Bladeborn Read online

  “Get down!” Angres said.

  Managing to duck at the last instant as the spiked ball whooshed by, a terrified Kandar nearly fled to the far side of the stadium. But quick-thinking Angres kicked a shield dropped by a man wounded earlier and it flew up into the Mangler’s stomach.

  “Uhn!” the Mangler huffed. The shield hadn’t hit hard, but it threw the swinging motion of the ball and chain off just enough. Concentration broken, the Mangler’s cumbersome weapon wrapped around his body, and the tall gladiator had to struggle to avoid getting bloodied by it. In that moment, Angres dashed over to the Mangler, jabbing in with his two short swords, causing crippling injuries.

  The Mangler fell over and he was done as well. Exhilarated by the ingenious way Angres had dealt with the Mangler, Kandar scrambled to keep up with Angres, trying to get back by his side, “I thought he had us! The Mangler has been number one this season!”

  Angres was sweating and breathing heavily by this time, but he quipped, “Mangler thought such a weapon would work here, but he never had real control of it. He made a bad choice.”

  Glancing around, Kandar saw the field was down to six men, “Angres…look!”

  Durban Three-Tines and Barnabak the Axe-man were just finishing off two of the last contenders. Now, the intense struggle had claimed all but four. Kandar and Angres had come through nearly unscathed—and the same went for Durban and Barnabak.

  Moving guardedly, Kandar stayed behind Angres, watching as Barnabak and Durban worked their way around the Arena, slaughtering each helpless man they came across.

  Angres called to them, “That ain’t right! Those men are no threat to you!”

  “I swear by my axe, Angres! You will die by my hand… Right after this one!” Barnabak said, crouching over a wounded combatant. In one hand, he gripped the hair of the injured gladiator. Shaking the helpless man like he was a toy, Barnabak used the edge of his axe to finish him. “We’re here to give the people a show, Angres! Like Merkee said, this will be your last contest, and I shall see to it!”

  From the stands, Kandar had seen combatants exchange curses and challenges. He never realized that such conversations, inaudible to all but those in the Arena, were so direct and personal.

  Durban coiled his off-hand weapon—the large net—and hovered his trident over another injured man, who begged to be spared.

  Angres began to move to stop him, and said, “Durban! Don’t…” but Durban drove the trident through the injured man’s chest, killing him.

  The brutality exhibited by the two arena veterans was shocking, even for much of the stadium’s audience, who had paid to see men die that day. The crowd hissed at the shameful display and threw rotten vegetables at the four gladiators still standing.

  Kandar could tell that Barnabak the Axe-man was clueless about why the crowd turned on them, standing there with stupid look on his face.

  Durban Three-Tines dodged a head of rotten greens hurled at him by an onlooker in the second row. Durban shook his trident in anger, saying, “What? WHAT?”

  “You venomous toads!” Angres said to them. “You’ve made the grandstands go against us! They want something to cheer about, and murder of the helpless ain’t it!”

  Barnabak turned angrily, and said, “I’ll show you murder!”

  Barnabak and Durbin focused their attention fully on Angres, closing in from the same side. They approached slowly, ignoring Kandar, and Angres took a defensive posture, holding his two swords in a ready position, preparing for the coming assault.

  With rehearsed speed, Durban threw an end of his net to Barnabak, and the two of them charged at Angres to catch and entangle him. Their stratagem worked. As Kandar dodged back, Angres got tied up in Durbin’s net and dragged from his feet.

  Barnabak quickly spun about to chop downward with his axe, but Angres rolled a hairs-breadth to the left. Sparks flew, but Axe-man only hit the stone floor of the arena. With the same calculated speed, Angres rolled the other way to avoid being skewered by Durban’ trident. Even big as he was, Angres could move with astounding swiftness.

  Kandar didn’t know what to do. Durban and Barnabak were gladiators, and Kandar couldn’t hope to compete with them. Even if he could get in close to slash or stab at Barnabak, the well-trained warrior would likely dodge. Yet, Kandar would have to find the courage to try, or all would be lost.

