“Let’s go girls!” Drake yelled to Angela and Olivia. “Follow me!”

  Drake kept running through the dust cloud and out the back of the alleyway only to be cut off once again by a man wearing a black hood.

  “I can’t catch a break today.” Drake said as he moved his sword into a fighting stance. “What happened to my luck?”

  The figure lowered his hood, showing his face.

  “That explains it.” Drake said as he recognized 169’s striking features.

  “I won’t allow you to escape this time Drake.” 169 said.

  “You’re still mad about the last few times we met aren’t you?” Drake said. “I’m impressed that you cracked my password encryption I put on your Tachyon drive before it overloaded.”

  “From what I’ve deveined of your character thus far.” 169 said, “youwillneverguessthispassword wasn’t overly unpredictable.”

  “I’ll admit it wasn’t my best work.” Drake said. “But despite how you feel about me right now, we’ve already been in two fights this week. Do you really want to have a third one? Don’t you ever get sick of fighting me?”

  “I consider myself a patient man.” 169 said. “But your impudence has pushed the limits of my patience. Against you, Drake Ashbell, three fights in one week is not too many.”

  “I’m not gonna lie to you 169.” Drake said. “I don’t know what impudence means, so I don’t have a comeback for that last thing you said. So let’s just skip the battle of wits and get to the part where I beat you again.”

  Drake moved to draw out his revolver, but 169 moved faster, lifting the machine on his arm and sending a vibration through the air moving fast toward Drake.

  Drake dove to the side, avoiding the attack.

  The wall of the building behind him exploded, sending bricks and mortar flying.

  Drake rolled out of his dive and stood back up to face 169.

  “Dude,” Drake said. “You know people live in these buildings. You just put a hole in somebody’s house. That’s not cool.”

  “I win this round.” 169 said.

  “What?” Drake said. “You haven’t won, we’re still in the middle of the fight.”

  A sudden pain shot through Drake’s skull as one of Rugo’s flying rocks came whizzing in from behind and hit Drake in the back of the head.

  His vision faded to blackness as his body collapsed to the ground.

  Chapter 21: Drake

  Drake groaned as light filled his eyes.

  He tried to bring his hands up to block out the blinding sunlight, but couldn’t move them.

  As he glanced down, he saw that his arms were bound to the chair by thick leather straps.

  He shifted his gaze up a little higher on his arm to find a needle stuck into it, drawing his blood into small, clear plastic bags hanging nearby.

  “I see you’ve finally awoken.” Someone said off to Drake’s side. He turned his head to look and saw a face he’d hoped never to see again.

  King Dathan stood before him with his blonde hair hanging down to his shoulders.

  He was wearing his gaudy, expensive purple robes, with a massive jewel encrusted crown resting on his head.

  “I see you’re still wearing that ugly crown.” Drake said. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but not even that thing can draw attention away from your huge nose.”

  “Really, Drake,” Dathan said. “After all these years without seeing your uncle you greet me with an insult? I suppose it makes sense. You’ve never been very good with controlling your tongue. That’s precisely what cost you the throne.”

  “You and I both know that’s a lie.” Drake said.

  “Is it?” Dathan said. “Because the last time I checked, I was sitting on the throne, and you were running away from the law. I’m not sure where I’ve made an error.”

  “I know you’ve been searching for royal blood, and you’re drawing my blood right now. Is your blood just not quite royal enough? It looks like Knune still believes I’m the king. Your lies will never change that.”

  “Oh Drake. Why do you have to say such terrible things to your dear old uncle? You’re the only family I have. You’ll break my heart.”

  “You stopped being my family when you murdered my father.” Drake said.

  “Such hostility Drake,” Dathan replied cooly. “I came here to see you personally because I want to make you an offer to better your life. Your harsh tones are not appreciated.”

  “I’d rather die than do anything to help you.”

  “Now, now. Let’s not be rash. You haven’t even heard my offer yet.”

  “I don’t want to. Why don’t you just kill me? You had no problem killing the rest of my family.”

  “You’re not thinking this through Drake. I went to all this trouble to get your blood because you’re the rightful heir to the throne. There’s no sense in denying it. At least not while we’re the only ones listening. If you’re dead, you can hardly the rightful heir anymore, now can you?”

  Dathan sat down in a chair next to Drake.

  “I’d have to waste more of my time tracking down one of our obscure relatives and stealing blood from them, it’s so much work Drake. I’m a very busy man. Now, since I’m not going to kill you, and you’re just sitting around anyway, why don’t you listen to my proposal?”

  Dathan paused for a moment giving Drake room to answer, but he said nothing.

  “No witty comeback?” Dathan said. “You’re not as fun as I remembered you Drake. But as long as you’re in a serious mood perhaps we can stop with our frivolity and have a serious discussion. I read the reports of what you did to my soldiers in the desert yesterday.”

  “Not even the most impressive of fighters can’t kill three hundred trained soldiers by themselves. Especially not in less than an hour. Not naturally at least. So I thought, ‘How could my nephew have done such a thing?’ The answer is that it’s impossible. Unless, of course, you’ve committed a taboo.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Drake said.

