The hot wind flowed over the edge of a
vast arena. The cheers and jeers of gods
and goddesses beat like drums in the
distance.
To Jonna’s right, the Shade of Death stood
erect, his scythe at ease across his shoulder.
To Jonna’s left, Ryujin, the Guardian of Dead,
held an oriental curved dagger in his left
hand. At an equal distance, the three formed
a triangle in the center of the vast sandy
field. The wind stirred the dust in small
swirls. It reminded Jonna of the tornado that
had torn up the land of Amna Os Carra when
he and Aruka, the woman/deer shapechanger,
had escaped. Of course, the land of
Amna Os Carra seemed so long ago.
The announcer’s voice reverberated across
the structure. “And now, for your
entertainment pleasure, Jonna McCambel,
a.k.a. Xun Ove, will face down death itself!”
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