1 The Dream Rider (13 page)

The city sprawled out across a flat plain between the
mountains. The ordinary skyscrapers and apartment buildings all possessed a
similar appearance. It reminded me of pictures I’d seen of what Moscow and
Berlin looked like during Communism. The mountains beyond the walls were a
welcome contrast to the industrial style of the buildings. Their thickly
forested peaks rose majestically, thousands of feet above the valley floor. The
sun was peeking over one mountain to the east. For some reason, it struck me as
interesting that the Siderian sun looked like ours on Earth. I guess I expected
it to be different, like the two moons I’d seen upon first arriving here.

The arena stood out from all the other bland architecture.
Its curvy metallic surface was like a gigantic cathedral of death. I thought it
odd that so many of the city’s buildings were so plainly designed yet the arena
was the only structure built with any sort of creative expression. The sides of
it rose high above the ground, swooping out at first and then back in as it
approached the top. The white roof wrapped around the upper edge, much like a
soccer stadium on Earth, providing cover for the fans but leaving the pitch
under open air.

A digital hologram of a bleach-blonde woman in a
skin-tight, white vinyl outfit materialized in front of the window next to me.
I stepped back in surprise, a little scared for a moment.

“Hello, Finn. I am your proxy during your stay here. If
you need anything, just speak to me and I will be happy to assist you.”
 
Her shoulder-length hair barely shook
as she bobbed her head back and forth. “To your right, you have a bedroom and
an adjoining bathroom.”
 
Her arm
extended out, inviting me to inspect the area for myself.

I walked apprehensively into the next room; the proxy
magically appeared again, this time near the far window. The bed was large,
decorated with a brown comforter and contrasting light blue pillows. Several
drawers suddenly opened, extended out automatically. They were filled with
various types of clothing, nothing like anything I’d really seen on earth. On
the opposite wall, a faux panel slid up into the ceiling, revealing five
different types of swords, armor, and shields. I ignored the clothing for a
minute and stepped over to the weaponry. The swords were of varying lengths and
shapes, but my eyes settled on one that seemed oddly familiar. I reached out
and took hold of the black handle attached to a slender, curved blade. The
shiny metal was perfectly balanced, and much lighter than I expected. I swung
it through the air, careful not to knock over a clear flower vase on a nearby
end table.

“You have chosen the Katana sword,” the proxy stated in a
robotic, female tone. “The Katana is an elegant weapon. It is light and
constructed of extremely strong steel.
Its shorter reach can
be exploited by enemies
with longer blades. However, warriors who are
expert with the Katana have been some of the fiercest in Siderian
history.”
 
I didn’t tell her that
we had a similar historical record of warriors who used the same piece of
steel.

I set the weapon on the bed and moved over to the drawers
that contained the clothes. There were a wide variety of things to wear, none
of which really appealed to me. I longed for my t-shirt and jeans but resigned
to the idea I would probably never see them again. I sifted through the
materials and came to a simple outfit that consisted of a tight black shirt
made from a material like dry-fit polyester. The matching pants were less
tight, more like the pants
of a
martial arts Gi. Loose
clothes might also slow me down and I would need to be as nimble as possible.
In the mirror I looked at my reflection. The clothing made me look stronger
than I actually was. As I stared at myself I realized I still hadn’t taken a
shower and quickly began removing the clothes.

“Would you mind turning around?” I asked my digital
assistant who was still watching me with a blank expression. It felt a little
strange with the proxy watching me undress.

“Certainly, Finn,” she
  

The steaming hot water washed over my skin. Soothing heat
relaxed my muscles, melting away the soreness that the night on the
uncomfortable cot had caused. It felt so good to get cleaned up. I am a person
who likes to shower every day, without fail. Being clean is just something I
need. After going a few days without one, it was a huge relief to wash away the
grime. There were a variety of exotic soaps and gels on a shelf sticking out of
the black tile shower. I used them all liberally.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” The proxy startled
me, appearing on the shower’s glass wall. I nearly slipped on the tiled floor
from jumping back.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” I insisted, trying to cover up
with my hands and a washcloth.

“Very well,” she replied and disappeared.

