Defiant - Chapter 8
Rydian sat in the shadows beneath the arena, listening to the buzz of conversation amongst his fellow Goman gladiators...
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 sat in the shadows beneath the arena, listening to the buzz of conversation amongst his fellow Goman gladiators. The month since Aureli’s death had passed all too quickly. The very next day, ships had begun to arrive with fresh recruits. Unwilling to condemn another group of trainees to Falcon’s ‘training’, it had fallen on Rydian, Hazel and Johanas to welcome the Goman trainees—and take up responsibility for their training.
It was only then that Rydian had come to realise the futility of their task. Maybe it was their own inexperience, but however hard they pushed the new arrivals, however much they encouraged them, he knew in his heart it would not be enough. Could never be enough.
Now the day had come. Rydian would not fight today—he had not been selected for a bout these games—but Johanas would. And so would their new trainees. At least this time the Alfurian ship had brought them home to Goma. Johanas and the four new trainees would fight in front of a home crowd. That should have given Rydian reassurance, but nerves still tied his stomach into knots.
Rydian knew now why Aureli had kept to himself, refusing to celebrate with the Goman gladiators, why he had refused students until Rydian had convinced the man to help them. Sitting in the gloom, waiting for his friend to step onto the sands, forced to watch, helpless, as those he cared about were forced to fight for their lives…he could see how it could drive a man to despair.
Looking across to where Hazel and Johanas sat, he saw the dread in their faces, the fear that they had failed not just themselves, but the four young souls they had trained.
“We did our best,” Hazel said softly. “Okay?”
“But will it be enough?” Rydian murmured.
His friend didn’t reply, only crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, a frown twisting her lips.
“This is wrong,” Johanas murmured. He sat on the bench, staring at his hands as though they were stained. “They shouldn’t have to do it, shouldn’t…shouldn’t have to…kill…” His voice cracked and Rydian watched as a tear streaked his large friend’s cheek.
Leaning across the narrow space between benches, Rydian rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know,” he said. “We all know, Johanas.”
“Then why do we do it?” the giant gladiator whispered, looking at Rydian through teary eyes. “Why do we go out there, why do we fight, why do we kill?”
Rydian swallowed, but he had no answer to his friend’s question. No answer but…
The Alfur.
That was the answer, of course, but Rydian couldn’t say it. Instead, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. He wasn’t ready to challenge Rotin. Wouldn’t be for years. Could he survive that long? He didn’t know how he would handle the loss, the endless grief…
“Bloodlust!” a voice called from the end of the room. “You’re up!”
Rydian flinched, his eyes snapping open as across from him, Johanas rose to his feet. Their eyes met for a moment, and Rydian saw the pain in his friend’s eyes, the sadness. The trainees would have their bout later, but Johanas would be the first to fight for his life.
The giant offered each of them a nod before turning and marching towards the staircase. Rydian rose to his feet, heart in his throat. Would he lose another friend this day?
Overhead, the pounding of the crowd echoed through the ceiling, their excitement gathering force. This would be their first glimpse of the fearsome Bloodlust. Rydian could almost taste their excitement on the air, their thirst for blood. Most of the gladiators of Goma were best known for mediocrity—which came as no surprise to Rydian, now he knew the woman who trained them. But now the crowd had three newcomers who’d defied the odds, and they wanted to see them in action.
Watching Johanas take up his helmet and disappear into the stairwell, Rydian wondered what the crowd would think of the infamous Bloodlust if they knew the man beneath the helm, the gentle giant that didn’t believe in killing, who had wanted to be a healer like his father.
Instinctively, Rydian’s gaze was drawn to his Manus reader, but the device had remained dead since the day of Aureli’s death. Whatever the man had been trying to tell him that night on the beach, it didn’t matter now, not today.
A tremor shook Rydian as he recalled again Marcus Aureli as he lay dying, the wonder in his eyes as he looked out over the ocean, at the stars reflected on those endless waters. In the end, it hadn’t been the arena, nor a beast, that had torn away the man’s life. It had been grief, the pain of loss, of despair.
“What’s he doing?” Hazel said suddenly, drawing his attention.
Frowning, Rydian turned towards her, but his friend’s eyes were across the room on the Lightscreen. It showed images of Johanas as he crossed to the centre of the arena. The giant’s gaze was on the crowd, scanning the faces, the thousands that had packed the stands to watch their gladiators battle, to cheer them on to victory.
