by J J Moriarty
“I… I didn’t know”, Hyzou said.
His breath began to quicken, as sobs wracked through his body. A loud moan sounded through the yard, before Hyzou realised it was coming from him.
“Oh, Hyzou,” Aliya said.
His master arose and grabbed him; pulled him into a hug.
Hot tears ran down his cheeks and fell on Aliya’s shoulder. She was leaning upon him, the only way she could stand without crutches.
“I can’t. It’s so dark. It’s all so dark”, Hyzou said.
“It’s normal to be nervous, but you’ve got a good chance of beating the Colossus”, Aliya said.
“It’s not the Colossus ”, Hyzou said.
“Come, sit with me”, Aliya said.
She led him to her stool. She sat down, and Hyzou sat upon the sand. His hand was still in hers.
“Hyzou, tell me what’s bothering you”, Aliya said. “Where was this while we trained? You seemed stable.”
“I don’t know. Really, I don’t”, Hyzou said. “I mean, I don’t know where I’m going.”
“You don’t seem too dark”, Aliya said.
“In two days I’ll fight the Colossus. Perhaps I’ll lose. Perhaps not. What then? What then?” Hyzou asked.
“Worry about that if you win”, Aliya said.
Hyzou began to cry again.
“I’m already dead”, Hyzou said.
“Are you? I hadn’t noticed”, Aliya said.
“They’re all dead. My father, my mother, my sister, my city, my home. Tabiry. All are dead”, Hyzou said.
“Oh Hyzou, they all loved you as dearly as you love them”, Aliya said.
“Why? Why did it all have to happen?” Hyzou asked. “Why was it all destroyed?”
“Lamybla willed it. Whether it was Kyrios Nuya, or Pharaoh Ganymedes, or the Colossus; all are the same enemy. Symbolised by that Sun Tower that ranges over us”, Aliya said.
Aliya looked up into the sky, at the tip that was just discernible in the hot, hazy air of the evening sky. Hyzou did too.
“I was ready to die”, Hyzou said. “When I first came to Lamybla, I knew it would come soon, and I was ok with that.”
“The man I trained was not someone ready to die”, Aliya said.
“I saw hope. Hope somewhere that I could survive. First in Abe, then in the Whisperer, and finally in you. I’ve worked so hard to survive. And for what?” Hyzou asked.
“What do you mean, for what?” Aliya said.
“Even if I win and kill the Colossus, well, so what?” Hyzou said.
“Two days from now, you won’t just be fighting a Colossus. You’ll be fighting the master, and Kyrios Nuya and Pharaoh Ganymedes. You’ll be striving to collapse the Sun Tower itself”, Aliya said.
“I’m not me anymore. I died when Piquea fell. How can I love or live again, if everything I loved or lived for is gone?” Hyzou said.
“You’re not listening to me, Hyzou. The Colossus is Lamybla. You, therefore, are Piquea.”
“I am?” Hyzou said.
“Become Piquea’s champion”, Aliya said. “Avenge your family. Avenge your city. Raze the Sun Tower to the ground.”
Hyzou swallowed and began to breathe normally. She was right.
Hyzou stood. He wiped away his tears.
“Do you feel better?” Aliya said.
“I don’t know”, Hyzou said. “I think so.”
“You don’t need to be happy”, Aliya said. “Just do your duty.”
Hyzou nodded.
“Thank you, Aliya. For everything”, Hyzou said.
“Good luck child”, she said.
CHAPTER 25
The wind whistled softly. The city was boiling on the hottest day of the year so far.
Hyzou breathed in deeply. There was a horrible stench, humans and dusty brownstone baking under the summer sun. All around him was calm. The only noise was from the death carts collecting yesterday’s dead. Dawn was breaking over Lamybla.
He heard the clink of the door and turned to see Abe walking down the path towards him.
“Given the day that was in it, I thought it would be best to walk to the Stadia”, Abe said.
“I’m going to die today”, Hyzou said.
“You don’t know that. You’ve progressed well, and maybe you’ve learned enough to defeat the Colossus. The plan still prevails”, Abe said.
