Fantasy of Flight (6 page)

Sin has recovered from our fight and keeps touching the array of bruises marring his face, sighing. He tells everyone he’s in love. Our bout has been turned in his favor. The men think he’s great for securing a kiss in the pits. Like it was
his
idea. Secretly, I’m glad Sin made a joke of the whole situation. I think we could be friends once he realizes I won’t make children with him.

“There’s a sled. Look! It’s coming this way!” Ice calls from the front of the line.

I peer around Avalanche, my eyes straining. I’ve discovered wearing a veil my whole life has affected my vision. The others seem to be able to see much farther. I spot the sled, however, which is changing course toward our group. I squint and make out two figures on the sled. My heart quickens when I see their size. I don’t know many people this big. Only three really. One of them, Avalanche, is standing directly in front of me.

It can’t be. How common are dog sleds?

When I make out Rhone standing on the back of the sled a squeak leaves my mouth. Avalanche turns to me. I shake my head and glance over my shoulder.

We’re between two snow-covered rises. The rounded corner of one is only a few meters behind me. The other is massive, with no cover on its steep incline.

I slow so the men behind me pass. Everyone’s attention is on the approaching sled. I duck around the other side of a mound and push through knee deep snow, which hasn’t been packed down like the muddy snow on the path. The width of the mound is much deeper than I initially thought. I continue all the way around its massive girth, my breath puffing out as my feet slip.

I still as the sound of Jovan’s voice reaches me. The demand in his tone is unforgettable. There are mountains in the distance, but no other cover in the space between. None that I can see. If he comes around here, I’ll be caught.

“A child ran around the back of the knoll. Why?” Jovan commands. I creep around the side, sticking my head out. I can’t see them.

“He’s pissing, m’King.” I hear Alzona slur. “Should I gets Bobby f’ya? He’d make a bang up servant. Has most of his teeths, too.”

“Not necessary,” he says in his authoritive tone. “Carry on.”

Rhone shouts his command, “Hike!” and the dogs bark as they pull forward - hopefully far away from me.

I wait until the sled is on my other side before rejoining the group with my hood pulled up over my hair. I move next to Shard. He doesn’t say anything, but I see a speculative gleam in his eyes.

“Why did you run off round there, girly?” Ice blurts out. Blizzard smacks him over the head.

“No questions, dumbarse, you know Alzona’s stupid rules.” He shoots a quick look at Alzona. Everyone forces a laugh, but I can feel tentative eyes on me. I wish Tricks’ group hadn’t seen that, though they are the most trustworthy of the other barracks I’ve met.

I’m in a bit of a daze after the near miss.

But why do I consider it a near miss in the first place? Jovan would have recognized me and taken me back to the castle. He wouldn’t have given me away. His blank features could fool the best card player. Rhone may have figured it out, but I doubt anyone else would have. So why did I run? Was I afraid of his anger? Jovan would be furious, but the thought of his reaction doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. My memories of him almost seem reasonable after dealing with the Bruma in the whore’s courtyard. It takes me a few seconds to come up with a reason. But I remember now. I can’t leave until I find out more about the arrows. That’s right. I knew there had been an explanation.

The others are staring. I realize they are waiting for an answer to Ice’s illegal question.

“I don’t like dogs,” I say lamely. Avalanche snorts and thumps me on the back, pushing me face first into the snow. I sit up sputtering, snow through my hair and eyelashes. That is when I learn what a real snow fight is.

Sixteen pit competitors use complex wrestling moves to stuff snow down other’s trousers and shirts. They burst snow balls with punches and high kicks. And five men hold Avalanche down so I can push snow into his ears.

It is the most fun I’ve had in my life.

It’s only after, when my guard is down, that I can admit the truth. I didn’t hide because my business with the arrow was unfinished. I hid because this place and these people are starting to feel like home.

