Page 51 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Whether the Asrai had tried to interfere or the Tarkan himself had lightning reflexes, I’d never know, but the blade scraped the top of the wing, hurting but not debilitating.

The Tarkan came down to engage me with his spear shaft in a series of blows, though, an angry snarl on his face, while the Asrai with the broken wrist attacked me with his sword, letting it dance through the air with his psychic gift while he remained at a distance.

I needed to end this fight—fast. There had to be a way.

I was flagging, and while I’d dealt them blows, they were fresher than I was and determined to win.

I eyed the Tarkan, flicking my ears toward him.

His skin was thicker than mine. Taking a calculated risk, I changed the angle of my blows, letting him hit me on the shoulder with that spear shaft, hard enough to make my fingers go numb.

I was under his guard now, though, and I sliced out with the blades on my forearms, slicing open his chest. Not deep, because his stone skin absorbed much of the blow, but enough to make him bleed—and bleed a lot.

As the Tarkan staggered back out of range, I knew I had to deal with the Asrai quickly.

The other one was rallying, and if they could work in unison again, I knew I was done for.

I ran, surprising my opponents with a burst of speed, dodging the swinging, floating sword as I went.

I was on the weaponless Asrai before he could get his shield up for defense.

I tore it from his hand and then landed an uppercut to his chin hard enough to send him flying off his feet. He didn’t get up again.

Enraged, the other Asrai let out a bloodcurdling scream, raising his arms and sending both his shield and sword spinning my way.

I batted the shield out of the air with my tail by the skin of my teeth, but I was too slow to avoid the sword, only managing to slide to the side to avoid a fatal blow.

It sank into my already-numbed shoulder nearly to the hilt.

Biting back my groan of pain, I tried to keep my opponents in focus. I had to win. I knew I had to because I had a feeling these guys might not let me live if they had the chance. I’d terrorized the arena for three years, killing the Beast would net them a lot of goodwill with their owners.

The Asrai I’d bitten had staggered to his feet, his face contorted in anger as he started my way, likely thinking he could finish me off.

The Tarkan had also recovered, though he kept one hand pressed to the bloody lacerations covering his chest and belly.

I flicked up the shield that lay near me and considered getting to my feet but then gave up on the idea.

I would be steadier kneeling, and neither opponent was at full strength.

My pierced shoulder rendered the entire arm useless, but I made a show of struggling to lift the shield to protect myself with my other arm.

The Asrai was grinning viciously, and it was only now that I could see his teeth had been filed into sharp points.

He was closest to me, and I had a feeling he was about to yank the sword from my body and try to stab me again.

He wasn’t doing so with his gift, which probably meant he couldn’t muster up the mental strength to do so—a win for sure.

I waited till the last moment, aware that the Tarkan was closing in on me in a flanking position.

When the Asrai was in range, grinning as if he could already taste victory, I propelled the shield up, bashing him in the jaw.

Unsteady from my venom, he went sprawling backward, and I finished knocking him out with a hard blow from the tip of my tail.

The Tarkan roared, leaped at me, and I threw myself to the side, painfully landing on my impaled shoulder.

He landed on me, though thankfully not on the blade, and I twisted my head sideways hard, knocking my horn into his head.

I saw his shocked look a moment before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed.

Of course, the heavy fucker landed on me, and this time, I didn’t hold back the angry, pain-filled groan. The crowd was deadly quiet, and I knew I had to get up—to get to my feet right now—or the game organizer might try to declare this a damn tie.

With a growl, I heaved the Tarkan off me one-armed, and then I had to dig deep to find the strength to get to my feet.

The moment I did, the crowd came out of its stunned silence and started cheering and screaming in celebration.

That felt good—familiar. I even felt a surge of pride.

I’d beaten the impossible odds, and I was alive to return to Abigail.

When the accepted time had passed for me to be declared the winner and receive the customary accolades, I staggered toward the exit where my brothers were waiting.

I never removed the sword from my shoulder; it was in too deep, and I’d likely bleed out without immediate assistance.

I could tell this detail was very much loved by the blood-hungry crowd.

The moment I stepped into the dark, much cooler corridor where my friends waited, I felt my knees go a little weak, but then Fierce was there on one side and Jakar on the other.

Thorin, I noted, was absent, and only the injured Kertinal from the previous bout was still lying on the stretcher where he’d been left; the handler was gone.

Luka didn’t say anything; he’d already pulled out everything he needed and was quickly hooking up an IV bag for fluids.

Moments later, I’d gotten a shot for the pain, and my brain went a bit fuzzy.

