by Maia Tanith
I shrug. Not finding any sign of Delia or Faye has destroyed my confidence. I had been so hopeful of finding one of them. “What can I do? If I’m faced with one of those lizard men, we both know I won’t make it.” My voice comes out small. I feel defeated, and we haven’t yet set foot in the games.
“You’ll survive by staying close to me. You can’t fight. One look at you and I could see that. They will see it, too. But you must have other attributes? Can you hide? Can you run?” His voice is clipped. I can hear doubt in his tone.
“I can run,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I did run track. In elementary school. For one semester. When I was nine. I can’t remember the last time I ran as an adult. Except to pull something out of the oven that was burning, last time I tried to cook dinner for myself with a recipe that included more than three ingredients.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. His raised eyebrows and folded arms say everything.
“Fine,” I huff. “I’ll show you.” I take off at a sprint to the end of the field. This is great! My legs pump hard on the ground and my arms swing. I am gaining speed. I feel like I could lift off the ground and fly.
Running feels surprisingly good. Why haven’t I done more of this?
I feel free and fast. Taark is going to have his mind officially blown. I am the little kit who can run. He might be part cat, but I am part leopard.
Then suddenly it isn’t so easy to breathe. My legs are slowing. There is a burning in my chest and each step I take adds ten pounds to my heavy legs. The end of the field still looks just as far away. The only thing that keeps me going to the end of the field is my pride.
I touch the wall triumphantly, then bend over double, panting hard. Okay, so this is why I don’t run. My lungs are on fire. So are my legs. I feel like I am going to puke.
I force my breathing to slow. I am going to jog slowly back to Taark and pretend that I didn’t just nearly pass out from this run.
We can practice hiding next. We can play hide and seek. Then I can find a nice hidey hole and rest in the sun for the remainder of our training session.
I am bent over with my arms on my knees as these thoughts go through my head when a loud rumbling noise starts. Through the gap between my legs, I can see an upside-down Taark frowning at me from the other side of the field. As I watch, still too out of breath to stand up properly, he turns his head, then jumps to his feet.
Crap. What was that?
I push my head up and turn around. Now I can see Taark the right way up. He is facing away from me, towards one side of the training pit. Towards a large grate in the wall that is now rising.
My heart starts beating even faster. Not from my lack of fitness this time. From fear.
There are figures coming out of the rising gate. Big figures. Not what I was expecting at all. When each of the lizard men trained, he had the entire arena to himself.
Having company during our training session is an unpleasant surprise.
I squint at the approaching figures. They are claw-men. Like Taark. But even bigger.
And they don’t look friendly.
Taark said to stay close to him to stay safe. I look at him and then at the figures who are slowly advancing on him.
By the time I could run back to him, they could cut us off from each other. I don’t know what they want, but it doesn’t look like it is to make friends.
They haven’t seen me yet. I look around the barren pit for somewhere to go. The ground is mostly flat, and there are a few tussocky grasses, dirt, and tiny, scrubby-looking bushes dotted around.
Far away from where I am standing are a few items that could be used as weapons. Chains, mostly, a small knife, and a couple of heavy bars. I wish I’d run that way. Then I could at least arm myself. Not that I’d know how to use any of the weapons. Still, a knife would be a whole lot better than my bare hands.
I can see from Taark’s stance that he, too, is worried. He hasn’t yet looked back at me. Either he’s forgotten about me, or he’s trying to not give away that I am here with him.
I know that he needs to keep me alive to survive the games. If someone wanted him to fail, all they would have to do is injure me beforehand. My chances of staying with Taark and staying alive will be slim indeed if I am sporting the wounds I’ve seen on the other girls.
The claw-men are very close to Tark now. It looks like they are talking, but I am too far away to hear anything but the faintest of murmurs.
All of the sudden, one of them takes a swing at Taark.
He dodges it.
Mostly.
I am sure I can see blood dripping from his shoulder.
