“Fair enough,” said Terran. “Let’s talk.”
For the rest of the evening, the five prisoners discussed the three opponents that Terran would face on the sands of the Arena. He peppered them with questions, but kept his capabilities vague in case someone might pass the information along to his rivals.
The first, Lionhall the Broken, was a war construct, a being made of metal and spite, who could fight with any weapon at a mastery level. He fought with ferocity and speed, but never went for an early kill, preferring to maim and injure, allowing an exciting finish for the crowd as he toyed with his opponent like a cat with a half-dead mouse. The construct would be faster and stronger than Terran and would close the distance between them quickly, making his chances fraught with danger from the start.
“You gonna have to be quick,” said Varmak, his lips curling with delight. “He move like snake, feet dance perfectly in the sand. And he use variety of weapons, so you not know what he gonna do until you step into Arena.”
“Any chance I can get them to remove this?” asked Terran, touching his bracelet.
“Ha! No,” said Varmak as he paced. “They not want to lose valuable property.”
Terran spun his around his wrist. “What about breaking them? Has anyone tried?”
The Lady of the Wastes was sitting cross-legged on his bed. She seldom spoke but when she did, Terran felt like his soul was being invaded. Her voice was like razor wire.
“Made of adamantite,” she said, staring directly ahead. “Only a god could break.”
Frost Knife held out his hand, forming a glowing ball of ice. “I try to freeze it, make it brittle, but cannot break.”
The discussion moved to The Lightning Twins next. He was a mage primarily, who could duplicate himself, and used his namesake in battle.
“The twin is weaker than the original, but you cannot tell which is which, not that it matter. Most opponents don’t last the first twenty seconds of the fight,” said Varmak, who had done most of the talking during the discussions. “He not care about long battle, only winning.”
“A glass cannon,” said El, then when everyone looked at him, he shrugged. “That’s my theory anyway. Never fought him but I think he fights that way because he doesn’t have any other plans. Hit hard, win quick. Better than getting stabbed each night. Not a bad way to go.”
Frost Knife sighed heavily. “I was going to put up a shield of ice, but his duplicate flanked me, and then I was writhing on the ground, pissing myself in the sand, before I could do anything. If you can survive the first three seconds of the fight, you might stand a chance of winning.”
Eventually, late in the night, the conversation moved to Heavenly Death. No one spoke for a while when it was time to talk strengths and weaknesses of the final opponent in the Gauntlet.
“She is perfect killing machine,” said the Lady of the Wastes. “With her wings, she can fly, shoots unerringly and her arrows hit with the force of an avalanche. She is not like others. No one can kill her. She has always been in the Arena. There has been no other time without her.”
Everyone nodded along with her comments. “So you’re saying she’s unbeatable?”
“Until proven otherwise,” said El. “Few have even dealt her damage.”
Terran stroked his chin. “Does she mix with the others in the Winners apartments? Surely someone might know something about her.”
Varmak grunted. “Heavenly Death has own place. She does not live in Winner apartment.”
“Strange,” said Terran.
“Not strange,” said Varmak. “She is perfect fighter. She could leave if she wants, but stays to perfect her craft. The art of killing.”
“Wonderful,” said Terran.
As the discussion wound down, no one had any useful information about his final opponent. Terran had vague ideas on how to approach the first two, but Heavenly Death was an enigma. He had to beat the others before he would have to deal with her.
When the other gladiators returned to their cells, Terran asked the guard, “Will I be able to have my equipment for the fight?”
“Only Winners get special equipment,” said the guard. “Everyone else uses what’s in the challenger room.”
“There could be a nice reward for you if you were to help me out,” said Terran quietly.
The guard screwed up his face. “You don’t have no gold in here.”
“But I have friends outside of here. Talk to Zara at the Golden Kumquat. She’ll pay you whatever you want if you can get my equipment for the fight,” said Terran.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m putting myself at risk if I do this.”
