Survival Rout

by Ana Mardoll

  "That's better," the faery announces, his words reaching me from far away. "Now let's close that pesky little crack. I don't need you seeing me unless I want you to. Then we can discuss directions." The world grows brighter, my eyes screaming in pain as he fades from my sight. With all my effort I open my mouth wide enough for sound to escape, but the agonized howling in my mind emerges only as a soft wheeze.

  No one is coming to help me.

  Chapter 26

  Keoki

  When Matías said we should spend our time training in preparation for the upcoming match, I hadn't realized it would hurt so much. After returning to Justin with food and helping him choke down his meal, I come back out to the main cavern to find I've been matched with Tony. Matías has this idea that I need to learn to dodge blows better than I did during the match with the bear, when I pretty much didn't.

  The session that follows is the opposite of fun on a couple of different levels: for one, I'm acutely aware Tony isn't learning from my uncreative flailing, which makes me feel like an inept waste of his time. For two, training to dodge involves being hit a lot. Not with a sword, but with a lightweight hollowed-out stick. After the fiftieth or sixtieth tap from that thing, the aches begin to add up, not helped by my repeated flinging of myself into the sand to avoid the stick.

  Tony is a little too enthusiastic in his attempts to beat me senseless. I'm told they started him with sticks before he worked up to learning swords, and now he's feeling nostalgic. "Of course, that was before we figured out we could just practice on Reese," he says, shaking hair out of his eyes. "Matías worries, but we haven't hurt him yet. Anyway, there's not enough time to take it slow. You get good fast or you get killed. Speaking of Reese, you really ought to take a turn at him."

  "I ought to do what now?" I ask, and promptly take a stick to the face because I've stopped moving. That's how I end up with a sword in my hands facing down a grinning Reese.

  "C'mon, newbie," he teases, wrapping cloth around his knuckles and balancing on the balls of his feet. "If you can cut me even once, I'll clean your room next time Handler brings round the mops and buckets." This is high stakes, I decide, and I want to show off after spending the whole cycle so far being pounded into the sand. I lunge at him with the blade, he dances backwards with a laugh, and we're off.

  I still don't know Reese's talent. I'd seen him fight in practice, using his fists in conjunction with weapons I didn't have a word for: there were two of them, each looking like a short knife with a flat metal handle studded with spikes. Reese had gripped the flat handles in his fists in such a way that the spikes slid out of the gaps between his fingers, then Matías wrapped strips of cloth around each hand to keep everything in place. At the end of these preparations, he'd been equipped with two long blades that jutted out at a right angle to his fists and a punch that had the force of metal behind it and four wicked spikes in front.

  Reese isn't using his weapons for our practice, presumably because I've aptly demonstrated I can't be trusted to get out of harm's way. We move around the pit at a steady pace; I swing and stab with a weapon I have no idea how to use while he jumps about grinning and avoiding my blows. Matías watches from the sidelines and explains how everything I'm doing is wrong. I take the criticism as best I can and keep chasing, determined to carve a proper cut into my friend since we've all agreed that's what friends do.

  He isn't making it easy, though. Reese moves with practiced skill, even if he isn't inhumanly fast like Matías nor graceful in the same way as Tony. He avoids my clumsy swings and thrusts with ease and even gets close enough to cuff me around the head a few times, the blows making my ears ring. I'm starting to think he's a bruiser like me—talented to the tune of smacking things really hard and having good-looking arms—when the sand shifts out from under his feet as he dances back and he falls hard on his ass.

  I don't need Matías' encouraging yell to urge me forward. I pounce on Reese, raking the blade over the arm he's reflexively thrown up. "Ha! Gotcha!" I yell, then stop and blink, because Reese has rolled back in the sand while laughing and there isn't a scratch on him. Frowning, I scrape the edge of the blade over his exposed knee. Nothing happens. My frown escalates to a glare as I poke the tip of the sword directly into the top of his foot. It doesn't pierce his skin at all; it's like pushing into solid rock.

  Only then do I understand what Tony meant and why newbies can practice with blades on Reese: he can't be cut.

