Downpour(II:6 The Arena)

6. The Arena

     Nick’s heart hammered in his chest, louder than ever, as the sound of grinding chains filled the dark room he had been placed in. Should’ve taken a gun too, was all he could think, feeling that the sword at his side was suddenly puny beyond measure. I am going to die out there. Sweat beaded on his palms and he felt that he could taste copper.

     A thin crack of gold light spread across the floor as the gate began to lift, and the roar of the crowd entered. Drums beat outside, and Nick watched as a massive sand pit appeared before him. There were still red stains from where the last combatant had no doubt died. The unsettling aroma of burnt flesh also filled his nostrils.

     They can’t have a dragon, right? He thought, hoping against hope that they had not managed to acquire one of the creatures. They were incredibly rare, and Nick had been fortunate enough never to encounter one. The tales of those who did often ended with charred corpses and unrecognizable faces.

Well, here goes nothing. Nick did his best to focus, and waited for the gate to fully open. Once it stopped moving, he stepped out, stone-faced into the arena. Lights flooded the pit from all sides, and Nick squinted to see thousands of spectators looking down at him. Taking a last chance to ham it up, he waved and winked at them all. Fake it till you make it, he told himself, hoping the principle also applied to fighting skills.

     He looked around the arena, searching for an opponent but saw none. An announcer’s voice boomed across the great stadium in a language he could not understand. It ran through the crowd like deep electricity, causing them to cheer louder. There was a boom as the gate shut behind him, and Nick felt trapped. He looked down at the sand beneath his feet and wondered if whatever he was fighting lay beneath him.

Suddenly afraid, he began to move erratically in case his opponent was some form of sand worm. Henry had written a piece about them in his tome, but Nick had not been certain whether or not it was true, or the pure fantasy of a man who had one too many drinks. The crowd laughed at the oddity, but Nick continued his movements, just in case.

     Then, the sound of another gate grinding open echoed across the arena, and Nick saw a dark opening forming opposite him. He could see nothing beyond the edge of the arena as the gate lifted, but the pure black in the room beyond. His mind ran through a hundred scenarios of what horror might await him beyond it. They’ve found a giant scorpion or, I just know it. They were native to Egypt, and would have made a hell of a prize to transport, but Nick did not doubt that they could bring them in.

     At last, the gate lifted fully, and a figure stepped out. He wore a long, ragged, cloak, and walked slowly to the middle of the arena, opposite Nick.

     He doesn’t look to big, thought Nick. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. He didn’t believe it, but hope was all he had.

     The man removed his robe, revealing a bare chest, and taught muscles. His hair was long and tangled. Ugly scars reached across his chest and onto his back. In a word, Nick thought he looked feral. He also carried no weapons. This might have come as a relief to anyone else, but Nick knew that it was not a good sign.

     The man looked up at the roof of the arena, and made a circular motion. The crowd roared with applause, and Nick listened once more to the grinding noise, as a circular iris began to slide open above them. A shaft of pale moonlight shone through onto the sand, and the man stepped into it.

     Instantly Nick felt pleased that he had picked a silver blade. As soon as the man’s skin was touched by moonlight, he began to change. A deep, throaty growl filled the arena, as he opened his mouth wide and it unhinged and extended. His skin ripped away and fur burst forth in his place.

     While most transformations Nick had witnessed appeared painful; the man standing in the center of the arena looked as though he were enjoying himself. As his fingers exploded forth from their human casing, he took a long claw and ran it over his back, ripping the rest of the skin free. It was all over in a matter of seconds, and he threw the leftovers onto the ground. Nick was no longer facing another man. The creature that had taken his place was a full three feet taller than Nick, and covered in thick brown fur. It bared its teeth and let out a mighty roar.

     If there was supposed to be some indication that the fight had begun, Nick had missed it. The werewolf got on all fours and charged towards him with blinding speed. Nick attempted to roll out of the way, but a claw caught him across the back, sending blood spraying onto the sand around him. Pain ripped across his back like lightning and he gasped as a burning sensation spread with it.

     “Don’t be an asshole, if you’re going to kill me, then get on with it.” Nick was shouting at the werewolf who was doubling back for another attack. The last thing Nick wanted was to get bitten and live. The life of a werewolf was far worse than death in his opinion. “Come on then, I haven’t got all day, and these people paid to see some half-breeds killed.” Nick knew it was a slur, but he wanted the werewolf angry. The angrier it got, the more likely it was to make a fatal mistake.

     The creature pawed at the ground, snorting and growling as it did so. Nick was about to hurl another insult, when it charged again. He pointed his sword straight and tried to remain as still as possible. The werewolf reached out with a hand to swipe at Nick, and he ducked just beneath it.

