The Hunter on Arena Page 19

  He had intended to tell Allo and the others about the odd conversation, but while he was turning it over in his mind, he fell into a sound sleep and did not waken until the guards pounded on the bars with the butts of their spears. There was no time for talk from that point on, for they were shepherded to and from the dining hall and the weapons room by a full contingent of guards, all of whom seemed to watch them more closely than usual. There was an odd aura of tension in the air and the guards seemed to look about them as often as they watched their prisoners. It was almost as though they were expecting to be attacked. Braldt could not help but notice that there were more than the usual number of armed ’bots roaming the corridors as well, some rolling silently on their heavy, single wheel, other striding about on two legs.

  Even though there was much to be optimistic about, Braldt had been unable to eat or drink anything, and his belly churned with excitement. Randi would not meet his eyes and she seemed more downcast than angry. He tried to speak to her, but the guards took care to keep them apart. He wished he had the blue alien’s ability to speak inside his head.

  Allo and Septua seemed untroubled; the large furred creature was as mild-mannered and calm as always. Septua appeared slightly more nervous and flexed his stubby fingers and immense arm muscles to discharge the gathered tension.

  And then, as the twin red suns rose above the edge of the amphitheater and the crowds began to stamp in cadence, the horns blared, and once again, it was game time.

  Saviq was exhausted. Her stubby legs trembled with fatigue and she longed for the comfort of her woolly blankets and her fire. But there was much to be done before she could sleep. She wondered if she would be able to accomplish all that she had been charged with. Tears filled her eye even as she snuffled and berated herself for being a silly old woman. She would not fail Lomi, no matter what it took. Then her single eye filled with tears at the thought of her friend, channeled down her scarred, lumpy muzzle, and dripped onto the floor. No, she would not fail.

  She had refused to leave Lomi’s side, watching the frail chest rise and fall, patting the thin, pale hand with her own scaled paw until the last breath had passed from the tired body. Saviq had tucked the blankets around her old friend, crooning gently and cradling the pale, silvery, blond head against her chest, rocking back and forth with the pain and grief that threatened to overwhelm her. She had stayed there holding the empty body far longer than had been wise, remembering how very beautiful Lomi had been in her youth, beautiful by Scandi standards. And how very beautiful her spirit had been by any measure.

  She thought it unfair that Lomi’s love had gone unfulfilled, that she had been forced to love from afar one who had barely been aware of her existence. Yet she had loved long and hard, and even with her death, thought only of Braldt, the child of her love.

  A small smile lifted the lips of her muzzle as she thought about Lomi’s plan. There was irony in it as well as satisfaction. How odd that those who had destroyed her people and her world would themselves be brought down by one of their own, one who had been of little importance during her life, but would gain renown with her death. The thought lent speed to Saviq’s tired feet, and steeling herself for the difficulties that still lay ahead, she hurried forward.

  23

  Keri had never seen Batta Flor in such a state. Even before the suns rose, the Madrelli had risen and begun pacing back and forth within the confines of the cell. And then it had happened, the thing she had dreaded most. Batta Flor had approached her as she lay huddled beneath her blanket and gently stroked her hair with one giant paw. She had cringed away from his touch and this had seemed to enrage him. He had swept her off the pallet and gathered her to his chest. She had cried out with fear and pushed against his mammoth muscles, struggling to free herself.

  Beast had wakened instantly at the first sound of trouble and flung himself at the Madrelli, sinking his wickedly sharp, double rows of teeth into Batta Flor’s calf muscle.

  The Madrelli could not have been hurt by the pup’s attack, for his damaged ear rendered him impervious to pain, but he was enraged at the defiance shown by the pup, infuriated at any effort to foil him in his intent. He had slapped at the pup with one fist while holding Keri close to his side. The pup had managed to evade his blow and dark blood poured down the Madrelli’s leg and pooled on the floor.

