22
"-this whole place smells like death," Bayman said, wrinkling his nose.
Maximus nodded, eyes flicking around as he listened to the jungle sounds. He could smell it too. There was blood, piss, and shit everywhere around them.
He said, "This is more than just one confrontation. A lot of contestants have died here, several recently."
Brophy, one of the two duoden, glanced around, then sniffed and shrugged. They weren't known for their sense of smell. He grumbled, "Just smells like jungle to me."
"Take my word for it," Bayman said wryly, his ears flicking around. "And keep your eyes open. The killer could be standing right next to us and I wouldn't be able to smell him over all this."
The other duoden, Map, pointed as he said, "Look there."
Maximus saw what his companion had. There was blood spatter on a tree nearby, and a sizable stain at the base. It was black with age and flies were buzzing around the site, but there was no body. That was interesting. His trainer had told him bodies were typically left until the event was over. Whoever'd completed the kill had moved the corpse, but hadn't otherwise tried to hide the deed.
Brophy moved to the spot, waving the flies away with his lower left hand as he crouched to look more closely. Maximus kept an eye on him, but was listening for unusual sounds.
He was confident, with good reason. His was the most powerful livestock species the succubus had. They were so strong that SDM Incorporated only allowed one borealan per season, and he'd had to fight several others — all of whom had trained for years — to earn his spot. The three with him were also competent in their own ways. Brophy was thoughtful, Map observant, and Bayman's packwren senses were even keener than Maximus'. With the three of them, the opening event had so far been a breeze, and it was expected to last another few days. There were somewhere between three and four hundred contestants, and half of them had to die before it was over. His group had accounted for almost thirty, and Maximus felt confident they held the top four spots. Each of them had also acquired an ally, per their agreement. Maximus intended to keep them as a pack as long as possible. Together, they could dominate the games.
It was the strongest possible start, but something about this area felt off to him. He said, "We're on someone's hunting grounds. There's got to be a draw somewhere around. Find it, but be careful."
Brophy straightened, looking around with a frown as he said, "Whoever made this kill is probably short, but I can't tell much else."
Maximus asked, "Short? What makes you think so?"
Brophy reached out with his upper right and touched a spot on the tree as he said, "This was made by a spear at an upward angle and it's only eight feet up."
"Aired-out doll?" Map asked, but Brophy shrugged and shook his head.
"Doubt it. Aired out, they aren't very strong. Certainly not strong enough to put a spear all the way through a body and two inches of tree."
"If he's short, it's probably the new gene seed we've been hearing rumors about," Maximus said.
Bayman nodded and said, "My trainer said something about him. Short, very strong."
Map grinned and popped his lower set of knuckles as he pulled a javelin out with his upper right and said, "Whoever gets the kill takes the next ally?"
Bayman grinned. He said, "I'm good for that."
Maximus frowned, but he could tell Brophy liked the idea as well and so said, "All right. But if your nose isn't telling you to be careful, take my word for it. Whoever did this isn't like the others, and I doubt he's alone. Go in pairs. Bayman with Map, Brophy with me. If it's not the new gene seed, the wager doesn't count."
"You're just saying that because as lead, the next one would go to you," Brophy said, his grin souring.
Maximus stared pointedly at the duoden as he said, "That's right."
The words hung in the air between them for a moment, then Brophy nodded and looked away, unwilling to challenge Maximus for his place.
A wise choice.
Map and Bayman went left, while Maximus went right with Brophy. The duoden had a javelin in his upper right and drawn a sword obtained from the supply drop with his lower right. He'd clearly set aside the mild confrontation in favor of the moment. He might be ambitious, but even he clearly sensed that whatever had done this wasn't to be taken lightly. He was also wearing a ceramic breastplate and faulds that covered his upper legs and carried a massive shield in both left hands.
Maximus carried no weapons, wore no armor, and needed neither. His claws were thick, sharp, and long. He was stronger than any of his companions, far heavier, a better fighter, but most crucial of all, he was tough. Maximus could be bled, but in all his life he'd never been truly injured. The only genuine concern he had was being shot, and the best defense for that was avoidance.
