by J. A. Ludwig
Dolus Otho stands and, with a brief glance at Klaeon, says, “Another victory for the slaves!”
The audience cheers, but not at the usual volume. The Arena workers quickly open the gate to let the Bloody Butchers out, but before the workers can open the gate for the slaves, Dolus Otho stops them.
“Loyal audience! It would appear surprises never cease.” Dolus Otho holds up the next drawn stick. “A repeat performance for Cellblock F.”
Sanna and Darin sag, their bodies rolling with sweat, but they turn to face the Arena once more.
“Though I do believe these new challengers won’t be as eager for a drawn-out fight as the Bloody Butchers. Welcome to the Arena our own...Seera and Banger!”
If any were still dozing, the announcement of the first challenger wakes them up. The head of the Arena workers walks up the stairs and into the cage. Following her is a large man covered in sweat and soot. He carries the largest hammer Aya has ever seen.
“What’s the head blacksmith doing fighting with Seera?” Yvette asks to no one in particular.
“What’s Seera doing fighting at all?” Géroux asks. The other slaves nod and murmur.
Sanna and Darin watch the two familiar opponents enter the cage. Exhaustion weighs the slaves’ bodies down and their movements are slow. They face the woman who runs the entire Arena and one of the men who forges the many weapons on the walls of the cage.
The bell rings. Sanna and Darin grab fresh weapons and run at their opponents. Seera doesn’t move, watching the approaching slaves with her eternal cold smirk.
Yme leaps to his feet, surprising Aya. “Don’t attack from the front! Banger is a magma mage!”
His words reach the two drained slaves too late. Banger swings his large hammer down in front of him. Where he strikes the ground the earth heats. As though alive, lava races across the arena floor. Sanna and Darin can’t stop or dodge in time. The lave reaches them and their bodies burst into flame. Their screams echo through the Arena but die quickly as they disappear in the molten lava.
Lifting his hammer, Banger rests the large weapon across his shoulders. The lava cools as soon as the hammer is off the ground, leaving behind only black–charred earth. Nothing remains of Sanna and Darin, not even their chains.
The bell cracks the silence and the audience erupts back into life.
Aya’s heart pounds loudly in her ears as Seera slaps the back of the large man next to her. The laughter escaping from the head of the Arena’s mouth sends a chill through her. She’d suspected the magic users working in the Arena were powerful, and now those suspicions are confirmed.
Escaping the Arena is entirely impossible.
Chapter 40
“A spectacular performance! You can always depend on our Lady of the Arena and the Magma Blacksmith to give us a show! How could we possibly top that?” Dolus Otho leans forward as though he were whispering in confidence, but his voice remains magically at full volume. “Let’s try.”
Cellblock D, Leid, is called next. The emotionless man stands and walks into the cage. The chains still connected to his arm and leg drag behind him. He doesn’t seem to notice them as he faces his opponents.
Aya’s hands shake. She can still see Sanna and Darin disappearing in flames. She can still hear their screams. She tries to keep the nerves hidden, but fails to do so.
“What’s wrong?” Yme asks.
“It happened so quickly. Sanna and Darin couldn’t do anything,” Aya says.
“They fought that first match to give the rest of us a chance to rest. They could’ve ended their fight much sooner, but they gave us a brief moment of respite. They were punished for it. That’s all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Seera and Banger don’t fight. They execute,” Yme says, returning to the fight in front of them.
The two chosen to fight Leid don’t fare any better than the first two who faced him. Leid manages to catch one with his chain and buries the man’s own weapon into his head. The second fighter manages to avoid the chains, but not the body of his fallen comrade. Once he hits the ground, the fight is over. Leid pulls the weapon from the corpse and kills the remaining fighter.
The next match is Cellblock C, Ziv alone, since Pangur died of his wounds. She faces two women. Both are water mages and, without her partner, Ziv is killed. It’s the quickest match, but Aya remembers Ziv’s eyes when she walked into the arena. She knew she wasn’t going to make it out alive.
