Call to Arms (The Girl In The Arena Book 1) (3 page)

“Steady,” Praxis whispered into her ear. “It is just like the Outside but more crowded. The hunters are more plentiful too.”

How would he know what it was like Outside? His armor ate into her back and hips, so she shifted, trying to move away from him, but the impression of his body remained behind; she could still feel him on her skin like a phantom.

The street widened and she gaped at the building they were passing. It stood monstrously high, its walls rising to an impossible height. It seemed to almost touch the blue vault of the heavens above.

“The original Arena,” Praxis said. “It is in disrepair now of course and unusable, but the Governor refuses to tear it down. He thinks it is a good reminder.”

“What are you a tour guide for the Outsiders now?” Nero asked.

“No, just bored and passing time until we get to the palace,” Praxis said in a mild voice, but his entire body tensed. Reena felt it.

On closer view it was crumbling; pieces of it had fallen away and the giant doors held the rusted steel that had once housed glass, if what Praxis said next were true. Reena did not believe him. Glass was too precious, who would have put that much of it into an Arena? Why?

Praxis had no answer. He said, “They say in the days before the Final War glass was plentiful, so plentiful that it decorated every building in great long sheets.”

“You lie!”

He chuckled at that outcry. “No, but history might.”

They stopped and she stared in dismay at the dark and glowering face of the guard that came to take her from the back of the horse. Nero leaped down and said, “I request permission to keep the girl!”

“Permission denied.” The man speaking was large, scarred and possessed of only one eye. Reena felt cold just looking at him. “You know the law. She is an Outlaw, she goes to Arena. And now, since there is a fight today and the crowd is hungry for blood.”

Nero muttered something. Praxis said nothing. He stopped for a moment beside Liam and then he was gone, his robe swirling out behind him and his armor gleaming in the sunlight. Reena’s chest went tight with dread. They were to be taken to Arena! Now! She made a wordless sound and Liam, freed of his bonds, reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. She knew he was telling her to have courage, to have faith, but she had nothing but terror left as they were prodded into a large cart whose sides were made of ironwood.

Other people crowded into the cart. Some were obviously beggars, one man was dressed in rich robes and a young girl with a long scar on her neck gave the guard a one-fingered salute as he kicked her when she fought him. She came into the cart with swear words ringing around her head and her face tight with rebelliousness.

The man in the robes cried out, “This is a mistake!”

“Oh shut up,” the girl said nastily. “Being rich won’t save you today.”

The man cowered and put his face into his plump white hands. “It was a simple mistake! I forgot to pay my taxes.”

“Yeah well all I did was decide that I should be able to be a free woman if I wanted to be free. Everyone has a story about why they are here blubberguts.”

“Leave him alone,” Reena said.  

“You will have to face him in Arena you know. All of us, actually.” The girl prodded the robed man with her bare foot, “Hey, do me a favor and run for the lions so I have one less to worry about.”

“Stop it!” Reena yelled.

The whole cart fell silent. Liam patted her back, tears squeezed out from her eyes and she had to lower her head so the other girl would not see her cry. If she sensed any weakness at all she would go after her, and while Reena did not like what she said, she knew it was true.

In the Arena there was only one outcome for Outlaws and criminals—death. Upon rare occasions the Governor would spare a life, but that was based on his whims. If the other girl succeeded in surviving the tigers and other beasts as well as the other people in the cart he might spare her life.

Would he spare an Outlaw? Probably not. She closed her eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Before it could the cart came to a halt and  the door was yanked back open. Her impressions of everything was vague: soaring building with the gods and goddesses dancing in the niches carved to hold them, the distant roar of the crowd, the sound of metal meeting metal and songs being sung.

She was hurried down a long hallway that reeked of sickness and blood, the catacombs beyond were dim and filled with people, many of them sobbing or screaming. A guard shoved her toward a small room where other women and girls huddled. There were only four of them total, including herself and the girl from the wagon.

“What do we do now?” Reena asked but the guard did not answer.

“We wait to die.” The woman who said it was pale and filthy, her hair hung in limp straggling threads to her torn robes.

The cart girl looked down at the dirt floor, shrugged and lifted her head again. She had clear blue grey eyes, and under the dirt, hair that was a pale and pretty silver. “I’m Nemia. Who are you?”

“Reena,” her mouth was terribly dry and she wanted to cry. To scream, to run away as fast as her legs would carry her. None of those things were possible. She was going to die there.

“I’m not keen on waiting to die,” Nemia observed.

“What else can we do?”

Nemia slanted a look at her and then she smiled. “I thought you Outlaws were tough and ready to fight to be free.”

That made Reena angry. Her scalp prickled and her fists balled, “We are. We live free and we accept that the price for that is death.”

“It seems to me you would be more intent on staying alive and living free than dying for a notion.”

“It is not a notion!”

‘Until all people are free nobody is free,” Nemia said flatly. “That is where Outlaws go wrong. Instead of isolating yourselves into tiny groups and fighting for individual freedom you should be fighting for freedom as a whole.”

Reena’s mouth fell open. She had heard those words before. Her own father had said them, more times than she could count. Who was this girl that she shared Liam’s thoughts so closely?

The guards came and indicated that it was time. They stood, Reena still feeling faint. Liam was ahead of her; she could see his hair and the familiar shape of his body but she could not reach him. She saw him turn his head slightly and scan the area, looking for her without seeming to. He must be worried that someone would kill her to anger him in battle, or kill her just to cause his mind to be less clear.