Eyes still to the crowd, Johanas slowly dropped to one knee, then the other, and opened his arms as though to embrace them all.
“What is he doing?”
Rydian’s head whipped around as a voice called from the other side of the room. Suddenly Falcon appeared, fists clenched, eyes wild as she came to a stop between the two of them.
“Well?” she demanded, voice rising to practically a scream. “What the hell is happening up there?”
The rumble of the crowd echoed through the ceiling as men and women turned to one another in confusion. The screen showed only the floor of the arena, but Rydian could sense the sudden change in mood, the shock of the audience to see their gladiator do something so…unexpected.
“I…” Rydian began, then trailed off as he saw a new figure step onto the sand.
Dressed in red, the Riesoran gladiator strode across the sands and came to a stop before the glowing barrier that divided the arena. There he began to pace, striding up and down the length of Light, gladius in hand, eyes fixed on the place where Johanas knelt.
Boom, boom, boom.
Rydian’s heart throbbed as the drums began to sound. Whatever Johanas was doing, the Alfur didn’t seem to care. They were already counting down the moments to the match.
“I don’t know,” he rasped, looking from the Lightscreen to Falcon.
“I do,” Hazel whispered.
The breath caught in Rydian’s throat at her words and he turned towards her. She stared at him, and he could see the truth in her eyes. Johanas had told them, after all, before he left.
They shouldn’t have to do it, shouldn’t…shouldn’t have to…kill.
Overhead, the pounding of drums grew to a crescendo—then fell abruptly silent. Together, they turned towards the Lightscreen. On the image, the barrier between the gladiators vanished.
And the Riesoran gladiator charged.
Helpless, Rydian could do nothing but stare as the scarlet figure raced across the sands, sword raised high, poised to strike down his friend.
Still knelt upon the soft ground, Johanas looked up at the man’s approach, eyes wide, mouth parted as though to say something. But whatever he said, the words were lost in the noise of the crowd, in the crunch of sand beneath boots, in the bellowing of the enemy gladiator.
Something awful rose within Rydian then, a terrible emptiness, the return of his despair, the desolation that had gripped him since the death of Aureli and Ruby, since his arrival in the gladiator complex, since the day his mother had perished. It was the knowledge of a simple truth, of a reality he had fought and denied for as long as he could remember.
That things would never get better.
On the screen, Johanas bowed his head as the Riesoran approached, and though tears streaked his cheeks, Rydian could see his friend had accepted that same truth—and had decided to let it end.
“No,” Rydian whispered, reaching out with his hand, as though by will alone he might halt the blade that hung above his friend’s head.
Abruptly a silence fell over the stadium above their heads. In the image, the Riesoran had indeed come to a stop, a frown wrinkling his forehead as he stared down at Johanas, gladius held protectively before him.
“What are you doing?” the Riesoran said suddenly, his words transmitted through the screen.
On the sands, Johanas lifted his head to meet the eyes of his killer. “I won’t do it,” he rasped. “I won’t fight anymore. I won’t kill. I refuse.”
The Riesoran seemed taken aback by that, retreating a step, his frown deepening. “That’s…that’s not how it works.”
“I know,” Johanas whispered. “Even so.”
Silence fell as the two warriors stared at one another. Around them, the mood of the crowd, unable to hear their words, was quickly turning, confusion shifting to anger at their gladiator’s display. What was he doing, this man who claimed to represent them, to fight on their behalf? How dare he kneel before the enemy, surrender without a single blow exchanged?
The Riesoran glanced in the direction of the crowd, then back at Johanas. For a moment longer, he stood as though frozen with indecision. Then suddenly he lashed out with a boot. The blow connected with Johanas’s chest and flung him backwards against the sand.
A cry tore from Rydian’s lips as he saw his friend crumble, but already Johanas was pushing himself up. Silently, he looked at the Riesoran man, then unclasped his shield and tossed his blade aside.
Snarling, the enemy gladiator advanced on Johanas, and this time a swing of one massive fist caught Rydian’s friend in the side of the head. Despite the helmet Johanas still wore, the blow slammed him face-first into the sand. This time, he was far slower getting up.
And all around, the crowd began to make their derision known.
