Page 30 of Champion (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #6)
The shuttle swept and twirled through the air, catching pockets of turbulence as it circled the coliseum.
I felt my eyes widen in awe as I took in the grand structure, its metallic exterior gleaming in the sunlight.
It reminded me of the famous coliseum in Rome, but this one was even more magnificent.
We took another circle, this time passing over the citadel, and I couldn’t help but gasp at its incredible beauty, with towering spires and intricate details that gave off a Hogwarts-like vibe.
The pit might have been located in the desert, but the citadel sat on an oasis surrounded by lush forests, with verdant trees that seemed to whisper secrets to those who dared approach.
Despite all the appealing scenery, I sat tense and nervous, my hands knotted into fists held in my lap.
At my side, Adtovar sat as close as he dared, always conscious of the ruse that I needed to pretend to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Charick had been able to get away easily last night and, with luck, had already rendezvoused with the Bardaga , nullified the Kerzak threat, and was on his way to infiltrating the citadel.
My eyes crept over the imposing building that couldn’t help but make me think of dark, hidden secrets and warring wizards.
Please let Charick be safe.
I glanced at the other gladiators, aliens that, in such a short time, had become friends.
I wanted them safe, too. I wanted everyone to come out of this unscathed, except, of course, Nansar, who I wanted tarred and feathered, or drawn and quartered, or whatever form of alien punishment would be equally agonizing.
A lone guard moved through our ranks, handing out protein bars and pouches of water. I wasn’t the least bit hungry, my stomach churning with nerves, but I forced a few bites under Adtovar’s watchful gaze. The chalky taste made me nauseous.
“It will be well, Lady Willa,” Pavo promised me in a hushed tone.
“We will protect you.” I glanced about, finding nothing but determination and fierce loyalty in every gaze I met.
I managed to put a smile on my face, although my heart felt hollow.
I wasn’t worried about my safety. As long as Nansar thought I was the Zarpazian, nothing would happen to me. I worried more for them. And Charick.
Worry that only intensified when the shuttle came to land outside a white stone facade with a large arched entrance.
There were only four guards on the shuttle—two more met us at the coliseum entrance.
Of course, Nansar expected no trouble from us.
He thought me to be the Zarpazian in disguise, and that the gladiators still believed in the deal he’d offered.
As long as he held to that belief until the last possible minute, we might all make it out of here alive.
The guards marched us through a long, dark tunnel, pausing once beside a small room where a chunky, greasy-faced Aljani handed out weapons over a half door. Longswords, rapiers, falcatas, daggers, scimitars… each gladiator held a blade. Not that it mattered. We would not use them on each other.
They led us further into the darkness, abandoning us in a small alcove facing a thick wooden door.
The thunderous sounds of voices and movement were audible just beyond, and my blood rushed through my veins with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
The air was thick, heavy with scents I didn’t recognize, along with the faintest hint of something fresh and clean, like pine.
None of us slept last night, going over the plan until the guards came to collect us. If all went well, a few hours from now, I’d be back in Charick’s arms, reunited with my friends and planning my future among the stars. If things didn’t go well… I didn’t want to think about that.
Please let Charick be safe.
“Remember,” Adtovar hissed after the guards moved away, keeping his voice low. “Use the choreography we practiced. I’m sure everyone in the audience realizes the fight is only an exhibition, but it needs to be a good show.”
“What about after the competition? When Willa is taken to the Duke?” Cristox asked, his attempt at a whisper coming out growly.
“We need to be ready to fight.” Xabat’s dark eyes held an excited gleam.
“How are we going to fight if we can’t get out of the arena?” Of all the gladiators, Zahavi appeared rather queasy at the thought of battle.
Adtovar sucked in a deep breath, ending with a growl. “The coliseum seating has access points from the arena level… stairways. Three on each side. They most likely will be guarded, but we can fight our way through.”
“How do you know this?” Rickon’s tone wasn’t accusatory, merely curious.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve fought here,” Adtovar muttered.
His words made my heart squeeze, knowing all he’d lost.
A large creak made me jump, my fingers tightening around the hilt of the scimitars in my grasp.
