Beast of Zarall

by E B Rose

  Beast couldn’t get up until almost the end of his break. He staggered on his feet, while still holding his side. He fell on his knees, balled his hands into fists, and stood up again. He faced the shepherd who blocked his way to the blue zone.

  The man readied his mace.

  The horn blew just after Beast lunged forward. He swung his hands towards the shepherd’s face, as if throwing something invisible.

  The shepherd dropped his mace and held his eyes.

  Without slowing down, Beast threw himself against the horse’s flanks. The animal tossed his head back, neighed, and trotted out of his way.

  Beast collapsed on the pale blue sand.

  BEAST

  Beast thought he could never get up again.

  He laid on his back, staring at the cloudless sky and tried to catch his breath. Every breath was mixed with a wheezing sound and moans. His arms hurt, though he knew they weren’t broken. His nose was bleeding. His back and chest ached, and he suspected a few broken or cracked ribs. His arms were grazed from being dragged on the sand.

  Worst of all, he was only halfway across the arena.

  With some effort - and lots of moans - he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He studied what lay beyond the fire river. A small stretch of blue zone, another gold zone, followed by a red zone, and the tiny black marked square where he can finish all this. He noticed purple spots and fire pits were more frequent on the second half of the field.

  He wanted to flop back and rest for a few more seconds, but he knew if he laid back, getting up was going to be even harder. He stood up, all the while holding his left side, groaning and cursing. The four remaining shepherds had gathered together behind him, discussing their strategies.

  He didn’t think he could outrun them; not in this condition. He needed to find a way to go offensive. But how was he going to do that? He’d lost both his weapons; he was in a lot of pain and the riders worked together.

  Maybe he should have let Valnar use his Kill Word. Once he’d killed the shepherds, he would regain his consciousness, then cross the arena in peace.

  I can still help you with that, the demon whispered in his head.

  Beast shuddered. He refused the idea of giving the demon any control of his body. He turned to study the fire river and the crossings. He only had several minutes of peace in the blue zone, so he needed to start crossing soon.

  Three of the shepherds rode to the left side of the arena and crossed the fire river safely over a stone bridge. The bridge was protected by armed arena workers and Beast knew he wasn’t going be allowed to use it. He’d have to cross it the hard way.

  When he looked back, he found the fourth rider, who carried blue and yellow colours, had stayed behind; in case Beast had decided to go back, or took too long to cross.

  Beast staggered along the side of the fire river, studying the stone pedestals that formed the three crossings. Neither of them looked easier or safer than the others. One had large pedestals, but the distance between them was too far. The second one had smaller pedestals, arranged closer, but he’d have to balance on one foot at each jump. The last one was a combination of the other two. Beast sighed and settled on that one.

  “Are you sure that’s the one to cross?” Blue-and-Yellow mocked behind him. “We don’t want you to fall and crisp yourself. Would be such a waste of points.”

  Beast tried to block him off. He was used to hearing taunts and threats from freeborn slaves. The free men and freeborn slaves regarded those as a fight strategy, though it never affected purebreds. Beast was surprised to find himself annoyed at the man’s comments now.

  “You won’t make it,” Blue-and-Yellow said. “You’ll slip right at the end. You see that last pedestal? That’s the one that gets them all.”

  “Fuck off,” Beast growled. He took a few steps back, preparing to run. He breathed through his mouth. Anxiety tied knots in his stomach and he couldn’t help but glancing at the last pedestal. It looked harmless.

  “You’ll fall,” Blue-and-Yellow said matter-of-factly. “You’ll burn. You’ll smell your own burning flesh. When you open your mouth to scream, your lungs will burn too. Your helmet and face will melt together...”

  The horn rang. Beast’s break ended. Blue-and-Yellow rode his horse at him, in order to hurry him into making a mistake.

  It nearly worked.

  Beast ran and made a bad jump; he almost went too far. He maintained his momentum and jumped to the next pedestal. It was too small. He flailed his arms to keep his balance on one foot.

