It Rained Red Upon the Arena (12 page)

Golden winced in pain as he desperately tried to hold his bow in place and aim it at Nick. He shot another arrow at Nick. It was a lousy shot, the arrow landing two feet behind Nick, who continued to limp towards Golden.

Nick finally reached his opponent, and Golden dropped his bow in favor of his sword held with his right hand. The two began to swing their swords. Golden was the first to attack, and Nick defended himself well. As Golden’s sword moved in one direction, Nick reciprocated with a block.

As Nick blocked Golden’s fifth attack, Nick swiftly slid his sword and made a gash through the left side of Golden’s stomach.

An angered Golden jumped to Nick’s right side and kicked him in the leg where the arrow had pierced him. As Nick screamed and his leg gave out for a moment Golden’s sword sliced through Nick’s back. He screamed in pain and fell to the floor on his face. He dropped his sword as he fell to the sandy floor.

His nightmare came true: death upon the sands. Nick turned around and lay on his back as Golden looked down at him.

Golden raised his sword above his head to deliver the final deadly blow. Instinctively, Nick raised up his hands, his crippled shoulder barely able to manage. Nick screamed as the blade began to dive.

He felt something in that moment; Nick felt hot. His eyes were closed and as he opened them he saw his opponent’s face burned and clothing on fire.

Nick was startled and confused. As Golden fell to the ground in a fiery death, Nick looked around to see who had come to his aid. No one was there. Then Nick noticed that the crowd was silent. They did not cheer, but rather they stood still.

Nick lay on the sandy floor with his heart racing, short of breath, next to his pool of blood. Soon a couple Refect stood over him and grabbed Nick by the arms and legs. They carried Nick off the arena floor.

As Nick was being carried away, the crowd began to chant, “Bezat! Bezat! Bezat!” Over and over the crowd chanted and cheered as Nick looked up into the sky. His eyes closed as he lost consciousness.

Chapter Nine

Nick was carried through the iron gates that lead back to the elevator. His eyes opened and the amount of pain Nick was in kept his mind away from the events that had just transpired. He winced in pain and let out a few short grunts as the Refect bounced him around. Every step they took Nick could feel pulsing in each one of his wounds. It was nonstop.

Once down the elevator the Refect took Nick through some unfamiliar doors. He ended up in a white room illuminated with numerous torches perched upon the walls. Nick was put on a bed and strapped down. He began to get nervous and thought to himself,
no one ever told me what happens when you get injured in the arena.

A few moments passed and a female Reza came into the room. She was not a Refect; she was dressed in a gown and had rubber gloves on her hands.

She looked down at Nick and said, “I’m the doctor. I’m going to remove your arrows, cleanse, and close your wounds.”

Nick said nothing in response. The doctor had help from two other Reza who were instructed to get the medical gear necessary to perform the task. The doctor began by snipping off the back ends of the two arrows.

“It’s a good thing you did not try to pull these out on your own. I’ve seen it done too many times,” said the doctor. “The larger ends on either side of the arrow always end up damaging the internal wound much more. I’m glad to see someone has common sense.”

She then pulled the arrow that was located in his left shoulder through. Nick let out a shriek of pain. She walked over to Nick’s leg and he embraced for the coming pain. Both of the arrows were out, and she began cleaning them.

The doctor soon noticed that the wound on his back was much deeper than she had been told.

“Get me that beze powder right now, Jeck!” she said to the tall male Reza. The doctor put her hands in the powder and began to murmur some words. She placed her powdered hands upon Nick’s back wound and continued to speak words. She was using magic to heal Nick. He had never seen it done before; he had only heard of it.

In a few moments Nick began to feel numb and sleepy. His eyes closed shut. He heard the clinging of metal utensils, and then he drifted off to sleep.