Bayman was a passable archer and the only one among them to choose a bow from the supply drop. Map now carried a pair of swords in his upper hands and daggers in his lower. Of the three, he was easily the most competent with blades.
Maximus was quietly grateful that this first event kept things primitive. Firearms negated most of his own natural advantages, so their lack meant he was practically invincible in this first round. It had allowed him to amass what he felt to be a comfortable lead.
He and Brophy moved quietly, and the ambient noise of the jungle seemed no different than usual. It was only the persistent smell of death all around them that kept Maximus on edge. With every breath he tried to pick out a unique smell that might be the new creature, but there were simply too many traces, all blending together in a melange of carnage in his nose.
A hoarse scream abruptly tore through the jungle, ragged with agony. As it tapered off Maximus heard Bayman howling, an obvious call for help. Beyond that, Maximus heard another sound: the roar of an animal.
Brophy turned and tore off through the jungle, dodging trees with admirable agility. Maximus followed him, but moved more cautiously. By the time he arrived Brophy was already working with Bayman to help Map. When Maximus saw what had happened to him, he couldn't help but feel revulsion coiling in his guts.
The duoden's left foot was a complete ruin.
Stepping carefully, Maximus knelt to examine what had done the damage.
The hole was less than two feet deep, but there was a sharpened wooden stake at the bottom and two more angled down anchored in the sides of the tiny pit. All three were now soaked with blood and chunks of flesh.
Map was screaming as he rolled around on the jungle floor, completely lost in his agony. When he'd stepped in the trap the bottom spike impaled him. He'd obviously panicked and ripped his foot back up out of the hole, which had allowed the angled wall stakes — harmless at first — to bite and make the injury many orders of magnitude worse.
Brophy seemed on the verge of panic himself as he glanced up at Maximus, clearly at a loss. They had no bandages and none of them had any medical training. It hadn't been part of their preparation for this event.
Bayman met Maximus' eye as he said, "We need to silence him."
As he spoke, the packwren pulled a dagger from his belt, but Maximus stepped forward. He knelt on both the screaming duoden's arm pairs, then wrapped his hands around Map's throat, choking him into silence.
At length, Map lost consciousness, at which point Maximus let him go as he said, "He's your packmate, Bayman. We don't kill our own. We made a deal to protect and help one another, and we'll honor it. Brophy, take off his armor and pants. Use the cloth to wrap the foot, tight as you can. Bayman, you watch over him while he works. I'm going to take a look around."
Bayman wasn't happy, but nodded and sheathed the dagger, taking up his bow again as he said, "Well, whoever set the trap knows we're here now. You may be tougher than we are, but your foot wouldn't look any better than his if it'd been you. Be careful."
Nodding, Maximus turned away. A scent had been tickling his nose, and he remembered the animal scream from earlier. A slow look around revealed a clearing not far away. He could tell by the change in the light coming down through the trees nearby and pointed as he said, "I'll bet there's an ally cage over there. Guarded by an animal."
"Still?" Bayman asked, glancing that way as well. "With this much death in the air, why wouldn't the ally have been claimed?"
As Bayman asked the question, Maximus realized the answer.
"Bait. Whoever did this is using the presence of the ally to lure in other contestants."
Bayman nodded, and glanced around again as he said, "Which means whoever did this really is close by."
"Probably," Maximus agreed.
Though he kept it from his voice, Maximus was angry. Map was ultimately his competitor, but at the moment — in the here and now — he was part of Maximus' pack. Someone had mutilated him. Worse, had done it with an unguarded trap. Something that did not care who or what it claimed. It was cowardly. Whoever had done this was weak, no matter what they thought of themselves. The strong confronted their opponents and fought as males should: face-to-face.
Yet, whatever he might think of his unseen foe, one thing was certain: his traps would take the strong and the weak alike.