  "Reese, you cheater! Making a bet you can't lose is playing dirty," I point out, helping him up. He laughs his way through the rest of practice and is still chuckling when we yield the area to Lucas and Christian.

  I don't stay to watch their match, not wanting to look at Lucas while I'm still angry, but when they come back to eat Lucas is bruised and battered and Christian looks pleased with himself. I'm still not happy, but I guess that's supposed to be that. For everyone other than Tony, at least.

  We eat in silence and everything feels wrong. I can't shake a lingering dread as I drift off to bed, and even when Tony slips under the blanket to lie beside me it isn't as comforting as it should be. I pull him into a tight hug and bury my face in his neck, trying to imagine something other than Justin's puffy face or Sapphire's bruises.

  I wake to the sound of first bell with a sharp pain in my stomach. I feel like I've just been punched by a stone-monster, which makes sense when I realize I've actually been kneed by Tony as he scrambles to climb over me.

  "Ow, what the—" I gasp before he clamps a hand over my mouth and sinks further back into the darkness, pressing himself against the far side of the niche where my bed is carved into the cave wall.

  "—you will be ready when I return."

  "Yes, Handler."

  Miyuki's voice floats through the opening door just before she's shoved into the room and the door slams shut behind her. She stumbles and I leap up intending to catch her, but I smack my head on the ceiling above the bed and end up crouched over, holding my head and moaning loudly.

  "Ow, ow, ow, ow! Can we please start everything over?" I groan.

  Miyuki takes me by the shoulders, guiding me back to bed. When I look up, I see the glitter of metal and glass on her face. "Are you always this jumpy when you wake up? It takes Aniyah— who's there?"

  She gasps and draws back, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "Oh! Hey, no, it's okay," I tell her. "It's only Tony. He didn't want Handler to see him, but you're fine."

  Tony sticks his head out, letting the glow of light catch his face. "Hi," he says, looking sheepish. I can tell he's not thrilled to have been caught, but he runs a hand through his shaggy hair and makes the best of it. "You're here to check on Keoki?"

  She doesn't relax, looking as if she might begin pacing the small room at any moment. "Well, that's how we convinced Handler to let me come. Imani gave me the right words to say: your scars are healed up but there's risk of infection and inflammation." She pronounces the words with care, and I wonder if they mean any more to her than the vague tugging sensation they have on my mind. "So he let me bring the healing water. It was the only way we could think to get a message to you guys."

  "Oh, hey." I give her a warm grin, one I hope will be reassuring. "That was smart. We've been wondering how you're all doing. How's Sapphire?"

  A queer look crosses her face, as though she didn't expect the question and it isn't quite welcome. "She'll be fine," she says, her voice tight. "I have to talk to you. Can I trust you? Both of you?"

  I blink, not really understanding the question. "Um. Yes?"

  Tony nods from his seat beside me, his chin resting on his knee and our blanket strategically positioned over his lap. "You keep our secret," he points out, his dark eyes solemn. "We'll keep yours."

  Miyuki takes a deep breath. "We're escaping," she whispers, the words tumbling out. "Soon. We want you to come with us."

  I don't understand for a moment; it's as if she's spoken a string of nonsense. Then the sound of Tony sucking air betw
een his teeth brings home the gravity of her words. "How?" he demands, leaning forward. "When?"

  "This cycle." Her voice is low and urgent. "We can't wait any longer than that. The others are resting now so we won't need to sleep later."

  I shake my head, trying to put the pieces together. "What do you mean, you can't wait any longer? What's the rush?"

  She runs a hand under her glasses, rubbing at her eyes. "Last cycle, Handler took Aniyah up to the arena to look for a necklace lost by a guest. While she was up there, she overheard voices; we think it was the Master talking to Handler. He said there's going to be a big event soon: a feast for one of his parents."

  "Handler said something about that to Matías," Tony says, a deep crease etched into his brow. "He said there was a big match coming up; a bunch of us fighting to put on a show. Is the feast afterwards?"