  Keri continued to beat her fists against Batta Flor’s shaggy hide, knowing she could not hurt him, but hoping to distract him so that he would not kill the pup. She screamed at him as well, and tears of fear and frustration flooded her face as hysteria threatened to overcome her.

  Batta Flor stopped trying to strike the pup and lifted Keri, bringing her face level with his own. She stared tearfully into his face, reading fury and confusion as well as hopeless despair in his dark eyes. He roared full into her face, all but deafening her with the depth of his rage and sorrow, and then he flung her from him, threw her like a useless bit of fluff that he no longer had need of or interest in. She struck the edge of the sleeping platform and felt the pain of impact across her shoulders and spine. She scrambled onto the platform and gathered the blankets in her arms, shielding herself as best she was able.

  Beast growled a warning, then released the bloody leg, scurrying away from the Madrelli and leaping onto the platform to huddle next to Keri. His ruff was fully extended, and the line of fur that marked his spine stood straight up, making him look larger than he really was. His eyes glowed yellow, his teeth were coated with the Madrelli’s blood, and crimson-tinged slaver drooled from his mouth as he snarled his hatred.

  Batta Flor took no notice of either of them, but strode about in the center of the cell, pounding on his massive chest and screaming in rage and defiance. Then he stopped still, and throwing back his head, bellowed with such sorrow and pain that Keri nearly forgot her own fear and rushed to his side.

  The terrible sound filled the cell and echoed throughout the prison, silencing the usual early morning sounds of activity. Those who shared their captivity were accustomed to sounds of rage and sorrow, but this cry touched emotions that most of them struggled to deny. All those within hearing of the terrible cry shivered and fell silent, for the sound mirrored all too accurately, for prisoners and guards alike, the depth of their own despair.

  Horns blared and the crowded tiers echoed with the sound of feet pounding in cadence on the red stone. Tension was palpable in the chill morning air. The dual suns ascended the crimson sky, bathing the arena and its occupants with a bloody hue, an omen of what was to come.

  The first bout included four reptilian monsters, thickly armored with overlapping, ridged scales who bore no other weapons than their own four-inch claws and scissoring fangs. Their long, powerful tails ended in a large, solid ball of muscle which they wielded like a club.

  Their opponents were oddly jointed creatures with eight legs who were able to move in any direction with equal dexterity. Their centrally spaced bodies were small in comparison to their legs and covered completely with a gleaming, metallic carapace. These creatures bore no weapons at all, but jutting out just above the first segment of each leg was a wicked, curving sickle-like projection.

  The two groups of combatants swept toward each other as soon as the arches were opened, and met with a clash of bodies in the center of the ring. For a moment it was difficult to tell what was happening, for the opponents were so closely meshed. Then they swirled apart and it could be seen that the reptiles were bleeding from a number of wounds while the insectlike creatures appeared to be unharmed.

  They came together a second time, and this time the reptiles had learned from their first encounter and struck upward at the insects’ bellies with their scythe-like claws, drenching themselves in their opponents’ blood which was a pale, watery fluid. This seemed to give the reptiles an impetus, for they pushed forward, beating the insects back, lashing out at them with claws and clubbed tails.

  The insects fell back and clustered together, their forelegs waving in th
e air before them, holding the reptiles at bay. Then, surprisingly, they shot a stream of fine spray at the armored reptiles who screamed and fell to the red sand, writhing in agony. While their opponents were indisposed, the insects rushed forward and straddled them, spraying more and more of the caustic substance on their fallen foes. The louder the reptiles screamed, the louder the crowd stamped until the arena reverberated with the sound.

  The segmented creatures slowly lowered their bodies until they were positioned just above the agonized reptiles, and a cloudy, insubstantial substance began to drift downward. It coated the reptiles with a fine mist which whitened upon contact. Layer after layer of mist fell upon the fallen reptiles whose movements slowed and grew stiffer with every passing moment.

