A Soul Divided (The Blood Fire Trilogy Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter 22: Drake
 

Drake opened his eyes and slowly slipped back into consciousness.

He still felt groggy from the effects of the drugs Dathan had given him.

“Oh good.” Somebody said from nearby him. “You’re awake! We worried that you’d still be asleep when your turn came to fight.”

“What?” Drake said, trying to process what was going on.

Between the poor lighting and the drugged state of his mind, it was hard to understand anything about his surroundings.

He tried to remember how he got here, but he couldn’t remember.

He glanced down. He still had his revolver in a holster on his waste. What kind of prison was this?

“You’re in Khryas arena.” The man said. “We received instructions from the King himself to make sure you kept that pistol of yours in your fight, and of course, since the traitor prince will draw large crowds, the fights will be rigged, but try to sell it anyway, ok?”

“What?” Drake asked again. Although the effects of the drugs were lifting and his mind was clearing.

He could already remember how he’d arrived.

“What are you confused about?” The man asked as he pulled Drake up from the ground. “It’s really very simple, you’ll fight and try to kill the other gladiators, but since you’re high priority, we have men standing by on the sidelines with poison darts in case things don’t go your way.”

The man opened a small door.

“What if I don’t want to fight?” Drake asked.

“You don’t really have a choice.” The man said as he pushed Drake out the door.

Drake’s ears filled with the sound of a screaming crowd.

He spun in a slow circle as he tried to take in the enormity of this arena.

The man said that he was in Khryas arena. Drake remembered that name. It was the only gladiator arena that was televised.

He glanced around. There were cameras mounted on the walls and on top of pillars around the arena.

He’d always thought the Mystics were hypocritical for doing things like this.

They said using Human technology was against their religion, but if the rich Mystics really enjoyed a particular technology they declared it an exception to the rule. Television and space travel were just a few that had made the list.

“And now for our next fight.” A voice boomed through the speakers mounted all around the stadium. “An expert human fighter captured in battle and forced to fight to preserve his life; ladies and gentlemen, former V.A.L.O.R. captain, Michael Ross!”

The crowd erupted into cheers as a man entered from the other side of the arena.

He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and an athletic build. Judging from the state of his clothing, he had been in prison for quite a while.

“And for his opponent.” The announcer continued. “A newcomer I’m sure you’re all familiar with! The man who murdered hundreds, the man who has spent the last five years trying in vain to overthrow our beloved king. Drake Ashbell, the traitor prince!”

The crowd’s cheer changed to booing at the mention of his name.

“Yeah, I hate you rich jerks too.” Drake said under his breath as he walked over to a rack of weapons and pulled out a sword.

Michael Ross walked to the same rack and drew out a similar sword and a small dagger.

“So you fought against the Mystics, huh?” He asked Drake.

“Yeah.” Drake said.

“I appreciate that.” Michael said. “But I can’t let you live just because of that, I have a wife and children to get home to. I can’t die here.”

“The fight is fixed.” Drake said, “If I don’t beat you on my own they’re just going to kill you.”

“What?” Michael asked, seeming perplexed by Drake’s response.

“Don’t worry.” Drake said as he turned to walk to the center of the arena. “I’ll make sure you survive this fight.”

He had seen these fights televised before, so he knew how they worked.

Michael walked over and lifted his sword toward Drake.

“Let the fight begin!” The announcer yelled out over the speakers.

The crowd cheered as Michael charged forward swinging his sword over his head.

His technique was sloppy.

Drake saw at least six openings. He could have stabbed Michael and ended his life immediately.

Drake lifted his sword with one hand and easily blocked Michael’s downward swing. With his free hand he grabbed Michael’s wrist and brought his knee up into Michael’s stomach.

As Michael doubled over, Drake brought his knee up into his face.

Michael tried to move back, but Drake pulled back on his wrist and brought him back in for another swift knee to the face.

Michael fell to the ground unconscious.

Drake stood over Michael’s motionless body, waiting for the announcer to declare him the winner of the battle.

“Michael has been knocked out!” The announcer yelled out.

“Kill him!” the crowd chanted.

Drake walked over to one of the Camera stands and put his face up close to the lens.

“Yell all you want.” Drake said, “But I’m not killing him to entertain a bunch of rich snobs with nothing better to do than this.”

“The Traitor Prince refuses to kill.” The announcer said. “According to the rules we’ll now send out another challenger to face him.”

The crowd cheered at that announcement while a team of slaves ran in to remove Michael’s unmoving body from the arena.

“Our next fighter is a newcomer.” The announcer said, “She may not look like much, but rumor has it that she was a part of an attack that killed an entire platoon of our soldiers overnight! Introducing the former comrade of the Traitor Prince, Miss Angela Fisher!”

Angela walked slowly into the arena.

Her eyes were red and puffy as if she’d just stopped crying, and her whole body was shaking.

She gasped when she saw Drake and immediately sprinted toward him.

Drake had to brace himself as she collided with him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her head in his chest.

“Drake. I’m so glad you’re here.” She choked out between tears. “I was so afraid.”

“Don’t worry Angela.” Drake said as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “I’ll get us out of here.”

“I know you will.” Angela said. “You always do.”

It was the first time she’d ever hugged him.

It felt good.

“If we’re going to survive this we’ll need to do something right now.” Drake said, “And you won’t like it.”

“What do we have to do?” She asked.