I feel free as I sit on my step watching the people in the whore’s courtyard. People shy away from me because they know of my skill, not because I wear a mask. Fear of my mother doesn’t keep them away. It’s fear of what I can do. A respect I’ve earned. My whole life I’ve known who I was going to be, what the plan was. I would suffer my mother’s abuse until she died and then I would rule. But now I’m a nameless Bruma and there are so many choices I can make. There is no pressure to act a certain way or be diplomatic. Beyond training to the best of my ability and continuing to track down the Seedyr wood, I have no worries. It’s addictive. Going back to my responsibilities as Tatuma becomes less appealing with every passing moment. Anyway, my people want the brown-eyed Olina, not the blue-eyed one.

I could be happy here with my new friends. And do I really need to know who my father is?

“Not having any luck with those questions, are ya?”

I swing around and see a beautiful woman in front of me, the one all the men stop to gawk at. Why is she talking to me?

I shrug, regaining control over my shock.

“You’ve been trying so hard, it’s caught my interest,” she says in a throaty voice, swaying her hips as she moves closer. Every time I come out to this spot, she’s dressed in something different - though equally revealing. I should really ask her about material for a veil, I suppose. It might be good to keep my options open, regardless of what I desire.

“Your clothes are nice,” I say, hinting at a question. It’s the first time I’ve used the Solati questioning-style in months and I don’t quite know why I’m doing it now.

She doesn’t respond straightaway. She circles me, tracing a finger over my back. I shiver and step aside, earning an amused sound from her. But it’s not a snide laugh. It doesn’t fill me with misgivings like Hale’s does. “Yes, they are. I spend most of my coin on new clothing.”

“You get coin then? For what you do?”

“For having glorious sex?” she asks.

I nod, keeping the grimace from my face.

“Of course. If you bring in enough customers, the mistress gives you a cut. Just like your own profession, I imagine.” She arches an eyebrow and I understand her second meaning.

“We both perform for a price,” I say. She laughs.

“I like you.” She decides. “Tell you what. I’m always after some coin. You give me eight goldies and I’ll get you the answer to your question.”

“Don’t you want to know what my question is first?”

She waves a hand in the air. “I already know.”

I contemplate her offer. I have twenty-five gold coins and they need to last. “I only have six gold pieces, but I’m willing to part with them. You will receive three now and three when I get my information. To be clear, I want to know the places where I can find Seedyr wood arrows,” I say and see her eyes light up before she masks the expression. Damn, I should’ve offered her four.

She nods and I slip three pieces into her hand. It disappears into her fist. “Come back same time next week. I’ll have your answer.”

When she said a week, it didn’t long compared to how long I’ve already waited, but time drags. I’m one step closer to finding which of the delegates is guilty. But what if it’s Rhone? And what about Sanjay or Malir or Adnan?

But if it were Blaine…

I found his presence and his contacts in the Outer Rings very condemning. I’d always dismissed Blaine as being the murderer because he was the obvious choice. The exiled man was slippery, cunning. If he were going to kill someone, it would be done in a way which removed him from all suspicion. It was one of the few occasions where I wanted to be wrong.

I need to know who did it. The arrow has been my sole objective for too long now. I can’t stop. I’ll deal with the consequences once I have closure. When I feel I can finally move on with life, at last.

“Pig-shit-for-brains,” Alzona yells. I flatten against the side as she storms past me.

I sit next to Flurry. “What’s wrong with Zona?” I ask. He smiles to himself.

“She does it every revolution,” he says. “Tournament’s coming up.” I wonder if she is still reeling after Blaine’s appearance.

“I’m saving the kick you taught me for the big comp,” I say, stealing some of his food.

“I bet you’ll use it against Slay in the final,” Flurry predicts.

“I doubt it. I don’t even know the first thing about the tournament.”

Ice joins our discussion as he scoops eggs onto his plate. “Not much to know. Each barrack can enter how many people they want. Most put all of their guys in. And there are three prizes. Top Solo, Top Group Fight, and Overall Barrack.”

