by K W Quinn
“You look nice,” Juji said.
Lifting his hand to ruffle his hair, Cass froze. He’d gotten dressed up for the big fight, and he didn’t want to mess it up now. He felt ridiculous. All dolled up for what might be the last night of his best friend’s life. But it’s what this kind of people did. Primped and pampered people all trying to impress someone, while others cowered and cringed before their impending fate. Glamour at a funeral.
“If you can, I’d recommend leaving early. The rails out to Hutchings are rougher the later you stay,” Marv offered. He sipped his drink, idly stroking Juji’s muscular arms. “You don’t have a beautiful bodyguard to keep you safe.”
“Bodyguard? Maybe I should go home with Cass,” Juji teased, leaning against the table to bat her eyelashes at him.
“And leave me all alone to fend for myself in the big, bad world?” Marv complained.
“You’re a grown man with a whole flock of admirers. I’m sure you’d be fine for the couple of blocks home.” Juji lifted Marv’s chin with a finger.
“You two need to get a room,” Cass said out of the side of his mouth.
“Not a bad idea,” Marv said. “Should we go find a secluded corner to canoodle in?”
“Canoodle?” Juji scoffed. “How very old-fashioned of you.”
“I’m a gentleman,” Marv protested.
Cass swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He needed an idea. His friends were oblivious, lost in their flirting, but he needed a way out.
Cass took a deep breath and let it out through clenched teeth. Marv always came to these things, monthly exhibitions to dazzle and remind everyone that the Earth held this town and everyone in it. He didn’t mind giving up his magic for a night of entertainment. He just wanted to be where the popular people were. Not all of Cass’s friends were as good as Andy.
Did Marv know Andy was there? Cass ground his teeth as he held back the question. He’d thought of going to Marv to fight this, to find a legal way to extract Andy, but every time he picked up the phone, the words died on his tongue.
“Marv, how long until the fights?” Cass asked.
“You eager for violence?” Marv finished the last of his drink and grimaced, waving to a Bonded to bring him another. “You’ve never seemed the type.”
“I hate fighting, but you don’t grow up in Hutchings without learning a thing or two. But I meant how long are we gonna sit here noticing people notice us?”
“Depends on the fighters. It’s a full bill tonight, so they’ll start soon enough to fit them all in. But being noticed isn’t a bad thing. We are ridiculously good-looking.”
Cass held back a sneer. It was true. They were a strikingly beautiful group of people. “It’s all I’m good for here.”
“A world without beauty is a world I don’t want to live in,” Marv answered. It wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for, but Marv was a piece of the machinery doing his part too. Even though having friends like Cass was a small act of rebellion, maybe that was all Marv could manage.
Cass’s stomach twisted as he thought of all the people who benefited from the sweat and blood the Earth extorted. He knew that, in too many ways, he was one of them. A safe town, clean streets, lots of jobs. The ends didn’t justify the means, but he wasn’t sure how to topple the system and not wreck everything good that had been built. The Earth ruled the town and every Element in it.
“Thanks for the drink, but I’m gonna walk around.” Cass nodded to Juji and gave Marv a slap on the shoulder.
“Remember to skedaddle out of here before all the traffic,” Marv repeated. “Nothing good happens after the fights start anyway.”
Cass waved and pushed into the crowd.
Fight
Cass’s mind raced, trying to find the elusive idea that would save Andy from the fight. He’d sold his soul for it. It had better be good.
Min said it would come when it came, and no amount of coaxing or prodding would speed it along, but that didn’t stop Cass from retracing every mental pathway he’d traveled since Andy had been sold. Every idea he’d rejected came back to vie for his attention.
Kidnap Andy’s dad and ask for Andy as ransom. But no one wanted that dried-up sack of shit enough to give up a young and vibrant Fire like Andy, with his talent and beauty.
“Hey there, pretty boy. Come with me,” a woman called, pearls dripping from her ears and neck. Cass shook his head and moved away.
