Dessert came, and again, Hannah was shocked. Anything sweet on E2 was highly regulated. She bit into the frozen concoction and closed her eyes. There was no dessert in her life on E2. She lingered over the sweet, fighting the urge to pick up the dish and lick it clean. Fortunately, Ambassador Urkiza moved to stand beside her, rescuing her from that temptation.
“Hannah, you’re beautiful in Lurran dress,” the ambassador said.
Hannah stood. “The clothing is amazing, Ambassador. Thank you.”
“Please, call me Elizabete. It is my pleasure,” the Ambassador said as she took Hannah’s hand. “Come, I have a place for you in the delegation box. I would like you to sit with me and Ambassador Gray.”
Hannah followed Elizabete and Gray out into the warm evening. The air was fresh and the sky a purplish-black with a carpet of glittering stars. Remembering her cube back on E2, Hannah thought, I must be in another universe. It didn’t seem likely that Earth-2 and Lurra could coexist in just one.
They walked over streets paved with bricks and stones and wove through alleyways between two- and three-story buildings. Delicious smells filled the air, along with the boisterous sounds of children laughing and playing.
How does one create such a life? Hannah wondered.
Even more important, how does one preserve such a life?
The ambassador’s party filtered into an arena with stone bench seating raised above an oval ground space. As they took their seats, a man came by distributing pillows for the women to sit on. Hannah accepted her pillow and took the seat Elizabete indicated, next to the ambassador. Ambassador Gray sat several seats away, chatting with another Lurran woman.
“How do you find Lurra, Hannah?”
Hannah evaluated the ambassador’s interest. The Lurran’s eyes suggested no intrigue, merely simple curiosity. “Lurra is…” She paused to gather her thoughts. “It’s intoxicating and seductive.”
Elizabete pulled back with a smile. “Your honesty is refreshing in a diplomatic entourage.”
“I’m here to learn about Lurra. So far, I find much of great interest,” Hannah said. She slanted a glance at the ambassador. “While we speak of honesty, why did you ask Ambassador Gray for female staff?”
“Do you not see enough men here already?” Elizabete quipped.
Hannah rolled her eyes and gave the Ambassador a skeptical look.
“I see,” Elizabete replied. “You give honesty, so you expect honesty.” She stared down at the amphitheater field for a long moment. “I asked for women because in our culture, women were long ago granted power as rulers and decision makers. We Lurrans are not receptive to foreign males. And,” she added softly, “because we hoped some of you would stay permanently.”
Down on the field, trumpets blared.
Hannah inhaled, seeing Mikolaus. He wore leather body armor and carried an oval shield and a long sword.
Elizabete said, “Mikolaus carries the long sword designed for fighting the nobles.”
Mikolaus acknowledged the spectators with a 360-degree turn and a bow. He pointed his sword at Hannah and the Ambassador.
“A display of respect,” Elizabete said, “to the top-ranking women in the crowd.”
Mikolaus returned to the center of the field. With a mighty yell, he brought up his shield and his sword. An attacker with a long sword rushed him with an overhand strike. Mikolaus sidestepped, pushed the attacker with his shield, spun and brought his sword down for a kill strike.
Hannah gasped aloud, certain the edged blade would slice the opponent through—but Mikolaus maintained perfect control of the weapon, stopping an inch from the other man’s skin.
Another attack came from the side, and Mikolaus turned and met him head on with a slashing strike that would have halved a grown man in two had Mikolaus not stopped the strike in time.
Three more men took on the Master Gladiator, but he outmanned them all. Hannah was exhausted just watching how long he kept that heavy sword in motion.
Trumpets blew again and assistants relieved Mikolaus of his longsword and shield. In their place, he swung a short sword.
“We call this the eye-picker,” Elizabete commented. “For fighting the Outlanders in close combat.”
Hannah grimaced at the nomenclature, baring her teeth in horror. “They won’t pick any―”
“Not tonight,” Elizabete said. “But not that long ago—and still in some places or Lurra—a short sword is your friend.”
