Page 51 of Prison Moon
“So are the majority of the other criminals who live here.”
“Not as dangerous as a dragon.”
“Calm yourself,” Kalethra said, looking out at the sea of alien faces staring back at them. “He is only incapacitated.” Her yelled words did little to stop the murmur of voices from the aliens, especially when she nodded to the wyvern standing by them. He reached down, shoved her out of the way, and picked Toren up off the ground and tossed him over his shoulder. Sara screamed “What are you doing?” and jumped to her feet.
“The arena is not the place to discuss this matter.” Kalethra turned and walked back to the doors they’d entered from, Talyrn and the wyvern carrying Toren following behind her. Sara ran to catch up as the alien’s voices began to rise in volume. When Sara reached the door the announcer said, “Let the next fight begin. Select a prize”
Long hallways leading in several directions created a maze Sara knew she’d never find her way out of. The wyvern that had been holding her by the throat on the platform fell into line behind them. Sara still wasn’t sure what to make of him. His face was as stone-cold hard as the others’ were. Why had he talked to her? Told her the majority of the wyvern didn’t have fire anymore? The questions rattled inside her head until the wyvern carrying Toren turned down a hall and entered a room at the end. The others followed and Sara sucked in a breath when she stepped inside.
It was as big as a football field, every surface so stark white it was near blinding. A long table with dozens of chairs around it sat on the right-hand side, monitors by the hundreds filled the entire wall in front of her, every scene playing out on them showed more prisoners, more regions of this strange moon she didn’t even know existed.
Several aliens who looked much like Kalethra and Talryn were seated in front of the monitors, observing everything that was taking place. A larger monitor on the left-hand wall showed the arena she’d spent the last two days in. A new fight had begun. An alien with light blue skin and slightly pointed ears sat watching, a device sticking up from the table in front of him. A microphone, perhaps? Was this guy the announcer?
This was the brain-center of the arena and much of the area. Sara took a few more steps into the room, noting the wyvern carrying Toren laid him down near the left-hand wall. An invisible door opened along the right and two aliens stepped through it. They were tall, six and a half foot if she had to guess. Both wore white robes, their skin golden with long hair to match. If she had to pin a name on them, she’d say they looked like sun gods.
“I am Lathian,” the one on the right said, “and this is Zakcu. We oversee this sector of Prison Moon One.” They moved to the table and pointed to a chair on the opposite side. “Please sit and we’ll discuss your grievance.”
Grievance. Sara snorted. Is that what they were calling this? She looked over at Toren. He was on the floor, crumpled as if he were nothing more than trash to be disposed of. The fact they’d brought him in here was reassuring, though. Why had they not fired those weapons at him until they were sure he was dead?
The burns on his chest from the wyvern fire and the weapons they’d shot him with left his skin black in places, the skin charred. The scrape of chair legs on the floor and someone asking her to sit again finally made her look away.
Sara pulled out one of the chairs and sat. When the others, except for the wyvern still standing over Toren did the same, the sun gods took the chairs opposite her. Sara wasted no time getting to the point. “Why can we not leave?”
Lathian folded his hands together on the table in front of him. “Did you find the dragon or did he find you?”
“He found me.”
“And where exactly did he find you?”
“Why?”
Zakcu shifted and looked toward Lathian. They exchanged a look before Lathian said, “We weren’t aware the Draegon race still existed here. Your dragon is the first of his kind we’ve seen in several hundred years.”
“That’s because you slaughtered them. Toren told me the history of this world. How you invaded and destroyed it, then destroyed his people.”
Lathian shrugged a shoulder. “Versions of the events that took place before the war vary depending on who tells them. I’m sure his version is much different from our own. Regardless of what may or may not have happened all those centuries ago, we were led to believe the species known as Draegon were no more. Imagine our surprise at seeing him soaring over the mountains.”
“What does this have to do with us leaving? Toren won his fight. Why are we still here?”
The sun gods exchanged another of those odd looks. If she didn’t know better, she’d say they were communicating, and maybe they were. Who knew what these aliens were capable of. Telepathy may be something their species was able to achieve.
Lathian said, “Although your dragon has kept to himself since we first spotted him, that does not mean he will always do so. For that reason alone, he is too dangerous to remain here.”
Something in the way he said the word, “remain,” made Sara’s pulse leap. “What does that mean, exactly?”
He said nothing. No one did. Neither did they move or avert their eyes. They stared at her, silently.
Her stomach cramped the instant later. Blood rushed through her veins as her heart started to race, a wave of dizziness making the entire room tilt. When her hands started shaking she knew she was three-seconds away from a total meltdown. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you? That’s why you brought us down here, isn’t it? So the others wouldn’t see.” She cleared her throat when her voice cracked. “Why? Why let him live this long if all you were going to do is kill him?” When no one spoke, every single day she’d spent here since the Big Heads dropped them off played inside her head in fast forward and every single image had one single thing in common. Those prism-shaped orbs. They’d been watching. That’s why they hadn’t killed him the moment they saw him. Just like her, Toren was entertainment.
The wyvern who’d spoken to her on the platform shifted where he stood. She glanced at him, their earlier conversation whispering through her head, one specific piece of information screaming the loudest. She jerked her head back to Lathian. “Take his fire.” The two sun-gods looked at each other again. Sara sat up straighter in her seat. “I know you can do it. The wyvern, they don’t all have fire. You took it from them, didn’t you? Take it from Toren. If that’s the only reason you have to not let him live, then take it.” He may hate her for it later but if it saved his life, she’d deal with his anger.
“That can be done but his capability of producing fire is only one aspect of the threat he causes.”
“Like what?”
“His size.”
The dragon. They were talking about his dragon. Sara looked behind her to where he still lay. Several black char-marks from the wyvern’s fire blistered his side, the two marks the weapon they’d shot him with still visible on his chest—the collar still around his neck.