by J. A. Ludwig
“Let’s go watch the training.”
He stands, uncoiling to his full height. “You want me to go with you?”
“I’m not the only one who gives the people hope.” Aya holds out her hand.
He walks to her side but does not take the offered hand.
A loud grumble rises from Aya’s stomach. She places a hand on her belly and fights the blush rising to her cheeks. “Maybe some food first?”
Chapter 49
They head for the dining hall at the center of the level. The kitchens keep the hall at a comfortably warm temperature. The food is, as always, surprisingly fresh. Aya had expected gruel or something even worse when she first arrived—perhaps economically trimmed bits of those fallen in the sands.
“Since many don’t survive long in the Arena, any meal could be a slave’s last. Small comfort before a fight to the death,” Yme explains.
They sit against the wall, eating separate from the few in the hall. Tables of varying lengths fill the room. An opening in the wall emits delicious scents: cooking meats, freshly cut fruits and vegetables, and potent spices.
Two men sit at the opposite end of the hall. Their hands are dirty, and they sit with the ease of those who are not slaves. “Who are they?” She points with her spoon between bites of food.
Yme motions towards the doors leading into the kitchen. “Cooks. Since there are a lot of bodies to keep fed, there are a lot of them. They don’t get long breaks, so they stay close.”
Nodding her head, Aya swallows her mouthful. “Where does the food come from?”
“Most is grown on farms between the city’s outer walls and the Arena. You wouldn’t have seen them if you entered from the South. And some food is given by the citizens of Bloodfall to curry favor with Klaeon.”
Aya stares at her bowl, moving pieces of meat with her spoon. “I never even knew there was a king. And here I am, his slave.”
“He’s not a real king,” Yme spits angrily. “He only rules these lands because no other took hold south of the Great Mountains.”
“The mountains behind the arena?”
“Mm-hm.” Yme takes another bite of food before locking eyes with Aya. “You really never heard anything about Klaeon?”
Embarrassment flushes Aya’s cheeks, but she forces the feeling down. “My village is very far from here. When I was taken by the slave caravan, it was the first time they’d ever been to my village.” Memories of the fires consuming her home fill her. “The head of the caravan told me my village hadn’t been worth the risk before.”
“Then they heard about you,” Yme says.
Nodding, Aya leans on the table. “My parents weren’t from Foula Village. They chose to live there and used their magic to help the villagers. They didn’t like talking about anything that happened before they moved there. But now I have to wonder...” she swallows a lump. “I wonder if they knew about Klaeon.”
“They were Life Healers, too?”
“They died when I was seven. My magic hadn’t even begun to show yet.” She smiles. “The elders of my village took me in and raised me, taught me about healing without magic. It helped when my magic started appearing. It wasn’t as scary.”
“But you had no one to teach you about magic.”
Aya shakes her head. “What about you?”
Yme leans back in his chair. “There were other magic users in my village. I learned some things from them, but not long after my magic appeared, I was brought here.” His expression darkens and a silence falls between them.
Sensing he doesn’t want to talk further, Aya stands. “We should probably go. We don’t want to miss the training.”
They leave the dining hall and head for the stairs to the next level. Arena workers walk down a hallway to one of the other cellblocks. Aya wonders how the others from the tournament are...the ones who survived. She wonders how Leid’s arm is, but quickly catches up to Yme when she realizes he’s already halfway up the stairs.
The training level is the most open area besides the actual Arena itself. The ceiling is high, with hanging lanterns to provide plenty of light. The forges where weapons and armor are made and repaired line the walls on one side. On the other side are healing rooms. She recalls being taken here to the healing rooms on the second level before the tournament.
At the center of the level are the fenced-in areas of sand and dirt she remembers seeing on her first day here.
Daniil and Kylii mill in different areas. Daniil focuses on defensive moves while Kylii teaches offensive maneuvers. The slaves focus on the brothers with eager eyes and pick up on the moves quickly.
