Page 83 of The Prisoner's Gambit
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
Insults and boos echoed from the stands as Bodok took to the arena floor, but nothing was hurled at him beyond that. The crowd knew far better than to throw anything. The Mondarians were quite lenient when it came to the event, but that was a line a non-combatant should never cross.
It didn’t matter to the blue-skinned man. He had tuned them out, his eyes searching for just one familiar face. The Infala buried in his flesh had been writhing in pain for days, but now, amazingly, it was burning with new sensations.
Joy, warmth, and completion.
Maureen was here.
His Infala found her before his eyes did, guiding him where to look. He turned, looking away from Maxxis and the crowd toward the Tormiks’ ringside box. Maureen stood quietly at attention to one side, not daring turn her head, but her eyes calling out to him.
He felt the irresistible pull of his Infala tugging hard in his chest and started walking toward her, crossing the arena. As he walked he caught a glimpse of Mistress Tormik’s angry glare, shooting daggers his direction before suddenly shifting, looking past him, a cruel little smile creasing her lips.
His Infala released its grip momentarily and his senses sharpened in a flash, warning him just as the crowd’s boos transformed to excited cheers. Without hesitation he spun around.
Maxxis had already closed the distance, his powerful legs pistoning as he charged his opponent with no warning or formality. He intended to dominate this match, and it began whenhesaid it began.
Bodok managed to avoid some of the blow, but a meaty shoulder nevertheless smashed into him, the impact sending him flying through the air. He hit the ground, rolling up to his feet far quicker than anyone expected. And while the blow had hurt, no doubt, he showed no outward signs of pain. Regardless, the crowd went wild.
Maxxis waved to the adoring fans, having sized up his opponent and found him sorely lacking. He then charged again.
“It would appear this may be over even faster than we had thought,” Mistress Tormik said with a laugh clearly directed at Maureen. “I do hope he draws it out at least a little while. It is ever so entertaining watching Maxxis at work.”
Judging by the speed at which Maxxis was moving, that didn’t seem likely.
But the reluctant challenger had other ideas. Bodok evaded and ran, forcing the champion to chase him. It would have almost been comical if not for the stakes.
“Fight, you coward!” someone shouted from the crowd.
“Kill him, Maxxis!” another added.
The crowd goaded him on, their energy driving his pursuit. But Bodok was fast, and he was agile. And with his runes repaired he was much quicker on his feet than the last time he had been in the arena.
The new pigment had bonded perfectly, and as a result his limbs were now operating with an efficiency he hadn’t felt since the Raxxians began cutting off pieces of him.
The announcer sensed the crowd beginning to shift. It was almost imperceptible, but frustration was growing, and that could snowball into something ugly very quickly. He had to do something.
“Fight, damn you!” he yelled at Bodok as he raced past him, Maxxis in pursuit.
Bodok turned to say something but that was the opening Maxxis needed. He expertly launched himself into a diving punch, the blow making enough contact to knock Bodok to the ground.
Both men scrambled to their feet. Maxxis was too close to run from, his fists and elbows flying fast at the blue man’s head. Bodok evaded and blocked, pushing him back while not taking any damage.
Maxxis feinted a punch but threw a surprise kick, catching Bodok off guard, the force of the impact driving him back. Bodok responded with a counter, using the man’s momentum to his advantage, flinging him away. Bodok caught a glimpse of Maureen’s worried look and felt his Infala twinge.
He held up his hands. “I do not want to fight you,” he said, his chest heaving from the exertion.
Maxxis chuckled. This man was a weakling. A coward. He would enjoy making an example of him. “You don’t have a choice,” he replied with a cold grin.
Bodok seized the opportunity and bolted, creating space between himself and the champion. Maxxis growled in frustration and chased after him once again. It was one thing to fight someone in single combat. It was quite another to be forced to run after them.
The crowd’s mood shifted again, and it wasn’t pretty.
“Enough of this,” the announcer grumbled, waving to his weaponskeepers.
The deadliest of implements were hurled into the arena from all sides, a scattered assortment of all types of bladed weapons. Maxxis knew where his preferred sword would be thrown, just as it always was. While things may have seemed random to the crowd, he knew first-hand it was a fixed game.
Maxxis shifted his course and raced for his weapon. Bodok looked around, scanning the various tools of death that now lay about. He hesitated, his eyes locking on Maureen’s.
