Paradise Forgotten Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  "I honestly don't know for sure. All I can say is I put my faith in Athena and entrusted her to protect me. I guess all that praying paid off. All I remember is lying in the hot sand, feeling like I was about to die, and praying nonstop for someone to save me. I must have passed out because the next thing I knew, I was waking up on the bank of the river that runs through the village. That's where the healers found me and determined that I wasn't contagious anymore. I don't know how long I was out in the desert, but after that ordeal, my body hasn't been able to fully recover."

  "Does she exist?"

  "Athena? I guess if I live through this, we'll know for sure. My father told me I was blessed by her at birth. Maybe she really is watching over me."

  13

  When the guards lead Troy back to the cell and push him inside, everyone gathers around him, running their hands over the silver power armor. This is his own armor he had many years ago and while it doesn't fit like a glove anymore, it is still one of the greatest feelings ever. It is heavier than he remembered it to be, but that's probably a combination of his weakness and the lack of nanobots to power the strength enhancement programs that would normally make the armor much easier to use. Not only does he have his armor back, but his precious gladius that his father gave him when he was a young boy is on his hip. Troy had been afraid that he wouldn't see it again after Paris took it yesterday. A newfound hope washes over him as his confidence in the fights to come grows. He can do this. No matter what challenges face him, Troy will conquer them all.

  "Now you're starting to look like the Troy I remember." Blice says. "How does it feel?"

  "Better than you can imagine. I feel like I can do anything."

  "Even defeat all of those unknown opponents?"

  Troy sighs and looks through the open window to the arena where he can see the crowds of spectators that have gathered. "Yes, even that. Do I really have a choice? There is only one thing I still know for certain. I will fight my fights and not give up, no matter what happens. I will fight and I will win."

  "So confident." Dion scoffs. "Don't let that be your downfall."

  "Believe me, my pride left me long ago. I don't expect this to be easy and I honestly don't expect to win. However, I must try."

  Gabriel leans against the wall by the window. "Looks like it's about time for this travesty to get started."

  Troy turns his back to them. "They're very loud."

  "They are excited and thirsty for a bloodbath. Are you going to give them a good show for their money, gladiator?"

  "Don't call me that."

  "It's what you are. Look out there at them all. They're here for you."

  Troy crosses his arms. "No. They're here for the fight. They don't even know who I am. I'm a Forgotten, remember? Anyone who once knew me believes I'm dead. Besides, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not the same man I was back then."

  Everyone looks to the door as a guard steps inside. "Paris wants Troy and . . . Dion."

  Troy gasps. "Dion . . ."

  "No!" Orion steps in front of his brother with his arms outstretched. "I won't let you kill him! Troy, this is an order. Don't kill him."

  "What would you have me do?" Troy asks.

  "I don't know. But you can't kill him."

  Dion pushes Orion away. "Well, go ahead, Troy. I know you have a selfish justification for as to why you think you are entitled to win this. Go on. Tell them why your life is worth more than mine."

  "If I die, Paris is going to kill everyone. You need me. For the sake of humans, Nymphs, and the one remaining android, you need me to be alive."

  "There it is! I knew deep down that your greed was still there."

  What? No. "Dion, don't. Do you actually believe I want to be doing this?"

  "You didn't let me finish. You are incredibly selfish, but I see your point. There isn't any other way to do this. I'm no coward and I'll face my fate. However, if we have to fight, know that I will fight and defend myself."

  "I wouldn't ask for anything else."

  "Let's go." The guard drags them both out of the cell and down the hallway to the ramp leading up into the arena.

  All the dread and humiliation hits Troy again like a ton of bricks. He finds it difficult to breathe as the memories of fighting here flood his mind. Can he actually do this? To be forced to take the lives of innocent people, all for the twisted pleasure of a demented man-child? Troy turns around when he hears the twittering laughter he has grown to despise. Speaking of the demented man-child . . .

  Paris, dressed in a purple velvet suit with a high collar and golden cape and a gold laurel on his head, waves enthusiastically at him. "Good morning, Troy! Aren't you excited to meet your opponent?"

