Dracul, Chapter 3

1

Chapter 3 – Two Beginnings2

“What?” a voice replied.3

“I said ‘get up’!”4

“Oh, okay,” said the first voice. Felion realized it was his own as he awoke slowly. “We there?”5

“Yeah,” said his Uncle.6

Felion opened his heavy eyes.7

He saw the same path that they had been traveling on and at first thought his Uncle had lied to him. He looked up, saw the path extend until it flowed into a four-way crossroads, and knew that nobody had lied. The path was bordered on both sides by buildings; shops, most of them, Felion recalled. There was a statue in the middle of the crossroads depicting a tall man with a grim expression and a suit of armor that covered his whole body. In one hand he held a pistol, in the other a short knife.8

“Somebody really needs to take that thing down already,” his Uncle said, shaking his head.9

Felion wondered if the man depicted in the statue was a real man, or only a symbol. He noticed that it was standing on a broken stick, and upon further inspection he realized it was probably a staff. He felt a warm feeling of shame wash over him for being in this town. “At least it’s over,” he thought.10

His Uncle grumbled incoherently. 11

They wheeled on through the town. The central square was made up mostly of the more important shops in the town, such as the post office. A light shower of snow was sprinkling on the ground and covering the close shops with a thin blanket.12

Speaking of neglected, Felion didn’t see a living soul anywhere he looked. He asked his Uncle about it.13

“They’re all at the arena introductions. It’s a little speech that the mayor gives, tellin’ the crowd who’s gonna be fightin’ in the arena in…five days I think it is. Real popular around here, and for good reason. They sure are somethin’.”14

Felion wondered what they were like. His uncle saw his distant, thoughtful expression.15

“I suppose we’ll be in town for it, boy,” he said, “If you care to.”16

He nodded.17

He and his Uncle decided to go straight to the Hunter’s Guild building. It was a place for monster hunters to gather, share ideas, team up for large hunts, find employment for domestic disturbances, or find a hunting mentor, as Felion needed. There was literally always a mentor available, which reassured Felion. If there was none, the guild supplied them. There were two Hunter’s Guilds in the world, one in Eversnow and one in the very distant land of Skitkatchel, a place where there was said to be no daytime or nighttime, just somewhere in between at all hours.18

The hall was enormous and splendid, made of several types of polished wood with carvings of famous hunts inscribed into each of them. Felion never got to see the inside, for the mentor ads were posted on the walls of the outer hall. One showed a picture of a serpent coiled around an arrow, the symbol of monster hunters, and gave directions to a house in Eversnow.19

“While we wait for the introductions to get over, let’s go shopping,” said his Uncle. “There’s bound to be a clerk at the store.”20

There was, and Felion and his Uncle went down their item list in the general store while Eversnow began to slowly repopulate.21

His uncle knocked on the door four times, as was customary to indicate that the visit was businesslike. Three knocks meant that you wanted to marry the lady of the house, and his Uncle had told him a story of where he had intended on knocking four times but tripped and only got three. He had been forced to convince the man residing there that he did not want to elope with his wife. 22

The house was exactly one mile out of town, the opposite direction from which Felion had come. It was small and shabby, not like the house of a successful monster hunter, and Felion’s spirit dropped. Footsteps sounded from the house, and the door opened. A short, hook-nosed man with wild white hair and wrinkled and dirty clothes stood in the doorway.23

“Hello there,” said the man in a cracked, intelligent voice. “I don’t hardly ever get visitors, save tax collectors, those maggots. You must be answering my ad.”24

“Yes sir,” said Felion’s Uncle warily.25

“How long will the boy be staying? The full two weeks I hope?”26

“Yes sir. I expect you to take the best of care of him.”27

“Of course.” The little man bowed slightly.28

Felion felt his Uncle’s hand clamp on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you,” he said. Felion’s heart swelled greatly.29

“Thanks Uncle,” said Felion in an elated voice.30

“We can discuss pay afterwards,” said his Uncle, turning back to the little man.31

“No need for pay.”32

“Well then…” He paused briefly, and then turned to Felion. “I see no reason to stay in Eversnow.” 33

Felion’s heart sank.34

“About the arena, I suppose Mr.…”35

“Daxon,” chirped Mr. Daxon.36

“-could take you.”37

“My absolute pleasure,” Daxon said through a smile revealing perfectly straight teeth.38

“Well then, goodbye Felion,” his Uncle said, no emotion in his voice.39

“Next time I see you Uncle,” Felion impulsively said, “I’ll be a sword.”40

His Uncle chuckled and shook his head as he walked away, and out of Felion’s life forever.41