Advancing cautiously to the edge of the clearing, Maximus saw the cage, and that it was still occupied. The beast was also there, already focused on him. It was a fair-sized creature, black-furred and feline, with six legs. It had also eaten well — given the many carrion piles scattered throughout the small glade. Now it was hunkered down, golden eyes glimmering as it bared fangs at him, ready to pounce. Maximus knew as long as he stayed out of the clearing, it probably wouldn't attack him. It was obviously a guardian for the cage. He could see the key glimmering as it hung from a collar around the beast's neck.
Inside the cage was a doll. She was aired out, seated with her arms around her knees, and looked thoroughly miserable. When she noticed him she abruptly stood and wrapped her hands around the bars, facing him. Like all allies, she wasn't allowed to speak until someone claimed her. There was an intensity in her blue eyes, a quiet desperation unlike anything he'd ever seen before.
Her reaction more than anything told him that something was very, very wrong here. It was understandable to an extent. The way scoring worked meant allies were secured once found, not left to stew amid mauled corpses. The carrion piles all around her were buzzing with flies and Maximus could well imagine the horrors she must have endured these past few days. In a sense, all allies were bait. Their presence drew the contestants into conflict. But here, that had been taken to an extreme. One or more competitors had chosen to goaltend this girl, and she was probably regretting her choice to participate in the game.
While Maximus was confident he could take on the beast, he wanted his packmates there to watch his back. Whoever was guarding her would have to make a move when he attacked the guardian or they'd lose their bait and the ally. It was also unlikely there were any traps in the glade. The guardian wouldn't have allowed it.
Decision made, he backtracked to rejoin his companions.
All three were dead.
Maximus stood staring, completely dumbfounded. Bayman was on his back, sightless eyes open to the sky and a slowly growing halo of blood around his head, draining from a gaping wound in his neck.
Brophy was slumped over the body of Map, whose throat had also been cut. Brophy himself was dead by a sword, which had been plunged between his neck and shoulder to the hilt and left there, as though to make a statement.
The smell of death was so strong it blotted out Maximus' other senses for a moment. His eyes were open, but sightless, his ears received the jungle noise but failed to process it. He'd left them for just a few short minutes, and his pack had been wiped out. Worse, he didn't know who had done it, or how. He'd been given no chance to defend them, and now he was alone.
Maximus knew he was individually powerful. He was heavier, stronger, and tougher than any other species the succubi had. Yet there was one thing that filled him with disquiet, and that was being alone. He craved structure, and now had none. There was no one below him, no one above him. He felt lost in a void of uncertainty, and as the seconds ticked past his lips peeled back in an unconscious snarl. His claws flexed, itching for blood. With a last glare around, he strode back toward the clearing knowing full well that his enemy was watching him that very instant.
He loudly called, "You've taken from me! Now I'm going to take from you! Stop me, if you can!"
Without any hesitation he strode into the clearing. The guardian beast was on him in an instant, galloping forward before it raised its upper body, back four legs remaining on the ground for stability as it slashed at him with brutal paws.
Maximus batted aside the slash with almost casual disregard, then caught the cat across the jaws with a backhand that staggered the creature, knocking it off its feet. For all its size, its gene seed hadn't come from a heavy-world. It might as well be made of paper: capable of slashing him to death in a purely technical sense, but only if he allowed it. His own strength exceeded the beast's, but his concern wasn't and never had been with it.
His guess proved correct, though his assailant gave no deliberate warning. Maximus spun on his heel to catch the spear aimed at his back. The creature on the other end of that spear was a perplexing figure. He was short, no more than six feet, and dressed in clothing obviously colored to help him blend in with the jungle. He'd taken that even farther, coating his skin with paint to further the illusion. There was so much of it that Maximus couldn't actually tell what color he really was.
Despite appearances, there'd actually been real force behind the spear thrust, meaning that, like him, this creature was from a heavy-world. Yet, while there was strength there, it was still far inferior to what Maximus had.
All this he gathered in the instant he caught the spear shaft. His opponent tugged once, then released the haft and leapt backward.
Maximus shifted his grip on the spear, setting its butt in the turf as he leaned forward abruptly, presenting the point behind him. The weapon shivered as a feline scream of agony rent the air, then Maximus released the shaft and stepped past it toward the strange little creature, snarling, "Where are your friends? You'd better call them if you expect to take me on."