  The flames looked hungry. Was it him, or were the flames growing higher? Hungrier. As if the fire was trying to climb out of its bed. Beast imagined a fiery arm reaching up, trying to grab him.

  This wasn’t going to be a quick death. He was going to feel every second of his face melting inside his helmet. He could almost smell the burning flesh. He couldn’t breathe. He felt dizzy.

  Beast jumped to the third pedestal, where he could stand on both feet. He gasped. Air didn’t get to his lungs. He wished people were quieter; the noise made him feel dizzier. They were chanting for him to fall and burn.

  He knew he had to look straight ahead, to concentrate, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off the burning pit below. He could see faces down there. The colour of the flames reminded him of something.

  Then, he saw it: Saradra’s face was looking at him. Her wild, fiery hair surrounded her face. Her smile stopped Beast’s heart.

  He froze.

  VALNAR

  “He froze,” Lygor said. He was clenching his fists so hard, his nails drew blood out of his palms.

  Beast was still on the third pedestal. He was breathing hard and swaying dangerously. What was wrong with him?

  “Come on,” Valnar whispered. “Please, Kiejain, the strongest, help him pass this trial. Give him wings, carry him across...”

  The three shepherds across were riding back and forth ahead, waving their weapons, taunting Beast to continue and fall. The one behind did the same. Valnar guessed Blue-and-Yellow was waiting for Beast to cross at least halfway before joining the others. The spectators yelled their lungs out. They all wanted Beast to fall and burn. Valnar wondered how this made Beast feel; hearing so many people wishing for his death.

  “Come on!” Valnar yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. He was pretty sure his voice would get lost in the crowd’s, but he tried anyway. “You can do it! Come on!”

  “We should stop the fight,” Ink said nervously. “Just pull him out of there. A dead slave is not going to do you any good.”

  “We need these allies!” Lygor almost yelled. “And this is the only way to get them!”

  “What’s he doing?” Valnar interrupted. Beast was starting to move. He’d raised his head to look ahead. Valnar could see his chest moving up and down, taking deep breaths. “He’s alright,” Valnar said in relief. “He’s continuing.”

  He was wrong.

  Beast turned and jumped back to the second pedestal, then to the first one. Within mere seconds, he was back on the blue sand, charging right at the lone shepherd left behind.

  “Curse me Twelve times,” Ink gasped.

  The other three shepherds realized what was going on and turned their horses back to the bridge. They gestured one of them to stay on that side, while the other two galloped back.

  No way they were going to make it in time.

  Blue-and-Yellow shook his surprise off and readied his mace. Beast didn’t slow down. He lowered his head, so the horns on his helmet pointed at the horse. He rammed at the animal, stabbing its chest with the horns.

  The horse reared up, threw Blue-and-Yellow off its back, then fell on him.

  Beast jumped out of the range of kicking hooves. Without hurry, he picked up the mace that the shepherd had dropped when he fell.

  The horse was still trying to get up. The more it struggled, the more it was crushing the rider’s legs. The wound on the horse’s chest was bleeding, though it didn’t seem too
deep. The animal would survive, but Beast was going to make sure the rider didn’t.

  The other two shepherds had crossed halfway along the bridge.

  Beast approached the shepherd whose legs were trapped under the horse. He pulled the man’s helmet off, and brought the mace down on his head, hard. Some of the spectators hissed, while others cheered. Blue-and-Yellow raised his arms in a desperate attempt to protect his face. Beast continued bludgeoning him brutally; breaking his arms and crushing his head in.

  The two shepherds were galloping along the side of the fire river now. Beast stalled until the last moment, then he dashed back into the blue zone. He jumped on the first pedestal and started crossing it without hesitation.

  He made his way over the flames, towards the third shepherd who was now left alone on the other side of the arena.

  “No fucking way!” exclaimed Ink. He was gawking and pulling his hair in amazement. “Has he been pretending to choke the whole fucking time?”

  Beast sure fooled Valnar. He’d fooled everyone. He was jumping from one pedestal to the other with utmost confidence. Three more jumps, and he would be on the other side.