“Well, son,” said Mr. Daxon, closing the door, “I suppose you’ll need to see your room.” He walked towards a long, winding staircase in the middle of the room. It was a huge room that had no doors other than the one they had entered through. The walls, if you strained your eyes through the dark and looked closely, were completely covered in monster hunter tokens. There were deer heads everywhere, with not a small amount of Daxon horns and claws. There were medals and letters of recognition, ancient hunter contracts, trophies on wooden holders, hunting equipment, (Felion studied those and found a trap that looked very interesting, a cage with almost invisible bars, perfect for trapping small animals), weapons, full-body stuffed monsters, and huge fur coats. The wall was dominated, though, by the head of a huge, monstrous animal that was fearful to look upon. It looked like a dragon from one of the outer colonies of the Water, (the “Continents” of this world were named by the elements, and the one he was speaking of was what we call Asia), but had huge fangs coming out of the corners of its mouth. All dragons were herbivores, Felion knew this much, so why would this dragon need fangs?42

Felion was about to voice this question out loud, but Mr. Daxon sensed the question and answered.43

“Ever hear about the six great Continental Dragons?” he said while climbing the staircase.44

Felion thought for a moment.45

“In a book once….I read that, uh….there are seven divisions to the planet’s land called continents, and that there’s a great dragon for each one, except for Water.” He thought for a moment. “We’re on Wind I think.”46

“That’s correct,” said Mr. Daxon, “About the six dragons….well, there used to be seven.”47

Felion began to climb the stairs, his mouth open wide. He felt better about this Mr. Daxon by the minute.48

The stairway spiraled up and up in what can only be described as a tunnel, void of all light and comfort. The stairs creaked loudly, and Felion almost got stuck in several places where there was simply no stair. Daxon had not told him about the spaces at all. It was long, almost too long, as if the stairs went up further than the house could hold with its height. Felion climbed quickly, but did not catch up to his new mentor no matter how fast he went. “Not bad for such an old guy,” thought Felion.49

Felion reached the top of the stairs after about one and a half minutes, and was instantly astonished at what he saw. The room was huge, at least four times as big as the entrance room, and was completely covered in stuff. I couldn’t say anything in particular. Just stuff. There were a lot of the same things that were displayed in the entrance room held in this room, but not entirely. It had weapons of all kinds, clothing, paintings, tons, literally tons, of different tools that Felion had never seen, contraptions that almost resembled torture devices in their intricacy, dried foods, huge stuffed fish, and plants encased in glass. There were three doors in the room and Mr. Daxon was currently stepping over a gigantic stuffed crocodile (along with the horse, one of the few animals that all worlds share) in the direction of the smallest door.50

“Come on, son,” said the old man, “It’s six o’clock already, and your training starts tomorrow. Early tomorrow.”51

“Have you trained before, then, sir?” asked Felion.52

“Yes, more times than I can remember,” the old man replied proudly. “You’re in the best hands of all this fair city can offer.”53

“If you, ah, don’t mind me asking, sir…” said Felion hesitantly, “What class are you?”54

“As in the weapon type of class?” asked Mr. Daxon.55

It was a strange question.56

“Well….of course!” exclaimed Felion. “What other classes are there?”57

Daxon smiled. He turned to look at the boy.58

“There are a great many things kept secret from the worlds. World. Whichever.” He leaned in to Felion as if to tell him a secret. “Did you know, boy, that not so incredibly long ago there were six classes instead of just four?”59

Felion was shocked at this, but also at Mr. Daxon’s voice, which was rapidly changing from an uneducated and rough accent to that of a veteran scholar.60

“But….that’s, not….not….” Felion stammered.61

“Not very fun to figure out that your mind is being shaped by a higher power, is it, my boy?”62

Felion said nothing.63

“Not very fun either,” continued Daxon, “to figure out that the highest power dwells not in heaven, but in the cities of man.”64

“What….” Felion began, “What are the two other classes? What were the two other classes, I mean.”65

“Well there was the gauntlet, commonly called the first. You can guess that it only used the first or the fist with a glove as a weapon. The next one is a very strong class, equally as rare as the staff but entirely different. It uses any kind of rope or chain with millions of small or large variations.”66

“I don’t….I don’t understand,” said Felion.67

“Don’t you?” said Mr. Daxon. “I suppose that’s understandable, being it as complicated as it is. Well, let me try and explain. If you are asked what type of weapon you desire, they’ll ask you what type of ‘chain’ you want. Let’s say you want a steel-link chain. They’ll then ask you what type of weapon you want fastened to the end of the chain. Let’s say you want a steel ball that is spiked with sharp iron. It will take them about five days to make it perfectly, then they will train you to use it, as they do with all classes. Or used to. I’ve heard they’ve stopped doing that, even.” Mr. Daxon grabbed a chair from under a seal-skin blanket. Felion sat on the ground cross legged. They both knew a long conversation when they saw one. “It is, or was I suppose, called chain-dancing. Sounds elegant, doesn’t it?” Felion nodded, fascinated. “It was, once upon a time. It because the strongest class of all of them, which was a blow to the knives’ ego, their greatest weakness. Still is, to whatever sad form of knives they have left. The first was almost a match to the chain-dancers, so they were hated also. Finally the great kind of the knife city Sharapinion….Can’t recall his name, but he led an execution, a quiet and secretive execution, mind you, and killed most of both classes. They were gone within a week.”68

