Underdog Mage Chronicles_The Captive_Book Two Read online

  “You two!” A woman’s voice called from behind them.

  Charlotte and Quincy froze. Charlotte considered running and trying to get lost in the crowd, but then she thought better of it. The two of them turned around to find a woman Drakaran standing in front of them wearing a similar outfit to their own, only her outfit had three red stripes along the front. They could not see her face, but her voice was that of a woman.

  “What are you doing out here? The ceremony is about to start,” the woman said, shooing them toward the temple with her hands. “This is no time to be taking a break. You should know better!”

  Charlotte and Quincy had no choice but to let themselves be guided inside of the massive iron doors.

  Chapter 3

  Lance coughed and rolled onto his side. Wherever he was, it was dark and stunk of animal manure. He was surprised to find himself still alive after they got the information they needed from him.

  Lance sat up and then shuffled backward, pressing his back against iron bars. He wasn’t alone. In the dim light he made out at least three others, Drakaran from the look of them. Each man was shirtless, their bulging muscles covered in scars. They stared at him with red eyes, their faces showing a lack of empathy for his condition.

  “Where are we?” Lance stammered. His voice sounded hoarse and scratchy.

  “You are in the arena pits,” one of the Drakaran answered. “You are human… and crippled. You will die fast. You will be food for the beasts.” The man gave a low chuckle.

  Lance swallowed hard. What was one to say to something like that?

  Instead, he looked down and thought hard. There had to be a way out of here. He just had to figure it out. His damaged leg throbbed in pain the more he moved it, and his throat felt like hundreds of tiny needles lined it whenever he swallowed. Lance felt the Drakaran watching him and it made him nervous.

  Before any plan was hatched, a door opened outside the cell and sunlight streamed through. Lance and the others covered their eyes from the sudden brightness.

  A big man, even larger than those sitting next to Lance appeared in front of the cell bars. He was dressed in rich fabrics, a silk cloak hanging about his large frame. His chin was held in a similar noble fashion Lance recognized.

  “I am Arthos,” the man said in a booming voice. “You belong to me now. You will fight and eventually die in these arenas. The only way out is through death or to win fifty fights. There has only ever been two that have managed to do that in hundreds of years.” He grinned. “From the looks of you all, I doubt you will make it past ten.”

  Arthos turned toward Lance. “You, crippled human. You are up first. The stands are packed today to see a human fight. Try not to die right away. I have an audience to please after all.”

  Lance stumbled to his feet, using the bars to steady himself. Five guards wearing the typical obsidian armor appeared by the cell and opened it just enough to let Lance hobble through. He kept his head down as they closed the cell door and led him through a tight tunnel toward a bright light at the end of it.

  Stepping out, Lance shielded his eyes again from the bright red sun. He was standing in an arena, the ground made of white sand, occasionally spotted by dark blood patches. Along the walls were stands filled with hundreds of Drakaran cheering at the arrival of a human. The noise was deafening and combined with the change in light made Lance completely disoriented.

  Over the stands, Lance could make out tall buildings of a Drakaran city in the backdrop.

  Arthos marched to the center of the arena and in a voice that must have been magically enhanced announced, “Ladies and gentlemen! Nobles and scum of the city alike! Welcome to the arena!” He waved his arms about in practiced showmanship. “Today we have a special treat for you, a human from another planet! I am told they have some minor mystic abilities which should make for an entertaining fight!”

  The crowd erupted in cheers. The noise was deafening. Their hunger for blood was overpowering.

  Lance turned his attention from their screams to the screeching gate at the far end of the arena. Lance froze in place at the sight of what stepped through.

  * * *

  Before they knew it, Quincy and Charlotte were ushered into the temple and through a hallway leading to a massive room with a high-vaulted ceiling and wide support columns. Dozens of similar robed mystics stood about the marbled floor, forming a circle around a shrine made of what looked like gold. Along its frame were jewels of a myriad of colors.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” Charlotte mumbled to Quincy.

  “It’s too late to run,” Quincy replied as they found a spot in the back row behind the waiting Drakaran mystics.

  They listened as the mystics around them began to hum. Quincy and Charlotte did their best to mimic the tone. The humming grew louder and louder until it reached a climactic moment when someone slammed a drum from the corner of the room and the humming abruptly ceased. Charlotte jumped at the noise from behind and quickly composed herself as to not draw attention.

  “You have all trained well,” a deep voice announced. One of the mystics stepped forward and the others stepped aside to clear a path for them.

  “For today’s ceremony, we have a special surprise,” the mystic continued. “We have come into possession of rare human blood.”

  “That merchant bastard!” Quincy whispered harshly. “I knew it was a bad idea.” He had a strong urge to leave the city and track down the man, but saving Lance was a priority. If they had known their blood would be used in dark magic, they never would have given it.

  The mystic took out the vial Quincy and Charlotte recognized from Thanis the merchant and began to pour it into a bowl sitting on the center of the shrine.

  “With this blood, we can create a being capable of infiltrating the humans on their world!” The mystic declared.

  “We have to stop them,” Quincy whispered. He strained his brain to come up with an action plan that wouldn’t get them both killed.

