Forest Empire: Survival in a Dystopian World (BONES BOOK TWO 2)
Page 15
The rows of dogs in their cages were there as final backup. While no one had ever made it out of the arena, should someone get that close, they’d face the dogs. He smiled at that. Empire dogs were loyal and faithful, yet when ordered to attack, they were vicious hell-hounds.
The trumpeters rang out another peal of notes, as the prime disciple nodded to an acolyte. Within the arena at the head of each of those three lines of slaves, a line disciple there unfettered a slave, got them up on their feet, and pointed all the way down the arena floor to that open doorway in the distance.
“If God wants you to live, you will only find your life on the other side of that doorway,” the three line disciples screamed at the three slaves.
The three slaves began to run toward the far doorway, and the trumpets blared to start them off. The shieldsmen stepped forward, and each waited a moment before they drew back, ran, and then launched their spears into the air. Each spear flew at breakneck speed, and each impaled the running slave that was the Shieldsmen’s target, and the slaves dropped to the sand floor, their blood leaking out onto the white sand. There were huge cheers, laughter, and cries from the host of believers, as some had wagered on their favorite Shieldsman and won, and yet others had lost.
From the end of the arena, the mop-up Shieldsmen ran down. With quick thrusts, they ended the lives of the speared slaves and then dragged them off to lay at the sides of the arena.
“Three down and more to go,” the prime disciple said to himself, and he nodded once again to his chief acolyte. The thing was that as the remaining slaves could see what was happening, the second ones learned not to run the route to the door in a straight line. This is where the event gets interesting, he thought.
As the next three slaves were unfettered and then stood up, he noted that one was a teenager who was looking around frantically. “Dad … Dad, where are you?” he yelled at the top of his cracking voice, but there was no answer.
As the line disciples urged these three new slaves to make for the doorway and their freedom, two of the adults—a man and a woman—took off running but dodging first this way and then another. After more than forty yards, even the prime disciple could see they had fallen into a pattern of those dodges, and as he thought that, the next Shieldsmen saw it too and threw not where the slave was at that moment but where they’d be after the next dodge. The man and woman flopped to the sand. The spears struck them both right in the back, and the sand was bloody once more.
The teenager did the same thing but did not fall into a pattern. In fact, he was doing quite well, moving across the arena in wide swaths as he dodged first one way, then the same way again, then back, and then away. The spear of a Shieldsman fell onto the sand as it missed him completely.
But moments later as all three of the current crop of Shieldsmen retrieved new spears, they laid out a spread pattern, and the teenager took a spear to his left thigh, impaling him to the sand. He crawled, or tried to, as the doorway was only fifty yards away, but the mop-up Shieldsmen quickly dispatched him and the sand got bloodier.
The crowd screamed, “Oskar, Oskar … Oskar, Oskar …” and he took a bow, as he had gotten the youngster.
The prime disciple knew that once the dodging appeared to also not to work, most of the slaves usually just ran straight, knowing that the death they faced was best done soonest.
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As the line in front of him got shorter, and he realized he’d be one of the last three to run,
Javor made more of those mental check-boxes trying to find a way out of this mess.
The Shieldsmen all take about seven seconds to get the second spear into the air, if the first one misses. Check.
Twice, the one in front of the line that he was in had taken three spears to kill the running slave. Check.
The best spearman is beside me to my left, so when I run—I’d better avoid that area if I can. Check.
The stage holding the prime disciple is approximately twelve feet up off the arena floor. Check.
The slave area on the left, same side as the stage, is where Sue and the cadre would be milling about. Check.
The running slaves do not work together to evade the spears. Check.
The spears that are thrown just stick in the sand ‘til the mop-up crews come out to remove them and the slave bodies. Check.
Ahead of him, there was now only one slave left, and he knew the information he’d gathered was not enough to find a way out. Perhaps enough to shake up the Empire, he mused as the only slave ahead of him ran off to his death.
It did take the Shieldsman on his row three spears to get the slave, who’d tried the deke and fake method of running but to no avail. As the mop-up crew came out to finish them off, that meant that eighteen slaves had died today.
Javor said to himself, twenty-one might be the number of slaves, but there’d be more. At least one more.
As the line disciple on his line approached him, he waved the man away, moved up to stand in the circle at the front of his line, and smiled. The trumpets sounded and then the whole arena got quiet, as the prime disciple rose and moved to the front of the stage.
“We now have in the middle circle one of the so-called ambassadors from the Regime—that group of unbelievers to our south. He will run alone and die today for us to show them and the rest of Ceti4 what we think of non-believers. I hereby also offer that the Shieldsman who shows this slave what we think of him will also win a promotion to the rank of Shieldsman Superior. Good luck, Shieldsmen,” he said as he continued to stand right there at the front of the stage.
Javor nodded. Okay, so now the game’s afoot.
He bent over to take a solid starting stance.
The trumpets blared, and he ran out about twenty feet, then left, then left again, and then right, and then he stopped cold. Above his head, three spears hit the sand well ahead of him, as the stopping of his run had been so unexpected.
He smiled as he tore toward the closest spear, and then picking up same, he turned and threw with all his best javelin technique at the Shieldsman behind him on the right. That man wasn’t even watching as he was grabbing another spear off the rack, so Javor knew exactly where he’d be. The spear caught him full in the back of the neck, pinning him to the sand below.
The whole arena cried out as he turned and then loped once again toward the far doorway.
Still got my javelin chops, he said to himself as he drifted off to the left in his run. But their spears are just a bit light—caught that one in the neck when I’d aimed at the man’s full back. As he ran, he glanced back over his right shoulder at the one called Oskar, the better spearman, and noted that he’d just let go. He dove to the sand on his right and rolled and rolled.
The spear came close but missed him, as he rolled. He got up and grabbed the spear. The other spear caught him in the left calf, passing just over his large muscles, and the blood poured out as the crowd began to cheer for their Shieldsman who’d just thrown.
He turned back and noted that both of the Shieldsmen were watching him, holding out hands waiting to be fed a new spear, and not turning their backs to go to the rack to get their own. “Smart,” he said to himself as he gauged the distance between himself and the stage.
No way to take the thirteen steps he was trained to use when he did the high jump. His approach, he knew, would require a certain shape or curve, the right amount of speed, and the correct number of strides. The approach angle was also critical for optimal height, and in this case, it was a dozen feet. Jumped just about that back in competitions, he said to himself as he tucked the spear behind his left arm.
He ran and used that alien tissue super right knee at the last second to jump.
The prime disciple sneered at him, believing he was too high and safe.
Javor planted that right foot on the sand, knowing that it was not the best take-off surface, and he launched himself up and up and up …
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BONES: A Cliffhanger Seri
es…
Yes, this is a book in our new BONES series, that is a Cliffhanger series.
If you’re upset by the ending, my apologies…but wait’ll you find out what happens to Javor and the Prime Disciple in the next book entitled Castle Magic.
Cliffhangers I am told sometimes generate a review that the reader is upset…and I hear you. But please do note that the blurb up front, taken directly from the book’s Amazon page says right up front that the BONES series of books are Cliffhanger books…
Hopefully, you’ll also be pleased to note that I promise that within a month of publication of each BONES book, the next one in the series will be published and thereby solve any worries you might have as to Javor and his adventures on Bones!
Read! Enjoy….and see you on Bones soon!