by J J Moriarty
As the cart entered the slave marts, Hyzou understood now why his father had made him avoid them in Piquea. They were horrific, hundreds of pens stretching as far as the eye could see. In each of the pens there was a platform and a large wooden mast. Tied to the masts were the slaves, grouped with others of their kind.
There were pens for infants, ones for the elderly. There were men built like bulls and women lighter than feathers. The most were Kheme; but there were Mujaden, Xuan and Drascian people too. There were always new slaves arriving, and at the entrance to the mart, carts were being opened and slaves poured out.
Between the pens were thronging crowds. Some were rich men and women carried on their litters, but most were ordinary folks.
The chariot trundled on through the crowd, never slowing down. The pedestrians jumped out of the way, or else got a bang off the horses pulling Kyrios Nuya’s cart.
Hyzou was wondering which pen would be his. However, the drivers just kept moving.
“My Kyrios, may I ask you a question?” Hyzou asked, surprising himself at his audacity.
“Seeing as it is not long until we part, I shall allow it. Ask if you wish”, Kyrios Nuya said.
“Where am I destined?” Hyzou asked.
“The Stadia”, Kyrios Nuya said. “Or should I say, that is where I will be leaving you. You’ll be staying somewhere else.”
Kyrios Nuya fell silent, so Hyzou did too.
They rode on, through the slave market and out the other side. They went through another set of gates, these wide open and not guarded. This place was much quieter than the slave market. The streets were almost empty. Despite himself, Hyzou’s curiosity was piqued. He had travelled often with his father, but he had never been to another city. He looked at everything, so like Piquea but so different too.
Around him huddled buildings, blocking the morning sun. Some had only three stories, but others stretched to eight or nine. Everything in Lamybla was taller than it would be in Piquea.
There were beershops, the workers of the place shouting that lunch was being served. There was one brothel, the women and men half naked lounging outside acting as invitation enough for the passing punter. And though the buildings were built differently, Hyzou recognised laundries and ricesheds that filled the same function they had filled in Piquea.
All the while the Sun Tower grew larger and closer.
Through another set of gates, and the streets were fewer and narrower; all joined up by open squares. Stalls, markets, brothels and fountains dotted everywhere. Another set of gates, and then another. With each set, the streets began to widen again. Then one final gate.
Hyzou, who already was awed by the Sun Tower, received another shock. He thought it was a wall at first, but then he saw that the stone construction curved.
“What is it?” Hyzou asked.
For a second, he had forgotten where he was. A blow came to the back of his head.
“You shouldn’t speak out of turn”, Kyrios Nuya’s voice came.
Hyzou stayed silent.
“But, to sate your curiosity, that’s the Stadia. A place where sixty thousand people can gather”, Kyrios Nuya said.
Hyzou stayed silent. There was barely more than sixty-thousand people in Piquea as a whole. How big was Lamybla?
“Come. Here we are”, Kyrios Nuya said.
They were on a plaza now, underneath the shadow of the Stadia’s wall.
The cart stopped. Kyrios Nuya struck one of his driver’s shoulders with his staff.
“Find the master. Tell him I’ve brought a Noble”, Kyrios Nuya said.
The slave scurried to obey.
“Now, young Hyzou of Nuyin, we wait”, Kyrios Nuya said. “We wait, so you can start your new life. You’ll get to live in a civilised city.”
But Hyzou had stopped listening. He felt it, at the edge of his mind, encroaching further and further. It had been weeks, maybe even months, since he had last had a vision, but Hyzou slipped into it so familiarly. An orange cloud slid over all his senses.
A strange sensation overcame Hyzou. It was like fear; it was fear. But he wasn’t feeling it as he would any other emotion. Where usually feelings sat in his stomach, his throat; this fear seemed not to even belong to him. Glancing up to the giant wall that stretched over him, Hyzou sensed it oncoming. The fear, the dread, it was tinted a strange kind of orange. It came from without him, and it told him that he would die in the Stadia. It screamed at him, told him to run. To sprint and run as far from the Stadia as he could.
