Fantasy of Flight (9 page)

I look at her and nearly jerk away with how quickly her expression twists into fury, thinking it’s at my question.

“Oh, yes. I see him all the time.” She looks straight ahead again.

“It was Slay.”

The mood is subdued the next day, but our training reaches a new level of ferocity. Someone is screwing with our barracks. Blizzard splits open the punching bag. I knew the second Crystal told me about Slay, that he left the woman at our door. There was no such thing as coincidence in the Outer Rings. It was a warning to me, or a reminder to Crystal. Probably both. A cruel and terrible way to unsettle us.

The fight between us was now personal.

After a quick talk with Alzona, I jog down to Willow’s brothel. I wave to her until she sees me and then enter the building wedged between two men. They don’t give me more than a cursory glance until she glides down the stairs towards me. Then they spin to look between us so quickly, I’m surprised they don’t fall over. It seems the rumor has travelled far.

“How can I help you, lover?” she asks me. The man closest to me gulps. I move toward her and grab her arm.

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about you,” I say through gritted teeth. She titters as I drag her upstairs and shut the door.

She claps her hands. “That was fun.”

I’m not sure about fun. More like horrendously uncomfortable. I still wasn’t sure what to think about this new type of relationship. I clear my throat.

“Willow,” I say. “There was a lady left outside our barracks last night. She had brown hair to her waist and a square-ish kind of face—”

Willow cuts me off, her frivolity gone. “A little taller than me?” she asks. I nod.

“Ursa. Beth was her street name.” She sighs and sits on the bed.  “We suspected something was wrong when she didn’t return last night. What happened?”

I tell her, skipping over the worst parts. I sit down and wrap an arm around her as tears well in her luminous blue eyes.

“I need to know who she was with last night,” I say softly. She immediately shakes her head.

“That’s something we don’t notice here.” She stands. My arm drops to my side.

“I understand. I have my own suspicions as to who did it.” I watch her eyes and posture. “I think it was Slay.” Her reaction is subtle. Perhaps a Bruma wouldn’t have noticed the way her eyes flashed, or how her hands tightened in her lap. To a Solati though, she’s answered my question as though she spoke out loud.

I continue. “Slay raped a friend of mine. I assume he does this regularly. I didn’t know Ursa, but no one should have to die like that. I will do my best to…deal with him in the next few weeks.” I move to the door.

“I can’t tell you anything. It’s against Mistress’ rules. But I will tell you that you have
very
good instincts. And I would say if you deal with him, you would gain our everlasting gratitude.” She looks directly into my eyes.

“Anything in particular you want me to tell the Cells this time?” I ask. She laughs, back to normal for all appearances, and waves me out of the door.

I’ve confirmed it was Slay. This allows me to tell the others without giving Crystal’s secret away. I leave the whorehouse, lost in my own thoughts. I bump into someone. This isn’t unusual in the Outer Ring. I move aside, but jerk back at the flash of red in the corner of my eye. I look up into familiar blue eyes and jerk a second time. The eyes belong to Sanjay, one of the peace delegates

“You lost?” I squeak. I clear my throat. I’ve never made that sound in my life. He glances down at me and I note his pale, green-tinged face. The assembly doesn’t come to the Outer Rings. What is he doing here?

“Yes. Lost. I, uh. Shit!” He shakes his head. “Where am I?”

“Outa Rings,” I mumble, while I soak up the sight of my friend. Though concern mars my happiness. This place is dangerous for him. He stands out like a candle in a deep cave.

“I…I don’t remember.” He looks down at me with wide eyes. There’s none of the amused bravado I’ve grown used to. “What way to the Middle Rings?” he croaks. I point back the way I came.

He presses a coin into my hand and stumbles toward the path. My heart gallops in my chest. What’s happened to him? Has someone attacked him? He certainly isn’t himself. Is he looking for me? Is King Jovan still fleecing Glacium for me, after all this time? I thought the attempts to find me would have halted by now. And why would Jovan send a delegate? Watchmen were usually given these jobs. At least that’s who Jovan sent to find the thugs who beat me an inch from death while I was staying in the castle. Maybe he was changing tactics after coming up empty. The delegates were among those on Glacium who knew me best. They’d technically kidnapped me from Osolis after Kedrick’s death, mistakenly thinking I was the assassin. Somehow they’d become good friends in the process.

I follow Sanjay to the edge of the Middle Rings, making sure he escapes safely. I watch until his shoulders disappear around a corner before circling back to the barracks with a sigh.

Everyone is eating lunch when I return. I shake off the episode with Sanjay. I’m about to do something that requires my full attention.

“I went down to the brothel and spoke with Leila,” I say. It is an odd enough comment that it draws everyone’s immediate attention. “The woman’s name was Beth, real name Ursa. She left with Slay last night. A fact which doesn’t leave this room.” I look each of them in the eye. I don’t want this coming back on Willow.