Aya and Yme sit on a bench next to those awaiting their turn at practice or gaining the confidence to enter the training grounds. Turning to the two new arrivals, the slaves’ expressions brighten.
Bern manages to keep Kylii on the defensive until he trips over his feet trying to dodge a thrust. Bern falls to the ground and Kylii prepares to deliver the final blow with his wooden sword. Tristan, one of the healers from cellblock A, appears at Bern’s side and blocks Kylii’s slice. He pushes him back and helps Bern up. The two men tag team attacking Kylii, bringing an unexpected laugh from his belly.
Daniil is sparring against Rava and Mava, testing their defensive stances. Standing to the side, watching with a worried expression, is the teen boy. He kicks the wooden sword in his hand absentmindedly.
Noticing the boy’s reluctance, Daniil ends his match with Rava and Mava. He calls to the boy. “What’s your name?”
The boy almost drops his sword. “Cal.”
“Well, Cal, get over here and show me what you’ve learned from watching.”
Cal cautiously steps forward, raising his sword. Daniil smiles and invites the boy to attack. Cal swings his sword and Daniil knocks the wooden blade away with his own. “Again.” Thrusting the sword at Daniil’s stomach, Cal is again thwarted by the taller man’s sword. He tries the thrust again, but this time Daniil disarms the boy. In a panic, Cal kicks Daniil’s leg.
“Well, that is some quick thinking. But always keep your eyes on the blades.” To emphasize his point, he places both wooden swords at Cal’s throat. Cal nods and Daniil hands over the sword. “Again.”
Aya watches intently as each slave takes a turn. Many improve or learn new tricks to escape. Flashes of her fights during the tournament remind her she has a lot to learn.
Daniil and Kylii tell everyone to practice with each other. They hurry over to the fence, to Aya and Yme. “You two gonna sit there all day?” Kylii asks.
Daniil motions to the slaves sparring each other. “They keep asking for you two. They want to see what you both can do.”
Yme laughs. “Then they should’ve paid for seats at the tournament. We’re both a bit tired of fighting.”
Aya watches many of the slaves who journeyed to the arena with her. They’re working hard to survive here. I won’t survive long if every fight I’m in is based on luck.
She squares her shoulders. “Teach me how to fight.”
Startled, Yme shakes his head. “You handled yourself pretty well during the tournament. Just keep doing that.”
“That was luck. I need to know how to fight.”
“I don’t teach.”
“Show me, then.” Aya stands and walks towards the training ground.
With a great sigh, Yme lopes after her. The groups practicing stop and make room for the two new trainees. Aya faces Yme as Daniil and Kylii hand each a wooden sword.
“Fine. Attack me,” Yme says, sword raised.
Aya raises her sword with both hands, noticing Yme holds his sword in his left hand. “I didn’t realize you were left-handed.”
Yme shrugs. “I don’t use weapons often enough for anyone to notice.”
Aya slowly moves to the right and Yme mirrors the movement. Moving closer as they circle, her eyes watch the sword in Yme’s hand.
Taking in a quick breath, she swings the sword towards Yme’s right side. He blocks. Aya
tries to hit him from the other side. He blocks again.
Then Yme swings at her left arm. Trying to block, she turns her sword at an odd angle. Yme’s wooden blade hits her sword hard. Her hands ache from the strike and Yme hits again, knocking the sword from Aya’s hands.
Quickly retrieving the weapon, Aya adjusts her hold. Yme attacks the right arm this time, but Aya blocks successfully. When he goes back for her left, she adjusts the angle and manages to stop him, but the wooden blade still touches her arm.
Adjusting her hold again, she attacks, aiming for Yme’s left leg, but he blocks. Using the force of the hit, Aya swings the blade up to the right side of his head.
He easily raises his weapon to stop her. She moves away.
Aya slices diagonally from right to left, but Yme raises his weapon at the attack and the force knocks Aya back a step. She tries going the opposite direction and her eyes widen as she watches Yme block again. But this time, it doesn’t surprise her. Feinting another diagonal slice, Aya watches carefully. As Yme moves to block, she thrusts the blade forward and the force of the block sends her blade into the area where his neck and shoulder connect. Yme immediately uses air magic to knock her blade away.
