Chapter Nine - A LOSS

My father once taught me about anger.

He told me that anger was the easiest emotion to feel but it was also the easiest to control. Rage is a horrible sensation, he said, and it could lead men to do the most terrible things. Anger could be controlled and that the key to its control was that you had to realise that it didn’t really exist. It was simply a feeling, like jealousy or hate, and feelings could be manipulated because they were your feelings to manipulate. If you allowed yourself to let go of your emotion then you were only responding to the actions of others and if you could not control your emotion then you, in turn, would be controlled.

I turn slowly from the empty room, my heart beating faster than I think my weakened body can handle and my head pounding like a morning after wine. My surroundings have blurred somewhat and I cannot catch my breath. Down the steps to the pool room I can hear Maru shouting but I cannot make out the words. I do not think it is directed at my actions and so therefore I allow myself to slide down the frame of the door and put my hands to my face.

What must my friend have thought? Was he awake when the attendant had taken him? He must have been confused, scared. I had been the only one who had cared for him, had made sure he had been fed and watched over. I had been a brother to him, a doting mother and a concerned father. I had been his family from the time he had been placed into the cart with me and I had failed him. As I had failed my legion. As I had failed my sister.

But this is no time to begin my chorus of self-pity again.

My mind begins to work, now. Maybe I can still make a difference. With the forced effort of indecision, with the knowledge of what I was about to do could have me crucified, I walk into my master’s room and begin to search through his belongings, the sacks and caskets I had helped to bring here. My movements become more and more desperate as my anger grows. The feeling is unchecked as I fling clothes and items to the floor.

Noone has yet come to check on me. Perhaps Maru thinks I am simply standing in the room and slowly getting used to his decision. No matter what he convinces himself of my feelings, no matter what any of them think of my capabilities as a slave or a cripple, nothing can prepare them for what I am about to unleash.

Brave words or foolish words?

With a heave I find the casket that contains the items I seek. My armour and vibrosword tumble to the floor and I grab it. I know I must go to the Master Theatre and find my friend but I also know that I will not be allowed to enter as a slave of the Ki-Ki Sector so I will go as a soldier of the Ki-Ki Sector.

It is simple enough to place the armour over my head after discarding my slave’s tunic. Even with the stump of my other arm I manage to slide it into position and pull at the tightening straps. It is awkward and feels loose but I am not intending to be present at drill or inspection. As long as I can walk the streets of the capital city and not be challenged then a convincing appearance will be all that I need.

I place the helm on my head, tuck the vibrosword away into its sheath and start to move out of the room. I am blocked by Maru’ attendant who looks me up and down in shock. I say nothing and simply stare at him.

He moves out of my way and does not try to stop me. Of that I am glad. If he had attempted to block my way I would have killed him for taking my friend away and my bloodlust was for Maru and Monima alone.

As I make my way down the steps the huge burly man who had thrown out the previous occupants blocks my path. He gives me his toothless smile. I can see he will not move so I kick him in the head. My advantage of height, as I am further up the steps, makes the strike accurate and he falls back with a bloodied face, tumbling down the steps to crash into and turn over a small table, which scatters food across the floor. He does not move.

I hear the woman of the house scream but I ignore her. She is no threat. As I step over the body of the big man I see Maru ahead of me, clumsily climbing from his couch and brandishing a small knife. He holds it out before him. He could run but, if what he has told me is true and he was a soldier, I expected him to stay.

“You have made a mistake, slave,” he says, although his voice is trembling. I admire his meagre strength as he tries to impose his authority over me. “You have disobeyed your master and assaulted a Ki-Ki Citizen. You’ll be flogged for this. No, you’ll be hanged!” His voice is even now as he shouts at me.

“I think you’ll have no need of me, now, since the rift between you and Monima is sealed.” I spit my words at him and draw my vibrosword. He takes a step forward, much to my surprise, with the knife held level.

“Don’t talk to me in such a way, cripple!” he shouts, taking another step forward.

With one stroke I bring the sword down and amputate his hand holding the knife. The items clatter to the floor and, after a brief moment of shock, he begins to scream. Behind me I hear another scream and I turn to see the woman backing away. As I move towards her she starts to make her way to the door as fast as she can but her complicated dress slows her. I grab her hair and roughly shove her towards the door where she connects with it and falls motionless to the floor.

I did not wish to harm her but I could not allow her to get into the street and call for help. Her nose is bloodied and, for all I know, she is dead. But such things are not on my mind, now, as the anger I had been taught to suppress was taking over. I did not care what came between the Master Theatre and me. I would make it there and free my friend.

The noises in the street are loud and bright, still, as I walk into the afternoon sun. I tuck my stump into my armour and try to hunch over without appearing as though I am trying to hide anything. Thankfully I am ignored by the crowd and even receive a nod of acknowledgement from another soldier on duty at the street corner. I return the nod, hoping that he was not simply faking the friendly motion so that he could spring on me as I passed. When I am further down the street I look back but he still stands on the raised block of stone he was using as a vantage point to survey the crowds.

The Master Theatre rises like a dark storm cloud before me. Ahead are the main entrances but my eyes are on the smaller gates to the side, where guards and chained slaves are being taken. I approach the lesser-used gate and make my way in with no complications, inside the belly of the construct.

