by Ryan Hughes
He itched to extend his psionic senses, but he knew that anything he and Kayan did would have to be done suddenly in order to keep the element of surprise. They would have to join their minds and make their attack immediately, which meant planning ahead without mindlinking. Which meant whispering. Which meant getting closer to her. Jedra didn't particularly mind that idea, but he didn't expect her to feel the same way.
First things first. He sat up, wincing as his wounded arm protested the movement. No one had healed him this time. Either they didn't feel it was necessary or they didn't want to waste their effort on the doomed. He didn't care. He wouldn't be needing the arm anyway, not for this.
"Kayan?" he said softly. He swung his legs off the side of his bunk, and his ankle chain rattled to the floor.
"Hmm?" She looked over at him, her eyes still glazed over.
"I, urn, I want to apologize for some of the things I said out there today."
She said nothing, just blinked at him.
He went on. "I was trying to get you mad so you would fight. But I guess I overdid it. I'm sorry."
"Yeah," she said. "Me too."
Jedra heard one of the psionicists shift in his chair. They would no doubt love to eavesdrop on this tender conversation, but if he and Kayan were going to plan anything...
"I... can I just hold you?" he asked.
She didn't look very pleased with the idea, but she didn't say no, so he shifted over to her bunk and put his left arm around her, being careful not to smear her clothing with his bloody right arm.
They looked into each other's eyes from the closest vantage since they'd been captured. Kayan blinked, then smiled ever so faintly. "I'd almost forgotten what it felt like when we touch."
"So had I." Jedra lowered his head and kissed the hollow where her neck and shoulders met, tasting the unmistakable essence of her skin beneath the sweat and dust of the arena. He raised up to kiss her on the mouth, but she pulled back.
"Don't."
He stopped with his lips just brushing hers. "Why not?"
"Because it'll only make me love you even more, and I can't bear it."
Jedra said, "You can't bear to love me? Why not?"
She shook her head. "I can't bear to lose you."
"Ah," he said, but he was thinking she had a funny way of showing it, if that's how she'd felt for the last few weeks. Or maybe the sudden realization that they had only a week left had made her examine her own feelings. Who could say?
"You're not going to lose me," he whispered to her.
"How can you say that? We have to fight each other next time." She pressed her face against his chest, and hot tears left streaks as they fell. "Oh, Jedra, what have we done?" "Listen," he whispered. "We're going to escape. Right now."
"Do what?"
Jedra kissed her neck again, nibbling his way up to her ear. Barely mouthing the words, he said, "When we link up, the first thing we do is blast the psionicists before they can react. Then... I don't know. I guess we try to make it over or through the wall somehow, and try to get into the crowd leaving the city after the games. Maybe I can disguise us a little bit by bending the light around us."
"Maybe? Jedra, this doesn't sound very well thought out."
"If you've got a better idea, I'm all ears."
She shook her head. "No, I haven't."
"Then let's go. Are you ready?"
"No." She lifted her head and kissed him, her lips already hot and soft from crying. The rush of sensation caught Jedra by surprise. He lost himself in the kiss, closing his eyes and letting it carry him away for an eternal moment into a place where only the two of them existed.
"Now I'm ready," Kayan whispered.
If the kiss was a welcome surprise, joining minds again was fantastic. The surge of strength and well-being that flowed through them was better than they had remembered, and the heightened sense of awareness made them feel like immortals. Time seemed to slow to a crawl while their intellects joined once more into a single mind. The psionicist guards, still smiling embarrassedly as they watched their prisoners embrace, had no idea what incredible new power was being born right under their noses.
Jedra and Kayan never gave them time to discover it. As soon as they had merged, they exploded outward and attacked straight at the psionicists' unprotected minds, overrunning their defenses without resistance. They weren't able to suppress the guards' instinctive cries of alarm, neither vocal nor psionic, but they managed to cut them short, using Kayan's medical abilities to drop the guards into a deep sleep.
