#gladiator days

While they tromped through the dank tunnels she glanced at the others. There was maybe a dozen of them, a few still squirming while the rest had gone limp with resignation. All like her, young, small... easily forgotten.

Taking one last chance she reached up to tear at the arm of the guard, this time her claws gashed deep into flesh. He dropped her with a surprised shout, cursing and grasping the injured limb while she rolled away, scrambling to her feet. Her actions spurred the other younglings, they started wiggling in their captors’ grips as she ran down the tunnel.

Fueled by adrenaline she sprinted down the hall, hoping to outrace the thudding feet behind her. She hadn’t made it far before a hulking body stepped from the gloom, blocking her path.

“Trying to wriggle off the hook little worm?”

The raspy voice sent chills up her spine and she stopped dead in her tracks, staring up at the wrinkled face. Thin braids fell from a knot atop his head, looking like tentacles, and a sneer twisted his leathery features. She glanced from side to side, searching for a new escape route, but before she could dash off a guard caught up and cuffed the side of her head. Reeling from the blow she felt warmth trickling down her face as he picked her up.

“Sorry Doran,” the injured guard muttered. “Damn thing snapp…” His words were cut off by a wheeze as the wrinkled man gut-punched him.

“I hate having to clean up after those I hire,” he intoned, then walked to where she was held aloft. Blinking warm wetness from her eyes, she glared at him while he chuckled ominously. “But at least I know who to wager on.”

He strode down the tunnel with the guards close behind while she was half-dragged along the stone floor. The brutal retaliation to her rebellion quieted the other younglings, they just whimpered until they reached a metal gate at the end of the hall. It creaked open and she lurched away, only to be chucked through with the others. They landed in heap but quickly sprang apart, some running to bang on the gate while she looked around.

So different than the pens it was like visiting another world. No ceiling, only more sky than she’d seen in her life, with red-orange streaks starting to chase off the night. Crisp air filled her lungs and she inhaled greedily, relishing oxygen untainted by the odor of unwashed bodies. The ground was hard-packed dirt, dusty but a welcome change over the clammy tunnels.

Curiosity had her wandering forward as dawn approached. More gates peppered the walls fencing in the area and there were bones littered about. There were deep gouges where they’d been gnawed on. By what? she wondered, and when a screech echoed across the area she had a feeling she was about to find out.

“Turn ‘em loose!” barked the wrinkled man.

In the waning darkness she could see the gates opening and tall, spindly beasts entering the arena. They were nothing like she could’ve imagined, even in her nightmares. With armored bodies and pointed insect-like legs, the creatures seemed barely tamed, swiping sharp limbs at the guards much like she had. Dawn light gleamed on bony crests and the multitude of teeth protruding from their upper jaws.

She swallowed hard, feeling rooted in place while the other younglings squealed in terror. The beasts’ heads swiveled towards the shrill noises and they charged. Behind her she heard pattering feet as the others scattered but all she could do was hit the ground and repeat, “Don’t see me, don’t see me…”

Hunkered into a tight ball, she burrowed into the dirt as much as she could, glad that her pale fur matched the dust. A stampede of pointed limbs ran past and she curled tighter, praying they’d miss her. Her silent pleas became more fervent when screams echoed through the arena, followed by noises she didn’t want to define. She clamped her hands over her ears, rocking and murmuring to herself. It was only when she felt the thud of legs close to her face that she grudgingly opened her eyes, fearing the worst.

Warm breath puffed above her head prompting her to look up, and when her gaze traveled higher her eyes met the three of the creature looming over her. It seemed curious and she could see that it was smaller than the others, its crest not quite as large. It jabbed at her with one leg tentatively then leaned down, opening its mouth.

‘NO!’ she thought in panic and it stilled, drawing back slightly as if it heard her. The three eyes blinked and she did too, just as surprised. When its face moved forward she tried it again, thinking, ‘No! Stay back!’

Something clicked into place like tumblers in a lock, and she felt herself in the mind of the beast. It was a jumbled place, thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind. She fought to not get swept up in them, to focus the best she could. It was so hard, the beast was starving, its body wracked by hunger pains.

Hunger was something she was painfully familiar with, she’d been shoved from the food bins more times than she could count by larger slaves. She grasped onto the pain, somehow drawing it into herself where she could bury it with her own. Once relieved of it the beast lowered its head and brushed its muzzle to her leg. Fine bristly hairs trembled against her fur and she giggled nervously at the tickle. Its eyes met hers again and when it tilted its head in anticipation inspiration struck.

She channeled the beast’s hunger back to it but a controlled portion, giving it purpose. In return she could feel its strength funneling into her, reinforcing their bond as she stood. There was a quiet buzz at the back of her brain, the creature making its presence known and she welcomed it. It crouched slightly and she sidled up one leg to perch on its back.

