CHAPTER
1
There was blood in the water. Cade heaved on his fishing line, dismayed at the wriggling mass that churned beneath the surface. His catch, a flat silver-bellied fish, emerged half-eaten, flopping glassy-eyed to the shoreline of the river.
It had been this way with every cast, the shoals of small fish descending on any other that showed distress, stripping flesh as it twisted on his line. Twice before, he had pulled in little more than a skeleton, though even the scraps that hung off the bone were worth keeping.
Still, the silver fish was prize enough for the hungry boy, and there was no time for another cast. Beside him, Quintus pointed at the sky, warning of the setting sun. Together, they pushed their ragged haul into their wicker basket and stole away into the undergrowth, keeping to the shadows.
It was a curse that the fish only began to rise at dusk, when the insects descended. They whined about their heads, but Cade did not slap at them. By now, he could tell by their sound which insects would simply sup on the salty sweat on his skin, and which would sting him for the blood beneath. This time, there were few of the latter.
The boys caught sight of the waterfall not far along the river. It was always a risk, leaving the clearing beyond the keep. But their fruit-heavy diet was taking its toll. Cade’s stomach churned at the sight of figs, and their attempts to trap the rodents that frequented the orchards on top of the mountain had not met with any success.
These same rodents were the reason for their unvaried meals, as they’d eaten up most of the ground vegetables the Romans had left behind. What was left, they had set aside, fenced off, and replanted for next season, painful as that had been. It amazed Cade how much food eight people could consume in such a short time, and now it was fruit, fruit, and more fruit.
Quintus caught his attention and spoke, giving him a thumbs-up at the same time.
“Good trip.”
Cade smiled and nodded, still amazed at the boy’s progress. Quintus’s English had come along in leaps and bounds, and Cade had become used to his unique diction. Cade’s Latin was returning too, swimming back from the recesses of his memory. In fact, all the contenders were practicing it, with Amber and the other girls already having studied it at school.
They’d had little to do in the two months since the battle. Two months of staring at the timer, waiting for the Codex to speak. No questions, cajoling, or even threats had succeeded in breaking its silence. It was the great weight that hung above them. That and the timer ticking down inexorably.
Relieved to be home, the pair hurried down the black tunnel that led them back to the keep. The fish stew they would have that night was one of the few things Cade had to look forward to. Yoshi had turned out to be an excellent cook, limited though he was by their paltry stock of ingredients.
“Any luck?” Amber called as they ducked out of the tunnel.
“Some,” Cade said begrudgingly.
Amber sat alone, cross-legged upon the cobbles. The girl was prodding at their small communal fire, and Cade was again struck by how strange it seemed to see her in school uniform.
“Guys,” Amber called. “They’re back.”
Cade set the basket down and grinned as the others emerged from the keep, their usual lethargy interrupted by the news of the fishermen’s arrival.
“Wanna whip this up?” Cade asked Yoshi, seeing his friend rub his hands together at the sight of the wicker basket.
“You have no idea,” Yoshi muttered. “Hand it over.”
Without waiting for a response, the boy lifted each fish one by one, grimacing at the sorry state of the first pair; they were mostly skin and bone. Grace shook her head at the sight, but laid a hand on Yoshi’s shoulder as the boy dropped them back in with disappointment.
“The bones are still good for a broth,” Grace said. “My mum makes one that’ll blow your socks off.” She wrinkled her nose. “Shame we don’t have any chili.”
Yoshi nodded mournfully, but Scott rolled his eyes.
“I’d eat a week-old hot dog out of a wrestler’s jockstrap if it meant an end to all these figs,” he said. “Cook it however you want, just leave some for me.”
“Gross,” Bea muttered, and Trix gave the boy a glare.
The twins looked sickly pale, and not just from Scott’s joke. They had all lost weight over the past two months, but then the twins had been slight to start with. It was another source of worry for Cade, though none had broached it with them.
The only silver lining was that the contenders had all been given time to heal from their wounds. Perhaps too much time. Cade stared up at the light from the windows of the top floor of the keep, where the Codex and its glowing timer had settled since his conversation with Abaddon.
The timer had begun at three months. And now, they had a little more than one left, ticking away like a bomb. Far, far more than they had been given before the qualifying round.
It scared Cade, this extra time. Scared everyone. As if they were supposed to be preparing. As if somehow, it would make up for the halving of their numbers. Four schoolgirls, three delinquents, and … Quintus.