  "I'm not fighting Dion?"

  "Absolutely not. I have my own special plans for all your little friends. Guards, take Dion out to the table and strap him down. You have my quiver of needles, right?"

  The guard bows. "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "Perfect."

  Dion looks absolutely terrified. "Wait. Just hold on a second. Needles?"

  "Of course." Paris pats his back mockingly. "We will start with the tiny ones and gradually work up to the extremely painful ones. They are all around two feet long. Can you imagine them penetrating all the way through your body? The thinner ones shouldn't do too much damage, but the longer Troy takes to defeat his opponent, the larger the needles get. That's when the real trauma occurs to your internal organs."

  Dion shuts his eyes tightly as he is led forcefully up the ramp. The last thing he says to him makes Troy nearly break into tears on the spot. "I give my life for you. Make sure you do the best you can with it."

  "I will. Dion, I will!"

  Paris turns his attention to Troy. "How are you feeling?"

  "I-"

  Paris kisses Troy's lips then pushes him up against the gritty wall to kiss him harshly and bite his lip until it bleeds. "Oops. Looks like I was a little too rough." He licks the blood from Troy's mouth. "There. That's better. Oh, you didn't resist. Are you starting to like this?"

  "No. I just hate whips more than being kissed by you."

  "Good choice. Well, I have to go be awesome now." Paris snaps his fingers then takes Troy's helmet from one of the guards and places it on Troy's head. "Maybe tonight, you can come keep me warm. I'd love some warm milk and a bedtime story. Nothing scary or I'll have nightmares." Paris winks at him then skips out into the arena.

  "I know who you are."

  Troy glances over at the guard. "Do you?"

  "You are the Phoenix King. Troy Onyx Adonis."

  "It's Troy Lifestone now. I took my owner's last name."

  "What is it like to be destined to be king then to be a slave and now used for entertainment?"

  "How do you think it feels?" Troy asks. "What if it was you or someone you love? Would you want to be treated like this?"

  "Hell, no. But orders are orders and I have to feed my own family. Don't try to use your pitiful sob story to make me let you run off. King Paris will kill me for that."

  "I wasn't trying to-"

  The guard points his plasma rifle at Troy. "I think it's best if you stop talking."

  "You're the one who asked!" Troy stumbles backwards when the guard hits him in the chest with the butt of the rifle. "Damn it. What was that for?"

  "Silence. Your king is about to speak. Show some respect."

  My king? Paris will never be my king. He wants to say it, but he doesn't want to anger the man with the gun so he remains silent and listens to the ludicrous performance of an insane man.

  Paris holds up his hands to quiet the crowd before speaking. "Hello, my adorning fans! Today, this arena will be filled with a fun and exciting event of bravery, danger, and feats of heroism beyond any you have seen before. These games will be the best games ever! Over the next five days, my chosen gladiator will fight against the metal archons you have come to see flying over the city as your protectors. Each day, my gladiator will fight against one of my p
recious archons to save the life of one of his friends."

  The audience cheers and screams their approval, calling for excitement and blood.

  "Without further delay, I present to you, your gladiator!"

  The guard pushes Troy forward with the end of his plasma rifle. "Get out there."

  Troy walks out into the blowing hot sand and the animalistic screeching of the crowds. With the sun beating down on him, he stops in the middle of the arena. It is time for these people to see him for who he is. Troy reaches up and removes his helmet, tossing it down into the dust. As the wind blows through his shoulder-length white hair, he looks up at the sea of Nymphs.

  Slowly, the cheering begins to fade, replaced by curious whispers and the occasional gasp of surprise. Within a minute, the entire coliseum falls silent.

  Troy watches them all, making eye contact with the hundreds of his people who came here to watch this barbaric show. Do they recognize him after so many years? When a man calls out his name, Troy humbly places his hand over his heart. More people call out his name until everyone is on their feet, crying out to him and holding out their hands.

