The Shard's Favor Ch. 001

I will also be posting this story on RoyalRoadl. They require me to post this here to show that I am not plagiarizing myself. Please read onwards...

***

Raucous cries broke the sky as we circled one another, weapons held at the ready. Above us, two blazing suns shone down on the sands of the Pit — my own personal hell for however long I managed to survive. I took a deep breath, my muscular chest rising and falling slowly. Tens of thousands of people screaming for blood. My blood, if they could get it. Or anyone else's. Luckily, the crowd wasn't too picky.

What a way to start my day.

I locked eyes with my opponent and my mind went into overdrive, trying to predict the purple-skinned Dextari's next move. Sweat dripped down his long, drooping ears as they swung left and right on either side of his face. In each hand he clutched a slim grey katana, each blade made of military-grade ultracarbon. A long cut across one side of my bare chest attested to his skill.

My fingers clenched on the handle of my short black gladius. I was probably fucked.

The shouts and sounds of the xeno crowd behind me began to coagulate to form a single word, chanted by thousands upon thousands of throats. "Car-nage! Car-nage! Car-nage!"

That's who I was to them. To the crowd, to my guards, and even to my opponents. Carnage. The name was wrong. But then, so was everything else.

The Dextari moved like lightning, his hands a blur as the blades moved in perfect sync. Somehow, though, my body knew what to do. My gladius intercepted one of his blows and my hand gripped his other wrist, halting the second blade mere inches from my skin. The sweat dripping from his pores made my grip slippery, and the xeno fighter snarled as he struggled to free himself, but I was already moving, ducking and stepping inside his reach and ramming my shoulder into his gut.

Air blasted from the slim humanoid's lungs as I stood upright with a powerful yell, flipping his slightly built body up into the air over my shoulder. I spun like a dancer as he tumbled, my short blade ripping through flesh with a spray of blood. When he hit the ground, my enemy was already bleeding out, a gaping wound opened in his side.

I should be sorry, I thought, but my foot stamped down on his scrabbling wrist as he reached for one of his katanas and my blade cut a neat red line across his throat.

For a split second, as I stared down into the glazed-over eyes of my kill, I was somewhere else. I was standing over someone else, another corpse, the sand coarse and gritty between my toes. The sword in my hand felt heavy, and I couldn't quite grasp the gravity of what I'd done. My first day in the Pit. My first kill.

A wave of cheers crashed over me as the crowd realized I'd slain my opponent, and arena brought me back to my senses. Like it always did.

I shook my head angrily. Get it together. Lapses like this were dangerous. They could get me killed. Still, the question haunted me. Had my first kill thirty days before really been my first? No matter how hard I cast back, I didn't remember anything before the moment I woke up in my cell in the catacombs beneath the Pit. Prior to that... Nothing. But I had a sinking sensation that that hadn't been the first time I'd dealt out death to an enemy. My body was fast. Too fast. And it was skilled. Trained in the art of killing.

No time for distractions, I ordered. It would all be over soon, one way or another. This was to be my last time in the arena.

My eyes flicked across the harshly lit space. Six of us had entered the large, sandy-floored hexagon under the bright suns. Now, two were lying dead in widening pools of blood — my Dextari and the hulking ape creature with the power axe that had been facing... Fuck. Where'd he go?

Even as I asked I heard the clinking of metal behind me and dove forward, feeling the wind of the spiked chain as it flailed by, right where my neck had been a split second before. Thirty days of killing had given me quick reflexes. I spun, facing the four-armed alien warrior who held two long, barbed chains, one on each side. The chains were dripping with the dark blood of the apeman. I'd never seen a xeno like this before, and I wondered whether he was an entrant from the Deeper Reaches. His skin was a sickly green, but his rippling muscles told me he was in perfect health. An extra pair of arms sprouted halfway down his rib cage, and I scowled deeply as I wondered how I'd get inside his reach to let my gladius do its own bloody work.

