Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Jacaranda

W hen the drums began, the fighters had just finished getting oiled up and dressed in brown loin leathers and sandals. There were forty-one of us, varying in race and size. Some of the fighters were Ladrians like me—well, taller than me. I was closer to the height of a couple Gorrks, but they had not been very friendly, a rarity in my experience. It was bizarre to watch the girls try to oil them up—the Gorrk’s gelatinous bodies were already shiny. But they had fun trying.

A pair of Doxudes kept a distance between themselves, glaring at one another occasionally. No one knew the source of their enmity and everyone but the girls kept their distance from them. Their shiny black scales glimmered in the low light of the oil room, but their solid black eyes looked lifeless. I had never been comfortable with Doxudes—I tried not to judge, but their snake-like appearance had always put me off of them. Without legs, they moved like animated liquid with arms and no legs. Doxudes were unpleasant at the best of times.

This was clearly not the best of times. Thank the gods that I had stepped in and taken Sarah’s place for her.

A few of the fighters were Ladrian women, and they were given loin leathers and strips of leather to cover their breasts, as well. They had also been in the baths, being treated like kings by the naked servant girls. They ate up the attention and sex just as much as the men had.

When I asked questions, I’d get one or two words out of the other fighters. It was odd—I had been in similar situations before, paid fights, war—but it was never so grim. There was always at least one chatty guy in the mix at my prior fights. I couldn’t figure out why these men were so cold.

While we waited for the battles to begin, I had sized up my competitors, unsure who was to fight who in the arena. None of us knew. The matches were decided at the last minute, based on the choosing of Jason Vestig, Helios’ brother, as we gathered in the tunnel near the entry to the fighting pit.

The corridor had a dirt floor and barred windows so we could see the arena, and splinter-lined wooden benches opposite each other on both walls. At the end of the tunnel, an equally shabby wooden door would release us into the arena. There was no light, save for what poured in through the barred windows.

Outside, thousands of people had gathered to watch us beat each other senseless. I wasn’t opposed to such things, but the shouts and cheers of the crowd seemed to be a lot of excitement for twenty fights, give or take. Perhaps this is all the fun ghosts can have. Who am I to judge? A large gate sat at the far side of the arena, and I assumed it must be for carriages for more elaborate battles.

Scanning the fighting pit, I noted the weapons and flags displayed on the walls. My eyes focused on a gleaming axe that caught the suns’ light near the exit of the tunnel. That blade—it’s not dull or wooden. I studied the other nearby weapons and my heart galloped in my chest. These are not exhibition weapons.

These are meant to kill.

Fuck. Ice shot through my veins, danced up my spine, and threatened to take over. This can’t be happening. One of the girls came by with a banwine sack, sharing it with the fighters. She was taller than me, with tan skin and gray hair. Her shine was almost invisible in the tunnel—the light was so low, it was hard to see anyone’s. Rounded like the other servant girls, she had a sweet smile and kind brown eyes.

When she got to me, I asked, “These fights—how do they usually go?”

She smiled at me, like I was a lost child. “Whatever do you mean?”

“The fights, they’re deadly?”

She giggled. “Well of course, silly.”

“Is that the intent of them?” I asked, hating the twisting in my gut but needing to know exactly what I was about to face. “We fight to the death?”

She blinked at me guilelessly. “How else would you win a fight?”

My head tipped back, smacking into the stone wall behind me. This is why they’re all so quiet. No one wants to get to know the guy they might have to kill.

She crouched between my feet, reaching beneath the bench under me, and produced a fresh bottle of banwine. “Here. You could use something stronger to drink. With an attitude like yours, you might as well have a taste of something good before you die.”

“Thanks,” I said flatly, before I chugged some of the bottle down. “That is quite good. Thank you…?”

“Call me Grace.”

“I appreciate your kindness, Grace.”

She smiled at me. “If the moon takes pity on you, the battle will be fast and swift. Pray for her pity, and for not fighting Demophon.” She nodded toward the biggest Ladrian in any room, before she walked to the next fighter, reserving the good bottle for those who seemed to be in need of an extra boost of courage.

