fire in her eyes.
“Your man Rathbone seemed to have had a lisp when we first met him,” Darkthorne continued, undeterred by her evasive answer.
“Oh he likes doing that with humans,” Reptant said, glancing his way, although her attention truly was focused on the contest. “Did the tongue-flicking thing too, did he? I thought so. You should meet him if he’s ever outside the city. I’ve even seen him slithering along the ground as though he’s some kind of belly-crawler.”
“A what?” Darkthorne blinked, trying to comprehend all of this and failing miserably.
“A belly-crawler. A snake?”
“Oh, I know what a snake is.”
“Right. Well, most people tend to, you know.”
Darkthorne realised it had indeed been something of an idiotic comment for him to have made. “Just how long is this game likely to continue?”
“I’m not sure, you never can tell with this sort of thing. The reigning champion is a man named Goliath, but my money’s on the newcomer, the challenger. Name’s David. He’s a lot smaller but he’s sharper. His wits are quicker, and I think he’s more than a tad wilier. No one’s moved for a good while now, but I think Goliath’s about to try something.”
“Doesn’t the noise from the other snakes sort of put them off?”
“Nagas.” Reptant glowered at him. “Primate.”
“This is barbaric,” Kiel said angrily. “To force two men into such a battle as this is inhuman.”
“Well we are unhuman as a species, dearie,” Rathbone said. “I think that just about lets us off.”
“But your contestants are human,” Kiel continued to protest. “Back home, we hold contests with the fighters armed with nets and spears, although that’s through choice. Mainly. And at least that’s normal. This ... display is a mockery of the very concept of what an arena should be.”
A whoop of excitement rose from the Nagas occupying the surrounding seats, and many more were upon their feet now. Several appeared as though they wanted to charge into the arena. And the voice of Goliath rang out loudly.
“Pawn to Queen’s Rook two.”
“I don’t know, Sara,” Tarne said, rubbing thoughtfully at her chin as she watched the two seated men moving their antique wooden pieces about the board between them, “a game which engages the mind is always preferable.”
“Trust a weakling like you to advocate the benefits of mind over body,” Kiel snorted.
“I’m not a weakling, thank you very much.”
“Sorry, must have meant witch, then.”
“You have a witch in your group?” Reptant asked.
Darkthorne offered a casual shrug. “Only a dabbler.”
“I do not dabble,” Tarne protested.
“Well, you’re not exactly a master, are you?” Darkthorne asked.
“That’s because I’m not a witch at all, you idiot. And Sara’s not a cannibal either, before he says so.”
“I am not a ... oh, you’ve already said it.”
“Look,” Tarne said through clenched teeth, “maybe we should just stick to the reason we came here.”
“Oh yes,” Darkthorne said, “the mission from the king.”
“What king?” Reptant asked.
“King Callum III.”
“We do not recognise his authority here.”
The humans looked at one another with uncertainty. “Well that sort of puts a damper on our negotiations,” Darkthorne confessed.
“What did you expect, you idiot?” Tarne asked. “If they recognised him as their monarch, there wouldn’t have been the need for us to come here to begin with.”
“Take care to recall you being my vassal when you call me an idiot,” Darkthorne reminded her.
“I’m not your vassal. I’m more a witch than I am your vassal.”
“Ah, so you do dabble,” Rathbone said.
“I understand the way the world works and can cure ailments through herbal remedies,” Tarne said. “That hardly makes me a witch.”
“But you also know about ley lines,” Darkthorne put in, “and that does make you a witch.”
“Jagrad, you don’t even know what ley lines are.”
“If we could stay on subject?” Kiel asked gruffly. “I for one would prefer to be out of this barbaric place before I have to witness the end of this ... this game.”
“What other games do you have?” Sparky asked. “I’m thinking specifically of games involving fifty-two variables?”
A glint entered Rathbone’s eye. “Hold ‘em or draw?”
“Draw.”