He could run away so he didn’t have to see Andy crushed. Get far enough away that he’d never hear about Andy’s destiny or see the heartbreak on his mother’s face. Convince himself that Andy would live and be promoted to serve in a comfortable, safe position to some high-up Earth—pampered but still a slave. Find a way to live with himself after abandoning his best friend.
“Refreshment, sir?” a young Bonded asked, holding her tray up for inspection. Cass grabbed a drink, not wanting to refuse her offer, but he couldn’t taste it. Couldn’t stomach being any more complicit in her slavery.
He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his feather tattoo. If anyone noticed, he would dare them to say something. At least one Air in this cursed place was still uncollared.
He could try fighting his way through the crowd and breaking Andy out. With the magic that he couldn’t access inside the Earth’s dampening field. Cass’s Air was useless. Andy’s Fire was useless. Even if Cass could find and gather enough friends and convince them to pick a fight with the biggest bullies around, their magic was useless too. Cass wasn’t a fighter except out of necessity, and his long arms and legs weren’t strong enough to overcome the numerous guards.
“Curse the Earth and the Mountain and everyone,” Cass muttered. Curse himself too.
There was no higher authority to appeal to. Earth rules, Earth ruled. Debts had to be paid. Much like Min’s cosmic balance. Was this all some big con? Min didn’t feel very magical. Intuitive and a little grumpy but not magical.
The inspiration had a life of its own? The idea would come when it was the right time? It sounded like sleazy, sideshow, scam-artist talk. Cass had signed with blood and promised his soul in exchange for what? So far, nothing.
The dancers in the Dome were swirling around the ring, clapping and chanting. The DJ shifted the music into something triumphant and official. Suddenly, the lights overhead flashed. The dancers scuttled out, and all the lights dimmed. It was time. Cass still had no clue what to do, but the dreaded hour was finally at hand.
Cass prayed to every deity of speed and agility he could remember for things to be over quickly. Maybe Andy could play dead and stroke the champion’s ego? Was that the inspiration talking? It sounded like a terrible idea with very little chance of success. If that was inspiration, it wasn’t worth spit, much less his soul.
The first fight wasn’t so bad. A couple of scared-looking kids circled each other until a watching guard poked them with a lightning stick. They launched at each other, scratching and tearing.
It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t sport. It was desperate, and Cass’s skin crawled. If there was a secret skill, a key to victory, he couldn’t see it. And how could he communicate with Andy from this deep in the crowd? He couldn’t move closer without starting his own fight.
“You free?” someone hollered in his ear. Cass turned to see a round-faced Earth matron pulling at his sleeve.
“No.” He should have added a deferential “ma’am” to that, but he wasn’t in the mood. Instead of slapping his face, she let out a tipsy giggle, far too girlish.
“Of course. I meant, are you available? I’ve got some time to waste before the big fight. Come waste it with me, pretty thing.” Her plump fingers were sharp on his arm, pulling his only nice sweater out of shape.
“I’m not for sale.” He pried her fingers off his elbow and turned her around, back toward the crowd. Thankfully, she took the redirection and glided through the press of bodies, leaving Cass alone.
The announcer, a big, burly Earth of some kind—Quaker? Rock? Ce
rtainly not an Arboreal with those beefy fingers—was shouting out the names of the contestants, but he sounded bored. Eager to move on to the main event. He called the moves and matches with strained enthusiasm, but his eyes scanned the crowd and saw that few were paying attention to these early squabbles.
Then the announcer’s eyes lit up, and his smile seemed sincere for the first time all night. He straightened his back and smoothed his already-slick hair. Now was the moment.
“A champion from the deep mines, unmatched and unparalleled. A natural-born fighter with strength and endurance. Rescued from a life of crushing rocks to crush skulls. Nichaela the Bold. Nichaela the Fearless. Nichaela the Merciless.” The announcer grew louder to be heard over the rising cheers from the now-eager crowd.