  The crowd quieted inexplicably, for they had never before seen such a technique. The reptiles were all but buried in the strange, cottony, white swaddling and their limbs twitched and jerked spastically. The insects crouched down over their hapless prey, and with neat, surgical strokes began to slice off bits and pieces of the armored flesh and consume it, despite the fact that their victims were still alive.

  The guards and robots entered the ring, weapons drawn and ready to herd the jointed creatures from the arena. The insects did not seem afraid of the guards in the least, but folded themselves down, gathered up the remains of the reptiles, and allowed themselves to be escorted from the ring.

  Next came four amorphous shapes which flowed and stretched like gummy pools of water. They seemed to have no specific boundaries and defied gravity by flowing horizontally and hanging in mid-air with nothing to support them. They were nearly transparent, and when the sun shone full upon them, they cast dazzling rainbows of light.

  Their opponents were four small, human-like creatures with long, matted, fuzzy hair, their bodies covered with filth. Their heads were exceptionally large with small foreheads and large jaws; their features were small and nearly flat with little definition. They wore no clothing at all and it could be clearly seen that their spines continued beyond their bodies, ending in a primitive, fleshy tail. They bore a variety of clubs and spiked cudgels, and they crept into the ring, their eyes wide and fearful.

  The translucent shapes drifted toward the frightened manthings, grouping together, then drifting apart in no apparent pattern. As they came close to the men, they rose upward, joining together like a shimmering cloud. The suns rode high above them and shone down through the crystalline clouds, and as they did so the beams of light that emerged fell upon the men who instantly began to scream in agony. They swatted at the clouds of light with their clubs, accomplishing little as the clouds merely drifted aside or temporarily broke apart, only to reform.

  The beams of light were constant and it could be seen that the skin on the screaming manthings was blistering and rising up in bubbles of flesh.

  And then the unlikely happened. The sky, which was always clear on Rototara, began to fill with clouds. At first it was the merest shred of gauze, then, with impossible speed, more and more clouds began to appear until the blood-red sky was all but filled with them, great, towering, billowing thunderheads which cut off the light of the suns and chilled the ground below. Vagrant flicks of wind licked downward, as though sampling the earth, spraying the combatants with stinging shards of sand and stone.

  The drifting forms seemed to falter, then sagged lower and lower as the light disappeared from the sky. The suns were obliterated, covered by dark, threatening clouds. The light faded from the odd, floating shapes, leaving them no more than tiny, pale clouds. The manthings reacted with surprising alacrity, striking at the clouds with their clubs.

  Without the light, the shapes seemed heavier and they moved with difficulty. They were unable to evade the clubs and one of them was batted out of the air. One burned manthing screamed and beat the transparent cloud with its club until it was driven into the red earth. The others, seeing that it could be done, rallied and struck out at the enemy that had inflicted such cruel pain upon them.

  A second of the cloud figures was dashed to the ground and disintegrated under the blows of the spiked cudgel. The two remaining forms did not wait to meet their fate but broke up into countless tiny shreds, too small to be struck by a club, and allowed themselves to be whisked away by the wind. They reformed at the edge of the arena, and without waiting for the guards to arrive, drifted through an open arch and were gone.

  The tailed manthings leaped up and down like animals, banging their clubs on the ground and screaming taunts at the vanished enemy. Blood and fluid streamed down their bodies, streaking the filth that covered them and painting them in bizarre patterns. When the robots and guards arrived to shepherd them away, they brandished their weapons and screamed in defiance. They swatted at the guards’ spears and hurled insults, and were finally brought to bay by the lightning rods of the robots.

  Braldt and his group had watched the two contests that had gone before them with fingers of nervousness plucking at their stomachs. Even though Braldt had assured them that they would be facing friends and not enemies, they could not entirely abandon their fear. What would happen when the two groups met and would not fight? What would the guards and robots do?