A lump lodged in Rydian’s throat as the Riesoran man struck his friend again and again. Each time Johanas would rise, and refuse again to defend himself. He wanted to close his eyes, to look away from the struggle, but he could not abandon his friend now.
“What is he doing?” Falcon hissed again. This time she grasped Rydian by the shoulder and twisted him away from the Lightscreen, forcing him to look at her.
“Dying with his dignity,” Rydian whispered, tears stinging his eyes as he spoke the words for the first time.
The Goman champion’s eyes widened at his words and she glanced at the screen again. “No,” she said, softly at first, then louder as she turned again to Rydian. “No! You have to go out there and stop him, get him to fight,” she hissed.
“I…can’t,” Rydian replied.
“He’s…he’s right,” Hazel agreed after a moment. “Johanas has made his choice…”
“Fuck that,” Falcon snapped, gesturing at the screen. “Look at the crowd! They’ll never forgive this, having one of their gladiators shame them.”
“Maybe this is what they need,” Hazel snarled. “To wake them up, to show them the lies of the Alfur. Maybe this will finally show them what true courage is, make them fight back.”
Silence fell as Falcon turned frosty eyes on the young woman. “Fight back?” she said softly, straightening. “Against the Alfur?” Abruptly, she threw back her head and howled with laughter.
The rest of the room fell silent at the sound, but Falcon’s mirth vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“She thinks they can fight back, boys,” the Goman champion continued, voice cold. “That because of their rage, this city will rise against the Alfur. Tell me, girl, have you ever seen what the Alfur do to a protest? To a riot? To a mob?” As she spoke, she stepped closer to Hazel, until the two women were face to face. “I’ll give you a hint: it’s not pretty.”
Silence returned to the room and Rydian’s stomach twisted as he looked again at the screen. Johanas barely rose between blows now, only lay wheezing against the sand, his helmet askew, hands clenched against the sand.
All around the stadium, the crowd jeered at his cowardice.
“If not for us,” Falcon said softly, stepping up beside them, eyes on the screen. “Then for him. He’s one of us, isn’t he, your friend? Are you really going to let that bastard beat him to death?”
Rydian hesitated at her words. On the Lightscreen, the Riesoran gladiator had retreated from Johanas, but only to retrieve the blade he had discarded. The lump rose again in Rydian’s throat as the man lifted the blade. He’d told Falcon he wouldn’t intervene, that this was Johanas’s decision to make. And yet watching his friend on the sands, surrounded by hatred, alone, he knew he couldn’t stand by this time.
He had to fight for something.
A cold breeze blew across the arena as Rydian stepped onto the sands, Hazel behind him. Heart racing, he struggled to keep his eyes averted from the stands. A silence had fallen upon their appearance, the attention of the crowd turning to the newcomers. There was no missing the anger of Rydian’s fellow Gomans. It hung like a haze over the stadium, a bubbling undertone to the silence.
From the protective encasing of his helmet, Rydian looked across the arena to where Johanas lay, beaten, bloodied. The man’s head had jerked up as the silence fell, as though expecting the final blow. Instead, he found his friends approaching.
Alongside Johanas, the Riesoran thug noticed them as well. Immediately, the man twisted to face them and fell into a warrior’s stance, shield presented to the fore, gladius poised at his side.
Rydian clenched his fist around his own gladius and held his shield close, risking a glance at Hazel. From beneath her darkened visor, she stared across at the enemy, body taut, poised to strike. Rydian knew well her rage. This man had attacked their friend, had beaten an unarmed man while the crowd screamed him on.
He also towered over the both of them, a monster the Alfur had chosen to match Johanas’s own enormous size. The man looked none too pleased to see two more Goman gladiators marching towards him, armed for battle.
“What treachery is this, Gomans?” the Riesoran barked, moving to intercept the pair of them.
A thrill of fear touched Rydian as the giant towered over them, but he pushed it down. Alongside him, Hazel showed no such restraint, as with a snarl she started towards the man. Quickly he put out a hand, bidding her to wait.
“We’re here for him,” he said, nodding towards Johanas from beneath his helm.
The words gave the Riesoran pause and he glanced back to where their friend swayed on his knees. “What is the matter with him?” the man grunted. “He is…coward?”
“He’s braver than you’ll ever be, thug,” Hazel spat, pushing aside Rydian’s hand. “Now get out of our way, before we show you Goman steel.”