Hyzou nodded. Abe spoke like he hadn’t just spent the last two months in a permanent state drunkenness.
They walked together, side-by-side, through the empty city streets. There were a few who had arisen already. Those who were going early to pray, some preachers laying out their mats for the day, and of course the death carts and the scavengers that followed them.
The city had an electric feel. It was the Pharaoh’s birthday.
They spent their time together in silence walking along. Once, Abe reached over and placed his hand on Hyzou’s shoulder. Hyzou didn’t bother returning the warmth.
They reached the plaza beneath the Stadia, and there a figure was waiting to greet them.
“Welcome, my friends”, the master said, a sneer on his face. “How do you feel, Hyzou of Nuyin?”
Hyzou bowed, staying polite. “Quite well, sir.”
“Good, good. I hope you will put on quite a show for us later. This morning though you’ll be treated as a Kyrios would. A fine spread awaits you inside. Please proceed”, the master said.
The master wasn’t pointing to the Stadia, but instead to a house on his left whose doors were wide open. Hyzou did as he was bid and walked inside. The sooner he could be away from Abe and the master, the better.
A fat guard sat there, with a khopesh on his lap. He smiled a gruesome grin at Hyzou, then pointed to a door at his right. Hyzou pushed the door open onto a winding set of stairs. He climbed them slowly, at their end was an open bronze door.
Beyond it was a long room, in the centre of which sat a giant oak table. It groaned under the weight of the food sat upon it. Platters of fruit, of cheese and lots and lots of rice. There were small fish lining the edge of the table, and beef and rabbit diced and sitting in the middle of it. Around the room were the others that Hyzou had left behind when he had gone to train with Abe. They fanned about the room, mingling with the others. There were serving boys and girls, and men and women of the flesh.
When he entered the room, silence fell. Apart from three couples that were engaged in the room’s corners, all looked at him. Hyzou hardened his jaw.
Hyzou began to speak but his voice faltered. They glared at him. He decided to forget it. He took a large bowl and filled it with some things to eat – slices of mango, some fish and an orange.
Hyzou walked out to a small balcony, where white lace curtains separated him from the rest of the slaves. He sat down and began nibbling on his breakfast.
“Maybe I can keep you company.”
Hyzou looked up at a woman of the flesh, standing naked in the doorway.
“No. I’m ok”, Hyzou said.
“Would you prefer a man?”
“No, I’d prefer to be left alone”, Hyzou said.
She bowed.
“Wait”, Hyzou said.
She looked at him with one brow cocked.
“Your Lamyblan is awful. Where are you from?” Hyzou asked.
She frowned. “Are you insulting me?”
“No, I’m not. You’re not from Lamybla, are you?” Hyzou asked.
“I’m from Piquea”, she said.
Hyzou switched to Piquean.
“Me too. I was taken in the sack, when did you arrive here?” Hyzou asked.
“The same. I don’t much like to remember it”, she said.
“The sack? Neither do I. But I do like to remember my home as it was. Would you sit and reminisce with me?” Hyzou asked.
She bit her lip and looked around.
“The masters don’t want us to talk about where we came from.”
She turned around. Several lines of whip scars r
an along the skin just above her buttocks.
“I know that pain”, Hyzou said.
He lowered his robes and turned his back to her, to show her the scars from his whipping. The dark lacerations that would never disappear.
She gasped.
“Those scars. They’re terrible”, She said.
“They’re all healed now”, Hyzou said.
“You’ve been whipped much worse than I ever was”, She said.
Hyzou pulled his robes back on, then sat upon the ground.
“Come. Sit. Your job is to keep the fighters entertained, how will they know if you did that through sex or through chatter?”
She looked around her, then quickly skipped over to Hyzou, and dived into his arms. He was surprised, but given how little time he had left to live, some comfort wouldn’t go amiss. Once she had settled beside him, Hyzou got a shock. He could see through the paint and the costume. This was still a child.
“You never told me your name”, Hyzou said.
“Ankhesenpaten”, She said.
“A mouthful”, Hyzou said.
