by Izzy Shows
If I ever got out of here, would I always be so anxious? Would I stiffen every time I heard the sound of boots scuffing the floor? Would my breathing halt every time I heard a door open? Before Kaidan and Walter, I had never allowed another male close proximity to me, had never held another's hand or received a 'hug' from another person, but I had grown rather fond of it in the week or so that I had spent with them, preparing the ship for travel. Now, the touch of another being was not only something I objected to on a moral basis, it was repugnant to me.
Would I ever be able to look at another person and not assess their strengths and weaknesses, but simply enjoy their company?
I doubted it. I doubted I would ever return to the way I had been before I was captured and forced into this lifestyle.
Remember when you thought you were chained to Zvarr, forever bound to clean up after him, and that was the worst thing that could have happened to you? Remember when you thought you were being punished by having such a brother? Now, look at you. You're a monster. This is true punishment. This is a living death.
I lowered my gaze to the floor, unable to look myself in the eyes in the 3D viewer, because I knew my thoughts were true. I had been transformed into a monster in the few weeks I had spent in this 'club.' I had allowed them to turn me into a killer, and I deserved to burn in the lowest level of hell when I finally passed from this world. I prayed that Nytoc would take me from this world sooner rather than later.
Death would be a sweet escape from this life, and I grew less and less hopeful that I would escape it in any other way with each day that passed.
The slave who was buttoning up the back of my dress spoke up. "You don't look very happy, miss."
I arched an eyebrow, surprised. She dared to speak?
"Should I be? What do I have to be happy about?"
"You've survived this long, miss, and I've heard that you've put on a show more captivating than any they've ever seen before. I've even heard whispers that some think you will survive the tournament itself."
Survive the tournament.
That had been my goal, hadn't it? I'd gone into this with the intent that I would come out in one piece, that I would have impressed my master to such a degree that he would grant me privileges, and that I would be able to escape. Funny how such little time had passed and yet I had changed so much.
I didn't think about the future at all anymore, didn't think about the day to come, or even the next hour that would pass. All that consumed me was the moment, the misery I lived in, and the fact that I would continue to be a weapon of death for the joy of evil men.
My only comfort was that this knowledge still stirred a flame of hatred in my soul. I was not completely numb, then, as I had begun to fear. There was some life in me yet.
"Well, that about does it for you," the slave said. "Time to get you to the gala."
The gala. Yes, of course. I didn't know much about it, though I expected I would learn soon enough.
I allowed the female to lead me out of the dressing room and through the hallways of the club to a grand ballroom. It was decorated extravagantly, with several long tables that would serve many more than the group of men who had built this tournament, and there was a space for dancing as well.
My eyes drifted about the room, taking in the others who were present. There were perhaps seventy or eighty males, all dressed in formal garb, and half that many females. Like me, the females were dressed in gowns that were clearly expensive, but offered little in the way of modesty.
These were my opponents, I told myself, yet I couldn't seem to summon any anger toward them. I felt only pity that their lives would come to an end soon and that they were doing nothing to stop this but killing one another.
Couldn't they see that if we rose up as one, we would be able to take down the masters who controlled us? Couldn't they see that we were not powerless in this game so long as we came together? Alone, we didn't stand a chance, but together, we would be strong.
No one was interested in hearing that from me, or at least that was what I had learned with each and every proving I had participated in. Always, I tried to get my opponent to see reason, and every time they failed to heed me. They were determined to believe the words their masters had told them, that their only choice was to kill or be killed, and they were not interested in the hope I could bring them if only they would listen. I suspected that many of them had been slaves before, that they had forgotten what freedom meant, and this was why they allowed themselves to be led about like animals at the whims of their masters.
I walked into the room cautiously, keeping to the fringes of the crowd as I made my way around. I saw that several of the females had congregated together, speaking in hushed tones, and I suspected they were already forming alliances for the tournament that would begin soon.
Should I try to talk to them? I would not be interested in such an alliance, and I doubted they would want to hear from me. Each of them was a stranger to me, and they had yet to hear my proposal, but it seemed hopeless that these new females would listen to me any more than the others had.
Be careful. You have to watch what you say, or the master will hear you and you will be punished.
I had to remember that now I was outfitted with a microphone, and every word I said went to my master. Did he have an earpiece like mine? Was he wearing it now, to hear everything I said? Or, perhaps, were my words being recorded to be listened to at some future time?
I doubted he would encumber himself with my voice at all times, but I found I wasn't eager to take the chance.
Still, I had to try.
I approached the first group of females, a tentative smile on my face.
"Greetings," I said. "My name is Xiva. How do you do?"
The five females stared at me for a moment, clearly taken aback, and then without comment they turned their backs to me and walked away. I let out a small surprised sound and looked down at the floor as I collected myself. Of the many reactions I had predicted, that was not one of them.
