Magium

by Chris Michael Wilson

  The announcer coughs loudly, and he flips the page of his notepad.

  “Of course,” the announcer continues, “this does not mean that gladiators will now be exempt from following the general rules of the arena. If a gladiator is caught using magic, if they try to kill their teammates, or if they attack any of the spectators, they will be executed on the spot. The undesirable rule only applies for the rules of the actual event. Moving on, the traditional rules of the arena state that the arena events must be divided into exactly three rounds. The first round, as I’m sure you’ve already been told, will be fought against a variety of mythical creatures that have never been used before in this arena. We do have a surprise for the second round, however. For this special occasion, instead of our reigning champion, I think you will be happy to learn that the warrior who will be joining us is none other than the relentless mercenary Velgos!”

  There is a loud murmur in the crowd when they hear the name of Velgos. From what I can tell, they seem excited about the prospect of watching him fight.

  “In the third round,” the announcer says, “the gladiators that survived the first two rounds will need to fight in a series of duels, to decide who will be the victors of this event. Some of the duels will have to be fought to the death, while others will be fought only until one of the fighters surrenders. The exact duels will be decided after the end of round two, when we will know exactly which of the fighters have survived. And now that we got all of the introductions out of the way, I believe it is finally time to get this event started. Is everyone ready?”

  The crowd bursts into loud cheers for a few seconds, and the announcer now raises his voice, in order to drown out all the loud noises.

  “Then I will keep you waiting no longer,” the announcer says. “Let the event of the century commence!”

  One of the iron gates from the lower level of the amphitheater is now slowly getting raised, while the crowds keep cheering as loud as they can.

  “For the first round,” the announcer says, “divisions of fighters will be entering the arena one by one, in the order of their division’s number. Let us give a warm round of applause to this event’s first division!”

  There is a mixed sound of applause and shouts coming from the spectator seats, as the gladiators from the first division make their way out of the gates, and towards the center of the arena. I do not recognize any of the warriors in this division, but judging by the continued cheers of the crowd, I’d say that most of the spectators have seen them perform at least once before. Some of the gladiators seem a little bit too confident. Former victors, perhaps? Either way, they’d better get their act together, and quick. From what Bruce said on my first day here, the events until now could not even begin to compare with what’s coming.

  A large iron gate on the opposite side of the arena makes a loud creaking noise as it opens. From beyond the gate, a lion with black wings, red eyes, two horns on its head and a scorpion’s tail is making its way into the fighting area. This hideous creature, called a manticore, wastes no time and it soars directly into the sky. Two more manticores follow its lead, and they all start circling the skies above the arena, watching their prey intently. Seeing the beasts leave the fighting area with such ease, some of the spectators in the crowd are beginning to show signs of uneasiness.

  “Do not worry,” the announcer says, trying to calm down the crowd. “These beasts have been well trained. They would not dare to lay their claws on anyone other than the gladiators in the arena.”

  Several giant scorpions are now also joining the arena, coming from beyond the same gate that the manticores entered from. They are slowly advancing towards the warriors, in a straight line, without any attempt to surround them.

  It’s a good thing that I heard the guards talking about the scorpions while I was in my cell. I’ve had all the time in the world to prepare against them, and I’ve also told everyone else all the information they needed to know about them.

  At least as far as the giant scorpions are concerned, we shouldn’t have any… Hey, wait a minute! Those aren’t giant scorpions… Those aren’t giant scorpions at all. Those are desert marauders. Damn those idiot guards! Could they not tell the difference?

  Okay… Calm down! Desert marauders are pretty much just giant scorpions with smaller heads. They should have more or less the same behaviors. But do they also have the same weaknesses? I think they do, but I’m not completely certain. If only I had my notebook with me now…

  Should I go and get it? If they’re going by order of the division number, then there should still be plenty of time until it’s our turn to enter the arena. But if I leave now, I’m going to miss the fights. If I’m going to fight against these creatures, observing them in action may be crucial to my survival.

  Hold on, I also have another choice! I could send Leila to go read my notebook, and rip the pages I need out of it, so she can bring them back to me. But would she be able to find the pages? I did make a page index at the beginning, but people have had trouble understanding my ugly handwriting in the past. I can’t just tell her to bring me the notebook, because then she might not have the time to return it to my backpack before our round begins. Either way, I don’t have much time. I’m going to need to decide what I want to do, and quick.

  “Hey, Leila,” I say, after taking a few more seconds to think. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  Leila turns towards me, with a curious look in her eyes, waiting to see what I have to say.

  “There was some information written about desert marauders in my notebook,” I say, “but I don’t remember some important details. Could you please go get the notebook out of my backpack, rip the pages about the marauders out and bring them to me? There’s an index at the beginning of the notebook where you can find the numbers of the pages you’re looking for. I’d go myself, but I’m the one who’s studied about mythical creatures the most, and I’m afraid that I’ll miss something important if I don’t watch the fights.”