I got out of the bathroom after being in there for at
least twenty minutes and put on the new clothes. I set the sword back on the
shelf with the others and lay down on the soft bed. The mattress and comforters
were soft like marshmallow, and I felt myself beginning to relax further.

My eyes began to get heavy almost instantly. I’d not slept
well in the previous nights, which made the luxurious bed seem even more
amazing. I felt my mind drifting off into random thoughts before I finally fell
asleep.

I awoke suddenly in a familiar place. I was in my dorm
room, in my bed. I sat up and rubbed the sheets with my hands to make sure they
were real. I could smell the laundry detergent I used to clean them. My eyes
quickly scanned the room; everything was just as I’d left it. I jumped out of
bed and stepped over to the window. Outside, the leaves were falling from the
trees. The campus was alive with activity; students walked back and forth down
the promenade, headed to class or perhaps the student center. The sky was
filled with dark, rolling clouds, hinting that a rare fall storm was
approaching.

I was
threw
on some clothes and
ran through the campus to one of the buildings I knew Nate would be that time
of day. I saw him taking notes and participating in class discussion. When I
tried to get his attention, though, he ignored me. It was as if I was
invisible, like a ghost watching everything happen as an observer. I left the
building and headed back to the dorm. Other students seemed to not notice me as
well as I walked by.

In my room, I grabbed my car keys off the desk and left,
heading to my parents office. When I arrived twenty minutes later, my mother
was making dinner. The intoxicating smells of mashed potatoes, macaroni and
cheese, mixed vegetables, and herbs filled the house. My younger brother and
sister were busy playing video games in the adjacent living room. Dad was in
his office working on something. He always seemed to bring work home with him.

“Dinner’s ready,” my mother announced loud enough so that
my father could hear at the other end of the hall. “Turn off the television and
come eat,” she ordered my siblings in a matronly voice. They paused their game
and flicked off the television then hurried to the kitchen to grab a plate. Dad
entered the room and halted everyone as he said the blessing over the food. I
watched them with a disappointed sadness in my heart. I missed my family even
though I’d only been gone a few days. I wondered if they even knew I’d left.
The question
lingered in my mind as I watched them make their rounds through the banquet of
food mom had set out.

“Finn,” my mother looked at me with vacant eyes. Her lips
moved but it wasn’t her voice. “It’s time.”
 
I stepped towards her. Just like Nate, it was as if she
couldn’t see me. “Finn, it’s time.”
 
This time her lips didn’t move but I still heard her now robotic voice.
It didn’t sound like my mother at all.

Suddenly, everything disappeared and I woke up in the back
in the high-rise suite. A hologram of a digital woman hovered over my bead.
“Finn, it’s time to wake up. The guards will be here in thirty minutes to take
you to the arena. I suggest you eat something and get dressed.”
 

At the foot of the bed, just beyond her translucent
figure, was a silver cart loaded with various fruits, vegetables, and breads.
One pot steamed with something that looked like
a cheesy
pasta. I guess that explained the smells I detected in my dream. My heart sank
a little. I was still in this strange place. And I was going to be thrust into
a gladiator arena in mere hours.
How could I eat with all the butterflies stirring
in my stomach? And how did a hologram bring me dinner?
The more I thought
about it, the more disconcerted I became. Someone had been in my room while I
was asleep, defenseless.

“Who was in here?”

“What do you mean?” she asked sincerely.

“Who brought that food? There was someone in here while I
was sleeping,” I hoped I relayed how concerned that fact had made me.

“Finn, no one will hurt you here. The fighters are well
cared for before the games. A servant brought the food here and left. There’s
no need to worry. Now,” she changed the subject. “You need to eat something
before the escort arrives.”

“I’m not hungry,” I told the proxy.

“Suit yourself,” she almost sounded disappointed, which I
thought was strange for a piece of software.

I had already gotten dressed when I got out of the shower,
so the only thing I had to do was get the sword and armor. I pushed myself up
from the bed and as I did, the hologram moved with me.

“I see you have already chosen your clothes,” she
commented as I picked up the katana blade or whatever she’d called it before. I
twisted it in my hand a few times, getting used to its feel.

