Page 18 of Gladiator Moon

All sentries look like you?

He nods. More or less. I was born into it. We are bred to be as large as necessary, then trained from childhood in every manner of hand-to-hand combat. In theory, I could subdue any of those placed in my care.

In theory?

He smiles a little wider. I confess, Little Moon, I am not entirely certain how I would subdue someone who can command my actions with her mind. Speaking of which, it is best to keep speaking telepathically. The Arena has ears.

Understood.

With that, he gestures for me to follow him, which I do, retracing my steps from the night before when I had followed Baltazar from the Arena into this place.

Meanwhile, I am dressed in my best gladiator attire: jeans, sneakers, and a white t-shirt, nothing else. Unfortunately, no water, which I will need for my ice sword.

Will I be given water?

Yes. Additionally, there will be an array of basic weapons provided for you, including the nourishment favored by those of your realm. If you require water, it will be given. What is your weapon of choice, Little Warrior?

Water.

Fascinating. I am eager to see it in action. Do you need a lot of water?

Not much, actually.

This is unheard of.

I am sure it is.

Never have I seen water employed as a weapon.

You’ll see soon enough. I hope.

Yes. I will be watching and rooting you on.

We continue along the very same tunnel I’d entered in with Baltazar just yesterday. Only now it is alight with a bright red light, infusing everything. I could have been a chick in an incubator, though this light emanates from their weird dwarf sun. Either way, thank goodness the light of day no longer affects me, though I wonder if a red sun might actually decrease my strength. Maybe the creators of Superman were onto something. Hmm, guess we’ll see.

Now, as I walk along the tunnel that curves around the battlefield pitch, I can’t help but notice a steady and loud hum in the air. And a vibration that seems to rise up from the ground itself. We soon come upon an immense arched passageway, grander than any of the side entrances we’ve passed. It reminds me of a Roman triumphal arch, only darker somehow, its black stone threaded with glowing crimson veins that hint at the evil sleeping beneath the arena.

A heavy curtain hangs before it, swaying gently. Through the shifting fabric, I catch a glimpse of a crowd unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It looks less like a stadium and more like an entire planet has gathered to watch me die.

Timrick the Fallen pauses before the curtain and seems to be waiting for something.

They are announcing you, Little Moon. They are letting the crowd know you are a female human psychic vampire, a mother, and something called a private investigator. They are listing your many accomplishments. And by accomplishments, I mean notable battles. Ah, I see you defeated the devil of your realm. Surely, that will strike fear in the wood sprite. And maybe even in the Dark One himself. Ah, they are done. Now, they are announcing your opponent. She is one foot tall and weighs twelve pounds. She has been alive for nine hundred of your Earth years. She is from a parallel Earth world. She is known as the greatest warrior to have ever graced her world. She has never known defeat, not even once. Nor has an opponent ever even struck her. She has never tasted her own blood or felt the sting of blade or fist. Ah, you will likely die today, Moon Warrior. I am sorry to say. I have seen her kind before, and they are nearly impossible to defeat. I wish you well in your afterlife. May the All Seeing Eye accept you into Its warm embrace.

May It indeed.

And with that, the heavy curtain parts, and Timrick leads me through.

Chapter Five

The crowd chants words I cannot understand.

The magic that helps me understand the Grandarians (and likely other species) apparently does not include massive crowds. Either way, it is clear they want blood. Except I am not going to give them any, especially my own!

“Stand here, Samantha Moon. It is important that you do not move. Something very bad will happen if you try to move early.”

I nod, not wanting to test the extent of the nefarious magic that controls these Gladiator Games; instead, I put my game face on, though I have no intention to participate in these Games.

Positioned before me is a table lined with an array of human-sized weapons. Plenty of smaller choices, too: knives, short swords, brass knuckles, and other weapons that favor speed and precision over brute strength. Of course, I could wield the heaviest broadswords and battle axes just as easily. Conan-style.