Akhdar sat on his throne with his sister by his side. The young zhar looked down to the arena and saw the puny Earthman known as Sinbad meeting his eyes.
“I am here, Akhdar,” Sinbad called up to him. “I have honored my half of our agreement. I trust you will honor yours.”
Akhdar paused and briefly meditated on the subject. A look of confusion was on his face. It was as if he couldn’t understand what language Sinbad was speaking. The zhar looked at his sister in misperception.
“‘Trust,’ dear sister?” he asked in bewilderment.
“A foreign concept, my brother,” Aella replied, staring at Sinbad. A small lascivious smile crept on her delicate face. She couldn’t take her eyes off this far-off creature’s
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physique. Such strong arms and brightly tanned skin. “A rare quality his kind infrequently possesses.”
“Ah,” confirmed Akhdar, grinning savagely.
He signaled Tarkhun, his right hand man and loyal bodyguard, to bring Sinbad’s confiscated scimitar from the armory. Tarkhun presented it to his lord and master. Akhdar merely waved it away for his majordomo to throw the sword out the balcony and landed several feet in front of Sinbad.
The sailor pulled his reliable sword out of the ground. He took several practice slashes and showed off some of his swordsmanship skills. Aella admiringly watched him from the royal terrace. She fantasied him as both her lover and her guardian. Even though he wasn’t a natural inhabitant to this advanced civilization, this made her infatuation more taboo.
She stared at the handsome outlander and studied him with half lidded eyes at the fluidity of the way he moved. She had seen several of his fights and gathered enough evidence of his power and skill. Then she wondered if he had talents of similar magnitude in other areas of life.
In the corner of his eye Akhdar noticed her coarse ogling and followed her gaze to the human. Disgusting, he thought. Such an affair would damage his image to his faithful followers and his high-class peers.
Akhdar quickly rose from his throne and motioned to his guards on the combat zone.
“Release the moktar!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
His bellowing gave his sister quite a jolt. She broke her fanatical gazing and turned her attention to the arena.
The two strong guards pulled the heavy chains under extreme duress. The sound of gigantic feet thundered behind the door and the vibrations shook the coliseum. Bits of rock shook loose and several stalactites fell into the arena. Sinbad and the guards maneuvered away from the debris. Then the sound of demonic trumpets and growls emerged through the door.
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Massive and slow-moving, rapid movements sounded at the other side. Shadows obscured the light that had been pouring through the thin crack of the door.
Sinbad stood ready. Through everyone else’s eyes, they all considered him lucky for staying alive for so long in his imprisonment. But Sinbad didn’t believe in such a thing. He believed a man could control his own fate by the actions that define him. Not by playing as destiny’s puppet. But he didn’t argue with divine intervention. Sinbad believed Allah had kept him alive because this world needed him. The sailor had no qualms on that notion. All he cared about was the wellbeing of others.
Before the guards could fully open the door, the massive beast broke loose onto the arena. Its monstrous strength knocked the enormous door off its hinges and broke in two with its colossal feet. Two great eyes blazed from the wavering shadows. The moktar gave out a primal roar, with his small trunk swinging in the air with fierce rage. The hideousness of its face transcended more beastly.
Sinbad’s hair rose up and he grasped his sword very tightly.
Cries of amazement rose amongst the assembled members of the audience and many scattered away from the creature.
He stared in the unknown at the creature, which sat with such uncanny patience before the closed door. He shuddered at the sight of the giant feet, thickly grown with hair that was almost fur-like. The body was thick, broad and bushy. It growled as it breathed.
To Sinbad, the creature resembled on what would happen if an elephant mated with a hippopotamus. This was far too horrific that even he could have imagined. The moktar’s long inverted tusks were both dilapidated from when it was captured. Its left tusk was broken in half during the pursuit from Akhdar’s elite hunters. Ever since it was first brought into captivity, the zhar made sure the
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beast was abused as much as possible. So it would be in the right mood for the games.
Azrak watched the rampage from his cell. His eyes widened in terror as he gripped the bars tightly.
“Run, Sinbad. Run!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
The moktar raised its head in attention. Its wrinkled trunk waved hysterically on picking up Sinbad’s scent. The moktar’s head jerked swiftly and its black beady eyes caught the small man brandishing his sword.
The gargantuan quadruped dug its feet to the ground, like a bull ready to charge. Sinbad took a defensive stance with his sword in the air. With a loud, spit-spraying snort the moktar drove angrily towards the human gladiator on a gaudy snarl.
Various alien life forms from all over Mars and neighboring planets cheered chaotically for the well-awaited battle. Countless wagers were in favor of the monster. Some said Sinbad would fall as soon as the fight would start. But others were wary when they heard about the Earthman’s extensive reputation.
There was something in the red murky eyes, its clumsy posture, and its whole appearance that set apart from the truly animal. That monstrous body housed a brain and soul that were just budding awfully into something vaguely human.
Sinbad stood his ground as the moktar boomed across the arena. He remained still as a statue. Just waiting to find his window of opportunity on when he should strike. He could hear the viewers’ vicious barbs against him. How he had cheated death for the final time, and he had outlived their amusement. He seldom heard the very faint cheers from his very few admirers. He wasn’t there for their entertainment. He was there to complete a task to save his friend Azrak’s life.
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The moktar made its move on a killing stroke to the right. Sinbad quickly dodged the slash and rolled aside. The beast turned around and saw Sinbad getting back to his feet. It stampeded toward the sailor again, but this time Sinbad made his attack. While the moktar jumped over him, Sinbad came at it like a charging bull. His head was down, his scimitar low for the disemboweling thrust. The moktar sprang to meet him, and all the outlander’s strength went into the arm that swung the sword. The outlander moved in a blur of blinding speed. In a whistling arc the great blade flashed through the air and sliced through the monster’s flesh. The blade scratched through the flesh like it was butter. Blood squirted through the large laceration on the moktar’s hind leg, while it let out an awful wail.
The monster was dazed. It limped over to its right side, trying to find some support. But it wouldn’t go down without a fight. Blood was in the moktar’s eyes now. All it wanted was to impale its aggressor on its one good horn. With all its strength and fury, the moktar began its counterstrike.
Sinbad felt his blood freeze as he looked at the horror that seemed to be staring directly into his eyes. Involuntarily he recoiled, while Sinbad thrust his head truculently forward, till his jaws almost tended the surface, growling. It was some sort of threat or defiance in his own native tongue.
Sinbad found an opening and leapt upward into the air to