by E. M. Moore
I cracked a smile and double squeezed Connor’s hand. His head was still twisted toward the other side of the room, a scowl on his face. I hoped it wasn’t permanently etched there. Connor was so much more handsome with a smile and teasing eyes.
As far as Zeke was concerned, he was now standing in front of Samuel and T.J. with his head down. No doubt getting scolded, which would only make him hate me more. Oh well. There wasn’t anything I could do about that, and since I’d promised myself I’d let my abilities speak for themselves a long time ago, I was sticking with that.
13
After hours of practice with both Lex and Samuel, we broke for a short dinner before we were called back into the training rooms immediately. Soren was back, and he knew who Dumont was sending out.
Nicolai and I hurried down the hall. I knew he was holding back because of me even though I was running as fast as I could. I wanted to wish Lex luck. I wanted to tell her I knew she could do it. A surge of pride sped my legs up. The greatest warrior we had in the Ravana Clan was a woman. I usually wasn’t all that big of a feminist, but at that moment, I felt the pride of who I was and how I was made run through my veins.
When we skidded to a stop in the doorway, Samuel was the one getting coached by Soren. T.J. and Lex were there as well, but it was Samuel who nodded at the things Soren said.
“It’s you?” I asked, not realizing I’d said it out loud before it flew from my mouth.
Everyone turned to stare at us and a fierce flush crept up my cheeks. Samuel inclined his chin and bounced from one foot to the other. He wasn’t dressed in his normal head to toe black. He was wearing black, but it wasn’t his normal uniform that he wore at The Fort all the time. In the center of his chest was a red dragon blowing fire. After everyone else turned around, I elbowed Nic in the side. “What’s that he’s wearing?”
“That’s the Rajyvik family crest.”
Down his front, he had armor-like patches on his abs, thighs, and knees, all with the same red dragon emblem. He wound his arms around like a windmill and cocked his head from side-to-side, all the while taking in Soren’s words. He reminded me of a boxer getting ready for a title bout. Who knew if he was actually listening or not though. Soren had said Samuel didn’t like him, and he was probably right. Samuel was a very cut and dry kind of person. You were either good or you weren’t. You were either on our side or you weren’t. Sore was in the gray area, and that was one thing Samuel wasn’t familiar with.
Gregor walked in the room, his face stoic as usual. I’d helped him train earlier and as Nic said, he was better than I thought. Quick reflexes, which he attributed to making rapid decisions. He pulled his suit coat together and buttoned it. “I’ve just been informed that Dumont and his warrior are already in the arena. Are we ready here?”
Samuel stopped bouncing. He inclined his head toward Gregor and then took off. He whisked his way through the castle so fast that Lex, T.J., and I were the ones bringing up the rear. T.J. would’ve been faster if he was out of the damn wheelchair, but he certainly wasn’t ready yet. He had dark smudges under his eyes like he’d be tired for a lifetime. “So, what’s this mean that Dumont hasn’t sent Diesel out? Anyone have any theories they’d like to share because I’m shocked.”
Lex massaged the back of her neck. She looked amped up without anywhere to put the energy. After T.J. gave me a shrug, she said, “Maybe this guy Olin is better than Soren remembers. Dumont must be pretty confident in him to send him out there now.”
“We can trust Soren,” I told them. “I hope you guys know that. I wonder if Dumont has something else up his sleeve.”
“Well, he can’t change out his guy now, or even if he does at the last second, I’m ready.”
I could tell. She looked like butterflies were eating her from the inside out. “You know, if you need to spar, or a running buddy later, let me know.”
She chuckled. “I guess I got myself all excited for nothing. I’m definitely going to have to dispel it somehow. This fight will help.”
As we got closer, the crowd noise started permeating through the walls. I hadn’t heard anything from them the whole day, but now, like yesterday, they were singing the songs of their clans. They sang of hope, and of strength, and of will.
We walked into the evening air and the crowd hit me like it had done the first day. All this energy pent up in one place was like a smack to the chest. “I’ve never seen Samuel fight,” I said, yelling over the crowd. “He must be good.”
