Bloodfall Arena

by J. A. Ludwig

  She jumps at his voice. This is the first time he’s spoken to her during the entire journey. She knew his name from passing conversations and she noticed he’d been staying close to her cage the past few days. She wonders if Jaxon ordered him to, or if he’s curious about her.

  “When I first saw the Great Sea, I was as enamored with its size and ferocious nature as you. It took me several travels across these plains before I ever noticed those mountains far off in the opposite direction.” He points to the other side of the cage.

  She turns and her eyes take in an amazing view. In the distance, filling the skies are mountains. They’re completely white, covered in snow. She can’t see where the bottoms rise from the hills of the plains, but she can tell they’re a great distance away. They stand as a great testament to the power of the earth. She can only guess when they began their climb to the heavens. She was so transfixed by the size of the Great Sea she didn’t think to look away or imagine anything could compare.

  “Those mountains are the highest in this world. The snow remains on them all year round, and none have ever made it to the top. At least, none have survived to make it back. Many bodies found their final resting place at the gods’ feet.”

  She tears her eyes away from the sight. “Why do you travel so far across this land? There must be closer towns and villages you can collect slaves?”

  He laughs. “You come from peaceful lands, separate from the rest of the world. The other lands, closer to where we’re from, are too dangerous to venture through with our small group. We’d lose more of our collection not because of the journey, but because of bandits.”

  “So, you take slaves from the peaceful lands because it’s easier. You travel a circuit around, just to avoid your neighbors?”

  He reaches through fast as a snake to grab her arm and he pulls her, hard, against the bars. She cries out in surprise and pain, grabbing the bars with her hands. He lets go, looking over the head of his mount.

  “You misunderstand, girl.” His voice is dangerously low. “The peace in your land has blinded you and these other slaves. You’ve all been living privileged lives, especially you magic users. Other lands have cities full of magic users. They don’t use their powers to help each other. They’re warriors. Things hide in the darkness, waiting for someone to wander into the shadows. There are places no man will travel through.” He tightens his grip on her arm and she winces. “Things in this world you could never imagine would fill your sleep with such nightmares you’d fear to close your eyes.”

  “Stop it,” Aya pleads, scooting back into the cage.

  “Don’t be fooled by this perceived peace you grew up knowing. This land and its people will kill you if you wander too far.” Two slaves start fighting behind the cage, and he slows his epir, ordering men nearby to stop the fight.

  Aya moves to the front of the cage and leans against the metal wall. She looks over at the mountains. The awe she felt when she first saw them fades away. Now they’re menacing giants, warning all to stay away.

  Or daring any brave enough to try to conquer them.

  Chapter 14

  Two more days the caravan travels alongside the cliffs before moving inland. The Great Sea fades into the horizon. The salty air turns dry. The grass browns with great patches of barren earth appearing more frequently. The ground is harder. Cracks explode through the earth and scream for moisture. Animals running from the caravan travel alone, unlike the great herds from the plains. Their thick skins reflect the dry earth.

  When the grass disappears completely, the heat from the sun beats down on the caravan. Slaves beg for water or rest. Their feet, as cracked as the earth they tread, swell and bleed.

  Aya feels their pain and tries, again in vain, to convince Jaxon’s men to allow some of the weakest slaves to ride with her.

  When the sun sets on their second day in the dry land, the caravan comes to a stop. Not waiting to hear if they’ll be stopped long, the slaves collapse and weep, devoid of tears, as they don’t have any liquid to spare.

  Barrels are removed from the roof of Aya’s cage, liquid sloshing loudly within. The water within passes through the caravan. To the slaves’ surprise and relief, they’re given large buckets, enough for everyone to get a good-sized helping. Food is still handed out in small, meager portions. But those who are walking are delighted just to have water.

  Jaxon leads his epir to the center of the caravan. “Drink as much as you can. Rest as long as you’re able. We’ll rest for one day and then move out.”