The rest of the creatures had decimated the younglings and a few guards were trying to wrangle them while others stared at her. Some looked wary, trying to figure out why she hadn’t been devoured. A frisson of anger shivered down her spine as she watched them, the creature’s feelings twisted into her own.

‘Food?’ she thought, still getting the hang of the link they shared, and the creature keened excitedly. Concentrating as hard as she could she stared at the guard who’d pulled her from the slave pens. “There,” she said. “That’s food.”

It charged him with a ferocious cry while she clung to its neck, limbs speeding along the hard ground. Overcome by shock the rest just looked on in horror as the creature speared a leg through his torso then dragged him along the ground. Doubled satisfaction surged as it sunk long teeth into his throat, ripping free his windpipe with a crunch. Warm fluids coursed down its throat and as the beast’s hunger abated she felt almost like it was her own stomach being filled.

Another juicy bite tore into the carcass’s leg, prime hunks of muscle dripping blood onto the ground. She became mesmerized by the spots of red, arcane constellations soaking into the dirt. The smell beckoned and she leaned forward, tempted to leave the safety of her perch.

‘That would be unwise.’ A melodic voice rippled more through her mind than her ears and she glanced up. The rest of the guards had regrouped, aiming whatever weapons they had at her and the beast. Most tried looking brave but she could smell their fear. A tall red-skinned woman stood in front of them, haughty but curious, and she knew that’s whose voice she had heard. ‘You’re safer there, little dis. At least for now.’

The guards started circling them and she watched them carefully, letting the creature know their positions. One jabbed a pike at them and together they whirled, the creature knocking his feet out from under him with a stilt-like leg.

“Back off!” the woman warned and this time they seemed smart enough to listen. She walked towards the pair and the creature bowed its head, surprising the rider clinging to its neck.

“I raised this one and many like her. They’re called Acklay,” she explained as she reached up and stroked under its jaw. “Not many take to being ridden though.”

Golden eyes peered up at her and she felt like layers of her will were being stripped away. ‘Don’t see me,’ she thought and the intrusion paused then pulled back.

“Interesting,” intoned the woman. Then she smiled slowly and whispered, “They’re afraid of you.”

The idea sent a shiver of pride through her, “Good.”

Her reaction seemed to please the woman. “But fear can make people do rash things, like attack at sudden movements. Stay still, stay quiet and you’ll leave here alive.”

“Promise?” she asked skeptically and the woman nodded.

“Yes.” The woman glanced back and stiffened, “But you have to trust me.”

Over the woman’s shoulder she could see a burst of movement, fury taking form as the Weequay she’d encountered barrelled through the guards.

“What in Am-Shak’s name is going on?” he bellowed, stopping at the guard’s corpse. He shook his head at the carnage and pinned the woman with his gaze. “Slaves, not guards Syble.”

“ Atenuâ just got a little overzealous, ” she stated. “I tried warning you about starving them.”

The Weequay huffed, looking exasperated until he saw the small Cathar atop the acklay. “And what is that thing doing up there?”

“It seems Atenuâ has found a friend,” said the woman, her voice softening like warm honey. “You know, you haven’t had a proper gladiator in quite a while. And don’t beast-riders do the best in the arenas? I could train them, rider and mount. Think of the credits.”

Even from her perch she could feel the coercion in the woman’s tones, swaying the Weequay’s thoughts. He looked doubtful at first but while the woman murmured coaxingly his expression relaxed.

“An acklay rider?” he mused, warming to the idea. “Unexpected, bold, I like it.” Tilting his head he looked at her again. “You’re the one I wagered on, aren’t you? In the mess no one could tell who’d lasted the longest. Guess I win!”

He laughed darkly and she shivered, noting his humor was more disconcerting than his anger. Tightening her grip she was relieved when he turned to the woman. “Fine, have it your way. Train them for the arenas.”

He strode off, the guards marching behind him, leaving her and the acklay with the woman. A shrill whistle summoned the other acklays near, a single noise accomplishing what a cadre of guards couldn’t.

“Now it’s safe, little dis.” The woman beckoned to her, “Come closer so that I may take a look at you.”

Sliding from the acklay she was still wary, ready to run. But where would she go? she wondered and she approached the woman. Long red fingers brushed dust from her mane then trailed over the scars on her cheek. The woman clucked her tongue before crouching down to her eye level. “My name is Syble. What’s yours?”

She shrugged at the question and Syble’s eyes narrowed. “No clan, pride?” She shrugged again and Syble sighed. “Maybe better this way.”

