Leviathan (Fist of Light Series) Page 4

  “Come on, guys. Nothing to see here.” I swooned on legs unable to sustain the weight of my body, my vision rapidly diminishing as the drug began to take effect.

  One last statement followed me into the blackness of unconsciousness. “No, not here. But many will flock to watch an Empowered take to the sands.”

  — Chapter 4 —

  The world around me came into focus slowly, ponderously, as my eyelids beat a steady rhythm in tune with my heart. I was lying on my side, one arm trapped underneath my body, all feeling lost. Cold concrete pressed up against one side of my face and the steady drip of a leaky pipe ensured that there was some form of running water. My field of vision was pointed directly towards my cell door; at least that’s what it appeared to be. Forcing myself upright, my spine protested, but I fought through it and scooted back against the nearest wall. Next to me was a toilet caked with dust and grime, which I ignored. A bout of post-traumatic stress had me jerking my eyes across every surface in the room, but no torture implements were around. I released a pent-up breath then got down to business, figuring just how shitty my predicament was.

  Doing a systems check, I confirmed everything was there, all body parts attached in the appropriate locations. My shoulders felt like they had been pulled out of their sockets, probably because my attackers dragged me off. My brain seemed to be back to normal, so obviously whatever depressant they injected into me had finally worn off. I brought my hand up to my neck and tried to figure out where the needle had entered my skin but met with metal instead. Scrambling frantically, I latched onto the seamless collar around my neck, but the smooth surface was unyielding. There was no catch to be undone, no lock to be sprung. The words that spewed from my mouth were not suitable for children and every adult in the vicinity would have been made uncomfortable by my creativity.

  Jeeves flashed in, looking wispy and liable to blow away at the slightest stimulus.

  “You look even more holographic than usual. What's wrong?” I asked.

  “Speak for yourself. That torc upon your neck is damming up our power and blurring our link. The connection between yourself and Jas is currently inaccessible.”

  “How?” I rubbed my temples, attempting to alleviate a headache.

  “The sigils. They’re ancient words of power. When a collar like this is put upon the neck of someone with magical ability, it works to suppress and contain their power.” Jeeves took a closer look at the torc, examining it meticulously.

  My eyes absorbed the stone walls and barred door, while a dark certainty provided the explanation: this was a prison. Despite that, it appeared the torc was causing me no bodily harm or draining me of power as the cell of death had. My mind flashed back momentarily to the first prison I’d been trapped in by Martin Drake. My life slowly withering away, the torture implements gleaming coolly in the corner, waiting patiently for their chance. Shaking my head, I wiped shakily at my face and returned to the present. I was as confined as the first cell I’d been trapped in. But there are always cracks to be found in even the sturdiest of defenses, if one looks hard and long enough.

  Jeeves' form flickered as he backed away from my neck, his examination complete. “It is likely that there is an operating apparatus, a sequence of control words.”

  “The mobster in charge of the guys who jumped me might have given us an answer.” I closed my eyes and pinched my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “I'd guess he has an underground gig going, running magical beings through a gladiatorial arena for gambling.” I fingered the metal again, this time noticing the grooves marking the symbols etched into the metal.

  He pieced the rest together. “And the bloodletting would be far less interesting when those with magical abilities are so handicapped, unable to reach their power.”

  “Bingo. But I doubt that means there will be a way out of this joint once we get led onto their battleground. I’d be willing to bet good money that they have just as many sigils out there as they do around this dog collar.”

  “Therefore, implementation will be far more successful here in this cell, where no one would ever expect you to resist.”

  I nodded. “There's a limit to just how much power can be suppressed through this gizmo. I can feel it. They don’t think I’m anything more than some average Empowered.”

  “And we must make certain to continue projecting that falsehood, lest they discover your worth.”

  I began formulating a plan. “Looks like we'll be sticking to Air and Water, then. And no materializing a weapon from thin air, either. That would be suspicious. So, no weapons either, unless they give me one.” My mind tracked multiple possibilities. I couldn’t predict anything else without learning more.

  I ticked three fingers off. “How long was I out? Did you get a glimpse of anything outside the cell, the layout of this place? Were there other prisoners they'd carted in, locked up and waiting for the main event?”

  “Although I retained a level of awareness, unlike yourself, I was limited to the confines of your mind. You were out for less than a few hours. They hadn't expected you to begin to wake after such a short time but injected more of that drug before you could do much more than twitch a muscle. Considering the time table, you'll probably be thrust into battle before tomorrow, once this underworld stirs to life.”

  “Must've injected me with a sleeper drug, the bastards.” I rubbed at the spot where the needle went in. “If we have that long of a wait ahead of us, then shouldn't we take a whack at breaking out of this joint?” I slapped the wall, considering its thickness.

  “Negative. You've been overtaxing yourself and a day of rest will provide much needed energy and a higher chance of making it out of this predicament alive. There is much we are unaware of regarding this facility and the more knowledge we glean, the more advantages we will gain when we decide it’s time to make our move. No.” He shook his head vehemently. “We must play their game and fight in the arena, if only for a night. Then we will make good on our escape.” Jeeves grinned, a twisted, evil thing that promised retribution.