  The two shepherds had turned their horses back to the bridge, but they were far behind.

  “Praise be to Kiejain,” Valnar said proudly.

  Lygor was quiet. He had that thrilled grin on his face. Valnar had seen that expression before, at the end of the underground arena battle, where Beast massacred three men horribly. Lygor’s excitement made Valnar uncomfortable. He turned his attention back on the fight.

  BEAST

  When Beast jumped on the blue zone, the horn declared another three minutes of rest for him. The sound almost disappeared amongst the noise of the roaring crowd. Beast couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his break; he sprinted straight out of the blue zone, and to the lone shepherd.

  The rider backed his horse, and for a moment, he seemed like he was going to take Beast on one on one. Beast’s blood was burning with the heat of the fight. His heart was still racing from the fear of the fire river. It took everything he had not to look down at the flames. If he’d seen Saradra’s face in the fire one more time, he was afraid he would jump in.

  Beast had rarely felt anger in a fight. He always enjoyed the rush of the battle, the frenzy, but it rarely came with real emotions.

  Now, he was raging.

  He held his mace tight and sprinted faster to the lone shepherd. A wild roar came out of his throat. Despite the noise of the crowd, the shepherd heard it. The man’s face paled. He gathered his reins, turned his horse, and galloped to join the other two riders at the bridge.

  The spectators booed.

  For a moment, Beast’s fury took over and he wanted to chase after the man, finish him off. Bash his head in like he did to the other. He worked enough sense into himself to let it go. The riders were far behind and there were no further obstacles in front of him.

  He ran ahead.

  He took the crowd’s voice as a reference to judge the distance between him and the three shepherds. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that he wasn’t going to make it into the finish mark in time. He beelined towards a purple spot in the red zone. He skidded to a stop just in front of it, raising sand and dust around him. He turned his back to the purple spot, raised his mace up, and faced the riders.

  He was going to make his last stand here.

  VALNAR

  Ink had lost himself, cheering encouragements along with half the crowd. Lygor’s face was red with excitement. Valnar’s heart was trying to escape out of its ribcage too. He hadn’t realized how desperate he’d felt about this battle, until now.

  They were going to win it. Everything was going to be okay.

  Beast parried the first attacker, Silver-and-Gold, and brought his mace down on the man’s knee. He dodged Green-and-Purple and ducked under Black-and-Green’s attack.

  Valnar had seen him fight against worse odds than this. The riders fought well together, but the three of them had no chance against the Lion of Zarall.

  BEAST

  Astaldo, the slave breeder who raised him, taught Beast to use his environment well in staged battles like this. He’d also warned him not to rely on the rules too much. Beast remembered that too late.

  With his back to the purple zone, Beast was only expecting frontal attacks, to throw him into the purple sand. This was the only way shepherds could maximize their points. He relied on their greed.

  He was wrong.

  Pain exploded at the back of his head. The helmet rang in his ears and a white light flashed in front of his eyes.

  Everything went black.

  VALNAR

  “This is not good,” Ink said. His voice trembled. “He’s out. We need to do something.”

  Valnar turned to Lygor. The prince’s eyes were wide, his expression frozen. He couldn’t look away from the arena.

  When Green-and-Purple clubbed him behind his head, Beast had fallen like an empty sack, but he was now coming to. His arms moved sluggishly, trying to find leverage to push himself up. He snuck his hand inside the helmet, and pulled it out bloody.

  The three shepherds surrounded him. Silver-and-Gold produced a rope, with a noose at the end. He leaned on his horse and snuck it over Beast’s head. With a sharp yank, he tightened it around Beast’s neck.

  The spectators rose up when Silver-and-Gold started dragging Beast towards the nearest fire pit.

  Valnar tensed. “Lygor?” he asked, begging for an instruction. Lygor didn’t respond.

  Ink grabbed Lygor’s arm and turned him to himself. “We can’t let this happen!”

