Page 214 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Agatha

I wiped my clammy hands on the severe black smock I was forced to wear.

Each day, when I walked from my tiny personal quarters to the “nursery” that housed the kids I was hired to corral, I was struck with fear.

Was Amar still there? Jett? They were the smallest of the lot I’d been assigned to care for, and each week, another of my pupils was taken.

I was down to just these two now, the oldest were all gone.

When I conceived this crazy idea to rescue Amar, I never even considered the consequences.

I’d been so focused on getting into this damn place that I hadn’t thought of a way to get out once I had Amar back in my arms. The poor boy had lost his parents and had been taken to this awful place.

I had to do everything I could to get us out of here, and I wasn’t going to leave Jett behind.

Scanning my palm print on the panel, I watched as the door slid open soundlessly to reveal the rows of bunks inside the dark room.

Bars covered the windows, and each little bed was only kitted out with a flat pillow and a threadbare blanket.

The space was empty and dark, quiet now that most of the kids had been taken away.

When I first arrived at this place, there had been seven kids, most of them close to puberty for their race.

I hadn’t realized that meant they were about to be taken away to train in actual gladiator stables.

Though Amar and Jett were both far too young for that, I still feared they might disappear on me before I could rescue them.

Searching the gloomy space, I found the two little boys huddled under a blanket in the corner.

They were inseparable, sharing a cot for warmth and safety, and I desperately wished that I could sleep in this room with them.

These poor boys deserved all the love and happiness, and I had vowed to see to it that they had it.

“Aggy,” Amar crowed the moment he spotted me, his little blue face popping out from beneath the blanket, a mop of unruly turquoise hair topping that radiant smile.

A second head popped out next, the blanket catching on the crown of stubby black horns that circled his skull.

“Aggy!” Jett exclaimed with just as much excitement, but with better articulation, despite the two little tusks that curled out from his bottom jaw.

“Boys,” I said with a smile, opening my arms and laughing when they both leaped at me for a group hug.

Amar was a slight form, only three years old.

He had recently lost some of the baby fat from his face.

I wasn’t sure if that was from the trauma he’d experienced in his short life or just a natural phase in his growth.

Jett was much bigger and heavier, especially shifted into his battle-form, as he was right now.

The moment my arms closed around the sturdy shoulders of the six-year-old, he shrank a little.

His body went soft and pliant as he assumed his peace-form in my presence.

Each time that happened, I tried hard not to get choked up with emotion at his trust. I feared I was failing these boys.

It had been months since I’d gotten here, and I still hadn’t found a way out.

Fishing my pilfered fruit from my pockets, I handed each boy one of the alien plums that had been served with my breakfast that morning. Both boys eagerly took the treat, devouring them whole in a matter of seconds. Naturally, I then spent a good amount of time cleaning their faces.

The next bit, taking them out into the enclosed yard where I had to supervise their training for the day, was the part I hated.

Two guards circled that yard, always watching, and they would take turns instructing the boys in combat lessons.

One of these two was a lazy bastard; he just gave instructions and then sat down to nap.

The other one delighted in berating the kids over and over, making me itch to interfere.

The few times that I had, I’d ended up with a busted lip or black eye.

They weren’t allowed to have breakfast until after they’d done their morning exercises, and both boys knew their routines by heart. As soon as I opened the door to the yard, they headed to their assigned spots and began the warm-ups and weight training required of them each day.

I had a datapad with the precise training schedule on it for each boy.

I was no expert at this, but by now I knew enough to help them with their forms. When I judged that they’d done enough, I hurried to fetch their food and lavish them with whispered encouragement and praise.

I could see the lazy guard leaning up against one wall, watching us from the corner of his eye, but he said nothing.

The second guard was absent today, which worried me, it meant change was coming.

Then my heartbeat sped up. Was that going to be our chance?

My eyes shot back to the guard in the corner.

Could I take that one out? Surprise him?

I cursed myself for not realizing sooner that this morning there had been only one guard.

The door to the courtyard opened at that moment, dashing any hope of utilizing this moment for escape.

*

Sunder

My heart was pounding with excitement as I followed the guard, Morkan, to my new station.

This was it, the moment I’d diligently worked for these past two months.

I’d wanted to rush, to move as fast as possible, and each delay had eaten at me.

For months, Jett had been in the hands of Drameil while I’d been free aboard the Vagabond.

When the ship AI, Akri, had been installed on the Vagabond, I’d worked with it as much as I could to try to locate my son. Every lead had turned up a dead end; I couldn’t figure out to which property he’d been taken and couldn’t get information on whether he’d been sold.

Two months ago, Noa, a human girl, had liberated a stick of data containing all of Drameil’s flight locations from his ship.

While I had come to rescue the girl and my brother Luka from the clutches of his mother—who’d turned out to be a crimelord herself—I hadn’t expected to finally be handed this precious information.

I stared at the back of the Krektar male who led me through the opulently decked-out hallways of the palace built here on this tiny but beautiful planet, Arakon.

This male had been here, watching my son, training him, while I’d been struggling to find him.

I itched to wrap my fingers around his neck and snap it like a twig.

At least my contact with the Vagabond had been steady throughout my wandering journey to get here.

They had just picked up Noa and Luka on Aderia, and at my signal, they would be here to pick up my son and me.

