Arena: Part One Read online

  They were both quiet for a while. Colston was not sure where to go with the conversation. Everything his father was saying was true, but he had forgotten how to talk to him. It was as if he no longer knew the man standing beside him now. He only knew the monster that came out when he drank.

  “I wanted to give you something of hers,” his father said.

  With that his father reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He handed it to Colston then watched him, waiting for him to open it. Colston stared at the box for a moment before opening it. He finally opened the hinged box and stared at the diamond as it glittered atop the platinum band in the afternoon sun.

  “I was thinking that someday you could give it to the woman that you love,” his father said.

  “Mom’s ring,” Colston said. He took the ring from its box and looked at it closely. He still remembered his mother wearing it. He had assumed it had been buried with her. Never thinking that his father would have the forethought to keep it safe to give to him later.

  “Thank you,” Colston said then hugged his father. It felt awkward at first as his father did not hug him back. But then slowly his father’s arms wrapped around him and held him for a moment.

  “Happy birthday son.”

  Anna was still sitting on the bed when Colston came back. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at a framed picture resting in her lap. She did not bother to look up as he came in.

  “You know,” she said. “I never thought I would see him again.”

  At last she looked up at him and smiled.

  “Thank you for this,” she said. “I thought I had lost him forever.”

  “I told you I would get it for you. It just took a little longer than I had hoped.”

  Colston walked over to the bed and sat beside her. He took her hand in his and looked at the picture of Anna and her father.

  “I just wish I could have gotten more,” he said.

  “This was more than I could have ever hoped for.”

  They were both quiet for a time as Anna stared at the picture of her father. Anna finally broke the silence.

  “Speaking of fathers, what did yours want?”

  “Oh that,” Colston said. “He just wanted to wish me a happy birthday.”

  “Well that was awfully normal of him.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “It kind of weirded me out a little.”

  “I bet.”

  Colston pulled the ring box from his pocket and opened it to show Anna.

  “He gave me this,” he said. “It was my mother’s.”

  Anna took the box and stared at it for a moment.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “I thought it was gone.”

  Anna closed the ring box and handed it back to Colston.

  “Well,” she said. “That was very thoughtful of him.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why it weirded me out.”

  “I guess,” she said. “That your father isn’t all bad.”

  “No, not all bad,” he said. “Just mostly.”

  Colston looked down at the ring box and tried to remember his mother. It was getting harder to do with every passing day. He could still remember the warmth of her love that had filled his life back then. But that warmth was gone now and that fact made his heart ache. It was almost enough to bring him to tears. The thought of his current situation filled him now. The sadness of her being gone combined with the fact that his father could be such a monster. Maybe his father’s present was not such a great thing after all. For with it came the reminder of all that he had lost. With it came the realization that her passing had not only left him alone with his father, but had turned his father into what he was today.

  “Just mostly,” he said again as he continued to stare at the ring box.

  26

  Colston watched as Cole faced off against Marcus. The boy could not see Cole’s face as it was hidden behind the mesh visor of the helmet that he wore. Across from the giant was Marcus, looking strong and confident. Neither man spoke. Suddenly Marcus sprang to life, slashing and stabbing at Cole. But Cole was ready for it. He had been studying Marcus for months now and had faced him a hundred times before. He blocked every blow that rained down upon him and countered when openings presented themselves until Marcus lay bleeding in the dirt. In all the fight had taken less than two minutes. Colston was sure this might be some kind of record. Cole removed his helmet and smiled at the boy. The deep scar in his face wrinkled as he did so causing him to look more gruesome than was intended. By now Colston had grown used to his face and knew his every expression. He smiled back at Cole.

  “You’re ready,” he said. “Marcus doesn’t stand a chance.”

  The boy punched a key on the control panel and Marcus and the pit disappeared from sight. Cole put the simulator swords away then walked over to stand by the boy.

  “So when do I face him for real,” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Colston said. “I’m still waiting to find out from my father. It has to be soon though since Racus has been healed for a couple of weeks now.”

  “How do you know this,” Cole asked.

  “Jacob,” the boy said. “He knows all the other trainers. He keeps in touch with them.”

  "Do you have time to do some training yourself this evening?"

  "I wish I could," Colston said. "But Anna is waiting for me."

  "Why didn't she come tonight?"

  "I wish I knew. She just said that she'd be waiting for me and to 'hurry up'."

  They both laughed at this.

  “Well then,” Cole said. “You’d better not keep her waiting.”

  “Indeed.”

  The protectors by the door stepped forward to escort Cole back to his quarters as Colston made his way through the door and out into the cool night air. Though the days were still oppressively hot, it had begun to grow slightly cooler in the evenings and Colston was happy for the change. He smiled as he walked through the brisk evening air. His thoughts turned to Anna and he found his pace increase as he did. It had been more than a day since he had seen her and he was anxious to get to her. But as he climbed the stairs to their room his heart went into his throat. He could hear his father yelling at him as he pounded on the door. He was obviously drunk again. And by the sound of his voice he may have been worse off than usual.

