Defiant - Chapter 6
Rydian woke to the whisper of rustled clothing, to the soft crunch of boots upon sand, to the grunt of exertion expelled by a warrior as they swung a blade...
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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Rydian woke to the whisper of rustled clothing, to the soft crunch of boots upon sand, to the grunt of exertion expelled by a warrior as they swung a blade. Lying against the earth, head pounding to the rhythm of drums, it was a long time before Rydian could piece together the meaning of the noises.
Fear touched him as he realised someone was training on the practice ground. Afraid Geitsen and his followers still lurked nearby, Rydian gathered himself, then abruptly pushed himself into a crouch. His head swam at the movement and he almost collapsed back to the sand. Finally, his vision cleared and he looked around for the unknown warrior…and froze at the sight that greeted him.
In the centre of the courtyard, Marcus Aureli danced.
Twin blades in hand, the ex-gladiator spun across the golden sands, his naked feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Dust rose around him as he ducked and twisted, leapt and kicked and thrust with his curved blades, never stopping, never pausing for breath. It was as though he fought a hundred enemies, overwhelming numbers, and yet the speed with which he moved, with which he attacked, left no doubt as to which would emerge victorious.
Rydian could hardly believe the big man’s grace, his speed and balance. This was no brutal contest with shield and gladius such as he’d witnessed with the Mayenken gladiators, but a warrior’s dance. A display of power and death, and yet of beauty too, of skill.
In that instant, Rydian knew what he had to do, the only way he and Hazel and Johanas would survive the coming months.
They needed Marcus Aureli to train them.
Abruptly Marcus came to a stop and turned towards Rydian, puffing slightly as he lowered his blades. Lines creased his forehead and he raised a hand, as though to wipe long-departed hair from his face.
“Mouse, you’re awake,” he said softly.
Rydian’s face warmed at the use of his new name, but swallowing his embarrassment, he took a hesitant step towards the man.
“What…what was that?” he asked.
Marcus shrugged. “It was nothing,” he said, then paused, eyes studying Rydian. “If you were attacked, there is an Alfur here right now. They come after each games, to heal wounds, and…settle disputes between gladiators.”
Rydian hesitated at the man’s words, but…he had challenged Geitsen to a fight, and reporting the gladiator would not spare him from the arena. Besides, the idea of setting the Alfur against another human, even one such as Geitsen…
…no, he needed something else, a better way.
“I…” Rydian trailed off as movement came from the shadows near the edge of the courtyard.
Ice slid down his spine as the hound stepped onto the sands. He’d almost forgotten about the beast, almost convinced himself it had only been a phantom, an error in his memory on a dark night. Now as it stalked across the sands towards him, his terror came rushing back, the need to run, to flee this awful creature…
…then Rydian noticed the strange weapons master watching him. Swallowing, he looked from the hound to the man, and remained where he stood.
Silently the hound approached, circling him once before stretching out its terrible snout to sniff at his hand. Rydian flinched as the wet nose touched his flesh, but he did not take his eyes from Marcus.
The man stared back, the moment stretching out, until finally he gave a sharp whistle. Turning from Rydian, the beast strode to where the ex-gladiator waited and sat at his heel.
“Why are you here, Mouse?” Marcus asked softly.
“Falcon won’t train us,” Rydian rasped. “Even if she would, I doubt her idea of training could make a difference,” he shivered, thinking of Geitsen, his brutal strength. Despite the hope his Manus reader had offered, it had abandoned him in his time of need. “I…I don’t think I’ll survive another bout in the arena, not against a true gladiator. Please, I…I don’t want to die.”
Marcus did not reply immediately, but stood in silence, watching as Rydian shifted nervously on the sands.
“What you would ask is impossible,” the ex-gladiator said suddenly. “I am long retired, Mouse. I cannot help you.”
“Retired?” Rydian breathed. Shaking his head, he gestured to the blades the man still held. “Even retired, I bet you could defeat any of the gladiators from Goma. Pleas—”
“I said no,” Marcus snapped, his voice rising a pitch, eyes flashing as he raised one of his sabres, as though to fend off an attack. At his side, the hound dropped into a crouch, a growl rumbling from the back of its throat.
Rydian’s heart lurched and he retreated a step. Despite Marcus’s reassurances, there was a darkness he glimpsed in the eyes of the beast. For a moment he stood frozen on the sands, ready to flee, to abandon this idea. What had he been thinking, asking a madman who went around with a hound to help them?
And yet…who else was there to ask?
“Leave this place,” Marcus Aureli rumbled, lifting a finger to point at the door.
Rydian stared at the outstretched hand. Then he shook his head.
“No,” he said. Anger rose in Rydian’s chest as he stared at the man who would deny him a future. It was too much, to witness Marcus’s skill, his ability, to know this could help them—only to be rejected. Fists clenched, he took another step. “You must,” he continued, trying and failing to keep the anger from his voice. “You have to—there’s no one else.”
Marcus stood fixed in place at Rydian’s words, eyes shining in the growing light.
“I must?” he said at last, voice low, but there was no missing the danger in his tone. He stepped towards Rydian, twin blades in hand, hound growling at his heel. “Who are you to tell me what I must do?”
