It Rained Red Upon the Arena (11 page)

“I’m not scared of him, Phillip. Like I said, I’m looking forward to that fight. For now, I’ll focus on my fight next weekend, then I’ll prepare for him.”

Phillip was confused at Nick’s confidence. He worried that his head was overflowing with an ego developed through one win in the arena. But he decided to drop the subject and agreed that the next fight should be the focus.

Nick didn’t touch his food at first but finally attempted to take a bite. His mouth was swollen and full of cuts. His whole face hurt as he tried to chew the mushy protein filled breakfast. He could only swallow a few bites before giving up.

“So, enough about me. How was your fight yesterday?”

“It was a fast match,” replied Phillip. “The man I fought had limited combat abilities. I was able to beat him with only a few fast swings of my sword. He held up his shield in a way to protect himself helplessly. He probably didn’t know that I could stab him where the shield was not held up.”

Nick smiled and winced in pain. “Well, I’m glad you made it through another battle in the arena.”

The pain Nick felt throughout his whole body gave him the determination he needed. Most people in Nick’s shoes would have been down and out, but Nick was unlike the others he was around. He was able to inspire himself in the least likely of situations.

Nick still had about a week to train before his next fight in the arena. Battered and bruised, Nick limped into the dungeon with Phillip where he practiced his swordsmanship. Phillip knew that Nick was in pain, but Nick was so good at hiding it that anybody from a distance would never know that he had been injured on so many levels. He drove on like a warrior.

Nick’s next opponent was Golden, and he was so focused on defeating him that Nick nearly forgot that his birthday was coming up the next day. He was focused on Golden, and as he remembered his birthday Nick practiced even harder that day. He was motivated beyond belief for someone who was so cut up and bruised. The pain was nothing to him after a while; his heart raced and he swung his sword as hard as he ever had.

Nick practiced hard and went back to his cell confident in himself in his abilities to take on any man that stood in front of him in the arena.

***

On his eighteenth birthday Nick awoke in his cell and immediately had a smile on his face. Smiles came few and far apart for Nick during his stay in the arena and that morning he expressed the biggest one yet. He was excited that he was an adult. Even though he experienced that moment in a cell, he didn’t care.

At breakfast, Nick spoke with Philip. “I’m eighteen. Today is the day.”

“Congrats, my friend,” said Phillip. He raised his glass to Nick and said, “Cheers to your day of birth. Let there be plenty more to come.”

“Thank you.” Nick paused for a moment and said, “No. Thank you, my friend.” Nick raised his glass of water and drank from it.

That was it. A quick mention of his birthday to Phillip and the two carried on to talk about trivial things they spoke of every day. They talked about the arena and Nick’s upcoming fight. By the end of the meal and the conversation Nick realized how much he missed his old life. There would be no more birthdays where Nick could wake up in his bed, run to his father, and get wished a happy birthday. There would be no more gifts from his father and his best friend Thomas later into the night while they all talked over a nice meal. His eighteenth birthday was the first one he experienced on his own. He woke up happy that day, but as the day grew on he slipped into a depression.

As Nick sat in his cell later that night he finally broke down. He had wanted to cry since he had finished his meal earlier in the day with Phillip. He had wanted to cry during training and during dinner. He wanted to cry so badly, but crying would show a weakness he dared not show to the other inmates. So Nick sobbed while he was alone in his cell. His mind would play a message over and over, how he would never get out of the arena alive, and how he would never be happy again. Nick stayed up that night crying and battling his own thoughts.

He realized the arena was not just a test of physical strength as he had thought this whole time. Nick knew now that the hardest test in the arena was the mental strength of the individual. How the inmates deal with mental battles was something that could not be taught. But it would be the key to being the ultimate slayer in the arena. Nick had realized these things, and he was able to set his mind to ease. He would not let the negative thoughts control him. Instead he would practice meditation every night from then on to stay on the right track.

