by Adria Eustis
“Nina.”
Her eyes searched for Lasiah, there he was, standing next to a teary Davie who gushed out words to his Bridget. Guess she'd just broken the news.
“Lasiah.” She nodded, joining him at the fence, half hoping he brought the same unexplainable euphoria as yesterday.
“I did not foresee you enlisting in the theatre. Those who do are brutal beings with victorious egos, or those who seek their deaths in the comfort of nature, rather than departing within this cage of grime.”
“I have a quest that I'm not about to give up on.”
Then she saw him again. Cain, with his hardened stare that seemed to lead no where, perhaps an invisible abyss that only he could see. He sat on his side of the bleachers, feet apart, elbows on knees. Even the way he cracked his knuckles was seductive. Like a stab in her chest, his gaze moved and locked on hers. Careful with those eyes, they could kill somebody. For a while nothing else mattered anymore, she held back the smile she wanted to give him. For all she knew, he was only thinking about snapping her neck. What kind of horrid thoughts run through the mind of someone like him?
“It may be, that we will run into one another out there.”
She turned her attention back to Lasiah, feeling somewhat assaulted by Cain's psyche.
He leaned in close and whispered, “I enlisted too. Let's make a pact, that you won't harm me.”
“I won't. But would you me?”
“I'd not lay a finger on anyone.”
“Then how'd you plan on scoring points?”
“I don't vie in sick games. But I know Eina guided me here for a reason, where ever here is. And I think I found that reason. Now I must follow it, and out there it goes.”
“Whatever it is. I hope you don't think it's me, because if I'm going home – I'm not going home through bravery or strength, I'm faking my way through.”
“We all have our parts to play,” Lasiah said.
“Lasiah.” His voice was like jagged silk, wrapped around a grenade and soaked in honey. Up close Cain was even more breathtaking. Blue eyes, soft pink lips, she had to concentrate on remembering to breathe. Every feature was perfect from head to toe, but inside that faultless disguise was a man of destruction. She decided in that instance, that he was simply a priceless painting hanging in a gallery – it was fine to look at him, but touch him, she would not.
“My friend,” Lasiah said, smiling at Cain. Clearly he was unaware of his atrocious crime, “what can I do for you?”
“Do you not hear?” Cain said. Hand's in pockets, posture straight and stiff.
“Lasiah Andolius, call to arms.” The words came faintly from the tannoy at the entrance to the guy's wing. Call to arms, they didn't usually say that when they called the girls to the theatre, but this was a man's voice, and he sounded like he'd been kept waiting.
“What would you know, I'm up.” Lasiah looked pleased. He ran his hands through silky straight lengths of hair and then kissed his pendant.
Cain nodded at Lasiah.
“This is not goodbye, I'll see the both of you again. So long for now,” Lasiah said, backing away, he blew her kiss before turning around. Watching the back of him, Nina felt she had already died and gone to hell, Lasiah seemed a good, religious man, here he was, strolling away into darkness. Yet there was no even a twinkle of fear about him. What kind of bizarre world had she been sucked into? One moment she was having a chat with him – the next he is gone. Leaving her hovering next to him.
“You enlisted?” Cain said.
Did he really just engage conversation with me? Suddenly those knots in the ends of her hair needed untangling. She fiddled with them, anything to distract from close and personal eye contact.
“What makes you think that?”
“Overheard you.”
“And? You think I'm a wimp or something?”
“Not all at.”
“Why ask then?”
“Like to know who I might be up against.” He laughed, this tough-boy laugh. Everything surrounding her was hazy. She'd hoped he might have said something nice, but realised pretty quickly how unlikely it was that there'd be even an ounce of caring in his dented soul.
“Bye then,” She snapped.
“Wait.” Cain's hand rattled the chain-mail as he reached up and grabbed it. He stared down at the concrete as if the puddles were somehow taunting him. Did he know any other expression but that look of smug-devilry?
“Wait for what?”
“What's your name?”
“I don't give my name to murderers.”