  Lygor pulled his arm free and returned to watching the end of the fight. His gaze hardened; his lips were pulled back in a snarl. He was waiting for Beast to save himself.

  Beast flailed his arms. His movements were still slow. He clawed at the rope around his neck, trying to pull it loose.

  Green-and-Purple swung a second rope at him, capturing one of Beast’s arms. The slave’s struggle gained strength. He started kicking and thrashing wildly as they got closer to the fire pit. He held the rope around his neck with his free hand and pulled himself up to his feet. He yanked hard at the rope, trying to bring the rider down.

  Black-and-Green rode in and buried his club in Beast’s stomach. Beast fell, crippled in pain. Silver-and-Gold and Green-and-Purple continued dragging him to the fire pit, strung by his neck and arm.

  Valnar started running.

  “Stay with him!” he yelled at Ink when the Kaldorian attempted to follow him. Lygor was still frozen, his face blanched. He shook his head subtly, as if trying to deny what was happening.

  Every time Beast tried to get up and resist, Black-and-Green bludgeoned him until he fell back down. The riders had given up on their greed and decided to throw him in the nearest fire pit together, at the expense of sharing the points they’d earn. They didn’t stall, didn’t risk doing anything to challenge the God of Luck. They’d learned not to underestimate Beast.

  Black-and-Green struck him down again while the other two dragged him to the pit.

  Valnar’s chest ached as he ran. He made his way along the side of the arena, shouldering the spectators out of his way. The arena had an entrance in the other side. Valnar had to find Master Ruzen and tell him to stop the fight, or jump into the arena and stop it himself, or... or...

  “No!” Valnar yelled as he helplessly watched the two shepherds swing Beast between them, and throw him into the flames.

  BEAST

  Burning! I’m burning. I’m burning! I’m burning! I’m...

  Beast couldn’t think of anything else. He couldn’t experience anything other than a haze of pain. He was screaming. His lungs were on fire. His throat, his face, his eyes... every hair on his body was in agony.

  He saw Saradra in the pit with him, embracing him in her arms, which were made of fire. She held him tight, and it burnt. She whispered her love in his ear, and it burnt. She kissed all over his face, and it bu
rnt endlessly.

  He heard Keder. He was laughing.

  Somehow, he found himself climbing out of the fire pit. He thrashed on the sand. He tried to take the helmet off his head with his hands. His face was melting inside. All he could see was red and black. The fire was inside his eyes, his mouth.

  He wished one of the shepherds would finish him off.

  He wanted this all to end. He wanted to die.

  The demon reminded him; what he wanted never mattered.

  43

  VALNAR

  Valnar closed the door behind him.

  “How is he?” Lygor’s face was pale. He looked like a child who was expecting a flogging for being naughty. He held a half-full wine glass in his trembling hand.

  Ink leaned against the windowsill; his arms crossed. His face was stormy. His mouth was tight and he watched Valnar with disgust.

  The three of them were alone in Lygor’s room back at the manor. The sun was setting. A couple of servants came in earlier, to feed the fireplace and to light the candles, but Lygor had dismissed them promptly. The dim lighting in the room suited their moods.

  Valnar walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of wine.

  BEAST

  Wake up.

  VALNAR

  “Valnar, how bad is it?” Lygor repeated.

  Valnar sighed. “It’s bad.” He gulped his glass down and refilled it.

  Every time Valnar closed his eyes, he kept seeing Beast’s burning body, staggering blindly on the sand. He heard the man’s screams. He remembered how Beast was twitching and whimpering by the time Valnar got to him and used his cloak to put the flames off. It was a miracle the slave was still alive.

  No, he couldn’t call that a miracle. It was unfortunate that the slave was alive.

  He shuddered.

  “Is he in pain?” Ink asked.

  “They gave him something to sleep.”

  “Is he... going to be okay?” Lygor asked.

  “He’ll survive,” Valnar said softly. “But... he can’t fight.”

  Lygor walked over to the fireplace and stared down at the dying sparks. Ink’s features hardened as he looked from Valnar to Lygor.