“Yes, my father crippled me when he named me”, She said. “But everyone just calls me Paten.”
“Well Paten. My name is Hyzou.”
“Pleased to meet you Hyzou.”
“And what part of Piquea did you live in?” Hyzou asked.
“Arron”, Paten said.
“That preacher used to always shout from up high around there, asking all to renounce false deities and fear the flood”, Hyzou said.
“I remember him. You could hear him from my house, and he’s been preaching all my life.”
“I came from Nuyin”, Hyzou said.
“From the huts along the cart tracks?” Paten asked.
“No”, Hyzou laughed. “Those houses beside them.”
“I can see them”, Paten exclaimed.
Hyzou smiled
“Yes, I see them a lot. They’re probably nothing but dust now”, Hyzou said.
“I wish I could go home just once”, Paten said.
“Me too. But at least you’ll live a long life. I’ll die today”, Hyzou said.
Paten’s face darkened.
“Ah, but what a life”, Paten said.
“It’s difficult?” Hyzou asked.
“It’s… It’s not easy”, Paten said. “I’d probably like the chance to die today. Anytime. With glory. It’s not like I haven’t tried, just I live in such depravation, I never even have a chance.”
Hyzou stared into the child’s eyes.
“It’s not the life of a slave, or the life as a woman of the flesh. It’s the master”, Paten said.
“What’s wrong with your master?” Hyzou asked.
“I’m owned by a family who run a brothel near the Sun Tower. I think it’s the father and mother of the house who own me jointly, but it’s the two sons of the house that manage the property”, Paten said.
“And they’re the source of your misery?” Hyzou asked.
“Yes. They whip me, they whip all the women and men, without cause. Even when I do right, Hyzou of Nuyin, they beat me within an inch of my life. And sometimes they leave me so bruised and bloody that I can’t even see customers the next day, it’s the same for me and all the workers, and then the father gets angry and the punishment gets even worse. I feel as if I’m drowning in a pool of sand”, she said.
Hyzou was taken aback. Her transition from prostitute to crying child was so quick, he didn’t know what to do. He took her head and held it against his chest.
“I was in that place, the pain and the loneliness and the fear. I wish I could tell you to persevere, to survive and it’ll improve, but that’s not the truth. Maybe it’ll get better, maybe it won’t”, Hyzou said.
She traced a scar that ran from his neck down to his shoulder. It had been given to him weeks ago, but the nature of the training meant it kept reopening every day.
“What would your father say, if he saw the life you live today?” Hyzou asked.
“He’d cry”, Paten said.
“I think the parents of Piquea would all cry were they to see the subjugation of her children, wouldn’t you agree?” Hyzou said.
“I agree”, Paten said.
“We’re nothing but a city of orphans, living in the bondage that was gifted to us by the man who killed our fathers, our mothers. It just makes me so angry sometimes”, Hyzou said.
“How…” Paten began, but then she recoiled a little bit.
“No, go on”, Hyzou said.
“How did they enter the city, how weren’t we protected?” She asked.
Hyzou sighed.
“King Imhotep’s final legacy”, Hyzou said.
“I’m very sore, I’m always very sore”, Paten said.
She touched her back, where some of the whipping scars were still raw and alight with small beads of sweat.
“Come then, let’s rest until I’m called to fight”, Hyzou said.
“But I can’t rest, I’m working”, Paten said.
“You’re working by spending time with me. It’s not much, but I have nothing to give you but the view from this balcony”, Hyzou said.
Paten nodded and lay her head back against his chest. Hyzou stared at his surroundings. There were birds, they danced about a pool on one of the rooves nearby. Circling them were two old cats, ready to pounce once the birds made a mistake.
Hyzou watched their dance for a while. Twice the cats jumped, but they caught nothing. All the time he stroked Paten’s hair.
Finally, the call came.
A shrill whistle sounded out through the rooms, and a voice from within called for attention. Hyzou kissed Paten’s brow and stepped over her. She’d been asleep.
“I hope you win”, Paten said.
Hyzou turned and smiled.