  Paris laughs and holds Troy's hand up in the air. "Yes, yes! This is your beloved Prince Troy, the legendary Phoenix King! Don't you want to watch him fight for the crown? He will have to defeat my champion to reclaim his rightful throne. Isn't that fun?"

  Troy shakes his head in disbelief as everyone cheers louder in response to the plan. Clever move, Paris. Use their loyalty to your advantage. So it's true that Paris can manipulate any situation to benefit him.

  Paris seems to know what Troy is thinking as he grins and whispers in his ear. "You're screwed."

  "Shut up."

  "I'm gonna have so much fun watching you squirm, Troy." He turns back to the audience and bows lavishly. "The first fight begins now!"

  Troy watches as Paris goes over to a metal table on the side where Dion is strapped down. He sees the metal of the first long needle in the sunlight. He can't do this to another person.

  Dion cries out in desperation. "Someone help me! I can't do needles. Help me, please!"

  Scared of needles? Troy didn't see this coming. So this is the way Paris wants to do this. This brings a literal meaning to being scared to death. As much as Troy wants to help Dion, he knows he can't. Instead, he has to prepare himself to fight against whatever his opponent is going to be. Didn't Paris say something about archons? Surely that wasn't right. Those things can fly.

  The ground shakes below Troy's feet as the heavy metal archon drops from the sky and lands on the opposite side of the arena. Its large silver wings and body shimmer in the bright sunlight as it draws a large sword . . . coated in what appears to be green plasma. The roar of the crowd is nearly deafening.

  It makes Troy sick. They want this. These people actually want to see him fight for his life. What is wrong with people? Is spilling blood that entertaining? Have their normal daily lives devolved to needing basic and primal brutality as forms of entertainment?

  Dion's screaming breaks Troy out of his thoughts. Paris pushes a thin needle into Dion's stomach then slides a thicker one from the leather quiver. Dion is sobbing as he struggles against the bonds holding him to the table. Tears streak down his face and drop to the dirt below.

  Dion begins begging through his rapid breathing. "Please stop. No more."

  "We're just getting started. They get bigger from here." Paris jabs the needle directly above Dion's navel and pushes it deeply, drawing out a river of blood.

  Troy turns back to the archon and holds up his gladius. His opponent shows no emotion in its metal face. How does Paris expect him to defeat this thing? Who is he kidding? Paris doesn't want him to win. But Troy refuses to lie down and surrender. With a surge of determination, he lunges at the archon and swings his sword with all his strength.

  The blade bounces off, sending Troy backwards to the ground. It didn't even dent the archon's armor. He scrambles to his feet just in time to avoid a powerful swing of the archon's plasma sword. One hit from that and it's over.

  Dion cries out again. From the corner of Troy's vision, he sees the pool of blood gathering on the metal table and three thin metal spikes impaling him. His skin is turning deathly pale. Troy knows he doesn't have much time to figure out a way to end this and make the torture stop. Steeling himself to block out his friend's agony, Troy locks eyes with the full metal opponent. He runs at the archon once more and swings.

  The archon spreads its wings and leaps into the air, kicking up a thick cloud of dust that makes Troy cough. It burns his already sensitive eyes, blurring his vision and temporarily disorienting him. As his eyes fill with tears, he spins around and tries to find the archon. Where did it go?

  The impact sends him instantly to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs. Then the foreign cold burning of plasma sears his left shoulder blade. Troy screams, but no sound escapes him. That's it. It's over.

  The swish of wings overhead is interrupted only by the most bloodcurdling cry of agony from Dion. Troy sees the shadow of the archon on the sand in front of him with the giant sword raised high for one final blow. He closes his eyes and waits for the end.

  "Stop!" Paris shouts. "We have a winner. Archons: one. My gladiator: zero."

  The crowds cheer in pure delight as the guards hoist Troy to his feet. Troy begins to black out from the overwhelming pain. It is the only thing that he knows.

  "Stay with us, gladiator. We'll fix you up."

  * * *

  Zodiac sets down his empty wine glass and looks over at Mistress who is sitting next to him on the sofa with her laptop on the coffee table in front of them. "That was . . . awful."

