Defiant Page 13

  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 was 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 realised he was standing before Rotin itself, the undefeated Alfurian gladiator.

  Sand crunched as Rotin advanced on him, and he saw with terror that it held a blade in its hand. 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.

  Anger washed over him as he stared at the Alfur, wishing for his blade, for the power to strike it down, to free his people from their slavery. Yet even were the legends true, that the gladiator who defeated Rotin would win their city’s freedom, that chance remained a distant impossibility. Rotin fed on Light itself, knew a power Rydian had only experienced for a fraction of a moment…

  …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 hi
s 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. Could he do it? Could he destroy the monster before him?

  “I…” He started to speak, but before he could continue, a fresh wave of Light 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…

  …then everything went dark.

  18

  Rydian woke with a scream still on his lips, only to cut off as sense returned to him. Groaning, he lay back on the hard surface, struggling to recall where he was, what had happened. Dimly he was aware of a terrible pain, a searing agony, as though his insides were being boiled. But as he reached down to touch his stomach, he found himself whole, unharmed beyond the dull aching of his muscles.

  Finally, he opened his eyes. Light was all around him, and it was a moment before his surroundings came into focus. He frowned, surprised to find himself in the transport room of an Alfurian ship. He lay across three seats, awkwardly strapped in by several belts. He unclipped each belt until he could sit up. As he did so, the aches in his muscles redoubled and he struggled to stifle a moan.

  Memories slowly filtered back to him and he glanced quickly at his hand, but found his Manus reader dull once again.

  “He’s awake!”

  Rydian looked around as the slender form of Falcon slid into one of the chairs across from him. Despite the past months of coldness from the Goman champion, the woman now wore a broad grin on her face.

  “That was some fight, Mouse!” she said. “We all watched on the Lightscreen. Can’t believe you actually pulled it off! You cost me a fair few credits, you know!”

  Rydian frowned, struggling to wake, to piece together her words. Lightscreen? Yes, he’d thought Geitsen, killed the brutish gladiator, and then…Rotin!

  “What happened?” he whispered. “With Rotin?”

  The woman chuckled. “I knew the bastard was intimidating, but I’ve never seen someone pass out just at the sight of it.”

  “I didn’t…” He trailed off. If the Alfur thought he’d simply passed out, that meant the malfunction in his Manus reader hadn’t been discovered. Then he frowned as another thought occurred to him. “Wait, you bet against me?”

  Falcon only grinned at that, then raised her hand and gestured at someone behind him. Another of her gladiators appeared, bottle in hand. This one only appeared to be water and Rydian accepted it with a nod of thanks.

  “Don’t worry, Mouse, I won’t hold it against you,” Falcon said as he drank. “Your win gained team Goma a fair few credits anyway, so we’re even.”

  Rydian blinked. “I…you’re welcome?”

  “You’re okay, Mouse,” Falcon said with a grin. “Shame about the others, but you’re okay.”

  Rydian’s heart lurched at her words and his head whipped around. His vision spun and stars danced before his eyes, but he forced himself to search the rest of the craft, struggling against the brightness of the Light. There were some five rows of seats in the Alfurian ship, and with the gladiators of Goma spread out through the chamber, it was a moment before he spied any of his companions…

  He let out a sigh as he found Hazel and Johanas moving towards him, but quickly continued his search. Rydian’s heart began to pound as his gaze swept over his fellow Gomans, taking in scarred faces and retreating hairlines, broad grins and harsh laughter, but…

  Ruby and the others aren’t here.

  Rydian saw it in the faces of his friends, in the way their eyes did not quite meet his, in the slump of their shoulders.

  “Did…did any of them…?” he couldn’t finish the question.

  Lips pursed, Hazel shook her head. She had obviously won her bout, but the others, Kelvin and Caleb and Ruby…

  He scrunched his eyes closed, recalling the way the young woman had looked at him, how she’d believed him, when he’d told her not to lose hope. He’d seen the fear, the terror in her eyes and tried his best to give her something else, some small measure of joy. In the end, he’d thought she was ready. There had been a silent determination in her eyes that morning, a quiet courage. And now…

  “Oh don’t look that way,” Falcon interrupted his grief. “They were trainees. They never last long—you three being the exception of course. Come on, victory needs to be celebrated!”

  Rydian stared blankly as the Goman champion gestured to one of her companions. The man rose with a grumble and pulled upon a hidden compartment in the wall of the ship, retrieving several bottles of amber liquid.