Hyzou saw his body, in a sandy pit in the centre of the Stadia, dead. His vision was telling him he would die, unless he ran, and ran now.
Hyzou took a deep breath and waited in silence.
Hyzou saw, in the distance, Kyrios Nuya’s slave returning. Behind him were two figures. One was a bow-legged man with a stone tablet under his arm. The other was an old man, staggering in his tiredness, or perhaps, judging by the flask in his hand, his drunkenness.
Hyzou noticed with surprise as they came nearer that the old man was wearing the grey robes of a Servant of Qi. A man less like a sorcerer Hyzou had never seen.
Once they reached the cart, the two men bounced on their feet once, and presented themselves to Kyrios Nuya with a bow.
The Kyrios turned to Hyzou.
“Hyzou of Nuyin, meet the master. He’s your new owner”, Kyrios Nuya said.
The Kyrios kicked Hyzou. Straight in the chest. Hyzou fell, saw the sky open out before him, and landed on the solid stone ground. His breath was knocked from him. Otherwise he would have screamed and screamed loudly.
“My Kyrios. He seems like he’s never seen a fight”, the master said.
The master kneeled beside Hyzou and grabbed his face, twisting his jaw this way and that.
“Were you never taught to never look a gift slave in the mouth?” Kyrios Nuya said.
“I was. My Kyrios. But we both know that this is no gift. Pharaoh Ganymedes is paying well for Nobles. But I’m just hoping he doesn’t die before the show”, the master said.
“I assume all that keeping-them-alive business is something you’ll have to look after. I’m returning to my house, the first time in just under a year”, Kyrios Nuya said.
The master tutted.
“Is there a problem?” Kyrios Nuya asked.
“No. None. Fair journey. Enjoy your rest”, the master said.
Kyrios Nuya snorted.
Hyzou arose and stared after the chariot as it pulled. Then he looked up at the master.
The master yanked Hyzou along with him. Placed a hand on Hyzou’s jaw.
“You’re the last one to arrive”, The master said. “The last slave for the show.”
The master was looking into his eyes, holding his jaw, so Hyzou assumed the man expected Hyzou to say something.
“The show, sir?” Hyzou said.
The master smiled. He was missing a lot of teeth.
“The show”, The master said, and with each syllable he shook Hyzou’s head. “The show for the Pharaoh’s birthday. This summer. You’re going to be the show.”
The master let go of Hyzou’s face, and pulled upon his chain.
“The show. The show will be you dying, in front of the whole city”, The master said. “In that very Stadia.”
The master pointed. Hyzou looked over at the Stadia, and an orange wave flashed before his vision. He saw his own body lying in the sand, dead. Above it stood a monster, indistinguishable features, notable only because it was black - jet black. The monster was a void in Hyzou’s vision.
CHAPTER 5
Though his cell was underground, Hyzou still heard the rains begin in the early morning. The droplets were heavy, as the first rains of spring always are. A cheer rang out all through the cellar. Perhaps it was just a reflex. Everybody cheers for the coming of spring, even if you’re a slave in a warm cellar tied to a wooden pole.
Hyzou stood and tried to stretch his pains away. The chain he was attached to hadn’t let hi
m lie properly, and his wooden pole was shared with three other slaves. None of them had been happy to learn they would be sharing with Hyzou. The looks on their faces had been enough to convince Hyzou against a deep sleep.
Hyzou stretched some more and yawned.
Soon after he heard the first rain, the master was in the cellar, walking bow-legged along the passageways between wooden poles.
Following in the master’s wake were several misshapen men. They carried spears and blades and whips. When the master passed by Hyzou’s pole, one of these men stayed, staring straight at him.
He removed large spike from his pocket, a set of keys hung off it.
“Look down!” The slaver screamed, in a terrible imitation of Piquean.
Hyzou looked at the ground. Rough hands grabbed him and forced him to his knees. They tore at his chain, strangling him. Then he was untied from the pole.