Rydian trembled at the rage in the man’s eyes. He’d already gotten himself into one fight today. But…he could not back down, not now. There was more to Marcus’s reaction than simple anger, he sensed. Something to the way he practiced here without companions. To how he had come to the barracks the night before, then left without joining in the celebrations. This was a man alone, isolated not because of circumstance, but choice.
Why?
“You’re afraid,” he said suddenly, acting on intuition. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? You’re afraid to try and help, in case you fail. In case the people you train still die. You’re…you’re a coward.”
Rydian blinked. He hadn’t meant to say that last part. He opened his mouth to take it back, but Marcus was already moving.
A soft hiss echoed around the courtyard as a curved blade slammed into the sand between Rydian’s feet.
“Pick it up,” the weapons master rumbled.
Rydian hesitated as a voice shouted a warning from the back of his mind. Looking from the blade to the ex-gladiator, he saw an emptiness behind the man’s eyes, a madness he had only glimpsed before.
“Pick it up,” the man repeated, advancing with the second blade, “or die a coward’s death.”
Rydian yelped as the man charged. Without thinking, he snatched the sword from the sand. Steel rang against steel as the blades came together and sparks flashed. The impact vibrated through Rydian’s hands, almost dislodging the sword. He leapt back, weapon raised before him, clutching instinctively for the straps of a shield that were not there.
“No shield to protect you now, Mouse,” Marcus growled, then swung again.
Rydian leapt backwards in response, but this time he was too slow, and he cried out as the blade slashed across his chest, tearing through cloth and flesh, leaving a shallow gash. Rydian staggered as the pain struck him.
“You cut me!” he gasped.
“Coward,” Marcus spat, throwing Rydian’s own words back at him. He advanced, blood now dripping from the tip of his blade. “Is that not what they called you, in the stadium? How did it feel, to be so despised?”
He attacked again. This time Rydian met him blade to blade. Sparks leapt from the collision, then again as he launched a riposte of his own. Fists clenched around the hilt of his weapon, his every fibre thrummed, pulsing to the rhythm of the battle. A fire seemed to swell within, spreading through his core, a burning anger. How dare this man call him a coward, insult his courage? Had he not fought, just as Marcus had suggested, though the world had stood against him?
Rage building, Rydian imagined himself gathering speed, the power of his blows swelling with each exchange. Marcus attacked again, but this time Rydian imagined himself the warrior’s equal, his curved sword leaping to meet the other. Sparks leapt at the collision, before Rydian twisted, thrusting the blade for the ex-gladiator’s face.
Marcus spun and the blade cut only empty air. Pain slashed across Rydian’s arm as the warrior’s own weapon found its mark. A snarl tearing from his throat, Rydian lashed out again, and this time the blow forced the ex-gladiator to retreat. Rydian advanced, energy thrumming in his veins, the heat gathering, concentrating in the palm of his hand…
…and building, growing to a searing, burning flame.
Suddenly the thrumming was no longer power, but pain. It washed over Rydian, sweeping aside his rage, and crying out, he dropped his blade. Staggering back from the weapons master, he clasped his burning hand before him. Light spilled from his Manus reader, just as it had with Geitsen. But now…it did not fade, but burn, searing at his flesh as though he held a hot poker in his hand.
The flames tore another scream from him. White spots danced across his vision as he staggered, his mind shrinking from that pain, that agony…
Slowly, painfully, the Light faded. The pain went with it, receding into the depths of his mind, until he was left standing on the sands again. Spots danced across his vision as he blinked, struggling to return to the present.
He found Marcus standing across from him, features creased as he studied Rydian.
“What…” he murmured, but couldn’t seem to finish the question.
Instead, the weapons master strode across the sands and snatched up Rydian’s hand. Still stunned by the pain he’d experienced, Rydian did not resist as Marcus examined his Manus reader, turning it this way and that, as though he could read something in its dull crystal, in the swirls of steel that enclosed the device.
Finally Marcus exhaled and looked up from his inspection. “Has this…happened before?” he rasped, fingers tightening about Rydian’s wrist.
“I…” A lump lodged in Rydian’s throat as he looked into the man’s eyes and saw something there, excitement, or…fear? “This morning, when I woke,” he answered, not wanting to speak of the Mayenken gladiators.
Nodding, Marcus finally released him and stepped back. A chill spread down Rydian’s spine as he watched the man.
“What does it mean?” he asked. That sensation…it had been almost like when he’d faced Rotin in the arena. But just like that day, it had ended in nothing. “What’s happening to me?”
Marcus said nothing, only stared at Rydian, eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure,” he murmured, then shook his head. “But…it seems I must reconsider.”
“I…what?” Rydian asked, not quite believing his ears.
Silence answered his question. The ex-gladiator stood as though frozen in place, eyes narrowed, blood still dripping from his curved blade.
“I will train you,” Marcus said at last. “Hawk and Bloodlust too, if they wish, and any Goman trainees that arrive for this cycle of the games.”
Rydian exhaled in relief, but the weapons master went on before he could offer his gratitude.
“From now on, you will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Aureli’,” Marcus continued. “Falcon and her followers will not be welcomed, so we will train here, each morning, before the sun rises. Do you understand?”
Rydian stood for a moment, still shocked by the man’s sudden change of heart. Finally though, he nodded. “Yes…er, sir!”