     The sword slid into the werewolf as if it were nothing. Hot, black blood poured onto Nick and the werewolf howled. Ordinarily such a blow would have ended the match, but something wasn’t right. There was no smell of burning, and Nick heard no sizzling. The werewolf was wounded, but would regenerate if the silver did not burn it. Son of a bitch. It isn’t real silver, he thought, as the werewolf bent down, pulled the sword out, and knocked Nick into the air.

     He was airborne for only a few seconds before hitting the side of the arena with a sickening thud. Stars flooded his vision, and he could hear the crowd yelling around him. There was a sharp pain in his mouth; one of his teeth had fallen out when he hit the wall. Well, it was worth a shot, he thought, knowing that he was likely near death. The ground shook as the werewolf began to walk toward him again. How the hell didn’t I spot the fake? He thought, chastising himself, as his vision cleared.

     The werewolf was lumbering across the sand, slowly, licking its lips as it went. Nick had encountered false silver before, but had always been able to spot the fake. As death continued to move closer to him, he tried to think of a way out. Think, silver, stakes, what else can hurt a werewolf? The pain in his mouth was maddening, but then the solution came to him in a flash of agonizing brilliance. And they said silver fillings were a waste.

     Nick reached into his mouth and pulled out the tooth that had fallen out. This is going to be close. He spat blood on the ground, and examined the small piece of bone in his hand. Sure enough, a tiny cap of silver had been made over it. He closed his fist around it, and looked into the werewolf’s bloodshot eyes as it advanced.

     The crowd began to chant. “Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.”

     “Would you shut it? I’ve got a hell of a headache,” shouted Nick.

     The werewolf looked surprised that its prey was still lucid, and began to advance faster. The wound in its abdomen had already healed, and fresh skin covered it.

     Damn I wish I had regeneration.

     A heavy claw grabbed Nick by the front of his shirt and lifted him into the air, showing the audience. The werewolf almost appeared to be laughing as it did so.

     Just a few more seconds.

     Satisfied with the applause, the werewolf held Nick up in front of him.

     “Dear god you half-breeds are a smelly bunch,” said Nick, grinning like an ass into the creature’s face.

     The werewolf roared, and at the same instant, Nick brought his closed fist up and shoved it into the creature’s mouth. The crowd went silent, confused about what it was witnessing. Nick felt the warm interior of the creature’s throat and released the tooth, pulling his hand back. The werewolf reared backward in anger, but then Nick smelled it. Smoke began to rise from the werewolf’s lips, and the unmistakable scent of burning flesh filled the arena once more.

     In a last-ditch effort, the creature tightened its grip to strangle him, but it was too late. From within its throat, a red glow emerged, and worry filled its eyes.

     This is going to be gross, thought Nick, a moment before the creature exploded, showering blood and guts all over the arena. Nick flew backward, werewolf arm still attached to his chest, eyes firmly shut, not wanting to get any of the blood in them. He hit the sand, and immediately rolled over to wretch.

With great difficulty, he pried the creature’s dead fingers from his shirt, and stood up. The crowd had gone silent, and it took him a minute to catch his breath. The whole match had gone by in a blur, and for a moment, he wasn’t even sure if it happened. They looked down at him expectantly, as if confused by the result.

     A little spectacle never hurt. “Are you not entertained?” he asked the crowd in a mighty yell., Silence quickly turned to raucous applause.  Nick raised his arms to the sky, and saw to his great pleasure, William, muttering and turning to leave the stadium. Pain lanced across his back as he felt the deep cut the werewolf had given him. That’s going to leave a scar. Werewolf wounds generally prevented proper healing, and looked quite nasty.

     Just behind Nick, a door opened form within the arena walls. Lopsang was inside, and looking quite disgusted.

     Nick half walked, half stumbled out of the arena through the door, and into complete darkness. It took his eyes a minute to adjust from the strong light in the arena, to the dim flicker of the tunnels beneath it. When everything came into focus, Nick could see that Lopsang was smiling at him.

     “Disgusting, but a victory nonetheless,” he said laughing. “How did you do it?”

     “Turns out the blade was fake silver, but my fillings weren’t.” Nick pointed to an empty socket in the back of his mouth where his tooth had been.

     Lopsang looked disgusted once more. “Well, good job. Now, let’s go find that vampire and make sure this wasn’t all in vain.”

     “Good idea, and then we’ll find a dentist to fix my tooth.” Nick felt a bit delirious from blood loss.

     Lopsang looked him up and down. “Doctor first, then we’ll see the vampire.”

     Nick nodded and they set out.