by Stevie Woods
"I know. I...I think--"
He was interrupted by the loud twang of metal being struck, indicating the end of our food break. One of the guards grasped Liander by his upper arm and dragged him to his feet.
"Up, up," the guard snapped, his words including everyone. "Put your utensils back on the wagon and then go back to your sections."
I was frustrated not knowing what Liander was going to say about Cor'lyn. I had my own ideas, having overheard his reference to buying Liander. Liander might be able to fight Fortil off, but no way would he be allowed to do that if he was bought and officially owned by the man in charge. We had to find a way of escaping before the thirty days were up. Even if Cor'lyn wasn't the one to buy Liander, somebody else would, and who knows what kind of future he would be facing then. The probability of ending up a fighting slave was bad enough, but I couldn't let him become some bastard's sexual plaything.
I suspected he was strong enough to take the physical abuse. Liander was much stronger than most people gave him credit for, but I wasn't sure if he could take the psychological abuse.
Chapter 7
Twenty days later...
Being able to sit with Hollis every day for a few minutes and eat our food together had made my life in this place almost bearable. Some days we couldn't really talk because there were others sitting too close, or occasionally a guard would eat his meal near us. Somehow, just sitting close and eating the same food was a comfort. Plus knowing for certain now how Hollis feels, it's enough. But the days we can actually talk...
We've been here for twenty days now. I knew because I had scratched each one off on the column near where I sleep. I knew, too, that Hollis was feeling desperate. He'd told me we have to escape before the auction, but actually doing it seems impossible. He didn't say it--he didn't have to--but it's me he's really worried about. I love it that he's concerned about me, but he doesn't seem to understand I'm just as worried about him.
He has this inflated view of my sexual attraction and what he calls my innocent sensuality; thinks it draws all the unwarranted attention I get. What the hell is innocent sensuality? I'm twenty-five years old; I haven't been innocent for a long time. I've had to be very careful, even after it became clear I'd never be more than a very junior member of the royal family, because it was still necessary to be circumspect and engender respect. Though perhaps it was easier than it might otherwise have been for a prince who had no interest in taking a wife. I had already fallen for Hollis.
I so wanted to speak with Hollis, but today was a case in point. He was sitting alongside me, our shoulders touching, but we weren't able to talk privately as a few of the other slaves had joined us and they were asking Hollis' advice. This had become quite common once his expertise was proven as good as our Guides.
As time passed, the guards had relaxed and we'd learned some more general pointers from them, too. The better a fighter you were, the better the "stable" would purchase you, and you would receive better treatment. Hollis and I were clearly the only ones with any real experience, and when I mentioned he'd taught me virtually everything I knew, Hollis became the one everyone went to for advice.
The last time we'd spoken alone was two days ago, and I'd told him of my concern for him. I knew he feared what would happen when the auction took place, fearing for my safety in the arena and in my bed--or rather someone else's bed--but he'd brushed off my qualms for his own safety. The idea of being forced into someone's bed was horrifying, I couldn't deny it, especially now when all I wanted was to be in Hollis' bed. It might have been easier if I didn't love someone, if I didn't want only Hollis to touch me and take me with love.
Yet, as I told him two days earlier, there were worse fears as far as I was concerned, such as being separated and never seeing him again. Yet there was something even worse than that for me--the possibility one day we may be pitted against each other in the arena. I saw the shock in his eyes--it must never have occurred to him--but he never had the chance to answer me because he was dragged away then for the afternoon session.
That afternoon they gave me--us--cause to worry about my fear. Cor'lyn arrived with a couple of guests in tow, very important guests if their garb and attitude was anything to go by. Cor'lyn never introduced them, so I could only guess why they were there and I presumed it was to show off his wares to prospective buyers. Apparently, Cor'lyn wanted to put on a show and he ordered the training to stop and all the slaves re-linked to their partners while a display match took place. And surprise, surprise, he chose Hollis and me to put on his display. Not once before this had he pitted us against each other. In fact, he always kept our two groups separate.
