by Jake Daniel
My heart sank. Although, if she was imprisoned, that meant she was still alive. “Where is she being held?”
“I can’t tell you that,” she responded quietly.
“How about the three women who were killed yesterday? Do you know where they were taken?”
Tears rose to the corners of her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.” She dropped suddenly and it felt like I was free falling to the ground below. She twisted and held me tightly as we neared the arena. She whispered into my ear as we entered through the top of the arena. “Good luck, Logan. Stay focused on the task at hand. Use the stones when it is time.”
She set me down inside the arena and several of the King’s men rushed forward and bound my wrists. They pulled me back and attached my bindings to a chain that hung from the arena wall. Before I could see anything else, someone wrapped a burlap bag around my head. My heart thumped in my chest as I struggled against the bindings. I forced myself to calm down and closed my eyes. The spirit throughout the arena was still glowing a dark purple, almost like a black light.
I concentrated on my breathing and after a few seconds, everything fell silent.
I remained shackled against the wall for what seemed hours. It was silent for much of the first hour, but the buzz and murmur of the crowd grew by the minute. The sun had risen fully in the sky and beat down on me with any sort of reprieve. The jingling of keys finally pulled my attention as someone approached.
I pushed my back up against the wall and stood as the person reached me. They wrestled with the keys for several seconds before they led me away. I concentrated on the outline of the arena walls through my closed eyes as I walked and soon realized I was being taken down to the same area where Striker had killed Isobel’s father. I clenched my fists and tried my best to keep my breathing steady. We stopped after a few seconds and the cover was ripped from my head.
The King stood only about five feet from me, just out of striking distance. He wore a neatly pressed blue military dress uniform, complete with several medals over his left breast. “Good afternoon, champions. Today is the day you’ve been waiting for.” He passed in front of me and gave me a small smirk. “I must admit, I’m a little surprised that we ended up with four champions.” He let his eyes linger on mine for several seconds. “Please give your attention to my top general.”
Striker entered the room and held a rifle in his hands. “Here’s the deal, and make sure you pay attention, I won’t repeat myself.”
One of his men pushed me in the back. “Pay attention.”
My anger had nearly spilled over by this point, but I knew I needed to contain myself just a little longer. It took everything I had not to leap over the King’s Guard and choke the man with my bare hands.
Striker paced back and forth in front of us for several seconds before talking. “Aether, Graveborne, you two will go first. Huntsman, Butcher, you two will follow. The winners will face each other immediately. Inside the arena anything goes, except no flying.” He walked across the room and lifted a cloth off of a long table, revealing a wide selection of weapons. Everything from rifles to axes, knives to wooden clubs. “One by one, please come up and select your weapons and wait against the wall. Aether, you’re first.”
Aether stepped forward and Striker whispered something into his ear. Aether nodded and walked up to the table. After a few seconds, he selected a bag from the table and slung it over his shoulder. He continued to the end of the table and lifted a silver Warhammer into the air. “That will do it,” he said, nodding his head in approval of his choice.
Gravestone went next, selecting a crossbow and a long pike. He was followed by the Butcher, who predictably selected a meat cleaver the size of my head.
I stepped toward the table to make my selection and several guards stopped me.
Striker laughed and shook his head. “Not you, sweetheart. Line up.”
Aether laughed as he leaned against the wall. “What’s the matter, Huntsman? What are you going to do without your whores to bail you out? Where are they anyway?” He stared into my eyes as an evil smirk rose across his face. “Oh, that’s right. They’re probably getting skull fucked by some desperate monster back behind the arena right now.”
The King slammed a fist on the table. “Aether, that’s enough. Focus on the task at hand.”
“Yes, Father.” Aether turned a dark shade of red as he adjusted his silver Warhammer out in front of his chest. He fished a potion bottle out of his pocket and quickly downed the contents. His eyes flashed a brilliant green before returning to normal.
