Amirra

by Coralyn Umber

  “Well, do I pass? Of course, it doesn’t matter because we will be leaving tomorrow regardless but I do feel much better today,” my attention was drawn back to him and I looked up into his eyes. They danced merrily but I sensed he knew exactly how aware of him I had become in the last few moments. Indeed my whole body was moving infinitesimally closer of its own volition as if it was drawn to him. The tension around his eyes changed and the smile held a different meaning altogether when I failed to respond immediately. I became acutely aware of other changes that were taking place in his posture, even if I did not know entirely what they meant.

  “Yes, I mean…well…we will have to find a better way to bind the break if you will be moving on it constantly,” I broke eye contact and moved away. The cave was definitely too warm so I moved towards its mouth and decided it was good for me to shiver in the cold air. It was a few moments before I felt in control, though I felt no less confused than I had before, and I moved back into the cave. I decided to sit on my side of the cave but not before donning the shirt I was planning to wear the next day.

  “Ami, you do not need to run away, I will not hurt you,” Vorn said quietly from his place next to the fire.

  I just shook my head in response; I was too confused to say anything. Whenever I looked at Vorn I felt a longing that seemed to extend all the way to my soul but I did not know what it meant or how to act on it. I pointedly did not look at him but stared into the fire. He rose, using the wall for leverage and hobbled over to where I was sitting. With some awkwardness, he sat down next to me, his broken leg extended in front of him.

  His voice began its soothing rumble, “I was nine when my village was decimated. I was the only survivor of almost fifty people. I am from near the end of the Great Mountains to the south. My village was in a valley near a small lake. We were prosperous, though isolated. I had an older brother and a younger sister. My father died when I was very young and the village leader, Hazza, took my mother in to help care for the three of us. He cared for each of us in his own way. Even I, changed as I was, was accepted by him,” he stared moodily into the fire before continuing.

  “Hazza’s wife had disappeared a year before while gathering supplies from the woods. She had been the town healer so when the first person became infected, we did not know what to do. All-in-all it took only a week before the entire village had either changed or died. My mother sent me away with my brother and baby sister when she saw the signs of infection in Hazza. We watched from high above the village as one by one people were either buried or they wandered away in the form of dark creatures. It was my brother that decided it was time to move on. “

  “We headed west and north. We took turns carrying my sister. She was very small so had trouble eating many of few edibles we did find in our journey. She cried a lot of the time then became too exhausted to do more than whimper. One morning we went to wake her up and realized that she was not sleeping; she had died during the night. We buried her small form in a shallow grave because the dirt was too rocky to dig far with sticks and hands,” I placed my hand on his arm in sympathy for his pain. He absently placed his hand on top of my own but continued in a wooden voice.

  “A few days later I started to get this panicky feeling, an intense desire to move quickly. I didn’t know how to explain it to my brother so I just continued to follow him in silence. This feeling was making me desperate and I was finally going to mention it to my brother when he stumbled and fell. He did not get up immediately. I went over to help him. When I put my hand on his arm, the feeling of horror and dread became overwhelming, I stumbled back. Then I could see his eyes and his face. I think it was the first time I had really looked at it in days. He was changing, the way the villagers started changing. His eyes had gone all black. The shadows on his features seemed to suck the light from area around him. I never said another word to my brother. I ran. I ran for days without food or sleep. I ran until the feeling of dread was gone,” Vorn seemed spent. His eyes were filled with sorrow from the memory.

  I did not know what to say, I reached around and hugged him close. He knew that I felt his pain; he knew that I understood what he had gone through. The story was similar to my own. His arms curled around me and we sat there some time taking solace from each other’s company.

  I had unconsciously started kneading his shoulders. Once I was aware of what I was doing, the memory of times when I had seen my mother lovingly tend to my father in the same way came to mind. I shifted so that I sat behind him and started kneading and calming the tense muscles in his back. He didn’t say anything but it took several long minutes before he began to relax under my ministrations. He sighed and started leaning back into my hands, which seemed to trigger in me the realization that I was enjoying the way his pelt felt beneath my fingers as I moved my hands along his back, over his shoulders, and down his spine. I was once more aware of his subtle musky scent. He must have sensed the change in my own emotions because he tensed, then turned and pulled me back around to face him.

  My breathing was shallow and I felt dizzy with the sight of his eyes. They were warm and soft when they looked into my own. I became conscious of my skin burning wherever it touched his: his hands on my forearms, my thigh brushing his. Entranced, I did not move away as he leaned in and gently placed his lips on mine. I was wholly unprepared for the spark of sensation that his light touch sent through me. Startled, I broke the contact but did not move away. Vorn’s only response was to smile and lean in, slowly, to kiss me again. This time his lips met mine more firmly and after a moment he began to nibble at my lower lip. I was thrilled at the contact but had no idea how to respond. Smiling, he moved away but his eyes never left mine.

  “Ami,” my name was a whisper, “I think that is enough for tonight. We must sleep and I am in no shape to embark on anything more physical than that kiss tonight.”I helped him over to his sleeping pallet before returning to my own.