  To save Angres and win the day, Kandar tried flanking Barnabak, jabbing at his kidney. But with a stunning backhanded movement, the seasoned killer slashed Kandar precisely across the eyes with the edge of his axe.

  Everyone in the stadium assumed the exacting strike had blinded Kandar. However, Kandar was only staggered, uninjured.

  Already returning attention to Angres, Barnabak moved in for the kill. The accountant pulled back his weapon to retaliate with all his strength, lunging and stabbing Barnabak. The sword tip went right through The Axe-man’s armor, into his spine, disabling him. Kandar’s sword ripped from his grasp as Barnabak toppled.

  Shocked by sudden the loss of his ally, Durban momentarily took his eyes off Angres.

  “You’ll die for that, little man!” Durban said.

  But Angres had gotten a sword-arm free of the net. Sweeping outward, he connected with the heels of Durban, who was instantly hamstrung. Crying out in pain, Durban fell and continued to wail.

  Durban had been laughing earlier, but now he was finished. Standing up, Angres fully untangled himself from the net and threw it at Durban’ bloody feet.

  “You deserved worse than that, Durban!” Angres shouted.

  Durban and Barnabak had been crippled within seconds of each other. The people were shocked by the changing tide of the fight, and every one of them got to their feet, ecstatically cheering.

  Now, Angres faced Kandar. They were the last men left standing.

  Over the noise of the roaring crowd, Kandar called to Angres, “Must we fight, now?”

  “No,” Angres said, dropping his swords. “You are the braver man. You came in here—no training, nothing… Facing men like Durban and Barnabak. Maybe I am due for a fall. I would be honored to be beaten by you.”

  “So, what happens now?” Kandar said. “I won’t harm you.”

  “Then, HE decides,” Angres said, nodding up into the stands.

  Kandar turned around and saw King Koss in his seat. The King had apparently been only mildly interested, yet it appeared he was going to deliver an opinion. King Koss didn’t even bother to get out of his chair. But he extended his hand dramatically…and gave the “thumbs up” so both men could survive.

  The victory gong sounded as Kandar looked to Angres with a supreme sense of comradery. The distance between city hero and nobody shrank down to nothing for the moment, as both men basked in the glory their achievement. Kandar had saved Angres’ life, in the end winning the fight for them; there could be no doubt. Kandar felt vindicated for his earlier cowardice and ineptitude.

  Angres told Kandar “Quick, my friend, pick a blade up and salute the King with me!”

  Kandar did so, raising the weapon high over his head in deference to Koss. Koss sniffed, as though perhaps acknowledging their fealty, then got up and disappeared from the judge’s dais. Watching Angres closely, Kandar knew to take a few more moments to bask in the waves of cheers.

  Kandar couldn’t believe he had done it. The world was almost spinning now, and the sense of relief he felt nearly overwhelmed him. The cheering didn’t die down until long after Kandar and Angres had gone back into the gladiator ready room. There, many people congratulated them on their stunning victory. No one had foreseen that Kandar would live through the day. Angres, as always, had been an odds-makers favorite, but those who bet that Kandar would survive, at thirty-five to one, saw their fortunes made.

  Angres walked right up to Merkee and shouted, “MY days in the arena are far from over, wart-dog! I’ll be back, whether you like it or not! The people will demand it!”

  “We shall see!” Merkee declared. “There
was something wrong with today’s fight. It looked to me like your ‘partner’ should have been dead at least twice. But what’s done is done. I can’t roll back time. You and the weakling split the prize money—and go!”

  Merkee disappeared into his office and shut the door.

  “Maybe he bet on Barnabak and Durban…” Angres quipped to Kandar, amid the jostling of well-wishers.

  Not long afterward, Kandar and Angres were taken before the Battlemaster and the Armsman, the two noblemen in charge of the Arena. Bowing deeply, the two victors were the last gladiators of the day to collect a prize of coin. The grand prize money was split right down the middle, half going to Angres and half to Kandar, yet still a giant sum for each.