Felion opened his mouth to ask a question.69

“I know what you’re gonna ask, boy,” Mr. Daxon said, cutting him off, “’Why wouldn’t the fists and dancers fight back, being so strong and all?’ Well, the reason for that is dignity. They knew they could win, but they chose to honor their code and not provoke war. The knives have always been a dreadful lot of people.” The little man snorted. “It’s the same thing that’s happening right now other than the fact all of the classes are being wiped out this time. Politics, I fear, will eventually overcome honor and dignity. There’ll be an end to this cold war, but the classes will never be the same.”70

“So which one are you, sir?” asked Felion timidly.71

“Me?” replied Mr. Daxon, “I’m a sword, you’ll be pleased to know.”72

Felion smiled, but it was only half-genuine. He was, for some reason, extremely interested in this ‘chain-dancer’ class. It didn’t even particularly seem to fit his personality, but he felt that it was….right, somehow.73

“Is t here any way that I could….I don’t know….” stammered Felion, “try this chain-dancer class?”74

Mr. Daxon laughed.75

“Becoming a chain-dancer isn’t illegal, and not quite impossible, I suppose,” replied the old man, “But you’ll be a strong enemy to any remaining knives out there.”76

Felion grinned.77

“Good,” said the boy.78

“I will contact some friends to see if you can become a legal chain-dancer still. But I warn you, Felion, becoming a chain-dancer is like learning to speak a new language at an old age. It’ll demand your full attention. You must remember, boy, that I am here to train you as a monster-hunter, and I do not even so much as know how much prior experience you have.”79

“I trapped a Daxon a few days ago,” replied Felion.80

Mr. Daxon nodded, smiling.81

Felion slept soundly other than being awoken once in the middle of the night by Mr. Daxon. The man looked tired while he told Felion that he would be trained as a chain-dancer for the first week of his stay by one of the old man’s friends, then as a monster hunter for the second. Felion thanked him sleepily, then went back to his dreams.82

On the first day of his training, he was taught how to wrap his chain around his arm in the midst of battle by a woman named Teresa. She was a strict but kind woman, and knew much about chain-dancing. The chain, Felion found out, was usually kept around a user’s neck, arm, or leg. Felion chose his arm, so Teresa gave him a temporary arm-covering, an object all dancers acquired with their mastering of their class. Felion had played with his day’s leash while taking him for walks, making waves and patterns and being drawn to them, strangely. He would do this for hours until his dog Poffin would begin to bite at his leash to make him stop. Teresa taught him to pay attention to every wave, every movement, every subtlety imaginable, in the second-hand chain. It was with this technique that a sing chain-dancer could do battle with ten swords or knives at the same time. Guns, of course, could simply shoot them, and a staff would be wise enough to search for an opening. There was not a single instance in the history of the world where a chain-dancer battled with a fist, Teresa told a sweating Felion when he inquired about it. On his second day in the Daxon residence, Felion was taught to use the chain with a weapon. As Mr. Daxon sat drinking lemonade and watching, Felion twirled the chain around him and practiced wrapping it around his arm with a chunk of white chalk tied to the end, representing a ball. Every time it hit him, it left a white blemish on his fur training coat.83

“The more white on your arm, the more praise you receive,” said Teresa after Felion performed a beautiful, sweeping holster of the chain that left his arm covered in white. The more he trained, the less white appeared on his coat. Teresa used a small whip to demonstrate the wrist and arm movements necessary to a dancer. She claimed that she could not use an actual chain, for she would go into a trance and ‘become one’ with the chain. This was a thing all dancers and trained to do, but it is hardly satisfactory for teaching young people.84

The third and fourth days were spent practicing on dummies made of straw and burlap. There were fifteen of them surrounding Felion on all sides in the field that he practiced in. He wrapped the chain around their removable heads and fake weapons, then pulled, ripping them off. He did this three at a time.85

As he was doing this, Teresa talked with Mr. Daxon.86

“He has a remarkable talent, a boy his age,” said Teresa, watching Felion finally put four of the dummies in a hold. “Why, it’s as if he was born for it.”87

“He wanted to be a sword, initially,” said Mr. Daxon, “before I told him about the lost classes.” “There are some that would hunt and kill us for what we’re doing,” remarked Teresa.88

“There are also some that would honor us for it,” Mr. Daxon said.89

Teresa smiled. “I’ve always wanted to train a child, Persius,” she said.90

“He thinks I’m a sword.”91

“Does he?” Teresa paused. “You might have made a good sword. You mighta done better in the arena, that’s for sure.” She laughed.92

