Paradise Forgotten Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  Does he take the gladius that he has no doubts about, but will lead him to a hell with that awful man? Or does he choose a throwing spear like an idiot and risk dying? If he chooses the spear, he could leave this place and be with Orion who seems to be the lesser of two evils. So he kills himself, dies in the arena, becomes a sex slave, or takes a blind leap of faith with a stranger who promises to take care of him. In a moment of unbridled bravery and perhaps incredible stupidity, Troy slides a single throwing spear from the barrel in the corner. This is it.

  The guard laughs behind him. "You can take more than one."

  "I only need one."

  "You're one of those suicidal bastards, aren't you? Why not put up a fight and give them a good show? They didn't come here to watch you lie down and die like a coward."

  "You told me to choose my weapon and I've chosen it." Troy says. "Do not offer me a choice in the matter if you seek to humiliate me by mocking my decision. Do not make this process unnecessarily cruel by eliminating the ultimate choice these prisoners have in their lives. If they are the ones to die, allow them to choose how they die in peace."

  "You're certainly more articulate than the normal scum I get in here. What's your name, slave?"

  "My name is Troy Onyx Adonis and no matter what station I hold in life, I will never be a slave. Slaves cannot think for themselves. If I am to belong to an owner, then so be it. However, I can assure you that below my mask of servitude and submission, I will always have my pride and my honor."

  "A good whipping will beat that hubris out of you." The guard says as he pulls Troy out of the room.

  "I welcome you to try."

  * * *

  Once they're in the coliseum with the crowds of excited Nymphs, all here for the show, Blice leads Zodiac and Nova down a back hallway that goes behind the seats. He pushes through the people who don't stop and bow to him. "This way. We're going to find my father and put an end to this right now. Stay with me."

  They run through the noisy passageway, past the food vendors and the children play fighting with plastic weapons. The entire thing disgusts Zodiac. How can they glorify this kind of barbaric savagery? Do these people not realize that these prisoners are fighting for their lives? Now they are going to cheer as one of their own pure Nymph nobles, heir to the throne, and model citizen who they regard as a hero, is forced to fight for a crime he didn't commit. Are they going to be this excited when they see their beloved Sir Troy of Athens branded and humiliated like a common criminal?

  Blice pulls open a wooden door to one of the private viewing suites and leads them inside where Evans and Apollo are sipping wine and laughing about something as if nothing is going on. "Father, you have to stop the fight."

  Evans turns around. "Blice? I'm pleased you've decided to join us. Have a seat."

  "No. Do you know that Troy has been slated to fight today? He's innocent. Nova is right here. She's alive and stays that Troy didn't harm her at all. It was all a big misunderstanding."

  "But he's already been branded and removed from the citizen database. He's the main fighter today. There's nothing I can do."

  "You're the king." Blice says. "You can save him. It was a mistake. They'll understand."

  "There was no mistake." Evans says with a dark grin. "I bugged that little garden shack of yours. I heard everything you and Troy were planning. So you want to kill me and share the throne with him?"

  "Father . . ."

  "Don't act so surprised. This is going down one way or another. After this day is over, your accomplice will either be dead or a slave, never to be heard from again. I do not tolerate rumors of treason. He will be the example to these Nymphs that I mean business. Not only that, but I found his little secret in my dead wife's bedroom. So he's her son? Fine with me. He can't take over as king if he's dead. Plus, I bet six thousand gold on him to win all four of his fights."

  "You can't be this heartless." He turns to Apollo who hasn't said a word. "Apollo, what about you? Are you going to sit here laughing while your son dies down there?"

  "Troy is no longer my son. I've disowned him. He is dead to me already. Plus, money is more valuable than blood. I too have money invested in this fight."

  "What is wrong with you people?" Zodiac screams at them and Blice has to hold him back. "You can't kill innocent people! Troy is the best person ever and you want to get rid of him like he's dirt? I won't let you!"

