The Last Narkoy_OSLO

by Elizabeth Price

  “What makes you think you won’t?” Sedom asked, resting her head back against the bars as she ate.

  He chuckled. “I’ve seen you fight. I’m good but I know I couldn’t take on four Choli warriors, especially unarmed. No… they’re putting me into the arena with you because I’ve grown too old. I’m used up. I’ve made a name for myself with twenty kills, so I’m sure they just want to send me off in a wave of glory.” He paused, turning to her. She did the same. “When the time comes, could you make my death painless? Rumors claim you have AO powers.”

  Sedom took his hand, squeezing it. “I’ll do my best. I’m sorry this happened to you,” she whispered.

  “You too. You seem like you have a kind heart. I feel honored to die by a Narkoy’s hand,” he released her hand. “We should sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

  Early the next morning, Sedom woke to the sound of a chain clinking against the metal bars of her cage. She looked to see Cizel waiting for her to wake. “Time to dress. You’re needed in the arena in an hour,” he explained.

  She glanced at the other cage, noticing De’mek was gone. She stood and he opened the cage. To her surprise, Cizel held out a piece of fruit that resembled an apple. “Game Council is demanding your fed your natural diet so you to keep up your strength.”

  Sedom took the fruit, taking a bite. It wasn’t the best-tasting apple she had ever eaten, but at least it was fruit. “Thanks.” She continued to the restrooms.

  “Your suit is in there. Freshen up and I’ll take you to the arena,” he ordered.

  Sedom glanced inside, finding the restroom empty. An empty restroom was a good restroom, especially before a fight. She finished her morning routine and dressed. Cizel was waiting for her as she finished.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Ready to die? Sure, who isn’t?” she half-joked.

  “Doubtful. The first round should be easy for you today. Just make it look good. We have a lot of important people in attendance today and they’re all here to see you.”

  He led her out into the arena. After so many games now, she didn’t bother to turn back to the gate. She knew she could pass through them again once everyone on the field was dead. She didn’t mind the killing in the arena. It was when she was alone in her cage that it bothered her.

  De’mek stood in the middle of the arena waiting for her, his arms raised to the cheering crowd. The crowd was chanting his name. As she approached, the crowd began to boo. It was the first time she wasn’t the crowd’s favorite.

  He turned to her, his blade ready. He swung at her before the buzzer rang. He was a cheater, but that was of no consequence. Sedom dodged his attack with a roll. She jumped and began circling him like a wild beast.

  “How long do you want this to last?” she asked as she circled. He swung again, his aim awkward and clumsy. As he pulled his sword back, she grabbed hold of the handle. With one swift move, she tossed him over her back, slicing his throat as he fell back to the ground.

  Pale blue blood spurted and bubbled up through the gaping slash of his throat. He fell to his knees, holding tight to his throat as if his hands could hold back his blood.

  Sedom dropped the weapon, kneeling over him. Very carefully, she lowered De’mek to the ground, her hand connecting to the back of his neck.

  With a second he witnessed his entire life, his childhood, meeting his wife, the birth of his son. Tears swelled in her eyes from the images of his life. With a firm yet caring grip, she removed his hand from his throat. He gripped onto her sleeve, holding it tightly as his body oozed of life.

  “It will be okay now. I’ll find them and tell them for you,” she whispered.

  Blood poured from his throat, causing a puddle beneath Sedom’s feet. He dropped his hand away from her sleeve, his auburn eyes fading. As his hand fell away, Sedom noticed he left behind a perfect handprint on her sleeve; the last act of a dying man. She closed her eyes, holding back her wayward tears.

  Suddenly her hand was lifted into the air and the crowd began to cheer. She slowly stood, her eyes still closed for a moment to hold back her tears.

  “You’re emotional over that?” Terrill questioned with disdain. She didn’t give a response.

  He guided her into the tunnels, shaking his head. Cizel hurried behind them, handing him a computer pad.

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Terrill sneered as he read the computer. “Damn it, Syrok. Why did you have to show you have a heart?”

