Defiant - Chapter 2
Excitement touched Rydian as the crowd roared...
On the wild planet of Talamh, humanity thrived...
...until the alien Alfur conquered their world.
Now, defeated and broken, humanity serves their immortal overlords.
And pleads to the stars for a hero.
Rydian Holt is nothing, nobody. Just another human from the streets of Talamh. Or at least, that’s what he thinks—until his mother is caught up in a fledgling resistance group. Branded a traitor and sentenced to fight in the arena, now Rydian must face hardened gladiators in single combat. To survive and advance through the ranks, he’ll need the help of an enigmatic weapons master—and more than a little luck.
But after a lifetime of servitude, survival is no longer enough for Rydian. He seeks a way to fight back— not just against his fellow gladiators, but against the Alfur themselves. If Rydian can uncover their greatest secret—the truth about the mysterious Light that powers their world—he might just win his freedom.
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Excitement touched Rydian as the crowd roared. The pounding of boots striking the metal stands echoed through the stadium. On the sands of the arena, weapons shrieked as blade met blade, and a man grunted, staggering back from his opponent as a bloody gash appeared on his chest. His shield bore the blue of the island city of Mayenke, while the woman he fought was garbed in Goman green.
Little wonder then that the crowd applauded as she darted in, her gladius evading the Mayenken’s shield to bury itself in the man’s throat.
The arena exploded as the enemy gladiator slumped to the sands in death.
Rydian rose with them. Goma needed to celebrate their team’s successes. They were few enough now—and usually came through the blade of their champion, Falcon. Gone were the days of old, when the Goman gladiators had been a force to be reckoned with, when the other cities had feared to face their warriors on the golden sands.
Nowadays, they were lucky if half their competitors survived their bouts.
Slowly the cheers faded, the crowd returning to their seats. Many cast glances in Rydian’s direction. He and his father were located almost in the front row of the stadium, though the seats immediately around them were empty. Even with the space, he could sense the hostility from those around them. No one wanted to associate themselves with a family of traitors.
It didn’t help that Rafael hadn’t stirred from his seat with Falcon’s victory. It wasn’t that he didn’t realise her triumph. Blind or no, there was no mistaking the joy of the crowd. But Rafael claimed to have little interest in violence or the competition between cities.
The crowd, of course, didn’t understand that.
Rydian clenched his fists as the number of eyes on them swelled. Their haters could do nothing to them here—not with the Enforcers patrolling the crowd—but that didn’t stop their jeers.
“Alfur f…bastard traitors…bloody hung.”
The taunts came to him in pieces. Pain stung Rydian’s palms as his fingernails pierced his skin. He couldn’t understand how his father managed, why he didn’t do more to refute their beliefs. Sitting while the crowd cheered their champion was a sure way to have Rufus and his thuggish friends at their door again this night.
Rydian struggled to focus his mind back to the sands as a fresh pair of gladiators appeared and offered their traditional salute, a sign of respect between warriors about to do battle. These two wore the yellow of Lutryde and red of Riesor. Without one of their own in the contest, the crowd quieted while the pair began to circle one another.
Rydian, however, found himself paying more attention, wondering about those other cities, so far from the poverty-stricken streets of Goma. Was life the same in the other cities, with every aspect of their lives from birth to death controlled by the Alfur? Or was there freedom in some of the cities, choice to work as whatever you wished, to leave the great walls that barred the frontiers?
There were only five cities on Talamh, each isolated by vast swathes of wilderness infested by hounds and felines and beasts far worse. Travel between the cities was possible only by Alfurian vessels—which made the transport contracts granted to merchants like Carlos all the more valuable.
The flour for Rydian’s bread had probably arrived on the same vessel as the Lutryde gladiator below. Surrounded by vast savannahs, the city was the food basket of Talamh, while the arid deserts of Riesor provided minerals such as quartz and graphite, which the Alfur used in their devices. The lush jungles around Goma provided little in the way of sustenance, but many of the plants were collected by botanists for medicines.