The Riesoran said nothing for a moment, only stared down at them from beneath his visor. “His life belongs to me,” said at last. “If he does not wish to fight, then I gladly grant him death.”
“That is good,” a fourth voice announced, harsh and metallic, without a hint of emotion. “Else I fear my father would be forced into…drastic actions.”
Rydian spun to see the Alfurian gladiator, Rotin, striding across the sands towards them. A sharp intake of breath came from alongside him as Hazel spotted the creature, while the Riesoran man only retreated a step before its presence.
“Mouse,” the creature continued, turning in Rydian’s direction. “I am pleased to see you have recovered from your…affliction.”
Clenching his fists, Rydian resisted the desire to leap at the Alfur. He didn’t like the way it was staring at him, watching him. Two games now it had stepped onto the sands when he had appeared. Did it know who he was?
Finally though, Rotin turned from him to face the Riesoran gladiator. “It is past time you ended this farce, Terrell of Riesor.”
The man looked at it sharply and alongside Rydian, Hazel inhaled sharply. “No,” she hissed.
Rotin turned as she took a step forward, the unseen creature behind the mask freezing her in place. “Do not interfere, Hawk,” Rotin said, voice still cold, though touched now with an edge of danger. “None of us can change what must happen here. The haze must be fed. A life must be paid.”
The haze?
Rydian shivered at the creature’s words. The haze, why did that sound so familiar? Hadn’t Aureli’s final ramblings mentioned something of a haze? He’d thought the man was referring to his mind, but—
“Very well,” the Riesoran gladiator said softly, interrupting Rydian’s thoughts. Sword in hand, he stepped towards Johanas.
“Stop!” Rydian snarled. Heat suddenly surging through his core, he leapt forward. He desperately wanted to bury his blade in Rotin’s chest, but the Alfur was faster than thought and would no doubt evade the attack with ease. If he wanted to save his friend, they had only one chance.
Rydian placed himself between Johanas and the enemy gladiator, and raised his gladius. “I will fight you instead.”
Towering above him, the enemy gladiator Terrell seemed taken aback. Even Hazel was shocked, standing frozen behind the Alfurian gladiator. Hesitantly, Terrel looked in askance of Rotin.
“I am but an observer,” the creature said again, voice toneless, unmoved by the new events. “But…a life must be paid.”
Rydian clenched his teeth and stared up at the giant gladiator. He’d sparred with Johanas enough to know a fight between them would be horribly unbalanced. Terrell seemed to know it too, for after a long moment the man began to chuckle.
“Your friend has caused quite the mess, Mouse,” he rumbled, “but it seems the Alfur do not care which of your team I kill. So step aside. Your people…prefer gladiator with courage survive this day, not…the craven.”
“Johanas has more courage in his heart than either of us,” Rydian said quietly. So saying, he raised his blade in salute. “So do your worst, Terrell.”
The Riesoran man hesitated a moment longer, before offering a curt nod. “So be it.”
Sand exploded around the gladiator’s boots as he leapt, surging forward to close the gap between them. In an instant, he was upon Rydian, gladius stabbing out, seeking flesh. Teeth bared beneath his helm, Rydian met the blow with his shield, then twisted aside, struggling to keep the man from getting close enough to bring his greater strength and weight to bear.
But Terrell was no novice, and he quickly closed the gap. Rydian staggered as a thrust of the man’s shield connected with his own, forcing him back. Twisting again, he barely avoided another stab of his foe’s blade. As it was, the shield was almost torn from his grasp by a backhanded riposte of Terrell’s gladius.
Snarling, Rydian held on, but Terrell’s fury proved far more controlled than his previous foe’s. Blow after blow forced Rydian back, but this warrior did not overextend himself. His feet remained balanced, moving from stance to stance, offering no opportunity to counterattack. Desperately, Rydian searched for a chink in the man’s armour, in his technique, but he’d spent no time preparing to face this gladiator.
Completely outmatched, it was only a matter of time before Terrell’s blade found Rydian’s flesh.
The first blow came as Rydian tried a desperate attack of his own. His foe seemed to stumble, his shield lowering half a fraction. Rydian leapt upon the opportunity, lashing out with the point of his gladius, and almost lost his life for the effort.