“Our next challengers are on special loan from our own King, two of his own guards eager to show their strength. And who will they be facing?” Dolus Otho reaches into the bowl of names and eagerly pulls out the next stick. “Cellblock A, Yme and Aya! Will their third fight be their last?”
Yme stands, glowering. “Special loan, my ass. Klaeon is up to something.”
Aya follows Yme into the cage. Their opponents enter the fighting arena and already Aya sees a difference in their carriage compared to other fighters. The two men draw their weapons before saluting Klaeon. The Blood King’s smile widens, and he waves his hand at his men.
Aya grabs a large shield from the wall, then a dagger. She glances down at the cart holding the dead bodies of Quin, Chaput, Pangur, and Ziv. There weren’t even bones left of Sanna and Darin.
Her breathing quickens and she steps behind Yme. It takes everything in her power to not collapse to the ground and cry. How can the audience enjoy this? We’re dying in here, and they cheer.
Yme eyes the two soldiers in front of them before turning to face Aya. He takes her head in his hands and forces her to look at him. She knows he can see the fear in her eyes.
“Forget about all the previous matches and focus on this one,” he tells her, his voice low and calming.
“Can you read minds on top of elemental magic?” Aya jokes, but her voice shakes.
A small smile appears on his lips. “Only when I need to. Are you ready?”
She nods.
The bell rings and the two soldiers immediately sprint towards Aya. They move so fast that she barely manages to block the first blade with her shield. A second blade arcs in a blur towards her and she knows she can’t stop it.
The earth rises between her and the soldier’s attack. It knocks the sword upward, but the soldier keeps his grip and dodges back from the wall of earth. Yme tries to attack with a fist covered in rock. The soldier uses the butt of his sword to hit Yme in his torso. He gasps and grabs his belly, stepping back.
The soldier swings his sword at the wall of earth, breaking it. The other soldier presses down on Aya’s shield with his sword. She grips the shield with both hands, being careful with the dagger in her right hand. She hears the wall of earth breaking next to her and sees the sword moving closer to her.
She needs to move. Bracing herself, she angles her shield down to the right, turning her body with the force. The soldier’s sword slides across the smooth metal and the soldier falls. Aya follows through with her turn and stabs her dagger at the soldier’s back.
The second soldier’s sword blocks Aya’s dagger, and he raises his other hand and punches her hard across the face. She stumbles back, the pain in her cheek making her see stars. A knee to her stomach catches her and she doubles over. The air is forced from her lungs and she feels what little is in her stomach threaten to rise out of her mouth. She falls to her knees, her dagger and shield falling to the ground.
A rush of wind moves around her, slamming into the two soldiers standing over her with their weapons drawn. They’re sent flying back, hitting the walls of the cage with loud bangs.
The audience cheers and Aya glances up at Yme. His hands are outstretched in front of him, his breathing is ragged. Lowering his arms, he places a hand on his side. He inhales sharply and winces.
“What’s wrong?” Aya asks, grabbing her shield and dagger.
Yme takes a shaky breath. “That bastard broke my ribs.”
Moving close to him, Aya moves her dagger to her left hand and places he
r right hand gently on his arm. “It didn’t look like he hit you that hard and I didn’t feel any magic strengthening him.” Still, she concentrates on Yme’s abdomen and sees he’s speaking the truth. The bottom two ribs on his left side are broken.
“The impact...I think he’s a force mage,” Yme says.
“Force mage?”
“The force of his hit is more powerful at the point of impact.”
“Then why did it take him so long to clear that wall of earth?” Aya asks, remembering the man struggling to reach her.
“It might only work when striking something alive.”
Aya heals Yme while the two soldiers climb back to their feet and adjust their shoulders, checking for injuries.
Aya starts eyes the two men. “Are they focusing their attacks on me?”
Yme rubs the area where his ribs healed. “Special orders from Klaeon, I’d wager.”
“Fantastic.” Aya finishes and smiles at him. “Were there any rules about breaking the chains?”
