by Izzy Shows
One day, I will return to Eyrus and salvage what remains of our civilization, and I will return it to its former glory.
This, I promised myself. Thinking about what I would do in the future, after I was done with this torture, was the only way I managed to keep myself sane.
I had fantasized about the many things Kaidan and I would see and do once we were reunited, and about the way I would restore Eyrus. I had dreamed of the way I would help his people terraform my planet, and of the people who would come and enjoy my world once it was done. I longed for there to be life on my home world again, even if it was an alien species.
That was better than the ash and dust that currently dominated it.
"Miss, I'll need you to turn to the side." The small voice of the slave female behind me broke through my thoughts.
She was dressing me for my first proving fight. They hadn't allowed me to keep my own clothes, despite the protests I made. My master had said I had to be dressed in the same uniform as every other combatant, even though he understood that my clothes would give me a greater advantage than anything they could provide me with.
Apparently, other clothing was against the rules.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
This was not the first time I had thought so with shame, and it would not be the last. I had conceded to fighting for my master, though I intended to do everything in my power not to fight. To find a peaceful resolution to this.
If you don't fight, you won't be set free.
There was that hopeful voice in my mind, the one that wanted to believe the pretty words the master had spoken to me. The bitter side of me didn't believe him. It was far more likely that he was just dangling a treat in front of my face to get me to perform, but at the moment it was the only way out that I could see.
Even if he didn't give me my freedom, if I made it through the tournament, it was likely that I would be given more privileges, which would put me in a better position to escape. At the moment, my every move was tracked and catalogued, and I was put in chains more often than not.
I had attempted to experiment with the pain collar with my magic, and I was reasonably certain I could deactivate it if given a proper amount of time, though it had become apparent that in order to deactivate it, I would need to overload it with energy, which would make it go into overdrive, delivering shocks of pain until it finally fried. That would leave me incapacitated for an unknown amount of time, during which my master might find me and fit me with a more severe collar.
That was why I hadn't done it yet, and why I was attempting to find a better answer to my situation.
The other problem was, of course, the linking chip between my master and myself. While it kept me from killing him, for it would mean my own death, it also allowed him to track every movement I made. He knew where I was at all times, as I'd learned when I attempted to escape the holding cell.
That was how I had ended up in chains prior to today.
"Miss?"
"I'm sorry," I said. "I got lost for a moment."
I turned to the side so that she had access to the cords that tied the two pieces of my top together in order to cinch it tight. With the knowledge I'd gained from accessing Kaidan's mind, which I'd done to learn his language, I knew that this outfit was similar in nature to those worn by the gladiators of Earth's history.
But it was much more revealing than the ones he'd viewed in vids or read about in books, from what I could tell. It appeared to be a sexualized version of the outfit, and it did little to protect my body. My abdomen was fully exposed from just beneath my breasts to just below my hip bones, and there was nothing protecting the flesh of my throat. The skirt, which was made of tough leather circling my hips, had strips of leather capped with metal that fell to just below my upper thighs. The strips themselves started just beneath my sex, offering me minimal coverage.
It was clear from the design of the outfit that the viewers wanted to see the females hurt as much as possible, and to view the wounds in great detail. They wouldn't be satisfied with internal bleeding from a well-delivered blow to protective armor; they wanted to see blood.
At least the leather boots they had given me covered my calves, though I would have preferred that they come up much farther. I would take what I could get in this regard.
"Can you tell me anything about this tournament?" I asked as the female worked on my outfit. She was trying to ensure that it fit as tightly as possible, not for the viewing pleasure of the masters, but so I wouldn't have to worry about it coming loose in a fight.
She made a nervous sound, and I looked down at her to see what was wrong. She was tiny compared to me, but I didn't find that surprising. Even amongst my people, I had been abnormally tall, and once Vivoth had gifted me with his powers, I had grown taller.
Her eyes were focused on the door to my cell, and after a moment she looked back at me.
"All right. I'll tell you as much as I can, but we have to be careful. I'm not really supposed to talk to you."
"I understand. You can trust that I won't tell anyone that we spoke, if that gives you any comfort."
She nodded. "A bit. In truth, the tournament is an excuse for males to gather together and watch females being beaten to death in as bloody a fashion as possible. It is a secret, though, for such violence is frowned upon here on Evas Prime. We are a peace-loving people, truly, though I know you would not believe it from your experience. The males who partake in this are not full-blooded Evians, but they put on a good show to make others believe that their minds are in line with the public's."
"I suspected as much," I said. "But, why are you here? You are an Evian, are you not?"
"I am, miss, but I was taken as a child. I have little memory of my family, and I only know what I know about Evas Prime because I have proven myself to be a good slave. I am allowed the privilege of leaving the club for errands, and occasionally to accompany a master to an event. It helps them to be seen in public with females."
"And you are all right with this? With the life you lead?"