Marcus Aureli stood for a moment longer, watching him. Then abruptly, he turned and stalked from the arena, the strange hound following at his heels.
Rydian remained, staring at the spot where man and beast had disappeared. Finally though, he shook himself, and took a moment to inspect his Manus reader. It seemed no different than any other day of his life, though its Light had dulled again. Wondering, he reached down a hand to where Aureli’s blade had bit him, and winced as he felt the wound beneath his fingers.
The Manus reader had not healed him this time. So where had its Light gone? And how had it renewed so quickly from earlier, for that matter.
A shiver ran down Rydian’s spine as his mind filled with questions—questions he knew would never be answered. No human understood the technology that powered the devices, only the Alfur. And going to the creatures for help was something he would never do.
So instead, he went looking for Hazel and Johanas.
“Another lap, worms!”
Rydian flinched at Marcus Aureli’s bellow, almost tripping over himself as he ran the circuit around the gladiator complex. The thumping of boots from behind only served to add urgency to the task, and lowering his head, he struggled to pick up his pace. Hazel jogged ahead of him, loping along with easy strides, while Johanas had already fallen behind.
And behind even him, came the new trainees.
They had arrived by Alfurian ship that morning, just as Rydian and his friends had the day after the last games. Yet more innocent men and women picked by the Enforcers back in Goma for their supposedly violent nature. They were three as well: a man and woman around Rydian’s age, the last a man who seemed to be closing on his late thirties.
The three had taken the news of their fate much the same as Rydian and his friends had that first day—with varying degrees of denial, rage, and despair. At least they hadn’t experienced the misfortune of a hungover Falcon welcoming them to the complex.
Not that Aureli was much better.
The illusive weapons master had quickly proven more vicious than the hound he kept at his side. There had been no orientation for the newcomers, no moment of quiet to adjust to their fates—just Marcus Aureli’s curt explanations and a command to run, and keep on running until he bid them stop. With the hound growling at his side, not even the boldest of the newcomers had dared question the man’s authority.
Rydian gasped as he turned the corner around one of the barracks and emerged into the open place surrounding the complex. Despite a month of his own training, his lungs were already burning, his body aching at this fresh punishment.
In the distance, the trees loomed. He noticed the eyes of the newcomers drawn towards that unknown wilderness, shimmers of fear and apprehension appearing on their faces. Like most Gomans they had never been outside the city walls, never seen the vastness of the world beyond. But they had heard the stories, knew the dangers. In the jungle, the beasts lurked…
…and yet Rydian remembered well his first day in this place, the temptation of those trees, of a place free from Alfurian rule.
“Faster!” Aureli’s bellows drove them on, though Rydian risked a glimpse behind.
The man pounded along behind them, his hound growling at the last of the runners—the young woman called Ruby that had arrived that morning. Fear showed on her face as she glanced back at the beast, though she managed to pick up her pace, overtaking Johanas as he trailed.
Rydian shook his head, and they continued around the perimeter, puffing and wheezing, running as though their very lives depended on it, Aureli’s hound intervening whenever one of them lagged behind.
It was an hour before Aureli finally allowed them to stop. One by one, they finished the last lap, collapsing to the ground, gasping, sobbing, coughing as they struggled to draw breath. Rydian and his friends knelt together, but the newcomers turned in fear towards Marcus Aureli, and the terrible beast at his side. Rydian recognised their terror of the creature. He couldn’t blame them. He still didn’t entirely trust the beast himself.
“Are you mad?” the younger of the men, called Kelvin, gasped finally, straightening and stepping back from the hound’s proximity. “What are you doing with that thing? It could kill us all!”
“Who? Princess?” Aureli threw back his head and laughed. “She’s harmless.”
“It’s…it’s a hound,” Ruby rasped, her voice barely rising above a whisper as she tried to catch her breath. “They’re…they’re—”
“Aggressive?” Aureli interrupted.
He stomped up to the young woman, face unreadable, the hound padding alongside him. The latest recruits shrank back from the beast, but the hound ignored their fear, reaching out a curious snout to lick Ruby’s hand. She snatched it back immediately, eyes wide, and Aureli chuckled again.
“We’ve all been judged as aggressive, girl,” the weapons master continued. “According to the Alfur at least. I suggest you reserve judgement until you get to know Princess—as I do with each of you.” His eyes narrowed as they swept over the six of them. “Otherwise, I would have written the lot of you off on first sight.”
“Why don’t we get the practice blades and find out then,” Hazel growled, rising to her feet. She still obviously hadn’t gotten over the man’s surprise blow on their first day.
Aureli’s eyes flickered to the young woman. “Ahh, Hawk. I’m pleased you survived your bout in Boustor. Tell me, did the technique I taught you help?”
Hazel hesitated at his words, before her face reddened and she looked away. Before she could answer, Kelvin spoke up again.
“Does that mean we finally get to use a sword?” the young recruit asked. There was a glint in his eyes at the mention of weapons, and Rydian couldn’t help but think the Alfur might have been correct in their assessment of this man at least.
The weapons master turned his jade eyes on Kelvin. “You’re an eager one,” he said, then: “Tell me boy, have you ever been in a fight?”
Despite his earlier bravado, Kelvin hesitated at the question, eyes taking on an uncertain cast.