  Kandar looked about as it was being counted, noting that many gladiators watched with envious eyes as the counting took place. He planned to take the coin home and hide it well, and then visit those he owed the next day. To do anything else would be an invitation for disaster.

  Everything was changed now. People would certainly recognize him on the street and at work, and he worried that would be a target for thieves. He knew of a broker on the mid-levels of the city who operated what was called a bank. He wasn’t sure how safe it was, since no one he had ever met had enough money to warrant a visit to a bank. But he knew that to plan for little Bladeborn’s future, he would have to rethink his life.

  Right after the money had been counted, Angres said to Kandar, “Now, you’ve got to come on over to the Enclave and meet my associates and friends! I have a whole crew there, and since we are champions, wealthy patrons from every floor of the City will buy us drinks and shower us with attention! Women and music, dancing, all free to us! For tonight, we are the lords of the undercity!”

  “I can’t go, Angres.”

  “What?” Angres said, shocked. “You’ve got to come! Such hospitality don’t come ‘round often! Have fun—while it lasts!”

  Kandar replied, “You are used to that lifestyle, Angres. But I do not belong by your side. My place is with my wife and child, and I must go back to them.”

  “OW! That’s a shame!” Angres declared. Angres looked a while at Kandar and could see the seriousness in his eyes. What Kandar told him sunk in. “So, you’re a family man! If that’s your choice, I wish you well!”

  “I lead a simple life. To be honest, my debts piled up and the winnings are going to solve it. That’s the only reason I fought. I know you made me a winner, Angres, but I hope you can understand… My family and job has always been good enough… Just very low pay.”

  “That’s right…You were an accountant,” Angres said, almost laughing. “Well, now you are a gladiator! With the amount of coin you have won, you could take some time off—or perhaps, buy the office you work for!”

  Kandar responded. “The prize money will help, but even so, I will still need a regular job.”

  “You know what?” Angres declared. “I have a better idea… Or at least, a ‘different’ one… Why don’t you come work with me? My boss, Agatha, is leader of the Enclave. I am close to her and we need an honest man with a head for numbers.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Kandar said, smiling thoughtfully.

  “Ach!” Angres swore extending his calloused hand in friendship. “Kandar, you are true to the last! Friends for life!”

  “Friends for life!” Kandar declared, shaking Angres hand. He was still amazed that he had won.

  Yet Kandar knew he hadn’t done it alone. Meeting Angres was fate, but in the end, the cult Priest’s magic had saved him, which meant he wasn’t as honest as everyone thought.

  Later, Kandar walked home from the Arena of Blood, trying to conceal the heavy sack of coin beneath his shirt. Every pair of eyes on him worried him… Did they belong to thugs who would steal his treasure?

  Kandar gave more thought to what the dark High Priest would demand. What if he wanted to take the prize money as a temple contribution. What would Kandar have gained? What had the priest meant when he called Kandar “The vessel of revelation? What was the meaning of his interest in Bladeborn? What if the priest made some other, more obscure demand, like another convoluted ritual? Kandar was brave, and he felt he could face it. He braved the Arena—and won top honors. He had the money, and he prayed to Saint Morth of the Heavens that he would get it to his creditors before something awful happened.

  Chapter 2: Elissa

  Despite the dark of the early morning and the bleak conditions of her part of Fortress City, Elissa almost danced through the trash-filled streets on her way home from market. Her basket was laden with fresh food from the only grocer stall open on the day after Year’s End. She was going to make a feast for her family that morning, one like they had never eaten.

  The night before, Kandar had revealed that he had risked his life for their family, and by sheer luck, he had come back unharmed. She was overjoyed with her husband’s miraculous victory in the arena and brimming over with happiness because the victory prize would change their lives. Celebrating Year’s End last night while their three-year-old son was sleeping, they had stayed up, excitedly discussing their futures.

  Hearing so much coin jingling in her pocket, she gleefully rounded the corner into the dingy back alleyway where their apartment was.

  Elissa suddenly stopped and gasped. The door to her home had been smashed inward. She was certain they had been robbed. She dropped the basket and dashed into the apartment, where their few pieces of furniture were destroyed. A dead stranger in a dark robe lay on the floor in the main room. In the other room, she found Kandar covered in blood.