“Which is why you can ask for whatever you want,” said Terran. “Just think about it.”
When he returned to his bunk, Terran wasn’t certain that the guard was going to do it. Which would make the fight even harder. By the time he went to sleep, he was exhausted. Tomorrow would bring three fights in the Arena, and if he couldn’t win them, he’d be stuck as a gladiator, and then Gneiss Glen would fall as the Mother Tree withered.
Chapter Eighteen
The guard Terran had attempted to bribe wasn’t in the challenger cells the next day, which did not bode well for his chances. He spent his time pacing, while El meditated on his bunk. His fights wouldn’t come until the evening. From what he’d heard, the whole city would be turning out for the spectacle.
The day passed slowly, until it neared the end, then he found himself in the tunnel alone, staring at the white light at the end of his path. There’d been a few exhibition fights before his, mostly to appease the rowdy crowd while they waited for the real event. Terran was preparing to walk down the hall when the guard appeared with a long sack over his shoulder.
“Oh, thank the gods,” said Terran, opening it up to see what he’d been brought. “I hope my friends compensated you well.”
“Quite well,” said the guard, leaving back the way he’d come. “Good luck.”
Inside the sack, Terran found his whisperweave armor, the circlet of leaves, the sonic staff, and the rose crystal hanging on a chain. He quickly donned his gear, feeling less nervous once he had the darkwood staff in his grip, and strode towards the light.
When he reached the end of the tunnel, he found an Arena quite changed from its previous setup. Rather than the flat sands, pillars dotted the space, along with a few walls and a small pyramid at the center. Knowing the habits of his opponents, they’d probably modified the field to ensure a long battle, and in truth, they probably wanted him to beat the first two to set up the final, unwinnable fight.
Since this was not a normal fight, he’d been told to stand on a patch of colored sand near the tunnel. Once he defeated his opponents, the next would enter the field without hesitation. There would be no formalized greeting. Terran cracked his neck and gestured towards his friends in the stands.
Good luck, Terran, said Luna. Everyone sends their love.
There were announcements, but Terran was too busy memorizing the layout of the Arena. Every second would count. He couldn’t leave anything to chance.
After bowing and the first horn sounding, the crowd erupted with a cheer, their attention on the opposite tunnel, which Terran couldn’t see because of the pyramid. His heart rate soared the moment he saw Lionhall sprinting around the object, his glistening metal carapace shining in the magelights of the Arena. The powerful fighter had a loop of chain around his shoulder, the purpose of which, Terran couldn’t determine.
He had little time to consider, as Lionhall closed the distance quickly. At the far edge of his range, Terran hit his opponent with a Sonic Disruption, hoping the increased damage to objects counted for constructs, but the impact barely slowed him. Terran followed it up with a Vocal Slam—also only taking off a few percentages of health—before slowing him down with a Stone Wall, but the nimble warrior easily danced around the stone barrier, and with only dozens of feet between them, slipped the chain off his shining arm, quickly spinning a
length into motion. At the end of the chain was a jagged blade meant to inflict pain as well as damage.
Terran threw himself to the left, but the chain blade caught him in the shoulder, bouncing off the protective whisperweave tunic, which gave him an opportunity to fire another Vocal Slam. Lionhall’s second chain attack came for his unprotected thigh. The strike took off a small chunk of health and hobbled his movement.
The construct had an unreadable face up until this point, but at seeing the vulnerability of his legs, he smiled, the metal jaw creasing in strange and unpleasant ways. It was also in this moment that Terran understood the point of the chain—besides the cruelty. His defeat of Behemoth by turning him to stone meant his opponents would not want to engage him in close melee.
Terran blasted Lionhall with another Vocal Slam, but the damage was weak. He wouldn’t win a battle this way, and as much was proved when the construct sliced his other thigh, making sliding movements impossible.
“You’re not as challenging as I thought you would be,” said Lionhall in a grinding voice. “I will give them a show at least.”
