Baited (Gladiators of the Gryn #2)

Rych

“I told you, I don’t serve gladiators.” The bar keeper glares at me. “You’re trouble when you’re sober and worse when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not a gladiator, not anymore.” I glare at him. “You’ll take my credits if you’ll take theirs.” I jerk my thumb at the three thick set Habosu who are watching this exchange over their tankards of mead-beer.

My mouth practically waters at the thought.

And the suggestion I might have the credits to pay sticks in my throat.

“ They don’t smash up my bar. Get out, go find somewhere else, Gryn .” The owner spits at me.

I bristle, all my wing feathers pricking up before dipping down again. I’ve been out of the dome for less than a nova-week and the lack of respect is infuriating. Especially when the dregs of the universe like the Habosu get more of it than I do.

It doesn’t help I can’t access any of the credits I made while I was a gladiator. The vrexing dome has kept every single vrexing one of them. I ball my hands up, claws slicing into my flesh.

A chair scrapes as one of the Habosu gets to his feet. I feel like the level of stupid increased in this small bar.

“He said he wants you to leave, Gryn .” He growls.

“Stay out of this.” I snarl back. “If you know what’s good for you.”

The Habosu looks at his two friends and they crack crooked grins.

“I always wanted to try my hand at a gladiator in the dome, but could never afford the fee. Looks like I get to have a go at the low rent version.” He says, pulling out a pulsar pistol.

Vrex. It looks like the barkeeper is going to be proved correct and I won’t get the drink I’m after.

“I don’t want trouble.” I put up my hands, slicking my wings hard against my body.

“You didn’t leave when you were asked, Gryn. You are trouble.” The Habosu growls.

But he’s showing off to his friends and his reactions, already far too slow for me, are made even slower as I launch myself at him as he fires first, the shot going over my head and scorching the shoulder of my wing.

I pull the pulsar from his hand, slamming my uninjured wing into one of his compatriots, a foot in to the windpipe of the other and tipping my would be challenger over until his head hits the ground with a dull thud.

It won’t have done any damage.

“Absolutely correct,” I snarl at him. “Gladiator or no, I am your worst nightmare.” I crush the pulsar by digging my claws into the casing, my speciality in the dome, and his eyes widen.

“Gak you Gryn!” I hear the bar owner over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. “You’ve really done it this time.”

I lift my head. My antagonist is dazed but alive, I’ve only broken a few sticks of furniture.

“I’ll pay for the damage.”

“You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” One of the other Habosu growls.

I drop my wing to look over my shoulder at him, only to see the third Habosu impaled on a spike of wooden chair. For a moment, I think he’s dead, until he groans and rolls to one side.

“Vrex.” I shake my head and get to my feet.

Tatatunga might be lawless, but these Habosou are going to do what they can to get me imprisoned for such an injury, even if they started it and I was acting in self defense.

And as much as my current situation as a swordless gladiator is not to my liking, I don’t want to end up back at the amphitheater as fodder for the pre-games. A violent act like this wouldn’t see me back in the dome. It’ll see me dead.

“You saw what happened. He came for me.” I say to the barkeeper.

He shakes his head slowly, his eyes fixed on the remaining, undamaged Habosu.

So this is how it goes. Killing in the dome is lauded, outside of the dome it becomes a way of control, for the dead and for the living. I always knew it, only I had thought I’d end my days as a gladiator. The dome doesn’t have a habit of giving up its fighters.

Not for the first time, I curse Blayn under my breath. He might have wanted freedom, but I didn’t know what I wanted.

“You will pay,” the Habosu who tried to shoot me snarls, “you’ll face the same justice you meted out in the dome, Gryn. ”

“I think you’ll find none of you will be reporting anything.” A slightly nasal voice says from the doorway.

I look over to see a tall, although not as tall as me, male stood in the doorway. His scales are predominantly purple but there are flashes of other colors as he surveys the room. He looks like an Oykig, only more colorful and without the tail, and there’s something about him which puts my feathers on end. A name springs into my head, Drahon . Only I’m not sure what it means.

“And what are you going to do about it?” My would be assailant growls, “our friend is badly hurt because of him.

“I’m sure ten thousand credits will be enough to aid in his pain and your own.” The creature says. “And another ten thousand for your silence.”

“Each?” The Habosu with the broken nose asks.

The purple male shrugs. “Each.” He says without batting an eyelid…if he has eyelids, it’s hard to tell.

He beckons to me. I feel my lips lifting in a snarl, but that only seems to make him smile. “I have a proposal for you, gladiator.” He says, flicking the credit chips on the bar and causing a scramble of the occupants, who decided the credits are worth ignoring their groaning comrade.

“I didn’t ask you to intervene and I don’t have the credits to pay you back.” I look at the scrum behind me, “this was your choice.”

“I don’t want the money back,” he says going to put an arm around me, but I pull away. He doesn’t seem bothered by my refusal. “I want to offer you a job.”