Lex nodded. “He is. He doesn’t get to show it like we do, but he knows his stuff. Let’s just hope he knows it better than this guy.” She inclined her head toward the center and I followed her lead.
In the middle of the circle stood Samuel. He faced down who I assumed was Olin, dressed down in a track suit. He looked like he could’ve been wearing a gold chain in a music video. He grinned, and his fangs were rimmed in gold all over except for the sharpest point.
Was this guy for real?
Like before, I stepped beside Soren who stood like a lighthouse watching out over the foggy night. Behind us were the princes, and on the other side of Soren was Gregor and Isabelle in their fancy garb. If I did become a princess one of these days, I hoped I wouldn’t have to wear a fancy dress all the time. It was nice, on occasion, but to a fight? I’d feel weird and out of place. Not that Isabelle ever looked that way. She could stroll through Walmart in her blue velvet hoop skirt and no one would give her a confused glance at all. She fit the part perfectly. As if she knew I was thinking about her, she looked over at me and smiled.
I returned the gesture, and then turned back toward the fight. I caught the beginning just in time. A horn blew and Samuel didn’t waste any time going after Olin. He dug his heels into the grass and took off, wrapping Olin up in a takedown. They landed in a heap, Samuel still keeping the upperhand as he pummeled Olin with punches. Barefisted, and brutal, he rained down his fists like square-headed mallets right into his opponent’s face.
Soren smirked. “Olin did not see that coming.”
“Other than the fact that he’s still on the ground, how could you tell?”
“Because it took me off guard as well. I told Samuel to wait for Olin to make the first move.” I looked back at him and he shrugged. “Told you he didn’t like me.”
When Samuel stopped to pull a weapon out of his waistband, Olin spit at him. Pelted with blood and God knew what else, Samuel blinked and immediately got to his feet. He wiped at the red mess on his face and rubbed it off on his pants, taking a quick second to run his shirt over his eyes to clear his vision. This allowed Olin to spit out even more blood until they faced one another again in the center like they hadn’t even started yet.
Samuel went for the same tactic, but Olin moved out of the way, this time catching Samuel by the shirt and shoving him past him so that Samuel struggled to stay on his feet before whipping around and facing him again.
The whole time, Samuel’s demeanor never changed. His eyes darted around his opponent, completely focused on the task at hand. Lunging for Olin again, he caught him with a glancing blow to the chin and then worked his way behind his opponent’s back where he pummeled him again. I raised my eyebrows. I’d never known Samuel could be so…normal. This was like watching one of those UFC fights on TV. With the two fighters both being vampires, I thought I was about to see a show of superior strength and agility, but this wasn’t that at all. This was about two men just beating the crap out of each other. Actually, at the moment, it was just about Samuel beating the crap out of Olin who looked outclassed. Why did Dumont send him in? He wasn’t a stupid man by any means. He was able to keep people under his complete control for all these years. I looked toward the outer circle where I’d spotted Dumont during the last fight and there he was again. He was mirroring Gregor this time. He stood there, his face stoic, showing no emotion at all. He had one hand wrapped around his midsection while the other came up just under his chin like ‘The Thinker’ pose.
I leaned toward Soren. “Does any of this look off to you?”
Soren shook his head slowly. His hands came up to run through his thin, chin-length hair, never taking his eyes off the fight. “I can’t say for sure. It’s definitely Olin, but he’s not doing anything at all. He’s usually much better than this.”
“Maybe he’s injured or sick…”
Soren just shrugged. It could be a hundred different things.
I looked back at the fight. Olin spit again, a stream of blood rainbowed through the air until it splat on the ground. I wished Samuel would just finish this. It was difficult to watch. Too inhuman. They were like barbarians going to war except that one hadn’t gotten the memo and recognized he was in a fight yet.