***

Nick awoke to the sight of a blurry ceiling. His eyes were getting accustomed to the room after his slumber. The medicine given to him had sent him into some sort of deep sleep, for which Nick had no idea for how long.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Nick heard the voice and quickly looked down to see the blurry outline of a tall, obese Reza. As his eyes finally adjusted, he could see the man before him. Skin blue and wrinkly, he was old and out of shape. He had glasses on for his vision and a clean shaved face. The man had white hair parted to the side. He was dressed in fine clothing; grey and white suit that met its end at the floor. Nick knew this man was wealthy, but he had never seen him before in his life.

“Would you happen to know who I am Nick?”

Nick opened his mouth. It was dry, and he had a hard time finding his words.

“No, no, I don’t,” said Nick.

The man smiled and walked closer to Nick. Nick then tried to prop himself up to see the man eye to eye, but he soon felt an overwhelming pain coming from various parts of his body. He winced in pain, but did not let out a shriek. He put his arms back down to his side and laid his body back on the bed.

“Easy there, Nick, you have quite a few wounds that will keep you posted at this bed for a few more days. You just woke up after a large dose of beze powder. Try not to move around.” He paused to pat Nick’s shoulder then continued. “Let me formally introduce myself. My name is George Belan and I am the game commissioner here at the beautiful Vincot Arena. That basically means I manage the sales, the gambling, the entertainment, the food, the wine, and, well, you know…basically this whole arena is mine. I manage the fighters when I need to. I own everything here. As of the very second you were sentenced here, I owned you. You may not have known it but now you do.” George let out a great laugh and had to catch his breath. “Nick, you are going to make me a whole lot of money. I mean you...you are something. All of Vincot is already talking about you. I mean, I wouldn’t doubt the fact that the king himself hasn’t already sent a raven inquiring about you. Nick, oh, sweet Nick, you have become the greatest asset to my business, so let’s talk business.”

Nick lay there with a face of uncertainty. “Sir, I have no idea what you are talking about. I fought in the arena and now I lie here. How exactly am I so important to your business?”

George let out another great laugh. It echoed in the room and pierced Nick’s ears. “Nick, you are a Paplon, or so you thought. See, you killed Golden in the arena, I witnessed it myself. But you killed him with fire coming from your hands, Nick. You are not a Paplon. You are a Hetha.”

Nick was stunned. His eyes had been closed as Golden died before him. Nick tried to wrap his mind of the possibility that he was indeed a Hetha. It seemed unfathomable to him.

Nick learned as all in Hentrio learn, that the Hetha were an extinct race. The Hetha have both the DNA of a Reza, and the DNA of a Paplon. They have the strength and fighting capabilities of a Paplon with the magical abilities of a Reza. The race had become extinct centuries ago by the unjust King Tidan. He declared war against every man, woman, and child of the Hetha race and he won. The Hetha did not have the man power to fight the king’s army. They were a much smaller race compared to the Reza and Paplon, and they were outnumbered one hundred to one. They all perished in the genocide of its people. King Tidan was jealous and fearful of the power the Hetha had and found the means to destroy them all.

Nick sat there in silence, deep in thought. The tale of the Hetha was fresh on his mind,
They all died centuries ago. They all died.

“So fire came from my hands and that is how I defeated Golden?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I had not seen it with my own eyes, Nick,” replied George. “I know it must be a lot to take in at the moment, but it’s true. You are a Hetha. Once thought extinct and now here you are in the flesh…miraculous!”

“I still don’t understand. I have lived my whole life without knowing I could conjure magic. How did I not stumble upon it as a child? Surely I would have accidentally conjured fire or ice from my hands.”

George pondered for a few moments before he could respond.

“Well, Nick I would assume that what you experienced out there was the first time in your life you felt as if you were going to die. Literally die by the flash of a blade. From that incident your instincts took over. Survival at its finest, I might add.”

Nick cocked his head to look down at his hands and asked, “How do I use magic?”

“You will be personally trained by one of the Reza Refect that I have hand selected. He was brought up in the proper teachings. He will teach you how to control and execute your new found powers, my dearest Hetha.” George pounded his hand against the table beside Nick to vent out frustration. “You will train, but for now you must rest and get better. You will stay in this room for the next few days on this comfortable bed, which shouldn’t be a problem, seeing that you normally sleep on the floor of a cell. When you are able to move more freely, you will begin to train. The fight that you were scheduled for against Body Bags in two weeks time has now been moved back to happen in four weeks, courtesy of me, of course. I want you to be in top shape for your fight. All of Hentrio will want to come to see your return to the arena. The crowd calls you Bezat, the one. They think you are some sort of prophet.” He then let out another huge rapturous laugh.