Nichaela was led into the ring. Tall and thickly muscled, with hair in a long, pale braid down her back, she grinned at the crowd, basking in the cheers and praise. Her skin was oiled, and her scars, stark white against her silvery skin, danced in the light. A Rock. Of course. Why should Andy get lucky with one of the softer Earths? A nice Farmer or a disciple of Demeter. Luck was not on their side.
This champion wore simple leather armor. Against her neck, so fine it almost disappeared into her skin, was a collar. Even the champion was just another slave. She cracked her knuckles and twisted her torso around.
She fought her first victim. It was quick. A few well-placed blows, then the girl who had been fighting for her life crumpled to the dirt floor.
Did Nichaela have a weakness, a flaw, a hesitation of any kind? He needed to find anything he could exploit to save Andy, but her fists were a blur, and she kicked with vicious precision.
She took plenty of time to strut and preen. The light pulsed with each victory. A few more opponents, none offering anything like a real challenge, and Nichaela had hardly broken a sweat. She was a living statue, smooth as marble, hard as diamonds. Deadly as steel.
Between fights, Cass cursed Min and the Earth and Andy’s dad. During the fights, he tried to keep from vomiting.
Then Andy was led into the ring, and Cass felt all the air leave his body like he’d been punched.
Victory
Andy was there. So close. Cass tried to catch his eye to let Andy know that he wasn’t alone, to communicate something that might look or sound like hope, but Andy’s eyes were fixed on the floor.
As the announcer crowed out his introductions, Cass frantically searched the crowd for any other familiar face: an ally, a friend, some help in this desperation. All he saw was the witch holding the dampening field, laughing from her perch above the crowd. Her velvet-draped balcony was accessible only to her guards but gave her a view of the whole floor.
The crowd roared again. Cass forced himself to turn and watch Andy’s doom. Now he needed time. Time to think, time to plan, time for that blood-and-bloody-ashes idea to make itself known. No time to fight. No time to run. Cass watched the ring with sick fascination.
Andy smiled at the crowd, running his hands through his dark hair. Of course Andy would make light of the situation. What else could he do? He didn’t have any armor. He was exposed in a plain tank top, a pair of tight shorts, and of course, the collar that all the Bonded wore.
Nichaela strutted around the ring, waving her arms to the adoring cheers, while Andy stayed a bit out of her reach. To his credit, he kept her in his line of sight, not turning his back. She took no such caution, bathing in the adoration of the crowd.
Andy paused. She made a turn, and when her back was to him, he darted in and landed a punch on her ribs, then darted out again. She didn’t flinch, merely turned her head and smiled. The blow hadn’t bothered her. She faced Andy and raised her hands in invitation, but Andy refused. He walked backward, staying away from her long arms.
She took a quick step in and swiped a punch at Andy’s head, but he dodged, stumbling to the side. His swagger was running out, and Cass felt his own panic rise.
Nichaela rushed in and wrapped her arms around Andy’s waist, lifting him as she crushed his ribs in brutal mimicry of a hug. Andy sagged to the ground, holding his side and biting his lip. Nichaela raised her hands again to the roar of the crowd. She gestured to Andy, still huddled on the dirt floor, and smiled. She knew she had already won.
Andy pushed himself to his feet, then took a few tentative steps. He was slower now. Cass searched wildly for someone to help. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the ring for long, though. He had to keep watching.
Nichaela was almost dancing around the ring, teasing Andy with fake punches and false starts. The crowd laughed and jeered. Andy tried to dodge and feint out of the way, but he was favoring his left side. One swing connected with Andy’s jaw to a deafening chorus of cheers.
Over the thrum of the crowd, the combined shouts of so many people, Cass began to hum the melody of that strange song Min had played for him. It had been the background music to the biggest decision of his life. The watery music flowed in his mind while the world screamed around him.
Blood dripped from Andy’s mouth, and one eye was starting to puff up. Nichaela wasn’t done playing with him, making sport for the bloodthirsty crowd. She grabbed Andy by the hair, patting his soft cheeks patronizingly. The crowd laughed and jeered. She lifted his shirt to rub his lean belly, stretching him out to show how she would break him down.
