Page 32 of Chained

A new clerk races in to collect Klynn's weapons, and two others drag their fallen comrade away. In his corner, Maxym shakes his head.

I get the impression this is a common occurrence.

“Come, my dear,” the captain says, once all the weapons have been distributed. “I have a secure position available for you, one where you can watch your weapons in action.”

My stomach squirms. He wants me to watch the games, and I had hoped I could stay here and not see anything, just live in hope Maxym returned.

“It is better to watch than to wait, believe me,” the bull whispers.

I stare at him in surprise as he nods encouragingly at me, his great horns bobbing. He knows about Maxym and me, I can tell in the smile on his face.

And neither of us are in trouble.

“Do it for him. He will fight all the better knowing you are safe,” the captain says with a brief glance at Maxym, who is preoccupied with having leg armor fitted.

In my heart, I know what the captain is saying is true. And I need to be sure Maxym can concentrate on putting our weapons to good use. I turn my gaze back to the captain.

“Where do I go?”

MAXYM

The bellow of the crowd nearly drowns out the fanfare which announces the commencement of the games as we march into the dome arena, Klynn and I at the head of the procession.

We are the most dangerous, after all.

The arena floor is basic because this is all about the killing. There will be beast games and other bouts later in the calendar, but for this first one, the crowd wants to see the blood of sentient species spilt.

“Watch your back,” I growl at Klynn.

“Why? Are you going to try me?” he snarls back.

“Something’s…wrong…” I say. “Something’s different. Don’t let them get behind you.” The second fanfare rings out, indicating the countdown until the bloodbath.

All around the arena walls, electrified spikes slide out. Several of the challengers jump at the noise. One, an over enthusiastic Xnosson bull, takes a run at them, no doubt thinking he can use them as a ladder.

The jolt sends him skidding on his back halfway across the dome. The crowd roars with bloodlust. Is he the games’ first victim? The bull gets to his feet, staggering and shaking hishorned head. Looks like it takes more than a shock to put him down.

“Did you get a mark?” I say out of the corner of my mouth to Klynn.

His wings are heaving with repressed violence. He’s struggling to contain himself as the huge holo clock high in the dome counts down.

“No mark,” he responds through gritted fangs.

Neither did I. And for these games, it’s unusual. I thought my lack of mark might have been a punishment of sorts, but then being given a mark to kill for money isn’t considered a perk of the dome.

Something isn’t right. At all. I glare around at the challengers and the other gladiators. None of them seems concerned. I heft my sword, spinning it in my hand, my head filled with thoughts of Cleo. I saw the captain taking her away from the ante-chamber as he said he would.

Safe.

The word fills my head as if it’s been shouted in my ear. My heart thumps in my chest as I reach out in the direction of the voice.

Is this the thoughtbond? So soon?

Above, the clock pauses at two nova-seconds. I stare up at it. Whatever is wrong, it is affecting the clock. A clock which seems to shimmer and move in a way the holo-projection should not.

“Vrex!” I growl. “Klynn, look!” I point my sword upwards, and reluctantly, he follows my gaze.

High above, the countdown has gone. In its place are hundreds of crawling figures, scuttling over the underside of the dome, unaffected, it seems, by the forcefield.

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