Starfall (Starflight #2)(83)
Kane peered up from the pit courtyard—which, ironically, stood at ground level—and scanned the rows of stadium seating that continued all the way to the ceiling. He hadn’t expected so many spectators. At least five hundred guests of every nationality sat elbow-to-elbow, most of them laughing and talking in animated voices that hinted they’d sipped too much Crystalline with dinner. Their chatter created a steady din that Kane found annoying, but instead of retreating to the locker room, he continued his search until he found Ari Zhang in a private box in the middlemost aisle.
Zhang didn’t exactly resemble his mug shot, but Kane had no trouble picking him out of the crowd. Dark-haired with a neatly trimmed beard accessorizing his face, he relaxed against his seatback and surveyed the arena with the kind of detached arrogance that came with power. Kane had seen that expression on the older generation of royals on Eturia. Tonight Zhang seemed almost bored, as though he couldn’t decide whether the event was worth his time. Necktie Fleece and Nicky Malone flanked him on either side, though he paid them no attention. He must have sensed someone watching, because he met Kane’s gaze and held the connection with cold, unsmiling eyes.
Kane had never challenged a shark to a staring contest, but this was how he imagined it would feel. He couldn’t believe Renny had picked this guy’s pocket. He gave the man a nod of respect and left the courtyard for the privacy of the locker room.
Inside the enclosure, the clamor of nine voices reverberated off the walls, each more frantic than the last. The men sat on long benches, sharing theories and rumors about what to expect in the main arena, which none of them had seen. They’d entered the pit through a pair of doors that led to a small courtyard and the locker room, where they were supposed to wait until their scheduled time to compete. What existed beyond those walls was a mystery.
“I know a guy on the construction crew,” one man said. “He helped build this place, and he said the whole pit’s a maze of death traps.”
“Then who are we supposed to fight?” asked another man.
“The survivors, I guess.”
Kane turned his face toward the glass panels along the ceiling, long windows that allowed them to see the audience’s reactions during the games. He scanned the guests until he found a group of men pointing at the arena. He couldn’t read their lips, but their eyebrows rose high enough to shrink their foreheads.
His palms began to sweat. He wiped them on the stretchy leggings his boss had made him wear, wishing he could take his Gold now instead of before game time. He was slated to compete dead last. He might actually crawl out of his skin by then.
When there were no more rumors to share, silence descended upon the room. Some men stood from the benches and paced the floor. Others closed their eyes and chanted prayers under their breath. Even Cutter seemed shaken, staring at his enormous hands without blinking. The group’s fear struck Kane in an unexpected way. Until now he’d thought of these men as competitors and not real people. But that was what they were—brothers and sons with sweethearts they’d left behind, just like Kane.
They were all ordinary guys.
And he had to fight them? Maybe to the death?
“Listen up, men,” called their boss as he entered through one of the doors leading to the arena. A few guys leaned aside to peer past him, Kane included, but there was nothing to see out there except another wall. “It’s almost game time, and I know you’re feeling the pressure. I’ll give you something to take the edge off”—he shook his inhaler—“but first we need to go over your objective. The pit changes every day, so no two games are ever the same.” He pointed at a different set of doors. “Tonight you’ll compete in pairs. There are two different mazes, one for each of you. Your job is to make it to the battle platform on the other side, where you and your opponent will fight until the master of ceremonies tells you to stop.”
So it was true. The pit was a maze.
The man with a buddy on the construction crew raised his hand. “What’s inside the maze, boss?”
“I’m not allowed to say. All I can tell you is to be on your guard. The pit’s interactive. There’s a control panel on each seat, and the guests will try to sabotage the players they’re betting against.” He glanced at Kane. “The crowd’s favorite will have the easiest maze, but don’t let that fool you. These people didn’t come here to watch an ordinary sport. They can do that at home. They came here to watch you bleed.”
Kane’s stomach lurched.
“Now, bump up, all of you.”
The boss handed his inhaler to the first man, who took a breath and passed it down the line until it came to Kane. He pumped the cartridge two times before giving it to the next guy. Instantly, the Gold washed away all his fear and replaced it with energy. He shot up from the bench and jogged in place, wishing he could be the first player instead of the last. He was going to turn this maze over his knee and spank it.
A booming voice echoed through the speakers, welcoming the guests to the very first Adel Vice Bloodsport Tournament. The master of ceremonies introduced the first pair of fighters, and the men strode out of their respective doors to thunderous applause. When the applause died, a buzzer sounded, and at once, the crowd cheered.
Kane jumped up and down while glancing out the window. He couldn’t see the maze, so he watched the spectators for a sense of what he was missing. Some guests leaned forward in their seats, yelling and pumping their arms into the air. Others punched buttons on their armrests. Every now and then, odd sounds would come from the pit—thunks and thwacks—and the guests would react by cringing and drawing their shoulders to their ears. One person shook his head and stood up to leave, but the rest seemed riveted, even the ones who hid their eyes and peeked through their fingers.