Blizzard pounds his fists onto the table. “Hale’s men are playing games with us because we’re not going to the pits.”

I flick a glance at Crystal. “Yes, I believe it is a challenge to me. But we aren’t going to rise to the bait. Now is not the time to strike. However, I don’t trust them not to attempt something else. One of us needs to watch their barracks.”

“I’ll do it,” Ice says. He stands up and looks between Alzona and myself. I look at Alzona. His eagerness to follow Blaine in the arena has stuck in my mind.

“I don’t think he should be allowed to,” I say.

“Why?” Ice sputters. He’s genuinely baffled. He won’t be for long.

“You know why. Or at least you should. You’re the weakest link of the six of us. If Alzona gives you permission to do this, you’ll miss out on more and become a bigger liability.”

“Are you saying I can’t fight?” he asks, eyes sparking.

“I’m saying you have the ability to be a
great
fighter, but your work ethic is poor. I’m not rating you on your potential. I’m rating you on what I’ve seen.  Can you honestly tell me you don’t know this?”

I can see him searching for an excuse. I continue, not giving him a chance to respond. “This is only one of my concerns, Ice. My other is that your lazy mentality will carry over into spying on Hale’s group and put you in danger.”

“It will not,” he says hotly.

I arch my brow. “I could take your word. But so far your word hasn’t meant much—as far as training goes. Do you remember when we sat here and the five of you vowed to give your best at training so we could win?” I look around at the others. They’re avoiding Ice’s gaze.

Ice looks at his feet. I catch an amused glance from Shard and give him a wink - he’s guessed what I’m up to. I let Ice simmer until his cheeks begin to color.

“Tell you what. If Alzona agrees, I’ll put you on trial.” Ice raises his head. “If you work hard enough the first half of the day, you can have the rest of the day off to spy.” I play my part and wait for Alzona’s response, but we have already discussed this. She purses her lips for show and agrees.

“Yes! I’ll do it,” Ice assures me.

I continue. “It’s a decision which will be made daily. If you do not perform, you do not spy. Is this fair?” I ask the table. Everyone shows their agreement. I look back at Ice and his face is the most determined I’ve ever seen it.

“I’ll do it. I’ll pull my weight better,” he vows.

“Glad to hear it. As for the spying, I’ll leave that up to you.”

Ice mutters to himself. “I think it’s best if I watch the barracks for part of the night. I assume they’ll also be training during the day. Maybe I should keep tabs on the brothel, too.”

I allow myself a smile as he jabbers on about his strategy.

We enter the final week before the tournament. A rumor has been leaked to the Watchmen that the event will take place in the Sixth Sector. So of course, it will be held in the Second. Flurry says this ruse works every time. I’m nervous about the group category. We’ve never practiced against anyone other than ourselves. I know some of the other barracks organize meets, but since our strategy is unique, I don’t want to give away our element of surprise.

Shard and I sit in companionable silence watching Avalanche cook. “It’s nice to see him enjoying himself. The business with Ursa in the alley shook him bad,” he says softly. I lift my eyebrows. I certainly missed that. I’ve been completely absorbed in my training sessions. Ice has been working harder than all of us since our talk and Blizzard has soared ahead. With the new swords, daggers and spears, we’ve shed most of our rustiness in weapon combat also.

I give Avalanche a quick glance. Why is Shard offering this information on the giant man so casually? I barely know anything about the men in the barracks. Avalanche nods at Shard over my head, who leans forward to pour me a drink.

“His mother was a whore, you know? He loved her. And she was real good to him. Taught him to cook and cared for him as well as she could.” He takes a long sip and I do the same.

Avalanche has given him permission to tell me his story. I was touched he trusted me so much.

“One night he woke to a scream and found his mother dead, a man standing over her. The murderer took Avalanche and kept him tied up. He beat him every few days.”

I gasp. I can’t help it. What a horrible childhood.

“But the man didn’t count on Avalanche growing so tall. When Avalanche turned thirteen, he broke the man’s neck and left. He worked as muscle at the door of The Slime for a while. That’s where I met him.” Shard flashes a grin over his shoulder. “We grew to be friends over the years and then Alzona recruited us when she came around looking for fighters.” He speaks simply and without emotion, like he’s stating facts. I’ve come to assume Avalanche doesn’t like talking because of the way his scars move. But I now wonder if he prefers to have Shard’s emotionless delivery of his story. You can tell his treatment was worse than a beating every few days. The evenly spaced cuts on his face are the work of twisted, cold-blooded scum.

