“Death! Death! Death!” chanted the crowd. Fear filled Ulrik, enhanced by the drugs in his veins. He exerted his will on the bright crystal weapon. In its mirrored depth cold fire burned. Blue flames erupted along the blade, as the entity within was partially freed. The blaze blinded his foe for a moment and Ulrik lashed out, striking the demon blade from his hand then burying his own into the belly of his foe. Lem groaned and fell forward, stone dead, the burning blade sizzling within his vitals.

The Master of Ceremonies appeared hovering in the air above them. His amplified voice boomed out; “That was well done.”

His reptilian eyes turned to Valerius. Silence descended on the Pit. The Master of Ceremonies surveyed the crowd, his arms folded over his huge chest. He spread his arms wide and smiled. “To Ulrik goes the winner’s laurel.”

He spurned the corpse of Lem with his foot. “Take this trash out of here,” he told the handlers.

 

 

Ulrik sat in the victor’s chamber, shaking as much from reaction to the fight as from withdrawal from the alchemicals in his veins. Around him the handlers stood watch. Moth leaned against a wall nearby. He was trying to look calm but his tone of voice was elated.

“I thought you were a goner when I saw that black blade, boy. Haven’t seen one in use in near fifty years, not since the Demon Wars. Not things you ever forget though. Evil things. I wonder where the Black Crab found that one. I had heard they were all destroyed- cast back into the Great Abyss.”

His words were just so much meaningless gibbering to Ulrik. He wanted to yell at him, to tell him to shut up but he could not without feeling the sting of a painwand.

“A lot of Blues will be going home poorer tonight,” said one of the handlers. “Serves them bloody well...”

He fell silent. Ulrik sensed the presence of newcomers and looked up to see Valerius had returned along with his cat-girl and his masked bodyguards.

“I see you’ve come to congratulate our boy on his victory, sir,” said Moth, all too aware that there might be a tip in this for him from someone who had just won a lot of money gambling. “And to reclaim your blade no doubt. That was a fine thing you did tonight risking it in the ring.”

“You’re too kind,” said Valerius with mocking politeness. “And you have misread my motives. I have come to do you a favour.”

“And how do you propose to do that, sir?”

“I will take this troublesome slave off your hands...for a fair price of course.”

“I am not sure I want to sell, sir.