***

For the next week Nick trained at top levels in the dungeon as his next fight approached. His wounds and bruises from Body Bags healed nicely; he was moving more freely every day. Nick focused on his dual wielding abilities with two short swords as he knew he would be facing a Paplon. Nick wanted to show his speed in the arena with two weapons and finish his enemy quickly.

Nick took a few glimpses at his opponent Golden’s training while in the dungeon. Golden practiced with a long sword every day. His fighting stance was decent; Nick could tell he had been trained in his swordsmanship. His strikes were average at best. Nick believed he had the edge in his next fight. He did not experience the nervousness and doubt he had felt before his first fight. He was relaxed and confident.

Nick did not see too many inmates break down and cry since he had been at the arena. But this week he saw six men and two women cry. Some of the men started to yell and break things nearby, only to be thrown to the ground by nearby Refect. As Nick witnessed the increased number of inmates break down, he reinforced himself of the importance of mental strength. On his eighteenth birthday, Nick could have been one of the inmates broke down in front of everyone. Everyone is judged.

Nick continued his meditation at night. He would close his eyes and reflect. Nick imagined himself sitting on top of a beautiful green hill. The sun warmed his skin as a light wind rustled fallen leaves at his feet. A tree nearby bent as the wind streamed through it and the tree’s shadow on the floor followed. Below the hill Nick looked down to see a river. The water was rapid and splashed in numerous areas as it flowsed over rocks and curves.

He sat in that area and believed that one day he will get out and be on that hilltop. He opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his cell; small, smelly, rocky, and cold. But so long as he could escape to his reality of the hill every night, Nick believed his mental strength would increase. He thought of it similar to working out muscles on his arm, and in time his muscles would grow bigger and stronger. The same would happen to his mind. That week Nick continued to meditate and escape to his hilltop paradise every night. He came to the conclusion that the best birthday gift was, in fact, to himself: the gift of being in a healthy mental state.

***

On the day of his fight, Nick was confident and determined. He was ready to go out and prove his worth once again in the arena grounds. Nick had two wooden swords in his hands and slashed ferociously at his bundle of hay. The wounds he received from Body Bags had all but cleared up. He was moving freely again. He no longer had a lingering pain with each strike of his sword. Practice went smoothly. He did not train too hard on the day of his fight. He chose to keep his energy for the sandy floors of the arena.

Soon the Refect came in to pull the fighters into the armory. Nick and Phillip looked at one another and gave a simple nod to one another before Nick walked off toward the armory. There were three fights lined up for the day. Nick was scheduled to be in the first battle. From within the armory, Nick could hear the crowd roar with excitement. The room trembled as the echoes from above brought dust down from the ceiling.

Nick picked up two short swords. He weighed them in each hand and examined the blades’ sharpness. They were to his liking. Next, he picked out his choice of steel armor to wear: a helmet, chest plate, gloves, and leggings. Nick stood strong, and he felt awakened. His heart began to race as he stood there in the armory, anticipating the fight. A Refect soon pulled Nick over towards the elevator that would take him and his opponent Golden up to the arena grounds. Nick was the first to arrive on to the elevator; his opponent soon followed. This was when Nick realized he had made a huge mistake.

Golden was wielding a bow and arrow. Nick had not anticipated his opponent choosing such a weapon. He had no shield to protect himself. He would be dead in minutes out in the arena without one. He had only observed Golden ever practice with a sword; Nick had never seen him practice with a bow. Golden had had a plan to trick Nick, and he had fallen for it.

Before the gates closed and the elevator ascended, Nick tapped the Refect’s shoulder who was operating the elevator. The Refect turned around and Nick said, “I forgot something in the armory. Please give me one second to go grab it.”

“Nope. You, sir, have already stepped foot into my elevator and there is no going back now,” said the Refect.

“You don’t understand, Master, I need something in the armory or else...”

“Or else what? You’ll piss your pants? I don’t care. Back up or my blade might accidentally pierce you before you make it to the arena, inmate!”

Nick stood back and felt like a dead man. His heart raced faster and faster. Panic ensued as he understood the consequences of not having a shield.