“We will stay in touch. Rest and get better, Nick.”

George took his leave. Nick had just enough time to close his eyes for a minute before George returned.

“I almost forgot one thing, Nick. You’ll need to wear these from now on.” He pulled out the white gloves that prevented a Reza from performing any attack and attached them to Nick. George tightened them down with steel cuffs so they could not be removed. “They’re not so bad. You’ll get used to them. Right. I’ll see you around. You’re not much of a talker, are you, Nick?”

George then walked out of the room once again, this time to leave Nick in peace. Though the thoughts in his head started to move so fast, Nick was in a trance of anything but peace. He began to think of his entire life. He thought of everything from his first memories to the moment he lay in that room. All the thoughts rushed through him like an erratic horse. He then began to question how he could be a Hetha.

My parents were of the Hetha race, or were they my parents at all? Why didn’t they tell me the truth? Was it because they didn’t trust me? Did they not even know of the blood that flowed through them? Could my father have been murdered because he was a Hetha?

Stop thinking about it...stop thinking about it...stop...stop...stop!

He stared blankly at the ceiling. His mind was still stirring.

My father was murdered. The man that killed him knew he was a Hetha. They knew he was a Hetha. My mother died of illness. But it was so sudden. Could she have been killed as well? Why did they not come to kill me? Will they come to kill me?

Questions upon questions swarmed Nick’s mind. But there would be no answers. No one could answer them. He would have to find them on his own. But he could not do such a thing within the confines of the arena.

After a while he finally managed to control his thoughts and his emotions. He closed his eyes and began to meditate. He went to the place he had learned to go to, his hill on top of the river. He could clear his mind and control his heart rate. The questions he so desperately wanted to find the answers to would have to wait. He could find his peace in his meditation. There was no use fighting his thoughts and emotions while he was confined in the arena. He had to put them off to the side.

Nick spent the next three days in the isolated room. He was fed and checked up on by several Reza men and women. They all were part of the medical field. Every time they came in they were accompanied by a Refect out of precaution as to what Nick would possibly do.

After the third night Nick awoke in the morning to go through stretching exercises by the woman who had performed his immediate operations. She checked his mobility and strength of the injured muscle groups. She smiled and said, “You truly are not just a normal Paplon. These wounds normally take weeks to get to the state they are in now. Reza DNA is within you and speeds up your healing. You are quite the remarkable specimen. You’ve only been in bed for two months to this day.”

“Two months?” asked Nick. “What do you mean, two months? I’ve only been here for a few days.”

“You’ve only been awake for a few days,” replied the doctor. “We had to use beze powder on you because we were losing you. It set your mind and body into a comatose state so we could successfully operate on you. You’ve been in this bed for quite a while, Nick.”

Nick stood still and nodded. “Interesting. So you’ve been helping me all of this time?”

She nodded.

“Tell me about yourself,” said Nick. “Do you live here? Or do you get to live outside in Vincot?”

“It would be foolish of me to answer such a question, Nick,” she replied. “All I will say is that I have walked the streets, and every five steps I hear another group of civilians talking about you. They call you the Bezat, the one who will fulfill the prophecy.”

“I am not a prophet,” said Nick. “I am just the last member of a race thought to be extinct. There should be more Hetha. My family should still be alive.”

Their conversation on the topic ended there. Nick had proved to be stronger and mobile enough to begin his training by completing the doctor’s exercises. The doctor looked over at the Refect on guard in the room and said, “Follow this man, Nick. He will take you back. You can join the others for breakfast.”

Nick followed the Refect from the room. As he was walking down the hall he heard the woman’s voice one more time, “Oh, and good luck Nick! My money would be placed for your victory!”