Bloodfall Arena

by J. A. Ludwig

Yme runs up the earth rising in front of him, creating steps to the Volacerta. He vaults from the top towards the right wing, raises his weapon, and buries it in the leathery skin. His weight pulls him down, tearing through the scaled flesh. The Volacerta roars in agony and tries to fly higher, but with its wing torn it can’t stay airborne.

  Falling, Yme uses wind to slow his descent. He lands inside the cage and backs away from the flailing Volacerta. It lands halfway in the cage, half-perched atop the bars. It roars and snaps at where it thinks Yme is, but he backs away. Water rushes towards him, freezing into a spear, and he stabs it into the bleeding eyes.

  Fire rushes from the Volacerta’s mouth and Yme falls to the ground. The flames pass over him, and he uses his magic to push the earth beneath him lower to keep him clear.

  Aya bangs her sword on the bars again, screaming loudly to get the monstrous beast’s attention. It works, and more fire races towards her. She drops the sword and runs away from the path of flames. She sees Yme stand and climb onto the back of the Volacerta. He raises the circular blade above his head and slams it into the thick, scaled neck, but it shatters in his hand.

  A chain wraps around the neck and Aya looks over at Leid. His left arm is raised in front of him and he squeezes. Yme grabs the chain and pulls tightly. The Volacerta thrashes its head from side to side, forcing Yme to release the chain and hold onto the creature’s neck to keep from being thrown to the arena floor.

  The Volacerta’s tail tries to whip Yme off, but it can’t reach him. It tries to claw him off with its wings, but its right wing is too injured.

  Aya searches the arena for a weapon that can possibly cut through the thick, scaled skin.

  A black dagger drops to the ground in front of her. Aya stares at it and then at the direction it came from. In the lowering sun and confusion, she cannot see who threw it.

  Leid returns his attention to the Volacerta and removes the chain from its throat. It wraps around the uninjured wing to keep it from clawing at Yme.

  Aya picks up the dagger and takes a deep breath. She runs towards the Volacerta. It’s a living thing. It must have blood flow like other living things.

  She avoids the thrashing head and finds her way to the base of the Volacerta’s neck where it joins its torso. She feels the magic building in the air, and heat emanates from the Volacerta’s body. It roars, breathing fire all around as it flails.

  She hears Yme’s grunts and yells as he hangs on to the creature’s neck. Aya sucks in a deep breath and stabs the dagger into the side of the Volacerta’s throat. The blade easily cuts through the scales, a loud sizzling sound and smell of burning flesh surrounding Aya. She screams and pulls the blade across the throat, opening a deep gash from one side to the other. Blood pours to the ground in steaming gouts.

  Aya runs from beneath the Volacerta, blood dripping onto her hand from the blade. She feels the heat, drops the dagger, and wipes her hands on her ragged clothes. She sees the ground beneath the Volacerta smoking as the blood pools.

  The thrashing slows and it gives a final gurgling roar before its head falls to the earth. Yme falls from the neck, clear of the blood. He scrambles to his feet and backs away from the dying creature.

  He turns to Aya with wide eyes. “You killed it.”

  The audience’s reaction drowns out anything Yme is saying. Aya notices arena workers gathering outside the cage preparing to enter. She recognizes the magic blocker and realizes her time to help Leid is limited.

  She reaches Leid as he collapses to the ground. If he feels pain from his injuries, he hides it. “Impressive. Maybe you’re the one I should be interested in fighting.”

  “Stop talking,” Aya orders. “I don’t have much time.” She places her hands on his side and concentrates. Broken ribs, torn organs, internal bleeding. She pushes her magic to work quickly, feeling it drain her energy. Once she’s sure she’s taken care of his internal organs, she moves to his arm, which took the full brunt of the tail. Shattered bone, torn muscles, so much blood. It’s amazing the skin didn’t break, with all the damage beneath.

  Aya concentrates on the arm, but as she does, she feels her magic fading. She shakes her head, forcing her magic to keep working. Then a magic wall slams down, cutting off her magic completely.