“Father?!” I whispered to myself as I joined the others. My mouth immediately went dry. “Aether was the King’s son. And maybe more important, the King let his son enter the tournament?”
Striker walked over to me slowly and leaned forward to talk closer to my ear. Four guards held my arms steady as he came within striking distance. The sound of the gathered crowd above in the arena was nearly deafening, but I could hear him clearly. “Don’t worry about your girls, they’ll be there, cheering you on.” He pulled back and laughed. The smell of cheap whiskey wafted out from his mouth in sickening torrents.
I kept my gaze locked on his as he backed toward the king.
He laughed again and shook his head. “Alright champions, follow me.”
I knew protesting about not being able to use a weapon was pointless. I just hoped I’d be able to use my skills, unlike in the labyrinth. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but I felt confident the King did not intend for his son to die today. I was going to do everything in my power to change that.
Augustus gave a small nod and left the room. He entered the arena to a massive chorus of cheers and boos. The sounds of several trumpets rose into the air and firework blasts rang out for several minutes.
Striker stood at the entrance to the arena. “Alright, here’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. Don’t let them down.” Aether entered first, and the crowd greeted him with a mighty round of cheers. The next two followed to an impressive round of cheers themselves. I got into position and heard the King announce my name. Striker grabbed my chest armor and pulled me closer to him while the guards held my arms. “I hope you enjoy my little present.” He pushed me into the arena and slammed the door behind me. I stepped out to a similar round of cheers and boos as the others. All of it faded away, however, as I walked across the huge dirt floor toward the other champions. My legs nearly buckled, and I felt like I needed to vomit. Along the wall were the naked bodies of Gwen, Dahlia, and Isobel. Rigor mortis had already faded as their bodies lay slack against the wall. Gashes were cut into their skin randomly and the ropes used to hold them upright cut into their wrists and arms.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself before I let my spirit blow up the entire fucking arena.
Chapter Thirty-One
There was only one thing I was certain of at that moment. It didn’t matter who I had to face, they were about to die, every single one of them. I kept my eyes locked on Gwen’s motionless body and tried to will her back to life. There wasn’t a single strand of spirit remaining inside of her, she was dead. I reached into my pocket and wrapped my hand around the rocks that Alysain had given to me. I closed my eyes slowly and used my Sight one more time. All three of the girls’ cores were empty, as if all life had abandoned them long ago. If something is supposed to happen with these magic rocks, it sure would be nice to have a sign when that might be. Nothing happened. What little hope I had left was fading. I wanted nothing more than to receive a sign that there was still hope.
Two guards brought out a large chest and a third followed with a glowing scroll. The king’s voice rose over the arena. “Welcome to the final battles! We have a treat for all of you today! First, turn your attention to the south end of the arena.”
Everyone turned and a large pedestal rose up out of the ground. A large golden chest sat atop the platform with a rolled scroll displayed in front of it. Cheers and screams erupted throughout th
e arena.
The King waited for the cheers to die down before continuing. “To the victor, goes the spoils! More coin than they could ever hope to spend, and possibly even better, a scroll with my signature that is magically bound and will transfer ownership of the Mystic Vale and everything contained within, to the victor, effective immediately after the tournament champion emerges.”
I scanned the crowd and saw that this was what everyone was most excited about. I had my doubts about if the King would actually transfer control of the Mystic Vale, and still did, but if that scroll actually transferred ownership, then I wanted it. If for nothing else, to get it out of the current regime’s hands and to use it to destroy them.
Augustus raised a hand in the air and spoke over the raucous crowd. “Please, welcome our first two combatants!”
Aether and Ghostborne walked out to the center of the arena and held their weapons at the ready while the guards pulled the orc and me back behind a gate built into the wall surrounding the main floor of the arena.
A flaming ball shot up from behind the king and corkscrewed high into the air. As it reached its peak, it transformed into a brilliant phoenix and rushed down in a sea of sparks. It swooped toward the floor of the arena before shooting back up and disappearing as it crossed the top of the other side, prompting wild screams from the gathered attendees.