“Limit or no limit?”
“No limit.”
“Double the blinds after every twentieth hand?”
“Negotiable.”
Rathbone laughed. “I can see you’re going to fit in nicely here, my friend.”
“Anybody else understand a word of that conversation?” Kiel asked. “Actually, scratch that, I don’t really care. Let’s just ... hold on a moment, what do you mean fitting in nicely here?”
Reptant chuckled softly. “My dear, you don’t really believe you’re going to be allowed to leave, do you? You’ve entered our city through illegal means, with the intention of committing a most heinous criminal act.”
“We only came to negotiate a treaty,” Tarne said.
“The most severe of crimes within Charrok, I assure you.”
“Why do I get the feeling,” Kiel asked, “we’ve been set up?”
“The punishment is not negotiable,” Reptant said, laughing at her little joke. “Sorry, don’t mean to make light of your demise.”
A cheer resounded from about them then as another move was made within the arena.
“The punishment,” Rathbone said, “is to fight in the arena. The game may be chosen several days prior that you might prepare and train. Then again, it may not. It’ll probably be a team game, we’ve found the crowds do so love team games when all the players know one another.”
“May I fight Darkthorne to the death, please?” Kiel asked.
“Perhaps after the game,” Rathbone said. “If you win, you’re released.”
“And if we lose?” Sparky asked.
The greatest cheer yet arose from the arena, and they all turned to see David rising from his chair in horror, for he had clearly just lost. A resounding cheer of “Checkmate! Checkmate!” echoed about the arena, and the Nagas were all upon their feet now, without exception. David staggered backwards, stumbling in his terror and falling. He struggled to rise, although stumbled again. Silence fell upon the arena as Reptant approached the edge of her balcony and they all awaited the final verdict. She spoke a single word, and it was as they had all expected.
“Cod.”
David screamed in anguish, falling to his knees as he implored her to change her mind, although the decision had been made even before Reptant had spoken. A great black shadow formed upon David and from the sky, where it had not been a moment earlier, a large fish fifty metres in length dipped down, scooping the hapless loser into its mouth, before bobbing back out of sight as though it had performed some strange form of bungee jump.
The Nagas erupted into a riotous clamour.
“Thus is the fate of all losers of the arena,” Reptant informed her new guests.
The humans stared open-mouthed, until Darkthorne suddenly muttered, “Oh my Cod.”
And if you thought reading that line was extremely unfunny, you should have been there when he said it because, for Tarne and the others, it was no laughing matter at all.
*
“So let me get this straight,” Tarne said as she paced the dusty floor of their cell sometime afterwards, “we have to go through some form of game, all for the entertainment of the Nagas, and if we los
e a giant fish comes along and eats us?”
“That seems about the size of it, Heather,” Darkthorne said.
“Am I alone in thinking this is just plain weird?”
“Fish have to eat too, I suppose,” Darkthorne said. “We can’t really blame it for its actions.”
“I can’t believe you just said that. Actually, yeah I can. Sara, you of all people must agree with me.”
Sara Kiel had not said much since their arrest. They had been taken to a large cell formed of stout iron bars and three stone walls. There was straw upon the floor for sleeping and food was promised periodically. Tarne had taken to pacing, Darkthorne had gone to sleep, while Sparky had produced a pack of cards to practise his blackjack and Kiel had found a rock to use as a whetstone.
“I agree with you,” Kiel assured her, squinting as she held her sword at eye level and peered down the blade for any sign of nicks. “I’m just not fussing about it. Yeah I think a giant cod coming down from the ceiling and eating someone is pretty bizarre, but so far as I see things, it happened and we have to deal with it. Now, they left us our weapons, which suggests we’re either going to be fighting our way to freedom, or else they don’t much consider us a threat. Either way, sharpening my sword is far preferable to pacing and wasting all my energy. Hell, even Sparky has the right idea by brushing up on his card skills, because we may be thrust into anything.”
