Terala drew a shuddering breath as she looked down upon her kneeling opposition. This was her third bout. None had managed to defeat her yet. And, for a wonder, all had actually been decent fighters today.
But she wouldn’t get a fourth match. Even as she raised her fist in victory, she could hear the announcer clearing his voice to declare, as always, “The Golden Lady! Unbeatable! Incredible! But how dare we ask another to face her today? She will preside over the matches to follow, and judge whether we have found a champion worthy of her!”
Jaa’lu’s four eyes looked up at her from where he knelt, in his own form now that the match had ended. “Excellently done, Terala.”
She offered him a hand up. The Ackalian quirked a smile at her; if he hadn’t had those tusks, it would have looked quite friendly. And it was meant to be friendly. Not that the audience could tell. No. all they would see was the gracious Golden Lady reaching a hand down to her snarling enemy, and lifting him up from where he had fallen.
“Come,” she said, “I’ll buy you an ice wine if you promise to keep me company and make me laugh up on the idiot platform.” It was supposed to be her royal dais.
“Sit at your feet like a tamed beast and be fed wine and treats from your gentle hand?” the Ackalian laughed. “I’ll be your tame monster any day if you can get me some more of those Toractan figs.”
“Deal.”
Drogen watched the matches, but half of his attention was on the golden woman reclining elegantly on the dais. She was draped upon a divan, with the last gladiator she had defeated sitting at her feet. He had never seen a woman so perfectly powerful. So truly a warrior.
Her fights had been good. She moved with a deadly grace that was beautiful to watch. But not one of her battles had truly pushed her. Oh, there had been exciting moments. Moments which seemed far more uncertain than they were. She was holding back. Perhaps because she felt no need to use more of her skills when she could win so easily. Or perhaps because she didn’t feel challenged. What an honor it would be, he thought, to watch her truly fight with every ounce of her being.
“Ah. Now we’ve come to it. Tren Tarrec Dazeur is the challenger for this battle. You should pay attention to it,” Tateklys said. The tone of his voice was so neutral, Drogen had to turn to look at him. A slight smiled played upon his face.
Unaccountably, Drogen blushed. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, and then wondered if it showed through the alloy. He certainly wasn’t going to ask Tateklys.
“Ariax challenges Tarrec,” Jaa’lu commented.
“How unusual,” Terala murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the Arena as if she were absolutely fascinated with the proceedings.
Jaa’lu laughed, although it sounded more like a growl. “And when will you pick one as your mate?”
Terala shuddered. “No thank you. Perhaps I should dedicate myself to one of our dead gods and swear chastity.”
“It would prove interesting,” the Ackalian commented, “for a while. But the audience would grow bored with chastity.”
She sighed. “I know.”
“A fig?” he asked.
She handed him the entire bowl. “Welcome to them. Although I would think you’d want the meat.” There were platters of the stuff set on low lying tables, just in case she wanted an entire beast carcass to dine upon.
“Meat I get all the time. No one thinks to bring figs for an Ackalian,” he said.
“Ackalians are carnivores,” she told him. “You’ll probably be sick from eating that.”
He shrugged. “But what a glorious sacrifice it will be.”
In the Arena, Ariax was making a show of turning towards her and raising his sword. “I fight for the Golden Lady! May my efforts be worthy of her kiss.”
“That’s subtle,” she said.
Jaa’lu chuckled again.
“I have never understood,” she told him, “why you have always been content to sit at my feet when you could be challenging one of them. You’re certainly good enough to beat them. And I know you hold back when you battle me.”
“You underestimate yourself, Golden Lady,” he said.
“Ha.”
Jaa’lu shrugged. “They are male and, as such, not worthy of my loyalty.”
“Are the women truly so fearsome where you come from, Jaa’lu?”
He got a far away look in his eyes then. “Forgive me for saying so, Terala, but even you cannot hold a candle to the glory that is an Ackalian female ascendant.”
“No offense taken, my friend,” she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. His skin was strange to the touch, too slick. One of the tentacle strands of his hair briefly curled ‘round her wrist. “Someday you’ll return,” she reassured him.
“Someday,” he said. But both of them knew there was little chance of that. The Phaezor was too fond of his pet Ackalian to let him go. Terala thought, briefly, that it was a very lucky thing for her that she was a Malvan, and glad enough to stay on her home planet.
“At least we get another chance to watch Tarrec and Ariax beat each other to pulps,” she said cheerfully.
“Indeed. There is always that to look forward to,” he answered.
Drogen watched the two gladiators battle. These, then, where the best the Arena had to offer. They were good. The Malvan, Ariax Thone, moved with strength and grace. Sparks of fire punctuated his attacks. Each fist was wreathed in flame as he struck.
Tren Tarrec Dazeur was of a species that Drogen had never seen. Nonetheless, he was a clever fighter. He ducked Thone’s fiery attack, rushing in close to grapple, using the weight of his body.
They fought, an intricate dance of fire and blood and sweat. At first it looked to be Thone’s battle, as he threw fire at his opponent. But then Dazeur pinned Thone, and the battle turned.
Three Ladies, let my battle today honor you. His stomach began to feel tight, his skin to feel electric. Soon, he would be in that Arena, battling one of those two men. A battle where he would have no unfair advantage, but instead meet his opponent on equal footing. And all under the eyes of the vast audience of the Arena. And under the eyes of the Golden Lady.
As he watched, Tren Tarrec Dazeur pinned Thone again. Thone struggled a moment more under Dazeur’s body, before going limp and raising a finger in surrender.
Dazeur stood and roared his victory.
“A tremendous battle! A tremendous defeat! Tren Tarrec Dazeur holds the Arena crown this day, unless any dare to challenge!” Implicit in that the expectation that none would.
“Now,” Tateklys hissed, slapping a button to lower the window forceshield on the balcony. “Make your entrance!”
Drogen leapt onto the balcony.
“I dare,” he roared, his voice filling the Arena. “I will challenge Tren Tarrec Dazeur for the crown! And for the favor of the Golden Lady!”
To be continued….
