Maxym
MAXYM
The bellow of the crowd nearly drowns out the fanfare which announces the commencement of the games as we march into the dome arena, Klynn and I at the head of the procession.
We are the most dangerous, after all.
The arena floor is basic because this is all about the killing. There will be beast games and other bouts later in the calendar, but for this first one, the crowd wants to see the blood of sentient species spilt.
“Watch your back,” I growl at Klynn.
“Why? Are you going to try me?” he snarls back.
“Something’s…wrong…” I say. “Something’s different. Don’t let them get behind you.” The second fanfare rings out, indicating the countdown until the bloodbath.
All around the arena walls, electrified spikes slide out. Several of the challengers jump at the noise. One, an over enthusiastic Xnosson bull, takes a run at them, no doubt thinking he can use them as a ladder.
The jolt sends him skidding on his back halfway across the dome. The crowd roars with bloodlust. Is he the games’ first victim? The bull gets to his feet, staggering and shaking his horned head. Looks like it takes more than a shock to put him down.
“Did you get a mark?” I say out of the corner of my mouth to Klynn.
His wings are heaving with repressed violence. He’s struggling to contain himself as the huge holo clock high in the dome counts down.
“No mark,” he responds through gritted fangs.
Neither did I. And for these games, it’s unusual. I thought my lack of mark might have been a punishment of sorts, but then being given a mark to kill for money isn’t considered a perk of the dome.
Something isn’t right. At all. I glare around at the challengers and the other gladiators. None of them seems concerned. I heft my sword, spinning it in my hand, my head filled with thoughts of Cleo. I saw the captain taking her away from the ante-chamber as he said he would.
Safe.
The word fills my head as if it’s been shouted in my ear. My heart thumps in my chest as I reach out in the direction of the voice.
Is this the thoughtbond? So soon?
Above, the clock pauses at two nova-seconds. I stare up at it. Whatever is wrong, it is affecting the clock. A clock which seems to shimmer and move in a way the holo-projection should not.
“Vrex!” I growl. “Klynn, look!” I point my sword upwards, and reluctantly, he follows my gaze.
High above, the countdown has gone. In its place are hundreds of crawling figures, scuttling over the underside of the dome, unaffected, it seems, by the forcefield.
“Bogarok!” one of the challengers growls.
“It’s an invasion!” another says, throwing his weapons to the floor and racing away in the direction of the dome’s exit.
He’s followed by many of the others, all dropping their means of protection.
“Bogarok?” I look over at Klynn.
“Big, multiple legs, jaws.” He spins his sword and widens his stance.
“How do you know?”
“There’s one right behind you.”
I’m in the air before I can blink. The huge multi-limbed creature snaps its massive jaws at the space where I was. I flip over and drive my sword through the back of its neck. It screeches and thrashes.
“In the abdomen,” Klynn grinds out, having inexplicably killed at least three of the creatures already and covered himself in their remains.
I yank my sword out of the creature’s head and plunge it into the abdomen. The thing slumps to the floor with a soggy groan and stays still.
Only there are more coming for us. Those challengers who were left are all dead, leaving Klynn and me.
If I thought for a nova-second this was some sort of performance put on by the dome for the paying public, the sound of their screams, the holes rent in the forcefield keeping them from us, and the bodies dropping to the arena floor disabuse me instantly.
“Cleo.” Her name is on my lips as I slam my sword through a set of legs and finish the creature off.
I only have a vague feeling of where she is through the strange thought which entered my head. I left the arrangements for her safety to the captain, and I am regretting it. I have to find her. Now.
“Get the Gryn gladiators.” A staccato voice drops into my mind like a set of rocks.
I look over at Klynn. He has his hands pressed to the sides of his head, unable to move as five Bogarok advance on him. I can feel a buzzing in mine, but with a shake, the feeling leaves me, and I fire myself into the air, dealing with his assailants and dragging him away from where they are all pouring in.
“Klynn!” I shake him. He moans something about the pain.
He’s not usually bothered by injury, and despite being covered in Bogarok guts, he seems like he has no major damage. But even so, he’s limp against me, his wings drooping and his head bowed as if all the fight has gone out of him.
I back us to one of the many trap doors in the floor of the arena, stamping my feet until I hear it ring hollow. What the captain and the others don’t know is all of us, over the years, have developed exit strategies in case they tried to kill us more than usual. For me, it’s the use of the subterranean passages used to deliver the beasts to the dome.
Beasts I can handle.
I use the point of my sword to lever the trap open and shove Klynn inside. He slides in like a sack of meat.
I’m about to follow him in when I hear her voice. Cleo is calling my name and, while going underground would be the sensible option, I lose all sense.
No one touches my mate. Anyone who does will die.
With a beat, I’m in the air and flying for her. Because Cleo belongs to me, and I will not be stopped.