Below, the fight continued and cheers came from the crowd as the Lutryden drew first blood. The man from Riesor retaliated, his short blade opening a gash on his foe’s arm. Rydian glanced away at the sight, his stomach tying itself in a knot. The games were held each month, and while they rotated between the five cities, attendance was mandatory for home games, with few exceptions.
Rydian himself had little interest in the bloody contest, but the Alfur had strange ideas at times. The creatures were convinced that humans as a species were innately violent, and seemed to believe that regular exposure to the “entertainment” of the games would curb their subjects’ more bloodthirsty urges. For Rydian, he struggled to understand how a species that had once burned entire cities to the ground could consider humanity “violent.”
The crowd roared as the Lutryden scored another hit on his foe. Scarlet blood shimmered in the sunlight as the Riesoran gladiator staggered back, blood streaming down his chest. A snarl rumbled up from the sands on which the gladiators fought as the red-garbed warrior charged—only to find himself impaled on the blade of his foe.
Cheers rained down upon the victor as the crowd rose to their feet. Rydian sighed as he felt again the isolation of where he sat alone. Once he’d had friends, children of other families that would sit together at these events. Most had had at least one connection to the rebellion. All avoided him now.
Abruptly, a hushed silence fell over the arena, as though the Light had just been cut from one of the Alfur’s mechanical speakers. Frowning, Rydian rose to his feet, trying to get a glimpse of what had quieted the crowd. The victorious Lutryden gladiator had already retired from the stadium, while several attendants were hurrying to remove the body of the Riesoran and rake the sands clean for the next match. But it was not their activity that had drawn the attention of the mob.
Below, a new gladiator had darkened the gates to the arena floor.
Or rather, Lightened.
Rydian’s chest constricted as he watched the glowing figure emerge from the shadows into daylight. The gladiator wore a tight-fitting white jumpsuit and a sleek metallic helmet with a crystal visor to conceal the figure’s identity. But no one could mistake this fighter, not with the glow that rippled across its skin as it stepped into the sunlight.
Rotin, gladiator of the Alfur.
In the stands, Rydian shuddered and slumped back into his seat. Ripples carried around the stadium as the other citizens of Goma followed suit.
Nourished by pure Light, the Alfur called Rotin lit up the sands as it strode to the centre of the arena. Even its sword seemed to glow with the power, as though a portion of the Light thrumming in the Alfur’s veins had been transferred to the metal. Standing beneath the angry gaze of thousands, the creature showed no signs of fear. Indeed, as it stood and appraised the onlookers from beneath its opaque visor, none could mistake this creature’s distaste for the humans above.
In that, at least, Rotin was more honest than its brethren. The other Alfur might claim to abhor violence, but Rotin stood as proof to their lies. The Alfur that fought, that killed, that revealed the true nature of its kind.
Rydian swallowed as movement came from the sands below. A collective sigh passed around the stadium as a black-garbed figure emerged. It seemed Boustor, not Goma, had decided to challenge Rotin these games. Few cities wished for one of their own to step into the ring with Rotin, not with the Light burning in the creature’s veins, feeding it strength. That Light powered everything on Talamh, from the Aflurian vessels to the towering skyscrapers, to the Alfur themselves. The creatures had no need of food or water for sustenance, only Light. Light that gifted them superhuman strength and impossible speed, that had allowed Rotin to fight on the sands for decades, prevailing against each and every champion humanity sent against it.
No, there was no hope of victory against Rotin.
And yet, that did not seem to have stopped the challenges. Rotin’s decades of victory had created a legend about the Alfurian gladiator, about the prize that would be rewarded to the gladiator who defeated it. Freedom, it was whispered around the hearths of humanity, for the gladiator, for their city, for Talamh.
And so every so often, a city, a gladiator, would challenge the creature, to test their strength against one of the immortal Alfur.
And die.