Yme raises his left arm and stares at the chains connecting them. “No rules at all, that I recall. Why? Are the chains infused with magic?”
Shaking her head, Aya grabs the dagger with her right hand and steps away from him. “Just iron. Can you break it?”
The soldiers run towards Aya, ready to strike. A sharp tug on the chains nearly pulls her off her feet. She looks at Yme in surprise.
“Never know ’til we try.” Yme pulls both chains on their wrists and ankles taut. He stomps the ground with his free foot and a thick wall of earth rises between the soldiers and Aya. The wall completely blocks the soldiers from the half of the arena Aya and Yme are in.
Yme grabs a rock from the ground and slams it down on the chain. It crumbles in his hand and he curses. Breathing deeply, he raises a hand and a large boulder emerges from the ground. He flicks his wrist and the boulder slams down on the metal.
Aya eyes the wall of earth in front of her. “How long is it going to take?”
“Almost done with the first one,” Yme says. The metal chain bends at a strange angle, the link straining to hold on.
Loud pounding echoes in the arena. Small pieces of earth crumble and fall from the wall in front of them. Aya grips her dagger tightly in her hand, the chain still pulling on her wrist as Yme’s boulder slams down again.
The first chain breaks and their arms are able to move freely, though with half a chain still hanging to the ground. Yme raises the boulder over the chain connecting their feet.
A hole appears in the wall in front of Aya. Through it, she sees the soldiers doing their best to tear the wall down. “They’re getting through.”
“Almost finished.” Yme keeps his focus on the boulder cutting through the chain.
A second hole breaks through the wall close to the first. The earth between the holes crumbles as the two soldiers break it down. They work to widen the opening enough to climb through.
The pull on Aya’s ankle disappears and she looks down. Chains are still connected to her wrist and ankle, but now she and Yme have the freedom to move around the arena independent of each other.
Yme raises his free hand, and water flies through the bars of the cage. The audience murmurs with excitement as the water gathers around Yme and forms a disk shape, spinning faster and faster. He holds the boulder with one hand and the water disk with the other.
“You ready?” he asks.
She raises her weapons. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Chapter 41
The wall of earth crumbles apart, and Aya prepares for the attacks. The force mage runs at her first, the hammer he used to break through the wall above his head. He swings it down, but she dodges, feeling lighter, freer, without having to watch Yme’s position as well as her own. But then the force mage grabs the chain still attached to Aya’s wrist and pulls her towards him.
He swings the hammer as she stumbles close, but before the heavy metal hits her, water slams into the force mage’s head. The strike stuns him enough to loosen his grip on the hammer and it falls to the ground. He releases Aya’s chain and she jumps away.
The second soldier is right behind the first, his hammer hanging low as he reaches for Aya. Earth rises and tries to catch his hand, but he swings the hammer up, breaking the earth. He dodges around a second attempt and closes the distance.
There is no fair fight in the Arena.
The soldier swings his hammer, and Aya dodges. But he easily changes direction and slams it down on the loose chain. She’s jerked to a stop. A fist rushes at her face.
You either learn to fight or you die.
The punch sends a wave of shock through her. Aya’s knees give out beneath her, but she tugs at her magic and kicks at the soldier’s leg. At the moment of contact, her magic surges into the man. She feels the bone give beneath her foot and the soldier yells out in pain. He struggles to shift his weight to his good leg. He’s able to remain standing, but Aya is free to take her chain from beneath his hammer.
She scurries to the wall of the cage and grabs an axe. The weight of the weapon is heavy, but there are no smaller weapons close by. The soldier limps towards her, wounded fury in his eyes. A roar from the crowd freezes both Aya and the wounded soldier; they realize what Yme has done.
The ground is wet with water and blood from the spinning disk, floating at neck height. Aya’s eyes move to where the mage’s head should be, but there’s nothing. Yme’s breathing is ragged, and blood covers his face and chest. He lowers his hand and the water disk falls, harmless as rain, to the ground. His other hand releases and the mage’s body is allowed to fall.
