by David Beers
At least, that was what Alistair told himself as he went to his room.
He hoped no one would come to speak to him, but he knew that was foolish.
The first visitor was Caesar. The giant had to duck as he walked through the halls. His body was large enough that he had to work not to scrape the walls with his shoulders. He looked uncomfortable as he stuck his head into Alistair's rock room.
"Master, may I speak?" he boomed in his deep voice.
Alistair was lying on the rock ledge with his hands on his stomach. "I told you not to call me Master."
"I'm sorry, Master."
It was going to be a tough habit to break.
"Go ahead," Alistair told him. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Do you want me to kill this man? Or do you want your servants to kill them all? We will do it, no problem."
Alistair closed his eyes, and a warm smile spread on his face. Caesar was an intelligent being, but he was also simple in many ways. "No, but I appreciate the offer. This is something I have to do myself."
"Okay, Master," the giant responded. "Do you want me there? I can kill him while he's focused on you."
Alistair sat up then, having not fully realized how little Caesar understood about what was to happen. He looked at the giant's square head. "No. It's very important that you understand you cannot interfere, no matter what happens. Neither you nor any of the gigantes can interfere. I only want you to be there. The rest need to remain where the Terram have them now. This duel is for me to win, and me alone, okay?"
Caesar nodded. "It will be done. May I leave now, Master?"
"Yes, and don't call me Master."
Caesar opened his mouth, most likely to say, “Sorry, master,” but he caught himself. He smiled, his mouth wide with delight, then tapped his temple. "Caught myself that time."
"Good job," Alistair told him, returning his smile.
The giant left, and Alistair was alone again. He was keeping time in his head. He had about two and a half hours left. He closed his eyes and waited. Obs remained at the ledge's side, his head between his paws.
Alistair could tell that the drathe was nervous. He knew the creature wanted to be involved in the battle, but he thought he understood better than Caesar why he couldn't help. Alistair reached down and stroked the animal's fur. "I'm going to win. Maybe only me and the giant believe it, but I'm going to win, okay? Try not to worry too much."
The drathe licked his hand softly. He then placed his head back between his paws and waited with his master.
He’d expected the AllMother to come at some point, but she didn't. She understood what he was doing, and there was nothing else to be said.
Alistair was just about to start warming up when Thoreaux arrived.
"Thirty minutes left."
Alistair nodded. "Just about ready." Obs stood up, walked over to the door, and licked Thoreaux's outstretched hand.
"What are you thinking?" his second asked.
"I was thinking about my wife," Alistair said as he sat up. "Wondering what she's doing right now."
"Not about the duel?"
Alistair shook his head. "No. I've killed Myrmidons before. I'll kill this one."
Thoreaux swallowed. He looked like he had something to say but wasn't sure how to say it.
"Spit it out," Alistair told him.
"You haven't seen him yet, have you? The one you're facing?"
Alistair was reaching to grab his boot when he heard the question. He looked up. "No. Why?"
Thoreaux sighed. "Well, I suppose it's nothing. No reason to discuss it now if you're not worried."
Alistair stared at him for another second with his eyebrow raised. "You sure?"
"I mean, you'll see soon enough. Nothing I say now is going to matter. I figured you might be warming up and decided to see if I could help."
Alistair grabbed his boot and started strapping it on. "Sure."
The room was too small for any kind of real practice, so the three of them headed to where the duel would take place. The Terram had a relatively small stadium that they'd built beneath the ground. There was only one on the entire planet, given the restrictions placed on such endeavors. The stadium could hold a few hundred Terram, and usually some sort of sporting event was held in it. Not a blood sport, though.
As the three of them stepped into the stadium, Alistair stopped. He had honestly not considered the duel very much since making his decision, and he certainly hadn't considered that there would be spectators.
Here they were, though. He'd thought the area could hold a few hundred, but as he looked around the arena, his mind told him he was staring at a thousand people. The Terram were sitting on top of each other, women in men's laps, brothers and sisters sharing seats. They were shoved in tightly up to the ceiling.
"I wasn't sure you wanted to know," Thoreaux said once he understood Alistair's shock. "They started piling in the moment we landed. First come, first served type of thing. They refused any seats to our people. They want to watch this."
Alistair turned in a circle as he looked at the spectators. "I don't understand. Why?"
Thoreaux was staring at the packed seats as he spoke. "Your legend is growing, Pro. The things you've done are spreading across this galaxy. Even the Terram are starting to respect you. The tongue-lashing Servia received was nothing like it would have been six months ago." He dropped his eyes to Alistair. "One of the Terram even asked Relm if he could get your autograph."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding?"
Thoreaux shrugged. "That's what he said. So don't lose this battle because we could probably start selling your signature."
Alistair shook his head. "Come. Help me get warmed up."
The two started with some hand-to-hand fighting stances. Thoreaux was woefully overmatched, but he did his best to keep up, helping Alistair work up a light sweat. It was the first time in a while that Alistair had been able to warm up before fighting, and it felt good.
Fifteen minutes passed, and silence spread across the stadium.