Righting suddenly, Terrell caught Rydian’s attack on his shield, even as his own blade lanced out. Taken off-guard, Rydian had no time to avoid the blow, and only a desperate thrust of his shield saved him from a mortal wound. As it was, a scream tore from his lips as the sword’s point slammed against his hip.
Stumbling back, he presented his sword and shield to his foe, though already he could feel the hot liquid running down his side. No shallow wound this one—Terrell’s blade had cut deep. Pain throbbed at Rydian’s side and his vision swam as he looked across the arena at the giant, struggling to keep himself from showing pain.
Terrell paused his attack, and as one, he and Rydian turned to look at where Johanas lay. Hazel crouched at his side now, but the man was struggling to push himself to his feet, his gaze on their desperate battle.
“It appears the craven would rather be the one to perish,” Terrell said quietly.
A growl slipped from Rydian’s throat as he turned from his friends to the Riesoran gladiator. He said nothing, only stood and beckoned his foe on. For the moment, rage gave him the strength to ignore the agony in his side, the slow draining of his energy, the despair that threatened to engulf him.
The Riesoran gladiator nodded at the gesture, then raised his blade in salute. Whatever he thought of Johanas, Rydian had earned his respect. Not that it would save Rydian.
Drawing in a breath, Rydian readied himself. A pulsing came from his side, a burning, pounding heat that seemed to grow with each inhalation, with each beat of his racing heart. Fists clenched around his weapons, Rydian ignored the pain.
Across the sands, Terrell charged.
Rydian watched him come, strangely calm. Through the pain and heat and rage, he watched his death come barrelling towards him, saw the enemy blade as it drew back, watched the Riesoran shield lift half an inch—and saw the narrow gap his enemy had left in his defences.
Without thinking, Rydian reacted. Ignoring his foe’s shield, he thrust out with his own to catch the enemy gladius on its rim. As he did so, he stabbed with his blade, aiming low beneath the shield the Riesoran held high to clash with Rydian’s own. He half expected the opening to be faint, a trap that would allow Terrell to finally break through his own defences and strike him dead.
So Rydian was surprised when he felt the thump of his gladius striking flesh.
An instant later, Terrell’s shield slammed into Rydian’s helmet with the full weight of the gladiator behind it. Stars exploded across his vision as the blow hurled him backwards, tearing the gladius from his fingers. He slammed into the ground with a crunch and went tumbling across the sand, finally coming to rest a few yards from where he’d stood.
Half blinded, Rydian lay in a daze, expecting at any moment to feel the kiss of a gladius upon his neck, to be sent screaming into the icy cold of death.
But it did not come, and finally he forced his eyes to open, to push himself up from the hot sand. He blinked at the sudden light that struck him, the harshness of the green sun above. It was a moment before Rydian realised his helmet had been lost in the clash, but it hardly mattered for the moment. Straining to see through the stars dancing in his vision, he looked around for his foe.
And found Terrell lying nearby, eyes staring unseeing into the emerald expanse, a pool of red staining the sands around him. Rydian’s gladius remained where it had struck, driven hard through the groin, severing his femoral artery.
Not quite able to believe what he’d done, Rydian pushed himself carefully to his feet. A terrible pounding beat against his skull and the sun above was like daggers through his eyes, but he found himself smiling as he turned and found Hazel standing nearby, Johanas still knelt at her side.
Shaking his head to try and dislodge the last of the star-streaks in his vision, Rydian stumbled towards them. There was a roaring in his ears, the pounding of racing blood, though he could hear the crowd even through that, the murmur of a thousand voices. It was only as he neared his friends that he saw their eyes were not on him, but the stands of the arena.
“What…is it?” he asked, his head still in the grips of agony.
Hazel blinked, a frown appearing on her face as she turned towards him. “Rydian…” she said, her voice sounding distant, afraid, though surely that was only the aftereffects of the blow to his head. He had won, defeated the Riesoran gladiator. Johanas would live…
“Rydian, what are they saying?”
“Rydian?” Hazel repeated, eyes wide as they stared at him. “What…”
She trailed off, as though unable to finish the sentence. Frowning, Rydian ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and looked from his friends to the crowd. The ringing in his ears was slowly fading, and over it he heard the rumbling of the crowd, saw the way many were rising to their feet, pointing.