These guys are not messing around.
I look around again frantically. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Is there anywhere to hide?
The walls of the arena are steep and rocky and I’ve never rock climbed in my life. But if I squint, it looks like there is a small ledge, high up on the wall, where the sun isn’t yet reaching. If I could get up there, without them seeing, I’d be hidden in the shadows. And too high for them to get to me.
With a little bit of luck, Taark can fight the others off until we are allowed back into the protection of our cell.
Safety beckons me. I reach up and grab hold of the wall, gripping tightly with my fingers. My feet scrabble to find a foothold, then my left big toe manages to grip onto a niche in the rock and I lift myself off the ground.
I can reach higher now, and my fingers search for a bump I can hold onto. My right hand grabs onto a small rock and I pull, but the rock is dislodged from the wall. It tumbles down the pitiful distance I’ve climbed, leaving a shower of dust.
I look behind me. No one has seen me yet. Taark is grappling with one of the claw-men while the others watch. They are fighting in earnest now. I reach my right arm up again, searching desperately for something that will take my weight. My fingers find a crack and reach in, and I pull myself painfully up. I’m gaining height, bit by bit. My fingers ache and my shoulders are shaking, but I daren’t stop. I can hear growls echoing through the pit now. I’m still only a few yards high, and the ledge looks so far. I reach up again, my fingers searching again for a grip.
Then, a deep growl. It’s close.
Way too close.
I glance down and my fingers nearly let go in fright. Underneath me is a claw-man. He is huge, huger than Taark. I’m not far above him. If he jumped, he could nearly reach me.
“The little monkey is climbing to freedom,” he says with a nasty sneer. “Aren’t you going to help your partner? You are just going to abandon him?”
I reach up again, find a handhold, and haul myself up higher. A few pieces of dirt dislodge and fall onto the claw-man’s face. He growls and rubs his eyes. “Keep climbing little monkey. You can’t get away. If you get to the top, they’ll just push you back in again. It’s a long way to fall from the top.”
I don’t care. If I can get to the ledge, he can’t get me. I’ll figure something out when I get there.
It’s clear to me that I can’t make it to the top, even if I could escape that way. I’m too tired already. I climb higher and don’t reply. My voice will shake, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing my fear.
“Come back down, little monkey,” he growls.
Like that is going to happen? I climb higher still. I can hear the pained growls of Taark and the other claw-man fighting still.
One of them gives a shriek of pain. I hope it’s not Taark. We can’t die now. Not here.
There is a louder growl and a thump as the claw man below me throws himself at the wall. His claws dig into the soft dirt.
For a second, I see his face as our eyes meet.
He knows he has won.
Then his claws slip. The soft dirt and loose rocks can’t hold his weight, and he tumbles down, his face a mixture of chagrin and fury.
A high-pitched giggle escapes me. It’s the panic laughing, not me.
He hea
rs my laugh, and rises from the dust, growling in anger again. He throws himself at the wall again, jumping higher. He swipes at me, but I am much higher now and his claws rake at empty air.
He grabs at the wall but again the soft dirt gives way. His claws rake the wall as he falls, leaving deep gouge marks.
The ledge is so close now. I am almost there. The sun doesn’t reach up here and all of my body is now in the shade. It will be hard for the others on the far side of the arena to see me, but thanks to my friend below, they’ll know I’m here now.
“Come down here, little monkey,” the claw-man calls, giving up his effort to climb up to me. “Don’t you want to see how your mate is faring? If he dies today, one of us will have you. So come down now and I won’t hurt you. Too much.”
The thought of being at his mercy spurs me on. My fingers are slippery with blood, but I have finally reached the ledge. I grit my teeth through the pain and pull myself onto it. There is barely enough room for me to sit, and it’s not comfortable. But I am high enough to be out of reach. I lean back against the rock wall, breathing heavily.
