by RJ Metcalf
“What the—” Carlo’s voice broke the monotony. He stopped to reach out and touch the wall. Awe broke across his dirt-streaked face, and he looked back over his shoulder, peering down the long tunnel. He motioned to Liam and Raine and pointed. “Is that what it looks like?”
Raine set her pickaxe down to lean against the wall, grateful to let her burning muscles have a brief break. Her fingers felt close to cramping and she worked to stretch them as she carefully stepped over the rubble to see what had Carlo so excited. He knelt and pressed his face against the wall, then scooted back to let Raine see.
A hole. He’d broken a hole in the solid-rock wall. Raine’s tired brain didn’t process the significance at first, then she caught on to their excitement. A hole meant an opening on the other side. Possibly another tunnel from the mine, but no one had hinted that was likely, and she doubted the men would be this excited over hitting another man-made tunnel. Liam glanced back, and this time she realized he was checking for guards.
Liam gestured at Carlo. “Let’s break it down.”
The two started swinging with a renewed fervor that she joined in. If this was a way out, if they could somehow escape, and it was this quick, this easy …
Her axe broke through a section next, and Liam stumbled forward as his axe shattered a top section of the wall. Simon’s and Jeff’s shovels danced underfoot around them, sweeping back the rubble as fast as Raine and the men were dropping it. Darkness stretched on ahead, and Raine’s plus quickened. It didn’t look man made. Uneven walls that seemed naturally rounded. Stale, yet fresher than the grit-ridden air they’d been breathing.
Carlo didn’t bother clearing up the last half of the wall and leapt over it, axe in hand, not looking back. Liam vaulted over a moment later. They took off, the light from their headlamps bouncing a warm glow on rocky walls, a cluster of mushrooms, the gauzy wisps of long-gone spider web.
Raine wasted no time scrambling over the debris, Simon, Jeff, and Payton just behind her. They took off after Carlo and Liam.
Liam yelped up ahead, his voice a pitch higher than she’d previously heard him use. “What the—”
Raine’s headlamp caught another flash of web that stretched from ceiling to half the width of the tunnel. A broken white sack the size of a human head hung in the silky strands. She slowed her breakneck pace and checked the web again, making sure she actually saw it correctly. If the web was that big, then how big was the spider?
Carlo swore with vivid creativity up ahead. Something chittered in the dark, and Raine took a step back and raised her axe, wishing for her sword. A sound of what she could only imagine was armored little feet clattered, and then fire whooshed to life ahead of her, blinding her in the sudden brightness. Carlo and Liam screamed in tandem.
“Whales, whales, whales!” Simon swore. He grabbed Raine’s hand and tugged her back. “Dragon spider!”
Horror spread through her gut like ice as the two men’s shrieks crescendoed. Even with her eyes closed, the fire flared bright. She raised a hand against the light, trying to blink the spots in her vision away to see.
A spider with a body the size of a large dog scrambled toward her, spindly legs with heavy chitin, creating the noise that she already knew would haunt her nightmares for years to come. If she had years to come. Huge pincers clacked and its mouth opened, revealing dagger-sharp teeth. It rasped at her, a breathy gasp that sent shivers down her spine at the near-human sound of it.
The skittering sound of a dozen more little feet filled the tunnel. She shrieked and tried to race past Simon. Her boot caught on a rock, and she sprawled across the cave ground. Coppery blood filled her mouth, and she flipped over to see the spider through the shaking light of her headlamp. She scooted back, panic freezing her own scream in her lungs.
Simon shouted from her side and heaved a rock at the huge arachnid. Jeff chucked a stone the size of his head at the creature. The rock hit its eyes and it squealed. Its legs flailed and mandibles clacked, whether in pain or in a threat, she wasn’t going to stick around to find out. Simon grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet.
She scrambled over the half-knocked wall. “Come on!”
Simon and Jeff followed her, stopping just long enough to arm themselves with their shovels, then they raced down to the beginning of their tunnel. They reached the section where the overhead lights were working, yet they didn’t slow their pace. Carlo and Liam’s screams had died away. Her stomach tightened. Don’t think of them. Don’t think of that. Not yet.