Thoreaux stopped attacking and looked at the other side. The Myrmidon had entered the stadium. He was alone, staring across the field of battle from behind a black and dark-green helmet. The AllSeer's eye was scratched across the metal plate on his chest. In each hand he held a small black pole, so Alistair knew he would wield dual sabers.
He had never seen anyone try such a thing. It could be very unwieldy or very dangerous.
"Thanks, Thoreaux," Alistair said as he stared at the black figure. "I'll see you in a bit."
Thoreaux grabbed his shoulder. "Ave, Prometheus." His second in command left the battlefield.
Alistair squatted and touched the floor. It was dusty with the rock this stadium had been carved from. He swept some away from in front of him. He wore no armor and no shields. He was dressed in simple garments: pants and a shirt with the sleeves cut off, allowing for better movement of his arms. A light sweat had risen across his body, and his muscles felt good.
He pulled the knife from his belt and looked down at his arm.
"I do not kill for glory," he whispered to the dusty floor. The stadium's noise level started to pick up at the movement of his blade. He ignored it. "I do not kill for malice. I kill because it is right. Because if I do not kill, those who seek to harm me and those I love will do so."
He brought the blade to his left arm and started cutting in a circle. The crowd above him screamed—whether cheering or booing, Prometheus did not care. The man who loved his wife, the one who cared about the AllMother's movement and her children, was gone, forced to the back of the shared mind.
Prometheus, the harbinger of fire, had arrived.
"I do not fear the enemy. I do not fear death. I only fear living without protecting those I love. I only fear cowardice and hiding from my duty. As this blood flows, so will I. I bleed now so that I will not later. I bleed now so that those who sow harm against me know that blood does not frighten me. I bleed n
ow because it is this blood that will conquer anyone in my path."
He looked up and across the stadium.
"See it and fear," he whispered. "See it and die."
He stood, sheathing his blade, then wiped his blood beneath his eyes. The crowd was roaring so loudly that Prometheus could feel the vibrations on his flesh.
The Myrmidon pumped his blades up and down, and green lasers spilled out on both sides.
Alistair took his Whip from his belt. The two were maybe a hundred yards from one another. Alistair couldn't see the Myrmidon's face, and he could not judge his size. He was larger than any Myrmidon Prometheus had faced before. He might have been as large as a gigante. It would be close without a doubt.
Gigantes couldn't wield dual lasers, though.
Prometheus' Whip twirled at his side, and he started forward. The Myrmidon didn't move, remaining in place holding his dual blades.
Halfway across, Prometheus picked up his pace to a jog. Fifty yards left.
At twenty-five yards, he hit an all-out sprint. His feet touched the ground only long enough to push him forward, his long steps gracefully moving him toward the beast.
The Myrmidon didn't move.
Prometheus hit the ground one last time, then threw himself into the air on an arc toward the creature. His Whip formed a blade, the point heading toward the Myrmidon's heart.
Seconds before Prometheus made contact, the Myrmidon disappeared. He was simply no longer in front of Prometheus. The warrior tucked and rolled. He skidded to a stop, feeling the air moving behind him. Remaining low, he turned and swept his Whip through the space.
The Myrmidon was there, a towering figure. His dual blades flashed down, slashing at Prometheus and the Whip simultaneously. Prometheus didn't have time to consider what had happened and how the Myrmidon had transferred from one space to another without being seen.
The onslaught was incredible.
Prometheus rolled away, then his massive body sprang up. He had to spin again to create more space because the Myrmidon was just there, all over him, no matter how far Prometheus tried to push away.
The dual blades came down again and again, the creature swinging them not tiring. Prometheus used his Whip as quickly as he could, batting away the deathblows that fell on him, but he couldn't find a way inside the Myrmidon's strikes.
The right blade sliced through the air as an uppercut, catching Prometheus’ ribcage and burning through garment and flesh alike. The spectators roared at the hit.
Prometheus kicked out, hit the Myrmidon in his chest, and launched himself backward at the same time, finally creating needed space between the two of them.
His ribcage burned, and he touched it with his free hand. The bone was still intact. The laser had only grazed him. The Myrmidon stood a few yards away, chuckling beneath his helmet. "You're the Prophesied One? The man that is supposed to bring the AllMother an empire?"
Prometheus said nothing. He forced the pain from his mind and started forward again. He didn’t understand how anyone could move as this creature did, seeming to be everywhere at once and even able to teleport.
That wasn't possible, yet Prometheus could see no other way the being had moved as he had.
Prometheus' Whip connected with the dual blades, but he didn't force anything. His body reacted to the other's attacks, but his mind had switched to observation mode. He watched as the Myrmidon fought, trying to understand what exactly was happening.
It was hard to see the beast moving, his speed was that great. The dual blades appeared to be at one place one moment, yet the very next, they moved somewhere else. Prometheus could barely keep up, and his mind was observing. Instead of reacting, he was losing his ability to counter the attacks.
Another blade sliced deep into his left arm, almost touching bone. Pro made no noise. He spun back, his Whip arcing outward and reestablishing much-needed space between him and the Myrmidon. Blood dripped down his left arm, down his hand, and hit the ground.
"Lay down your Whip, Prophesied One," the Myrmidon commanded, "and I will make your death quick."