  That was enough for Sedom. She turned to Cizel, swiping his pistol then quickly turned to Terrill, forcing him against the wall. She held him against the wall with an elbow to his throat.

  “Syrok!” he coughed.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” she growled. Cizel started to intercede, only to see his pistol aimed at his head. “Uh, no!” she warned. He backed away with his hands raised. She turned back to Terrill. “Why did you keep him in a cell next to mine? He was a good man!” she growled.

  “I… didn’t have a choice,” Terrill gasped. She removed her elbow, still aiming the pistol at his head. “It was either him or,” he paused, motioning with his eyes to a mammoth of a man waiting to go through the gates next. He was roughly four times Sedom’s height and width.

  Sedom glanced at the man, shaking her head. “He’s a warrior. I’d rather have fought him, not a family man.”

  “Saving… my investment!” Terrill argued. Sedom pressed the pistol to his forehead. “Go ahead, shoot me!” he demanded. Sedom attempted to pull the trigger, but her finger wouldn’t move. Instead, she shot the wall behind him.

  Cizel grabbed the weapon from her hand. “Stupid girl. You know better!” he cursed.

  She shoved Terrill hard against the wall. He bounced back, staring her down. “You better hope to Enos that collar malfunctions, because you’re mine until you lose! Remember that!” he scolded.

  Rage welled throughout her body. She balled her fist, aiming for Terrill’s face. Her fist flew, only to be held back by Cizel.

  “Don’t. We need you uninjured so you can fight in the arena tomorrow. The upside is you have gained the Cassas’s attention. She’s invited us to the capital for tomorrow’s match. She’s attending specifically to see you.”

  “Don’t I feel privileged? Maybe I can kill her instead?” she threatened. She turned to Cizel. “Shower, now!” she demanded.

  ___

  Inside his office, Danstu stared with bloodshot eyes at his com screen. On the other side was his newly appointed captain, Koos.

  “No, it’s a fine ship, sir. The crew is settled in. We do need someone to handle weapons and security. We can manage for a while,” the aged captain mentioned.

  “Weapons are the one position we need the most. The Assan has three men who are qualified, but I need to find people to replace them,” Danstu offered. “For now, remain local. I may need you within the day.”

  “And the Chadon, sir?” he asked before he had the opportunity to disconnect.

  “We have leads, but she is still MIA. Again, we’ll keep you informed,” he returned. The screen blanked.

  Danstu tapped the com button off only to have it immediately turn green again. An image of Adrein, the leader of the Underground, appeared on the screen. “I found you a crew,” he announced before Danstu had a chance to acknowledge him.

  “How soon?” Danstu asked elated.

  “Depends on how quickly you can pick them up. Their information should be coming through now. I’m attempting to piece together two other crews, but pickings are slim and people I trust even slimmer.”

  “What’s the price?” Danstu returned.

  Adrein stroked his chin. “Access to your warehouse on Teere-giu,” he requested. “Our current location has been compromised and we need a new base. We’re also in need of medical supplies and a small cargo ship.”

  A knock at the door turned Danstu’s attention elsewhere. Ryn poked his head in, giving Danstu a thumb’s up. “Let me get back to you. If not t
here I’ll find you somewhere just as good. Our ship, the Assan, will be passing by your planet. I’ll have them pick up the crew,” he offered.

  “Sounds good.”

  The screen blanked, giving Danstu the opportunity to talk to Ryn. “How bad is she?” he asked.

  Ryn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “She’s doing surprisingly well… considering having fallen out of a crashing ship and fighting seven games,” Ryn explained.

  Danstu slowly rose from his seat, his hands firmly on his desk. “I was informed. Has anyone realized who she is?”

  Ryn shook his head slowly. “Not yet, but some are questioning her origins. Her next game is scheduled in eight hours. The Novaac are sneaking in a spy to send us footage.”

  Danstu sat back in his seat again, closing his tired eyes. “That gives me six hours to attempt sleep, if I can hold back my anxiety. Could you do me a favor? Walk me to my unit? No one bothers me when I’m with you.”