The audience’s cheers fill the arena, even the slaves rising to their feet and pumping their fists in joyous awe.
Aya and the wounded soldier lock eyes. She sees panic. Not fear, but a rush of thoughts. She can tell he’s thinking about how to handle both her and Yme. His eyes return to Yme, wanting to keep the more dangerous one in his sights.
Yme steps over the force mage’s body and moves towards the wounded soldier. He raises his hand, the chain still dangling from his wrist, and a wind blows around the three.
Aya lifts the axe in her hands, holding it in front of her defensively. She watches the soldier, ready for his next move, but praying for him to concede. His broken leg drags on the ground as he hops to back away.
A sharp whistle cuts through the air. The soldier stops, eyes widening. He turns and stares at the private box. Aya sees Klaeon standing at the edge. As she notices the barest of nods from the man, a chill moves up her spine. He returns to his seat, his smile growing.
The wounded soldier stands straight, balancing his weight on his good leg. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Aya feels magic filling the air around him. Yme approaches the soldier, oblivious to the building magic. “Wait!” she yells. “Stay back!”
The soldier opens his eyes and a blinding white light erupts from him.
Aya raises one arm to block the light, lowering the axe. The light fades away and she realizes the sounds of the arena are gone. All she hears is wind and the rustling of leaves.
Lowering her arm, shock fills Aya. She’s home. Her house is in front of her, the surrounding forest of Foula Valley almost glowing green with the sunlight. She glances around, turning in circles. The axe falls from her hand and she fights the tears threatening to form.
Standing on the path leading to Oula Village are Elder Mircien and Iria, their hands clasped together. Their other hands are in front of them, reaching for Aya. She takes a tentative step towards them, her breath coming in gasps.
“Mircien,” she whispers.
Two figures step out from behind the two elders and the tears she’s been fighting flow.
“Mom, Dad.”
Her parents smile at her, embracing the way she always remembered. They raise their hands, too, waiting for her. She reaches out, but something feels wrong. The wind is blowing harder and harder, making the trees sway. The gusts hit her
in waves, knocking her back.
She looks from her parents to Iria and Mircien, their faces never changing, the wind seeming not to touch them. The ground shakes beneath her feet and the sound of water hitting metal fills her ears.
This is wrong.
Aya remembers the flash of light, the wounded soldier. She’s not home, she’s still in the arena. This magic is forcing her to see something not actually in front of her.
The forest disappears. Mircien and Iria disappear. The arena surrounds her, and she sees the crowd enthralled in the match. Aya spies the wounded soldier standing across from her, his eyes now white. Realizing she’s broken from his magic, the soldier awkwardly shuffles farther from her and shifts his focus entirely to Yme.
The wind Aya felt, the earth shaking, and the water against metal...those are real. Turning, she sees him...her partner.
Yme stands with his back to the wounded soldier, but she can see his face. His eyes are the same white as the soldier’s, but it’s the rage darkening his expression that terrifies her. His magic electrifies the air. Wind blows, knocking into Aya and escaping the caged arena. The audience is both excited and fearful of the rushes of wind hitting them. The ground around Yme cracks, shaking the arena. Water attacks an invisible foe, slamming into the wall of the caged fighting area.
He stops attacking the wall, turns slowly as though hearing a sound, and faces Aya. The rage changes to heartbreaking pain as his eyes lower to an unseen figure on the ground.
“Niya,” Yme whispers, horror in his voice. Emotions move quickly across his face, a hideous mosaic of pain and rage. His eyes rise, seeing Aya but not really seeing her.
Seeing whoever he believes is standing in her place.
The pain and sadness are gone, replaced exclusively with rage. The earth shakes beneath Aya and wind surrounds her. Yme holds his hands up, water gathering above his right.
Aya understands. The wounded soldier has somehow conjured up in Yma a memory from before he came to the arena...before he lost his fire. A terrifying thing, driving Yme into an uncontrollable rage.