Though I certainly remembered how Jakar had struggled to pull the blade out.

They worked on stopping the bleeding and patching up the wound quickly, but the real fixing would have to happen on the ship.

“Where’s Thorin?” I blurted out, concerned that one of our number was missing.

“He’s collecting your female’s winnings right now. He should be back soon,” Luka responded. That sentence made no sense to me, and I was too foggy to try to untangle it, so I left it.

“Purse money?” I asked, and Luka gave me an exaggerated sigh and told me to shut up so he could fix me. Amused, I said to Jakar and Fierce, “His bedside manner is certainly lacking, isn’t it?”

I shut up the next moment, though, because I spotted the organizer heading down the hall with an entourage behind him: two guards and two slaves carrying a heavy lockbox.

The Xionian male was a red-feathered one with a white-and-black crest on his raptor-like head.

He flared it out in distaste as he looked at the mess of blood all over the floor.

Lip curled, he said, “The winnings,” and gestured at the chest. Jakar hurried to take it as the slaves were about to set it down in the puddle of my blood.

The organizer gave Luka a hard, distrustful stare, and Luka, to his credit, straightened, curled his lip right back at him, and glared. “Is there a problem, Organizer Frrraz’t? Would you like to take it up with my boss, Lord Drameil?”

The organizer’s feathered crest dropped down, and he looked away.

Then he rolled his head on his long neck and said in a clipped tone, “Of course not. Please see yourself out. I have business to attend to.” He walked off, followed by the males with him, and just as he left the tunnel, we could hear him pick up a com call and start talking in hurried tones. I had a bad feeling about it.

“Let’s get out of here fast. Tell Thorin to meet us at the shuttle,” I said gruffly, then cursed when I couldn’t find the strength to get to my feet.

Fierce pulled me up by my good arm and, with a cheeky grin, hung the IV bag he’d been holding from one of my horns.

I couldn’t be bothered to feel indignant about that; we needed our hands free.

Then we staggered down the corridor toward the exit as fast as I could manage.

I eyed the Kertinal on the floor as we passed and realized his eyes were open—he was alive and in pain, and his handler hadn’t given him treatment but had simply left him behind.

“What about him?” I asked no one in particular, noting how the male’s pain-filled eyes widened in shock. Whoops. Now he realized I could speak.

Fierce and Jakar shared a sad look. “The handler was informed by the owner to leave him. He’s been written off.” That was a very unfortunate practice, but it did not surprise me. The male deserved better. It was my fault he was left to die.

“Okay, so we take him, then,” I told the guys. “Nobody’s going to look for him.” That seemed simple and obvious to me, but both Jakar and Fierce looked startled, as if it hadn’t occurred to them that this was even an option.

The Doc sighed but then quickly ran his medical scanner over the male before digging around in his pack and jabbing the guy with some pain reliever. “Badly cracked ribs. You can pick him up, Fierce—just be careful, or we’re dealing with perforated lungs. I’ll prop up the big guy.”

Fierce handed me over to Luka, who was slighter but still strong as he took some of my weight and steadied me under my good arm.

Fierce was surprisingly gentle as he started to pick up the Kertinal.

The big male didn’t struggle. Instead, with a groan, he shook his head.

“Legs are fine,” he gasped out. “Just help me up. I’ll walk. ”

It wasn’t fast, as Fierce definitely needed to support the winded, injured male.

But we made it out of the corridor and started winding our way through the arena’s bowels to the exit where our shuttle was parked.

We were nearly there, too, when Thorin caught up to us from behind with a harried look.

“Hurry,” he said. “I think they’ve figured it out. ”

He’d only just spoken when we heard shouting go up from behind us.

I chanced a look and saw a contingent of guards on our tail, so we made the effort to increase our pace.

Thorin had taken off his fake pain collar and added a hooded cloak so he could move in the crowd unrecognized.

He’d also procured a blaster from the pack Luka had carried in.

Now he covered our retreat with it, then dashed to the front to take care of two guards standing near our shuttle.

I steeled myself against my pain and summoned a bit more strength and steadiness so I could hurry into the shuttle first and plunk my ass down in the pilot’s seat.

Pre-flight checks were not a good idea to skip, but I did the bare minimum as I warmed up our engines.

Behind me, the others piled in, and I heard Jakar and Fierce arm themselves and return fire.

“Brace!” I yelled. “We’ll take off with the hatch open. ”

Barely sparing my passengers a glance to make sure they were all holding on tight, I set the shuttle into motion, turning it at the last moment so my brothers could get off another round of covering fire before I aimed us for the docks.