shoved his plate away andlooked out across the vast hall, already half obscured by a miasma of steam from the kitchen fires and the rising stink of
unwashed bodies.
The others shared his apprehension. All around him was the flash of frightened eyes and the babble of tongues loosened by
terror. He could smell the fear on them, a brassy, metallic, sour stink. There had been no word, and yet they knew.
The guards broke the fearful reverie, moving in from the edges of the room and herding them out into the arena even though
few among them had finished their meals. Utensils, half-filled bowls, and cups still trailing their pennants of steam, remained
at their places, and Braldt could not help but wonder as he was driven toward the arena at spear point, how many of those
cups would be lifted at the end of the day.
The suns had just crested the edge of the red stone walls and were already beating down full force on the sands of the arena
though the last of the night’s chill still hovered above the ground.
Without words, the guards divided up the groups and passed out their weapons. The guards seemed especially watchful and their
numbers were nearly doubled, standing in pairs around the edge of the arena with swords drawn and shields raised.
When the last of the groups were armed, a trio of men appeared, framed by the narrow arches of the stone tiers. They were
flanked by six hard ones, but it was the men themselves who earned Braldt’s attention. He stared at them in disbelief. Despite
the distance separating them, he could see quite clearly that they were so likehim as to be mirror images! They were as tall as he, and as blond, and their bone structure was the same. He was not able
to see their eyes but somehow knew without a doubt that the eyes would be the same bright shade of blue. Each of the men wore
a white drape of cloth about their bodies, fastened at the shoulder with a silver ring. The rings flashed shards of green
and red and blue in the sunlight, and unconsciously, Braldt’s fingers rose to his own shoulder to stroke the ring that was
no longer there. He had once owned such a ring! Who could these people be and what did it all mean?
Confusion tore at his mind, conflicting thoughts pinwheeling through his head as he stared at the men who were most probably
his enemy yet looked enough like him to be brother or father or both. Then a voice intruded on his thoughts, speaking in imperious
tones through the silver disc fastened to his skull. “Contestants, gladiators, the games are about to commence. The moment
you have waited for will soon be here. We have followed your progress with interest and feel certain that the contests will
be worthy of our efforts.”
Those standing in the arena began to stir restlessly, eyes darting nervously in all directions. “Worth whose effort?” spat
one of the reptilian men, his comment echoed by a score of his companions.
The regal voice continued on as though unaware of the murmur of discontent rising from the sands below. “As promised, at the
close of each contest, the victors will be rewarded by the answer of a question. But before the games begin, there is one
further bit of business that must be completed. As you will notice, each teamconsists of five members. Unfortunately, that is one too many. Your first task will be the elimination of one member of your
team. That choice we leave up to you….”
A loud outcry rose from the armed gathering. Teammates stared at each other in distrust and dismay while others brandished
their weapons at the speakers.
“You will choose the member to be eliminated, or we will make the choice for you,” the speaker said, his voice growing harsh
and cold. “There is nothing to be gained by procrastinating, for the outcome will be the same.”
Beside Braldt, a small, furred creature with four arms whirled on its companions, those it had eaten, slept, and trained beside,
and stabbed a
unwashed bodies.
The others shared his apprehension. All around him was the flash of frightened eyes and the babble of tongues loosened by
terror. He could smell the fear on them, a brassy, metallic, sour stink. There had been no word, and yet they knew.
The guards broke the fearful reverie, moving in from the edges of the room and herding them out into the arena even though
few among them had finished their meals. Utensils, half-filled bowls, and cups still trailing their pennants of steam, remained
at their places, and Braldt could not help but wonder as he was driven toward the arena at spear point, how many of those
cups would be lifted at the end of the day.
The suns had just crested the edge of the red stone walls and were already beating down full force on the sands of the arena
though the last of the night’s chill still hovered above the ground.
Without words, the guards divided up the groups and passed out their weapons. The guards seemed especially watchful and their
numbers were nearly doubled, standing in pairs around the edge of the arena with swords drawn and shields raised.
When the last of the groups were armed, a trio of men appeared, framed by the narrow arches of the stone tiers. They were
flanked by six hard ones, but it was the men themselves who earned Braldt’s attention. He stared at them in disbelief. Despite
the distance separating them, he could see quite clearly that they were so likehim as to be mirror images! They were as tall as he, and as blond, and their bone structure was the same. He was not able
to see their eyes but somehow knew without a doubt that the eyes would be the same bright shade of blue. Each of the men wore
a white drape of cloth about their bodies, fastened at the shoulder with a silver ring. The rings flashed shards of green
and red and blue in the sunlight, and unconsciously, Braldt’s fingers rose to his own shoulder to stroke the ring that was
no longer there. He had once owned such a ring! Who could these people be and what did it all mean?
Confusion tore at his mind, conflicting thoughts pinwheeling through his head as he stared at the men who were most probably
his enemy yet looked enough like him to be brother or father or both. Then a voice intruded on his thoughts, speaking in imperious
tones through the silver disc fastened to his skull. “Contestants, gladiators, the games are about to commence. The moment
you have waited for will soon be here. We have followed your progress with interest and feel certain that the contests will
be worthy of our efforts.”
Those standing in the arena began to stir restlessly, eyes darting nervously in all directions. “Worth whose effort?” spat
one of the reptilian men, his comment echoed by a score of his companions.
The regal voice continued on as though unaware of the murmur of discontent rising from the sands below. “As promised, at the
close of each contest, the victors will be rewarded by the answer of a question. But before the games begin, there is one
further bit of business that must be completed. As you will notice, each teamconsists of five members. Unfortunately, that is one too many. Your first task will be the elimination of one member of your
team. That choice we leave up to you….”
A loud outcry rose from the armed gathering. Teammates stared at each other in distrust and dismay while others brandished
their weapons at the speakers.
“You will choose the member to be eliminated, or we will make the choice for you,” the speaker said, his voice growing harsh
and cold. “There is nothing to be gained by procrastinating, for the outcome will be the same.”
Beside Braldt, a small, furred creature with four arms whirled on its companions, those it had eaten, slept, and trained beside,
and stabbed a
Similar Books