I set it back on the bed and tried on some of the armor.
There were pieces that fit over my torso, helmets, leg gear, and boots. In
nearly all of it, I felt clumsy and restricted. I placed all of the stuff back
where I’d gotten it and decided I wanted none of it. Even the shields were
bulky and awkward.

“Have you made a decision?” the proxy asked politely.

“Yeah. I don’t want any of it. The clothes and the sword
are all I can handle.”
 

My answer seemed to throw her off. “Finn, I recommend you
choose a set of armor and a shield. You will need all the help you can get
against tonight’s opponent. Current numbers show you are a five hundred to one
underdog in the betting for the fight. With no armor, you will be an easy
target. And with no shield, how will you defend against your opponent’s
attacks?”

I glanced over at her with a smirk. “Five hundred to one?
Well, that’s good then. I’ve got nothing to lose. And seeing how I’ve got
nothing to lose, maybe I won’t play defense.”

The proxy raised an eyebrow. “Very well. You may do as you
wish.”
 

I wished I could go home. So, doing what I wished wasn’t
an option. I looked at myself in a nearby mirror. I couldn’t help but wonder if
it
was
the last time I would ever see my reflection. I
stared for a several seconds before turning away. Hope seemed a distant
sentiment at the time. But it was still there, over the horizon, somewhere.

I heard the door open exactly when the electronic timer on
the wall hit zero. My seven hours was up. Two men walked through the door right
on time, while several others stood just inside the elevator, weapons at the
ready. I stood with my hands out to my side, the sword sheathed and strapped to
my back. The two men looked at me then at each other.

“You’re supposed to be ready. Wear’s your armor?”
 
The one on the right with a thick brown
beard spoke first. He was clearly annoyed with my choice of equipment; the
tight black shirt, Gi pants, and some lightweight boots I’d picked out. Both
men looked over my shoulder at the proxy, awaiting an explanation.

“He said he didn’t wish to wear armor or bear a shield,”
she resigned. “I tried to convince him.”
 

The men snickered. “This won’t be a long one,” the bearded
man said gruffly. “Emperor won’t be happy about that. He hates it when one of
the fighters die in the first few minutes.”

“So I’ve heard,” I replied to his comment snidely.

“This one’s got a mouth on him.” He jerked his thumb at
me. “I doubt you’ll be so clever when Darwinius is holdin’ your head up for all
the crowd to see.”
 

I narrowed my eyes but said nothing else. The other guard
nervously stepped around behind me and bound my hands behind my back. “N-now
don’t go trying anything funny. The emperor won’t like it if you’re beat up for
the parade.”
 
Again, I offered no
reply as the man clumsily finished his task then shoved me forward towards the
door.

“Good luck,” the proxy offered. There was something
curious in the way she said it.
Was it sincerity?
Strange for an
artificial intelligence.
The guards spun me around in the elevator,
and I watched her image disappear as the doors slowly closed.

The lift stopped after a descent that lasted about a
minute. When the doors opened again, I looked out onto an unnerving spectacle.

A sea of people lined an enormous hall, every single one
dressed in gray scrubs. The walls stretched dramatically up to the angled
ceiling, their voices reverberating as one massive noise. As I stepped out, the
crowd cheered loudly.

A man’s voice boomed through a PA system. I recognized it
instantly as the game master’s. The guards behind me nudged me forward as he
spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a very special entrant into the
games. He hails all the way from the planet Earth on the other side of the
galaxy. Please welcome, Finn McClaren!”
 
He emphasized my last name by elongating the latter part of it. The
crowd grew quiet, though, as he finished saying my name.

I continued to walk forward towards a giant open door. As
I passed in front of the people, some of them pointed at me with scowls on
their faces. I could hear others whispering about an earthling in hushed,
derogatory tones. Some were shocked that I looked just like them. I heard more
than a few commenting how they thought an alien would look.

I marched through the doorway and out onto the floor of
the massive arena, bright lights pouring down on me. I was ushered to the
center of the stadium where six other fighters already stood. I recognized a
few of them from the training room, others I’d never seen before. They all
faced forwards, standing erect and staring off into the crowd towards a large
box in the middle of the stands. Each one was in a different array of armor.
Their swords hung at their sides, concealed in the sheaths. I stopped next to a
man about my height in gold and black armor. His helmet had gilded wings etched
into the side just above the ears. I turned to face the same direction as the
others and saw the speaker standing in the box suite.