  “No. No, no, no!” She screams in frustration and stands, turning to the magic blockers. “I wasn’t done! Let me heal him!” She runs towards the workers, not sure what she’s going to do once she reaches them.

  Yme grabs her before she gets too far and pulls her into a tight embrace. “Calm down. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “It’s completely shattered. I barely did anything,” Aya yells angrily. Tears squeeze from her eyes as she pulls against him.

  A sickening thud sends a shock through Aya. She turns in Yme’s embrace and sees Leid hacking at his own arm with a sword, halfway down the humerus. Then he manages to stumble to the corpse of the Volacerta. He buries his stump into the gaping wound. When he pulls it free, the skin is burned over, stopping the bleeding.

  Leid staggers back to her and Yme. “The healers here can’t handle anything that severe.”

  Aya forces herself from Yme and storms up to Leid, tears blurring her vision. “So, you just disfigure yourself?”

  Smiling, Leid waves the stump in front of her and Yme. “Consider this your handicap.”

  “Well-done, well-done, little Healer,” Klaeon’s voice booms in the arena. The audience immediately falls silent. Aya, Yme, and Leid face the private box.

  Blood King Klaeon stands at the edge. Aya notices his hands are clenched tightly into fists. His strange eyes stare at her, the reddish-brown one almost glowing the same red as the dead Volacerta’s eyes.

  “Who knew the healer would find the strength to not only survive her two-on-one fight,” Klaeon’s eyes move to the Volacerta. “But also kill a beast as vicious as a Volacerta?”

  “The victory goes to the slaves!” Dolus Otho announces. “Their reward is a break from the fights. Humble audience, I hope we’ve lived up to our promises! And to our honorable and most forgiving King!”

  Klaeon stands straight and glares at Yme and Aya one last time before turning around and walking out of the private box.

  “He’s leaving,” Yme says.

  Aya looks at him. “So?”

  “After a failed attempt to kill his toys, he leaves. But when he comes back...” Yme trails off, his eyes moving to the Volacerta.

  “He comes back with something worse,” Aya finishes Yme’s sentence.

  The arena workers gather and take them out of the cage. They’re led back into the depths of the arena, but Aya glances behind one last time at the pile of bodies of those who fell this day.

  The Brüdel

  Chapter 47

  Pounding. Loud pounding.

  Inside her head it echoes, and the weight of Aya’s eyelids makes it difficult to open her eyes. She struggles, only managing to open one eye. Even the dim light of the few torches hurts.

  Closing her eye, Aya takes a deep breath and rolls onto her back. She tries to sit up, but her muscles freeze in agony. She raises her right arm and feels the wall with her hand, trying to find anything she can use to pull herself upright. Finding nothing but wall, Aya groans and slops back onto her side. She uses her arm to push herself into a sitting position.

  She can’t remember the last time she felt this sore. All of her muscles ache and her head feels heavy on her neck. She barely remembers how she got to her bed.

  She remembers being led from the fighting arena and down into the catacombs. A vague impression of being healed by the arena Healers. She remembers Leid taken away, returning to his cellblock with one last empty smile and a wave with the stump that used to be his arm. But the moment she returned to her bed is lost in a haze.

  The pounding returns and now that Aya is awake she realizes it’s actually bells ringing from another cellblock. As the bells fade, Aya hears soft voices from a nearby cell.

  “Th
e King wants the Rare Kind dead. If we take them out, we’ll be spared.” The first voice sounds like an older man.

  “Seera said all magic users will die,” the voice of a boy replies.

  “They just want the Life Healer dead.”

  Aya’s breath catches in her throat. They’re talking about me. Why?

  “Shut your traitorous mouth!” a familiar voice silences the two whispering slaves. Aya recognizes it as Mava. “She wouldn’t hesitate to save your sorry hide. You may be slaves, but you’re still human beings! Now, act like it.”

  A moan rises from the bed across from Aya. Yme lifts his head and glares towards the loud voices. He rolls over, pulling the blanket over his head.

  Aya forces her legs over the edge of the bed and stands. Her body protests, but she manages to keep from shaking too badly. She walks to bars of the cell and peers out into the cellblock.