  “Get out here you miserable little shit.”

  Colston’s thoughts went to Anna. No doubt terrified behind the locked door. He became angry and his anger grew with each step. At last he reached the landing and stood behind his father.

  “I’m right here,” Colston said.

  His father almost fell over as he tried to spin around to face him. He caught himself though then proceeded to charge towards Colston. The boy’s training had become instinctual by this point and he did not even realize what he was doing when he threw a jab out and caught his father in the nose. His father straightened up then scowled and hardened himself for another charge. Colston jabbed again then followed it up with a straight right. His father stumbled backwards then caught himself once more before charging at the boy in a mad rush. Colston slipped right and as his father came in drove a vicious left hook into his father’s temple. He went down hard and before he could recover Colston was on top of him raining blows down upon him. His father tried to cover up but it was no use. Colston straddled the drunk man and continued to pummel his face. Someone grabbed the boy from behind and tried to pull him off. It was not until then that he heard Anna’s voice pleading with him to stop.

  “You’ll kill him,” she said. “You’ll kill him. Please stop before you kill him.”

  Colston stood and turned to take Anna into his arms. The boy was shaking, though he could not be sure if it was from fear or rage.

  “I’m sorry,” Colston said. “I…”

  “It’s alright,” she said. “I’m glad you finally stood up to him. But I can’t have you killing your father. That would be murder and we both know wha
t happens to murderers.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  They both turned as they heard his father stir. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and spat blood onto the smooth stone floor.

  “This is what I get for trying to raise you?”

  His breathing was heavy and blood continued to flow from his mouth and nose.

  “Your mother would be so proud of you.”

  “Don’t speak of my mother you miserable excuse for a man.”

  “You’re right,” his father said. “I am miserable. I try raising you on my own and this is what I get in return.”

  “You’ll find no pity here,” Colston said. “You’re well past the point that you can play that card.”

  With great effort his father slowly rose. He spat once more upon the floor then turned to walk away. As he reached the banister he turned his head slightly towards them.

  “I came here to tell you something,” he said. “Your man fights tomorrow. Make sure he’s ready. Marcus will be.”

  And with that he turned and made his way down the winding staircase collapsing slightly with each step. They waited on the landing until he was out of earshot then went inside and locked the door.

  “Your hands are bleeding,” Anna said.

  “No,” Colston replied. “I think that’s his blood.”

  “Nonetheless we need to get you cleaned up.”

  She walked to the basin and filled it with water from the pitcher that stood beside it then dipped a washcloth into the water and rang it out over the basin. They both sat down on the bed and Anna began cleaning the blood from Colston’s hands. The washcloth was cool and felt good against his throbbing knuckles.

  “We’re usually on the other side of this you know?”

  “Yeah,” was all Colston could find to say in response.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” he said. “I’m still kind of sorting things out in my head though.”

  “He’s had it coming for a long time. You know that as well as anyone.”

  “Yeah I know,” he said. “But he’s still my father.”

  They were both quiet for a moment. Outside the window the crickets chirped as the moon rose high and full in the cool, night sky.

  “I guess I just wish it hadn’t had to come to this. I mean, why couldn’t I just have a normal father? Maybe if my mother were still alive. He was never like this before she died.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.” It was all she could think to say. After all, there was nothing much that could be said about the death of a parent. She had learned that the hard way.

  “Shit!”

  “What’s the matter,” she said.

  “We have to tell Cole that he’s fighting tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know. He might not be able to sleep for thinking about it.”

  “No,” he said. “I can’t do that to him. He needs to know.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Then let’s go tell him.”

  27

  The morning sun was lost behind a fabric of clouds, leaving the light that spilled down around them a pale gray blanket that covered the sand of the pit. It was almost fitting for a day that would be marked with such violence as two men struggled to best each other for the right to fight in the arena against a man that no-one had ever beaten. His father was there, bruised and swollen from the night before, as was Jacob and all the fighters. Marcus stood across the pit from Cole looking particularly fierce, as he always did just prior to a battle. Cole looked as if he were concentrating. Perhaps trying to remember all Marcus’ favorite tactics. Colston dismissed this as nerves and looked to Jacob who would give the commands to issue weapons and begin the fight.

  “Champion, what role shall you play today,” Jacob said.

  “Murmillo,” was all Marcus replied.

  A training gladius and large shield were brought to him by Jacob who then turned to Cole and asked him the same question.

  “Challenger, what role shall you play today?”

  “Dimachaerus,” Cole replied.

  There was a rumbling sound from the other fighters as whispers were thrown between them. Perhaps because they knew that only the most experienced fighters chose to be dimachaeri. In their eyes Cole either knew much more than he was letting on or he was a damn fool. They would all know soon enough.