Steps lead down into a darkness permeated only by torches and lamps secured to the walls of the narrow corridors. The smell of sweat and smoke is, at first, overwhelming but I manage to push on by breathing through my mouth. Above I hear the muted sounds of the cheering crowds, as if the stones of the building themselves were shaking and creating the noise. Men push past me and, somewhere far off down another branch, I hear a man screaming. As I force my way past three men and into a large open room I see several guards and what appears to be a black-armoured Prime Warrior standing to one side, gathered around a table and playing a game with stones.

I realise that I could walk around here and never find Monima for it was as a maze. That was if Monima was actually down here. For all I knew he could be at a house in the city or in the tiers of the arena.

The sounds of the crowd above sweeps through the room again, accompanied by the shout of a man down another corridor, joined by the roar of an animal in a far-off cage, mingled with the laughter of the guards and the calls of men working in the bowels of the Master Theatre. My head becomes light as I had not eaten a full meal since rising from my cot and then I realise I am being watched by the Prime Warrior. The soldier approaches and I am wary. The Prime Warriors are the most loyal warriors of Ki-Ki and I did not want to attract their attention.

“Are you feeling well?” the man asks and I realise he is concerned. I smile weakly and decide to try and press the advantage of my apparently weakened state.

“I have never been down here before,” I say with a forced smile. “I am looking for the trainer Monima.”

The Prime Warrior nods and points down the corridor from where the loudest shouts were echoing from. “Most of the trainers are down there, by the entrance to the arena.”

I nod my thanks and quickly start to walk down the corridor. As I approach the end of it I cast a glance back and see that the Prime Warrior is still watching me. Quickly I return to watching where I am going and realise that I may have made a mistake in looking back.

I do not have to look far to find Monima. He is where the Prime Warrior had told me he might be. There is a large room filled with tables and weapons, with a long ramp leading up and to a gate that leads out into sunlight. From the sounds I hear of the crowds, which are alarmingly close, the gate must lead out into the arena of the Master Theatre. Monima is by the gate, smiling broadly and shouting words of encouragement. Next to him are the guard I saw when first in the city and the ugly man that had threatened Maru at the market.

I stand and look around me, looking into cages and cells, searching for my friend. All that I behold are beings and ‘droids swathed in dirt and sweat, covered with wounds and dents or placing armour of strange designs on themselves. Some watch me warily, others stare at me curiously, most glare at me distrustingly. They have either survived to die another day or are about to risk their own lives and I envy them their position in life – they have a designated fate and a singular purpose. At least they knew where they stood whilst I wrestle with the sudden confusion my own life has become. They would die with honour in the arena and not with shame.

But there is no sign of my friend.

I am still filled with the rage I spoke of and I start towards Monima with intent. My movements are slow and deliberate for I do not wish to attract attention and I come up behind him.

My hand is gripped to my vibrosword and I begin to draw it when a cry goes up from the crowd, not of cheering but one of derision. Something has offended the people of the arena and I look up to see what it is.

I cannot see the details of the arena but I do see three figures in conflict on the sand. Two of them are wearing loincloths and strange helmets that give them a bestial appearance. They have scaled armour down their sword arms and small energy shields, the symbol of the Ki-Ki Sector drawn onto their chests. They both have short laserspears with which they thrust at the third figure. This one is wearing an animal skin of some kind that covers the head. He is a large man with a pole that appears to be sharp at one end and has a simple rock tied to the other. The other two circle him and jab at him with the laserspears.

When a spear connects with the man in the animal skin he gives out a cry that makes my step falter. As he turns I see his face under the skin, the head of which has been tied around his head so the upper jaw of the dead beast comes down over his forehead. The symbol of the Setnin Sector has been stencilled on his chest. He screams again as one of the supposed Ki-Ki warriors stabs him in the arm.

My friend is out there, in the arena, dressed in the skin of a dead animal and soon to become one himself. He cries out in pain as another laserspear jab connects with his leg and he seems about to fall. His voice is one of a crying boy, a child calling for aid in a nightmare or screaming for a parent in the night. The whimper is strong but breaks even with his deep voice and he swings clumsily about him with the pole to try and fend off the attacks.

I leap forward but the gate stops me. It rings with the tone of my impact and I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. My vision blurs with tears and all I can do is watch as he stumbles and tries to get to his feet. The crowd is jeering the combat, whether they think it dull or they hate the matching as I do I cannot tell, and stones and other items are cast onto the sand.

My friend isn’t standing. Blood is spraying from behind his knee and he weeps loudly with the pain as he tries to scramble back to the gate where I am standing. I have found a voice now and I roar, my anguish and pain screaming across the arena, louder than any being, any beast. Those about me do not exist at this moment. All I can see is the man who is my friend looking up, directly at me, and reaching out his hand. I strain through the bars although we are hopelessly out of reach, and cry out for him. He simply collapses to the sand, his hand still out, his scream desperate and filled with horror.

“Fernd!” he cries, trying to push himself along with his useless legs. “Fernd!”

Now he sleeps. The laserspear thrust into his back ends the conflict and the fighters look about for some form of acceptance from the crowd. The crowd, on huge tiers surrounding the arena or on floating discs that hover over the action, send out cries of disgust and, with sagged shoulders, the fighters start for the gate as it opens.

I know that those about me are staring at me with confusion but I do not care. I know they are wondering at my actions but it does not concern me. All I can see are the two men who killed him and that is all I need to see as I draw my vibrosword and walk into the arena.