Now his eyes are wide. “How did you do that?”
“I don’t know.”
Raising his sword, he lowers his stance. “Do it again.”
Aya reverses her diagonal slice, attempting to cut from lower right to upper left. Yme tries to block again, but Aya sees what she saw before. Thrusting her sword forward, Yme changes the trajectory of her sword. He uses his air magic to blow the wooden sword away before it makes contact with his skin.
Aya mimics Yme’s stance. “When you move to block, I can see your muscles instinctively pull back towards your body.”
Yme practices a block and nods. “How did you see that?”
“I saw your muscles tense before they contracted.”
“That happens in an instant. Only highly trained swordsmen could make a move in that amount of time,” Daniil says from the side.
“Or Life Healers,” Kylii puts in.
“How does being a Life Healer help?” Aya asks.
Yme’s admiration is evident in his expression.
“You can predict how someone is going to move,” Kylii continues. “Your magic puts you in tune with every minute indication the body gives that your opponent isn’t even aware of. Every bad habit a fighter has, you can pick up on and exploit.”
“Like my tendency to pull my arms closer to my body when I block.” Yme shrugs inward with a comic demonstration.
Those watching make impressed sounds.
Yme raises his sword at Aya. “Ready for more?”
A smile grows on Aya’s lips and she raises her sword. “Ready, teacher.”
Chapter 50
The slaves train until their arms are too tired to lift their wooden swords. Still, when Daniil and Kylii announce training is over, the slaves protest. Aya understands their feelings. The training focused mainly on fighting without magic. Those without magic were hoping to learn more useful tricks against magic users.
“There will be time for more training on our next free day.”
As everyone returns to the bottom level, Aya hesitates at the bottom of the stairs. She stares at the hallway leading to Cellblock D. How is Leid doing? She wonders. He was taken to the healers after the tournament ended, while she and Yme were returned to their cells.
Aya grabs Yme’s arm. “Are we allowed to go to the other cellblocks?”
Confusion fills his eyes. “The other cellblocks? I...I don’t know.”
“In nine years, you haven’t once seen anyone try?” Shame angles his face to the floor. “I’m going to find out.” She eyes workers standing nearby, and walks towards the hallway. They make no move to stop her. Yme stays where he is while she walks down the hallway to the doors leading into Cellblock D. Peering through the small window, she sees an identical room to Cellblock A. The only difference is the number of slaves. Unlike Cellblock A, the cells in D are filled to bursting.
Opening the door, Aya steps inside. Arena workers standing on either side of the door jump at her appearance, but don’t stop her. “Where is Leid?” Aya asks.
Two workers ogle her, confused. The taller one points up the stairs. Aya nods and climbs the wooden stairs quickly. One cell appears empty, but she can hear heavy breathing inside. She walks to the bars and peers into the darkened cell. Sitting on his bed, back against the wall, waits Leid.
A bandage covers his right arm, or what’s left of it. His chest rises and lowers with each breath he takes. His eyes are closed. Aya taps the metal gently with her finger.
“I’m still alive,” he says, opening his eyes. “If that’s why you came. The Healers were able to heal the burns and enough of the bruising.” He lifts the stub of his right arm.
“I wanted to see how well they healed you.”
He slides his feet to the ground and stands. He comes to the cell bars and takes the bandages off to show the healed flesh beneath. But Aya notices the pale scar from where the skin knit together to cover the broken bone.
Why did the Healers leave a scar? Aya wonders. She remembers Leid’s interest when she healed her arm. He’d poked the freshly healed skin as though it were an odd thing. Can the Healers here not fully heal skin?
Leid places the stub on the bar of the cell so Aya can see it clearer. She touches his skin, wanting to use her magic to see how well the healers did beneath his flesh, but only feels the wall blocking her magic.
