Wait. They had reason. The cure.
That must be why the Spores murdered Nole. They knew he was trying to undo the Nightmare. Since they can enter the Real World, they probably saw our video blog, knew Nole’s face, and slaughtered him. They want to keep people trapped in this place, dying on both sides. Then they’ll have the power.
The helpless, hopeless, and desperate messages I received from people buying my attempt at the cure is not my fault. Their despair is the fault of the Spores.
The Arena gates unlock. The other noxiors step out onto the sand, but I sprint.
I spare one moment to wonder about the blast of heat that should be from the sun except there is no sun. All an illusion contained only to the Arena. I don’t know why that is the final straw.
I hate this place. I miss the sun while no one else seems to.
A wall of weapons welcomes me to the left. I veer that direction and yank a smoking javelin from the armory. The noxiors behind me all grab mistblades as well. At least that means we’re fighting a nightbeast and not people.
I wait for the doors on the opposite side of the Arena to fall open and release our opponent.
They don’t. The other noxiors in the Arena are at the ready, albeit a bit shaky. But they don’t cower like the noxiors from my first fight.
Then I see the girl with the braids at the weapons wall. She glances over her shoulder at the rest of us, then grabs a gladius. A regular shining gladius. Not a mistblade.
Does she not know the difference?
The gladius seems too heavy for her, and she shifts it awkwardly in her hand. She’s not some tiro in training. They put her here to fight. This kid.
It has to be a mistake. Luc said the citizens of Tenebra rescue kids. Spores kidnap them. So what is this girl doing in the Arena? Shouldn’t she be reuniting with her family? Even if she’s an orphan, she should be serving snacks to the audience or something.
The crowd doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe they don’t care. Luc is in the Emperor box, speaking with someone, his attention off the sand. I’m about to yell his name, but then the sand beneath our feet swells like a shaken blanket.
The crowd salivates as one. We’re the third act of entertainment for the day—the first two were warm-up fights, meaning the crowd is thirsty for blood. I picture Maximus Meridius and have half a mind to get all the noxiors to work together.
The crowd cheers and stomps their feet, eggs us on.
“It’s Icarus!” A woman screams in thrilled frenzy.
I look around wildly to see what they see that I don’t. What’s an Icarus? That’s a name, right? Isn’t that the Roman dude who flew too close to the sun? Are we fighting some flying creature? I search the skies, and something smacks me in the face. I duck, but not in time. Its softness surprises me.
Something else flies my way. Then I realize the crowd is throwing things at me. I dodge one more item before I make out what they are. Flowers. A few gold coins clink off my head.
“Icarus!” someone else whoops.
They’re calling me Icarus. Because of my wings and slaughtering the bull. I’m just some popular show character to them. Disgusting.
I roar at them like an animal, then crush a rose beneath my heel. They cheer louder. The little girl with braids pockets some of my coins. Have at ’em, kid.
The sand undulates more, and I tune out my true enemy—the murderous crowd. A beast bursts forth like a Leviathan from the depths of the sand sea.
A giant snake. Something that fits much better in a Harry Potter movie than in front of my eyes. Its irises are red slits, and when it hisses, two sets of fangs extend, dripping venom. Halfway down, its body splits into two tails. Its head sways side to side, searching the sand for its first victim.
The little girl fumbles her gladius but picks it up again with a squeak. The crowd laughs. Moments ago they cheered for Eddie as he reunited with his mom, and now they’re laughing at a small girl about to be eaten.
She holds her ground, gripping the gladius tighter. Does she realize it’s not a mistblade? It won’t hurt the creature at all.
Another small squeak causes the serpent’s head to swivel until its Sauron-like gaze catches on her. It’s found its first victim.
The snake lunges.
I throw the javelin, and it glances off the creature’s scales but knocks its head off target. Its fangs sink into the sand a few feet away from the girl.
She screams. The snake rears back for a second strike.
I race toward the girl and tackle her, and we tumble to the sand. I flip onto my back, but a yell and a launched trident pull the snake’s attention around.
Helene. She gives me a sharp nod, then coaxes the snake away. The beast doesn’t want a fight. It wants food. And I’m being too difficult.
A prick of pain pierces my bicep. The girl holds her gladius up with a small glint of blood on the tip as she tries to gain her feet. Did she cut me? After I just saved her?
She swipes again. I knock her hand aside.
“Hey! Quit it!”
The weight of her weapon pulls her back down into the sand. She stabs at my feet. I plant a foot on her wrist, pinning it to the sand and rendering the gladius useless. She screams, and the snake swivels around to find the sound.
It must know Helene isn’t going to be easy prey.
I don’t have time for this nonsense. I withdraw my kris dagger. I could club her in the head with its hilt, even knock her unconscious. But then she might get eaten.
Her eyes go wide at the sight of the blade, and she whimpers.
“This is not for you.” Hopefully that’ll get her to stop fighting me. “Just stay down, okay?”