“Out! Outside! Look down!” The slaver shouted.
The slaver’s Piquean was poor, but he put the idea across well. Hyzou followed the order. Keeping his head down he slowly stepped onto the clay path out of the cellar. He didn’t look up, but he could see the feet of the other slaves, all walking on this same path.
With each step, he felt the pain in his back ease some more. He was both thirsty and hungry, but more than anything Hyzou was warm. Far too warm. Since waking, Hyzou had prayed for the fresh air that couldn’t be found down here.
Hyzou followed the other slaves up a set of stairs. They were creaky, held together by brownstone and dirt. They led him to the outside.
The fresh air was beautiful, pure and laced with rain.
Hyzou looked around. He was standing in a large yard whose ground was sand and dirt. It looked like the kind of place a child was taught to use a chariot, except this place was enclosed by very high walls.
Ice stabbed through his brain, as Hyzou remembered the first time he had rode a chariot without help. His father cheering, Hyzou holding on and praying he wouldn’t fall. The pony moving at barely more than a canter, but Hyzou feeling like he was a warrior all the same.
Hyzou shivered and tried to stay in the moment.
The other slaves were lining up against the highest wall. Hyzou followed and stood beside them. He adjusted his loincloth. It was all he had left from the basic outfit Kyrios Nuya had given him; everything else was taken from him last night.
He stood there and stared forward in an imitation of all the others. The rain drenched him.
Hungry and thirsty, Hyzou waited with impatience for some food or information.
From the tunnel that Hyzou had come more and more slaves streamed. They all joined the line, some confident that they knew what they were doing, others frightened and following.
Last from the tunnel came the master, who waddled over to them with his strangely shaped legs.
“You all know your lot in life”, the master said. “You’re here to put on a show.”
The master hacked deeply from his throat, then spat on the sandy ground beside him.
“What kind of show, you ask?” The master said. “You could be worked till you break in a field or mine, but instead you get the honour of becoming a Warrior of the Stadia.”
The master paced up and down. He was a lightly dressed man, fat and bitter in appearance. Piercings dotted his ears and cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“Warriors of the Stadia fight. That is their purpose. Usually it is against other men, either another warrior, or some of the Pharaoh’s soldiers. Perhaps they would face a panther, or maybe a snake. The odds are against them, but it is a fight they can survive”, the master said.
The master waited before he spoke, silence descending while he paced in front of the swaying Servant.
“That was the fate of most of the warriors I have trained. I hold no such hope out for you bitch tits. No. Every one of you will die in the Stadia for the Pharaoh’s birthday. Your death will be brutal and humiliating”, the master said.
The vision flashed again. Hyzou saw himself dead. Above him stood a vacuum - a dark creature without form.
“As an early birthday gift to His Majesty, a very kind hunter brought something special in from the wild. You will all fight it, you will all die”, the master said. “It is the wildest beast in all of Sira Su.”
The master clapped loudly.
The gates into the yard were creaked open by two slaves. The bronze screamed out in the morning air. Beyond the gates, out on the road, a giant chariot stood. But there were no horses charged with pulling it. Instead it was carried by thirty or so slaves.
“We have to use humans to pull it. Any animal that gets near this creature loses its mind with terror”, the master said.
Hyzou’s breath quickened. He felt it, felt the presence of the giant cage. The master called it a beast, but Hyzou knew better. This wasn’t some panther or snake - this wasn’t natural. This was a soulless creature. A monster.
The cage at the back of the cart was partially covered by a load of animal hides stitched together crudely. The slaves brought it over. From behind the hides a very low noise came.
Hrumph.. Hurrrr.. Hrumph.. Hurrrr…
It was a beast, breathing.
It breathed slowly, Hyzou breathed quickly
“Each one of you, on Pharaoh Ganymedes’ birthday, will fight the champion chosen by the Pharaoh to represent Lamybla”, the master said.
Hrumph.. Hurrrr.. Hrumph.. Hurrrr..