  Jaxon passes Aya’s cage with no sign of stopping. She expects him to look at her, but he turns his epir away and rides off with a small group into the dry land. She watches until the small group is out of sight.

  Aldur shouts orders at the men in Jaxon’s place. They set up a small, temporary camp, fires built from the wood of empty boxes.

  Archer passes Aya’s helping of food and water through the bars. The sudden noise makes her jump. He’s waited for the rest of the slaves to be given their rations before even trying to give Aya hers. She thanks him, and he moves back a short distance from the bars, watching her.

  She eats and drinks without argument. Sleep comes easily and her limbs are heavy; she knows nothing will wake her.

  Although the next day is dedicated to rest, the sun beats down on the cracked earth and slaves without mercy. With so few trees, and those few barren of leaves, shade can’t be found. Those at the front of the lines manage to find some comfort in the shadows of the cages. But the rest face the full wrath of the sun. Exposed skin glows red and painful blisters erupt.

  A hot wind blows across the land and each breeze whips them with dust. Eyes burn and the camp fills with harsh coughing.

  Jaxon’s men distribute water sparingly, the sand making it difficult to drink it cleanly. A barrel of water is left open to the elements and a layer of mud builds on top of the clear liquid. Men scrape the muck away before closing the barrel up.

  Jaxon and the group he left with the day before haven’t returned, but Aldur seems unconcerned. The sun sets, but the heat is slow to fade. Food is handed out with the next round of water and sleep comes easily for most. Aya never ceases wishing she could help the others. She’s tried multiple times to connect to her magic, but the metal of her cage excludes all magic.

  At the same time, the feeling of having no magic is oddly relieving. She hates admitting it, yet the moment of being a normal person is a rare sensation for her. She barely remembers how she felt before her magic blossomed.

  A loud cough reminds her she’ll never be normal ever again, and she stares at the group asleep before her. Some have grown so thin their skin resembles parchment stretched over bone. She glances down at her own thinning frame and wonders how they’ll be treated when they finally reach the Arena. Will they be fed well or kept near starvation? Will they be allowed rest? And what will the Arena be like? She forces her thoughts away.

  “You should rest.” Jaxon walks up to the cage, his epir straggling behind. He ties his beast to the cage and leans on it, holding one bar with his hand.

  “Where did you go?” Aya asks.

  “Did you worry about me?” He smirks. “Did you miss me?”

  Her cheeks flush hot and she bows her head, hoping he won’t see.

  “We had a couple of troublemaker bandits following us, stealing food when no one was looking. I had to deal with them,” he explains.

  “You mean you killed them.”

  “I had two of the bandits’ comrades do it. Now, they joined my caravan.”

  “What if they’d refused to kill their companions?”

  “Then I would’ve killed them all.”

  She stares into his eyes holds his gaze. “Why do you do this?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You mean collect people and sell them to the Arena?”

  She nods.

  “To survive. Aldur told me about your little talk a few days ago. His words are true. You were living a carefree, privileged
life in your valley. All of these people were the same. You were all protected from the life outside.”

  “Not protected enough.”

  Jaxon laughs and turns, leaning his back against the cage. The sudden movement scares his epir and it stomps its hoofed feet. “True, but the Blood King’s influence hadn’t reached you. Doing what needs to be done to see the light of the next day rules all our lives.”

  “Including stealing from your prisoners,” Aya says.

  “Still angry about the bracelet? If it’s any consolation, it helped pay for the food you’re eating. The dagger I think I’ll hang onto for a little while longer.”

  Fighting back tears, she turns away. “They were the final gifts from my parents. They died after giving them to me.” She takes a shaky breath and quickly changes the subject. “How much longer are you going to force the others to suffer? How much longer until you sell us?”

  A slight pause precedes a loud sigh. “We’re entering the Karrion Desert. We’ll need to cross it to reach the Arena. It’s a ten-day journey without stops.” Jaxon turns his head to her, his smile gone. “But to not stop would be suicidal. There’s an oasis town located about four days in. We’ll stop to restock our supplies for the final trek. After Karrion it’ll take about seven days to reach our destination.”

