Discipline and control.
I squat and grab a handful of dusty sand, admiring the soft, dry texture. This planet is so different from my home. There is nothing green. Nothing wet. Only dust and death. It is fitting, I suppose.
I spit into my handful of sand, adding some much-needed moisture, before rubbing my palms together and standing.
This moment is one I have thought about many times, but the scale is far more dramatic than I envisioned. On the vidFeeds, the Coliseum appears grand, but in person, it is vast, ancient, and foreboding, carved by the brutality of the desert itself. A massive stone structure weathered and worn to a nearly organic state. It is beautiful.
Where the sandy flat of the killing-floor ends, the rise of jagged stone begins. Vertical walls of heavily eroded rock give way to consecutive, expanding layers of seating that end wherethe stone peaks kiss the open sky above, as if inviting the gods to bear witness to what occurs within. It is a striking oasis, all valiant spires and dramatic fractures that speak of an ancient, raw power. The power of my people. And I can feel that power radiating from this place and all those who fill it.
Smooth wood greets my hand as I pull my axe from its sheath. It is shocking how effective the high-gravity training was. My body and axe feel featherlight.
Testing my legs, I jump, and a vicious smile crosses my face. I am grateful I heeded my brother’s advice. He is wise in the ways of war.
“Today is a momentous day!” Gaius booms from his viewing box in the upper levels. “We have in our midst the Prince of the Vhorathi Empire, the Fury of Solira, the Vanquisher of Verdoon, Vexar Valdís!” The crowd roars its approval and Gaius proceeds to explain my purpose here. When he is finished, the metal portcullis opposite me begins to rise.
I pace, fixated on the shadows behind the rising gate while thousands of curious eyes track me. They are eager for blood. Perhaps too eager.
The sun heats my skin. Sand kicks up around my feet. Sweat drips from my nose. And then, my opponent emerges. I frown. He is not a species I am familiar with, and I have studied every sentient race within 250 light-years of this sector.
The male stalks towards the outer wall of the killing-floor, and an unsettling tightness creeps down my spine. His body is a strange amalgamation of creature types. His bottom half is that of a quadruped—four legs supporting an elongated body. But his top half is similar to a bipedal creature—a torso with two arms and a head. The more I look, the more certain I am that this male was not born. He wasmade.
My eyes flick to the Magistrate’s box, halfway up the Coliseum’s seats, where Gaius sits in his oversized throne. As certain asI was that Gaius is not mad, the circumstances of this fight are forcing me to reconsider my assumptions. Bringing an engineered creature to Calidus is highly illegal, and yet, unless I am mistaken, Gaius has done just that and is flaunting the crime in front of me. In front of the future King of the Vhorathi Empire.
Shaking off my confusion, I return my focus to the arena. My opponent lazily walks the perimeter, swinging his longsword dramatically and riling the crowd into a frenzy. He is enjoying the attention.
Good. It is a poor use of his time.
Gaius’s voice booms again, but the only word I hear is my opponent’s name. “Botar.”
My focus is narrow. Singular. Unwavering.
As my opponent parades, I learn. Every twitch of muscle and flash of eyes offers valuable insight.
Botar’s head moves slowly under the weight of his oversized horns.Reduced ability to track fast or unpredictable movements.Four smooth hooves.Vulnerable to unstable or slick ground.Large hind muscles on hinged joints.Strong forward attacks, but weak lateral movement.Wide-set eyes.Poor field of view in front and behind.
This fight is clearly uneven, and yet, Botar seems unaware of that fact. If anything, he appears confident. Carefree.
Shaking my head, I kick off my boots and leave them in the sand. The soft ground gives beneath my feet, affording me additional leverage that my opponent does not have. As much as I would prefer to call off this fight, that choice is entirely out of my hands. I can only hope Gaius sees reason before the end.
A sharp, sudden blast of sound marks the start of the fight, and Botar charges towards me. Anxiety tightens my chest. I shake out my arms and focus.
He approaches at an angle, his hoofed feet sinking into the sand with each loping step. He expects me to dodge, so I do theopposite. I step in front of him, where I am certain his vision is limited. His head turns under the weight of those massive horns as he tries to track me. But he is slow. Gods, he is slow.
I glance up at Gaius who sits unmoving in his throne.Does he want a slaughter?No time to think. I jump, clearing Botar’s horns while angling my body to land behind him. His head turns frantically as he searches for me in the wrong place. Frustration blooms, and I swing my axe into Botar’s hind legs, sending him tumbling forward.
He regains his footing quickly. Blood coats his rear legs and pools in the sand beneath him, but he does not limp.
I lunge forward, dodge his sword, and land another punishing blow to a front leg. This time, he roars. With some space between us, I risk one last glance towards Gaius. He sits calmly, hands folded, face too distant to read. Everything about this feels wrong. I was promised an equal fight.
When Botar swings his sword again, I hook it with the beard of my axe and pull the blade towards me, letting my fist drive into his abdomen. There’s a crack of bone. A wheeze of breath. I pull back to drive into him again. A glimmer of light catches my eye. His sword is free.
I duck, lose my footing, and feel the ripple of air as the blade passes over the back of my neck.
Too close.
I roll away. Sand sticks to my skin, my nose, my mouth. My hesitancy is going to get me killed. I cannot hold back anymore.
Botar’s chest rises and falls rapidly. He is winded and bleeding.
