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  He trailed off as the two remained where they were. Neither responded to his instructions, and Rydian realised that their eyes were fixed on something behind him. Blood pounded in his skull as he turned, knowing what he would see but not wanting it to be true.

  At his feet, Aureli still lay slumped against the sand, but his hands had slipped from his chest now, revealing the full extent of his injuries. Something had opened him up from chest to stomach, leaving a terrible, bloody gash. Watching him, Rydian waited for the man’s chest to rise, for him to inhale another breath, but…instead he lay still.

  “No,” Rydian whispered, looking from Marcus Aureli to his others. Tears spilt from his eyes as he struggled to breath, to think. “No, he can’t…”

  Hazel stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Rydian…” she began, then trailed off as a soft growl came from behind them.

  They turned as one towards the sound, as froze as they found Aureli’s hound crouched before them. Teeth bared, eyes red in the Light of their Manus readers, it snarled again, a deep, angry sound Rydian had never heard from the creature before. Confused, he raised a hand towards the creature, a reassurance on his lips.

  Moving with incredible speed, the hound leapt at him, mouth wide, teeth glinting in the shimmering Light. Crying out, Rydian reacted by instinct, twisting away from the creature’s charge. It struck him anyway, slamming into his side and sending him staggering away. Pain slashed across his hip as its teeth tore through cloth and flesh, before momentum carried the beast on.

  Stumbling on the soft sands, Rydian cried out his shock, even as the beast unleashed a terrible howl. Falcon and Hazel scrambled back from it, even as Rydian risked a glance at his side. The hound’s teeth had opened a long gash across his hip, but thankfully hadn’t found enough grip to sink too deep into his flesh.

  Another howl drew Rydian’s attention back to the beast. Blood pounded in his ears and he felt his Manus reader responding, the thrum of its power awakening as it tried to heal the wound. He reached for more, urged its Light to swell, to come to his aid…

  …his vision swum as his palm grew hot, searing at his flesh, turning his hand numb. Crying out, Rydian withdrew his attention from the device, and the heat vanished. Spots danced across his vision but he forced himself to focus on the beast as it started across the sands towards him again. He drew from knife from his belt as Hazel joined him, exchanging a glance with his friend.

  There was no time for words, however, as the hound launched itself at them again. Hazel’s blade flashed out, striking the beast across the head, but its thick skull repelled the blow and it slammed into her with a snarl. She went down beneath its weight, a cry tearing from her lips as the terrible jaws snapped closed just inches from her face.

  Rydian charged. Afraid of striking his friend with a wild blow, he lashed out instead with a sandaled foot, catching the beast in the side. A whelp came from the mutt as it crashed sideways, legs thrashing, teeth still snapping as it tried to reach Hazel. She scrambled back, blade lost in the chaos, and Rydian leapt in, placing himself between the hound and his friend.

  Madness shone from the hound’s eyes as it scrambled to its feet. Rydian cursed it, mind still scrambling for an explanation for what was happening. It had led them here, brought them to Aureli in time to hear his final words. Not once had Aureli’s hound appeared aggressive before now. Was it the forest, being so far away from the complex? Or had something about the man’s death brought about the madness?

  He didn’t know, but there was no time for questions now. Without Aureli’s help, there was only one cure to a maddened beast. Drool dripped from the terrible jaws as it barked, rage shining in its eyes. Resolved, he gripped the knife tighter in his hand, watching as the beast crept closer, listening its awful growls.

  This time when it leapt, Rydian was ready.

  Unleashing a roar, Rydian surged forward, blade thrusting out. This time he aimed not for its hardened skull, but the hound’s chest, exposed as it leapt. The tip of his knife lanced out, and he felt a thump as it connected.

  Then the weight of the beast slammed into Rydian, driving the breath from his lungs despite Aureli’s training, throwing him from his feet. He gasped as the creature fell cross him, its weight crushing him, its jaws just inches from his face. The knife was torn from his grip and winded, he lay gasping, helpless against its fury. Closing his eyes, he waited for the jaws to close upon his throat.

  Nothing happened.

  Finally Rydian managed to suck in a lungful of air, to recover his life. Wheezing, he lay listening to the sudden silence, and finally forced his eyes open. He found himself staring at the face of Aureli’s hound, lying dead across his chest. In passing, the madness had vanished from its eyes, and it seemed again the gentle pet that had followed their mentor wherever he went.

  Pushing the dog from him, Rydian struggled to sit up. The others stood nearby, silent in their shock, and Rydian scrunched his eyes closed. Emotion rose within him, despair and grief and anger, rage at what he’d lost that day.

  Crouched there on the shores of the great ocean, listening to the silence of the night, Rydian finally allowed the tears to flow.

  21

  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 forced 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.

  “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 th
e 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 his 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 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 cheek, 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.

  22

  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.