Samuel wrapped Olin in a guillotine choke and finally Olin woke up. He dug his nails into Samuel’s skin until Samuel grimaced and released him. They circled one another in the middle. This time, Samuel pulled out a stake and Olin did the same. They lunged at one another at the same time, trading blow for blows, blocking and dodging the stake hand that came down time and time again until they were a whirl of limbs and I could barely see what was going on anymore. Then, the spectators on all sides gasped, and I had to wait until they slowed down to see what had happened.
Samuel had disarmed Olin. His opponent’s stake had flown a few feet from them and toppled to the ground end after end. He trapped Olin’s hand and ended with the point of his stake just over his heart. His mouth moved, but I was too far away to hear what he said.
Exasperated, I looked at Soren.
“Give up,” he whispered without glancing at me. “Samuel asked him to give up, but there’s no chance in hell he’ll be doing that. Dumont will just kill him anyway. Samuel didn’t listen to a word I said. I told him if he got his opening to just take it. This isn’t training, this is a fight.” He cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled, “Do it!”
Olin peeked over to his side where I knew Dumont stood. He lost. There was no way he could win. Samuel only needed a fraction of a second to send the tip of the stake into his heart and he was a dead vampire. The fight was over as far as I was concerned. There was no reason for Olin to die, even though I was sure Soren was right and Dumont didn’t feel the same way.
I closed my eyes, glad I wasn’t in the same position. Could I really sink that stake into an opponent who wasn’t even armed? The guy was defenseless.
Soren yelled out again next to me. Samuel’s lips moved again and this time I could make out the words ‘Give up’ like Soren said before. The vampire shook his head. Samuel pressed forward and Olin took a step back, just allowing himself enough space so that the stake didn’t penetrate his skin. Samuel followed right after him until they marched clear across the open air arena. When Samuel had him pressed against the fence, Olin still shook his head. At that, Samuel guided the stake forward inch by inch. I cringed watching it. Still, Olin wouldn’t surrender. At the last second, right before the tip would’ve penetrated his heart, Olin moved and Samuel’s last blow missed his heart. Olin fell to the ground anyway. No matter if he was actually dead, the fight was over. Olin was too injured to fight. He would live, if Dumont would let him, but it was clear who the better fighter was.
Samuel leaned over his opponent and then straightened when our side rose up in cheers. He turned and walked back to the center, his face still a mask keeping away everything he was feeling inside. When he got to the center, he inclined his head toward Gregor and then started to raise his hands.
He stopped. His mouth fell open and his already pale face blanched. Looking down, I saw at the same time he did the tip of a red-tinged stake jutting out from his chest. He staggered back a few steps and then fell, his behind hitting the ground first. He sat there, his hands outstretched as if he could pull the stake out, but it didn’t matter, the damage was already done.
Samuel. No…
I saw the moment life left his eyes. They went empty, dead. His body slumped over. His arms, and hands, and legs, they were no longer under his control.
Behind him, Olin stood. A crossbow stake launcher fell from his grip as Dumont’s men swarmed him. They broke off the stake that had just barely missed his heart, and carried him off.
From behind me, and in front of me, basically every single one of the Ravana Clan vampires growled. The sound permeated the air. It silenced the sudden outburst of the Dumont camp. They looked back and forth from Dumont to our side like bobbleheads. It wasn’t truly their fault. They had no control either.
Just like Samuel now.
“I told him…” Soren said, still shaking his head. His hands were trembling as they gripped the fencing in front of us. “I told him no mercy.” He turned, taking in everyone around us. He looked from Gregor to the princes to Lex and Zeke. “That is why we need to win!” he shouted. He pointed behind him at Samuel’s lifeless body, crumpled in a heap. I felt weightless, shocked as I listened to Soren. “There will be no truce. Nothing will be fair until he is taken down. When we fight, we fight until death.” He cast a look behind him, his eyes growing tremendously sad as he turned back around. “Samuel’s fault wasn’t that he was outmatched, it was that he forgot who we were fighting. They aren’t honorable soldiers. They will not hesitate to stab you in the back after what Dumont did to his first warrior.” He walked to Lex and Zeke. “When it’s your turn, you damn well better finish them.”
