by Erin O'Kane
“I told you, you could trust me.”
Today was crazy. I’m drained from the fight and almost losing Xavier. I slump to the ground, but not twenty minutes later, I see torches heading my way and almost groan. I nudge Xavier who sits up. I don’t know why they haven’t moved him yet, and when Tobias spots him, he frowns, like he had forgotten he was in here with me. They don’t seem to be surprised at all that he’s alive, considering when they brought him in here he was most definitely dead.
“Come on, slave, there is someone who wants to see you. Xavier, back to your cell,” Tobias calls, as he and another guard unlock my cell and gesture me forward. I nod at Xavier as I pass, and he squeezes my hand as he heads back to his own cage on unsteady legs. I’m betting it’s Chester, so I go willingly, letting them lead me down the hall and to our usual room.
The door opens and I head in without any fear, except when I look up it’s not Chester I see...but a man. A man I have never seen before. He is covered to his feet in a black cloak, his face peeking out of the shadows, and only when the door shuts behind me does he toss it back to reveal himself.
His face is slim with high cheekbones, but not from fashion, more from malnourishment. His eyes are brown and deep, locked on me. His eyebrows slant angrily over his eyes, his lips thin and pursed. An old, white scar dissects them. He’s tall, really tall, and skinny.
I step back, hitting the door, my back slamming into it in my rush to get away. “Who are you? What do you want?” I snap, fear coating my tone.
“Not what you are thinking,” he tells me, his voice low and rough, like rocks grating against each other. “Though I did tell Chester that when I bought these hours, I hope you don’t mind.”
Chester? Chester let him buy me?
I don’t know why that stings, but it does. I thought we had reached an understanding...a partnership. But no. He sold me, like a whore, like a slave.
I tilt my head back defiantly. “So what do you want?”
“A bit of your time, that is all, Rhea. You see, I represent a group of people. People like yourself. We are everywhere, even down here.”
“The rebels?” I whisper, looking at him with fresh eyes, and he nods.
“The rebels, those deemed not worthy to live or have their own freedom. We have been fighting back in every way we could since we formed, but you are here now. What you did in the ring could change everything.”
“You want me to fight for you?” I conclude with a frown.
“With us, for us, whatever way you want to put it. We want your help. We’re losing, Rhea, and if something doesn’t change, us freaks will all be dead soon. We need your help, Rhea,” he declares, stepping closer, but not close enough to feel threatening.
“Fine, you want me to fight, I want something in return,” I snarl, my mind whirring.
“What is that?” he asks, a smile curling his lips at my answer.
“Freedom. Help get us out of here, all of us, and I’ll fight with you. I will join your rebellion.” And I will, to save my family, to free us all…I will. Freaks aren’t slaves, so maybe it’s time we fought back. Taught them we are not be messed with. “You get us free and we have a deal,” I demand, my voice unwavering.
We stare each other down until eventually, he laughs, the sound booming around us. “You have yourself a deal, Rhea. Freedom for your help.”
He sweeps across the room, passing me, and heads to the door.
“Oh? And Firecracker, stay strong,” he whispers as he goes by, and I freeze at the nickname.
Only one man calls me that.
Only my family knows it.
Jessie.
I spin, but the man is gone, and I gawk after him.
How did he know that? Is Jessie...is Jessie alive? No, he can’t be. I saw him die! The hope would be worse than watching it happen all over again.
But, what if?
I can feel it in the air, the change...the hope. I had spread word. The rebellion is coming, we will be free. Despite my own thoughts, I have hope too. Not just hope for freedom...but for Jessie. I replay the moment when I thought he had died...what if I was wrong? What if he didn’t.
Firecracker.
I would give anything, fight in any rebellion, and topple any empire to have him back with me. My sweet, sweet love. If he is alive, if he is with the rebels...I will never let him go again. Nothing else matters but family, and I plan on building mine back together again.
Piece by fucking piece if I need to.
I wait in my cell for anything to happen. He didn’t say when he would help us, but it makes sense that it wouldn’t be straight away. He would need to organise it all, and then get in to get us out. So I wait, patiently.
I sleep that night, but lightly in case I need to be awake at a moment’s notice. The next morning, I shower and use the bathroom before heading to join my men at the table where a tray waits for me, Xavier trailing on my heels. Not that anyone down here would dare attack me, not after that show upstairs, no, they all seem scared of me now or at least respect me.
I plop into my seat between Blain and Nixon, and Xavier sits opposite me with Rex…leaving a space between them for Jessie, which breaks my heart. I swallow and look away before I break down again, and it just so happens that I look up and meet Jacob’s gaze. He nods at me, stepping up to our table and the gap there.
“Soon,” is all he says, and then walks away.
Soon? For the escape? How soon is soon? How does he know? I can’t ask him, so I look back at my food and pay attention to eating, ensuring that I don’t draw the guards’ eyes to me.
I force myself to eat and drink and then the bell rings. “Time to fight! Line up, slaves!” comes the call and we all stand, with Xavier and me sharing a look. It’s time.