“You have unique abilities, abilities I can help you hone,” she continued. “Have you used them before?”

She nodded and concentrated hard. “Don’t see me,” she muttered and watched a smile of delight dawn on Syble’s face.

“Very good,” she murmured. “To the unskilled eye you’re almost a ghost.” The smile widened as if inspired, “Dvasia, it means ‘ghost’ in my peoples’ language. Do you like it?”

“Dvasia.” Her tongue stumbled over the foreign syllables before catching them and making them hers. “Yes, I like it.”

“Then Dvasia you are, a living ghost. Now come,” Syble stood and offered her hand. “I will be your Akirsera and teach how to use those skills of yours.”

“No pens?” she asked, hopefully.

Syble chuckled, smoothing her fingers over the small furry hand she held. “No my little dis, you will stay with me. And I have much to teach you.”

Walking hand-in-hand with Syble, followed by acklays, Dvasia knew she’d be eager to learn.

Translations for the Sith used in the story...

A spotted silver Cathar as tall as the Sith came into view, but…  somehow he got the impression she’d always been there and was just now letting him see her. She wore a coarse slave tunic but it might have been fine silk for the grace she gave it. Her short, pale-sandy mane framed a face filled by eyes the color of moonlight shining through smoky-quartz.

“Kriff!” He swore when he recognized them, “The gladiator!”

The Cathar traded an amused look with the Sith, “You know, you’d think I’d be used to looks of horror by now.”

Meyer shook his head as memories surged through his sore head, memories of the pirates he’d been tasked to infiltrate. Their trade with a Weequay slaver went bad and the slime gassed them. There was another memory gap before he’d woken up in some arena, the other crew members screaming as they were taken down by acklays or armored fighters.

A single acklay approached him as he laid on the ground and its rider slid off before walking towards him. The gladiator stared at him, only their eyes visible above the mask they wore. Figuring he was done for he laid back, waiting for a killing blow. Instead there’d been a huff, then a sharp pain to his head. Before he completely blacked out he vaguely remembered being dragged across the ground.

“Did you save me?” he asked and she huffed again.

“You were in no shape to defend yourself,” she muttered, folding her arms. “I’m a fighter, not an executioner.”

“So if I could’ve fought you’d have killed me?”

“Yes.”

There was no doubting the durasteel in her voice, and for once he thanked his lucky stars for seeming helpless. “So what now?”

The question made the Sith chuckle and the Cathar glance down at her feet. “What a good question. What do you plan to do with him?”

“SYBLE!!” A deep voice roared, raising Meyer’s hackles. Not just his it seemed, all trace of humor vanished from the women as the Sith pulled herself taller and the Cathar snarled quietly.

“Easy,” the Sith laid her hand gently on the Cathar’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of Doran, you watch him.”

“Yes Akirsera!” The words were a near-silent hiss and in a blink she was by his side while the Sith strode from the stall and closed the door. “Stay still,” she hissed again, touching his arm.  The air around them vibrated and he opened his mouth, only to close it again just as quickly, his gut telling him it’d be best to keep it shut.

“Where is she? Where’s the beast?”  Loud stomping joined the bellow, and Meyer recognized both belonging to the Weequay slaver.

“She’s procuring rations,” the Sith’s icy tone chilled the air. “That last battle…”

“There was no battle!” he roared. “She was supposed to kill that swindling pirate scum!”

“I wondered what they’d done to deserve your righteous wrath.”

“Don’t patronize me witch,” he growled. “You know how it makes me look when my slaves don’t follow my orders. What did she do with the one she carried off?”

“Killed him. Fed him to Totea and the newest brood.”

There was a moment of stunned silence and Meyer held his breath, wishing he could quiet his heartbeat.

“She felt the new mother needed extra nourishment,” the Sith continued. “And why not help the younglings develop the proper tastes early. Would you like to see?”

The door to the stall shifted, a beam of light creeping through and Meyer heard the Cathar whispering.

“That won’t be necessary,” muttered the Weequay.

“No, no, I want you to be certain.” With that the floor was flung open, light streaming into the stall.

Meyer tensed, ready to leap up, but the hand on his arm tightened urging him to stay put. The Weequay looked into the stall, his eyes resting on the corner but traveling past quickly. There was a clicking, like plates rubbing against one another, and the shifting of something large. A low threatening chitter came from the still dark area of the stall, high above their heads and Meyer stiffened. The Weequay froze as well, his features stiffening before he backed away.

“You’re fortunate I let you live Syble,” he grumbled.

“But then you’d have to find a new beastmaster.” The Sith laughed coldly. “Could you find one as agreeable as me?”