Aureli snorted, turning to the rest of them. “Have any of your sorry excuses for warriors been in a fight before?”
The newcomers all shook their heads in answer to Aureli’s question, and the old weapons master turned his gaze on Rydian and his friends instead.
“Well you three, perhaps you can share for our guests what it’s like, in the arena.”
Rydian hesitated, thinking back to his desperate bout, the struggle, the pain. He’d fought conservatively, always retreating, hardly offering a response to his opponent’s onslaught until that final blow, and yet…
“It was exhausting,” Hazel took the words from his lips.
“Exactly,” Aureli said with a nod, looking again at the new trainees. “When you watched the games in Goma, you might have come under the impression a human can fight for long minutes, even an hour, without rest. That impression is wrong. The best gladiators spend most of their days training, all in preparation for a bout that might last less than ten minutes. Any longer than that, and you will see even the best of fighters flagging.”
Rydian nodded. Aureli’s words conjured memories of the fight he’d glimpsed between Rotin and the Boustoran champion. The woman had been exceptional, her skill as close to Aureli or Falcon as he’d seen, but…in the end, it had not been Rotin’s skill or strength that defeated her, but the Alfur’s stamina.
“As it is, I’m surprised the three of you lasted thirty seconds on the sands,” Aureli continued, gesturing to Rydian, Hazel, and Johanas. “You won’t get so lucky a second time.”
A shiver ran down Rydian’s spine as he recalled the Mayenken gladiators’ display on the training grounds. The others might doubt, but he knew the truth. Unless they improved, and quickly, their next opponents would finish them easily. Hazel had drawn a man from Riesor as her next foe, while Johanas had been spared a bout at the next games. Only five named gladiators from each city fought at a games.
Ruby, Kelvin and the third newcomer, Caleb, were not so lucky, of course. As unnamed gladiators, each would fight in a month’s time, though they would not know their opponent until the minutes before the bout. At least the three would benefit from Aureli’s training, rather than being abandoned, as Falcon had with Rydian and his friends.
Shaking himself, Rydian forced his mind to the present. His Manus reader had remained dull since the encounter with Aureli the day before, but the memory of the pain he’d felt remained, hovering at the back of his thoughts. What if the device was malfunctioning, and the next time the pain did not cease? A treacherous part of him feared that the agony, and wondered whether he should go to the Alfur after all, but…
…that would mean abandoning other…possibilities. Recalling the sensation of Light flooding his body, washing away his weakness, Rydian knew he had to take the risk, to wait and see whether it happened again. He needed to know the truth about the device, what it was capable of, whether…whether it could be used against the Alfur themselves.
But so long as it remained dull, his only hope of defeating the powerful Geitsen was Aureli’s training.
“Right, enough lounging about,” Aureli announced, his voice rising to a shout. “Trainees, fall in!”
Rydian, Hazel and Johanas stumbled immediately to his feet, while the three newcomers took longer, as though they still resisted their new fates. Finally though, the six of them stood in line looking at Aureli, wating for his next instructions. The man stared back, appraising them with those unknowable eyes.
“Stay here,” he said at last, then turned abruptly and strode off into the nearby building.
Rydian watched him go, frowning, but the man soon returned, a long sack slung over one shoulder. It rattled as he tossed it down in front of the recruits, and Rydian knew instinctively what it contained: the weighted practice blades. Another sack followed, spilling open as Aureli dropped it before them. Rydian recognised the padded vests within and swallowed. It seemed Aureli’s training might not be so different from Falcon’s after all.
“You want to try with a blade?” the ex-gladiator asked. “Very well, find yourselves each a gladius, then suit up. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
A few minutes later the six of them were dressed in the thick padded vests, and Aureli’s training started in earnest. Partnering up, the ex-gladiator ran them threw a series of drills involving cuts and blocks with the sword—he explained the shield would come next. Paired with Hazel, Rydian still struggled to fend off her blows, though at Aureli’s instruction they did not swing with all their strength.
The morning progressed until finally Aureli called a halt, then gestured Rydian, Hazel and Johanas to join him. Despite the deficiencies of their own training regime, the three had performed much better than the newcomers. Their blows were cleaner, connecting with their target more often than not, while Ruby and the others began to lag, their bodies unused to the prolonged exercise.
Aureli allowed them a quick breather, then pointed a finger at Ruby and Kelvin. “You two,” he ordered, “pair up and run through drills one to six.”
Kelvin exhaled sharply at the command, flashing Aureli a glare, while Ruby hesitated only a moment before lifting her blade. The two stepped forward as the ex-gladiator turned his jade eyes on the rest of them.
“Watch,” was all he said, before nodding for the pair to begin.
Ruby was the first to attack, swinging her practice gladius through a series of three attacks. Watching her, Rydian nodded his approval. Her strikes were clean, and while Kelvin evaded them easily with the corresponding blocks, it was obvious which of the two had been listening to Aureli’s instructions.
Footsteps shifted nearby as Aureli approached, the familiar hound still at his sound. “What do you think, Mouse?” he asked.
Rydian hesitated as the hound sat beside him. When the beast made no attempt to maul him, he reached out a tentative hand and stroked its head as he’d seen Aureli do. It seemed to enjoy the touch.