“That’s true,” said Daxon dreamily, “Might have made my knuckles a little less sore, eh?” he chuckled.93

She nodded at him sidelong.94

“You were too short to hold a sword anyways, Persius.” She sighed. “You made a good gauntlet in your day.”95

“Would you like to accompany me to the arena?” He said after a few minutes of silence. He fancied Teresa. She was very beautiful for a woman of over sixty, and they had been in love long ago, and once you love someone once the ability to love them again rarely goes away.96

She smiled.97

“I’ve grown tired of that bloody place,” she said, “and besides, watching someone be killed just isn’t the same after you’ve killed people yourself.”98

“True, true,” replied Persius.99

Teresa glanced at the sky.100

“It’s getting late, old man,” she said.101

Mr. Daxon grinned at the remark.102

“You’ll be giving him his weapon tomorrow, then?” he asked.103

“Yes. He said he wanted a chain made of the cheapest metal available, and some type of blade of the same material.” She smiled. “He thinks we’re poor, Persius.”104

“He means well,” Mr. Daxon said, “He just doesn’t know how important a good class weapon is.”105

“I’ve decided to give him my old one.”106

Mr. Daxon let out a high squeak.107

“WHAT?!” he cried. Felion glanced their way for a brief moment, then returned to his manipulation of the chain. “Teresa! I…You’re not….Don’t do that!” Teresa closed her eyes patiently, waiting for a chance to speak. “You might need it! You never know! When will you ever get a chance to get a chain like that again?” He flinched as he realized what he had said.108

“You see?” she said. “If they boy’s weapon breaks the third time he uses it, then what will this all be for? He needs something that’s strong, that’s beautiful, that’s a memory of a time when dancers like me were as common as a sword!” She gazed at him intently. “Giving him a weak chain would be like making him a monster hunter, then making him living in a place where only rabbits live.” She put her hand on his think shoulder. “Besides, Persius,” she said softly, “It’s my decision to make.”109

Mr. Daxon opened his mouth and drew in breath to protest, but let it out as a sigh.110

“Thank you, Teresa,” he said lovingly. “You care about this kid like he was your pupil, not mine.”111

She smiled sweetly at him, but it was troubled.112

“I’m afraid this boy might live to be the last of his kind,” she said. “And I also….” She paused. “I also fear that this boy will never be a monster hunter.”113

Mr. Daxon nodded.114

“He’s too good of a dancer to do anything else. That boy’s gonna make a difference.”115

“I don’t believe he ever really wanted to be a sword, Persius,” said Teresa. “I don’t think he’s ever known what he wants.”116

Mr. Daxon rubbed his temples.117

“So tomorrow you’ll give him your weapon, then you’ll leave, then the boy and I will go to the arena, then I’ll get to train him as a monster hunter for five useless days. I suppose I’ll have to accompany him to Evermoss as well.” He sighed. “That’s one journey that I will not enjoy.”118

Teresa called Felion to come to her.119

“You’ve done well, son,” said Teresa, “Better than I was at four days in. You’re a natural.”120

“You’d best get some sleep, boy.” Daxon stood up to walk Teresa to the door. “You’ve got a big day ahead, and I’m not just saying that.”121

“Goodnight, Teresa,” said Felion tiredly, “You’ll be leaving tomorrow, then?” She nodded. “Will I see you in the morning?” She nodded again. “Good!” He took off his arm-guard, and along with it the chain. “Thank you very much for this.”122

She laughed.123

“You’re such a polite boy,” she said sweetly. “If I were a girl your age I’d be quite taken with you, probably.”124

Felion blushed.125

Felion awoke from his sleep early in the morning. The small fire next to his bed had burned to a small ember, and Felion poured the remainder of a cup of hot-cocoa over it and it went out with a brief hiss. The room he slept in was small, but he was fond of it and knew he would miss it greatly after his stay. He opened the door a bit and got it jammed on a book lying on the ground.126

“That’s something I won’t miss,” he muttered to himself while kicking the book out of place. It hurt his bare toes and he cursed loudly. He looked at the door that led to Mr. Daxon’s room and the house kitchen, then at the other door. He didn’t know what lay inside this door. Probably more junk, he thought.127

“Today, Mr. Door,” he said to the wooden structure, “I’ll become a chain-dancer.” He talked to the door frequently, whenever he walked by. He didn’t hear Mr. Daxon’s usual snores and grunts, so decided to give in to his curiosity.128

He crept towards the door, avoiding the gaps in the floor and the ever-present junk littered everywhere upon it. He was practiced at the subtle art of sneaking from many cold, adrenaline-fueled hunts. He thought of hunting and shuddered. “Hunting just isn’t my niche,” he thought, “but it’s all I’ve got.” He pushed away these thoughts with his curiosity. Nothing was more curious than a closed door. He reached for the knob, turned it, and with a cloud of choking dust the door opened.129