  “We’re royalty, Drake.” Dathan said. “Lying does not become us.”

  “You are aware of how hypocritical that statement is when it’s coming from you, aren’t you?” Drake said.

  “Ah, the wit returns. I knew you wouldn’t be able to control your tongue. However, I will rise above your sarcasm and continue our conversation.” Dathan said. “Now, given the circumstances of your childhood, I can imagine the power of the third taboo would be the most obvious for you to choose. And it explains how quickly you were able to kill so many. Which brings me to my next question.”

  Dathan moved over to a small table. On it was every item Drake had with him at the time of his capture. His sword, his revolver, his Line Transceiver, and a bushy fake mustache.

  “Which of these items is your soul anchor?” Dathan asked. “Honestly, I hope it’s the mustache.”

  “My what?” Drake asked. “I think you’re going a little senile Uncle Dathan.”

  “So we’ll be doing this the hard way then.” Dathan said as he turned to the doorway. “169, bring her in.”

  The door opened and a very ragged looking 169 came walking in, pushing Angela in front of him.

  She looked up at Drake as she stumbled in, her hands bound and a gag placed in her mouth.

  “Don’t worry Angela.” Drake said, “We’ll get out of this.”

  169 pushed her down into a chair.

  “You’re not looking so good 169.” Drake said.

  “Said by the man tied to a chair.” 169 answered.

  He was sweating profusely, and dark bags hung under his eyes.

  “I need my payment.” He said, turning toward Dathan.

  “You’ll be paid when the job is done.” Dathan replied.

  “Pay me now, or the job won’t get done.” 169 replied.

  “Very well.” Dathan said calmly, removing a small bottle of red liquid from one of the inside pockets of his robe and handing it to 169.

  It was euphodine in the bottle. So that was how Dathan was controlling him. 169 was nothing more than a drug addict doing the bidding of his dealer.

  But the Mystics didn’t have the means to make Euphodine, and Drake had taken what was left of the Human Empire’s stash. Even the bottle Dathan had given to 169 had Drake’s label on it.

  Al’s buyer was working for Dathan, and that meant that Dathan was out of the drug.

  This information could prove useful.

  169 eagerly tore the lid off the bottle and drank its contents.

  He stopped sweating, and his breath returned to normal almost immediately.

  “Now that’s over with.” He said, standing up a little straighter. “I believe you were in the middle of questioning this pest.”

  He pointed to Drake, making a disgusted face.

  “Indeed, we were.” Dathan said. “So Drake, are you going to tell us which of these items is your soul anchor? Or should I throw them out the window until I get it right? I’m sure this lovely girl will delight in seeing what happens when you don’t have it.”

  “If I had any idea what a soul anchor was, I might tell you.” Drake said. “But you’re just spouting gibberish to mess with me as far as I can tell.”

  “Very well then.” Dathan replied as he picked up Drake’s sword and threw it out the window.

  “Come on man.” Drake whined “There might be people down there, you can’t just go dropping swords.”

  “So it wasn’t the sword.” Dathan said. “I’d be more cooperative if I were you. Given what your reaction will be when you lose your anchor, this poor girl will be ripped to shreds. It would be a shame to lose such a pretty girl to your stubbornness.”

  “You’d be ripped to shreds before she would.” Drake said, “If you really believe I’ll become dangerous when you throw my ‘anchor’ out the window, maybe you should think twice about being in the room when that happens.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Dathan said as he moved to the window with Drake’s revolver in his hand. “This one’s next.” He said as he moved to throw it out the window.

  “Stop!” Drake said. “You found it. Now what do you want from me?”

  “Finally an honest answer.” Dathan said. “Now I shall be honest in return. I want you to work for me. The Mystics are almost ready to win the war against the Humans. Having some measure of control over the third taboo is an impressive skill. You could help us end this war much faster.”

  “I’d rather die.” Drake hissed.

  “I’d be happy to oblige you on that request.” 169 said.

  “No 169.” Dathan said. “We need him alive.”

  “Fine.” 169 said, “But we can’t put him in a normal prison. If we leave him with his revolver, he’ll have no problem escaping any prison we put him into, but if we take it away he’ll level the whole prison and cause us even more trouble.”

  “He doesn’t like being a party to the harming of innocents.” Dathan said. “Perhaps our best option would be one where nobody would question him keeping his revolver, but which is also surrounded by innocents. I suppose the only prison that fits would be a gladiatorial arena. It will be easy enough to fix the matches to keep him alive. And I’m sure the people will love to see the traitor prince in battle.”

  He paused for a moment before turning back to face Drake.

  “You’ve always loved being the center of attention Drake. Now you’ll get to entertain millions.”

  Dathan picked up a syringe full of a pink colored liquid and jabbed it into Drake’s arm, emptying its contents into his blood.

  The smug look on Dathan’s face was the last thing Drake saw before he drifted into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 22: Drake

  Drake opened his eyes and slowly slipped back into consciousness.

  He still felt groggy from the effects of the drugs Dathan had given him.

  “Oh good.” Somebody said from nearby him. “You’re awake! We worried that you’d still be asleep when your turn came to fight.”