The game master’s voice came over the speaker again with
even more gusto as he announced the name of the final fighter. “And now, last
but not least, he’s the winner of a record 29 fights. Please welcome the number
one ranked fighter on Sideros. Daaaaaarrrrrwiniuuuuuuussss!”
 
The stadium erupted in a cacophony of
applause. People screamed while others just clapped incessantly. Some jumped up
and down as the big man entered the arena from a door on the opposite side of
the floor. He waved to the crowd with his huge arms, stopping intermittently to
pose for the audience and show of his bulging muscles. He was wearing a golden
chest piece and matching thigh plates.
His face was covered
by a rounded helmet that split into two points just below his chin, revealing
his mouth
. He stared at me as he neared the line of fighters, only
turning away when he reached his spot to face the box.

“Give another round of applause for this week’s warriors!”
the voice screeched again. The audience obeyed and roared to life once more. My
eyes scanned the seats of the arena. The people looked just like humans from
Earth. In the center of the stadium seating, the luxury box stood out amid the
mass of people. There was throne in the center with gilded legs and frame. I
then recognized the man sitting in it, just to the right of the game master. He
wore a long, black cloak, the same as when I’d seen him the first time,
standing on the top of the processing building. It was Emperor Mallock.

The eager game master waved one hand while holding the
microphone in the other, bathing in the mob’s jubilation. “Fighters, return to
your designated areas. The first bout will begin shortly.”
 
He waved his hand around again in a
wild gesture, which further whipped the crowd into
a frenzy
.

A group of guards directed us to designated holding areas
off to the side. Mine spot was back through a smaller pair of doors next to the
larger ones through which I’d entered. I figured the arena floor was about the
size of five or six basketball courts laid next to each other. It was a good
size with plenty of room to move around. The walls of the game area were around
ten feet high, stopping just below the first row of seats. As I neared my
holding pen, some of the fans started jeering me. One guy said Darwinius was
going to tear me from limb to limb. Another actually yelled out, “Aliens aren’t
welcome here.”
 

These
were the people I was supposed to save?
The thought occurred to me that maybe they didn’t deserve
saving. Here they were, herded into a gladiator arena like a bunch of mindless
robots, fed blood, carnage, and murder like barbarians. And they loved it!
 
Their freedoms had been stripped away
and yet they cheered, blinded by the fanfare of combat and death.

What really struck me was they applauded criminals. If
what Jonas said was true, Darwinius was an evil man, one who deserved, at
minimum, to be locked up for life. But all over the city, maybe even the world,
Siderians were betting on him and rooting for him. They called out his name
like he was a celebrity.

I focused on the open door in front of me with an intense
stare, ignoring the comments from the crowd. The game master had said to give
them a show before the fight. I had no such intentions. The show would be the
fight.

The metal door was slammed behind me and I sat down on a
bench that looked out through a wide, screened window. I could see everything
from that vantage point, except for the people behind me. A deep pounding
started to echo through the arena as the throng began to stomp
their
feet. They were chanting something over and over
again. It was one word. I couldn’t understand it at first. It was a word I
didn’t recognize.

A door opened across from me in the rounded wall. Then I
heard another one open nearby and watched one of the men from the black team,
named Kandu, running out, a broad sword held high, his shield out in front of
his chest. His black armor looked heavy and his helmet could not have been easy
to see out of, only providing narrow slits pressed tightly under his forehead.
He was a big guy, not as large as Darwinius, but far stronger than his
opponent, a member of the red group who I had barely noticed in the prison.

The crowd roared as the two combatants surged towards each
other with weapons drawn, dirt kicking up under their feet. Dramatically, the
two swords clashed in the air and the audience cheered applauded loudly. The
red group’s fighter, named Tallus, was slightly smaller, but agile, and had
chosen armor that had more vulnerable areas. What he gave up in protection,
allowed for him to use his speed and quickness. His shield, too, was
lightweight, and he only used it to deflect glancing blows. He ducked and
rolled away as Kandu swung angrily through the air, the long, wide blade
narrowly missing the neck of his target. I couldn’t help but notice how much
bigger his sword was than mine. The thing looked like it was five feet in
length.

