by Rebecca Grey
"Find," she takes a ragged breath, "Finnegan. He will," She coughs and chokes, a long drip of red rolling over her large bottom lip. "He will keep you alive for the Resistance."
"You're mistaken. I'm not part of the Resistance. I'm not a part of it. I can't ask that of him. I certainly didn't ask this of you." Everything I'm saying comes out in the rasp of a breath that I hardly have inside my tight chest.
"Nilsa Windsor," Sloane smiles slightly again, "You are the exact spirit of the Resistance. I die so you may claim the heart of the king." Her voice fades as she speaks, her eyelids lowering to the slightest slits as she loses more blood that forms a large puddle between us. "Go now. Don't look back."
Sloane doesn't deserve to die like this. And she certainly doesn't deserve to die alone. I shouldn't have listened to her. I shouldn't have left her alone. I lift my hand, brushing back stray strands of hair, curving my palm against her bloodied cheek. Our skin sticks together and her Vampire skin feels like ice.
"You did not deserve this," I whisper.
"Go." The word doesn't have sound, her head lolls against my hand, even as her lips shape that final word. The ashy color of death begins to seep into her skin. The years she'd lived catching up to her. Sloane had lived a long life, at least of that I could be sure.
I can't watch the last of her life leave her body. This is one death that I don't wish to have on my hands. Not any longer at least. I sniffle just once, feeling the overwhelming sting of tears forming in my eyes. There is no time to cry.
So instead, I scream my madness into the trees, throwing my arms back behind me before I take off to find someone to kill. To find anyone to get revenge on.
A red, as deep in color as Sloane's blood, tints my vision. I can taste Costello's blood on my lips. Again I find myself running. Running in rage. Running in fear. This time I don't even jump as Hedda pops off another round and it echoes through the playing field.
I move toward the sound. Surging forward faster than I ever thought I could. Fueled by loss and the eagerness not to lose anymore. Sloane and I hadn't been close, but she believed in the reform that needs to take place. Sloane believed in everything I stood for. A fleeting question crosses my mind, but I don't have the time to ponder it.
How had she known why I was here to begin with? Had she known I played this game so that I could eventually take the king's heart?
A clearing of trees appears and a large stand with spiraling stairs leads up where the barrel of a gun pokes out. It aims for me then quickly turns away as she realizes who is in her sights. Two bodies with bullets lodged inside their heads are on the edge of forest on the opposite side of me. Washington and Credence. If Credence is the prince, I hardly have to worry about him anymore.
But Credence isn't the prince. I don't truly believe so. Not anymore. And I have yet to see Mavi or his body.
Hedda grunts and her gun disappears. There's another bang of the gun inside the small shelter she's found. The shot aimed for something behind her. My breath catches in my throat. Hurrying forward, I climb the stairs spinning with every curl of the steps until I reach the entrance and fling open the door.
Calik, the Vampire from Jefferson's team, has his hands wrapped around the edge of the gun, trying to wrestle it from Hedda. She doesn't spare a glance for me as she spits and hisses at the man trying to steal one of her prized possessions. Closing the space between us, I leap on the man's back.
The Vampire startles as if he didn't realize that I'd even entered the space. It's too late for him. I cling to him like I had the Criosphinx on the very first day. He bucks but my hips move with him. He's not as strong as that monster. His bones aren't as thick. My blade burns for blood. Any blood will do.
Wrapping my forearm across his forehead, I pull hard enough to expose his neck. There isn't time for him to fight back. There isn't a second for him to shout for help or gasp for air or even plead for his life. Not now when fury consumes me so fiercely. Blade meets skin as I slice over his throat. The motion is enough to draw his hands up to the blood that forms there.
I am not going for his throat. I'm going for his heart.
My next exhale sounds more like a scream as I extend my arm and plunge it into his chest. Gray seeps into his skin, his body becoming fragile as he falls to the floor. We fall together, but I roll at the last second, anticipating my blade to poke through the ash that he turns into.