  She sees Mava and her sister, Rava, standing at the bars of their cell and trying to see into the cell next to them, which holds four people. Two are curled on the floor, either asleep or ignoring their cellmates. The other two are an older man and, Aya assumes, his son. The boy, barely in his teens, spies Aya and looks away in shame.

  “Not all of us are fighters,” the older man yells.

  “None of us started as fighters,” Mava replies.

  “At least we aren’t cowards who stab others in the back,” Rava adds. “Or were you planning to do it in her sleep?”

  “Shut it! Some of us are trying to sleep!” a voice from farther down in the cellblock yells. Others agree, voices rising. The boy drags his father from the front of the cell, but the older man gives Aya an angry sneer.

  “What did I do to piss him off?” Aya asks, more to herself than anyone in particular.

  “He’s afraid of how everyone is going to be punished because of you.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Your actions in the arena,” Daniil says from behind Aya.

  Aya turns to him and Kylii, who is sitting on the third bed in the cell. She walks back to her bed and sits. “What was I supposed to do? Not fight?”

  Kylii smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “Logic isn’t the strength of those who feel afraid.”

  “How long have I been sleeping?” Aya asks, rubbing her sore arm muscles.

  “A day and a half. Probably would’ve been two if they didn’t wake you.”

  “A day and a half? They let us sleep?”

  “When Klaeon isn’t here, the games calm down. The other cellblocks are used, and we get a break,” Daniil says.

  “Until he comes back. Then it’s all Cellblock A until he leaves again,” Kylii says.

  Aya looks at the bars of the cell. “And we stay here.”

  “You missed recreation times, meals, and Seera’s visits,” Daniil says.

  “Seera’s visits are a scheduled part of our day?” Aya asks, not feeling bad for missing the head of the Arena’s visits.

  Kylii scoffs. “They are when she has ‘good’ news. In case you’re wondering, that means bad news for us.”

  “We’ll fill you both in after you’ve finished resting. Tomorrow is our free day,” Daniil says.

  “Free day?” Aya wonders how loose the term is when it’s applied to slaves.

  “Each cellblock gets one free day out of every seven when the games are light. They even let us use our magic,” Daniil adds. “But only in the training grounds.”

  Aya’s eyelids lower. The excitement passes and exhaustion fills her. If only Leid had waited. Perhaps I could have healed him after all.

  “Get some sleep,” Daniil says.

  Aya lies down. Her head barely touches the pillow before she’s back asleep.

  Chapter 48

  “Is it just me, or is everyone staring at us? More than usual, I mean?” Aya asks.

  “You and Yme were asleep when Seera announced the ‘good’ news,” Kylii says from his reclaimed bed.

  “What news?”

  Daniil swings his legs over the edge of his bed. “Our noble king has announced his return.”

  Aya’s chest tightens. “Already?”

  “Two cycles of the moon,” Kylii says. He lifts himself up onto his elbows. “But rumor has it he’s bringing something a bit worse than the monster you and Yme fought.”

  Something worse than the Volacerta? Aya’s heart pounds in her chest. “What is he bringing?”

  “The Brüdel. Klaeon’s personal assassins.”

  Brüdel. Like the stories? Flashes of Jaxon cross her thoughts. People thought the same of him. The cruel, unkillable men with black blood. Were they more than stories? Did Klaeon actually have true Brüdel as his assassins?

  The crack of Seera’s whip silences the cellblock. “Time to wake up. Today is Cellblock A’s free day. You may eat, bathe, train, or do nothing if you so desire. Your cells will remain unlocked until after the evening meal. If you do not return to your cells by then you will be punished severely.” She eyes Aya with a cruel smile. “If you’re caught above ground, you’ll be punished. Or executed, depending on who catches you.”

  The Arena workers open the cells and leave, but Seera walks to Aya’s cell. “Life Healer.”

  So I am no longer fresh flesh, Aya thinks.

  “I never got the opportunity to congratulate you on your fight against the Volacerta. Very brave and very stupid. But I commend your bravery. Too bad it encouraged our great king to declare the end of magic users.”