“Why don’t you come up here instead?” I call down. “It’s an easy climb.” My stupid mouth. I’m going to make him angrier. Still, I’ve always had an issue with speaking before thinking. Of course that’s not going to stop now, just because I’m in grave danger.
My arms are shaking with fatigue and my hands sting like a bitch. I look ruefully down at my hands. I definitely need a new manicure. After that effort, my fingernails are ragged and broken and there are small cuts all over my fingers and palms. So much for finding a hidey hole and resting in the sun.
“I’m not a damn monkey,” he growls. “I’ll wait until your mate is dead or dying. You’ll have to come down eventually. And then I’ll have you.”
“Too scared to face him, are you?” I taunt. There’s nothing like being out of reach of his teeth and claws to give me confidence. “You’ll let your friends do all the hard work while you cower out of the way, like the cowardly little sneak you are.”
My words hit a sore spot. His face grows red and puffy and he hisses at me. Taark makes that hissing noise too, just after I’ve made him really mad. “They are no friends of mine,” he says, and he spits on the ground. “In here it’s every man for himself. If they want to fight, good for them. I have other things on my mind.”
Like catching me. And then raping me, or worse. The face of the woman cut up by the lizard man haunts me. The talons of sneaky claw-man on the ground below me are just as sharp as any lizard-man talons. Lucky for me, they are useless for climbing, while my monkey fingers can easily find handholds in the crumbling rock.
On the other side of the arena, one claw-man is on the ground. It’s hard, through the dust, to make out who it is. I can’t stay up here forever. But I don’t like my chances of getting back to the safety of my cell in one piece if Taark isn’t with me.
The story of David and Goliath suddenly comes to me. Maybe I can be a new David. I pick a small rock free and throw it at the claw-man below me as hard as I can.
It bounces off his thick skull and he rubs at it with irritation, like a mosquito has bitten him.
Damn. So much for me being David and felling a monster with a pebble.
The claw-man refuses to give up. He paces up and down for a while and then comes and stands right underneath me. “Come on down, little monkey,” he croons up at me. “I’m sorry I scared you. Come on down and rest. You must be tired, climbing all that way.”
He’s trying a new tactic, luring me with sweet words and fake sympathy. Does he not realize how transparent he is? A toddler could see right through his feeble attempts to get me into his power. His sugar-coated voice sounds even more menacing than his growls do.
I look down and meet his eyes. They look wild and crazed, as if he is not quite in control.
I dig out another, larger rock and throw it down at him. It glances harmlessly off his shoulder. There is no way in heck I am climbing down to that thing right now.
All of a sudden, a blurry shape appears out of nowhere and launches at the claw-man. He goes flying into the ground, and the blurry shape is on top of him. They are fighting, grappling and rolling over and over each other in the dirt.
It must be Taark. He has come to my rescue.
I let out the breath that I have been holding. We may have reached a tentative peace between us, but I admit to myself that I hadn’t been sure, not truly sure, that he would come to my aid.
The two figures hold still for a moment. Taark is on top, pinning the other claw-man down. I squint. His talons are against the throat of the other claw-man. He presses down slightly, and a trickle of blood oozes down the claw-man’s neck.
“Peace, brother,” the claw-man wheezes. “I was just having some fun. No harm has come to your little monkey friend.”
“And no harm will come to her,” Taark growls. “You so much as look her way again, and it won’t be a small scratch that I leave on your throat.”
The claw-man knows he’s lost. He mutters a sullen agreement and Taark steps back.
Oh come on, I want to say. Give him something more than a warning, will you. He frightened the crap out of me. Where’s this nobleness coming from all of a sudden?
The claw-man climbs to his feet and starts to back slowly away, as if he dare not take his eyes off Taark.
Taark is still as stone as he watches him slink away, defeated. Then, when the claw-man is almost out of reach, Taark reaches out his arm almost too fast to see and swings.