For a moment Felion’s mind didn’t comprehend the contents of the room. He thought for a couple of moments, and then understood. He thought of Mr. Daxon’s unwillingness to answer his seemingly everyday question about his class. The open door revealed a room that was around the size and shape of the Oval Office in the White House and was completely covered in gloves, gauntlets, and arm-coverings of all shapes, types, and sizes. There was a small hand-operated elevator in the middle of the room that, if Felion had used it, traveled downwards for many miles. He ran his hand over the pattern on an ornamental glove. It was a dragon.130

“That one,” said Persius Daxon from behind Felion, “was a gift from a man who died by my hand.” The stunned boy spun around quickly, flashing a guilty look at the old man. “No need to be ashamed, boy,” said Daxon, “There’s never been a boy, nor a saint, that wasn’t born with curiosity.”131

“What’s a saint?” Felion asked impulsively.132

“Long-dead believers of a foreign religion in a different world. Yes, there are other worlds. I’ve been to quite a few myself. There are things you’ll never know about me, Felion, for there are things I refuse to talk or even think about.133

Felion grew light headed and sat down cross-legged, his knees feeling weak. “You’re not a sword, are you, Mr. Daxon?” Felion asked.134

Daxon chuckled. “Nope,” he said, “Everyone ‘cept for you and Teresa is under the false impression that I am, though. No, I’m a fist, through and through. It suits me, but makes for nasty arthritis in your later years.” He rubbed his left wrist with his right hand. “I suppose we’d better go and meet that old bird.”135

Felion nodded, the questions he longed to ask forever going unanswered by the old man.136

Teresa was waiting outside the door of the small-looking house, wrapped in many garments. She was sitting on a small stool outside the door, humming a tune to herself. There was a bulge in her jacket pocket, and she kept on feeling it, running her hand over it and tapping it in time to the tune. Her eyes closed, and when the door finally swung open she was startled briefly.137

“Morning,” she greeted.138

“Hello Teresa,” Felion said nervously.139

“Bring it out, Terry,” said Daxon.140

Teresa rolled her eyes at Daxon’s typical impoliteness and reached into her coat pocket. She gently removed a red parcel that was about the size of Felion’s two fists. She picked up the stool, set it in front of her, and unwrapped the package on top of it. In the middle of the red fabric there was a black ball of chain. The black was dull, but had a strange sheen to it, almost an inner glow.141

“That was the cheapest, right?” said Felion, out of breath with excitement.142

“It was mine, once upon a time,” replied Teresa.143

“But….” Felion looked suddenly concerned.144

“Quiet yourself, kid,” Daxon interjected. “Women are more stubborn than you could ever imagine.”145

Teresa flashed him a meaningful look.146

“Th…..Thank you! Both of you, god, this is….thank you!”147

“Touch the chain and whistle,” said Teresa.148

“Wh-…?” Felion began.149

“Just do it, boy,” Daxon said.150

“I….Um….I can’t whistle.”151

“It’ll show you.” Teresa grinned.152

“Okay,” said Felion timidly. He reached out his hand and touched the ball with two of his gloved fingers. He puckered his lips as he had seen his Uncle do so often, and blew air through them. A clear ringing sound emanated from his mouth, and he felt a tingling in his fingers.153

“What was that?” he said, shaking his hand back and forth.154

“Well,” Teresa began, “There’s a lot about that chain that’s….special.”155

“Okay, like what?” Felion’s eyebrows drew in toward his nose.156

“The ball on the end of the chain responds to its owners whistles. It used to respond to mind, now it responds to yours. It all depends on what you imagine it to be.”157

“So the ball can turn into anything?” asked Felion.158

“Anything within the realm of imagination.”159

“Wow,” replied Felion. “What’s the chain made of?”160

“Obsidian,” Daxon said, “It’s a rock found around volcanoes. It’s unbreakable if forged correctly, as this chain was.”161

“So I’m….bonded to this….ball?” Felion said, disbelievingly. 162

“Yes,” she said, nodding.163

“Thank you.”164

“Of course.” She sighed. “I must be going. It was a pleasure to have met you, Felion Relicos.”165

“See you later,” he said, gazing at the chain.166

Teresa smiled, and Daxon could see the pain in her face.167

Felion reached out his hand. Teresa hesitated for a moment, then grasped it. The moment his hand touched hers, she winced. Felion interpreted the wince as sadness. Her hand was strangely stiff.168

“See you, Terry,” Daxon said.169

She smiled at him.170

“Yes,” she said, and walked away.171

“Is this magic?” Felion said when she was out of earshot, glancing at the chain.172