  Jacob brought Cole two training gladius.

  Colston thought it was quite unusual to see a murmillo paired with a dimachaerus. But he knew it would be a good fight nonetheless. He was hoping that it went as well as the training fights had in the simulator, but there was always that margin for error. The computer could never predict with 100 percent accuracy what the real man might do.

  Jacob looked at both men to see if they were ready. Marcus was tall for a murmillo but across from Cole he looked like a child. As both men stepped forward Colston could hear his father clear his throat. He stiffened at the sound, more out of reflex than actual fear of the man.

  “Jacob,” he said. “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Of course Mr. Carlson.”

  Both men stepped away to a corner of the pit near an archway. Colston could not hear what they were saying, but he could tell that Jacob was not happy about it. Colston watched as Jacob shook his head vigorously as his father spoke. While he could not know what was being said, he knew it could not be good. He waited. Both men continued to go back and forth until Jacob began to turn red. At last Jacob turned and marched back to where he had stood before in the center of the pit. His face was still red and he looked quite angry.

  “Today’s battle,” he said, “is for the honor of facing Racus in the arena. This battle will determine which man is worthy of this honor. Mr. Carlson has mandated that real weapons be used. However, this battle is not to the death. Of course, as you all know, death is always a possibility in such a sport. However, we are not encouraging any killing blows today. So fight bravely and above all protect yourselves.”

  Colston looked over at his father who was already staring at him and smiling. The boy turned away as he heard the creak of the metal door to the locker that held the real weapons. Jacob had already taken the training swords away from both men and was reaching into the locker for three shining metal swords. He walked back and gave one to Marcus and two to Cole. Then planted himself between the men.

  “Remember,” he said “no killing blows.” And with that he stepped back and yelled “FIGHT!”

  Cole was confused. He did not know how to fight without using killing blows. It was all he had ever learned. He felt vulnerable and momentarily froze. But when Marcus came at him he responded, perhaps more out of reflex than anything else.

  Marcus came with an overhead slashing movement that looked an awful lot like a killing blow to Colston. Cole quickly blocked the blow with one sword and slashed at Marcus’ middle with the other. He cut Marcus across the ribs though not deeply. Colston glanced at his father who looked surprised by the exchange.

  Colston’s father, Jacob and the other fighters all stood around the outskirts of the pit in a loose-knit circle. The protectors that were there made sure to stand between the fighters and those of privilege.

  Marcus came after Cole again. This time making a lunging stabbing motion at the giant. Cole responded by parrying the blow with one sword and slashing at Marcus’ shoulder with the other. The blade cut deep into the muscle and it was immediately obvious to Colston that he had impaired Marcus’ ability to wield his sword properly.

  Colston looked over at his father again who seemed confused by the ease with which Cole was dismantling his champion. Pride swelled through the boy as the battle now seemed well in hand.

  Marcus stayed behind his shield now, waiting for Cole to strike. After all, that was the benefit of fighting as a murmillo. He could sit behind that big shield and mount his defense against this suddenly surprising new opponen
t.

  Cole was confused again. He had very little experience with Marcus hiding behind his shield and he was not prepared for this tactic. The two men circled one another for several long moments. Colston could tell that the audience of other fighters were getting restless. At last Cole lunged at Marcus with one sword and made an overhand slash towards his sword arm with the other. Marcus blocked the lunge with his shield and the overhand blow with his sword. He then countered with a slashing motion down and across Cole’s midsection. He cut Cole though not deeply enough to sever muscle.

  Back behind his shield he went, holding the elbow of his sword arm against his body. The deep wound in his shoulder was obviously bothering him. The two men continued to circle one another. Both waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Neither wanting to be first to attack. At last Cole made a furious attack, raining blows down upon Marcus. The smaller man blocked everything with the large rectangular shield then countered with a short, quick lunge to Cole’s belly. He caught Cole just above the hip bone and penetrated several inches. Cole pulled back and swatted the blade away with his own then tried to counter with another slashing motion towards Marcus’ wounded shoulder. Marcus blocked it easily.

  The tide was turning and Colston was beginning to worry for Cole. Marcus seemed to know that the last wound had affected Cole psychologically and this emboldened him. With great effort he went back on the attack. Cole blocked the blows and countered, just missing Marcus. Then he saw his opportunity as he blocked an overhand attack then countered with a slash to Marcus’ forearm. The blade cut deeply, much deeper than Cole had intended, and Marcus dropped his sword as the lower part of his arm quickly turned bright red.

  Marcus knelt down in the sand with his right arm hanging limp by his side. He looked up at Cole and nodded. It was the closest he could come to admitting defeat. Cole had won. It had not been pretty and he was wounded, but he would heal. Colston knew now that Cole would go on to face Racus in the great arena. The boy ran over to Cole and stared at the wound in his belly.