“I don’t suppose,” Darkthorne sighed from where he lay upon the straw, “you two could stop bickering?”
“Oh do shut up, Jagrad,” Tarne snapped.
“Even sleeping,” Kiel pointed out, “is a better use of time than pacing.”
“You can shove it too,” Tarne said. “We’re about to play some stupid game and get eaten by a fish and you’re sharpening your sword as if it’s going to help any.”
“Sure it will,” Kiel said. “If nothing else, I’ll kill that damn fish as it comes for me.” Apparently having found a nick, she continued with her whetting.
“I hope we get a card game,” Sparky said far too excitedly from where he sat cross-legged upon the floor. “I’m rather good at card games.”
“Yeah,” Tarne muttered, “except when you find a card left in the box.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to tell them about that,” Sparky said.
The two of them locked eyes then, frowns creasing both their features. They recalled the events of which they were speaking, they remembered playing that game, yet at the same time they knew this was impossible. They had been in alien surroundings, wearing bizarre clothes and talking about having just graduated from a university and going into futures which could not possibly have been realities.
“I thought it was just me who was having these weird visions,” Tarne said seriously.
“It is just you,” Sparky said, turning away. “I don’t remember anything.”
Tarne watched him as he dealt his cards again. “But you do remember,” she said simply.
“No,” Sparky said sharply, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he released it and opened his eyes again, he was somewhat calmer. “I don’t know what your witchy powers are making you see, Heather, but don’t try to drag me into it with you.”
“So it’s all my doing now, is it?” she asked. “What exactly do you remember, Sparky?”
“Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”
“Damian, this is important.”
Sparky looked up then, and even Kiel and Darkthorne were taking note. No one had used Sparky’s real name in so long, most people had forgotten he even possessed one (so no, you’re not alone there, and to save you going back and having to check, his surname is Parkes).
Sparky set aside his cards, also something which did not happen very often, and said, “Flashes. That’s all I remember, Heather; flashes.”
“Flashes of what, though?” Tarne pressed. “I remember a boat named the Bastelle, and yet Bastelle is a city, so how can it be a boat?”
“A planet,” Sparky said distantly.
“And the Princess Aurellia?” Tarne asked. “I know that name should mean something else as well.”
“A vessel,” Sparky said. “Although not one which travels across the ocean, but ... but through a sea of blackness?”
“A glider,” Kiel said, frowning herself now. “I seem to remember it flying through the air, or being just about to.”
“A computer system,” Tarne said.
Sparky blinked. “A what? That makes less sense than my black-sea-boat theory.”
“I don’t know,” Tarne admitted. “But I can see it. A large box sitting on a table, one side made of glass.”
“What does any of this mean?” Kiel asked, clearly a little frightened now.
“I have no idea,” Tarne said. “Jagrad, don’t you have anything to add?”
But Jagrad Darkthorne was sitting up on the bed, staring at them all with an interested eye. He had said nothing during their meeting of minds, and did not appear to be about to add anything further to it. “I’m finding this fascinating,” he admitted flatly, “although I believe we’re missing someone’s input.”
“Yeah, yours,” Kiel said.
Tarne knew what he meant and gasped as she looked about herself. “Old Man Robes, where is he?”
“Old Man Robes?” Sparky asked with a frown deeper than ever.
Tarne caught Darkthorne’s gaze. She was more afraid than ever before, for there was a strange sense of elation or even victory within his eyes.
Whatever he might have been about to say, however, he was interrupted by the appearance of a Nagas at the door. “Come on,” he said gruffly, “crowd’s waiting for you.”
“What are we to play?” Kiel asked.
“There is no play, human,” the Nagas sneered. “There’s just do or die.”
“What’s to be our test, then?” she asked.
The Nagas snorted. “You got off bad, humans. You get to play stick-in-the-mud. Now move.”
