The Hunter on Arena (6 page)

“And what exactly is it that has happened?” Braldt asked, shoving the creature’s hand aside and sitting up despite the dizziness
that filled his head.

The furred being fixed Braldt with a calm eye. “The tone in your voice says that you believe me to be an enemy or to have
played some role in our present circumstance. I assure you that neither assumption is correct. I am as much an unwilling victim
as are you and your companion. I know little or nothing about this place and what has occurred. I
do
know that this is no longer the world that I have always known and that we have been taken as captives, although by whom
or what or for what purpose, I cannot say.

“Whatever I am, sir, it is not your enemy, and I can only assume that we are here by force to serve some other’s purpose.
If we are to survive, we must become friends and rely upon each other, for surely we are alone, and without help, other than
each other, and our own wits.”

Braldt studied the furred one who regarded him with a level gaze. There was no sign of duplicity or falsehood in the dark,
brown eyes. He sighed deeply and felt the anger ebb away.

“My apologies, Allo. I am taking my anger and frustration out on you. You speak the truth—none of us asked to be here and
it is those who brought us, the ones known as the Masters, who deserve our hatred.” He touched the silver disc and grimaced
as pain lanced through his head. “Do you know what these are and what purpose they serve?”

“There was another here before you,” Allo said. “It was a Galurian, a lizard-man from a portion of my
world that is nought but swamp and water. These Galurians are ignorant, wild beasts with a language unknowable by any save
their own kind. Yet this beast and I were able to speak—communicate so far as its limited thoughts were able to form—clearly
and easily in the same tongue. It was taken away soon after I wakened, but long enough for us to speak. I have been pondering
the meaning since its departure. Now, you arrive, the four of you, all quite dissimilar. It is plain that all of you have
been gathered from different places of origin, yet despite our different backgrounds, I suspect that we will be able to converse
with ease. I believe that these discs are translators of some sort, enabling us to speak to one another despite our various
points of origin.”

Braldt rubbed his forehead. Allo’s words made sense, but still there was a sense of rage, of violation, and he wondered if
he would ever get to face the unknown Masters who had so manipulated his world and his life.

The woman stirred and moaned. Allo turned toward her. There was the sound of violent retching, and at the far edge of the
room a man held his head and keened in wordless anguish. Braldt leaped to his feet and would have gone to the woman’s side,
but a voice rang out inside his head, causing him to pause.

“Welcome and congratulations, Marin of Un 7, Septua of Valhalla, Randi of Earth, Allo of 2x71, and Braldt of K7. By your cunning,
dexterity, and will to survive, you have passed the trials set before you. As a result you will be spared from slavery and
given the opportunity to earn glory.”

The man at the far edge of the room scrambled to
his feet and shouted, “Who are you and where are my companions?”

The voice replied smoothly. “You must earn that answer and any others that you might wish to know. From this day forward you
must cease to think of yourselves as individuals and forget your own petty dreams. You must become a team with but one brain
and thought—that of survival—or you will surely perish. Welcome to Arena, and now… let the games begin!”

As the ominous words concluded, the wall before them slid aside, drawing back smoothly and silently. Instantly, their eyes
were dazzled by the brilliant, scarlet light that filled this world’s atmosphere. Braldt shielded his eyes against the blood-red
glare and staggered forward. He felt a slender hand clutch his wrist and slipped his arm around the waist of the woman known
as Randi, oddly comforted by her presence. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the hideous light and he took several steps forward,
anxious, yet fearful of what he would find.

There was a harsh intake of breath and the woman uttered a cry of dismay. Braldt blinked and narrowed his eyes against the
bright light of the two suns now hanging at the edge of the horizon. Randi’s hand tightened on his wrist, her nails pressing
into his flesh, and he saw what had caused her such alarm. The parting of the doors had revealed an arena fashioned of red,
marbled stone, rising in tiers on all four sides and reaching high into the bloody sky. At the center, directly opposite them,
the stone on the first tier had been carved into graceful arches and pleasant pavilions which trailed gossamer cloth in pale,
pastel colors. Plump cushions could be
seen piled atop the hard, stone risers; clearly this was where the royalty would be seated.

The floor of the arena was composed of crushed, red stone and sand, the sand shifting perilously underfoot, offering little
purchase. Braldt scanned the arena as he and his companions slowly stepped onto the playing field. Circling the arena below
the first level of seats were a number of arched doorways, closed off and tightly barred with no hint of what might lie behind
them. As they made their way into the center of the arena, they heard a smooth rumble and the doors to the chamber where they
had wakened slid shut behind them, sealing them onto the playing field.

They turned to face one another for the first time, studying each other, taking each other’s measure, for if the anonymous
voice had spoken truly, their very lives would depend upon each other.

Randi stood at Braldt’s side, defiant and proud, and from what little he had seen of her, he knew that she was resourceful
and quick, a steady ally. The being named Allo stood to Randi’s left, taller than Braldt by at least two heads. He was broad
in the chest and shoulders and his long arms hung nearly to his knees, ending in two curved digits tipped with sickle-like
claws as long as the digits themselves and thicker than any claws Braldt had ever seen. They would be fearsome weapons. Allo’s
feet were similarly constructed with an additional spur rising off the heel.

The fourth member of their party was a manthing, the one called Marin who had challenged the voice, who was built like a boulder.
His skin was black as night and
rippled and shone as though it were polished rock or oiled metal; the muscles stood out in strange relief in unfamiliar patterns.
Although he had a man-like form, with the appropriate number of appendages, there was something about him that was not right.
His eyes were small and bright and burned with a dark rage. His head was smooth and devoid of hair and eyebrows which gave
him a cold, threatening look. The bright, silver disc, positioned directly between his eyes made him appear even less than
human. “What the fuck you lookin’ at?” snarled Marin, his mouth stretching into an unpleasant grimace revealing black, metallic
teeth serrated along the edges.