Hannah watched the incredible footwork. Mikolaus was nimble for someone so muscular. He slashed and stabbed and danced from incoming strikes, always one step ahead of his attackers.
“How does he do that?” Hannah asked.
“The training begins in childhood and is ongoing. Those who are exceptionally talented are given full scholarship and privileges while they train at the academy. Mikolaus’s triad is undefeated in the arena and in the field.”
“Where is the rest of his triad now? Why is Mikolaus the only one of the three in the demonstration?”
One side of Elizabete’s lips quirked up in a half-grin. “I worried a full triad of Lurran gladiators might be … intimidating to some delegates.”
Hannah glanced around at the seated men and women around her. Several of the female delegates from E2 sat with male companions. One Lurran male for every E2 female.
Her gaze flew to Elizabete’s face. “There are no triads here, are there?”
“Not yet.” The ambassador’s voice was mild. “Watch this,” she said, pointing to the field. “This particular maneuver is one that Mikolaus developed himself.”
Hannah allowed herself to be distracted. Below, Mikolaus twirled around his opponent and then, as if defying gravity itself to stop him, actually somersaulted over his opponent, coming up under the other man, the eye-picker aimed at his face, another knife at his throat.
“You still have occasion to use these weapons?” Hannah asked, a little breathless. She couldn’t imagine such a lawless state—there was very little crime on E2.
“Yes. I wasn’t jesting about the short sword. You should have one in your gift package.”
A parade of trumpets blared again, and Mikolaus traded his short sword for a weapon Hannah didn’t recognize.
“Cross-bow,” Elizabete said. “For hunting game.”
Hannah leaned forward and pursed her lips in a silent oh as targets were placed from one end of the arena to the other. Mikolaus positioned a sharp shaft in the crossbow and drew back a launching strap. One, two, three shafts he sent to targets from a standing position. Other targets he assaulted at a dead run, jumping over obstacles, dipping behind shelter, and rolling head first on the ground and coming up to launch a shaft. The targets were brought forward so the spectators could see—
“All dead center,” Hannah said, clapping. She was getting caught up in the excitement, the amazement of seeing what Mikolaus could do. “What’s next?”
“Hand to hand,” Elizabete answered.
Hannah lifted her shoulders with an unexpected thrill. She had no idea what hand to hand was, but if it involved Mikolaus’ hands, she was in.
An assistant came out to help Mikolaus remove his leather armor. The arm guards, the shin guards, thigh panels, and breast and back collars fell away. He stood bare except for short pants that hit him mid-thigh.
Hannah caught her breath—his incredible musculature was a thing of beauty.
Elizabete leaned over and whispered, “Makes you want to reach out and touch him, doesn’t it?”
Hannah chose not to answer, but she couldn’t help but grin—until the action began.
Multiple attackers surrounded Mikolaus and each charged him at will.
Hannah watched in fascination, leaning forward and clutching the edge of the stone seat.
Mikolaus was faster than her eye could follow. He moved with precision, striking so fast Hannah often only heard the impact. He pivoted and sidestepped and kicked, and a couple of times he even flipped. He struck his opponents again and again, so fast she couldn’t even see. But the yelps of pain were proof enough.
“How can he move so fast?” she whispered. “How does he know where to be and what to do?”
“Mikolaus has studied the human body his entire life,” Elizabete answered. “He knows every place that causes pain and every place that causes pleasure.”
Hannah heard the suggestive words and felt the ambassador’s eyes on her. A slow burn came to her cheeks in spite of her attempt at being unaffected by Mikolaus. She lifted her chin and once again refused to take the bait.
The display of weapons assaulted Hannah’s view of the world. There was no bloodletting on E2. The reality that someone had to actually fight, to spill blood and hack limbs off and end another’s life, settled into her psyche.
She so admired his body, a work of beauty. Yet, suddenly she understood that beautiful body was created for one reason―killing.
Now she understood what was needed to create and preserve this amazing life…
Death.