Time slowed to a mere crawl. The tunnel’s mouth stood ahead, a beacon of light in the dimness. Her belly ached and then they were out of the tunnel.

The harsh strong sunlight made her blink. Her vision blurred and doubled and she realized she was weeping silently. The crowd was on its feet, screaming and cheering and throwing things into the arena, tiny bouquets of herbs and flowers and silk bands; favors for those about to be dead. Even that struck her as ironic: she had never known the touch of silk in her life.

There was a roar from the crowd and then a long rattle, a melodious tinkle that reminded her of sweet bells. These were not bells however; these were the long chains that fastened to the collars around the necks of the beasts as they were freed from the tiny pens behind the barred doors.

Reena gasped, her eyes going wide. She looked around her, terrified and frightened. Her hands came up as she fought to block the furry body of a starving beast from her own.

Fangs dripped saliva into her face. Her back met the earth and she wanted to scream but she had no air left. She rolled to the right and the beast came with her, snapping and growling. She could hear cheering in the background.

Liam was there, his hand slipping her the knife, his knife. The one she had dipped in werebane just…had it really only been days before? It felt like centuries. The beast lunged at a man running away. She heard a high-pitched scream and then the hard cracking that meant breaking bones.

She got to her feet, her legs barely able to support her and her head rang from hitting the ground. The man was still trapped under the beast but the tiger had not yet bitten him. Liam was trying to help the older woman who had spoken to Reena earlier avoid having her leg taken off by a horribly mutated crocodile-like creature.

She had the knife, so she had a chance. Sorrow filled her. Her father had given her the only chance any of them had and by doing so he had insured his own death. There was only one knife…

She saw that the tiger wanted to bite. It was starving and desperate but human was not its natural food source. It was hesitant and furious at the same time.

She ran, her feet churning up dust. Her body stretched out, and she went past the tiger with the knife hidden in her palm, and she struck it a mighty blow in the back, right along its side.

The werebane hit its bloodstream almost immediately. It fell down on top of the man, its roars sounding out. The crowd howled with delight, sure the man was about to die—and he did die, crushed beneath the tiger, something Reena had not considered. Even as the horror over that consequence struck her, a lion raced in, scenting blood and opportunity.

The lion grabbed the massive tiger and shook it. More blood spattered and ran and then the entire pack of beasts was at each other’s throats.

The humans gathered in a tight little knot, watching it happen until the Governor stood, and amidst the boos and yells for death from the crowd, summoned the beast keepers to the ring. The animals were taken away and the people that had survived (Reena, Liam, Nemia and a boy with a crooked grin and a head of fiery red hair and the older woman) stood silent and waiting.

Would she have to kill the other people there in order to live? Reena was terribly afraid that the answer was yes. She had never killed a person before and she did not think she could; it was so wrong! Nemia deserved to live, so did she and her father! They all did!

The Governor came into the Arena. Nobody moved. He drew closer and Reena flinched and uttered a low little whimper when he took a sword and killed the head beastmaster. Her insides quaked and her fingers tightened on the blade of the knife even as she drew it up and into her sleeve to hide it from sight.

If the Governor got near enough, she would kill him.

The Governor was young, surprisingly so. Reena had expected him to be older, and ugly. He was neither of those things: his hair was a rich chestnut brown, his face unlined. His sharp blue eyes looked out at her from under eyebrows the same color as his hair.

He opened his mouth and began to speak, his voice mellifluous and pleasant. “You have surprised me; that does not usually happen. Most of the time you Outlaws come out here and either you fight each other to the death in order to save your own sorry skins, or you die screaming in terror.

“What made you think to attack the animal?”

Reena did not know what to say at first. The sun beat down on her head and shoulders and she longed, yearned, for the freedom of the forest. She wanted to stab him — take the knife and drive it deep within his heart. If he had not created the Laws That prevented so many of the citizens from having the right to live as they chose none of them would be here.She could think of nothing to say but the truth, “a long time ago there was a man who traveled with us. He told me of the great seas of the past. And the monsters that live within it. He called them sharks. He said that when men would capsize into the sea on these things that they called boats, these monsters, the sharks, would come after them and feed upon them.

“He said that the only way to survive would be to kill one of the sharks so that the other ones would attack it. When I saw the tiger trying to attack him,” she pointed at the quaking man that she had met in the cart, “I only wanted to save his life. I thought about the shark thing later, after the lion attacked.”

The Governor’s eyebrows lifted almost all the way to his hairline. “Did you say that you had heard a tale of men riding upon the sea in boats?” He had lifted his voice, and his words were heard by many in the crowd. A titter started and even though she did not hear what he had said began to laugh.

Reena’s face burned red. She held the knife between her fingers, its hilt pressed deeply into her palm. She should kill him, stab him right here and right now while she had the chance, but she was frozen, unable to move.

Sweat trickled down her face and underneath her armpits. The smell of blood hung in the air, coppery rich and thick. The few animals that had escaped the carnage were being slaughtered at that very moment. The crowd cheered wildly with every death and it took everything Reena had not to bend over and be sick on her own feet.

What was wrong with those people up there in the stands? They come out for a day of entertainment, dressed in their finest robes, wearing jewelry and laughing and clapping. Her eyes scanned the first rows and she saw, to her horror, that many of the people sitting there were actually eating!

They were feasting and eating and laughing and down here in this sand, in this dirt, life was being played out. People have been led out to the slaughter and the fact that they had survived it was nothing more than a mere passing moment of entertainment to these people.

How would they feel if it was them down here in this damned arena?