  “You’re in luck,” she continued, not noticing Rydian’s look. “The Alfur like to keep an iron grip on their cities, but they’re generally happy to turn a blind eye on us gladiators. So long as we keep the crowds entertained.”

  Rydian wordlessly accepted the bottle she passed him, not quite sure what else to do. How could this woman be so unphased by all this, by three young lives so brusquely extinguished? He watched as Johanas and Hazel accepted bottles of their own, seeing his own grief reflected in their eyes.

  “To life!” Falcon said, raising her bottle to the three of them.

  “To death,” Rydian added, then took a swig that emptied half his bottle.

  Settling back in his seat, he stared at his hands, still barely able to believe what had come to pass. Thanks to Aureli’s teachings, to the weeks of training, he had found a way to defeat Geitsen. But…how then had they so failed the others? How could Ruby…

  For the rest of the journey back, Rydian sat slumped in his chair, the rest of his drink forgotten. His heart ached and he found himself replaying the last month, searching for something he could have done differently, some way he might have saved them. He recalled that first day beside the forest, when he’d spoken to Ruby of his fear. Had that been a mistake? Was there something else he could have offered her, some other guidance that might have saved her?

  He couldn’t think, couldn’t know. It was too late now anyway. She was already gone, her body laid out on a cold slab of stone, lost, forgotten to the world. Dead.

  Rydian was shaking by the time they reached the complex. He didn’t rise when the ship touched down—only when Johanas laid a hand on his shoulder did he finally stir. He was glad the giant gladiator had come, even though the man hadn’t fought this games. Rydian resolved to do the same when their positions were reversed. The other gladiators said little as they disembarked, and Rydian sensed a similar depression among his Goman comrades. Together, they plodded back to the barracks.

  There, Falcon’s attempts to cheer her team soon had the men and women of Goma lifting their drinks in salute of their fallen comrades. Rydian went along with the celebrations, but standing in the growing gloom of the mess hall, he found himself unable to join in, to celebrate the fleeting joy of his friends’ survival, of own victory. Other thoughts intruded upon those memories, of Ruby’s eyes as she smiled, of Geitsen’s scowl as he stood over Rydian on the practice field, of Aureli’s eyes as he refused Rydian’s pleas, the unknown fear Rydian had glimpsed there…

  Shivering, Rydian snapped himself alert. It must be nearing midnight and most of the room had already passed out or retired to their bunks. He hadn’t seen Aureli all night. Surely the man would want to know, to find out what had become of his students…

  Unless he already knew.

  Rising, Rydian went looking for the Goman weapons master.

  19

  Stepping out into the night, Rydian left his friends and the other gladiators behind. The world outside was pitch black, and opening his palm, he coaxed life
into his Manus reader. Its Light seemed dim now after what he’d glimpsed in the stadium, but at least it was enough to see by. The path through the complex was familiar now and he wound his way through the buildings to the central training complex. He still had not found Aureli’s quarters, but he knew the ex-gladiator’s habits by now, and thought he might find the man in the practice arena, despite the hour.

  It was a surprise, then, when he found the training courtyard empty. Frowning, Rydian stepped out onto the sands. There was no sign of Aureli, though as he paused, a distant sound carried to his ears. His blood ran cold as he realised it was…barking. Swinging around, he tried to pick a direction to run, nightmares from his childhood coming rushing back. What would happen to the complex if a pack of hounds invaded? He knew some of the gladiators had knives, but with only practice blades to defend themselves…

  He stood there listening in the darkness, the pulse of his Manus reader growing brighter, before dimming again. Finally he exhaled. The sound didn’t seem to be coming closer. A pack in the forest, perhaps? He hoped whatever defences the Alfur had on this place would be enough to keep the creatures at bay.

  “Rydian?”

  He spun as a voice called his name from the shadows. It was a moment before his heart slowed enough to recognise Hazel as she stepped onto the sands. She wore a frown on her lips.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you went to bed?”

  A sigh slipped from Rydian’s lips and he shrugged, turning his eyes to the sky. The stars stretched overhead, but looking upon their expanse, he no longer felt the same sense of majesty as before. Aureli had spoken of the infinite possibilities they represented, yet in the face of Ruby’s death…that possibility seemed infinitely smaller now.

  “I was looking for Aureli,” he said at last.

  “Why?” Hazel asked as she joined him in his contemplation of the stars. A sliver of light on the distant horizon marked the rising moon, soaring upwards to join its sister’s glow high above.