Thank the heavens for Quintus. It was he who knew how to replant the crops, how to protect against the vermin. How to grind the wheat in a bowl to make flour pancakes. He had even brought down a pterosaur with his sling, though the wily creatures now knew to stay away.
So here they sat in limbo, waiting. Though for what, they didn’t know. Only that it would be cruel, and violent, with unimaginable consequences.
Such thoughts were ever present at the back of Cade’s mind, but now they swirled to the forefront as he watched his friends around the fire. He knew them now. Cared about them. Their two months of healing had been more than merely physical.
He knew the joyride that landed Scott in jail had been a cry for attention following his mother’s death. Knew Grace prayed every night to the small crucifix around her neck. He learned Bea and Trix had never spent a night away from their parents. That Yoshi’s greatest frustration was the keep’s lack of music, while Amber’s was the lack of chocolate.
His frustration mounting, Cade’s feet moved unbidden to the keep. They carried him up the stairs, and he tried to forget the pooled blood and bodies that had once littered the floors, the sight of which had turned a safe home into nothing more than a shelter from the wind and rain.
He walked on past the empty rooms, to the round table at the very top. To the ominous glow of the timer, and the Codex that was its source. He stood, his fists clenched, as the numbers flashed and changed.
36:22:58:26
36:22:58:25
36:22:58:24
“Is this fun for you?” Cade asked. “Watching us scratch out an existence here?”
His voice felt strange in the empty room. Like he was talking to himself.
“Some game master you are,” Cade said, layering his words with as much contempt as he could muster. “I’m sure it will be great fun to watch us all be butchered when our four months are up. Fun for you, and your so-called pantheon.”
The Codex’s lens stared back, silent and implacable. Cade plowed on.
“I bet they’ll be super impressed with the eight half-starved teenagers you offer up as a challenge.”
Something moved within the floating drone, so minutely it was almost imperceptible. A gear, twitching. A circuit sparking.
“I hate to think of all those remnants you left in the jungle. So carefully curated, selected from the very best of human history. Never to be used. Just to rust and rot once we’re dead. We’re the last, right? Nobody else will use them.”
Nothing.
He tried again. “So this is Abaddon’s swan song for Earth. Going out with a fizzle, not a bang. Eight trussed lambs, ready for the slaughter. I thought you would have something better planned.”
Silence.
Cade tried not to let his frustration show. He turned, letting his anger dissolve into thoughts of fish stew.
Then … a voice.
“Do not presume to know my stratagem, foolish little child.”
Cade’s breath caught in his throat, his stomach twisting. Slowly, he turned, and jumped to see the Codex hovering before his face. The room, once bright with the timer’s glow, now fell to darkness.
“Oh, come now, is this not what you wanted?” the voice said. “My attention? Be careful what you wish for, boy.”
It was a deeper voice, rasping and cruel, not girlish like last time. But then, Abaddon’s last form had been to put him at ease. That was no longer the intention.
“Call the others,” Abaddon commanded. “It’s time to play.”
CHAPTER
2
It was amazing what fear did to the body. Cade’s hunger, once ravening, had fled, leaving only a sick feeling in his stomach. And as the others hurried up the steps behind him, their labored breathing matched his own.
All the bravado of the past few minutes vanished. Suddenly, the interminable waiting seemed far better than this. Where a sadistic, immortal being dictated their fates. Told them the manner of their deaths in no uncertain terms.
The others arrived, and as they trooped into the dark room, none spoke. They only shuffled around the walls as if the Codex was a viper, and the drone in turn swiveled its gaze to follow them. Terror hung heavy in the air, almost palpable.
“You are ungrateful,” came the voice. “Like an infant who spits up their mother’s milk.”
The voice tutted. It was a strange sound, coming from a machine. Cade was not sure Abaddon even had a tongue. Each word was measured, weighted. The sounds, the tones, the inflections, all contrived. It was unnerving.
“Did I not give you time to heal?” Abaddon went on. “To prepare yourselves for the challenges ahead? Instead you dissolve into self-pity and let yourselves waste away. And you presume to blame me for your incompetence.”
Despite himself, Cade felt a twinge of guilt. But what else could they have done? Piled more rocks onto the wall?
“You owe your very existence to me. As does your species, and the entire planet you crawl on. Have some gratitude.”
There was no response to be made, and yet the Codex went quiet, as if waiting for them to speak. The silence dragged on, and then:
“Thank you,” Amber said. “You’re right.”