I walk to Avalanche and grip his forearms to pull him down. When his face is level with mine, I say, “That man tried his best. But he didn’t damage you at all. Not where it counts.” I place my hand over his heart and then hug him around the waist. He pats me on the back and holds me for a few moments.

Normal conversation resumes, as though we didn’t just discuss Avalanches horrific treatment by his mother’s killer. I wonder how he and Shard came to be friends. Shard catches my curious look and smiles. There’s a bit of a challenge in his expression. I can guess what he’s telling me; I can’t ask him for his story, without giving up my own.

The night before we leave for the tournament, Alzona enters with a bag. I’m proud of how far she’s come. By accepting help, she has created a stronger business. If anything, her willingness to put aside her pride and study the bigger picture makes her even scarier – if that were possible.

At the moment she’s glaring around the table. Eventually the men stop talking. It’s a game between us to see who is brave enough to talk the longest. Ice is the bravest today, he stops talking after a minute and immediately falters under her blistering gaze.

“I want you to hear me out,” she starts.

“She’s entered as a fighter,” Blizzard guesses.

“She’s taking over matches again,” Ice groans.

“She’s gonna make us fight topless,” Flurry says. We stare at him. He says the weirdest things. But Alzona arches an eyebrow.

“Exactly!” She opens her bag as we stare dumbly. I hope it doesn’t apply to me. “You’ve all seen how the crowd reacts to fighters like Sin. The more skin you show, the more you gain the crowd’s attention.” I laugh as she tosses black leather pants at the men. Flurry holds his up. There’s an ‘A’ stitched on the right hip.

“A for Alzona?” I ask Crystal. She nods, sucking her cheeks in to contain her mirth. I giggle again.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing, you haven’t seen yours yet,” Shard says.

I shut my mouth.

They leave to put their outfits on and my mouth drops open when they return. “Uh, wow, you guys actually look really good in those,” I say. And they do. I tuck away a smile as they preen at my comment. Even Shard grins.

Flurry and Ice are in their early twenties and have youth on their side as an extra advantage, though none are over thirty. All of the men are in excellent shape after the last two months of hard training.

“Yes, very good. Those will do. You admit they look shit-hot?” she asks me. I narrow my eyes at her and remain silent as she draws out the black harness from months ago. “If you wear this, you’ll look just as good as they do. You’re the only female in the competition. You should play on that strength. It’s not cheap. Use it. It’s a weapon.”

I point at the other fighters. “You don’t have them trussed up in straps! There’s nothing to this…thing!” I look at the others for support and am rudely surprised to find them agreeing with Alzona.

“Seriously?” I ask no one in particular.

Shard straddles the bench in front of me. “I think Alzona’s right. You’ve given us every possible advantage you could think of in the last two months. This is just another edge. And it’s a good one. I don’t think you understand how distracting these things can be for males.”

I think of Willow dancing up in her window and of all the men stopping in their tracks.

“I understand,” I say. Alzona’s smile could light up the room. I hurry on. “I’m not saying I’ll wear it, but I will think about what you’ve said.”

I snatch the stupid harness and with a last glare, I escape to my room to figure out how to put the damn thing on.

We trek to the Second Sector the day before the tournament. I’ve come this way twice now. I lead the way for most of the trek. We arrive at Tricks’ barracks and settle into our rooms. I bunk with Crystal and Alzona, despite repeated invitations from Sin. He’s renewed his ardent vows of love and assures me he doesn’t mind my attraction to women. He claims he’ll change my mind. Wrath pushes Sin’s face into a plate of food to shut him up.

Most of Tricks’ men are nice. I’m starting to count a few of them as friends. Although I notice this time, a group of men sit apart from the others. The rest of Tricks’ men don’t seem to like them much. After studying them, I decide they may be better suited to Hale’s group.

It’s of little surprise when I don’t sleep well. I toss and turn for hours, knowing everyone’s performance will reflect on me as their trainer.

There’s no banter at breakfast, but the tension in the air is palpable. The elimination rounds for the one-on-one competition are today. The matches start early and continue until only the top twenty fighters are still standing. The next day this group of twenty is further thinned until the final two remain. This final is only fought after the group competitions are over on the third day. We’d need every skill at our disposal - and a little luck - to win top barracks.

I return to the room and look at the black harness half sticking out of my bag.

Fuck it.

“Crystal!” I call. She pops her head out of the washroom. “Come help me with this thing.” Maybe I’ll give it to Leila after the competition.

Alzona enters after I’ve struggled into the contraption. She whistles. “Wow, Frost. If I wasn’t with Crystal, I would totally do you.”

An uncomfortable laugh leaves my lips. “If I liked women?”

Alzona shrugs. “What were Sin’s words? I can change your mind. I’m just that gorgeous,” she says, doing her best impression of his smile.