Terran deflected the third attack with his staff. Lionhall was toying with him now. He knew the calculations as well as Terran. When his opponent turned to encourage the crowd, Terran hurried to place a column between them. Lionhall laughed when he saw what Terran had done.
“Are you afraid, little one? Does my blade hurt you?”
Using the column as a shield, Terran blasted Lionhall with Vocal Slams while trying to formulate a better plan. His opponent shot the blade past him twice, before spinning the chain above his head like a lasso. Terran wasn’t sure what the intent of this new tactic was and tried to stay on the balls of his feet, even though the ache in his thighs made those movements difficult.
When the chain went wide of the column, Terran didn’t understand until it was too late. The chain was much longer than he expected, swinging around until it wrapped around Terran, pinning his arms against his chest.
The crystalline staff fell in the sand.
A hush fell over the crowd. Lionhall approached him like a conquering general. Lying on his back, Terran could only see the construct and the column right behind him. Occasional shouts of, “Get up!” peppered the crowd, as they clearly cheered for him rather than the brutal war construct. Lionhall put his metal boot on Terran’s chest and yanked the chain tighter. The links bit into his flesh.
“Maybe I’ll hang you from a column, or just take you apart piece by piece before the crowd.”
The column was about ten feet behind Lionhall. After a quick mental calculation, Terran waggled his fingers and brought a stone wall forth at the tip of the stone pillar. The additional weight quickly tipped the structure, snapping the base with an audible crack. Lionhall spun around in confusion, not seeing the danger, while Terran used the distraction to roll out of the way. The column crushed Lionhall, pinning him to the sands.
“You—”
The horn sounded twice the moment the construct’s face went slack. His opponent was dead, and now he faced a new challenger, the Lightning Twins, but Terran was still wrapped in chain, defenseless and an easy kill.
Chapter Nineteen
The cries and cheers of the Arena rose to a crescendo. Terran struggled against the chain, which held him tight, the other end in the hand of the dead construct. He lifted his head to see a figure in blue robes striding across the sand.
“Not good. Not good.”
Terran unrolled himself in haste. The chains clanked against each other like a metronome.
The crowd cheered him on but he sensed that he was too late. He heard the crackle of electricity a moment before it struck. Terran managed to leap away, no longer bound by the chain. The impact turned the sand to chunks of glass behind him.
Without his staff, Terran brought forth a new stone wall, which barely blocked the next lightning blast from crisping him.
“Don’t want to drag it out, huh?” said Terran, grunting through the pain as he scooped his staff up, firing a Vocal Slam. The reverberatory impact hit the blue-robed mage, dealing a nice chunk of damage, and as much as he wanted to keep focused on his target, he knew the twin was lurking nearby, waiting for a clean shot.
Terran barely threw himself out of the way in time as the twin appeared on his left. The impact blew sand up like a geyser, giving Terran an idea. Rather than hitting his opponents with his bardic spells, he slammed the sand with a Sonic Disruption, which blew the gritty material into the air right as the first twin tried to blast him with lightning. The crackling electricity hit the airborne particles and dissipated before reaching Terran.
Before the other could get ideas, Terran blasted the sand in the other direction, alternating between the twins, who had taken opposite sides. Standing in a storm of sand and electricity, Terran knew he couldn’t keep up his defense forever. He had a plan to charm one of them but he knew it would only work against the duplicate version, not the original.
As he rotated, firing Sonic Disruptions freely, his mana draining quickly, he realized he couldn’t tell the difference.
“Teaming up on me isn’t very sporting,” said Terran, hoping for a response that might distinguish them.
“We aim to win,” said both twins in unison.
He was keeping up his defense, but his mana was at half. Not only did he need to win, but he had to be able to survive his third and final match with Heavenly Death. Then he remembered his friends in the stands. The lynx had senses more finely tuned than a human’s.
Luna. Can you tell which one is the duplicate?
A moment later, the response came, Behind you!