We line up, but Xavier and I are held back and chained together. He helps me with my armour, his fingers lingering longer than they need to, and we share another look, one filled with unspoken feelings. When he turns away, the moment is broken, and I shake it off, grabbing my sword and readying myself, facing the emptying tunnel. The slaves are led into the sand above to the sounds of cheers and stomping.
I hope the rebellion comes soon…
I don’t know how many more fights we will survive.
We stride onto the sand, our heads held high and our swords ready, with our chains dangling between us. The crowd goes wild as we stop in the middle, our eyes running across them, dismissing them the same way we dismiss the Masters. They are nothing to us now.
We show no fear.
We bend for no one.
We are the Immortals.
The time ticks by as the crowd still goes wild, chanting our names, screaming them. We wait, still and ready for whatever they are going to throw at us. I hear the crank of the gate again. Day after day, fight after fight, I stand here. When is enough... enough?
I don’t turn this time, not yet. I grab my sword and lift it into the air, feeling Xavier copy my movements. I stare down everyone, giving them a message, and only when they start to get uncomfortable do I turn to see what we are fighting today.
Other slaves troop in, all grim-faced, knowing what and who they are facing...two immortals. They know this means their death, but to not fight would mean an even worse fate. They are choosing the lesser evil and I hate that this is all we are.
A lesser evil.
No.
I glance at Xavier, and a look passes between us so I step closer, trying not to move my lips. “I’m not doing it, not again. I’m not killing these men, they do not deserve to die simply for being them. I won’t lose my soul just to save my life.”
He searches my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I am, I am not asking you to do this with me. I know what it means, I know the sacrifice I am—”
“I’m with you, always, no more death. We will show them they can’t control us any longer. I will follow where you lead, Rhea,” he states, his voice strong and sure.
It’s decided.
No more killing. We are taking a stand. For us, for our souls, for the freaks...for the rebellion.
The other slaves don’t know it though, and they share worried glances with sweat covering their pale faces as they shift in the sand. Not attacking, just waiting to defend themselves.
“Fight!” comes a yell, which is taken up by the rest of the crowd until they are chanting it at us. The slaves facing us move in slightly, watching us closely as they do, the guards straightening at their back to force them if need be.
I step towards them, swinging my sword, and they don’t step back. “Fight us,” I call as loudly as I dare without being heard. “We won’t kill you.”
They share a look again, and one to the left with an unkempt beard snorts. “Sure, they are just trying to trick us.”
“We aren’t,” I hiss, and then run my eyes over them. “We are done killing our own.”
They share nervous looks, but the one with the beard rushes at me with a yell, his sword raised. I hold my hand out to stop Xavier, and I wait for the man to get close before I sweep my leg and send him tumbling, pressing my sword to his throat. “I am not killing you.”
He looks past the sword to me, his eyes holding shock. No doubt he saw me kill Xavier and thought if I could turn on my partner, I would kill anyone, but they don’t know me. They don’t know it was a plan and how much it broke me to watch him die, even though he was reborn.
“Why?” he finally asks, his gaze clashing with mine, the word holding so much despair. Why, why am I helping him? Sparing him? When the world and the people in it have done nothing but betray and abuse him?
“Because we are freaks, we stick together,” I answer him and remove my blade. Instead, I hold out my hand to him, letting him decide. His life is in his hands now, like it should have always been.
He glances from it to me, finally coming to a decision. He places his hand in mine, and I help him to his feet and turn and face the others who drop the tips of their swords to the ground, all of their decisions made as well.
“Slaves! Fight,” comes an order from the Masters’ box. I look at them and grin.
“Make us!” I call back boldly.
I hear some boos, but some of the crowd laughs as well. The Masters look infuriated, and they turn to the guard in their box and whisper something. Not two minutes later, the gate is rising again, and guards are streaming in wearing battle gear. They face us, all angry and ready to die for their orders and Masters. I swing my sword and step forward. Xavier mimics my movements as the slaves suck in a breath, their fear evident.
I stand before them, my sword held out to protect the slaves with Xavier at my side, and stare at the Masters as they give orders to their troops. The slaves in the cages, my family, cheer for me. For us and what we are standing for.
“Fight!” a Master calls, and their guards step forward, banging their shields to their chest. The sound echoes around the arena as they try and herd us, and with less room to fight, they could stay behind those shields and slaughter us. I don’t think so. I call my magic again, it comes easier every day, and now it races across my skin, turning me to stone, but I go one step further this time. I let Jessie’s magic burst from my palms, fire from one and ice from the other. The fire hits a guard in the face and he screams and falls back, the hole being quickly filled by another guard. The ice hits one in the chest, crawling along his breast plate then up his neck and arms and finally, to his face, where his mouth is open in a silent scream. He falls backwards too, and this time there is no guard to fill his spot.
I count the rest—fifteen. I look at Xavier and he grins. “Easy,” he replies to my silent question. He’s right, but I don’t want the slaves getting hurt, so I form a blade in my hand, using Blaine’s power, and release it. It imbeds in a guard’s neck, blood squirting across the one next to him as he, too, falls.
“Now it’s easy.” I laugh.
“Huh, I bet you can’t take out another before they get mad and charge,” he teases.