Shard appears with several bottles as I question the others in more depth. He drags one out and fills up a wooden mug for each of us. Crystal hesitates before accepting hers. I share a sympathetic look with her, while feeling sorry for myself at the same time. She grins, mouthing “uh-oh” at me.

“A toast!” Blizzard says. Whenever I hear those words it makes me miss my delegate friends.

Not for the first time, I long to see them. Did Malir get in trouble for letting me escape? How are Rhone and his team of dogs? Are Fiona and Jacquiline worried about what to wear to the next ball? Do Roman and Sanjay still swap disgusting jokes? And are Adnan, Sadra and Greta all okay? What about little Cameron? And, Kaura, my puppy. She won’t be a puppy anymore. I never intended to leave her, or any of my other friends, for so long. One taste of freedom and I’m willing to give them up entirely. What kind of person does this make me? What if I was born into a normal life, one without a tortured childhood and without the weight of so many responsibilities and burdens?

I hold up my cup alongside everyone else’s. I’ve gone through the motion many times now. Too many times. I’ve learned my lesson, too. I either water it down or stop at a few. Malir, one of the delegates and the head Watchman, gave me this tip. Sometimes I wake with a slight headache, but it is rare. It’s actually quite enjoyable when I control how much I have.

“To the best record we’ve ever had!” The men take healthy gulps of the drink. I take a small sip. I don’t splutter and cough anymore. I’m quite proud of the fact, though it makes me worry about how my insides are faring. Crystal does the spluttering instead. I get up and pat her on the back as Sanjay’s wife, Fiona, once did for me as the men laugh.

Everyone takes a turn going around and making toasts. Soon it’s my turn.

“A toast!” I yell over loud laughter and the strumming of Blizzard’s patched guitar. I found out who created the haunting music, the drunken night after my first pit fight. I thought he was nearly as good as the man who played at the castle ball.

Avalanche steadies me as I lean to the side.

“Don’t you laugh at me!” I stab a finger at Shard’s shaking form. He shakes harder and is joined by Ice.

I ignore their silly man moment. “To the barracks, for…” I search my mind for the rest of the sentence.

“For what?” We all spin to see Alzona in the doorway. Ice starts and catches himself on Flurry’s arm. I point and giggle.

“For throwing us in a fighting pit each week!” Blizzard yells.

“For putting us with fighters we ain’t going to beat,” Ice adds, pounding the table.

“For not training us hard enough!” I yell and laugh with the others. Ice covers my mouth with one hand. I roll my eyes at the added proof of his laziness.

“For shitty mattresses!” Flurry howls to the roof. We stop and look at him. He shrugs. I glance over at Alzona as the others rib Flurry about his comment. Crystal is talking to her, holding her hand. Alzona rips her hand away and storms off. Crystal sighs and runs a hand through her long, straight hair. I run over what we’ve all just said and realize it wasn’t particularly nice.

I swirl the remaining contents of my cup, remembering why I choose not to drink large amounts. The others hit their glasses together as Shard stands on the bench and sings a loud bawdy song to Blizzard’s strumming. I give the expected smile, but the mood is ruined for me.

I think about the way Alzona left and I get up from the table, taking my cup with me. I find her on the roof. This is how she moves around at night. It’s how she was able to reach me in time to warn and recruit me.

I sit next to her and we stay there in silence for a long moment. I pass her the cup and she takes a sip.

“Uh, I hate alcohol,” she says, but then tips back the rest in a single gulp.

“So, I guess I know what you all think of me,” she continues, not meeting my gaze.

I keep my eyes forward, trying to gather my jumbled thoughts. “I’m grateful you took me in. Of all the people I could’ve run into out here, I thank my luck it was you.” I look at her. “Think of what you heard downstairs as suggestions. Nothing personal. You have a pool of experienced fighters who all want to return your favor.”

