1 The Dream Rider (10 page)

“What power is that?” I asked, slightly incredulous at the
remark.

“The power of belief.”

Jonas’s words still echoed through my head while I sipped
on some soup he had brought to the table. It reminded me of an onion soup I’d had
once at a restaurant in my hometown. It was the same watery liquid he’d been
eating when I first met him. Eating out of a wooden bowl was a new experience,
but didn’t really change the process. I was starved and went through the broth
and a hard piece of bread that had come with it in a few minutes. The others
were still standing around watching me as I finished my food.

“That was good,” I said after swallowing the last bit. It
actually wasn’t that good but I was so hungry, a shoe would have tasted amazing
at that point. “I don’t suppose we get seconds around here, huh?”
 
Elda just shook her head slowly.

A young man who appeared to be close to my age was
standing close to the table. He seemed eager to say something but held himself
back until I finished eating. He just stared awkwardly the whole time. Finally,
when I pushed away the bowl, he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“What’s it like?” he asked, the words spewed from his
mouth in a tinny, high-pitched tone. He was skinny with lean muscles, shaggy
brown hair, and matching stubble on his face. His legs were scrawny, too. I
wondered how many fights in the arena he’d survived and how. I assumed he’d not
fought men like Darwinius.

“What’s what like?” I needed him to clarify. I had no idea
what he was asking. It could have been about anything from the soup to
baseball.

He slid next to me in an empty seat and leaned in close.
“Earth,” he said. “What is it like on Earth?”
 

“Oh,” I smiled and looked down at my table, considering
his question. For the first time in my life, I almost felt like a celebrity. It
was an odd sentiment, especially given the circumstances. “What would you like
to know?”
  

“Everything. What does it smell like? What are the colors
like? How does the food taste? What are your women like there?”
 

I’d never considered any of those questions from the
perspective of an alien before. It made me rethink all of it. Things I took for
granted, interactions from my life on Earth, all had to be explained as if to a
child for the first time.

Fortunately, Jonas interrupted us. “He can talk to you
about all of that later, Tota. Finn just got here. Let’s give him some time to
process things.”
 

Process things? That would be nice. More than that, I wish
I could rest. The previous night’s attempt on the cot had been a miserable
failure.

“It’s okay,” I interrupted Jonas. “I don’t mind. Maybe the
best way for me to get to grips with this whole weird scenario is to think
about stuff I know. Tota? Is that your name?”
 

The young man nodded and I continued. “Well, Earth is very
similar to your planet, at least from the small bit of it I saw in your city.
The trees look the same, dirt, grass, stone, all of it seems very similar. This
was the first meal I’ve eaten here but it is very much like what we have back
home, though, we usually have more than just soup. Even our prisons serve three
full meals every day to the inmates.”
 
I pointed at the empty bowl while I spoke. “The smells depend on where
you are. My university is next to a large snack cake company. Some days, the
smells of the bakery waft through the campus, filling the air with sweet,
toasty aromas of cinnamon, brown sugar, chocolate, vanilla, and flour. In the
spring, wild pears, azaleas, and other flowers can be smelled everywhere.
During the summer months, honeysuckle is the primary scent in the evenings.
It’s kind of a sweet smelling flower.

“Of course, if you were in a city, you would experience
something different. Some cities have a lot of pollution in the air from all
the cars and factories. In other places, the smells of restaurants or grills
waft through the area. Still others smell dirty, like garbage. Those are the
ones where humans haven’t taken good care of the area. But all of it just
depends on where you are. In the desert, the air is dry and you must be careful
to drink a lot of water to stay hydrated. Some of the high deserts are scented
with sage. Others are just dunes of sand with no real smells at all. We have
different mountain ranges, too. Some are lush and green like the ones I saw
here beyond the wall, while others are rocky and always capped with snow.”

“What about the women there?” he injected. “Are they
beautiful? What are they like?”
 
I
laughed and looked at the women in the group. They, too, looked expectant for
an answer. Though, they also seemed a little irritated at Tota’s question.

“There are some who are beautiful,” I responded carefully.
“Much like the women here.”
 
He
narrowed his eyes suspiciously at my response. It did seem to please the
feminine ears that heard it, though. Before Tota could protest, I continued.
“I’ve never had much luck with the women on Earth. They are complex, difficult
to please sometimes. And they…” I lowered my head for a moment, thinking back
on a particular girl who had left a scar on my young heart. Even though I was
in my earliest twenties, she had shaped my sense of self. “Most of the women on
my planet are not interested in guys like me,” I confessed. “They want men like
Darwinius or his friends over there.”
 
My thumb jerked towards the corner where the red banner hung.

“But they are bad people,” Tota insisted. “Why would the
women want to be with men who are evil?”
 

I smiled at the question. It was one that I’d often
pondered myself. I had always been a nice guy. I just assumed the old adage
nice guys finish
last
was true. “I don’t know, Tota. I guess they just look at the outside
too much. It’s a perception that has been built up in their heads. It’s not
really the guy they’re interested in. It’s the image they’ve constructed in
their minds of what they think they want.”
 

“Men are guilty of the same thing, Tota,” Nela jumped into
the conversation. “The first thing you asked was what the women looked like on
earth.” Tota’s face turned bright red.

“She’s right,” I agreed. “We are all guilty of it. I know
I have probably been guilty of only looking on the outside for what I
want.”
 
She seemed to appreciate my
honesty. “It’s a human trait.”