She lowered her eyes. "No, miss, I am not. But there is nothing I can do. Though I have little memory of my family, I do have a sister who was taken along with me. They don't use her as a slave, but they keep her caged up as a lesson to me, as a means to keep me in line. If I'm very good, I'm allowed to see her once a lunar period."
Pity washed through me. I could understand that she would sacrifice herself for a family member; only the very strong could be willing to stand up for the rights of others in the face of the pain of those they loved. If she were to take a stand, to rebel, her sister would be hurt. It took a certain amount of strength to be able to withstand that experience.
"I do not condemn you for your behavior, if that is a concern to you."
She looked up at me, relief in her pale blue eyes. "Thank you, miss. I do feel a great deal of guilt every time I see another slave. Particularly one such as yourself, selected for the tournament."
I grimaced. "Yes, please, tell me more about it."
"Ah, yes, miss. You will run through several provings, fights where you will be set against several females of varying levels, culminating in a fight that many females will partake in at once. You will either win or die, to determine if you are strong enough for the tournament."
"Only females?" I frowned. "I thought they wanted to see us beaten by other males."
"Yes, miss, but not at first. The males you will fight in the tournament, if you survive that long, for they have been given this opportunity as an honor. Only the elite are allowed to partake in the tournament, for they consider it a great joy to beat a female. They don't have to prove themselves in a fight to get in. It is a matter of status and wealth."
I grimaced. "Well, that gives me a little hope for the physical prowess of the males I will be fighting."
Her eyes widened. "You are so certain you will make it to the tournament?"
"Of course," I said, surprised. "Why would I not be c
ertain? I am a renowned warrior, the best of my people."
Save for Zvarr, of course, but in the end, I had bested him too.
"Most of the females I see who have been bought for the tournament have no such hope. They are not bought for their fighting skills, and I would assume you weren't, either. You do not look like a fighter. Your body appears frail, though you are very tall."
I laughed for the first time in days, though it felt like ages. "My looks are deceptive. I assure you, I have bested many of my own people, as well as a fighter from the planet Earth."
Her eyes widened. "In truth? You bested a human?"
"Yes. Why is that surprising?"
"The humans are considered some of the best fighters in the known universe. They are very durable as a species, capable of taking a multitude of wounds and continuing to fight, and if you should be so unlucky as to have something they care about weighing on the fight, it is nigh on impossible to break them."
I quirked a brow. "Yes, I would agree with that summation. I don't know that many of my own people would have bested the human I fought, for he was a marvel. Indeed, if I had not had a certain advantage over him, he would have been my equal."
"If you can best a human, miss, then your chances in the tournament are great, indeed."
"I should hope so. I intend to win."
Her eyes went wide again, and she shook her head, making a pitying sound. "No, miss, you cannot truly hope for that. You must come to terms with your own death."
I scoffed. "Why should I do such a foolish thing? To accept my death before I enter the tournament is to give up entirely. I would not be able to give my all to the battle. No, I fully intend to win. Why does this surprise you?"
Her expression was very sad, and I sensed that she did not want to tell me. Indeed, it took her several beats before she opened her mouth again.
"There has never been a recorded instance of a female winning the tournament, miss. I hope you have made your peace with your makers, for you will likely be meeting them soon." With that, she cinched a final cord and patted my back. "There. You are ready. It's time to get you to the proving."
Apparently, she didn't want to hear whatever response I could give to her final words, but that was fine with me. She clearly had not been prepared to believe me when I said I would win, no matter what the records said about what had happened in the past. I would be the first to win if I had to, though I still held out a little hope that I would be able to find a peaceful resolution.
If I can get the other fighters to agree not to fight, then perhaps we could come together and overthrow the males who run this tournament. It is not an impossible feat. I'm sure we could manage that. I will just have to make them see.
But I had no more time to think about that, for the female was ushering me out of the dressing room and into an alcove that had a door made of bars in front of it. She handed me a curved sword and left without another word. The door appeared to lead into a dirt ring with stands made of stone encircling it, no doubt to prevent slaves from fleeing the area.
I touched a hand to the pain collar around my neck. They didn't need anything to encase the arena. If a slave was foolish enough to try to flee, a shock from the collar would bring them to their knees long enough for the masters to get to them and chain them up.
A gong sounded. I flinched at the sudden deafening sound, much louder than anything I'd heard of late, and the bars in front of me slid up to allow me access to the arena.
I shouldn't go in. I should refuse.
Even now, my soul resisted what my mind had decided to do: to fight if I had to, if there was no other option. I told myself it was self-preservation, that I had to fight in order to survive, but my soul protested the spilling of blood when it was not absolutely necessary.
It is necessary. It's necessary for me to survive. I have to do this.
I chided myself, but it did me no good; there would be no releasing myself from the guilt inside me.