Of all those in the tunnel, the big guy worried me the most. At well over eight feet tall, he would have made Deacon look small and that was saying something. But it wasn’t his size that worried me. He had the grizzled look of a man who had murdered for fun many times. Scars and tattoos marked his boulder-like muscles in equal measure. I imagined the ground shook when he stepped.

Jason strolled into the middle of the tunnel, his golden cape swishing behind his shoulders. Short, nasally, and instantly annoying, he said, “Alright, fighters. Attention. The drums will stop playing when Rex drops the black flag from his tower box. When that happens, the first group of eight will go, and when they are down to the last member, he will be collected and the next group of eight will go. Once that cycle has completed, our five champions will be presented to Rex Terian—be grateful he has deigned to meet you lowly scum—and if he is impressed with your performance, he may select one of you to bed. All champions will be given a champion’s purse, as well. I—”

Grace whispered something to Jason, getting his attention as she gestured to me.

Shit. That’s not good.

“Forty- one ?” he groused. “Who approved this?”

No one answered.

He stepped in front of me and barked, “Who allowed you to join this rabble?”

“Helios Vestig,” I replied.

Anger simmered on his face, before he could stop himself. His voice seethed with contempt, and I wasn’t sure if it was for me or for his brother. “Fine. You’ll go first.”

After that news, I didn’t hear much else. Then I realized the drums had stopped.

“Line up, when I point to you,” Jason announced. “Find your preferred weapons. When the black flag drops from the tower, begin the slaughter. If any of you begin before the black flag starts to fall, you will be executed on the spot. You don’t want to know how we do that.”

I was the first he pointed to, so I walked to the door, preparing to face the inevitable battle. Eight others lined up behind me—a woman, three men, two Gorrks, and the two Doxude, making me the underdog of the group. Fantastic . I was not a faithful man, but I found myself thinking the moon’s prayer as the door opened.

Suns’ light blinded me when I stepped through. The roar of the crowd filled the arena, deafening me. I needed a moment to make my senses work again, but the eight behind me were eager to get on with things and pushed past me.

The hulk of a woman teased me, “Look alive, before I kill you. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I had it easy in here.”

“Don’t worry, they won’t,” a Doxude said as he grabbed a spear from the wall.

The others made their selections from the nearby weapons, not paying attention to any that were farther away on the walls of the fighting pit. I spotted my target and ran toward it. The crowd thought I was running away, and started to chant, “Coward!”

Seeing me draw the executioner’s axe, some laughed. A heckler shouted, “You’re too short!”

I’ve heard that all my fucking life.

The axe was nearly my own height, so I understood his doubt. Most my height could not wield it effectively. But they hadn’t spent a childhood lifting weights until they needed their uniforms altered for their shoulders and thighs. They hadn’t volunteered for every suicide mission just to prove a point.

Tucking it under my arm, I turned to face the other fighters. The group was far away, save for one of the Doxude. He slithered toward me, spear in hand. I looked to the tall gray tower, waiting for the pinned black flag to drop. The Doxude did not.

He came at me, full speed, reared back, and threw the spear toward my chest. I side-stepped it and did not retaliate, for fear of Jason’s warning. The Doxude barreled toward me for another beat, before a skentha charged into the fighting pit. It scooped him up in its massive jaw, tipping its head back to make more of his body fall in. After the skentha swallowed all of him, the beast ran back to the large gate to be praised by its trainer.

That was…bracing. One down. Seven to go.

The black flag finally dropped from the tower, and the crowd went mad with bloodlust. In that moment, everything seemed to slow down. Not the fights, but my breaths. My feet. My heart. I was suddenly lightheaded, almost like the first time I tried pot on Earth, except I couldn’t speak. I tried, but nothing came except for a hoarse whisper.

I checked my hands for poison on the axe handle, but there was none. The rest of the fighters looked unfettered, save for one Ladrian man and a Gorrk. The three of us caught each other’s eyes across the fighting pit, and it was as though we knew we were fucked.