I sit up, pinching my fingers against the blade and dragging it through his body. It comes easily as time grips his body and turns his insides to dust. I brush my hand across the sweat on my forehead that drips into my eyes. Grime and dirt clings to my skin.
"Damn, Human." Hedda blinks. Her throat bobs and she lifts up the bolt lever and pulls it back. The gun spits out the spent shell on the floor. She points to the where the bullets shot through the paneling on the back wall. "Damn Vampire made me waste one."
"How many do you have left?" I make myself stand. There's a quaking to my knees that makes the motion wobbly.
"Five."
"Where is the flag?"
Hedda points out the window and I follow the motion. A red flag waves in the breeze created by the rotating blades of a drone that hovers near it. The material rests at the top of a tree. From here Hedda can see the tops of all trees as well as a decent view of the floor below us through the limbs.
"If you'll excuse me now." Hedda squares her shoulders and sets the gun up on its bipod in the windowsill. She takes a deep breath before slowly releasing it. I only see the slight form of Alastar as he makes his way to the tree moments before she pulls the trigger. The gun pushes back into her shoulder and expels the bullet.
Alastar falls at the base of the trunk, no more than two feet away from the other Dryad girl, Winona. Hedda keeps looking through her scope, scanning for any potential threats. There's already so many bodies I can't imagine there are any more people left within the game.
"Where is Finnegan? Where is Marcello? Juilliard?" I shuffle up to her side, trying to see what I can around her large frame.
"Finnegan was with me but when he heard you scream he went to find you. Juilliard is occupied with Mavi, and it would seem that Marcello is now occupied with Jefferson."
Her gun points through the window down to where the four males clash together in the sting of blades. They weave between trees, coming in and out of my view as their feet carry them back and forth with very skillful steps. Four Elves, one prince.
"I'm going down there." I shove my dagger back into my belt, already turning on the balls of my feet.
"What good are you going to do?" Hedda says. "Let the Elves do what they must. One of them will win at some point.
"Do something!" I snap. "Shoot them!"
"I can’t."
"Why? Isn't that why you're here? To shoot the other players?" My voice rises as anger fills me.
"Marcello asked me to leave Jefferson and Mavi to him. I'm only to shoot them if he falls or if they manage to get a hold of you."
Jefferson had gotten ahold of me. Sloane was the only reason for my escape. From this perch, though it is high enough for the best view of the arena, I can’t see the space where Sloane's body dried to ash. Where Finnegan is likely walking up to find his wife dead. Hedda couldn't have saved me if she wanted to.
"I'm going to climb that tree. I'm going to get that damn flag and end this."
"Well, I suppose I can't stop you. I'd hate to end up like that bloke." Hedda points to Calik's fallen body.
"You won't," I say with certainty. Leaving Hedda behind as I descend the spiral metal staircase it feels oddly like this is the hardest thing I've had to do thus far in the Games. It's especially odd when I know that I'm about to enter the fray and try my hand at that flag.
How many competitors are left? I try to run through names and faces of those I have not seen. Their bodies could be anywhere, or they could be hiding. I listen for signs of Hybrids around me, though I know their stealth is much greater than mine.
&
nbsp; The barrel of Hedda's gun with the suppressor on its end sticks out the window when I look back. She scans the trees, looking for opponents. Her watchful eye at my back gives me some ease as I leave behind the clearing and pass the tree line again.
The air doesn't smell like a green forest should. It doesn't smell of grass and animals and otherwise fresh forest things. Instead, the thick scent of iron is strong. Which could also be attributed to the blood I know is on my hands and face.
I try to wipe it away against my outfit, hiding myself against the trees as the sound of their scuffle grows closer. Finally, I'm able to peek through to see the four Elves at battle. Marcello looks far from perfect. An entire sleeve is torn from his arm, his hair is dusted with dirt, along with his entire back. There's plenty of chaotic shapes made in the gravel below them. It's entirely possible that at one point he'd been on the ground.