Rydian watched as the two figures squared off on the sands. The Alfur’s glow had lessened now, seeping back beneath its translucent skin. Even so, Rydian still shivered at the sight of that power.
And yet…Rydian held his breath with the rest of the crowd as the two champions met with the shriek of clashing blades. Despite his doubts and dislike for the contest, Rydian found himself leaning forward in his seat with the rest of the crowd, eyes locked on the figures below.
Even to his untrained eye, he could see the human gladiator fought with incredible skill. She spun and twisted on the golden sands, longsword flashing in the emerald sunlight as she danced with death itself. Even Rotin seemed surprised by her skill, as step by step the Alfur was forced back, sabre flashing as it deflected each of the human’s blows. For a short moment, it seemed the people of Goma could be witnessing history.
But the minutes dragged on and still the Boustoran showed no sign of breaking Rotin’s iron defence. Even as she continued the assault, Rydian could see she was slowing, her skill being chipped away by the fury of the battle. Even with years of training and competition, there were limits to human endurance.
Not so for a creature fuelled by Light.
Suddenly, the Boustoran tripped, staggering on the sands.
And Rotin went on the attack.
The power of the Alfur’s first blow as it struck the human gladiator’s shield could be heard from the highest stands of the amphitheatre. Rydian winced as the thud was echoed by a harsh cry. Below on the sands, the Boustoran retreated from Rotin, her shield hanging in pieces from its strap, her arm beneath bloodied. She stumbled, swaying on her feet, and for a moment it seemed the mighty warrior would fall there.
Yet after a moment she straightened. Releasing the remnants of her shield, she raised the longsword in her good hand and pointed it at her foe. A hush fell across the stadium as Rotin accepted her challenge. Tossing aside its own shield, the creature advanced with sabre in hand.
The two came together once more, blades clashing, sparks flying, but within moments it became obvious that the momentum had shifted. Now it was the human gladiator who was forced back by the blows of the enemy. She still spun and riposted, trying desperately to land a blow, but her efforts were in vain, as each attack found only empty air.
And with every effort, she slowed.
Rotin had no such weakness. The creature showed no sign tiring, nor of its advanced years. It moved with the languid grace of the Alfur, untouchable, unstoppable.
A moment later, the gladiator lay still on the sands, blood pulsing from a terrible gash in her throat. Rydian turned away as the crowd slumped in their seats. Though she hailed from a different territory, for a few short moments, all of humanity had stood with the woman who dared defy the Alfur. The enemy of all of them.
Seated in the front row, Rydian stared at the fallen gladiator. Rotin stood over her body, sword held loosely at its side, back to the crowd. A tremor shook Rydian as he clenched his fists. Suddenly he was all rage, all vengeance. Let the humans whisper about his family’s treason, his mother’s deceit. These were the creatures behind all the suffering on Talamh. These were the ones who had killed his mother and Rufus’s brother and all the others who’d been caught with the resistance.
Rydian didn’t notice when he came to his feet. Such was the pounding in his skull, the swirling of his rage, he only realised he’d moved when sand crunched beneath his boots. He froze, heart suddenly racing, breath frozen in his throat. Silence had fallen over the crowd behind him, though a whisper carried on the breeze. His father’s voice.
“Rydian, come back!”
He shuddered. His eyes were fixed on Rotin’s back. The Alfur stood, head bowed to its fallen foe. He wondered if it was praying, though if so, he couldn’t imagine any of the gods below would answered to the creature’s devotion. The preachers claimed they loathed the Alfur with all their ancient hearts, that one day they would rise up to purge the invaders from Talamh.
But not this day.
Amidst the silence, Rydian slowly became aware of another sensation. A burn, searing heat came from his palm, almost unbearable Light spilled again from between his fingers. His heart stilled, and he looked again at Rotin’s bent back. He wondered…
A Manus reader in the hands of the Alfur were terrible weapons. One glance, and the creatures could turn a human to ash—or worse, leave them to die in terrible agony. The devices were as good as useless for humans when it came to self-defence. Unless, perhaps, a device were to malfunction?