  Miyuki shakes her head, worry flashing in her eyes. "The way Aniyah overheard it, you guys are the feast. Maybe us, too; we don't want to wait around to find out for sure who's being eaten."

  I sit up so straight I nearly hit the ceiling again. "They can't kill all of us at once, not without giving us a chance." But my stomach curls in on itself. Even one of us dying would be too much. What if they take Tony?

  "Why couldn't they?" Tony's voice is low, his chin hooked on his knee as he stares into the middle distance. "Kill everyone and start over with a fresh batch. They might deem the cost acceptable if they know what we've been up to."

  I frown at him. "We haven't been up to anything! We eat and sleep and train, just like they want."

  "We don't always obey. We look for names before Handler takes away the clothes. We know how to have fun without Prizes, or without using them the way we're expected to. If those things are important to the Master and if Handler noticed..." He shakes his head, his expression grim. "Newbies wouldn't know to do any of that. A fresh batch would do whatever Handler said without question. They'd be too afraid not to."

  "We're in danger for the same reasons," Miyuki agrees, her lips thin. "Hana gets the names from new girls before the Master erases their memories. It took them ages to come up with that idea, and we were careless the cycle we tended you and Justin. Handler was here, and we don't know if he noticed us using our real names. He hasn't said anything about it, but how can we be sure? If they decided to wipe everyone out, any new girls they collect wouldn't know how to save their names."

  Tony leans forward, watching her intently. "So if we're gonna die in this feast anyway, maybe it is better to go out in an escape. You said this cycle. You have some kind of plan?"

  Her voice drops lower, as though the walls themselves could hear us over the burble of the fountain. "The doors are magic. That's how they keep us trapped. But Aniyah sees magic, how it flows and works. That's why she's so important to the Master. She understands the doors and thinks she can get them to open without Handler's help." Miyuki hesitates, looking down at her hands. "She's not sure, though. So we've got two plans. If you guys are willing to help, we can try them both at the same time."

  I look over at Tony to see if he's following all this stuff about magic doors; he's nodding along with her, so he's doing better than I am. I wish Matías were here, I think, frowning as I chew on my lower lip.

  "What do we need to do?" Tony asks, ignoring me in his focus on the girl.

  "If we can't get the doors open, then we're going to have to force Handler to help. When he brings the third meal, you jump him. Make him open the doors. We'll work on our doors on our own. If both plans work, we'll meet in the hallway; if only one method works, it'll be up to that group to get the other one out."

  "And if neither plan works, we're in deep shit," Tony notes, closing his eyes and leaning back with a sigh. "Especially us. It's not like we can hide an attack on Handler and pretend it never happened."

  "You can always sell us out for a lesser punishment," Miyuki offers, her voice dry as sand.

  "Hey! We wouldn't do that," I protest, shaking my head at her. I give Tony a light punch in the arm, wincing as my muscles scold me for last cycle's training. "One of those ought to work, right? Aniyah wouldn't say she could do something unless she believed it. And I'm pretty sure we can take Handler!"

  Tony drums his fingers against the mattress. "Far as I know, no one's ever tried. He could be a total pushover or he could be stronger than all of us combined. Once we're through the doors, then what?"

  "There's a gate to the outside," Miyuki whispers, leaning forward. "Aniyah saw it. And she can see an escape route from the way the magic flows through the land. A refuge from captivity." She's talking faster now, her voice urgent in the darkness. "Isn't that worth taking a risk? A place where we can be free? Where we can be who we want, with whoever we want, without being killed or sold or punished?"

  Tony runs a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze. "Shit." The word is a soft hiss between his teeth. "Yeah, it would be. But if we do this, it's for keeps; there's no turning back once we start."

  "That's a good thing, right?" I find his hand under the thin blanket. "Hey, I know I was overconfident in the last match. I got wounded and made you worry about me and I'm sorry. But even if we're careful and do everything right—if we rest and train and eat and sleep and don't do anything stupid like volunteer for private matches—there's always the chance they'll send us out there to face something we can't handle. I've been dealing with that fear by not thinking about it, but I don't know how long that's gonna work, Tony."