  The clinking of keys and shuddering of the heavy door as it dug into the ground brought me awake. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and briefly thought about how I'd managed to nod off. Obviously, I had been overtaxed from both my efforts in absorbing Kathryne's instruction and my attempts at combining Air and Water. If someone was here to fetch me, it could only mean one thing. Jeeves flashed in beside me as I stood, feeling refreshed. My power seemed a bit less distant and I was sure it was within my reach if enough effort was extended.

  I was still smirking when the door opened to admit a self-important, paunchy fellow. “What're you smiling at, whelp? You'll be bleeding out on the sands of the arena before the night is through. That’s nothing to be smirking about.” He grinned, probably busy envisioning the scene.

  I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “That may be, but if I'm going, I'll be bringing you down with me.”

  For a second, it looked like the guy was going to take a whack at me, but he reeled himself back before following through. “You've got spunk. I like that, kid. But you aren’t going to make it past midnight. Even if you make it through the first two rounds, our top contender will bleed you dry.”

  “There are multiple rounds,” I projected to Jeeves and started to feel uncertain that our plan was going to work.

  “My hearing is equal to, if not better than your own. We must press on.”

  “Finally you’ve seen how hopeless your chances of survival are. Maybe you don't have as much fire as I thought.” My captor prodded me down the corridor; I didn’t give him the satisfaction of resisting.

  Miniscule details became my top priority, although there wasn't much to see. My guess had paid off. Quite literally, this underground operation was below street level. A series of what I assumed were holding cells extended down the hall but branched off abruptly as the ground sloped upward. I hoped to find an escape route in one of those directions. Finding which one led to the
surface wouldn’t be easy, though, especially since my captor hadn’t put any time aside for a tour. Fluorescent lights beat back the darkness at regular intervals, but much was still in deep shadow. Water dripped constantly from the ceiling; obviously someone hadn't put much effort into waterproofing. My guard whistled tunelessly as we ambled along, desensitized to the daily happenings of this hellhole. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t have the right to be considered human. He flaunted his happiness at the deaths of others.

  Anger seared through my abdomen and invaded my heart, but I kept it under strict orders to bide its time for the right moment. We progressed through a series of doors and chambers. I quickly discovered that without a guide, losing my way would be entirely possible, probably unavoidable. Before long, we arrived in a well-equipped armory. Knowing that it would do me no good to take advantage of the weapons arrayed before me, I held back. This whole waiting thing wasn't programmed into my genetics and I found myself fighting them at every turn.

  Thankfully, my captor’s cacophonous whistling stopped as we entered the room. “You have the choice of the weapons before you. Take only one. And no funny business, comprende?” He indicated that he was carrying.

  He had already been written off as irrelevant, as my eyes were busy scanning the weapons arrayed before me. Every choice under the sun was at my fingertips, but most all were worn, rusted, pitted, more likely to shatter and cause my death than to provide protection.

  “Well? What'll it be? We haven't got all day.” He looked down, tapping at his watch.

  “Might I suggest the knuckle dusters? They have projections upon them, highly effective in providing distraction by causing painful, although superficial wounds. The rest look ready to fall apart and get you killed.”

  After walking up to the wall, I plucked the knuckle dusters off a peg and tried them on. The projections gleamed dully, dried blood reducing their sheen. The knowledge that the implements in my hands had been used to do harm to another bothered me much less than it should have. Punching experimentally, I found myself satisfied with the simple weapons. I made my readiness known to my captor, who sat me down and inspected me from head to toe.

  My jailer began a practiced speech, one that had obviously been uttered countless times to captives in the same position as me. “When you step out on the sands, you will fight and put forth every ounce of your essence into the effort. The only chance of survival in these games of blood lies with this singular intensity. It’s been a long time since an Empowered has taken to the sands and much is riding on your performance. The Dominus would be displeased if you spoil the night for his clients.”

  I played ball, trying to gain every advantage possible. “What exactly is this place?”

  The man's features clouded, an almost animalistic pleasure appearing. “This place… it’s a lost civilization running in counterpoint with the accepted customs of modern civilization.” He spat out the last two words disgustedly. “It contains the guilty pleasures of humanity, the urge to witness glory in death. The Dominus precedes the weak governments of the modern world. He hails from a time long buried in the past but forever remembered for its splendor. It is said that he was granted immortality by the Roman gods as the pantheon slowly receded from the minds of men and monotheistic religion took root. He was charged to maintain the power that was wrongfully stolen. A widely practiced form of sacrifice was through the gladiatorial games, the bloody struggle of man against beast, against himself. Our Dominus provides entertainment, a platform of betting to those who would spend the coin and deals in items of value to the magical community, both physical and otherwise.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” I played for time.

  “What are we dealing with here, Jeeves? A blood-crazed follower of some ancient gods?”

