Chapter Fifteen
With the rush of the wind drowning out our voices, I switch to telepathy.
Tell me, wizard. How is it your Dark One lives beneath the arena? Is it some form of hell? And what about this rumor that the arena is actually an extension of his body?
It’s no rumor, Azul replies. The Dark One and his demons built the arena ages ago. They also carved the vast dungeons beneath it.
He lives in the dungeons?
Not merely dungeons. There is a dark palace beneath the arena, too, where he holds court and rules over his demons and prisoners. That is where he resides.
And the arena is a part of him?
Yes. Or perhaps he is part of it. No one alive knows which came first. We only know they cannot truly be separated.
Why would he allow the Devil Killer sword to be so close at hand?
It is likely he doesn’t know what the sword is. Perhaps it wasn’t fully utilized during the Games. Perhaps its owner fell quickly, and the sword was preserved as a prize only. From what I gather, it’s just another sword until it’s wielded against demon or devil.
Truth is, I have never used the sword against anything other than demons and the devil himself. I am not sure how it would fare against others, though I suspect it could probably kill vampires and werewolves just as readily.
Sam, if there was no obvious reaction to the sword, it might have been erroneously stored with the others, dangerously close to the intended target.
And the Dark One was none the wiser.
Possibly.
That gets me thinking through a potential scenario.
Perhaps an angel had arrived here with no intention to fight in the Games; rather, it was here to defeat the Dark One himself.
Perhaps even under the disguise of a fighter.
But had gotten himself or herself killed in the process.
That seems likely, but how does one kill an angel?
Maybe they aren’t as hearty here as they are in my universe.
This Dark One, do people actually see him? Like, does he make appearances? Make himself known?
Rarely. He influences from the shadows.
Is it generally known that he lives under the arena?
Yes and no. Many know, many have heard this, yet do not believe.
Is he feared? Is he generally known as the enemy?
Oh, yes. There are whole religions who paint him as the enemy to be feared.
Do you fear him?
My magic comes from him. In fact, all magic comes from him. He is, in effect, the source of magic.
So if he’s destroyed...
My magic will fail, as will everyone’s, including Baltazar’s.
So, by asking you to help me destroy the very thing that gives you and others like you a livelihood, I am asking you to help destroy your livelihood.
More. The very essence of who I am. Remember, I use magic for good. I use it to save lives, mend bones, heal wounds, and cure diseases. Do you plan on killing him, Samantha?
It’s on the table. We’ll have to see.
Now is an ideal time to slip between their defenses, as they are between guards. And Baltazar himself is likely refueling.
You mean eating?
Close enough. A wizard such as him often has to plug into the source of magic, especially considering how much he uses to oversee the Games.
Plug into?
Yes.
So, he’s connecting into the Dark One now.
Very likely.
How omniscient is this Dark One? Can he see us now?
No, not here. But he will be very aware of us once we step into the Arena, itself being an extension of him.
So, he is the arena?
A strange concept, I know, but yes.
So the very thing that could kill him is actually stored inside him.
An irony that, to this point, has been overlooked.
He can’t feel it, sense it?
Perhaps it needs to be activated. Perhaps it’s lying in wait, dormant, just another prized weapon. Which suggests...
How do I awaken it?
Exactly.
In my world, I was also classified as a dark angel. Thus, my black wings.
What are you getting at?
Perhaps it takes an angel to awaken it.
Interesting. Then again, this might be a fool’s quest, Samantha Moon of Earth.
Except, it might be the only way for me to return home, and to stop the Games. Of course, I could always win the games, since I was told only the winner is granted a return trip home.
A lie, Samantha Moon.
Wait, what?
The Dark One drinks deeply from the winner, drinks everything. Nothing is left. The Dark One prizes the blood of a true champion. There is no returning home, Sam. Ever. The teleporting spell hangs over the entire world, held in place by the Dark One. He is the anchor, yes.
So, then, I must return to the arena, find the sword, and destroy him.
Again, surely a fool’s errand, but I suppose that might work.
Why do you only suppose?
There is no guarantee that when the Dark One perishes, that is, if he can even perish, that the spell that keeps you here would be lifted.
I see his point and have to acknowledge it. The spell might survive he who cast it, into perpetuity. There is a very real chance I could be trapped on this planet forever.
Well, there is only one way to find out.
Fair warning, Samantha.
Yes?
Baltazar himself controls much of the magic that happens within the arena, including the executions.
The fighters who don’t fight, it is Baltazar who strikes them down.
And it is Baltazar’s magic who keeps the fighters imprisoned within its walls.
It is he who shrinks the arena to force reluctant warriors to engage in combat.
You will likely have to deal with him, too.
Which is why I have you around.
He is a far greater wizard, Sam.
So who’s really in control?
It is an unholy bloody trinity. The Dark One requires blood sacrifices for reasons only it understands.
Perhaps it is a vampire in its own right.
Yes, perhaps. Or it enjoys the taste.
I shrug at that. Back when I was a blood vampire, I most certainly did not enjoy the taste. I saw the benefits of it, yes, but not the taste.
Then there is the king’s bloodline, cursed with an insatiable need to witness violence.
The king himself does not consume blood, but he must see it spilled.
He craves bloodshed above all else. And finally, there is Baltazar, the greatest wizard in all the land.
It is his duty to stage the Games each season, to seek out worthy warriors from distant worlds, and to see the contests through to their bitter end, ensuring that every combatant fights to the death.
Only for the winner to eventually be killed, too.
Yes, I’m afraid it is so.
Why does Baltazar help the king?
His family has always helped the royals. He is just the latest in a long line.
But why do they help them?
The power offered is hard to resist.
Is he being extorted?
This I do not know. If so, I am unaware. I only trained there briefly in my early studies, as do all wizards of my class.
It makes a certain kind of sense. Assuming, of course, J.R.
Rain is somehow keeping track of all this.
You’re really making this one up as you go along, aren’t you?
Well, whatever. Just help me get home...
and while you’re at it, help me put an end to these Games.
I can’t bear the thought of someone as tiny and fierce as Salt Creek being thrown back into that arena of blood.
Why wouldn’t the Dark One oversee the games? Cut out the middle man?
Why, if he doesn’t have to? In the right hands, delegation is a beautiful thing.
Okay, I see the shimmery magic surrounding the arena.
I see no such magic.
But you are a wizard.
But I was never a fighter in the games. The binding spell has been placed on you and all who are fighting in this season’s Games.
Okay, I see that it extends out over the outer walls of the arena. We are about to enter through it.
I adjust my grip on the prince as another thought occurs to me. Is there an empty room where I can stash Prince Pickles to keep him safe?
Yes, of course. I have a fairly intimate knowledge of the structure. Do you see that open door on the second floor?
I see a lot of open doors...
Look for the one with the massive orange arch over it. It is the true open door. The others are an illusion.
Why an illusion?
To confuse invaders.
There are invaders?
Not all are in love with our King.
I see. And what if I should fly through the wrong open door?
Instant vaporization.
As I aim for the orange arch, I once again plunge through the magic dome with a pop.
It sends a shudder through me. The sensation on this side of the barrier is heavy, soupy even.
My wings don’t want to work at first, and so I alight on a causeway, which runs in both directions around the arena on this second floor.
Tons of open doors invite the unwary attacker. Azul directs me to the right.
We are looking for a heavy wooden door.
Got it. I’m looking. Okay, I see something farther ahead.
Watch out for the guards on your left, Samantha. If they see you, they will sound the alarm, though they will not risk an attack because you hold the prince.