  Ryn chuckled as they walked from the office. “I have a reputation following me from the Underground. I was disrespected by a lower ranking officer once while speaking to my superior. I broke the man’s arm in six places and put him in a coma for three days.”

  “No wonder Adrein was quick to transfer you here,” he joked as Ryn opened the front door leading outside.

  “Yes, well… that had something to do with his daughter,” Ryn shied away. He pointed over to Garric, who was fast approaching them. “Sortec’s pet?” he asked.

  Danstu waved Garric over and through his guards. “Garric, what do you need?”

  The green-skinned, Clove Garric handed Danstu a computer pad. “Information about… about Sortec,” he spoke low. “It’s been confirmed. These images were sent to me a few minutes ago. There are rising concerns in the Marisheio of who she is. Her name is circulating, but many believe it’s too unbelievable to be true.”

  Danstu nodded, taking the computer. “We know,” he whispered. “Inform me immediately if anyone confirms who she is,” he ordered, patting the man on his shoulder.

  Ryn led Danstu away by his upper arm. “Sir, we need to keep moving,” he mentioned low. Danstu agreed, noticing a large group began to surround them. “We can’t take you anywhere. How does Sortec do it?” he questioned.

  “She knew how to stay clear of people,” he admitted as they approached his housing.

  Ryn guided him inside the building. “Sleep well, Sir. I’ll come get you in six hours,” he offered as Danstu stumbled off to his quarters. Danstu’s guards continued to follow him to his room, whereas Ryn continued on.

  Outside as he was heading back to the command building, Ryn noticed Cidele talking to Garric. He handed her a computer pad which she promptly slid into the front pocket of her sapphire jumper.

  “Cidele, hold up,” he called.

  “Thanks. I’ll take care of this. Let me know what else you find,” she told Garric then motioned for him to leave. She slowly turned to Ryn, rolling her eyes. “Oh, great,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “Hey… what you saw earlier--”

  Ryn raised his hand to silence her. “Was between you and the Chisarel and none of my business. I do, however, need your assistance. You’re the head of housing, correct?”

  “Yes, why?” Cidele smirked, obviously still embarrassed by what he saw.

  He grew uncomfortably close, causing Cidele to take a step back. “How can we go about installing a new sofa in the Chisarel’s office?” he asked.

  “A sofa?”

  “The man is sleeping an average of three hours every two days. With a sofa in his office, he can grab a nap here and there,” he said. “He’d be a lot friendlier,” he hinted.

  “Hum,” she grinned. “Where is he now?”

  “In his unit attempting a nap before…” He paused, biting his lip to keep from saying anything else. “Knowing him, we have two hours before he returns to his office.”

  Cidele shot him a crossways smirk. “I can arrange something. I don’t have the authorization to enter his office.”

  “I do,” he admitted. “How soon can you make arrangements?”

  Cidele looked down at her communications band on her wrist for the time. “Give me an hour. I’ll rush out the order,” she offered.

  “Great. I’ll meet you at his office,” he said as he hurried off to his own office.

  An hour later, Cidele arrived with four men from her crew caring a large sofa through the office building. Everyone present cleared the area, allowing the movers to pass with ease. And once everyone realized where the sofa was headed, many cheered.

  Ryn stood by Danstu’s office door. “Why didn’t we think of this earlier?” he asked Lerrina who was standing by her desk with her hands clasped in joy.

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe because he’s always in there,” she pointed out.

  He grunted his amusement as he entered his code for Danstu’s door. He pointed for the men to carry the sofa to the space he cleared in front of the window. “That should work over there,” he said, mainly asking Cidele.

  She shrugged. “Whatever helps,” she said.

  The moving team continued on, leaving Ryn alone with Cidele. “Cidele, a word.” He paused, closing the door. “Look, Danstu isn’t trying to be mean to you. He’s trying to do his job. It would be really helpful if you stopped fighting him. If you keep on him, you’ll give that man a heart attack.”

  “Since when have you become such close friends?” she questioned.

  “Since he needed one,” he stated. “He’s busting his butt off running Gathow, not to mention worried sick over Sortec and us all. If something happens to her, we’re all vulnerable to an attack. He has to play a perfect game when he doesn’t even know what the rules are yet. So please, back off,” he asked politely, even though it felt more like an order.