It had to be Grace’s wine. I wondered if she knew she had poisoned us. But in the moment, it didn’t matter. The poisoned Gorrk was netted by the woman, and she pounced on him as he struggled to get free of her snare. She knew how to kill him. Stabbing at his eyes with her dagger, he was dead in seconds.

The other poisoning victim was run through by a pike, then beheaded by Demophon.

Three down. Five to go.

As I tried to move, the other Doxude came my way. He carried a scimitar, more common to the poor of his race. The wealthy Doxude liked their hand cannons that were illegal for the poor to own.

I tried to move, but my body was heavy and slow, the opposite of my foe. He was on me in seconds and as he swung his scimitar, I thrust my executioner’s axe as best I could, but the weight of it knocked me backward. Mid-fall, my blade met his arm instead of his neck, slicing straight through his upper arm and wedging into his ribs.

The limb fell to the ground next to me and with it, the scimitar. The Doxude hissed at me, green blood spraying from the stump. I grabbed the scimitar, stood, and beheaded him.

The crowd became unhinged as I pulled my axe from the Doxude’s ribs. They had assumed I was dead and proving them wrong brought them to my side.

They chanted, “Exe-cutioner!”

Four and four.

I looked up hearing another on the approach. My speed was still taken from me, so I hoped my opponent was slow. A Ladrian man with a serrated sword. He had the look of a classed fool who thought he could make a name for himself in the pit. His hair was too perfect, along with his teeth and skin. He looked terrified. Has he ever been in a real fight in his life? Or did he think his master-at-arms had trained him well enough for this?

Behind him, the woman had fallen.

Three to go.

He swung at me. I used the blade to block and hook against his sword, yanking it down. Once he couldn’t use the sword, I punched him in the face as many times as I could until he stumbled backward, dropping his sword. He fell onto his ass and begged, “Please stop!”

I still couldn’t speak, but his sad begging stopped me in my tracks. Him or me. Him or me. Him or me. I lifted my axe, as he cried, “Please don’t kill me!”

An old voice croaked in my head, “There are no feelings in a fight. Only survival. Live, Cozz.”

I steeled myself for what I had to do. Suddenly, he grabbed a dagger from his loin leather and lunged for my leg. Then his head had grown a spear. He flopped back, dead. I looked up and saw the last standing fighter. It was Demophon. The other Ladrian man was dead, next to a Gorrk.

One to go.

The massive man ran toward me, as I tugged the spear from the beggar’s head. I threw the spear with all my might, but Demophon easily ducked it and leapt at me, sword first. I dodged the thrust, spun into his body so he was behind me, then jumped and whipped my head backward against his nose. It crackled loudly. He staggered back for only a moment. When I turned around, blood poured down the front of him.

He laughed. “Neat trick. You thought by running away, we’d leave you alone. You’re a coward, whoever you are. That’s why I saved you for the last. It wouldn’t have done for me to kill you at the start, because now, I’ve earned my place at Rex’s table and for my appetizer, I’ll eat your fear.”

My voice refused to come to me. But at least I could move. Demophon began to circle, so I moved opposite him.

“Nothing to say? I knew you were a coward the moment I laid eyes on you. All little men are cowards. Even those as muscled as you.” He thrust toward my torso again, I side-stepped. His preferred move. He assumed his long arms and strength would be enough to get by in this fight.

He’s never trained on a sword. Why would he choose it?

“I heard from the others you’re united.” He laughed again. “I’ll make merry sport with your consort when you’re dead.”

Another thrust and side-step, but this time, he ran forward on it, trying to intimidate me. As he ran by, he pushed me over the beggar’s corpse and I fell—I couldn’t dodge his mass, I was still too slow.

He stood over me, sword raised. “Any words for your widow?”

I dug around in the dirt behind me while I met his gaze. Since I still couldn’t seem to speak, I shook my head.

“A silent coward is better than that begging one. Perhaps you’re not as pathetic as I thought. I will tell your widow she had united well. Tonight when I’m inside her and she screams my name, I’ll remind her to scream yours, too—”

I thrust the beggar’s dagger into Demophon’s gut and dragged it across him, spilling his belly. He tried to bring his sword down, but his strength failed, and the sword fell to the ground behind me. I pushed him away, sweating, gasping for breath, praying the poison Grace had given me wasn’t deadly.

