It Rained Red Upon the Arena (8 page)

Nick and the other combatants began walking out of the dungeon and followed the Refect group into the armory.

A well of water sat in the middle of the small cave in which the armory resided. Steel weapons of vast diversity were fixed against its walls. Adjacent to the weapons’ wall was the armor itself, various sizes to sport the most unusually shaped combatants. Beside it were the shields, some circular, the others shaped like a diamond.

Nick had seen real weapons and armor; the sight quickly reminded him of his father’s own weapons shop. These weapons were subpar to his father’s craftsmanship.

The other combatants quickly chose their armor and weapons of choice. Nick walked over to the steel armor and picked the one closest to his body type. He chose a chest plate, helmet, leggings, and gloves. All made of steel. As Nick was putting on his helmet he noticed Grimey looking at him without a flinch. Grimey had a smirk on his face as he put on his steel helmet and leather chest piece.

Nick knew mobility was key for Grimey. Leather allowed more freedom than steel. A Refect came over to Nick and said, “You are in the second match. You’ll be fighting the man over there,” pointing his finger at Grimey. “Good luck, the least you can do is put on a good show for the crowd.”

“Thank you, Master,” replied Nick.

Nick walked over to the wall to choose his weapons. He could pick two large weapons. However, he chose a steel short sword and two daggers. The rules stated that two throwing daggers would equal one large weapon.

Nervousness swelled up within Nick. It had been building up throughout the whole day and now it was at its peak. Nick assumed every other combatant had already seen at least one fight in the arena. They all seemed more confident than him, swinging their swords and bouncing around, preparing for their fight. They did this while Nick stood in the corner. His knees trembled a bit and the steel made a slight clatter of sound.

Two Reza men were the first up to fight. One was tall and skinny with brown hair, the other was shorter with a more fatty body type. The two men followed the Refect to an elevator further down a short hall operated by a chain to get up one level to the arena ground floor.

Minutes passed. Nick stood quietly, gripping his sword. He had forgotten to pick out his shield. Nick walked over and chose a circular one. With his left hand he hoisted it up, and he realized how heavy steel could be. But he knew that steel could save his life.

More minutes passed and Nick stood silently in the armory. Within moments he would be outside. He had no choice, no say in the matter. It had to be kill Grimey, or be killed by Grimey. There was no middle; it was one extreme or the other.

Another Refect came up close to Nick. He did not say anything, only held out his hand and waved him foward. Nick followed the Refect to the elevator, walking side by side with Grimey. He thought to himself,
I will drive this blade into his skull.

Chapter Seven

The elevator reached the top, and the Refect guided them to the gate in front of them. Nick looked back and there was nothing behind them, just the elevator in an open rocky room. Next to the gate was the tall and skinny Reza. He survived with parts of his face covered in burns.

Nick heard the crowd as he walked closer to the gate. They were cheering wildly. They paused for a moment and Nick heard the announcer yell, “The next grand match of The Vincot Arena will start in two minutes!”

Nick put his face up to the steel bars of the gate and looked out and saw his first look at the arena. Hundreds if not thousands of civilians packed the arena. Layers of staircases and seating arrangements went up high into the sky. The stands were arranged in one giant circle encompassing over the arena floor. Nick looked towards the sandy and bloody arena floor. There were ten pillars that stood across the arena, which held up a steel gate above it. They had this made so that fire and ice attacks would hit the gate and disperse before hitting any civilian. The gate also protected against arrows fired from a bow, or any combatant with an unnaturally tall jump, that would enable them to get into the stands.

Sunlight barely shined down on the arena as dark clouds moved in to cover the sun. The first glimpse of light for Nick in days was quickly nullified. Fresh air was nice. However, he felt much more comfortable in the confines of his cell than he did at the gate of the arena.

It was not time to be scared, but that was all Nick could feel. He was facing death for the first time of his two year death sentence.