She glanced back. “Where did Payton go?”
“I think he fell back there,” Jeff panted. “One moment he was there, then he wasn’t.”
“That’s not the way I want out of here,” Simon gasped out. He started waving his arms, shovel still in hand. “Guards, guards!”
Two men in the beige Hollows uniforms came within view, and relief eased her tight lungs at the sight of swords in their hands. Good. If the dragon spiders were to follow them, they’d find no easy meals here.
“What’s the problem?” A guard barked out when Raine and the other two didn’t show signs of slowing.
“Dragon spiders, sir.” Jeff panted, pointing the way they’d come from. “They took three of us, and we have no weapons against them.”
The guard’s eyes widened, and he immediately stopped where he was in the hallway, sword ready. “Get past us and get help. We’ll make sure they don’t get further in.”
“Yes, sir!” Jeff called out as the guards stepped aside for them.
Raine focused on running, biting back despair. While that exit could possibly work for escape, it was out of the possibility for her unless she was properly armed for it, and willing to quite possibly die a horrible death.
She’d have to find a different way out.
* * *
“They’ll have it closed off by tomorrow,” Artemis stated as her warm hand pressed against Raine’s back, stretching the skin a bit more.
Raine closed her eyes and breathed through the sting of the tattoo machine as it rapped out the line art of her chosen design. A phoenix rising. Her tribute to Finn. She’d been knocked down, being sent here. But she wasn’t going to stay down. She’d rise above. The needles hit over a tender spot and Raine grit her teeth, holding in a gasp of surprised agony. For however long she was trapped here in the Hollows, she’d get the art done, bit by bit. But she wouldn’t stop looking for an escape. She’d find her way out.
“What if more spiders move into the tunnels?” Raine forced out. Her hands flexed against the leather seat, and she gripped her opposing wrists. Artemis had warned her that it would take several hours, and Raine’s muscles ached desperately to stretch after yesterday’s tunnel incident and this morning’s work bent over scrubbing pots in the “kitchen.”
Artemis hummed and moved the needles lower on Raine’s back. “We’ll have guards in the tunnel until it’s fully cemented shut. Don’t worry, they don’t want all the workers to be killed off by creatures.”
That was simultaneously encouraging and not, but Raine didn’t have it in her to reply. She loosed a steady breath, focusing on staying still. Then a new thought occurred to her. “I haven’t heard. What other dangers are there in the tunnels that I should be aware of?”
“Dangers?” Artemis’s laugh tinkled merrily behind Raine. “Where to start? In general, there are cave-ins, poisonous gasses that can pool—you won’t know they’re there till it’s too late—black water—though that’s rare in a salt mine—and let’s not forget the scree slides, and—”
Artemis continued on, listing off the various ways that prisoners had died in the active mine. Raine’s gut twisted. She knew mining would be dangerous, but somehow she’d thought it would be the better of her options. Now she wasn’t so confident of that decision.
At long last, Artemis set the tattoo gun down. “This was a large section, let me heal you up a bit.”
Raine almost twisted in surprise, but the ache in her skin wouldn’t let h
er move. “How? I’m—” the words stuck in her throat, so unaccustomed to speaking the truth of her identity. “I’m Void Born. You can’t use a healing stone on me.”
Something goopy and cool touched Raine’s back, and she arched into the numbing relief. Artemis chuckled. “I can’t use a time-based healing stone, no. But I have a few things in my arsenal here that’ll take a few weeks of healing off.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “Just don’t mention it. Literally. I never use these for the guys, but for you, I’ll make the exception. Girls have to stick together and all.”
Whatever Artemis’s reasoning, Raine didn’t mind taking advantage of it. Already, the sensation of a sunburn with cat scratches was dying down. Artemis paused in the middle of her ministrations. “And I’ve been doing what I can to counter the rumors that are against you. I don’t know how many will listen, but I believe you didn’t purposefully take the barrier down.”