  “NO!” Elissa cried out, falling to his side. “Kandar! What happened?”

  “Elissa…” Kandar whispered through the pain of his many wounds, “They took him...!”

  To her horror, Elissa saw that little Bladeborn was gone!

  “Who took him?” Elissa cried out. “Kandar, where is our son? Where is Bladeborn?”

  Kandar’s voice shook, “These men… They are EVIL. I’m afraid they will…kill him!”

  Elissa tried to swallow her despair, tears pouring down her face. Despite his injuries, Kandar had taken ahold of Elissa’s arm tightly. “Listen! There’s still time…to save him. But I can’t—not like this...”

  Elissa sobbed, looking at Kandar, a rivulet of blood running down the side of his mouth.

  The light in Kandar’s eyes was fading. Elissa, sobbing over him, could see he would not survive his wounds.

  Kandar coughed and said, “Elissa, mark my words, carefully.”

  She listened to Kandar’s whispered instructions, “Go to the gambling hall called the Enclave in the southwest corner of level fifteen. Across from it is a red-curtained entryway right behind a large trash pile. Enter and go all the way to the back, then past the old infirmary. It is a place of bones… You will know it by that. You MUST wear the dead man’s robes!”

  Then, Kandar’s grip on Elissa’s arm went slack.

  “Kandar…” Elissa cried. She hovered over him, tears flowing.

  She cried for herself, her son, and her beloved husband. Why fate had chosen this unfair path for them she could only guess. To be in the heights of joy, only to lose it all…it was almost more than she could stand.

  Yet all was NOT lost. She resolved to save their son. Elissa stood and then took the robe off the tattooed body of the dead man. Putting it on, she left the apartment that had been their home for the last three years. She was going to get Bladeborn back…

  A half hour later, she found it: across from the Gambling hall on level fifteen, behind a dusty red tapestry, a passageway in a less-used space. She slipped inside and through.

  It led to a poorly-lit, ghastly chamber where bleach-white human remains were stacked high against the walls. A single oil-lamp hung from the ceiling, its flickering light illuminating the large expanse, creating stark patterns of bone and shadow. Desiccated corpses lay on the rows of low beds in the back of the place. It was an old morgue. No wonder so few people
came there… The bones were made by those who died in the last plague to ravage the lower floors.

  Elissa shuddered to think of her young son near so much death. “I must find my boy,” she thought, and she plunged forward into the forlorn place.

  As the passageway narrowed, a rhythmic chanting grew louder. Just down a corridor of stacked bones, she approached a man under a red lamp wearing a robe like the one she wore. He stood by another door, and the chanting seemed to be coming from the room behind it. His left hand rested on a jeweled dagger at his belt, and from his mouth dangled a long pipe.

  How she would get past him she did not know—at first. She reached down and fished a stray thighbone from the cobwebs near corridor’s floor, then tucked it into the long sleeve of her robe.

  Slowly, she approached the unsuspecting robed man. Elissa was going to have to use all her strength to knock him down. Although she wasn’t normally brave or strong, she knew she would do it.

  “You’re late. What’s the password?” demanded the smoker.

  Elissa swung the thigh-bone with all her might at the smoker’s head. She hit him square in the temple and he spun around, cold-cocked. Tears of rage streaming down her face, she fell upon the prone man and hit him again and again. She left him there, maybe dead, taking a set of keys and leaving the dagger behind.

  She slipped a key in the lock, and it turned. Opening the door, she beheld a large, dim chamber with crimson, flickering oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. Chanting, robed figures crowded around a large pit at the room’s center, gesturing wildly with their arms. Elissa realized she had stumbled into the middle of some unholy ceremony.

  The cult members stood on the lip of the rectangular pit, and their guttural voices rose and fell with their mad motions, reciting well-practiced words. She saw two of these cultists at one end of the long rectangle, making ready with cages, cautiously prodding the caged things inside with sticks. Unnoticed, Elissa drew nearer to the room’s center.