I would have thought they'd at least say something, rather than icing me out completely. What was wrong with them, that they had no words to spare for one who was in the same situation as they?
The evening went on, and I tried to speak to several other females in the room, but many of them cleared out of my way before I could even reach them, and none of them tried to come and speak to me.
This was not new to me. I had always been an outsider in the Aelodhari, the religious order of which I'd been High Priestess. I had earned every bit of respect I'd been given then, but I had never truly had someone I could call a friend. Even Tixa, the priestess I'd been closest to, had held me at arm's length. I was not unaccustomed to isolation, and I was beginning to suspect I would always be an outsider, no matter where I went.
"Ah, there you are, you magnificent creature." The sound of my master's voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I resisted the urge to jerk back when he grasped of my arm. "I have some people I'd like you to meet."
I glared at him but said nothing as he led me toward one end of the room, where a dozen of the males had gathered.
"This is the slave I acquired," he said, gesturing to me. "She's quite the specimen, isn't she?"
"I've never seen eyes like that before," one of the males said, stepping closer to examine me. "Do look me in the eye, girl, that I might see them better."
I did as I was told, not bothering to hide the disgust I was sure was in my eyes when I met his gaze.
He muttered something under his breath but held eye contact with me, even daring to take a step closer.
"Are they purple or pink? I can't tell, but goodness, they are beautiful."
"They're both," I said, lifting my chin.
"Oh! She speaks! You didn't tell me she was intelligent," he said, turning to my master in surprise.
"I'm not altogether certain she is. She's rather disobedient, you know, as if she doesn't understand the orders I give her."
/> "I understand them just fine," I said icily. "I choose not to obey."
The crowd of males burst into little chuckles, as if they found this the most humorous thing in the world.
"Quite the spirit this one has. Where did you find her?"
"She was for sale on Glmicus," he said. "Her slaver didn't know her planet of origin or her species. I think she might be a one of a kind."
"I wouldn't be surprised at all. She's quite unique-looking, that's for certain. Look at the markings on her skin! Her skin glows with a blue hue, but she has little dots of light all along her arms, her face, and her breasts as well," one of the other males said, marveling at my body.
I resisted the urge to take a step back and cover myself. I had never been one to hide my body before, but now I longed for the archaic robes that the priestesses of the Aelodhari had worn centuries before my birth. Those would have clothed me head to toe, leaving none of my skin exposed, and I would have felt far more comfortable.
They continued to discuss the ways in which I was strange to them, to poke and prod at me as if I were an animal on display, and one even speculated as to the color of my blood. He sounded quite wistful, as if he couldn't wait to see what it would be like in the tournament.
I had yet to be blooded in the provings, which was why they didn't know, and I doubted I would allow myself to be so harmed in the tournament itself, but I allowed them to speculate. It would do me no good to trade insults with these males; they did not respect me, and they would not listen to a word I said.
While they talked, I was plotting my revenge. The thoughts of how I would kill them once I was free filled my mind—the agony I would extract from them, the ways in which I would draw out each and every one of their deaths.
They would know pain, and I would watch them die with a smile on my face.
Xiva
The tournament was starting.
I was standing in an alcove before a door that led into the building where the tournament was set to take place. I didn't know what the layout of the building was, or what was waiting for me inside beyond that there were several males and females for me to fight. My master had said that my entrance was advantageous, and that he had worked hard to ensure I had gotten it.
That should make me feel good, shouldn't it? I should be happy that I would be starting the fight at an advantage, as I intended to do whatever it took to win.
Instead, I felt apathy. I found I didn't entirely care about the fight anymore, that the idea of winning was something I was telling myself I had to do, rather than something I cared about doing. Survival didn't matter as much as it had before, and even the previously urgent feeling of needing to save Kaidan had faded to a whisper.
I can't save Kaidan any more than I can save myself.
This was the thought that kept me company as of late, though I tried to argue with it. All I had to do was make it through this tournament, and then I would find a way to escape, and then I would save him from whatever hell he had been sold into.
That was what I'd kept telling myself throughout the weeks of my enslavement, and yet the conviction I felt grew smaller and smaller.
Get your head right, Xiva. You're about to go into a ruthless battle to the death, and if you aren't paying attention, you're going to get yourself killed.
The sharp voice in my head sounded more like the old me, the me I had been before I was captured, and I felt a stirring in my soul at hearing it. But there was another voice, a darker one, that whispered back.
Would death be so bad? Wouldn't it be preferable to continuing on like this? Who's to say you'll even find freedom if you make it through this tournament? Who's to say this won't be the way your life plays out forever more? Better to die now, while there's still some semblance left of what was inside you.