  “The Roman pantheon was widely worshipped, adapted from the Greeks through a mere changing of names. The same gods remained. Their power has been greatly reduced. Their influence in this world is slight. They fled into their dimensional Realm long ago, and yet their collective might is something to be reckoned with. They still possess the power to cross over to this world, though they remain largely removed from humanity as a rule. Sacrifice accounts for their power, diminished though it may be, and their preference has always been the spilling of blood in the arena.”

  I decided to ignore the fact that Jeeves had just informed me of the existence of an entire slew of gods, ones that could walk among us. No, there were more important things to be thinking about, mainly the reference to blood sacrifice. Shaking my head and pinching an arm, I confirmed this was no training exercise in the Dreamscape, not that I had expected escape to be so easy. From what had been explained to me, it was obvious that there was a fight to be had and I would either die in a shower of blood and gore to the approving screams of a crowd or be forced to kill.

  My captor ran a grimy hand across stubble as he pondered whether he should divulge information not specifically addressed in the Introduction to Roman Sacrifice. “The Dominus runs the black market of the magical community.” His eyes lit with manic emotion. “He trades in magical implements and commodities, coupled with the forced enslavement of subhuman entities, to those with the appropriate monetary backing.”

  “Think he's telling the truth?” I directed the question at Jeeves, who had taken up residence in front of the weapons rack.

  Jeeves flickered alarmingly before regaining his composure. “He has no reason to lie and it appears he receives amusement from toying with the minds of his captives, fleeting though it may be.”

  The roar of the crowd reached me from through two colossal double doors. “The time of your baptism into the bloody arms of the arena nears.” He cracked a smile at the crafty words.

  I didn't trust myself to contain my rage in response to the existence of a supernatural slave trade where preternatural beings were sold to the highest bidder, so it was left to fester. “And what makes sure the players involved in this game do what you want?”

  No warning was provided before pain swelled and consumed my every thought, flooded my soul. Waves of agony ran down my body, an intensely pounding energy that threatened to tear my mind apart. Losing control of basic bodily functions, I was no longer able to remain upright as my muscles spasmed uncontrollably. The worst part was discovered as the agonizing seconds drew out infinitely— that sober thought was still possible and there was no escape into unconsciousness. The pain vanished as fast as it came, leaving my shaking body to reassert its usual operating procedures and to sort out the psychological damage. Jeeves flickered into being before my eyes, squatting in my field of vision, tacitly advising against brash action.

  I spat blood onto the concrete flooring from where my unresponsive body had crumpled to the ground. “I see.” My hoarse voice came across with not-so-veiled anger.

  It didn't faze my guard. “You're no different than any of the others that came before.” He flourished a gap-toothed grin. “When's all said and done, your last drop of blood will be spilled on the sands and your wasted body will be burned upon a pyre before the screams for your death fade. The gods will be pleased with your sacrifice.”

  “I was looking for something with more of a flair for the dramatic.” I sported a ghastly grin as my captor dragged me roughly to my feet.

  Pushed and prodded, I was driven towards a strident roar that seeped through the doors before me, which had to be my destination. “Even with your fancy magics, you'd be hard pressed to survive what’s coming. The Dominus has deemed that all the stops be taken out. In the unlikely possibility that you do survive, you're to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. The frenzy with which gold will be spent for your worthless hide will bring even more sacrifices to the master’s door. Face the music, boy. This is a Lose-Lose scenario and there's nothing you can do.” He smiled, a satisfied, evil thing, before thrusting me forward.

  — Chapter 5 —

  I brought my hands up before I hit the ground, mostly muting my fall.
Dust swirled before my face, a chaotic blend of sand that obscured my vision and clogged up my nose and eyes. Wiping mechanically at my face, I spat out a mixture of blood and sand. Then I heard it. The raucous cheering of a crowd encompassed me entirely. They were driven to frenzy by the promise of blood. My audience was comprised of half-humans, subhumans, and a measly portion of human spectators. Their voices blended together into a dangerous concoction that would turn ugly if not given what they’d come for.

  “This isn't good,” I informed Jeeves.

  “It’s not as bad as you think,” he replied. “All is going according to plan. From this point, we must analyze and react to whatever is thrown at us. This won’t be our last stand.” Despite his words, his confident pose had jumped ship.

  The arena was simply designed, but its protections were so complex that they escaped my comprehension entirely. Sigils had been inscribed on every available surface, taking up gleaming residence on the sandstone walls. The only thing I was sure of was that their purpose was to prevent me from escaping or doing anything untoward to the hollering spectators who were became wrapped in shadow as the lights dimmed. Flexing my power, it became obvious that my collar was inactive. No longer was I separated from the pulsing core of my being, the nexus of power that drove my abilities. With my short rest, there was a chance of standing against the challenges before me.

  A figure on an opulent throne caught my attention, looking at home amid the chaos. He raised his hands commandingly, demanding silence. “My friends, tonight the gods have blessed my arena. Tonight I present a captive Empowered, a powerful entity capable of commanding the elements, as you all well know. Look closely, for this is an event that will be carved in the halls of memory. These walls will reverberate with the screams of the dying and countless sacrifices will grace the halls of my patrons.”