Cain sighed, like a harsh memory had just hit him hard. Maybe he should have thought about that before plunging his blade into innocents. Nina bit her lip, did he have to be so tragically alluring?
“I'll find you,” he said. Nina was sure he was about to say something else too, but instead he knocked the fence with a fist and took off back to his seat on the benches. And she realised that she'd watched him too long, when he sat back down and shot her a look of mysterious agony before turning his back to her, blatantly intent on not looking her way any longer.
~
As the sun was setting and the bars solidly in place for lock-down, Nina was busy trying to console her new room-mate. Her name was Tamlin, from the mountains, sentenced for adultery though she couldn't have been a day older than seventeen. The girl wept constantly and mumbled in a native southern language that she didn't understand. It seemed even remote tribes were not safe from The Army. Something else troubled Nina more. She'd not had chance yet to tell Bridget about Astra's not so trustworthy plan. The two girls seemed joined at the hips. Even when she was sharing kisses with Davie, Astra was smacking her gum near-by. And the menacing look that she'd given Nina after witnessing her chat with Cain, had sent shivers down her spine. Now that Davie too had signed-up for the Theatre of War, he too was in on 'the plan'. Nina cringed with the turmoil. She could have come out and accused Astra to her face of lying, but she was terrified of making a scene and ending up evicted. Not only this, but she couldn't stop thinking about the reality of what she had put herself up for. She told herself till she was blue in the face, that those other people out there had signed up for it knowing full well that they might die. Forever-more she'd have to live with it. But her hand was forced.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JANINA
October, Year of the Pearl Acacia
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She bolted awake, feeling as though she'd slept only ten minutes, but the sun was already up and the birds were singing their morning songs.
“Janina Ambrose.”
No it couldn't be? Already! She'd only signed-up the day before yesterday. Panic, panic, panic! Her body froze to the spot on her bunk.
“Lydia Hayes.”
“Gena Bentille.”
Can't keep them waiting. Move, move, move. Terrified of screwing it up in the first minutes, Nina darted out of bed, already fully dressed, she danced around trying sleepily to put her pumps on, the cell bars were already up. Swiftly she bounded down the stairs, passed the closed cells, passed hundreds of inmates rolling over and going back to sleep. Astra was already at the exit gate, brimming with delight. Performing stretches and glowing with excitement. Nina's heart thumped in her ears, now this, this definitely had to be a dream. A female guard appeared outside the two gates.
“Erase your names from the list and make your way through.”
~
They were led through a maze of corridors, before arriving outside at the front of the prison. The sound of waves crashing against the steep cliff face hit her first, and then the harsh bellowing boom of male guard's orders scared her into a stick straight posture.
“Sinners! Welcome to redemption! Not that you degenerates deserve the chance to even pursue it.”
They were placed in a line on the grass, a portal swirled behind the guard in his brown uniform. Tall and built like a solid rock, he made her feel like a two year old ba
by. There was no image in the portal, not like the one back on Nanta, this one seemingly brought you out in a black hole. She dared not look but she heard the footsteps of other 'sinners' lining up beside her. Just how many had needed replacing in one go?
“Shortly you pigs will arrive inside Dedite's Theatre of War. You know why you're here. You know why you're going there. May you all die a painful and slow death. Rank 1s! Freedom, for you, fifty points. Rank 2s! Freedom, one hundred points away. Rank 3s! Freedom is impossible for you, but I'm positive you deviants will enjoy trying!”
A Zimir's Oculus swerved to a halt in front of her face, she bent backwards to avoid it poking her eye. Then it circled her, blinked, and moved to a hover above her head. This Oculus was much smaller than any she'd ever seen before. Each Zimirlot had a different look to their creations. They came in different colours and sizes. This one was no bigger than her fingernail, the light shone straight through it's clear body, the only really visible part was it's pupil that tilted as it fixated on her. At least it wouldn't give her position on the battlefield, you'd have to have the eyesight of an eagle to see it from afar.