He got no verbal response. The creature hurled a javelin at him that Maximus effortlessly batted aside. It was clear his opponent was no good with the weapons, and didn't try again. Instead, he pulled a pair of daggers from his belt and threw aside the quiver on his back, obviously preparing for battle. His green-gold eyes never wavered from Maximus, but there was no expression on his painted face. Seeing that complete lack of emotion disturbed Maximus more than any depth of passion. He had the crazy impression that what he faced was beyond him somehow, though he had already taken the creature's physical measure and found him, if not harmless, certainly not a deadly threat.
His foe displayed an easy familiarity with the daggers that sounded a cautious note in Maximus' mind, but now that he had the male in front of him there was no rush. He began circling, both closing the distance and forcing his opponent to turn.
The male matched him, though for every step closer Maximus came his opponent took distance the other way. When they were only six feet apart, Maximus had the male backed against the now still corpse of the cat creature, pierced through by the spear.
The male glanced down and behind him, frowning.
Maximus thrust, leading with his claws, but pulled the blow to slash with his other hand as the creature whipped a dagger up to meet the first attack. Just as quickly as he changed tactics, so did his enemy, and though Maximus slammed the creature back to fall over the corpse behind him, he got a long gash on his forearm for the effort. It was a shallow cut of little consequence, but he licked it absently and waited for his opponent, wanting to see what he'd do.
He got up, though his shoulder was a ruin of blood and his left arm hung limp below it. That left hand was closed in a tight fist, though the dagger was gone. Maximus looked for pain on his face, but didn't find it. All he saw in those green-gold eyes was death.
"Surrender to me," Maximus said abruptly. "I'll bind your wound and the two of us will finish the event together. You can be in my pack until the end, when circumstance will force us apart. The two of us can dominate any physical events. We'll gather a few others to replace those you've cost me. You don't have to die."
For the first time, he saw some expression in the other's face: curiosity. He asked, "Your pack?"
"That's right. Those others you killed were my pack. You watched, didn't you? You saw me take care of them. Saw me protect my own. I'll make the same arrangement with you. What is your name?"
"Taz."
"I am Maximus. I keep my word. I have the lead in this event. I'll pull you along with me."
"The lead?" Taz asked, raising an eyebrow.
Nodding, Maximus said, "I've finished fourteen myself, and my pack has over thirty total kills. All of us had allies, and here's another. I'll tell you what: join me, and I'll let you have that one as a sign of good faith."
It was more than just a gesture of goodwill. Dolls as a species were ill-suited to his personal use. They were too easily injured. Giving this creature a free ally was no great loss.
"If you all have allies, where are they?" Taz asked.
Blinking, Maximus said, "Once acquired, they're transported off the island to await final results."
"Huh."
Taz's lips twisted, and he glanced over his shoulder at the doll in the cage, who was watching them both with wide eyes. He said, "Sorry. If I'd known that I'd have gotten you out days ago. I figured I'd have to feed and protect you for the rest of the event."
"Do you accept?" Maximus asked.
Taz turned to face him again, and seemed to consider in silence. Then he said, "Ordinarily, I'd agree then shank you once I got in close, but you seem like a decent sort, so I'll be honest. No, Maximus. I will not join you. My nature is to strive, to seek, to find, but not to yield. I'm going to kill you."
"But ... why?" Maximus asked. "You're strong, but clearly not strong enough. You must know that now. If you keep fighting, you'll die."
Taz smiled at that as he rolled his remaining knife expertly around his fingers. He said, "No one can kill me, Maximus. It's just not possible."
"I'm sorry you think that way," the borealan said, flexing his claws.
Taz flipped the knife in his hand up. It twirled in the air, and Maximus followed the glittering arc of the metal with his eyes. It was an involuntary reaction, one that almost cost him his life. Yet, just as instinct drew his eyes, it drew his hand, and a second knife buried itself in his palm instead of his throat. He lowered it in time to see Taz catch the knife he'd lofted even as he launched himself to attack.