Another round of cheers exploded through the arena as Aether and Ghostborne readied their weapons. Aether quickly popped another potion open with his thumb and downed its contents. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and his eyes glossed over. He gave me a devious smile and turned to face the King.
With an acknowledging nod, King Augustus kicked off the spectacle.
Aether lifted his warhammer and waited for the skeleton to attack. Ghostborne lowered his pike, keeping Aether at a distance. They circled each other several times as if boxers sizing each other up, each waiting for the other to attack first. It didn’t take long as the skeleton’s eyes glowed brightly and he channeled his spirit from his core through his weapon. The spirit crackled at the end of the pike as Ghostborne lunged forward. Aether easily dodged the attack and counter-attacked with his war hammer. His strike landed on Ghostborne’s shoulder with a crack that echoed across the arena.
The bones within the skeleton’s shoulder shattered, but with the amount of spirit running through his body, he maintained his grip on his weapon. He swung his pike in a wide arc and swept Aether’s feet out from under him.
Aether landed with a thud and spun out of the way as the skeleton brought his weapon down toward his chest. He quickly returned to his feet and readjusted his warhammer, preparing to attack. They sized each other up, parrying and blocking each other’s blows as if it were all just a well-choreographed fight.
Ghostborne held tightly to his pike and lunged forward. Bursts of blue flame shot out from the end of his weapon, landing in the center of Aether’s chest and knocking him down once more.
I peered up at the King, and he clenched his jaw tightly, watching intently. Striker stood at the King’s side but didn’t react to the fight. Instead, he stared and smiled at the dead girls bound at the end of the arena. Fucking sick bastard.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The tainted spirit that filled the arena was overwhelming. It swirled above us like a storm cloud, churning and spinning violently, but apparently unseen by most. Or they just didn’t care.
As I concentrated on the cloud, I heard Master Teng’s voice in my head. “Tainted spirit is more powerful than anything in this world, no one has cultivated it and lived to tell the tale.” He’d warned me several times about tainted spirit while we were training. He said it came from sorrowful souls who sought vengeance.
A loud crack rang out as Aether landed a strike on the skeleton’s head, breaking half of his skull open. The skeleton staggered back in the orc's direction, but dropped to his knees before he made it all the way over. Aether walked over with his warhammer held high and brought it crashing down on top of Ghostborne, finishing the champion off.
The crowd was deafening as Aether took a victory lap, his hammer held high in the air. The King clapped slowly and gave his son a nod of approval as he neared. Aether stopped in front of me and smirked. “It must’ve been those good luck charms over there.” He continued walking and took up a position below the King’s box.
The King’s magnified voice rose across the arena and the voices of the spectators died down. “Now, on to our second fight of the day. Nekras the Butcher takes on The Huntsman for a spot in the final against our first round champion Prince Aether Corlinius.”
Another massive cheer rose as a guard nudged me in the back toward the center of the arena. I scanned the crowd for any sign of Amos and Mona. I’d almost given up looking for him when I noticed he and Mona had taken up positions next to the King. He gave me a small nod as I reached the center of the arena. The sight of the orc’s massive cleaver made me remember that I no longer had any of my normal weapons. I stared into the orc’s emotionless face.
The starting horn blew, and the orc lunged forward, taking a violent swing with his razor sharp cleaver, missing my head by inches. He brought his weapon back toward my head with a furious growl. I heard the blade cutting through the air as it neared my head. I dodged each attack and slowly backed out of the way, keeping him in front of me while he swung several more times. I sensed the energy building inside of him with each swing and before long he pulsed with dark spirit. His mouth cracked open in an ominous smile as he moved forward. “Time to die.” He closed his eyes and waves of dark energy poured out of him as if he had activated a special skill. He swung with wild abandon, spinning and lunging like an unseen force possessed him.