The crowd fell silent for a flash, before the voices of thousands shouted in cheers. Clothed servant girls came to collect me and rushed me back to the bathhouse. Giggling and groping, they were more interested in me this time. I was a champion. But I was also angry. Someone had tried to cost me my life. The steam had loosened my throat enough that I could growl, “ Leave .”

One of the girl’s eyes widened. “But we’re—”

“Now!” I roared at them.

They scurried away.

In their absence, I rested in the hot tub. Steam filled the bathhouse. I cleaned myself and tried to make sense of anything that had just happened. It was quiet—as quiet as a bathhouse beneath a full arena could be—and the solitude was good for me to get my head back on straight and my wits about me.

After my bath, I grabbed a towel and heard, “May I come in?”

Grace.

I glared at her. “Are you going to try to kill me again?”

“No,” she said in a soft voice.

“Then you may enter,” I said begrudgingly.

She was dressed this time and her head hung low. “I am to take you to Rex.”

I dried off with the towel. “You knew you poisoned me, right?”

She nodded once. “And you survived.”

“Will the poison kill me?” I demanded to know.

“No. It will wear away with time.”

“Do you feel any guilt for what you did to me?” I asked angrily as I wrapped the towel around my hips. “To the fighters who died because you poisoned them?”

She half-shrugged, while unabashedly eyeing my broad, muscular chest. “I selected those who were not going to survive the fight. Better a quick death, no?”

My gaze narrowed. “You were being merciful?”

She lifted her chin and met my eyes. “I am allowed few mercies in this place. I take the chance when I can.”

“I did not appreciate your so-called mercy.” Still furious about it, I couldn’t accept what she thought of as a kindness, considering it had nearly gotten me murdered. But a moral debate felt useless in the bathhouse. “Take me to him.”

After I dressed, Grace led me through the labyrinthine tunnels and stairwells of the arena, until we reached the door to the tower box. Quietly, she said, “Be respectful and you may live.”

I bared my teeth at her. “Be gone before I get my speed back and you may live.”

She held the door open, and I walked through. The room was enormous, and the far wall was missing—which was a balcony to see the fights. On the right, a kitchen staffed by several servants. On the left, Rex Terian and… my consort ?

I gasped in shock at seeing her there with him. “Sarah?” What had I missed?

She looked blissfully happy getting a shoulder massage from a strapping servant while another fed her grapes. When she saw me, she grinned and popped out of her seat to run to me for a kiss. I tasted whickler on her lips. No wonder she was so relaxed. She was drunk. Under the influence of alcohol, and even more disconcerting, under the influence of Rex Terian.

She beamed up at me. “I’m so proud of you. You were amazing. I had no idea you could fight like that.”

Worry trickled through me and I framed her jaw in my hands, searching her face for signs of any harm, but only found eyes glazed with intoxication. “Are you okay?” I asked gruffly.

“I’m much better now that you’re safe.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a ghost of a man. “Come meet Rex.”

“ Meet me?” Rex asked with a lascivious grin. “We’ve already met.”

“Oh?” Sarah asked brightly, as she sat back in her seat and her servants resumed their work of massaging her shoulders and feeding her fruit. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Stellar performance in the arena, Jac,” Rex said, and clapped for me. “We should host you here more often.”

“Perhaps you should fight in the pit yourself, Rex,” I countered, still more than a little pissed off after everything that had transpired. “Try your luck.”

His dark eyes focused on me as he searched my body, making me very uncomfortable beneath his perusal. “There are so many other things in this life that I would like to try. Stay the night on my estate. Sarah says she will only agree to it if her companions will join her.”

She smiled up at me, hope in her pretty brown eyes. “Say yes.”

“I will, on one condition.” I turned back to Rex. “You will take Leda back into your service and she is no longer tied to Sarah. And you will double her pay.” I would not give him something without getting the thing we came for.

He gave me a smile I did not trust one bit. “Done.”

“Then, yes,” I said, already knowing I was going to regret those words.