Before the bodies had even slumped to the floor, they had moved their focus of awareness on out through the wall and into the compound beyond. It didn't look as if anyone had noticed anything unusual, but they couldn't be sure. The psionic shout could have been heard halfway across the city if anyone was attuned to it.
The servants' gate in the alley was the least guarded; it was visible from only three observation towers-one along the wall and two on the rear corners of the mansion. That meant deceiving six guards, maybe seven if one of the ones on foot patrol was nearby. Not the best of odds, but it was the best they would get, and they were committed now. They brought their awareness back inside the gladiators' quarters and tried to rise up from Kayan's bunk. They broke their chains with a thought, but it quickly became apparent that they couldn't remain linked to such a high degree and control their individual bodies at the same time. For fine muscle control, they needed to remain separate.
We'll have to break apart at least until we get through the wall, Jedra said. He let his awareness return to his own body. He stood up, fighting the depression that always hit him when they came out of convergence, and his gaze fell upon the two sleeping psionicists.
"Get their clothes," he said. "We can pretend to be them."
"Good idea." Kayan helped him tug off their earth-brown tunics and short breeches, blushing a bit at stripping them naked, but she didn't hesitate. Nor did she hesitate to strip out of her own halter and loincloth to put on the psionicists' clothing. Jedra didn't either. They lad been more intimate than this only moments ago. In only a minute more they had both transformed themselves from gladiator-slaves into respectable servants wearing the livery of their noble. Both tunics were loose on them-nobles' servants ate well-but they gathered them up and tied them at the waist.
"Walk like you've got every right to be there," Jedra said, stepping to the door. "Ready?"
"I used to be a templar's assistant," Kayan reminded him. She was smiling again. They were getting out of here!
Jedra opened the door and stepped outside. Kayan followed right behind him, and together they strode across the compound, past the cookhouse and the storage sheds and the servants' quarters, toward the back gate. Jedra concentrated on twisting the light around them to blur their faces. He couldn't control it well enough to project an image of the psionicists they were trying to impersonate, but he hoped that anyone who looked their way would merely think the heat was affecting their eyes.
They made it almost to the gate before Jedra's danger sense began to tingle. Someone had taken an interest in them, or was about to. He tried to locate whoever it was, but could find no one in the guard towers, anywhere behind them, or to either side. That left only-
"Run!" Jedra said, and this time Kayan took his advice. They both sprinted down the alley, with Shani right behind them shouting, "Escape! Guards! Slaves loose!"
She was full-blooded elf, and faster than either of them. Jedra heard her footsteps draw closer and heard Kayan shriek as Shani grabbed her. He skidded to a stop and turned around just in time to see Shani draw her dagger from its scabbard at her belt and hold it across Kayan's neck.
"Don't move, either of you," Shani panted.
Link up! Kayan mindsent. Jedra did, and they suddenly became a single mind again. Effortlessly, they snatched the knife away from Shani and broke her hold on Kayan, forcing her back into the wall hard enough to rattle her teeth when she hit. Slowly, clumsily, they move
d their bodies together and put their arms around one another, then levitated themselves into the air.
The last time Jedra had tried this he'd only had his own power to draw on. Now with the synergy of Kayan's presence they leaped upward, and when they shoved off against the alley wall they shot away like an arrow from a bow.
But a sudden wind howled up from the end of the alley and blew them backward, swirling dust around them at the same time to blind them and make them cough and gasp for air. They tried to still the wind, but it merely became more turbulent. They searched for the source of it, but in the moment it took to locate the psionicist in the guard tower on the wall, it had blown them up and over that same wall and back into the compound.
No! they shouted. They struggled to rise up again, but the wind forced them to the ground, pinning them there while another less substantial but equally strong force battered at their minds. They recognized the new power from before: multiple minds in convergence, all pressing their combined will against Jedra's and Kayan's own. Where they had come from was no mystery, either; when Jedra and Kayan looked with the right focus, they could see tendrils of psionic energy reaching out from all the guard towers and from many of the buildings inside. Nearly all of Rokur's soldiers must have been psionicists as well. Either that or the ones who were had been posted on guard duty just in case their prisoners made a break today.