“We have to fight.” Drake said. “There are people standing by to kill anybody I refuse to fight. So get a sword and make it look like we’re fighting until I can figure out something to do.”

“I don’t know how to fight.” Angela said. “I’m not like you Drake, I grew up on a farm. I know nothing about war.”

“Make them fight!” The crowd cheered.

“I’ll teach you.” Drake said. “Get a sword before people start thinking this fight won’t happen.”

“Ok.” Angela said as she walked over to the rack of weapons.

She drew out, what looked to Drake, like the lowest quality sword available, and walked back to the center of the arena to face him.

“Let the battle begin!” The announcer yelled out.

His announcement elicited fanatical cheering from the crowd.

“Swing the sword at my stomach.” Drake said. “As hard as you can.”

Angela swung the sword with as much power as she could muster.

Drake easily blocked the attack.

“Wow, no questioning that at all.” He said. “I asked you to swing a sword at me and you didn’t even hesitate.”

“I’m sorry.” Angela squeaked.

“No, it’s good. Now step back and hold your sword out toward me like you’re ready to attack.”

Angela followed his directions although she did it less gracefully than Drake had hoped.

“Ok.” Drake said, “I’m going to swing at you now. As soon as I move, hold your sword above your head as tightly as you can. Don’t let it move when I hit it.”

“Ok.” Angela said. “I’m ready.”

Drake swung his sword as slowly as he could while still making it look like a convincing attack. Angela barely raised her sword in time to block his attack. He needed to make this more convincing.

“Kick me.” Drake said. “Kick me hard in the stomach.”

Angela just stared at him as if she didn’t understand what he was saying to her.

“Now, Angela!” Drake said.

He felt air get pushed out of him as her foot pounded into his stomach.

Her kick was much harder than he’d expected.

He stumbled backwards and tried to catch his breath.

“I didn’t think you’d kick me that hard.” He gasped.

“I’m so sorry!” Angela said.

“Don’t apologize!” Drake said. “Attack me!”

“How?” Angela asked.

“Any way you want.” Drake said, “Just keep swinging your sword at me until I tell you to stop.”

Angela lifted her sword in the air and swung it at Drake’s head.

Parrying the attack was easy.

“Keep going.” He said.

Angela continued swinging her sword as quickly as she could.

Drake blocked her attacks as he looked around the arena searching for any way to escape. But whoever had designed the place had done a good job. There weren’t many exits, and they were all heavily guarded.

“Back up.” He said. “I’m going to attack you now.”

He swung his sword at her side.

She lifted her sword to block his attack, but her grip wasn’t strong enough. The sword flew out of her hand, landing in the dirt nearly six feet away.

“Kill her!” The crowd screamed.

“You wouldn’t...” Angela said.

“You think I’d kill you?” Drake said. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Drake turned to face the nearest camera.

“Seriously,” He said, “I don’t know what you’re not getting about this, but I won’t be killing anybody to entertain you, so stop asking for it!”

“The Traitor Prince has once again refused to kill.” The announcer said in his booming voice. “To do the job he refuses to do, we’ll send out the reigning champion of the ring, the Unknown Draco!”

The crowd erupted into the loudest cheer Drake had heard from them so far.

“In the two days since his arrival, the unknown Draco has fought in eighteen battles and had eighteen kills.”

Why did the previous champion have to be a Draco? Now he would have to protect Angela without his good luck, or his revolver.

The door finished opening and the enormous, nine-foot tall, fully armored Draco entered the arena.

Drake blinked in surprise. The Unknown Draco was Captain Titus.

Drake could use this to his advantage. Titus would happily ignore Angela for a chance to kill Drake. All he had to do was keep him angry.

“Yo Titus!” Drake yelled. Titus didn’t wait for the announcer to declare the beginning of the fight, he picked up an enormous sword and charged toward Drake.

“Woah,” Drake said after dodging the attack. “What’s with the hostility? I thought we were friends.”

“I’ll kill you!” Titus bellowed as he swung his sword wildly in Drake’s direction.

His plan was working. Titus hadn’t even noticed Angela.

Drake ran to the rack of weapons and picked up a handful of knives.

Titus bellowed in rage, blowing fire from his mouth.

Drake threw a knife straight into Titus’s face.

It bounced off of his thick armor, even if he had hit one of the few holes in Titus’s armor there’s no way it would have pierced his thick scales, but being hit made Titus angry, which made it worth doing.

“I don’t know why you hate me so much Titus.” Drake yelled. “Is this because of the last job? I know I killed your whole crew, but you didn’t like them anyway, and you stole my escape ship, so isn’t that revenge enough?”

“It has nothing to do with my crew.” Titus said. “Do you have any idea how much money you cost me?”

He swung his huge sword at Drake again, this time Drake only narrowly dodged the blow.

“That’s all that this is about?” Drake said as he dodged yet another attack from Titus. “You know I’ve still got all the euphodine I stole. If you’ll do a job for me you can have it.”

Titus stopped swinging his sword, and stood up straight, staring at Drake, his eyes cutting like knives.

“I’m listening.” He said. “But if this is another one of your tricks, I will end you.”

“First thing’s first,” Drake said. “Help me get out of here with that girl and I’ll give you the rest of the details after that.”

“I get all the euphodine or no deal.” Titus said.

“Fine,” Drake replied. “It’s all yours as long as you promise not to sell it to Dathan. Anyone else is free game.”