Juilliard looks much the same, except a red gash drips blood from his forehead down the side of his face. He bares his teeth at Mavi. Mavi's blonde hair has all but fallen out of his ponytail and into his face. With a jerk of his head he flicks the strands from in front of his gaze, holding his sword tightly with every slashing hack as he tries to advance on Juilliard.
Keeping them in my sight, I start to creep toward them, choosing to stay on the outskirts while keeping my eyes planted on the tree I know the flag waits in. The moment I round the tree and look up to the trunk, Mavi and Juilliard circle to where I stand.
I freeze and Mavi's eyes lock on me. "Oh good, you're here." His blade circles Juilliard's knocking it from his grasp. It clatters to the ground and I hurry forward to snatch it up.
"Ah, don't move, little Human." Mavi points his blade smugly at Juilliard's throat. "I'll be quite content to slit his throat."
Juilliard's entire body seems to quake with anger. His hands fist and un-fist at his sides, the muscles in his jaw cording. I stop immediately, holding my hands up in surrender.
Mavi glances over his shoulder only briefly, but Juilliard takes advantage of the moment. His fist flies into Mavi's nose with a startling crack. Mavi jerks backward as Juilliard reaches for Mavi's sword, prying it from his hand. Gravel kicks out around me, smooth metal still somehow warm from Juilliard's hold greets my grip as I snatch it from the ground and hold it out between Mavi and I.
Juilliard huffs toward Mavi at my side. Marcello and Jefferson's swords still crash together loudly and their curses are background sounds to Juilliard's growl. "I've wanted to hit for you for a long fucking time."
"The feeling is mutual." Mavi flicks his gaze to me. "What are you going to do with that?"
"Run you right through." I take a step forward with the intentions of doing just that.
Mavi's intentions are far from mine as he turns into the tree, grabbing the branch and pulling himself into it. Juilliard takes the sword from my hand. "Fuck!" He screams, shoving into his belt and following Mavi up into the tangle of tree.
Green leaves block out the view of the flag we know is up there. So close. Closer to Mavi than to anyone on our team. It's three against two now that I stand here, and I'm not just going to sit and watch as Mavi makes a grab for it. All I have to do is get within throwing distance.
The sole of my boot scrapes bark from the tree as I find the leverage to get me to the first branch. Before I can pull my leg underneath me, a hand clamps down on my ankle.
"Tricky woman you are." Jefferson spits blood into the dirt.
I glare at the Elf, kicking my leg to get out of his grip. "Where is Marcello? Did you kill him?"
"Hasn't killed me quite yet." Marcello laughs and a dark stain of blood covers his teeth. He appears at Jefferson's side with no weapon in hand. Juilliard yells from above, but none of us make any move to look away. "Let her go, brother!"
Jefferson keeps one hand on my leg and with the other points the sword at Marcello. "Do not call me brother!" Jefferson screams, saliva flying from his lips. "You were told to stay out of this game. The bad that will happen to you because you joined is your own fault. You'll lose the girl yet again, and only you are to blame."
A deep, powerful rumbling noise carries through Marcello's chest and out his throat. Heat tints his warm skin with the kiss of cherry red. Metal clinks against metal. Marcello wraps his fingers around the blade of the sword. The steel dents as sparks fly from his robotic hand. Jefferson's sword bends at an odd angle, thrown from his grip.
The Elves don't make a move on one another now that both their weapons are gone. Jefferson's grip on my ankle disappears and so does he as he throws himself into the tree and begins to climb. Somehow Marcello is already ahead of him off to my other side. They all become darting figures in my peripheral.
The end of this game is nearer than ever before and it's become a race to the top. Branches crack and pop, breaking overhead. I reach and drag myself up branch after branch, ignoring every ache and pain in my body.
Two forms curl into one another as their fists pound against any inch of flesh they can reach as they tumble down from the branches above. Limbs break under their weight, sending them bouncing down. Juilliard and Mavi are a mess of "fuck you" and "I'll kill you". They plummet farther away from the flag, falling below even me as I continue up while they tumble down.
That only leaves Marcello and Jefferson at the top of the tree. The higher I climb, the more I can feel their weight swaying the large trunk that reaches so high into the arena. From where I am, I can see the awed look of spectators as they sit almost silently in their seats.