“Son…smine…rebellion…traitor!”
Finally, some of the words began to filter through the pounding. Rydian’s heart lurched in his chest as he realised what was happening.
This was Goma, his city, his home.
And the people of Goma knew who he was.
Without his helmet, the Goman gladiator the crowd had been cheering on just moments ago had been recognised for what he was.
The son of a traitor.
Spinning, Rydian looked to Hazel and saw the horror dawning in her eyes. He raised a hand towards her, but she flinched away. All around the arena, rage returned to the faces of the people as they rose to scream their fury. Once already they had been shamed, witness to the cowardice of one of their own. Now they found themselves deceived, cheated into cheering on the son of an Alfurian sympathiser.
But it was not the crowd’s anger that had Rydian’s heart racing, not their deception that filled him with terror. It was the look in Hazel’s eyes as she flinched away from him, the pain that haunted his friend’s face.
“Rydian,” she said again, her words fading into the roaring of their fellow citizens. “Rydian, tell me…tell me it’s not true.”
“I…” He opened his mouth, then closed it again, knowing he could not lie to her. “Hazel, please, let me explain—”
“No…” she whispered, shaking her head. “No…no, it can’t be, I trusted you!” Her voice grew to a shout as she stepped towards him. “No, tell me it’s not true! Tell me I haven’t…that you didn’t…bastard!”
Screaming the last word, Hazel launched herself at him, gladius in hand. Rydian cried out as the blade flashed for his face, barely raising his battered shield in time to deflect the blow. Pain lanced through his side as he staggered back from her, and a sudden weakness swept through him. Dropping his hand to his side, he realised his shirt was soaked in blood from the wound Terrell had delt him.
“Hazel,” he gasped, raising the bloody hand towards her. “Please, she didn’t—”
But Hazel was in no mood to listen. “Your mother,” she screamed, swinging at him again, forcing him back. “She killed him! I saw, I saw with my own eyes.”
The crack as Hazel’s blade struck Rydian’s shield echoed across the stadium and Rydian twisted away—only for Hazel to surge forward, stabbing out again.
Pain seared across Rydian’s shoulder as her blade scored his flesh, drawing fresh blood. Crying out, he shoved back against his friend, driving the rim of his shield into her face. The impact knocked her helmet askew, forcing her back—but only for a moment. Screaming, she tore the twisted chunk of metal from her head and hurled it aside, then came for him again.
“Hazel!” Rydian cried, trying desperately to dissuade her. “Hazel, please, I don’t want to fight you!”
“I don’t care,” she spat.
Again she attacked, and again Rydian raised his shield to defend himself. Her blade struck against its rim before her shield followed, slamming against his own, thrusting it aside, almost tearing the straps from his arm. Rydian staggered, and Hazel lashed out with a boot, catching him hard in the stomach.
The impact lifted Rydian to the tips of his toes. Gasping, struggling to inhale, he stumbled, trying to make space between them. Snarling, Hazel chased after him.
“I’ll kill you!” she gasped, lashing out again and again, voice breaking, words turning to sobs. “…have to die…for what she did…to me!”
Exhausted, strength fleeing through the wound in his side, Rydian struggled to defend himself. There was no strategy to Hazel’s attacks, only a furious barrage of deadly steel, only a desperate need to attack, to kill. Again and again her blade found Rydian’s flesh, though he kept the worst of her blows from landing.
Until finally he missed one.
Again Hazel’s gladius slammed against the side of his shield, but this time his block was weak, and the blade slipped past to stab his shoulder. A cry tore from Rydian’s lips as Hazel drove her blade deep into his flesh. Gasping, he tried to retreat from her, but Hazel tossed aside her own shield and caught him by the collar, dragging him back, drawing him further onto her gladius.
“I will…I will…kill you,” Hazel snarled, leaning in close, eyes burning.
Rydian felt an awful crunch as she twisted her gladius in his shoulder. He screamed again, trying desperately to free himself from her grasp, but the strength had fled his arm, his body, and instead he found himself falling to his knees.
Face contorted with hatred, Hazel stood over him. Abruptly, she tore her gladius loose. Rydian gasped, clutching pitifully at the wound, all thought of resistance fled. He was finished, done. He couldn’t fight back, not against Hazel.
Teeth clenched against the pain, swaying on his knees, he struggled to look up at her, to meet her eyes, to let her know it was okay, that he understood.