  Nova takes a less violent approach as she kneels down on the carpet at his feet. "Your Majesty, please allow me to buy Troy. This is all the money I have. You can have our house as well. We'll give you whatever you want. Please."

  "You can't own a slave. You're a slave yourself." Evans says.

  "I'll take his place." Zodiac says as he pulls out of Blice's grasp. "I'll fight instead."

  "You're an android. It's against the law."

  "Fuck the law! Troy doesn't deserve this. He's done so much for this country. He's dedicated his entire life to serving his people. Take me instead. Without Troy, I'm nothing."

  "It has already been decided." Evans says coldly.

  Blice steps in front of his father and gently moves Nova out of the way. "Then let me buy him. I have the right to purchase any slave I choose and I choose Troy."

  The entire coliseum erupts in cheering and shouting. Evans smiles. "It's too late for that, my son. The fights are beginning."

  "Go to hell." Blice takes off running out of the room and down the passageway.

  * * *

  As Troy sits here on the floor of the ramp leading up into the coliseum, he runs his hand up the wooden shaft of the spear. It's rough and not the best quality he's used to practicing with, but it will have to do. One way or another, he has to make this work. He closes his eyes and kisses the spearhead, feeling the cool iron on his lips. "Pallas Athena, goddess of battle and courage, grant me your wisdom in my fights. Guide my hands, my feet, and my mind. Bless me and bring me victory if you find me worthy." Troy digs his thumbnail into the soft wood and carves a crude owl into the spear.

  The bright sunlight is warm on his bare arms, chest, and legs. Troy is used to combat, but this will be the first time he'll be truly fighting without his armor. He feels incredibly vulnerable. While he may be in better physical shape than the other prisoners he will be going up against, without armor or even clothes, one lucky hit will take him out. He will feel every scrape, cut, and bruise that his armor usually absorbs for him. There are no rules in the arena. They'll fight dirty and aim where it hurts the most. This little strip of cloth around his waist won't do much to protect him. He has to be smart about this.

  His plan going into this first fight is to stay as calm as he can while analyzing his opponent's movements and weapon choice then go from there. As tempting as it may be to come out swinging, he has to make sure he doesn't overextend and end up in trouble. His goal is survival. If it takes him two hours to defeat a single opponent safely, then he'll do this all day.

  When the guards approach him and tell him to get ready, Troy scoops up some of the light fine dust and spits into his hands. He rakes the sticky mud through his hair. If they're making him do this, then he'll at least have his hair how he likes it, or as close as he can get it. He also rubs the mud over the spear for added grip. He'll be glad to have that when his hands inevitably get sweaty.

  The gate opens and he can hear the thousands of Nymphs cheering and chanting. None of them matter. This is about staying alive at all costs. He has to focus on what he has to do and not be distracted by them. The guards push him out into the blinding sunlight and hot blowing sand of the arena.

  The cheering dies down and abruptly stops as Troy looks around at the sea of faces. High up on the opposite side of the coliseum, he spots her. Nova. She's alive! He reaches out to her and she does the same. He will fight for her. He will make her proud.

  * * *

  "You there!" Blice shouts as he runs up behind a man who is looking down at the arena from behind a window.

 
The black-haired Nymph turns around and pushes his goggles on top of his braided hair. "Do you need something, human?"

  "Your name is Orion?"

  He crosses his arms and eyes Blice curiously. "Depends on who's asking and how much gold you have."

  "Listen. I know who you are and I know why you're here. You're looking to steal a slave?"

  "What's it to you? You gonna arrest me or what?" Orion asks.

  "No. I want to help you. What's the name of the slave you're interested in?"

  "I guess it doesn't hurt to tell you. Troy Adonis."

  "I'll help you get him and escape the city." Blice says.

  "Why do you want to help me?"

  "Because Troy is an innocent man and a good man who deserves to be more than some sadist's sexual toy."

  Orion laughs. "And you think he'll be better off with me?"