  She closes the laptop and removes her black-rimmed glasses. "Poor Dion. May Osiris guide his soul. What a horrible way to die . . . and so senselessly."

  Zodiac takes her in his arms and delicately kisses her head. "Don't worry, baby. He's not hurting anymore."

  "I know, but that doesn't make this any better. Now Troy is hurt."

  "But they will neutralize the plasma with dark matter, just like you did for me. He will be fine. Look how quickly I'm healing." He gently pushes her off of him and pulls down the front of his sweatpants. He unwraps the bandage. "See? It's doing a lot better."

  "Because of the nanochems I gave you."

  "Listen to me." Zodiac wipes the tears from her cheeks. "Paris won't let Troy die yet. Troy will get the best medical care so he will be ready for the next fight. It's no fun for the audience to send out an already injured gladiator."

  Mistress lies down with her head in Zodiac's lap. "You're very wise for your age."

  "Hey, I may be ten years younger than you, but I'm far from being a kid."

  "I know. You proved that last night."

  "Oh? I'm glad I succeeded on my mission. Though, I don't remember much. Damn that wine and painkillers."

  Mistress runs her hand up the inside of Zodiac's leg. "I might have to deploy you on another mission. This one is quite . . . urgent. I'll have to debrief you."

  He blushes. "That's not what that word means."

  "I know. I was trying to be funny."

  "Ah. Are you sure you're up for this? You still look upset."

  "It will help to get my mind off of things." She sits up as the sensor on her arm beeps. She answers it. "Hello?"

  "This is Gabriel."

  "Gabriel! We just watched the first fight and what happened to Dion."

  "So you know why I'm calling. I need you to get my button that I'll use to shut down those metal archons and end this."

  "Why can't I use it?" Mistress asks.

  "It reads DNA. You're not an authorized user. I'm the only one left who can activate it. I need that button as soon as possible."

  "I don't know how we can get it to you. We're grounded in Pax here in our new headquarters. Paris has an extensive antiaircraft system in place during these arena fights. We can't fly there. Besides, aren't you locked in a cell down below the aren
a?"

  "Very true. I'm not used to being stuck on the ground."

  "It's okay. I will do all I can in order to figure out a way to get that button to you. You'd better hide that sensor before someone finds it. I'll be in touch."

  "Yes, ma'am. Did you find Zodiac?" Gabriel asks.

  "He's right here. We're fine on this end. Take care of Troy. He needs all the help he can get."

  "I will, though I think Silver has . . . claimed him."

  "I don't even want to know what that means. I'll let you go now. Bye." Mistress ends the call then refills Zodiac's wine glass.

  Zodiac takes it from her. "What did he mean by Silver claimed Troy?"

  "How should I know? Gabriel still doesn't fully understand the complicated dynamics of human relationships. It could be a harmless misunderstanding."

  * * *

  "Stay still and let me do this." Silver pushes Troy back down and straddles his hips. "Squirming isn't gonna make this any easier."

  Troy digs his fingers into the layer of fine dust on the floor of the cell. "It . . . hurts."

  "I know, but they didn't give you any anesthesia. Dear God. Those people are butchers. I'm gonna have to completely redo these stitches."

  "No, please. Just leave it alone. It doesn't matter."

  "It does matter. This will never heal correctly."

  Troy clenches his fists as he feels Silver biting through the thread and rip it from his shoulder. "Holy hell. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

  "I had to sew Jayce up at least twenty times and myself even more. I could probably be a surgeon at this point. Though, this will be harder without a proper needle."

  "What are you going to use?"

  "You don't want me to answer that. Breathe."

  "It's not sterilized!"

  "Right now, we'll risk it."

  Troy is in an enormous amount of pain for a few minutes as Silver's fingers expertly sew up his wound.

  "There. You're good to go. Try not to move that arm too much. I don't wanna have to sew you back up again."

  Troy sits up and groans with the soreness.

  Silver holds out his hands. "Want your blood back?"