I dodged as many of his furious blows as I could, but when the orc kicked up a cloud of dust I took my eye off of him for a second. My momentary lapse was enough for him to lodge his blade down into my shoulder, knocking me to the ground. He ripped his cleaver out and licked my blood off the blade. He released an unnerving laugh as I rose to my feet. He continued his onslaught for several more seconds, but ran out of steam before he could land any additional strikes. I could tell whatever skill he’d activated had just expired. Blood poured out of my open wound as the orc stopped, clearly drained from whatever ability he’d just used. Activating my charge skill, I slammed into his back, sending him sprawling to the ground before he could recharge his core a second time. The scar on my chest immediately burned and felt as if it was going to explode. I clenched my teeth and pushed forward.
As he was falling, I activated my Nature Manipulation skill and felt an itch in my wrists. I pushed both hands forward, covering the orc in a tangled mess of thick vines as they exploded from my wrists. I kept my arms outstretched toward the muscular green beast as he waved his cleaver wildly and tried to free himself. While he remained distracted, I ran forward and slammed my foot down on the back of his head.
The orc roared in frustration, slicing the remaining vines off his body and pushing himself back to his feet. We faced each other, both trying to catch our breaths and both of us trying to figure out what the other was about to do. Using my Nature Manipulation to throw all of the vines at him had nearly depleted my core. I had enough spirit left for possibly one more charge if needed, and I didn’t want to bring in any of the tainted spirit into my core, at least, not unless I absolutely had to.
Nekras’s eyes glowed bright red as he approached me again, still slightly off balance. It reminded me of a few school yard fights I’d gotten into as a kid. My brother was always pissing someone off, so it was usually up to me to clean up the mess. Even though he was older than me, I always took up the fight for him. Pussy. I reached into my pocket and could still feel the energy pulsing from the small bean-like stones in my hand. I wish I fucking knew how to use these. I circled around the orc again, nearing a row of flags with each of our banners displayed.
Nekras lunged, and I caught him in the chin with a right hook. He snarle
d and reached back for another swing. I moved closer to him so he couldn’t get momentum to swing, dodging his attack. I shot upward and landed a balled fist into his throat. He stumbled backwards toward the flags and laughed. He threw his cleaver down onto the ground, which prompted a fresh round of cheers. He pounded a fist on his chest and nodded toward me. “Let’s go.”
We stood in the middle of the arena like boxers, exchanging hooks and uppercuts. I was in better shape than the beast, but he was much stronger. I used my conditioning to my advantage, ducking and weaving out of the way of his punches and counter punching with all the strength I had left. I was thankful to my girls for helping to raise my endurance rank over the past few weeks, but my shoulder wound was quickly becoming an issue.
The orc’s mouth filled with blood and he spit it into my face. He pushed forward and left his feet, his giant fist aimed toward my head. I activated my charge ability as he was still in midair and caught him. I braced my good shoulder against his chest and it felt like I was flying with him in my arms. A second later we slammed to a stop. Nekras let out a small gasp and immediately fell limp.
I released my grip on the large orc and took a couple of steps backward. The crowd fell silent and I could see why. The force of my charge had carried Nekras into the wall, but not before the flagpole holding my banner found its way in through the back of the orc’s neck and out through his throat. The orc hung limply, impaled on the pole with my bloodied banner waving slowly out in front of him.
I spit on the ground and dusted myself off. The silence slowly turned into cheers and before long all the spectators were on their feet cheering louder than I’d heard since I arrived. I turned and walked toward the King, who stood motionless in his viewing box with Striker and Amos still at his side. Aether stared at me wide-eyed as I approached, but didn’t say a word.
I stopped about ten feet away and gave the King an exaggerated bow, prompting even more raucous cheers from the crowd. Augustus cleared his throat and addressed the crowd, this time with much less excitement filling his voice. “Round two victor is the Huntsman. Our final match will be the Huntsman versus Aether. May the best champion win.” He leaned over and said something to Aether out of earshot. Aether dug into his pocket and downed another potion.