The only response was the thud of boots retreating and the Sith leaned against the doorframe. Her golden gaze went directly to the corner where they sat and she smiled sardonically. “Your training has come far my little dis.”

“Thanks to you Akirsera.” The Cathar stood, all tension draining from her. When the subtle vibration stopped everything clicked.

“You’re Force Sensitive?” he breathed.

The Sith leaped forward, snatching the blade from his hand and pressing it to his throat. “That information doesn’t leave this stall. Start talking. Tell me why I shouldn’t make what I told Doran come true.”

Gasping in surprise his eyes went to the Cathar but he realized he’d find no quarter there. “I, I could be useful,” he sputtered. “I can slice and handle a blaster.” Those abilities seemed to fall on deaf ears so in desperation he added, “I’m a medic! I can help with injuries!” Not a complete lie, he did have some medical training from his early days of training.

The statement also seemed to placate the Sith as she backed off, still looking skeptical. “A medic? So what were you doing with pirates?”

“Taking care of knife wounds and blaster burns,” he lied. “Even pirates need someone to patch ‘em up.”

Eyes still narrowed in distrust, the Sith handed him his blade and turned to the Cathar. “You saved him, he’s yours now. Do with him what you please.” Glancing at Meyer once more, the Sith chuckled and cupped the Cathar’s cheek affectionately, “Though if you’d wanted a pet I wish you would’ve told me. I’m sure I could’ve obtained a sturdier specimen from the pens.”

“I didn’t want a… “ the Cathar protested to the retreating Sith, then rolled her eyes. When she finally looked back to him he gave her a small wave and what he hoped was a winning smile.

“Hello,” he said, and she let out a soft groan and sat down next to him.

“Hello,” she muttered grumpily.

“Ah, thank you for saving me,” he stated, only to hear her huff.

“Welcome.”

When all else failed, be polite. He held out his hand for her to shake, “Thank you, I mean it.”

She gave him a sidelong glance but took his hand. “You’re welcome.”

He was about to ask why she did it but there was another chitter on the other side of the stall that sent chills up his spine. “We’re, uh, not alone in here are we?”

“Huh?” Her eyes widened and a genuine grin spread across her face. “Oh no, don’t worry. That’s just Atenuâ.” The Cathar trilled softly and the chittering grew louder, followed by the same clicking from earlier. A frilled head came into the light, triple eyes blinking, and Meyer tried inching further into the corner.

“That’s a kriffin’ acklay!” he squeaked but the Cathar seemed unperturbed. She stood as the creature lowered its head then scratched under its chin. It made a low chirping noise, obviously happy with the attention.

“Anas buti nuyak panele. Kam zo zyemus panele,” she murmured as she continued scratching the lanky beast.

Her eyes touched on Meyer and she laughed at his horrified expression. “This was the safest place for you. Doran won’t admit it but the acklays terrify him. He wouldn’t enter a stall without Syble around.” Her hand moved up along the acklay’s jaw and it leaned into the slim digits, its eyes half-closing in pleasure.

“I told her not to eat you,” she said, chuckling again. “Said you’d taste like a rotten reek carcass.”

“Uh, thank you, I think,” he said, still unsure of how safe he was around a creature that could chomp his head off in one bite. Then again, might be safer than some of the crime lords he’d helped apprehend. “So, the Sith, that was Syble?” he asked, and she nodded. “What’s your name?”

“I’m called Dvasia, ‘ghost’,” she confided. The way she said it had him tilting his head in curiosity, but once again he got that feeling it’d be better to keep his mouth shut on the subject.

“Well, I’m Meyer,” he mentioned offhandedly. “At least I am until you pick a name for me.” At her confused look he smiled teasingly. “You know, since I’m your pet and all.”

“You’re not my pet,” she fired back. “I just…” She threw her hands up in the air. “Everyone deserves a chance to defend themselves, a chance to fight back.” Her voice dropped and he had to strain to hear her. “Sometimes it’s all you have.”

In the silence that followed he realized he might share more with this gladiator on an unknown planet than anyone he’d met in a long time. “Agreed. Thank you for giving me one. A chance that is.” She moved towards him and seemed to fade from sight even when he looked directly at her, he more felt than saw her sit next to him. “So what now?”

“Still don’t know,” she admitted, her translucent gray eyes coming into focus again. “Doran would kill you if he found you. Think you can lie low?” You have no idea, he thought but just nodded. “Good. I know Syble has something planned but she hasn’t filled me in yet. Until then I’ll keep you safe, deal?”

“Deal.” He held out his hand again and she shook it solidly.

“Good. I’ll get food and a blanket. You’ll be safe here with Atenuâ.” Without another word she stood, vanishing out the door and leaving him to absorb the nuances of his predicament.