“You’re on.” I close my eyes this time, my power draining slightly from the use, but I manage to coax it out. I hold my hand out without looking, and when I open my eyes to see, two guards are skewered on wood, which has speared up from the ground. Another is covered in rocks. Eleven to go.
They charge us then, not giving us a chance to rely on my powers anymore. Xavier and I stay close, almost touching with just enough room to fight. I duck under a spear, swiping my sword up to break the wood halfway down. I catch it as it falls, twist it mid-air, and thrust it back at the guard. It impales his eye and he stumbles back, screaming as I turn to the next one. He lunges with his sword and I duck, but not enough. I feel it graze my cheek, fire trailing in the steel’s wake as blood wells, but I dart back up, evade his next swing, and hack at his side again and again until he falls. I glance at Xavier to see at least three bodies at his feet and grin, there are only six left now. Two face each of us, while the rest have snuck around to get to the slaves behind us, but they are holding their own, so I turn back to the guards who are going slower this time, analysing me.
Instead of waiting for them to come at me, I run at them. I drop to the ground, skidding on my knees until I am behind them, then I wrap the chain around one’s legs and drop him as I cut along the other’s back. Grabbing the chain, I encircle it around the first man’s neck and choke him with it as I stab at the other. He falls, gushing blood, and I lean back, pulling the chain tighter until the first man stops moving and fighting. Gasping, I stumble to my feet, unwinding the chain as I take in how everyone else is doing.
Xavier is watching me. Everyone is dead around him, and when I meet his eyes, he winks. I look to the slaves to see their chests heaving, but the guards are also dead there too.
We won.
I turn to the Masters, spotting the fury on their faces, even as the crowd cheers, loving the bloodshed.
They will kill us for this...unless. “And that is the story!” I scream, and the crowd hushes, turning to me, as do the Masters. “The story of the underdogs, the Immortals! Can I get a cheer for the Masters and their new creative show?” I know how to work a crowd, so I do it now. A cheer goes up and I grin at the Masters. We, the slaves, know it wasn’t a show and so do they, but they can’t kill us now. They can punish us for sure, but not too severely, we are the crowd favourite. I have backed them into a corner and they know it.
This is my message to the rebellion, my stand, our stand.
We are escorted from the arena with a troop of guards, and we all hold our heads up high as we are led back to the main eating area downstairs. None of the other slaves are here and the guards make a circle around Xavier and me, while the others are led away to watch. I know they are going to punish us. Can I survive it?
Two guards step forward, one holding a whip. The other stomps across and before Xavier can stop him, he grabs me and grips the back of my shirt, and tosses me forward until I hit the table, my face smacking into the wood. I grab a goblet there and throw it at him, but I am pushed back down. I hear fighting and look across to see them trying to subdue Xavier as I hear the whip uncoil and snake through the air before it snaps across my skin.
I scream before I can help it, my skin on fire as I feel it split. I choke it back, swallowing the blood in my mouth from biting my tongue. I hear it whizzing through the air again before it lays another bone cutting lash against my skin, crossing the other. I feel my blood dripping down my back as I hang onto the table to try and keep myself up, my legs turning weak.
“No!” I hear Xavier yell, and I close my eyes, not wanting them to see me weak. I will take it.
But the next blow never comes. I crack open an eye and turn my head, my mouth dropping open. Xavier is next to me, holding the end of the whip in his hand from where he stopped it in mid-air. Blood drips down his hand from the force of him stopping the lash. He tugs on it, yanking the man holding the other end closer, but the guards move forward again. They use the end of their swords to kick out his
legs and he releases the whip.
He grunts as he falls before he gets back to his feet, his eyes darting around as I hear the whip being pulled back, ready for another strike. He dives on top of me, his face curled into my neck, covering me completely.
“Xavier!” I gasp.
I hear a thud, and a grunt leaves his lips as he is pushed against me. Did...did he just take the lash for me?
“I’m okay,” he whispers against my skin, but I hear the pain he tries to hide as he jerks against me again, and again. I can’t move, can’t stop it, and when it’s done, he slides down my back to the floor. The guards kick him, laughing as they leave us there. The crowd roars overhead, obviously enjoying another fight. I slip to the floor next to him, my hands hovering over him unsure how to help. His back is a mess, covered in blood and broken skin.
“You idiot,” I whisper.
Two slaves come forward then, the ones we saved upstairs who were forced to watch as we were punished. They grab him under his arms and drag him to my cell, lying him down as softly as they can on his side before nodding at me and leaving. I slip in after they leave, wrapping my arms around him so his back doesn’t have to touch the floor, and pull him to me until I am looking down at his face, my legs folded beneath us.
I hold Xavier as my fingers slip in the blood and raw meat of his back from the whip. My own flesh stings from the few they managed to land on me before he dove on me and took the lashes meant for my skin. Tears drip down my face as he stares up at me with a smile, even though he must be in agony.
“Don’t cry for me, Rhea, we both know I can survive this. I couldn’t survive watching you suffer. Just hold me until they heal? Please?” he requests, his voice shakier towards the end, showing me weakness. He is asking me not to leave him, to stay...like I would leave.