Page 28 of Hooded

The smile which spreads over Lord Halfen’s ugly face is one of complete and utter triumph.

“He will fight for me as my champion. And he will win, or you both will die.”

KLYNN

Cold water slams into my body like a knife. I shake it out of my hair and eyes, gasping for an instant. My wings are pinned up above me, holding my entire weight because my hands are bound behind me.

The last thing I recall is mating and then the forcefield which I broke through. Nothing else. I can still scent Fern on me and it’s strangely comforting. Even if the stronger smell in my current environment is not. It is, however, familiar.

I can’t be back in the dome. It had fallen to the Bogarok, and even if my fellow gladiator, Maxym, managed to rout them from Trefa, the place is not going to be back in use anytime soon.

I’d still smell them if that was the case. This place smells more like the amphitheater. The one place I vowed I would never return to.

I roar out, twisting my wrists until my bonds break and I’m able to pull myself free, wrenching my wings from the clamps which hold them.

Ahead of me, a crack of light appears. It gets wider and wider until I see the sand of an arena and a blade buried in it.

I am expected to fight. I don’t want to fight. Not unless it is for her, my mate, my Fern, myeregri.

The creature I need to nest for with the force of a thousand burning suns.

The sword is in my hand before any further thoughts enter my head, and I roar out into the light. There is no crowd. There is nothing except a cylinder surrounding the sandy floor.

And three others. All armored, all heads covered by helmets. The only way I can tell what they are is by scent.

I don’t bother. They will all die today. The only scent I want is that of my Fern.

One of my challengers raises a pulsar. I fling the sword at him, and it cuts off his appendage. He shrieks, stumbling back, clutching the remains of his limb. I open my wings, beat the air, and swoop in to grab my sword from where it’s buried in the wall of the strange arena.

A pulsar bolt flies over my head, impacting the wall behind with a black smudge. It heals instantly as I turn with a growl. My remaining assailants stand a short distance apart. They’re not working together. Their stances are clearly defensive as one swings a psi-whip and the other lifts the pulsar, ready to fire.

“Is this all you’ve got?” I roar up into the darkness above us. “I faced worse in training,” I grumble.

The challenger with the whip extends it at me. I take hold of the thing, feeling the power within it and sending it back down to the handle. His white eyes flare under his heavy helmet. I yank the whip and it flies out of his hand. He falls back on his ass with a thump.

The other remaining assailant fires. I deflect the bolt with my sword, and it hits the one on the ground, who slumps with a groan.

“You can’t win.” I shake my head slowly at the last challenger standing. His tentacle is shaking so hard, there’s no way he can shoot straight. “And I don’t spare anyone who enters my arena.”

I take a pace forward. He drops the pulsar, turns, and runs.

He really shouldn’t have run. Running never does anyone in the dome any good. With a single beat, I’m on the floor in front of him. Instead of jinking, he drops, sliding to a halt below my sword.

“Please…please…” he burbles.

“You dare to beg for your life?” I grind.

“Please kill me.” The words are only just formed. “Kill me quickly, before they do.”

“You want to die?” I lower my sword slightly.

“Just kill me.”

I take a pace back.

No one begs to die. No one comes to the dome wanting to die. They all want to win. They want my blood on their appendages. They want to add a gladiator kill to their glories.

“No.” I shake my head. “No.” I look around at the odd blank walls. “NO!” I fling my sword across the arena, where it skitters to a halt. “This is not the games. I will not do this,” I bellow. “Give me a fight or give me death.”

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