I was stretched out on the bunk in my private quarters. Being Dryx's newest star gladiator had its share of perks – such as a private room, and better food than most of the cannon fodder got. But, it also meant that I fought more and often had to challenge the best fighters the other Syndicate members had to offer. Sometimes multiple fighters.

Sleep had been in short supply the night before, my head filled with memories of Kianna. I was tired. Exhausted, really. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to collapse into her arms and sleep for days.

But, that wasn't going to happen unless I found a way to escape or hit one hundred victories – a total I probably wouldn't get to for a long time yet at my current pace. A couple of years, probably. As Jurg had explained it to me, the Syndicate had tournament cycles that lasted about a month, and then there would be no fights for the next couple of months as new fighters were recruited and trained. Our Syndicate Masters has to replenish their supply of bodies, after all.

This current cycle would last a couple more weeks and although I was exhausted, I wanted to keep fighting. The more victories I gained now, the fewer I'd have to accrue later. And I had to think in terms of never failing. Never losing. Losing meant my death. The only way to survive and get back to Kianna was to win. And keep winning.

Which meant slaughtering other people in the same position I was in. We were nothing more than chattel. Slaves. Our Syndicate Masters called the tune and we were forced to dance. The people I fought did nothing to me. I bore no grudge against them. I didn't want to kill them, but if I ever wanted to see my love again, I had to do what was necessary.

There was a small part of me though, that worried what kind of a man would be returning to her.

Having to live this way, having to kill to survive, it took a toll on you. Each victory – each slaughter of somebody who did you no wrong – it stripped away a little piece of your soul. Your spirit. Your inner light. By the time I got to one hundred, I was starting to wonder how much of that I'd have left.

If I made it to one hundred, what kind of a man would Kianna be getting back?

It was way too early to even really be considering it, given the fact that I had just five victories under my belt. But, it was still something I had to consider. Would I be worthy of Kianna's love if I returned to her a broken man with a soul blacker than the reaches of deep space? Would this life turn me into some evil, violent creature who used violence and death as a first resort?

I let out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling, trying to beat back all those thoughts. I hadn't yet given up on the idea of breaking free. Of finding a way out of there. Jurg, knowing my thoughts, had already tried to tell me there was no way out. Tried to convince me that trying to escape would only result in my death.

I honestly believed he was looking out for me and didn't want to see me wind up dead – Jurg and I had formed a kind of bond – but I wasn't going to stop trying. I didn't want to go back to Kianna a beaten, broken, shell of a man. I wouldn't. She deserved better than that.

“You awake?”

I lifted my head and saw Jurg's face looking at me through the bars of the small window in the door to my quarters.

“Yeah, I'm up,” I said. “We got a fight?”

“Not today,” he replied, as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. “But, Dryx asked for you.”

I felt a cold lump form in my belly. In the time I'd been his slave, Dryx had yet to meet with me. I had no idea why he was asking for me now.

“What's going on?” I asked.

“Audition,” I guess.

“An audition?”

Jurg shrugged. “One of Dryx's suppliers wants him to buy a new recruit he brought in,” he says. “Dryx wants to see the goods in action before he buys.”

I chuckled and shook my head as I got to my feet. Not the way I wanted to spend my day. But then, I guess it was better than stepping into the ring. I followed Jurg out the door and down the long, winding corridors that ran beneath what I assumed was Dryx's mansion or whatever.

Jurg had told me that each of the Syndicate Masters had their own estates above ground. That they lived lavish lives on our sweat and blood. It only served to enrage me. Make me convinced the Masters all needed to be destroyed, their systems torn down.

I vowed to myself that I would do that. That if I got out there, I would destroy the Syndicate. Even at the cost of my own life, I would destroy the Syndicate for everything they've done and continue to do.

“Don't worry,” Jurg called over his shoulder, “it's a non-lethal match. Just a little exhibition.”

“It's probably more humane just to kill him now,” I muttered.

“Probably would be,” Jurg chuckled. “But, that probably wouldn't turn out so well for you.”

The corridor sloped upward. I hadn't been topside since waking up in that box – aside from the arena, of course. Though that was in an enclosed stadium, so it really didn't count. Other than that though, since my abduction, my entire world had been lived below ground. I longed to breathe a little fresh air and feel a little sunlight on my skin. For the very first time, the dry, dusty, blazing hot atmosphere of Gorndyr seemed like a paradise to me – one that I longed for.

Which probably said a lot about where my head was at.

Jurg led me to a door and when he opened it, I had to step back and shield my eyes. The flood of sunlight was overpowering. Blinding. With my eyes closed and my face turned upward, I stepped through the door and took a long, deep breath, savoring the richness of the fresh air that wafted over me.

“That first breath of fresh air is always the sweetest, isn't it?” Jurg asked.

I nodded. “I've never smelled anything better.”

“I will speak with Dryx about permitting you above ground privileges.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It would make things slightly more tolerable.”

“Come,” he said.

My eyes finally adjusted to the light and I found myself in a large enclosed yard. The walls were high and thick, topped with lethal laser wire that glowed menacingly. Nothing was coming over the walls, that was for sure.

The day was warm, but not unpleasantly so. The yard around us was lush with tall plants that were adorned with flowers in a riot of color. The air around us was redolent with their scent. It felt nice – far better than being below ground.

Jurg led me to a small area set off to the side of the large yard. The grass and plants ended at the edge of that area. With a hard packed dirt floor and several areas for seating on the edges, it looked like something of a miniature arena. This was obviously where fighters were auditioned.

Jurg led me across the arena floor to a covered bench. Taking the small practice sword from him, I stepped out from beneath the seating area, letting the sun cascade down over me. It warmed my skin and in many ways, felt like it was recharging my spirit.

A door across the way from me opened and a large man dressed in black from head to toe stepped through it. He was human. Tall, well built. He had dark-colored skin, a neatly trimmed beard, and eyes that glittered in the sun like Onyx. I didn't need Jurg to tell me that I was looking at Dryx. The man just had the air of arrogance about him that men who called themselves Masters could have. He eyed me imperiously, saying nothing, and took a seat on a raised dais that was covered and held what looked like a throne. Go figure.

Next through the door was a small Ryvythian man with slate gray skin that reminded me of a guy from my unit named Dryth. When I saw who emerged behind him though, my eyes grew wide and my heart stopped dead in my chest.

“No,” I whispered. “It can't be.”