Then, in a flash of motion, the chains were whirring towards me. I let my body go into autopilot, deeply-embedded muscle memory somehow keeping me away from the spinning lines of bloody death. As I ducked and wove, I saw in the corner of my eye the other pair of duelists. They were barely a dozen feet away — a Terrus cyborg with a lightning spear and the slim, unarmed being whose race I'd also been unable to identify but looked like an inky figure of solid shadow. Inexplicably, my mind seemed to break in two, one half avoiding the twirling chains of my newest opponent and the other half watching as the shadowman slithered past the cyborg's stabbing weapon and thrust his unarmed hand directly into the man's chest. Sidestepping as one of the chains slashed down vertically and sent up a spurt of sand where I'd just been standing, I saw the shadowman rip his hand out in a spray of blood, clutching the cyborg's heart. The Terrus' face was frozen in shocked agony as he fell to his knees, but he was already dead.

My fingers shifted their grip on my own heavy sword. What am I going to fucking do now? I had no idea. So I did all I could do — I let myself drop into the flow of combat, and suddenly, in a few brief seconds, everything snapped into place. I stepped back and circled, eyes locked on the four-armed xeno across from me as I turned him so that his back was to the freshly-fallen cyborg.

First, eliminate the immediate threat.

As the alien gladiator turned to face me, there was a flurry of movement behind him. The shadowman took the opportunity I'd given him and dashed silently across the sand. I felt a wall against my back and froze, realizing I had nowhere left to retreat. Then, even as the chains rose up to lash down on my unprotected body, a silky black hand punched through the xeno's chest from behind, erupting in a fountain of purple blood.

The green warrior's scream bubbled in his throat as his lungs filled with blood. He fell to his knees, his chains falling from slack fingers. In his place stood the shadowman, a freshly ripped heart in his fist and a face with no expression. The roaring of the crowd hushed momentarily at the grisly sight.

Next, eliminate ancillary targets.

I charged forward, my feet churning up the sand. I felt an indomitable rage rising in my body, clouding my vision and making my arms shake with energy. It's time to end this, a voice inside of me seemed to say, though the voice wasn't my own. My opponent dropped into a fighting crouch, but at the last second I hurled myself forward with an extra burst of speed that caught him by surprise. The shadowman was faster than I'd expected, the edge of his hand slicing across my bicep like a blade itself as I drove forward. I grunted as blood sprayed up into my face, but my anger blunted the pain and by then my assault had already been launched on its way. I slashed the xeno across the chest, then severed one dark hand from his body as it darted toward my sternum.

My hand thrust forward, gripping the slightly-built humanoid by its throat and lifting it into the air with mad strength. The shadowman tried to knee me in the neck, but my gladius flashed in the light of two suns as it plunged forward. Once. Twice. The dark, shadow-forged form was already limp as I stabbed it a third time in the chest and flung it away so that its body crashed to the bleached sands. Black blood began to seep out onto the arena floor.

As I took a final, shuddering breath, I realized that the rumbling thunder I heard wasn't my heartbeat pounding in my ears. It was an entire amphitheater; tens of thousands of xenos chanting with one voice. "Car-nage! Car-nage! Car-nage!"

I shook my head to clear my vision as I walked to the nearest wall and slid down into an exhausted crouch next to the still-warm body of the Dextari duelist. I wasn't quite sure what to expect next. This had been the thirtieth round of games, and one of the few things that I did know was that after thirty days the whole thing ended. So, I asked the purple-skinned gladiator as I stared down at his body and he gazed into nothingness. What's the meaning of all this? Life and death and killing...? Most people probably left this question for themselves, but I didn't think it wise to ask about the meaning of life from a man with thirty days of memory. I prefer to ask dead people.

***

"Move," came the growling voice of Snout, my handler, behind me. I felt a metal pole pressed against my back and then the swift jolt of the shockrod as it sent a pulse of energy through my body.

I locked my jaw and gritted my teeth to stop the gasp of pain from escaping. Kind of you, I thought as I stumbled forward down the corridor of the massive palace, black spots swimming before my eyes. You're not using the highest setting. The shockrod was meant as a tool for control, not torture, but to many handlers the uses were indistinguishable.

