Under the Crimson Sun

dream and he’d wake up from it soon.

Maybe the red liquid was the reality and Gan was the fantasy.

Yes, embrace the Voidharrow …

“Rol, listen-”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Not you. The other voice.”

“There is no other voice, Rol. It’s just me.”

After a second, Rol realized that he couldn’t see Gan because Gan was in the cubicle across the hall. Now he remembered-once they became the new main event, Gan and Rol were each given their own cubicles. That was just a stupid name for what was really a cell, just like any other. Rol had been in plenty over the years, so he knew what they were like, and this was most definitely a cell, no matter what they called it. Like that time in-

He couldn’t remember where it was.

“Rol?”

Grimacing, he tried to recall that time when he was in that cell. There was a woman-there was always a woman-and her husband got a little peeved the way husbands always did, and did they take it out on the woman who cheated? No, they took it out on Rol, who was just having a bit of fun, and they threw him in a cell. They were quite humorless, the magistrates in-

Why couldn’t he remember the city-state where he was imprisoned?

“Rol?”

“Gan, do you remember where it was when I was imprisoned for sleeping with that girl?”

At that, Gan actually laughed. “Seriously? Rol, you’re gonna need to be considerably more specific than that.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Rol, we need to work on escaping this place.”

“What? Why?” Rol knew that Gan was right, but he couldn’t remember why Gan was right.

Speaking very slowly, Gan said, “Because we’ve been enslaved, you jackass.”

“Right, right, I knew that.” Rol tried to force himself to focus. It was just so hard …

He wished he could remember how they got there. It had something to do with Fehrd, but he could no longer recall how Fehrd was involved. Or even where Fehrd was. He should have been with them.

Gan was talking about something that may have been important. It was hard to tell with Gan, since he was always talking. “It’s gonna be a lot harder now. Ever since you became the featured attraction, they’ve hired a lot more security. The crowds’re bigger too.”

“Why is that?”

“You, you moron.” Gan sounded angry; his yelling made Rol’s headache worse. “You beat the unbeatable fighter. People actually give a frip about the fights in this arena for the first time in years. Calbit and Jago hired about a dozen mercenaries to supplement the other guys, and some of them even have metal swords. The patrols are all random too-haven’t been able to find any kind of pattern. I gotta tell you, we had a better chance of escaping before you killed that mul.”

“What the hell choice did I have?” Rol screamed, and slammed a fist into one of the cubicle walls.

His hand no longer hurt, oddly, and a large chunk, and several small chips, fell to the floor from the stone wall.

“Will you please calm down?” Gan said. “You’ll bring the guards, and then we can’t talk.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you. In fact, Gan, I’m sick of talking to you. All you ever do is talk.”

“Good, that’s good.”

Rol frowned, confused. “What’s good?”

“You’re complaining about me. That’s a good sign that you’re you.”

“Of course, I’m me. Who else would I be?” Rol asked that question despite not being entirely sure of the answer.

“I wish I knew.” Gan spoke with tremendous emotion, so much so that Rol blinked in surprise. Gan usually didn’t speak quite so strongly. “Rol, ever since that night in the desert, you haven’t been yourself-in any way. You’re ridiculously powerful, and you look more and more like you’re diseased. I’m scared.”

Gan never admitted to being scared of anything. At least, Rol didn’t think he ever had. It was hard to recall specifically.

Hell, he still couldn’t remember his parents’ names. And his head still hurt.

“We have to get out of here, Gan,” Rol said. “I don’t care what it takes. We need Fehrd to make a plan.”

There was a long pause before Gan replied to that. “Fehrd’s dead, Rol.”

Rol had forgotten that.

In fact, he still didn’t remember it, and wasn’t sure that Gan wasn’t lying.

No, that was crazy. Gan wouldn’t lie to him.

Would he?

“Are you sure he’s dead?”

“Remember, Rol, that Black Sands thug killed him. They were fighting with staffs, and then the leader took out a knife and stabbed him with it.”

Rol didn’t remember that at all. But it didn’t sound right, somehow. “Why would he stab him if they were fighting with staffs?”

In a voice reeking with incredulousness, Gan said, “He was the leader of a band of thieves-on what planet do you expect him to behave honorably? Hell, I don’t expect you to behave honorably, and you’re the closest thing to an honorable person I’ve ever met.”

That surprised Rol. Somehow Gan saying something nice to him didn’t match with what he expected Gan to say.

Things were obviously worse than he thought.

But he couldn’t think straight, so that wasn’t surprising.

He just needed to rest. Maybe then his hand wouldn’t hurt so much and his head wouldn’t hurt so much and he’d start to remember things again. Like his parents’ names and how Fehrd died and where it was he was in that cell and …

Give in to the Voidharrow and all-

“NO!”

“What is it?” Gan sounded concerned.

Rol shook his head. “It’s fine. Really, I’m fine, I just-” He moved to rub his eyes, then realized that his fingers were covered in lesions. No, they weren’t lesions anymore, they were red pustules that made it impossible for him to even touch anything.

He snarled. “We need to get out of here.”

“I’m open to suggestions as to how.” Gan let out a very loud breath. “I wish Feena was here.”

“Who the frip is Feena?”

Impatiently, Gan said, “My sister, you moron. She-” He cut himself off, then whispered, “Someone’s coming.”

Rol hoped it was someone who could make his hands not hurt.

A new voice said, “Stand, whaddayacall, away from the door.”

Actually, Rol realized it was an old voice: Sasker, one of the guards. He always came with three other guards, all armed with metal swords.

So Rol stood back from the door.

It creaked open to reveal Sasker, along with the usual three guards. Their swords were out.

“Time for your next fight, and-” Sasker stopped short and stared goggle-eyed at Rol. “What the frip