Before his reason could return, Rydian raised his hand. Whispers spread through the crowd as they saw the Light there. His heart raced. Could he really do this? Before him, Rotin stirred, its head coming up in response to the whispers. A vice clenched around Rydian’s chest. It was now or never.
Teeth clenched, he poured his will into the device embedded in his palm. The Light flared, and for a moment the heat became unbearable, as though he clutched a burning coal in his hand. Rydian felt a moment of elation, even as the creature before him turned. This was it. In one moment, one instant, he could show them all his mother was no traitor. That he was no traitor.
Beneath the sleek, dark visor of the helmet, he glimpsed golden eyes widen in surprise…
The fire died.
Rydian blinked. A sudden exhaustion swept through him. Weariness settled on his shoulders like a blanket. Whatever force or madness that had possessed him vanished, boiled away in the noonday heat, leaving him deflated and alone on the sands of the arena.
Well, not quite alone.
A rumble that might have been laughter came from the throat of the Alfur before him as it raised its blade. A cry escaped Rydian. He tried to turn and run, but what was the point? This was Rotin, slayer of men, undefeated champion of the Talamh games.
Faster than thought, the blade flashed down to crash upon Rydian’s skull.
Everything went black.
The darkness gave way, a flicker of light calling Rydian back from the abyss, from the depth of unconsciousness. Stirring, he groaned as the pain returned, an aching deep in his body, throbbing through his skull, a heat setting his entire head aflame.
Blinking, he opened his eyes and found himself seated in a room of…Light. It burned all around him, unrelenting, as though he were imprisoned in a cage of pure power. The brightness of it sheared through his skull, reigniting the pain. Groaning, he scrunched his eyes closed to escape it, but the brilliance found him even there.
He raised his hands, trying to shield his eyes, only to come up short. Squinting through his eyelashes, he saw that bands of Light enclosed his wrists as well. His heart sank, the hairs on his neck rising as he forced himself to look around again, to take in his surroundings.
Rydian sat at a table in the centre of the brilliance. Its metallic surface appeared to be the only truly solid object in the room, other than the matching chair in which he sat. Straining against the brightness of the room, he glimpsed shadows beyond the walls of Light. The blood roared in his ears as he watched them. It was impossible to know whether they were human or Alfur, but…it seemed he was in an Enforcement centre.
Clenching his fists at the thought, Rydian was reminded of his Manus reader. A shiver passed through him. What had he been thinking, trying to use the Alfur’s own weapons against them?
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
He forced himself to draw breath, and concentrated on the device. Something had happened with it, back in the arena, but it was no good to him now. His skull felt like it had been split in half, though given he was alive, Rotin must have struck him with the flat of the blade.
Heart hammering, Rydian tried to focus on his father through his Manus reader. He needed to apologise, to tell him he was sorry…
…nothing happened. Frowning, he looked back to his cage of Light. Could it be interfering with the device? Drums still beat against his skull, but the brightness was more bearable now. Even so, his heart sank as he looked again at his imprisonment.
There would be no escaping from this. The Lightcuffs alone would have been enough to hold him, for no human had the power to remove the devices. Despite that knowledge, he clenched his fists and strained against the Lightcuffs, testing their connection to the metal table. The white glow encircling his wrists appeared to have no substance, and when his skin pressed against them it did not burn or harm him. The Light did, however, remain quite unbreakable.
Rydian shivered, turning his attention to the shadows beyond the Light. Why was he even alive? Rotin had seen what he was trying to do. Violence against the Alfur, even such a pathetic attempt as Rydian’s, had only one punishment. Death. Yet instead of putting its blade through his chest, Rotin had knocked him out and left him to the Enforcers.
The Enforcers themselves were thankfully only human, though an Alfur would no doubt be around the complex somewhere to handle processing. The creatures left the policing of lower Goma to their human servants, but they preferred to supervise prisoners and would-be criminals themselves.