“Something like that,” I say, twisting around. “You sure they won’t laugh at me? I feel very conscious of how little I’m wearing.”

“They’ll only laugh at you if they sense you feel self-conscious,” Crystal says. “If you’re gonna wear it, you need to own it.”

I immediately think of Willow and how she walks, the saucy looks she gives all the men. Can I pull that off?

“I guess I’ll test it first.” I take a deep breath and walk out to the mess room. Most of the men are there. They don’t all turn at once like they do with Willow, but conversation grinds to a satisfying halt. Sin continues to pour water into an already full goblet. I walk over to our table, swaying my hips slightly, hoping I don’t look like a complete idiot. I close Wrath’s mouth as I pass. A lot of men, who never gave me more than half a glance in my other clothes, are outright staring. It seems clothing, or lack thereof, does make a big difference here.

“Boys. We must’ve done something right in our lives,” Tricks says.

“Best breakfast I ever had,” Sin whispers.

I ignore everyone and sit down with my barracks.

“Can you move in it?” Shard asks, always practical.

“Surprisingly well, actually.” The leather straps crisscross my breasts, stomach and back and lead into a “v” shaped panel which covers most of my backside and the area between my legs. The back and front panels are laced up the sides with thin leather lengths. I made sure to do these up securely. It isn’t as bad as I feared. The bits I don’t want anyone to see are mostly secure and out of sight.

As it happens, I’m glad I’ve practiced on the men at breakfast. I hold my head high as we trail down through the levels to the Cells. I act as though by letting them look, I’m doing them a favor. Heads turn, but no one touches me. They know me and they know what I can do to them.

“Would ya look at that reaction?” Ice says in my ear with a quiet laugh. I chuckle softly with him. I could get used to these clothes.

The levels are unusually quiet at the moment, with only a few onlookers scattered throughout the levels. Blizzard tells me the crowds tend to come at the end of the day, when the more exciting fights are on. The first draw has already been decided and every owner is given a copy. I scan ours when Alzona hands it to me.

“Is the draw legible this revolution?” Shard asks. “Last time someone from the Outer Rings attempted it, the draw was a disaster,” he says, scanning the bit of paper. “Must have someone from the Middle or Inner Ring this time.”

The details of the round are scribbled along the top. There are one hundred and sixty entrants. I knew what we faced, but it’s still incredible. A hundred and forty fighters would need to be eliminated by the end of the day. We only had six competitors. Six
great
competitors, I remind myself. But the odds are certainly against us. Blizzard is the only one of us facing a top fighter in the first round. Two months ago he might have lost. But unless something goes horribly wrong, he won’t have any trouble.

These rounds were luck of the draw. Tomorrow would be more complicated. During our last bout in the pits, I memorized the top twenty opponents. I hope these haven’t changed since I last fought. I realize, too late, I should have attended these last matches.

The fighting begins and the pace is more ruthless than what I expected after Flurry’s description. No sooner is the felled man dragged out of the pit, the next round is started. There’s nothing of the relaxed attitude I’ve grown accustomed to. The jingle of coins passed around overhead is constant. As the morning goes on, the crowds begin to cram into the levels above.

Blizzard goes in and sure enough, he knocks Thunder out with a roundhouse minutes into the fight. I look around to gauge the reaction. Tricks’ men look a little shocked, I think. And there is a group further around who are pointing and talking among themselves. I smile and high five Blizzard as he walks over to us.

The first round goes into the early afternoon. Eighty fights take place, some only last seconds, some several minutes. As I’ve predicted from the list, the rest of us move through to the next round without much difficulty. Some of the fighters don’t even land a single blow on us.

There is a slight delay while the last few winners are added to the next draw. Crystal has been running back and forward copying each part of the list as it’s decided. I’m surprised at their efficiency once again. I suppose if the tournament drags out, it increases the risk of the Watch finding us. I don’t know why they didn’t just station Watchmen at each of the arenas. They knew where each one was. But then I remember the hundred or so Watchmen needed to overwhelm us the last time. There weren’t enough of them to spread out like this.

Crystal passes me the completed copy of the next draw. Forty fights. My heart sinks as I see Shard faces one of Hale’s top men. It will be a close match. I’d hoped to get through another round before this happened. I need Shard in the top twenty with me. If he’s exhausted after this match, it will be hard for him to win the final fight of the day. I’ll also face a top-twenty fighter, but he’s at the lower end. It will be a good chance to get rid of some competition. He’s from a compound currently in Sector Five.

I sit on the edge of our bench during Shard’s fight, wincing at every hit connecting with his head and ribs. Finally, with a blow to the middle of the chest, Shard gains the upper hand. A win follows soon after. The next draw really needs to be in his favor. He nods at me as I slap him on the back. Our eyes meet and I know we’re thinking the same thing.