“If we win this match, and the next few dozen, maybe they’ll let us go free,” she said. “They did say they would free me if I won a hundred battles. Didn’t give a number, though.”
“You’re going to be free today, no matter what. It’s why I’m here. Let’s whoop this Beatrix’s ass and figure out a way to escape.”
Reaver met my gaze with a shrug. “I’m right behind you, Paladin.”
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
“I do,” she said.
“Then, trust that you will be free today.”
I stretched as well, not because I thought I needed to but to show solidarity with my partner. “What are the rules?” I asked.
“The fights are usually to the death. If one opponent wants to offer mercy, the king has to authorize it. But if he wants the loser to die, he’ll order it. Then, mercy is revoked, and the loser dies. Simple as that.”
“Are you ready for the Queen of Carnage?” Siddith asked the crowd. The response was even louder than before.
Reaver cracked her knuckles. “I didn’t tell you this before, but this battle will be different. It’s a big-ticket match.”
“Which means?” I asked.
“Watch out for weapons. The crowd buys stuff from vendors in the city. They’re allowed to throw the weapons in. Sometimes, the weapons are useful. Sometimes, they’re just as dangerous for the one using it as they are for the opponent. And sometimes, I think they throw the weapons at us rather than to us. Just keep your eyes open. It’s always better to have something than nothing.”
“I’ll be careful,” I said.
“Beatrix is one of the big hitters,” Reaver quickly explained. “So am I. But she’ll have help. The Execution Squad are a team of wafnugu. They’re small, but they communicate telepathically. Just when you think you’ve got one cornered, you’ll realize it’s a trap. Then, it could be too late. Watch your back and show no mercy.”
As she finished, the entire cell shifted underneath our feet.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The side of the cell snapped open like a reverse mousetrap, and the floor beneath my feet tilted 45 degrees to dump us into the arena.
Reaver coiled her legs into a crouch and slid over the floor until the last second. Then she launched herself into the air. It took me a moment to orient myself and get an understanding of our battleground.
The arena was large—about the size of a Terran football field. The inside was concave like a spoon, and though there was dirt, I could see large spots where stone showed through. I couldn’t tell if it was some type of concrete, or the actual bedrock in the area. Flagpoles and stadium seating surrounded the field, as did a yellowish haze that wavered and distorted everything behind it, like air rising in a hot desert.
We were boxed in by a forcefield.
Small, spherical orbs flitted about overhead. There were at least a dozen, and each were about the same size, no larger than my head. They screamed past me, and I noticed small fan blades on thin outriggers.
Ahead of us, Beatrix the Bloody and her Execution Squad were already closing in.
“I’ve got the leader!” I shouted to Reaver. “You take the others!”
“Oorah!” she shouted back.
Reaver moved with absolute confidence, even in the face of potential death. She peeled off to the left to take on three small creatures who only reached my waist. They were bald and leathery with small horns protruding from their spine, elbows, knees, and ankles. The creatures ran on all fours, and thick strings of saliva hung from their mouths like the tentacles of a jellyfish.
Our enemy didn’t stand a chance.
“You handle Beatrix,” Reaver said. “I’ll handle the Squad.”
“Got it,” I said as I locked onto the position of my opponent.
Beatrix was about my height, had an olive complexion, and hair tied in thick braids. She was armored in segmented platemail covering all the important spots while leaving enough visible to encourage every male’s imagination.
No wonder she was popular.
As Beatrix and I drew nearer to each other, her armor changed. Pieces snapped to attention, making her look like a sea urchin. She leaned in to her sprint, crossed her arms in front of her ample bosom, and unfolded short spikes from her forearms. It was obvious she meant to crash into me, impaling me with the pointy-bits, but I jumped to avoid her.
As I rose into the air, I studied her armor. Reaver had said that the spectators would occasionally throw weapons to their favorite fighters. It seemed that Beatrix had turned hers into armor, without sacrificing their potential as offensive weapons.
Brazud obviously took care of its star gladiators.
I landed on my feet, a few away from Beatrix, her back to me. My vision became filled with something I didn’t understand. Beatrix’s hair wasn’t hair at all. It was a nest of tentacles. She spun, and the tentacles landed toward me. They came too fast even more me, wrapping around my torso and ensnaring me. The tentacles carried me into the air and slammed me into the ground.
Breath ejected from my lungs, and I even felt a little pain.
Well, it seemed I could be hurt. I’d just met my match.
I lifted my arms, tensed my muscles, and tore free of the tentacles. They kept shooting toward me, but I managed to outpace them. Next time they got hold of me, Beatrix might bring me closer to her and cut me to pieces with her spiked armor. There were enough blades to turn the average person into ground beef. The more her opponent struggled, the worse they’d make it for themselves. From the look in her eyes, it was exactly what she was planning to do.
Tentacles sprang toward me again, but I lifted my arms in a sweeping motion and captured them all in my hands. The look in her eyes drifted from determination to confusion before I yanked on her hair with all of my strength. Her head slammed into the ground, and her tentacle-hair