“What do I think about what, sir?” he asked, focusing on Aureli.
The warrior gestured to where Kelvin had just begun his turn on attack. Unlike Ruby, his strikes were wild and inaccurate, though he made up for it with an excess of power. He could see the hesitation on Ruby’s face as she struggled to block his swing’s, saw her flinch at each contact between their blades.
“About our recent arrivals,” Aureli replied. “This is their first time with the gladius. What are they doing wrong?”
Rydian looked again at the pair. “Kelvin is aggressive,” he said immediately, “too aggressive. He holds nothing back.”
Hazel shifted closer. “Ruby is struggling to defend herself without a shield,” she spoke up, “but she strikes well.”
Across from them, the pair changed again. But this time as Ruby went on the attack, her blows were no longer so steady. She seemed to be holding back, hesitating before each strike, as though…
“She’s afraid,” he said.
As he spoke, Ruby finished her sequence of attacks. Rather than waiting for her to recover, Kelvin leapt straight into his counterattack. The young woman cried out as a blade flashed for her, but instinct kicked in and her own gladius leapt to deflect the attack.
Growling his frustration, Kelvin pressed the advantage, swinging an unscripted blow. This one found its mark, the blunted gladius slamming down against Ruby’s shoulder. A cry tore from the woman as she dropped her weapon and stumbled back from him, one hand clutched at her collar.
Rydian leapt to intervene before Kelvin could land another blow, his blade deflecting a third strike.
“Aureli said drills,” he snarled, levelling his blade at the new recruit. “What the hell was that?”
Kelvin sneered at Rydian’s intervention. “What, are you going to come to her rescue in the arena as well? There’s no such thing as drills on the sands.”
Anger flushed through Rydian at the man’s words, and he felt a flicker in his palm, a soft pulsing of heat. Teeth clenched, he raised his blade, prepared to teach the arrogant young man a lesson, but a sob from behind Rydian distracted his retribution. Lowering his sword, he turned towards Ruby…
…and found her racing away across the field, towards the darkness of the jungle.
Nearby, Aureli cursed and made as though to start after her.
“Wait,” Rydian murmured, stepping in front of the ex-gladiator and meeting his eyes, before turning towards the forest. “I’ll talk to her.”
Rydian set off after her before anyone could respond. Thankfully, Ruby hadn’t gone far. The injury seemed to have slowed her and he hoped it wouldn’t interfere with her training. He’d recently learned that the Alfur would use their own Manus readers to heal injuries that might prevent a gladiator from competing—but not until the day of the games.
He caught her at the edge of the jungle where she’d come to a stop and stood now staring into the shadows beneath the trees. A shiver passed through Rydian as he joined her, his gaze drawn inevitably to that unknown wilderness. He could see no sign of primates or other beasts, but then, anything could be hiding in the dense vegetation and they’d never know…
Shaking himself, he forced his attention to the trembling trainee standing beside him. Fear showed in the young woman’s eyes, but to her credit she met his gaze, at least for the moment.
“You’re afraid,” he said softly.
“I…I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I…I’m trying not to be, but…” Her voice broke and she wrapped her arms around herself. “I…I don’t know what to do. I’m not strong enough, but…but I don’t want to die!”
The hairs on the back of Rydian’s neck stood on end at her words, so similar to his own spoken to Aureli just the day before.
“We’re all afraid,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to squeeze her shoulder. “Me, Hawk, even Bloodlust,” he had to chuckle, using Johanas’s new name. It was almost as ridiculous as his own. “That’s the truth. None of us know whether we’ll survive another games.
“At least you won your first,” Ruby whispered.
She glanced at him, then at the ground again. Hesitantly, she raised her hand, and a soft Light sprang from her Manus reader. Rydian watched as two figures took form in her palm, then began to do battle. Several minutes passed before he realised it was his own fight against the aggressive Boustoran trainee.
“I watched each of your fights,” Ruby murmured. “I can’t imagine doing what you did. I’ll…I’ll never be a true gladiator.”
Rydian was surprised to find himself smiling. Her words were so similar to his own, that first strange night he had spoken with Aureli. Gently he reached out and turned the young woman’s face to look at him.
“Listen to me, Ruby,” he said. “Just a month ago, I stood where you stand now, terrified I could never survive here, that I would smile.” He drew in a breath, staring into the woman’s hazel eyes, seeing the fear there and wishing he had the power to take it away. “Somehow I survived, despite any training or real preparation. We were alone, the three of us. But now we have Aureli. I’ve seen him fight. With him on our side,” he paused, drawing in a breath. “Well, none of us know what will happen when we step into that arena, but with his help, I…I can almost have hope.”
Ruby fell silent at his words, though she continued to stare at him, as though he were some mystic who held the secrets of the universe. His eyes were drawn down her neck to where Kelvin’s blade had struck her. A purple bruise was already beginning to swell around her collar.
Without thinking, Rydian laid his Manus reader on the discoloured skin. His hand began to pulse as a glow lit the device, not the brilliance of the day before, but a steady pulse still greater than he had a right to possess. Ruby’s eyes widened, though she said nothing as they stood there in the shade of the nearby jungle.
When he finally removed his hand, Rydian was as surprised as the young woman to see her skin had returned to its normal hue. A look of wonder appeared in Ruby’s eyes as she looked at him, but he raised a finger to his lips, a smile tugging at his face.