Rydian’s concentration was broken by a soft hissing from the walls of the Light cage. He swung around, watching as the power began to ripple and change. A moment later, his heart tumbled into his threadbare boots as an Alfur stepped into his prison of Light.
Rydian sat frozen in his seat as the Alfur came to a stop across the table from him. Rarely had he come close to one of the creatures—well, other than his single moment of insanity in the arena.
Now he found himself alone in a room with one, he was so close he could see the individual veins of Light shining from beneath its transparent skin. The creature wore a light green tunic and pants of fine silk, its silver hair grown long. From its slim face and broad brow, Rydian could tell it was one of the males of its species, though both sexes moved with an inherent grace no human could match.
The Alfur themselves appeared humanoid in shape, claiming the form was common amongst intelligent species across the galaxy, a type of convergent evolution—whatever that meant. Something about vertical movement freeing upper limbs for tool use.
Though, there were other features that marked the Alfur as distinct from humanity. Apart from their translucent skin and Light flowing in their veins, the creatures possessed elongated ears, and their eyes were twice the size of a human’s, giving the Alfur a stare that could put even the boldest of humans at unease.
Thankfully, this individual seemed more interested in the stack of notes it carried than Rydian himself. Its overly large eyes fixed to the papers, the Alfur made to sit, and a chair abruptly emerged from the Light of Rydian’s cage to support it.
“Mr. Rydian Holt?”
The creature did not look up from its notes as it spoke, and it was a moment before Rydian realised it was asking him a question.
“I…what?” he said belatedly, his mind struggling to function as those terrible eyes turned in his direction.
Sitting there in the cage of Light, Rydian found his mind frozen. Gone was his grand plan to clear his mother’s name. Suffering beneath the gaze of a creature that could incinerate him with a gesture, Rydian found himself wishing he had listened to his father, that he had simply accepted what so many others had told him. Only now that he found himself within the power of the Alfur did Rydian realise the truth.
There was no resisting these creatures. Rotin had proven it on the sands of the Goman Arena, just a few hours ago.
No human could stand against these beings of Light.
“It says here you are Rydian Holt,” the Alfur repeated, a frown creasing its perfectly symmetrical features.
“I…yes,” Rydian finally managed.
The creature tsked, and began to flick through the pages in front of it, shaking its head. Rydian watched, a lump lodged in his throat. He still couldn’t understand why he was alive. Probably only to serve some overly complicated bureaucracy. The Alfur liked their paperwork. They couldn’t seem to understand the general disorder of humanity as a whole.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” the Alfur muttered as it paused on each page. It hardly seemed to notice his presence. “Trespassing on arena property? Attempted assault? Resisting detainment?” It tsked some more, then looked up at Rydian. “You understand these activities are unlawful, Mr. Holt?”
Rydian clenched his teeth as he listened to the charges, arms straining unconsciously against the Lightcuffs. When he finally managed a response, it came out through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t resist...”
The creature raised a silver eyebrow. “Your injuries would suggest otherwise,” it observed.
A scowl twisted Rydian’s face and he again felt the sting of the bruise swelling his skull. “I didn’t do a thing,” he spat, lurching forward in his cheer.
The cuffs only allowed him an inch of leeway, but even so the Alfur lurched back in its chair and raised a hand. Rydian froze as a sharp glow lit the creature’s Manus reader. His eyes were drawn to the gathering Light, and he caught the soft crackling of energies from the creature’s hand.
This was no human Manus reader—it was far more powerful. And dangerous. If the creature unleashed that Light, Rydian’s alleged crimes would be the least of his worries.
Letting out a long breath, he raised his empty hands and leaned back in his chair.
“Relax,” he muttered. “Not like I could have done anything to harm you anyway. Or Rotin, for that matter.”
The Alfur watched him for a long moment, giant eyes narrowed, as though it suspected a trap. Finally though, the glow in its hand died. Coughing as though to clear its throat, it picked up the papers it had dropped in surprise. Pulling them together, it knocked them against the table to straighten them, and only then resumed its study of their contents.