Aya prods the arm, feeling the muscles and bone beneath. “How did you know that knife would cut the Volacerta’s scales?”
“Volacertas are not rare on this side of the Great Sea. They don’t grow as big, but they’re rampant where I’m from,” Leid says.
“How big do they usually grow?”
“The size of a small child. A brave one will try to steal babies from their beds. But once in a fire moon one the size of a grown man causes trouble. The men of my village would gather to hunt it. Blades made of obsidian are the only things that can cut a Volacerta’s flesh, other than another Volacerta’s teeth and claws.” Shrugging, Leid leans on the bars. “I noticed the knife during my first fight. That’s why I ran in the direction I did when the fight started.”
Smiling, Aya took a step back from the bars of the cell. “Honestly, I thought you were abandoning us to the fire.”
Leaning his head to the side, Leid returns the smile. “It clearly didn’t work. The fire chased me.”
“A risky wager,” a voice says behind Aya. Turning, Aya sees Yme coming up the stairs, evaluating Leid carefully.
“It paid off. You live another few days, champion,” Leid says, eyes widening slightly at the surprise visitor. “I understand why she came to see me. But why have you?”
Yme stands next to Aya. “I was wondering how long you’ve been in the Arena.”
“Longer than you, but you knew that. What do you really want to know?”
“Tell us about Klaeon’s assassins.”
Boredom fills Leid’s face. “Which ones?”
“The Brüdel.”
Leid’s eyes turn to Aya. “Did you know Cellblock A has the highest number of magic users? In this cellblock and all the others there are only a handful. There used to be more in the other cellblocks. Until about fifteen ages ago.”
“What does that have to do with the Brüdel?” Aya asks, afraid to look away from Leid’s cold, emotionless eyes.
“Fifteen ages ago, magic users from the south tried to overthrow the Blood King. They lost. They were all gathered and brought here. For their crimes, the Blood King made them fight against his Brüdel. As punishment to all who believed they could one day overpower their new king, magic users from the Arena—ones who were already slaves before the attempted overthrow—were forced to fight alongside those from the south.” Leid bangs his hand on the bar of the cell, causing Aya and Yme to jump. “The Brüdel slew all of th
em within five minutes. Hundreds of magic users against a dozen of the Blood King’s assassins and they couldn’t even kill one of the Brüdel.”
“That can’t be true,” Aya says. “That’s impossible.”
Leid raises an eyebrow. “The truth remains. Every person who fought the Brüdel died. The only magic users who survived didn’t fight. We were children and hid our magic very well.”
“So, you didn’t actually see them?” Yme asks.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Yme turns to leave, hesitating only to glance back at Aya. “Our Free Day will be over soon. We shouldn’t be caught outside of our cell.”
Nodding, Aya follows Yme, but stops and looks back at Leid. “They’re going to force you to fight the Brüdel this time.”
“Or I could give the Blood King your head. I’m sure that would end the festivities quickly,” Leid says.
Yme scowls. “It won’t end until all magic users are dead. You know that.”
Leid’s lips curl. “I also know how much he hates you. Perhaps he’ll be more forgiving if I bring him both of your heads.”
Chapter 51
Free Days come quickly and are spent training intensively. Many from Cellblock A join in. Daniil and Kylii prove to be eager teachers, happily guiding those with or without magic on defensive and offensive maneuvers. Though Aya still occasionally has to remind the twin brothers to be gentle with the younger slaves when their rhetoric turns pessimistic.
Aya longs to visit the other cellblocks to see how the other fighters are doing, but Yme convinces her to focus on training. “They’re alive. That means they’re fine. The other cellblocks don’t fight the most dangerous fighters. Except when Seera buys new beasts.”
“She uses them to test which beasts are worth setting on us,” Kylii adds.
Each Free Day, Aya notices more and more slaves hanging around her cell. Even a few of the Arena workers spend their breaks close by rather than in the dining hall. Aya doesn’t mind, but she can sense growing tension with Yme and the brothers. They’re not used to having others so interested in spending time with them.