“It’s natural to be afraid, Ruby,” he said instead. “We all are. We just can’t let it rule us.”
The young woman swallowed at his words, and her eyes flickered from his face, back to where their companions had resumed their training.
“Kelvin isn’t afraid,” she whispered. “He…he says he’s excited for the games.”
“If that’s true, then he’s a fool,” Rydian replied.
Ruby shivered. “So…if you’re afraid, how…do you do it? How do you seem so… assured?”
Rydian raised an eyebrow. He didn’t think of himself as assured at all. But maybe… “We fake it,” he chuckled. “No…well, maybe a little. Truth is, we keep going, put on a brave face, because there’s no other choice.” He gestured to the trees. “We could run, step into that darkness, and finally be free of the Alfur. But, well, we both know what creatures await us out there. Me, I’ll take my chances in the arena.” He hesitated, glancing at the sky, recalling the stars, and the strange Light of his Manus reader. “At least that way I can still have hope...”
“What hope?” Ruby whispered. “The Alfur will never give us our freedom.”
Rydian found himself smiling. “The hope of the infinite.”
The sands were still hot beneath Rydian’s boots as he strode across the arena, ears ringing to the jeers of the Mayenken crowd. Just his luck, that he would face a second gladiator in front of their home city. The fiery sun was far hotter here than it had been in the Boustoran arena. The air was sweltering, each breath like inhaling steam from a boiling pot.
Rydian did his best to ignore the heat and the crowd, focusing instead on the barrier of Light that divided the arena—and the dark figure waiting beyond. Geitsen’s face was concealed beneath his helm, but it was not hard for Rydian to imagine the smirk on his face, the laughter in his eyes. Geitsen had already faced the Mouse of Goma once, and he was not impressed.
As though to confirm Rydian’s suspicions, the figure beyond the barrier of Light turned and raised his sword to the crowd. A deafening roar answered the gladiator’s salute, followed by a thundering applause as the Mayenken people rose to their feet in support of their man.
Narrowing his eyes, Rydian watched as Geitsen worked the crowd. The man was putting on a show, just as he and his friends had done for Rydian back in the practice arena. Swallowing, Rydian struggled with his inner doubts. He had trained hard beneath Aureli’s watchful gaze these last four weeks, pushing his body to breaking point. The six fledgeling gladiators had barely spent a waking hour each day without training, and had grown close in their shared hell—he and Ruby in particular.
Now the time had come for them to test the fruits of their labour. All except Johanas would fight today, and Rydian was the first of the Goman team to step onto the sands.
Sweat dripped down Rydian’s face as he glanced again at the crowd, listening to their roars. The Alfurian ship had carried them to the city that morning, a shorter trip this time, jetting from the complex out over the nearby ocean. He still struggled to comprehend the vastness of that seeming infinite expanse of water. It had been almost two hours before the soaring Alfurian towers of Mayenke had appeared above the endless blue—the first sign they were approaching the island city.
It had been smaller than Rydian expected, half the size of Goma, though he was surprised to see that here as well there were walls surrounding the city. He’d thought the vast ocean would offer protection from the beasts, but as they neared, he realised his ignorance. As their ship swept along the coast, he spotted movement on the rocks. Massive beasts swarmed across the stone, terrible teeth bared as they battled amongst one another, until scarlet blood stained the waters. Rydian shivered at the memory. Pinnipeds, Ruby had called them, beasts from the depths of the ocean.
He snapped back to the present as the first boom of the drums sounded. Heart suddenly racing, he lifted his sword and offered his foe a salute. Geitsen might have no honour, but that didn’t mean Rydian had to stoop to the man’s level.
A hush fell across the stadium as the pounding of the drum increased in frequency, building to a crescendo in preparation for the bout. Beyond the Light, Geitsen fell into a warrior’s pose, though Rydian had positioned himself far enough back from the barrier to ensure there would be no surprise attacks.
Silence.
Rydian exhaled as the barrier separating him from his foe vanished, bracing himself for the unknown. To his surprise, though, the Mayenken gladiator did not immediately launch himself to the attack. Rydian frowned, eyeing the man as he edged closer, then flinched as laughter echoed from behind the dark visor.
“What’s the matter, little Mouse?” Geitsen cackled, spinning his sword in one hand, its blade flashing in the sunlight. “Come on, don’t be afraid. I promise, I’ll give you a quick death.”
A weight settled in Rydian’s stomach, but he offered the man no reaction, only widened the fighting stance Aureli had taught him a fraction, so that his feet stood shoulder width apart. But still the gladiator did not attack. Instead, he paced around Rydian, his stance relaxed as he circled. Unlike Rydian, he wielded a longsword rather than a gladius, and wore a steel buckler on his wrist in place of a full shield. He held the blade casually at his side, presenting himself as an easy target.
Rydian swallowed. He knew what the man was doing, trying to goad Rydian into something rash. He resolved not to fall for the man’s trap.
“No?” Geitsen asked, hefting his blade. “Very well then, Mouse, let’s get on with this farce, shall we?”
Tensing, Rydian dropped his head a fraction, so that he could just see over the brim of his shield, presenting as small of a target as he could to his foe.