The other slaves were sent back to their respective halls, and we were positioned in the centre of the arena and given a tipped sword each. It had only been three days since all the training weapons had been changed. No more wooden swords or pilums, we now had the real thing. The explanation Cor'lyn gave was the weight distribution with the authentic weapons was different and we needed to get used to the actual thing. The training weapons were weighted as near as possible to the real weapons, but it still felt very different to use an actual sword again. The Guides put us through exercises to get used to the differences and we were required to practice a set of movements mirroring a partner. However, when it came to actual combat practice, our weapons were tipped for protection.
Cor'lyn couldn't afford for either of us to receive serious injury at this stage of the game.
We had only been fighting for a few minutes; I suppose a fairer description would be sparring because, even though this was the first time we had ever seriously crossed swords, our moves were almost choreographed. We knew each other's moves well in hand-to-hand combat and we had sparred with a variety of weapons since Hollis had become my Guardian.
It couldn't have been violent enough for them, though, because one of the guests walked forward and ordered us to stop the fight. Cor'lyn followed close behind, obviously continuing an argument they'd been having. The guest pulled out his own sword, a fine weapon by all appearances, waving it in our direction. It became obvious he wanted us to fight with untipped blades, and Cor'lyn was arguing against it.
"I'll be damned if I'll risk my prize combatants just to put on a display for you," he said.
"I want to see a real fight!" the guest declared.
"Very well," Cor'lyn said, and my heart almost stopped. "If you insist untipped weapons are used and either of my combatants is injured, or worst, killed, then you will have to pay the expected auction price." Cor'lyn glanced at us, then back at the guest. "And I can assure you, the price will be high due to the excellent skills of these two."
In the end, and much to my utter relief, the visitor backed down. He was not happy at losing his entertainment, but Cor'lyn reminded the guest he was responsible for us and fully within his rights. I didn't give a damn about his so-called rights. I couldn't bear the thought of really fighting Hollis.
However, as the man returned to his position, Cor'lyn moved closer, looked from Hollis to me and said sharply, "You will put on a proper display of swordsmanship. I want to see near misses, I want to see hits, I want it to be clear who scores and how. I want a winner, not a draw. Let me make this clear--you don't make me happy and you won't be happy. I can punish you without the lash. I don't have to mark your skin for you to feel pain."
As Cor'lyn stalked back to his seat, Hollis turned to me and whispered, "Go for it, Lian. We can make it look good."
I nodded, knowing what he meant. We both let our control drop enough we gave them a good show and we both had the bruises to prove it. In the end, as Hollis planned, I won when my sword slipped past his guard and the tipped point pressed against his throat.
I relaxed then thinking it was over, but it wasn't. Next they brought out the real pilums, much more lethal as the whole thing was metal and perfectly weighted to fly true in a horizontal line. Its perfect balance did mean, though, it could be swung with ease, and a skilled us
er could block moves or twist it around one's body to throw an opponent off balance and make a killing move. It had taken a couple of days to get used to it, but now both Hollis and I felt as comfortable with it as we had with the wooden version.
What worried me now was if they expected us to fight with them as they were presented to us, because they weren't tipped. The pilum Guide had explained they were so finely balanced that tipping a pilum threw them off for infighting and made them impossible to throw. We trained throwing the untipped weapons against targets and fought with them under the strictly watchful eye of the Guide. Did Cor'lyn expect us to fight all out with these?
I looked at Hollis and clearly he had the same thoughts. He stepped forward to ask the question I expected, but it wasn't necessary as Kano came to us and informed us we were not permitted to throw the weapon. We were to demonstrate our skill with infighting and the first hit would be considered as final. In other words, one visible hit would be enough. This we could do. It would be just like fighting under Hollis' instruction. He'd taught me many choreographed moves to help me to learn control. The moves were automatic now.