The crowd around them had grown quiet. Prometheus had two wounds now, and his clothing was growing dark with blood. Even if he managed to keep fighting, the blood loss would accumulate. The crowd knew he was in a bad spot. Soon he’d grow woozy, then the Myrmidon would deliver the killing blow.
He fights differently than the gigantes, Pro thought as he stared at the armored creature. There's no rage or strength. He's all speed and calm. He fights like me.
"You can't kill me," the Myrmidon said. "You're only human."
Prometheus watched as the creature suddenly flashed ten yards to his right. He didn't walk there, just appeared. As quickly as he'd done that, he flashed back to his original spot.
He was teleporting, or the closest thing to it Prometheus had ever seen. Magic, or science he didn't understand? It came down to the same thing right now.
Even the small murmurs in the crowd had ceased. They'd seen it too.
Luna’s voice spoke to Pro. Did you come here to die, Allie? Or to admire this Myrmidon? Because it doesn’t seem like you came here to win.
Prometheus' chest heaved as the Myrmidon remained in one place. He was silent, his blades hanging like death at his sides.
Prometheus dropped to one knee, his Whip twirling in the air at his side. He reached into the dust and lightly rubbed his fingers through it. Something was happening here that he didn't understand, something driving the very essence of this battle. It wasn't magic but some sort of technology the AllSeer had created.
Or adapted.
The Myrmidon remained still, staring through his helmet, waiting for Prometheus’ next strike.
Pro finally thought he understood what was happening. He didn't know how it was possible, only that he saw no other way for the creature to move in such a manner. He scooped up a bit of dust in his hand, and still kneeling on one knee, tossed it to the left. He watched the dust cloud float as blood leaked from his arm.
Prometheus stood. He felt himself weakening. Not quickly, not yet; his body was far too strong for that, but any more wounds, and he’d start going faster. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the Myrmidon. He didn't know what the creature was. Certainly not human, but he thought he understood it now.
For the first time, the Myrmidon came at him. Pro watched his steps. They were slow and steady, nothing like the speed that he'd seen or the teleportation he'd showcased. Right now, he moved like a human. But in a few seconds?
Prometheus closed his eyes as the creature came for him. He understood what had to be done, and knew he probably only had one opportunity to do it. Once the Myrmidon understood that he understood, things would change quickly and for the worse.
The crowd above was silent. Prometheus felt the tiny vibrations made by the Myrmidon's movement. He could feel the dual sabers spinning as the Myrmidon set up for the killing blow.
Prometheus took a deep breath, and for milliseconds, all the minor vibrations stopped.
Pro spun with all the speed and strength he could muster, and an audible gasp ripped from the crowd's collective lungs. The Whip turned blade-like and Prometheus thrust it forward, eyes still closed, trusting his other senses rather than sight.
He felt the laser hit home, sinking through metal armor and piercing something softer. Prometheus had been facing the opposite way as he thrust his Whip, but now he turned his head and opened his eyes. The Myrmidon stood in front of him, the blades at his side and shaking rapidly. Pro gripped the Whip’s hilt with both hands and shoved it deeper, forcing it all the way through the creature until the laser exited his back.
That black blood Prometheus had seen on the Myrmidon's ship—the blood that had sprung from the ship—now fell from underneath the Myrmidon's helmet.
It hit his chest and the ground, steaming into the cool air.
Prometheus took his left hand off the hilt and flipped the Myrmidon's helmet to the ground.
Black blo
od poured from the creature's mouth. The thing Pro was looking at was ancient. Not old in the sense of the AllMother, but old in the sense of something long ago dead. Its skin was black and a deep green like the armor he'd worn, but sickly-looking, like it was rotting. Something moved beneath his flesh as well, looking like tiny ants crawling underneath his skin.
The dual blades dropped to the ground.
Prometheus grabbed the hilt again and shoved, this time putting the Myrmidon on the floor. He pulled the Whip upward, cutting farther into the creature's chest cavity. That oil-like blood flowed from his mouth. The creature's eyes were red and stared up at Prometheus in disbelief, with complete and total shock that he'd been beaten.
The insects beneath his skin were slowing, if that was what they were. Prometheus didn't know, and he didn't care. He only wanted this thing dead.
He wrenched the Whip farther up, ripping through the chest and then splitting the creature's neck and head wide open, obliterating the thing's face.
The screaming above Prometheus was deafening. The very walls of the place were vibrating with cheers.
Prometheus stood straight up, pulling his Whip from the dead Myrmidon, and looked across the throng of people. On the other side of the stadium, he saw Thoreaux and Servia standing side by side. They were smiling.
Alistair slowly started coming forward, the blood-lusting Prometheus stepping back. As he did, he felt the weakness in his body, the blood still flowing from his arm.
He took a step forward and wobbled on his feet.
There was more to the damage than blood loss. He knew that now. Those blades... Something had been in the lasers, and now it was in Alistair. He dropped to his knees, and the last thing he remembered was Servia and Thoreaux rushing toward him.
Blackness embraced him.
Chapter Six
Alistair dreamed.
They weren't like most of his dreams, the dreams of the modified, but they were still very strange.