The Refect that had guided Nick and Grimey up the elevator walked slowly up to Nick. “I heard this is the first match you’ve had. There are a few simple rules you must follow. If you fail to follow the rules then you forfeit your life. We will go into the arena in numbers and kill the person who disobeys. The rules are as follows; one is that when these gates open the combatants walk out into the middle of the arena and face each other ten paces apart, two is that you do not start fighting until you hear the bell rung by the game commissioner who is right over there,” he said as he pointed his finger midway up the arena crowds on the right hand side to a balcony. “Third rule is that someone must die. There is no such thing as a truce within the battle. If it appears as though this might happen, then a group of Refect will join the arena and kill both combatants. There really are no other rules. Everything else goes, do what you must, kill your enemy and make the crowd pleased.”

“He’s not my enemy, I have no enemies.” Nick replied. The Refect chuckled and walked away.

Nick kept his eyes straight and looked at the arena before him. He felt as though if he would die here today that he would be cut short. Short of life and short of happiness. As he stood at the gate he pictured a family. A loving family which he wanted to have one day. A beautiful wife and children in an old wooden home by a forest. A daydream and goal which he could not forget and could not let got of.

“I hope you have said your peace and you are ready for death,” said Grimey. “You’re young. It’s a shame you will die so young.” Grimey turned and looked over at Nick. “It burns but only for a little while. Death by fire is noble and has been for thousands of years.”

Nick looked forward at the arena still. “I will not die this day, for I have too much to lose.”

The gates began to ascend. Nick unsheathed his sword and walked out onto the arena floor. Grimey followed in his footsteps.

The crowd began to create a loud roar as the two stepped toward the center of the arena. A light rain began to fall as they walked. They faced each other at the center and stood apart.

Nick took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. His nervousness felt like somebody was twisting and pulling up his insides. His hands were sweaty beneath his gloves and he smelled the air. It smelled rotten and unnatural; he presumed it was death that clouded the air.

A few moments passed and the bell rung. The crowd erupted. They yelled, clapped, and jumped up and down. The arena was alive.

Grimey took the first action; he quickly sent the first two fireballs at Nick.

Nick backpedaled and quickly held up his shield to block the fire, but he could feel the heat as the fire dispersed on his shield.

Nick tried to move closer to Grimey with a short sprint.

Three more fire balls came hurling towards Nick and he again held up his shield. Nick smelled the combination of steel meeting with fire as the attacks continued. Steam rose off the shield as drops of rain touched it.

More fire came towards Nick as he stood in the same spot and could only maneuver his shield to block the attacks. Grimey conjured fire faster from his hands than Nick had seen in his entire life.

Nick got up and ran behind a nearby pillar. Grimey was too far away for Nick to throw a dagger.

Flames engulfed the pillar as Nick crouched, using the shield to protect his body. Sweat dripped down his face as the heat of the attacks ensued.

Nick ran around the pillar and began to run at Grimey, who conjured numerous fireballs at him.

Nick dodged the first fire ball by moving to his left and he ducked to escape the next one. He had closed in a bit and got behind another pillar as the attacks of fire grew in number. Faster and more numerous attacks pounded toward him.

The shield protected Nick from the fire as he was behind the pillar. Nick put his sword away and grabbed a dagger.

The fire ceased for a second, Nick crept around the pillar and threw a dagger straight at Grimey. The blade nearly hit, flashing past Grimey’s helmet.

Nick went back behind the pillar as ice blasts came thundering towards him. He once again stood behind his shield as it began to freeze over. Nick pulled out his sword again.

The ice stopped for a moment, and Nick ran from behind the pillar into a full sprint towards Grimey, who hurled more ice balls at Nick as he ran.

Nick jumped in a few directions to evade the ice. As he got closer and closer there was no time for Nick to move away from the path of the ice so he raised his shield.

Ice hit his shield and right before Nick was in striking distance with his sword an ice blast got past the defense of his shield and hit his right hand.

Through his glove, his hand froze up and burned. He could not grip his sword so it fell onto the sandy ground. Nick did not stop his sprint.

He reached Grimey in his next few strides. Grimey could not move backwards or produce ice fast enough.

Nick had no weapon in hand, so he swung his shield and hit Grimey’s jaw. Grimey pulled out his sword but the blow of the shield sent him staggering back.

Nick pulled back his shield again and landed another staggering hit at Grimey’s face. Blow after blow connected. Grimey tried to swing his sword at Nick but it only met his mighty shield. Nick reciprocated with a horrendous uppercut with the edge of his shield that landed on the front of Grimey’s face, sending Grimey backwards and he landed on the muddy arena floor.