  “What?” Aya throws her hands before her mouth.

  “That’s right, you and our champion missed the announcement.” Seera moves quickly to grab Aya’s chin in her hand. “Rare Kinds are filth that must be eliminated. Your powers are too dangerous to be allowed to go unchecked. When our king returns, the largest game ever will be displayed. All magic users will fight not only the king’s personal assassins, but also those slaves in cellblock A who have no magic. Any who refuse to fight will be killed.”

  Aya tries to pry the woman’s hand off. “You can’t do that!”

  Smiling wide, Seera laughs. “Oh, but our king has ordered it. And he especially wanted you to know it was your actions during the tournament that convinced him it was high time to cleanse these cells of troublesome vermin.” She releases Aya’s chin and steps back, placing a hand on her hip. “The one who brings our king your head will receive the highest prize, of course.”

  Turning to leave, Seera stops and feigns an expression of sadness. “It’s a shame, really. We’ll have to start collecting magic users all over again.” She laughs with honest glee and walks away. “Enjoy your final days alive, little Healer.”

  Aya backs away from the open cell door and sits on her bed, staring at the dirt floor in shock. Her magic has sentenced all the other magic users to death.

  Daniil and Kylii walk over to her. “You should get some food. You haven’t eaten in days,” Daniil says, sitting next to her.

  “I can’t go out there. I can’t face anyone. They’ll blame me,” Aya says. The argument from this morning makes more sense. She doesn’t blame the father of the boy for wanting to kill her. “And they’re right to. Everyone is being punished because of me. Why? I can’t help having this power. None of us can.”

  “That bastard king’s been looking for an excuse to wipe us out for some time,” Kylii says, crossing his arms. Kylii kneels beside the bed. “The others? They’re scared, but you can’t let that get to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why does he want us all dead?”

  “If I knew that... Well, Kylii and I are going upstairs to train. Some of the others who arrived with you have been asking us to teach them. If you feel up to it, I think they’d appreciate seeing you there...supporting them.” They rise together and leave.

  Aya watches them walk out of the cell and sees many she’s healed following, Rava, Mava, and Bern among them. The boy whose father argued with Mava follows with his head hanging low. He peeks at Aya before blushing and
moving closer to Rava.

  “The brothers are right,” Yme’s voice comes from the floor.

  Aya leans over the foot of the bed and sees him lying close by.

  “If these people are going to fight for you, you should show them some respect.”

  Furrowing her brow, Aya shifts onto her stomach, avoiding strain on her back and neck. “What are you talking about?”

  “Those you healed will protect you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I see it in their eyes when they look at you.”

  “I never asked them to fight for me.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Yme says. “The only way we’re all going to survive when the Brüdel get here is if we unite and show Klaeon we won’t fight against each other.”

  Aya stares at him. “There’ve been other Rare Kinds you, Daniil, and Kylii haven’t helped in the past. Why did you decide to help me?”

  Yme is silent for a moment and takes a deep breath. “You give us hope.”

  She waits for him to elaborate, but he remains silent. “What do you mean?”

  Yme angles his head to stare up at her. “I saw something in the eyes of those with you when they arrived. Fresh flesh usually arrive with their spirits already broken. But your group had a fire in their eyes that couldn’t be explained—until I saw you. Whatever you did to give them such hope is something the Arena has never seen before.”

  Aya’s mind flashes to the escaped slave who died in the desert. The expression of victory on his face, even in death, as her carriage passed him. Bern saving her life. The new strength she helped them find...is that the hope Yme claims to see?

  “All I’ve done is show kindness.” The kindness Elder Mircien and Iria taught her in Foula Village. The kindness Iria told her a healer needed to show. Can that really be what filled them with hope? Mere kindness? And how had she repaid their hope? She allowed her fear to cow her. She had nearly allowed Seera and Klaeon to make her forget kindness.

  Aya walks to the open door of the cell. She takes a deep, calming breath before stepping out. She feels the eyes of those who stayed in their cells on her, but she ignores them and turns to Yme. He flashes a rare smile.