Either way, the combined effort of all those linked minds once again overpowered Jedra's and Kayan's wild and still largely uncontrolled talent. Lightning and thunder flashed and boomed around them as they struggled to break free, but the guards' grip slowly tightened on them, blocking their powers one at a time until they became trapped in a lightless, soundless, formless prison of thought. Their universe shrank to nothing, then with one final squeeze the psionicists took their very consciousness away.
* * *
When Jedra awoke, it was late evening. He was once again chained to the wall in the gladiators' quarters, and the noble himself, Rokur, stood before him. Kayan was not on her bunk beside him, nor anywhere else in the building's single room.
"Where is she?" Jedra asked.
"She is safe," Rokur said. "I'm keeping you in separate quarters until your... ah... final encounter."
"Why?"
The noble laughed. "You don't think I'm going to risk losing you twice, do you? Not now that the king has taken an interest in your welfare. He'd have me in the arena if that happened. No, I prefer watching, so I've made sure you can't escape or hurt yourselves before the game."
Jedra couldn't resist saying, "We would have made it if Shani hadn't been there."
The noble said, "No. If she hadn't distracted the tower guards by returning early from the stadium, you wouldn't have made it even to the gate. We were expecting you to try something."
That seemed likely, given how fast the guards had come down on them. "We'll try again," Jedra said, knowing it was bravado speaking. Then the other thing that Rokur had said penetrated, and he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. There was one sure way to make sure he and Kayan didn't have to fight: If he killed himself first, she wouldn't have to do it.
He certainly wasn't going to kill her, no matter what the king wanted. Kalak could use his defiling sorcery to turn Jedra into a quivering pile of goo first, but he would never harm Kayan. He said so to Rokur, but the noble merely laughed.
"You'll fight, because if you don't, you'll both die," he said. "As it is, at least one of you will live. You'll both fight to lose, but you'll fight." He laughed, and added, "And who knows what will happen when you feel the first bite of the blade? You may find that sweet life is more important to you than your precious love." Then he turned away and left Jedra alone with his psionicist guards.
Sahalik showed up a few hours later, smelling of sweat and cheap wine. He carried a jug with him, which he held precariously in his right hand as he sat down heavily on Kayan's bunk and belched. A fresh scar drew an angry red line across his forehead. "That was a good fight you put up this afternoon," he said.
Jedra snorted. "I feel like I won the battle but lost the war."
"Hah." Sahalik scratched at another scar on his abdomen, swigged from the jug, then offered it to Jedra. "I didn't exactly make out like a champion, either."
"You must've won, if you're here talking to me."
"Barely."
Jedra took the bottle from him and sniffed it cautiously. Rotgut. But it was the only wine he was liable to get, and he could use a little dulling of the senses. He took a mouthful and swallowed slowly, trying not to let the fumes make him cough.
"Tough luck about next week," Sahalik said. "Kalak's a malicious bastard for making you two fight each other." "That he is."
"I'm sorry it worked out this way."
"Me, too."
Jedra handed the jug back, and Sahalik took a long draught. "Nothing ever seems to work out the way we expect, does it?"
"Not very often," Jedra admitted, then he laughed softly.
"What?"
"Well," Jedra said, "I sure never would have expected to be sitting here sharing a jug of wine with you, not considering the way we met."
Sahalik grinned. He was missing another tooth. "Ah, that. I was a malicious bastard, too, there's no denying it. I'd been second in command for so long I was going crazy waiting for that old kank of a chief to die. I led all the raids, but he took all the glory. It ate on me. Made me mean."
"I could tell." Jedra took the jug and drank again. It didn't taste so bad on the second swallow.
Sahalik said, "I was actually kind of glad when I woke up out in the desert and remembered how I'd got there. Gave me a perfect excuse to go after some glory of my own." He shook his shaggy head. "But you know, I finally learned something today. No matter how big you are, no matter how strong and how mean, there's always going to be somebody bigger and stronger and meaner. It's just a matter of time."