As Grimey laid in the mud Nick stood over him, raised his shield over his head, and drove it down onto Grimey’s face.

Grimey was defeated but still breathing. Nick dropped his shield and took out his dagger with his left hand. He looked at Grimey’s battered and bloody face, then drove his dagger into his skull.

The life drained from Grimey’s eyes. Nick pulled out his dagger from Grimey as he realized he had won. A sigh of relief overcame Nick as he exhaled slowly and controlled his breathing.

Nick looked up, and he heard the crowd. He had zoned out the loudness of the arena as if he were in some sort of daze while he fought. The crowd yelled and clapped for Nick; it seemed as if they thoroughly enjoyed the fight. Nick didn’t know whether it was a regular response or something greater.

Nick picked up his shield and sword and walked back to the gate from which he came. The gate rose up and shut behind him.

The same Refect who talked to Nick before the fight walked up to have a quick word with him. “Impressive. You definitely pleased the crowd. I don’t think anyone here has seen a man defeat another with his shield.” He laughed and leaned in closer to Nick and whispered, “The only sad part is that I lost gold. Next time I’ll have it rest on you.”

“Gold?” Nick asked. “Master, what do you mean, gold?”

The Refect walked away without a response, heading to the elevator. He needed to get the next two fighters for the third match.

Nick took off his helmet and put it by the rocky wall. He felt relieved, but he didn’t feel happy. Nick did not believe he could ever achieve happiness through killing. The man drenched in a pool of blood was being dragged out of the arena like a dead rabbit. Nick didn’t know who the man really was, or what act he had done to get to the arena. But like orders sent from the king in a time of war, Nick had no choice but to kill him. Kill or be killed seemed to be the most appropriate way for Nick to see the arena for what it really was.

“You’re a fierce fighter.” Nick turned his head to the tall Reza standing in the corner, the victor of the first match. “What you did there with your shield was unreal. The Refect wasn’t lying when he said that nobody has seen that done before. My name is Benny. What’s yours?”

“Thank you, and my name is Nick. How many battles have you been in now?”

Benny smirked at the question. “That was my thirteenth kill in the arena. Don’t you love it here?

“No,” replied Nick.

“Do you enjoy how it rained out there?” asked Benny.

“What do you mean?” asked Nick.

“It rained red upon the arena,” said Benny. “You will thirst for it. You will be molded by it. You will want to shower in the glorious rain.”

Nick looked at the man in silence.

“Well after a while you enjoy it. The thrill of it, that is. And the reaction of the crowd. They motivate me and keep me going with their cheers when sometimes I feel like giving up. Thirsting for blood is normal after you’ve been locked up in a cell for countless hours.”

The elevator behind them started to move upwards as the chain was pulled. The loud vibrations of the chain clashing with a metal pulley echoed through the rocky room as the next two combatants were geared up to fight.

It was the two male Paplons that Nick had seen from the dungeon. Both were of the same size, a normal Paplon build. One had a darker pigmented skin, with long dark hair, while the other was lighter of skin, and with fairly long hair as well.

Benny walked over to the darker Paplon and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Go on and put on a show. Make quick work of him; he’s no match for you. I’ll be waiting here with flowers when you get back.”

The two laughed and embraced with a short hug. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Benny,” the dark Paplon replied.

The gates opened as the combatants walked out before the crowd in the arena. The noise that electrified the arena grew every second. The crowd began to chant loudly, “Bird! Bird! Bird! Bird!...” Over and over the crowd repeated.

Benny looked over at Nick with a grin ear to ear. “That man there is my friend Bird. He is a fierce and proven warrior of the arena. The crowd named him Bird after the sharp pointed armor on his shoulder. On his third match I heard he drove that pointed armor into a man’s chest and killed him. He has been Bird ever since. The arena crowd chooses our names here after a few battles and you gain notoriety.” He paused and looked around at the crowd. “See, they named me Benny Fire, probably because my flames have engulfed many men and their bodies are dragged off burnt to a crisp. After a few fights your old self is gone, you are reborn with the name the crowd gives you. Nobody knows the real names of the inmates here. So Nick, soon you will no longer be Nick. You will be a born again proven warrior of the arena.”