After another round of sand shields, Terran rushed towards the twin that Luna had indicated. He put up his hands as if he expected a blast of vocal energy, but Terran reached to the rose crystal around his neck and cast Silky Suggestion, and he was rewarded with an acknowledgement a moment later.
The Lightning Twin has been charmed by you!
Terran stepped to the side. “Kill your twin.”
The original twin hadn’t quite figured out what had happened because his hands were by his side as the charmed twin strode forward, then blasted out a crackling bolt of energy that blew the other off his feet.
While the twins fought, Terran caught his breath, using the time to heal up in preparation for the final fight. When the horn sounded twice again, as the duplicate killed the original, thus destroying the charmed version, Terran faced the other half of the Arena. The crowd, which had been cheering for his unlikely victory, rose to their feet as the winged gladiator entered the field.
The first two gladiators, with their wildly different fighting styles, had given Terran a tough battle, but at no point had he ever thought that he couldn’t win. As Heavenly Death rose above the sands, her stark-white wings effortlessly holding her in the sky, his stomach twisted. It wasn’t just that she had the aerial advantage and a deadly bow in her grip, but there was a secondary glow around her name.
This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered such radiance. The first time was when he’d seen Andelain, the woman who was the Mother Tree, in his dreams. He wasn’t looking at a mere opponent, but a former Offworlder. Unlike Grimchar or the Shadowbane, who each had designs on ruling, Heavenly Death was only interested in the kill to extend her immortal life, but either way, he was battling a god.
As she pulled back her bow, readying to release a fiery missile, he spoke quietly to himself. “I can’t win.”
Chapter Twenty
The first volley hit the ground like a bomb, throwing sand into a wide arc. Terran barely got out of the way by throwing himself behind a pillar, and he knew that she had missed on purpose.
High in the sky, his opponent hovered over the field, letting the crowd whip themselves into a frenzy at her arrival. Her light blue skin, stark-white hair, and pale mask made her both inscrutable and merciless. Signs were held up, proclaiming her name, or offering themselves to her. He wasn’t standing in
an arena, but a temple dedicated to the God of Battle.
“Great,” said Terran, leaning against the pillar. “I should have listened when they said she’s never been beaten.”
Terran leaned around the barrier and fired a Vocal Slam into the sky, not because he thought he could hit her, but to check the range of his spell. The vibratory assault dissipated by the time it washed over Heavenly Death, barely ruffling her wings.
“Outleveled and outgunned,” said Terran, eyeing the field for a better spot to fight. He could take to the pyramid but that would put him at risk of her arrows.
He shuffled back from the pillar and grew two stone walls at ninety-degree angles from each other, jutting out from the base of the pillar, extending them taller and wider than he’d ever grown them before.
“Maybe this can work,” he said, right as Heavenly Death circled around, firing two arrows. The first one forced him to leap away while the second hit him right as he leapt, taking a minor chunk from his health. He’d only regened half the damage from the earlier fights, so he was already down to sixty percent.
Using his new barrier, Terran grew two new walls, forming a plus pattern that he could use as a shield. The crowd still cheered, but leaned forward, intrigued by his strategy. He fired another Vocal Slam, but she was waiting for him when he leaned out, pegging him with another arrow before he could slide back behind his barrier.
Fifty percent. He couldn’t take many more hits, and he’d barely done a single point of damage.
Though he’d never tried it before, Terran reached out to one of the stone walls he’d grown, and imagined a window at the center. To his relief, an opening appeared. He ran up to it, shoving his face through the hole to see Heavenly Death circling around again, giving him a chance to move to the next cubby.
This exposed a flaw in her strategy of staying out of range of his vocal abilities, because to get a bead on him, it required a much longer circular route. He didn’t know if stamina was an issue for her, but he had to try and frustrate her into making a mistake. In the course of two more rotations, he placed a window in each of the other three walls, then started firing back through the holes, keeping an eye on his mana levels.
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