Their eyes met, and Hazel froze, gladius poised, his blood dripping from its steely edge. Pain showed on her face, the pain of betrayal, of hatred. For just a moment, he thought she might halt her blade.
But the moment passed, and eyes shining, his friend let out a scream, and her gladius plunged down—
Suddenly someone was standing over Rydian. Empty hands outstretched, feet stumbling on the soft sands, the newcomer placed himself between the two warring gladiators and bid them to stop.
But there was no time for Hazel to withdraw her blow, and with a soft thump, her blade slammed home through the stranger’s chest.
Except…as the man staggered back and turned away from Hazel, towards Rydian, he realised it was no stranger that had come to his rescue.
“No!”
His body still engulfed in pain, Rydian struggled to rise from the sand, to go to the man as he stumbled back, as he clutched at the terrible wound Hazel had opened in his chest. A soft gasp, one almost of surprise, whispered from the man’s lips as he looked around, though his blind eyes saw nothing in the brightly lit stadium.
Nothing, that is, but Rydian.
“Son,” Rafael whispered as he fell to his knees beside Rydian.
“No, no, no,” Rydian gasped, scrambling to his father.
Blind hands found Rydian’s as they crouched in the sand, drawing one another into an embrace. Desperate, he held his father tight, as though that alone might be enough to save him. A pounding sounded in his ears, swallowing the roaring of the crowd, drowning out even Hazel’s screams as she stumbled back from them, open horror on her face.
Rydian ignored her. All his attention was on his father, on the man he hadn’t seen in months, on the blood bubbling from his chest, on the terrible wound, on the red flecking Rafael’s lips as he tried to speak, as his frail hands clutched at Rydian.
“Dad, no, no, no, what did you do? Why?” he gasped, hot tears burning his face, sobs tearing from his throat.
He’d seen enough the last few weeks to know his father’s wound was fatal, and yet…gasping, he clenched his fist, seeking desperately for his Manus reader to come alive, for the strange power that sometimes came to fill it with Light, to heal his father as it had his aching body that morning long ago.
A gentle tingling began in the palm of his hand as he held it to his father’s wound, as he clutched the man tight. Desperately, he sought to stoke its flames, to summon that terrible healing Light, to bring his father back from the brink…
…but just as it had with Aureli, the device only flickered, and grew dark once more.
“Knew…you were…alive,” Rafael was whispering, his eyes fluttering, breath rasping in his throat. “Felt a…presence…sometimes. Knew…it was you…moment you stepped…on sands.”
“Please, Dad, no, stay with me,” Rydian moaned, holding him to his chest, speaking between his sobs.
He felt so frail, so tiny in his arms. All through these last weeks and months, Rydian had worried after his father, had prayed that the Gods might finally smile upon the man. Now that he held him, Rydian knew his prayers had gone unanswered, that with his wife and son both lost, Rafael had been wasting away, taken by despair as surely as Rydian and the other gladiators.
Now, with a final, rasping exhalation, Rafael’s eyes flickered closed for the last time.
“No,” Rydian sobbed.
Closing his own eyes, he bent over his father, clutching him tight, grief welling up within. In that moment, he cared nothing for the world, barely heard the raging of the crowd as they tried to follow the blind man onto the sands. He didn’t hear their screams as the Enforcers appeared, nor their terror as the Alfur followed, and unleashed the burning Light of their Manus readers on the mob.
Time passed and Rydian remained where he was, arms clutched around his dead father, holding tight his one last connection to a past long since stolen from him. He didn’t see what became of Hazel, nor of the injured Johanas.
Only when the Alfur came for him did he finally return to the world. Surrounded by the wary creatures, he rosed unsteadily to his feet and took one last look at his father.
Rafael lay dead upon the sands, body withered, face gaunt, his life blood pooling about him. He didn’t look peaceful like the stories, no longer even looked like Rydian’s father. It was as though Rydian stood looking upon a stranger. This was just a husk, a shadow of the man Rafael had once been.
An emptiness swelled within Rydian as he turned away, allowing the Alfur to take him by the arms. His life was over, everyone he’d ever cared about dead or turned against him. But there was still one last thing for him to do, before he himself surrendered to that emptiness within.
On his dying breath, Rydian would have his revenge.
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