“Sinners! You schmucks are being watched at all times. Observe your Oculus, he is observing you! He can see you, he can decipher your words, and he doesn't need to leave your side to report any attempt of communication with the outside world, back to his summoner! ” The jerk of a guard trundled up and down the line with his hands firmly behind his back, stopping at each person and giving them a stare down before moving on.
“Any attempt to communicate with the outside world, any attempt to escape, any attempt to get into the referee's cabin, any attempt at removing or obstructing your mic - whether purposely or accidentally, will result in a paralysing ray from your watcher, which will be continuously cast upon you, until you're found by another contender, and slaughtered whilst being unable to defend yourself. Do you pricks understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“And if you Diviner bastards somehow manage to invade the paralysing effect, or use some of your nancy pansy magic skill to overcome it, I, personally, will come down there and, personally, beat your sorry ass into the dirt with, my, own, fist, do, you, understand?!”
“Yes sir!”
She didn't like the sound of it, the guard was unnaturally more hulking than a bull, and the king's fortitude aura emanated from him like a heated yellow glaze. No wonder he thought the world of himself, she too would have the courage of a lion if she had an aura like that.
Another guard began walking the line, a backpack was thrust into her chest.
In your sack you will find, two days supply of food and water, a change of clothes, make sure you wear your armband — it contains your mic — lose that and lose your head. And, one info-pad. There are four screens on your info-pad. Screen 1. A scoreboard showing all contender's names, numbers and their current score. Because we just love to instil fear in you. Screen 2. A replay screen of the last death, that plays over and over until the next person dies. Enjoy the nightmares. Screen 3. We call this the traffic-light system. It's a circle; it's either red, yellow or green. If it's red, some else's pad is nearby. If it's green, some else's pad is only kinda nearby. And it's yellow, you're not gonna die anytime soon. Lucky you, more time to cry like a little girl. Screen 4. This one has a map, no, only kidding, you scum-bags don't get a map. Screen 4 has a picture of King Dederick, and we'll flick to that screen when you're bleeding out, so that his face can be the last you see. Idea Courtesy of King Dederick himself. Are we clear?
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Events will be broadcast, with one day delay, to the entire nation. We'll pick the best bits, but, there's over 60 in the east and 60 in the west. If you want air-time, if you want to walk out of here, the greatest freaking warrior that ever walked these lands, and I know you do,” he thrust his finger into a red-haired guy, sporting a hideous skull tattoo across his face, “you need to give the people a show. Most of you won't make it to lunch time. Especially not you, you're nothing but fodder.” The guard spat on the boots of grey haired, wrinkled lady next to her.
The whiff of liqueur and tobacco followed him every step, “Sinners! You will emerge at a random location once stepping through that portal. Now I got better things to do. Go! Go! Go! And get your gear on first thing!”
“Move it sinners!” The other guard yelled, ushering the line towards the shimmering oval mass before them.
One by one, they were practically pushed through.
“See you at the beach,” Astra said.
Nina turned to look at her one last time before it was her turn to leave. Lingering behind Astra's smirk, there was Cain, backpack in hand, his eyes fixated on her own, a look of concentration on his face, like he was trying to will her away. The guards big, heavy hand grabbed her shoulders, she let out a yelp as the portal sucked her through, and spat her back out on the other side. The shortest journey, to the cruellest place.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JANINA
October, Year of the Pearl Acacia
There was a path of flattened grasses through the tall field, that rustled in a cool and refreshing breeze. Nina crawled on all fours the moment she arrived, away from the path and farther into the wilderness, where she stopped against a bunch of purple thistles. Her hands fumbled with the buckle of her backpack as she tried to open it as quickly as possible. Her watcher, the Oculus, silently stared at her. There goes privacy for the rest of my life. The contents hit the dirt as she impatiently pulled them out. With the small info-pad in hand, she pressed all the buttons along the side repeatedly, until it came on. Screen 3, screen 3. All her pent up breaths came out at once as a flashing yellow circle come up on the black background. She set it down on the ground, she wouldn't take her eye off that screen whilst she got changed. The guard's mean rantings were fresh in her head, get the gear on quickly, he'd told them.