With his uninjured hand, Maximus slammed Taz to the ground then stomped on his chest, growling deep in his chest as he glared down at the strange little creature staring back up at him, bloody froth on his lips.
"Last chance," Maximus growled, pulling the thrown dagger from his palm and tossing it aside. "We could go far together, and I hate being alone. Join my pack, and I'll spare you."
"Hahaha ..."
Taz's laughter devolved into a coughing fit, then he said, "Spare me? You ... think you can? Let me ask you a question."
Maximus reached down and, though it took a bit of effort, pried the knife from Taz's hand, tossing it away as he said, "Ask."
"When have you ever decided?"
Brow furrowing, the borealan asked, "What do you mean?"
Taz's hand, now free and empty, groped blindly in the dirt, reaching for something, anything. Yet there was nothing in reach to help him. As Maximus watched that hand, Taz said, "No matter what you get, or what you do, in the end someone else decides. That beast there was better than you. No one else ... ever looked through his eyes."
"I hold your life in my hands. I decide whether you live or die," Maximus said, unable to help the growl in his voice. He didn't like what this creature was saying, but had no ready rebuttal.
Taz smiled and closed his eyes as he said, "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? You're wrong, but I understand. Reality's ... never been a friend of mine either."
For long seconds, Maximus hesitated. Taz's hand was still wandering, still aimlessly searching for something, but the rest of him lay unmoving. His eyes were closed, but the expression on his face was strange.
He was smiling.
Just as Maximus made his decision and put his hesitation away, the jungle echoed with a vast, almost incomprehensibly loud sound.
It was a gong.
Maximus blinked, then lifted his foot, glancing around, then down at Taz. He hadn't opened his eyes, but as Maximus watched, Taz's smile turned into a grin, and he started laughing.
"You're lucky," Maximus said. "The event's over. I'd be disqualified if I killed you now."
He stepped over his fallen foe to crouch next to the dead guardian. Until they were picked up by the retrieval teams, he'd still be able to acquire the ally. Yet though he looked, he couldn't find the key.
Frowning, he searched the ground nearby and found the collar to which it had been attached. It was cut, and the key itself was gone.
Taz got painfully to his feet in the meanwhile and their eyes met, then the male passed him, blood dripping down his left arm as he walked up to the cage. He put his right hand under his clenched left fist, which he opened to drop the key. Raising it in his right, he fit it to the lock.
"That's mine by right!" Maximus roared, leaping toward him, but too late.
Taz ignored him as he unlocked the cage, then turned and jerked his thumb back at the girl as he said, "I'd bet good money this one wishes you'd finished me off when you had the chance."
Behind him, now freed, the doll stepped from the cage and said, "Hardly. I've been waiting for you to claim me for days. If you'd lost to that borealan I'd have been pissed."
Taz blinked and glanced back at her as he said, "I did lose. I got my ass handed to me."
The doll shook her head and said, "You won. Your little death poem made him hesitate, and when the event ended you were able to claim me. You beat him."
Maximus flexed his claws, itching to attack, but he knew he couldn't. The event was over and Taz was right. He'd missed his chance.
"Next time I won't hesitate," he growled.
Taz met his gaze for what felt like a long time. There was no fear in his green-gold eyes, and though he didn't show it, something within Maximus shifted. Once more, he had the impression that there was something different about this male. Something beyond the physical. At length, Taz pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing as he turned and walked away, blood dripping steadily from the fingers of his limp left hand.
Maximus glanced from him to the doll, who was smirking as she gazed at him.
"What?" he snapped, angry and unable to vent his frustration properly.
"You said you were first, right? Fourteen kills, wasn't it?" she asked.
When he nodded, eyes narrowing in suspicion, the doll spread a webbed hand to indicate the clearing and said, "While you're waiting for pick-up, count heads. All of these are Taz kills, and I know he's got more than what you see here. You really should have killed him when you had the chance. See you 'round, borealan."
Maximus watched her hurry after Taz, then glanced around the clearing, not really wanting to count but unable to help himself.
When he finished, he stared after the strange little male and wondered what kind of world could create such a monster.