  She looks at those sleeping on the hard ground. “Why don’t you help them? They can’t bring you much money if they’re half-dead.”

  “And where are the supplies meant to come from, eh? We collect large numbers because those who survive will provide enough money for all of my men to live a few moon cycles more.”

  “And once we reach the Arena, you’ll sell us and return to the world looking for more slaves.”

  “You speak so ill of me, but you fail to grasp the truth of the world.”

  “At least let me help them a little before we enter the desert,” she begs.

  He takes a step back. “You don’t have enough power to heal them all. You’re as weak as they are.”

  “Please, I’ve already done more than I thought myself capable of. Let me make it easier for them, if only a little while. It’s the only mercy they will receive.”

  Jaxon eyes the ground. His hand lowers to the hilt of her dagger.

  “It could give you the chance to make more money,” she adds.

  His head shoots up and his expression surprises her. It’s a mixture of anger and hurt, but as soon as she sees it, he wipes it away, leaving his usual, uncaring expression behind.

  He unlocks the door of the cage and steps back. She quickly crawls to the opening and climbs out. She falls to her knees, weak from not standing for weeks.

  A blade rests against her throat, her own dagger’s black blade. She raises her head to Jaxon. He holds the dagger tightly in one hand. With his free hand he helps her to her feet. “We’ll walk together. We’ll move from one slave to the other together. If you try to move ahead or behind me, I’ll kill you.”

  Aya nods.

  He takes her to the first sleeping slave. She slowly leans down over him and looks at his feet. The cuts are still bleeding even while he sleeps, dirt turning to mud as the blood mixes with it. She places her hands on the side of his leg and closes her eyes.

  It takes the entire night for Aya to heal the slaves. She heals the bruises and cuts quickly. To limit further damage, she thickens the skin on their feet to provide a little more padding. It takes her a couple of tries at first, an experiment in the beginning, but soon she does it as quickly as healing. She finds some worse than others, a few with broken toes or sprained ankles, and as the night drags on she feels her energy and strength dwindle.

  By the time the sun shines its light over the earth, Aya finishes. Jaxon leads her back to the cage, the dagger safely sheathed. She stumbles, every step harder to make. They’re still several feet away from the cage when her legs give out. Jaxon effortlessly lifts her in his arms and carries her the rest of the way. The door is still open, and he gently lays her inside.

  He locks the door and unties his epir. He stares at her through the bars. “We’re going to be heading out. Get some sleep while we start crossing the desert. This will be the hardest part of the journey, even for those not forced to travel on foot.” He climbs onto his epir. “And...I’m sorry about your bracelet.”

  He shouts orders and his men in armor walk down the lines of slaves, waking those still asleep. The small camp is dismantled quickly and soon the caravan is ready to move.

  Aya watches Jaxon at the front of the caravan as he speaks with Aldur. Her eyes droop, but she fights to stay awake. She remembers the conversations she heard so long ago about the leader of the caravan never sleeping. Even on the rest day, he went out to handle business about the caravan. Now he rides at the front, showing no sign of needing rest. But Aldur sleeps at night, as does Archer.

  Maybe he’s a magic user, she thinks, too tired to explore the idea any further. She laughs at the thought.

  He glances back at her as though her thoughts reached him, and she catches the smile on his lips as her eyes close.

  Chapter 15

  Heat. The kind of heat that sits on a body like a blanket. Instead of providing relief, the hot, dry wind only brings more. Sweat rolls down her forehead, and the metal of the cage intensifies the heat onto her skin. She opens her eyes but is blinded by the sun reflecting off of the surrounding land. Great dunes of golden sand span the Karrion Desert, some so huge they tower above the caravan.

  There’s no escape from the sun. The dry air has stolen all the moisture from Aya’s lips. She wonders how long she’s been asleep. Her foot hits something cool, and she looks to the other side of the cage. A jug of water is sitting next to her.