A high-pitched whistle pierced the air. I had only a second to recognize the sound before springing into action. I kicked out, thankfully kicking the stake that was aimed right for Soren’s back out of the air and onto the ground. I came to a rest on all fours only to see Soren lunging for the center of the arena where Dumont stood, his cocky grin not wiped off his face yet. I tried to reach out, but Soren was too quick. His pants slipped right through my fingers. “Get him!” I yelled.
It was Christian and Nicolai who sprang into action. Christian was the fastest so he got to him first, and wrestled with him until Nicolai wrapped his arms around him and they both brought him back to our side.
Dumont dropped the weapon to the ground and shrugged. “Gregor, please do tell your soldiers that the fight is to the death. If death hasn’t happened, it’s not over. Hopefully we can avoid these types of faux pas in the future. I do believe that’s one to one.” He inclined his head. “’Til tomorrow then.”
Dumont disappeared and his lackeys were close on his heels, a blur of green leaves and white streaks as they ran through the path in the forest to get to the house they claimed as theirs.
“Heartless,” Gregor said. He shook his head, staring out into the outcropping.
No one moved for Samuel’s body. Shock still twisted in my mind. It wasn’t until a cry as human as I ever heard fell against the dark skies that spurred people to move. Samuel’s mother pushed through the crowd.
Gregor intersected her and took her hand. “Let us clean him up. Then you may see him. I am so, so sorry for your loss. Samuel was the best of men.”
I blinked, not moving until strong hands gripped my hips and led me away. Stephan stood in the open walkway that led to the makeshift arena as if he’d come out of his triage tent to do something, but there was no one to save this time. No injuries to heal. The area reeked of death. Not in the physical sense, but in the ghastly nightmare of the aftermath when all you wanted to do was wake up, but you never would. Words were spoken behind me and I saw Stephan swallow and then focus on me. He came forward and took my hands, leading me further and further away from the crowd, from the pain of reality.
When I blinked, I saw the car crash in my mind’s eye. I saw the emptiness, the silence, and the blood. That was exactly what Samuel’s family was feeling right now. That altered state where you knew nothing would ever be the same again. Sure, you would get over it in time, but you would never forget. How could you? It was like a raw scab on your life.
Stephan led me into the training rooms until he forced me to sit with my back against the wall. Christian and Nicolai br
ought Soren in next, placing him next to me. He was much calmer this time, but he was tight like a drawn bow.
When they left, he turned toward me. “Thank you, Young One.”
It took me a second to remember what he was even thanking me for. Then I saw it all in my head again. Samuel being run through with the stake. His dead eyes. Falling to the ground. Then, Soren’s rallying speech, and that one bleached stake soaring in the air aimed right for Soren’s back. “Like you said, you can’t trust them.”
He put his hand on my knee and squeezed. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” I was about to shrug when Soren spoke again. “I think you should know that they wanted you to fight, Ariana. Samuel told me yesterday. He said they chose you, but you were needed elsewhere so they changed their mind. He wanted you to fight.”
My mouth dropped, a silent, longing ‘o’. The last words I spoke to him were in anger. I thought he didn’t believe in me. I’d thought he was treating me as Zeke did, as someone who didn’t belong here. I shook my head. “No. They didn’t choose me. They chose Zeke.”
“They did. I don’t know what happened, but I do know they originally chose you, Young One. Since he’s not here to tell you anymore, I thought you should know.”
Others walked in so Soren and I fell silent, my mind fumbling with what I’d just learned. I was cruel to Samuel. We fought. And all this time, he really had believed in me.
My throat constricted. I swallowed, but nothing helped. Stephan stooped down to my eye level. “Do you feel okay? You look a little pale.”
“Fine,” I said.
He looked up, catching someone’s attention. “Can we get some water over here?”
Stephan caught two bottles, handed one off to Soren and then unscrewed the cap from mine and offered it to me. I took it and drank it gratefully. A howl sounded, and my body locked up. It was Samuel’s mother again, her wails echoing down the estate stone-lined walls like a bad memory.