The claw-man goes down like a sack of potatoes. He doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch. It looks like Taark has killed him.
I feel sick to the stomach. I’ve never seen violent death before. I saw my grandmother when she died, at the open casket funeral. I was in high school. She’d been done up in makeup and was wearing her favorite dress, and she looked like she was sleeping. She smelled a bit funny, not like her usual aroma of lavender oil. I was sad at the time, but it wasn’t a shock. It was peaceful death, not violent. Not like seeing this huge man drop like a rock.
Taark turned and looked up at me. “You can come down now. He’s going to be out to it for a while.”
“Did—did you kill him?” I stutter back.
“Not yet.” Taark spits onto the dirt. “That’s his warning.”
I’m relieved. I hate that claw-man already, but I’m not a warrior. I don’t want to see people die around me. I crawl to the edge of the ledge and look down. Now that my adrenalin has subsided, the climb I did before looks impossible.
“Uh—any chance I could jump and you could catch me?” I call out to Taark.
He almost laughs. “You got yourself up there. You can get yourself down.”
I curse under my breath at him. Then I delicately lower myself off the ledge, scrabbling for footholds as I climb down. I make it down about halfway before my foot slips. My fingers desperately clutch at the loose dirt but I’m sliding, then falling, then with a hard thump I land on my back.
The wind is knocked out of me. I better not have just broken my back, after all that. I wheeze and cough and roll onto my stomach. Okay, good, I can still move. The fall hurt though.
I push up to my knees, still wheezing. Taark is a few yards away, watching me with his arms crossed. He looks a little worse for wear. The bruises from the guard the other day have turned bright blue and purple. He’s going to have fresh bruises to add to the mix. There’s a cut on his shoulder that’s oozing dark red blood.
I finally catch my breath and push myself up to standing. “Thanks for the help,” I say.
“You’re welcome. He won’t bother you again.”
I think he’s missed my sarcasm. I’d meant thanks for not helping me climb down, watching me fall and get the wind knocked out of me, and then watching me struggle to stand up, but okay. Maybe they don’t have sarcasm on this planet.
Taark takes off in long loping strides back to the side of the arena we’d
started at. I’m well done with training. As much as being outside has been great, I want the safety of my cell. This whole exercise has been a waste. I haven’t seen any of the other women, I’m tired, sore all over, my fingertips are shredded from the climb and I’ve discovered I suck at running.
It’s going to take more than a few days out here in this god-awful dirt pit to make me ready for the games.
Taark
The kit climbed a vertical wall of crumbling rock. She’d made a pathetic attempt at showing me that she could run. I could have run that length three times over in the time it took her to do it. But then she’d hauled herself almost ten yards up a sheer wall using only her little weak hands.
The man I’d knocked out had been calling her little monkey. It was fitting. Her little monkey fingers had no claws, but they were strong enough to hold her tiny weight.
I look down at my claws. I could have climbed with these, if I’d not been captive and half starved for so long. My claws were weak. The claw-man who’d tried to get to the kit must have been captive for a while too. But even at their strongest, my claws could only hold my weight for so long. I might have made it to the ledge she’d been sitting without ripping out a claw, but it would have been close.
This could be helpful. In the games, if she can get out of the way, I won’t have to worry about her. I can protect myself. And she can come down once it is over. Maybe, maybe, we will last through the games.
I shake my head. No, I might as well resign myself to the fact that we probably won’t make it. She probably won’t make it.
Then why am I protecting her now? The little voice in my head is unwanted, but hard to quiet. If I think she will die, why am I already risking myself for her? If she doesn’t matter, why did I rush to her aid?
Which reminds me, the cut in my shoulder is throbbing. It needs to be cleaned. Rolling around in the dirt with an open wound is not going to help with healing. If it gets infected, my shoulder will be almost useless for the Games, and that is not something that I want to risk.
I’m so deep in thought I don’t hear Hannah until she steps in front of me, her hands on her hips.