“Technology infused with magic.” Daxon watched Teresa’s elegant walk fade into the misty day.173

“She looked like she was sad about something,” remarked Felion.174

He sighed. “She was in pain, boy.” Felion looked up from the chain and into his eyes. “When you bond with a magical machine, the only way to sever that bond is to cut off the part you used to bond with. To physically remove it. In your case, it would be your two fingers. In hers, and I know this because I watched it happen, it would be her entire hand that grasped the object.”175

“Yes, boy, that was no real hand you shook. Let’s get dressed for the arena,” he said, and walked stiffly inside the house. There was a slight shake to his voice, but Felion didn’t notice it. With his hand he felt the rough metal of his newly attained soul, and with his eye he shed a tear for Teresa.176

The arena was incredible. It appeared on the outside as a tiny building, a sign on the door depicting a man in the mouth of a lion, brandishing a sword. Felion and Daxon were the last to enter the building because of a slight problem with finding the correct arm-guard size for Felion. The moment they entered the doorway, they were greeted with a huge roar from a crowd. An announcer was telling them to take their seats. Daxon pulled two gold coins from his pocket and deposited them in a slot in the wall. They then walked a short hallway and into the arena. The stands were teeming with people, all of them screaming, all of them anxious for the battle to begin. The scent of dust and things that Felion had never before smelled filled his nostrils, and a jaw-floating feeling washed over him.177

Daxon spotted a small blank area in the stands with his unnaturally keen eyes. They walked up a staircase and made their slow way towards the spot.178

“Laaaaaadies and gentlemen!” said the announcer, his voice amplified by a handheld device. “If all are in their seats we can begin the preliminary betting!” Most of the crowd roared.179

“This is just when they introduce the contestants and variants for the betting,” Mr. Daxon said. “They’ll do it again before the fighting.”180

“Variants?” Felion asked.181

“Ah, yes,” replied Daxon, “Variants are things that are added to spice up the battle. Like lions, but nowadays they use things that are a bit bigger. Oh, and variants include geographical changes as well.”182

“What?”183

“Oh, nothing,” Mr. Daxon said, “You’ll see soon. You may as well just sleep for awhile.”184

He did.185

He dreamt he was in his room. He was tossing the black ball of chain back and forth in his hands, as if weighing it. He stopped tossing it and put it in a wooden box, then put the box away far inside his closet. He stood up and turned around, and there stood Teresa. She raised her hand to wave at him, but there was no hand, only a –186

“Geeeeeet ready ladies and gentlemen,” said the dream-Teresa. “Because-187

the battle is abooooout to begin!” the announcer finished.188

Felion let out a shaky breath.189

“Dreaming?” asked Mr. Daxon.190

Felion nodded.191

“About her?”192

Felion nodded.193

“Well, son,” Mr. Daxon said, “try to enjoy the battle. You and I can make our own bets.”194

Felion smiled. “All right.”195

“First contestant,” said the announcer, “Is Karwok Eleptis, of the continent of Fire!” (Africa, I believe.)196

A huge man stepped out of one of the gates in the arena wall. He carried a gigantic spiked mace and a large wooden round-shield. His skin was as black as night and he was dressed in a suit of ugly leather armor.197

“Second contestant,” continued the announcer, “is Slyker Ringwald, of the Gray Hills!”198

A short, terrifying looking man stepped out of the next door. He carried a long-barreled rifle.199

“Third contestant….Alicia Carroway of Evermoss, ladies and gentlemen!”200

A young girl, maybe a few years older than Felion at most, stepped out of the third door. She had tanned skin and long, straight brown hair. Mr. Daxon elbowed Felion slightly and grinned. She was very attractive, Felion could see from the stands, but had a strong look on her face.201

“Fighter number four….” He paused. “Dracul….just Dracul, ladies and gentlemen!”202

Out stepped a man wearing a dark brown cloak. It resembled what Clint Eastwood may have worn in one of the “Man With No Name” series, what an American would call a ‘duster’. He also wore a strange hat, with a wide, flat brim, of the same color. It concealed the man’s face. He had no visible weapons and his arms were inside the duster. The young girl looked at him and adjusted her sword-belt. He walked to his designated spot on the dusty arena floor and spread his legs, waiting with his head down.203

“We’ve brought something extra special for your viewing pleasure today, people!” said the announcer. “Let loose the monsters!”204

Gaps opened in the floor of the arena, a plume of dust swirling around the combatants. A mechanical elevator lifted three giant beasts to the surface. One was a wyvern, a close cousin to the dragon, who snarled and bared its flesh-rending fangs. It was covered in glimmering green scales. It spread its wings wide and shuffled its temporarily chained-up claws.205

The second monster was a gigantic scorpion. Its tail literally dripped poison and its pincers clattered loudly.206

