Chapter Sixteen
Welp, that settles it.
I consider dropping the prince somewhere safe, but no more. He is a bit too handy to have around. Looks like the kid is going to have to rough it with me. I’ll do my best to make sure he doesn’t get his head blasted off or impaled by an arrow. I’m nice like that.
Is there a path to the armory that would avoid any guards? I ask Azul.
Doubtful, but we can lessen our presence. Let’s try this: do you see a flight of stairs coming up?
I do, yes.
Is there enough room inside for you to fly?
If not I can run.
What about us?
You guys can run up the stairs behind me.
Fair enough.
Okay, here goes... yes, there’s enough room to fly.
Oh, thank goodness. I’m not much of a runner. Wizards are notoriously nonathletic.
Guess nerds are universal. Where to now?
Keep going up.
As I fly up, I pass door after door onto what I assume are different floors or levels. Yes, this is a big arena. So far, we haven’t passed anyone using the stairs.
You might want to soon start slowing down, Samantha. The stairs will culminate at another set of wooden doors.
I soon alight on a platform before the double doors. My inner alarm, thus far, remains silent. So far, so good.
I crack open the door and peek out. There is a short hallway beyond.
At the end of the hallway is an anti-gravitational pit that only the royals use.
Say again?
An anti-gravitational pit. It allows them to descend to the lower levels smoothly and quickly without falling.
Weird, but okay.
The royals, in case you didn’t know, live here on the seventh floor.
The Arena is also their palace?
And their library and dungeon and Great Hall and ballroom.
All the better for the Dark One to keep its eye on them?
I believe so.
Is this thing aware of us now?
Surely.
What’s it going to do about it?
So far, nothing.
I noticed.
Will probably rouse Baltazar from sleep or send a horde of demons after us.
Then let’s hurry and find this Devil Killer.
I agree.
So, there’s no hiding from the Dark One?
Not within the arena or palace.
We will be going into the pit?
Yes.
Is this a trap?
Never! You have my allegiance.
But you have the Dark One’s magic.
I believe your mind control trumps it.
Very well. Where do we go after we drop into the pit?
All the way down to the bottom. There will be a door there. The door to the armory is next to it.
Would it have been easier to avoid this step altogether?
Yes, but there are more guards on the ground floor during the Games.
You’d think the royal residence would have more.
Yes and no. Outside the actual residence, very much so. But alas, this is the only way to the pit.
Which takes us down near the armory.
Exactly.
There is definitely a different vibe up here. Less Colosseum and more palace-like. I hear running footsteps coming from the right; luckily, Azul points to the left. I dash off running, then leap up onto my wings, still hauling the prince and the wizard along with me.
I fly low and fast through the palace corridor, my dark wings beating softly above and behind me, my boots never quite touching the polished floor, while the booted toes of my captives just barely skim the polished tiles.
The place looks as though Julius Caesar himself might stroll around the corner at any moment, complete with open-toed sandals and ready to utter, “Et tu Dark One?”
Massive columns line both sides of the hallway, each seemingly carved from a single block of white stone veined with shimmering threads of blue that pulse faintly beneath the surface, as if the rock itself possesses a heartbeat.
Maybe it does. The Dark One’s heartbeat.
So weird. Then again, I doubt devils from any universe have heartbeats.
Anyway.
Marble statues stand in alcoves between the columns, though these are decidedly not Roman. Some depict winged creatures with four arms and elongated heads. Others show warriors in armor holding weapons that resemble spears fashioned from crystals.
The ceiling arches forty feet overhead, painted with scenes of stars, planets, and unfamiliar constellations (not that I am any expert).
Tiny lights embedded within the ceiling’s artwork twinkle softly, giving the impression that an actual night sky hovers overhead.
Pretty cool. Occasionally, one of the stars drifts slowly across the ceiling before fading from sight. An actual shooting star.
Okay, that is seriously cool.
Then again, I have always been easily impressed.
Huge metal receptacles or drums burn at regular intervals, though their flames glow silver instead of red or orange and give off no heat.
Strange flowering living vines wrap themselves around the columns, their blossoms opening and closing as I pass, apparently responding to movement (certainly not body heat).
One bloom emits a pleasant chime as I languidly fly by.
Great. The Dark One’s Ring Doorbell.
Detailed tapestries hang from the walls between marble reliefs.
The tapestries and reliefs depict scenes from undoubtedly ancient gladiatorial contests.
I slow long enough to study one. It shows a giant reptilian beast battling what appears to be an armored angel beneath the watchful gaze of a crowned figure seated upon an enormous throne.
Likely depicting the king’s papa, grandpapa, or great grandpapa.
And there next to him is a wizard that looks exactly like Baltazar.
Hmm, have angels visited this world before?
On, say, a mission to kill the Dark One but failed?
Well, from what I understand, someone brought their version of the Devil Killer here.
I study the shape of the weapon. Yeah, it kinda looks like my own version: heavy, wide, long.
Unfortunately, the marble infuses everything in white, but it could have easily been black.
I suspect angels in all universes make similar weapons, perhaps all based on a similar template. I honestly don’t know.
At the far end of the corridor stands a pair of bronze doors easily thirty feet high. Their surfaces are etched with thousands of tiny figures engaged in battle. Demons. Dragons. Winged warriors. Strange horned, ogre-like creatures.
The history of an entire civilization seems engraved here.
Had all these warriors been kidnapped and eventually killed?
All to satiate the thirst of the Dark One?
And for the sadistic pleasure of their rulers?
I think so, yeah. Sure, the warriors could have been brutal, heartless killers in their own worlds, but certainly not all of them had been.
The ability to fight does not equate to psychopathy.
I have to look no further than myself, or so I hope.
Yes, I kill in battle, but I do not kill for fun.
I genuinely see myself as a good person.
I do not deserve the fate that likely awaits me here.
I have no misguided notion that I am the greatest warrior in the universe.
With teleportation removed and armed only with the ice sword and a few fireballs, surely one of these winged, horned creatures in this bronze relief would have eventually killed me in a hand-to-hand battle.
How many other innocent warriors had been kidnapped and killed for their pleasure?
Anyway, that is neither here nor there. I have already decided to shut down the Games, one way or another. I don’t need more fuel. Hell, I am already fired up.
Be wary, Samantha Warrior. There is a hallway that runs before the double doors. The king’s chambers are to the right and will have many guards. With luck they will be exhausted, and we will remain unseen, though the Dark One is surely watching our every move.
Where’s this pit?
Directly before us, through those doors. There will be a room with a hole in the ground. There will also be more guards in there. You will not need your wings; we can all drop safely down.
Fine by me.
I aim for the doors and throw a shoulder into them.
They burst open with a bang, and we are in.