Dismissing those thoughts, I entered the arena with long, confident strides, gripping the sword I'd been given tight to my side. It was an archaic weapon, I couldn't help but think, so accustomed was I to battling with a sword made of pure energy. Such blades were capable of much more destruction than mere metal could ever hope to offer, and they gave the recipient a cleaner, quicker death.
An energy sword provided mercy. This blade was a brutal weapon that would hurt my opponent more than was necessary.
But wasn't that the point of all of this? Unnecessary pain and bloodshed. My audience wanted a gruesome display, and they would do whatever they needed to to get it.
Opposite me, another female was entering the ring, though her strides were much shorter. Indeed, she was much shorter in general. I guessed that if we were to stand side by side, she would not come up to my shoulder. Her features were diminutive, childlike, and her frame was small and delicate.
My heart ached at the idea that this was who I was going to have to battle.
Why did she have to look like a child?
We met in the middle of the arena, stopped short and looked at one another. Her gaze flitted over me, sizing me up, and I saw a cold intelligence in her golden eyes. No doubt she was attempting to assess me for weaknesses, though I doubted she knew how to do that. She did not have the look of a hardened killer, and I wouldn't be surprised if this was her first act of bloodshed.
Another gong sounded, and without hesitation she swung her weapon at me, a long metal club with barbs at the end. I shifted my weight to the side, bending that knee, and brought my sword up with one hand to block her blow. It was easy enough to throw my weight into the block, which tossed her to the side.
She stumbled back, eyes wide for a click before they narrowed.
Ah. She had not expected my strength. Again, I was reminded of the way Kaidan and the slave female who had dressed me had regarded me initially: they thought me weak and fragile because of my frame. They did not think I was capable of holding my own, though Kaidan had learned how wrong he was in that regard.
My opponent recovered quickly, though, and she scrambled into movement again, swiping for my feet this time. I jumped over the strike, lifting my legs so that my feet kissed my bottom before I landed on the ground again, after her momentum had carried her a few steps to the side.
"You don't have to do this," I said. "I don't want to hurt you. We can stop this here and now."
But she didn't listen to me. She came at me again and again, no matter how I deflected her.
It went on like that for what had to be several rotations; she did not seem to tire, though I did see liquid seeping from her forehead into her eyes, an indication I'd learned from Kaidan that meant she was exerting a fair amount of energy. Her body was heating up and attempting to cool itself.
"Please, stop this. I don't want to kill you," I pleaded as I again blocked an overhead attack from her weapon. Instead of throwing my weight into it to knock her aside, I remained in place. She brought her other hand to the hilt of her weapon, attempting to force her weight against my blade to bring me down.
Still, I did not bow to her.
"If you do not stop, I will not be able to spare you," I said, a heavy sadness weighing me down. "I do not want to do this."
"Stop," she hissed. "Stop trying to make me feel for you. I will kill you, if only to spare my own life."
I set my lips into a grim line as I absorbed her words. She would not see reason, then. She would continue this fight until the end, no matter that it was clear she wasn't getting anywhere.
I would have to engage her.
As was second nature for me, I reached for the magic within, and immediately my mind protested.
Don't do it. Don't use your magic on her. Remember what happened to Zvarr? The destruction he caused with his magic? Remember his cruelty?
I did, and the familiar shame coursed through me at the memory. He had used his magic for ill, destroying the lives of many, and sharing blood with him as my
twin made me feel ill.
No, I would not use my magic for harm, never again. I would only use it for good, to heal, to bring prosperity where I could. My owner had been excited the other night when I'd given in and agreed to fight for him, and had talked about how magnificent it would be to have the first slave in known existence to use magic in the tournament, but now I could see that he would be disappointed. I would not do this, even if it was the only decision I would get to make in this bloodshed.
I pushed my weight into my arm, heaving to the side, and she skittered away, her bludgeoning weapon striking the ground with a thud.
Though it took great effort on my part, I forced myself to avoid the use of my magic. It was second nature to me to reach for it; I had done very little in my life without magic. It was a part of me, engrained in my nature, and it was odd to separate myself from it, but it had to be done.
I leapt into the air, somersaulted over her, and landed in a crouch. Quickly, I sprang to my feet and whirled around, my blade flashing in the air before it met her flesh. Straining, I forced the blade to sweep cleanly through her neck.
A swift death. I could give her that much.
I watched, numb, as her head fell from her shoulders and rolled across the ground. For a moment, it was as if I could feel nothing, and I embraced that.
And then a cheer went up from the audience, the small group of men who had clustered in the stone stands to watch the battle. They were cheering the death of one who had not deserved to die.
Now, I could feel. A sickness filled me, and the urge to fall to my knees and retch was great, but I held myself together.
What had I done to deserve such torment?
Kaidan
It would have been humorous if it hadn't been so wrong, the ways that Tavixi had gone out of her way to try to court me over the past two days. She didn't seem to grasp the power imbalance between the two of us, didn't understand why it wasn't right for her to come to me like this. She only thought of how much she wanted me.