“Come, Marin, we are not the enemy,” Allo said gently. “We must take care not to set upon each other for surely our only chance
for survival lies with one another.”

Marin’s eyes seemed to glow for a moment, and then without even replying he swept his arm outward as though throwing a disc,
and slammed it into Allo’s unprotected abdomen before any of them realized what he was going to do. Allo crumpled with the
force of the blow and fell to the ground, groaning.

Braldt would have flung himself on Marin, but Randi placed herself before him and put both of her hands on his chest. “No,”
she said quietly, but with force. “There is no percentage in fighting among ourselves. It is what they would want. What chance
will we have if the two of you kill or disable each other? Think about it.”

The fifth and final member of their group, unnoticed until now, bustled forward, and Braldt saw with a shock that he was quite
small and possibly deformed, built like
a man but shortened and condensed, with all of his features squeezed into a fourth the space he should have taken. He was
smaller than a child of five summers, but squat and compact as though four others had been squeezed into the same amount of
space with him.

He bustled across the arena with an odd, jerky swagger as though his various limbs were not accustomed to working with one
another; he winked broadly at Randi and stroked her thigh as he passed. Taken aback by the unexpected gesture, uncertain whether
to take offense, Randi did no more than blink before the dwarf was past her and advancing on the gentle Allo.

“’ere, ’ere, Allo, lemme give you a hand up. I’m sure there weren’t no ’ard feelin’s intended. Just a misunderstandin’, like.
We all be friends ’ere, right?”

He addressed this statement to Marin, who stood poised, ready to strike again, even as he slid a small, muscular arm beneath
Allo and helped him to his feet. Surprisingly, Marin made no comment, but merely blinked and growled at the little man who
continued to chatter as he urged the stunned Allo to his feet.

Together—Randi and Braldt in the lead with Septua and Allo following close behind and Marin bringing up the rear—they circled
the arena, seeking out whatever they could learn about this new world where they were held captive.

Keri wakened.

She did not open her eyes, dreading what she would find, putting off until the last possible moment the deep, silent darkness
that she knew would be there. It had been like that since the moment Cam pulled the lever, the lever that would save Auslic’s
life and prevent the Masters from destroying their world. Pulling the lever was to have solved all their problems, according
to the priest who had sent them on their mission, but instead it had only made them worse. Cam had drawn the lever down, and
a spiraling band of light filled with bright, shimmering particles surrounded Braldt, whirling around him and enveloping him
from head to foot. When it faded, he was gone. The place where he had stood was empty; it was as though he had never existed.

She had screamed then and rushed toward the spot where he had stood. There was a slight tingling on her skin and the air seemed
thicker, almost viscous and hard to breathe, slowing her passage. But when she reached the lever, her senses confirmed what
her eyes had seen, Braldt was gone.

The lupebeast pup who had been Braldt’s constant companion growled and bared his teeth as he sniffed the
air, and Batta Flor, the Mandrelli who had led them to the chamber despite the dangers, gripped her arms and pulled her gently
to his furry chest, uttering soft, meaningless words of comfort.

In time her screams stopped and the tears slowed, and together they explored the ruined chamber for some clue, some explanation
of what had become of Braldt but they had found no answer. Keri had wanted to throw the lever, reversing Cam’s actions in
the hope that it would undo whatever he had done and return Braldt to them. But Batta Flor had pinned her wrists together
in one of his huge hands, restraining her gently but firmly.

“Think about what you are doing,” he said. “To do this will affect everyone on our world, undo what the three of us struggled
so hard to achieve. If the lever is reversed, the Masters will once more be able to come and go freely between their world
and ours. They will be free to destroy us as they had planned. The safety of our world depends upon keeping them at bay and
there is no assurance that Braldt will be returned to us if you reverse the process.”

She had looked into his eyes then and saw nothing but sorrow and compassion and knew that his grief was as real as her own.
Beast whined then and pawed at the lever, sliding his muzzle along its edge, perhaps scenting the human who had won his loyalty
and love. They moved to the pup’s side, their hands outstretched to comfort him and then it happened—the whirling, the bright
spiral of multicolored lights that fragmented their world and drew them down into nothingness.

Keri knew that she screamed, she could feel her
mouth open and close, but there was no sound. She saw Beast turning head over heels in the air before her, his body breaking
up in tiny dots, drifting away like amorphous threads of storm-torn clouds. She reached for him to draw him back, and to her
horror she saw her own hand and arm disintegrating as well. She turned toward Batta Flor and saw him being sucked down into
the rapidly swirling vortex. He grimaced. His lips moved but she heard no sound. The visual whirlwind bombarded her, beating
upon her skin, passing through her flesh with tiny spears of light, separating her from herself painlessly until she hung
suspended, an essence rather than a corporeal body of flesh and bone and blood and then she was caught up in the whirling
maelstrom and borne away, down, down, down into black nothingness, and she was no more.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to that same vision of darkness, a total absence of light. She had felt a moment of
utter terror as she relived the memory of her body separating and she wondered if she were dead. Her hands rose to her face
and she felt cheekbones and nose, mouth and chin positioned exactly where they were supposed to be. The rest of her seemed
to be intact as well. Then she was not dead, but where was she? She cried aloud, calling Batta Flor’s name and Beast’s as
well, but there was no reply, only a hollow echo that mocked her efforts. Then had come the long waiting, the fears, and finally,
the anger which had sustained her.