“Rotin?” The creature pursed its lips. “Ah yes, the nickname…such a dishonest concept.” It shook its head, then returned its gaze to the pages before it. It turned several more. “This violence is completely unacceptable,” the creature muttered as it read, though it did not seem to be addressing Rydian in particular. “Something is failing, there must be something else…”
The creature trailed off mid-sentence, its eyes widening, the Light beneath its skin flaring in sudden alarm. Rydian flinched as its head jerked up to stare at him, and this time he felt the full weight of those giant eyes.
“You are that child,” the Alfur whispered. Suddenly it was standing, shaking its head, agitated. “This changes things,” it muttered, moving around the table, reaching for its pocket. “I did not realise…should have read the whole file first…but well, this never happens…I mean, there’s only one of you! If I’d known, known it was your mother…”
Rydian’s heart twisted in his chest and he jerked away from the creature as it approached, finally understanding the meaning behind its ramblings. Shrinking down in his chair as much as the Lightcuffs would allow, he tried to ignore its whispers, to deny what they meant. About his mother. About his family.
“What is the matter?” the Alfur questioned, a frown returning to its face.
Looking away, Rydian struggled to push down the pain of his mother’s memories, the guilt that churned his stomach. “Don’t talk about her,” he hissed.
The silver eyes of the Alfur blinked. “Whyever not?” it exclaimed. “She is a hero! You should be pro—”
“I said, don’t talk about her!” Rydian screamed, hurling himself at the creature.
The Lightcuffs brought him up short, of course, though for a fleeting second he thought they might give way, might dissipate and allow him to get his hands on the awful creature standing before him. As it was, the Alfur leapt backwards halfway across the room and raised its Manus reader again, panic appearing in its eyes.
Rydian watched the Light blossom in the creature’s palm. Though he was surely mere moments from death, he felt no fear or regret, only the pounding of his rage against his skull, the jagged pain of loss in his chest.
But the moment passed, and death did not come.
Slowly, the glow of the Alfur’s Manus reader vanished, though the creature still watched him. It seemed to understand that Rydian could not harm it.
Letting out a long breath, Rydian slumped forward in his chair and buried his head in his arms on the table. He’d done it now. Attempted assault against an Alfur. That was a capital crime. A shudder ran down his spine as he regarded his fate. Whispers spoke of Alfurian ships that flew high above even their soaring towers, that carried prisoners to space itself, to be ejected into that endless nothingness.
Even the mines seemed preferable to that fate.
“So…violent,” the creature whispered as Rydian heard its soft footsteps begin to pace.
He did not look up. What did it matter now that he had doomed himself? All that remained was for the creature to pronounce his fate.
“I had thought…with your mother…that we could…” The creature trailed off for a moment, then: “Such violence! So perplexing. Our scholars claim it is contagious, the haze, you know. Can’t have that, what with the recent uprisings…But Jasmine Halt…”
Rydian flinched at the mention of his mother’s name. Swallowing, he forced himself to finally look at the Alfur. To his surprise, the Alfur met his eyes from across the room. There was a moment, a hesitation still to it, as though this creature could not quite bring itself to do what was needed.
Then abruptly it looked away, and Rydian knew his fate was sealed.
“It seems I have no choice,” the Alfur sighed. Leaning over the table, it scribbled something on the notes before it.
Rydian swallowed. “What’s going to happen to me?” he rasped, unable to keep his silence any longer.
The creature did not respond. Carefully, it ordered the papers, before banging them on the table a few more times to straighten them. At last it cleared its throat and paused, glancing at him before again turning away. Rydian’s shoulders slumped as it approached the glowing wall, but at the last moment it turned back.
“They’ll come for you soon, Rydian Holt. I wish you goodwill.”
And with that, the Alfur disappeared into the Light.