Despite his preparation, the Mayenken gladiator came close to finding his mark with the first blow. Moving with deceptive speed, Geitsen launched himself forward, his longer blade hissing for Rydian’s face. Only a last moment thrust of Rydian’s shield drove the longsword aside.
The thump of its impact jarred Rydian’s bones, forcing him back a step. Again he saw the four Mayenken gladiators as they fought in the practice arena. They fought in a brutal, merciless manner, beating their opponents down with overwhelming force.
But with the benefit of Aureli’s training, and four weeks observing his fellow gladiators as they trained, Rydian could see the weakness behind Geitsen’s strategy. The man held nothing back, putting too much power into his blows, just as Kelvin had during training. He would be overbalanced, if one of his blows failed to connect. It was an opportunity Rydian might exploit, if he had the courage.
Watching the man preparing for another attack, Rydian struggled to hold himself in place, to ignore the inner voice screaming for him to leap back, to retreat from the terrible force behind the weapon levelled at his head.
But there was no retreat in the arena, nowhere to run. If Rydian wanted to survive this day, he had only one option.
Face your fear.
Gritting his teeth, he dug in his sandals, and as Geitsen raised his blade for another attack, Rydian launched himself forward and thrust out with his shield. Caught out by the manoeuvre, the shield struck Geitsen in the chest just as his sword reached the tip of its arc. The larger gladiator cried out and stumbled backwards, thrown off-balance, and Rydian thrust out with his gladius. There was a soft crunch as its point found flesh.
A grunt came from Geitsen as he leapt away, then staggered on the soft sands. This time Rydian made no attempt to follow. Instead, he crouched back behind his shield, blade held low, inviting his opponent to make the next move.
Silence fell across the stadium as all eyes focused on the Mayenken gladiator. A splash of red now stained his shoulder. Standing well clear of Rydian’s blade, Geitsen hesitated, then reached up a hand to touch the wound, as though he couldn’t believe what had happened.
“You bastard,” a growl rumbled from beneath Geitsen’s helmet as he lowered his arm. “I’ll make you pay for that.”
Rydian said nothing, only raised his blade in a mock salute. A snarl came from his foe, then Geitsen was upon him, long sword lashing out, a glittering arc of steel that flashed for Rydian’s face. Gasping, he ducked beneath the blow, and the blade passed narrowly overhead. Belatedly, he thrust out again with his shield, but this time Geitsen was ready for the attempt and sidestepped easily.
Thrown off-balance, Rydian barely had time to twist and deflect a second riposte. The thunk as Geitsen’s sword struck wood sent a tremor down his arm and he clenched his teeth against the pain, forced to retreat before another strike broke bone.
Howling his rage, Geitsen advanced, unleashing a torrent of blows that left Rydian scrambling to keep himself upright. Gasping, stumbling, he defended with shield and gladius, all thought of counterattack forgotten as he ducked and weaved, anything to keep that razor edge from his flesh.
The crowd roared around them, the thunder of their voices rising with each flash of Geitsen’s blade. His earlier setback was forgotten, as they cheered on the superiority of their gladiator. Rydian couldn’t deny the man’s energy with the blade, as Geitsen used his brute strength to batter his smaller opponent down, forcing Rydian back with blows from all directions. The rhythm of the pounding upon Rydian’s shield seemed a thing of nature, a force eternal, unstoppable, inevitable, a promise of what was to come.
Death.
Every so often, Rydian risked a glance at his Manus reader, but the device remained dim, and so he fought on, enduring the long, endless minutes. His foe’s strength was without doubt, and every blow Rydian caught upon his shield sent waves of pain through his body. Yet he endured, knowing all he had to do was survive, to keep that blade from his flesh, to live another moment. Then another, and another.
Finally, Geitsen paused, shoulders rising and falling with each inhaled breath of the humid air. Long minutes had passed, and Rydian was surprised to realise Geitsen was tiring. It was as Aureli said. No human could keep up the pace of combat for long. Despite his strength, despite his brutality, the battle was already taking its toll on the Mayenken gladiator.
And yet…after a month of Aureli’s brutal training, Rydian’s lungs burned and his shield arm ached, but…he found he had energy to spare.
But Geitsen was no unnamed trainee either, and after a moment he stilled, eyes narrowing as he watched Rydian for signs of attack. He would not lie down and die. His pride would not allow it.
And so Rydian began to laugh.
Geitsen flinched at the sound, his head jerking up as his eyes found Rydian’s from beneath the reflective visor. “What’s so funny, little Mouse?” he growled. “Have you finally realized you’re about to die?”
Rydian laughed again, then gestured the gladiator forward.
A hiss escaped the gladiator’s lips and he launched himself at Rydian with renewed fury. Gritting his teeth, Rydian thwarted his foe again with his shield, though he could feel each impact in his bones. An ache began in the small of his back and a pounding in his head, matching the racing of his heart, but he held himself straight, determined to reveal no sign of his fatigue.
Instead, drawing on his extra reserves of strength, Rydian laughed with each deflected blow. The gesture had the desired effect, as his opponent roared. Rydian grunted as his sword was caught at an awkward angle, the strength behind the impact almost tearing it from his hand, but desperately he clung to the weapon and spun away to cover his pain.