Some of the tension in Raine’s spine relaxed at Artemis’s words. Befriending the tattoo artist and gaining her as an ally was completely unexpected, but also an amazing blessing.
Artemis bandaged Raine’s back with deft hands, then helped Raine slip her shirt over the thick padding. “Come back tomorrow at breakfast, and I’ll change this and check on how it looks.”
“Thanks.” Raine slipped off the bench in the back of the medical bay and made her way out to the so-called mess hall. She’d missed out on the first part of the dinner, so whatever was left probably wasn’t going to be nearly as good as yesterday’s bland meal. Not that it mattered when her stomach was indecisive over hunger or the pang of pain-related nausea, but every morsel of food was jealously desired here. She’d force herself to eat no matter what.
At this hour in the day, many of the prisoners were tired from their long shift in the mines or up in saline production, so those men ignored her leaving Artemis’s medical station. But tonight was also a pit fight night, and the fighters for that hadn’t needed to work for the latter half of the day. Their eyes on her prickled her skin, as if they were wild animals, alert for any signs of weakness. She straightened her back as best she could, keeping the discomfort off her face. Nothing to see here. Move along.
A waving hand caught her attention, and Raine grudgingly angled toward Simon. He lifted a tray of food with an expression of someone far too pleased with himself. “I was able to get your dinner for you!” Simon’s glee knew no bounds. “I’ll have to pull some extra kitchen duty tomorrow, but that’s a small price to pay.” He dragged the chair next to him out for her and gestured grandly. “Sit.” He leaned back and got an eyeful of the thick padding under her shirt. “Ooh, what did you have done? And so soon. You just got here not that long ago, and you’re already embracing the life. I’m proud of you.”
Raine let his voice wash over her as she spooned the stew in her mouth. She blinked in pleasant surprise at the chunks of meat in it, then started devouring it with gusto. Was this her first meat dish since she’d arrived? She didn’t recognize the flavor, but right now, that didn’t matter to her sudden, ravenous hunger.
Simon laughed and crossed his arms, leaning an elbow on the table. “Someone’s hungry.”
“It’s good.” Raine muttered. She gave him a side glance. “And what I got is for me alone right now. It’s—” she swallowed hard against the unexpected tears that threatened to close her throat. “It’s a soundless farewell and a promise.”
Simon raised his eyebrow and swept his gaze over her, curiosity a tangible hunger in his eyes. “Well, we have quite the long future together, so I’ll wait for you to share more then.”
She snorted in her spoonful of soup. Did he realize how he sounded? She shook her head and scanned the room again.
A brawny man leaned against the far wall, arms crossed as he held his biscuit in his hand, clearly watching everyone else. He held himself with the graceful, tensed wariness of a fighter, but without any of the brutish vibe that she got from the others. His scrutiny drifted over her, and his eyes widened ever so slightly at meeting her gaze. He gave a bare nod of what she could only guess was respect, before he continued his passive scrutiny.
Simon choked next to her.
“Did Lynx just acknowledge you?” Simon asked, his voice hushed.
Raine tore her gaze away from the brunet stranger. “Looks like it.”
Simon ducked his head, as if he could hide between Raine and the man by the wall. “He’s dangerous, Raine. You saw him at the last pit fight. Didn’t you hear? He made it out of the lower pit and to the upper in just a day. He’s crazy strong.”
She knew he was strong; that she’d witnessed already. He had an elegant, well-trained fighting style that she knew would complement her own, as well as be a serious challenge to go against. That he was mute during his battles and didn’t talk to anyone only heightened the superstition around him.
She scraped her crust of bread through her bowl and tapped it against the rim, thinking. “Aside from a half day in the mines, and possibly getting a different level boss, there’s no other benefits for fighters?”
Simon dragged his chair to be closer to Raine, his elbow pressing against her leg. She tried to shift it, but the bar under the table prevented her from moving away. He gave her a fleeting grin. “Oh, that’s not all. General Titus sometimes grants the best fighters a probationary freedom to join a mercenary unit under his command.” He nodded past her at Lynx. “I’m betting that that’s what his goal is. He’s the first political prisoner to come in and willingly go into the pits, let alone rise to the top.”