I had backup; I wasn’t alone on this mission.

Now, I just needed to get through this reunion without giving away my plan.

I wasn’t sure how I would react to seeing Jett again, especially if he looked like he’d been harmed. Would my son recognize me?

We were heading deeper into this big, convoluted building, the hallways becoming less beautifully decorated the deeper we went.

This wing, where my son resided, was tucked away, an afterthought to the luxury and decadence that Drameil had surrounded himself with.

When the Krektar leading me looked over his shoulder and glared at me with his ugly, warty face and tiny, black eyes, I shrugged a shoulder. “What?”

“Keep up, asshole,” he huffed. “Your shift already started.” As if it were my fault that we were running late.

I had been up since the crack of dawn, anxiously waiting for this escort while trying to act casual.

I’d managed to infiltrate the guards at this location when I hitched a ride here on one of the supply ships.

For weeks, I’d been sitting on my ass, standing guard, and ingratiating myself with the higher-ups until I could get this promotion.

“I wasn’t the one who was late,” I growled back, giving tit for tat.

I made sure to flare out the big, leathery wings on my back, making myself look twice as big.

The intimidation tactic was more than adequate on this spineless asshole.

The male made another huffing noise, but hurriedly looked away, increasing his pace.

I rubbed at my shoulder when he didn’t look, feeling the skin beneath my shirt ache, rough and crumbly. Not a good sign. I knew what was going on, but it couldn’t matter, not when I was this close to finally laying eyes on my boy again.

We passed two doors—one with a golden doorknob, the second with a heavy lock on it and keypad-only access—then a door that led outside into a small courtyard filled with training gear.

It was at once a familiar setting: a training courtyard exactly like one of the hundreds I’d trained in over my long career as a gladiator.

The setting barely mattered, not when I spotted my son in the middle of the courtyard, working out in front of a wooden training dummy.

My eyes greedily scanned his form, his movements.

He was taller; he’d grown, and I ached at having missed out on that.

His back was to us, but the moment he sensed newcomers, his small body shivered, and he shifted into his battle-form.

I swallowed hard, struggling to contain the lump forming in my throat. I wanted to roar in rage at the sight, he was far too young to develop that form, and I knew exactly why he had learned it anyway: because I hadn’t been there to protect him.

A female stepped in front of him, her arms crossed over her severe black dress, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, and her mouth set into an angry line.

“What is this, Morkan? You’re late,” she demanded tartly, a finger lifting to wag at the Krektar male in recrimination.

I instantly disliked the woman, who looked like a hard taskmaster.

If she worked here, she had to be mean; no decent person could work a job turning small kids into fighters for entertainment.

Despite that, my muscles went tense, my senses on alert at the blatant way she was defying Morkan’s authority.

The Krektar male was a cowardly, sadistic bastard, and, true to form, he blew himself up in front of the weaker target.

With a meaty fist, he slapped that finger away. “None of your damn business.”

Maybe she wasn’t as weak a target as I thought, with that steely look on her face and her severe way of dressing.

Morkan turned on Jett and a second, much smaller boy standing behind my son.

The moment he did, the female moved, stepping in front of them and blocking his access, her chin firmly raised.

Interesting. Maybe looks were deceiving.

The Krektar male kept glaring at her until I made a sound.

“So, are you going to tell me what my job is, or what?” I demanded.

My eyes darted to Jett as I spoke; I could just see his face as he peeked out from behind the long, wide skirts of the female.

His eyes went wide, and heat warmed me at the elated recognition I saw there.

Then his brows lowered, and he gave me a determined little nod. Stars, what a brave, smart boy.

Morkan turned around to level me with a glare, but a little flare of my wings was all it took for the male to back down.

“Just guard duty and training, if you feel like it. But these two are the last remaining of the batch, and they are runty…” I bristled in anger at hearing my son called a runt.

He was young right now, but he’d be twice the male this guy was once he grew up a little more.

The Krektar stalked out of the courtyard without another word, good riddance.

I was now alone with the two little ones, the stern female, and another guard, who was sitting on a bench, staring at us with disinterest. I was extremely aware that my son was staring at me with huge eyes, trying to contain himself and risk giving away my ploy.

I gave him a nod, offering a small smile.

Then I turned and stalked over to the guard, as I knew would be expected of me.

The male was a Rummicaron, which was good.

He wouldn’t be sensitive to moods or good at reading facial expressions; I could use that to my advantage.

As I quickly discussed my new tasks with the male, it was obvious that he was a lazy bastard, happy to stick me with all the responsibilities.

I also realized that the stern female—a human female—was a different problem.

She was watching me like a hawk, and she’d already forced my son and the even smaller blue boy to return to their exercises.

I had to admire the fact that she’d been protective of her wards in front of Morkan, but she was going to be a tough one to circumvent.

I worried that she’d be the one to stand in my way, and though she had taken on a terrible job and no doubt deserved it, I didn’t relish the thought of having to hurt a female.

I would, though, if it meant freedom for my son—and, I supposed, the other boy too.

I wasn’t going to leave him behind when I broke us out.

My eyes flickered to the chunky pain-collars that hung around the small necks of either boy. The sight of them made my stomach turn. It was a struggle to keep my anger off my face, to keep my hands relaxed at my sides as I watched their routine. Soon, I’d get them out, real soon.