The noise continued. Hyzou’s breath quickened.
“I give you your opponent! The Pharaoh’s champion!” The master said.
The slaves reached over and pulled some ropes. The hides came down. Inside were a pile of stones.
Or so Hyzou thought, until he saw that the stones were breathing.
They, it, was the biggest living thing Hyzou had ever seen. Though it was lying, and seemed to be asleep, it still rose seven feet into the air. From head to toe it was closer to seventeen feet tall. The cart, Hyzou saw, was made of reinforced bronze to carry the immense weight, but still the vehicle sunk heavily onto its wheels.
A vision flashed, and instead of looking at the giant creature, Hyzou was staring at a dark void in its place. Then the vision was gone again.
This is the same vision, lasting over two days. That’s not happened before. Hyzou thought.
“I give you all a Colossus!” The master shouted.
The shout awoke the creature. Despite its great weight, it managed to get up with ease, firstly on all fours, and then onto its hind legs. It was built like a man, at least in that it had two arms and two legs. That’s where the likeness ended.
It had no genitals, and its skin was tinged a dark grey. Its face was different from a man’s too. Its jaw was at the front of its face, rather than the bottom, and was lined by a series of sharp teeth, each the size of one of Hyzou’s fingers. A creature designed to be a predator. Hyzou didn’t need to wonder about its prey.
It looked all around itself and the cart, breathing heavily in the air.
Beside Hyzou, a much older slave collapsed. The master burst out into laughter.
“Come, come. Don’t be embarrassed. You’re the only one here who really seems to get the picture. I’d be shitting myself too if I knew that this thing would be tearing me apart”, the master said.
The master walked over to one of the slavers and took his spear up.
“In case you didn’t quite know what a Colossus is, and what it can do, this should help you to find out”, The master said. “There’s a reason it’s in so many myths.
The master walked his strange waddle over to the cart. The Colossus watched him all the while. The master drove the spear in through the gaps in the cart’s cage, the sharp point going straight towards the Colossus’ skin. It sunk into the skin, further and further, but the skin just bent underneath the weight.
A loud ringing rang through the ground. The skin bounced back into shape and drove the spear out. The master was thrown backwards onto the san
d. The Colossus still stood staring, just staring. The master got up and brushed himself off.
“You can’t pierce the Colossus’ hide”, The master said, wearing an ugly smile. “It’s impenetrable. No man can kill a Colossus. When you’re in the Stadia you’ll be left at the mercy of this hideous beast. You’ll be dressed for war, but the show will be little more than an execution.”
A deathly silence fell around the yard.
“Oh. And I heard it likes to play with its food”, The master said, a grin splitting his face.
Abe, the Servant of Qi, stepped forward.
“We’ll be teaching you to fight. All of you. That means drilling you in hand-to-hand combat. And the first part of that is movement. You must be trained to move as a Warrior”, Abe said.
Hyzou looked back at the beast.
“Wooden khopesh are over in that shed there. Go”, The master said.
The slaves put the hide back over the Colossus. The silence remained over the group. The beast’s breathing could still be heard in the morning air.
That thing is going to kill me. Hyzou thought.
CHAPTER 6
The drills were simple enough, though Hyzou learned quickly he was the worst fighter among the slaves. The first day, it was the holding of a weapon. Abe had them practice with each weapon once. Some of the other slaves had been soldiers in their past life, but most were like Hyzou, and needed to learn quickly.
Hyzou used a khopesh, swung it with one hand. He held a wooden spear, one hand above the other and while watching out for the tail. He tried the trident and its heavy end, the axe, which once swung couldn’t be slowed. All were made of reinforced wood, so Hyzou went to bed exhausted that night, his shoulders enflamed with the effort.
Day two and three were fighting stances. Abe told them their stance was one foot before another. Narrowing the target an opponent could aim at. As a group they practiced that, switching stance, moving from left to right in the stance, running in the stance. Then, for the rest of the week it was the more complex manoeuvres. Working weapons into them too.