  He looks down, and I barrel forward because I'm afraid if I stop now I'll break down and cry. "You've seen Justin; I can't deal with the possibility that might happen to you. And it's not a question of skill; they didn't even leave weapons for Christian and me! What are we gonna do when pushing over a pillar doesn't work? Or I can't catch a platform on the way down and I break my legs off? Dude, are you gonna love me without my legs?" I duck my head, trying to meet his eyes. "Because I gotta say, I think my legs are one of my best features. I don't wanna take the chance of you seeing me without them on."

  It works; he smiles. A grin spreads across his face and he raises his head to roll his eyes at me. "Keoki, as excellent as your legs are, I'm fairly certain their absence would not affect my feelings for you."

  "Man, I don't know. I still think it's a risk not worth taking." Now it's my turn to look down, staring at the spot under the blanket where our fingers lace together. I drop the teasing tone and whisper. "You know, if she's right, we're dead anyway. I'd rather have a chance. What's the alternative, to get good enough at this that we land teaching jobs with Matías? Train newbies and watch them die? I wouldn't be happy like that, dude. I can't think he is."

  He watches me for a long moment, his gaze holding mine until there's nothing in the room but him and the pain buried in his dark eyes. It seems a lifetime ago I thought him entirely unreadable and now I can see my own hurt mirrored in his eyes. The frustration of nothing here tasting the way it should. The uncertainty that comes with having extra words for things, words the other boys don't seem to have. The constant dread of never knowing when the next match will be and whether a friend will be taken away forever.

  This is why they'd start over fresh, I think, leaning in on a sudden impulse to press my forehead against his. The names are just a part of it. We're supposed to be strangers, and instead we care about each other. If we work together, like Miyuki says, what couldn't we do?

  Tony takes a deep breath and reluctantly pulls away from me. "You know, if we do this, we don't have a lot of time to prepare."

  I grin at the decision in his voice. "So we are doing this?"

  "Yes. We need to be smart about it, though. Miyuki, we'll take you out to talk to Matías—"

  Miyuki interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest. "No."

  I blink at her, confused. "No?"

  She meets my questioning look with a firm gaze. "No. I'm not going to tell the other boys. That'll be your job, after Handler takes me back."

  Tony frowns and
for once he looks as lost as I feel. "Why does it matter who tells them the plan?"

  "It's not a question of who, it's a question of when. After Handler leaves, you won't see him again until he brings the third meal."

  I stare at her, my mouth slowly drooping open. "You think someone's gonna tell Handler what you're planning? But then why did you tell us?" I look over at Tony, his expression carefully blank.

  "Aniyah and I trust you," she says, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "That doesn't mean we trust all of you. We're not going to risk Lucas telling Handler the plan. When you guys jump Handler, he can help or get out of the way. But he won't have a chance to sound a warning."

  Heated words are forming on my lips, but Tony squeezes my hand hard before I can speak. "Okay. We get it. I don't think Lucas would do that," he adds, his calm voice free of judgment, "but it makes sense to be careful."

  She gives him a sour look. "Don't tell me what Lucas would or wouldn't do. Don't expect any of us to trust him ever again." Her voice is low, with the air of having settled an argument. I glance at Tony for his reaction, but he simply nods.

  Only with difficulty do I bite my tongue. Lucas hurt them, yes, and that was wrong, but it doesn't mean he'd ruin our chance to escape. Surely what he did isn't a good enough reason to waste crucial time. We're going to need to explain all this, to work out an attack strategy that will leave Handler incapacitated but not dead, and maybe catch some sleep since we won't be getting any after this goes down. That's a lot to fit between now and then, so it hurts to not be allowed to start until she leaves.

  But one look at her face tells me I won't win her over. And while we could overrule her wishes and tell the guys now, it seems like a bad idea to kick off a cooperative escape plan by betraying the trust of half the group. So I sigh and lean back against the cave wall, wishing I didn't feel so tired. "What do we do in the meantime?"