Blood pounded in Rydian’s ears as he stumbled up the stairs, shepherded from behind by two human Enforcers. Gone was his rage, his desperation to resist. The full consequences of his capture had fallen upon him, and now all that remained was a terrible emptiness, a painful knowledge that he had made this fate for himself.
If only he’d listened to his father and kept his head low, if he’d accepted his mother’s condemnation, he might have had a future, one beyond the darkness of the mines or quarries or whatever terrible fate the Alfur were sending him to.
He staggered, the toe of his boot catching on one of the stairs, and almost fell. The human guards were prodding him with their batons before he could even right himself, their curses chasing him through the shadows of the stairwell.
For just a moment, Rydian allowed himself to feel something: hatred for these humans who bowed so easily to their Alfurian masters. They were almost as bad as the merchants, these men and women who willingly policed the laws of the Alfur. Squeezing his fist, Rydian felt the heat of his Manus reader and wished he really could use its power, that like the Alfur he could blast these men from his path and escape.
But the heat quickly faded, his body still starved of energy, of Light, and his thoughts turned instead to his father. Rydian shuddered at the thought of his father’s disappointment, though, maybe perhaps, Rydian’s display had at least lessoned the hatred for his family?
He shivered and squeezed his fist, wishing for the reader to activate, to connect with Rafael. If only he could explain to his father why he’d done it, could send his love…
…but his Manus reader remained stubbornly dead. Rydian was beginning to suspect something had been done to it while he was unconscious, something to cut him off from the world.
A sharp hiss came from above, snapping Rydian back to the present, and he looked up to see a door sliding open. Beyond, the light of sunset streamed across the rooftop of the complex, its golden hues catching on the hulking machine that had settled on the landing pad.
Iron fingers twisted at Rydian’s innards as he looked on the Alfurian ship. With its doors sealed, there were no outward signs of an entrance, only the crystallised windows set at regular intervals around its circular form. Set aglow by the sunset, there was something grandiose about this machine, a sense of majesty to its smooth, metallic curves. And yet…
…standing this close to the machine, Rydian noticed the darkness as well. Despite its outward grandeur, there was something overtly threatening about the Aflurian vessel. Perhaps it was only a remembrance, a reverberation from ages past when the Alfur had used these ships to defeat humanity, unleashing their terrible power upon human civilisation.
Or perhaps it was that this ship meant Rydian’s doom. Once he stepped into its unknown interior, there would be no escaping, no hope for mercy.
“Please,” he whispered, courage suddenly abandoning him as he turned back to the human Enforcers. “Please, you’re human, like me. Don’t let them—”
Rydian broke off as one of the Enforcers rammed his baton into his stomach. He had enough forewarning to twist away, and so only suffered a partial blow, but it was still enough to stagger him. Gasping, he straightened in the dying light and stared at the pair. He wanted to rage at them, to accuse them of cowardice and treachery, but…
What was the point?
Sinking back into his despair, he turned from the pair. If he was to be taken, at least he would go to his doom with some measure of his pride intact.
The hiss of pressure releasing came from the Alfurian ship and Light burst from its side as a crack appeared, a door slowly lowering from the sleek curves of its metallic hull. A tremor slid down Rydian’s spine and his legs shook, his courage bending before the terror of that sight. The Light continued to grow, its blinding radiance spilling across the rooftop as the door touched down with a gentle clang.
“Go,” a harsh voice came from behind, followed by a none-too-gentle prod in his back.
He glanced over his shoulder, to question whether the Enforcers would be joining him, but the two said nothing, only watched him with their harsh eyes.
Swallowing, Rydian once again faced his fate. It seemed he had no choice. The door that had lowered now formed a ramp leading up into the unknown bowels of the ship. Drawing in a breath, he stepped onto the metallic surface, and walked into the blinding brilliance.
