The Hunter on Arena (28 page)

Braldt stared at him, wondering if there was some mistake, wondering if this could be some other Madrelli. This Madrelli seemed
larger, more hulking and muscular than Batta Flor who far preferred peace to bloodshed and violence. It seemed almost impossible
that this could be his gentle friend, but there was the matter of the ear which was torn from the head in a ragged line. Surely
no two Madrelli bore the same terrible wound.

Then the wind whipped the rain aside and Braldt saw Keri, her wrist gripped tightly in the Madrelli’s enormous paw, pulling
against him, struggling futilely against his vast strength. Her eyes were wide and full of fear and her face was drawn and
lined. There were dark circles under her eyes and black, blue, and yellowing
bruises on her arms. She was thin, almost emaciated, and her torn and dirty garment hung on her like she was made out of sticks.

There was movement at her feet and Braldt saw a bloody figure inch along the muddy ground. It was Beast, one ear crushed against
his head, an eye swollen shut, and his fur crusted with dark blood that in actual comparison looked nothing like the crimson
rain. Beast raised his battered head and scented the air, his muzzle casting back and forth, searching. Braldt called his
name and the lupebeast leaped forward, staggering on wobbly legs, and collapsed at Braldt’s feet.

“Run, Braldt, run before he kills you!” Keri screamed, and as Braldt raised the whimpering pup in his arms, an immense club
came sweeping down upon him.

Braldt ducked and lurched to one side as the red mud
squelched beneath his feet. He lost his balance, though, and slipped, and it was this that saved him, for as he fell, still
cradling the lupebeast pup in his arms, the huge club slammed down alongside his head and thudded into the earth.

Keri screamed, a high, thin sound filled with despair. Braldt rolled to the side, unwilling to relinquish the pup, for in
its weakened condition, it would be an easy target. He scrambled to his feet and reached for his sword, realizing he had dropped
it when he grabbed up the pup. Then Allo and Randi were at his side with weapons drawn, holding the enraged Madrelli at bay
as he brandished his club before him and bellowed wordlessly.

Keri struggled against his grip, but it was like a gnat attacking an armored reptile and the Madrelli took no notice of her
at all. But seeing Keri in such a state threw Braldt into a frenzy, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from running
to her defense. He tried to remain calm, telling himself that Batta Flor was using her as bait, hoping to cause him to lose
his rationality and draw him in close so that he could kill him. He reminded himself of the Madrelli’s deep affection for
Keri and
tried to believe that it was all a sham and that Batta Flor would not really hurt her. But looking at the expressions of fear
and rage he had trouble believing it.

Randi sidled close. “Friend, huh!” she hissed. “Heavens save us from your enemies!”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” said Braldt, trying to understand what could have caused the drastic change in the once gentle,
pacifistic Madrelli.

“Well, it looks as though we’d better rescue your friend from King Kong, then figure out what went wrong later,” Randi said
dryly.

“King Kong?” asked Braldt.

“Never mind, old earth joke,” muttered Randi. “Before your time, or mine, for that matter.”

The three of them spread out, offering less of a target to the swinging club, which if it connected, could easily separate
their heads from their shoulders.

Allo was very nearly identical in size to Batta Flor, but lacked his powerful musculature and the rage that seemed to drive
him. Braldt wondered if Allo would be able to hold the Madrelli if they succeeded in separating him from the vicious club.
Beast whimpered and struggled in Braldt’s arms; Braldt put him down and the pup immediately began to bark and growl at the
Madrelli.

The rain came down harder and harder and the lightning increased, striking on all sides, accompanied by tremendous claps of
thunder louder than anything Braldt had ever heard. It was louder than mere sound; his ears ached and he was stunned by its
depth and power. He could feel the vibration of each stroke in his bones and teeth. The intensity of the wind increased as
well, whining
and shrieking around the arena, tearing at their hair and clothes, plucking at their eyelids, pelting them with hard pellets
of rain and sand.

