Lykaon

Chapter 8: The Arena

POV: Dakoda

"You must remember what you are; what you were given this power for."

"What if I don't know anymore?"

"Then I cannot help you. You must find out on your own. It is too late to give you the answers now, for they would only destroy you even more."

"No.. I can't be more destroyed than I already am. Look at me. Look at this. Why did this happen to me? Why not someone else? Why am I cursed? All I want is to know the truth so tell me!"

"Soon a time will come when you're forced to make a decision that will either be your redemption or your undoing. Find yourself. Find what is hidden within. Maybe you should heed the voices in your head; maybe not."

"That tells me nothing! Why can't you just give me a straight answer? I'm tired of playing games! Just tell me!"

"If you're tired of playing games then maybe you should stop deluding yourself. You made these choices of your own free will. Find the the truth."

"You don't think I've tried? You think I want to be here? Doing this? I didn't have a choice! If you would've just told me then I wouldn't even be here! All I want to know is why. Why me?"

"Decide who you are or it will be decided for you."

"At least make him leave me alone. I can't take it anymore. I'm starting to doubt my own sanity..."

"He is only a necessary evil. I have to go now."

"No! You can't leave now!"

"Goodbye, Dakoda."

*****

The trembling hands and sweaty brows of my fellow combatants surrounded me. They were terrified. Nearly all of them looked ill and their bodies were covered in scars, some that had not entirely healed yet. They had little clothing to speak of and what they did have was dirty and torn. Many of their shifty eyes kept looking me over as if they were confused or thought I was insane. More than likely both were true. They must be slaves. I was not aware that slavery was legal in Sheol, for I had seen no sign of it until now.

I was drawn out of my thoughts by a sudden voice to my left, "Who is your master? Relaics? Wirhly? It must be one of the wealthy, to keep you in such good condition."

I turned to face the man who had spoken. His skin was dark and his scars looked to be many more than the others. He wielded a large mace in his left hand. The weapon looked to be at least a hundred pounds but he carried it with ease.

"I have no master," I turned back to face the massive metal gate before us. "I'm just here for money."

"A free man? Fighting in the arena?" The slave laughed, "Us slaves are forced to fight so that our masters can fill their pockets with gold, but free men get that gold themselves. Funny how that works, huh?" He leaned in close and spoke barely above a whisper, "What's funnier is that the free men never make it out alive."

A smile appeared on my face as I looked back toward him, "Well make sure you go easy on me then."

The slave shook is head, seemingly still enjoying taunting me, "I'll make it extra easy, seeing as how you don't even have a weapon." He raised his mace to rest its weight on his shoulder, "I'll try not to mess up your face too much. Wouldn't want your brains scattered across the arena, now would we?"

The gate before us slowly began to rise. I turned back one final time to address him, "Well good luck to you." With that I darted forward and out of the gate in front of everyone else.