Marcello's arm stretches out. Jefferson pushes his boot against the limb under him, trying to reach his fullest height with his hand extending. The red flag is within their range. Fingers brush the small banner of The Oasis. I squeeze my eyes shut as the loud horn blares, signaling the end of the challenge.
Everything is still. There is no cheering. There is no sound whatsoever except for the whispered hiss of an exchange between Marcello and Jefferson. The lights grow brighter and cameras swarm around the tree. I lift my attention to the two men, heart trilling inside of my chest. Who had gotten it first? What team had won?
Burgundy fabric is bunched in two fists. Both Marcello and Jefferson have seized the flag. My lashes flutter as I try to make sense of what I see. Both teams can’t win. Someone... someone must take it, but neither of them move. Not since the horn announced the end.
My stomach seems to leap into the clouds and the ground starts to rise to my feet. Trees disappear on my right and left, their images shimmering and fading into nothing, leaving me with a perfect view of the crowd all around us. When my boots actually hit the rocky floor I realized that the tree was dissolving slowly underneath us, carrying Marcello, Jefferson and me safely to the ground.
Juilliard and Mavi push off of one another breathing heavily, but the fight no longer continues. I stumble toward them, my jaw nearly scraping the ground below me as my mouth falls open in shock and confusion.
"What's happening?" I gasp. "Who won?"
Juilliard shakes his head. Every bit of the obstacles that had been set up for us fades until we can see the true bloodshed and bodies of those who lay lifeless on the floor. Challengers still stand at various positions in the arena.
Lachlan, Bullie, and Orchid slowly trudge toward us as well as Hedda. The Orc wears a healthy grin on her face, even as the announcer calls out.
"THE FLAG HAS BEEN CAPTURED!"
The audience claps, though it isn't the eruption of cheers that one would expect. This is a polite applause, as they too wait to see what happens next. Spectators watch the announcer as he steps from the golden platform and hands the microphone to King Caspar.
The King looks down fondly between Marcello and Jefferson. "This game has been called to an end because the Prince's team has seized the flag."
My attention immediately snaps to Marcello. He does not look at me. His robotic hand fists and a spark arches off it and dies in the dirt. I can smell something like singed metal.
"I'd
hoped for a clear winner this year, so the crown could more easily be placed." I suck in a breath as does most of the crowd. "As we all know, Elvish children are so very hard to come by. Every king before me was only able to sire one heir with their queen. Our marriage, our rule, has been blessed with not one, but two sons."
Hybrids whisper frantically to themselves. I can do nothing but stare and stare and stare. Not one but two princes. Two deaths to still be had at my hands. How is it possible?
"We have chosen to allow our sons to both participate as they choose to fight for their crown. Both have chosen their teams splendidly and have completed their very task today. Further proof that our family is blessed! This is not the end for The Oasis Games. For our boys will need to compete against one another to break this tie!" King Caspar's sharp gaze passes over me as he looks from one player to the next. So few of us left compared to the beginning of the Games.
My hand touches my chest, partially to hold in my still beating heart and partially because the world feels like it's swaying around me. I try to focus on my breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, but all I can think about is the fact that there are two princes not one. And the games... the games aren't over.
#1 TEAM MARCRUX:
Thomos - Male, Orc - DECEASED
Lachlan - Male, Elf
India - Female, Elf - DECEASED
Rafferty - Male, Dwarf - DECEASED
Costello - Male, Orc - DECEASED
Danisha – Female, Dryad - DECEASED
#2 TEAM RIVERIA:
Lux - Female, Elf - DECEASED
Alastar - Male, Darf - DECEASED
Amory - Female, Orc - DECEASED
Credence - Male, Elf - DECEASED
Rumi - Female, Orc - DECEASED
Bullie – Female Vampire
#3 TEAM ASHFORD:
Mavi – Male, Elf
Davison – Male, Human - DECEASED
Rake – Male, Saytr - DECEASED