He cackled some more, then finally spoke: “How does it feel, Geitsen, knowing you’re about to die?”
A snarl came from the Mayenken gladiator. “It is you who is about to die!”
Screaming, Geitsen launched himself at Rydian again, sword raised high for a blow that would take Rydian’s head clean off. Enraged, he made no efforts to hold back, so long as he could finally silence the man that taunted him.
And just as he had in the beginning, Rydian surged forward as his foe’s longsword reached the top of its arc, slamming the rim of his shield into Geitsen’s face. There was a harsh crunch as the blow cracked the gladiator’s visor and he stumbled, the blade slipping from his fingers. A cry tore from his lips as he scrambled to regather it, to raise his tiny buckler to defend himself.
But it could not save him.
Rydian’s blade made no sound as it plunged into the gladiator’s abdomen. He yanked it back before it could become trapped, retreating a step from the man in case he lashed out again with his fists.
One arm clutched to his stomach, Geitsen stumbled back from Rydian, his other hand reaching for his fallen sword. Rydian made no move to follow as his foe fell to his knees beside the weapon. A trail of red stained the sand behind the Mayenken warrior, and as he rose with blade in hand, Rydian could see the blood pulsing between his fingers.
“I. Will. Kill. You!” Geitsen grated as he started towards Rydian.
Rydian said nothing, only watched him come. It was obvious that the match was over. Even as the man took another step, his knee buckled and he slumped to the ground. The blade slipped from the Mayenken’s suddenly limp fingers and a moan rattled from within the dark helmet, turning to an awful gurgling.
A lump rose in Rydian’s throat as his foe pitched forward into the sand and lay still. Somehow, he’d done the impossible, had defeated the brutal gladiator that had haunted his dreams this past month. He should be joyed, relieved, even thrilled at his victory, but…despite everything, Rydian felt only sadness for the man he’d just slain. In his heart, he knew Geitsen had been the better warrior, the greater swordsman.
Besides, how could any be joyed in this place, when your friends would be the next to step onto the sands.
Silence had fallen across the stadium with the Mayenken’s death, and shivering, Rydian looked to the crowd, feeling the weight of their anger, their hatred. Swallowing, he let his bloody gladius fall to the sands, then discarded his shield in turn.
His gaze continued upwards, to the great orb of Light where the Prince of Mayenke would be seated. Silhouettes could be seen moving beyond the Light, but he could not count their number. The Alfur. These were the true enemy, the monsters that haunted his people. Geitsen might have been a bastard, but he had only been a tool of the creatures above, another fellow human trying desperately to survive in this world. Maybe he’d been like Johanas once, forced to fight because of his apparent aggression, or had crossed the wrong person, like Rydian.
It was too late to ask now, to know the man beneath the mask.
Anger built within Rydian as he stared at that distant Light, at the shadows beyond. How he hated them, hated the false superiority they claimed over humanity. Blood pounded in his ears, thrumming through his body, gathering in his palm.
He frowned, glancing down as a flickering Light appeared in his Manus reader, barely noticeable in the full light of day. Before he could contemplate its re-emergence, though, he sensed movement behind him and spun, thinking Geitsen had somehow returned to life.
Instead, he found himself looking up at the towering figure of an Alfur. The breath caught in his throat and he took a quick step back from the creature’s transparent skin, the brilliant Light flowing in its veins beneath. Suddenly Rydian wished he had not discarded his weapons. But the creature said nothing, only leaned its head to the side, watching him from behind the visor of its helmet…
Rydian’s gut twisted as he recognised Rotin. But did it recognise him?
Sand crunched as Rotin advanced on him, and he saw with terror that it held a blade. Light spilt around the handle, far brighter than the glint that escaped Rydian’s own Manus reader. For a moment he thought the creature was there for him, but it paused as it reached the body of Geitsen, turning to regard the fallen gladiator.
“An impressive match,” the Alfur spoke in a soft, strangely neutral tone, before its gaze focused on Rydian. “You have great potential, human.”
Rydian shivered at the coldness of the creature’s tone and clenched his fists, his anger returning. This creature did not care that one of Rydian’s fellow humans lay dead, that neither of them had had a choice in this fight. Rotin would never feel the fear they felt, the terror of defeat, of death.
In that moment of rage and terror, Rydian resolved to change that. He didn’t know how, or when, but one day, he would make this creature feel pain. It would know the fear of death, just as so many humans in this arena had felt, standing before it as he did now…
…the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he felt again the thrumming in his palm. Fist clenched, he looked from the Alfur to his Manus reader, sensing the power building there. Light seeped from between his fingers, but he did not open them, lest he alert the creature to the power there, the malfunction in his device. Instead, he let it build, the heat becoming a terrible, searing thing. It burned in his hand, sweeping up his arm, gathering strength until his eyes began to water, until…
“Human?”
There was confusion in the Alfur’s voice now as it spoke, and Rydian shuddered as he looked at the creature. His entire body was aflame with the power now, with the Light that raged within, that gathered in his Manus reader, screaming to be released.
“I…” He started to speak, but before he could continue, something burst within him.
And suddenly it was not words that came from his lips, but a scream, and cry of agony as the Light turned upon him, as his entire body seemed suddenly aflame, searing, burning, consuming…
Everything went dark.
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