"I suppose so."
Sahalik belched again and took the jug back. "So you think the tribe's ready for a new chief?" he asked.
Jedra shrugged. It was hard to concentrate on Sahalik's words, but he made himself try. He said, "The old one's still kicking, but he didn't look good when we last saw him. I don't know if you'd have to wait for him to die-he'd probably give you the honor just for the asking. If the Jura-Dai can do that sort of thing."
"The Jura-Dai can do whatever we want," Sahalik said. He drank, then said, "I think I will go back. I will come gibbering and capering out of the desert like a mad fool, and I will bark like a rasclinn at the moons until everyone laughs at me. And then-" he belched-"my worst fears already realized, I will settle down to become a wise old man whom even the warriors respect."
"Sounds like a good plan," Jedra said. "I'd love to go with you, but you see how it is." He rattled his leg chain.
"I would help you escape if I could," Sahalik said, heedless of the guards listening to him, "but the entire city would come after us. Your upcoming battle is the biggest thing to happen here since Kalak started the ziggurat. Everyone is betting on it."
"Really." Jedra took the jug and drained the last of the wine. He didn't know what to say to that.
Sahalik said, "So far the betting gives you just about even odds."
"I hate to disappoint everybody, but there won't be any fight."
Sahalik shook his head. "Don't be so sure. If you don't fight, you'll both be tortured to death. The crowd must be entertained, after all."
"Gods forbid that the crowd be disappointed," Jedra said wryly.
Sahalik didn't smile. "As hard as Kalak has been pushing this city to build his ziggurat, he needs to provide an outlet for people's frustrations. If he doesn't, there's going to be a revolt. So you can be sure he'll make a spectacle of you one way or the other."
"You're not thinking this through," Sahalik said. He took the jug from Jedra, saw that it was empty, and set it on the floor beside the bunk. "If you do fight, you can at least assure that one of you will die a
relatively painless death. Under the circumstances, it would be the best gift you could give Kayan."
Jedra shuddered. "I couldn't."
"Then you had best hope she can give it to you." Sahalik stood up. "During our next practice sessions I will show you both how to kill someone painlessly, and how to make superficial wounds that will make the battle look much worse than it is. But I'm afraid that's all I can do." He picked up his jug and walked to the door, but he paused with his hand on the latch. "Besides spreading the tale, of course. I will make the tribe's bard compose a more complimentary song than his last one about you, and I will send him to every city in the land to sing about your tragic love."
"Thanks." Jedra leaned back against the wall, blushing.
Sahalik shrugged. "The Jura-Dai honor our heroes."
Heroes, Jedra thought. Hah. He never wanted to be a hero.
* * *
Over the next few days, he got a small taste of what it felt like, though. All the soldiers and servants whispered among themselves and watched him whenever he took the practice field, no doubt trying to gauge his performance so they could decide who to bet on, and between practices he got the best meals he'd ever eaten. He assumed Kayan was getting the same treatment, but the noble was true to his word; they even practiced separately. Sahalik and Shani offered to pass messages back and forth, but neither one could think of anything to say except "I love you."
When Jedra asked Sahalik if he'd talked to Kayan about prearranging the fight, Sahalik laughed and said, "I suspect that any fighting you do will be over who has to strike the other. She refuses to raise arms against you, just as you have refused to against her." All the same, Sahalik taught Jedra-and presumably Kayan-how to perform a merciful execution. Fortunately, if anything could be considered fortunate in their situation, they would both be fighting with the simplest of gladiators' weapons: a sword and a shield, so at least they wouldn't have to bludgeon one another to death. Jedra tried to learn the various deadly cuts and thrusts into vital organs, thinking to use the best method on himself at the first opportunity, but Sahalik assured him that opportunity would never arise. He practiced with a soft wooden sword, and if he did succeed in killing himself either before or during the actual battle then Kayan would be punished for it.