The Water music was loud in Cass’s head. He tore his eyes away from Andy’s humiliation. His gaze landed on the witch running the dampening field, laughing with her guards. Still humming lightly, Cass moved toward her platform. If he could distract her long enough to shoot off a thread of Air, just a tiny puff, it might disorient Nichaela long enough for Andy to land one solid kick.
There was desperation in Andy’s face, pouring out of every pore faster than the sweat coating his skin. Cass knew Andy wouldn’t miss the opportunity, knew it deep in his bones, knew it the way he knew the depth and strength and limits of his own magic.
The platform was far enough away from the center ring that a puff would be all he could manage. But first, he would have to distract the witch.
Pushing his way through the crowd, Cass ran through his options to maneuver past the guards and, more importantly, to create a distraction. Pretending to know the witch wouldn’t work and pretending to have urgent business from the Earth would be a disaster, but he put on his best smile.
He pulled one side of his slouchy sweater down just a little more, exposing his clavicle and shoulder. The sleeves dangled low over his hands. He mussed his hair, silently thanking Min that he’d decided to put on kohl, then chewed his lips, hoping he looked convincingly libidinous.
He was suddenly grateful for every slur and name thrown at him in school. Being the son of the town crazy lady might finally pay off. From every time a teacher had leered at him and casually commented that he obviously had “a little bit of nymph blood in the mix” or hinted that he couldn’t be trusted in “decent company,” he had learned how to play the part. If they were going to accuse him of being a seducer of innocents, wayward and immoral, then he would wear their insults with pride.
Like his mom did, no matter how little truth the slurs contained. Everyone knew that Airs were sluts and liars. Seductresses, temptresses, whores. Cass had heard all the names and more. Tonight, to the tune of Min’s Water music, he would dance himself into the role. “Half-nymph,” Min had called him, and Cass prayed he could make the guards believe it was true.
He’d seen real nymphs here, high off the pheromones of excited people, roaming around to tempt the crowd. They were traded around like accessories for the rich, kept in a different kind of slavery. Maybe the witch would be greedy enough to think someone had sent one to her.
She was powerful, maintaining the field over the whole Dome without breaking a sweat. She flipped her curly brown hair around and smoothed her uniform robes over her full hips. In fact, she seemed a little bored, chatting and laughing with her guards like a braggart. She wasn’t even watching the match.
/>
She was watching Cass approach, slinking along with that cocky roll to his hips that had gotten his wrist slapped in school. With the field in place, she couldn’t read him, couldn’t feel the thrum of wind in his blood, so she made the same mistake so many had.
She saw the sultry eyes, the full and sensual mouth, the way Cass bit his bottom lip and fluttered his long eyelashes while fingering the wrist of the guard. He didn’t know what to say, so he pouted and sighed, tilting his head to expose more of his long, slender neck. He needed her to assume he was just another barely contained libido in tight pants.
“Thana, what do you want me to do with this one?” asked the guard Cass was pressed against.
The witch nodded him through, letting him slip past the guards and slide next to her. She curled a finger under his chin and pulled him close. “Much prettier than the last one. This match is almost over. Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll take you through the ring on the way out? Would you like that? To see the remains of the carnage up close?”
Cass blinked innocently, nodded, and let his mouth fall open as though struck dumb with anticipation. He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, letting his hips rub against her. Smirking at the possessive way her fingers curled around his shoulders, he turned his face so he could keep his eyes on the ring while he placed soft kisses along her neck.
“Slowly, pet. We’ll have plenty of time after the match,” she admonished.
Cass let out a needy whine, his very real desperation and impatience showing, and hoped she would mistake it for the blind desire of a drugged nymph. Then he found it. A shimmering moment.
Andy was on the ground, one side of his face covered in grit from the floor. Nichaela leaned down to taunt him again, sweat dripping from her nose now. Andy was grappling for his life, and the tension in the air burned Cass’s lungs with every breath.