The third brought a twinge of nostalgia to Felion. It was a Daxon.207

“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Daxon, “A Daxon! My favorite animal, Felion.”208

Felion looked up at his eager face.209

“Daxon isn’t your real last name, is it, Mr. Daxon?” he said over the roar of the crowd. Daxon glanced at him briefly and winked.210

“As for geographical changes,” continued the announcer, “we have also thought of something special for you anxious spectators!”211

At these words, the exact middle of the circular arena in about a five-foot diameter circle began to spin. It pushed upwards like a screw until it hit the domed ceiling, where it stopped. There was then a huge beam in the middle of the arena.212

“Release the spikes!” yelled the announcer. The beam then spouted thousands of foot-long spikes. A roar of approval from the audience deafened Felion.213

“Now, the next one!” cried the announcer. The ground around the outside edge of the arena was drawn in to the other flooring in sections and was replaced with boiling water through holes in the arena wall.214

“Wow,” said Felion excitedly.215

“Let the gaaaaaaaaaames begin!” cried the announcer.216

Nobody noticed, not even the man himself, but among the din of the audience, Dracul whispered, “Ladies and gentlemen, start your fucking engines.”217

The first thing Felion noticed was the way that the huge black man nodded towards the short man. The short man nodded back. Dracul and Alicia did the same.218

“That’s called ‘pairing’,” said Mr. Daxon, “When you nod to someone and they nod back, you’re a team.” Felion nodded; reassured that Alicia was partnered with the mysterious Dracul. He wanted her to win, badly.219

The monsters were unchained. I’ll write this as well as I can, and I apologize greatly if all corners of the fight aren’t completely covered. I’ll assume Felion’s point of view for the duration of it, him being the main character so far. The Daxon surveyed the activity from a standstill. The wyvern and scorpion both attacked the short gun, Slyker. The huge black man swung at the scorpion with the mace and knocked it back, connecting with the side of its body. Slyker shot the wyvern in the wing and it recoiled while he reloaded. Felion looked over at Alicia and Dracul, who were standing next to each other. She looked very short next to this tall man. He looked back at the area where all of the action was taking place. The little man was on the black man’s shoulder, loosing a round on the scorpion’s leg, which was torn off by the bullet. It let out a piercing shriek and Felion marveled at the tactical abilities of the fighters. The wyvern sensed the scorpion’s weakness and ripped off its tail with its fangs. Felion noticed that the Daxon was stomping its huge paws and staring and snorting in Dracul’s direction. The tall man noticed it and leaned in to whisper something to Alicia. She drew her sword and threw it at the gunner, who was stabbed through the neck. The black man noticed his gargling screams and the weight sliding off of his shoulder and turned his attention to Alicia. Felion thought it was unfair, her with no weapons and a weak body, him with the opposite. The scorpion was dead from a bullet to the brain, the wyvern from the scorpion’s poison. The man began to run at Alicia, and she tensed, ready to spring. The African raised his mace as he ran, and let out a great, booming battle-cry. The girl looked strangely calm, and Felion finally noticed where she was standing and realization dawned. When the man came near enough, the girl jumped through his legs, and the huge hulk of a man was impaled on the beam with a horrifying wet sound.220

“Yes!!!” Daxon cried, clapping his hands together.221

“What?” asked Felion, looking up at him.222

“I bet that the beam would get one kill,” he said.223

“What if it gets another one?”224

He nodded towards Dracul. “That ain’t going to happen with that man on the field.”225

Felion looked back at the battlefield. The Daxon was charging towards Dracul at full speed. Dracul did not move. Alicia started to run towards him, but Felion knew she wouldn’t make it in time. The Daxon was closing in……closer…………..almost there……………………….226

In the blink of an eye, Dracul drew a gigantic handgun from his duster and fired it from his hip. It hit the floor under the Daxon’s stomach, creating an explosion. The Daxon was lifted in the air. Dracul then dropped the gun and drew two swords. The Daxon flew above him and he stabbed it with both of them. With an incredible feat of strength, he used the swords to guide the great beast into the boiling water. With a splash and a loud, tortured bellow, the Daxon was defeated.227

“The winners are-“ began the announcer, but was cut off by a huge chunk of the ceiling falling down and crushing him. The entire room was caving in, and there were men with swords entering the arena.228

“Run, Felion!” cried Mr. Daxon, cracking his knuckles. “We’re under attack!”229

One of the men drew his knife and began to walk towards Alicia. She was turned in the other direction, staring intently at a boy that had just simply seemed to appear out of nowhere. With the speed of four days’ training, Felion shot his chain at the arena floor, whistling clearly. The end of his chain became a metal spike that embedded itself in the floor.230