The Codex snapped to her, the lens twisting behind the translucent exterior.
“Amber Lin,” Abaddon said. “You surprise me. I had intended you to be no more than fodder for my pets in the jungle. Yet here you stand.”
Amber lifted her chin. “I’ll play your game,” she said. “We all will. But you can’t ask us to master it if we don’t know the rules.”
The lens twitched.
“Very well,” Abaddon said. “But I would advise that you not let go of the bliss of ignorance so easily, as your canonical Adam and Eve once did. Your rude awakening may be as painful as theirs.”
“I think we’d rather know,” Amber said, crossing her arms.
The Codex edged backward. The room flashed with light.
A two-dimensional pyramid appeared in the empty space before them. It consisted of twenty-one blocks: six on the bottom layer, five on the next, then four, three, two, and one. A red line separated the third row from those beneath it.
“What is that?” Cade breathed.
Abaddon’s voice echoed in the room. “Each block represents a corresponding planet, ruled by one member of the pantheon.”
The left-most block on the row of three pulsed, and a symbol revolved slowly upon it. A skull. A human skull.
“That’s us. Earth.”
Us.
There was no “us,” and it sickened Cade that Abaddon somehow imagined themselves on the same team. Yet there it was. The game board, so to speak.
“To reach the top, each planet’s representatives must battle their way up the leaderboard by attacking planets above or adjacent to them. They must also defend against attacks from below and adjacent. The winners of these battles switch places with the losers.”
Cade could not help but move closer, his eyes widening at the simplicity of it.
“Your predecessors saw the wisdom of remaining on the edge of the leaderboard,” Abaddon said. “Placed as you are, only the planet to Earth’s right and the two planets below can attack. But it also limits you in your path upward—you must defeat the planet directly above you to do so, while if you were in the center of the leaderboard, you could choose between two.”
“And what is the red line?” It was Grace who spoke this time, her arms also crossed in anger.
“Excellent question, Grace,” Abaddon said, and Cade could hear the pleasure in the entity’s voice. “It is your line in the sand. Fall beneath it … and Earth is wiped clean of life. I start again.”
Cade stared at the leaderboard in horror. If they lost a single attack from below … it was over for them.
Over for everyone.
“We reserve the positions above the red line for the older, more advanced planets,” Abaddon went on. “Those with space-faring civilizations in particular.”
Cade’s sudden fascination did little to dispel the fear that pulsed through him. “Can we be attacked at any time?” Cade asked.
“Fortunately for you, no,” Abaddon replied. “Members of the pantheon agree on a time and place for each battle, as well as the rules that must be followed by both sides. If we cannot agree to terms, the rest of the pantheon vote on the dispute, to decide what a fair match might be. It’s my job to negotiate for you, and choose who and when to attack.”
“And we have no say in this?” Cade demanded. “We’re just pawns?”
“That’s a very good way of putting it.” Abaddon chuckled darkly. “Well done, Cade.”
Cade closed his eyes, wishing it would all go away. Suddenly, he wanted to go to sleep. Close his eyes, let his worries fade away. His favorite time of the day was waking up, those few brief seconds before he remembered where he was.
“Now, our next battle was agreed some time ago,” Abaddon went on. “But since I was not sure how many of you would survive my qualifier round, it was a difficult battle to negotiate. In the end, it came down to a vote from my brethren. And I must confess, the rest of the pantheon do not like humans much.”
The voice paused, as if relishing the dread across their faces.
“The question of how many contenders would survive was neatly solved by my own proposal. A duel. One-on-one. Two combatants, fighting on open ground.”
Somehow … this seemed better. It was an ugly picture, but it would put only one of them in danger.
“You may not use firearms, nor explosives or flammables. Other than that, the only rule is it’s a fight to the death.”
The fate of the world, hanging on a single bout.
“And if we lose?” Amber asked, her voice shaking. “What happens to the rest of us?”
“You’ll find out.”
Silence.
“Who fights?” Scott blurted, then covered his mouth.
“I had not decided until a few minutes ago, Scott,” Abaddon purred. “But now I have a clear choice.”
Slowly the Codex turned toward Cade.
“After his little tirade, it seems that Cade is the one with the most fight left in him. And it’s an apt punishment for a petulant, ungrateful child.”
The lens hovered closer until it filled Cade’s vision. “Lucky you.”
Copyright © 2020 by Taran Matharu Ltd