  “What?” Drake said, trying to process what was going on.

  Between the poor lighting and the drugged state of his mind, it was hard to understand anything about his surroundings.

  He tried to remember how he got here, but he couldn’t remember.

  He glanced down. He still had his revolver in a holster on his waste. What kind of prison was this?

  “You’re in Khryas arena.” The man said. “We received instructions from the King himself to make sure you kept that pistol of yours in your fight, and of course, since the traitor prince will draw large crowds, the fights will be rigged, but try to sell it anyway, ok?”

  “What?” Drake asked again. Although the effects of the drugs were lifting and his mind was clearing.

  He could already remember how he’d arrived.

  “What are you confused about?” The man asked as he pulled Drake up from the ground. “It’s really very simple, you’ll fight and try to kill the other gladiators, but since you’re high priority, we have men standing by on the sidelines with poison darts in case things don’t go your way.”

  The man opened a small door.

  “What if I don’t want to fight?” Drake asked.

  “You don’t really have a choice.” The man said as he pushed Drake out the door.

  Drake’s ears filled with the sound of a screaming crowd.

  He spun in a slow circle as he tried to take in the enormity of this arena.

  The man said that he was in Khryas arena. Drake remembered that name. It was the only gladiator arena that was televised.

  He glanced around. There were cameras mounted on the walls and on top of pillars around the arena.

  He’d always thought the Mystics were hypocritical for doing things like this.

  They said using Human technology was against their religion, but if the rich Mystics really enjoyed a particular technology they declared it an exception to the rule. Television and space travel were just a few that had made the list.

  “And now for our next fight.” A voice boomed through the speakers mounted all around the stadium. “An expert human fighter captured in battle and forced to fight to preserve his life; ladies and gentlemen, former V.A.L.O.R. captain, Michael Ross!”

  The crowd erupted into cheers as a man entered from the other side of the arena.

  He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and an athletic build. Judging from the state of his clothing, he had been in prison for quite a while.

  “And for his opponent.” The announcer continued. “A newcomer I’m sure you’re all familiar with! The man who murdered hundreds, the man who has spent the last five years trying in vain to overthrow our beloved king. Drake Ashbell, the traitor prince!”

  The crowd’s cheer changed to booing at the mention of his name.

  “Yeah, I hate you rich jerks too.” Drake said under his breath as he walked over to a rack of weapons and pulled out a sword.

  Michael Ross walked to the same rack and drew out a similar sword and a small dagger.

  “So you fought against the Mystics, huh?” He asked Drake.

  “Yeah.” Drake said.

  “I appreciate that.” Michael said. “But I can’t let you live just because of that, I have a wife and children to get home to. I can’t die here.”

  “The fight is fixed.” Drake said, “If I don’t beat you on my own they’re just going to kill you.”

  “What?” Michael asked, seeming perplexed by Drake’s response.

  “Don’t worry.” Drake said as he turned to walk to the center of the arena. “I’ll make sure you survive this fight.”

  He had seen these fights televised before, so he knew how they worked.

  Michael walked over and lifted his sword toward Drake.

  “Let the fight begin!” The announcer yelled out over the speakers.

  The crowd cheered as Michael charged forward swinging his sword over his head.

  His technique was sloppy.

  Drake saw at least six openings. He could have stabbed Michael and ended his life immediately.

  Drake lifted his sword with one hand and easily blocked Michael’s downward swing. With his free hand he grabbed Michael’s wrist and brought his knee up into Michael’s stomach.

  As Michael doubled over, Drake brought his knee up into his face.

  Michael tried to move back, but Drake pulled back on his wrist and brought him back in for another swift knee to the face.

  Michael fell to the ground unconscious.

  Drake stood over Michael’s motionless body, waiting for the announcer to declare him the winner of the battle.

  “Michael has been knocked out!” The announcer yelled out.

  “Kill him!” the crowd chanted.

  Drake walked over to one of the Camera stands and put his face up close to the lens.

  “Yell all you want.” Drake said, “But I’m not killing him to entertain a bunch of rich snobs with nothing better to do than this.”

  “The Traitor Prince refuses to kill.” The announcer said. “According to the rules we’ll now send out another challenger to face him.”

  The crowd cheered at that announcement while a team of slaves ran in to remove Michael’s unmoving body from the arena.

  “Our next fighter is a newcomer.” The announcer said, “She may not look like much, but rumor has it that she was a part of an attack that killed an entire platoon of our soldiers overnight! Introducing the former comrade of the Traitor Prince, Miss Angela Fisher!”

  Angela walked slowly into the arena.

  Her eyes were red and puffy as if she’d just stopped crying, and her whole body was shaking.

  She gasped when she saw Drake and immediately sprinted toward him.

  Drake had to brace himself as she collided with him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her head in his chest.

  “Drake. I’m so glad you’re here.” She choked out between tears. “I was so afraid.”

  “Don’t worry Angela.” Drake said as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “I’ll get us out of here.”

  “I know you will.” Angela said. “You always do.”

  It was the first time she’d ever hugged him.