  “Okay, I’ll go,” Leila writes. “Give me the key.”

  I take the key of my locker out of my pocket, and I hand it to Leila.

  “The number of the locker is written on the key,” I say. “You’ve seen what my notebook looks like, right? You’ll need to have a clear image of it in your head if you want to retrieve it from the backpack.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen it,” Leila writes. “I’ll be right back.”

  She then leaves the area of our division and heads towards the locker room.

  While I’d been talking with Leila, the marauders had gotten closer to the gladiators. The manticores are still flying in circles, waiting for the best opportunity to strike.

  The warriors seem to be rather well organized, and they’re not letting the monsters intimidate them. On their leader’s signal, three of the men jump to attack the left-most marauder, while the rest of the gladiators try to distract the others. One of the warriors remains behind, and he watches the manticores attentively. He must have been tasked to observe the battlefield, so that he can warn his teammates if the situation changes.

  The scorpion-like creatures are at least five times bigger than the gladiators, and they could probably crush any single one of them in their giant claws. The warriors seem to be experienced in battle, however, and they manage to remain unharmed, by anticipating the marauders’ movements, and by covering for each other in their time of need. The group from the left in particular seems to be doing surprisingly well. They’ve managed to weaken the creature with a few well-timed strikes, and they’re already moving in for the kill.

  The most agile of the three jumps on the creature’s back and he stabs it fiercely in the back of its head. The marauder screams in pain and it tries to attack the warrior with its tail, but the gladiator jumps off, while the other two make a rush for it and stab the monster in both its eyes with their swords, at the same time.

  The crowd bursts into loud cheers and shouts, as the scorpion-like creature falls to the gro
und. The three warriors raise their swords for a few seconds, to signal their victory to the spectators, and then they head towards the other marauders, in order to help their team mates.

  “Fall back!” we hear the desperate shout of the gladiator who was observing the battlefield. “Fall back now!”

  The gladiators look up, but they have no time to react. It takes only a few seconds for the manticores that had been circling the skies all this time to dive down, to sink their claws into the warriors’ chests, and then to soar back into the air, carrying their prey.

  The screams of the gladiators silence the crowd completely, as the beasts fly higher and higher. Two of the gladiators dropped their swords from the pain, immediately after being attacked, but one of them managed to keep hold of his weapon, and he’s now using it to stab his attacker in the underbelly. The manticore screams, and it drops the warrior, who falls to the ground and crushes his head against the hard soil. The other two gladiators are raised a bit higher by their attackers, but then they also get dropped to the ground, and they die on impact.

  The remaining warriors are now finally starting to panic. Their leader was among the ones who died. Having lost the person who was giving them directions, the gladiators begin to break their formation, and the marauders take advantage of this by grabbing one of the warriors with their claws, while another marauder impales him with its tail.

  As if all this wasn’t enough, two more manticores are just now entering the fighting area from beyond the gate, and they’re running fast towards the surviving gladiators. The observer gets killed first. He didn’t seem to be very skilled in combat, and he got mauled in an instant. The other gladiators did not last much longer. The desert marauders and the manticores finally joined forces against them, and they couldn’t stand a chance.

  At the end of the fight, the arena falls completely silent, except for the sounds of the manticores, feasting greedily from the carcasses of their hard earned prey.

  “By the gods…” Bruce says, as he watches the battle’s aftermath in horror, from beyond our iron grating.

  “It appears that not even our reigning champions could defeat these fearsome beasts,” the announcer says. “This does not look good for the following divisions. Is this event going to end in a bloodbath?”

  The iron gate for the second division is now getting raised. However, nobody seems to be coming out. After about ten seconds of silence, we hear a scream coming from their direction.

  “I’m not going out there!” a man screams, at the top of his lungs. “If you want to kill me, then kill me now! You saw what happened to those gladiators! We don’t stand a chance!”

  “You’re going to march in there and fight,” another man’s voice says, “or you’ll be getting a death far worse than being eaten alive by a manticore.”

  “No, please, have mercy!” the other man shouts.

  The discussion between what I presume is a gladiator from the second division and a guard of the arena is getting a lot of reactions from the spectators. Some of them seem to be getting scared, and others are fidgeting around nervously in their seats.

  “We seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties,” the announcer says. “There’s no need to be alarmed. I’m certain that our guards will get the show up and running again in—”

  The announcer stops mid-sentence, as a single dwarf steps out of the second division’s gate, carrying a bottle in his hand, and walking at a relaxed pace, towards the desert marauders. Both the crowd and the announcer fall completely silent, as they watch Hadrik walk calmly, and then stop in the middle of the arena, in order to chug down the last contents of his bottle.

  “Ah!” Hadrik exclaims. “There’s nothing like a fine bottle of dwarven ale to raise your appetite before a battle!”