“Thank you”, Hyzou said.
In the middle of the room the table had been pulled away, and on a small box stood the master. He was all smiles for his big day, but he managed to flash a glare over at Hyzou across the room. Hyzou ignored the stare.
“How now, it’s time”, the master said, “through that door is a long tunnel, which ends in the armoury.”
The master clapped. Beside him, two slaves hoisted a large stone tablet into the air. There, a long list of names sat in writing large enough for the eye to see even from the distance that Hyzou watched.
Number eleven – Hyzou of Nuyin
Hyzou set his jaw. He’d have to sit through ten other bouts of fighting before getting his chance.
“Leave now in the order of your battles”, the master said.
A narrow door was opened by a slave, and it revealed a dark set of stairs that seemed to descend to the very bowels of the earth.
Hyzou counted them as the ten sacrifices went before him. Then he went himself. The master nodded to each of them as they passed, but he reserved a smile for Hyzou.
Hyzou grimaced in return. He felt his cool exterior collapse as his panic rose in his stomach.
Hyzou breathed deeply and found his Qi. As he walked along the dark passage, Hyzou used his Qi to look around himself. Above him, in the Stadia, there were tens of thousands of Qis stacked on top of one another. The pile grew larger by the second, more people than Hyzou had ever seen in his life. He could see every one of them, some dull and some stronger.
Several bright lights among the crowd told Hyzou that he wasn’t alone.
Hyzou walked further along the passage. The Stadia was full. They all began to collide, one large bright orange light of life.
But one figure stood out among them all. The Colossus, a creature devoid of a Qi, was a dark black void in the centre of it all.
It was in a cage, underneath the Stadia, waiting, just like him.
What kind of creature has no spirit? Hyzou thought.
The steps descended into the darkness, before opening out onto a poorly lit cellar. Guards buzzed about, while surrounding the walls were weapons of all kinds. There were piles of
helmets, breastplates, gloves and boots lying about. A small, snotty man came over to Hyzou, looking him up and down. Hyzou undressed.
“What can we get for you today then, eh?” The man asked.
“Robes, boots, gloves, a small dagger, and the longest spear you have”, Hyzou said.
The man snorted. “Robes, well I wonder what you’ve been drinking, thinking robes will help.”
The man began to root among the breastplates.
“I don’t think we’ve ever even had robes down here. Last person I saw fight in them was some man who imagined himself to be the prophet, he just sat down and let the beasts tear him apart. Strange fuck. Is that what you have planned? I’d have thought…”
The man stopped. He pulled out a set of fresh grey robes, folded and clean. Held them up to the light.
“Well, where did they come from?” The man asked.
Hyzou looked at the small square of yellow stitched into the shoulder over the grey.
“No idea”, Hyzou said.
The man shrugged and flung them at Hyzou. Hyzou caught them and held tight. Next, the man went to the boots and dug in there. Picking a pair, seemingly at random, he threw them at Hyzou. Given the strength of their sole and the flexibility of their ankle, Hyzou knew they had only recently been cobbled, and had not yet been worn into battle. The gloves he was given were the same, new and shaped from well-tanned leather. Hyzou’s clothes were expensive.
“What weapons did you say you wanted then?” The man asked.
“A spear, the longest you have, and a small dagger”, Hyzou said.
“Well, here’s your dagger”, the man said.
He handed Hyzou a bronze knife, then went walking along the walls, measuring the weapons. The man found his mark.
“It’s perfect”, Hyzou said, looking at the spear that grew to more that fifteen feet in length.
Hyzou took it into both of his own hands and felt the cold bronze against his palms. The whole thing was made of the metal. Every other spear here that had a metal spearhead attached to a wooden staff. A solid bronze spear should be too expensive to be squandered on slaves, yet still, down here it rested, ready for Hyzou’s use.
Once he was armed, Hyzou walked through an antechamber lined with benches. Ahead was a bronze portcullis, through which was the long passageway that led to the Stadia. Here was Hyzou’s final resting place before the fight. He breathed deeply, then sat. The room was empty, everyone else was still getting dressed.