FUTURE CHAPTER
The Princess Aurellia was ready for flight. As gliders went, it was pretty impressive. The main bodywork was thin and light, although still immensely strong, for it had been constructed of sturdy materials which did not weigh enough to hold it down. The wings themselves were formed of a light wood overlaid with tanned leather. Only the rudder was causing them some problems, although the Darkthorne Legion was quietly confident it would not only be air-worthy, but also that it would prove enough to destroy the Nagas winning streak completely.
“Do we really have to enter ourselves into this competition as the Darkthorne Legion?” Tarne complained once they gathered at the hangar for the final preparations.
“Just remember who financed this project,” Darkthorne told her. Darkthorne had little interest in the project and had aided them even less in the glider’s construction. He did, however, desire the fame of their victory, should it occur, and they knew they could not fault him, considering he had paid for everything.
“It doesn’t matter what we call ourselves,” Sparky said, lovingly caressing the main body of the glider. “Just so long as we win this afternoon.”
“It’s not all about winning, Sparky,” Tarne said.
Sparky snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Heather,” Kiel said, “remember what I said last night. If you’re not up to this, you really shouldn’t go out there.”
“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Darkthorne said. “Not up for it? Who’s not up for it?”
“You can’t bail on us now, Heather,” Sparky said anxiously.
“I’m not bailing,” Tarne said. “Perhaps Sara thinks we don’t stand a chance against the Nagas.”
“It’s not that and you know it,” Kiel said. “I’m just not convinced you’re ... well ... mentally stable enough to be up there on your own.”
“Say it as you see it,” Tarne muttered.
“Well, insane or no,” Sparky said, “she won’t be alone. She’ll be accompanied by the Princess, and
she’ll see Heather aright.”
“And how is the glider going to see her aright?” Kiel asked dubiously.
“She’ll keep them both in the air, won’t she?” Sparky said.
“This has all been fun, kids,” Darkthorne said, clapping his hands with finality, “but I’m afraid some of us have lives, and I have places to be. I’ll be there for the contest, of course, although until then I’m going to be indisposed.”
“What’s her name?” Kiel mumbled.
Darkthorne frowned. “You know, I never actually got her name.”
“You really do diminish any faith I have left in men.”
“Why, that’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me, Sara,” Darkthorne laughed. “If you need to contact me in the next couple of hours, don’t. See ya all at the contest.”
“I cannot believe that man sometimes,” Kiel said angrily after Darkthorne had gone.
“Can we ever?” Tarne asked. “If he lost all his money, it’d be a different story; we’d see a whole different Jagrad Darkthorne then.”
“It’s worth fantasising about, isn’t it?” Kiel said dreamily.
The morning wore on slowly, during which time Sparky, Tarne and Kiel worked on the problems with the rudder and ran over every last aspect of the glider to make certain it was in prime condition. They had not seen anything of the Nagas entry, and somehow felt that should they do so, they would immediately lose all hope. The Nagas were famed for creating extremely simple gliders, while the tradition of the humans was to add their own personal flourish to the competition. Tarne and the others knew as soon as they saw the seemingly flimsy wire-frame structure which marked the Nagas entrant, they would despair.
Tarne placed a hand gently upon the body of the Princess, where Sparky had painted a rather cute representation of a faerie woman. He had gone for cute, rather than sexy, and Tarne felt it captured the essence of the machine nicely. The Princess may have been a thing of beauty, but primarily it was functional, and did not pretend to be something it was not.
Tarne removed her hand from the glider, thinking of Charlie. She had not seen her Nagas friend since the night before, and Kiel had not mentioned that incident since. Tarne felt strange, because she was not so certain any longer that Kiel was even in the wrong. Many of the things Kiel had said last night had seemed foolish at the time, although now that Tarne reconsidered them, she was beginning to suspect she might have been right after all. It was a foolish thought, for little had happened to any of them since the previous night, although Tarne felt as though she had travelled far in so short a span of time; into the past perhaps, and then even further back.