Randi said something, but the words were torn from her mouth and scattered by the winds. It was impossible to hear anything
except the sound of the storm. Braldt wanted nothing more than to run for cover or shield his head with his arms, for he felt
as much danger from the storm as he did for Batta Flor. A bolt of lightning crackled out of the sky and plunged into the red
earth no more than two feet in front of him.

The accompanying thunderclap was immediate and they reeled under its force; they staggered off balance and would have made
easy victims except for the fact that Batta Flor and Keri were affected as well. Batta Flor was thrown to the ground, striking
his elbow and losing his grip on Keri. Keri, who had been just as badly stunned by the thunderous detonation, nonetheless
dropped to all fours and scrambled across the short distance that separated them, crawling behind Braldt, placing him between
her and Batta Flor, clinging to him in desperation.

Batta Flor leaped to his feet, his mouth open in a scream of frenzied fury. He raised his club again and swung it high above
his head. Braldt tried to shove Keri back out of reach, but she was frozen, her arms and legs rigid; her fingers digging into
his arms so hard that it was impossible to dislodge her.

Randi raised her gun and pointed it at the Madrelli, a grim, determined look on her face.
“No!”
screamed Braldt, for despite all that had happened, he could not allow Batta Flor to be killed. But Randi ignored him
completely and from the set of her jaw, Braldt knew that if Batta Flor followed through with his swing, she would surely fire.
He had seen her dispatch a number of combatants with the gun and knew how accurate her aim was.

Batta Flor raised up on the balls of his feet, his eyes glittering with a manic rage, the club standing straight up. He was
not deterred by the sight of the gun; he may not have even been aware of it for his eyes had never left Braldt and Keri.

Then it happened. An enormous, jagged bolt of lightning slammed down out of the seething clouds and struck the tip of the
club. It shimmered and danced along the length of the weapon with a vivid, flaming light, then flowed around the massive paws
that gripped the base of the club so tightly. The glowing incandescence traveled swiftly, progressing down the length of the
Madrelli’s enormous arms and jolting into the body itself.

Keri cried out and buried her face in Braldt’s back, sobbing hysterically. Randi lowered her gun and looked at her intended
target in horror, her face pale. She staggered back from the Madrelli, for the lightning was crackling around his body in
all directions, causing his limbs to twitch and fly about wildly. He was out of control, flailing and thrashing, his teeth
clenched and bared in agony, his eyes rolled back into his skull. The bolt released the Madrelli and disappeared as swiftly
as it had appeared, leaving Batta Flor to collapse upon the wet earth, his body still with rictus.

He was arched backward, resting on head and heels, his body bowed above the muddy ground. Not even the
pouring rain could cover the stench of burned flesh and singed fur. Tiny wisps of heat rose from the agonized corpse before
being dissipated by the rain. The four witnesses hung back, held in place by the horror of what they had viewed, then Braldt
flung himself forward, breaking the spell, and ran to the side of the one who had been his friend.

It was even worse up close. Braldt hurled himself on the Madrelli’s chest, feeling the incredible heat that had charred the
life from the immense body. He placed his head flat upon the arched chest, but could hear no heartbeat, no sound of life.
He swung himself astride the contorted figure and began to pound Batta Flor’s chest, screaming at him to breathe, to live.
So frantic were his actions, so deep was his grief, that he did not even notice that every time he pushed down on Batta Flor’s
ribcage, chunks of burned fur and flesh sloughed off”.

It was Keri’s hysterical crying that brought him back to his senses. She had sunk to the sodden ground and was clutching her
head with both hands, rocking back and forth and alternately screaming and crying. Randi knelt at her side and tried to calm
her, tried to gather her in her arms, all animosity vanished, but Keri could not be comforted. Allo and the lupebeast pup
stood to one side, the pup growling and whining with uncertainty, his lips drawn away from his teeth in an odd grin. Allo
stroked the pup and watched with sad eyes, recognizing death and knowing it could not be reversed.