Now that the adrenaline was no longer pumping through my body, my chest stung from where the Dextari's katana had slashed across it. My hands were tied before me, but blood dripped down one wrist from the cut across my bicep. It made my palms slippery and red, but no one else seemed to notice my wounds. I looked over my broad shoulder, my eyes staring into Snout's face. The handler's ridged trunk of a nose — what I'd used to give him his nickname — drooped down past his chin, wobbling as he scowled a gap-toothed frown at me. He gripped the shockrod a little tighter with his three thick fingers.

Irritation? I wondered. Or maybe fear... I had a reputation, of course. I was as dangerous as they came. "Move, Carnage," Snout repeated, hefting the rod.

The name was wrong. I flicked my pointed ears in irritation, but said nothing. Save your energy, I ordered myself. You'll need it to figure out what you're doing here.

As I failed to move immediately, however, the bulky handler grunted, baring his teeth in another scowl. Then, without warning, he thrust the metal staff towards me once again.

I moved without thinking, jinking past the tip of the rod like it was moving through honey and powering forward. Anger surged through me, a rising wrath that overwhelmed my every sensibility. I bunched my shoulders and my forehead cracked into the xeno's nose, spraying blood across my face and his. Snout fell back with a cry, the shockrod clattering from his hands to the floor.

In an instant, my feet scooped the shaft from the tiled ground and flicked it up into the air. I caught it in my tied hands and struck the heavyset alien across the face as he struggled to dash blood from his eyes and rise up. He fell to the floor like he'd been poleaxed and I swung again, a ripping, surging force powering through me. The tip of the shockrod tore across his face with a crackling jolt of energy and the xeno bellowed with pain. I rose up, preparing to jam the end of the staff down into Snout's throat, ending him for good, when something stopped me.

What the hell are you doing...? I froze. Finish him! a voice inside of me urged triumphantly. But another silent something held me back.

Snout cowered away, blood dripping down his face as he raised his arm helplessly.

The energy drained from my body and my shoulders slumped. What are you? I asked myself. Where did you get this rage? And what eleven levels of fucked up do you have to be to — My inner monologue was cut off abruptly as I heard the clattering of feet on the tiled floors behind me and spun, the shockrod still in my bound hands. I spun, it turned out, directly into the stun pulse fired by the first guardsman on the scene. It jolted into my chest and spasmed through my limbs. The metal staff clattered down from my nerveless fingers and my knees hit the cold, hard floor a second later.

Clad in silver and blue plates of blast armor, the men also wore stern expressions as a half dozen of them surrounded me in a semicircle. Laspistols raised warily, they shuffled closer.

Fuck me... I thought, and prepared to be blasted by several dozen more shocking bolts of energy. This is going to hurt.

"It's alright!" A musical voice from beyond the ring of soldiers cut through the tension. "At ease, men."

The soldiers turned as one and sprang to attention, heads bowing as they struck one fist to the opposite breast. Between the armored guards, I watched transfixed as the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen strode down the hall toward us. At least, I think she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I doubted I'd ever had the chance to encounter such a hot-as-hell creature in the past. That, I would definitely remember.

The woman's golden hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back in a thick wave, bouncing with every stride. Her dress was a simple wrap of white cloth slashed across the front at the hem so that on one side it ended at her knee and on the other side several inches below her hip, baring one tanned thigh. The low collar revealed a deep valley of cleavage between a pair of glorious, gravity-defying tits that even in my current condition I could imagine moulding and teasing with my hands and tongue.

I wouldn't have been a man if I hadn't felt a pint of blood immediately rush directly to my cock, my member stiffening in my tattered trousers.

The soldiers parted before the woman as, with a swish of fabric, she came to a halt half a dozen feet from where I knelt. Behind me on the floor, Snout moaned and snuffled through his definitely broken nose as the woman blatantly perused my body with her starbright eyes.

I, of course, broke the silence with my usual tact. "What the fuck is going on?" I demanded, and I could tell that more than one of the soldiers bristled at my tone.

A smile, however, curved across the woman's ruby red lips. She placed a gentling hand on the arm on the nearest guardsman — his uniform marking him as a higher-ranking officer — as he stepped forward and raised his hand to backhand me across the face. "Calm, Arius," she said easily. "I like my mates with a little fire left in them."

Your mates? I was more confused than ever.