As Hollis moved to get into position he mouthed, Set one, to me, and I answered with an infinitesimal nod. We really were on the same wavelength.
We set up moves, drove forward, feinted and blocked. Hollis feinted left, then swung behind me, and I had to twist half sideways to block his weapon. He ducked and came up at my side. I moved my pilum across my body, blocked and slid my weapon up against his to force him aside. I carried on with the move, swinging the pilum toward his right shoulder. He twisted to avoid the blow and in doing so got behind me and swung his weapon against the back of my knees, knocking my legs from under me. I landed on my back, my pilum still in my hand already beginning to raise my weapon, only to find Hollis' pilum pressed lightly against my chest, over my heart. He looked down at me, the expression in his eyes vastly at odds with the action of his body. I had to fight not to grin at him.
Cor'lyn seemed well pleased with our display. I saw him glance over at the disgruntled guest and raise an eyebrow at the man. The man inclined his head, indicating he was satisfied, and it was finally over. Kano and another guard led us back to our respective halls.
But that night I had a nightmare in which the sword had been real and the point kept moving straight through Hollis' neck. I woke up, gasping, to hear Fortil's husky voice asking if it was a good one. I just felt nauseous.
* * * *
Now, while we sat relaxed side-by-side, I was desperate to speak to Hollis, if only for a minute. I just wanted to hear him say a few words to me. It didn't really matter what the words were, just so they were for me. I needed it. Perhaps I was weak, but I needed it. Though, with the others surrounding us, plying Hollis with questions, I couldn't have my wish.
The metallic twang came to signal the end of the food break, and everyone began to scatter. We'd learned early the guards didn't like us to linger. So I got to my feet with a sigh. Hollis rose, too, and he leaned toward me as he gained his balance, "accidentally" brushing his arm against mine. I reached out to steady him and just that touch of skin on skin sent shivers tumbling down my spine. My eyes flicked to his face and I saw the words he could not say in the depths of his eyes. My heart fluttered in my chest.
"We would both die that day," he whispered suddenly, then turned away as the guard escorted him back to his section.
His words should have shocked or scared me, but I was relieved. He understood. I should have known he would. If my fear ever came true and we were forced to face each other in the arena, he could no more harm me than I could him. We knew from what the guards had told us that if a fighter lost in the arena, his fate was judged by his performance, but if two fighters failed to perform, they would both be killed on the spot. That was Hollis' message to me. That would be our final victory.
It didn't mean he was giving up, not by any means. He simply wanted me to know he understood and he accepted that would be the final straw. I knew he was still trying to find a way to escape, but time was running out.
As I turned away, I almost walked into Fortil, who was leaning against the wagon. I'd not had any trouble from him since the first night; in fact, he'd hardly spoken to me, which suited me just fine. I made to step to one side and pass him, but he moved as I did and blocked my path. Frowning, I looked at him.
He smiled, like a wolf baring his teeth. "Now I understand." He smirked and walked away.
He knew. I don't know how, but Fortil knew. I wasn't sure what he intended to do. I mean what could he do, really? Oh, Lords--Cor'lyn!
I felt a tug on my arm and realized I was the only one left at the food wagon. The guard admonished me for lingering as he dragged me back to the training field.
I was supposed to spend the afternoon practicing the use of the pilum, but my mind was not on the training and I made a few glaring errors that earned me a dressing down and the threat of punishment if I didn't pay attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fortil grinning at me and realized I was letting him win. I had to pull myself together and put this out of my mind until training was over.
One of our group, Canto, had been punished two days earlier. They had stripped him, spread-eagled him against the main gate, and Kano whipped him. Cor'lyn told us he'd been lucky to get away with a "light" punishment, only receiving a dozen lashes. Those dozen lashes had cut his back badly as Kano had struck him six times from each side so the lash marks cut across each other. Canto was still in pain and could hardly function during the training. The guards taunted the poor man that only a poor stable would bother to buy him and he wouldn't last long in the main arena. I had to get a grip; I didn't want to end up on the end of Kano's whip.