  “There’s nothing we can do right now,” Charlotte whispered back. “They are all magic users. We’d get ourselves killed.”

  “Then we have to warn King Triton and

  Master Sellius as soon as we get back,” Quincy said.

  They watched in horrid fascination as the blood coalesced into a thick black substance and then began to bubble. Several of the mystics wearing clothes with stripes along their chests chanted. The chanting grew louder until the blood began to rise into the air, spiraling upward.

  “What the hell are we watching?” Quincy whispered.

  The blood soon began to take on a form, the outline of a human. Quincy shuddered. They were on an alien planet, in the middle of an alien city surrounded by powerful enemies and witnessing a ceremony meant to create a spy to infiltrate humanity. Worst thing about it was that they had willingly given the blood that allowed these mystics to summon such dark magic.

  Then, just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, a familiar voice spoke.

  “Excellent work,” General Crowl announced. Quincy couldn’t believe his eyes at the sight of the Drakaran General looking as good as new. By his side stood Mallagan.

  “With this creation, we will return to their planet, gather the crystals, and infiltrate their weak nobility system,” General Crowl told them. “Then our troops will come through the large portal and we shall have our victory!”

  The mystics cheered until Mallagan raised her hand up. The room became so silent that they could hear a pin drop. She must be a higher rank than the other mystics, or at the very least hold their respect or fear.

  Mallagan sniffed the air and looked around the room. “There is someone among us who is not supposed to be here.”

  * * *

  Lance panicked as a giant beast lumbered forward on four legs, each limb the size of tree trunks. Arthos and his guards quickly departed through a side entrance, leaving Lance alone with the creature.

  The Drakaran audience watched in anticipation as th
e beast’s surprisingly intelligent eyes assessed his new prey. It looked like the body of an elephant with the head of a tiger, its fur a dark brown covered its entire body. It let out a roar that sounded more like a herd of elephants combined, and ran forward. The sand kicked up in tall plumes behind it as its momentum picked up.

  It lowered its head and opened its mouth to reveal razor sharp teeth, its eyes narrowing in hunger as it barreled down on its prey.

  At the last second, Lance cast a spell to propel himself to the side, and the teeth snapped shut on air. The crowd gasped as Lance tumbled past the outstretched claws of its hind leg.

  The creature was moving so fast that it kept moving, thundering across the sand with powerful strides until it finally pulled up short of the far wall. The Drakaran along the front seats clapped excitedly as the beast skidded to a halt right before them, sand rising up into the air and showering them with a blast of the white sand.

  Lance groaned in pain as he stood up on his good leg. It was then that he noticed the creature’s path had resurfaced and crushed a suit of armor hidden beneath the sand from previous fights. The armor was pulverized in places by the heavy weight of the monster.

  Lance scurried over to it and knelt down, scooping up a handful of the crushed armor pieces into his hand, some of the sand trickling down between his fingers. He could make out a few tiny pieces of the metal. Lance wasn’t trained enough to discern what metal it was, but he was short on time and had no other option.

  As the beast pawed the ground and readied for another charge, Lance swallowed the pieces of metal, along with the little bit of sand still in his palm. He fought down the urge to choke and throw it up.

  Within seconds, Lance felt a surge of power similar to when he was kidnapped and swallowed the crystal flakes. Only this time, it felt even more potent, his entire body radiating power. His body practically glowed.

  A sense of confidence consumed him. The beast looked as though it were charging him in slow motion. Time had no meaning. Lance had all the time in the world. Lance could see the Drakaran cheering in the background, but their noise vanished into a dull murmur. The audience blurred and faded into the backdrop as all of his focus was set on the monster. He could see every wrinkle and crease of its skin.

  Lance waited for the beast to draw closer and then he held out his hand. The creature turned into a massive ball of fire as its fur ignited. The creature howled in pain and rage as it stopped moving, rearing up one last time before it exploded, its limbs flying in all directions. They landed throughout the audience, flesh and blood and internal organs.

  The gruesome display silenced the entire arena. Lance pitched forward, his body as useless as a jellyfish, flopping to the ground. His face fell into the soft white sand.

  * * *

  Quincy leaned over to Charlotte.

  “Listen closely to me,” Quincy told her, his voice shaky. “I’m going to create a distraction. You get out of here. Promise me you’ll run.”

  “What? No!” Charlotte protested. “You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you.”

  Quincy and Charlotte watched as Mallagan scanned the mystics, sniffing the air as she searched for the culprit. It wouldn’t be long now.

  “If I don’t, we both die,” Quincy urged. “Please… let me save you. Make your life count. Find Lance and bring him home. Stop their plot to take over our world. And for god’s sake, give Lance a shot. He’s a good guy.”

  Before she could say anything else, Quincy ripped off his face mask and stepped forward. Charlotte wanted to stay and watch but she knew that if she did, she would lose her one opportunity to get away and Quincy's sacrifice would be for nothing. She snuck away, heading for an exit at the back of the room.

  “Human!” A mystic screamed.