Then, suddenly, a small, rotund man in an opulent suit of silver clothes strolled down the hallway. "Empress!" he called in a bootlicking tone. "I had just sent Handler Erril for your prize and then was coming to inform you that —" He froze, eyes bugging, as he reached the edge of the semicircle and then blanched when his gaze reached Snout's prostrate form. "Oh my..." I could almost see the sweat break out under the thin layer of hair covering his round head.

His eyes darted from Snout's softly moaning body to my face, covered in the xeno's blood, and his cheeks started to purple with anger. "You!" he spluttered. "How dare you..." I met his dark, beady eyes with my own cerulean gaze and his words seemed to dry up.

"What. The fuck. Is going on?" I asked again, emphasizing every word.

The short man's lips moved silently for several furious moments before he managed to angrily get out, "You're being honored! That's what's going on, you piece of gladiatorial space scum!"

What? Honored? My brow furrowed, and for the first time the man seemed to catch on to my confusion.

"Are you so daft," he gaped, "that you've forgotten why you're here? For the Trials? Or has all the killing and too many hits to the skull gone and made your brain soft... Carnage?"

That name again. Picked out of a hat, most likely, and the little man spoke it with contempt. I felt the familiar flickers of fire at the edge of my vision, tensing my muscles and trying to ignite my irritation.

"Codix..." The blonde woman placed a soothing hand on the sputtering courtier's shoulder. "Just..." her eyes flashed across to meet mine and I saw a hint of that smile once again. "Allow me."

Empress? I thought silently as my eyes took in the glorious, curvy figure. No...

Codix blew out a sigh. "As you wish, Highness." He fixed me with a lethal stare, but said nothing more.

The guards watched warily as the beautiful woman crossed to me and leaned down, grasping me by my hands and raising me to my feet. She seemed not to mind the sticky blood that ran down her hands, quickly turning them red.

I guess when you're Empress you don't need to worry about little things like bloodstains, I thought. Must be convenient. I took a deep breath, and caught her sweet scent, the delicious fragrance of perfume and woman zinging right down my body to my lengthening cock.

Instead of noticing the red droplets that dripped onto her white dress, the busty, golden-haired woman watched me carefully, calculatingly. Her piercing blue eyes cut into mine with a look I recognized from the Pit. The look of someone sizing up a potential opponent.

"Come with me and I will explain everything," she murmured softly, her fingers deftly undoing my the blood-soaked rope that bound my wrists tightly together. Her tone was warm, and somehow I knew she promised more than just a simple explanation.

But why? I wasn't yet sure.

I rolled my muscular shoulders as my hands came free, and the woman took a step back, watching me. Wondering if I'm going to try something stupid? I asked her silently, but I simply nodded, ignoring the blood that dripped from my fingers to the floor. "Lead on," I said, disdaining the guards, the courtier and my writhing handler as I followed the swinging hips of my apparent savior as she turned and led me deeper into the palace.

***

"Thirty days of death," she said, her voice soft and musical as we walked. The guards were far behind, and I wondered that she didn't seem at all afraid to be in the presence of a man who'd killed dozens in the past few weeks. "For a single night of life."

"I don't understand," I said simply, speaking for only the second time as I followed her down the corridor. I watched her supple ass sway beneath the thin fabric of her dress as she walked, taking a turn down a new corridor and flashing me a glance over her shoulder to make sure I was still close behind. I imagined stepping up behind her and wrapping my strong hands around her waist, my rock hard length spreading her folds as I slid up and inside of her. Where are these thoughts coming from? I demanded, but my subconscious had no answer.

She spun, suddenly, and stepped closer to me. The hallway was deserted and there was only the outline of a single huge door in the white wall to her left to imply that there was anything in this place other than a vast honeycomb of never-ending corridors.

I suddenly realized that her nipples were hard and pointy beneath her white dress, and that her breaths were short and shallow.

"A thousand or more dead in the arena," she told me, "and the one warrior skillful enough to survive is given his prize."

"And that prize is...?" I asked quietly, my cock stirring as I realized I already knew the answer. I tried to ignore the tightening in my loins, the feeling of heat that swept over me. Control, I tried to tell my body. But it ignored me.