  “A thank-you from the other slaves,” Aldur says from behind the cage. “They’re grateful to you for healing them. They requested half their share of water go to you when you woke.”

  “How long have I been asleep?” Aya asks. Her voice rough, the dry air making her cough.

  “A day and a half.”

  Aya looks at the slaves walking behind. They’re dragging their feet through the hot sand, but at least the skin of their feet is unbroken now. Sweat covers their bodies and falls from their chins like raindrops. Those in her line of vision smile at her, weakly.

  “It’s a shame they want to waste their precious water on you. This is where we usually lose most of our collection. This is where you would’ve probably died if you had been forced to walk,” Aldur says, bluntly.

  She doesn’t respond. Her throat burns and sand blows into her eyes. She drinks from the jug eagerly. When half is gone, she locks eyes with Aldur. She holds it to him.

  “What?”

  “Give the rest back to them. I healed them so they’d have a fighting chance. If they kill themselves from dehydration, it’ll have been for nothing.”

  Aldur takes the jug without argument and smiles. “You’re trying so hard to keep them alive. Don’t forget where this journey ends. When you reach the Arena, you may wish you’d died here. We’ll see how many will be thankful to you for their lives, then.” He hands the jug to one of the other men and orders him to pass it around.

  Hours pass and Aya’s throat burns again from lack of moisture. Sand irritates her nose and eyes. Every time she wipes away the sand, more is blown into them by the hot wind. The nights provide little comfort from the heat. By the time the air cools enough to be bearable, the sun is already rising. How can Jaxon and his men stand the constant motion in their black armor? She wonders.

  On the fourth day since they stopped to rest, a strange sight rises in the distance. A single tree appears floating above the sand in the middle of the desert. Many rub their eyes, even with gritty hands, to be sure it’s not a mirage. Other trees and floating buildings fade into view, as if by magic, around the tall tree. The men in armor eagerly push the caravan faster and soon Aya realizes the buildings and trees aren’t floating. There is water in the air, making the earth shimmer.

&n
bsp; They’ve reached the oasis town Jaxon spoke of days before. The caravan enters the middle of the town. People look out windows and doors. They’ve seen caravans of slaves many times before, but it’s been a long time since one stopped with so many still alive.

  The more curious townsfolk walk past the caravan and glance over each slave. When their eyes land on Jaxon and his men dressed in black armor, they whisper to each other excitedly. Aya overhears two women walking by. All she can make out from their fast-paced conversation are two words.

  Black Caravan.

  The caravan comes to rest by a large well sitting underneath the large tree at the center of the town. The shade is welcome, even though the hot wind still causes most to sweat.

  Buckets plunge into the cool water and pass around the slaves. Several of Jaxon’s men venture through the town to restock supplies, mainly food.

  A sudden shout comes from the back of the caravan. Aya rushes to the back of the cage and peers through the bars. Jaxon, Aldur, and three of his men run.

  One of Jaxon’s men lies dead on the ground, his blood staining the sandy earth. The culprit is an escaped slave, the keys he stole from the dead man lying forgotten next to his discarded chains. He speeds through the caravan, avoiding the men in armor by dodging underneath animals and cages. He passes Aya, meeting her eyes for only a moment, and then sprints out of the town.

  Jaxon, Aldur, and his three men rush after him, but Jaxon stops them when he realizes where the slave is headed. “Let him go. He’ll die out there alone.”

  They return to preparing the caravan for the next trek of the journey. The three men clear away their comrade’s body, dragging it out of view, while Jaxon and Aldur speak in confidence.

  But Aya squints, following the escaped slave until he can no longer be seen. Across the well, three men dressed head to toe in light clothing watch Jaxon’s men. The man standing in the middle wears a red scarf covering his mouth and nose. His eyes are filled with a strange light, and she feels a chill run through her body. He turns his eyes on her and, even with the cloth covering his mouth, she can tell he’s smiling.