A gentle humming vibrated the air as Rydian found himself surrounded by the Light of the Alfurian vessel. Blinking, he came to a stop, allowing his eyes to adjust. Lights danced across his vision from the brightness. Panic touched him as a hiss came from behind and he sensed movement beneath his feet. Spinning, he stood frozen in place as the metallic ramp rose, until with a final hiss it locked into place, sealing off the outside world.
And Rydian within.
Only then did his eyes begin to adjust to the Light. Heart pounding hard in his chest, he clenched his fists and looked around, expecting to be surrounded by his Aflurian overlords, to find their Manus readers pointed at him, ready to blast their prisoner at the slightest provocation.
Instead, he found himself alone.
Rydian blinked as he looked around the empty ship. There were several rows of metallic benches, each fused to the floor with seeming perfection, but little else in the way of furnishings. The metallic walls were empty but for the crystalline windows, through which the glow of the dying sun was dim by comparison to the Light within.
A frown creased Rydian’s face. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected of the Alfurian vessel. An interior flush with riches, with velvet sofas and golden decorations and luxurious recliners? But then, perhaps such treasures were to be found in other ships. This one was, after all, used to transfer prisoners.
Even so, the emptiness came as a surprise. Where was the pilot? He couldn’t see any controls to speak—the Alfur must have a way of operating the ships remotely. Or perhaps the controls could be formed of Light when one of the creatures was present?
Yet…even his sudden lack of guards was perplexing. Frowning, he stepped across the smooth floor towards one of the circular windows.
He’d only taken two steps when the ship lurched beneath him. Crying out, he stumbled into the walls, then grasped belatedly for the edge of a nearby seat. Before he could recover from the shock of the movement, the floor—no, the entire ship—rocked again, and he was forced to his knees by a strange weight on his shoulders, as though the air had suddenly grown heavier.
Terror eating at his insides, Rydian crawled the rest of the way to the window and desperately looked out through the crystal. Below, he watched in terror as the ground fell away, retreating so rapidly it seemed as though Talamh itself was in freefall, rather than the ship in which he was imprisoned. Goma and the slumps of the lower city were rapidly reduced to tiny lines on the ground below…
…and the metallic towers of the Alfur stretched up around him.
Rydian had just turned his attention to those towers when the ship shuddered again. In that moment, he felt a terrible, awful sensation, as his innards abruptly jerked within him. In that moment, he felt a sensation of falling, as though the ship had suddenly failed and he was now tumbling towards the ground far, far below…
Crying out, Rydian clung to the edge of the chair, eyes squeezed shut, unable to do anything but wait for the horror of the impact.
But the impact never came, and finally Rydian opened his eyes. The falling sensation had ceased and the humming of the ship continued unabated. Hesitantly, Rydian forced himself to look out the window again, expecting to see the ground rushing up to meet him.
Instead, he found himself looking down upon all of Goma. The ship had ceased its rapid rise into the sky—creating the sensation of falling Rydian had felt. Now, he stared down at the lights below, the glow of lanterns that lit the growing darkness of the city. A lump lodged in his throat as he stared at the vista, at a thousand lives, hundreds of buildings, at the soaring majesty of the Alfurian towers. It seemed impossible it could all lie below him, that the tiny window of the ship could encompass all that grandeur.
Then slowly, the view began to shift. Rydian watched as the flickering lights faded, falling behind, until all he could see was the steady Light of the towers, rising through the dark of the night. Soon even those faded, and he found the world outside turned to an everlasting darkness, to infinite black.
Shivering, he slumped against the floor of the ship, and crawled to the chair he had been grasping. Gone was the moment of glory, of wonder at the sight of his city. Despair rose to take its place, to drown him. He was completely, utterly alone now. Closing his eyes, Rydian finally let the tears flow.
It was over. All his hopes and dreams had been undone. Now he was doomed to life of hard labour, or worse, a quick death for his crimes. He still did not know which. Sitting there in the cold Light, the darkness pressing in from without, Rydian found he no longer cared. What difference did it make if they took his life now, or after years of slavery?
And so he sat, sobbing softly, as the Alfurian ship carried him into the night.
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