  Braldt had tried to explain about his encounter and conversation with the blue being in the adjoining cell, but the others had stared at him as though he had lost his mind. Septua had gone so far as to suggest that Braldt had dreamed the entire episode. Braldt could think of nothing that would convince them. He had told them of the 1,227 musings of Yantra, thinking that such a strange detail would lend credence to his story, but they stared at him even more dubiously. In the end, Braldt gave up, for it was quite possible that the strange, blue aliens would all opt for learning the value of patience rather than risk earning themselves yantreks of repentance. Briefly, Braldt found himself wondering just how many yantreks one would be penalized for killing a robot. But if robots were not living beings, did killing them count as taking a life?

  Braldt’s musings were brought to an abrupt halt by the arrival of the guards who shoved them toward the archway, poking and prodding them with the points of their spears. The door to the arch rumbled upward into the thick, stone walls and the wind gusted into the chamber, filling it with a stinging haze of red sand. Even the guards were driven back by the sudden, unexpected assault of the wind.

  Then they were being urged into the ring, the guards anxious to be rid of them and out of the force of the stinging onslaught which scoured their flesh with sharp-edged, minuscule grains of sand.

  The door rumbled shut behind them, thudding into the earth with a jarring impact that could be felt through the soles of their feet. For some reason, it conveyed a feeling of great finality. They looked at one another and drew closer together. It was impossible to look up into the force of the wind. None of them had ever experienced weather such as this on Rototara. The days were endlessly alike, one after the other, clear, crimson skies, tremendous heat bearing down on them from the dual suns, and then cool, crisp, clear nights with the stars of their distant worlds shining in the dark.

  All around them was a world gone mad. The suns were gone, covered by clouds the likes of which none of them had ever seen before. These were not mere thunder-heads which foretold of rain or even heavy storms, these were the harbingers of some colossal catastrophe. The clouds were backlit by the unseen suns and glowed an ominous red in their centers, like hot blood waiting to drip from the sky. The edges were darker, tinged with black and streaks of yellow like old bruises and painful to view. They roiled and seethed, constantly growing, becoming ever more threatening.

  The guards, what few remained around the edges of the arena, were clearly terrified, looking upward, mouths agape, their weapons held slack at their sides. Septua whimpered in fear and would have run back to the archway, but it had closed behind them.

  They could barely make out the tiers of seats for the blowing sheets of sand. The Scandis were cowering beneath their cloaks. Many were fleeing the stand
s, others were standing still, staring up in awe and disbelief, as stunned as the guards.

  Randi crouched down and curled into a ball, putting her arms over her face and head, trying to protect her eyes from the driving sand. Allo seemed the least affected, for he was well protected by his thick covering of fur. Septua scurried over to Randi and squatted down beside her, clearly too terrified to practice any rude behavior.

  Braldt wondered why they had been brought into the ring at all during such a threatening bit of weather, but then as the wind increased, throwing up sheets of red sand and blowing it in horizontal waves across the arena, he began to see it as the opportunity they had been searching for. They could barely see. The guards and the Scandis were looking out for their own welfare; no one would abandon their search for shelter to stop and look for them.

  Braldt reached down for Randi, grasped her arm, and began to pull her toward him. She looked at him through slitted fingers, then rose when he gestured urgently. Septua grabbed her leg and she turned to’ smack him, but the dwarf’s eyes rolled in terror and it was obvious that he clung to her out of fear rather than lecherous thoughts. Allo quickly realized what Braldt was trying to do and seized the dwarf by the scruff of his neck, dragging him away from Randi. They bent low to get beneath the force of the wind and hurried forward, running with weapons before them in case they encountered a foolhardy guard.

  And then the skies opened, parting with a thunderous crack that all but knocked them from their feet with the force of its impact. With that, bolts of malevolent, red lightning zigzagged from the pregnant underbellies of the clouds and struck the ground of the arena, as well as the tiers and whatever high points rose into the dark sky. There were screams of fear and cries that ended abruptly as the bodies containing them were struck down and scorched to shriveled husks.