  Quincy swallowed the last of the silver flakes he carried and shot several knives out from his hand. One hit a mystic near him in the shoulder and the others were stopped by some type of energy shield. Mallagan motioned to General Crowl with a short nod.

  “If you would be so kind,” she said, keeping her eyes locked onto Quincy.

  General Crowl nodded and drew his blade. He was on Quincy in seconds, ramming his blade all the way through Quincy’s stomach to the hilt.

  A single tear rolled down Quincy’s face and he opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes glazed over and his head lolled forward.

  Crowl pulled the sword back and let Quincy’s lifeless body fall to the ground.

  “I meant for you to capture him, not kill him!” Mallagan reprimanded. “Learn to listen you fool.”

  General Crowl shrugged. “You need to be more specific next time.”

  “He must have snuck through when we came back through the portal,” Mallagan noted. “Pity. Would have been another good addition for the arena and the council’s amusement.”

  “Use his likeness in our creation,” Mallagan added, addressing the mystics. She let her gaze wander over to the human form still being created, now back in progress after the momentary distraction. “We will open the portal again tomorrow. Have it ready by then. General, follow me, and try not to kill anyone on our way.”

  Chapter 4

  Lance had only had a hangover a few times in his life, and this was far worse than any of those times. His headache felt like a led weight was resting on the center of his forehead, and the rest of his body felt limp and useless. He was back on the cell floor, a plate of mush placed in front of him.

  Lance sat up and forced the disgusting excuse for food down. A cup of water was next to it and Lance drank it in two gulps. He wiped his mouth and looked around. There was only him and two others in the cell.

  Arthos suddenly appeared by the cell bars.

  “You are awake, human,” Arthos said. “That is good. You have many surprises for a crippled human. Your fight brought many guests to the arena. Keep it up and I will double your food rations.”

  Lance’s stomach crawled at the thought of eating more of the food. There seemed like there were more bugs and worms in it than actual food. The prisoners’ food in the dungeons back at home in Delvin would seem like gourmet meals compared the infested slop served here.

  “Get some rest,” Arthos demanded when he noticed Lance didn’t seem all that excited about the prospect of more food. “All of you. I need you ready for tomorrow’s matches. Commander Voltross and the council will be in attendance and we need to put on a good show.”

  “Why don't you join us out there?” One of the Drakaran asked with a chuckle. “Hell, I’ll lend you my weapon.”

  Arthos ignored the comment and tapped the bars. “Rest,” he reiterated. As soon as he was off, the Drakaran who spoke turned toward Lance.

  “I have no idea how you are still alive,” the Drakaran said. “They put me against foes with weapons and you against titans, yet here you stand.”

  “Luck,” Lance admitted.

  The Drakaran laughed. “Well, human, you only need to have luck forty-nine more times and you have your freedom.”

  Lance didn’t find the comment or the idea funny at all.

  * * *

  Charlotte ran until she could no longer run. She didn’t have the energy or time to cry for Quincy’s sacrifice. She hated herself for her lack of courage to stay and help him, but she knew it wouldn’t have done any good. Quincy was right. They both would have been killed.

  She went down a side street and stopped to catch her breath. It didn’t seem like anyone was following her. Instead of crying for Quincy, she stuck her chin up in resolution. She would save Lance and do something useful with the life Quincy gave her.

  Charlotte leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Her long outfit in the unbearable hot sun didn’t help either.

  “Are you lost, mystic?” A soft voice asked from behind her.

  Charlotte felt her face to make sure it was still covered and whirled around to see a woman Drakaran standing there holding a basket of apples.

  “No, I am not lost,�
� Charlotte replied.

  “I did not mean any insult by it. Well, this is a big city and I just wanted to make sure in case you were visiting,” the woman added. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  She moved to leave and yelped as several of the apples toppled over and onto the street. She set the basket down and began to pick the apples up.

  Charlotte couldn’t help herself. She knelt down and helped her with the remaining apples.

  “These are a lot of apples,” Charlotte noted. “They look delicious.”

  “That is very kind of you, mystic,” the woman said. “These apples are for the slaves at the arena. My father was once taken there and I want to give back.” She covered her mouth. “You don’t care about that. I’ve said too much. I must be going.”

  “Wait!” Charlotte called to her.

  The woman turned, her soft red eyes wide in confusion.

  “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to offend you,” she told Charlotte.

  Charlotte waved her hand dismissively. “No, you did nothing wrong. Can you take me to the arena slaves?” Judging from the woman’s odd expression, Charlotte discerned that it was an odd request and added, “We are required to study all people in order to complete our training. I have yet to visit the slaves.”

  “Ah, of course,” the woman replied. “I will be glad to show you.” She gave a wide smile, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

  Charlotte had little faith that her intuition would pay off. Lance was probably being kept inside of the palace in a dungeon with hundreds of guards. But if there was any chance at all, Charlotte knew she had to take it.

  * * *

  Time passed slowly in the cell. Without the light of day, it was impossible to tell how much time had gone by and this created a distinct disorienting experience for Lance. The others stayed mostly quiet. If Lance listened closely, he could hear others in cells around them.