  I knew there was more to being with a man but I did not know what, at least not really. I even knew what a brothel was and a madam but had never seen the goings on. My parents were not prudish about what happened between a man and a woman but they had always been discreet around me. My mother had even given me a strong education in medicines that prevented pregnancy and stopped a baby from forming after conception. She felt it was necessary to know in case the woman’s health would make it dangerous for her to carry to term. For my safety my mother taught me how to defend myself against other humans and my father had explained how some men preferred to force themselves on women. I knew all the technical things that happened but had no education about how to deal with feelings or desires or how to encourage the events to take place.

  My body was throbbing with feelings I couldn’t identify so sleep was slow in coming. Based on Vorn’s breathing, he too was having difficulty sleeping. I pushed my mind in the direction of the problem of binding Vorn’s leg. I was still pondering this when sleep finally came to me.

  X

  Sometime in the night the idea must have come to me because when I awoke, I realized I did have something that would bind his leg, be supportive, and not come loose, my corset. Though I was loath to ruin the only beautiful clothing I owned, I realized it was impractical to wear them while we traveled. We ate over only a small fire, one only big enough to brew the pain-relieving tea. After he had taken the tea, I took my stays from the bottom of my pack. Vorn was curious but he quickly realized what I was planning. I took off the crude binding and removed the sticks from his leg. I pulled the lacing from one side of the stays, wrapped the garment around the break, then snuggly wrapped the lacing around the outside, threading it through the eyelets to keep the stays in place.

  The morning was cool but it felt good to be moving again. I wanted the peace that I always felt when surrounded by wilderness. My feelings had been taken to too many lows and highs and I was not yet ready to even start understanding how my body was reacting to Vorn. Instead of thinking about it I watched Vorn take the
first few steps to see if the stays were holding firmly. It would be slow going but with me on one side and a crutch on the other we began to descend the hill side. The ground was waterlogged and spongy underneath, and while slippery in places, it did not jar the break as much as firmer ground would have.

  By mid-day we had only made it to the base of the hill. Vorn refused to stop despite how obviously his leg was hurting. He was pale, despite the coloring of his pelt, and his breathing was shaky. I let him stamp about along the river bank grumbling and hissing for a while before I finally spoke up.

  “I am stopping for a break. While still dirty the water is cleaner than I am. I will go for a quick swim. What you do while that happens is your choice,” I immediately dropped my pack on a downed tree nearby and began shedding my traveling clothes.

  He first stared at me with eyes fairly popping out of his skull before he swore and turned away, dropping his pack next to mine. By then I was already submerged in the cold river water. I swam several yards before coming back up for air. Before I could ascertain Vorn’s location, a large splash covered my face and made me start sputtering and struggling to clear my eyes of gritty wet. When I was finally breathing again, I pinched my face to scowl at the man but stopped when I realized that all I could see in front of me was a brown pelt streaked with rivulets. He was so close it snatched my recently regained breath away. He was standing bare-chested, waist-deep in the water. I no longer felt the water or noticed the sun in the sky. All I could feel or see was him. I stood, slowly, but he was still the only thing I could see. When I looked up to his face, his eyes were like banked embers, just waiting for something to start the fire.

  I moved closer as if compelled by some unspoken command. I felt his arms crush me to him but barely noticed once his lips began to move over mine. The heat from every contact point on our bodies was exquisite torture. There was no way to know how long we stood there but when he dropped his arms suddenly and stepped away, I knew it wasn’t nearly long enough. His breathing was as ragged as my own. I moved to step closer but he held up a hand to stop me.

  “Bonita, stomping about like that, acting like a general, and ordering me about for my own good drives me loco. I can barely stand now but I cannot resist you,” while I was initially hurt from his withdrawal I could tell that the shaking in his voice was as much from pain as from effort to control himself. Nodding to say I understood, though I didn’t, I stepped to his side so he could lean on me to get to shore. There was a small boulder near the far bank that was high enough for him to sit on while still allowing him to leave his broken leg submerged.

  While he rested there, I brought our packs over and found more of the pain-killing moss. I quickly steeped the medicine over a small fire. We did not speak but the air still felt charged with tension. His sour face when he smelled the foul-tasting brew made me laugh and we were at ease again. He gulped down the drink while I made sure the stays hadn’t shifted. They would need aired out that night but they were holding firm. His skin, while warm, did not feel feverish and his leg was considerably less swollen, thanks to the cold water.

  Despite or maybe because of our slowed pace Vorn decided we would broaden our arc around Byzanta. It was obviously that he was worried we would run afoul of more slavers. As it turns out our slow travel was largely uneventful. It took us nearly a week to travel around to the northeast side of the city. Vorn didn’t say much in that time except to grumble during the day about bitter teas and moaned most nights in his sleep because of the pain. Thankfully he never developed a fever and I found that we were similar in yet another way. His bone was well on the way to being mended because it appeared he had the same quick healing that I did. Normal humans took nearly twice as long to heal as our kind it seemed. In another week we would be able to leave the stay’s off entirely and I couldn’t wait. The constant pain made him hard to handle because he would snap when he said anything at all. His grumbling was grating on my nerves so we were barely on speaking terms when we made camp on an outcrop a day’s walk from northeast side of Byzanta.