Braldt stumbled back from the thing that had once been his friend and took Keri in his arms. The rain bathed them in red streaks,
the color of death and sorrow.

Suddenly Septua was there, running at full speed into the center of them, nearly tripping over Batta Flor’s body. “Whoa!”
he gasped, circling the charred corpse with wide eyes and cautious steps as he hurried to Braldt’s side. “Gotta ’urry! C’mon,
gotta get outta ’ere! The ‘bots an’ the guards, they’re coming!”

“I’m surprised you bothered to think of us,” Randi said dryly. “What’s the matter, don’t you think you can make it by yourself?”

“’Ey, it’s not that!” Septua squeaked with indignation. “It’s just I din’t want to leave you guys ’ere after all we been through
together. We’re friends, ain’t we? Friends stick together!”

“So, you didn’t think you could do it alone, right?” Randi repeated.

“Yeah, all right. So you know everything. Make you feel better? C’mon! We gotta get outta ’ere now, or you can tell the ’bots
’ow smart you are. See ’ow much it impresses ’em. An’ somethin’ weird is goin’ on—there’s a bunch a’ blue guys everywhere!”

Braldt raised his head from Keri’s shoulder. “Blue guys?” he said dully, then nodded to himself. “Yantra helps those who help
themselves.” He gripped Keri by her shoulders and shook her gently. “Come,” he said. “There is nothing more we can do for
Batta Flor; he is gone from this body. We can only help ourselves now. You know that he would not want us to stand and grieve
for him if it costs us our lives.”

“But—but, he…” Keri said tearfully.

“That was not Batta Flor,” Braldt said firmty. “We
must remember him as he was and forgive him for what happened here. He was not himself.”

“Can you jabber later?” Septua asked, jiggling nervously from foot to foot and looking around in all directions. “We ain’t
got all day!”

Allo placed a large hand in the center of Braldt’s and Keri’s backs and propelled them forward, away from the Madrelli’s ruined
body. The rain soon hid it from sight and as it disappeared behind them, they were somehow freed.

Now they could hear the sounds of combat, screams and yells and the clash of steel on steel. It grew steadily louder as they
drew closer to the far side of the arena, although they were unable as yet to see anything other than the sheets of crimson
rain.

It was not the sound of typical combat. There was confusion and hysteria in the cacophony of voices that could now be heard
from all sides. The rain and lightning continued with undiminished ferocity, but now through the rain, they were able to make
out a frieze of odd figures locked in combat around the edges of the tiers and spilling down over the walls into the arena
itself. As they advanced, they could see that Septua had told the truth for once—there were indeed blue aliens everywhere.

They were not fighting so much as they were being fought—the blue rectangles did nothing but advance, or in some instances,
stand still and allow the guards to come to them. In any event, the outcome was the same. Spears, swords, clubs, and fists
had no effect on the strange creatures. No matter what touched them, it either passed through their slender bodies unharmed
or was
completely absorbed. The guards seemed to learn the lesson quickly as several of their number were sucked into the blue beings
to vanish without a trace, and one after the other they turned and ran, their fear spreading like contagion.

The Scandis turned them back, forcing them to fight the blue aliens who rippled forward, implacable, undisturbed by anything,
human or nonhuman. The Scandis stood tall and firm, ringing the guards, armed with weapons of their own, giving an indication
of the strength they had once possessed, the strength they had used to carve an empire out of the heavens. They stood between
the guards and escape, but they were not alone—standing before the Scandis was a line of hard ones wielding their rods of
lightning. The guards were caught on the horns of a dilemma—no matter what they did, they could not win.

Then one guard, smarter than his companions, lay down his weapons and stood with arms outstretched, showing his empty hands
as the alien drew close. The oncoming blue being did not even pause, but flowed over him, and the fearstricken guard passed
through its body and emerged safe and unharmed on the other side. Seeing this, those guards around him immediately dropped
their weapons and were spared the fate of those who continued to fight.