  Cidele chuckled. “You know, Sedom is really going to like you,” she mentioned.

  “I hope I get to meet her soon,” he returned.

  Cidele took hold of his upper arm, looking sternly into his eyes. “You will meet her soon,” she insisted. “As for the sofa, how do you like it?”

  “Perfect! Thank you,” Ryn returned.

  ___

  Later that day, Danstu returned to his office, sinking directly into his chair. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and grabbed his cup of steaming hot tallis brew Lerrina had set out for him. He took a sip, glancing to his open window. To his surprise, there was a brand new blue sofa just long enough to fit his body. He stood with a snap to his spine and took a seat on the sofa. It was surprisingly comfortable against his aching muscles. He rested his head on the armrest. There was just enough padding to feel comfortable against his throbbing head.

  Ryn knocked on the door as he entered. He paused, noticing Danstu lying on his new sofa. “Good for you?”

  Danstu grunted. “You arranged this?”

  Ryn nodded. “I thought it would be a good idea. You can now catch a nap without having to rush back to your unit. We’re starting to receive images from Clovucutte.”

  Danstu jumped from the sofa, hurrying to the door. “Do they have a visual on her yet?” he asked low.

  Ryn shook his head. “Not yet.” They entered the elevator leading to the first floor. “I’d suggest you invite Cidele to watch. Maybe then she’d—”

  Danstu held up his hand. “No. This is classified.”

  “Then how is it she already knows?” Ryn pointed out.

  Danstu scowled. “That damn woman. Fine, invite her. Eventually, I’ll figure out what Sortec sees in her,” he grumbled.

  “Other than being exceptionally intelligent? Did I hear someone mention she was a military tracker?” Ryn pointed out.

  Danstu nodded as he ran his tongue over his back tooth. The tooth was sensitive, too sensitive to be a small ache. He hoped it was just sore from how he slept, but doubted that was the real case.

  “So I’ve been told. She was the one who found Sortec when she was hiding in the forest. Those two have
been inseparable ever since. It’s partly why she insisted on going to Clovucutte. I just know Sortec will have my throat if I allow her to go,” Danstu explained as they stepped into the elevator to the command center.

  Surprisingly, when they reached the top, Cidele was already waiting for them. She stepped aside, allowing Danstu and Ryn to pass.

  Danstu turned his attention to the main viewscreen, which took up a large portion of the command center. The viewscreen was filled with pixilated static. “What’s this?”

  “We’re having difficulty with our link. We’re working on it,” Commander Tu’fal explained as he approached.

  Danstu began to pace the floor of the command center, waiting for an image, any image to appear on the main viewscreen.

  Tu’ful paced next to Danstu. “We do have audio, sir.”

  “Listening to a cheering crowd isn’t going to do us a damn bit of good. I need to see what’s happening. Where’s that damn link?” he called out. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another!” he grumbled under his breath, but loud enough for Cidele to hear. He paused, turning to her when he noticed her staring at him. “What?”

  “You curse?” she questioned.

  He motioned to the screen with an open palm. “Wouldn’t you?” he returned. “In times like this, I find it hard not to. And if I don’t see something on that screen soon, I’ll have a few more choice words. Where’s the image?”

  “Operational, sir,” called the com’s officer.

  “On screen,” Danstu ordered.

  The screen filled with the image of the arena. A long scan revealed thousands of spectators in the stands. Another scan revealed the layout of the arena below.

  “Torreh is online,” the com’s officer called out.

  “Rosanheer, this is the Chisarel. How far away are you from where they keep the slaves?” Danstu called.

  The camera pointed to a large gate, several hundred meters away. “Slaves housed there,” he muttered. The camera shifted to the other side of the arena to a different gate. “Those visiting,” he explained.

  A crowd erupted in pandemonium as a muscular Zalmin man, wearing little more than scraps of armor, entered the field. Another man, a Boshibon with deep green skin, entered from the other gate. Both were sizable men.