“The body will age and fade away,” Jonas interrupted. “It
is what’s on the inside that makes us who we are. That is what will stand the
test of time. And it is what is on the inside that will make you strong, Finn.
Though Darwinius may appear fitter on the outside, what you have within you is
a hundred times more powerful than any of his muscles. The power of belief is a
mysterious thing. But your subconscious understands it. It can tap into it,
just like it did yesterday when you fought the guards.”
 

I started to ask a question but everyone around the table
turned their eyes upward to the center of a balcony above the training grounds.
The gangly man I’d seen before was standing with his hands resting on the stone
railing. A heavy black coat hung off narrow shoulders. Several guards
accompanied him. On the wall in our corner, a television screen materialized as
if it were being projected from somewhere. It zeroed in on the man’s pale face.
He had a black, finely groomed beard with matching hair that flowed in thick
locks just past his ears.

“Who is that?” I whispered.

“The game master,” Tota answered just as quietly. “We must
not speak while he is speaking.”
 

The man raised his hands in a welcoming gesture. “Good
morning, warriors.”
 
His scratchy
voice boomed through the facility, amplified through a concealed sound system.
“Just a reminder, tomorrow night is game night. Trainers, be sure to check your
rosters and your matchups. They will appear on your screens presently.”
 
He twisted one way then the other in a
grand show. “Good luck tomorrow night for all the warriors involved. Fight
well. Die well.”
 
He spun around
and disappeared from sight leaving four guards watching over the training
ground.

“What happens if someone decides not to fight?” I asked
Jonas once the room resumed its activities.

He blinked fast a few times. “That is not an option,” his
voice was serious. “You fight or you die.”
 

The rest of the group disassembled and began their various
training exercises.

“And even if we fight, we may die anyway.”
 
I looked over at the screen projection
on the wall. There were four fights listed for the next evening. I was the only
one on the list fighting under the green banner. And it was the last event of
the evening. In bright white letters on a gray-metallic background
Finn vs Darwinius
announced my fate. I decided to learn as much about my opponent as I could
since Jonas was right about physical training. I could spend the next
twenty-four hours doing nothing but practicing and I would still not come close
to Darwinius’s strength or skills.

“What’s the story with him and Petra?” I asked Jonas in a
hushed whisper.

Jonas’s face saddened. When he spoke, his voice was full
of sadness. “Darwinius was a criminal in this world before Mallock came.
Initially, he was a petty thief. As time passed, he grew stronger and more
reckless. He began breaking into people’s homes in broad daylight. If anyone
resisted, he would force
their
submission. One day,
shortly after the invasion, he broke into Petra’s home while he was working in
one of Mallock’s new factories. When Petra got home, he found his wife dead on
the floor of their apartment. He had passed Darwinius in the hall just before
entering his home. Petra had no idea until later that the man had killed his
wife.

“After that, Petra spent his waking hours searching the
city for the villain who took her life. He found Darwinius late one night.
Petra challenged him to a fight in the park but the police arrested both of
them and placed them here. The game master won’t pit them against one another
because they are two of the best. Mallock can’t have either of his two crowd
favorites killed in battle.”
 

That explained the awkward exchange between the two brutes
earlier. It also explained Petra’s general feeling of bitterness. I looked over
at him. The big man sat against the wall near the water trough. He spoke to no
one, just stared down at the hard ground,
lost
in his
memories and pain. I don’t know why, but the story of Petra and his wife made
everything seem far more real.

“How do the games work?” I asked, trying to get away from
the topic. I stared at my name on the screen.

“It’s different from game to game,” Jonas answered. “The
rules are simple, though. Two warriors enter, and only one may leave. Standard
weapons are usually swords, though they have thrown in some variations from
time to time. The public likes variety.”
 
His tone had grown cynical. “Occasionally, they have a weapon’s cache
placed in different locations of the arena floor. In that case, a warrior can
choose their favorite.”
 

“What weapon is Darwinius most skilled with?” I shifted my
gaze across the floor, peering at my opponent curiously.

“His best weapon is his brute strength. While he can be
deadly with a sword or spear, his technique is sloppy. He tries to overwhelm
his opposition with force and speed. This leaves him open to a well-timed counter
attack.”
 
The information Jonas was
giving me was good. But I was concerned that no one had bested the giant man in
over two-dozen attempts.

“How come nobody has been able to beat him?” I hoped my
question wasn’t stupid.

“Darwinius’s greatest attribute is intimidation. Most of
the men who have faced him cannot see beyond his muscular physique. They cower
behind their shields right up until the moment those shields have shattered
under the might of his sword. I’ve seen some fighters take the opposite
approach and charge recklessly at him. They are the ones who last the shortest
amount of time. Mallock hates it when they do that. He wants his audience to be
entertained at least a little. The longer the fight, the more he thinks the
people will appreciate him for the games. It is part of his little ruse to keep
them blinded to the fact that they are his slaves. So we fight, and we try to
survive.”

I heard a woman’s voice suddenly grunt from somewhere
behind me and looked back to see Nela heaving a spear at a target made from
straw. Her balance was perfect as she hefted the weapon. Her hand kept it level
all the way to the follow through. The blunt tip struck the dummy, dead center.

I half-returned my attention to the discussion with Jonas.
“How does Mallock determine which group new fighters are assigned to?” I spoke
while noticing Nela’s strong legs from a distance.

“Each group has a certain type of criminal element to it.
The group under the red banner always has the toughest fighters. They are the
ones who commit the most violent crimes.”
 
I looked over at the men and women training under the red banner. They
all emanated a tough appearance. Some had fierce tattoos. All of them were
strong, even the women. And each one of them seemed taller than anyone else in
the facility.