Page 8 of Gladiator Moon

“Well, if you read my vibration, then you would know that I am no warrior. I am a crime fighter and a mama.”

“But you killed your world’s devil, did you not?”

“I did. With a lot of help.”

“From the angels and a special sword.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I happen to think you are ideal, Samantha Moon.”

“You kidnapped me and are forcing me to fight to the death. Hardly ideal.”

“You think that now. Let’s see how you think later.”

He continues guiding me out of the arena, toward a stone archway. I notice again the maroon tint to the sky. I can’t tell if dusk is approaching or if a new day is dawning.

“The beasties will be out soon, Samantha Moon. They hunt at night and in the early morning. My magic can stop combatants from leaving the stadium, but I’ve never been able to prevent the beasties from strafing the stadium with their voluminous fire. So, be warned.”

“You said beasties?”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

I am led across the dirt pitch, itself spongy and foreign, while Baltazar continues hovering before me, kicking up nary a grain of sand or dirt, or whatever this stuff is made out of. As he moves along, he holds his arms down at his sides, with his face tilted up. Soon, we come to one of the many arched openings as the sky grows darker. Somewhere far off, I catch the cry of what might have been an eagle, though I am willing to bet it is one of ‘beasties.’

“Hurry, Samantha. We must seek safety within.”

‘Within’ consists of a long and grimy tunnel punctuated with doors, archways, and narrow windows. The walls are composed of a kind of pale yellow brick-and-plaster, stacked with bigger stones or bricks. Through one such window, I catch sight of something massive and beautiful in the sky above. It could have been a giant betta fish with voluminous fins. The setting red sun lights up the flowing fin feathers as the creature wheels this way and that throughout the sky as it swims or flies; I don’t know which.

“This way, Samantha. The warriors’ quarters are down this hall. We try to give each fighter their own space. Bigger beings get specialized rooms. We are well-acquainted with their needs, as we have been working with their lot for centuries. The human-sized quarters are this way. You will have your own room, you might be pleased to know.”

“Yay.”

“You are our only female human representative this year.”

“Lucky me.”

“Not really. More than likely, you will die violently in the next few days, perhaps even during your first match. But I hope not, if that’s any consolation. You are more valuable than you know.”

“Great, then let me go and let’s talk.”

He studies me a moment, then says, “Down this hallway, please.” We hang a left down a far less dirty hallway, clearly off the beaten track. “Unfortunately for you, Samantha Moon, you are the last combatant to arrive and, as such, you will miss out on invaluable practice time in the arena proper.” Baltazar shrugs his narrow shoulders expressively. “But maybe that’s a good thing, though I fail to see why. Those who arrive late are typically the first to exit the Games, usually with their heads lopped clean off or their bodies rendered in half, either side to side or head to foot. Again, I hope you survive the Games. I quite enjoyed reliving your adventures on planet Earth. And again, you could be of use to us... but I am getting ahead of myself.”

We stop in front of a massive door that could have been oak.

“Here we are, Samantha. Remember, no one may enter your quarters, and you may not leave without an escort.”

“Let me guess... you are my escort.”

“Yes, though there will be a guard assigned to your room.”

He flicks his six-fingered palm, and the door swings open. It is hanging on massive iron-like hinges. The setup all looks very medieval.

“Fair warning, Samantha. You may not summon the flame in here. You will die as surely in here as out in the arena. The magic is all-pervasive. And immediate. Even experimenting with it a little bit will lead to immediate self-immolation. Death will be extremely painful. Understood?”

“Understood.”