Tallus was back on his feet and countered the swing with a
stab of his own. He lunged forward, firing out with the tip of his sword, and
caught his opponent off guard. The sharp point pierced through the inner thigh
of his target, just missing the protective metal plate. The man let out a howl
and brought his shield across the face of the red fighter with a loud clank.
The blow sent Tallus stumbling backwards, nearly causing him to drop his
shield. His sword was still stuck in Kandu’s leg, blood trickling down the
sweaty skin into his boot.

Kandu reached down and yanked out the blade, carelessly
tossing it on the ground near the wall. A short burst of blood squirted out of
the wound and soaked into the ground. I found myself sitting on the edge of my
seat, leaning forward, as I looked through the protective grid of the window.

Tallus had regained his balance but had no weapon. Kandu
stalked towards him angrily and swung his blade down diagonally at the man
who’d wounded his leg. Tallus blocked the first blow with his shield but the
impact knocked him back. He barely had time to ready for the next strike as
Kandu brought the blade crashing down again into the little shield. With every
clank of sword on the shield, the crowd gasped collectively.

Kandu whipped his blade around at the waist, but Tallus
ducked and swung his shield up, glancing the blade away then bringing the point
of the shield down hard onto his opponent’s boot. The sharp metal edge pierced
the leather and again, the fighter from the black group yelled out in pain.
Tallus wasted no time and quickly yanked his shield away. He sprinted towards
his sword near the wall while Kandu spun around angrily. He contorted his face
in a psychotic blend of pain and rage. The hole in his leg was oozing thick,
crimson liquid and now his foot displayed a bloody wound of its own. I could
barely make out his eyes through the helmet. They were angry, fearless orbs. It
was then I realized what the warriors from the black banner had in common. They
were the psychopaths of Siderian society. They feared nothing and sought only
to torture. They almost welcomed the pain, as if it helped them feel more
alive.

Tallus reached his weapon and scooped it off the ground.
Suddenly, a panel opened up on the wall next to him exposing dozens of metal
spikes. He barely acknowledged them with a sideways glance and charged back
towards his opponent who was now hobbling in his direction, but still covering
ground quickly. He got to Kandu and let loose a furious assault of strikes with
his blade. The larger man blocked them all with his sword; however, Tallus kept
up the attack, thrusting his weapon at the wounded man.

After several minutes passed, the volleys began to come a
little slower, and I realized that Kandu was letting his opponent wear himself
down. Tallus stepped to the side and swung across with his sword, but Kandu
blocked it easily; the momentum brought the opponent in close. Tallus had
overcommitted with the maneuver and was left with his back turned for one
second. It was all the time Kandu needed. He punched out with the point of his
long blade and sent the tip through Tallus’s back and out the front of his
abdomen.

Tallus screamed in agony as he looked down at the bloody
weapon protruding from his body. He stood perfectly still for several seconds
as he stared at the mortal wound. His chest heaved a few coughs, and a thin red
line streaked down the side of his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror.

Kandu grabbed him by the neck and yanked the blade out of
his victim. He dropped the sword onto the ground and lifted Tallus up with both
hands, stepping towards the nearby wall of spikes. The crowd’s anticipation of
the kill was palpable; they were almost completely silent as he approached the
apparatus. With a loud grunt, Kandu threw the red fighter the remaining ten
feet into the deadly spikes. Tallus’s yell was cut short by the sickening sound
of the spikes piercing through several parts of his body. One stuck through the
back of his head.

The crowd roared again, overjoyed at the gruesome finish.
Kandu’s breaths came in laborious gasps but he had enough energy to lift up his
hands over his head in triumph. The mob’s applause heightened as the victor
limped off of the arena floor and back into his holding area. It was then that
I realized I was staring through the window. The spectacle of the games was
difficult to look away from. For the briefest of moments, I understood the
appeal of the games. It was the ultimate battle, the pinnacle of struggle.

I flinched as I heard the door close next to me with a
loud thud. The reality of what I was about to do set in as a group of guards
peeled Tallus’s body from the spikes and carried him off the field on a metal
strecher. This was not a game.