She sniffs hard. “I’m not a weak woman who needs help. And I only helped you all to help myself.”

If she wants to hold on to that illusion, I’ll let her. It’s probably true, in part. But I’ve been here long enough to know there are easier places to get fighters than wandering the roofs at night. There’s more behind her words than what just happened downstairs. Her hurt goes deeper. I wonder if Blaine helped to instill these doubts in the most determined, albeit overly ambitious, woman I’ve ever met.

I lean back onto my hands. “You’re the only female to own a barracks. You have six fighters who fight for
you
. Not just to save their skin or fill their pockets with coin.”

“Really?” she asks.

I nod, swaying slightly. “It can’t have been easy.”  And I truly believe it. I wouldn’t have had the slightest idea where to start building a barrack.

“You drunk bitch, look at you.” She snorts and stands, holding a hand down to me. I take it and she pulls me to my feet.

We jump down to the trap door in the roof. I stop her with a hand as she lowers herself. “Between you and I, I think it would be considered failing if you didn’t take the advice given to you by your friends.”

From that day forward, the relationship between Alzona and I becomes more respectful. We both know the other is running from some kind of trouble and we’ve both helped each other evade it. To the ecstasy of the other fighters, Alzona heeds my advice and announces some changes at breakfast a couple of days before our next fight.

She has just announced Shard is to help her with matching fights. Though she will have the final say. Blizzard will be in charge of sourcing new equipment and maintaining it.

Crystal clears her throat, grabbing everyone’s attention and earning an arched eyebrow from Alzona. It was against the rules to interrupt. Anyone else would’ve gotten her verbal smack down.

“I wouldn’t mind some help. With Frost’s arrival, I’ve been swamped. And with the tournament coming up…” she trails off, face reddening. Her eyes flicker between Alzona and me. She avoids the gaze of the others.

“I’ll cook.” Avalanche grunts, arms across his huge chest. His scarred face moves grotesquely when he talks.

Silence.

“What?” Shard asks.

“I’ll cook,” he repeats.

“Since when do you cook?” Ice asks, not even trying to hide the grin on his face. I tuck mine away. With great difficulty.

Avalanche shrugs. He makes Rhone seem downright chatty.

“Will you…cook the food?” Blizzard asks into the dumbfounded, but thoughtful silence. “Or just eat it?” I choke on a laugh at his genuine question. Flurry elbows him in the side.

“What? It’s fair enough. We’ve all seen him inhale his food. Once I swear he ate the plate, too,” Blizzard continues. I can’t help it. I burst into gales of mirth.

“We could give him a trial,” Shard says. His suggestion meets general agreement.

“It’s decided then. Avalanche will temp as the new cook,” Alzona announces.

“Ugliest cook I ever saw,” Ice whispers loudly. Avalanche throws a mug at his head. Alzona glares at us until we quiet again.

“Don’t think you all get a say in the decisions around here, just because I’ve asked for input this once. The rules still stand.” She clears her throat and looks at me while the others groan about the rules. I smile at her and nod my head.

“I have one more point for discussion.” Her voice is nervous. “I want Frost to be trainer.” I freeze mid-nod.

“Frost is a consistently hard worker and Shard says she’s the best fighter. I think this will benefit us all,” Alzona finishes quickly.

I look around at the others, hoping this won’t make things uncomfortable. It could be an insult to those who have been here longer. To my surprise though, most of the men are nodding. Ice doesn’t look too pleased. But I imagine it’s because he foresees hard work in his immediate future.

Shard leans forwards, resting his elbows on the table while he analyses her announcement. “It’s a good idea,” he agrees slowly, then adds with more energy, “It will provide structure and give me a chance to learn a few of her tricks.”

“She knows stuff we need to do. She watches us train,” Flurry adds.

“And you watch her,” Blizzard mutters. Flurry hits him over the head and goes pink. I blink several times, struck speechless. Do they realize I have no idea how to run a training session?