Anzil (Gladiators of Krix #2) - Miranda Martin Page 0,50
standing behind the gate that open to let her in. The Arena Master orders us to stand back, pushing us down the hall. I don’t want to obey, but if we cause trouble the guards will outnumber us four to one and that will benefit no one.
Xyron and I return to the bottom of the ramp and wait. Kiara walks off the arena and makes it into the shadows of the hall. The moment she does, she wavers then collapses. As she drops to the ground, she loses her stomach.
“MEDICUS!” I scream as I run.
I scoop her off the ground and race down the hall with her. The medicus comes out of his room, and I crash into him. He flies back into his room, cursing all that walk upright. I lie her on the table in the middle of the room while Xyron helps him to his feet.
“Let me see,” the medicus says, pushing me aside.
“I’m fine,” Kiara says. “Back off, damn it.”
She pushes the medicus’ hands away then sits up on the table. She grasps the sides, hangs her head down, and heaves, gags, then shakes her head. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
The medicus ignores all of us and leans in to look at the cut on her arm. He goes to the side table and threads a needle.
“Kiara, are you okay? Did they poison you?” I ask.
“No,” she shakes her head. “I’m fine, really.”
I kneel before her so I can look in her eyes. Tears glisten unshed.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nevaeh,” she says. “She’s alive. She’s okay. I thought…”
She trails off, but she doesn’t have to say any more. I look over my shoulder at Xyron, who grimaces and nods. We understand without words. We know too well how it is to be ordered to kill a brother in arms.
“Move,” Medicus orders, “she needs stitches.”
“Anzil,” the Arena Master yells. “You’re up. Come on or I’ll have you flogged.”
Torn between duty and my desire to see her cared for, I look at Xyron.
“Go, I will stay with your female,” he says.
In all my life I never thought I’d come to depend on the Xactarin. Yet here I am, leaning on him. I hold out my hand, and he grasps my forearm. We are joined by the humans. I begin to understand the depths to which they are changing Krix.
I walk up the tunnel to the gates, but my heart is with her. I grab sword and shield as I pass our prep room, and by the time I get to the gates they are open and waiting. Steeling resolve, I jog onto the sands.
Fighting. The one thing I’ve always known. The thing I’m best at. They announce my opponent, but it’s not a name I recognize. I wait, ready, for him to emerge from his gate. When he does, my heart stops and there is no air for my lungs.
A large red man with seafoam green hair storms out of the opponent gate. He pauses seeing me, then a mad grin spreads across his face. He throws his arms wide and roars.
“Vengeance!” he bellows then charges.
I’m reeling and barely able to receive his attack. He attacks with blind rage, no style, no thought. I’m attacked by a demon the Gray Widow has sent to punish me.
White Widow save me. Is this the price of my having found some happiness? Is this monstrous event what I get for finding love?
He drives me back across the sands. He holds his sword in both hands, and every attack comes with all the power he has. I block blow after blow. My shield arm is numb. If I don’t go on offense soon he’ll win.
“Bitral, is it you?” I ask, blocking another blow.
“You remember me?” he growls. “Good. You’ll beg for the death you should have gotten back home!”
He swings overhead, and the blade whistles as it slices down. I use the trick I learned from Kiara, punching his bicep and the bundle of nerves at the base of the shoulder. It throws his blade off, and it swings past harmlessly. He yells in pain and rage, but his left arm hangs numb at his side.
“Bitral,” I say. “You were dead. How?”
He attacks with more guile and skill, having spent his rage and lost the use of his arm. Swords and shields clash as we move around the arena. The crowd cheers and jeers, alternating with each turn of the match.
“You left me for dead,” he growls.