  He then starts turning his head around, as if he were looking for something.

  “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have something that I could throw this empty bottle away in, would you?” he shouts towards the announcer, as he shows him the empty bottle in his hand.

  The announcer watches him, with a puzzled expression on his face, without saying anything.

  “You know, like a trash can, or a paper bag, or something, so I don’t make a mess?” Hadrik says.

  The announcer and the crowd watch the dwarf silently, unable to decide whether he is being serious or not. While Hadrik was talking, one of the scorpion-like creatures was slowly creeping up behind him, and aiming to attack him with its claws.

  “You know what, never mind!” Hadrik says. “I’ll just use this as an improvised weapon, instead.”

  He then immediately turns around, and he clobbers the desert marauder in the head with his bottle, which breaks into shards of glass that stab the creature in its eyes. The monster starts screaming in pain, as Hadrik makes a quick jump, landing with his fist on top of the marauder, and smashing it against the ground, causing a loud shockwave while also forming a small crater below the creature, due to the force of the impact.

  One of the manticores that was still up in the sky quickly dives down to grab Hadrik in its claws, but the dwarf steps away at the exact moment when the monster reaches him, and he grabs it by the tail. He then spins it around for about four seconds, building momentum, and then he throws it at a wall far away from him with all his might, causing the beast to smash right through it with a loud booming noise.

  The crowd and the announcer are both speechless. They are looking at the dwarf with bemused expressions on their faces, not knowing how to react.

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that wall,” Hadrik says, thinking that his reckless behavior is the reason for everyone’s silence. “I checked that area out before the battle and there’s nothing but an empty storage on that side, so there’s no danger of anyone getting hur—”

  A loud roar of cheering noises drowns out the rest of Hadrik’s words, as the spectators finally regain their previous vigor, and start shouting and clapping like never before.

  “See, now that’s more like it!” Hadrik shouts, with a wide grin, as he sees the people cheering. “This is what an arena is all about! You all better hang on to your seats, because the fun is just starting!”

  He then runs towards another marauder, and he headbutts it so fiercely that it drops to the ground in an instant.

  “Release the second wave!” the announcer shouts, as a few more desert marauders come out of the large iron gates that had been opened previously.

  Making their way from behind the marauders, a new species of creatures is now entering the fighting area. The creatures look like larger versions of porcupines, but from what I understand they should not be related to them in any way besides their looks. Unlike regular porcupines, the quills on their backs are deadly weapons, and they are sharp and durable enough to give elven steel a run for its money. The creatures have the ability to launch their quills as projectiles, with very high accuracy and speed. Due to their high regeneration rate, they also have the ability to regrow their quills almost instantly. This provides them with a near unlimited stock of ammunition to use against their foes. Their appearance and their behavior have led people to call these creatures ‘archer porcupines’.

  A few of the porcupines that have positioned themselves several dozen feet behind Hadrik are now turning their backs towards him, getting ready to attack. Hadrik is still fighting the marauders, and he doesn’t seem to have noticed the porcupines. Should I shout a warning to him? I wouldn’t want to distract him in the middle of his battle, but if those porcupines manage to aim their shots right, he might be in trouble.

  “Hey, Hadrik!” I shout. “Behind you!”

  Hadrik looks back, and he sees the porcupines getting ready to attack him. He waits for them to shoot, and he dodges at the last moment, causing the quills to hit a desert marauder instead. He then dashes towards his ranged attackers, not leaving them any time to ready up a second shot, and he pummels them repeatedly with his fists, until they’re all either dead, or u
nable to move.

  “Nice one, Barry!” Hadrik then says. “I owe you a beer.”

  The marauder who got hit by the quills was the last one standing, and the damage it took was enough to send it falling down.

  The manticores have all abandoned their meals when Hadrik started his rampage, and they’re now back to circling the skies, trying to find the right time to strike. One of the braver manticores dives down quickly, in an attempt to surprise the dwarf, but when it sees him react, the monster quickly soars back up into the sky, and out of his reach.

  “Damn it!” Hadrik says. “Come back here, you coward! Come back here and fight!”

  “Hey, dwarf!” I hear Arraka’s voice coming from the crowd. “Why don’t you try singing them a lullaby? Maybe they’ll get sleepy and come back down. Ahahahahahahaha!”

  Following the sound of Arraka’s voice, I manage to identify Flower in the crowd of spectators. The people around her all have their heads turned towards her, and are watching her curiously. They must think that the amulet around her neck is some new type of transceiver.

  “Shut up, you blasted old hag!” Hadrik shouts back at her. “When I get out of here, I swear I’m going to double your spinning sessions!”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a better idea!” Arraka says. “How about you stop wasting everyone’s time and get back to fighting? Do you have any idea how much this ticket cost?”

  “I can’t fight them, you moron!” Hadrik shouts, exasperated. “I’m not allowed to use ranged weapons in the arena.”