“Anything else?”
Simon gave her an odd look. “Favored pit fighters can earn things that make life here easier. More clothing, a pillow, better water, things like that. And the top pit fighters are put on the ranking board for the sake of betting.” He pulled on his lower lip thoughtfully. “And it makes it easier for General Titus to know who he wants to keep an eye on for recruiting.”
Simon kept talking, but Raine tuned him out, considering her options.
She could keep working in the mines, a lone woman amongst a rotating team of men she didn’t trust, and with no guarantee of a guard being nearby to theoretically help her if any altercations came up, plus the dangers that Artemis had so helpfully listed out for her. Or she could risk it all in the pits and hopefully fight her way to the top, maybe even gaining some semblance of freedom. Perhaps she could even join Titus’s mercenary unit in time to fight in whatever upcoming war was bound to happen with the barrier down.
The tunnel they’d found the other day probably led to some cave on the side of the Arid Plains. But where exactly it’d lead to, if she’d be able to actually escape, was unknown. She had a tattoo on her arm, branding her as a prisoner of the Hollows. It’s not like she could just walk freely if she ever left. And that tunnel had dangers that she wouldn’t risk without a sword. And with it sealed shut, she’d have to swipe explosives from the guards and set them off without being discovered.
It would be a lot of luck to pull that off.
But if she could earn her freedom? In some twisted form of logic, it’d actually be safer to fight in the pits.
She stood, the chair scraping against the floor. Simon startled, splaying his hands wide on the tabletop. “Raine? What’s wrong?”
“Who do I talk to about the pits?” She fixed her stare on Lynx, though he wasn’t watching her.
Simon’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The pits?”
She looked down at Simon. “Who, Simon?”
He pointed to the guards standing by the large hallway of the mess, a deep frown carving through his face. “Any of them, but—”
“Thanks.” Raine pushed in her chair, heedless of the attention she was drawing to herself with her reckless moves. Whatever Artemis had done for her back made the sting of the fresh tattoo barely noticeable, which, coupled with the determination running through her veins meant she could put every ounce of remaining energy into walking with confidence—shou
lders straight, arms swinging, head held high.
The guards eyed her as she approached, and she met their looks of cold curiosity with a bold smirk. “I wish to join the pit fights.”
Chapter Seventeen
Brandon
A swirl of red separated gray and white on the two Lasim banners, and the following pair of standing flags blazed with Vodan’s bright orange-and-blue and green-and-pink. The emblems rippled, and the gold-lined edge of the Doldran flag came into view for just a second, before the silver and black of the Aerugan crest overtook it. Bards played stringed instruments in the palace hallway while several newspaper scribes watched and scribbled on their notepads. A flash of light announced someone taking a pictograph—one of the newest innovations Piovant came up with—and Brandon hurried into the summit meeting room behind King Rowan.
A doorman announced them with a ringing voice that Brandon flinched from. At least the man had gotten it right this time.
Rowan glanced at Brandon out of the corner of his eye, and a hint of teeth shone in his small smile. “Uncomfortable, Your Highness?”
Brandon grimaced and settled his hand over his ceremonially peace-bound sword hilt. He resisted the urge to actually grasp the handle. “Maybe a bit.”
The room already looked different than yesterday. Gone was the fresh white linen on the table, the varied entrees of food, and the silver-lined plates. A hint of citrus hung in the air, though Brandon couldn’t see any oranges or lemons in the room. Now it was almost austere, the gleaming wooden legs of the table visible on the outer edges with a transparent table top, and rows of chairs on the edges of the room faced in toward the leaders circle. The center of the table was hollowed out with a short path leading to it, allowing for anyone speaking to stand where they’d be the literal hub to the leaders at the main table. Silver goblets, sheaths of pristine paper, and ink wells with quill pens rested before each chair. Brandon spotted the Doldran crest on one stack of paper, and he encircled the table to stand there, staring down at the provisions for the leaders.