Of Gods and Games ✅ (#ONC2019)

*Fourteen*

The morning of the next day was spent pacing around his room and checking every ten minutes that he still had his sword and dagger fastened securely on his body. He was hungry but could not afford to go outside and try to find food; there was no guarantee that he would come back safely. And to die during the final hours before the tournament was too idiotic, even for him. So he satisfied himself with sipping hot water from his ever-steaming bathtub.

He was just on his way back from one of these drinks when he saw a figure appear beside his bed. It was the vampire in the red dress.

"It is good to see you alive, pretty boy," she purred.

Theoddar stopped in his tracks and stared at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I volunteered to bring you to the arena."

"It's time?"

She smiled enigmatically. "Yes." She walked over to the bed and pushed it sideways, splaying her hands across the wall and mumbling something under her breath. The wallpaper melted away, revealing a large passageway.

"More corridors?" Theoddar said.

"You could walk the Underworld for all eternity and still not set foot on half of it. The corridors you and the others have been prowling around in is a mere fraction of this place. It is what the God of Death desired you to see."

Theoddar swallowed, heart beating hectically. It was finally happening. "I am going to die," he said.

"Probably," the vampire replied, walking through the opening in the wall. It was big enough that she did not need to duck. Her voice echoed as she added, "Possibly not."

Theoddar followed her. It was wider than the other hallways he had been through, and the walls were smooth marble. He could not help but think how unprepared he was; surely there had to be something more that he could have done.

He knew that they were climbing higher and higher; the ground sloped up, and they frequently came to steep flights of stairs. Finally, the vampire held out her hand to stop him.

"We will turn," she said. Cold emanated from her skin. "And there will be a corridor. At the end of that corridor is a portcullis. You will wait behind that until the bell sounds and the metal grille rises."

"And then?" he asked, trying to quell the trembling in his fingers.

"And then you fight. And either win or lose."

Theoddar swallowed. "Easy-peasy, right?" He wiped the perspiration from his palms. "Here we go." He turned the corner, not even checking to see if the vampire was still with him. He saw a long corridor, just as she had said.

"There is a big arena out there," she said from behind him. He listened, but didn't turn around. "All the Gods are watching." She paused. "This is where I leave you, Theoddar Byrne."

He closed his eyes and began walking. This is what it had come down to- one long hallway, a metal grille, his footsteps and his heartbeat. And, of course, whatever it was that lay on the other side.

He opened his eyes. The portcullis was a few metres in front of him. He looked back, but the corridor had disappeared; there was a solid wall a few metres behind him. No fleeing now. The other contestants would also have lined up behind their bars, hearts pounding. He stepped up to the grille and took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. One of the people behind these bars would be the winner.

The name of that person would be Theoddar Byrne, he told himself. He unsheathed his sword, then his dagger. With a weapon in each hand, his heart calmed a little. There was nothing to do now but wait. Behind the portcullis was a large black wall; he could not make out what he would be stepping out into.

As the thought crossed his mind, it slid upwards. He saw large stone walls, cream-coloured and cracked. He saw that they branched off further out, twists and turns; it looked like a maze.

He walked closer to the metal bars, grasping his weapons tightly.

"Welcome," a large voice boomed. "To the Tournament of Death. There are thirteen contestants standing behind thirteen portcullises at this very moment. In a few minutes, these will rise and they will be free to roam the maze before them. The rules are simple: the last one standing is the victor. Not only will they receive their life back, but they will also be granted a gift from the Gods."

Theoddar lifted his weapons slightly, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to run. Thirteen contestants. In other words, he thought grimly to himself, twelve to die.

"Prepare for the spectacle of a lifetime," the voice continued. "Let the show begin."

And then there was silence.

All the Gods are watching. The vampire's voice spun in circles around his brain.

Theoddar Byrne took a deep breath.

And then the deafening thudding of a drum filled his ears as slowly, the grille began to rise.

As the metal hit the top, a bell sounded.

The final game had commenced.