Eighth Circle

Crispin sat in the royal box overlooking the arena. He had no enthusiasm for the place but had no choice. Like all members of the royal family, he was required to be there when the gladiatorial games were in progress. Their presence was designed to add dignity to the carnage taking place in the arena below.

As usual, his mother opened the games. She read a speech, written in the chancellor's office. It began with praise for the martial spirit and ended with a set piece.

"May the best team win."

That was obscene. Surrogates did the fighting. The guardians bred monsters and armed them with weird weapons for the sheer pleasure of seeing them kill one another. And it didn't stop there. They took part in the battles. From the comfort of their jars, three-hundred-year-old guardians sliced off heads, impaled bodies, gouged out eyes and chopped up limbs.

Crispin peered down at the cubicle where the professor and Balduur were attempting to direct the pink team. Usually, ancient guardians competed against ancient guardians. This time it was ancient guardians against the newcomers and the outcome was inevitable.

There was no way the professor could win. His side would make the odd kill. That was inevitable. With so much hacking and slashing no one was entirely safe. Top warriors could receive mortal wounds from mindless hulks. But top warriors always got the upper hand.

He noticed that the main casualties, on the blue side, were caused by elves hurling firebombs indiscriminately. The vampire bats were colour blind and the palace trolls aimed their poison arrows at blue regardless of which side they were on.

The pink team fought furiously but ineffectively and was forced against the wall of the arena and butchered. A gong sounded. The blue team withdrew and the vampire bats swooped down and took advantage of the carnage. Crispin glanced across to the royal throne.

His mother sat there. She had endured the performance with her eyes shut and ears muffled. One of her ladies-in-waiting removed the muffle and nudged her into life. She rose and reached for a microphone.

"I congratulate the winners and thank the losers for putting up such a splendid fight. It is this sort of spirit that will see our gallant nation through the many adversities that currently face us ..."

She embarked on her standard speech and Crispin returned his attention to the arena where palace trolls, in bloodstained tunics, were fighting the vampire bats and doing their best to clean up the mess. The chancellor described their task as a necessary and salutary undertaking that would warn them and others of the perils awaiting those who developed attitudes that were incompatible with their lowly station in life.