The dogs begin circling each other, growling so loudly I can hear it from here. One of the handlers must give a verbal command, because the lighter of the two, Negrid, appears activated and launches at his opponent.
The fight is on, with neither animal holding back. They snarl as they attack each other. Even though their fur is thick, you can see their power in the way they move. Their hindquarters, sleeker than their fronts, show every muscle as they tuck their haunches beneath them to propel forward with more force.
Mighty jaws, with those long canines I’m so familiar with, are flashing white in the sun as the two animals threaten each other. They’re wearing metal collars similar to what WarDog had around his neck when I met him in that cell on the Urlut vessel. The spikes that ring their necks are four-inches long.
Every muscle in WarDog’s body is poised to run, or in this case jump. We’re maybe sixty feet above the sand, but by the way he’s pulling on his leash, I wonder if he wants to leap into the fray.
Shadow and Petra change places to my left so Shadow is sitting next to me. He grabs WarDog’s collar, just to lend a hand. In other circumstances, I would protest that I needed no assistance, but I’m glad for the help. If WarDog decided to leap over the three-foot rail, I wouldn’t be able to contain his powerful muscles.
The fight in the arena goes on for long minutes in the hot sun, but eventually Montem pounces hard on Negrid’s withers and grabs the other’s muzzle in his deadly teeth. Negrid rolls onto his back and both handlers intervene.
The controllers must shock the dogs, because both of them stand down immediately. Montem rolls to stand on all fours and the onlookers rise to their feet in applause.
“Females and males,” says the announcer, “you can certainly do better than that. Let’s show these animals our true appreciation for the battle you just observed.”
The noise in the arena rises by a few notches.
“I know you can do better,” the announcer goads.
The patrons now go wild as the dogs circle the edge of the arena again. It’s as if this is the canine equivalent to taking a bow.
The announcer motions to Montem’s owner in a sweeping gesture of his outstretched hand. You can hear the male’s microphone being switched on.
“Thank you for coming today,” the handler says. He’s a bulky male with skin that looks like cooled magma, all rolling black flesh that folds over and over on top of itself. “Montem of Skylose.” He lifts both fists in the air as if he himself won the match. “To the victor go the spoils!”
He makes a show of pressing a button on the controller and all at once I’m uncertain what my eyes are seeing. The animal begins to change—his form distorts so quickly I have trouble processing what’s happening. Within half a minute, though, Montem is no longer a deadly ball of brown fur and two-inch fangs. Montem has shifted into a humanoid.
Fascinated as I am by the show in the arena, I can’t control my gaze from flying to WarDog. If I thought he was stiff during the fight, he was loose compared to this. Every muscle in his body appears to be on high alert as he watches the action in the sand.
He’s whining now; it’s almost continuous. His leash pulls on my fingers. It’s not an overpowering yank, my big boy is too well-behaved for that, but I can feel his yearning to go to the arena.
“Shadow? What the fuck is going on?”
“I’ve never seen this species before. They’re humanoids who shift into canines?” It sounds like he wanted that to come out as a statement, but it certainly sounded like a question to me.
Is there a humanoid trapped in WarDog’s body? How could we not have known this? No one on the ship had heard of Skylosians before? If WarDog is this species, then he’s humanoid under all that fur. My eyes open wide in wonder as shock spikes through me.
The pomp continues in the ring for a few more minutes, then the combatants along with their handlers exit through the doorway leading to the catacombs.
“Shadow, we’ve got to get down there. If there’s a humanoid under all this fur, I need to talk to those handlers and see how to break the spell.”
“I understand. Steele, Aries, come with us.”
My three bodyguards and I, along with WarDog, make our way to the nearest steps, then skirt along the rounded walkway to the arched doorway leading to the underground area where the fighters are housed.
As we approach, the two armed guards at the entryway stand taller and try to block us.
“We have business,” Shadow says, his tone is firm as he glances at the dog.
“Kin?” one of the guards says with a leer as if it’s funny as hell that WarDog might be related to one of the fighters.
“Perhaps. Let us pass.” Shadow puffs his chest, his nonverbal suggestion that if the guard doesn't let us through there might be a gladiatorial fight right here, right now. I don’t think the guards would like the outcome.
“And her?” one of them says, his eyes sliding to me.
“His handler. Want her to unleash him on you?”
WarDog growls as if on cue, showing more snarling white teeth than he’s ever shown me.
We step into the underground area passing from the heat of the sun to the cool of these ancient catacombs. The fetid smell assaults me.