  "Yes. I'll help you remain undetected. After Troy wins the four fights and they lead him into the tunnel below the arena, I will intercept him and meet you at the back entrance. From there, you will be able to take my car and go where you want to go."

  "Do you always help your friends become slaves? Seems counterproductive."

  "There's no other way." Blice says. "He's been branded."

  "I know. And what do you want in exchange for risking your own hide to help me out? Nothing's free."

  "I only ask that you don't abuse Troy. Please treat him well."

  "He's a slave." Orion says as he tightens the buckles around the wrists of his fingerless gloves. "I will treat him like a slave. However, I'll promise you the same thing I promised him. He will be taken care of. You don't know much about us outlander Nymphs, do you? We are allowed one slave and we make sure to pick a good one because our slaves are trained to be how we need them to be. On top of that, when an owner dies, his slave is killed and buried with him so they can be together for eternity. We get full devotion from our slaves, not because of fear, but because they depend on us for everything. We become their gods and in turn, we respect them as well."

  "Just don't break him. He's done nothing wrong. He doesn't deserve that."

  "You keep using that word." Orion says. "Does any slave deserve the life they get? They're slaves. They live the life we want them to live and nothing more. It's their purpose. But yes, Troy will have a decent life with me. I will do that much."

  The cheering stops and a hush falls over the silent masses as Blice peers out through the window. "Why aren't they cheering anymore?"

  "Because Troy stepped out. They all know who he is. It's been over a hundred years since a pure Nymph has fought here. Evans is an idiot if he thinks they'll just accept this. If things go wrong, we might have a riot on our hands."

  "You mean if things go right." Blice says. "Then we could get enough time to get Troy out of here while everyone is distracted."

  "You're new here so I'll let you in on a secret. If there is a riot in the coliseum, all of the fighters are executed on the spot to prevent just that. There are no victors. So let's hope that Troy doesn't unintentionally start anything he can't undo."

  10

  The hot sand burns Troy's bare feet and scratches across his legs. The beating sun is already making him sweat and turning his extremely pale skin a light pink color. The only sound he hears is the rapid pounding of his own heartbeat. The entire coliseum is quiet and still as his people honor him with reverent silence. Maybe they do still care about him. He raises his spear in the air and the cheering renews with a newfound vigor. They're here for their hero. If his people want him to be their hero once more, then he will fight for them.

  The sound of metal scraping against concrete jars him back to the deathly grittiness of it all. His first opponent steps out of the tunnel on the other side of the arena. Even from here, Troy can see that he's an impure Nymph with his jet black hair shaved short. The large muscles over the man's body aren't what he was expecting. Didn't they tell him it was going to be an easy fight? This man is bigger and taller than Troy by about an entire foot. That's the least of his worries. The man's muscles pale in comparison to the size of his sword. It's a six foot claymore. Even the sword is taller than Troy.

  Without warning, the man runs towards him, sending a powerful swing rushing past Troy's left shoulder. Thinking quickly, he moves to the left, into the swing instead of trying to dodge. The claymore is slow, especially in the hands of a large man who hasn't been trained to use it properly. As the steel passes over Troy's head, he drops down and lunges at his attacker's knees, knocking him off balance. One slash of Troy's spear to the man's groin sends him falling to his back in the sand.

  Not wasting a second of opportunity, Troy jumps on the man's chest as he is groaning from the wound that has soaked through the fabric around his waist. If Troy has to fight dirty, then he'll fight dirty. As he raises his spear to finish the man off, he realizes just how big a mistake this was. Apparently the big guy isn't going to give up that easily.

  One punch to Troy's face knocks him backwards and scrambling to his feet as the shadow passes over him, blocking out the sun. The impact of the monstrous blade sends Troy to his knees. That was way too close. He's lucky it was the flat side of the sword. It will bruise like hell, but at least he still has his leg. He holds up his spear in front of his face as the claymore flies at him. Once he hears the crack, he rolls away as fast as he can then runs towards the wall. Why does he have something in each hand? Troy holds up a small piece of the shaft of the spear in one hand and the iron spearhead in the other. Oh, shit. He knew this was a stupid choice.

