Brimstone

Chapter Twenty-four

Sheppard and Mara were escorted into a large, plush chamber overlooking the arena. At the front of the room, a door opened out onto a balcony and from there it was possible to step onto the moveable platform from which Saul made his announcements and played Ringmaster.

“You have to stop this,” Sheppard said without preamble. The door slid closed behind them.

Saul turned to him, amused. For once, the amusement seemed genuine. “Why would I do that? This may prove the finest battle we’ve ever witnessed. In all the years we’ve been holding these entertainments, the excitement has never been higher.”

“She doesn’t have the gene,” Sheppard grated. “I told you that. Only Rodney and I can use your weapons. You’ve sent Teyla to her death.”

“She would die with or without the weapon’s special powers,” Saul shrugged. “That is why I chose one without the gene for the battle. The first Woard is not going to fall to a single opponent, man or woman, no matter how tough they might be. Even if she wields an almost magical weapon, this is a one-sided contest. It’s a shame she chose not to watch the entertainment at my side, but we all make our own choices, don’t we? The entertainment is not about who wins and who loses, but in how well the two fight. How long do you think your Teyla will last?”

“You’re insane.”

Sheppard started toward Saul, but Mara grabbed his arm and held on like an anchor.

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said. Her voice was calm, but there was a tremor in it.

Before Sheppard could respond, there was a horrible scream of rage and they spun toward the arena. Sheppard ran to the glass windows separating him from Teyla and the creature below. The Woard had sensed the presence of its opponent and leaped with unexpected speed to where Teyla hoisted the sword, and waited.

“My God,” Sheppard said. “That thing is fast.”

“You have no idea, Colonel. I have waited a very long time for this…and now, it begins.”

* * *

In the cell where Rodney and the others were being held, a video panel had opened on the wall. Behind a thick plate of glass, a video screen flickered to life and they had a clear view of the arena. On screen, the Woard leaped.

“Oh man,” Rodney said, staring at the screen.

Cumby looked away. “She’s going to be slaughtered.”

Ronon slammed into the door, trying to force it to open or crack.

“You’re going to injure yourself,” Cumby said softly.

“He’s right,” Rodney said. “There’s nothing you can do. If they choose you next, do you want to go in there with a broken arm, or do you want to fight?”

Ronon’s eyes blazed, but he didn’t speak. He turned to the screen on the wall.

Teyla had slipped the initial charge, taking advantage or her superior speed and agility. She swung the sword in a glittering arc that drove it into the Woard’s side. The blade sliced in beneath the creature’s arm, drawing first blood. The Woard swung back at his attacker, but Teyla was quick. Anticipating the counterattack, she ducked. Her adversary’s huge arm slashed the air above her head and she leaped up, jabbing with the sword. It entered through the ribs and cut deep a second time. The Woard screamed in pain and anger and staggered back, retreating.

Teyla took advantage of the opening. She dragged her blade free of the creature’s torso and changed tactics. She slashed down, swinging the blade at the Woard’s ankle. It tried to back away, but she caught it cleanly, severing the tendon behind its lower calf. With a screech, the creature dropped sideways, half its support cut away.

“Yes!” Ronon cried, fists clenched.

On the screen the Woard rolled away from Teyla toward the wall, clutching at its ruined ankle. It could not rise to its feet, but it was still considerably larger and stronger, and it was not hobbled by rational thought or conscience. If anything, despite the pain and confusion, it had grown angrier.

“That creature is only injured,” Cumby said. “Teyla should be careful.”

As if in response to her words, the Woard, having lain still for a moment, whirled very suddenly. It flung its arm out and down, and despite her quickness, Teyla caught a glancing blow that spun her away and nearly tore the sword from her grip. The Woard didn’t hesitate. It couldn’t get back to its feet, so it spun and crawled rapidly across the arena, directly at Teyla, who recovered quickly from the blow she’d been dealt and leapt into the air.

That leap saved her life. She cleared the Woard’s arm as it swung for her and drove down with the blade. It entered at the top of the creature’s shoulder and dug far down through flesh and bone into the soft organs beneath. The Woard screamed again. Teyla dug her feet in and pulled on the blade, but it wouldn’t release. She tried again, but the creature shuddered, and then bucked up off the floor, sending its attacker flying. The sword remained embedded just below the thing’s neck.

“Oh no!” Cumby cried.

There were no other weapons in sight, nothing else Teyla could use to defend herself. She sprinted across the arena. The Woard tried to lunge after her, but the sword had apparently embedded itself in a tendon, or a nerve. It moved slowly, partially paralyzed and roaring in pain and fury.

“She hurt it,” Cumby cried. “She hurt it bad. How long can she stay clear?”

“There’s nowhere to go,” Ronon said. “She has to get the sword back.”

Teyla, as if she’d heard Ronon’s words, started a slow circle of the beast. It crawled toward where she’d been moments before, single-minded and blinded by pain. Teyla took advantage of this, slipped around beside the creature, and with a running leap clawed her way suddenly up its side. Even with the creature down, the sword’s hilt hung tantalizingly, six or seven feet off the ground. She made the first couple of feet easily, and lunged, stretching out to catch the blade.

The crowd were on their feet, screaming for her to get it, to finish the Woard. The sound seemed to energize the beast. It sensed Teyla’s presence at the last second. As her hand clutched the hilt of the sword, the creature swung up and back, drawing its elbow in close and catching Teyla solidly in the back. She cried out as she was driven over the Woard’s back and into the wall.

The sword came free, but she couldn’t hold on. It clattered to the arena floor as Teyla toppled over and fell beside it. The Woard had used up most of its remaining strength with that blow. Blood flowed freely from the wound at its neck. It scrabbled about almost blindly, searching for its tormentor. Teyla shook her head and fought for the breath that had been knocked from her in the fall. She glanced over and saw the sword. She rolled toward it, gripped the hilt and turned back.

The Woard lifted itself up on one arm and turned. The two combatants came face to face. Teyla was a little shaky, but she held the blade out and stood her ground. The Woard saw her. It tried another roar, but the sound was feeble — a shadow of its former strength and rage. It half rose, and it seemed the effort would be too much for it. Teyla looked ready to drop the blade and walk away, but in that second of hesitation the Woard lunged.

Every bit of its remaining life went into that final attack. Teyla staggered back. She held the blade high, and the Woard’s weight drove it down over the cold, hard steel. The creature’s momentum took it forward, and it fell heavily atop Teyla, who was lost from sight.

“No!” Rodney cried out.

In that moment, the image on the screen dimmed, and grew dark. The panel in the wall closed, and they were left to stare at one another in shock as the crowd’s cheer erupted in the arena above.