  That night Vorn had an especially strong fit of foul temper. “I will not drink any more of that stuff. I can’t taste or smell anything else all day,” he complained while wildly moving his hands, managing to splash the horrible stuff all down my front.

  Not being overly friendly myself, I snorted and tossed the little that was left near the fire into the bushes and stomped away grumbling, “Fine, I won’t make any more and you just deal with the pain without anything.”

  There wasn’t a stream nearby so I took some of the water in his canteen and poured it on my shirt after shedding it. The smell and dingy green-brown stain would probably never come out. I swore and started grumbling about thankless men.

  I was so incensed that I wasn’t listening to the night sounds around me. Two grimy hands grabbed me. One slid over my mouth while the other pinned my arms against the large paunch of man. My head exploded with a blinding light, an intense pain, and then everything went dark.

  XI

  Coming to was an interesting process, it wasn’t a sudden realization as some describe it. For me it was as if my mind was coated in a thick, sticky syrup that made my thoughts sluggish and senseless. I began processing sound first. Something nearby made the whimpers of a wounded animal. The smell of rotting flesh, blood, and old dirt assaulted me, making my stomach revolt. I then became aware once again that I had limbs, which at first wouldn’t obey my commands to move. Once I was able to make my fingers move, I realized that my wrists were bound, which brought the awareness that my feet were likewise restrained.

  Only after I processed all of that did my sight return. One eye opened only a sliver, clearly swollen, while the other opened and shut quickly adjusting to gloomy yellow light emanating through a hand-width crack along the floor. I tried to speak but only a raspy croak came from my parched throat.

  “Is anyone else in here?”

  A few moans greeted me but naught else. I tried to maneuver to a different position but succeeded only in toppling to my side, placing my face excruciatingly near the smell of putrid flesh. I tried to breathe shallowly but succeeded only in causing my lungs to spasm in a coughing fit. Someone must have heard because a door swung open bathing the room in stark light. I wished I couldn’t see very quickly. Directly in front of my face there was a decomposing mound of flesh. I couldn’t identify specifics but what I saw was more than enough to make me gag and lose the meager contents of my stomach.

  The guard removed the restraints to my feet then pulled me to my feet with so much force I nearly lost my balance. The woman’s features were very masculine, from her square jaw to boxy, muscular physique. Her hair was a dirty blonde-brown color as was her general skin tone but her eyes were striking; they were so light in color that they were nearly silver. Something drew me back to her face. Her nose had a shape similar to my own and the pupils of her eyes were so dilated I almost missed it but they had a vertical iris, just like mine did. My mouth opened in astonishment, but she gruffly shoved me towards the door before I could say anything.

  The hall was barely more lit than the interior of my cell. Torches, not lights, were spaced at wide intervals along the hallway. Other cell doors were visible on both sides of the hallway. There was only one clear exit, straight ahead and shining so brightly that I could not see what lay beyond the doorway. It was not until we were standing in the bath of light, that I could see we were in an arena made of stone, and rubber, and debri with stands of rusted metal and patched in wood just beyond the arena wall. There was no audience in the risers now, which I was momentarily thankful for. That is, until I saw all of the other unwashed, underfed, and poorly clothed prisoners waiting in a loose circle, surrounded by guards at the arena’s center. Many were pale from lack of sun and most were mutations of some form or another; those that weren’t, were obviously from the Catacombs. There was a mix of men and women though the men outnumbered the women three to one. I did not see Vorn and my heart first
sank then soared with hope.

  A wiry man separated from the guards and moved towards the center of the ring. He had a limp and his left hand was replaced with a hook. He looked neither young nor terribly old but he was badly scarred. Almost every visible patch of skin held scars. He wore patched leather that had seen better days but was the finest of any of the guards. One of the females in the back across the circle used the man’s entrance to make a run for it but with little effort the man made two leaps and pull out a knife and slit her throat. Her body was left where it lay, blood oozing into the dusty arena soil, and the man returned to the center of the circle of prisoners.

  The man refused to acknowledge what just happened; he raised one hand to indicate silence, though he already had that and began to speak. His voice was gruff but educated and easily carried to those assembled, “The arena will determine your value. You will follow orders and do exactly as you are told, fight who you are told to fight, perform in any way that is demanded of you. There is no exit on this level of the arena. Each gallery ends in cells. You cannot escape. The longer you obey, the longer you survive. Each morning you will be brought out to train yourselves but you may not kill except when you are told. If you kill during the training session, you will be killed. At the end of your training session, you will be given food. On days you are expected to perform, you will be left in your cell and be given 1 extra meal. No bladed weapons are given during training. Your training may not involve fighting at all as there are a variety of shows that prisoners perform in this arena. Talking is discouraged, questions are discouraged, obedience is all that is required. Your guards have all survived the arena, for now. They will take you to different areas of the arena and teach you their expertise. Begin!”