  The impure Nymph screams a barbaric call as he points the sword at Troy. "You're mine, bitch!"

  How friendly. Troy throws down the pieces of splintered wood and wipes the sweat from his eyes. He takes a split second to check on his right hip where the claymore slammed into him. He's not bleeding, but the pain is there and it's already beginning to bruise. So what now? Tiny pieces of a spear won't be effective against that sword. He has to find a way to outsmart the brute. Going into melee right now is suicide. Troy glances around for anything he can use to turn the tide in his favor. Then he sees the sand and thinks back to his recent sparring with Zodiac. Of course. Dodging out of the way as the man rushes him, Troy scoops up two handfuls of hot sand. Instead of running, he backs up against the ten foot concrete wall. Come on. Take the bait.

  The man grins as he limps closer, obviously getting tired and his injury is hurting more as his adrenaline wears off. He raises his sword in both hands. "You don't know how long I've wanted to kill one of you pure bastards. Say hello to Hades for me." He swings.

  Troy throws the sand in the man's face and drops to the ground, covering his head with his arms. When the blade hits the concrete, he grabs the man's legs and kicks him in his bleeding groin. With a howl, the man collapses, giving Troy the prime instance to strike. He kicks the man in the face and pries the claymore out of his hand as he stomps on his groin once again for good measure. In one death blow, Troy brings the tip of the giant blade down, piercing through the man's stomach, spraying blood out onto the ground.

  The audience roars in cheering and applause as Troy watches the impure Nymph struggle for his final breath then lie there motionless. He turns and goes back down into the tunnel, leaving his opponent's corpse impaled on his own sword.

  * * *

  Orion nods his head and turns back to Blice. "See? That's the kind of slave I need. He was clearly outmatched physically, but those reflexes and quick thinking are what make him stand out from the rest. I'm a little concerned about that hit he took, though. I know it's bothering him and I don't like purchasing damaged goods."

  "What do you want to do about it?" Blice asks. "He's fighting. It's not a delicate man's sport."

  "True. Hey, go get me a lemonade. It's hot back here."

  "What?"

  Orion flips a gold coin in the air towards him. "Get you one too."

  Blice studies the coin for a minute. "An entire gold coin? Do you people not us
e dollar bills anymore? This is worth at least a hundred lemonades."

  "I don't know how much things cost in the city. Just go."

  "You can't order me around."

  Orion raises an eyebrow and jumps up to sit on the window overlooking the arena. "I hate nobles."

  "I hate you."

  "Then we're equal."

  Blice shakes his head. "No. We aren't equal. That's not how this works."

  "Go now so you can get back before the next fight starts." The gold thin square on Orion's forearm blinks red and he touches it. "Hello? This is Orion."

  "You busy?" A man asks over the speaker.

  "I'm on a job. I'm at the coliseum trying to get a slave."

  "Is he hot?"

  "What kind of a question is that?" Orion asks. "Number one, how do you know it's a man? Number two, have you gotten that lonely? Number three, you will never touch my slave."

  "Just hurry back. Mistress is getting worried with you being around all those Athenian Nymphs. You know the trouble I got in a few days ago. Their culture is vastly different than ours. Don't forget that you're a slave according to them."

  Orion crosses his arms across his leather vest. "I'm no slave."

  "All impure Nymphs are slaves in Athens. So watch your back."

  "You're always so overprotective of me. Damn. I can handle myself."

  "We will have the ship at the coordinates I'm about to send to your sensor." The man says. "You have three hours. Don't be late."

  "Go back to rubbing your rifle. Oh, and leave the new slaves alone. They're not interested in you, old man."

  "Old man? I'm forty-two!"

  "Uh . . . exactly." Orion says.

  "I can still kick your ass, Orion."

  "Bring it on. I gotta go. Be ready for the beat down when I get back. Bye, Silver."