Page 17 of Gladiator Moon

Very good.

I will never, ever discuss this conversation. Your command is very strong.

Good to know.

Tomorrow you will fight, Moon Warrior.

I understand.

Please do not try to escape. I would hate to see you die. I have enjoyed our conversation.

Even if you were coerced into talking?

We Granardians enjoy being told what to do. It is why the kingdom has existed for as long as it has, with such cruel rulers.

You enjoy my commands?

Oh, yes. Maybe excessively so.

I log that info away as we sit with our backs to each other, with only the wall separating us. Next, I reach through the wall, toward his bright violet aura, a color I’ve never seen before. Timrick is very obviously not immortal, based on the enormity of his aura surrounding his physical body. Soon, I puncture through his aura and begin siphoning his energy, which is a strange and heady brew indeed. Sweet and powerful. Soon, he is snoring loudly, the wall itself rumbling. Myself, I am buzzing and ready to fight.

But not to the death if I can help it.

Chapter Four

Loud pounding on the iron and wooden door stirs me awake.

‘Tis just me, Moon Warrior, Timrick’s words come straight into my head, as our telepathic connection is still active. Do not be afraid, and please do not attempt to escape. From this moment forward, you must follow my commands to a ‘t.’

Understood.

Are you ready for the carnage?

As ready as I’ll ever be.

I wish you good luck. I’ll say a prayer to the All Seeing Eye.

Is that your God?

It is what we call the Origin of All life. Sometimes, we think It looks favorably down upon us if we ask It to.

Well, thank you for your prayers.

Already done, Moon Warrior. The wood sprite is awaiting your entrance. Follow me closely, please. Remember, the Dark One is watching. I do not want to see you imprisoned.

Neither do I. I thought Baltazar was going to lead the way.

He is unavailable this morning; apparently, the king’s youngest son was acting up and was putting the whole royal family in danger.

I thought he was the good kid.

I thought so, too.

And with that, my massive chamber door is thrown open, and there stands before me a behemoth of a guard. His broad shoulders nearly fill the doorway, but I feel the kind eyes immediately.

Timrick the Fallen, of course.

Yes, it is I, Little Moon, he says to me telepathically with a faint smile. I am but one of many of my kind. We belong to the Sentry Class, if you will.