Longin called me out and made me attack him, and I had to concentrate to defend myself and make acceptable attacking moves against him.
After a few minutes, he called a halt. "Good, good, that is much better."
He called the rest of the group over and paired us off. Of course, I ended up with Fortil.
"You don't actually think you can beat me, do you?" Fortil mocked. "Longin was going easy on you, but you'll have no such luck with me. I'm going to take you down and show him who is really good at this."
I tuned him out. Years of concentration came to my aid and I channeled all my energies into beating him--jabbing with the point, blocking with the stave, using it to knock him off balance. Finally, I body-blocked him and while he was trying to recover, I twisted behind to come up on his blind side. I knocked his pilum from his hands, using the same move to push him to the ground, then I pressed my own point to his heart.
I looked into his eyes and, with an expression I knew was cold and hard, I stared down at him. Had it been a real fight, Fortil would be dead and he knew it. I saw the fear flicker in his eyes.
"Excellent. Well done, Lian. You have learned well after all," Longin declared.
My point was still pressed against Fortil's heart and my own heart was beating fast in my chest, my breath panting past my lips, anger rolling through me.
"Retire, Lian," said Longin, pressing gently on my extended right arm, which was locked with tension.
I released my breath with a gasp and stepped back, pulling my pilum into my side, its tip pointing up in the rest position as we'd been taught. Fortil got stiffly to his feet, copied me and purposely moved to stand at my side as Longin moved off to instruct another pair.
He kept his voice low so only I could hear. "I've been watching you for days, watching as you always sit together, watching as you talk quietly, secretly when you thought you were on your own. Other days, when you couldn't have your secret talks, I watched your little touches, glances, smiles. Oh, you were so careful, but you didn't know I was watching, did you?"
"So, what does it matter?"
"Oh, it explains much." He smiled that calculating smile. "I wonder if Cor'lyn knows," he said walking away.
Chapter 8
Something was wrong. Li
ander was distracted, and Longin was obviously upset with him. It couldn't be what I said to him, surely? No, I saw his face and I knew it was what he'd wanted to hear. There was no fear in his face, only acceptance. Whatever it was, it must have happened after the food break. Damn, it was my turn in the wrestling square and my opponent was Ledo. He was good; wrestling was his best discipline.
We made a few good moves and neither of us was gaining any advantage, which considering I was doing my best to see what was going on with Liander was quite remarkable. I could hear raised voices, cheering, I think.
In desperation, I murmured to Ledo, "You have to take me. Use the left shoulder roll and I'll let you pin me."
Lian? he mouthed at me, and I nodded. He did as I asked, and I went with it, put on a bit of show of struggling and let him hold me down, his arm resting lightly across my throat. If he wanted, he could lean all his weight on my exposed throat and crush my trachea, a killing move.
Our trainer, Englo, praised him and asked Ledo to take on another opponent, while I slipped to the edge of our group, in a good position to watch Liander without it being too obvious. Whatever was going on, it involved Fortil, who was standing like a statue with Liander's pilum pressed against his chest. Even at this distance, I could see the tension in Liander's stance, and, as I watched, Longin slowly pushed his pilum down. What the hell had happened now? Fortil hadn't even been a blip on the horizon since the first night. Liander had told me that, despite being chained together every night, the man ignored him. Something must have occurred, and I needed to know what, but the odds against me getting anywhere near enough to Liander to speak to him were infinitesimal. Once the afternoon session was over, we were sent back to our halls to bathe, eat the evening meal and then rest.
I'd have to wait until the food break the next day and I had the feeling Liander was going to have a difficult night. Not that I doubted he could take care of himself. I just wish he didn't have to and that I could take care of him myself. In the biblical sense, too.