“Grab hold, Alicia!” he cried. She turned swiftly and saw the chain and heard Felion. She and the boy grasped onto it. There was a girl with the boy, a girl about Felion’s age, wandering around, that seemed to have been immaculately borne onto the arena floor also. She appeared to be too stunned to move. After Alicia and the boy had climbed up and he had seen the knife on the floor attacked by Mr. Daxon, Felion screamed at the new girl. She didn’t respond.231

“Alicia!” he screamed, “Stay with the kid! I’m going down to her!” he pointed at the girl in the arena. Alicia nodded and Felion thanked Mr. Daxon’s saints that she was so intelligent and capable. He yanked the chain from the floor with minor difficulty, and then jumped onto the dusty, blood-stained ground. His legs felt the shock, but no pain. He was not large, strong, or well-built, but his legs and arms were filled with strength from his hunting years. Those years were over, but they left a lasting impression on Felion. He walked towards the girl and noticed Mr. Daxon near the entrance to the arena, appearing to swing his fists randomly but actually using absolute precision. He looked back at the stunned girl and grimaced.232

“Hey!” he screamed, “We need to get out of here!”233

She turned and stared blankly into his eyes.234

“What?” she mumbled.235

“Follow me!” he yelled.236

“Where the fuck am I?” she said with a sob.237

Felion whirled around and came face to face with a man brandishing a long, curving knife.238

“Class?” the knife asked.239

“See for yourself,” replied Felion, and whistled clearly into the pandemonium of the arena.240

Dracul saw the two children, the only people remaining in the stands, and began to walk towards them. He was surrounded by many dead knives, all of them felled by his weapons. He jumped slightly and was propelled straight towards the children by the incredible muscle in his lower legs and ankles. Both of them were frightened, he noticed, but the girl was much more aware. Dracul decided to help them, mostly because of the girl’s usefulness in the arena battle. He landed next to the boy at the exact same time that Felion turned to see the knife behind him.241

“Children, come,” he said to them, “hold onto my arms.”242

“Hold onto your-….?” Alicia began.243

“If you want to live grab my fucking arms!” he screamed.244

“Yeah, okay,” the boy said. He grabbed Dracul’s left arm while the girl took his right. They looked like frightened infants grasping their father. Dracul once again jumped slightly, utilizing his muscles perfectly, and was propelled as if by magic, towards a gap in the roof. It was strange going from a huge room to quiet, open air, Dracul thought. Sort of like closing the door behind you on your way out of an insane asylum. He looked down as he flew and saw the epic battle being fought through the tiny cracks in the roof.245

“Trippy,” Dracul said, remembering when he had first seen the first Star Wars. He had become temporarily obsessed and stayed on Earth long enough for the director to finish the six-movie series. He had grown accustomed to the place, and while going through a huge gaping hole in a domed ceiling was strange, doing it in real life instead of just reading about it felt very natural. When you read or see strange things done you think of how strange they would be to do in person, but when you actually do them it seems strange but also somehow natural. Dracul nodded, satisfied with his thoughts.246

They hit the ground and the children released their firm hold on Dracul’s arms. He looked at them standing in front of him.247

“You,” he said, looking at the young man, “boy. Where you from?”248

“Colorado,” the boy said dreamily.249

Dracul raised his unseen eyebrows.250

“Wow, kid,” Dracul said, “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”251

“Uh…Am I?”252

Dracul sighed.253

“Lets walk, shall we?” he said.254

Felion watched as the sword fell to the ground, a spiked ball embedded in his stomach. Felion felt as the man’s life was emptied into nothing, and he hesitated for a second before pulling out the ball. It resumed its usual boring black ball shape. He looked upwards and saw Dracul flying out of the roof, the children grasping his arms and flying with him. He nodded, the abnormality of the events masking the thought of Dracul flying being even remotely strange. He turned to look at the girl behind him. She was staring at the battle taking place at the entrance to the arena, her eyes wide and her lips slightly opened. Her eyes were a crystal clear blue, her hair wavy and brown, and her teeth pearl white. She was slender and delicate, not a fighters form. She was strange and foreign to Felion, wearing a tight-fitting blue shirt with short sleeves. Her skin was a perfect, unblemished pale white. She was about 5 foot 6, with long legs and a well-endowed figure that complimented her slender form. Felion’s eyes were adjusted to seeing basic, normal looking working girls. This was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen….but also the most terrified.255

“Hey,” he said gently, “we can’t stay here!”256

She turned to him. Her eyes were glazed with disbelief.257

“I….uh….” she stammered. “Yeah. Okay.258

Felion turned his head to look at Mr. Daxon. What he saw made his jaw shake and his eyes widen. There was Mr. Daxon, a man he had known for five days but had changed his life in the biggest way that anyone ever had. He was throwing his last punch. A long, thin knife stabbed through his heart and he fell gracefully among the dozens he had slain.259

Felion fell into a trance of killing. The last noise that fifteen men heard that day was a whistle, clear and true.