The dark voice was hard to argue with, as it played on my doubts and depression, but I had to fight it. No matter how difficult it was, I had to fight the voice, because I couldn't give in.
I straightened my shoulders and looked straight ahead at the door. I was Xiva Moraio, High Priestess of the Aelodhari, Ruler of the Stryx. I could withstand torture, no matter its form, and I would come out stronger than ever.
That thought seemed to provide me a little more iron in my will, and as the gong sounded and the door in front of me lifted, I felt a little better.
I crept through the hallway the door opened into, trying to focus my thoughts. My master expected me to kill at least ten of the twenty combatants, and had reminded me that if I didn't win, there would be hell to pay.
What hell could he give me, though? If I don't win, I'll be dead.
I smirked at the thought. That apparently hadn't occurred to my master, although perhaps he meant that if I didn't complete the required number of killings, he would make my life hell. I shrugged. I didn't intend to kill the number of people he had set out for me, not unless I had no other choice.
I was going to deal with this the same way I had the battle royal: I would avoid the fight as long as possible, and would only join it when it was no longer possible to avoid.
These thoughts were useless chatter in my mind, so I turned my attention away from them to instead survey the interior of the building I was walking through. There were hatches in the floor immediately to my right, some of which appeared to be trap doors that would lead to Nytoc-only-knew what torment, and some simply designed to hold you in place. No doubt to keep you prisoner long enough for another combatant to find you and finish you off.
I shuddered at the thought. Waiting for death like that was not an honorable way to go, and I didn't intend for it to happen to me. A small amount of pity surged within me for those who would no doubt fall victim to the traps, for they were difficult to see if you didn't have night vision of the caliber that I did, and I doubted the lot of them did.
They hadn't been selected for their efficiency in a fight, but rather for the enjoyment their bloody deaths would bring the masters.
I moved through the building, careful to make as little noise as possible as I catalogued my surroundings. Not for the first time since this had all started, I wished for my own boots. They were soundless even in the worst environment and would have afforded me a much-needed advantage.
It wasn't just the other combatants I would need to worry about; it was the environment as well. I'd already seen some traps, and I didn't doubt there would be worse ones ahead. I wasn't sure how long we would be locked in here—it depended on how long it took us to kill one another, after all—but there might be a need to worry about food and water. I didn't want to make it through the worst of this and then starve to death, after all.
Worry about that later. Right now, you need to avoid the initial bloodbath. That's bound to be huge. Everyone's blood will be running high with the adrenaline of the tournament starting. Find a place to hide and wait it out until the others have finished with the initial high and go on to more strategic moves.
Yes. That was what I needed to do.
I continued through the weaving hallways of the building, my anxiety spiking each time I entered an open room that didn't have a good area to hide in. I tried to stay as close to the wall as possible, moving through the room so my back was to the wall and I could see both entrances in the event that someone came in to ambush me.
For a while, it seemed like I was making good progress. Luck was on my side, and I hadn't run into anyone yet, which was odd. My master had said my entrance was advantageous. One would think that meant I would be in a prime position to kill as many as possible, but it seemed to mean I had been placed as out of the way as possible.
Best not to dwell on that. I wouldn't be able to figure it out without a bird's eye view of the building, anyway.
Just then, I heard the sound of a boot scuffing the floor, and I spun around.
A combatant stood farther down the hallway, a blade in one hand and a vicious grin on his face. He was tall, but not as tall as I, and had curly, fire-red hair. His eyes wer
e red as well, but on closer inspection I realized they weren't just red, they had flames within them.
He charged at me without another moment of hesitation, and I didn't waste a second; I took off in the opposite direction. I didn't want to fight him. I wanted to get away and allow him to fight someone else.
I could hear him running after me, laughing all the while, but I was lighter and faster than he was. I burst out into a gigantic room which had very high ceilings and beams crossing from the top of one wall to the other.
Perfect. Only escape viable.
Without hesitating to calculate the possibilities, I threw myself into the air in the direction of the closest wall, caught an exposed pipe, and used it to hurl myself farther up and onto the closest beam. I landed with my arms wrapped around the beam, and with a grunt pulled myself up onto it so that I was straddling it.
"What the fuck," my enemy growled from the ground, glaring up at me. "Too afraid to fight?"
"Enjoy killing someone else," I said sweetly. "I'll be waiting for you later."
He appeared to consider that for a long moment, then cast a dark look up at me before he skulked out of the room. I let out a breath of relief. I hadn't been sure he would give up so easily, and I didn't know what power he might possess to get me down from here.
No matter now. I had an advantageous position this high up, and it was unlikely that anyone else would be able to reach me until I decided to come down.
I was content to wait this out as long as I could. I didn't want to kill any of the other combatants, and I wished I could get them to see that it wasn't necessary to kill one another, but I would settle for avoiding meting out death for as long as possible.