Slowly, with a groan that said it resented the movement, the large archway door opened.
As the first shard of sunlight fell on us, the crowd went wild.
Screams, hoots, warbles, grunts, and chitters…
sounds completely alien, yet completely understandable in their excitement.
They wanted a fight… and we would give them one.
“Welcome!” A chittering sound turned to English, thanks to my translator.
“Welcome to Duke Ako’s Birthday Extravaganza.
Today, for your pleasure, a display of skill and strength as we search for the Duke’s new Champion.
The rules are simple. This is not bloodsport. The first to fall loses the match.”
The crowd—shit, there had to be at least ten thousand people here—crowed with glee. I spun, my eyes darting over faces… some pleasant… some hideous… but none Charick.
Where was he?
Please let him be safe.
I found the Duke’s box easily. A roped-off area in the center of the lower, middle section, draped with fabrics in the Aljani colors of teal green and blue.
In the center of the box sat the Duke, a handsome, imposing figure wearing dark blue robes.
To one side sat what looked like another Vaktaire warrior. At his other side....
Holy fucking shit!
Was that Pearl?
I squinted my eyes in order to focus. It took me a minute. The woman I spied was young, much different than the sixty something Pearl I’d last seen on the hiking trail, but there was no mistaking her demeanor and smile.
It was Pearl.
Charick told me she was safe. And to be honest, she appeared completely at ease, laughing and talking with the Duke and seemed to be having a high old time. Of course, she’d have no way of knowing that the male seated in the row behind her gazing lovingly at his father was a snake in the grass.
Great!
Now, I had to worry about Pearl getting caught in the crossfire.
I couldn’t worry about that now, though, especially when the announcer ordered us to pair off and fight. I spared a glance at Adtovar, who squared off against Rickon, before going into my fighting stance.
The entire fight was planned and carefully choreographed. Warriors pairing up so that my victories wouldn’t seem so out of place. I was supposed to be the greatest assassin in the universe after all.
I faced Zahavi first. While he was the smallest of the gladiators, he was still a foot taller than me.
He lunged forward, but I effortlessly spun right, dodging the attack, and countered with a swift kick to his midsection.
The impact and his subsequent grunt and fall echoed through the arena, causing some onlookers to flinch at the sound.
Although, personally, I thought he overacted a bit.
Adtovar and Rickon clashed, their swords swinging with the ferocity of bloodthirsty warriors.
Their movements were fluid and precise, and the air hummed with the sound of their swords meeting—metal against metal, creating a melody of violence.
It was a sight to behold. Two skilled fighters locked in combat, displaying both power and restraint in equal measure.
Cristox and Kariosak faced off, their swords glinting in the sun for a moment before the gladiators dropped their blades, opting for an all-out slugfest. The sound of fists hitting flesh echoed through the arena as they traded blows until Cristox landed a powerful right hook to Kariosak’s jaw, sending the massive orc crashing to his knees.
Xabat’s sudden lunge caught Ixaka off guard, sending them both staggering in a whirlwind of punches and kicks.
The dust kicked up around them, concealing their movements in a haze of chaos.
Amidst the commotion, it was impossible to discern who landed the winning blow, but as the dust settled, Xabat stood tall with an air of triumph, the clear victor of the scuffle.
With a swift and calculated movement, Pavo delivered a powerful blow to Gatto’s head, rendering him into pretend unconsciousness.
His attention then turned to Bieste, a smaller opponent but one who possessed incredible speed and agility.
Not fast enough, however, to avoid a kick from Pavo’s long legs, which put Bieste on his ass.
The raucous roar of the crowd rose to a fever pitch, their cheers growing louder and more frenzied with each body that hit the dirt. Bloodthirsty fuckers.
Adtovar expertly knocked Rickon onto his back within a few minutes, rendering him helpless.
Then, with a fierce growl, turned to face Xabat.
The two warriors met in a clash of blades and fists.
Each one determined to emerge victorious, or so it appeared.
Cristox, fresh from his victory over Kariosak, leaped into the fray, his muscles rippling as he joined the battle.
The crowd erupted into cheers and screams, enthralled by the spectacle before them—a former champion gladiator facing off against two formidable foes.