“Should have gotten a shield when you had the chance,” said Golden. “Cockiness is the number one killer in the arena. Half the time it’s not even about skill.”

Nick did not respond. He only stood there in the elevator as the Refect operated it to the top floor. He wanted to use two short swords to show off his fast blade skills. Golden was right; Nick was cocky. He would be out there in the arena like a helpless animal being hunted in the woods. He would run and fall after a few arrows pierced his skin. That was what his fate felt like to him now.

The elevator reached the top floor and Nick was familiar with his surroundings. The gate opened from the front of the elevator and the men walked towards the iron gate before the arena. The crowd clapped and cheered in anticipation of the start of the games. It had been six days since the last arena games. The crowd was hungry for more blood.

Nick stood at the gate and tried to think of a plan of attack to defeat Golden. The only plan he could think of was to use his dagger and throw it at Golden, preferably at one of his arms, which would hinder his bow abilities. But Nick knew the outcome of an attack like that from his previous match, especially hitting such a small target as one arm. The odds were not in his favor and Nick knew this. Nick could feel it. The devastating blow of defeat, the death upon the sands, his last moments would be here. His name forever lost in the sands of the arena.

Negative thoughts stood amiss as the gates before Nick began to ascend. The two combatants took to the center of the arena as the crowd grew into the thunderous roar that Nick had remembered. Nick looked at his opponent. He sported a much lighter set of armor compared to what Nick had chosen. That is one positive; if he had the chance, a blade could rip through Golden, whereas Nick could withstand a few arrows shot at him, or so he hoped.

The two Paplon men stood at the center of the arena facing one another. Nick stood with both hands on the grip of his swords, and Golden stood with one arm arched up to grab his first arrow. The two stood still in the same pose. A few more seconds passed and then the bell rang.

Cheers echoed throughout the arena as the fight began. Nick immediately ran for cover behind one of the stone pillars inside the arena while arrows went whizzing by his head.

Golden was not afraid to shoot his arrows at Nick and he continued to maneuver himself into different positions to get a clear shot at him. Nick would simultaneously run around the cover as Golden would prepare for a shot.

It was a standoff between the two of them.

The crowd boo’d at Nick’s cowardly display.

Nick stood close to the pillar as his only real move would have been to hope Golden would soon run out of arrows.

The crowd continued to boo, angry at Nick as he stayed safely tucked behind the pillar. Every time Golden moved to a new angle and fired a shot, Nick swiftly moved behind the full cover of the pillar.

There was nothing he could do but try to protect himself. He felt hopeless. He knew he was about to die.

Arrows swished through the air. The sound of an arrow rattled past Nick’s ears.

The crowd grew ever angry as Nick tried to live just a few moments longer. He looked up at the sky and imagined his father and his mother. He thought of his best friend Thomas, and Penny, the girl of his dreams.

I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this. I love all of you. Good bye.

He would not die a coward. Nick put a firm grip on his swords and began to make a desperate sprint towards Golden. Nick didn’t run straight; he ran in a zigzag motion to try to throw off Golden’s aim.

An arrow flew by Nick’s right leg and he continued to run. He was already a quarter way there. Another arrow was released from Golden’s fingertips. Nick felt a blow, as if someone hit him with a hammer, followed by a shooting pain. An arrow had pierced Nick’s armor and gone through his left shoulder.

Nick slowed for a second, stunned. With a determined look, he shook off the pain and continued running towards Golden. He took a few long strides before he felt another pain from a gash, this time from his neck. An arrow had nearly pierced him; it skimmed his skin and left him with a cut.

A few more strides and Nick was close enough. He threw back his arm and then thrust it forward, releasing his short sword from his hand. Simultaneously, another arrow flew from Golden’s bow. The arrow flew faster through the air, and it pierced Nick’s right leg.

Nick screamed in pain as his sword reached its target, slashing through Golden’s left arm.

Nick began to limp forward and pulled out his second sword with his right hand. His other hand had no mobility; his left shoulder was incapable of any swift or sudden movements.