Nina tugged on the black leather pants, struggling with their tight fit in her crawling position. She vigorously tackled the buckles on a worn-out green corset, that firmly went over a long sleeved cream shirt. Over the shirt she placed the royal blue armband and sealed the velcro fastening. Her black combat boots were a snug fit, she tied the laces more secure than she'd tied anything before. They weren't coming off without force or scissors. She wasn't going to be that idiot who died tripping over an untied lace whilst running from danger.
The plain crusty bread was like heaven on her tongue, and the sparkling water – nectar. This is it, kill or be killed. Ready for combat, she checked the traffic-light was still yellow and flicked over to the scoreboards. It lit up with names, in a list from numbers 1 to 65, with an extra, in red, marked X1 at the end. Her name was Chelse Wistler and there was a red arrow by her name and the words, 187 meters. As she turned the info-pad the arrow switched directions. Her eyes searched wildly for two important names, and smiled when they appeared; Opal and Lasiah were still alive.
She found her own name as number 21, just as it had said in white letters on her armband. And Astra was 39. Cain Salezar number 47. She rolled her eyes, annoyed at her self for evening checking for his name. Next to each name was another two numbers, split with a forward slash, under the column labelled score. All of the names she knew had no points - so far. Little Opal was 0/50, and Lasiah also. She couldn't help but scoff when she saw Cain's 0/300. Under a column labelled 'The Warriors', she saw the names of the sick volunteers who'd signed up from home for this, their names were in green, whereas her name and her friend's names were in blue. The warriors scores went up to a maximum of 20 and most of them were hovering already between 10 and 15. Nina shook off her thoughts of morality, everything about this place was wrong, but that didn't matter anymore, what mattered now – was getting out alive.
~
Listening carefully, she heard nothing but the wind through the grass, she could be anywhere, but it would appear where ever she was, she was alone. Every few seconds she checked her yellow circle, but something didn't see
m right. That guard hadn't given exact numbers, for all she knew that yellow circle could mean no one was in ten feet. It could turn green as she turned around and came face to face with a warrior. Bringing her eyes just above the top of the grass she took a good look around, only now her heartbeat was steadying, her head was moving into survival mode. Being a nervous wreck wouldn't help.
The terrain of the field was flat for some distance before curving up into a hill. Behind her, but so far away that it looked dwarfed, she could see the white rocks of the cliff, and the top of the prison's guard towers peeking out, atop. If she could get over the hill, she'd be heading south. Astra had said there was an old abandoned village in the center of the island, after that there was a forest, and then the beach. She was supposed to head to the beach, but coming face to face with Astra wasn't an option. She'd go to the village instead, buildings made for better cover than a wide open field. As much as she would have preferred to find a bush and hide in it forever - Eri was dying back at home, and time was running out for her.
~
Her hands and knees throbbed from an hour of crawling, counting to three in her head, she took a run for it up the grassy hill, at the top she flung herself to the ground and peered out. Not a soul in sight, just more hills. Nina had the agility of a hippo but somehow she made it over those hills, each one steeper than the last. Fingers sprawled in the grass, heaving herself up. Like a sniper she scouted over their tops, flat to the surface. Sweat dripped across her lashes and she wished her long, thick hair gone as it strangled her. Every cold breeze that passed she mentally thanked. And the watching eye never left her, could it even feel sorry for her? It ducked low whenever she did, and copied her speeds and movement. Looking out from the tallest hill so far, she noticed that the terrain had finally changed. Below her was a narrow valley with a dirt-track, pebbled road running through it. On the other side of the road, ran a high, vertical barricade of rock that she'd never be able to climb. It was either this road, or back to the wide open moors. Using small, thorny plants to hold on to, and craggy rocks that lined the steep decent down, she made it to the bottom with stinging hands and snagged clothing. She dusted off soil from the stone that she'd scooped up near the bottom, it had a fierce looking point at one end and a thick heavy mass at the over. It took two hands to lift it, so she nestled her info-pad atop as she carried it on her arms. Circle still yellow, she plodded on, stealthily down the road.